CHAPTER VII--_An Erring Husband improves against his Will

George Early certainly showed some shrewdness when he took up his position as secretary to Miss Fairbrother, for his address and appearance underwent a process of swift renovation. He brushed his hair very nicely, shaved every morning, and attuned his voice to the ear that was to receive its melody during business hours.

Miss Fairbrother approved of George; he was neither uncouth nor dense like a good many other men who are clerks. He knew just when to be formal, and when his business features might relax into a smile. Nothing embarrassed him. He took over the little problems of the big office and smoothed them out comfortably--not by himself, but by the help of other men downstairs. When something puzzled Miss Fairbrother, as most business affairs did, George immediately cleared the air by affirming that Gray or Busby or Parrott could explain it, and to Gray or Busby or Parrott George went. Letters, orders, bills, complaints, came up daily to the desk of the fair employer, laying the foundation of many a thin line on the white brow; letter, order, bill, and complaint were picked up and laid down by turns, jumbled, mixed, and sighed over. Then the little bell would tinkle, and from his office adjoining in would come George, bright-eyed, confident, and submissive. Could he understand to what this letter referred? Miss Fairbrother didn't remember the matter. This complaint about stoves. Who was responsible for the delay, and was it usual to allow discount in this other case, as the customer asserted?

George didn't know; but if you think that George was fool enough ever to admit it, you have quite mistaken his character. George would attend to all these matters, and see that everything was put right. He did so too, and took upon himself a good deal of authority downstairs, which was his peculiar way.

"A man might rise to a good position here," he said to himself, flicking a speck off his fancy waistcoat. "There is nothing going downstairs; it's up here where the salary is, and the good jobs and all the rest of it. Besides, feminine society is much more in my line. Women are so much more easy to manage--in business. Who knows, some day I may be giving a rise to others: you never---- Come in!"

"Gentleman to see Miss Fairbrother."

A large man of the country builder type tramped in.

"You want," said George, with the air of one about to confer a favour, "to see Miss Fairbrother?"

"That's it, m'lad. Shall I go in?"

"If you will be so kind as to sit down," said George, with affability, "I will find out if the lady can see you. Our busiest time this; four people inside now."

"I know, I know, my lad. I have been dealing here this thirty year."

"Really?" said George.

"Yes," said the builder. "I knew your missis when she was a little 'un, two year old. They tell me she's grown a fine lass."

"She has," said George. He went inside.

Miss Fairbrother was engaged in the unbusinesslike occupation of looking over a pile of draper's patterns.

"A gentleman to see me? Joseph Brown,--I don't know the name. What does he want?"

"Wants to gossip and give a small order, I should say," said George.

"I suppose you may send him in," said Miss Fairbrother, abstractedly, feasting her eyes upon a square figured watered silk. "Is he a nice man?"

"Harmless," said George; "but probably a talker. He's been dealing here thirty years. Old acquaintance, he says."

"Oh!" said Miss Fairbrother, looking up, "what else did he say?"

The ghost of a smile lit up George's face.

"Said he knew you when you were--so high." He gave a guess at the height of a two-year-old girl.

Against her will, Miss Fairbrother's face flushed. She looked doubtfully at the door, then at the patterns, and said--

"Please say I'm very busy. Perhaps you can settle the matter yourself; I really am busy, you know," and she pulled a fresh box of patterns from under the desk, and spread them out before her.

After some trouble George convinced Joseph Brown that the four customers inside would occupy Miss Fairbrother's attention for at least two hours, and advised him to call again.

Miss Fairbrother spent the rest of the day in poring over the pages of fashion-books, leaving George to wrestle with the problems of the firm in the shape of business correspondence.

"Lucky thing she's got a good business staff," mused George. "The old man knew what he was doing when he tied those three beggars to the firm with five hundred pounds each. Not but what he might have found better men--myself, for instance. However, I mustn't grumble."

George did not grumble; on the contrary, his good humour was inexhaustible, and his temper as even as a man's temper could be, considering that he held a position of responsibility. He worked now much more than he had ever worked before; but it may safely be assumed that he was not doing it for the fun of the thing; that there was money in it, or that he did it with a purpose; in other words, that he knew what he was about.

So far as the legatees were concerned, Miss Fairbrother's secretary did not see fit to relax his vigilance. Perhaps he felt that the apathy of "Old Joe's" lawyers made it necessary in the interests of justice that a private person should take up the case, or perhaps he found it useful to have the men under his thumb; whatever his reasons were it is certain that his eyes were as watchful as ever, and equally certain that his victims strongly disapproved of his attention.

"It's my duty," he said to Gray, when that gentleman brutally asked how long he intended to intrude upon his home comforts.

"Hang your duty!" said Gray; "we don't want you."

"I'm a good lodger," said George; "ask your wife if I don't give complete satisfaction. She hasn't grumbled, that I'm aware of. You know you've always wanted a lodger, and now you've got one you're not satisfied."

Gray was certainly a long way from being satisfied. Since the advent of George Early his home had become as sanctimonious as an A.B.C. shop. He was obliged to conduct himself according to the creed of the new lodger, who held over his head the grim sword of exposure. He came home early when George willed it, and attended to his duties as secretary of the Old Friends' Society when George saw fit to grant him an evening off.

