As to Hugh, whether it was that the whole was suggestive of Egyptian bondage, or that his own mood was, at the time, of the least comfortable sort, I will not pretend to determine; but he assured me that he felt all the time, as if, instead of being in a chapel built of bricks harmoniously arranged, as by the lyre of Amphion, he were wandering in the waste, wretched field whence these bricks had been dug, of all places on the earth's surface the most miserable, assailed by the nauseous odours, which have not character enough to be described, and only remind one of the colours on a snake's back.
When they reached the open air, Mr. Appleditch introduced Hugh to Mrs. Appleditch, on the steps in front of the chapel.
"This is Mr. Sutherland, Mrs. Appleditch."
Hugh lifted his hat, and Mrs. Appleditch made a courtesy. She was a very tall woman--a head beyond her husband, extremely thin, with sharp nose, hollow cheeks, and good eyes. In fact, she was partly pretty, and might have been pleasant-looking, but for a large, thin-lipped, vampire-like mouth, and a general expression of greed and contempt. She was meant for a lady, and had made herself a money-maggot. She was richly and plainly dressed; and until she began to be at her ease, might have passed for an unpleasant lady.
Master Appleditch, the future pastor, was a fat boy, dressed like a dwarf, in a frock coat and man's hat, with a face in which the meanness and keenness strove for mastery, and between them kept down the appearance of stupidity consequent on fatness. They walked home in silence, Mr. and Mrs. Appleditch apparently pondering either upon the spiritual food they had just received, or the corporeal food for which they were about to be thankful.
Their house was one of many in a crescent. Not content with his sign in town, the grocer had a large brass plate on his door, with Appleditch engraved upon it in capitals: it saved them always looking at the numbers. The boy ran on before, and assailed this door with a succession of explosive knocks.
As soon as it was opened, in he rushed, bawling:
"Peter, Peter, here's the new apprentice! Papa's brought him home to dinner, because he was at chapel this morning." Then in a lower tone--"I mean to have a ride on his back this afternoon."The father and mother laughed. A solemn priggish little voice answered:
"Oh, no, Johnny. Don't you know what day this is? This is the Sabbath-day.""The dear boy!" sighed his mother.
"That boy is too good to live," responded the father.
Hugh was shown into the dining-room, where the table was already laid for dinner. It was evident that the Appleditches were well-to-do people. The room was full of what is called handsome furniture, in a high state of polish. Over the chimney-piece hung the portrait of a preacher in gown and bands, the most prominent of whose features were his cheeks.
In a few minutes the host and hostess entered, followed by a pale-faced little boy, the owner of the voice of reproof.
"Come here, Peetie," said his mother, "and tell Mr. Sutherland what you have got." She referred to some toy--no, not toy, for it was the Sabbath--to some book, probably.
Peetie answered in a solemn voice, mouthing every vowel:
"I've got five bags of gold in the Bank of England.""Poor child!" said his mother, with a scornful giggle. "You wouldn't have much to reckon on, if that were all."Two or three gaily dressed riflemen passed the window. The poor fellows, unable to bear the look of their Sunday clothes, if they had any, after being used to their uniform, had come out in all its magnificence.
"Ah!" said Mr. Appleditch, "that's all very well in a state of nature; but when a man is once born into a state of grace, Mr. Sutherland--ah!"
"Really," responded Mrs. Appleditch, "the worldliness of the lower classes is quite awful. But they are spared for a day of wrath, poor things! I am sure that accident on the railway last Sabbath, might have been a warning to them all. After that they can't say there is not a God that ruleth in the earth, and taketh vengeance for his broken Sabbaths.""Mr.--. I don't know your name," said Peter, whose age Hugh had just been trying in vain to conjecture.
"Mr. Sutherland," said the mother.
"Mr. Slubberman, are you a converted character?" resumed Peter.
"Why do you ask me that, Master Peter?" said Hugh, trying to smile.
"I think you look good, but mamma says she don't think you are, because you say Sunday instead of Sabbath, and she always finds people who do are worldly."Mrs. Appleditch turned red--not blushed, and said, quickly:
"Peter shouldn't repeat everything he hears.""No more I do, ma. I haven't told what you said about--" Here his mother caught him up, and carried him out of the room, saying:
"You naughty boy! You shall go to bed."
"Oh, no, I shan't!"
"Yes, you shall. Here, Jane, take this naughty boy to bed.""I'll scream."
"Will you?"
"Yes, I will!"
And such a yell was there Of sudden and portentous birth, As if... ten cats were being cooked alive.
"Well! well! well! my Peetie! He shan't go to bed, if he'll be a good boy. Will he be good?""May I stay up to supper, then? May I?"
"Yes, yes; anything to stop such dreadful screaming. You are very naughty--very naughty indeed.""No. I'm not naughty. I'll scream again."
"No, no. Go and get your pinafore on, and come down to dinner.
Anything rather than a scream."
I am sick of all this, and doubt if it is worth printing; but it amused me very much one night as Hugh related it over a bottle of Chablis and a pipe.
He certainly did not represent Mrs. Appleditch in a very favourable light on the whole; but he took care to say that there was a certain liberality about the table, and a kind of heartiness in her way of pressing him to have more than he could possibly eat, which contrasted strangely with her behaviour afterwards in money matters.