Thereby Hangs a Tale. Volume OneFenn, George Manville
General
Thereby Hangs a Tale. Volume One
Fenn, George Manville
Fiction
"Must have 'alf pint now, anyhow," he muttered, and he made as if to
fasten the reins to the roof of the cab, but only to plump himself down
into his seat again, jig the reins, and give his whip, a sharp crack.
"I'll tell the missus on you, Hatty, see if I don't?" he said, "a-trying
to get your master back into his old ways. Get on with yer, or yer'll
get it directly."
He gave his whip such a vigorous crack in the air that Ratty consented
to go, and dragging the muddy cab partially down the new street, its
driver pulled up by where a knot of shoeless boys were ornamenting, and
amusing themselves with, the new ill-laid pavement. One was standing
like a small Colossus of Rhodes, with his grimy feet at either corner of
a loose slab, making the liquid mud beneath squirt out into a puddle,
while a companion carefully turned a naked foot into a stamp, dipped it
in the mud, and printed a pattern all along the pave, till a third
smudged it out, and a fight ensued.
"Hallo, yer young dogs," roared the cabman, and his long whip gave a
crack which stopped the fray; "a-fightin' like that! Where's Whaley's
Place?"
"First turn to the left, and first to the right," shouted two boys.
"And is it all like this here?" said the cabman.
"No; you should have gone round Brick Street. I'll show yer."
"Hook on, then," said the cabman, turning his horse; and, to the extreme
envy of his companions, the little speaker "hooked on" behind, his muddy
feet slipping about on the step; but he clung fast, shouting his
directions till the driver reached the main road, made a detour, and
arrived at last in Whaley's Place, where the present of a copper sent
the boy off in high glee to spend it in some coveted luxury.
"Nice sorter cheerful spot this," said the cabman, taking an
observation of the street, which was of a similar class to the new one
he had left, only that the houses had fallen into a state of premature
decay; quite half, too, had declined from the genteel private and taken
to trade, with or without the bow window of shop life. For instance,
one displayed a few penny illustrated sheets and an assortment of
fly-specked clay pipes, the glass panes bearing the legends, "Tobacco"
and "Cigars." Another house had the door wide open, and sundry squeaks
issued therefrom--squeaks of a manufacturing tendency, indicative of
grinding, the process being explained by a red and yellow board, having
an artistic drawing of the machinery used, and the words, "Mangling Done
Here." Then, after an interval of private houses, there was a
fishmonger's, with a stock-in-trade of four plaice and ten bloaters,
opposite to a purveyors, in whose open window--the parlour by rights,
with the sashes out--were displayed two very unpleasant-looking
decapitations of the gentle sheep, and three trays of pieces, labelled
ninepence, sevenpence, and sixpence individually, apparently not from
any variation of quality, but the amount of bone.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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