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 S H O D D Y." 
 
a 
 
 SHODDY. 
 
 55 
 
 % gorlisl^h^ CaU of Jomt 
 
 BY 
 
 ARTHUR WOOD. 
 
 IN THEEE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 TTNSLEY BROTHERS, 8, CATHERINE STREET, STRAiND. 
 
 1877. 
 
 [_Ri.ght of Translation reserved ly the Author.] 
 
LOITDOIT: 
 
 VkVlLli, EDWABDS AND CO,, PBHTOrEES, CHANDOS STBBBt. 
 
 COVENT GABDEIT. 
 
v.i 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 ^ X!EAF. FAGB 
 
 '^^H^ I. DAISY HILL 1 
 
 \^ XL DALESFORD 10 
 
 s III. WORSDALE HOUSE 31 
 
 IV. A CONVERT 59 
 
 \ 
 V 
 
 V. JOE BOOTHROYD 84 
 
 ''■ VI. STEPPER 114 
 
 VII. REDWELL-SUPER-MARE 137 
 
 J, VIII. HOME AGAIN 167 
 
 ^ IX. THE MAN IN THE CLOAK 213 
 
 ^ X. MR. TITHERADGE HUMS A TUNE 232 
 
 ,^ XI. A MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR ! . 242 
 ^ XII. A SLIGHT SURPRISE 264 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/shoddyyorkshiret01wood 
 
44 
 
 S H D D Y." 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 DAISY HILL. 
 
 SWTpp'Y name is Worsdale ; but they call me 
 Dolly at home/'' 
 
 The rich mellow sunlight of a warm evening in 
 July, struggling through the thick foliage of a large 
 sycamore tree, fell for a second on the happy and 
 innocent face of a girl of nineteeuj who_, with her 
 summer hat laid on the seat beside her, and her 
 soft brown hair falling loosely on her shoulders, was 
 resting after the exertion of the dance in which she 
 had been recently engaged. 
 
 Her companion, thoughtful and earnest looking, 
 who spoke habitually in a subdued tone, seemed to 
 be a man of six or eight and twenty, though the 
 slight frown which appeared natural to his cast of 
 face, and his somewhat bronzed complexion, added 
 several years to his appearance. The well-cut 
 
 VOL. I. 1 
 
2 " shoddy:' 
 
 clothes, so carelessly worn, and the dark and almost 
 shaggy beard and moustache, with the broad shoul- 
 ders, and a certain look of quiet determination in 
 his grey eyes, invested him with an individuality 
 apart from the crowds, who passed and repassed the 
 rustic form, on which the two were seated. The 
 music Of a band stationed in an alcove, near the^ 
 lawn set apart for the dancers, had for the time 
 ceased, and the different sounds of the various forms 
 of amusement, supposed to contribute to the attrac- 
 tions of this Daisy Hill Gala, were easily heard in 
 the calm summer air. Two miles away to the 
 south, the tall factory chimneys and the roofs of 
 the larger buildings, with the square tower of the 
 old church of Dalesford, stood out clean and 
 sharp in the evening sunlight. Occasionally a 
 shrill feminine scream, and the hoarse shout and 
 laughter of a broken-voiced youth of sixteen, en- 
 gaged in the horse-play of some of the local games, 
 jarred unpleasantly with the softened chime of the 
 distant clocks, striking the hour of seven, and 
 seemed strangely at variance with a zealous party 
 of some twenty or thirty persons, who, promenading 
 the grounds, three or four abreast, were singing to 
 some popular melody, words of a devotional and a 
 religious character. 
 
 " Why do those worthy persons,''^ said the man 
 with the heavy moustache and the thoughtful eyes. 
 
DAISY BILL. 3 
 
 *"' select a p^ala day in a * People's Park' for the exer- 
 cise of their devotions, I wonder ?" 
 
 " They are some of our Hallelujah Band/' said 
 the girl, " and are very numerous in this part of the 
 country." 
 
 " I have read somewhere/' returned her com- 
 panion, " that, in streets and synagogues, certain 
 persons were accustomed to sound a trumpet before 
 them — but they were hypocrites.". 
 
 The girl turned her honest brown eyes on the 
 speaker, and after a moment's pause remarked — 
 
 " They are well intentioned, I believe — -but they 
 are noisy !" 
 
 He remained silent for a few moments, plucking 
 some of the little wild flowers that grew within easy 
 reach, and having formed them into a small and 
 simple bouquet, and secured their stems by a long 
 blade of delicate grass, tossed them carelessly away. 
 
 " And your name is Worsdale, ^ and they call 
 you Dolly at home ?' " he asked abruptly, taking her 
 hand that lay on the seat beside her, and looking 
 earnestly in her bright young face, which flushed 
 crimson under his gaze. " Shall I ever see you 
 again, Dolly "VYorsdale ?— and when ? — I wonder, 
 when ?" 
 
 The girl rose with a startled look, and hastily 
 replacing the light summer scarf that had fallen 
 from her shoulders, said nervously — 
 
 1— a 
 
4 " shoddy:' 
 
 " Please let me return to my friends : we pro- 
 mised to leave the Park at eight; and they will be 
 waiting for me." 
 
 The dreamy, thoughtful manner from which her 
 companion seemed to have been for a moment 
 aroused, returned, and he added in his habitually 
 quiet and subdued tone — 
 
 "Permit me to accompany you to your party; 
 and allow me tooflPer some apology for the little 
 ceremony I have used in forcing myself upon your 
 acquaintance. But you will admit that formality 
 is more dispensed with in this kind of gathering 
 than is usually the case, and which may or may not 
 be an advantage, according to the views we take. 
 I need not say, with the happy experience of the 
 last hour, what my own are." 
 
 Dolly looked up with a frank and happy smile, and 
 with an expression of half-wonder in her eyes, when — 
 
 " Oh ! here you are at last, ma^am V cried the 
 shrill voice of a boy behind the seat on which they 
 had been resting. " Haven't I been looking for' 
 you all over the Park ! Come along ! we're just 
 going home, and Miss Skim pie is in a dreadful way 
 about you. Martin has been waiting an hour with 
 the carriage !" 
 
 " I'll come directly, Philip," said the girl ; and 
 added, in a low voice, '^ go and tell them so, there's 
 a dear boy \" 
 
DAISY HILL. 5 
 
 "Not without our Dolly, says Pliilip!" cried the 
 lad, with a grin on his round face, and a twinkle of 
 mischief in his great eyes, as he stood with his 
 hands in his pockets, and with a pair of stout little 
 legs set apart — a picture of sturdy independence 
 which his knickerbocker dress considerably assisted. 
 
 " Pray let me go, sir/^ said Dolly, appealing to 
 the stranger — and her lips for a moment paled and 
 quivered, and the soft brown eyes filled with tears — 
 " Please let me go — and — good-by/^ 
 
 Her companion took her unresisting little hand, 
 and retaining it in his own, was silent for a few 
 seconds ; then, while the boy^s attention was other- 
 wise attracted, raised it to his lips and kissing it 
 gently and respectfully, said — 
 
 " God bless you, Dolly Worsdale !" and turned 
 away. 
 
 -' My goodness me ! wherever have you been V 
 cried a singularly pretty and graceful girl of seven- 
 teen, or thereabout, as Dolly rejoined her own 
 party — " how hot and flustered you look ! Why 
 you must have danced yourself ofl^ yoar feet V 
 
 " I should like to stop and see the fireworks !" 
 said the boy they called Philip ; " shouldn't you, 
 Dolly ?^^ 
 
 " I don't care about them myself,^' said the girl, 
 " but'' — after a moment's pause — " I will stop with 
 you, if you wish/' 
 
6 "SROBDYr 
 
 '' Ha^ that^s right V cried the boy. *' Look here, 
 Miss Skimple^ let Dolly and me stop and " 
 
 But the boy was checked at once by the lady 
 whom he addressed, replying in a short and some- 
 what hard tone and manner — 
 
 ^^It is eight o^ clock. Open the carriage- door, 
 Martin/^ 
 
 So the ladies took their seats in the vehiclCj and 
 Phil jumjDing on the box^ after vainly endeavonring 
 to persuade the coachman to allow him to drive, 
 beguiled the journey by a vivid account of the 
 many and varied pleasures of the gala, and they 
 reached home as the first rocket announced the 
 commencement of the grand pyrotechnic display in 
 the People's Park at Daisy Hill. 
 
 At the roar of the rocket, the visitors at the gala 
 began to rush eagerly towards the platform set apart 
 for the fireworks. 
 