Mrs. Gray was just as pleasant with the new lodger as her husband was annoyed with him. Gray had had a partiality for Scotch whisky that had at times left much in his character to be desired as a husband. His wife confided this much to George, who promised to lead the erring husband from his wicked ways. He was as good as his word, and in due course the whisky bottle disappeared. Other bad habits of Gray's also were toned down considerably, and James Gray's wife was not slow to show her appreciation by holding up George Early as a model young man, and an excellent lodger.

"My time will come," said Gray, savagely, to George; "and when it does I shan't forget you."

"I hope not," said George, "I've been more than a brother to you."

Elated by the growing fortunes of the family, and the reformation of her husband, Mrs. Gray proceeded to lay out the extra cash that flowed into the family coffers in new strips of oil-cloth and art muslin. In her pursuit of these useful articles she kept a watchful eye on the local drapers' sales, and joined the mad rush that followed the opening doors on the first day. Fancy curtains of weird colours greeted the eyes of her husband in all parts of the house, and odd forgotten corners sprang into new life under a mantle of carpet remnants.

George Early's bedroom was not neglected, and, in order to show her gratitude for the good he had done, Mrs. Gray determined to surprise him by gracing that virtuous apartment with a brand new bookshelf, on which the dozen odd volumes of his leisure might repose with dignity.

With this object in view, she started out one morning to Stratford, hugging a catalogue wherein it was stated that among other things "bookshelves of artistic design" were to be "absolutely thrown away."

In due course Mrs. Gray reached the scene of battle, and joined the great throng of combatants all eager for the fray. It was a mighty crowd, but Mrs. Gray, who knew something of Stratford and its inhabitants, was convinced that the five-shilling mantles, skirts, and blouses would engage their attention before books and bookshelves. Her reckoning, wise as it may seem, was somewhat out; as she discovered when, hot and panting, she reached the bookshelf counter. They had sold like hot cakes. One solitary bookshelf, abashed at its loneliness, and still bearing the glaring red sale ticket, reposed on the long counter.

"Bookshelves," gasped Mrs. Gray to the nearest assistant.

"Here you are, ma'am, the last one."

"Oh! Haven't you any others?"

The crowd surged, and it was only by an effort that little Mrs. Gray got back to the counter.

"Bookshelves," she gasped again to the perspiring draper.

"Last one, better have it while you can," said the man.

"Oh, well, I----"

"How much is this bookshelf?" said a voice.

Mrs. Gray's hand grasped it convulsively. "This is sold," she cried; "I've bought it."

"I beg pardon, ma'am, I didn't hear you say----"

"I spoke first," said the other lady, laying a hand on the bookshelf; "you've no right----"

"Excuse me----"

"It's no use talking, I----"

"But I was here first, before you ever----"

"Take the money, please, one and----"

"Do nothing of the sort. I've already bought----"

"Now ladies, ladies, ladies!" cried the assistant.

"But you know----" began Mrs. Gray indignantly to the man.

"How ridiculous! You heard me say I'd have it. Why----"

"You didn't!"

"I did."

"But I was here long----"

"Mind your heads!" screamed a porter, forcing his way through.

"Here you are!" cried the assistant; "here's another one, so you'll both be satisfied."

Mrs. Gray surged out triumphantly with her bookcase, her rival following with the duplicate. Together they stood on the kerbstone waiting for the Leytonstone tram.

Mrs. Gray was a good-tempered little body, and now that she had got what she wanted she was pleased to be gracious; so when she caught her rival's eye a smile crept about her lips, which brought forth an answering smile, showing that the temper of each was but short, and that no malice was borne.

They got on the same tram, and Mrs. Gray at once held out the olive branch.

"I hope you didn't think me very rude," she said; "but I did so want this for a very special purpose, that I could have done anything rather than go without."

"So could I," said the other eagerly; "you must have thought me rude, too, but I was mad to get it."

"Really? Oh, I didn't think you rude. I'm sure I----"

"Oh, but think how I screamed. You were not so rude as----"

"I screamed too. Aren't they nice?"

"Lovely!"

Harmless chatter and apologies filled the journey, and the friendship was strengthened by both getting out at the same point.

"Do come in and have a cup of tea," said Mrs. Gray; "have you time?"

The other had heaps of time. "But I hardly like to after my rudeness," she said.

"You mean my rudeness," said Mrs. Gray, poking the key in the front door.

By the time that the tea was ready each knew a great deal of the family history of the other, and the bookshelves again came under discussion.

"I've so wanted to get a bookshelf," said Mrs. Gray. "You know, I've a lodger who's such a clever man, and so steady, that I thought he would appreciate this more than anything else."

"Really? Well, my husband's very studious; he loves books, and there's nothing he likes so much as a bookshelf, unless it's a book. He doesn't know I'm buying this; it's to be a surprise."

"So is mine."

"He will be glad. You'd never believe how fond he is of books. He spends all his spare hours in the Free Library; that will show you how studious he is. While I'm staying down here with mother, he keeps in our house all alone because it's near the library; while if he came down here he would lose an hour away from his books."

When they finally parted Mrs. Busby extracted a promise from Mrs. Gray to take tea with her on the following day, and Mrs. Gray declared it would give her the greatest pleasure to do so. Fervent kisses and exclamations of surprise at what the respective husbands would think closed the interview.

The respective husbands heard about the meeting in due course; Gray from his wife, and Busby from George Early. On the occasion of his imparting this information George took the opportunity to borrow a few pounds from Busby, which the cashier lent with some reluctance.

On the same day Mrs. Busby received a wire recalling her to Clapham.