THE FALSE KEY.
MR. SPENCER, a very benevolent and sensible man, undertook the educationof several poor children. Among the rest was a boy of the name ofFranklin, whom he had bred up from the time he was five years old.Franklin had the misfortune to be the son of a man of infamous character;and for many years this was a disgrace and reproach to his child. Whenany of the neighbours’ children quarrelled with him, they used to tellhim that he would turn out like his father. But Mr. Spencer alwaysassured him that he might make himself whatever he pleased; that bybehaving well he would certainly, sooner or later, secure the esteem andlove of all who knew him, even of those who had the strongest prejudiceagainst him on his father’s account.
This hope was very delightful to Franklin, and he showed the strongestdesire to learn and to do everything that was right; so that Mr. Spencersoon grew fond of him, and took great pains to instruct him, and to givehim all the good habits and principles which might make him a useful,respectable and happy man.
When he was about thirteen years of age, Mr. Spencer one day sent for himinto his closet; and as he was folding up a letter which he had beenwriting, said to him, with a very kind look, but in a graver tone thanusual, “Franklin, you are going to leave me.”
“Sir!” said Franklin.
“You are now going to leave me, and to begin the world for yourself. Youwill carry this letter to my sister, Mrs. Churchill, in Queen’s Square.You know Queen’s Square?” Franklin bowed. “You must expect,” continuedMr. Spencer, “to meet with several disagreeable things, and a great dealof rough work, at your first setting out; but be faithful and obedient toyour mistress, and obliging to your fellow-servants, and all will gowell. Mrs. Churchill will make you a very good mistress, if you behaveproperly; and I have no doubt but you will.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“And you will always—I mean, as long as you deserve it—find a friend inme.”
“Thank you, sir—I am sure you are—” There Franklin stopped short, forthe recollection of all Mr. Spencer’s goodness rushed upon him at once,and he could not say another word.
“Bring me a candle to seal this letter,” said his master; and he was veryglad to get out of the room. He came back with the candle, and, with astout heart, stood by whilst the letter was sealing; and, when his masterput it into his hand, said, in a cheerful voice, “I hope you will let mesee you again, sir, sometimes.”
“Certainly; whenever your mistress can spare you, I shall be very glad tosee you; and remember, if ever you get into any difficulty, don’t beafraid to come to me. I have sometimes spoken harshly to you; but youwill not meet with a more indulgent friend.” Franklin at this turnedaway with a full heart; and, after making two or three attempts toexpress his gratitude, left the room without being able to speak.
He got to Queen’s Square about three o’clock. The door was opened by alarge, red-faced man, in a blue coat and scarlet waistcoat, to whom hefelt afraid to give his message, lest he should not be a servant.
“Well, what’s your business, sir?” said the butler.
“I have a letter for Mrs. Churchill, sir,” said Franklin, endeavouring topronounce his “sir” in a tone as respectful as the butler’s was insolent.
The man having examined the direction, seal, and edges of the letter,carried it upstairs, and in a few minutes returned, and ordered Franklinto rub his shoes well and follow him. He was then shown into a handsomeroom, where he found his mistress—an elderly lady. She asked him a fewquestions, examining him attentively as she spoke; and her severe eye atfirst, and her gracious smile afterwards, made him feel that she was aperson to be both loved and feared. “I shall give you in charge,” saidshe, ringing a bell, “to my housekeeper, and I hope she will have noreason to be displeased with you.”
The housekeeper, when she first came in, appeared with a smilingcountenance; but the moment she cast her eyes on Franklin, it changed toa look of surprise and suspicion. Her mistress recommended him to herprotection, saying, “Pomfret, I hope you will keep this boy under yourown eye.” And she received him with a cold “Very well, ma’am,” whichplainly showed that she was not disposed to like him. In fact, Mrs.Pomfret was a woman so fond of power, and so jealous of favour, that shewould have quarrelled with an angel who had got so near her mistresswithout her introduction. She smothered her displeasure, however, tillnight; when, as she attended her mistress’ toilette, she could notrefrain from expressing her sentiments. She began cautiously: “Ma’am, isnot this the boy Mr. Spencer was talking of one day—that has been broughtup by the _Villaintropic Society_, I think they call it?”
“Philanthropic Society; yes,” said her mistress; “and my brother giveshim a high character: I hope he will do very well.”
“I’m sure I hope so too,” observed Mrs. Pomfret; “but I can’t say; for mypart, I’ve no great notion of those low people. They say all thosechildren are taken from the very lowest _drugs_ and _refuges_ of thetown, and surely they are like enough, ma’am, to take after their ownfathers and mothers.”
“But they are not suffered to be with their parents,” rejoined the lady;“and therefore cannot be hurt by their example. This little boy, to besure, was unfortunate in his father, but he has had an excellenteducation.”
“Oh, _edication_! to be sure, ma’am, I know. I don’t say but what_edication_ is a great thing. But then, ma’am, _edication_ can’t changethe _natur_ that’s in one, they say; and one’s that born naturally badand low, they say, all the edication in the world won’t do no good; and,for my part, ma’am, I know you knows best; but I should be afraid to letany of those Villaintropic folks get into my house; for nobody can tellthe natur of them aforehand. I declare it frights me.”
“Pomfret, I thought you had better sense: how would this poor boy earnhis bread? he would be forced to starve or steal, if everybody had suchprejudices.”
Pomfret, who really was a good woman, was softened at this idea, andsaid, “God forbid he should starve or steal, and God forbid I should sayanything _prejudiciary_ of the boy; for there may be no harm in him.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Churchill, changing her tone, “but, Pomfret, if wedon’t like the boy at the end of the month, we have done with him; for Ihave only promised Mr. Spencer to keep him a month upon trial: there isno harm done.”
