Volume Three – Chapter Sixteen.
Mr Purkis does his Dooty
Mr Purkis stood in his shop carefully cutting out strips of white paper for the measurement of future customers’ feet, when he heard the pattering of feet, and anticipating trade for the establishment, he raised his eyes, slowly, and with due importance.
“What’s this, Mr Purkis, sir?” cried the visitor, rushing into the shop with a violence that made the little bell give tongue furiously – so furiously that it seemed as if disposed to compete with little Tim Ruggles, excited and hot as he was with running. “What does all this mean, sir? How is it – when was it – and how did it happen? I must know – must, indeed.”
Mr Purkis stood erect, with his hands beneath his black linen apron, and puffed out and collapsed his cheeks again and again, but without answering his visitor.
“I must know, Mr Purkis, sir,” cried Tim again, as he took off his hat, put it on, and walked about the shop in his excitement. “I’ve been to Mr Pellet’s, sir, and he won’t tell me a word, so I’ve come to you.”
“Well, you see, Mr Ruggles,” said Purkis, slowly, as if he sold his speech by the yard like shoe-string, after puffing and gasping three or four times like a fat old tench, – “you see – ”
“Don’t say a word, Joseph – don’t commit yourself,” exclaimed Mrs Purkis, coming forth in a great hurry from the back regions, and busily rolling her arms up in her apron as she came, perhaps to hide their red and chappy state – perhaps from modesty or for comfort.
Mr Purkis looked at his wife, and then again at restless Tim, gave a gasp or two, puffed out his cheeks beadle-wise, and then opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came.
“Don’t say a word – don’t say anything about it!” exclaimed Mrs Purkis again in a great state of excitement, but unrolling one arm to place it through her husband’s, as if for protection, as she looked defiantly at Tim. “You know what the pleece said to the boy when he took him up for stealing the list-slippers. What you say now ’ll be used in evidence agen you! You’re mixed up enough with it as it is.”
“Oh! please don’t stop him,” cried Tim Ruggles, in agony, as he wrung his hands and looked imploringly from one to the other. “What does it mean?”
“Well you see, Mr Ruggles,” said Purkis, after another tenchy gasp.
“Now, Joseph, don’t,” cried Mrs Purkis.
“Hold your tongue, woman,” cried Mr Purkis, majestically – the beadle asserting itself over the husband.
“Don’t stop him; pray don’t stop him, Mrs Purkis, ma’am,” cried Tim. “What, does it mean? Mrs Pellet began to tell me, when Mr Pellet stopped her; and now Mr Purkis begins to tell me, and you stop him.”
Mrs Purkis shook her head fiercely, so that something, probably curl papers – for she was strong in crackers – rattled.
“Please tell me,” implored Tim. “It’s about that robbery at the church; and Mrs Pellet says that you, sir, saw Mrs Ruggles at the boxes, and then Mr Pellet wouldn’t let her say another word.”
“And so I did see her,” gasped Mr Purkis, rattling his halfpence as he spoke; “kiss the book and take my Bible oath I did – ”
“Now, Joseph – now, Joseph,” cried Mrs Purkis, interrupting him; “don’t say another word, or you’ll never forgive yourself.”
“Hold your tongue, woman!” cried Mr Purkis again, more importantly, but without looking down at her, or taking his hands from where he had deeply thrust them – into his pockets.
“Don’t speak to me in that rough way before people, Joseph!” cried Mrs Purkis, indignantly, and she gave the arm to which she clung a sharp shake.
“Be quiet, then,” said Mr Purkis, importantly, and then he gave two or three more puffs out to his cheeks. “You see, Mr Ruggles,” he continued, “I’ve a great feeling of esteem for Mr Pellet, who is a fine musician, and not a better in London. It was through him, sir, that Mrs Ruggles got that there appointment of pew-opener, for if it hadn’t been for Mr Pellet, sir, I shouldn’t have stirred in the matter.”
