"Ah," said Ben, when Mrs. Oakley was gone, "I didn't tell you how I was
sarved last week at Mrs. Harveys. You know they are so precious genteel
there that they don't speak above their blessed breaths for fear of
wearing themselves out; and they sits down in a chair as if it were
balanced only on one leg, and a little more one way or t'other would
upset them. Then, if they sees a crumb a laying on the floor they rings
the bell, and a poor half-starved devil of a servant comes and says,
'Did you ring, ma'am?' and then they says 'Yes, bring a dust-shovel and
a broom, there is a crumb a laying there,' and then says I--'Damn you
all,' says I, 'bring a scavenger's cart, and half-dozen birch brooms,
there's a cinder just fell out of the fire.' Then in course they gets
shocked, and looks as blue as possible, and arter that, when they see as
I aint agoing, one of them says 'Mr. Benjamin Blumergutts, would you
like to take a glass of wine?' 'I should think so,' says I. Then he
says, says he, 'which would you prefer, red or white?' says he. 'White,'
says I, 'while you are screwing up your courage to pull out the red,' so
out they pull it; and as soon as I got hold of the bottle, I knocked the
neck of it off over the top bar of the fire-place, and then drank it all
up. 'Now, damn ye,' says I, 'you thinks all this is mighty genteel and
fine, but I don't, and consider you to be the blessedest set of humbugs
ever I set my eyes on; and, if ever you catch me here again, I'll be
genteel too, and I can't say more than that. Go to the devil, all of
ye.' So out I went, only I met with a little accident in the hall, for
they had got a sort of lamp hanging there, and somehow or 'nother, my
head went bang into it, and I carried it out round my neck; but when I
did get out, I took it off, and shied it slap in at the parlour window. You never heard such a smash in all your life. I dare say they all
fainted away for about a week, the blessed humbugs." "Well, I should not wonder," said Mr. Oakley, "I never go near them,
because I don't like their foolish pomposity and pride, which, upon very
slender resources, tries to ape what it don't at all understand; but
here is Mrs. Oakley with the sausages, and I hope you will make yourself
comfortable, Ben." "Comfortable! I believe ye, I rather shall. I means it, and no mistake." "I have brought three pounds," said Mrs. Oakley, "and told the man to
call in a quarter of an hour, in case there is any more wanted." "The devil you have; and the bacon, Mrs. Oakley, the bacon!" "I could not get any--the man had nothing but hams." "Lor', ma'am, I'd put up with a ham cut thick, and never have said a
word about it. I am a angel of a temper, and if you did but know it. Hilloa, look, is that the fellow with the half-and half?" "Yes, here it is--a pot." "A what?" "A pot, to be sure." "Well, I never; you are getting genteel, Mrs. Oakley. Then give us a
hold of it." Ben took the pot, and emptied it at a draught, and then he gave a tap at
the bottom of it with his knuckles, to signify that he had accomplished
that feat, and then he said, "I tells you what, ma'am, if you takes me
for a baby, it's a great mistake, and any one would think you did, to
see you offering me a pot merely; it's an insult, ma'am." "Fiddle-de-dee," said Mrs. Oakley; "it's a much greater insult to drink
it all up, and give nobody a drop." "Is it? I wants to know how you are to stop it, ma'am, when you gets it
to your mouth? that's what I axes you--how are you to stop it, ma'am? You didn't want me to spew it back again, did you, eh, ma'am?" "You vile, low wretch!" "Come, come, my dear," said Mr. Oakley, "you know our cousin. Ben don't
live among the most refined society, and so you ought to be able to look
over a little of--of--his--I may say, I am sure, without offence,
roughness now and then;--come, come, there is no harm done, I'm sure. Forget and forgive say I. That's my maxim, and has always been, and will
always be." "Well," said the beef-eater, "it's a good one to get through the world
with, and so there's an end of it. I forgives you, Mother Oakley." "You forgive--"

"Yes, to be sure. Though I am only a beaf-eater, I suppose as I may
forgive people for all that--eh, Cousin Oakley?" "Oh, of course, Ben, of course. Come, come, wife, you know as well as I
that Ben has many good qualities, and that take him for all in all, as
the man in the play says, we shan't in a hurry look upon his like
again." "And I'm sure I don't want to look upon his like again," said Mrs.
Oakley; "I'd rather by a good deal keep him a week than a fortnight. He's enough to breed a famine in the land, that he is." "Oh, bless you, no," said Ben, "that's amongst your little mistakes,
ma'am, I can assure you. By the bye, what a blessed long time that
fellow is coming with the rest of the beer and the other sausages--why,
what's the matter with you, cousin Oakley--eh, old chap, you look out of
sorts?" "I don't feel just the thing, do you know, Ben." "Not--the thing--why--why, now you come to mention it, I somehow feel as
if all my blessed inside was on a turn and a twist. The devil--I--don't
feel comfortable at all I don't." "And I'm getting very ill," gasped Mr. Oakley. "And I'm getting iller," said the beef-eater, manufacturing a word for
the occasion. "Bless my soul! there's something gone wrong in my inside. I know there's murder--there's a go--oh, Lord! it's a doubling me up, it
is." "I feel as if my last hour had come," said Mr. Oakley--"I'm a--a--dying
man--I am--oh, good gracious! there was a twinge!" Mrs. Oakley, with all the coolness in the world, took down her bonnet
from behind the parlour-door where it hung, and, as she put it on
said,--

"I told you both that some judgment would come over you, and now you see
it has. How do you like it? Providence is good, of course, to its own,
and I have--"

"What--what--?" "_Pisoned_ the half-and-half." Big Ben, the beef-eater, fell off his chair with a deep groan, and poor
Mr. Oakley sat glaring at his wife, and shivering with apprehension,
quite unable to speak, while she placed a shawl over her shoulders, as
she added in the same tone of calmness she had made the terrific
announcement concerning the poisoning--

"Now, you wretches, you see what a woman can do when she makes up her
mind for vengeance. As long as you all live, you'll recollect me; but,
if you don't, that won't much matter, for you won't live long, I can
tell you, and now I'm going to my sister's, Mrs. Tiddiblow." So saying, Mrs. Oakley turned quickly round, and, with an insulting toss
of her head, and not at all caring for the pangs and sufferings of her
poor victims, she left the place, and proceeded to her sister's house,
where she slept as comfortably as if she had not by any means committed
two diabolical murders.