groan. "But if the woman has drunk
all this 'twill be the death of her. Bags," he called, "come here."
The spouse of Mrs Bags emerged from a sort of scullery behind the
kitchen--a tall bony man, of an ugliness quite remarkable, and with a
very red face. He was better known by his comrades as Tongs, in allusion
probably to personal peculiarities; for the length of his legs, the
width of his bony hips, and the smallness of his head, gave him some
distant resemblance to that article of domestic iron-mongery; but as his
wife called herself Mrs Bags, and he was entered in the regimental books
by that name, it was probably his real appellation.
"Run directly to Dr Fagan," said the Major, "and request him to come
here. Your wife has poisoned herself with rum."
"'Tisn't rum," said Bags, somewhat thickly--"'tis fits."
"Fits!" said my grandfather.
"Fits," doggedly replied Mr Bags, who seemed by no means disturbed at
the alleged indisposition of his wife--"she often gets them."
"Don't alarm yourself, Major," said Owen, "I'll answer for it she hasn't
drunk _all_ the rum. The scoundrel is half-drunk himself, and smells
like a spirit-vault. You'd better take your wife away," he said to Bags.
"She can leave if she ain't wanted," said Private Bags, with dignity:
"we never comes where we ain't wanted." And he advanced to remove the
lady. Mrs Bags at first resisted this measure, proceeding to deliver a
eulogium on her own excellent qualities, moral and culinary. She had,
she said, the best of characters, in proof of which she made reference
to several persons in various parts of the United Kingdom, and, as she
spoke, she smiled more affably than ever.
"_La picarilla no tiene verguenza_" (the wretch is perfectly shameless),
cried Carlota, who, having hastily removed the ham from the fire, was
now looking after the rest of the dinner. The fowls, cut up in small
pieces, were boiling along with the sheep's head, and, probably to save
time, the estimable Mrs Bags had put the rice and raisins destined for a
pudding into the pot along with them--certainly, as Owen remarked, a
bold innovation in cookery.
Still continuing to afford them glimpses of her personal history, Mrs
Bags was at length persuaded to retire along with her helpmate.
"What astonishing impudence," said the Major, shutting the door upon
her, "to pretend to be a cook, and yet know no better than to roast a
ham!"
Carlota, meanwhile, was busy in remedying th
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