MR. NEEFIT IS DISTURBED.
On the morning following Mrs. Brownlow's little tea-party Ralph
Newton was bound by appointment to call upon Sir Thomas. But before
he started on that duty a certain friend of his called upon him.
This friend was Mr. Neefit. But before the necessary account of Mr.
Neefit's mission is given, the reader must be made acquainted with a
few circumstances as they had occurred at Hendon.
It will be remembered perhaps that on the Sunday evening the two
rivals left the cottage at the same moment, one taking the road to
the right, and the other that to the left,--so that bloodshed, for
that occasion at least, was prevented. "Neefit," said his wife to
him when they were alone together, "you'll be getting yourself into
trouble." "You be blowed," said Neefit. He was very angry with his
wife, and was considering what steps he would take to maintain his
proper marital and parental authority. He was not going to give way
to the weaker vessel in a matter of such paramount importance, as to
be made a fool of in his own family. He was quite sure of this, while
the strength of the port wine still stood to him; and though he was
somewhat more troubled in spirit when his wife began to bully him
on the next morning, he still had valour enough to say that Ontario
Moggs also might be--blowed.
On the Monday, when he returned home and asked for Polly, he found
that Polly was out walking. Mrs. Neefit did not at once tell him
that Moggs was walking with her, but such was the fact. Just at five
o'clock Moggs had presented himself at the cottage,--knowing very
well, sly dog that he was, the breeches-maker's hour of return, which
took place always precisely at four minutes past six,--and boldly
demanded an interview with Polly. "I should like to hear what she's
got to say to me," said he, looking boldly, almost savagely, into
Mrs. Neefit's face. According to that matron's ideas this was the
proper way in which maidens should be wooed and won; and, though
Polly had at first declared that she had nothing at all to say to
Mr. Moggs, she allowed herself at last to be led forth. Till they
had passed the railway station on the road leading away from
London, Ontario said not a word of his purpose. Polly, feeling that
silence was awkward, and finding that she was being hurried along
at a tremendous pace, spoke of the weather and of the heat, and
expostulated. "It is hot, very hot," said Ontario, taking off his hat
and wiping his brow,--"but there are moments in a man's life when he
can't go slow."
"Then there are moments in his life when he must go on by himself,"
said Polly. But her pluck was too good for her to desert him at such
a moment, and, although he hardly moderated his pace till he had
passed the railway station, she kept by his side. As things had gone
so far it might be quite as well now that she should hear what he had
to say. A dim, hazy idea had crossed the mind of Moggs that it would
be as well that he should get out into the country before he began
his task, and that the line of the railway which passed beneath the
road about a quarter of a mile beyond Mr. Neefit's cottage, might be
considered as the boundary which divided the town from pastoral joys.
He waited, therefore, till the bridge was behind them, till they
had passed the station, which was close to the bridge;--and then he
began. "Polly," said he, "you know what brings me here."
Polly did know very well, but she was not bound to confess such
knowledge. "You've brought me here, Mr. Moggs, and that's all I
know," she said.
"Yes;--I've brought you here. Polly, what took place last night made
me very unhappy,--very unhappy indeed."
"I can't help that, Mr. Moggs."
"Not that I mean to blame you."
"Blame me! I should think not. Blame me, indeed! Why are you to blame
anybody because father chooses to ask whom he pleases to dinner? A
pretty thing indeed, if father isn't to have whom he likes in his own
house."
"Polly, you know what I mean."
"I know you made a great goose of yourself last night, and I didn't
feel a bit obliged to you."
"No, I didn't. I wasn't a goose at all. I don't say but what I'm as
big a fool as most men. I don't mean to stick up for myself. I know
well enough that I am foolish often. But I wasn't foolish last night.
What was he there for?"
"What business have you to ask, Mr. Moggs?"
"All the business in life. Love;--real love. That's why I have
business. That young man, who is, I suppose, what you call a swell."
