|The tea equipage was set out in the little parlour, and Walter enjoyed
a cup of bohea with Mrs. Hartley very much, and passed the evening with
her in tranquil converse. He began to feel a great regard for the good
dame, and listened to her advice.
Hartley did not return till nearly supper time, and brought with him a
friend--a neighbour--whom he introduced as Mr. Tankard.
Rather an important personage in his way was Mr. Tankard--stout, short,
red-faced, possessing a rich mellow voice, consequential in manner, and
respectably dressed in black. Some of his friends called him “Silver
Tankard,” but Hartley took no such liberty. Mr. Tankard had been a
butler before setting up in business in the Lambeth Road, where he now
kept a large china and glass shop.
Though generally distant and proud, Mr. Tankard unbent towards Walter,
and was unusually civil to him.
“I like the looks of that young man,” he observed, in a very loud
whisper to Hartley.
Mrs. Hartley deemed it necessary to apologise to Mr. Tankard for the
poorness of the supper, and told him if she had expected the honour and
pleasure of his company she would have provided something better; but he
begged her condescendingly not to mind--“he wasn't at all partickler.”
Mrs. Hartley knew better. She knew he was exceedingly particular.
However, she did the best that circumstances would allow, and as a
finish to the rather scanty meal, gave him a dish of stewed cheese,
and a jug, not a “tankard,” of ale with a toast in it. With this he was
tolerably well satisfied.
After supper, Hartley asked his guest if he would like to smoke, to
which proposal Mr. Tankard made no sort of objection. A flask of Scotch
whisky was likewise set on the table.
Scarcely were the pipes lighted, when the party was increased by the
arrival of Mr. Pledger Dapp and Mr. Larkins, who it seems were expected
by Hartley, though he had said nothing about them to his wife.
Pledger Dapp, a brisk little man, was a cook and confectioner in the
York Road, and Larkins was a greengrocer in the same neighbourhood, and
likewise went out to wait. They worked together with Mr. Tankard, and
each recommended his friends whenever he had the opportunity.
More glasses were placed on the table, and more hot water, and everybody
was puffing away.
The room was soon so full of smoke that Mrs. Hartley could stand it no
longer, and retired to the kitchen.
A great deal of merriment prevailed among the company, and they laughed
heartily at each other's stories. These related chiefly to their
customers.
At last, Hartley contrived to bring Walter forward by making a direct
allusion to him.
“I want to have your opinion about my young friend, gentlemen,” he
observed, taking the pipe from his mouth. “He thinks of joining the
cavalry, but I think it is a pity such a fine young man should throw
himself away. What do you say, gentlemen?”
After a sip of whisky and water, the person chiefly appealed to replied:
“I think it would be a thousand pities. No doubt he would make a very
fine Life Guardsman, but in my opinion, he would do much better as a
figure footman.”
“Much better,” echoed Pledger Dapp and Larkins.
“I'm not ashamed to say I began life as a page,” pursued Mr. Tankard;
“and you see what I've arrived at.”
“It's no secret that I was a cook in a gentleman's family before I set
up for myself as a confectioner,” said Pledger Dapp.
“And I was a gardener before I became a greengrocer,” said Larkins.
And he added, with a laugh, “I'm a gardener now, though no longer in
service.”
“Take the advice we all of us give you, sir, and become a footman,” said
Tankard. “I'll answer for it we'll soon find you a place.”
“But I've no qualifications,” replied Walter. “I don't know the
duties--that is, I know what a footman ought to be--”
“Well, that's quite enough,” interrupted Pledger Dapp. “You'll soon
learn all the rest.”
“It just occurs to me that Lady Thicknesse, of Belgrave Square, is in
want of a footman,” observed Tankard. “That would be a very good thing.
It's a first-rate place.”
“Lady Thicknesse! I think I've heard of her,” remarked Walter. “A widow,
isn't she?”
“Widow of Sir Thomas Thicknesse--middle-aged and rich. Besides her town
residence, she has got a country house in Cheshire.”
Walter reflected for a few minutes.
The proposition had taken him by surprise. The notion of becoming a
flunky amused him vastly, and he could hardly entertain it seriously.
However, there seemed to be no difficulty in assuming the part.
The result of his cogitations was that he felt inclined to adopt the
expedient, and he told Mr. Tankard so.
“But I cannot offer myself under any false pretence,” he said. “Lady
Thicknesse must be made aware that I have never served in this capacity
before.”
All his auditors, except Hartley, laughed loudly at his scruples.
“Bless you, my dear fellow, you needn't be so diffident,” cried Mr.
Tankard. “If Lady Thicknesse is satisfied, that's all you need mind.
I'll set about the business to-morrow. In a week I expect you'll thank
me for my pains.”
“You'll have a first-rate situation, if you get it, I promise you,”
remarked Pledger Dapp.
“Very handsome livery and powder,” observed Larkins.
“Powder!” exclaimed Walter, in dismay. “Is it necessary to wear powder?”
“Indispensable,” replied Tankard. “But you'll find it very becoming,” he
added, with a laugh. “Powder will suit your hair. You're above six feet
in height, eh?”
“Six feet two,” replied Walter.
“Capital!” cried Tankard. “Stay! One thing mustn't be neglected,” he
added, rubbing his chin expressively. “You must get rid of that handsome
brown beard.”
“S'death! must I shave?” cried Walter, amid the general merriment.
“Certainly, my dear fellow,” replied Tankard. “Whoever heard of a
footman in a beard? Follow my instructions, and you may make yourself
quite easy about the place. I'll engage you shall obtain it.”
“But I've not quite decided myself,” said Walter.
“Pooh! nonsense! you can't do better,” cried Tankard. “Can he,
gentlemen?”
Everybody concurred with him in opinion.
Partly in jest, partly in earnest, Walter assented. So much, in fact,
was said in favour of the plan, that he began to grow reconciled to it.
As the clock struck eleven, Mrs. Hartley came in, and her appearance was
the signal for the breaking up of the party.
While shaking hands with Walter, Mr. Tankard renewed his promises, and
said:
“I'm a man of my word. What I say I'll do. Tomorrow I'll go to Belgrave
Square, and see my friend, Mr. Higgins, Lady Thicknesse's butler. On my
return I'll call and tell you all about it.”
“Really, Mr. Tankard, you are taking a vast deal of trouble----”
“Not in the least, my dear fellow!” replied the other. “It is a pleasure
to me--a very great pleasure.”
“And if you knew him as well as I do, you'd feel that it must be, or he
wouldn't do it,” observed Hartley, laughing.
In another minute the company were gone, and shortly afterwards the
whole of the little household had retired to rest.
Visions of his new life floated before Walter as he laid his head on the
pillow. He slept soundly enough, but on awakening next morning he rather
regretted the promise he had given.
“I don't like the idea of turning flunky,” he thought; “but the livery
will serve as a disguise.”