Page:Once a Week, Series 1, Volume II Dec 1859 to June 1860.pdf/471

458 “When my father returned to Islington on that Saturday night, he brought with him twenty red herrings.

“Tibbs, according to promise, dined with us on Sunday.

‘After the post-prandial pipe, you shall see how well your seeds are progressing.’

“Tibbs put his hands in his pockets and feebly smiled at my father’s words. He had tried during dinner to discover whether real seeds had been sent by some mistake, or the trick had been discovered. But my father began talking about sea anemones, prickly fish, jelly fish, of strange marine inhabitants that had the appearance of vegetables, and so on, till Mr. Tibbs saw but slight differenoe between a codfish and a fir-tree, and began to think his joke was not so good a one after all.

“Dinner finished, the pipe smoked, my father led the way down the garden-walk. He was enjoying himself immensely. Tibbs began to think of all the persons to whom he had told the excellent story of Lorquison and the Herrings, and repented that he had not given more of his time to the study of natural history. On he walked, following my father through rows of geraniums, pinks, bright roses, and marvellous tulips, until at length they arrived at a sequestered part, where, on a fresh dug bed, overshadowed by two fine laburnums, stood twenty inverted flower-pots arranged in four rows.

“Here my father stopped.

‘Now,’ said he, ‘you mustn’t be disappointed if they’re not so far advanced as you expected: but I think they’re getting on admirably, considering ’tis the first time they’ve ever been planted in this country.’

“Tibbs remembered his own words, and mumbled something about “first time—this country—who’d ha’ thought”—and looked very foolish.

‘There!’ said my father, lifting up the first pot. Tibbs caught sight of something beneath it.

‘Good gracious!’ he exclaimed, and put on his spectacles.

“Sure enough there was the nose of a red herring just visible above the ground.

‘Cover it up, Tibbs, the cold air may hurt it,’ cried my father, who had been pretending to examine the other pots.

‘Here is a better one—it has had more sun:’ he pointed to one which he had just uncovered, whose eyes, just visible above the black earth, were looking up in the most impudent manner.

“Tibbs moved on silently: carefully did he replace the first pot, and with the gravest face imaginable examined all the herrings in turn.

‘They’re getting on well,’ said my father. ’Tis a curious sight.’

‘Curious!’ echoed Tibbs, regaining his speech, ‘It’s wonderful!! Sir,’ said he, taking my father aside in his most impressive manner, ‘I thought yesterday ’twas a joke; but I give you my solemn word of honour, that I shouldn’t have believed it, if I hadn’t seen it.’

“Having given utterance to this remarkable sentence, he slowly turned on his heel and walked towards the house; my father following, with his handkerchief tightly pressed against his mouth.

“As for me, I stopped behind, and pulled up the twenty herrings one after the other; and when I returned to the house Mr. Tibbs had departed.

“Not bad, was it?”

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