Pumpkins' Glow: 200+ Eerie Tales for Halloween. Джек Лондон

faith. I have faith in s-s-s-six lights, and here they are.'

      'Do you see that, Johanna,' exclaimed Mrs Oakley, 'are you not convinced now of the holiness of Mr Lupin?'

      'I am convinced of his drunkenness, mother, and entreat of you to let me leave the room at once.

      'Tell her of the honour,' said Mr Lupin - 'tell her of the honour.'

      'I don't know, Mr Lupin; but don't you think it would be better to take some other opportunity?'

      'Very well, then, this is the opportunity.'

      'If it's your pleasure, Mr Lupin, I will. You must know, then, Johanna, that Mr Lupin has been kind enough to consent to save my soul on condition that you marry him, and I am quite sure you can have no reasonable objection; indeed, I think it's the least you can do, whether you have any objection or not.

      'Well put,' said Mr Lupin, 'excellently well put.'

      'Mother,' said Johanna, 'if you are so far gone in superstition as to believe this miserable drunkard ought to come between you and heaven, I am not so lost as not to be able to reject the offer with more scorn and contempt than ever I thought I could have entertained for any human being; but hypocrisy never, to my mind, wears so disgusting a garb as when it attires itself in the outward show of religion.'

      'This conduct is unbearable,' cried Mrs Oakley; 'am I to have one of the Lord's saints insulted under my own roof?'

      'If he were ten times a saint, mother, instead of being nothing but a miserable drunken profligate, it would be better that he should be insulted ten times over, than that you should permit your own child to have passed through the indignity of having to reject such a proposition as that which has just been made. I must claim the protection of my father; he will not suffer one, towards whom he has ever shown his affection, the remembrance of which sinks deep into my heart, to meet with so cruel an insult beneath his roof.'

      'That's right, my dear,' cried Mr Oakley, at that moment pushing open the parlour door. 'That's right, my dear; you never spoke truer words in your life.'

      A faint scream came from Mrs Oakley, and the Rev Mr Lupin immediately seized upon the fresh jug of mulled wine, and finished it at a draught.

      'Get behind me, Satan,' he said. 'Mr Oakley, you will be damned if you say a word to me.'

      'It's all the same, then,' said Mr Oakley; 'for I'll be damned if I don't. Then, Ben, Ben, come - come in, Ben.'

      'I'm coming,' said a deep voice, and a man about six feet four inches in height, and nearly two-thirds of that amount in width, entered the parlour. 'I'm a-coming, Oakley, my boy. Put on your blessed spectacles, and tell me which is the fellow.'

      'I could have sworn,' said Mrs Oakley, as she gave the table a knock, with her fist - 'I could have sworn, sworn when you came in, Oakley - I could have sworn, you little snivelling, shrivelled-up wretch. You'd no more have dared to come into this parlour as never was with those words in your mouth than you'd have dared to have flown, if you hadn't had your cousin, Big Ben, the beef-eater from the Tower, with you.

      'Take it easy, ma'am,' said Ben, as he sat down in a chair, which immediately broke all to pieces with his weight. 'Take it easy, ma'am; the devil - what's this?'

      'Never mind, Ben,' said Mr Oakley; 'it's only a chair; get up.'

      'A cheer,' said Ben; 'do you call that a cheer? but never mind - take it easy.'

      'Why, you big, bullying, idle, swilling and guttling ruffian!'

      'Go on, ma'am, go on.

      'You good-for-nothing lump of carrion; a dog wears his own coat, but you wear your master's, you great stupid overgrown, lurking hound. You parish brought-up wild beast, go and mind your lions and elephants in the Tower, and don't come into honest people's houses, you cutthroat, bullying, pickpocketing wretch.'

      'Go on, ma'am, go on.'

      This was a kind of dialogue that could not last, and Mrs Oakley sat down exhausted, and then Ben said, 'I tell you what, ma'am, I considers you - I looks upon you, ma'am, as a female variety of that 'ere animal as is very useful and sagacious, ma'am.'

      There was no mistake in this allusion, and Mrs Oakley was about to make some reply, when the Rev Mr Lupin rose from his chair, saying,-

      'Bless you all! I think I'll go home.'

      'Not yet, Mr Tulip,' said Ben; 'you had better sit down again - we've got something to say to you.

      'Young man, young man, let me pass. If you do not, you will endanger your soul.'

      'I ain't got none,' said Ben; 'I'm only a beefeater, and don't pretend to such luxuries.'

      'The heathen!' exclaimed Mrs Oakley, 'the horrid heathen! but there's one consolation, and that is, that he will be fried in his own fat for everlasting.'

      'Oh, that's nothing,' said Ben; 'I think I shall like it, especially if it's any pleasure to you. I suppose that's what you call a Christian consolation. Will you sit down, Mr Tulip?'

      'My name ain't Tulip, but Lupin; but if you wish it, I don't mind sitting down, of course.'

      The beefeater, with a movement of his foot, kicked away the reverend gentleman's chair, and down he sat with a dab upon the floor.

      'My dear,' said Mr Oakley to Johanna, 'you go to bed, and then your mother can't say you have anything to do with this affair. I intend to rid my house of this man. Good night, my dear, good night.'

      Johanna kissed her father on the cheek, and then left the room, not at all sorry that so vigorous a movement was being made for the suppression of Mr Lupin.

      When she was gone, Mrs Oakley spoke, saying, 'Mr Lupin, I bid you good night, and of course after the rough treatment of these wretches, I can hardly expect you to come again. Good night, Mr Lupin, good night.'

      'That's all very well, ma'am,' said Ben, 'but before this 'ere wild beast of a parson goes away, I want to admonish him. He don't seem to be wide awake, and I must rouse him up.'

      Ben took hold of the reverend gentleman's nose, and gave it such an awful pinch that when he took his finger and thumb away, it was perfectly blue.

      'Murder, oh murder! my nose! my nose!' shrieked Mr Lupin, and at that moment Mrs Oakley, who was afraid to attack Ben, gave her husband such an open-handed whack on the side of his head, that the little man reeled again, and saw a great many more lights than the Rev Mr Lupin had done under the influence of the mulled wine.

      'Very good,' said Ben, 'now we are getting into the thick of it.'

      With this Ben took from his pocket a coil of rope, one end of which was a noose, and that he dexterously threw over Mrs Oakley's head.

      'Murder!' she shrieked. 'Oakley, are you going to see me murdered before your eyes?'

      'There is such a singing in my ears,' said Mr Oakley, 'that I can't see anything.'

      'This is the way,' said Ben, 'we manages the wild beastesses when they shuts their ears to all sorts of argument. Now, ma'am, if you please, a little this way.'

      Ben looked about until he found a strong hook in the wall, over which, in consequence of his great height, he was enabled to draw the rope, and then the other end of it he tied securely to the leg of a heavy secretaire that was in the room, so that Mrs Oakley was well secured.

      'Murder!' she cried. 'Oakley, are you a man, that you stand by and see me treated in this way by a big brute?'

      'I can't see anything,' said Mr Oakley; 'there is such a singing in my ears; I told you so before - I can't see anything.'

      'Now, ma'am, you may just say what you like,' said Ben; 'it won't matter a bit, any more than the grumbling of a bear with a sore head; and as for your Mr Tulip, you'll just get down on your knees, and beg Mr Oakley's pardon for coming and drinking his tea without his leave, and having the infernal impudence to speak to his daughter.'

      'Don't do it, Mr Lupin,' cried Mrs Oakley - 'don't do it.'