Joseph was neither a bully nor a man of courage; the joke
with which he was delighting himself was certainly a rich one, but
it had its element of danger, and only by abandoning himself to
riotous mirth could he overcome the nervousness with which Clem's
fury threatened to affect him. She, coming forward in the attitude
of an enraged fishwife, for a few moments made the room ring with
foul abuse, that vituperative vernacular of the nether world, which
has never yet been exhibited by typography, and presumably never
will be.
'Go it, Clem!' cried her husband, pushing his chair a little back.
'Go it, my angel! When you've eased your mind a little, I'll explain
how it happens.'
She became silent, glaring at him with murderous eyes. But just at
that moment Mrs. Peckover put her head in at the door, inquiring
'What's up?'
'Come in, if you want to know,' cried her daughter. 'See what you've
let me in for! Didn't I tell you as it might be all a mistake? Oh
yes, you may look!'
Mrs. Peckover was startled; her small, cunning eyes went rapidly
from Clem to Joseph, and she fixed the latter with a gaze of angry
suspicion.
'Got a bit of news for you, mother,' resumed Joseph, nodding.
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