"Where's the good
of a bit of fire for a gown as wet as mine?"
Jabez Gum made no response. There was the lady, a fixture; and he could
only resign himself to the situation.
"How's your friend at the next house--Pike?" she began again
sarcastically.
"He's no friend of mine," said the clerk.
"It looks like it, at all events; or you'd have given him into custody
long ago. _I_ wouldn't let a man harbour himself so close to me. He's
taken to a new dodge now: going about with a pistol to shoot people."
"Who says so?" asked the clerk.
"I say so. He frighted that boy Ripper pretty near to death. The boy tore
home one night in a state of terror, and all they could get out of him
was that he'd met Pike with a pistol. It's weeks ago, and he hasn't got
over it yet."
"Did Pike level it at him?"
"I tell you that's all they could get out of the boy. He's a nice
jail-bird too, that young Rip, unless I'm mistaken. They might as
well send him away, and make room for our Jim."
"I think you are about the most fanciful, unjust, selfish woman in
Calne!" exclaimed the clerk, unable to keep down his anger any longer.
"You'd take young Ripper's character away without scruple, just because
his place might suit your Jim!"
"I'm what?" shrieked Mrs. Jones. "I'm unjust, am I--"
An interruption occurred, and Mrs. Jones subsided into silence. The
back-door suddenly opened, not a couple of yards from that lady's head,
and in came Mrs.
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