CHAPTER V.

"THIS IS THE DOG THAT WORRIED THE CAT."

FOR some time Ratcliffe continued very ill; the bleeding from the lungs recurred at intervals, and he was extremely weak. Nor was this his wife's only or greatest source of anxiety. Though unable to do any work, he seemed to have money, which he gave her, a gold piece at a time, when she needed it for household expenses. Once when she ventured to ask how he had become possessed of it, he turned upon her almost fiercely, telling her to hold her tongue and not bother him; but she was very unhappy, for generally Ratcliffe was sullen and silent, sitting in his chair often for hours without speaking, and taking no notice even of his little girl, of whom he had always been devotedly fond. Nancy could see that a heavy burden was resting upon his heart, but she was not permitted to share it, and this was constant pain to her.

Things were in the condition we have described, when one evening a knock came at the door, and Nan, on going to open it, found there a dame with a portly figure and a round, good-humoured face; while a throat cleared itself noisily, and a big hearty voice said—

"Tell me, young woman, does a Mr. Ratcliffe Drinkrow live here, or near here?"

"Yes; do you want him, ma'am?" said Nancy, gently. "He's not at all well, but I'll tell him who's come, if you'll just give me your name; I dare say he will see you."

"I 'think' he will," replied the old woman, "if you'll have the goodness to tell him that it's Mrs. Curr. He and I was allers good friends."

Nan went to her husband, but returned in a moment, and asked the visitor to come in. Mrs. Curr did so, but when she saw Ratcliffe's pale face and drooping form, she came towards him with both hands outstretched and tears of pity in her kind eyes. He as eagerly rose to meet her, saying—

"Oh, Mrs. Curr, to think you have found me out, and come to see me! You were always my friend, weren't you? And you haven't gone and cast me off like the others, have you?"

"Bless your dear face, no, Master Ratcliffe. How's a body to cast-off a boy which many and many a time I've given you bread and treacle when you was a hungry, growing lad, and your father couldn't abide your eating so much? Ah, my poor lad, that bread and treacle has stuck to me—leastwise the remembrance of it has—and it ain't Jemima Curr as can stop lovin' when she once begins. But la! Master Ratcliffe, it were a tidy job to find you out; nor I don't think I ever should, not if I'd wandered from Dan to Beersheba—as the sayin' is—hadn't it have been for my old friends the greengrocers over the way. They told me you was here, and what was more surprisin', that you'd took upon yourself the state of matrimony; though, for the matter of that, any money 's better than that as your father and brother thinks so much of at home. And besides this, you won't mind my sayin' that I consider your wife a werry promisin' young woman, and speaks that gentle and sweet, as she might be a lady borned and brought up."

A faint smile rested for a moment on the young man's face, but it passed away, not, however, before it was broadly reciprocated on Mrs. Curr's own honest, full-blown countenance. There was a moment's silence, then the old housekeeper began again—

"You're not livin' now, sir, in the 'house that Jack built,' and maybe you haven't heard of the robbery that's been and took place. You'll hardly believe it, sir, but your father's strong-room was broke into, and a bag of gold carried off, and not one of the thieves caught, which three there was. Not but what one of them was as near nabbed as might be, escaping, as you may say, with the skin of his teeth; for Master Tom were after him, and—Bless my soul, Master Ratcliffe, what's the matter? Look here, Mrs. Ratcliffe! Here's your husband took bad; he's a-goin' to faint or somethink like it. Why, what a hinvalid he's become since he left the parential roof!"

Poor Ratcliffe! Apparently the excitement of seeing his old friend had been to much for him. Pale as death, he leant back in his chair, and did not recover for some time. When at last he did so, he turned to Mrs. Curr and said—

"I've been but a poor creature the last few days, but I shall be all right soon, no doubt. And Mrs. Curr, I rely on you not to tell my father and brother where I am, or that you have been to see me. Perhaps you know I was turned out by father, and since then, when I went to ask Tom to plead my cause with the old man, he said he wouldn't. So now they're my father and brother no longer, and I—I—" Here a cough interrupted poor Ratcliffe, and he stopped abruptly.

Mrs. Curr leaned forward eagerly.

"Did I hear you say, sir," questioned she, "that you'd been to Master Tom since your father behaved that cruel to you? And did he send you off without trying to make matters smooth? Ain't that a shame, now? A shame it is indeed!"

The old woman's affectionate sympathy brought tears to Ratcliffe's eyes, and he could not trust himself to reply, except by a hearty shake of the hand as she bade him good night. A moment more and she was trundling down the street at her best pace, and in due time she reached home just at the hour when she had to dish up the meagre meal called supper by the miser and his son.

After supper Tom was about to go to the taproom, when the housekeeper said, "May I have a word with you please, Mr. Thomas?"

"Yes, if there are no customers," replied Tom, who was in rather a surly mood, and resented the idea of a conversation with Mrs. Curr, whom he had always detested for her invariable kindness to Ratcliffe.

The housekeeper peeped through the glass door; there happened to be no one at the bar just then.

"If you please, sir," said she, "bein' an old servant, would you hev any objectings to tell me about your brother, Mr. Ratcliffe? I've been waitin' and hopin' to see if anythink would turn up to make peace between him and master, and nothink hasn't been and turned up yet; which the neighbours is all askin' what's got him, and why; and please, sir, what am I to tell them?"

"Tell them to go and mind their own business," returned Tom, savagely.

"It may be, sir, as you might hey seen him since he left home, and if so could you—"

But Tom interrupted her with more heat and vehemence than she had ever seen him display. "What's the matter with you to-night?" he exclaimed, rudely. "What have I to do with Ratcliffe? No, I've not set eyes on him since the day he took himself off; how should I when I haven't an idea where he lives? Of course I haven't seen him. What a question!"

This direct lie was too much for poor Mrs. Curr. She almost screamed with excitement; then she blurted out,—

"Mr. Thomas, there's nothink easier than to tell a lie, but it's another thing quite to make folks believe it. Now I happen to know that Master Ratcliffe came to you one night, to ask you to try and make things right with the master, and you wouldn't; and this were the last time you see him."

"And pray how did you hear this wonderful bit of news?" sneered Tom, white with rage. "You've been playing the spy, Mrs. Curr, if I'm not very much mistaken, and, mark my words, you'll suffer for this!"

"Don't you be a-threatenin' me!" said Mrs. Curr, now well on the defensive, and bristling like a porcupine. "But there, you can't do me no harm, except to get me sent off, and I shouldn't cry if I was, which the life here ain't of the pleasantest, more partic'lar since Master Ratcliffe went. And now perwisions is a-gettin' dearer, and I don't hey no more money to pay for 'em, I can hardly make both ends meet. Talk of Mother Hubbard! Why, 'my' cupboard is allers bare, for I never hev a bone as I could ask a respectable dog to haccept of, bein' as how the goodness is inwariable boiled out."

"Is this all you've got to say to me, Mrs. Curr?" asked Tom, coldly. "Because, if so, I can go and attend to my duties."

Mrs. Curr did not reply. She only looked at him, and almost through him, with her indignant eyes, and cleared her throat at him in her most aggressive manner.

This was too much for Tom, and he walked away, muttering to himself, "I'll serve her out for this—I'll lose her the place—worrying old hag that she is. I know what I'll say to my father, and he will turn her away at once. I'll serve her out yet."