Peter's Pence Page #2

"Peter's Pence" by W. W. Jacobs is a humorous novella that revolves around the misadventures of a young man named Peter, who becomes embroiled in a series of comical events stemming from misunderstandings and mistaken intentions. Set in a lively coastal town, the narrative explores themes of love, the quirks of human behavior, and the chaos that ensues when financial ambitions clash with romantic interests. Jacobs' wit and keen observation of character dynamics make this story a delightful exploration of the complexities of everyday life.

• Humour
• Short story

								

was a very improving evening they all went 'ome.

Sam and Ginger went 'ome just for the look 'o the thing, and arter
waiting a few minutes in their room they crept downstairs agin to spend
wot was left of the evening. They went down as quiet as mice, but, for
all that, just as they was passing Mr. Goodman's room the door opened,
and Peter, in a polite voice, asked 'em to step inside.

“We was just thinking you'd be dull up there all alone,” he ses.

Sam lost 'is presence o' mind, and afore he knew wot 'e was doing 'im
and Ginger 'ad walked in and sat down. They sat there for over an hour
and a 'arf talking, and then Sam, with a look at Ginger, said they must
be going, because he 'ad got to call for a pair o' boots he 'ad left to
be mended.

“Why, Sam, wot are you thinking of?” ses Peter, who didn't want anybody
to 'ave wot he couldn't. “Why, the shop's shut.”

“I don't think so,” ses Sam, glaring at 'im. “Anyway, we can go and
see.”

Peter said he'd go with 'im, and just as they got to the door Mr.
Goodman said he'd go too. O' course, the shops was shut, and arter Mr.
Goodman 'ad stood on Tower Hill admiring the Tower by moonlight till Sam
felt ready to drop, they all walked back. Three times Sam's boot-lace
come undone, but as the ethers all stopped too to see 'im do it up it
didn't do 'im much good. Wot with temper and dryness 'e could 'ardly bid
Peter “Good-night.”

Sam and Ginger 'ad something the next morning, but morning ain't the
time for it; and arter they had 'ad dinner Mr. Goodman asked 'em to go
to the Zoological Gardens with 'im. He paid for them all, and he 'ad a
lot to say about kindness to animals and 'ow you could do anything with
'em a'most by kindness. He walked about the place talking like a book,
and when a fat monkey, wot was pretending to be asleep, got a bit o'
Sam's whisker, he said it was on'y instink, and the animal had no wish
to do 'im 'arm.

“Very likely thought it was doing you a kindness, Sam,” ses Ginger.

Mr. Goodman said it was very likely, afore Sam could speak, and arter
walking about and looking at the other things they come out and 'ad a
nice, strong, 'ot cup o' tea, same as they 'ad the day before, and then
walked about, not knowing what to do with themselves.

Sam got tired of it fust, and catching Ginger's eye said he thought it
was time to get 'ome in case too much enjoyment wasn't good for 'em.
His idea was to get off with Ginger and make a night of it, and when 'e
found Peter and his uncle was coming too, he began to think that things
was looking serious.

“I don't want to spile your evening,” he says, very perlite. “I must get
'ome to mend a pair o' trowsis o' mine, but there's no need for you to
come.”

“I'll come and watch you,” ses Peter's uncle.

“And then I'm going off to bed early,” ses Sam. “Me, too,” ses Ginger,
and Peter said he could hardly keep 'is eyes open.

They got on a bus, and as Sam was about to foller Ginger and Peter on
top, Mr. Goodman took hold of 'im by the arm and said they'd go inside.
He paid two penny fares, and while Sam was wondering 'ow to tell 'im
that it would be threepence each, the bus stopped to take up a passenger
and he got up and moved to the door.

“They've gone up there,” he ses, pointing.

Afore Sam could stop 'im he got off, and Sam, full o' surprise, got off
too, and follered 'im' on to the pavement.

“Who's gone up there?” he ses, as the bus went on agin.

“Peter and Mr. Ginger Dick,” ses Mr. Goodman. “But don't you trouble.
You go 'ome and mend your trowsis.”

“But they're on the bus,” ses Sam, staring. “Dick and Peter, I mean.”

Mr. Goodman shook his 'ead.

“They got off. Didn't you see 'em?” he ses.

“No,” ses Sam, “I'll swear they didn't.”

“Well, it's my mistake, I s'pose,” ses Peter's uncle. “But you get off
home; I'm not tired yet, and I'll walk.”

Sam said 'e wasn't very tired, and he walked along wondering whether
Mr. Goodman was quite right in his 'ead. For one thing, 'e seemed upset
about something or other, and kept taking little peeps at 'im in a way
he couldn't understand at all.

“It was nice tea we 'ad this arternoon,” ses Mr. Goodman at last.

“De-licious,” ses Sam.

“Trust a teetotaller for knowing good tea,” ses Mr. Goodman. “I expect
Peter enjoyed it. I s'pose 'e is a very strict teetotaller?”

“Strict ain't the word for it,” ses Sam, trying to do 'is duty by Peter.
“We all are.”

“That's right,” ses Mr. Goodman, and he pushed his 'at back and looked
at Sam very serious. They walked on a bit further, and then Peter's
uncle stopped sudden just as they was passing a large public-'ouse and
looked at Sam.

“I don't want Peter to know, 'cos it might alarm 'im,” he ses, “but I've
come over a bit faint. I'll go in 'ere for 'arf a minnit and sit down.
You'd better wait outside.”

“I'll come in with you, in case you want help,” ses Sam. “I don't mind
wot people think.”

Mr. Goodman tried to persuade 'im not to, but it was all no good, and at
last 'e walked in and sat down on a tall stool that stood agin the bar,
and put his hand to his 'ead.

“I s'pose we shall 'ave to 'ave something,” he ses in a whisper to Sam;
“we can't expect to come in and sit down for nothing. What'll you take?”

Sam looked at 'im, but he might just as well ha' looked at a brass
door-knob.

“I—I—I'll 'ave a small ginger-beer,” he ses at last, “a very small one.”

“One small ginger,” ses Mr. Goodman to the bar-maid, “and one special
Scotch.”

Sam could 'ardly believe his ears, and he stood there 'oldin' his glass
o' ginger-beer and watching Peter's teetotal uncle drink whiskey, and
thought 'e must be dreaming.

“I dessay it seems very shocking to you,” ses Mr. Goodman, putting down
'is glass and dryin' 'is lips on each other, “but I find it useful for
these attacks.”

“I—I s'pose the flavor's very nasty?” ses Sam, taking a sip at 'is
ginger-beer.

“Not exactly wot you could call nasty,” ses Mr. Goodman, “though I
dessay it would seem so to you. I don't suppose you could swallow it.”

“I don't s'pose I could,” ses Sam, “but I've a good mind to 'ave a
try. If it's good for one teetotaller I don't see why it should hurt
another.”

Mr. Goodman looked at 'im very hard, and then he ordered a whiskey and
stood watching while Sam, arter pretending for a minnit to look at it
as though 'e didn't know wot to do with it, took a sip and let it roll
round 'is mouth.

“Well?” ses Mr. Goodman, looking at 'im anxious-like.

“It ain't so 'orrid as I 'ad fancied,” ses Sam, lapping up the rest
very gentle.

'It Aint So 'orrid As I 'ad Fancied.' Ses Sam.'

“'Ave you 'ad enough to do you all the good it ought to?”

Mr. Goodman said that it was no good 'arf doing a thing, and p'r'aps he
'ad better 'ave one more; and arter Sam 'ad paid for the next two they
went out arm-in-arm.

“'Ow cheerful everybody looks!” ses Mr. Goodman, smiling.

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