 '' Here, see thee ! catch hold of our Tilly — I'se 
 getten our Bob, thou knows \" cried a rough voice 
 in 'the broad accents of the West Biding dialect of 
 Yorkshire. " Here, maybe, mate, you'll give us a 
 light r 
 
 And the speaker, a short broad figure, who 
 walked with a limp, leading a stout boy by the 
 hand, and followed by a woman carrying a delicate- 
 looking girl in her arms, stopped for a moment to 
 beg a light from a gentleman who, seated on a 
 
 f 
 
BAISY HILL. . 7 
 
 rustic bench, was smoking a cigar_, and swinging 
 his legs in an absent, dreamy manner. 
 
 Then the distant report of some detonating fiie-* 
 work, that exploding high in the air shot forth a 
 shower of mauy-coloured stars, was followed by 
 the hoarse murmur of amazement and applause 
 from the crowds beneath ; and the Yorkshireman, 
 catching up the little boy, hurried away, followed 
 by the woman, leaving the lonely figure on the 
 bench, dreamily swinging his legs, and smoking his 
 cigar. 
 
 Then came the Roman candles, and some in- 
 genious devices with rapid changes and continual 
 explosions, and more rockets ; then some fiery 
 serpents hissing and flying this way and that -, then 
 the same over again or nearly so, and each time 
 greeted with^the hoarse plaudits of the crowd, and 
 at last the great effect of all — the storming of 
 Strasburg, with appropriate scenery and appliances ; 
 and if in the strong glare thrown by the con- 
 flagration of the city, the spectator might l^ave 
 discovered among the forces on the walls the 
 painted figures of one or more Sepoys, their pre- 
 sence might have been explained by the fact, of 
 the same scene having done duty previously as a 
 siege of Delhi, when the appearance of the native 
 troops was, of course, perfectly natural. 
 
 " Eh, it was a grand sight, yon, thou knows V 
 
8 "SEODDYr 
 
 remarked the father of little Bob as the pair 
 trudged homewards, followed by the patient wife 
 with the little girl. 
 
 " I call this sort of thing slow, after you^ve seen 
 it once or twice/^ said a youth of sixteen, as he 
 applied a fusee to a small meerschaum pipe, tipped 
 with silver and with an amber mouthpiece ; and 
 taking the arm of a companion, he turned into a 
 refreshment saloon, where he called for a " brandy- 
 and-soda,^^ and talked pleasant nonsense to the 
 barmaid. 
 
 " Look here, Tim, let^s go to the Talbot and have 
 a turn at billiards for an hour,''^ said the other. 
 
 ^^ Not to-night,"" replied the first young gentle- 
 man. " Our folks have gone home, and if I am late 
 I shall hear of it — the governor is rather cranky 
 on early hours, you know — besides Fve promised 
 not to go to the Talbot. Now, Mary, two brandies 
 and a split soda.''^ 
 
 " Well, then, the Boards Head," said the other. 
 " It''s a better table and not so far to go.^^ 
 
 " Right you are ! and I only made the promise 
 for the Talbot V cried the ingenious Tim; " so, Mary, 
 my dear, take for these liquids, and if for ever, 
 still for ever fare thee well !" With which and 
 other witticisms of a similar character, the two 
 youths strolled out. 
 
DAISY HILL. 9 
 
 '' Now^ sir ! if you please V^ cried a park-keeper 
 to a solitary figure seated on a bench, smoking a 
 cigar, " timers up ; we want to close the gates/^ 
 
 '^All over — eh?^-* lazily replied the one addressed. 
 " All right : what time is it ?" 
 
 " Past ten/^ said the park-keeper. " Been asleep, 
 sir V' 
 
 " No/^ said the other with a half-laugh, '' but 
 I think I have been dreaming !" 
 
 And he lit another cigar and turned his steps 
 townwards. 
 

 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 DALESFORD. 
 
 IT would be quite five- and- thirty years agOj 
 when the old Saxon town of Dalesford 
 was still an unpretentious place; wheil 
 the low-roofed cottage and the w^aver^s shed 
 stood where the handsome residence or the huge 
 factory may now be seen ; — when the little river, 
 rippling over its shallow bed of pebbly sand, eddied 
 round in a tiny vortex, or settled into dark pools, 
 in which the trout might be descried placidly lying, 
 that a stout young fellow of twenty paused on 
 the hill overlooking the town to contemplate the 
 view before him. 
 
 He was poorly clad and travel-stained ; he had 
 slung his boots over his arm and had been plodding 
 on barefoot — a not uncommon plan with tramps — 
 while a small bundle in a handkerchief, and a 
 staff cut from an ash-plant, seemed to constitute 
 the whole of his worldly possessions. Leaning on 
 his stick, and shading his eyes from the bright 
 June sun, he looked long and earnestly at the 
 
DALESFOBD. 11 
 
 quiet town at Ms feet. It was market-day^ and 
 the country people with their various wares passed 
 him on their way to the town. Comely country 
 lasses, seated on stout plough-horses, with baskets 
 of eggs and butter, rode placidly by. Small 
 carriers' carts from some adjacent village, plodded 
 slowly on, or the better kind of farmer on his 
 plump nag, jog-trotted by him, as he still stood 
 gazing before him and seeming to look right away 
 into some far-off future— some distant landscape, 
 which hope had conjured up, and youthful fancy 
 painted. At length his attention was roused by 
 the tolling of a bell, and looking in the direction 
 from which the sound came, he remarked a small 
 building with a factory appearance about it, and 
 one or two sheds adjoining. A little removed, 
 but still near enough to imply a connexion between 
 them, was a quiet but comfortable dwelling with a 
 small garden. It was the breakfast hour, and at 
 the sound of the bell the ''^ hands" — perhaps not 
 more than twenty altogether — turned out and 
 hurried away in different directions. This seemed 
 ^to give a new impulse to his thoughts. Turning 
 aside to where a little spring trickled through the 
 stones, and formed a small rivulet and pool, he 
 washed his tired and dusty feet, and resumed his 
 boots and stockings, and taking from his bundle 
 some odd scraps of bread and meat^ ate with a keen. 
 
12 '' SHODDY r 
 
 enjoyment. Then he took from his pocket an old 
 leather bag, and having counted the few coins it 
 contained, carefully replaced it. That done, he 
 knocked the dust from his clothes and, making as 
 clean an appearance as he could, descended the hill. 
 Passing through the mill-yard he made straight for 
 the door of the house. A rough and ill-conditioned 
 dog that lived in a barrel, — one that e\ddentiy 
 smelt " poverty'^ and probably suspected " lar- 
 ceny/^ — made a fierce onslaught on the stranger ; 
 but the voice of a hearty man, his master, some- 
 what above thirty years of age perhaps, who had 
 been breakfasting in his shirt sleeves, called from 
 the open doorway of the house, and asked in the 
 rough, but kindly accents of the West Yorkshire 
 dialect — 
 
 '' Eh, mate ! What's to do T' 
 
 " I want work, master,^' the lad said, stoutly ; 
 " and I donH care what it is, if I can but get it \" 
 
 " Whereas feyther and mother, my lad ?" said the 
 man standing in the doorway. 
 
 " Dead,'^ replied the tramp. " IVe no friends, 
 master, and I have no money ; I wont thieve and I 
 can't beg — and there you have it.'' 
 
 The master of the house, leaning against the 
 door-post, proceeded leisurely with his breakfast, 
 cutting large wedges of bacon with a clasp-knife, 
 on a huge slab of brown bread, casting keen glances 
 
DALESFORD. 13 
 
 at the young fellow as he did so. At last he ex- 
 claimed, as if from the inevitable conclusion to 
 which he had been driven — 
 
 " Well ! — thou^rt a bonnie devil !" And then he 
 added, after a few seconds^ pause, '' You want some 
 food, I reckon ?^' 
 
 " No," said the lad, ^' not now. Give me some- 
 thing to do first, and then something for dinner, if 
 you like/' 
 
 The homely, but, withal, well-to-do master of the 
 place, looked at the poor tramp, with something like 
 respect in his blue bright eyes, and then muttering 
 between his teeth what sounded very like an oath, 
 either as an involuntary compliment or an expres- 
 sion of wonder, cried out to an old workman who 
 was returning to the mill — 
 
 " Here ! you Noah ! Kerens a new hand ; set 
 him to pick that ^ rag"* in t' old shed — dost hear T' 
 and with that he returned to breakfast. 
 