“Dear, no, ma’am, to be sure; and cook must put up with herdisappointment, that’s all.”
“What disappointment?”
“About her nephew, ma’am; the boy she and I was speaking to you for.”
“When?”
“The day you called her up about the almond pudding, ma’am. If youremember, you said you should have no objections to try the boy; and uponthat cook bought him new shirts; but they are to the good, as I tellher.”
“But I did not promise to take her nephew.”
“O, no ma’am, not at all; she does not think to _say that_, else I shouldbe very angry; but the poor woman never let fall a word, any more thanfrets that the boy should miss such a good place.”
“Well, but since I did say that I should have no objection to try him, Ishall keep my word; let him come to-morrow. Let them both have a fairtrial, and at the end of the month I can decide which I like best, andwhich we had better keep.”
Dismissed with these orders, Mrs. Pomfret hastened to report all that hadpassed to the cook, like a favourite minister, proud to display theextent of her secret influence. In the morning Felix, the cook’s nephew,arrived; and, the moment he came into the kitchen, every eye, even thescullion’s, was fixed upon him with approbation, and afterwards glancedupon Franklin with contempt—contempt which Franklin could not endurewithout some confusion, though quite unconscious of having deserved it;nor, upon the most impartial and cool self-examination, could hecomprehend the justice of his judges. He perceived indeed—for thecomparisons were minutely made in audible and scornful whispers—thatFelix was a much handsomer, or as the kitchen maid expressed it, a muchmore genteeler gentl
emanly looking like sort of person than he was; andhe was made to understand, that he wanted a frill to his shirt, a cravat,a pair of thin shoes, and, above all, shoe strings, besides othernameless advantages, which justly made his rival the admiration of thekitchen. However, upon calling to mind all that his friend Mr. Spencerhad ever said to him, he could not recollect his having warned him thatshoe strings were indispensable requisites to the character of a goodservant; so that he could only comfort himself with resolving, ifpossible, to make amends for these deficiencies, and to dissipate theprejudices which he saw were formed against him, by the strictestadherence to all that his tutor had taught him to be his duty. He hopedto secure the approbation of his mistress by scrupulous obedience to allher commands, and faithful care of all that belonged to her. At the sametime he flattered himself he should win the goodwill of his fellowservants by showing a constant desire to oblige them. He pursued thisplan of conduct steadily for nearly three weeks, and found that hesucceeded beyond his expectations in pleasing his mistress; butunfortunately he found it more difficult to please his fellow servants,and he sometimes offended when he least expected it. He had made greatprogress in the affections of Corkscrew, the butler, by working indeedvery hard for him, and doing every day at least half his business. Butone unfortunate night the butler was gone out; the bell rang: he wentupstairs; and his mistress asking where Corkscrew was, he answered thathe was gone out. “Where to!” said his mistress. “I don’t know,”answered Franklin. And, as he had told exactly the truth, and meant todo no harm, he was surprised, at the butler’s return, when he repeated tohim what had passed, at receiving a sudden box on the ear, and theappellation of a mischievous, impertinent, mean-spirited brat.
“Mischievous, impertinent, mean!” repeated Franklin to himself; but,looking in the butler’s face, which was a deeper scarlet than usual, hejudged that he was far from sober, and did not doubt but that the nextmorning, when he came to the use of his reason, he would be sensible ofhis injustice, and apologize for his box of the ear. But no apologycoming all day, Franklin at last ventured to request an explanation, orrather, to ask what he had best do on the next occasion.
“Why,” said Corkscrew, “when mistress asked for me, how came you to say Iwas gone out?”
“Because, you know, I saw you go out.”
“And when she asked you where I was gone, how came you to say that youdid not know?”
“Because, indeed, I did not.”
“You are a stupid blockhead! could you not say I was gone to thewasherwoman’s?”
“But _were_ you?” said Franklin.
“Was I?” cried Corkscrew, and looked as if he would have struck himagain; “how dare you give me the lie, Mr. Hypocrite? You would be readyenough, I’ll be bound, to make excuses for yourself. Why are notmistress’ clogs cleaned? Go along and blacken ’em, this minute, and sendFelix to me.”
From this time forward Felix alone was privileged to enter the butler’spantry. Felix became the favourite of Corkscrew; and, though Franklin byno means sought to pry into the mysteries of their private conferences,nor ever entered without knocking at the door, yet it was his fate onceto be sent of a message at an unlucky time; and, as the door was halfopen, he could not avoid seeing Felix drinking a bumper of red liquor,which he could not help suspecting to be wine; and, as the decanter,which usually went upstairs after dinner, was at this time in thebutler’s grasp, without any stopper in it, he was involuntarily forced tosuspect they were drinking his mistress’ wine.
Nor were the bumpers of port the only unlawful rewards which Felixreceived: his aunt, the cook, had occasion for his assistance, and shehad many delicious douceurs in her gift. Many a handful of currants,many a half-custard, many a triangular remnant of pie, besides the choiceof his own meal at breakfast, dinner and supper, fell to the share of thefavourite Felix; whilst Franklin was neglected, though he took the utmostpains to please the cook in all honourable service, and, when she washot, angry, or hurried, he was always at hand to help her; and in thehour of adversity, when the clock struck five, and no dinner was dished,and no kitchen maid with twenty pair of hands was to be had, Franklinwould answer to her call, with flowers to garnish her dishes, andpresence of mind to know, in the midst of the commotion, where everythingthat was wanting was to be found; so that, quick as lightning, alldifficulties vanished before him. Yet when the danger was over, and thehour of adversity had past, the ungrateful cook would forget herbenefactor, and, when it came to his supper time, would throw him, with acarelessness that touched him sensibly, anything which the other servantswere too nice to eat. All this Franklin bore with fortitude; nor did heenvy Felix the dainties which he ate, sometimes close beside him: “For,”said he to himself, “I have a clear conscience, and that is more thanFelix can have. I know how he wins cook’s favour too well, and I fancy Iknow how I have offended her; for since the day I saw the basket, she hasdone nothing but huff me.”
