“How do I know that there is something wrong, Bert? Because we've been
married five years last month, and I can read your face like a book,
or rather a great deal better than most books, for I'm not clever in
following deep books, but I'm quite sure about your face.
“No, I don't imagine, for you may be able to hide what you feel on the
'Flags,' but you let out the secret at home; and that is one reason why
I love you--because you are not cunning and secretive. Now tell me, is
cotton down, and have you lost?
“Oh, yes, Bert, I know your principle, that a man ought to bear the
burden outside, and the woman inside the home; but there are exceptions.
You have acted up to your principle splendidly. You have never said
a word all these years, although I know you've had anxious times, and
you've helped me many a time with my little troubles. Let me help you in
yours now.”
“Queenie, if you want to put me to utter shame, you have taken the right
way, for it's your thrift and good management which has given us our
happy home, and I...”
“Yes, you, Bert, you have idled your time, I suppose, and spent your
money on dress, and generally neglected your family. For shame, sir,
when you have done so well, and every one says that nobody is so much
respected. Don't look like that if you love me. What is it?”
“It is necessary that you be told, and I was going to speak this
evening, but it is very hard. Queenie, when I kissed the children and
looked at you all so happy, I felt like a... murderer.”
“Have you..
“No, on my word of honour, I have done nothing wrong, _that_ I can say;
neither you nor the little ones have any cause to be ashamed of me.”
“If you had, I would have stood by your side, Herbert, but I knew
disgrace would never come by you; then what is it? If it's only the loss
of some money, why, I know half a dozen economies.”
“It's far worse than that, wife, I fear. This will be our last Christmas
in our dear little home, and it's all my blame, and I feel... the basest
of men. As if you had trusted me when I had deceived you all.
“You are the best wife ever man had.... I feel better, and I'll explain
it all to you. It is not very difficult; it is so easy to be ruined.
“You know we are brokers, and our business is to buy or sell cotton for
other people, and we are responsible for them, so that if they cannot
pay the losses, we have to find the money.
“Two of our firms, which have been very kind to us, were sure cotton
would go up--and so it ought to have done, and will in the end--and they
bought so many bales through us.
“Well, a big house, which can do pretty much as it likes, seized the
opportunity of a fraud to rush in and upset the market, so our friends
and many others have to face declines they cannot meet So unless our
poor little firm can pay £10,000 at least on Monday, we must stop,
and... all our hard work to build up an honourable name is lost.
“We can scrape £4,000, and my partner and I have £1,000 private means to
put in, and... that's all. £5,000 short
“Yes, we have tried the Bank, but they can't do anything there.
Goldsworthy, the manager, is the nicest fellow living, and his 'No' is
almost as good as another's 'Yes'; but of course it was 'No'; we had no
security; the cotton may go lower before it turns, and he has told us we
must pay.”
“But surely, Herbert, if the big firms knew how you were situated, they
would help you, because things would come right in a few weeks, you
say.”
“Every man has to look after himself in the market But I did go to
Huddleston, because he has given me so much advice, and wanted me to
take an interest in the Church.... I wish my tongue had been burned
before I crossed his room.
“No, he wasn't rude--that's not his sin; he might be better if he were
straighter. He hoped that I was prospering in business, and reminded
me that I must not allow the world to get too much hold, and became
eloquent on money being only a stewardship. But when I opened up my
errand, he explained that he made it a principle never to lend money,
and suggested that this was a chastening because we had hasted to be
rich. He hoped that the issue would be sanctified, and... but I rose and
left, quite sick.”
“What a canting old wretch!” Mrs. Ransome was very angry. “I always
hated that man's soft sawder; he's much too pussy to be true.”
“He was not bound to help me unless he pleased. But what riled me was
his religious talk; he might have spared me that at least. And if those
operators who have knocked the market to pieces haul in £30,000, they
will likely give £1,000 to missions.
“When a man has done his level best, and been fairly prudent, and has
worked hard, and is getting a fair connection, and everything is taken
away by a big, unscrupulous, speculative firm, which sees a chance
of making a pile at the ruin of half a dozen struggling firms, it's a
little hard.”
“They ought to be put in jail; but they'll catch it some day;” and it
was evident Mrs. Ransome, like many other people in her circumstances,
found much satisfaction from the belief in future punishment.
“It's apt to make one bitter, too,” Ransome went on. “When I sat
opposite old Dodson in the 'bus this afternoon--come to the penny 'bus
now, you see, Queenie--looking out from below his shaggy eyebrows like
a Scotch terrier, with meanness written over his shabby clothes, and
almost heard the gold chinking in his pockets, and thought that he
could save our home and secure my future by a cheque, and never miss the
money--suppose he lost it, which he wouldn't if I lived--I declare,
I could have... well, I did not feel as Christian as Huddleston would
desire.”
