Soon after the conversation narrated in the last chapter, the clerks in
the bank of Wreckumoft were not a little interested by the entrance of a
portly woman of comely appearance and large proportions. She was
dressed in a gaudy cotton gown and an enormously large bonnet, which
fluttered a good deal, owing as much to its own magnitude and
instability as to the quantity of pink ribbons and bows wherewith it was
adorned.
The woman led by the hand a very pretty little girl, whose dress was
much the same in pattern, though smaller in proportion. Both woman and
child looked about them with that air of uncertainty peculiar to females
of the lower order when placed in circumstances in which they know not
exactly how to act.
Taking pity upon them, a clerk left his perch, and going forward, asked
the woman what she wanted.
To this she replied promptly, that she wanted money.
She was much flushed and very warm, and appeared to have come some
distance on foot, as well as to be in a state of considerable agitation,
which, however, she determinedly subdued by the force of a strong will.
"If you go to yonder rail and present your cheque," replied the clerk
kindly, "you'll get the money."
"Present what, young man?"
"Your cheque," replied the clerk.
"What's that?"
"Have you not a cheque-book--or a slip of paper to--"
"Oh! ay, a _book_. Of course I've got a book, young man."
Saying this, Mrs Gaff, (for it was she), produced from a huge bag the
bank-book that had erstwhile reposed in the mysterious tea-caddy.
"Have you no other book than this?"
"No, young man," replied Mrs Gaff, feeling, but not exhibiting, slight
alarm.
The clerk, after glancing at the book, and with some curiosity at its
owner, then explained that a cheque-book was desirable, although not
absolutely necessary, and went and got one, and showed her the use of
it,--how the sum to be drawn should be entered with the date, etcetera,
on the margin in figures, and then the cheque itself drawn out in words,
"_not in figures_," and signed; after which he advised Mrs Gaff to draw
out a cheque on the spot for what she wanted.
"But, young man," said Mrs Gaff, who had listened to it all with an
expression of imbecility on her good-looking face, "I never wrote a
stroke in my life 'xcept once, when I tried to show my Billy how to do
it, and only made a big blot on his copy, for which I gave him a slap on
the face, poor ill-used boy."
"Well, then, tell me how much you want, and I will write it out for
you," said the clerk, sitting down at a table and taking up a pen.
Mrs Gaff pondered for a few seconds, then she drew Tottie aside and
carried on an earnest and animated conversation with her in hoarse
whispers, accompanied by much nodding and quivering of both bonnets,
leading to the conclusion that what the one propounded the other
heartily agreed to.
Returning to the table, Mrs Gaff said that she wanted a hundred pounds.
"How much?" demanded the clerk in surprise.
"A hundred pound, young man," repeated Mrs Gaff, somewhat sternly, for
she had made up her mind to go through with it come what might; "if ye
have as much in the shop just now--if not I'll take the half, and call
back for the other half to-morry--though it be raither a longish walk
fro' Cove and back for a woman o' my size."
The clerk smiled, wrote out the cheque, and bade her sign it with a
cross. She did so, not only with a cross, but with two large and
irregular blots. The clerk then pointed to a partition about five feet
six in height, where she was to present it. Going to the partition she
looked about for a door by which to enter, but found none. Looking back
to the clerk for information, she perceived that he was gone.
Pickpockets and thieves instantly occurred to her, but, on searching for
the bank-book and finding that it was safe, she felt relieved. Just as
she was beginning to wonder whether she was not being made game of, she
heard a voice above her, and, looking up, observed a man's head
stretched over the top of the partition and looking down at her.
"Now, then, good woman, what do you want?" said the head.
"I wants a hundred pound," said Mrs Gaff, presenting her cheque in a
somewhat defiant manner, for she began to feel badgered.
The head put over a hand, took the cheque, and then both disappeared.
Mrs Gaff stood for some time waiting anxiously for the result, and as
no result followed, she began again to think of thieves and pickpockets,
and even meditated as to the propriety of setting up a sudden cry of
thieves, murder, and fire, in order to make sure of the clerk being
arrested before he should get quite clear of the building, when she
became aware of a fluttering of some sort just above her. Looking up
she observed her cheque quivering on the top of the partition.
Wondering what this could mean, she gazed at it with an expression of
solemn interest.
Twice the cheque fluttered, with increasing violence each time, as
though it were impatient, and then the head re-appeared suddenly.
"Why don't you take your cheque?" it demanded with some asperity.
"Because I don't want it, young man; I wants my money," retorted Mrs
Gaff, whose ire was beginning to rise.
