SOME LEADING INCIDENTS
"I do hope there's nothing wrong with Mr. Percy, vor Miss Sophy ha' got
a letter from him, and she's crying something shocking," remarked Kezia,
as she handed George a communication informing him that, not only Mr.
Hunter, but the entire firm of Martin and Cross, had been outraged by
the unspeakable conduct of Mr. Drake, who had dishonoured the title of
gentleman by breaking his plighted word, and had stained his own name
for ever by repudiating a contract. During the whole course of his
professional career Mr. Hunter was thankful to say he never before
received a letter suggesting that he--a solicitor--was capable of
conspiring with another to deprive a third party of his lawful
inheritance. He banished the sinister reflection, and enclosed a fresh
form of receipt, containing the clause which Mr. Drake unaccountably
regarded as oppressive, after having expressed his entire approval of
the conditions contained therein, and he pressed for its execution at
once or, failing that, the immediate return of the cheque for two
hundred pounds. Mr. Taverner had specifically mentioned he would not
purchase the furniture unless Mr. Drake gave an undertaking in writing
to withdraw from Windward House; and now that Mr. Hunter had become more
intimately acquainted with Mr. Drake's character, he was bound to
confess that Mr. Taverner had displayed remarkably shrewd judgment.
"I trapped him, but he doesn't know it; I have trod upon his corn, and
he doesn't like it; now I'll make a fool of him completely," George
muttered.
Then Miss Yard came trembling and half tumbling downstairs, supported by
Nellie, and weeping bitterly in quite a joyful fashion.
"Percy has got a new tomato and he calls it Emily," she announced.
"Emmie Lee," corrected Nellie.
"You mustn't allow that to upset you," said George.
"But he's going to bring her to see me, and he wants me to write to her.
Oh dear! I do pray it may be a blessing to him."
"Try not to cry any more, or you will have such a headache," said Nellie
soothingly.
"I should not have thought," remarked George, "that tomatoes were worth
crying about anyhow."
"All the information was there, but rather too condensed," explained
Nellie. "Mr. Taverner discovered in one of his glass-houses--"
"Oh, no, Nellie, you are silly, child. It was at a garden party."
"You begin breakfast, and let me tell Mr. Drake in my own rambling
fashion," said Nellie, coaxing the lady into her cushioned chair, then
slipping into her own place behind the tea tray. "Mr. Taverner
discovered his foreman had cultivated a particularly fine tomato plant
unawares, and he made up his mind it was a new species, so he means to
introduce it to the market under the name of Emmie Lee."
"He's full of dirty little tricks like that," George grumbled.
"And she's the great-grandchild of a clergyman, so there cannot be
anything wrong with the family," sobbed Miss Yard.
"You must stop crying at once," said Nellie sternly.
"My dear, I will cry and be happy."
"The truth of the matter is, Percy has got a young woman?" George
suggested.
"That's it," said Nellie. "And he's naming the new tomato after her."
"Because it matches her complexion, I suppose. What has he got to be
married on?"
"It's not love, he says. It's money. I am so thankful."
"It is love, Miss Sophy. Love on both sides, at first sight, and all the
way."
"Of course it is, my dear. Poor dear Percy! He was such a gentleman, and
he did work so hard. If I could have seen him once more, just to tell
him how happy I am--"
"Now you are not to say anything more until you have eaten your
breakfast," Nellie ordered, as she rose to supply the old lady with a
fresh handkerchief and a piece of buttered toast.
That morning George wrote a curt and final note to Mr. Hunter,
announcing his intention of leaving Highfield within the next few days,
and enclosing the receipt duly signed. He then approached Nellie,
informed her duty was calling him elsewhere, and explained that, before
his departure, a little cheque from Miss Yard would be acceptable.
"You know the rules," she said. "I have to give an account of my
stewardship to the trustees."
"Yes, but Aunt Sophy owes me rent, and you mustn't allow her generous
nature to be restrained if she wishes to add a few pounds by way of
bonus," said George.