"Don't put words into my mouth, Mr. Moggs. I don't call him anything
of the kind."
"He's a gentleman."
"Yes;--he is a gentleman,--I suppose."
"And I'm a tradesman,--a bootmaker."
"So is father a tradesman, and if you mean to tell me that I turn
up my nose at people the same as father is, you may just go back to
London and think what you like about me. I won't put up with it from
you or anybody. A tradesman to me is as good as anybody,--if he is as
good. There."
"Oh, Polly, you do look so beautiful!"
"Bother!"
"When you say that, and speak in that way, I think you as good as you
are beautiful."
"Remember,--I don't say a word against what you call--gentlemen. I
take 'em just as they come. Mr. Newton is a very nice young man."
"Are you going to take him, Polly?"
"How can I take him when he has never asked me? You are not my
father, Mr. Moggs, not yet my uncle. What right have you to question
me? If I was going to take him, I shouldn't want your leave."
"Polly, you ought to be honest."
"I am honest."
"Will you hear me, Polly?"
"No, I won't."
"You won't! Is that answer to go for always?"
"Yes, it is. You come and tease and say uncivil things, and I don't
choose to be bullied. What right have you to talk to me about Mr.
Newton? Did I ever give you any right? Honest indeed! What right have
you to talk to me about being honest?"
"It's all true, dear."
"Very well, then. Hold your tongue, and don't say such things. Honest
indeed! If I were to take the young man to-morrow, that would not
make me dishonest."
"It's all true, dear, and I beg your pardon. If I have offended you,
I will beg your pardon."
"Never mind about that;--only don't say foolish things."
"Is it foolish, Polly, to say that I love you? And if I love you, can
I like to see a young fellow like Mr. Newton hanging about after you?
He doesn't love you. He can't love you,--as I do. Your father brings
him here because he is a gentleman."
"I don't think anything of his being a gentleman."
"But think of me. Of course I was unhappy, wretched,--miserable. I
knew why he was there. You can understand, Polly, that when a man
really loves he must be the miserablest or the happiest of human
beings."
"I don't understand anything about it."
"I wish you would let me teach you."
"I don't want to learn, and I doubt whether you'd make a good master.
I really must go back now, Mr. Moggs. I came out because mother said
I'd better. I don't know that it could do any good if we were to walk
on to Edgeware." And so saying, Polly turned back.
He walked beside her half the way home in silence, thinking that if
he could only choose the proper words and the proper tone he might
yet prevail; but feeling that the proper words and the proper tone
were altogether out of his reach. On those favourite subjects, the
ballot, or the power of strikes, he could always find the proper
words and the proper tone when he rose upon his legs at the Cheshire
Cheese;--and yet, much as he loved the ballot, he loved Polly Neefit
infinitely more dearly. When at the Cheshire Cheese he was a man;
but now, walking with the girl of his heart, he felt himself to be a
bootmaker, and the smell of the leather depressed him. It was evident
that she would walk the whole way home in silence, if he would permit
it. The railway station was already again in sight, when he stopped
her on the pathway, and made one more attempt. "You believe me, when
I say that I love you?"
"I don't know, Mr. Moggs."
"Oh, Polly, you don't know!"
"But it doesn't signify,--not the least. I ain't bound to take a man
because he loves me."
"You won't take Mr. Newton;--will you?"
"I don't know. I won't say anything about it. Mr. Newton is nothing
to you." Then there was a pause. "If you think, Mr. Moggs, that you
can recommend yourself to a young woman by such tantrums as there
were going on last night, you are very much mistaken. That's not the
way to win me."
"I wish I knew which was the way."
"Mr. Newton never said a word."
"Your father told him to take you out a-walking before my very eyes!
Was I to bear that? Think of it, Polly. You mayn't care for me, and
I don't suppose you do; but you may understand what my feelings were.
