Lawyer Quince Read online

  Produced by David Widger

  ODD CRAFT

  By W.W. Jacobs

  LAWYER QUINCE

  Lawyer Quince, so called by his neighbours in Little Haven from hisreadiness at all times to place at their disposal the legal lore he hadacquired from a few old books while following his useful occupation ofmaking boots, sat in a kind of wooden hutch at the side of his cottageplying his trade. The London coach had gone by in a cloud of dust somethree hours before, and since then the wide village street had slumberedalmost undisturbed in the sunshine.

  "Lawyer Quince."]

  Hearing footsteps and the sound of voices raised in dispute caused him tolook up from his work. Mr. Rose, of Holly Farm, Hogg, the miller, andone or two neighbours of lesser degree appeared to be in earnest debateover some point of unusual difficulty.

  Lawyer Quince took a pinch of snuff and bent to his work again. Mr. Rosewas one of the very few who openly questioned his legal knowledge, andhis gibes concerning it were only too frequent. Moreover, he had a tastefor practical joking, which to a grave man was sometimes offensive.

  "Well, here he be," said Mr. Hogg to the farmer, as the group halted infront of the hutch. "Now ask Lawyer Quince and see whether I ain't toldyou true. I'm willing to abide by what he says."

  Mr. Quince put down his hammer and, brushing a little snuff from hiscoat, leaned back in his chair and eyed them with grave confidence.

  "It's like this," said the farmer. "Young Pascoe has been hanging roundafter my girl Celia, though I told her she wasn't to have nothing to dowith him. Half an hour ago I was going to put my pony in its stable whenI see a young man sitting there waiting."

  "Well?" said Mr. Quince, after a pause.

  "He's there yet," said the farmer. "I locked him in, and Hogg here saysthat I've got the right to keep him locked up there as long as I like. Isay it's agin the law, but Hogg he says no. I say his folks would comeand try to break open my stable, but Hogg says if they do I can have thelaw of 'em for damaging my property."

  "So you can," interposed Mr. Hogg, firmly. "You see whether LawyerQuince don't say I'm right."

  Mr. Quince frowned, and in order to think more deeply closed his eyes.Taking advantage of this three of his auditors, with remarkableunanimity, each closed one.

  "It's your stable," said Mr. Quince, opening his eyes and speaking withgreat deliberation, "and you have a right to lock it up when you like."

  "There you are," said Mr. Hogg; "what did I tell you?"

  "If anybody's there that's got no business there, that's his look-out,"continued Mr. Quince. "You didn't induce him to go in?"

  "Certainly not," replied the farmer.

  "I told him he can keep him there as long as he likes," said the jubilantMr. Hogg, "and pass him in bread and water through the winder; it's gotbars to it."

  "Yes," said Mr. Quince, nodding, "he can do that. As for his folksknocking the place about, if you like to tie up one or two of them nasty,savage dogs of yours to the stable, well, it's your stable, and you canfasten your dogs to it if you like. And you've generally got a man aboutthe yard."

  Mr. Hogg smacked his thigh in ecstasy.

  "But--" began the farmer.

  "That's the law," said the autocratic Mr. Quince, sharply. "O' course,if you think you know more about it than I do, I've nothing more to say."

  "I don't want to do nothing I could get into trouble for," murmured Mr.Rose.

  "You can't get into trouble by doing as I tell you," said the shoemaker,impatiently. "However, to be quite on the safe side, if I was in yourplace I should lose the key."

  "Lose the key?" said the farmer, blankly.

  "Lose the key," repeated the shoemaker, his eyes watering with intenseappreciation of his own resourcefulness. "You can find it any time youwant to, you know. Keep him there till he promises to give up yourdaughter, and tell him that as soon as he does you'll have a hunt for thekey."

  Mr. Rose regarded him with what the shoemaker easily understood to bespeechless admiration.

  "I--I'm glad I came to you," said the farmer, at last.

  "You're welcome," said the shoemaker, loftily. "I'm always ready to giveadvice to them as require it."