The head smiled, dropped the cheque on the floor, and, pointing with its
nose to a gentleman who stood behind a long counter in a sort of stall
surrounded with brass rails, told her to present it to the teller, and
she'd get the money. Having said which the head disappeared; but it
might have been noted by a self-possessed observer, that as soon as Mrs
Gaff had picked up the cheque, (bursting two buttons off her gown in the
act), the head re-appeared, grinning in company with several other
heads, all of which grinned and watched the further movements of Mrs
Gaff with interest.
There were four gentlemen standing behind the long counter in brazen
stalls. Three of these Mrs Gaff passed on her way to the one to whom
she had been directed by the head's nose.
"Now, sir," said Mrs Gaff, (she could not say "young man" this time,
for the teller was an elderly gentleman), "I hope ye'll pay me the money
without any more worrittin' of me. I'm sure ye might ha' done it at
once without shovin' about a poor ignorant woman like me."
Having appealed to the teller's feelings in this last observation, Mrs
Gaff's own feelings were slightly affected, and she whimpered a little.
Tottie, being violently sympathetic, at once began to weep silently.
"How would you like to have it, my good woman?" asked the teller kindly.
"Eh?" exclaimed Mrs Gaff.
"Would you like to have it in notes or gold?" said the teller.
"In goold, of course, sir."
Tottie here glanced upwards through her tears. Observing that her
mother had ceased to whimper, and was gazing in undisguised admiration
at the proceedings of the teller, she turned her eyes in his direction,
and forgot to cry any more.
The teller was shovelling golden sovereigns into a pair of scales with a
brass shovel as coolly as if he were a grocer's boy scooping out raw
sugar. Having weighed the glittering pile, he threw them carelessly out
of the scale into the brass shovel, and shot them at Mrs Gaff, who
suddenly thrust her ample bosom against the counter, under the
impression that the coins were about to be scattered on the floor. She
was mistaken. They were checked in their career by a ledge, and lay
before her unbelieving eyes in a glittering mass.
Suddenly she looked at the teller with an expression of severe reproof.
"You've forgot to count 'em, sir."
"You'll find them all right," replied the teller, with a laugh.
Thereupon Mrs Gaff, in an extremely unbelieving state of mind, began to
count the gold pieces one by one into a little cotton bag which had been
prepared by her for this very purpose, and which Tottie held open with
both hands. In ten minutes, after much care and many sighs, she counted
it all, and found that there were two sovereigns too many, which she
offered to return to the teller with a triumphant air, but that
incredulous man smiled benignantly, and advised her to count it again.
She did count it again, and found that there were four pieces too few.
Whereupon she retired with the bag to a side table, and, in a state of
profuse perspiration, began to count it over a third time with
deliberate care.
Tottie watched and checked each piece like a lynx, and the sum was at
last found to be correct!
Mrs Gaff quitted the bank with a feeling of intense relief, and met
Lizzie Gordon walking with Emmie Wilson just outside the door.
"My dear Miss Gordon," exclaimed the poor woman, kissing Lizzie's hand
in the fulness of her heart, "you've no ideer what agonies I've bin
a-sufferin' in that there bank. If they're a-goin' to treat me in this
way always, I'll draw out the whole o' my ten hundred thousand pound--if
that's the sum--an' stow it away in my Stephen's sea-chest, what he's
left behind him."
"Dear Mrs Gaff, what have they done to you?" asked Lizzie in some
concern.
"Oh, it's too long a story to tell ye here, my dear. Come with me. I'm
a-goin' straight to yer uncle's, Captain Bingley. Be he to home? But
stop; did ye ever see a hundred golden pounds?"
Mrs Gaff cautiously opened the mouth of her bag and allowed Lizzie to
peep in, but refused to answer any questions regarding her future
intentions.
Meanwhile Emmie and Tottie had flown into each other's arms. The former
had often seen my niece, both at the house of Mr Stuart and at my own,
as our respective ladies interchanged frequent visits, and Miss Peppy
always brought Emmie when she came to see us. Lizzie had taken such a
fancy to the orphan that she begged Miss Peppy to allow her to go with
her and me sometimes on our visits to the houses of distressed sailors
and fishermen. In this way Emmie and Tottie had become acquainted, and
they were soon bosom friends, for the gentle, dark-eyed daughter of Mrs
Gaff seemed to have been formed by nature as a harmonious counterpart to
the volatile, fair-haired orphan. Emmie, I may here remark in passing,
had by this time become a recognised inmate of Mr Stuart's house. What
his intentions in regard to her were, no one knew. He had at first
vowed that the foundling should be cast upon the parish, but when the
illness, that attacked the child after the ship-wreck, had passed away,
he allowed her to remain without further remark than that she must be
kept carefully out of his way. Kenneth, therefore, held to his first
intention of not letting his father or any one else know that the poor
girl was indeed related to him by the closest tie. Meanwhile he
determined that Emmie's education should not be neglected.