The history of the basket was this. Mrs. Pomfret, the housekeeper, hadseveral times, directly and indirectly, given the world below tounderstand that she and her mistress thought there was a prodigiousquantity of meat eaten of late. Now, when she spoke, it was usually atdinner time; she always looked, or Franklin imagined that she looked,suspiciously at him. Other people looked more maliciously; but, as hefelt himself perfectly innocent, he went on eating his dinner in silence.
But at length it was time to explain. One Sunday there appeared ahandsome sirloin of beef, which before noon on Monday had shrunk almostto the bare bone, and presented such a deplorable spectacle to theopening eyes of Mrs. Pomfret that her long smothered indignation burstforth, and she boldly declared she was now certain there had been foulplay, and she would have the beef found, or she would know why. Shespoke, but no beef appeared, till Franklin, with a look of suddenrecollection, cried, “Did not I see something like a piece of beef in abasket in the dairy?—I think—”
The cook, as if somebody had smote her a deadly blow, grew pale; but,suddenly recovering the use of her speech, turned upon Franklin, and,with a voice of thunder, gave him the lie direct; and forthwith, takingMrs. Pomfret by the ruffle, led the way to the dairy, declaring she coulddefy the world—“that so she could, and would.” “There, ma’am,” said shekicking an empty basket which lay on the floor—“there’s malice for you.Ask him why he don’t show you the beef in the basket.”
“I thought I saw—” poor Franklin began.
“You thought you saw!” cried the cook, coming close up to him withkimboed arms, and looking like a dragon; “and pray, sir, what businesshas such a one as you to think you see? And pray, ma’am, will you bepleased to speak—perhaps, ma’am, he’ll condescend to obey you—ma’am, willyou be pleased to forbid him my dairy? for here he comes prying andspying about; and how, ma’am, am I to answer for my butter and cream, oranything at all? I’m sure it’s what I can’t pretend to, unless you do methe justice to forbid him my places.”
Mrs. Pomfret, whose eyes were blinded by her prejudices against the folksof the “Villaintropic Society,” and also by her secret jealousy of a boywhom she deemed to be a growing favourite of her mistress’, took partwith the cook, and ended, as she began, with a firm persuasion thatFranklin was the guilty person. “Let him alone, let him alone!” saidshe; “he has as many turns and windings as a hare; but we shall catch himyet, I’ll be bound, in some of his doublings. I knew the nature of himwell enough, from the first time I ever set my eyes upon him; butmistress shall have her own way, and see the end of it.”
These words, and the bitter sense of injustice, drew tears at length fastdown the proud cheek of Franklin, which might possibly have touched Mrs.Pomfret, if Felix, with a sneer, had not called them _crocodile tears_.“Felix, too!” thought he; “this is too much.” In fact, Felix had tillnow professed himself his firm ally, and had on his part received fromFranklin unequivocal proofs of friendship; for it must be told that everyother morning, when it was Felix’s turn to get breakfast, Felix n
ever wasup in decent time, and must inevitably have come to public disgrace ifFranklin had not got all the breakfast things ready for him, the breadand butter spread, and the toast toasted; and had not, moreover,regularly, when the clock struck eight, and Mrs. Pomfret’s foot was heardoverhead, run to call the sleeping Felix, and helped him constantlythrough the hurry of getting dressed one instant before the housekeepercame downstairs. All this could not but be present to his memory; but,seeming to reproach him, Franklin wiped away his crocodile tears, andpreserved a magnanimous silence.
The hour of retribution was, however, not so far off as Felix imagined.Cunning people may go on cleverly in their devices for some time; butalthough they may escape once, twice, perhaps ninety-nine times, whatdoes that signify?—for the hundredth time they come to shame, and loseall their character. Grown bold by frequent success, Felix became morecareless in his operations; and it happened that one day he met hismistress full in the passage, as he was going on one of the cook’s secreterrands.
“Where are you going, Felix?” said his mistress.
“To the washerwoman’s, ma’am,” answered he, with his usual effrontery.
“Very well,” said she. “Call at the bookseller’s in—stay, I must writedown the direction. Pomfret,” said she, opening the housekeeper’s roomdoor, “have you a bit of paper?” Pomfret came with the writing-paper,and looked very angry to see that Felix was going out without herknowledge; so, while Mrs. Churchill was writing the direction, she stoodtalking to him about it; whilst he, in the greatest terror imaginable,looked up in her face as she spoke; but was all the time intent onparrying on the other side the attacks of a little French dog of hismistress’, which, unluckily for him, had followed her into the passage.Manchon was extremely fond of Felix, who, by way of pleasing hismistress, had paid most assiduous court to her dog; yet now his caresseswere rather troublesome. Manchon leaped up, and was not to be rebuffed.“Poor fellow—poor fellow—down! down! poor fellow!” cried Felix, and puthim away. But Manchon leaped up again, and began smelling near the fatalpocket in a most alarming manner. “You will see by this direction whereyou are to go,” said his mistress. “Manchon, come here—and you will beso good as to bring me—down! down! Manchon, be quiet!” But Manchon knewbetter—he had now got his head into Felix’s pocket, and would not bequiet till he had drawn from thence, rustling out of its brown paper,half a cold turkey, which had been missing since morning.