“Bert, have you ever thought what we would do if we became rich--how we
would send flowers to people who were not well off, and let them use our
carriage, and send overworked teachers and clerks for holidays, and...
“Help lame dogs in cotton over stiles, eh wifie? Yes, I've had my dreams
too. I'd go in for the poor children's holiday fund, that would be my
extravagance. But we are no better than other people. And were you never
afraid that we would grow selfish and pompous, and mean and pharisaical,
like Huddleston, and maybe end in being Dodsons?”
“No, no, that is impossible!” cried his wife, “because, for one thing,
we have loved, and, perhaps, Mr. Dodson never was loved, poor soul; and
if things come to the worst, remember there is a good deal left.”
“There is something in that, Queenie; run over the inventory, and I'll
check you.”
“First of all there is you, the truest, kindest, bravest husband in
Liverpool....
“Stop; that is your own private property, and we were to go over our
common means; besides, the valuation is ninety per cent too high.”
“You be quiet And there are two children whom every one looks at in
the street, and who are the sweetest... Nobody hears us, so it doesn't
matter, and you know they are. Wouldn't it have been far worse if we had
lost Reggie when he had diphtheria? Well, we have him and Maud, and they
never looked better.”
“That's true, wifie; go on; capital is mounting up.”
“Then there's your good name, which has never been stained. Nobody says
you are mean, or hypocritical, or unmanly, or... anything bad; and if...
you can't pay that money on Monday, every person will know that it was
not your fault, and that you will repay all you owe some day, if you
can.”
“Yes, please God, wife, we will... You think too much of me, but go on.”
“We have half a dozen friends, and, although they're not rich, they're
true; and if we have to go into a smaller house and live very quietly,
they won't mind; they'll just come closer, won't they?”
“Right again; you are getting on. We've somewhere about £50,000 working
capital now.”
“We have our books and our music, and... five years of love and...
spiritual blessings one doesn't talk about....”
“One piece of property wanting, which is best of all--yourself, Queenie,
surely the cleverest, loyalest...”
“You are talking nonsense now, Bert; and are you aware that it is past
eleven o'clock? I'll turn out the gas in the dining-room if you will see
that the door is fastened.”
“Here is a letter which must have come by the last post and been
forgotten; perhaps it's a Christmas card in advance. Let's see. Oh, I
say, you've left me in darkness.”
“Come up to our room; we can open it there; very likely it's a bill.
Well?”
“I say... Queenie... no, it can't be a hoax... nobody would be
so cruel... and here's an enclosure... letter from London bankers
confirming... sit down here beside me; we'll read it together... so, as
near as you can, and your arm round my neck... just a second before we
begin... my eyes are... all right now.”
“Liverpool, _December_ 22, 189--.
“Dear Sir,--It has been my practice, as a man engaged for many years in
commercial pursuits, to keep a watchful and, I hope, not unkindly eye
upon young firms beginning their business career in Liverpool. For the
last five years I have observed your progress with much interest, and
you will pardon my presumption and take no offence, when I express my
satisfaction, as an old merchant, with your diligence, caution, ability,
and, most of all, integrity, to which all bear witness.
“I was therefore greatly grieved to learn that your firm may be hardly
pressed next week, and may be in danger of stoppage--all the more
because I find no charge of folly can be brought against you, but that
you are the indirect victims of one firm's speculative operations. There
is no one, I am also informed, from whom you can readily obtain the
temporary assistance you require and are morally entitled to receive.
“The only satisfaction I have in life is using such means as Providence
has been pleased to put into my hands for the succour of people who are
in every way better than myself, but who are in some kind of straits. I
have therefore directed my London bankers to open an account for you and
to put £10,000 to your credit. Upon this account you will be pleased to
draw such a sum as will tide you over the present crisis, and such
other sums as will enable you to extend your business along the safe
and honourable lines you have hitherto followed. I do not doubt that
you will repay the said sum or sums to the same account as you may be
able--no interest will be accepted--and I only lay one other obligation
on your honour, that you make no endeavour to discover my name.
“Be pleased to accept my best wishes of this season for your admirable
wife, your two pleasing children, and my confident hope for your final
and large success in business.--I remain, your faithful friend,
“Zaccheus.”
“Let us go and kiss the children, hubbie, and then... we might say the
Lord's Prayer together.”
