foolishness, 'it's not "first-day," and you ain't "in meeting," so
stick to business, if _you_ please. Waal, the thing's got to go, as
I'm sayin', and the only question is, are your people goin' to join in
or no? If not, I bust their little donkey go-cart of Supply Stores
which they set up a few years back in South Street "for the mutual
encouragement of thrift and the supply of the best articles at
first-hand cost" as the prospectus says, combinin' philanthropy and
five per cent, plus their commission on floatin' the shop. Now, I know
how much they have in it, your bosses. J. B. has 10,000 shares, and
young T. he has 5,000 out of a total of 30,000, so they're the largest
shareholders in the concern, but Bill Coody has shares in it, too,
John, he or his nominees. Likely you've noticed the shares have been
jumpin' up a bit lately and been wonderin' what the jooce was up, eh?'
'Yes,' responded John quietly, endeavouring to conceal any disquietude
he might feel; 'yes, I've noticed that.'
'Waal, we've got enough to bust their shop up pretty well, and if your
people don't come into my showyard I'll give their shares away with a
pound of tea,' and here he pulled out a handful of certificates from
his trousers' pocket and flourished them in John's face, which was
gradually growing longer as the other unrolled his arguments.
'But how did you get the necessary capital?' John inquired after a
pause, professional curiosity piqued at this unexpected revelation of
means.
'Waal,' replied the American, as he carelessly lit another cheroot,
expectorating with relish into John's carefully-trimmed fire, 'I'll
tell you straight out, for I'm one of them that goes straight to the
point--fibbin' ain't in it with truthfulness, and bluffin's no good
when the cards are on the table. Waal, I bank with the Old Bank here,
and decent enough people they are, too, but a trifle slow, so no
sooner did the Joint Stock Bank open out a new branch in Old Quay than
in I go, and I says, "Look here, boss, I want £5,000 of the ready, and
I'll bring you business," I says. Well, the boss rubs his hands in
butter, and he says, "Sartinly, sartinly, Mr. Coody, we know your name
well, sir; most happy to oblige, I'm sure, and much obliged if you
could introduce us to a few of your friends," so after a bit more
palaver and a deposit of some shares the deal's done. Waal, down the
street goes Bill Coody, and into the parlour of the Old Bank, and says
to the partners straight out: "Now, look here, gentlemen, there's no
beatin' about the bush with me, and no frivolity in matters of
business, and what I want is £5,000 straight down, which is the figure
I've just been offered by the new Joint Stock Bank over the way. Now I
like your style," I says, "and I should be sorry to leave you; but
sentiment's not my style of doin' business, so there you have it."
Waal, the old gentleman looked at me over his spectacles, same way as
you do, John, and under his spectacles also, and offers me a pinch of
snuff, while he and his partner waggle their heads together in a
far-off corner of the room. Waal, after a bit more palaver and a
little "pi" jaw thrown in gratis about the evils of speculatin', and a
hope that a strange bank will not interfere with mutual friendly
business relations, that deal's done, and Bill Coody has £10,000 to
draw upon by feedin'-time that morning.
'Waal, John, I think you'll have the hang of it now, and will be able
to advise your bosses as to what's best for them and the community,
too, at large, and I want an answer--a regular business-like
document--signed, sealed, and delivered, by this time to-morrow night,
for there's a shipload of my goods in already and lyin' at the quay,
and I can't let the thing dry-rot while two thickheads worry the
situation out and try to tinker up a mind between them. So fix it up
for them, John, yourself. Ta-ta; I must be off. There's a chap waitin'
for me at the club on business.' And rising as he spoke, he went as
unceremoniously as he came, leaving a trail of rank tobacco that was
as penetrating to John's nostrils as his communications had been to
his intellect.
John lit his pipe again, which had gone out as he listened to Bill's
scheme, and thought for a while how 'George' would have dealt with the
situation; how his penetrating intellect would have pierced through
Bill's armour-plating, and revealed the naked artificer within.
Ah! if 'George' had only been there for five minutes, several of the
questions that were troubling him might have received instant
solution. He could not feel certain how far Bill meant business with
his store. It was not all bluff, of course; but how much of it was
bluff, how much business, he could not of himself determine.
It might be that he wanted to be bought off at a price, or be offered
a post upon the directorate, or was merely a 'bull' of the shares.
However, one thing was certain: there must be no shilly-shallying.
Either Bill must be squared or he must be defied.
