Turpin's husband. From her clerical friend of St. Luke's
she had learnt that Turpin was at bottom a decent sort of man, rather
intelligent, and that it was only during the last year or two that he had
taken to passing his evenings at the public-house. Causes for this decline
could be suggested. The carpenter had lost his only son, a lad of whom he
was very fond; the boy's death quite broke him down at the time, and
perhaps he had begun to drink as a way for forgetting his trouble. Perhaps,
too, his foolish, slatternly wife bore part of the blame, for his home had
always been comfortless, and such companionship must, in the long-run, tell
on a man. Reflecting upon this, Miss Rodney had an idea, and she took no
time in putting it into practice. When Mabel brought in her tea, she asked
the girl whether her father was at home.
'I think he is, miss,' was the distant reply--for Mabel had been bidden by
her mother to 'show a proper spirit' when Miss Rodney addressed her.
'You think so? Will you please make sure, and, if you are right, ask Mr.
Turpin to be so kind as to let me have a word with him.'
Startled and puzzled, the girl left the room. Miss Rodney waited, but no
one came.
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