 " What^s thy name V said the old man, as they 
 crossed the yard together. 
 
 " My name is Matthew," replied the stranger. 
 
 '' Matthy, eh ? Ah but, see thee, you don^t be- 
 long to these parts, thou knows,'' Noah observed. 
 
 " I'm on tramp," said the lad ; ^' I come from 
 the south." 
 
 " Who told you to come to Sherwin's mill ?" 
 Noah asked. 
 
u " shoddy:' 
 
 " Sherwin^s mill ?" repeated Matthew. 
 
 '* Ah, this is Sherwin^s mill, thou knows ; that 
 was Job Sherwin you seed at door of i' house/^ 
 
 By this time they had got to the shed. On the 
 floor were several heaps of woollen and cotton 
 fragments, carefully divided ; while in the centre 
 was a mound of refuse rags of every description, 
 from which arose an odour offensive and unwhole- 
 some, and which even the currents of air through the 
 many cranks and crevices of the rudely-constructed 
 shed could not remove. 
 
 " Sort them rags," said the old man, and so left 
 him; and Matthew commenced his first day's work 
 in the Shoddy trade of Yorkshire. 
 
 He earned his dinner that day, and the next, 
 and at the end of the week received his wages, as a 
 '^ sorter," at the rate of six shillings ; and so the 
 poor homeless tramp went on, and his new master 
 had no reason to repent his bargain. 
 
 Five years later, Matthew was lodging in a neat 
 little cottage, and one evening, while digging in the 
 garden, old Noah looked over the wall. 
 
 " So, Job's made thee foreman, Matthy, eh ?" 
 asked the old man. " Ah well, well ! Fm getting 
 old, thou knows, and it wur more nor I could do." 
 
 Five years more to that, and there was a great 
 stir and commotion in the mill-yard. The sheds 
 had been cleansed and decorated with flowers and 
 
DALESFORD. 15 
 
 evergreens ; tlie unsightly refuse and tlie imple- 
 ments of the trade had_, for the time^ been removed, 
 and long tables, formed of planks resting on trestles, 
 and covered with clean cloths, had been substi- 
 tuted. 
 
 The neighbours wondered what a " ^cute chap like 
 Job Sherwin was a-thinking on,^^ to get married then, 
 when the depression of trade had been the greatest; 
 others remarked it was because Job was a '^^cute 
 chap,^"* that he selected the time when a wealthy 
 wife would be a material assistance, after the loss 
 and damage following the Chartist agitation, in the 
 years ''40 to ^43. And some of the smaller class of 
 millowners, who had collapsed after that disastrous 
 period, and had been, in consequence, reduced to 
 their previous position as operatives, had plenty to 
 say on the matter ; nor were they sparing of their 
 sarcasms on Sherwin^s new partner, Matthew 
 Worsdale. But they came to the dinner in honour 
 of Mr. Sherwin^s marriage for all that, and were 
 loud enough in their congratulations ; and when 
 Matthew, in the absence of his senior, who had 
 started on his wedding tour, proposed his partner^s 
 health, and took occasion to own, fairly and man- 
 fully, his own obligations to his true and valued 
 friend and master. Job Sherwin, they all cheered 
 lustily, and drank in turn to Matthew's honour as 
 a self-made man. 
 
16 "SHODDY:' 
 
 And mind, reader of mine, if the abuse of good 
 liquor leads men to quarrel and fight, as it too 
 frequently does, the use of it also makes them 
 forgive and shake hands ; and though the homely- 
 custom of health-drinking has passed out of fashion, 
 and the tedious one of taking wine with one another 
 at dinner is no more observed, depend upon it 
 many an angry feeling has been lulled, many an 
 inadvertent word atoned for, a doubtful understand- 
 ing set at rest, or a growing friendship confirmed, 
 by the simple question, '^ A glass of wine V 
 
 The firm of Sherwin and Worsdale continued to 
 thrive, and their trade greatly increased, for the 
 partners were men well adapted to each other. The 
 more enterprising and speculative character of the 
 senior, was restrained and disciplined by the care 
 and watchfulness of the other. In due time, Mat- 
 thew followed his partner^s example and took a 
 wife. The girl he chose was the bright, cheery, 
 honest daughter of a farmer in the neighbourhood, 
 with good sound sense behind her comely face, and 
 an active, earnest spirit of her own, which served 
 Matthew many times in the bewilderments of life, 
 when the simple instincts of a true woman will 
 often jump at once to a right conclusion, for which 
 we may, with all our reason, toil in vain. 
 
 But the wives were never intimate. Certain 
 formal and periodical visitings were paid and en- 
 
BALESFOBD. 17 
 
 durecl in turu, but tlicir characters and tempera- 
 ments were too much opposed to admit of a closer 
 tie. Mrs. Sherwin (she was the only daughter of 
 a banker at Leeds) was what is understood by the 
 term " an ailing person/^ and was somewhat of a 
 vacillating turn of mind. Without the cares of a 
 numerous family to rouse her — they had only one 
 child, a boy with the frank face of his father^ and 
 the laziness he inherited from his mother — she gave 
 herself up to the impressions of the hour, and 
 adopted her political or her religious views as slie 
 chose her dress or her bonnets — with a view to 
 novelty or effect. 
 
 This frivolity of temper used to try even Job's 
 patience, but he was a good and true fellow ; and 
 when other men might have relieved their irritated 
 feelings by a gust of passion, or taken refuge in a 
 fit of dudgeon, he would order the groom to saddle 
 the pony for his little sou, and with the boy trotting 
 by his side, he would walk briskly to some adjacent 
 town, in the way of business ; or the two, father 
 and son, would start for a day^s fishing in some of 
 the quiet nooks of Yorkshire, and so baffle the Evil 
 Spirit of anger that sometimes beset him. But he 
 was very fond of his pretty, delicate, and tiresome 
 wife ; and when she died, ten years later, he was 
 nearly inconsolable for his loss. A plain granite 
 stone — of the best, but quite plain — marked her last 
 
 VOL. I. 2 
 
18 "SHODDY." 
 
 resting-place^ and every Sunday after service tlie 
 poor widower and his little motherless boy quietly 
 and reverently paid a visit to the grave. But a 
 change in the man's nature was shortly after ob- 
 servable. His enterprising and speculative spirit 
 seemed to die out, and in its place was born an 
 anxious carefulness bordering upon parsimony. 
 
 All his hopes seemed to begin and to end with 
 his son. He was to have the best education, and 
 no luxury was denied him. Young Hopeful accepted 
 all these concessions in a very gracious manner, and 
 soon appeared to regard himself as one of England^s 
 young nobility. He lorded it over the good people 
 at home, and patronised the younger family of his 
 father^s partner with a charming absurdity. 
 
 In due time he was sent to a public school of 
 great local repute, and was then transfen^ed to 
 Harrow, where, thanks to a naturally robust con- 
 stitution and good abilities, he contrived to, very 
 fairly, hold his own. Occasionally he would en- 
 deavour to domineer as of old; but it having 
 transpired that the youth's father had made his 
 fortune by the shoddy trade, one of the Harrow 
 wags — and of all wags the wag of a boy^s school is 
 the most merciless — christened him " Devil's-dust /' 
 so young Sherwin learnt to know his place. His 
 father soon afterwards removing to a smaller house, 
 and one further from the town, the son^s visits to 
 
DALESFOBD. 19 
 
 Dalesford were more aud more rare. At such times, 
 too, he avoided the mill and all its surroundings, 
 and confined his excursions to airing his gentle- 
 manhood in the market-place, or the High Street, 
 or to the billiard-room of the hotel. But he 
 preferred to spend his vacations in town, or at the 
 fashionable watering-places, from whence he would 
 write to his fond father for supplies ; and the old 
 gentleman, with much grumbling and dismal fore- 
 boding, and with much secret pride in his tender 
 old heart that his boy was making a figure in the 
 world, sent off the money by return. 
 
 The twenty years that had elapsed since Matthew 
 Worsdale, tired and footsore, leaned on his staff and 
 unconsciously contemplated his future home, had 
 worked many changes, and, not the least, in his own 
 fortunes. The humble factory and small sheds that 
 had at first arrested his attention no longer existed ; 
 but in their place a substantial, stone-built mill, 
 and large and commodious warehouses. As the 
 more active partner of the firm, Matthew lived near 
 the works, but his house was well appointed, and 
 his garden-grounds carefully cultivated. 
 
