NEEFIT MEANS TO STICK TO IT.
There was some business to be done as a matter of course before the
young Squire could have all his affairs properly settled. There were
debts to be paid, among which Mr. Neefit's stood certainly first. It
was first in magnitude, and first in obligation; but it gave Ralph
no manner of uneasiness. He had really done his best to get Polly
to marry him, and, luckily for him,--by the direct interposition of
some divine Providence, as it now seemed to Ralph,--Polly had twice
refused him. It seemed to him, indeed, that divine Providence looked
after him in a special way, breaking his uncle's neck in the very
nick of time, and filling a breeches-maker's daughter's mind with so
sound a sense of the propriety of things, as to induce her to decline
the honour of being a millstone round his neck, when positively
the offer was pressed upon her. As things stood there could be no
difficulty with Mr. Neefit. The money would be paid, of course, with
all adjuncts of accruing interest, and Mr. Neefit should go on making
breeches for him to the end of the chapter. And for raising this
money he had still a remnant of the old property which he could sell,
so that he need not begin by laying an ounce of encumbrance on his
paternal estates. He was very clear in his mind at this period of
his life that there should never be any such encumbrance in his
days. That remnant of property should be sold, and Neefit, Horsball,
and others, should be paid. But it certainly did occur to him in
regard to Neefit, that there had been that between them which made
it expedient that the matter should be settled with some greater
courtesy than would be shown by a simple transaction through his man
of business. Therefore he wrote a few lines to Mr. Neefit on the day
before he left the Priory,--a few lines which he thought to be very
civil.
Newton, 9th December, 186--.
MY DEAR MR. NEEFIT,--
You have probably heard before this of the accident which
has happened in my family. My uncle has been killed by
a fall from his horse, and I have come into my property
earlier than I expected. As soon as I could begin to
attend to matters of business, I thought of my debt to
you, and of all the obligation I owe you. I think the debt
is £1,000; but whatever it is it can be paid now. The
money will be ready early in the year, if that will do for
you,--and I am very much obliged to you. Would you mind
letting Mr. Carey know how much it is, interest and all.
He is our family lawyer.
Remember me very kindly to Miss Polly. I hope she will
always think of me as a friend. Would you tell Bawwah to
put three pairs of breeches in hand for me,--leather.
Yours very truly,
RALPH NEWTON.
The wrath of Mr. Neefit on receiving this letter at his shop in
Conduit Street was almost divine. He had heard from Polly an account
of that last interview at Ramsgate, and Polly had told her story as
truly as she knew how to tell it. But the father had never for a
moment allowed himself to conceive that therefore the thing was at
an end, and had instructed Polly that she was not to look upon it
in that light. He regarded his young customer as absolutely bound
to him, and would not acknowledge to himself that such obligation
could be annulled by Polly's girlish folly. And he did believe that
young Newton intended to act, as he called it, "on the square." So
believing, he was ready to make almost any sacrifice of himself; but
that Newton should now go back, after having received his hard money,
was to him a thing quite out of the question. He scolded Polly with
some violence, and asked whether she wanted to marry such a lout as
Moggs. Polly replied with spirit that she wouldn't marry any man till
she found that she could love him, and that the man loved her. "Ain't
he told you as he loves you ever so often?" said Neefit. "I know what
I'm doing of, father," said Polly, "and I'm not going to be drove."
Nevertheless Mr. Neefit had felt certain that if young Newton would
still act upon the square, things would settle themselves rightly.
There was the money due, and, as Neefit constantly said to himself,
"money was a thing as was not to be got over."
Then had come upon the tradesman the tidings of the old Squire's
death. They were read to him out of a newspaper by his shopman,
Waddle. "I'm blessed if he ain't been and tumbled all at once into
his uncle's shoes," said Waddle. The paragraph in question was one
which appeared in a weekly newspaper some two days after the Squire's
death. Neefit, who at the moment was turning over the pages of his
ledger, came down from his desk and stood for about ten minutes in
the middle of his shop, while the Herr ceased from his cutting, and
Waddle read the paragraph over and over again. Neefit stood stock
still, with his hands in his breeches pockets, and his great staring
eyes fixed upon vacancy. "I'm blessed if it ain't true," said Waddle,
convinced by the repetition of his own reading. News had previously
reached the shop that the Squire had had a fall. Tidings as to
troubles in the hunting-field were quick in reaching Mr. Neefit's
shop;--but there had been no idea that the accident would prove to
be fatal. Neefit, when he went home that night, told his wife and
daughter. "That will be the last of young Newton," said Mrs. Neefit.