"There are to be no additions whatever," she said firmly. "I'll let Miss
Sophy give you a quarter's rent, but no more. She can't afford it, as
her bank account is low."
"Because she gives all her money to Percy. You let her do that," cried
George wrathfully.
"How can I prevent it? Mr. Taverner does bleed her frightfully, but he's
a trustee, and her nephew."
"So he can levy blackmail, grab all his aunt's money, ransack my home!
He's above the law, while I'm crushed down by it. The kindest thing I
can say about Percy is to call him a kleptomaniac, though I believe he's
a pirate."
"I want you to tell me who really does own the house and furniture. And
why are you going? I'm sure you wouldn't leave Highfield unless you had
to. I promise not to tell anyone," said Nellie eagerly.
"Not even Sidney Brock?"
"You are not to mention his name to me. You know quite well I never see
him now that he's given up the choir," said Nellie, flushing with shame,
indignation, and other things.
"I should have said nothing if he hadn't written to you. I saw the
postmark was Highfield--and of course I felt jealous," said George
composedly.
"Yes, he did write, and asked me to meet him again. Just a selfish
letter," snapped Nellie. "I'm not going to answer it. Now I've told you
my secrets, and I expect to hear yours."
"I never did like the idea of keeping anything from you," said George
doubtfully.
"Especially as Mr. Hunter would tell me everything, if I liked to write
and inform him I cannot undertake my new duties until I have the whole
position explained to me."
"If you tell Kezia and Bessie there will be a fearful rumpus."
"I won't say a word to either. I don't care much about them, now I see
how grasping they are, though it's only natural I suppose. Mrs. Drake
treated them more like relations than servants, and they are quite sure
she meant them to own everything."
"They know my aunt left a will," said George.
"She left about a hundred," laughed Nellie. "Kezia has fifty, Bessie has
forty, Miss Sophy has two, and I have one."
"But the will in my favour is the only legal one; and it's the only one
the trustees know about."
"Some of the papers were signed and dated, though none were witnessed.
Anyhow, they are all later than your will," said Nellie.
George thought he could see what she was driving at. Miss Yard would
leave the entire property to Nellie if she could; and his aunt had
certainly left a scrap of paper expressing a wish that her sister should
own the house. No doubt Nellie has this document hidden away safely. It
did not matter much, and yet George felt uncomfortable at the idea of
his wife owning the property.
"I'll tell you the truth," he said boldly. "My aunt lost her affection
for me rather during the last years of her life, as she thought I didn't
put my whole heart into my work, and perhaps she didn't want me to own
the property. Still, she never destroyed the will, and that leaves the
house to me."
"But who owns the furniture?"
"Last week it was mine. Now it belongs to Aunt Sophy."
"You never gave it her!"
"She has bought it. I offered it to her through Hunter, and he advised
Percy to buy it with her money."
"That means the furniture belongs to Mr. Taverner."
"Aunt Sophy paid every penny of the purchase money, therefore it belongs
to her. I have you as a witness to prove it."
"She advanced the money to Mr. Taverner. She didn't even know what he
wanted it for," cried Nellie.
"It will come out at her death, when Percy claims the furniture. We must
keep the cheque, produce it to Percy, and demand an explanation. If he
refuses to withdraw his claim, we will threaten to expose his knavish
tricks before his high-minded Emmie, the whole of her virtuous family,
and the immaculate firm of Cross and Martin."
"We!" laughed Nellie. "Do you suppose I will be the accomplice of your
villainy?"
"This afternoon," said George, "I am going into town, and there I shall
buy a sixpenny printed form of Will. I shall then insert what is
necessary, words to the effect that all the furniture, with everything
that Aunt Sophy dies possessed of, are to come to you. I have kept a
copy of aunt's will, which was properly drawn up by a lawyer, so I shall
know how to do it. Then you must ask Aunt Sophy to sign it. Kezia and
Bessie ought to be the witnesses. It would serve them right," said
George, chuckling vastly.
"I'll have nothing to do with it," cried Nellie.