That was the question for him to determine. No doubt, from a strictly
business point of view, the chief matter to be considered was which of
the two courses was likely to prove most beneficial to his principals;
but the thought of the poor shopkeepers was present in John's mind,
and operated largely in influencing his mind in the direction of
defiance. There was poor old Mrs. S----, for example, who kept herself
and two grandchildren on the proceeds of a small florist's business,
once her son-in-law's. What would happen to her if Bill were to flood
the town with rose-trees at a shilling the dozen?
To-morrow was Saturday, and Bill demanded an answer by the evening.
The next day being 'first-day,' he would have to satisfy his
conscience--that 'still small voice' which, even in the silence of the
meeting, interrogated him severely on his dealings during the past
week, and permitted no subterfuge or evasive answer--and it was
useless to think he could do so by pleading that he was only a
subordinate, not an official, in this affair of the store. Well, so be
it. It must be defiance, then--war to the knife--if Bill was in
earnest; for to offer to put him on the directorate of the supply
stores would merely mean setting up Bill's store under the old title.
John sat late as he pondered over the situation. Suddenly one of the
Articles of Association of the stores flamed within the chamber of his
brain, and a twinkle shone in his eye, as he reflected that it should
enable him to mate Bill's cleverness at the very outset.
Bill had quoted from the prospectus, but he had evidently overlooked
the Articles of Association, and John chuckled to himself delightedly
as he recalled Article 5.
Shortly after seven next morning John might have been observed taking
the air upon the quay, casting shrewd glances as he passed along. He
had some suspicions concerning the amount of value of Bill's
consignment of pianos, family Bibles, etc., and he thought he might
possibly discover something for himself if he saw what vessels were
lying at the quay.
There was a green-hulled brigantine from Norway lying alongside, but
she was full of battens and pit-props; a steam-collier lay next, but
she must simply be waiting there for stores or sailing orders. A tramp
came next, apparently from America, by the labels on some of her
packages that the cranes were already swinging overhead.
This, then, must be Bill's consignment, for there was nothing else in
the river or at the quay that John could see that could possibly have
anything on board for Bill or his stores.
As he stood there immersed in thought, a figure appeared on the deck
above him, and, leaning his arms on the taffrail, regarded the scene
below him with a gloomy air. 'The skipper,' thought John, as he noted
his blue broadcloth and peaked cap, and on the spur of a sudden
inspiration immediately accosted him.
'Fine morning, captain. I happen to have heard a rumour to the effect
that you were wanting an offer for your cargo. If so, I might possibly
get you an offer from a friend of mine--at a reasonable figure, of
course.'
'Waal,' replied the other slowly, 'I guess I'm ready for a deal, as
the consignees are bust up, and only 25 per cent. of the freight paid
for; but it's not a knock-out, I tell ye, for I've had a bid already
for the lot.'
'Was it from a man they call Bill Coody, by any chance?' asked John,
with a fine carelessness.
'Waal,' replied the skipper, as he turned his quid, 'his name's
nothin' to me, so long as he has the ready. Mr. Cash is the gent I do
business with; but if my memory sarves me right, I think Bill Coody
was the name on his pasteboard.'
'What precisely is the cargo?' queried John. 'Is it dry-store
goods--organs, pianos, and such like commodities?'
'Ay, that's about what it is--all the sort o' fixin's that make a
harmonious home for the retired commercial gent--organs, melodeons,
brick-a-bacs, articles of virtoo and amusement combined; and a fine
variety of wood goods besides. Waal, if you're for a deal you must be
sharp about it, for I've to fix up with Mr. Coody by ten o'clock this
mornin', and I leave again this afternoon, havin' just signed a fresh
charter party for a cargo of fireclay bricks. So name your figure,
plank down the cash, and I'm ready to deal.'
'Well, what did Mr. Coody offer you?' asked John pertinently.
'Three hundred pounds in bank notes,' replied the skipper; 'but I'll
take £400 to clear; and dirt cheap, too, when you think o' what a nest
o' nightingales your fam'ly and friends will be at ten dollars a
head.'
'Thank you,' said John, as he moved away; 'I'll just go round and have
a talk with my friend, and will let you know the result before ten
o'clock.'
'Right,' replied the captain, cutting himself a fresh plug of tobacco;
'£400 down, coin o' the realm, before ten, mind ye, and your friend's
set up for life with a "house beautiful" that Solomon in all his glory
and Mrs. Sheba couldn't have fixed up better between them.'