"I'm d---- if it will!" said the breeches-maker. Polly maintained a
discreet silence as to the heir, merely remarking that it was very
sad for the old gentleman. Polly at that time was very full of
admiration for Moggs,--in regard, that is, to the political character
of her lover. Moggs had lost his election, but was about to petition.
Neefit was never called upon, in the way of his own trade, to make
funereal garments. Men, when they are bereaved of their friends, do
not ride in black breeches. But he had all a tailor's respect for a
customer with a dead relation. He felt that it would not become him
to make an application to the young Squire on a subject connected
with marriage, till the tombstone over the old Squire should have
been properly adjusted. He was a patient man, and could wait. And
he was a man not good at writing letters. His customer and future
son-in-law would turn up soon; or else, the expectant father-in-law
might drop down upon him at the Moonbeam or elsewhere. As for a final
escape, Polly Neefit's father hardly feared that any such attempt
would be made. The young man had acted on the square, and had made
his offer in good faith.
Such was Mr. Neefit's state of mind when he received the young
Squire's letter. The letter almost knocked him down. There was a
decision about it, a confidence that all was over between them except
the necessary payment of the money, an absence of all doubt as to
"Miss Polly," which he could not endure. And then that order for
more breeches, included in the very same paragraph with Polly,
was most injurious. It must be owned that the letter was a cruel,
heart-rending, bad letter. For an hour or so it nearly broke Mr.
Neefit's heart. But he resolved that he was not going to be done.
The young Squire should marry his daughter, or the whole transaction
should be published to the world. He would do such things and say
such things that the young Squire should certainly not have a good
time of it. He said not a word to Polly of the letter that night, but
he did speak of the young Squire. "When that young man comes again,
Miss Polly," he said, "I shall expect you to take him."
"I don't know anything about that, father," said Polly. "He's had his
answer, and I'm thinking he won't ask for another." Upon this the
breeches-maker looked at his daughter, but made no other reply.
During the two or three following days Neefit made some inquiries,
and found that his customer was at the Moonbeam. It was now necessary
that he should go to work at once, and, therefore, with many
misgivings, he took Waddle into his confidence. He could not himself
write such a letter as then must be written;--but Waddle was perfect
at the writing of letters. Waddle shrugged his shoulders, and clearly
did not believe that Polly would ever get the young Squire. Waddle
indeed went so far as to hint that his master would be lucky in
obtaining payment of his money,--but, nevertheless, he gave his mind
to the writing of the letter. The letter was written as follows:--
Conduit Street, 14th December, 186--.
DEAR SIR,--
Yours of the 9th instant has come to hand, and I beg to
say with compliments how shocked we were to hear of the
Squire's accident. It was terribly sudden, and we all felt
it very much; as in the way of our business we very often
have to.
As to the money that can stand. Between friends such
things needn't be mentioned. Any accommodation of that
kind was and always will be ready when required. As to
that other matter, a young gentleman like you won't think
that a young lady is to be taken at her first word. A
bargain is a bargain, and honourable is honourable, which
nobody knows as well as you who was always disposed to
be upon the square. Our Polly hasn't forgotten you,--and
isn't going.
It should be acknowledged on Mr. Waddle's behalf, that that last
assurance was inserted by the unassisted energy of Mr. Neefit
himself.
We shall expect to see you without delay, here or at
Hendon, as may best suit; but pray remember that things
stand just as they was. Touching other matters, as needn't
be named here, orders will be attended to as usual if
given separate.
Yours very truly and obedient,
THOMAS NEEFIT.