What would you have thought of me if I'd stayed there, smoking, and
borne it quiet,--and you going about with that young man? I'll tell
you what it is, Polly, I couldn't bear it, and I won't. There;--and
now you know what I mean." At this point in his speech he took off
his hat and waved it in the air. "I won't bear it. There are things
a man can't bear,--can't bear,--can't bear. Oh, Polly! if you could
only be brought to understand what it is that I feel!"
After all, he didn't do it so very badly. There was just a tear in
the corner of Polly's eye, though Polly was very careful that he
shouldn't see it. And Polly did know well enough that he was in
earnest,--that he was, in fact, true. But then he was gawky and
ungainly. It was not that he was a shoemaker. Could he have had his
own wits, and danced like the gasfitter, he might have won her still,
against Ralph Newton, with all his blood and white hands. But poor
Ontario was, as regarded externals, so ill a subject for a great
passion!
"And where have you been, Polly?" said her father, as soon as she
entered the house.
"I have been walking with Ontario Moggs," said Polly boldly.
"What have you been saying to him? I won't have you walk with Ontario
Moggs. I and your mother 'll have to fall out if this kind of thing
goes on."
"Don't be silly, father."
"What do you mean by that, miss?"
"It is silly. Why shouldn't I walk with him? Haven't I known him all
my life, and walked with him scores of times? Isn't it silly, father?
Don't I know that if I told you I loved Ontario Moggs, you'd let me
marry him to-morrow?"
"He'd have to take you in what you stand up in."
"He wouldn't desire anything better. I'll say that for him. He's true
and honest. I'd love him if I could,--only, somehow I don't."
"You've told him you didn't,--once and for all?"
"I don't know about that, father. He'll come again, you may be
sure. He's one of that sort that isn't easily said nay to. If you
mean,--have I said yes?--I haven't. I'll never say yes to any man
unless I love him. When I do say it I shall mean it,--whether it's
Onty Moggs or anybody else. I'm not going to be given away, you know,
like a birthday present, out of a shop. There's nobody can give me
away, father,--only myself." To all which utterances of a rebellious
spirit the breeches-maker made no answer. He knew that Polly would,
at least, be true to him; and, as she was as yet free, the field was
still open to his candidate. He believed thoroughly that had not his
wife interfered, and asked the bootmaker to join that unfortunate
dinner party, his daughter and Ralph Newton would now have been
engaged together. And probably it might have been so. When first it
had been whispered to Polly that that handsome and very agreeable
young gentleman, Mr. Ralph Newton, might become a suitor for her
hand, she had chucked up her head and declared to her mother that she
didn't intend to take a husband of her father's choosing; but as she
came to know Ralph a little, she did find that he was good-looking
and agreeable,--and her heart did flutter at the idea of becoming
the wife of a real, undoubted gentleman. She meant to have her grand
passion, and she must be quite sure that Mr. Newton loved her. But
she didn't see any reason why Mr. Newton shouldn't love her, and,
upon the whole, she was inclined to obey her father rather than to
disobey him. And it might still be that he should win her;--for he
had done nothing to disgrace himself in her sight. But there did lurk
within her bosom some dim idea that he should have bestirred himself
more thoroughly on that Sunday evening, and not have allowed himself
to be driven out of the field by Ontario Moggs. She wronged him
there, as indeed he had had no alternative, unless he had followed
her up to her bedroom.
Mr. Neefit, when he found that no harm had as yet been done, resolved
that he would return to the charge. It has been before observed that
he lacked something in delicacy, but what he did so lack he made up
in persistency. He had been unable to impute any blame to Ralph as to
that evening. He felt that he rather owed an apology to his favourite
candidate. He would make the apology, and inform the favourite
candidate, at the same time, that the course was still open to him.
