CHAPTER XVIII--_The Disadvantages of trying to be Good

At breakfast next morning Mr. George Early was a model of politeness and urbanity. His courteousness obtruded itself so much that Aunt Phoebe could scarcely refrain from remarking upon it. After watching him closely, she decided that the night had effected one of those great changes sometimes observable in men after a crisis. He had turned over a new leaf.

Without delay she put this to the test. "I suppose," she remarked, smiling pleasantly at her nephew, "that I may rely upon you for a ten-pound subscription to the 'Friendly Friday Evenings for Mothers Society?'"

George was all attention at once. "Most certainly," he said. "I'm very glad you mentioned it. A noble institution."

"I'm pleased to hear you say that," said his aunt. "You were not always on the Society's side, and I'm glad to find that your views have changed."

George shook his head sorrowfully. "I'm afraid that I have not been altogether free from error," he faltered.

"Darling!" cried Mrs. Early, who foresaw a display of feeling, and was apprehensive of trouble.

"No," said her husband, gravely, raising his right hand; "I have not. In the light of certain events--by the wisdom of a certain person no longer with us, I see it. I have been wrong. I admit it."

"You have not been wrong, darling!" cried Mrs. Early, impulsively.

"Ellen," said Aunt Phoebe, in remonstrance, "I'm surprised at you. I admire the spirit that prompts your husband to make these confessions. Please do not interrupt."

"I have told lies," said George, penitently.

Mrs. Early frowned and sighed.

"I have drunk whisky, and acquired habits that made my presence obnoxious to the fair creatures, both youthful and aged--I mean experienced--with whom good fortune placed me."

Aunt Phoebe coughed.

"There are many things," said George, looking at the ceiling, "that I would not have done had I known all I know now." Observing that Aunt Phoebe's eyes were on the tablecloth, he winked at the fireplace. "But I hope that it is not too late to make amends."

"There is still time," said his aunt, fervently, "to repent and lead a better life."

"It is that which makes me glad," said George.

Having generously paid the ten-pound subscription and left behind him an impression of wholesome righteousness, Mr. Early stepped into a hansom cab and drove to Upper Thames Street.

Here his calm demeanour and amiability, contrasted with the feverishness of the last few days, caused a general raising of eyebrows. To the head clerk, who humbly apologized for his stupidity George was gentleness itself. Instead of rating him he sympathized; so that Parrott, who imagined that he had at last got a fair inkling of George Early's character, went away more mystified than ever.

The other ex-legatees received the news with surprise and some apprehension. Doubtless they had stored away in their minds various plans for enriching themselves at their master's expense, intending to profit by their own experience. Gray certainly had, and the rumours did not prevent his putting one into execution very promptly. He appeared in the chief's office an hour after that gentleman arrived.

He received a cheerful welcome, to which he responded.

"I suppose you know my errand," he said, smiling maliciously, and rubbing his hands together.

His master looked up, thought a moment, and regretted that he could not call to mind anything important concerning himself and Gray. But whatever it was, he promised that it should receive his attention.

"It's a question of money," said Gray. "A little loan of five pounds to begin with. I suppose I need not use any arguments in favour of my case; you already understand the business well."

"Dear me!" said George; "I hope no misfortune has befallen you, Gray, that you need this money. You did quite right to come to me. You shall certainly have it."

"Thanks," said Gray.

"I always prefer to have my men come straight to me. Some people may think me hard, but I tell you, Gray, I can't bear to feel that any of my employés are uncomfortable or in want."

"Glad to hear it."

"Yes, Gray, you shall certainly have the loan. It is not convenient to give it you at once, but you shall have it."

"Oh," said Gray, rubbing his chin; "I'd prefer to have it now."

"That's very unfortunate," said George; "I hate to inconvenience anybody. It quite grieves me."

"I dare say it does," Gray said sarcastically. "Perhaps you can tell me when I'll get it."

"That I can," replied his master, cheerfully; "the moment I have the money here for you I'll ring the bell and give it you."

Gray drew himself up and folded his arms. "I take that to be a refusal," he said bluntly. "And I must point out to you the consequences to yourself if I mention it in the right quarter. Now, what's it to be?"

"It's to be five pounds when I ring the bell."

"And suppose I refuse to wait your pleasure?--as I don't see why I should."

"You must do it or go without," replied his master. "I may as well mention, Gray, that I have decided to get rid of those men whom I find to have bad habits. Recognizing myself the principles of truth and temperance, I could not keep men with so little respect for themselves and the good name of a firm like this as to be addicted to the vices."

"I don't see how that will help you," Gray pointed out. "If I am not receiving wages here, I shall be more in need of money than ever, and I should have to make my demands greater. So by sacking me you won't be doing yourself any good."

George waved his hand. "The interview is now closed," he said.