"Then I must work alone as usual. I'm not going to let you be defrauded.
The only way to get justice is to help yourself," declared George.
"There's Hunter now! He would give twopence with one hand and steal your
last sovereign with the other. And, if you caught the rascal, he would
swear you had dropped the sovereign in his pocket. And he wouldn't rest
until he had got back the twopence. Hunter stands for justice; he deals
in it like Percy, who puts his sound tomatoes on top of the basket to
hide the rotten ones underneath."
"I'm afraid you don't love Mr. Hunter," laughed Nellie. "Is it because
he has ordered you to clear out?"
"He and Percy between them hatched the dirty plot. They know I want
money--"
"A few days ago you were refusing it."
"Ah, but that was tact. The pair of rascals offered to buy the
furniture, if I would promise to leave my own home. That was bribery and
corruption. They want to get rid of me; they would like me to starve in
a ditch, and they would prefer the ditch to have water in it. Hunter's
not quite so bad as Percy, I think. Hunter has to be a scoundrel, or he
couldn't make a living. But Percy is just a homicidal maniac."
"They are afraid you might try to influence Miss Sophy," suggested
Nellie, when she had done laughing.
"It's Percy's doing entirely. He's a common malefactor himself, so he
thinks I must be the same. He's not going to have any one else milking
his golden goose. Besides, he knows how fond I am of Aunt Sophy, and
what great care I take of her. I have saved her from serious injury many
a time, and that doesn't suit Percy at all. He wants the dear old lady
to fall about, and hurt herself, and die of shock, so that he can get
her money, which I hope will be a curse to him."
"I understand the position," said Nellie. "You really are going?" she
added.
"I must go," replied George gloomily. "It is hard on both of us, but you
must try to be brave, for we shall soon meet again. Aunt Sophy won't
live long when she hasn't me to look after her."
"Thank you for another compliment," cried Nellie.
"You deserve them all," said George, with more tenderness than usual.
He set off presently, carrying the precious vases wrapped up like
twin-babies and, arriving at the market-town, he entered the shop of the
principal ironmonger, who dealt also in all kinds of earthenware goods,
and had the notice, "Art pottery a Specialty," posted in one of his
windows. The proprietor advanced to meet him, and was highly flattered
when George remarked he had come to obtain the impartial opinion of a
specialist regarding the value of some Chinese vases.
"If I can't give it ye, sir, I don't know who can. I ha' handled cloam
all my life, as my father did avore me, and I'll quote ye a fair market
price vor anything you like to show me. They are amazing ugly things,
sure enough, wi' they old snakes all twisted round 'em," said the honest
tradesman when George had undressed his babies.
"They're beautifully glazed," said the owner proudly.
"Yes, they'm nice and shiny. 'Tis done by baking 'em. Now you want me to
tell you how much they'm worth?"
"Suppose I asked you to buy them, how much would you offer?"
"I might give ye eighteen pence vor the pair, though I should fancy I
wur doing ye a favour. Some folks like these ugly things--I sell a lot
o' they china cats wi' the eyes starting out o' their heads--but I would
be satisfied if I got a shilling each vor these old vases."
"A gentleman told me the other day they were worth a lot of
money--hundreds of pounds in fact," said the astounded George.
"I believe ye, sir. Plenty o' gentlemen, when they see a bit o' cloam
that ain't quite the same as ordinary cloam, will tell ye it's worth
money. Cloam is wonderful cheap just now, sir. I can show ye some
amazing bargains in vases at half a crown the pair, and far better value
than these old china things."
"But the gentleman, who told me they were valuable, came from London,"
George protested.
"Well, sir," replied the little provincial, smiling broadly, "ain't that
just where all the vules do come from?"
There was another china shop in the town, so George tried his fortune
there. This shop was kept by a fat lady, who turned sour when George
informed her he had not come to purchase anything; and passed into
indignation when he had unveiled the vases.
"Take 'em away, sir," she said sternly. "I wouldn't show such vulgar
stuff in my window if you paid me for it. My establishment is noted for
chaste designs--flowers, and birds, and butterflies--little lambs, and
shepherdesses--and I deal wi' gentlefolk."