 Nothing revolutionises a place so suddenly and 
 entirely as the introduction and development of a 
 new and successful branch of trade. So it was with 
 Dalesford. Its rustic associations lived only in its 
 namC; and in the memories of the old and middle- 
 
 2—2, 
 
20 "Shoddy:' 
 
 aged. The thatched cottage with the wide chimney 
 corner, and the pretty garden running down to the 
 little brook, which gave the place half its name, had 
 long since retired before the low-rented dwellings, 
 " adapted for operatives,^^ which some long-headed 
 speculator, guided by the increasing prosperity of 
 the town, had constructed on sanitary (and ugly) 
 principles. No space was wasted, and a row of six 
 bilious-looking stone, five-roomed tenements, occu- 
 pied the ground previously devoted to beehives 
 and cabbages. The stepping stones across the 
 stream had long since been disused, and a com- 
 modious iron bridge formed a more convenient 
 thoroughfare for the increasing population. The 
 little trout stream itself was now a dismal purple- 
 coloured current, exhaling the peculiar half-acid, half- 
 sweet odour of a dye-house ; while the stream from 
 the refuse water of the several mills, that discharged 
 itself into the inky stream, hung over it at night 
 like misty embodiments of the twin demons, Typhus 
 and Cholera. 
 
 The pure bracing air inhaled on the Yorkshire 
 hills by the traveller, whose business — for it never 
 would be in the pursuit of pleasure that he would visit 
 Dalesford nowadays — led him to the busy town, 
 was perceptibly changed as he descended into the 
 valley. A strange warm odour, in which the sickly 
 smell of very old clothes and of train-oil, appeared 
 
DALESFOBD. 21 
 
 to contend for the predominance, became more and 
 more prevalent, as he proceeded. He would also 
 be conscious presently of breathing an impalpable 
 dust, which found its way into his ears and eyes, up 
 his nostrils, amongst his hair, and on his face and 
 hands. Half an hour's stay in the town, and the 
 dirt would have visibly accumulated. Many of the 
 residents of the place appeared as though their 
 skins had been thoroughly impregnated with it, and 
 their countenances seemed to have acquired a con- 
 firmed greasy and grimy complexion. 
 
 Yet the townsfolk throve well ; they married, 
 and were given in marriage, and humble young 
 Dalesford, out of number, was born and struggled 
 on through a tempestuous infancy and assertive 
 childhood to a robust youth and muscular maturity ; 
 and having matriculated in their Shoddy Univer- 
 sity as " Piercers'''' or " Servers/'' graduated as 
 " Grinders" or ^^ Fullers, ''' until they wei'e duly 
 qualified to take orders as " Slubbers^' or " Finishers," 
 or, better still, could start in life as manufacturers 
 themselves, with an estate in Rags and a fortune in 
 Refuse. 
 
 The spirit of change which had influenced the 
 later years of Mr. Sherwin was observable also in 
 his partner, Matthew — but with this difference : 
 that as the senior member of the firm had become 
 more and more careful and penurious, the other 
 
22 " S RODDY." 
 
 one^s views seemed to be broadening and extending. 
 He had already filled several public positions of 
 eminence "with skill and address ; for the man''s 
 shrewd sense and naturally quick wits supplied in a 
 very great degree the deficiencies in his education. 
 Never relaxing a jot in his industry^ and with an 
 unimpeachable character for integrity, he had pro- 
 bably ambitious views of one kind or another, 
 though they might be less for himself than for his 
 young family. 
 
 After the death of the good and true woman, 
 who had been his helpmate and skilful adviser 
 through good and bad times, he removed with his 
 family to another and a larger residence. He used 
 to account for this by saying the old place was too 
 full of painful associations ; but some of those who 
 knew him best — though he belonged to that class 
 of men who are not easily read or soon learnt — 
 implied that he had other reasons, and that a love 
 of ostentation, which his wife had held in check 
 while she lived, had as much to do with it as any- 
 thing else. 
 
 However, like his friend and partner, Matthew 
 seemed to feel his loss deeply, though it might 
 perhaps be in a different sort of way. It was a 
 splendid funeral : so much so, that the resident 
 undertaker had to call in the assistance of a brother 
 in the trade, who did business at Leeds, before the 
 
JDALESFOBD. 23 
 
 requirements of the bereaved widower could, be 
 met. 
 
 The mill stopped work that day, and several of 
 the shops were closed ; probably the latter might 
 really have been the sincere homage of respect for 
 one who was generally esteemed and beloved. 
 
 Matthew's partner, Mr. Sherwin, followed as one 
 of the mourners, and wept bitterly — more so indeed 
 than the widower himself. Perhaps the old man 
 was thinking of another grave not far oflP, with a 
 plain granite slab upon it. Young Sherwin was 
 not present : he had gone to Paris, but he wrote a 
 very neat letter of condolence, which INIatthew 
 glanced hastily over and burnt, for he never quite 
 liked the lad, nor could he well endure the jackanape 
 airs the youngster used to give himself. 
 
 The four children, the youngest a boy of eight, 
 also followed, and the sight of the poor motherless 
 things in their mourning hoods and cloaks, started 
 many a tear down the hard-featured faces of work- 
 ing Dalesford. When that part of the burial ser- 
 vice was read so painfully solemn — and sometimes 
 to those left behind so terrible ! — which is accom- 
 panied by the sprinkling of the earth on the coffin 
 of the dear one now at rest — the last, sad, and for 
 ever ^^good-by'^ — when grief may well be uncon- 
 trollable because, oh, so helpless ! — the last hollow 
 sound that tells us all now, indeed, is over — one of 
 
24 « SHODDY." 
 
 the daughters^ a pretty little blue-eyed girl, was so 
 completely overwhelmed by her sorrow that she 
 had to be carried sobbing and hysterical to the 
 carriage. Her sister, probably a year or two older, 
 betrayed but little outward emotion ; she wept 
 silently, it is true, and furtively let fall in her 
 mother^s grave a little wreath or chaplet, whisper- 
 ing as she did so some words of prayer or resigna- 
 tion, or it might be some innocent resolve which 
 those standing by could not catch ; but the violent 
 grief of the one was so far allayed by the time 
 they reached home that she was able to take part 
 in the cold collation prepared for the funeral party ; 
 whilst, her sister^s absence being observed, she was 
 at last discovered kneeling by the bed on which her 
 mother had died, with her soft brown hair all loose 
 about her gentle face, her little Prayer Book lying 
 on the floor, and her mother^s portrait pressed 
 against her heart. 
 
 When the charming young curate of St. Mary^s, 
 Dalesford, the Reverend Ernest Palethorpe, who 
 wrote illuminated extracts in church-text so adroitly, 
 and had achieved the " Last Supper^^ in worsted 
 work, which hung over the mantelpiece in the 
 breakfast-parlour of the Rectory, was asked by the 
 Mayoress, Mrs. Batley (who was fond of a little 
 sly fun), at which of the young ladies in Mr. 
 Worsdale^s pew it was that he was looking so 
 
DALESFOED. 25 
 
 frequently last Sunday, whilst he was reading the 
 Litany, that conscientious young minister, reddcD- 
 ing to the temples, replied that he hoped he allowed 
 no worldly thoughts to intrude when in the exer- 
 cise of his sacred functions ; but he could assure 
 Mrs. Batley that they were equally estimable young 
 persons, for he had the privilege of visiting at 
 Worsdale House, aud had, therefore, opportunities 
 of observing. However, later on in the evening he 
 conveyed to that lady his impression, confidentially, 
 that though Miss Dorothy seemed a very sensible 
 and domesticated young person, there could be no 
 doubt that the brilliancy of character lay with her 
 sister, Priscilla; whose charming artlessness and 
 purely childish nature it was refreshing, as it was 
 interesting, to observe. 
 
 " But which, Mr. Palethorpe,'"' the wily lady 
 pursued, " which now do you really think would 
 make the better — wife ?" 
 
 The artful Batley stole a peep at the Rev. 
 Ernest, who, with his head on one side, was nursing 
 his leg, and playing an air with his fingers on his 
 knee, and he replied in a state of clammy per- 
 spiration, with a sickly smile, " that he had really 
 not given the subject any consideration,^^ aud 
 so the conversation dropped. But there was a 
 wicked look in the genial lady^s eyes when 
 they used to meet that always set the Rev. 
 
26 "SEODDY." 
 
 Palethorpe blushing, and his hair-roots tingling with 
 confusion. 
 
