The discovery of this painful fact threw the escaped prisoner into the shade, and the _Morning Star_ would have been lost sight of--because it was only Monday's paper, after all!--unless Aunt M'riar she'd put it by for upstairs to have their turn of it, and Mrs. Burr could always read some aloud to Mrs. Prichard, failing studious energy on the part of the old lady. She reproduced it in compliance with the current of events.
For Uncle Moses, settling down to a fresh pipe after supper, said to his friend, similarly occupied:--"What, now, was the name of that charackter--him as got out at the Jug?"
"Something like Mackerel," said Mr. Alibone.
"Wrong you are, for once, Jerry! 'Twarn't no more Mackerel than it was Camberwell."
Said Mr. Jerry:--"Take an even tizzy on it, Mo?" He twisted the paper about to recover the paragraph, and found it. "Here we are! 'Ralph Daverill, _alias_ Thornton, _alias_ Wix, _alias_!' ..."
"Never mind his ale-houses, Jerry. That's the name I'm consarned with--Daverill.... What's the matter with M'riar?"
Uncle Mo had not finished his sentence owing to an interruption. For Aunt M'riar, replacing some table-gear she was shifting, had sat down suddenly on the nearest chair.
"Never you mind me, you two. Just you go on talking." So said Aunt M'riar. Only she looked that scared it might have been a ghost. So Mrs. Burr said after, who came in that very minute from a prolonged trying on.
"Take a little something, M'riar," said Uncle Mo. He got up and went to the cupboard close at hand, to get the something, which would almost certainly have taken the form of brandy. But Aunt M'riar she said never mind _her_!--she would be all right in a minute. And in a metaphorical minute she pulled herself together, and went on clearing off the supper-table. Suggestions of remedies or assistance seemed alike distasteful to her, whether from Mrs. Burr or the two men, and there was no doubt she was in earnest in preferring to be left to herself. So Mrs. Burr she went up to her own supper, with thanks in advance for the newspaper when quite done with, according to the previous intention of Aunt M'riar.
The two smokers picked life up at the point of interruption, while Aunt M'riar made a finish of her operations in the kitchen. Uncle Mo said:--"Good job for you I didn't take your wager, Jerry. Camberwell isn't in it. Mackerel goes near enough to landing--as near as Davenant, which is what young Carrots called him."