Immediately on arriving at my residence, Mrs Gaff was, at her own
request, ushered into my study, accompanied by Tottie.
I bade her good-day, and, after a few words of inquiry as to her health,
asked if I could be of any service to her.
"No, capting, thank 'ee," she said, fumbling with her bag as if in
search of something.
"No news of Stephen or Billy, I suppose?" said I in a sad tone.
"Not yet, capting, but I expect 'em one o' these days, an' I'm a-gettin'
things ready for 'em."
"Indeed! what induces you to expect them so confidently?"
"Well, capting, I can't well tell 'ee, but I do, an' in the meantime
I've come to thank 'ee for all yer kindness to Tottie an' me when we was
in distress. Yer Society, capting, has saved me an' Tottie fro'
starvation, an' so I've come for to give ye back the money ye sent me by
Mr Stuart, for there's many a poor widder as'll need it more nor I do."
So saying, she placed the money on the table, and I thanked her
heartily, adding that I was glad to be able to congratulate her on her
recent good fortune.
"Moreover," continued Mrs Gaff, taking a small bag from the large one
which hung on her arm, and laying it also on the table, "I feel so
thankful to the Almighty, as well as to you, sir, that I've come to give
ye a small matter o' goold for the benefit o' the Society ye b'longs to,
an' there it be."
"How much is here?" said I, lifting up the bag.
"A hundred pound. Ye needn't count it, capting, for it's all c'rekt,
though it _was_ shovelled out to me as if it war no better than coals or
sugar. Good-day, capting."
Mrs Gaff, turning hastily round as if to avoid my thanks, or my
remonstrances at so poor a woman giving so large a sum, seized Tottie by
the wrist and dragged her towards the door.
"Stop, stop, my good woman," said I; "at least let me give you a
receipt."
"Please, capting, I doesn't want one. Surely I can trust ye, an' I've
had my heart nigh broke with bits o' paper this good day."
"Well, but I am required by the rules of the Society to give a receipt
for all sums received."
Mrs Gaff was prevailed on to wait for the receipt, but the instant it
was handed to her, she got up, bounced out of the room, and out of the
house into the street. I hastened to the window, and saw her and Tottie
walking smartly away in the direction of Cove, with their enormous
bonnets quivering violently, and their ribbons streaming in the breeze.
Half an hour afterwards, Dan Horsey, who had been sent to me with a note
from my friend Stuart, went down into my kitchen, and finding Susan
Barepoles there alone, put his arm round her waist.
"Don't," said Susan, struggling unsuccessfully to get free. "What d'ye
think Mrs Gaff has bin an' done?"
"Don't know, my jewel, no more nor a pig as has niver seen the light o'
day," said Dan.
"She's bin--and gone--and given--" said Susan, with great deliberation,
"one--hundred--gold sovereigns--to the Shipwrecked thingumbob Society!"
"How d'ye know that, darlint?" inquired Dan.
"Master told Miss Lizzie, Miss Lizzie told missis, and missis told me."
"You don't say so! Well, I wish I wor the Shipwrecked thing-me-bob
Society, I do," said Dan with a sigh; "but I an't, so I'll have to cut
my stick, clap spurs to my horse, as the story books say, for Capting
Bingley towld me to make haste. But there's wan thing, Susan, as I
wouldn't guv for twice the sum."
"An' what may that be?" asked Susan shyly.
"It's _that_," said Dan, imprinting a kiss on Susan's lips, to the
dismay of Bounder, who chanced to be in the back scullery and heard the
smack.
Cook rushed to the kitchen, but when she reached it Dan was gone, and a
few minutes later that worthy was cantering toward Seaside Villa,
muttering to himself:
"Tin thousand pound! It's a purty little bit o' cash. I only wish as a
brother o' mine, (if I had wan), would leave me half as much, an' I'd
buy a coach and six, an' put purty Susan inside and mount the box
meself, an' drive her to Africay or Noo Zealand, (not to mintion
Ottyheity and Kangaroo), by way of a marriage trip! Hey! Bucephalus,
be aisy now. It isn't Master Kenneth that's on yer back just now, so
mind what yer about, or it'll be wus for ye, old boy."