 So the world rolled on, and the seasons changed 
 in the thriving town of Dalesford; and Time, that 
 cuts off and brings forth, that raises another little 
 mound in our graveyards, yet permits the daisies to 
 grow over it — that gives the blow but heals the 
 wound — brought back the roses to Priscilla^s pretty 
 face, and hope and resignation to the sorrowing 
 heart of Dolly. The poor child would droop and 
 sadden sometimes, and a tear would steal out of her 
 soft eyes, when some little innocent memento of her 
 mother's love would come unexpectedly to light ; or 
 some old' tune or words, in their subtle association 
 with other days, would revive in her memory the 
 dear and kindly face of her best friend. 
 
 By this time the utmost limits assigned by Eti- 
 quette for mourning had long since expired, and the 
 customary indications of grief had ascended from 
 the dark abyss of the deep black, through the inter- 
 mediate regions of greys and neutrals, so Decorum 
 herself was compelled to admit that colours might 
 now be worn with perfect propriety. Miss Prissy 
 was positively radiant in her blue or white dress. 
 She had long, curling, light hair and mischievous 
 blue eyes, and she knew, with the ready instinct of a 
 born coquette, what colours would become her. 
 When she came tripping down to breakfast in the 
 
DALESFOBD. 27 
 
 morning, generally after the others had been seated 
 some time, her father would lay aside his paper or 
 his letters, and bestow a glance of pride and 
 admiration on his pretty girl. He was a thorough 
 man of business, was Matthew ; but he could 
 always find time to kiss her, and talk a little 
 nonsense to her; and if the child were ill or out 
 of sorts, he used to be peevish and fretful himself, 
 and snap at the persons in the counting-house or 
 mill. As for Dolly, who was an early riser and 
 given to running in the garden, and gathering 
 fruit and flowers before the breakfast hour, the 
 little feminine fascinations which her sister prac- 
 tised so prettily did not seem in her way, or she 
 was too careless to affect them. 
 
 Always neat, to be sure, her dress was always 
 plain ; and there was always, too — as a ribbon, or 
 as a bow or wristlet — some little piece of black about 
 her dress — very unobtrusive certainly, but there it 
 was; while in a little locket round her neck was a 
 tiny lock of dark hair, just streaked with grey, and 
 a portion torn from the last letter that the mother 
 had written to the loving girl. 
 
 But the family at Worsdale House were destined 
 before long to wear mourning again, and Prissy^s 
 bright face darkened into a frown, when Propriety, 
 in the person of the girls^ governess. Miss Skimple, 
 (a tall and gaunt lady, with a high nose and very 
 
28 "SHODDY:' 
 
 dark hair^ which had a suspiciously defined parting, 
 and had been known on more than one occasion 
 to shift its position on her forehead,) prohibited 
 her presence at Mrs. Batley^s ball. Dolly^ who 
 seemed to take such disappointments with much 
 equanimity,, exclaimed, " Poor Mr. Sherwin ! poor 
 father's old friend V and cried heartily. They had 
 sat down to supper one evening, when a messenger 
 in haste, and considerably flurried, begged Mr. 
 Worsdale to lose no time in going to the house 
 where his partner lived. Hastily throwing on his 
 overcoat, Matthew started alone, and it was well he 
 did so. He found his old friend alive and con- 
 scious, though unable to articulate ; but he took 
 Matthew^s hand, and then murmuring a few words 
 indistinctly, died quietly in the arms of the man he 
 had befriended and had started in the world. 
 
 They found by his will, dated three years before, 
 all his affairs had been carefully settled. He died 
 more wealthy than even Matthew had supposed. 
 His share in the business he bequeathed, with a 
 few words of manly affection, to his old and dear 
 friend Matthew Worsdale ; the rest of his handsome 
 property, with the exception of a few legacies, he 
 bequeathed to his son, adding thereto his hope that 
 his boy would yet return to the usefulness of 
 trade. 
 
 How to communicate with young Sherwin was a 
 
DALESFORD. 29 
 
 difficulty, for no one knew where he was to be 
 found. A friend of the old gentleman^s, a solicitor 
 in London, who had acted as a kind of agent in 
 supplying the son with funds after Mr. Sherwin had 
 become older and more invalided, had not heard of 
 him for two or three years excepting at long in- 
 tervals ; and then his letters were dated from the 
 Continent. And the affair promised to involve con- 
 siderable complication, much to the annoyance and 
 irritation of Matthew. 
 
 About the same time that Mr. Sherwin had 
 passed placidly away in the arms of his old friend, 
 a small group of persons had gathered round the 
 prostrate body of a young Englishman, in one of 
 the least frequented streets of a small continental 
 town. 
 
 " Do you know him ?" asked one of the by- 
 standers, in French. 
 
 " He is an Englishman — a countryman of my 
 own,'^ replied, in the same language, the person 
 thus addressed. " I have met him fi'equently of 
 late at the table ; he played deeply. Ha ! he seems 
 to have been wounded too V' he continued, passing 
 his hand over the head of the still insensible figure, 
 and remarking the blood on his fingers. " Will 
 Monsieur procure some assistance ?" 
 
 '' If my iriend will go for the surgeon — there 
 
30 '' shoddy:' 
 
 is one close at liand — we will place him in my 
 house for the present — it is just by/^ said the man 
 who had spoken first. " The poor wretch must not 
 die in the street/' 
 
 The party separated for the purposes named, 
 leaving the Englishman alone with the body. On 
 their return, accompanied by the surgeon — 
 
 " This seems a case of self-destruction/' remarked 
 the Englishman; "probably from losses at play. I 
 observed him at the table to-night." 
 
 '' So did I/' observed another, " for I was there 
 myself; but he appeared to be winning largely/' 
 
 ^' This wound was not self-inflicted/' said the 
 surgeon, as he stooped to examine it. ^^ It might 
 be the result of a fall on the stones ; but more pro- 
 bably it is from the blow of a stick or other blunt 
 weapon, with a view to plunder. You see his 
 pockets have evidently been searched." 
 
 " That had escaped my observation," said the 
 Englishman. " Poor fellow ! he seems badly 
 wounded. With this good gentleman's permission 
 I will remain by my countryman's bed to-night, 
 and make some inquiries in the morning." 
 
 And so they carried the still unconscious form 
 into the house. 
 
^^M 
 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 WORSDALE HOUSE. 
 
 HEN the bell in the factory of Sherwin 
 and Worsdale^, Mungo Rag and Shoddy 
 merchants, of Dalesford^ gave notice every 
 morning, at eight o'clock, that the many operatives 
 therein employed were at liberty to go home to 
 breakfast for half an hour, if so disposed, a bell on 
 a considerably smaller scale, but quite as punctual, 
 reminded the inmates of Worsdale House that, in a 
 cool and pleasant breakfast-room looking on the 
 garden, was a table, well laden with a substantial 
 meal, awaiting their convenience. At such times, 
 in the summer months, Dolly would run in through 
 the open French window from the garden, with a 
 little nosegay hastily pulled, and with the dew still 
 clinging to the flowers ; or some freshly-gathered 
 fruit, with the hue of the rosebud or the ripeness of 
 the cherry or the plum, in her own young, bright, 
 English face. Her father would seat himself, so- 
 lemnly and gravely, in his armchair, and prepare to 
 glance over the little heap of letters and newspapers 
 
32 " shoddy:' 
 
 laid ready for his perusal. Propriety, embodied in 
 the tall, figure with the high nose and smooth front, 
 and the majestic mien of the governess. Miss 
 Skimple, would enter with a calm and dignified 
 salutation. Little Phil would come racing through 
 the hall, red-faced and breathless, after his accus- 
 tomed morning scamper with the dogs ; whilst his 
 elder brother, a youth of sixteen or seventeen, with 
 a feeble intimation of incipient whisker, and a slight 
 attempt at dandyism, as far as his figure would 
 admit of it at that very ungainly age — when the 
 hands and feet seem so large and the features so 
 puny — would arrive a few minutes later, and take 
 his seat at the further end of the table, in the hope 
 that the still pervading odour of his last night's 
 pipe, which clung with a traitorous obstinacy to his 
 hair — as if determined to betray the propensities of 
 the lad — might not be so perceptible to the obser- 
 vant and somewhat arbitrary master of the house. 
 Then, when Mr. Worsdale had finished his first cup 
 of tea ; when Phil was preparing to supplement his 
 basin of bread and milk with cofi'ee and cakes, and 
 anything that recommended itself to his accommo* 
 dating appetite ; when Dolly had assisted the gover- 
 ness for the second time from a neat little silver 
 teapot, into which no infusion of deleterious green 
 was permitted, by medical directions, to enter ; and 
 when Tim, having accomplished the first coiuse, 
 
DALESFOED. 33 
 
 had thrown himself back into his chair, and with 
 elevated eyebrows, was making a chirruping noise 
 with his lips and teeth, as youth verging on man- 
 hood, with a due sense of its own importance in the 
 world, frequently does — the door would be opened 
 * slyly, and a pretty face, with mischievous blue eyes 
 and a profusion of light curling hair, would peep 
 in, and after a demure curtsey and an apology for 
 being late (which being an event of everyday occur- 
 rence was taken as a matter of course), Miss Prissy 
 would dance up to her father, who would lay aside 
 his letter or his paper to kiss his little daughter, 
 and to give her a seat by his side. 
 
