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Read Ebook: Odd Charges Odd Craft Part 13. by Jacobs W W William Wymark Owen Will Illustrator
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Ebook has 129 lines and 7809 words, and 3 pages
We 'adn't up to then, but a'most direckly arter she 'ad spoke you could ha' heard Bob's groans a mile away. Dreadful, they was.
"There, there, pore dear," ses Mrs. Pretty.
"Shall I come in and 'elp you get 'im to bed?" ses Dicky Weed, 'arf crying.
"No, thank you, Mr. Weed," ses Mrs. Pretty. "It's very kind of you to offer, but 'e wouldn't like any hands but mine to touch 'im. I'll send in and let you know 'ow he is fust thing in the morning."
"Try and get 'old of the coat, Dicky," ses Bill Chambers, in a whisper. "Offer to mend it for 'im. It's sure to want it."
"Well, I'm sorry I can't be no 'elp to you," ses Dicky Weed, "but I noticed a rent in Bob's coat and, as 'e's likely to be laid up a bit, it ud be a good opportunity for me to mend it for 'im. I won't charge 'im nothing. If you drop it down I'll do it now."
"Thankee," ses Mrs. Pretty; "if you just wait a moment I'll clear the pockets out and drop it down to you."
She turned back into the bedroom, and Dicky Weed ground 'is teeth together and told Bill Chambers that the next time he took 'is advice he'd remember it. He stood there trembling all over with temper, and when Mrs. Pretty came to the winder agin and dropped the coat on his 'ead and said that Bob felt his kindness very much, and he 'oped Dicky ud make a good job of it, because it was 'is favrite coat, he couldn't speak. He stood there shaking all over till Mrs. Pretty 'ad shut the winder down agin, and then 'e turned to the conjurer, as 'ad come up with the rest of us, and asked 'im wot he was going to do about it now.
"I tell you he's got the watch," ses the conjurer, pointing up at the winder. "It went into 'is pocket. I saw it go. He was no more shot than you were. If 'e was, why doesn't he send for the doctor?"
"I can't 'elp that," ses Dicky Weed. "I want my watch or else twenty pounds."
"We'll talk it over in a day or two," ses the conjurer. "I'm giving my celebrated entertainment at Wickham Fair on Monday, but I'll come back 'ere to the Cauliflower the Saturday before and give another entertainment, and then we'll see wot's to be done. I can't run away, because in any case I can't afford to miss the fair."
Dicky Weed gave way at last and went off 'ome to bed and told 'is wife about it, and listening to 'er advice he got up at six o'clock in the morning and went round to see 'ow Bob Pretty was.
Mrs. Pretty was up when 'e got there, and arter calling up the stairs to Bob told Dicky Weed to go upstairs. Bob Pretty was sitting up in bed with 'is face covered in bandages, and he seemed quite pleased to see 'im.
"It ain't everybody that ud get up at six o'clock to see 'ow I'm getting on," he ses. "You've got a feeling 'art, Dicky."
Dicky Weed coughed and looked round, wondering whether the watch was in the room, and, if so, where it was hidden.
"Now I'm 'ere I may as well tidy up the room for you a bit," he ses, getting up. "I don't like sitting idle."
"Thankee, mate," ses Bob; and 'e lay still and watched Dicky Weed out of the corner of the eye that wasn't covered with the bandages.
I don't suppose that room 'ad ever been tidied up so thoroughly since the Prettys 'ad lived there, but Dicky Weed couldn't see anything o' the watch, and wot made 'im more angry than anything else was Mrs. Pretty setting down in a chair with 'er 'ands folded in her lap and pointing out places that he 'adn't done.
"Don't ask me," ses Mrs. Pretty. "I was in such a state I don't know wot I was doing 'ardly."
"Well, they must be about somewhere," ses Bob. "You 'ave a look for 'em, Dicky, and if you find 'em, keep 'em. They belong to you."
Dicky Weed tried to be civil and thank 'im, and then he went off 'ome and talked it over with 'is wife agin. People couldn't make up their minds whether Bob Pretty 'ad found the watch in 'is pocket and was shamming, or whether 'e was really shot, but they was all quite certain that, whichever way it was, Dicky Weed would never see 'is watch agin.