This letter duly reached the young Squire, and did not add to his
happiness at the Moonbeam. That he should ever renew his offer to
Polly Neefit was, he well knew, out of the question; but he could
see before him an infinity of trouble should the breeches-maker be
foolish enough to press him to do so. He had acted "on the square."
In compliance with the bargain undoubtedly made by him, he had twice
proposed to Polly, and had Polly accepted his offer on either of
these occasions, there would,--he now acknowledged to himself,--have
been very great difficulty in escaping from the difficulty. Polly
had thought fit to refuse him, and of course he was free. But,
nevertheless, there might be trouble in store for him. He had hardly
begun to ask himself in what way this trouble might next show itself,
when Neefit was at the Moonbeam. Three days after the receipt of
his letter, when he rode into the Moonbeam yard on his return from
hunting, there was Mr. Neefit waiting to receive him.
He certainly had not answered Mr. Neefit's letter, having told
himself that he might best do so by a personal visit in Conduit
Street; but now that Neefit was there, the personal intercourse did
not seem to him to be so easy. He greeted the breeches-maker very
warmly, while Pepper, Cox, and Mr. Horsball, with sundry grooms and
helpers, stood by and admired. Something of Mr. Neefit's money, and
of Polly's charms as connected with the young Squire, had already
reached the Moonbeam by the tongue of Rumour; and now Mr. Neefit had
been waiting for the last four hours in the little parlour within
the Moonbeam bar. He had eaten his mutton chop, and drunk three or
four glasses of gin and water, but had said nothing of his mission.
Mrs. Horsball, however, had already whispered her suspicions to her
husband's sister, a young lady of forty, who dispensed rum, gin, and
brandy, with very long ringlets and very small glasses.
"You want to have a few words with me, old fellow," said Ralph to
the breeches-maker, with a cheery laugh. It was a happy idea that of
making them all around conceive that Neefit had come after his money.
Only it was not successful. Men are not dunned so rigorously when
they have just fallen into their fortunes. Neefit, hardly speaking
above his breath, with that owlish, stolid look, which was always
common to him except when he was measuring a man for a pair of
breeches, acknowledged that he did. "Come along, old fellow,"
said Ralph, taking him by the arm. "But what'll you take to drink
first?" Neefit shook his head, and accompanied Ralph into the house.
Ralph had a private sitting-room of his own, so that there was no
difficulty on that score. "What's all this about?" he said, standing
with his back to the fire, and still holding Neefit by the arm. He
did it very well, but he did not as yet know the depth of Neefit's
obstinacy.
"What's it all about?" asked Neefit in disgust.
"Well; yes. Have you talked to Polly herself about this, old fellow?"
"No, I ain't; and I don't mean."
"Twice I went to her, and twice she refused me. Come, Neefit, be
reasonable. A man can't be running after a girl all his life, when
she won't have anything to say to him. I did all that a man could
do; and upon my honour I was very fond of her. But, God bless my
soul,--there must be an end to everything."
"There ain't to be no end to this, Mr. Newton."
"I'm to marry the girl whether she will or not?"
"Nohow," said Mr. Neefit, oracularly. "But when a young gentleman
asks a young lady as whether she'll have him, she's not a-going to
jump down his throat. You knows that, Mr. Newton. And as for money,
did I ask for any settlement? I'd a' been ashamed to mention money.
When are you a-coming to see our Polly, that's the question?"
"I shall come no more, Mr. Neefit."
"You won't?"
"Certainly not, Mr. Neefit. I've been twice rejected."
"And that's the kind of man you are; is it? You're one of them sort,
are you?" Then he looked out of his saucer eyes upon the young Squire
with a fishy ferocity, which was very unpleasant. It was quite
evident that he meant war. "If that's your game, Mr. Newton, I'll be
even with you."
"Mr. Neefit, I'll pay you anything that you say I owe you."
"Damn your money!" said the breeches-maker, walking out of the room.
When he got down into the bar he told them all there that young
Newton was engaged to his daughter, and that, by G----, he should
marry her.
"Stick to that, Neefit," said Lieutenant Cox.
"I mean to stick to it," said Mr. Neefit. He then ordered another
glass of gin and water, and was driven back to the station.