The Daughters of Mrs Peacock by Gerald Bullet

a second family, it is no one’s business but his.’
    â€˜Except, perhaps, his wife’s,’ suggested Edmund. ‘The Colonel, I hazard, is of Shakespeare’s opinion, that a man should take a younger than himself so that he can shape her to his liking.’
    â€˜How old, do you imagine, is Mr Crabbe, Papa?’
    â€˜My imagination, Kitty, has not been engaged by that question. Why do you ask?’
    â€˜Would you believe it,’ said Catherine, ‘he danced three times running with that Mrs Stapleton. Is she, do you think, setting her widow’s cap at him?’
    â€˜Why not ask her, my love? I’m sure she would be happy to confide in you.’
    Sarah, jerking awake, said drowsily: ‘Am I dreaming? Or are the horses really running away with us?’
    The same idea had occurred to her father. He had been every moment expecting a protest from his wife. They were going downhill at a brisk pace, and the carriage swayed alarmingly. It had been evident, at the setting out, that Harry Dawkins’s entertainment inthe servants’ quarters had lacked nothing that could make a man merry while his betters were enjoying the ball; and now, but half way home, snatches of tuneless song put the matter beyond doubt.
    Mr Peacock shouted to him to stop. It took some time for the command to penetrate his understanding, but at last he pulled hard on the reins and flung himself back, lifting the horses’ forelegs three feet from the ground.
    â€˜Sit tight, girls,’ said Mr Peacock, alighting. ‘I’ll handle this … Harry, what’s come over you? Do you want to break all our necks?’
    Harry met the inquiry with a beatific grin. He yammered a little but uttered no word.
    â€˜Get down, man. I’ll drive.’
    â€˜All good fellows,’ said Harry. ‘All jolly good fellows.’ His eyes closed. His mouth hung open. His head drooped.
    â€˜Disgraceful!’ Mrs Peacock had joined her husband on the road. ‘I do believe the man’s drunk.’
    â€˜Your conjecture, my love, has much to commend it. Hi! Wake up. You’re not in bed yet.’ Prodding and shaking, he pulled the delinquent driver off his perch and set him, swaying precariously, on the ground. ‘Shall we have him inside?’
    â€˜With the girls! Certainly not.’
    â€˜Come along,’ said Mr Peacock, taking his arm.
    A glimmer of reason appeared in the fuddled eyes. ‘I dursn’t, master. Not with the ladies. Twouldn’t be right, look.’
    â€˜Very proper sentiment, Harry. It does you credit,’ said Mr Peacock. He led him to the grass verge andpersuaded him, with less than no difficulty, to lie down. ‘Sleep it off, boy. It’s a warm night. You’ll come to no harm.’
    Seeing his wife safely bestowed again, he picked up the reins and got into the driver’s seat.
    â€˜Poor Harry,’ said Sarah, as they drove off. ‘What a surprise he’ll get when he wakes up!’
    â€˜It’s a very shocking thing to happen,’ Mrs Peacock declared. ‘I shall ask your father to dismiss him.’
    â€˜Oh, Mama,’ protested Catherine, ‘would that be fair? We’ve had our fun. Why shouldn’t he have his?’
    â€˜I am not in the habit of arguing with you, Catherine. You know that.’
    â€˜Yes,’ agreed Sarah. ‘Kitty knows that, Mama.’
    The journey continued in silence and without further incident. A quarter of an hour later they were home, and on their way to bed. At the head of the stairs, after the parents had gone to their room, the three girls lingered for a moment, all but overcome with sleepiness yet too excited to part without a few last words.
    â€˜How did you get on with Captain Beckoning, Catherine?’ Julia asked.
    â€˜Oh, him!’ Catherine made a grimace. ‘He kissed me, under the cedar. But you needn’t worry,’ she added, answering Julia’s