Page:Orley Farm (Serial Volume 16).pdf/17

Rh nothing else. At Hubbles and Grease's it was found useless to put figures into his hands till all this should be over. Indeed it was doubted by many whether he would ever recover his ordinary tone of mind. It seemed to be understood that he would be cross-examined by Chaffanbrass, and there were those who thought that John Kenneby would never again be equal to a day's work after that which he would then be made to endure. That he would have been greatly relieved could the whole thing have been wiped away from him there can be no manner of doubt; but I fancy that he would also have been disappointed. It is much to be great for a day, even though that day's greatness should cause the shipwreck of a whole life.

'I shall endeavour to speak the truth,' said John Kenneby, solemnly.

'The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,' said Moulder.

'Yes, Moulder, that will be my endeavour; and then I may lay my hand upon my bosom and think that I have done my duty by my country.' And as Kenneby spoke he suited the action to the word.

'Quite right, John,' said Mrs. Smiley. 'Them's the sentiments of a man, and I, as a woman having a right to speak where you are concerned, quite approve of them.'

'They'll get nothing but the truth out of John,' said Mrs. Moulder; 'not if he knows it.' These last words she added, actuated by admiration of what she had heard of Mr. Chaffanbrass, and perhaps with some little doubt as to her brother's firmness.

'That's where it is,' said Moulder. 'Lord bless you, John, they'll turn you round their finger like a bit of red tape. Truth! Gammon! What do they care for truth?'

'But I care, Moulder,' said Kenneby. 'I don't suppose they can make me tell falsehoods if I don't wish it.'

'Not if you're the man I take you to be,' said Mrs. Smiley.

'Gammon!' said Moulder.

'Mr. Moulder, that's an objectionable word,' said Mrs. Smiley. 'If John Kenneby is the man I take him to be,—and who's a right to speak if I haven't, seeing that I am going to commit myself for this world into his hands?'—and Mrs. Smiley, as she spoke, simpered, and looked down with averted head on the fulness of her Irish tabinet—'if he's the man that I take him to be, he won't say on this thrilling occasion no more than the truth, nor yet no less. Now that isn't gammon—if I know what gammon is.'

It will have been already seen that the party in question were assembled at Mr. Moulder's room in Great St. Helen's. There had been a little supper party there to commemorate the final arrangements as to the coming marriage, and the four were now sitting round the fire with their glasses of hot toddy at their elbows.