The Mystery of a Hansom Cab Read Online Free PDF Page B

colony.
    The grievance Mrs Hableton complained of, was want of money; not an uncommon one by any means,but on being reminded of this, Mrs Hableton would reply, snappishly, that she ‘know’d that, but some people weren’t like other people,’ the meaning of which mystical remark was simply this: She had come out to the colonies in the early days, when there was not so much difficulty in making money as now, but owing to a bad husband, had failed to make any.
    The late Mr Hableton—for he had long since departed this life—was addicted to the intemperate use of the flowing bowl, and at the time when he should have been earning money, was generally to be found in a drinking shanty, spending his wife’s earnings in standing treat for himself and his friends. The constant drinking, and the hot Victorian climate, soon carried him off, and when Mrs Hableton had seen him safely under ground in the Melbourne Cemetery, she returned home to survey her position and see how it could be bettered. She gathered together a little money from the wreck of her fortune, and land being cheap, purchased a small section at St Kilda, and built a house on it. She supported herself by going out charring, taking in sewing, and acting as a sick nurse. So, among this multiplicity of occupations, she managed to do fairly well, and even put a little money in the bank. But she was very bitter against the world for the treatment she had received, and often spoke of it. ‘I ought to ’ave bin in my kerrige and ’e in the ’Ouse,’ she would say bitterly, ‘if ’e ’adn’t bin sich a brute, but ye can’tmake a man out of a beast whatever them Darwin folks say.’
    And, indeed, it was a hard case, for just at the time when she should have been resting and reaping the reward of her early industry, she had to toil for her daily bread, and all through no fault of her own. Depend upon it, that if Adam was angry at Eve for having eaten the apple and got them driven out of the pleasant garden, his descendants have amply revenged themselves on Eve’s daughters for her sin. Mrs Hableton is only the type of many women who, hardworking and thrifty themselves, are married to men who are a curse both to their wives and families. Little wonder it was that Mrs Hableton should have condensed all her knowledge of the masculine gender into the one bitter aphorism, ‘Men is brutes.’ This she firmly believed in, and who can say she had not good grounds for doing so. ‘They is brutes,’ said Mrs Hableton, ‘they marries a woman, and makes her a beast of burden while they sits at ’ome swillin’ beer and callin’ themselves lords of creation.’
    Possum Villa was an unpretentious-looking place with one bow window and a narrow verandah in front. It was surrounded with a small garden with a few sparse flowers in it which were Mrs Hableton’s delight. When not otherwise engaged she tied an old handkerchief round her head and went out into the garden where she dug and watered her flowers until they all gave up attempting to grow from sheer desperation atnot being left alone. She was engaged in her favourite occupation about a week after her lodger had disappeared, and was wondering where he had gone.
    â€˜Lyin’ drunk in a public ’ouse, I’ll be bound,’ she said, viciously pulling up a weed with an angry tug, ‘a-spendin’ ’is rent and a-spilin’ ’is inside with beer—ah, men is brutes, drat ’em.’
    Just as she said this, a shadow fell across the garden and, on looking up, she saw a man leaning over the fence looking at her.
    â€˜Git out,’ she said, sharply, rising from her knees and shaking her trowel at the intruder. ‘I don’t want no apples today, an’ I don’t care how cheap you sells ’em.’
    Mrs Hableton evidently laboured under the delusion that the man was a hawker, but not seeing