At breakfast next morning Mr. George Early was a model of politeness
and urbanity. His courteousness obtruded itself so much that Aunt
Phoebe could scarcely refrain from remarking upon it. After watching
him closely, she decided that the night had effected one of those great
changes sometimes observable in men after a crisis. He had turned over
a new leaf.
Without delay she put this to the test. "I suppose," she remarked,
smiling pleasantly at her nephew, "that I may rely upon you for a
ten-pound subscription to the 'Friendly Friday Evenings for Mothers
Society?'"
George was all attention at once. "Most certainly," he said. "I'm very
glad you mentioned it. A noble institution."
"I'm pleased to hear you say that," said his aunt. "You were not always
on the Society's side, and I'm glad to find that your views have
changed."
George shook his head sorrowfully. "I'm afraid that I have not been
altogether free from error," he faltered.
"Darling!" cried Mrs. Early, who foresaw a display of feeling, and was
apprehensive of trouble.
"No," said her husband, gravely, raising his right hand; "I have not.
In the light of certain events--by the wisdom of a certain person no
longer with us, I see it. I have been wrong. I admit it."
"You have not been wrong, darling!" cried Mrs. Early, impulsively.
"Ellen," said Aunt Phoebe, in remonstrance, "I'm surprised at you. I
admire the spirit that prompts your husband to make these confessions.
Please do not interrupt."
"I have told lies," said George, penitently.
Mrs. Early frowned and sighed.
"I have drunk whisky, and acquired habits that made my presence
obnoxious to the fair creatures, both youthful and aged--I mean
experienced--with whom good fortune placed me."
Aunt Phoebe coughed.
"There are many things," said George, looking at the ceiling, "that I
would not have done had I known all I know now." Observing that Aunt
Phoebe's eyes were on the tablecloth, he winked at the fireplace.
"But I hope that it is not too late to make amends."
"There is still time," said his aunt, fervently, "to repent and lead a
better life."
"It is that which makes me glad," said George.
Having generously paid the ten-pound subscription and left behind him
an impression of wholesome righteousness, Mr. Early stepped into a
hansom cab and drove to Upper Thames Street.
Here his calm demeanour and amiability, contrasted with the
feverishness of the last few days, caused a general raising of
eyebrows. To the head clerk, who humbly apologized for his stupidity
George was gentleness itself. Instead of rating him he sympathized; so
that Parrott, who imagined that he had at last got a fair inkling of
George Early's character, went away more mystified than ever.
The other ex-legatees received the news with surprise and some
apprehension. Doubtless they had stored away in their minds various
plans for enriching themselves at their master's expense, intending to
profit by their own experience. Gray certainly had, and the rumours did
not prevent his putting one into execution very promptly. He appeared
in the chief's office an hour after that gentleman arrived.
He received a cheerful welcome, to which he responded.
"I suppose you know my errand," he said, smiling maliciously, and
rubbing his hands together.
His master looked up, thought a moment, and regretted that he could not
call to mind anything important concerning himself and Gray. But
whatever it was, he promised that it should receive his attention.
"It's a question of money," said Gray. "A little loan of five pounds to
begin with. I suppose I need not use any arguments in favour of my
case; you already understand the business well."
"Dear me!" said George; "I hope no misfortune has befallen you, Gray,
that you need this money. You did quite right to come to me. You shall
certainly have it."
"Thanks," said Gray.
"I always prefer to have my men come straight to me. Some people may
think me hard, but I tell you, Gray, I can't bear to feel that any of
my employés are uncomfortable or in want."
"Glad to hear it."
"Yes, Gray, you shall certainly have the loan. It is not convenient to
give it you at once, but you shall have it."
"Oh," said Gray, rubbing his chin; "I'd prefer to have it now."
"That's very unfortunate," said George; "I hate to inconvenience
anybody. It quite grieves me."
"I dare say it does," Gray said sarcastically. "Perhaps you can tell me
when I'll get it."
"That I can," replied his master, cheerfully; "the moment I have the
money here for you I'll ring the bell and give it you."
Gray drew himself up and folded his arms. "I take that to be a
refusal," he said bluntly. "And I must point out to you the
consequences to yourself if I mention it in the right quarter. Now,
what's it to be?"
"It's to be five pounds when I ring the bell."
"And suppose I refuse to wait your pleasure?--as I don't see why I
should."
"You must do it or go without," replied his master. "I may as well
mention, Gray, that I have decided to get rid of those men whom I find
to have bad habits. Recognizing myself the principles of truth and
temperance, I could not keep men with so little respect for themselves
and the good name of a firm like this as to be addicted to the vices."
"I don't see how that will help you," Gray pointed out. "If I am not
receiving wages here, I shall be more in need of money than ever, and I
should have to make my demands greater. So by sacking me you won't be
doing yourself any good."
George waved his hand. "The interview is now closed," he said.
