"No, I wouldn't," replied Jacob, looking at the same time wistfully at the jug. "No, I wouldn't," he added, slightly softening his tone.
"Try him," whispered Mrs. Deacle to her spouse.
Mr. Deacle took the hint, and likewise took up the jug, and winking at his wife, proceeded to a side door, opening upon a flight of stone steps, evidently leading to the lower part of the premises, and disappeared. With true feminine tact, Mrs. Deacle had perceived Jacob's weak point. He seemed spell-bound. The temptation of the "other jug" was irresistible. He scratched his forehead with the point of his great thumb-nail, pushed the little brown scratch wig covering the top of his head still higher up, glanced at the door, but did not attempt to withdraw. The figure that he now cut was so ridiculous that both ladies burst into screams of laughter. Not in the slightest degree disconcerted, Jacob maintained his position, and eyed them with a look so stern that their merriment speedily died off in a quaver. The formidable certainly predominated over the ridiculous in Jacob's appearance. He was six feet two in height, with a large-boned frame, not encumbered with too much flesh, and immense hands and feet. Though slightly in-kneed, he held himself as erect as on old soldier. He had a grim black muzzle, a wide mouth garnished with keen white teeth, the masticatory powers of which he had just so satisfactorily exhibited, thick and jetty eyebrows, and an enormous nose slightly tinged towards its extremity with a mulberry hue. He wore an old gray cloth coat, of the formal cut, in vogue about twenty years before, with a row of plate buttons extending from the collar to the skirts, as well as others on the pockets, and which coat, though it only reached to his knees, must have dangled down to its original owner's ancles. His waistcoat was of the same material as the upper garment, and evidently dated back to the same remote period. A dirty neckcloth, which looked positively white from its contrast with his swarthy chin, was twisted round his throat. He possessed great personal strength, and, indeed, was reported to have driven off, single-handed, three housebreakers, who had contrived one night to effect an entrance into his master's habitation. It was thought that the miser retained him as much for self defence as for his other services; and it was even said that in some money-lending transactions in which Mr. Scarve had been engaged with suspicious characters, Jacob stood by on guard.
By this time, the mercer had returned with a jug, whose frothing head made Jacob smack his lips. Seeing the effect produced on him, Mr. Deacle indulged in a sly chuckle.
"Ah! Jacob," he said, in a feigned commiserating tone, "I fear you don't get such liquor as this with your master. He don't brew over-strong—not too much malt and hops, eh?"
"That's true enough, Sir," replied Jacob, gruffly.
"Do you get any ale at all, Jacob?" inquired Mrs. Deacle.
"No," replied Jacob, in a tone so abrupt that it made the good dame start, and elicited a slight scream from the fair Thomasine.
"'Odd's precious!" exclaimed Mrs. Deacle; "how the fellow does frighten one. And so you have no ale"—(Jacob shook his head)—"nor small-beer"—(another negative)—"then what do you drink, for wine or spirits must be out of the question?"
"Treacle-beer," rejoined Jacob; "and little enough of that."
"So I should think," remarked Mr. Deacle, cunningly. "Come, come, friend Jacob, this may be very well for your master, but it wont do with me. Your nose would never keep its goodly colour on such thin potations."
A grim smile crossed Jacob's face, and he tapped the feature in question.
A 2