“My cold turkey, as I’m alive!” exclaimed the housekeeper, darting uponit with horror and amazement.
“What is all this?” said Mrs. Churchill, in a composed voice.
“I don’t know, ma’am,” answered Felix, so confused that he knew not whatto say; “but—”
“But what?” cried Mrs. Pomfret, indignation flashing from her eyes. “Butwhat?” repeated his mistress, waiting for his reply with a calm air ofattention, which still more disconcerted Felix; for, though with an angryperson he might have some chance of escape, he knew that he could notinvent any excuse in such circumstances, which could stand theexamination of a person in her sober senses. He was struck dumb.“Speak,” said Mrs. Churchill, in a still lower tone; “I am ready to hearall you have to say. In my house everybody shall have justice; speak—butwhat?”
“_But_,” stammered Felix; and, after in vain attempting to equivocate,confessed that he was going to take the turkey to his cousin’s; but hethrew all the blame upon his aunt, the cook, who, he said, had orderedhim upon this expedition.
The cook was now summoned; but she totally denied all knowledge of theaffair, with the same violence with which she had lately confoundedFranklin about the beef in the basket; not entirely, however, with thesame success; for Felix, perceiving by his mistress’ eye that she was onthe point of desiring him to leave the house immediately; and not beingvery willing to leave a place in which he had lived so well with thebutler, did not hesitate to confront his aunt with assurance equal to herown. He knew how to bring his charge home to her. He produced a note inher own handwriting, the purport of which was to request her cousin’sacceptance of “some _delicate cold turkey_,” and to beg she would sendher, by the return of the bearer, a little of her cherry-brandy.
Mrs. Churchill coolly wrote upon the back of the note her cook’sdischarge, and informed Felix she had no further occasion for hisservices, but, upon his pleading with many tears, which Franklin did notcall _crocodile tears_, that he was so young, that he was under thedominion of his aunt, he touched Mrs. Pomfret’s compassion, and sheobtained for him permission to stay till the end of the month, to givehim yet a chance of redeeming his character.
Mrs. Pomfret now seeing how far she had been imposed upon, resolved, forthe future, to be more upon her guard with Felix, and felt that she hadtreated Franklin with great injustice, when she accused him ofmalpractices about the sirloin of beef.
Good people, when they are made sensible that they have treated anyonewith injustice, are impatient to have an opportunity to rectify theirmistake; and Mrs. Pomfret was now prepared to see everything whichFranklin did in the most favourable point of view; especially as the nextday she discovered that it was he who every morning boiled the water forher tea, and buttered her toast—services for which she had always thoughtshe was indebted to Felix. Besides, she had rated Felix’s abilities veryhighly, because he made up her weekly accounts for her; but unluckilyonce, when Franklin was out of the way, and she brought a bill in a hurryto her favourite to cast up, she discovered that he did not know how tocast up pounds, shillings and pence, and he was obliged to confess thatshe must wait till Franklin came home.
But, passing over a number of small incidents which gradually unfoldedthe character of the two boys, we must proceed to a more serious affair.
Corkscrew frequently, after he had finished taking away supper, and afterthe housekeeper was gone to bed, sallied forth to a neighbouring alehouseto drink with his friends. The alehouse was kept by that cousin ofFelix’s, who was so fond of “_delicate_ cold turkey,” and who had suchchoice cherry-brandy. Corkscrew kept the key of the house door, so thathe could return home whenever he thought proper; and, if he should byaccident be called for by his mistress after supper, Felix knew where tofind him, and did not scruple to make any of those excuses which poorFranklin had too much integrity to use.
All these precautions taken, the butler was at liberty to indulge hisfavourite passion, which so increased with indulgence, that his wageswere by no means sufficient to support him in this way of life. Everyday he felt less resolution to break through his bad habits; for everyday drinking became more necessary to him. His health was ruined. Witha red, pimpled, bloated face, emaciated legs, and a swelled, diseasedbody, he appeared the victim of intoxication. In the morning, when hegot up, his hands trembled, his spirits flagged, he could do nothinguntil he had taken a dram—an operation which he was obliged to repeatseveral times in the course of the day, as all those wretched people_must_ who once acquire this habit.
He had run up a long bill at the alehouse which he frequented; and thelandlord, who grew urgent for his money, refused to give further credit.
One night, when Corkscrew had drunk enough only to make him fretful, heleaned with his elbow surlily upon the table, began to quarrel with thelandlord, and swore that he had not of late treated him like a gentleman.To which the landlord coolly replied, “That as long as he had paid like agentleman, he had been treated like one, and that was as much as anyonecould expect, or, at any rate, as much as anyone would meet with in thisworld.” For the truth of this assertion he appealed, laughing, to aparty of men who were drinking in the room. The men, however, took partwith Corkscrew, and, drawing him over to their table, made him sit downwith them. They were in high good-humour, and the butler soon grew sointimate with them, that, in the openness of his heart, he sooncommunicated to them, not only all his own affairs, but all that he knew,and more than all that he knew, of his mistress’.
His new friends were by no means uninterested b
y his conversation, andencouraged him as much as possible to talk; for they had secret views,which the butler was by no means sufficiently sober to discover.