Gray departed, but reminded his chief that he should expect to hear the bell ring before the day was out.

No other incident occurred, and George Early began to persuade himself that his new plans would act admirably. His ingenious handling of Gray must have acted as a damper on the others. Elated with this success, his behaviour at home that evening was even more commendable than in the morning, and he fell to eulogizing Old Fairbrother with an emphasis that seemed a little unwarranted, even to Aunt Phoebe.

Gray made another application the next morning for his loan, and repeated it before midday, each time being quietly but firmly put off by his master.

"All I hope is," said Gray, on the last occasion, "that you won't force me to do anything unpleasant. I'm not sure that this delay doesn't amount to a refusal. Perhaps I ought to consult the solicitors."

But he didn't do so, and George Early began to make his way about the iron warehouse with more confidence than he had done since the legacies first began to threaten him.

As he stepped out of the showrooms into the warehouse that afternoon, a man who had been hovering mysteriously about a gas stove turned towards him.

"Anybody about?" he said, inquiringly.

"What can I do for you?" asked George, in his best salesman style.

"Want a gas stove," said the man. "I've heard a lot about your 'Little Wonder,' and I'd like to have one, if it's up to the mark."

"That's the very stove," said George, pointing to the one the man had been handling.

"So I see, and if all you say of it is true, that's just the stove for me. But is it?"

"Is what?"

"Is that true?" said the man, holding up a Fairbrother pamphlet, in which the merits of the particular stove were described in glowing terms.

George suddenly realized that he was in a difficult situation, but, with the Fairbrother legacy fresh upon him, he stuck to his principles.

"All lies," he said.

"What?" cried the man; "it won't cook a chicken and a joint of beef, two vegetables and a pudding, and air the clothes at the same time, all at the cost of a farthing?"

"No," said George.

"All bunkum, eh?"

"Not a word of truth in it."

"I'm glad you told me that," said the man. "I like people to be straightforward. Perhaps the 'Little Midget' that's made by Oldboys up the street, is a better stove, eh?"

"Much better," said the unfortunate salesman.

"Well, now," said the man, "I wanted a few other things, but I'm not sure about dealing here, after what you've said. See that set of broken stove bars; how soon would you promise to get me a new set like it?"

"In four days," said George.

"Four days, eh? And when should I get 'em if I ordered them to-day?"

"In about two weeks."

"Oh, that's the sort of promise you make, is it? Can't be trusted?"

"Never," said George.

Then the man, who seemed to have suddenly developed an insatiable curiosity, led George Early into discussing all sorts of affairs concerning the firm, and obtained from him the most startling admissions.

He was an insinuating little man, and he resisted every effort that his victim made to end the conversation, until the head of Fairbrothers found himself uttering the most alarming truths, and being led like a monkey on a string.

Eventually the man left, and George Early found himself sitting on a portable copper by one of the warehouse doors overlooking the river, gazing blankly at the rising mists. Gradually he came back to a realization of affairs, and began to discover that he had made a fool of himself. With the same discovery came the sounds of cautious footsteps; a voice that he recognized as belonging to Gray said, "It's all right," and asked, "Where's Polly?"

The head of the firm left his position on the copper, and stood in the shadow of one of the iron fireproof doors. Any conspiracy taking place in the building was his affair without doubt.

Another person having joined the conspirators, George listened with interest.

"Any luck?" asked Busby.

"None," answered Gray. "He's put me off so far, and I thought it best to let it go at that for the present. I don't know how to force his hand. We must come to some decision about what we are going to do while there's the chance."

"Not so loud," cautioned Busby, lowering his voice; "you don't know who may be about."

"There's nobody up here," said Gray, irritably, but the two lowered their voices, so that George Early could only catch a word here and there.

The caution was relaxed after a while, when Gray said--

"Then that's fixed up. I'll tackle him tomorrow, and let him see that we mean business. Won't little Georgie swear! We'll have a hundred each down to begin with; no paltry fivers."

George shivered.

"Two hundred," said Parrott, greedily.

"One'll do to start," said Gray. "That'll be only a mite to what we'll get later."

"Will he pay up, d'you think?" asked Busby.

"Pay?" said Gray. "He can't help it. Look what he's got to lose if he don't pay; he's had his turn, and now we'll have ours."

Judging by Gray's tone, George felt convinced that he meant all he said. He was not sure now that he had been quite wise in having laughed so much at Gray's expense.

"Suppose he dodges us, and doesn't turn up at the office?"

Gray laughed. "We'll go to his house," he said; "that'll be tit for tat. We'll get a bit of our own back."

George listened to the retreating footsteps, and a fierce indignation sprang up within him. So violent was it that he daren't come out from the shadow of the iron door until it had abated somewhat. Then he cautiously made his way back to his own room, put on his hat, and went home.