American literature -- Humor; American wit and humor
"Yes, I see, you little hen-sparrer," his eyes coming back to her from a
survey of the room, "that you've got Tom's money in the house here, and
would like to throw me off the scent!"
"If I had," said she, "you'd only get it across my dead body! Hadn't you
better look for it, and have me tell you when you're hot and when you're
cold?"
"Come!" said he, again; "I've had enough of your slack--"
"You're not very polite," she said, with something like a pout.
"People in my line ain't," he answered, grimly. "I want that money! and
I want it now! I've no time to lose. I'd rather come by it peaceable,"
he growled, "but if--"
"Well, you can take it; of course, you're the stronger. But I told you
before, it's all I have, and I've very particular use for it. You just
sit down!" she cried, indicating a chair, with the air of really having
been alone so long in these desolate regions as to be glad of having
some one to talk to, and throwing herself into the big one opposite,
because in truth she could not stand up another moment. And perhaps
feeling as if a wren were expostulating with him about robbing her
nest, the man dropped the angry arm with which he had threatened her,
and leaned over the back of the chair.
"There it is," said she, "right under your hand all the time. You won't
have to rip up the mattress for it, or rummage the clothes-press, or
hunt through the broken crockery on the top shelves of the kitchen
cupboard," she ran on, as if she were delighted to hear the sound of her
own voice, and couldn't talk fast enough. "I always leave my purse on
the dressing-case, though Tom has told me, time and again, it wasn't
safe. But out here--"
"Stop!" thundered the man. "If you know enough to stop. Stop! or I'll
cut your cursed tongue out and make you stop. And then, I suppose, you'd
gurgle. That's not what I want--though I'll take it. I've told _you_,
time and again, that I want the paymaster's money. That isn't right
under my hand--and where is it? I'll put daylight through that little
false heart of yours if you don't give it to me without five more
words--"
"And I've told you just as often that I've nothing to do with the
paymaster's money, and I wish you would put daylight _anywhere_, for
then my husband would come home and make an end of you!" And with the
great limpid tears overflowing her blue eyes, Rose Laughton knew that
the face she turned up at him was enough to melt the sternest heart
going.
"Do you mean to tell me--" said he, evidently wavering, and possibly
inclining to doubt if, after all, she were not telling the truth, as no
man in his senses would leave such a sum of money in the keeping of such
a simpleton.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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