At Sunwich Port [complete]Jacobs, W. W. (William Wymark)
General
At Sunwich Port [complete]
Jacobs, W. W. (William Wymark)
Betrothal -- Fiction; Family -- England -- Fiction; Fathers and sons -- Fiction; Ship captains -- Fiction
“You leave things to me,” said Mr. Kybird, with a confidential wink.
“I’ll see that it’s all right. All I ask of you is to keep it a dead
secret; even your mother mustn’t know.”
“I’ll be as secret as the grave,” said the overjoyed Mr. Silk.
“There’s lots o’ things to be taken into consideration,” said Mr.
Kybird, truthfully; “it might be as well for you to be married
immediate.”
“Immediate?” said the astonished Mr. Silk.
“She ’asn’t got the nerve to send young Nugent about ’is business,”
explained Mr. Kybird; “she feels sorry for ’im, pore fellow; but ’e’s
got a loving and affectionate ’art, and she can’t bear ’im making love
to ’er. You can understand what it is, can’t you?”
“I can imagine it,” said Mr. Silk, gloomily, and he flushed crimson as
the possibilities suggested by the remark occurred to him.
“I’ve been thinking it over for some time,” resumed Mr. Kybird;
“twisting it and turning it all ways, and the only thing I can see for
it is for you to be married on the strict _q.t._ Of course, if you don’t
like—”
“Like!” repeated the transported Mr. Silk. “I’ll go and be married now,
if you like.”
Mr. Kybird shook his head at such haste, and then softening a little
observed that it did him credit. He proceeded to improve the occasion
by anecdotes of his own courting some thirty years before, and was in
the middle of a thrilling account of the manner in which he had bearded
the whole of his future wife’s family, when a quick step outside, which
paused at the door, brought him to a sudden halt.
“Mother,” announced Mr. Silk, in a whisper.
Mr. Kybird nodded, and the heroic appearance of visage which had
accompanied his tale gave way to an expression of some uneasiness. He
coughed behind his hand, and sat gazing before him as Mrs. Silk entered
the room and gave vent to an exclamation of astonishment as she saw the
visitor. She gazed sharply from him to her son. Mr. Kybird’s expression
was now normal, but despite his utmost efforts Mr. Silk could not
entirely banish the smile which trembled on his lips.
“Me and Teddy,” said Mr. Kybird, turning to her with a little bob,
which served him for a bow, “’ave just been having a little talk about
old times.”
“He was just passing,” said Mr. Silk.
“Just passing, and thought I’d look in,” said Mr. Kybird, with a
careless little laugh; “the door was open a bit.”
“Wide open,” corroborated Mr. Silk.
“So I just came in to say ‘’Ow d’ye do?’” said Mr. Kybird.
Mrs. Silk’s sharp, white face turned from one to the other. “Ave you
said it?” she inquired, blandly.
“I ’ave,” said Mr. Kybird, restraining Mr. Silk’s evident intention of
hot speech by a warning glance; “and now I’ll just toddle off ’ome.”
“I’ll go a bit o’ the way with you,” said Edward Silk. “I feel as if a
bit of a walk would do me good.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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