Women in charitable work -- England -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
"You ha' got to hear my terms, father," she said. "I'll be a good
daughter to you, but I want Will out of prison. You don't suppose as I
don't know what you and Isaac Dent ha' done to my Will. You was mad as
I should be happy with Will, and Isaac Dent was mad 'cause I shouldn't
mate with he; and Isaac Dent stole the five-pound notes and the purse,
and other money besides, and he knew as the number of the notes was
took, and he was frightened, and so he give the notes to Will, and
pretended as he wanted to buy his berth in the 'Good Queen Anne.' But
Dent didn't sail in that ship, father, and Dent's in Liverpool now--I
know he is, for you axed me to meet him here some time back, and Mother
Bunch seed you and a sailor lad in the Star and Garter this week, and
she heerd you plotting and planning, and she knew--she guessed as there
wor mischief brewing. There's a case agin' you and Dent, father, and
you'd better come to my terms, or it 'ull fare worse with you. No
harm'll come to you; but Dent--he must be found, and Will must be set
free. There--you've got to do that; do you hear me?"
Granger crouched near the door. He neither liked Bet's manner nor her
words. She knew a great deal more than he had the least idea of. Mother
Bunch having overheard him and Dent as they laid their plans together
in the Star and Garter was an awkward circumstance. The whole thing
looked ugly. He wished he were out of it. More particularly as he had
never received any of Dent's promised gold.
It behoved him, howe'er, to be careful,--on no account must he betray
himself or his fears to this astute daughter.
"You needn't speak so loud, Bet--I ain't deaf. It's a queer
world,--it's a nice state, so to speak, of society when a gel takes to
bullying of her own father. You're quite mistook ef you suppose Dent is
in Liverpool. A life on the ocean wave, with its storms and its fogs
and its dangers, is poor Dent's life at present. But I don't say,"
continued Granger, lowering his voice, and trying to speak in a
seductive manner, "I don't say as I couldn't get word with him. I won't
say how, and I won't say when; and I won't say, either, but what he's
as innocent as a babe; but word with him I might be able to get
ef,--now, what's the matter, Bet?"
"Nothing, father--nothing much--only set you down by the fire and make
yourself cosy. There--you're all trembling; you're not as strong as you
ought for to be--you wants your comforts. You'd like a cup of tea now,
wouldn't you? And no one can make tea like Bet--now, can they?"
"That's true enough, my gel--you can be a comfort ef you have a mind.
No mistake on that point. Well, as I said, I might get word of
Dent,--only hark you, Bet, you'll stay at home--there'll be no larks
back to Paradise Row, and no bringing Mother Bunch to the front? You'll
stay here, and be a comfort to your father?"
"Yes, father, I said I would,--oh, I can make you real cosy, there's no
doubt on that point."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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