Vandersloosh had perceived Smallbones, who sat like Patience on a
monument, upon the two half bags of biscuit before her porch. It was a
query to the widow whether they were to be a present, or an article to
be bargained for: it was therefore very advisable to pick a quarrel,
that the matter might be cleared up. The widow's ruse met with all the
success which it deserved. In the first place, Mr Vanslyperken did what
he never would have believed himself capable of, but the wrath of the
widow had worked him also up to wrath, and he saluted Snarleyyow with
such a kick on the side, as to send him howling into the back-yard,
followed him out, and, notwithstanding an attempt at defence on the part
of the dog, which the lieutenant's high boots rendered harmless,
Snarleyyow was fairly or unfairly, as you may please to think it, kicked
into an outhouse, the door shut, and the key turned upon him. After
which Mr Vanslyperken returned to the parlour, where he found the widow,
erect, with her back turned to the stove, blowing and bristling, her
bosom heaving, reminding you of seas mountains high, as if she were
still under the effect of a just resentment for the affront offered to
her. There she stood waiting in all dignity for Mr Vanslyperken to
repair the injury done, whether unintentional or not. In few words,
there she waited, for the _biscuit_ to be presented to her. And it was
presented, for Vanslyperken knew no other way of appeasing her wrath.
Gradually the storm was allayed--the flush of anger disappeared, the
corners of the scornfully-turned-down mouth, were turned up
again--Cupid's bow was no longer bent in anger, and the widow's bosom
slept as when the ocean sleeps, like "an unweaned child." The biscuit
bags were brought in by Smallbones, their contents stored, and harmony
restored. Once more was Mr Vanslyperken upon the little sofa by the side
of the fat widow, and once more did he take her melting hand. Alas! that
her heart was not made of the same soft materials.