MISS BROWN NAMES THE DAY.
George Robinson had been in the very act of coming to an
understanding with Mr. Brown as to the proceeds of the business, when
he was interrupted by that terrible affair of Mrs. Morony. For some
days after that the whole establishment was engaged in thinking,
talking, and giving evidence about the matter, and it was all that
the firm could do to keep the retail trade going across the counter.
Some of the young men and women gave notice, and went away; and
others became so indifferent that it was necessary to get rid of
them. For a week it was doubtful whether it would be possible to
keep the house open, and during that week Mr. Brown was so paralyzed
by his feelings that he was unable to give any assistance. He sat
upstairs moaning, accompanied generally by his two daughters; and
he sent a medical certificate to Worship Street, testifying his
inability to appear before the magistrate. From what transpired
afterwards we may say that the magistrate would have treated him more
leniently than did the young women. They were aware that whatever
money yet remained was in his keeping; and now, as at the time of
their mother's death, it seemed fitting to them that a division
should be made of the spoils.
"George," he said one evening to his junior partner, "I'd like to be
laid decent in Kensal Green! I know it will come to that soon."
Robinson hereupon reminded him that care had killed a cat; and
promised him all manner of commercial greatness if he could only
rouse himself to his work. "The career of a merchant prince is still
open to you," said Robinson, enthusiastically.
"Not along with Maryanne and Sarah Jane, George!"
"Sarah Jane is a married woman, and sits at another man's hearth. Why
do you allow her to trouble you?"
"She is my child, George. A man can't deny himself to his child. At
least I could not. And I don't want to be a merchant prince. If I
could only have a little place of my own, that was my own; and where
they wouldn't always be nagging after money when they come to see
me."
Poor Mr. Brown! He was asking from the fairies that for which we are
all asking,--for which men have ever asked. He merely desired the
comforts of the world, without its cares. He wanted his small farm of
a few acres, as Horace wanted it, and Cincinnatus, and thousands of
statesmen, soldiers, and merchants, from their days down to ours; his
small farm, on which, however, the sun must always shine, and where
no weeds should flourish. Poor Mr. Brown! Such little farms for
the comforts of old age can only be attained by long and unwearied
cultivation during the years of youth and manhood.
It was on one occasion such as this, not very long after the affair
of Mrs. Morony, that Robinson pressed very eagerly upon Mr. Brown the
special necessity which demanded from the firm at the present moment
more than ordinary efforts in the way of advertisement.
"Jones has given us a great blow," said Robinson.
"I fear he has," said Mr. Brown.
"And now, if we do not put our best foot forward it will be all up
with us. If we flag now, people will see that we are down. But if we
go on with audacity, all those reports will die away, and we shall
again trick our beams, and flame once more in the morning sky."
It may be presumed that Mr. Brown did not exactly follow the
quotation, but the eloquence of Robinson had its desired effect. Mr.
Brown did at last produce a sum of five hundred pounds, with which
printers, stationers, and advertising agents were paid or partially
paid, and Robinson again went to work.
"It's the last," said Mr. Brown, with a low moan, "and would have
been Maryanne's!"
Robinson, when he heard this, was much struck by the old man's
enduring courage. How had he been able to preserve this sum from the
young woman's hands, pressed as he had been by her and by Brisket? Of
this Robinson said nothing, but he did venture to allude to the fact
that the money must, in fact, belong to the firm.
This is here mentioned chiefly as showing the reason why Robinson did
not for awhile renew the business on which he was engaged when Mrs.
Morony's presence in the shop was announced. He felt that no private
matter should be allowed for a time to interfere with his renewed
exertions; and he also felt that as Mr. Brown had responded to his
entreaties in that matter of the five hundred pounds, it would not
become him to attack the old man again immediately. For three months
he applied himself solely to business; and then, when affairs had
partially been restored under his guidance, he again resolved, under
the further instigation of Poppins, to put things at once on a proper
footing.
"So you ain't spliced yet," said Poppins.
"No, not yet."
"Nor won't be,--not to Maryanne Brown. There was my wife at
Brisket's, in Aldersgate Street, yesterday, and we all know what that
means."
"What does it mean?" demanded Robinson, scowling fearfully. "Would
you hint to me that she is false?"
"False! No! she's not false that I know of. She's ready enough to
have you, if you can put yourself right with the old man. But if
you can't,--why, of course, she's not to wait till her hair's grey.
She and Polly are as thick as thieves, and so Polly has been to
Aldersgate Street. Polly says that the Jones's are getting their
money regularly out of the till."
"Wait till her hair be grey!" said Robinson, when he was left to
himself. "Do I wish her to wait? Would I not stand with her at the
altar to-morrow, though my last half-crown should go to the greedy
priest who joined us? And she has sent her friend to Aldersgate
Street,--to my rival! There must, at any rate, be an end of this!"
Late on that evening, when his work was over, he took a glass of hot
brandy-and-water at the "Four Swans," and then he waited upon Mr.
Brown. He luckily found the senior partner alone. "Mr. Brown," said
he, "I've come to have a little private conversation."
"Private, George! Well, I'm all alone. Maryanne is with Mrs. Poppins,
I think."