Gray departed, but reminded his chief that he should expect to hear the
bell ring before the day was out.
No other incident occurred, and George Early began to persuade himself
that his new plans would act admirably. His ingenious handling of Gray
must have acted as a damper on the others. Elated with this success,
his behaviour at home that evening was even more commendable than in
the morning, and he fell to eulogizing Old Fairbrother with an emphasis
that seemed a little unwarranted, even to Aunt Phoebe.
Gray made another application the next morning for his loan, and
repeated it before midday, each time being quietly but firmly put off
by his master.
"All I hope is," said Gray, on the last occasion, "that you won't force
me to do anything unpleasant. I'm not sure that this delay doesn't
amount to a refusal. Perhaps I ought to consult the solicitors."
But he didn't do so, and George Early began to make his way about the
iron warehouse with more confidence than he had done since the legacies
first began to threaten him.
As he stepped out of the showrooms into the warehouse that afternoon, a
man who had been hovering mysteriously about a gas stove turned towards
him.
"Anybody about?" he said, inquiringly.
"What can I do for you?" asked George, in his best salesman style.
"Want a gas stove," said the man. "I've heard a lot about your 'Little
Wonder,' and I'd like to have one, if it's up to the mark."
"That's the very stove," said George, pointing to the one the man had
been handling.
"So I see, and if all you say of it is true, that's just the stove for
me. But is it?"
"Is what?"
"Is that true?" said the man, holding up a Fairbrother pamphlet, in
which the merits of the particular stove were described in glowing
terms.
George suddenly realized that he was in a difficult situation, but,
with the Fairbrother legacy fresh upon him, he stuck to his principles.
"All lies," he said.
"What?" cried the man; "it won't cook a chicken and a joint of beef,
two vegetables and a pudding, and air the clothes at the same time, all
at the cost of a farthing?"
"No," said George.
"All bunkum, eh?"
"Not a word of truth in it."
"I'm glad you told me that," said the man. "I like people to be
straightforward. Perhaps the 'Little Midget' that's made by Oldboys up
the street, is a better stove, eh?"
"Much better," said the unfortunate salesman.
"Well, now," said the man, "I wanted a few other things, but I'm not
sure about dealing here, after what you've said. See that set of broken
stove bars; how soon would you promise to get me a new set like it?"
"In four days," said George.
"Four days, eh? And when should I get 'em if I ordered them to-day?"
"In about two weeks."
"Oh, that's the sort of promise you make, is it? Can't be trusted?"
"Never," said George.
Then the man, who seemed to have suddenly developed an insatiable
curiosity, led George Early into discussing all sorts of affairs
concerning the firm, and obtained from him the most startling
admissions.
He was an insinuating little man, and he resisted every effort that his
victim made to end the conversation, until the head of Fairbrothers
found himself uttering the most alarming truths, and being led like a
monkey on a string.
Eventually the man left, and George Early found himself sitting on a
portable copper by one of the warehouse doors overlooking the river,
gazing blankly at the rising mists. Gradually he came back to a
realization of affairs, and began to discover that he had made a fool
of himself. With the same discovery came the sounds of cautious
footsteps; a voice that he recognized as belonging to Gray said, "It's
all right," and asked, "Where's Polly?"
The head of the firm left his position on the copper, and stood in the
shadow of one of the iron fireproof doors. Any conspiracy taking place
in the building was his affair without doubt.
Another person having joined the conspirators, George listened with
interest.
"Any luck?" asked Busby.
"None," answered Gray. "He's put me off so far, and I thought it best
to let it go at that for the present. I don't know how to force his
hand. We must come to some decision about what we are going to do while
there's the chance."
"Not so loud," cautioned Busby, lowering his voice; "you don't know who
may be about."
"There's nobody up here," said Gray, irritably, but the two lowered
their voices, so that George Early could only catch a word here and
there.
The caution was relaxed after a while, when Gray said--
"Then that's fixed up. I'll tackle him tomorrow, and let him see that
we mean business. Won't little Georgie swear! We'll have a hundred each
down to begin with; no paltry fivers."
George shivered.
"Two hundred," said Parrott, greedily.
"One'll do to start," said Gray. "That'll be only a mite to what we'll
get later."
"Will he pay up, d'you think?" asked Busby.
"Pay?" said Gray. "He can't help it. Look what he's got to lose if he
don't pay; he's had his turn, and now we'll have ours."
Judging by Gray's tone, George felt convinced that he meant all he
said. He was not sure now that he had been quite wise in having laughed
so much at Gray's expense.
"Suppose he dodges us, and doesn't turn up at the office?"
Gray laughed. "We'll go to his house," he said; "that'll be tit for
tat. We'll get a bit of our own back."
George listened to the retreating footsteps, and a fierce indignation
sprang up within him. So violent was it that he daren't come out from
the shadow of the iron door until it had abated somewhat. Then he
cautiously made his way back to his own room, put on his hat, and went
home.