 This was one of Prissy^s many privileges, and if 
 it were usurped, even by a visitor in the house, her 
 father^s brow would fall, and his nether lip purse 
 out — infallible indications of the foul weather that 
 might be expected, unless precautions were taken to 
 divert it. 
 
 " That is my little Pussy^s usual chair," he re- 
 marked, in as bland a tone as he could assume, 
 and with a half laugh, but hoisting at the same 
 time the well-known foul-weather signals, as good- 
 natured, but mischievous Mrs. Batley, the mayor^s 
 wife, plumped herself down purposely by his side. 
 
 " Don't take your sister's chair, Tim,^' he grum- 
 bled out when his eldest son blundered into the 
 reserved seat. " Do let us have some order in the 
 
 VOL. I. 3 
 
34 " shoddy:' 
 
 housC;, if you please ;''' and as he was not, in a 
 general way, of a conversational or loquacious turn, 
 these brief remarks of his carried much weight. 
 
 Indeed, there seemed to be between his elder son 
 and himself some indefinable gulf or difference. 
 He seemed irritated by the youth^s manner and his 
 air of self importance. Perhaps he thought of his 
 own hard young life, and how, under great and 
 undeserved difficulties, he had had to make his own 
 unassisted and friendless way ; and perhaps, un- 
 consciously, fell to comparing his own energetic 
 character with the apparently purposeless life of his 
 son. He did not complain, but his irritation took 
 the form of curt replies and covert sarcasms, which 
 sent the blood into the face of the young fellow, 
 who then relapsed into a state of sulky silence. 
 
 There was generally an awkward pause after one 
 of these caustic rejoinders, and Miss Skimple had 
 an unpleasant mannerism — or it might be a phy- 
 sical defect — of sniffing twice, after the manner 
 of a postman^s knock, which served to emphasise 
 the unpleasantness of the moment. Dolly would 
 then ask a question of the governess, or make an 
 observation to Phil, by which she very frequently 
 contrived to bridge over the gap in the family 
 cheerfulness, when the sunshine of Prissy^s face 
 was unavailing, and poor Phil looked on with 
 dismay. 
 
DALESFOBB. 35 
 
 " I observe/^ Tim would say with his accustomed 
 air of importance, and the accompanying chirrup 
 with his lips and teeth, " that our Member has been 
 addressing the working men at Massingham, but 
 they donH give us his speech in extenso in the 
 report I read/' 
 
 " The Sporting Chronicle is not a political 
 paper/' his father would drily rejoin; and Tim 
 would proceed with his breakfast. 
 
 '^ Your speckled hen has nine chicks, Phil/' 
 Dolly would interpose, bending over the tea service 
 to conceal the flush which these encounters always 
 produced ; " and pretty little things they are V 
 
 " Will there be any more ^ curates' among them 
 when they grow up, do you think ?" asked Phil, 
 putting down his ' cup to laugh. " Prissy says the 
 Rev. Mr. Palethorpe looks just like a half-grown 
 chicken, when he walks up the aisle at church, 
 picking his steps, with his head on one side." 
 
 " My dears !" observed Miss Skimple, who never 
 let an occasion pass, in the presence of her employer 
 at least, of manifesting her sense of propriety, " do 
 you think you are justified in making such a com- 
 parison ?" 
 
 " Certainly, Miss Skimple !" cried Prissy. '^ It 
 isn't complimentary, we know, to the chicken ; but 
 the way the amiable Ernest looks out the places in 
 the book is very like a young fowl scratching for 
 
 3—2, 
 
36 *' shoddy:' 
 
 corn. I am sure last Sunday I thought lie was 
 going to crow." 
 
 The fancy picture of a curate crowing in the 
 reading desk was received by the boy with the 
 utmost demonstrations of delight — such as bursting 
 into a fit of laughter, and meeting the eye of the 
 governess, endeavouring, after the usual inexperience 
 of boyhood, to conceal his convulsions of enjoyment 
 by forcibly swallowing his coffee, which was imme- 
 diately returned in a series of spurts, accompanied 
 by a violent attack of choking. 
 
 The governess was about to improve the occasion 
 by saying that such personal remarks, especially 
 when made in such a place, were scarcely in a 
 spirit of strict propriety, not to say Christianity, 
 which taught us to think well of every one, and if 
 we could not speak favourably of a person, not to 
 speak at all, &c., &c. ; but as Propriety, who had a 
 quick and observant eye on each side of her high 
 and patrician nose, at that moment detected, though 
 partially concealed by the newspaper he was pre- 
 tending to read, a quiet smile lurking in the corners 
 of Mr. Worsdale^s mouth, she went on to say that 
 where no malignant feeling prompted such flights 
 of childish fancy it was quite as decorous, and indeed 
 quite as truly Christian, to abstain from unduly 
 severe strictures upon it; at the same time urging 
 her "'^ sweet girl " to remember in her wildest moods 
 
BALESFOBD. 37 
 
 (and from which no young person could be expected 
 to be quite free) that whatever personal peculiarities 
 the Rev, Mr. Palethorpe possessed, he was a strictly 
 conscientious young minister, and devoted to his 
 sacred vocation. 
 
 It was at such times, when Miss Skim pie uttered 
 these platitudes, with an air of smug complacency, 
 that Dolly, usually so self-contained and equable, 
 used to chafe and fret visibly. The irritability of 
 her father, under certain conditions, was then repro- 
 duced in her ; and it took the shape either of a 
 brusqueness of speech, or sharp rejoinder, or of a 
 well simulated demureness, which tantalised and 
 annoyed the governess in turn. The two ladies had 
 several passages of small arms, and the dictatorial 
 tone or latent sneer of the elder one found a 
 match in the keen reply and stout temper of her 
 pupil. In fact it was easy to see that Dolly was not 
 a favourite, and the prompt and careful discharge 
 of her duties did not compensate with the governess 
 for the contempt she sometimes too visibly dis- 
 played for the other^s tedious truisms ; and I doubt 
 whether the little maiden herself quite knew the 
 lengths she permitted her temper at times to carry her. 
 
 But the domestics all loved this girl, and not one 
 in the house or in the large mill but was glad to 
 see the kind and expressive face, with the frank 
 smile and cheerful greeting. 
 
38 "SHODDY." 
 
 Young Frank Ossett_, at the early age of thirteen, 
 while Dolly was a year or two younger, fell deeply 
 in love with her^ and wrote epistles of an amatory 
 nature in good, fair, round-hand, which he bribed her 
 brother by gifts of hardbake and gingerbread to 
 deliver, and then recovered before they came to hand, 
 with an uneasy misgiving they were spelt incor- 
 rectly or were badly written^ and that the girl would 
 despise him in consequence. 
 
 The Rev. Ernest Palethorpe, too, whatever he 
 might say in favour of Prissy, was really a great 
 admirer of Miss Dolly ; and he always had a slight 
 air of apprehensiveness or embarrassment when he 
 addressed her, which did not place him to advantage. 
 I believe, on one occasion, he had taken upon him- 
 self to examine Miss Dolly on certain questions 
 involving matters of faith, and the young lady had 
 put such strange and unexpected interrogations to 
 him in return, that the well-intentioned, but some- 
 what shallow divine, was painfully confused, and 
 turned the conversation to the subject of tatting. 
 
