Sailor's Knots (Entire Collection)

“And it ain’t silly,” ses Charlie, speaking very quick; “mind that!”

“It’s a bit o’ real lace,” ses the gal, twisting her ‘ead round to look at the collar; “it cost me one and two-three only last night.”

“One an’ wot?” ses Charlie, who, not being a married man, didn’t understand ‘er.

“One shilling,” ses the gal, “two pennies, and three farthings. D’ye understand that?”

“Yes,” ses Charlie.

“He’s cleverer than he looks,” ses the gal, turning to Ted. “I s’pose you’re right, and it is the shape after all.”

Ted walked along one side of ‘er and Charlie the other, till they came to the corner of the road where she lived, and then Ted and ‘er stood there talking till Charlie got sick and tired of it, and kept tugging at Ted’s coat for ‘im to come away.

“I’m coming,” ses Ted, at last. “I s’pose you won’t be this way to-morrow night?” he ses, turning to the gal.

“I might if I thought there was no chance of seeing you,” she ses, tossing her ‘ead.

“You needn’t be alarmed,” ses Charlie, shoving in his oar; “we’re going to a music-’all to-morrow night.”

“Oh, go to your blessed music-’all,” ses the gal to Ted; “I don’t want you.”

She turned round and a’most ran up the road, with Ted follering ‘er and begging of ‘er not to be so hasty, and afore they parted she told ‘im that ‘er name was. Emma White, and promised to meet ‘im there the next night at seven.

O’ course Mr. Charlie Brice turned up alongside o’ Ted the next night, and at fust Emma said she was going straight off ‘ome agin. She did go part o’ the way, and then, when she found that Ted wouldn’t send his mate off, she came back and, woman-like, said as ‘ow she wasn’t going to go ‘ome just to please Charlie Brice. She wouldn’t speak a word to ‘im, and when they all went to the music-’all together she sat with her face turned away from ‘im and her elbow sticking in ‘is chest. Doing that and watching the performance at the same time gave ‘er a stiff neck, and she got in such a temper over it she wouldn’t hardly speak to Ted, and when Charlie—meaning well—told ‘er to rub it with a bit o’ mutton-fat she nearly went off her ‘ead.

“Who asked you to come with us?” she ses, as soon as she could speak. “‘Ow dare you force yourself where you ain’t wanted?”

“Ted wants me,” ses Charlie.

“We’ve been together for years,” ses Ted. “You’ll like Charlie when you get used to ‘im—everybody does.”

“Not me!” ses Emma, with a shiver. “It gives me the fair creeps to look at him. You’ll ‘ave to choose between us. If he comes, I sha’n’t. Which is it to be?”

Neither of ‘em answered ‘er, but the next night they both turned up as usual, and Emma White stood there looking at ‘em and nearly crying with temper.

“‘Ow would you like it if I brought another young lady with me?” she ses to Ted.

“It wouldn’t make no difference to me,” ses Ted. “Any friend o’ yours is welcome.”

Emma stood looking at ‘em, and then she patted ‘er eyes with a pocket-’ankercher and began to look more cheerful.

“You ain’t the only one that has got a dear friend,” she says, looking. at ‘im and wiping ‘er lips with the ‘ankercher. “I’ve got one, and if Charlie Brice don’t promise to stay at ‘ome to-morrow night I’ll bring her with me.”

“Bring ‘er, and welcome,” ses Ted.

“I sha’n’t stay at ‘ome for fifty dear friends,” ses Charlie.

“Have it your own way,” ses Emma. “If you come, Sophy Jennings comes, that’s all.”

She was as good as ‘er word, too, and next night when they turned up they found Emma and ‘er friend waiting for them. Charlie thought it was the friend’s mother at fust, but he found out arterwards that she was a widder-woman. She had ‘ad two husbands, and both of ‘em ‘ad passed away with a smile on their face. She seemed to take a fancy to Charlie the moment she set eyes on ‘im, and two or three times, they’d ‘ave lost Ted and Emma if it hadn’t been for ‘im.

