Love and the Ironmonger Read online

  CHAPTER XIII--_A Fortnight's Holiday_

  It would be difficult to say exactly how Fairbrothers' took the news ofGeorge Early's engagement to its chief, for it did not burst upon thestaff in an official proclamation, but leaked out, and was generallycredited as a mere rumour. That Miss Fairbrother should be absent fromthe office for ten days was not considered an extraordinarycircumstance in the light of recent events, nor was it anythingextraordinary for George Early to assume a tone of importance inaffairs of the firm; but among the bright youths who copied theFairbrother letters and handled the Fairbrother ledgers there were somedetective spirits that did not fail to notice certain irregularities inthe speech of the new manager.

  More than one pair of eyebrows in the counting-house were liftednoticeably when the unusual "I" supplanted the usual "we," and certaindark and prophetic allusions by the manager as to what he would doabout some particular affair "in a few weeks," brought the heads of thestaff together at times when business was of more importance thandesultory conversation.

  In spite of rumours, the staff would probably have remained in the darkuntil the official announcement, had Miss Fairbrother not paid a flyingvisit to Upper Thames Street and come under the eagle eye of WilliamBudd. That precocious youth singled out the engagement ring in atwinkling, and by lunch-time the whole office knew that MissFairbrother had found a husband. With one accord they fixed upon GeorgeEarly as the lucky man. The office enjoyed its secret for one wholeday; on the next Parrott was summoned to Brunswick Terrace, andinstructed to take over the affairs of the firm while Miss Fairbrotherchanged her name to Early, and took a fortnight's holiday for thepurpose of getting used to it.

  It was only fitting that her Aunt Phoebe should hold a formalconversation with the prospective husband, and to this interview GeorgeEarly went with the confident feeling that it would end amicably. Itwas not exactly the sort of interview that he expected, yet he couldnot say that he was any the less pleased at the prospect before him.

  Aunt Phoebe shook hands, and intimated that her niece had gone out forthe afternoon.

  "You have had my congratulations," she said, "and I have only to repeatto begin with that you are a very lucky man."

  George beamed and murmured his thanks.

  "I don't hold with any of her nonsense about you being a hero, youknow," she went on; "it's time enough to praise you when I've foundthat you're a good husband. And for my part I'm inclined to hope thatyou're a much more ordinary man, for I've no faith in heroes ashusbands."

  George coughed, and put his hat on the table.

  "Before you marry," said Aunt Phoebe, practically, "it's just as wellthat you should know your prospects. If you have any idea of taking theFairbrother fortune in your own hands, you'll be disappointed, for thatis to remain entirely at the disposal of my niece, who is guided by mein her business affairs. I may as well say that I have some controlover her and the property that will not be affected by her marriage.You need not fear that she will not be generous to you. Your positionwill be formally that of head of the firm; and, so far as income isconcerned, nobody will guess that you are not the owner entirely."

  "If it's all the same to you," said George, "I'd rather not hear anymore on the subject."

  "Indeed?" said Aunt Phoebe, coldly.

  "I've got to call on a tailor at four o'clock, and it's now half-pastthree."

  "This is a time to be serious," said Aunt Phoebe, severely.

  "It isn't," said George; "it's a time to be married. That's quiteenough for me just at present."

  "I want you to understand about the property."

  "I don't want to know. Do what you like with it. I'll leave it to you."

  Aunt Phoebe promptly vacated her seat, and impatiently rang the belland ordered tea. George thereupon, for the twenty-fifth time that day,consulted a note-book in which a confused mass of scribble spreaditself over many pages. He was obliged to confess to himself that forthe first time within his remembrance his brain was in a chaotic state.On confiding this intelligence to Aunt Phoebe, her ruffled feelingsbecame smooth, for the most unintelligent person would have seen atonce that this simple fact had revealed in George the common failing ofthe ordinary man.

  * * * * *

  George Early and Miss Fairbrother were married, and it is sufficientfor our purpose to say that they went on the Continent for a fortnight,and met with the usual discomforts familiar to other travellers, andfaced them with the heroic fortitude common in other honeymoon couples.If George was in any way different from another man in a similarposition, it lay in the fact of his not waking up and wondering if hisgood fortune were a dream. George Early always met windfalls with afamiliar nod, and took them as a matter of course; which is, after all,not a bad idea, if you can bring yourself to it, and if you happen tobe one who runs in the way of good fortune. He did not, as may besupposed, allow his thoughts to run immediately on the prospect beforehim, nor form any notions of having "a high old time when he got hishands on the cash." You can never tell how marriage and good fortunewill affect a man, and I don't suppose there was a person in UpperThames Street who could give a near guess as to how it would affectGeorge Early. Nobody, not even George himself, could have told you,though he could probably have guessed nearer than other people. Butthat it changed his fortunes and those of other members of the firm,will be seen as the history progresses. Some evidences of change inUpper Thames Street were already apparent, even before Mr. and Mrs.Early had returned from the honeymoon.

