Mr. Poskitt's Nightcaps

Chapter 11

It used to be said all over the countryside that you might go for a long day's march and search all the towns and villages you came across and then return home without finding such an example of David-and-Jonathan-like affection and devotedness as was seen in the lives of Thomas and Matthew Pogmore. To begin with, they were twins who had lost both parents before they themselves attained to manhood; this sad occurrence seemed to draw them closely together, and at the age of fifty they were still living, bachelors, in the ancient farmhouse wherein they had first seen the light of day. They had never ran after women, young or otherwise, and everybody who knew themas everybody didsaid that they would live and die single. Some uncharitable people said they were much too mean to marry, for they had a great reputation for economy and were well known to look at both sides of a sixpence a long time before they parted with it. And yet there were other people who wondered that they never had married, for they were both well-set-up, good-looking, rosy-cheeked, well-preserved men, who had been handsome in early manhood and were still good to look upon. In all respects they were very much alike in appearancethey were alike, too, in the fact that each possessed a pair of small, sly eyes which always seemed to be on the outlook.

The domestic life of Thomas and Matthew in their old farmhouse was one of quiet and peaceful days. They were well-to-do, and the land they farmed was good. They had a housekeeper, some ten years their senior, who knew all their ways. They lived the most regular of lives. At eight o'clock they breakfasted. From nine until one they were out and about their fields or their folds. At one they dined, glanced at the newspaper, smoked a pipe, drank one glass, and took a forty seconds nap, each in his own easy-chair. When they were thus refreshed they went out into the land again until half-past five, when high tea was set in the parlour. After its consumptionand they were hearty eatersthe spirit-case was set out with the cigars, and the peaceful duties of the evening began. Sometimes they read more of the newspapers; sometimes they talked of pigs or turnips or the different qualities of artificial manure. And at precisely ten o'clock, having consumed exactly so much grog and smoked exactly so many pipes or cigars, they retired to bed and slept the sleep of the innocent. It was a harmless life and very soothing.

This life, of course, had its occasional variations. There was, for instance, the weekly market-day, when they attended the little town four miles off, did business, dined at the ordinary and took their market allowance. They were generous about the latter, as they were in all matters of food and drink, but nobody ever saw them market-merrythey were much too cautious and wise for that. Then there were occasional fair-days to attend, and sometimes they journeyed into distant parts of the country to buy sheep or cattlethese occurrences made a break in life for them, but it was seldom that their well-fed forms were not found one on each side of the hearthrug when the shades of evening fell.

And then, greatly to the astonishment of Matthew, Thomas suddenly began a new departure. As a rule the brothers rode home together from market; there came a period when he was missing when going home time arrived, and Matthew had to go home without him. On three occasions he got back late, and made excuses. He began to make more excuses about riding into the market-town of an evening, and his twin-brother was often left alone. Matthew grew alarmed, then frightened. And when at last he realized that Thomas, when he went off in this mysterious way, invariably dressed himself up, Matthew broke into a cold sweat and dared to voice a horrible suspicion.

"He's after a woman!"

He glanced round the comfortable parlour and thought what it might mean if Thomas introduced a wife into it. She would, of course, want to alter everythingwomen always did. She would say that cigars made the curtains smell, and forbid the decanters to be brought out until bed-time. And she would expect, no doubt, to have his easy-chair. The prospects were terrible.

"Who can she be?" he wondered, and his consternation was so great that he let his cigar go out and his grog turn cold.

Thomas came home that night with very bright eyes and a distinguished air. He mixed himself a drink and enthroned himself in his easy-chair.

"Matthew, my lad!" he said in his grandest manner. "Matthew, I've no doubt that people have oft wondered how it was that we never entered into the matrimonial condition of life."

Matthew shook his head sadly. Something was coming.

"Matrimony, Thomas," he answered feebly, "matrimony, now, is a thing that never occurred to me."

Thomas waved his hand comprehendingly.

"Just so, just so, Matthew," said he. "Of course, we were too young to think about such things untiluntil recently. A man shouldn't think of them things until he's come to an age of discretion."

Matthew took a moody sip of the contents of his glass.

"Was you thinking of that state of life yourself, Thomas?" he inquired.

Thomas grew in grandeur and importance until he looked like a large frog.

