He had breakfasted, and was smoking his pipe as he wrote a letter, when
Mrs. Hopper announced the visit, by appointment, of her brother-in-law,
Allchin. There entered a short, sturdy, red-headed young fellow, in a
Sunday suit of respectable antiquity; his features were rude, his
aspect dogged; but a certain intelligence showed in his countenance,
and a not unamiable smile responded to the bluff heartiness of
Warburton's greeting. By original calling, Allchin was a grocer's
assistant, but a troublesome temper had more than once set him adrift,
the outcast of grocerdom, to earn a living as best he could by his
vigorous thews, and it was in one of these intervals that, having need
of a porter at the works, Warburton had engaged him, on Mrs. Hopper's
petition. After a month or so of irreproachable service, Allchin fought
with a foreman, and took his discharge. The same week, Mrs. Allchin
presented him with their first child; the family fell into want; Mrs.
Hopper (squeezed between door and jamb) drew her master's attention to
the lamentable case, and help was of course forthcoming. Then, by good
luck, Allchin was enabled to resume his vocation; he got a place at a
grocer's in Fulham Road, and in a few weeks presented himself before
his benefactor, bringing half-a-crown as a first instalment toward the
discharge of his debt; for only on this condition had he accepted the
money. Half a year elapsed without troublesome incident; the man made
regular repayment in small sums; then came the disaster which Mrs.
Hopper had yesterday announced.
"Well, Allchin," cried Warburton, "what's the latest?"
Before speaking, the other pressed his lips tightly together and puffed
out his cheeks, as if it cost him an effort to bring words to the
surface. His reply came forth with explosive abruptness.
"Lost my place at Boxon's, sir."
"And how's that?"
"It happened last Saturday, sir. I don't want to make out as I wasn't
at all to blame. I know as well as anybody that I've got a will of my
own. But we're open late, as perhaps you know, sir, on Saturday night,
and Mr. Boxon--well, it's only the truth--he's never quite himself
after ten o'clock. I'd worked from eight in the morning to something
past midnight--of course I don't think nothing of that, 'cause it's
reg'lar in the trade. But--well, in come a customer, sir, a woman as
didn't rightly know what she wanted; and she went out without buying,
and Mr. Boxon he see it, and he come up to me and calls me the foulest
name he could turn his tongue to. And so--well, sir, there was
unpleasantness, as they say--"
He hesitated, Warburton eyeing him with a twinkle of subdued amusement.
"A quarrel, in fact, eh?"
"It did about come to that, sir!"
"You lost your temper, of course."
"That's about the truth, sir."
"And Boxon turned you out?"
Allchin looked hurt.
"Well, sir, I've no doubt he'd have liked to, but I was a bit
beforehand with him. When I see him last, he was settin' on the
pavement, sir, rubbin' his 'ead."
In spite of his inclination to laugh, Will kept a grave countenance.
"I'm afraid that kind of thing won't do, Allchin. You'll be in serious
trouble one of these days."
"That's what my wife says, sir. I know well enough as it's hard on her,
just after we've lost the baby--as perhaps Mrs. Hopper'll have told
you, sir."
"I was very sorry to hear it, Allchin."
"Thank you, sir. You've always something kind to say. And I'm that
vexed, because I was getting on well with paying my debts. But Mr.
Boxon, sir, he's many a time made me that mad that I've gone out into
the back yard and kicked the wall till my toes were sore, just to ease
my feelings, like. To tell the truth, sir, I don't think he's ever
rightly sober, and I've heard others say the same. And his business is
fallin' off, something shockin'. Customers don't like to be insulted;
that's only natural. He's always going down to Kempton Park, or Epsom,
or some such place. They do say as he lost 'undreds of pounds at
Kempton Park last week. It's my opinion the shop can't go on much
longer. Well, sir, I thought I just ought to come and tell you the
truth of things, and I won't disturb you no longer. I shall do my best
to find another place."
Warburton's impulse was to offer temporary work in Little Ailie Street,
but he remembered that the business was not in a position to increase
expenses, and that the refinery might any day be closed.
"All right," he answered cheerily, "let me know how you get on."
When Allchin's heavy footsteps had echoed away down the stairs, Mrs.
Hopper answered her master's call.
"I suppose they have a little money to go on with?" Warburton inquired.
"I mean, enough for a week or so."
"Yes, I think they have that, sir. But I see how it'll be. My poor
sister'll end in the work'us. Allchin'll never keep a place. Not that I
can blame him, sir, for givin' it to that Boxon, 'cause every one says
he's a brute."
"Well, just let me know if they begin to be in want. But of course
Allchin can always get work as a porter. He must learn to keep his
fists down, if he doesn't want to be perpetually out of employment."
"That's what I tell him, sir. And my poor sister, sir, she's never
stopped talkin' to him, day or night you may say, ever since it
happened--"
"Merciful Heavens!" groaned Warburton to himself.