The Vicar of Wakefield - 21 - Oliver Goldsmith - Web Novel

believe she has got any money by her over-civility. I am certain she is very slow of payment, and I wish she were put in mind of it.’—‘What signifies minding her,’ cried the host, ‘if she be slow, she is sure.’—‘I don’t know that,’ replied the wife; ‘but I know that I am sure she has been here a fortnight, and we have not yet seen the cross of her money.’—‘I suppose, my dear,’ cried he, ‘we shall have it all in a, lump.’—‘In a lump!’ cried the other, ‘I hope we may get it any way; and that I am resolved we will this very night, or out she tramps, bag and baggage.’—‘Consider, my dear,’ cried the husband, ‘she is a gentlewoman, and deserves more respect.’—‘As for the matter of that,’ returned the hostess, ‘gentle or simple, out she shall pack with a sassarara. Gentry may be good things where they take; but for my part I never saw much good of them at the sign of the Harrow.’—Thus saying, she ran up a narrow flight of stairs, that went from the kitchen to a room over-head, and I soon perceived by the loudness of her voice, and the bitterness of her reproaches, that no money was to be had from her lodger. I could hear her remonstrances very distinctly: ‘Out I say, pack out this moment, tramp thou infamous strumpet, or I’ll give thee a mark thou won’t be the better for this three months. What! you trumpery, to come and take up an honest house, without cross or coin to bless yourself with; come along I say.’—‘O dear madam,’ cried the stranger, ‘pity me, pity a poor abandoned creature for one night, and death will soon do the rest.’ I instantly knew the voice of my poor ruined child Olivia. I flew to her rescue, while the woman was dragging her along by the hair, and I caught the dear forlorn wretch in my arms.—‘Welcome, any way welcome, my dearest lost one, my treasure, to your poor old father’s bosom. Tho’ the vicious forsake thee, there is yet one in the world that