“O Joseph!” whimpered Mrs Purkis, “I thought you would. You’re a committing yourself, and laying yourself open.”
“Be quiet, woman!” roared Purkis, looking his beadlest.
There was only Joseph Purkis of the boot and shoe emporium, in his black linen apron and shirt-sleeves, list-slippers, and, like a chain of office, a few slips of measuring paper over his shoulders, while he certainly had not been shaved for two or three days, and was consequently very stubbly; yet you could see a cocked-hat with broad gold lace in the pose of his large hair-streaked head; there was the broad red velvet and gold cape spreading over his shoulders, and his ponderous gilt mace of office seemed to recline in the hollow of his arm as he spoke. There was a majestic look about the man which told of habitual command, and he showed it in the way in which he crushed his wife with a side look.
“Mr Ruggles, you see, I felt hurt to see Mr Pellet in trouble, and losing his organist-ship on account of that poor-box being robbed, for I knew as he was going, being p’raps the only man as did; and it troubled me, sir, dreadful, being plundered again and again; and more than once I was that uncomfortable about it that I could have sent in my uniform to Mr Timson, sir, which would have shown as I meant to resign; only I knew as my enemy the greengrocer would have took the post, and worn that hat in triumph – too big for him though it was – sizes – and padded with brown paper. So I wouldn’t send it in, sir, though an independent man, and able to live on my business.”
“O Joseph, Joseph, Joseph!” whimpered his wife, “this’ll all be used in evidence; and you don’t know as the income-tax people ain’t listening, and you never paid a penny yet.”
“Hush-sh-sh!” ejaculated Mr Purkis, as if he were in the loft amongst the whispering boys of Gunnis’ gift of charity, and removing one hand from his pocket, he seized a lady’s slipper, and slapped the counter with the sole; while poor Tim Ruggles stood wringing his hands, and looking appealingly from one to the other.
“You see, Mr Ruggles,” said Purkis, waving the shoe, “having the cleaning and polishing of those poor-boxes, I felt as if I was answerable for them, and as if it was me as ought to know where the money went. They weren’t my tills, sir, but they was in my church; and the people as that there money was for was my poor people, as I’ve presided over in the giving of scores of doles at the vestry – people as respex me, sir; and, after a deal of consideration, I says to myself, I says – It’s some one as goes to the church on week days, and it’s either me – ”
“O Joseph, Joseph!” cried Mrs Purkis, beginning to sob.
“Why can’t you be quiet, and let a man speak?” exclaimed Mr Purkis, in injured tones.
“But – but – you’ll be getting yourself into trouble about it,” sobbed Mrs Purkis. “Please don’t let him say no more, Mr Ruggles.”
“Women is so soft, Mr Ruggles,” said Purkis, benevolently.
“Not always, sir – not always,” said Tim, standing first upon one leg, then upon the other, and rubbing the nap off his shabby hat till there was quite a bald place. “Not always, sir; I’ve known them as was very hard.”
“So have I, sir,” said Mr Purkis, importantly, as a county magistrate pronouncing a sentence, – “so have I, sir; and I says to myself – Joseph Purkis, you’ve been parish officer at St Runnle’s a many years now, and with that there stain about the church, your uniform is a getting tarnished, and your sooperiors will look down upon you till you clear it away. Them boxes are in your charge, and therefore you owe a dooty to yourself to set all right. He didn’t look at you at all last Sunday, the vicar didn’t; and how do you know but what he suspects you, same as he may any innercent person? He may even now think as you have a hand in it, and be writing out your resignation for you. And really, Joseph Purkis, I says, it looks as if it were either you – ”
“O Joseph —Joseph!” sobbed Mrs Purkis.
“Be quiet, woman, can’t you?” shouted Purkis. “Either you,” he continued, slapping the counter with the shoe, “or some one else familiar with the place.”
“Oh!” gasped Mrs Purkis.