"I was about to make the announcement, Matthew," he said, "the important announcement that I am about to lead to the altar Mrs. Walkinshaw"

"What, her of the Dusty Miller!" exclaimed Matthew, naming a well-known hostelry in the market-town.

"Mrs. WalkinshawMrs. Thomas Pogmore as will becertainly is proprietor of that house, Matthew," replied Thomas. "Yes, she is!"

"Wellwell!" said Matthew. "Ah, just so." He glanced at his brother with the sly Pogmore expression. "I should think she's got a pretty warmly-lined purse, eh, Thomas?he was a well-to-do man, was her first husband."

"I have no doubt Mrs. Thomas Pogmore as will be can bring a nice little fortune with her, Matthew," said the prospective bridegroom, with great complacency, "a ve-ry nice little fortune. There'll be what the late Mr. Walkinshaw left, and what she's saved, and there'll be the goodwill of the business, which should make a pretty penny."

"And there's no encumbrances, I think," remarked Matthew.

"There is no encumbrances," said Thomas. "No, it's a comfortable thing to reflect upon is that. II couldn't abear to have a pack ofof children about the place."

Matthew glanced about him once more and once more sighed.

"Well, of course, it'll make a difference," he began.

Thomas raised a deprecatory hand.

"Not to you, Matthew!" he said. "Not in the least, brother. Mrs. Thomas Pogmore as will be knows that one-half of everything here is yours. It'll only mean buying another armchair, which can be placed in the middle of the hearth there."

"Well, of course, with having been in the public line she'll know what men is," said Matthew, somewhat reassured. "I couldn't like to see anything altered in the old place nor my habits interfered with."

Mr. Thomas Pogmore intimated that everything would continue on the old lines, and presently marched off to bed, humming a gay tune. He was evidently in high good humour with himself, and he continued to be so for some weeks, during which period Mrs. Walkinshaw, who was a handsome, black-eyed widow of presumably forty-five, occasionally drove over and took tea with the twins, possibly with the view of getting acquainted with her future home. She was a sprightly and vivacious dame, and Matthew thought that Thomas had shown good taste.

And then came a night when Thomas, arriving home earlier than usual, entered the parlour looking much distressed, threw himself into a chair and groaned. That he felt in a very bad way Matthew immediately deduced from the fact that he neglected to supply himself with spirituous refreshment.

"What's the matter, Thomas?" inquired the younger twin.

Thomas groaned still more loudly.

"Matter!" he exclaimed at last, making a mighty effort and resorting to the decanters and cigars. "Matter a deal, Matthew. I dare say," he continued, after he had drunk his potion with a suggestion of its being bitter as aloes, "I dare say I should have been warned, for there's a many proverbs about the frailty and deceit of women. But, of course, never having had aught to do with them I was unarmed for the contest, so to speak."

"Then she's been a-deceiving of you, Thomas?" asked Matthew.

"Deceived me cruel," sighed Thomas. "I shall never believe in that s*x again."

Matthew blew out a few spirals of blue smoke before he asked a further question.

"I could hope," he said at last, "I could hope, Thomas, that it were not on the money question?"

Thomas shook his head dolefully, afterwards replenishing his glass.

"It were on the money question, Matthew," he said. "I understood that she'd come to me with a considerable fortune; a very considerable fortune!"

"Well?" asked Matthew, breathlessly.

Thomas spread out his hands with a despairing gesture.

"All passes from her if she marries again!" he said tersely.

"Is it true?" inquired Matthew.

"Told me so herselfthis very evening," answered Thomas.

A dead silence came over the farmhouse parlour. Thomas lighted a cigar and smoked pensively; Matthew refilled his churchwarden pipe and puffed blue rings at the ceiling, whereat he gazed as if in search of inspiration. It was he who spoke first.

"It's a bad job, this, Thomas," he said; "a very bad job. Of course, you'll not be for carrying out your part of the arrangement?"

"I have been cruel deceived," said Thomas.

"At the same time," said Matthew, "when this here engagement was made between you, you didn't make it a condition that the fortune should come with her?"

"No-o!" answered Thomas.

"Then, of course, if you throw her over she can sue you for breach of promise, and as you're a well-to-do man the damages would be heavy," remarked Matthew.

Thomas groaned.