V
“A respectable, elderly woman, did you say, Marshall?” said Mr.
Greatheart in his room at the office; “certainly, bring her in. Very
likely a widow wishing to get her son admitted to the Bluecoat School,
or some poor householder in trouble about her taxes.” For to this man
came all sorts and conditions of people in their distresses, and to each
he gave patient audience and practical succour.
“You don't trouble me. If I can be of any use, nothing will please me
better,” he said, placing a chair and making a kindly fuss to cover his
visitor's confusion. “Now sit down and tell me all about it” That was
why the respectable poor loved him, from the Catholic Irish of Scotland
Road to the Orangemen of Toxteth.
“Is it your husband or your son you are so anxious about?”--for she was
much agitated. “I notice that a woman hardly ever comes about herself!
It's we men who are selfish, not the women.”
“No, it's neither, for I am an unmarried woman. It's about my master,
whom I believe you know, sir--Mr. Dodson.”
“Samuel Dodson, you mean; I should think so! Have known him for fifty
years--since we served our time together in Palmer's shipping office.
What, is he ill?”
“He's dead... this morning. You'll excuse me, I was his housekeeper for
near thirty year, and... I'm a little upset.”
“Good gracious! No wonder. Maria Wilkins, did you say?... You may well
be upset And thirty years with him! Tell me how this happened, for we've
heard nothing in the city. He couldn't have been ill long.”
“No, sir, he was never ill at all--not what you would say proper; but
I've seen him failin' for some time--gettin' thin like and growin'
down--and last night he was that white and shaky, that I wanted him
to see a doctor. But no, he wouldn't If it had been me or the girl, he
would have had a doctor when there was nothing wrong with us, he was
that concerned about other people; but for himself...”
Mr. Greatheart nodded--indicating that Mr. Dodson's unselfish character
was well known to him.
“'No, no, Maria,' says he, 'a doctor can do no good to me. I'm a tough
old fellow*--speaking that way to me, being long with him--'I'll be all
right to-morrow.' But I made bold to put a glass of brandy in his room,
and pleaded with him to ring the bell if he was unwell--he was not
easily managed--and that was all I could do, sir.”
Her hearer was of opinion that from what he knew of Mr. Dodson's native
obstinacy, Maria Wilkins had done all in the power of mortal woman, and
possibly, more, than could have been accomplished by any man.
“Twice during the night I rose and listened at his door--his face, when
he said good-night, lyin' heavy on me, so to say--and I heard nothing;
but when he didn't answer in the mornin' I took it on me to open the
door. Mr. Dodson was a-sittin' up in his bed, and at the sight of his
face I knew how it was, havin' seen death many times. My old master...
was gone,” and the housekeeper yielded to her feelings.
“Dear, dear! So Sam Dodson is gone; an able and successful merchant, one
who always met his obligations, and whose word was as good as his bond;
he had a warmer heart than any person knew. I've seen a look in his face
at a time, and am sure that he did good in his own way.”
“God bless you for that, sir! but it's what I could have looked for from
you, if I may say it without offence. And you never spoke a truer word,
and that I can testify as has lived with master for a lifetime, and
could tell the difference between the outside and the inside.”
“Ah, yes, you saw the real man, Maria; but he was sometimes... well,
hidden from the public.”
“He had his peculiarities, and 'oo hasn't, I say? Now, my wages when I
came to him was just fourteen pounds, and they're just fourteen yet; but
every Christmas, for many a year, master slipped a ten-pound note into
my hand. 'Put that into your bank, Maria,' he would say, 'and never tell
anybody you've got it.'
“As for food, he was aggravatin', for he would have nothing as was not
plain, and he would check the books to a ha'penny; but if you was ill,
why, he would bring home grapes with his own hand. We dare not for our
lives give a morsel to beggars at the door, but if he heard of a poor
family, nothin' would serve him but he would go and find out all about
them.”
“That's my Dodson, just as I imagined him,” cried Mr. Greatheart; “tell
me more, Maria; it's excellent, every word.”
“Do you think he would let any person know he was givin' help? Not he;
and he was artful, was master. Why, I've known him send me with money to
a clergyman, that he might give it, and his words were, 'No name, Maria,
or we part; just a citizen of Liverpool.'”
“Dodson all over! shrewd and unassuming, and full of charity. Have you
anything else to tell, Maria?”
“Well, sir, I do not know for certain, and it was not for me to spy on
my master, but I'm much mistaken if many a one in the better class
was not the better of Mr. Dodson in their troubles.”