With these views he left Conduit Street early on the Wednesday
morning, and called on Ralph at his rooms. "Mr. Newton," he said,
hastening at once upon the grand subject, "I hope you didn't think as
I was to blame in having Moggs at our little dinner on Sunday." Ralph
declared that he had never thought of imputing blame to any one. "But
it was,--as awk'ard as awk'ard could be. It was my wife's doing. Of
course you can see how it all is. That chap has been hankering after
Polly ever since she was in her teens. But, Lord love you, Captain,
he ain't a chance with her. He was there again o' Monday, but the
girl wouldn't have a word to say to him." Ralph sat silent, and very
grave. He was taken now somewhat by surprise, having felt, up to
this moment, that he would at least have the advantage of a further
interview with Sir Thomas, before he need say another word to Mr.
Neefit. "What I want you to do, Captain, is just to pop it, straight
off, to my girl. I know she'd take you, because of her way of
looking. Not, mind, that she ever said so. Oh, no. But the way to
find out is just to ask the question."
"You see, Mr. Neefit, it wasn't very easy to ask it last Sunday,"
said Ralph, attempting to laugh.
"Moggs has been at her again," said Neefit. This argument was
good. Had Ralph been as anxious as Moggs, he would have made his
opportunity.
"And, to tell you the truth, Mr. Neefit--"
"Well, sir?"
"There is nothing so disagreeable as interfering in families. I
admire your daughter amazingly."
"She's a trump, Mr. Newton."
"She is indeed;--and I thoroughly appreciate the great generosity of
your offer."
"I'll be as good as my word, Mr. Newton. The money shall be all
there,--down on the nail."
"But, you see, your wife is against me."
"Blow my wife. You don't think Polly 'd do what her mother tells her?
Who's got the money-bag? That's the question. You go down and pop it
straight. You ain't afraid of an old woman, I suppose;--nor yet of a
young un. Don't mind waiting for more dinners, or anything of that
kind. They likes a man to be hot about it;--that's what they likes.
You're sure to find her any time before dinner;--that's at one, you
know. May be she mayn't be figged out fine, but you won't mind that.
I'll go bail you'll find the flesh and blood all right. Just you make
your way in, and say what you've got to say. I'll make it straight
with the old woman afterwards."
Ralph Newton had hitherto rather prided himself on his happy
management of young ladies. He was not ordinarily much afflicted by
shyness, and conceived himself able to declare a passion, perhaps
whether felt or feigned, as well as another. And now he was being
taught how to go a-wooing by his breeches-maker! He did not
altogether like it, and, as at this moment his mind was rather set
against the Hendon matrimonial speculation, he was disposed to resent
it. "I think you're making a little mistake, Mr. Neefit," he said.
"What mistake? I don't know as I'm making any mistake. You'll be
making a mistake, and so you'll find when the plum's gone."
"It's just this, you know. When you suggested this thing to me--"
"Well;--yes; I did suggest it, and I ain't ashamed of it."
"I was awfully grateful. I had met your daughter once or twice, and I
told you I admired her ever so much."
"That's true;--but you didn't admire her a bit more than what she's
entitled to."
"I'm sure of that. But then I thought I ought,--just to,--know her a
little better, you see. And then how could I presume to think she'd
take me till she knew me a little better?"
"Presume to think! Is that all you know about young women? Pop the
question right out, and give her a buss. That's the way."
Newton paused a moment before he spoke, and looked very grave. "I
think you're driving me a little too fast, Mr. Neefit," he said at
last.
"The deuce I am! Driving you too fast. What does that mean?"
"There must be a little management and deliberation in these things.
If I were to do as you propose, I should not recommend myself to your
daughter; and I should myself feel that, at the most important crisis
of my life, I was allowing myself to be hurried beyond my judgment."
These words were spoken with a slow solemnity of demeanour, and a
tone of voice so serious that for a moment they perfectly awed the
breeches-maker. Ralph was almost successful in reducing his proposed
father-in-law to a state of absolute subjection. Mr. Neefit was all
but induced to forget that he stood there with twenty thousand pounds
in his pocket. There came a drop or two of perspiration on his brow,
and his large saucer eyes almost quailed before those of his debtor.