"A thing can be ugly, and yet priceless," said George.
"It's not the ugliness so much as the obscenity," replied the stout
lady, who was herself no gracious object. "They were made, I fancy, by
poor benighted heathens; though why people ship such stuff into England,
when they can buy cheap and beautiful Christian home-made vases from
such establishments as mine, I can't tell ye," she declared, handling
one of the treasures so recklessly that George darted forward in great
terror.
"Oh, you needn't be alarmed," she went on. "If I did break it, I'd give
ye another pair, and something to be proud of. I should smash these
nasty old things into crocks and put 'em in my flower-pots."
George returned to Highfield, wondering greatly. He knew nothing
whatever concerning china, and apparently the local experts were no
better informed than himself. Crampy, on the other hand, had valued the
vases at a thousand pounds, although he admitted the possibility of
their being forgeries; he was, however, prepared to pay the money and
take the risk. Before reaching home George had fully decided to secure
the thousand pounds before he commenced his pilgrimage.
He was absent from the village about three hours, and during that short
period all manner of things had happened. The Yellow Leaf had often
noted with regret that a strong leading incident rarely occurred in
Highfield; but, when one did take place, it was almost sure to be
accompanied by another, to the great confusion of the inhabitants who
were compelled to discuss two incidents at the same time.
The first, and by far the most startling, incident took place quite
early in the afternoon. Nellie had gone into Miss Yard's bedroom to look
up some mending, and presently seated herself beside the window which
overlooked the village street. That letter from Sidney worried her, but
the knowledge of his loose principles troubled her far more. She
remembered the words of his defence, indeed there was nothing much about
him she had forgotten, as her memory was much better than Miss Yard's;
and still she could not decide whether to answer the letter or to ignore
it; whether to meet him once more or to let him go; whether to go on
thinking of him--but that she had to do; or to hate him--though she
couldn't.
"It's a dreary outlook," she murmured. "Little work and no love makes me
a dull maid. I'm alone in the world, and somebody loves me, but he's a
bad somebody. And another somebody is willing to marry me, but he's a
silly old somebody. And I want the bad somebody."
"Hook it!" shrieked a parrot from the garden, addressing a bumblebee
which was threatening to enter its cage.
"Polly gives me advice," she murmured. "Hook it! Hook George, and pour
out rivers of tea, and put on his slippers in respectable humility. No,
thankye, Poll! I won't hook it. I'll fish for something better, else,
when Miss Sophy dies, I must find another job, and go on jobbing it,"
she whispered, looking into the glass, "until I don't look anything like
so saucy as I'm doing now."
"Nellie, where be to?" called the equally saucy parrot.
"Here she be!" answered the girl from the window. "Her's going to write
to the bad somebody, and her's going to meet him, and her's going to be
a soft dafty little vule and believe his nonsense."
While she spoke a rumbling of wheels heralded the approach of the
incident, which had already occurred with disastrous results along the
more important reaches of the street. Nellie remained at the open
window out of curiosity until the incident, which was of no importance
to her at the moment, became revealed in the form of a young and pretty
girl, gazing about in a highly interested fashion as she swept past in
an open wagonette; a beautifully dressed young lady, certainly no more
than eighteen, who looked quite capable of travelling round the world
without an escort.
"Whoever can she be?" Nellie murmured, as she went towards her own room,
to get that letter written before she changed her mind again.
She could hear voices buzzing in the kitchen, where Kezia and Bessie
were discussing the incident; presently she opened the door and
listened, for the air was thrilling with unpleasant sounds of proper
nouns and most improper adjectives; finally she went downstairs and
presented herself at the kitchen door.
"Oh, Miss Nellie!" cried Kezia. "Did you see the person driving past?"
"I did see her," replied Nellie. "Who is she?"
"Ah, that's what every one's asking. I shouldn't like to say who she be.
See how bold she stared as she drove along!" said Bessie.