“Now, just you go in there, and shut that door after you, Mrs Purkis, if you please,” said the beadle, more importantly than ever; and, taking his other hand from his pocket, he opened the parlour door as if it had been a pew, and made way with a flourish of the shoe for his wife to enter; while that lady, whose society had now become too demonstrative to be pleasant, raised her hands appealingly to the Wellingtons hung around the shop, as if to ask them to bear witness that it was in spite of her advice Mr Purkis persisted in committing himself. But the next minute she was invisible, on account of the dingy muslin blind over the half glass-door, and Mr Purkis walked back Astur-like in his stately stride.
“So, Mr Ruggles,” he said, “speaking as a man to a man, I felt it to be my dooty, for the benefit of all parties concerned, to watch, sir; and I did watch, sir, night after night, sir, day after day, sir; and where do you think I was, sir? Why, high up, sir, in the pulpit, with the door jest ajar, and a few cushions, to make the place a bit easy. Ah! sir, I’ve seen Mr Jared Pellet and Ichabod Gunnis come, sir, and go; and often, when that dog of a boy has come by himself a waiting for the organist, I’ve been at my wits’ ends, sir, to see that there young dog a sliding down the bannisters of the gallery, or a swinging on the pew-doors, and my fingers have itched to that degree, sir, to get hold of my cane, that I ain’t been hardly able to bear it. It’s been orful, sir, sometimes – orful to see the wicked young villin! What do you think of a boy getting into the reading-desk, and beginning, ‘Dearly beloved brethren,’ and then going down to the clerk’s desk and singing ‘Amen,’ just like our old man? Why, sir, one night I felt a’most ready to bust with indignation when he came down first, with Mr Pellet stopping up in the loft to think, I s’pose. What do you think the young dog did, sir? Why, he took the kiver off the font, sir, and then if he didn’t go and commit sacrilege, and defame and disgrace the beautiful old stone thing by climbing up and standing upon his head, sir, in the font, and kicking his heels together, and playing up the what’s-his-name’s delight.
“Ah! he’s a bad un, that boy. What do you think he did another night, sir? Put me in a cold prespiration he did, and then made me rise up with that big pulpit-cushion in my two hands. I should have heaved it and knocked him over like a skittle; only I knew it would not only upset him but all my plans as well; so I sat down again and filled my mouth full of pocket-handkerchief to stop back the indignation, for my pot was hot with thorns. What was he a doing of, sir? Why, I’ll tell you. A dog! he’d got both his shoes off, and one in each hand, a walking all over the church backards and forrards and ziggery-zaggery, balancing hisself like a monkey the while. Not very wrong that you’ll think, Mr Ruggles; but he was doing of it all on the narrow tops of the pews; and hang me, sir, if he didn’t try to jump across the middle aisle, only he came down flop on his back, and got up whimpering, and limped out of the church as hard as he could go. Then, I’ve seen Mr – what, sir?”
“Pray put me out of my misery,” implored poor Tim.
“I’m a coming to it fast, sir,” said Purkis. “I’ve seen Mr Pellet come down and stop by the poor-box on the side where the door was open, and sigh bitterly, and go away again; and though I’ve watched a deal that way, I couldn’t see nothing wrong out of the pulpit; so, to the utter neglect of Purkis’s boot and shoe emporium, and to the constant annoyance of Mrs Purkis, which said it was no business of mine, I kep’ on the watching, for I never give way, sir, in anything – not a peg. Why, sir, I’m a lion to that woman, sir; and as long as I’m a lion, why she’s a lamb; but if I was to stop being a lion, sir, it’s my belief she’d grow into a fierce tiger-cat, sir, and I should only be a mouse. Never give way to a woman, sir; they’re made on purpose to be ruled; and if you don’t rule ’em, sir, why, they’ll know as there’s something wrong, and they’ll rule you.