Mrs. Churchill had some fine old family plate; and these men belonged toa gang of housebreakers. Before they parted with Corkscrew, they engagedhim to meet them again the next night; their intimacy was still moreclosely cemented. One of the men actually offered to lend Corkscrewthree guineas towards the payment of his debt, and hinted that, if hethought proper, he could easily get the whole cleared off. Upon thishint, Corkscrew became all attention, till, after some hesitation ontheir part, and repeated promises of secrecy on his, they at lengthdisclosed their plans to him. They gave him to understand, that if hewould assist in letting them into his mistress’ house, they would let himhave an ample share in the booty. The butler, who had the reputation ofbeing an honest man, and indeed whose integrity had hitherto been proofagainst everything but his mistress’ port, turned pale, and trembled atthis proposal; drank two or three bumpers to drown thought; and promisedto give an answer the next day.
He went home more than half-intoxicated. His mind was so full of whathad passed, that he could not help bragging to Felix, whom he found awakeat his return, that he could have his bill paid off at the alehousewhenever he pleased; dropping, besides, some hints, which were not lostupon Felix.
In the morning Felix reminded him of the things which he had said; andCorkscrew, alarmed, endeavoured to evade his questions, by saying that hewas not in his senses when he talked in that manner. Nothing, however,that he could urge made any impression upon Felix, whose recollection onthe subject was perfectly distinct, and who had too much cunning himself,and too little confidence in his companion, to be the dupe of hisdissimulation. The butler knew not what to do when he saw that Felix wasabsolutely determined either to betray their scheme, or to become asharer in the booty.
The next night came, and he was now to make a final decision; either todetermine on breaking off entirely with his new acquaintances, or takingFelix with him to join in the plot.
His debt, his love of drinking, the impossibility of indulging it withouta fresh supply of money, all came into his mind at once, and conqueredhis remaining scruples. It is said by those whose fatal experience givesthem a right to be believed, that a drunkard will sacrifice anything,everything, sooner than the pleasure of habitual intoxication.
How much easier is it never to begin a bad custom than to break throughit when once formed!
The hour of rendezvous came, and Corkscrew went to the alehouse, where hefound the housebreakers waiting for him, and a glass of brandy readypoured out. He sighed—drank—hesitated—drank again—heard the landlordtalk of his bill, saw the money produced which would pay it in amoment—drank again—cursed himself, and, giving his hand to the villainwho was whispering in his ear, swore that he could not help it, and mustdo as they would have him. They required of him to give up the key ofthe house door, that they might get another made by it. He had left itwith Felix, and was now obliged to explain the new difficulty which hadarisen. Felix knew enough to ruin them, and must therefore be won over.This was no very difficult task; he had a strong desire to have someworked cravats, and the butler knew enough of him to believe that thiswould be a sufficient bribe. The cravats were bought and shown to Felix.He thought them the only things wanting to make him a complete, finegentleman; and to go without them, especially when he had once seenhimself in the glass with one tied on in a splendid bow, appearedimpossible. Even this paltry temptation, working upon his vanity, atlength prevailed with a boy whose integrity had long been corrupted bythe habits of petty pilfering and daily falsehood. It was agreed that,the first time his mistress sent him out on a message, he should carrythe key of the house door to his cousin’s, and deliver it into the handsof one of the gang, who were there in waiting for it. Such was thescheme.
Felix, the night after all this had been planned, went to bed, and fellfast asleep; but the butler, who had not yet stifled the voice ofconscience, felt, in the silence of the night, so insupportablymiserable, that, instead of going to rest, he stole softly into thepantry for a bottle of his mistress’ wine, and there drinking glass afterglass, he stayed till he became so far intoxicated, that, though hecontrived to find his way back to bed, he could by no means undresshimself. Without any power of recollection, he flung himself upon thebed, leaving his candle half hanging out of the candlestick beside him.Franklin slept in the next room to him, and presently awaking, thought heperceived a strong smell of something burning. He jumped up, and seeinga light under the butler’s door, gently opened it, and to hisastonishment, beheld one of the bed curtains in flames. He immediatelyran to the butler, and pulled him with all his force, to rouse him fromhis lethargy. He came to his senses at length, but was so terrified, andso helpless, that, if it had not been for Franklin, the whole house wouldsoon inevitably have been on fire. Felix, trembling and cowardly, knewnot what to do; and it was curious to see him obeying Franklin, whoseturn it now was to command. Franklin ran upstairs to awaken Mrs.Pomfret, whose terror of fire was so great that she came from her roomalmost out of her senses, whilst he, with the greatest presence of mind,recollected where he had seen two large tubs of water, which the maidshad prepared the night before for their washing, and seizing the wetlinen which had been left to soak, he threw them upon the flames. Heexerted himself with so much good sense, that the fire was presentlyextinguished.
Everything was now once more safe and quiet. Mrs. Pomfret, recoveringfrom her fright, postponed all inquiries till the morning, and rejoicedthat her mistress had not been awakened, whilst Corkscrew flatteredhimself that he should be able to conceal the true cause of the accident.
“Don’t you tell Mrs. Pomfret where you found the candle when you cameinto the room,” said he to Franklin.
“If she asks me, you know I must tell the truth,” replied he.
“Must!” repeated Felix, sneeringly; “what, you _must_ be a tell-tale!”
“No, I never told any tales of anybody, and I should be very sorry to getanyone into a scrape; but for all that I shall not tell a lie, either formyself or anybody else, let you call me what names you will.”
“But if I were to give you something that you would like,” saidCorkscrew—“something that I know you would like!” repeated Felix.
“Nothing you can give me will do,” answered Franklin, steadily, “so it isuseless to say any more about it—I hope I shall not be questioned.”
In this hope he was mistaken; for the first thing Mrs. Pomfret did in themorning was to come into the room to examine and deplore the burntcurtains, whilst Corkscrew stood by, endeavouring to exculpate himself byall the excuses he could invent.
