The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Weaker Vessel, by W.W. Jacobs

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Title: The Weaker Vessel
Night Watches, Part 4.

Author: W.W. Jacobs

Release Date: April 26, 2004 [EBook #12154]

Language: English

Character set encoding: US-ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WEAKER VESSEL ***

Produced by David Widger

NIGHT WATCHES

By W.W. Jacobs

THE WEAKER VESSEL

Mr. Gribble sat in his small front parlour in a state of angry
amazement. It was half-past six and there was no Mrs. Gribble; worse
still, there was no tea. It was a state of things that had only
happened once before. That was three weeks after marriage, and on that
occasion Mr. Gribble had put his foot down with a bang that had echoed
down the corridors of thirty years.

The fire in the little kitchen was out, and the untidy remains of Mrs.
Gribble's midday meal still disgraced the table. More and more dazed,
the indignant husband could only come to the conclusion that she had
gone out and been run over. Other things might possibly account for her
behaviour; that was the only one that would excuse it.

His meditations were interrupted by the sound of a key in the front
door, and a second later a small, anxious figure entered the room and,
leaning against the table, strove to get its breath. The process was
not helped by the alarming distension of Mr. Gribble's figure.

"I--I got home--quick as I could--Henry," said Mrs. Gribble, panting.

"Where is my tea?" demanded her husband. "What do you mean by it? The
fire's out and the kitchen is just as you left it."

"I--I've been to a lawyer's, Henry," said Mrs. Gribble, "and I had to
wait."

"Lawyer's?" repeated her husband.

"I got a letter this afternoon telling me to call. Poor Uncle George,
that went to America, is gone."

"That is no excuse for neglecting me," said Mr. Gribble. "Of course
people die when they are old. Is that the one that got on and made
money?"

His wife, apparently struggling to repress a little excitement, nodded.
"He--he's left me two hundred pounds a year for life, Henry," she said,
dabbing at her pale blue eyes with a handkerchief. "They're going to
pay it monthly; si