  "And good advice it is," said the smiling Mr. Hogg. "Why don't youbehave yourself, Joe Garnham?" he demanded, turning fiercely on alistener.

  Mr. Garnham, whose eyes were watering with emotion, attempted to explain,but, becoming hysterical, thrust a huge red handkerchief to his mouth andwas led away by a friend. Mr. Quince regarded his departure with milddisdain.

  "Little things please little minds," he remarked.

  "So they do," said Mr. Hogg. "I never thought--What's the matter withyou, George Askew?"

  Mr. Askew, turning his back on him, threw up his hands with a helplessgesture and followed in the wake of Mr. Garnham. Mr. Hogg appeared to beabout to apologise, and then suddenly altering his mind made a hasty andunceremonious exit, accompanied by the farmer.

  Mr. Quince raised his eyebrows and then, after a long and meditativepinch of snuff, resumed his work. The sun went down and the light fadedslowly; distant voices sounded close on the still evening air, snatchesof hoarse laughter jarred upon his ears. It was clear that the story ofthe imprisoned swain was giving pleasure to Little Haven.

  He rose at last from his chair and, stretching his long, gaunt frame,removed his leather apron, and after a wash at the pump went into thehouse. Supper was laid, and he gazed with approval on the home-madesausage rolls, the piece of cold pork, and the cheese which awaited hisonslaught.

  "We won't wait for Ned," said Mrs. Quince, as she brought in a jug of aleand placed it by her husband's elbow.

  Mr. Quince nodded and filled his glass.

  "You've been giving more advice, I hear," said Mrs. Quince.

  Her husband, who was very busy, nodded again.

  "It wouldn't make no difference to young Pascoe's chance, anyway," saidMrs. Quince, thoughtfully.

  Mr. Quince continued his labours. "Why?" he inquired, at last.

  His wife smiled and tossed her head.

  "Young Pascoe's no chance against our Ned," she said, swelling withmaternal pride.

  "Eh?" said the shoemaker, laying down his knife and fork. "Our Ned?"

  "They are as fond of each other as they can be," said Mrs. Quince,"though I don't suppose Farmer Rose'll care for it; not but what ourNed's as good as he is."

  "Is Ned up there now?" demanded the shoemaker, turning pale, as themirthful face of Mr. Garnham suddenly occurred to him.

  "Sure to be," tittered his wife. "And to think o' poor young Pascoe shutup in that stable while he's courting Celia!"

  Mr. Quince took up his knife and fork again, but his appetite had gone.Whoever might be paying attention to Miss Rose at that moment he feltquite certain that it was not Mr. Ned Quince, and he trembled with angeras he saw the absurd situation into which the humorous Mr. Rose had ledhim. For years Little Haven had accepted his decisions as final andboasted of his sharpness to neighbouring hamlets, and many a cottager hadbrought his boots to be mended a whole week before their time for thesake of an interview.

  He moved his chair from the table and smoked a pipe. Then he rose, andputting a couple of formidable law-books under his arm, walked slowlydown the road in the direction of Holly Farm.

  The road was very quiet and the White Swan, usually full at this hour,was almost deserted, but if any doubts as to the identity of the prisonerlingered in his mind they were speedily dissipated by the behaviour ofthe few customers who crowded to the door to see him pass.

  A hum of voices fell on his ear as he approached the farm; half the maleand a goodly proportion of the female population of Little Haven wereleaning against the fence or standing in little kno
ts in the road, whilea few of higher social status stood in the farm-yard itself.

  "Come down to have a look at the prisoner?" inquired the farmer, who wasstanding surrounded by a little group of admirers.

  "'Come down to have a look at the prisoner?' inquired thefarmer."]

  "I came down to see you about that advice I gave you this afternoon,"said Mr. Quince.

  "Ah!" said the other.

  "I was busy when you came," continued Mr. Quince, in a voice of easyunconcern, "and I gave you advice from memory. Looking up the