"Oh no, Mr Rowle," I said, "I only came to see you. I thought I should
like to. I'm getting on so well."
"Are you, though? Engineering, eh? Well, I'm sorry for it. No, no:
I'm glad of it, my lad. I hope you will get on. But I liked you for a
reading-boy. You were the only chap I ever had who could stand by me
when I took snuff without sneezing all over the slips, and that's a
great thing. Have a pinch?" he said, offering me his box. "No, no: of
course not, I forgot. Glad you came to see me, Grace--very glad. Here,
Mrs Jennings," he cried, going to the door, and shouting down the
stairs; "I've got a young friend here: bring up some sugar-candy and
biscuits and cinnamon; anything nice you've got."
"I really don't want anything, Mr Jabez," I said.
"Oh, yes, you do, boy. Ho, hi! Mrs Jennings, bring up some figs."
He toddled back to his chair, but was up again directly, to shout down
the staircase:
"Bring up some almonds and raisins, and candied peel, Mrs Jennings."
"Lor' bless the man, do you want the whole shop?" shouted a sharp voice.
"No, I don't," said Mr Jabez grumpily, as he toddled back. "I was an
out-and-outer for candied peel when I was a boy," he said, rubbing his
hands. "Those dried apples, too, that look as if they had been sat upon
by old women, Grace. Ah, I spent a lot of pennies on them when I was a
boy."
A red-faced woman here made her appearance with a plateful of the sweets
that Mr Jabez had named, and she rather scowled at me, and banged the
plate down hard enough almost to break it as she whisked out of the room
again and slammed the door.
"Now, Grace, fall to, as they say in copy about feasts. See that
woman?"
"Yes, Mr Jabez."
"She's a Tartar, she is. I live here because that woman acts as a
lighthouse to me."
"A lighthouse, sir? Because she has got such a red face?"
"Get out! No, you young joker. A warning, a beacon, a bell-buoy, a
light-ship, to warn me off the rocks and shoals of matrimony. I should
have married, Grace, years ago, if I hadn't seen what a life a woman can
lead a man. She has nearly made her husband a lunatic."
"Indeed, Mr Jabez?"
"Well, say imbecile. Peg away, my boy," he continued, laughing; "these
figs are beautiful. Peel's good, too."
So it seemed, for Mr Jabez was feasting away with great gusto, and
eating two of everything to my one.
"Yes, sir, I should have been married and a poor man, instead of
comparatively rich--at least, was. Money matters are rather awkward
just now."
"I'm very sorry to hear it, Mr Jabez," I said.
"I'm sorry to feel it," said Mr Jabez, with a fig in one hand and a
piece of candied peel in the other. "Come, you don't eat. By Jingo,
there's Grimstone," he cried, as a step was heard upon the stairs; and
in his excitement and dread of being seen engaged in eating sweets, he
stuffed a fig into one breeches-pocket, some peel into the other, and
snatched up his snuff-box, while I felt terribly discomposed at the idea
of meeting my old tyrant.
"Is it Mr Grimstone?" I faltered.
"Yes, but you don't eat. Take another fig," cried Mr Jabez, as,
without knocking, Mr Grimstone entered the room.
"Hallo," he said, without taking off his hat, "what the deuce are you
doing here?"
"I've come to see Mr Jabez, Mr Grimstone," I replied.
"Oh, have you? So have I. How long are you going to stop?"
"Oh, hours yet," said Mr Jabez. "Sit down, Grim. He doesn't matter;
speak out. He doesn't belong to the shop now. Well: what news?"
"Bad!" said Mr Grimstone, throwing himself into a chair. "Here, boy,
take my hat."
I took it quite obediently, and resumed my seat, while Mr Grimstone
wiped his bald head with a bright orange handkerchief.
"You don't say so?" said Mr Jabez uneasily.
"Yes, I do," said Mr Grimstone, taking the box out of the reader's hand
and helping himself to a pinch; "I said it quite plain."
"It's a bad job."
"Have you just found that out?" snarled the overseer. "Pretty pair of
fools we've been. Look here, send that boy away."