But at last he rallied himself,--though not entirely. He could not
quite assume that self-assertion which he knew that his position
would have warranted; but he did keep his flag up after a fashion.
"I dare say you know your own business best, Mr. Newton;--only them's
not my ideas; that's all. I come to you fair and honest, and I
repeats the same. Good morning, Mr. Newton." So he went, and nothing
had been settled.
To say that Ralph had even yet made up his mind would be to give him
praise which was not his due. He was still doubting, though in his
doubts the idea of marrying Polly Neefit became more indistinct, and
less alluring than ever. By this time he almost hated Mr. Neefit,
and most unjustly regarded that man as a persecutor, who was taking
advantage of his pecuniary ascendancy to trample on him. "He
thinks I must take his daughter because I owe him two or three
hundred pounds." Such were Ralph Newton's thoughts about the
breeches-maker,--which thoughts were very unjust. Neefit was
certainly vulgar, illiterate, and indelicate; but he was a man who
could do a generous action, and having offered his daughter to this
young aristocrat would have scorned to trouble him afterwards about
his "little bill." Ralph sat trying to think for about an hour, and
then walked to Southampton Buildings. He had not much hope as he
went. Indeed hope hardly entered into his feelings. Sir Thomas
would of course say unpleasant words to him, and of course he
would be unable to answer them. There was no ground for hoping
anything,--unless indeed he could make himself happy in a snug little
box in a hunting country, with Polly Neefit for his wife, living on
the interest of the breeches-maker's money. He was quite alive to the
fact that in this position he would in truth be the most miserable
dog in existence,--that it would be infinitely better for him to turn
his prospects into cash, and buy sheep in Australia, or cattle in
South America, or to grow corn in Canada. Any life would be better
than one supported in comfortable idleness on Mr. Neefit's savings.
Nevertheless he felt that that would most probably be his doom. The
sheep or the cattle or the corn required an amount of energy which he
no longer possessed. There were the four horses at the Moonbeam;--and
he could ride them to hounds as well as any man. So much he could do,
and would seem in doing it to be full of life. But as for selling
the four horses, and changing altogether the mode of his life,--that
was more than he had vitality left to perform. Such was the measure
which he took of himself, and in taking it he despised himself
thoroughly,--knowing well how poor a creature he was.
Sir Thomas told him readily what he had done, giving him to read a
copy of his letter to Mr. Newton and Mr. Newton's reply. "I can do
nothing more," said Sir Thomas. "I hope you have given up the sad
notion of marrying that young woman." Ralph sat still and listened.
"No good, I think, can come of that," continued Sir Thomas. "If you
are in truth compelled to part with your reversion to the Newton
estate,--which is in itself a property of great value,--I do not
doubt but your uncle will purchase it at its worth. It is a thousand
pities that prospects so noble should have been dissipated by early
imprudence."
"That's quite true, Sir Thomas," said Ralph, in a loud ringing tone,
which seemed to imply that let things be as bad as they might he
did not mean to make a poor mouth of them. It was his mask for the
occasion, and it sufficed to hide his misery from Sir Thomas.
"If you think of selling what you have to sell," continued Sir
Thomas, "you had better take Mr. Newton's letter and put it into the
hands of your own attorney. It will be ten times better than going
to the money-lending companies for advances. If I had the means of
helping you myself, I would do it."
"Oh, Sir Thomas!"
"But I have not. I should be robbing my own girls, which I am sure
you would not wish."
"That is quite out of the question, Sir Thomas."
"If you do resolve on selling the estate, you had better come to me
as the thing goes on. I can't do much, but I may perhaps be able to
see that nothing improper is proposed for you to do. Goodbye, Ralph.
Anything will be better than marrying that what-d'ye-callem's
daughter."
Ralph, as he walked westwards towards the club, was by no means sure
that Sir Thomas had been right in this. By marrying Polly he would,
after all, keep the property.
Just by the lions in Trafalgar Square he met Ontario Moggs. Ontario
Moggs scowled at him, and cut him dead.