The Comic Almanack, Volume 1: An Ephemeris in Jest and Earnest, Containing Merry Tales, Humerous Poetry, Quips, and OdditiesThackeray, William Makepeace
Philosophy
The Comic Almanack, Volume 1: An Ephemeris in Jest and Earnest, Containing Merry Tales, Humerous Poetry, Quips, and Oddities
Thackeray, William Makepeace
Almanacs, English -- England -- London; English wit and humor
Mamma and the girls looked quite astonished when I made the speech.
"What does he mean?" said Lucy to Eliza.
Mamma repeated the question, "My beloved Robert, what concealment are
you talking of?"
"I am talking of concealed property, ma'am," says I, sternly.
"And do you—what—can you—do you really suppose that I have concealed—any
of that blessed sa-a-a-aint's prop-op-op-operty?" screams out mamma.
"Robert," says she, "Bob, my own darling boy—my fondest, best beloved,
now _he_ is gone" (meaning my late governor—more tears), "you don't, you
cannot fancy that your own mother, who bore you, and nursed you, and
wept for you, and would give her all to save you from a moment's harm—
you don't suppose that she would che-e-e-eat you?" and here she gave a
louder screech than ever, and flung back on the sofa, and one of my
sisters went and tumbled into her arms, and t'other went round, and the
kissing and slobbering scene went on again, only I was left out, thank
goodness; I hate such sentimentality.
"_Che-e-e-at me_," says I, mocking her. "What do you mean, then, by
saying you're so rich? Say, have you got money or have you not?" (and I
rapped out a good number of oaths, too, which I don't put in here; but I
was in a dreadful fury, that's the fact).
"So help me, Heaven," says mamma, in answer, going down on her knees,
and smacking her two hands; "I have but a Queen Anne's guinea in the
whole of this wicked world."
"Then what, madam, induces you to tell these absurd stories to me, and
to talk about your riches, when you know that you and your daughters are
beggars, ma'am—_beggars_?"
"My dearest boy, have we not got the house, and the furniture, and a
hundred a year still; and have you not great talents which will make all
our fortunes?" says Mrs. Stubbs, getting up off her knees, and making
believe to smile as she clawed hold of my hand and kissed it.
This was _too_ cool. "_You_ have got a hundred a year, ma'am," says I,
"_you_ got a house: upon my soul and honour this is the first I ever
heard of it, and I'll tell you what, ma'am," says I (and it cut her
_pretty sharply_ too), "as you've got it, _you'd better go and live in
it_. I've got quite enough to do with my own house, and every penny of
my own income."
Upon this speech the old lady said nothing, but she gave a screech loud
enough to be heard from here to York, and down she fell—kicking and
struggling in a regular fit.
* * * * *
I did not see Mrs. Stubbs for some days after this, and the girls used
to come down to meals, and never speak; going up again and stopping with
their mother. At last, one day, both of them came in very solemn to my
study, and Eliza, the eldest, said, "Robert, mamma has paid you our
board up to Michaelmas."
"She has," says I; for I always took precious good care to have it in
advance.
"She says, John, that on Michaelmas day we'll—we'll go away, John."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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