spreading out the idea of two men keeping up all night with nothing to sustain them but this cold stuff.
"What gets over me," said he privately to himself, "is that master perfers this to punch. Des say it's dear: bound it's dear, although I wouldn't give so much as a penny for a pond-full on it, but that a gentleman like him, as can have punch whenever he likes, should perfer this here to it, is rum. But gentlemen certainly is queer swells. Wonder if they ever gets tipsy upon it! Des say they do though, or else they wouldn't drink it."
There was, however, one point upon which Jones reflected very deeply, and that point was this: How could cold water boil? He had seen the soda-water effervesce: he had tasted it during its effervescence, and found it cold! the question with him therefore was, "How as that water was cold could it boil?"
That was, indeed, a puzzler for Jones. But he stuck to it!—oh! he stuck to it: and brought to bear upon it, too, all the knowledge he had. He could make nothing of it, but he wouldn't give it up! The question still was, How could cold water boil?
Now, while he was thus most intently engaged, and the reverend gentleman was reading a romance called "The Bravo of Blood, or the Sanguinary Smile," there was a scene of excitement at the Crumpet and Crown, which was never, perhaps, in that or any other village, equalled.
Mrs. Legge had fainted. She was not a weak woman, but she had fainted. She had been standing at the door, and as the clock struck twelve she rushed into the parlour and fainted. Vinegar was of course at hand, and vinegar was applied; and when she had been restored to something bearing the semblance of consciousness, she called for the Bible.
"The Bible!" she exclaimed. "My dear! get the Bible."
Legge shifted her head from his arm to that of Pokey, and hastened up stairs for the Bible, and on his return Mrs. Legge cried anxiously, "Turn to Revelations, my dear—Revelations."
Legge did turn to Revelations, and then said "Phœbe! What do you mean?"
"Here," she replied, as he gave her the Bible, and turning at once to the sixth chapter, read,—"And I looked and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death."—"Death!" she exclaimed. "I have seen him. He passed on a pale horse just now."
"What! another of Teddy Rouse's tricks!" cried Obadiah.
"You are a fool," said Legge; and then turning to his wife, added, "Which way, my girl?—which way did it go?"
"Towards the church," she replied. "But oh! do not leave me!"
"But for a moment: I'll not be gone long, my girl."
"No!" she exclaimed, clinging to him. "You must not go—you shall not go. If we are to die to-night, let us die together."
"I'll have a go in," exclaimed Obadiah. "Come along, Pokey, come along, Quocks, come along, Bobber, my boy, we'll see what he's made of!" And Obadiah, followed by Pokey, Quocks, and Bobber, rushed valiantly out of the Crumpet and Crown.