“How do you think that?” inquired Mr. Great-heart in huge delight “I've
seen him read a letter maybe six times, and he would wipe his eyes
through pleasure as I took it You wouldn't believe, maybe, as master
could be like that”
“I do, Maria. I declare it's what I expected. And what then?”
“He would walk up and down the room, and speak to himself, and read
another bit, and rub his hands...”
“I wish I had been there, Maria.”
“And he would carry a letter like that in his pocket for days, and
then he would put it carefully in the fire; but I saw him take it out,
half-burned, and read a corner again before he burned that letter.”
“Maria, I cannot tell you how much obliged I am to you for coming to me,
and giving me such a touching account of your dear master. Now, is there
anything I can do for you in this loss?”
“Lord bless me, sir, that I should have been taking up your time like
this, and you a magistrate, and never told you what brought me! It's
more than a month past that master said to me, 'Maria, if anything
happens to me, go to Mr. Greatheart's office, and give him my keys, and
ask him to open my desk. He is a good man, and he's sure to come.'”
“Did he say so? That was most generous of him, and I appreciate it
highly. I will come instantly, and shall bring a lawyer with me, a
kind-hearted and able man. Good-bye for the present, Maria; you
have fulfilled your charge, as I believe you have all your duty,
excellently... excellently.”
“You see, Welsby,” as they went up to the house, “Dodson had left his
firm, and had few friends, perhaps none--a reserved man about himself,
but a true man at the bottom.”
“So you have always said, Mr. Greatheart Well know now; my experience
as a lawyer proves that, as a rule, a man's papers reveal him, and there
are some curious surprises.”
“If you look through that safe, and note the contents, Welsby, I'll read
this letter addressed to me. I gather that I must be executor, and
there seems to be no lawyer; very like Dodson, very--do everything for
himself.
“Liverpool, April 15th, 188--.
“Barnabas Greatheart, Esq.
“My dear Sir,--You will peruse this letter after my death, and you will
be pleased to consider it as intended for your eyes alone, since it is
in the nature of a confession.
“My early career was a continuous struggle with narrow and arduous
circumstances, and I suffered certain disappointments at the hands
of friends which I considered undeserved. In consequence of these
experiences I grew penurious, cynical, merciless, hopeless, and, let me
say it plainly, a sour, hard man, hating my neighbours, and despised of
them. May the Almighty forgive me!
“This year in which I write, a great change has come over me, and my
heart has been softened and touched at last with human sympathy. The
force which has affected me is not any book nor sermon, but your example
of goodness and your charity towards all men. In spite of the general
judgment on me, which has been fully merited, I have seen that you do
not shun me, but rather have gone out of your way to countenance me,
and I have heard that you speak kindly of me. It is not my nature to say
much; it is not yours to receive praise; but I wish you to know you have
made me a new man.
“It seemed to me, however, dangerous that I should begin to distribute
my means openly among charities, as I was inclined to do, since I might
pass from hardness to pride and be charged with ostentation, as I had
been once with miserliness, with sad justice in both cases.
“So it came to me that, still retaining and maintaining my character for
meanness--as a punishment for my past ill-doing and a check on vanity--I
would gradually use my capital in the private and anonymous aid of
respectable people who are passing through material adversity, and the
help of my native city, so that my left hand should not know what my
right was doing. This plan I have now, at this date, pursued for six
months, and hope to continue to my death, and I did not know so great
joy could be tasted by any human being as God has given to me. And now,
to all the goodness you have shown me, will you add one favour, to wind
up my affairs as follows:--
“(1) Provide for my housekeeper generously.
“(2) Give a liberal donation to the other servant.
“(3) Bury me quietly, without intimation to any one.
“(4) Distribute all that remains, after paying every debt, as you
please, in the help of widows, orphans, and young men.
“(5) Place a packet, marked 'gilt-edged securities,' in my coffin.
“And consider that, among all your good works, this will have a humble
place, that you saved the soul of--Your grateful friend,
“Samuel Dodson.”
“What Dodson has done with his money, Mr. Greatheart I don't know; all
the securities together don't amount to £5,000. He seems to have been
living on an annuity.”
“His wealth is here, Welsby, in this packet of cancelled cheques, two
hundred and eighty-seven, which go with him to the other side; and I
tell you, Welsby, I know no man who has invested his money so securely
as Samuel Dodson. See, read that top check.”
“To Goldbeater, London, £10,000. Why, the draft I got for playgrounds
was on that bank, and the date corresponds. Curious.
“Eh? What? You don't mean to say that this man we slanged and... looked
down on was....”
“Yes, Zaccheus was Sam Dodson.”