Mrs. Pomfret, however, though sometimes blinded by her prejudices, was nofool; and it was absolutely impossible to make her believe that a candle,which had been left on the hearth, where Corkscrew protested he had leftit, could have set curtains on fire which were at least six feet distant.Turning short round to Franklin, she desired that he would show her wherehe found the candle when he came into the room. He took up thecandlestick; but the moment the housekeeper cast her eye upon it, shesnatched it from his hands; “How did this candlestick come here? Thiswas not the candlestick you found here last night,” cried she. “Yes,indeed it was,” answered Franklin. “That is impossible,” retorted she,vehemently, “for I left this candlestick with my own hands last night, inthe hall, the last thing I did, after you,” said she, turning to thebutler, “was gone to bed—I’m sure of it—Nay, don’t you recollect mytaking this _japanned candlestick_ out of your hand, and making you to goup to bed with the brass one, and I bolted the door at the stair-headafter you?”
This was all very true; but Corkscrew had afterwards gone down from hisroom by a back staircase, unbolted that door, and, upon his return fromthe alehouse, had taken the japanned candlestick by mistake upstairs, andhad left the brass one in its stead upon the hall table.
“Oh, ma??
?am,” said Felix, “indeed you forget; for Mr. Corkscrew came intomy room to desire me to call him betimes in the morning, and I happenedto take particular notice, and he had the japanned candlestick in hishand, and that was just as I heard you, bolting the door. Indeed, ma’amyou forget.”
“Indeed, sir,” retorted Mrs. Pomfret, rising in anger, “I do not forget;I’m not come to be _supperannuated_ yet, I hope. How do you dare to tellme I forget?”
“Oh, ma’am,” cried Felix, “I beg your pardon, I did not—I did not mean tosay you forgot, but only I thought, perhaps, you might not particularlyremember; for if you please to recollect—”
“I won’t please to recollect just whatever you please, sir! Hold yourtongue; why should you poke yourself into this scrape; what have you todo with it, I should be glad to know?”
“Nothing in the world, oh nothing in the world; I’m sure I beg yourpardon, ma’am,” answered Felix, in a soft tone; and, sneaking off, lefthis friend Corkscrew to fight his own battle, secretly resolving todesert in good time, if he saw any danger of the alehouse transactionscoming to light.
Corkscrew could make but very blundering excuses for himself and,conscious of guilt, he turned pale, and appeared so much more terrifiedthan butlers usually appear when detected in a lie, that Mrs. Pomfretresolved, as she said, to sift the matter to the bottom. Impatiently didshe wait till the clock struck nine, and her mistress’ bell rang, thesignal for her attendance at her levee.
“How do you find yourself this morning, ma’am?” said she, undrawing thecurtains.
“Very sleepy, indeed,” answered her mistress in a drowsy voice; “I thinkI must sleep half an hour longer—shut the curtains.”
“As you please, ma’am; but I suppose I had better open a little of thewindow shutter, for it’s past nine.”
“But just struck.”
“Oh dear, ma’am, it struck before I came upstairs, and you know we aretwenty minutes slow—Lord bless us!” exclaimed Mrs. Pomfret, as she letfall the bar of the window, which roused her mistress. “I’m sure I begyour pardon a thousand times—it’s only the bar—because I had this greatkey in my hand.”
“Put down the key, then, or you’ll knock something else down; and you mayopen the shutters now; for I’m quite awake.”
“Dear me! I’m so sorry to think of disturbing you,” cried Mrs. Pomfret,at the same time throwing the shutters wide open; “but, to be sure,ma’am, I have something to tell you, which won’t let you sleep again in ahurry. I brought up this here key of the house door for reasons of myown, which I’m sure you’ll approve of; but I’m not come to that part ofmy story yet. I hope you were not disturbed by the noise in the houselast night, ma’am.”
“I heard no noise.”
“I am surprised at that, though,” continued Mrs. Pomfret, and proceededto give a most ample account of the fire, of her fears, and hersuspicions. “To be sure, ma’am, what I say _is_, that, without thespirit of prophecy, one can nowadays account for what has passed. I’mquite clear in my own judgment, that Mr. Corkscrew must have been outlast night after I went to bed; for, besides the japanned candlestick,which of itself I’m sure is strong enough to hang a man, there’s anothercircumstance, ma’am, that certifies it to me—though I have not mentionedit, ma’am, to no one yet,” lowering her voice—“Franklin, when Iquestioned him, told me, that he left the lantern in the outside porch inthe court last night, and this morning it was on the kitchen table. Now,ma’am, that lantern could not come without hands; and I could not forgetabout that, you know; for Franklin says, he’s sure he left the lanternout.”
“And do you believe _him_?” inquired her mistress.
“To be sure, ma’am—how can I help believing him? I never found him outin the least symptom of a lie since ever he came into the house; so onecan’t help believing in him, like him or not.”
“Without meaning to tell a falsehood, however,” said the lady, “he mightmake a mistake.”
“No, ma’am, he never makes mistakes; it is not his way to go gossipingand tattling; he never tells anything till he’s asked, and then it’s fithe should. About the sirloin of beef, and all, he was right in the end,I found, to do him justice; and I’m sure he’s right now about thelantern—he’s _alway’s right_.”
Mrs. Churchill could not help smiling.
“If you had seen him, ma’am, last night in the midst of the fire—I’m surewe may thank him that we were not burned alive in our beds—and I shallnever forget his coming to call me. Poor fellow! he that I was alwaysscolding and scolding, enough to make him hate me. But he’s too good tohate anybody; and I’ll be bound I’ll make it up to him now.”
“Take care that you don’t go from one extreme into another, Pomfret;don’t spoil the boy.”
“No, ma’am, there’s no danger of that; but I’m sure if you had seen himlast night yourself, you would think he deserved to be rewarded.”