“Well, sir, I took to t’other side then, and used to sit in the reading-desk; and there I never saw anything but aggravation. Young Ichabod playing pitch-and-nickem with buttons and nickers in the middle aisle, or turning summersets over the hassocks; and once, I declare solemnly, I could hardly bear it, for if he didn’t get my mace, sir, and begin by walking up and down, and making believe it was me; then he must get to balancing it on his chin till he let it go agen one of the lamp glasses and cracked it, and I’ll crack him for it now the thing’s found out, with the very cane too as he took and stole out of mischief. But the worst of all was when he took and put that there staff across a couple of the free-seats, and began taking races and jumps over it, just as if he was in a playground instead of the Holy Catholic Church. Why, sir, it was enough to make the stone images on the monnyments tumble on him and crush him into the pavement – a bad dog!
“Then I tried the galleries; but I found out nothing there; and at last I took to the churchwarden’s pew, for I was determined to keep it up; though I must own, sir, as a man as always speaks the truth – for the truth may be blamed but can never be shamed – and as one who may soon be on his oath, but who respex you, and is sorry for you, Mr Ruggles – that I should have found it out sooner if it hadn’t been for the church being that bitter of a night that I was obliged to take a drop of something to keep the cold out of me for fear it might affect me so as to make me sneeze just at the most partickler time.”
“Please, sir, do – oh! do go on,” cried Tim, imploringly.
“Yes, yes! I’m going on,” said Purkis, solemnly. “So, sir, more than once I’m afraid I went to sleep in the big pew, same as I did on the night when I woke up and felt horribly frightened at hearing a something rattling about in the middle of the church; and for a time, sir, waking up fresh out of a long dream where I’d been heading a procession of thieves and poor-boxes, and policemen on the way to the Clerkenwell Police Court, I thought it had been something of what my old Scotch friend Sergeant Pike used to call ‘no canny.’ But there, sir, I soon shook that off, and rising very gently, I peeped over the edge of the pew, and I could just make out some one going along the middle aisle, and I knew the step as well as could be, besides a crackling staybone-and-busky noise as the figure made every time it stooped, while it never turned to the right or left without going altogether as if the neck was stiff.”
“Then it was a figure?” said Tim, wringing his hands.
“Oh yes, sir, it was a figure,” said Purkis, waving the slipper more and more; “a stiff figure, as went softly to first one and then the other poor-box; and I heard a key go and money chink after the figure had been well round the church. It sounded just like Mrs Purkis emptying out the till on Saturday nights.”
“But pray – ” exclaimed Tim.
“Don’t interrupt, sir! Hush!” exclaimed Purkis pompously, as if he were frowning down a pack of boys, and making the chattering young dogs shake in their leather breeches; while gazing mournfully at him, as if he knew all now, Tim Ruggles, with his face full of wrinkles, waited to hear more.
“I knew the step, sir,” said Purkis, “and I could see the figure turn all round at once, sir, without moving its head; and then, in my lair, I watched and watched with my heart beating fierce, for I knew that the time was come for me to vindicate innocence, and to – to – er – er – wait Mr Ruggles, sir. And I did wait, Mr Ruggles, sir, till I heard the church-door shut softly, when all was so still that I couldn’t help thinking it might be fancy.”
“And it was fancy, Mr Purkis, wasn’t it?” exclaimed Tim, eagerly.
“No, sir, it warn’t fancy,” said Purkis, austerely, as he waved Tim back with the slipper. It was all true as true; and I slapped my knees and rubbed my hands, and then I looked up towards the old organ and nodded at it; for I thought of the vally of what I’d found out, sir, to a good man, and no end of a family of children. And then, when I thought I’d waited long enough not to be seen, I went and knocked up Mr Timson, our churchwarden; fetched him out of bed, for it was one o’clock and past; and when he got down to me in his dressing-gown, he began a bullying me like anything; for he thought, you know, I’d come boxing with my Christmas-piece.