  Three men had watched the growing friendship of the two with absorbinginterest, and read the marriage announcement with some approval. Theydid so from motives of selfishness. In this change of affairs they sawrelief from irritation that had tried their tempers and touched theirpockets.

  Parrott watched his increasing hoard with miserly satisfaction, and hadalready begun to weigh the merits of Streatham and Upper Tooting assuburban retreats, where, in company with the economical wife of hischoice, he might enjoy the fruits of married life, and be free from theharassing demands of the blackmailer. George Early single was a sourceof increasing danger, but George Early married to a rich wife might beput out of his reckoning.

  Upon reflection, a man might well assume at this stage that OldFairbrother's legacies bid fair to effect the purpose for which theywere instituted. Here were three men who might have been led away fromfaults that were eating into the soul of each, had not an impudentblackmailer stepped in at the beginning and torn from their clutchesthe healing medicine. Who knows but that they now might be well on theway to reform; that Parrott might be cheerfully handing crispbank-notes to needy friends, Busby speaking the clarion voice of truth,and Gray quaffing copious draughts of bright sparkling water in placeof the noxious intoxicant of his habit?

  At the time of George Early's marriage, it must be admitted no evidenceof reform had appeared, although nearly a month had elapsed since thehush-money had been asked for and paid. Parrott had successfullyresisted the appeals of those who sought to relieve him of sundryhalf-crowns and pieces of gold; and Busby, as of yore, deceived all whocame in his way, with a tongue that had lost none of its cunning. Ifthe truth must be told, the head clerk had grown closer than ever, andhad gone so far as to turn a deaf ear to an urgent request for ashilling.

  Mrs. Gray noticed with regret that her husband's fondness for whiskyhad suddenly revived, and sighed deeply as she thought of the splendidlodger she had lost.

  "So fond he was of you, too, Jimmy," she said.

  "Who's fond of me?" asked Gray.

  "Why, Mr. Early. You didn't drink so much of that horrid stuff when hewas here. He had such a good influence over you."

  "I know he had," said Gray, filling his glass. "Now he's got somebodywho'll have an influence over him. Poor old George!"

  "Oh, Jimmy! Do you think she'll be cruel to him? Why ever did he marryher?"

  "Couldn't help it, I suppose," said her husband. "Perhaps he's going toreform her. Poor old Geo
rge!"

  "Jimmy," said Mrs. Gray, severely, "it's a shame for you to laugh. Youought to have prevented the marriage, if she's a horrid creature who'llworry his life out. You know he's been a good friend to you."

  "Has he?" said Gray. "I'd forgotten that. Then I'll be a good friend tohim. I'll go and be his lodger. No, I won't; I'll go and tell Mrs.Early that he's one of the best."

  Gray helped himself to a further supply and toasted the new governor as"one of the best," in which Mrs. Gray, although a temperate littlebody, joined.

  "When do you go to the club again, Jimmy?" said Mrs. Gray.

  "Club? What club?" said Gray, who was arriving at that state when thetruth begins to leak out unawares.

  "Why, your club, of course; you're the secretary."

  "Am I? Hooray! Hooray for the secretary!"

  "You are the secretary, aren't you, Jimmy?" said Mrs. Gray.

  "Course I am. You just said so. Hooray for----"

  "Jimmy!" Mrs. Gray clutched his arm and took the glass from his hand."Have you been deceiving me? Tell me if you belong to the club or not,and if you're really the secretary? Oh, Jimmy!"

  Mrs. Gray sat down and burst into tears.

  If anything was calculated to bring Gray into a sober state, it was thetears of his wife. He was not a model husband, but he had someaffection for the little woman who adored and cared for him, and thesight of her weeping awoke him to the error he had made.

  Gray had put his arm about her and lifted her up.

  "I'm the secretary, little woman. Now don't cry any more. It's allright. I'm the secretary."

  "You're not," sobbed Mrs. Gray; "I know you're not. You've beendeceiving me, you wicked thing, and I--I won't forgive you. You don'tbelong to the club at all--you know you don't."

  "I tell you I'm the secretary, don't I?" persisted Gray.

  "I don't--don't believe you. You've been tel--telling me stories,Jimmy. It's a sha--shame to tell me stories. You oughtn't to do it."

  "Look here," said Gray, taking her in his arms; "do you want me toprove what I say? Do you?"

  "Ye--yes," she sobbed.

  "Then ask George. If you won't believe me, ask him."

  Mrs. Gray's sobs ceased and she began to dry her eyes. Gray reachedover and helped himself to a little more whisky. "Ask him," he said,taking a drink.

  In a little while Mrs. Gray, very much ashamed of herself, put her armsabout her husband's neck and kissed him.

  "I'm very sorry, Jimmy," she said, "I do believe you."

  Mrs. Gray didn't ask George, and her husband continued in his dangerouscareer of intemperance. It was a pity that he did so, for with the goodstart as a teetotaler he had got during George Early's residence, hemight have reformed and prevented the trouble that came, as troublealways does when you look for it.