Part 24 (1/2)

Then Mrs. Marsden heard his footsteps overhead in the dressing-room.

When he reappeared he had taken off his tie and collar, and was wearing a crimson velvet smoking jacket.

The toast sandwiches were promptly placed before him, and he sat eating and drinking,--not really hungry, but avidly gulping the wine; and rapidly becoming jolly again.

”What was I talking about?”

”Bence's.”

”Oh, yes. I tell you, he has just about got to the end of his tether.

All the best people funk having him on their books.... I give him two years from to-day.”

”I wonder.”

”Mind you, he has fairly smacked us in the eye with his furniture.”

And it was unfortunately but too true that there had of late been an ugly drop in the sales of Thompson's solid, well-made chairs and tables.

”But,” continued Marsden, ”we aren't going to take it lying down any longer. He has got a _man_ to reckon with henceforth. He'll learn what t.i.t-for-tat means.... It was too late to attempt anything last Christmas. But let him wait till next December. Then it shall be, A very happy Christmas to you, Mr. Bence.”

”What do you propose for Christmas?”

”You wait, too.”

”Yes, but, d.i.c.k, you won't begin launching out without consulting me--allowing some weight to my opinion?”

”No, of course I shan't. We're partners, aren't we? I know what a partners.h.i.+p is. But you won't need persuading. You'll jump at my ideas when you hear them.”

”Why not let me hear them now? I could be thinking over them--I like to brood upon plans.”

”Well, something is going to happen in our bas.e.m.e.nt next Christmas, which will be tidings of peace and great joy to everybody but Bence;”

and he laughed with riotous amus.e.m.e.nt. ”Get me my pipe, old woman. I can't go into business matters now. You wait, and trust your d.i.c.kybird.”

She brought him his pipe and tobacco; and he explained to her that he fancied a pipe because he had been smoking cigars ever since the morning, and the tip of his tongue felt sore.

He puffed at the pipe in silence, and luxuriously stretched his slippered feet towards the warmth of the fire.

”You best go to by-by, Jane. I'm too tired to talk. I've had a heavy day--one way and another; and a longish journey before me to-morrow....

Good-night. Tell 'em I must be called at eight-thirty sharp.”

This was a typical evening. There were many evenings like it.

Frequently two or three days pa.s.sed without her once entering the shop.

Sometimes she could not brace herself sufficiently to go down and face the staff. They all saw her subjection to her husband; and although they endeavoured not to betray their thoughts, it was obvious that to almost all of them she appeared as the once absolute princess who had, in abdicating, sunk to a state of ignominious dependence. She walked among them with downcast eyes; for too often she had surprised their glances of pity.

But she saw that in the street also--pity or contempt. One or other each citizen's face seemed to show her plainly. She knew exactly what shop and town said and thought of her new partner.

At dusk on these winter afternoons, when she had not lately used the door of communication, Miss Woolfrey or Mr. Mears would come through it and inform her of the day's affairs. Miss Woolfrey's reports consisted merely of vapid and irresponsible gossip, but Mrs. Marsden seemed to have discovered fresh merits in this sandy, freckled, commonplace chatter-box--perhaps for no other reason than because she belonged so entirely to the old regime and was intellectually incapable of absorbing unfamiliar ideas. But it was Mears who supplied any real instruction, and it was with him that Mrs. Marsden talked seriously.