Page:Ainsworth's Magazine - Volume 1.djvu/18

2 return. Another constant spy upon the mysterious abode was Peter Pokerich, a young barber and wig-maker, occupying the next house to the mercer, but whose motives were not like the other's, entirely those of curiosity. Having completed his apprenticeship about a twelvemonth before, Peter Pokerich had at that time settled in the Little Sanctuary, and had already obtained a fair share of business, being much employed in dressing the wigs of the lawyers frequenting Westminster Hall. He was a smart dapper little fellow, with no contemptible opinion of himself, either as to mental or personal qualifications, and being determined to push his fortune with the sex, had, in the first instance, paid very marked attentions to the mercer's daughter, Thomasine, or, as she was more familiarly called, Tommy; and these attentions it was pretty evident were not altogether unacceptable. Just, however, as he was on the eve of declaring himself, and soliciting the hand of the fair Thomasine, with little apprehension of a refusal, he accidentally beheld the miser's daughter, Hilda Scarve, and his inflammable heart taking fire at her beauty, which was indeed sufficiently ravishing to captivate a colder breast than the barber's, he thenceforth became her slave, and could no longer endure the auburn locks, the hazel orbs, the round cheeks, and plump little person, of the fair Thomasine, which had once appeared so attractive in his eyes. Another consideration was not without its weight in turning the scale of his affections. Hilda's father was reputed to be of immense wealth; she was his only child, at least it was generally understood so, and would, of course, inherit the whole of his vast hoards; and as, furthermore, he was an old man, it could not, in the course of nature, be very long before the property must come to her. This consideration decided Peter in favour of the miser's daughter, and it was the hope of obtaining a glimpse of her that made him play the spy upon her father's dwelling.

The repairs previously alluded to were made by the miser's servant, Jacob Post, who, on this occasion, stepped over the way to borrow a ladder from Mr. Deacle. For reasons of his own, the mercer readily complied with the request, and when Jacob's work was done, and he brought back the ladder, he was invited by its owner to his back parlour, where Mrs. Deacle and the fair Thomasine were seated, and where a substantial repast was laid out. Jacob was next requested to sit down, and with some hesitation complied. A plate, loaded with cold beef, was next offered him, and he cleared it in an inconceivably short space of time. The plate was again filled, and again emptied, and as his appetite seemed in no ways stayed, and the edge-bone was nearly bared, a large remnant of a potato pie in a brown earthenware dish was substituted. To the astonishment of the party, he soon disposed of it. These viands requiring to be washed down, Mr. Deacle took a jug of ale, which stood at one corner of the table, and pouring out a large foaming glass, offered it to his guest, winking as he did so at his wife, as much as to say, "We have him now." Whether or not Jacob saw the wink is of little import. He took the glass, drained it to the last drop, and sprang to his feet.

"Why, you're not going!" cried Mr. Deacle.

"Yes, I am," replied Jacob, in his deep, gruff voice.

"Well; but stop a bit, I've something to say to you," rejoined Mr. Deacle.

"Master'11 wonder what I'm doing here so long," returned Jacob. "He watched me cross over with the ladder."

"You should have thought of that before you sat down," remarked Mrs. Deacle, somewhat spitefully. "If you would draw another jug of ale, my dear, I dare say Jacob would risk incurring his master's displeasure, and stay a few minutes longer."