'What a curious, profane, hard-featured set of men these Americans
are!' thought John, as he stepped briskly away in the direction of his
senior partner's house. 'Why, the mind of that skipper is exactly of
the same temper as Bill's; his features are as irregular, even his
voice has the same twanging, nasal habit. However, he means business
evidently, and I think I can persuade Mr. William to buy up his cargo,
which will put, I imagine, a pretty stiff spoke in Bill's wheel.'
Within a quarter of an hour John was on Mr. William's doorstep, and
ten minutes afterwards was explaining the strategical position to the
senior partner in his dressing-gown. 'Certainly, John,' said Mr.
William slowly, after listening attentively to John's recital; 'we
couldn't possibly have Coody on our Board; it wouldn't do at all. Why,
he's a mere adventurer, and his method of under-cutting, "busting"
people up, etc., would bring discredit upon our firm and have a bad
effect upon our business. No, it's quite evident, John, as you say,
that we can't square him--as to how far he means business, I don't
know. I incline to think he is bluffing us; but there isn't time to
find out how much he has up his sleeve; and if we buy up this cargo we
trump his ace, you think, and can make a profit out of it ourselves at
the stores after? Well, I daresay you're right, John; and, after all,
£400 won't ruin us. We buy his cargo, and as he can't "bear" the
shares, he'll be like a chained dog showing his teeth, but doing no
damage. Yes, I think it is an excellent idea, John,' Mr. William said
in conclusion, 'and if you'll wait one minute I'll give you the cheque
for £400.'
By ten o'clock that morning John had completed his defences; the cargo
was bought; he held an indemnity against any claims from the skipper
and owners of the goods in question; he had made an inquiry at the Old
Bank, and now was sitting down at the office to write a short note
marked 'private' to Bill, to tell him it was to be 'war to the knife.'
'And I may tell thee, Bill, that thee had better give in with a good
grace; for, in the first place, thee cannot sell the shares below
par--_vide_ the Articles of Association, paragraph 10--and, in the
second, we have bought up thy cargo; and, finally, I feel assured that
stores managed on thy suggested lines would never bring a blessing
with them. Thou saidst it was to be "war to the knife," but we hope
thee will think better of it, for thy sake more than for our own,' and
with a friendly warning John finished his letter, and despatched it by
hand to 'William Coody, Esq.'
Late that afternoon, just as John was leaving the office, a letter was
brought to him in Bill's handwriting. It ran as follows:
'Ta-ta, John, I'm off, you quaint, cocked-hat old Puritan
Precisian; but I couldn't leave without having tried a fall with
you first, and, on totting it up, I think Bill Coody's just had a
trifle the best of the mêlée. If I'd got on to the stores, I'd
have stayed in this derned little one-hoss place, but those
all-fired articles[21] upset that cart. I'll allow you that,
John; but I have you, my boy, over that little cargo of mine.
Why, the whole show was a got-up job, the cargo saw-dust, salvage
stocks worth £20 at an outside figure. The skipper, being a pal
of mine, lent me his duds, this morning, for I knew you'd be down
there sniffing and spectacling about with the morning's sunrise,
and I had the show ready for you, John, to walk into, and in you
walked like blue blazes. The £400 will about pay for my trouble,
and for the premiums on the store shares. Your principals will
have to buy the shares back from the banks--they mustn't buy
below par, though, John--you remind them of that.
'I've sold my biz., and am off with my pal, the skipper, this
moment. No time to handshake. Ta-ta, John, and bear no malice.
Stick to piety and 5 per cent., and don't buy up bankrupt
cargoes, and you'll be Lord Mayor of Old Quay before you're
finished. So long, your pardner,
'BILL COODY.'
FOOTNOTE:
[21] '_Article 5._--No shares shall be dealt in below their face value
except with the consent of the Board of Directors.'
THE PROTÉGÉ
The Vale of the Frolic in the far west of Northumberland had always
been a favourite retreat of mine. As I trudged the London pavements in
the dog-days before the Law Courts rose, my heart panted for the green
hills and the sweet silences of remotest Frolicdale.
The chiefest charm of the vale perhaps for me lay in the fact that it
was a track untrodden by the tourist, resembling the maid of the
waters of Dove in this--that it was one which, as yet, there were 'few
to know, and very few to love.'
It was a pastoral, sheep-raising countryside, inhabited by shepherds
almost entirely, who were at the same time farmers also, for their
tenure was something after the métayer order.