“And so he shall be rewarded,” said Mrs. Churchill; “but I will try himmore fully yet.”
“There’s no occasion, I think, for trying him any more, ma’am,” said Mrs.Pomfret, who was as violent in her likings as in her dislikes.
“Pray desire,” continued her mistress, “that he will bring up breakfastthis morning; and leave the key of the house-door, Pomfret, with me.”
When Franklin brought the urn into the breakfast-parlour, his mistresswas standing by the fire with the key in her hand. She spoke to him ofhis last night’s exertions in terms of much approbation. “How long haveyou lived with me?” said she, pausing; “three weeks, I think?”
“Three weeks and four days, madam.”
“That is but a short time; yet you have conducted yourself so as to makeme think I may depend upon you. You know this key?”
“I believe, madam, it is the key of the house-door.”
“It is; I shall trust it in your care. It is a great trust for so younga person as you are.” Franklin stood silent, with a firm but modestlook. “If you take the charge of this key,” continued his mistress,“remember it is upon condition that you never give it out of your ownhands. In the daytime it must not be left in the door. You must nottell anybody where you keep it at night; and the house-door must not beunlocked after eleven o’clock at night, unless by my orders. Will youtake charge of the key upon these conditions?”
“I will, madam, do anything you order me,” said Franklin, and receivedthe key from her hands.
When Mrs. Churchill’s orders were made known, they caused many secretmarvellings and murmurings. Corkscrew and Felix were disconcerted, anddared not openly avow their discontent; and they treated Franklin withthe greatest seeming kindness and cordiality.
Everything went on smoothly for three days. The butler never attemptedhis usual midnight visits to the alehouse, but went to bed in propertime, and paid particular court to Mrs. Pomfret, in order to dispel hersuspicions. She had never had any idea of the real fact, that he andFelix were joined in a plot with house-breakers to rob the house, butthought he only went out at irregular hours to indulge himself in hispassion for drinking.
Thus stood affairs the night before Mrs. Churchill’s birthday.Corkscrew, by the housekeeper’s means, ventured to present a petitionthat he might go to the play the next day, and his request was granted.Franklin came into the kitchen just when all the servants had gatheredround the butler, who, with great importance, was reading aloud theplay-bill. Everybody present soon began to speak at once, and with greatenthusiasm talked of the playhouse, the actors, and actresses; and thenFelix, in the first pause, turned to Franklin, and said, “Lord, you knownothing of all this! _you_ never went to a play, did you?”
“Never,” said Franklin, and felt, he did not know why, a little ashamed;and he longed extremely to go to one.
“How should you like to go to the play with me to-morrow?” saidCorkscrew.
“Oh,” exclaimed Franklin, “I should like it exceedingly.”
“And do you think mistress would let you if I
asked?”
“I think maybe she would, if Mrs. Pomfret asked her.”
“But then you have no money, have you?”
“No,” said Franklin, sighing.
“But stay,” said Corkscrew, “what I am thinking of is, that if mistresswill let you go, I’ll treat you myself, rather than that you should hedisappointed.”
Delight, surprise and gratitude appeared in Franklin’s face at thesewords. Corkscrew rejoiced to see that now, at least, he had found a mostpowerful temptation. “Well then, I’ll go just now and ask her. In themeantime, lend me the key of the house door for a minute or two.”
“The key!” answered Franklin, starting; “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that,for I’ve promised my mistress never to let it out of my own hands.”
“But how will she know anything of the matter? Run, run, and get it forus.”
“No, I _cannot_,” replied Franklin, resisting the push which the butlergave his shoulder.
“You can’t?” cried Corkscrew, changing his tone; “then, sir, I can’t takeyou to the play.”
“Very well, sir,” said Franklin, sorrowfully, but with steadiness.
“Very well, sir,” said Felix, mimicking him, “you need not look soimportant, nor fancy yourself such a great man, because you’re master ofa key.”
“Say no more to him,” interrupted Corkscrew: “let him alone to take hisown way. Felix, you would have no objection, I suppose, to going to theplay with me?”
“Oh, I should like it of all things, if I did not come between anybodyelse. But come, come!” added the hypocrite, assuming a tone of friendlypersuasion, “you won’t be such a blockhead, Franklin, as to lose going tothe play for nothing; it’s only just obstinacy. What harm can it do, tolend Mr. Corkscrew the key for five minutes? he’ll give it to you backagain safe and sound.”
“I don’t doubt _that_,” answered Franklin.
“Then it must be all because you don’t wish to oblige Mr. Corkscrew.”
“No, but I can’t oblige him in this; for, as I told you before, mymistress trusted me. I promised never to let the key out of my ownhands, and you would not have me break my trust. Mr. Spencer told me_that_ was worse than _robbing_.”
At the word _robbing_ both Corkscrew and Felix involuntarily cast downtheir eyes, and turned the conversation immediately, saying, that he didvery right; that they did not really want the key, and had only asked forit just to try if he would keep his word. “Shake hands,” said Corkscrew,“I am glad to find you out to be an honest fellow!”
“I am sorry you did not think me an honest fellow before, Mr. Corkscrew,”said Franklin, giving his hand rather proudly, and he walked away.
“We shall make no hand of this prig,” said Corkscrew.
“But we’ll have the key from him in spite of all his obstinacy,” saidFelix; “and let him make his story good as he can afterwards. He shallrepent of these airs. To-night I’ll watch him, and find out where hehides the key; and when he’s asleep we’ll get it without thanking him.”
This plan Felix put into execution. They discovered the place whereFranklin kept the key at night, stole it whilst he slept, took off theimpression in wax, and carefully replaced it in Franklin’s trunk, exactlywhere they found it.