"She warn't so bold looking as that other one," remarked Kezia.
"She wur just a bit o' painted brass," said Bessie. "This gal's terrible
young. Oh, ain't it awful to see 'em all so wicked! Folks are saying
they won't ha' much more of it."
"Where was she going?" asked Nellie impatiently.
"To Black Anchor Farm. Where else would she be going? The driver stopped
by the green and asked the way to Black Anchor."
"'Tis three o'clock. She can't get away tonight," Kezia whispered.
"She brought a bag--she's going to stay a long while," muttered Bessie,
covering her face for shame.
"Policeman ought to get hold of her and lock her up," cried Kezia
wrathfully.
"Ah, that he ought," agreed Bessie. "If me and Robert wur to have a few
words, he'd be round quick enough and tell us to keep our mouths shut.
Pity I b'ain't an actress! I could do what I liked then. The folks won't
stand much more of it. I wish Captain Drake wur back again; he'd have
they Brocks out of the country in no time."
Nellie crept back to her room and destroyed the unfinished letter. Then
she drew down the blind.
The second incident commenced about an hour later, when another
conveyance reached Highfield and proceeded at once to Windward House. A
gentleman stepped out and inquired for Mr. Drake. Having learnt from
Kezia that George was absent, but expected home at any time, the
gentleman said he would take a stroll round the village and await his
coming.
This incident would have passed almost unnoticed, so far as the general
public were concerned, had the stranger been of the usual speechless
type of tourist, content to stare deferentially at the local antiquities
and to wander aimlessly round the churchyard. But he was not, as he
himself admitted, within measurable distance of an ordinary man; for he
joined a group of villagers, who were discussing the latest tragedy in
whispers, and insisted upon introducing himself and asking questions
about themselves.
In the first place he came from America, and he lost no time in
informing his listeners that an American gentleman was the only perfect
specimen of humanity to be found upon the face of the globe. In the
second place he was a millionaire, and had no bashfulness about
advertising the fact. Finally, he enjoyed use of the name Josiah P.
Jenkins, and his business premises, or at least some of them, were
situated in Philadelphia, which, he explained, was the city of brotherly
love, where Irish toasted English, whites embraced negroes, Jews dined
with Christians, and sharp practice was unknown.
By this time the poor little actress, driving in solitary state towards
Black Anchor, was almost forgotten. Actresses had occurred before,
unhappily, but this was the first occasion during the entire history of
the universe upon which a millionaire had walked and talked in
Highfield. Mr. Jenkins was bestowing a new tradition upon the village;
he was quite the equal of Queen Elizabeth, who had slept, and very much
superior to King Charles, who had hidden, somewhere in the
neighbourhood. Here was an individual who reckoned the weekly wage, not
by a few shillings, according to local custom, but by innumerable
dollars every moment. The people gazed upon him with reverence, while
children approached to touch him, and discover what metal he was made
of, while some of the more intelligent made remarks concerning copper
which the great man did not seem to understand. The Yellow Leaf admitted
afterwards he was thankful he had lived to see it, although he would
have respected millionaires far more had he never set eyes upon the
corporeal presence of Mr. Jenkins. It was wonderful, he added, how
quickly these Americans acquired a superficial knowledge of the English
language.
"What might be your occupation, sir?" asked the Dumpy Philosopher.
"Railways, my friend, with patent medicines as a side-line," replied Mr.
Jenkins.
"I hope you ain't come here to build none, nor make none," said the
Yellow Leaf.
"I have come here in my private capacity as art lover, collector,
connoisseur. I am awaiting the arrival of one of your leading citizens,
Mr. Drake of Windward House."
"And here he be, bringing home the washing," cried Squinting Jack, as
George at the moment appeared upon the road with a fantastic white
bundle beneath each arm.
"Don't you believe his tale," whispered the Dumpy Philosopher to his
friends, as the American started forward to meet George. "He'm going to
make that railway across Dartmoor what'll ruin the whole lot of us--and
Mr. Drake ha' been and brought 'en here."