There was nothing to mar the quaint and antique flavour of existence.
The post, like our lifeboat institution, was here supported by
voluntary contributions. If anyone were 'gannin' up the wattor,' well
and good; he would take the letters with him. If not, then they were
left at the schoolmaster's till called for. Newspapers, again, with
the exception of a weekly _Courant_ or a _Scots Mail_, were, like the
woodcock, but 'occasional visitors' in that region; and when it is
added that the house I usually stayed at was situated eighteen miles
from a terminus of a slow branch line of the North British Railway
Company, it will be evident that the ordinary tourist had a very poor
chance of putting in an appearance in that favoured region.
I was recalling all these little details with infinite gusto as I sat
down at my desk to write to my friend the Presbyterian minister and
schoolmaster of Fair-Green Haugh, suggesting a visit from myself a
week ahead.
The answer came just in time for me to pack up and start within the
week.
'I am sorry to say,' wrote my friend in conclusion, 'that my
accommodation is somewhat limited this summer, as I have had to give
up my small sanctum to a protégé of mine, who, though he has just been
discharged from gaol, will yet, I feel assured, become a highly useful
and respectable member of society.
'I know your kind heart, my friend,' he continued, 'and feel sure you
will not regret a temporary lack of comfort in so good a cause. You
can always use the schoolroom, as it is holiday time, for reading,
writing and smoking.'
'Heavens!' I murmured to myself, as I took in the monstrous situation;
'fancy having to spend my vacation trying to improve an infernal
burglar! He knows my kind heart, he says. Well, it only proves the
truth of the poet's lines:
'"Not e'en the dearest heart, and next our own,
Knows half the reasons why we smile or cry."
I wonder,' I soliloquized, 'whether he is of the heavy, hang-dog,
dropped-jaw type--the knifing variety, in brief--or the other
species--the shifty-eyed, chinless, quick but evil brained sort. On
the whole, I prefer the first, for if he cannot control his temper, at
any rate you know where you are with him, whereas with the latter you
never can tell what he may be up to.'
Anyway, it was exasperating, for here had I been congratulating myself
upon the sweet security of my proposed retreat, only to discover at
the last moment that I was destined to become co-warder of a criminal.
However, it was no use making myself miserable before the time, and as
I was at any rate now free from the choking London atmosphere I could
revel in the thought of fresh country air, liberty and leisure.
I stayed the night at Heathtown (famous for the church wherein Bernard
Gilpin, 'the apostle of the north,' stayed the hot Borderers from
feud), and, drawing the heather-honeyed air deep into my lungs, felt
my strength so renewed that the thoughts of shifting the
ticket-of-leave gentleman if he didn't, in North-country phrase, 'keep
a civil tongue in his heid and behave hissel' respectable,' positively
inspired me with pleasure.
The postman in his cart was, as it chanced, going up to the little
village, styled a 'toon,' where the last post and telegraph-office
this side of Scotland is situated, and insisted upon giving me a
'cast' so far upon my road.
'No, nowse is changed ava,' he replied, in answer to my query, 'syne
ye were last here, save belikely that we are aal a year older, an'
that Farmer Newton's missus was brought tae bed wi' anither bairn a
month ago last Saterday. Ye'll mind she had her fourth bairn the last
time ye were here, an' Farmer Newton, he says he'll just hae tae turn
priest, an' get the Sixstanes livin',[22] an' there, ye ken, the Queen
sends ye a ten-pound note for every addition tae yor fam'ly; an'
though there might not be ower muckle profit in it, it wud help tae
keep the pot a-boiling, says he. But I'm thinkin' mysel',' continued
my informant reflectively, 'that if Farmer Newton were tae give up
shootin' an' huntin' sae muckle, an' took a turn at farmin', he'd have
a less reason for complaining.'
And so we passed the time away, he regaling me with all the domestic
gossip of the countryside, I interrupting him now and again to point
out the historical objects of interest on either hand of us; for, like
all true countrymen, though he knew every stick and stone by the
wayside, he was entirely ignorant of the past history of his vale.
We were now close on the village where my driver ended his stage, and
it suddenly occurred to me to inquire, as I thanked him for his
kindness to myself, if he knew anything of my friend's protégé at the
Fair Green Haugh.
