"Well, Sir,"he said, with a suspicious sort of modesty, "I
think I can, but I don't know as `ow you'd be satisfied with the theory."
"Certainly I shall. If a man like you, who knows the animals from
experience, can't hazard a good guess at any rate, who is even to try?"
"Well then, Sir, I accounts for it this way. It seems to me that `ere
wolf escaped--simply because he wanted to get out."
From the hearty way that both Thomas and his wife laughed at the joke I
could see that it had done service before, and that the whole explanation was
simply an elaborate sell. I couldn't cope in badinage with the worthy Thomas,
but I thought I knew a surer way to his heart, so I said,"Now, Mr. Bilder,
we'll consider that first half-sovereign worked off, and this brother of his is
waiting to be claimed when you've told me what you think will happen."
"Right y`are, Sir," he said briskly. "Ye`ll excoose me, I
know, for a-chaffin' of ye, but the old woman her winked at me, which was as
much as telling me to go on."
"Well, I never!" said the old lady.
"My opinion is this. That `ere wolf is a`idin' of, somewheres. The
gard`ner wot didn't remember said he was a-gallopin' northward faster than a
horse could go, but I don't believe him, for, yer see, Sir, wolves don't gallop
no more nor dogs does, they not bein' built that way. Wolves is fine things in
a storybook, and I dessay when they gets in packs and does be chivyin'
somethin' that's more afeared than they is they can make a devil of a noise and
chop it up, whatever it is. But, Lor' bless you, in real life a wolf is only a
low creature, not half so clever or bold as a good dog, and not half a quarter
so much fight in `im. This one ain't been used to fightin' or even to providin'
for hisself, and more like he's somewhere round the Park a'hidin' an'
a'shiverin' of, and if he thinks at all, wonderin' where he is to get his
breakfast from. Or maybe he's got down some area and is in a coal cellar. My
eye, won't some cook get a rum start when she sees his green eyes a-shinin' at
her out of the dark! If he can't get food he's bound to look for it, and mayhap
he may chance to light on a butcher's shop in time. If he doesn't, and some
nursemaid goes out walkin' or orf with a soldier, leavin' of the hinfant in the
perambulator--well, then I shouldn't be surprised if the census is one babby
the less. That's all."
I was handing him the half-sovereign, when something came bobbing up against
the window, and Mr. Bilder's face doubled its natural length with surprise.
"God bless me!" he said. "If there ain't old Bersicker come
back by `isself!"
He went to the door and opened it, a most unnecessary proceeding it seemed
to me. I have always thought that a wild animal never looks so well as when
some obstacle of pronounced durability is between us. A personal experience has
intensified rather than diminished that idea.
After all, however, there is nothing like custom, for neither Bilder nor his
wife thought any more of the wolf than I should of a dog. The animal itself was
a peaceful and well-behaved as that father of all picture-wolves, Red Riding
Hood's quondam friend, whilst moving her confidence in masquerade.
The whole scene was a unutterable mixture of comedy and pathos. The wicked
wolf that for a half a day had paralyzed London and set all the children in
town shivering in their shoes, was there in a sort of penitent mood, and was
received and petted like a sort of vulpine prodigal son. Old Bilder examined
him all over with most tender solicitude, and when he had finished with his
penitent said,
"There, I knew the poor old chap would get into some kind of trouble.
Didn't I say it all along? Here's his head all cut and full of broken glass.
`E's been a-gettin' over some bloomin' wall or other. It's a shyme that people
are allowed to top their walls with broken bottles. This `ere's what comes of
it. Come along, Bersicker."