“But, ‘gently, sir,’ I says; ‘don’t be rash – don’t be hasty.’ ‘Hasty!’ he says: ‘I’ll report you to Mr Grey. Get out, sir, you’re drunk: I can smell rum here.’ ‘And a good thing, too,’ I says, ‘for keeping cold out when you’re watching poor-boxes at night in a empty church?’ ‘What?’ he says, ‘what did you say, Purkis?’ he says. For answer, sir, I laid a finger solemn-like against one side of my nose, and looks at him out of the corners of my eyes. ‘Purkis,’ he says, ‘Purkis: you don’t mean as you have found it out?’ ‘But I do, sir,’ I says; and then I told him all, and he begged my pardon; and then, if he didn’t go into fits of delight, hopping about ‘I always said as it wasn’t Pellet,’ he kept on saying. Then he danced round the room, with his little bare legs popping out of the bottom of his dressing-gown, and he slapped me on the back over and over again. ‘Poor old Pellet!’ he says; ‘I’m glad: out and out glad!’ Then he called me a trump, which, though it was well meant, didn’t sound respectful to a man in my position in life, and beadle of St Runnle’s for all the years as I’ve been.
“But I didn’t show no temper, sir, for he meant well, as I said before; and he gets out something in an ugly little bottle, as he poured into two of the wretchedest little glasses you ever see; but when you come to taste it, my! it was just like what he called it; ‘gold water,’ he said it was, and he chuckled and danced as he poured it out. ’Pon my word, sir, it was like swallowing melted sovereigns.”
Tim groaned, but remained patient and motionless.
“Then, sir,” continued Purkis, “I went away a happy man, promising that I’d be with him next morning – no, it wasn’t, though, it was the same morning – to run down with him to see the vicar, as was in the country.
“‘Do you mean to report me, sir?’ I says. ‘Don’t be a fool, Purkis,’ he says. ‘I want you to tell him with your own lips.’”
“Tell him what, sir? – tell him what?” said Tim, piteously.
“That I’d seen – ”
“Stop – stop!” exclaimed Tim, imploringly, as if, now that it had come to the point, and he was about to have that which he already knew corroborated, he could not bear it. “I don’t think I can quite take it yet; but there! – yes – please go on.”
“That I’d seen her, sir, as I could swear to, go to the poor-boxes one after another, and take something out, just like Mrs Purkis emptying the till, and then steal off, sir, so still that you could hardly hear her, only for the clicking of the key in the lock, and then she was gone.”
“She was —she was gone?” faltered Tim.
“Yes, sir; she was. Dark as it was, I could make out all I have said; and then it puzzled me that we should never have settled it upon her before, when we found the money missing. But, you see, she was always so prim, and clean, and neat, and respectable.”
“Always, Mr Purkis, sir,” said Tim; “always.”
“And no one never would have thought it of her,” said Purkis.
“No, sir; no one,” responded Tim, and then, sinking his voice to a whisper, he looked anxiously round the shop, dropping his hat, and then starting as he caught Purkis by one of his buttons – “Who was it, sir? – who was it?” he said, in a voice hardly above his breath.
“Why, you don’t want me to tell you, I’m sure, sir?” said Purkis, stoutly.
“Oh yes, I do! – oh yes, I do!” groaned Tim.
“Then,” said the beadle, “I’ll tell you!” When there came the words “O Joseph!” plainly heard from the inner room, pointing to the fact that Mrs Purkis had been listening the whole time. But her lord heeded not the soft appeal, but, leaning forward, he placed a hand upon Tim’s shoulder, his lips close to his ear, and whispered the words.
With a cry, the little tailor caught up his hat and dashed out of the shop, then, after silencing the irritated bell, Mr Purkis gave one of his customer-seeking looks up and down the street, but it was only to see poor Tim Ruggles disappear round the corner.
“I knowed you’d commit yourself, Joseph,” whimpered Mrs Purkis, standing at the inner door, and rolling her arms tightly in her apron.
“My dear,” said Mr Purkis pompously, “it was only my dooty!”