'Well,' he replied slowly, 'I have heard as hoo he has ta'en up wi' a
convick or gaol-bord o' that description. Wey, I canna tell. He'd
muckle better hae getten'd hissel' marrit; an' sartinly we divvn't
want that sort o' specie up this wattor-side. We hevn't muckle gear
belike, but we prefer tae keep wor ain. He'll be ain o' the lifting
kind likelies, the same as thae moss-troopin' fellers ye were crackin'
on aboot enoo whae divvn't seem ivvor tae hae heard on the fifth
commandment. Ye'll be weel employed this holiday-time o' yors wi'
lookin' efter him, I's warn'd. But yo're a lawyer chap,' he continued,
'an' dootless ye'll find an excuse tae shift him wi'. Put on yor wig,
an' nae doot but it will tarrify him.'
I thanked the speaker for his advice somewhat ruefully, for his words
exactly fitted my own presentiment.
Having bade adieu to my postman friend, and arranged for my heavier
luggage to be sent forward in the next carrier's cart that might be
going 'up the wattor,' I set out across the hills to The Nook on Fair
Green Haugh with my knapsack on my back.
Two hours' walking brought me within view of The Nook, and as I paused
at the top of the brae to drink in the well-beloved aspect of the
small 'bigging' that sheltered in the green coign between Windy Law
and Blind Burn side, I noticed the figure of a man carrying a small
child in his arms.
I knew most of the inhabitants of the vale by sight, but the aspect of
the individual in question was unknown to me. It was scarcely likely
he could be a shepherd's extra hand, for the washing and shearing time
was over, and a tramp in the ordinary sense of the term would have
been, to quote from the ornithologists, a 'rare and occasional
visitor.' Besides, he had not the appearance of a tramp; he walked
with an easy boldness, apparently playing with the child as he
strolled, for as I drew nearer I could hear the child's voice
gleefully crying, 'Again, again; do it again, funny man.'
As I drew nearer I looked at the stranger with interest, and noted
that he was a well-made, active fellow, of good proportions. His face
was slightly scarred, as though from small-pox, but not unpleasantly;
it was as if the disease, suddenly repenting of spoiling a bright and
healthful countenance, had incontinently left him for another victim.
His eyes blue, his teeth, splendidly regular, were clean and white as
a hound's. Glancing at the child, I discovered her to be Maggie, the
six-year-old child of Tom Hedley, the herd at Fulhope Law, so I went
straight up to her and asked for a kiss as usual. 'No,' said the
diminutive flirt archly, holding her head backwards; 'no kiss for zoo.
I's got a new man noo,' and forthwith she buried her curls in his
neck. 'He's a nice funny man,' she continued in another moment,
peeping forth from her hiding-place, 'an' he's got nae mair hair on
his heid than oor little puppy-dog at home.'
I glanced at her captor, and noting his cropped crown, jumped to a
sure conclusion as to his identity. 'Why, 'tis none other,' thought I,
'than the protégé.' Possibly he read my thoughts; at any rate,
releasing one arm, he lifted his hand to a salute, smiling, meanwhile,
in the most affable way in the world. I nodded 'Good afternoon,' and
learning that the minister was within and waiting my arrival, turned
my steps to the house.
After our first greetings were over he commenced to apologize again
for the limited space at my disposal, but he was certain that when
once I had got to know his 'protégé,' I should think no more about it.
'He is a beautiful character,' he concluded enthusiastically, 'one
could tell that at a glance by the way in which children take to him.'
'I met him outside just a moment ago,' I replied, 'and he certainly
seems to have won little Maggie's heart, but from my recollection of
her half a dozen "sweeties" would explain that feat. And after all,' I
continued judicially, 'some of the greatest ruffians that ever lived
were extremely fond of children. There was Herod, of course, but he
was the exception that proves the rule.'
'Ah,' sighed my friend, 'that terrible London atmosphere! How it
cankers the human affections! The theory of the law, I believe, is
that every man should be considered innocent till he has been proved
guilty; but you lawyers, reversing this in practice, hold every man
guilty till he prove his innocence.'
'How about his hair?' I inquired rather unkindly.
'His hair?' my friend queried, with a puzzled expression. 'Oh, I see
what you mean,' he continued almost immediately, endeavouring to shed
a _soupçon_ of a smile over his seriously earnest countenance. 'But
don't notice that, please, or you may make him reckless. For now is
the critical time,' he added solemnly, with the professional manner of
a physician making his diagnosis; 'if he gets safely over this his
cure may be regarded as practically assured.