On the Saturday evening this 'ere Cauliflower public-'ouse was crowded, everybody being anxious to see the watch trick done over agin. We had 'eard that it 'ad been done all right at Cudford and Monksham; but Bob Pretty said as 'ow he'd believe it when 'e saw it, and not afore.
He was one o' the fust to turn up that night, because 'e said 'e wanted to know wot the conjurer was going to pay him for all 'is pain and suffering and having things said about 'is character. He came in leaning on a stick, with 'is face still bandaged, and sat right up close to the conjurer's table, and watched him as 'ard as he could as 'e went through 'is tricks.
"And now," ses the conjurer, at last, "I come to my celebrated watch trick. Some of you as wos 'ere last Tuesday when I did it will remember that the man I fired the pistol at pretended that 'e'd been shot and run off 'ome with it in 'is pocket."
"You're a liar!" ses Bob Pretty, standing up. "Very good," ses the conjurer; "you take that bandage off and show us all where you're hurt."
"I shall do nothing o' the kind," ses Bob. I don't take my orders from you."
"Take the bandage off," ses the conjurer, "and if there's any shot marks I'll give you a couple o' sovereigns."
"I'm afraid of the air getting to it," ses Bob Pretty.
"You don't want to be afraid o' that, Bob," ses John Biggs, the blacksmith, coming up behind and putting 'is great arms round 'im. "Take off that rag, somebody; I've got hold of 'im."
Bob Pretty started to struggle at fust, but then, seeing it was no good, kept quite quiet while they took off the bandages.
"There! look at 'im," ses the conjurer, pointing. "Not a mark on 'is face, not one."
"Wet!" ses Bob Pretty. "Do you mean to say there's no marks?"
"I do," ses the conjurer.
"Thank goodness," ses Bob Pretty, clasping his 'ands. "Thank goodness! I was afraid I was disfigured for life. Lend me a bit o' looking-glass, somebody. I can 'ardly believe it."
"You stole Dicky Weed's watch," ses John Biggs. "I 'ad my suspicions of you all along. You're a thief, Bob Pretty. That's wot you are."
"Prove it," ses Bob Pretty. "You 'eard wot the conjurer said the other night, that the last time he tried 'e failed, and 'ad to give eighteenpence to the man wot the watch 'ad belonged to."
"That was by way of a joke like," ses the conjurer to John Biggs. "I can always do it. I'm going to do it now. Will somebody 'ave the kindness to lend me a watch?"
He looked all round the room, but nobody offered--except other men's watches, wot wouldn't lend 'em.
"Come, come," he ses; "ain't none of you got any trust in me? It'll be as safe as if it was in your pocket. I want to prove to you that this man is a thief."
He asked 'em agin, and at last John Biggs took out 'is silver watch and offered it to 'im on the understanding that 'e was on no account to fire it into Bob Pretty's pocket.
"Not likely," ses the conjurer. "Now, everybody take a good look at this watch, so as to make sure there's no deceiving."
He 'anded it round, and arter everybody 'ad taken a look at it 'e took it up to the table and laid it down.
"Let me 'ave a look at it," ses Bob Pretty, going up to the table. "I'm not going to 'ave my good name took away for nothing if I can 'elp it."
He took it up and looked at it, and arter 'olding it to 'is ear put it down agin.
"Is that the flat-iron it's going to be smashed with?" he ses.
"It is," ses the conjurer, looking at 'im nasty like; "p'r'aps you'd like to examine it."
Bob Pretty took it and looked at it. "Yes, mates," he ses, "it's a ordinary flat-iron. You couldn't 'ave anything better for smashing a watch with."
He 'eld it up in the air and, afore anybody could move, brought it down bang on the face o' the watch. The conjurer sprang at 'im and caught at 'is arm, but it was too late, and in a terrible state o' mind 'e turned round to John Biggs.
"He's smashed your watch," he ses; "he's smashed your watch."
"Well," ses John Biggs, "it 'ad got to be smashed, 'adn't it?"
"Yes, but not by 'im," ses the conjurer, dancing about. "I wash my 'ands of it now."
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