 Indeed, in all matters of feminine accomplish- 
 ments the gentle Palethorpe was a connoisseur. 
 His master-piece in the way of worsted work 
 hung, as we know, in the Rectory parlour; and 
 although horse exercise was too violent for him, and 
 cricket or other out- door pastime too heating, 
 and, as he said, unsuited to his cloth, there were 
 
DALE8F0BD. 39 
 
 very few young gentlemen of his age who could work 
 embroidery better, or illuminate texts in colours and 
 gold with greater smoothness and brilliancy. Miss 
 Priscilla, who was the incarnation of girlish mis- 
 chief, delighted in drawing the curate out, for the 
 pleasure of mimicking him afterwards. She would 
 entreat him to sing that sweet little thing he sang 
 so nicely at Mrs. Batley^s, and the simple young 
 fellow would find himself at the piano, warbling a 
 sort of semi-sacred song. He was much addicted 
 in music, to the graces of the turn and the shake, 
 and in phrases of unusual solemnity he would intro- 
 duce a vibrato into his voice, and always to the 
 intense enjoyment of Prissy and the boisterous 
 delight of Phil ; who on such occasions, after 
 various sniggerings and sneezings, would at last 
 burst into an uncontrollable fit of boyish laughter, 
 and be summarily dealt with in consequence. And 
 as for Miss Priscilla, when once she had commenced 
 her imitation of the artless young man, it was in 
 vain that " Propriety^^ prepared a few highly-toned 
 platitudes ; and it was in vain that her father frowned, 
 as he looked over his paper. The unmerciful little 
 mimic let nothing escape her, whether it was the 
 mincing, lisping tone in which the curate carolled 
 his innocent lays, or the little effeminate chassee 
 with which his walking step was blended. 
 
 About two months after the Daisy Hill gala, on 
 
40 "SHODDY." 
 
 a bright morning in tlie first "week of September, 
 Mr. Worsdale gravely entered the breakfast-room 
 with his letter bag in his hand, and having seated 
 himself, and deliberately selected the appropriate 
 little key from the bunch he carried, proceeded to 
 examine the contents. Business letters, brief and 
 to the point, were hastily glanced over and laid in 
 a little heap by themselves, to be perused again or 
 answered in the counting-house; printed reports of 
 meetings or auctioneers^ catalogues formed another 
 heap ; while those requiring his best consideration 
 occupied a third place by themselves. 
 
 " A letter for you, Tim ; one for you, my dear,^^ 
 he said, as he dealt them out like cards from a pack, 
 to his son and Prissy. 
 
 " ' Miss Worsdale ;' this will be for Dolly then,'' 
 said the younger daughter. " Anything for me, 
 papa ?'' 
 
 " Nothing more. I don't suppose your sister 
 has any secrets from you, my dear, that you need 
 be afraid to read it," he replied ; and proceeded 
 with his own correspondence. A communication 
 from the secretary of a Fire Assurance Company, 
 declining a proposed insurance, he laid aside with 
 an expression of annoyance. The second seemed 
 to excite some surprise, for he read it over twice 
 with marked attention, and then placed it in 
 the breast-pocket of his coat. A third letter, which 
 
DALESFOBD. 41 
 
 bore the Mancliester post mark, lie read also care- 
 fully, and glanced towards Tim as he did so. That 
 young gentleman had retired to the window for the 
 purpose of perusing his own letter, it being a 
 custom of his to read the contents in private. Miss 
 Skimple rarely received any letters. Occasionally 
 a communication from a seriously disposed friend, 
 enclosing a small publication of a pious tendency, 
 or a printed sermon, or the annual address to a 
 Sunday school, formed the bulk of her corre- 
 spondence. During the perusal of their letters by 
 the others at breakfast time she would remain in a 
 state of rigid repose, emphasising her own letters, 
 when she had any, by her habitual double-sniff ; or, 
 if no correspondence had fallen to her share, looking 
 placidly at vacancy, while the family were engaged 
 with theirs. 
 
 " It's for you, I tell you !" cried Prissy, as she 
 handed the letter she had opened to her sister, 
 " from Martha Dingwall ; I knew it was at first, by 
 the dashes under every other word and the bad 
 spelling. Miss Dingwall, papa ; you remember her ? 
 She spent the holidays here, last summer twelve- 
 month. Wants Dolly and me to go to the seaside for 
 a month — to what is it ? — Redwell. Where is it, 
 Miss Skimple ? do you know ? In Lincolnshire ?" 
 
 " Redwell, my dear,'' replied the authority 
 addressed, '' is a watering place of some little 
 
42 "SSODDY." 
 
 repute on tlie Lancashire coast. It lias only of 
 late years been frequented to any extent^ but is 
 rapidly rising in public estimation^ I am told/' 
 
 " Would you like to go, my love ?'' asked 
 Matthew of his younger daughter. " It is the best 
 time of the year for the purpose.^' 
 
 ^* I should love it of all things ! Shouldn't you, 
 Dolly ? What fun we would have !'' the girl cried, 
 clapping her hands, and her face beaming with 
 pleasure. 
 
 " Yes ! I should like it very well,'' said Dolly. 
 " I have never seen the sea, and the Redwell Coast 
 is a nice one." 
 
 " Never seen the sea !" echoed Prissy. '' By-the- 
 by, I don't believe you have, though I've seen it 
 many times — at Scarboro', and Whitby, and the Isle 
 of Man too ! Well, let us go then !" she cried, 
 " and be mermaids, and sit on the rocks and comb 
 our hair, and sing songs to the fishermen !" 
 
 ^^ My dear !" interposed Propriety, ^^ My dear !" 
 
 '^ To be sure," Prissy exclaimed, ^' and ride on 
 the donkeys, and gather shells and seaweed, and get 
 dreadfully wet and taste all of salt, as Lot's wife 
 must have done, when her husband kissed her. 
 Oh, but I forgot, he didn't turn back — and be as 
 happy as the day is long !" 
 
 " O my ! shouldn't I like it, just !" cried Phil, 
 opening his eyes in anticipation of the enjoyments 
 
DALE8F0BD. 43 
 
 of a maritime life ; ^^ to go out in a boat and catch 
 shrimps and boil ''em for tea !" 
 
 Mr. Worsdale in the meanwhile read the young 
 lady^s letter, which teemed with expressions of love 
 and friendship, and, as Prissy had remarked, with 
 every other word underlined, or doubly underlined, 
 to mark the sincerity and earnestness of the writer 
 (for goodness only knew how positively delighted she 
 and her mamma also would be if her dearest 
 Miss Worsdale would join them, if only for a few 
 weeks. Never, never could she forget the dear, 
 the darling time she spent with them at dear 
 old Dalesford^ and the happy memory should 
 never be effaced, ^c.) ; and having considered 
 
 a while, he gave judgment with a certain judicial 
 gravity, while the young ones hung on his words, 
 which were to decide the fate of the proposed 
 holiday. He saw no weighty objection to Priscilla 
 accepting the kind invitation of Miss Dingwall — 
 who seemed a superior kind of young person — 
 especially as she required a change of air ; but he 
 was desirous that her studies, especially in the 
 accomplishments in which she appeared likely to 
 excel — as music, French, and drawing — should be 
 continued without interruption ; therefore the best 
 arrangement would be fbr Dolly to remain and 
 keep house at Dalesford, while Prissy, accompanied 
 
44 " shoddy:' 
 
 by her governess, sliould take apartments at Red- 
 well, where she could enjoy the society of her 
 friends, and still proceed with her duties. 
 
 As Mr. Worsdale always made a point — probably 
 for the sake of example — of deferring to Miss 
 Skimple^s judgment in any arrangement connected 
 with his daughter's education, he further hoped that 
 this proposal would meet with that discreet lady's 
 approval ; and as any arrangement that promised to 
 conduce to her present comfort, or ulterior advan- 
 tage, invariably met with her cheerful concurrence, 
 it is but justice to the amiable nature of the gover- 
 ness to record, that she smiled a grim acquiescence 
 in the plan proposed. 
 
 Poor Dolly's bright face fell when the decree went 
 forth from the paternal armchair. She knew it 
 was irrevocable, and, as soon as possible, left the 
 breakfast- room, and went straightway up-stairs to 
 her own neat and prim little chamber, where, I 
 have no doubt, she had a little cry all to herself, 
 but she came down half an hour afterwards, with her 
 accustomed gentle smile and kind face, but, withal, 
 rather red eyes. Perhaps she had been building a 
 few innocent little castles on the broad sands of 
 Redwell, into which some tender memories, and 
 just a little romance, had found their way, for she 
 had carefully unlocked a" drawer in the toilet table, 
 in which she kept certain little treasures, and having 
 
DALESFOBD. 45 
 
 turned over one or two pairs of gloves, or a few 
 handkerchiefs that had belonged to her mother, had 
 taken out, and gazed at wistfully and fondly, a little 
 bunch of faded wild flowers, secured by a blade of 
 long delicate grass. She was not much addicted 
 to the reading of poetry — at least, so the folks said 
 who knew her ; but enclosing the stems was a 
 piece of paper, and in her own neat and legible 
 handwriting were these lines : — 
 
 Oh, only those 
 Whose soul hath known this one idolatry, 
 Can tell how precious is the slightest thing 
 Affection gives and hallows ! — a dead flower 
 Will long be kept remembrancer of looks 
 That made each leaf a treasure ! 
 
