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The Record of Badalia Herodsfoot 155
Hennessy's Rents lay more than two miles from Gunnison Street,
and were inhabited by much the same class of people. Tom had
established himself there with Jenny Wabstow, his new woman, and
for weeks lived in great fear of Badalia's suddenly descending upon
him. The prospect of actual fighting did not scare him: but he ob-
jected to the police court that would follow, and the orders for
maintenance and other devices of a law that cannot understand the
simple rule that 'when a man's tired of a woman 'e ain't such a
bloomin' fool as to live with 'er no more, an' that's the long an'
short of it'. For some months his new wife wore very well, and kept
Tom in a state of decent fear and consequent orderliness. Also work
was plentiful. Then a baby was born, and, following the law of his
kind, Tom, little interested in the children he helped to produce,
sought distraction in drink. He had confined himself, as a rule, to
beer, which is stupefying and comparatively innocuous: at least, it
clogs the legs, and though the heart may ardently desire to kill,
sleep comes swiftly, and the crime often remains undone. Spirits,
being more volatile, allow both the flesh and the soul to work to-
gether — generally to the inconvenience of others. Tom discovered
that there was merit in whisky - if you only took enough of
it - cold. He took as much as he could purchase or get given him,
and by the time that his woman was fit to go abroad again, the two
rooms of their household were stripped of many valuable articles.
Then the woman spoke her mind, not once, but several times, with
point, fluency, and metaphor; and Tom was indignant at being de-
prived of peace at the end of his day's work, which included much
whisky. He therefore withdrew himself from the solace and com-
panionship of Jenny Wabstow, and she therefore pursued him with
more metaphors. At the last, Tom would turn round and hit her -
sometimes across the head, and sometimes across the breast, and
the bruises furnished material for discussion on doorsteps among
such women as had been treated in like manner by their husbands.
They were not few.
But no very public scandal had occurred till Tom one day saw fit
to open negotiations with a young woman for matrimony accord-
ing to the laws of free selection. He was getting very tired of Jenny,
and the young woman was earning enough from flower-selling to
keep him in comfort, whereas Jenny was expecting another baby
and most unreasonably expected consideration on this account.
The shapelessness of her figure revolted him, and he said as much in
156 Rudyard Kipling
the language of his breed. Jenny cried till Mrs Hart, lineal descend-
ant, and Irish of the 'mother to Mike of the donkey-cart', stopped
her on her own staircase and whispered: 'God be good to you,
Jenny, my woman, for I see how 'tis with you.' Jenny wept more
than ever, and gave Mrs Hart a penny and some kisses, while Tom
was conducting his own wooing at the corner of the street.
The young woman, prompted by pride, not by virtue, told Jenny
of his offers, and Jenny spoke to Tom that night. The altercation
began in their own rooms, but Tom tried to escape; and in the end
all Hennessy's Rents gathered themselves upon the pavement and
formed a court to which Jenny appealed from time to time, her hair
loose on her neck, her raiment in extreme disorder, and her steps
astray from drink. 'When your man drinks, you'd better drink too!
It don't 'urt so much when 'e 'its you then,' says the Wisdom of the
Women. And surely they ought to know.
'Look at 'im!' shrieked Jenny. 'Look at 'im, standin' there with-
out any word to say for himself, that 'ud smitch off and leave me
an' never so much as a shillin' lef' be'ind! You call yourself a man
— you call yourself the bleedin' shadow of a man? I've seen better
men than you made outer chewed paper and spat out arterwards.
Look at 'im! 'E's been drunk since Thursday last, an' 'e'll be drunk
s' long's 'e can get drink. 'E's took all I've got, an' me — an' me — as
you see —'
A murmur of sympathy from the women.
'Took it all, he did, an' atop of his blasted pickin' an' stealin' -
yes, you, you thief - 'e goes off an' tries to take up long o' that' -
here followed a complete and minute description of the young
woman. Luckily, she was not on the spot to hear. ' 'E'll serve 'er as
'e served me! 'E'll drink every bloomin' copper she makes an' then
leave 'er alone, same as 'e done me! O women, look you, I've bore
'im one an' there's another on the way, an' 'e'd up an' leave me as
I am now - the stinkin' dorg. An' you
may
leave me. I don't want
none o' your leavin's. Go away. Get away!' The hoarseness of pas-
sion overpowered the voice. The crowd attracted a policeman as
Tom began to slink away.
'Look at 'im,' said Jenny, grateful for the new listener. 'Ain't there
no law for such as 'im? 'E's took all my money, 'e's beat me once,
twice an' over. 'E's swine drunk when 'e ain't mad drunk, an' now,
an' now 'e's trying to pick up along o' another woman. 'Im I give
up a four times better man for. Ain't there no law?'
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