Probably our young readers cannot guess what use they could mean to makeof this impression of the key in wax. Knowing how to do mischief is verydifferent from wishing to do it: and the most innocent persons aregenerally the least ignorant. By means of the impression, which they hadthus obtained, Corkscrew and Felix proposed to get a false key made byPicklock, a smith who belonged to their gang of house-breakers; and withthis false key knew they could open the door whenever they pleased.
Little suspecting what had happened, Franklin, the next morning went tounlock the house door, as usual; but finding the key entangled in thelock, he took it out to examine it, and perceived a lump of wax stickingin one of the wards. Struck with this circumstance, it brought to hismind all that had passed the preceding evening, and being sure that hehad no wax near the key, he began to suspect what had happened; and hecould not help recollecting what he had once heard Felix say, that “givehim but a halfpenny worth of wax, and he could open the strongest lockthat ever was made by hands.”
All these things considered, Franklin resolved to take the key just as itwas, with the wax sticking to it, to his mistress.
“I was not mistaken when I thought I might trust _you_ with this key,”said Mrs. Churchill, after she had heard his story. “My brother will behere to-day, and I shall consult him. In the meantime, say nothing ofwhat has passed.”
Evening came, and after tea Mr. Spencer sent for Franklin upstairs. “So,Mr. Franklin,” said he, “I’m glad to find you are in such high _trust_ inthis family.” Franklin bowed. “But you have lost, I understand, thepleasure of going to the play to-night.”
“I don’t think anything—much, I mean, of that, sir,” answered Franklin,smiling.
“Are Corkscrew and Felix _gone_ to the play?”
“Yes; half an hour ago, sir.”
“Then I shall look into his room, and examine the pantry and the platethat is under his care.”
When Mr. Spencer came to examine the pantry, he found the large salversand cups in a basket behind the door, and the other things placed so asto be easily carried off. Nothing at first appeared in Corkscrew’sbedchamber, to strengthen their suspicions, till, just as they were goingto leave the room, Mrs. Pomfret exclaimed, “Why, if there is not Mr.Corkscrew’s dress coat hanging up there! and if here isn’t Felix’s finecravat that he wanted in such a hurry to go to the play! Why, sir, theycan’t be gone to the play. Look at the cravat. Ah! upon my word I amafraid they are not at the play. No, sir, you may be sure that they areplotting with their barbarous gang at the alehouse; and they’ll certainlybreak into the house to-night. We shall all be murdered in our beds, assure as I’m a living woman, sir; but if you’ll only take my advice—”
“Pray, good Mrs. Pomfret,” Mr. Spencer observed, “don’t be alarmed.”
“Nay, sir, but I won’t pretend to sleep in the house, if Franklin isn’tto have a blunderbuss, and I a _baggonet_.”
“You shall have both, indeed, Mrs. Pomfret; but don’t make such a noise,for everybody will hear you.”
The love of mystery was the only thing which could have conquered Mrs.Pomfret’s love of talking. She was silent, and contented herself therest of the evening with making signs, looking _ominous_, and stalkingabout the house like one possessed with a secret.
Escaped from Mrs. Pomfret’s fears and advice, Mr. Spencer went to a shopwithin a few doors of the alehouse, which he heard Corkscrew frequented,and sent to beg to speak to the landlord. He came; and, when Mr. Spencerquestioned him, confessed that Corkscrew and Felix were actually drinkingin his house with two men of suspicious appearance; that, as he passedthrough the passage, he heard them disputing about a key; and that one ofthem said, “Since we’ve got the key, we’ll go about it to-night.” Thiswas sufficient information. Mr. Spencer, lest the landlord should givethem information of what was going forwards, took him along with him toBow Street.
A constable and proper assistance was sent to Mrs. Churchill’s. Theystationed themselves in a back parlour which opened on a passage leadingto the butler’s pantry, where the plate was kept. A little aftermidnight they heard the hall door open. Corkscrew and his accompliceswent directly to the pantry; and there Mr. Spencer and the constableimmediately secured them, as they were carrying off their booty.
Mrs. Churchill and Pomfret had spent the night at the house of anacquaintance in the same street. “Well, ma’am,” said Mrs. Pomfret, whohad heard all the news in the morning, “the villains are all safe, thankGod. I was afraid to go to the window this morning; but it was my luckto see them all go by to gaol. They looked so shocking! I am sure Inever shall forget Felix’s look to my dying day! But poor Franklin!ma’am; that boy has the best heart in the world. I could not get
him togive a second look at them as they passed. Poor fellow! I thought hewould have dropped; and he was so modest, ma’am, when Mr. Spencer spoketo him, and told him he had done his duty.”
“And did my brother tell him what reward I intend for him?”
“No, ma’am, and I’m sure Franklin thinks no more of _reward_ than I do.”
“I intend,” continued Mrs. Churchill, “to sell some of my old uselessplate, and to lay it out in an annuity for Franklin’s life.”
“La, ma’am!” exclaimed Mrs. Pomfret, with unfeigned joy, “I’m sure youare very good; and I’m very glad of it.”
“And,” continued Mrs. Churchill, “here are some tickets for the play,which I shall beg you, Pomfret, to give him, and to take him with you.”
“I am very much obliged to you, indeed, ma’am; and I’ll go with him withall my heart, and choose such plays as won’t do no prejudice to hismorality. And, ma’am,” continued Mrs. Pomfret, “the night after the fireI left him my great Bible and my watch, in my will; for I never was moremistaken at the first in any boy in my born days; but he has won me byhis own _deserts_, and I shall from this time forth love all the_Villaintropic_ folks for his sake.”