The Constable's Move: Captains All, Book 4. — John Shaqi
The Constable's Move: Captains All, Book 4.Jacobs, W. W. (William Wymark)
General
The Constable's Move: Captains All, Book 4.
Jacobs, W. W. (William Wymark)
England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Humorous stories, English; River life -- Fiction
He took up the stick again and Mrs. Grummit did her best, but the heart
had gone out of the thing, and he was about to give up the task as
hopeless when the door below was heard to open with a bang.
"Here he is," cried the jubilant Grummit. "Now!"
His wife responded, and at the same moment the bedroom door was flung
open, and her brother, who had been hastily fetched by the neighbours on
the other side, burst into the room and with one hearty blow sent Mr.
Grummit sprawling.
"Hit my sister, will you?" he roared, as the astounded Mr. Grummit rose.
"Take that!"
Mr. Grummit took it, and several other favours, while his wife, tugging
at her brother, endeavoured to explain. It was not, however, until Mr.
Grummit claimed the usual sanctuary of the defeated by refusing to rise
that she could make herself heard.
"Joke?" repeated her brother, incredulously. "Joke?"
Mrs. Grummit in a husky voice explained.
Her brother passed from incredulity to amazement and from amazement to
mirth. He sat down gurgling, and the indignant face of the injured
Grummit only added to his distress.
"Best joke I ever heard in my life," he said, wiping his eyes. "Don't
look at me like that, Bob; I can't bear it."
"Get off 'ome," responded Mr. Grummit, glowering at him.
"There's a crowd outside, and half the doors in the place open," said the
other. "Well, it's a good job there's no harm done. So long."
He passed, beaming, down the stairs, and Mr. Grummit, drawing near the
window, heard him explaining in a broken voice to the neighbours outside.
Strong men patted him on the back and urged him gruffly to say what he
had to say and laugh afterwards. Mr. Grummit turned from the window, and
in a slow and stately fashion prepared to retire for the night. Even the
sudden and startling disappearance of Mrs. Grummit as she got into bed
failed to move him.
"The bed's broke, Bob," she said faintly.
"Beds won't last for ever," he said, shortly; "sleep on the floor."
Mrs. Grummit clambered out, and after some trouble secured the bedclothes
and made up a bed in a corner of the room. In a short time she was fast
asleep; but her husband, broad awake, spent the night in devising further
impracticable schemes for the discomfiture of the foe next door.
He saw Mr. Evans next morning as he passed on his way to work. The
constable was at the door smoking in his shirt-sleeves, and Mr. Grummit
felt instinctively that he was waiting there to see him pass.
"I heard you last night," said the constable, playfully. "My word! Good
gracious!"
"Wot's the matter with you?" demanded Mr. Grummit, stopping short.
The constable stared at him. "She has been knocking you about," he
gasped. "Why, it must ha' been you screaming, then! I thought it
sounded loud. Why don't you go and get a summons and have her locked up?
I should be pleased to take her."
Mr. Grummit faced him, quivering with passion. "Wot would it cost if I
set about you?" he demanded, huskily.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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