"No, no; no, no. Sit still, Grace. Eat some more figs, boy. I'll call
Mrs Jennings when you've eaten them. There, go on, Grim. Antony Grace
isn't a chatterer."
"Just as you like," said Grimstone. "Well, if he doesn't get married to
that gal right off, and bank her money, the game's up, and your 500
pounds and my 750 pounds are gone to the deuce."
"Is it 750 pounds, Grimstone?"
"Yes, curse him! he got round me with all sorts of promises."
"Of bonus, Grim, eh?"
"Yes, I suppose so," growled the overseer. "That bill-discounter chap,
Brandysheim, or Brandyman or something's, cornering him. He was at the
office to-day, and there was a regular shine."
"Was Ruddle there?"
"No, but I hear that Brandysheim threatened to come down on him if he
wasn't paid."
"And what then?"
"What then?" growled Grimstone, with a show of his teeth; "why, Lister's
smashed up--bankrupt, and you and I may sit and stare at each other for
a pair of fools."
"But it won't hurt Ruddle."
"No, only bother him. If Lister's bankrupt, he's partner no longer, and
Ruddle will have to find out what share he has in the business."
"Yes, that's what I thought," said Mr Jabez dolefully.
"And we shan't get a penny!"
"Not even interest," said Mr Jabez.
"Not even interest," echoed Grimstone.
"Not even bonus," said Mr Jabez.
"Not even bonus," echoed Grimstone again.
"What's he done with his money, that's what I want to know?" said Mr
Jabez.
"Wine--women--horse-racing--foolery! He's been carrying on like mad,
and what I suspect is this--Miss Carr begins to smell a rat, and I
shouldn't be a bit surprised if the wedding didn't come off."
Mr Jabez stared dolefully at Mr Grimstone, and the overseer kept on
taking pinches of snuff till the box was empty; and, after searching
round with finger and thumb, threw the box impatiently down.
"Well, I don't see that we can do anything," said Mr Jabez at last,
"except wait."
"No," said Grimstone, "unless we can see the lady, and make her consent
to pay us our 1,250 pounds."
"And interest," said Mr Jabez.
"And bonus," said Grimstone, "down on the nail."
"Which we can't do," said Mr Jabez, shaking his head.
"Of course we can't," said Grimstone. "All I wish is that I hadn't let
you persuade me into lending him the money--the savings of a whole
life."
"Oh, I like that!" said Mr Jabez, catching up a pen, and making a mark
as if he were correcting Grimstone.
"Like it or not, I don't care," said Grimstone, "there it is. Here!
boy, my hat."
"Going?" said Mr Jabez.
"Going! of course I'm going. Think I'm going to stop in this dog-hole,
smelling of red-herrings and oil?"
"Won't you take something? Try a fig."
Mr Grimstone snatched his hat from my hands, gazed at me as if he would
have liked to set me to pick up pie, and bounced out of the room.
"I don't know which is most unpleasant, Grace," said the old man,
"Grimstone or his news. Well, he's gone. Of course, you won't talk
about what you've heard. It's a very bad job, though, for me--very--
very. Hi! Mrs Jennings," he cried at the top of the stairs, "half an
ounce of best Scotch and Rappee."
He tapped with his box on the handrail as he spoke, and having had it
replenished, he came back to sit and take pinches, becoming so
abstracted and ill at ease, that I rose to go when he was a quarter
through the half-ounce.
"Going, Grace?" he said. "Ah, I'm bad company to-night, but come again.
Let me see, though," he said, fumbling at some letters in his
breast-pocket, "I've got a letter here from that bad boy, Peter. Just
the same as usual. Tut--tut--oh, here it is. `Remember me to that
boy,'--ah, blunder I call it boy--`Antony Grace. Tell him I shall come
to see him if ever I get two London.' There's a fellow for you," said
Mr Jabez, "spells `to' like the figure 2. But he always did want a
deal of correcting, did Peter. Good-night, good-night."
And I went my way, sadly troubled at heart about Miss Carr and Mr
Lister, and wondering whether she would, after all, refuse to be his
wife.