They did lose ‘em the next night, and Charlie Brice ‘ad Mrs. Jennings all alone to himself for over a couple of hours walking up and down the Commercial Road talking about the weather; Charles saying ‘ow wet and cold it, was, and thinking p’r’aps they ‘ad better go off ‘ome afore she got a chill.

He complained to Ted about it when ‘e got ‘ome, and Ted promised as it shouldn’t ‘appen agin. He said that ‘im and Emma ‘ad been so busy talking about getting married that he ‘ad forgotten to keep an eye on him.

“Married!” ses Charlie, very upset. “Married! And wot’s to become o’ me?”

“Come and lodge with us,” ses Ted.

They shook hands on it, but Ted said they ‘ad both better keep it to themselves a bit and wait until Emma ‘ad got more used to Charlie afore they told her. Ted let ‘er get used to ‘im for three days more afore he broke the news to ‘er, and the way she went on was alarming. She went on for over ten minutes without taking breath, and she was just going to start again when Mrs. Jennings stopped her.

“He’s all right,” she ses. “You leave ‘im alone.”

“I’m not touching ‘im,” ses Emma, very scornful.

“You leave ‘im alone,” ses Mrs. Jennings, taking hold of Charlie’s arm. “I don’t say things about your young man.”

Charlie Brice started as if he ‘ad been shot, and twice he opened ‘is mouth to speak and show Mrs. Jennings ‘er mistake; but, wot with trying to find ‘is voice in the fust place, and then finding words to use it with in the second, he didn’t say anything. He just walked along gasping, with ‘is mouth open like a fish.

“Don’t take no notice of ‘er, Charlie,” ses Mrs. Jennings.

“I—I don’t mind wot she ses,” ses pore Charlie; “but you’re making a great–”

“She’s quick-tempered, is Emma,” ses Mrs. Jennings. “But, there, so am I. Wot you might call a generous temper, but quick.”

Charlie went cold all over.

“Treat me well and I treat other people well,” ses Mrs. Jennings. “I can’t say fairer than that, can I?”

Charlie said “Nobody could,” and then ‘e walked along with her hanging on to ‘is arm, arf wondering whether it would be wrong to shove ‘er under a bus that was passing, and arf wondering whether ‘e could do it if it wasn’t.

“As for Emma saying she won’t ‘ave you for a lodger,” ses Mrs. Jennings, “let ‘er wait till she’s asked. She’ll wait a long time if I ‘ave my say.”

Charlie didn’t answer her. He walked along with ‘is mouth shut, his idea being that the least said the soonest mended. Even Emma asked ‘im at last whether he ‘ad lost ‘is tongue, and said it was curious ‘ow different love took different people.

He talked fast enough going ‘ome with Ted though, and pretty near lost ‘is temper with ‘im when Ted asked ‘im why he didn’t tell Mrs. Jennings straight that she ‘ad made a mistake.

“She knows well enough,” he says, grinding ‘is teeth; “she was just trying it on. That’s ‘ow it is widders get married agin. You’ll ‘ave to choose between going out with me or Emma, Ted. I can’t face Mrs. Jennings again. I didn’t think anybody could ‘ave parted us like that.”

Ted said it was all nonsense, but it was no good, and the next night he went off alone and came back very cross, saying that Mrs. Jennings ‘ad been with ‘em all the time, and when ‘e spoke to Emma about it she said it was just tit for tat, and reminded ‘im ‘ow she had ‘ad to put up with Charlie. For four nights running ‘e went out for walks, with Emma holding one of ‘is arms and Mrs. Jennings the other.

“It’s miserable for you all alone ‘ere by yourself; Charlie,” he ses. “Why not come? She can’t marry you against your will. Besides, I miss you.”

Charlie shook ‘ands with ‘im, but ‘e said ‘e wouldn’t walk out with Mrs. Jennings for a fortune. And all that Ted could say made no difference. He stayed indoors of an evening reading the paper, or going for little walks by ‘imseif, until at last Ted came ‘ome one evening, smiling all over his face, and told ‘im they had both been making fools of themselves for nothing.

“Mrs. Jennings is going to be married,” he ses, clapping Charlie on the back.

“Wot?” ses Charlie.