With Mrs. Poppins! Yes; and where might she not be with Mrs. Poppins?
Robinson felt that he had it within him at that moment to start
off for Aldersgate Street. "But first to business," said he, as he
remembered the special object for which he had come.
"For the present it is well that she should be away," he said. "Mr.
Brown, the time has now come at which it is absolutely necessary that
I should know where I am."
"Where you are, George?"
"Yes; on what ground I stand. Who I am before the world, and what
interest I represent. Is it the fact that I am the junior partner in
the house of Brown, Jones, and Robinson?"
"Why, George, of course you are."
"And is it the fact that by the deed of partnership drawn up between
us, I am entitled to receive one quarter of the proceeds of the
business?"
"No, George, no; not proceeds."
"What then?"
"Profits, George; one quarter of the profits."
"And what is my share for the year now over?"
"You have lived, George; you must always remember that. It is a great
thing in itself even to live out of a trade in these days. You have
lived; you must acknowledge that."
"Mr. Brown, I am not a greedy man, nor a suspicious man, nor an idle
man, nor a man of pleasure. But I am a man in love."
"And she shall be yours, George."
"Ay, sir, that is easily said. She shall be mine, and in order that
she may be mine, I must request to know what is accurately the state
of our account?"
"George," said Mr. Brown in a piteous accent, "you and I have always
been friends."
"But there are those who will do much for their enemies out of fear,
though they will do nothing for their friends out of love. Jones has
a regular income out of the business."
"Only forty shillings or so on every Saturday night; nothing more, on
my honour. And then they've babbies, you know, and they must live."
"By the terms of our partnership I am entitled to as much as he."
"But then, George, suppose that nobody is entitled to nothing!
Suppose there is no profits. We all must live, you know, but then
it's only hand to mouth; is it?"
How terrible was this statement as to the affairs of the firm,
coming, as it did, from the senior partner, who not more than twelve
months since entered the business with a sum of four thousand pounds
in hard cash! Robinson, whose natural spirit in such matters was
sanguine and buoyant, felt that even he was depressed. Had four
thousand pounds gone, and was there no profit? He knew well that the
stock on hand would not even pay the debts that were due. The shop
had always been full, and the men and women at the counter had always
been busy. The books had nominally been kept by himself; but who can
keep the books of a concern, if he be left in ignorance as to the
outgoings and incomings?
"That comes of attempting to do business on a basis of capital!" he
said in a voice of anger.
"It comes of advertising, George. It comes of little silver books,
and big wooden stockings, and men in armour, and cats-carrion shirts;
that's what it's come from, George."
"Never," said Robinson, rising from his chair with energetic action.
"Never. You may as well tell me that the needle does not point to the
pole, that the planets have not their appointed courses, that the
swelling river does not run to the sea. There are facts as to which
the world has ceased to dispute, and this is one of them. Advertise,
advertise, advertise! It may be that we have fallen short in our
duty; but the performance of a duty can never do an injury." In reply
to this, old Brown merely shook his head. "Do you know what Barlywig
has spent on his physic; Barlywig's Medean Potion? Forty thousand
a-year for the last ten years, and now Barlywig is worth;--I don't
know what Barlywig is worth; but I know he is in Parliament."
"We haven't stuff to go on like that, George." In answer to this,
Robinson knew not what to urge, but he did know that his system was
right.
At this moment the door was opened, and Maryanne Brown entered the
room. "Father," she said, as soon as her foot was over the threshold
of the door; but then seeing that Mr. Brown was not alone, she
stopped herself. There was an angry spot on her cheeks, and it was
manifest from the tone of her voice that she was about to address her
father in anger. "Oh, George; so you are there, are you? I suppose
you came, because you knew I was out."
"I came, Maryanne," said he, putting out his hand to her, "I came--to
settle our wedding day."
"My children, my children!" said Mr. Brown.
"That's all very fine," said Maryanne; "but I've heard so much about
wedding days, that I'm sick of it, and don't mean to have none."
"What; you will never be a bride?"
"No; I won't. What's the use?"
"You shall be my bride;--to-morrow if you will."
"I'll tell you what it is, George Robinson; my belief of you is, that
you are that soft, a man might steal away your toes without your feet
missing 'em."
"You have stolen away my heart, and my body is all the lighter."
"It's light enough; there's no doubt of that, and so is your head.
Your heels too were, once, but you've given up that."
"Yes, Maryanne. When a man commences the stern realities of life,
that must be abandoned. But now I am anxious to commence a reality
which is not stern,--that reality which is for me to soften all the
hardness of this hardworking world. Maryanne, when shall be our
wedding day?"
For a while the fair beauty was coy, and would give no decisive
answer; but at length under the united pressure of her father and
lover, a day was named. A day was named, and Mr. Brown's consent to
that day was obtained; but this arrangement was not made till he had
undertaken to give up the rooms in which he at present lived, and to
go into lodgings in the neighbourhood.
"George," said she, in a confidential whisper, before the evening was
over, "if you don't manage about the cash now, and have it all your
own way, you must be soft." Under the influence of gratified love, he
promised her that he would manage it.
"Bless you, my children, bless you," said Mr. Brown, as they parted
for the night. "Bless you, and may your loves be lasting, and your
children obedient."