"What must be done, Thomas, must be done by management," said the younger twin. "We must use diplomacy, as they term it. You must go away for a while. It's a slack time with us now, and you've naught particular to dogo and have a fortnight at Scarborough Spaw, and when that's over go and see Cousin Happleston at his farm in Durham; he'll be glad to see you. And while you're away I'll get the matter settledleave it to me."

Thomas considered that very good advice and said he would act on it, and he went off to his room earlier than usual in order to pack a portmanteau, so that he could set off from the immediate scene of his late woes early next morning. When he had departed Matthew mixed himself his usual nightcap, and, having taken a taste of it to see that it was according to recipe, proceeded to warm his back at the fire, to rub his hands, and to smile.

"It were a good conception on my part to speak to Lawyer Sharpe on that matter," he thought to himself. "I wonder Thomas never considered of it."

He drew a letter from his breast-pocket, and read it slowly through. This is what he read

"PRIVATE

10, Market Place, Cornborough,

May 11, 18.

"MR. MATTHEW POGMORE.

"DEAR SIR,In accordance with your instructions I have caused the will of the late Mr. Samuel Walkinshaw, of the Dusty Miller Hotel in this town, to be perused at Somerset House. With the exception of a few trifling legacies to servants and old friends, the whole of the deceased's fortune was left unconditionally to the widow, there being no restriction of any kind as to her possible second marriage. The gross personalty was 15,237 odd; the net, 14,956 odd. In addition to this the freehold, good-will, stock and furniture of the Dusty Miller was also left to the widow.

"I am, dear sir, yours faithfully,

"SAMUEL SHARPE."

Matthew folded this epistle carefully in its original folds and restored it to his pocket, still smiling.

"Ah!" he murmured. "What a thing it is to have a little knowledge and to know how to take advantage of it!"

Then he, too, retired to bed and slept well, and rose next morning to see his twin-brother off, bidding him be of good cheer and prophesying that he should return a free man. Left alone, he chuckled.

Matthew allowed some days to elapse before he went into Cornborough. Mrs. Walkinshaw looked somewhat surprised to see him, though of late he had taken to visiting the house occasionally. As a privileged visitor he passed into her private parlour.

"And pray what's become of Thomas these days?" she inquired, when Matthew was comfortably placed in the cosiest chair.

Matthew shook his head. His manner was mysterious.

"Don't ask me, ma'am," he said, sorrowfully. "It's a painful subject. Of course, however, between you and me and the post, as the saying is, Thomas has gone to Scarborough Spaw, ma'am."

"To Scarborough!" exclaimed Mrs. Walkinshaw. "What for?"

Matthew sighed and then gave her an expressive look.

"He's very fond of a bit of gay doings, is Thomas, ma'am," he said. "Likes to shake a loose leg, now and then, you understand. It gets a bit dull at our place in time. But I'm all for home, myself."

Mrs. Walkinshaw, who had listened to this with eyes which grew wider and wider, flung down her fancy sewing in a pet.

"Well, upon my word!" she exclaimed. "Gone gallivanting to Scarborough without even telling me. Then I'll take good care he never comes back here again. A deceitful old rip!I don't believe he was ever after anything but my money, for I tried a trick on him about it the other night, and he went off with a face as long as a fiddle and never said good-night. Old sinner!"

"We're all imperfect, ma'am," remarked Matthew. "Only some of us is less so."

Then he proceeded to make himself agreeable, and eventually went home well satisfied. And about five weeks later Thomas, whose holiday had been prolonged on Matthew's advice, received a letter from his twin-brother which made him think harder than he had ever thought in his life.

"DEAR BROTHER" (it ran),"This is to tell you that you can return home safely now, as I was married to Mrs. Walkinshaw myself this morning. I have decided to retire from farming, and she will retire from the public way of business, as we find that with our united fortunes we can live private at Harrogate and enter a more fashionable sphere of life, as is more agreeable to our feelings. Business details between you and me can be settled when you return. So no more at present, from your affectionate brother,

"MATTHEW POGMORE.

"P.S.You was misinformed in your meaning of what Mrs. Matthew Pogmore meant when she spoke of her fortune passing at her second marriage. She meant, of course, that it would pass to her second husband.

"P.S. again.Which, naturally, it has done."

After this Mr. Thomas Pogmore concluded to go home and lead the life of a hermit amongst his sheep and cattle.