 ^^ Poor little flowers \" she said to herself, " how 
 bright and pretty you were once ! and now — V' 
 and she began to cry again — you must make 
 allowance for her, my dear Miss Skimple. Dolly 
 was rather a strange girl, with a certain depth of 
 sentiment, which those about her were slow to sus- 
 pect, and there began to dawn upon her fresh 
 young nature a suspicion that she was not always 
 quite understood, nor at times rightly valued ; and 
 the poor little thing would at such times be melan- 
 choly and desponding. But she dried her eyes and 
 washed her face, and while Prissy was writing a 
 joyous acceptance of her frieud^s proposal, Dolly 
 packed her sister's box. 
 
46 " shoddy:' 
 
 ^' This is from Mr. Spink^ and refers to you, 
 Tim/^ said his father^ as he tossed the letter, with 
 the Manchester postnaark, over the table to his son, 
 who had resumed his chair. " You will see, you 
 can now take your seat in his oflSce whenever you 
 please, and — ^' he added, with more pleasantry than 
 he usually evinced when conversing with the youth 
 — " let us hope it is only the first step towards the 
 bench or the woolsack." 
 
 The son read the letter with a gloomy face, for 
 it was in furtherance of the father^s plan that he 
 should commence his study of the law in the office 
 of Matthew^s old friend, the Manchester solicitor. 
 
 " It will be awful hard work V grumbled the lad, 
 as he finished the perusal. 
 
 " It will be awful hard work as you say,^^ his 
 father repeated ; " and as nothing in this world is 
 to be done without awful hard work, perhaps the 
 sooner you begin to get used to it the better for all 
 parties.''^ With which rejoinder, uttered with the 
 foul-weather signals already referred to, rapidly 
 rising, his father left the room. 
 
 " Wonders will never cease/^ he muttered as he 
 entered his counting-house, and opening the letter 
 which he had previously placed in the breast-pocket 
 of his coat, laid it before him on the desk. " To 
 think of this wastrel of a fellow writing to me, 
 after his years of silence, in his pompous and self- 
 
DALESFOBD. 47 
 
 sufficient style ! D — n his impudence V' and then 
 he read the -following letter : — 
 
 " Rue de , Paris, 
 
 " September 2, 18—. 
 " My dear Sir, 
 
 " If the recollection of the son of your 
 old friend and partner has not quite escaped you — 
 and I feel the fault is my own if that is so — allow 
 me to renew an acquaintance, at least, by correspon- 
 dence, which my unsettled mode of life has hitherto 
 so much prevented. 
 
 " At the time of my poor father^s death I was 
 staying at a small town near Baden, where I was 
 confined to my bed for some time by illness, the 
 result, I believe, of an accidental fall. After my 
 recovery I went to Egypt, having always had a 
 strong desire to see that old and wonderful coun- 
 try, and had written to my friend, Mr. Titheradge, 
 of Gray^s Inn, telling him of my intended move- 
 ments ; but I believe the letter, and also one to my 
 father, never came to hand; and it was quite six 
 months later that I received any intimation of the 
 sad event which had befallen us. At one time I 
 had it in mind to make a journey to Dalesford ; 
 but as I afterwards learnt from Mr. T. that every- 
 thing at my father^s death had been found perfectly 
 satisfactory, and that no interference of any kind 
 on my part was required, I was only too glad to 
 
48 "SEODDY." 
 
 avoid the painful associations which such a visit 
 might have recalled^ and preferred adopting my 
 physician^s advice to try change of scene and 
 pleasurable excitement^ after the shock which you 
 may readily believe the tidings of my poor father's 
 sudden death had caused. 
 
 " It is quite impossible to say when I shall return 
 to England ; but should you kindly favour me with 
 a line, that I may know you and yours are quite 
 well, address to the care of John Titheradge, Esq., 
 Kaymond^s Buildings, Gray^s Inn ; and believe me, 
 " My dear sir, 
 
 " Very faithfully yours, 
 
 '^ Edward Sherwin. 
 
 ^' P.S. — I am anxious to enlist your interest for 
 a young fellow who will probably call on you in 
 quest of employment. I do not know but this may 
 be a rather irregular way of doing things ; but as I 
 have always found him honest and trustworthy, and 
 of fair average intelligence, I hope you will give 
 him a chance. I knew his father, and a better 
 fellow never lived ; and it is my great regard for 
 that worthy man that makes me desirous of his son 
 being established with you. To prevent mistakes, 
 he will be the bearer of a letter from me" 
 
 ^^A wastrel and a spendthrift, and an idle 
 coxcomb, a gambler and a vagabond," quietly 
 
DALESFOBD. 49 
 
 remarked Mr. Worsdale^ as by way of comment on 
 the letter of his late partner^s son, and in the same 
 tone that he would have checked the items of an 
 invoice. " Baden and Egypt V he then added, 
 with considerably more disgust, '^ Pah ! Portland 
 or Hanwell more properly !" 
 
 So saying, he took a sheet of paper with the 
 usual business-heading which he employed in the 
 correspondence of his trade, and wrote : — 
 
 " Edwae-d Sherwin, Esq. 6/9/18 — . 
 
 " Dear Sir, — 
 
 " Your favour of 2nd inst. duly to 
 hand. In reply, beg to say strangers requiring 
 employment in Dalesford will hardly forward their 
 interest b}' personal application, as the trade prefers 
 local hands. Myself and family are quite well. 
 
 "Yours truly, 
 
 " Matthew Worsdale.^^ 
 
 " I want none of the plagues of Egypt in my 
 place,^' he grumbled to himself, as a sort of apology 
 for the rude reply he had just written ; " and we 
 prosecute mendicancy in Dalesford.^' 
 
 And the letter was sent by that night^s post. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the ladies were busy in their 
 preparation. Prissy was quite excited with the 
 prospect of her holiday, and kissed her " dearest old 
 
 VOL. I. 4 
 
60 " shoddy:' 
 
 Dolly ^^ a hundred times^ thanking her over and 
 over again for her good-nature in assisting her^ and 
 '^wishing and wishing ^^ she was going with them ! 
 In which she was, no doubt, perfectly sincere ; 
 though it never seemed to occur to the lively little 
 lady how she might have proposed to remain at 
 Dalesford, that her sister should have the benefit of 
 the excursion. 
 
 Miss Skimple's preparations for the journey were 
 made with the dignified manner and in the impres- 
 sive silence usual with that lady. I am told that, 
 had a domestic of an inquiring turn of mind looked 
 into her chamber as the door stood partly ajar, or 
 had peeped through the keyhole, a tall and some- 
 what gaunt figure might have been descried, attired 
 in a short dressing-gown or kirtle of white, bordered 
 by a deep margin of a woollen texture, terminating 
 in list slippers at one extremity, and a closely- 
 fitting cap with a frilled border at the other. ,Her 
 travelling luggage consisted of one of those hair- 
 trunks (at one time much afi'ected), with a semi- 
 circular top, and much excoriated at the angles, 
 and presenting generally a weak and scorbutic 
 appearance ; on which account it usually remained 
 enveloped in a covering of stout bed- ticking, 
 which at regular intervals was secured by pieces 
 of blue binding, with orifices for the handles ; 
 being further secured, when in course of railway 
 
BALBSFOBB. 61 
 
 transit^ by a strong cord passed lengthways and 
 across. 
 
 For Miss SkimplC;, althougli one of the strongest- 
 minded of her sex, had her moments of weakness 
 and unworthy misgivings, and under certain condi- 
 tions was painfully feeble. It was quite note- 
 worthy to remark how her habitual self-control and 
 constitutional presence of mind deserted her at the 
 prospect of a journey. She was no more the 
 Skimple we had learnt to revere and admire; she 
 was, simply — a helpless thing. Her troubles began 
 with the porterage of her boxes downstairs at one 
 end of the journey, and terminated only with the 
 carrying of them upstairs, at the other. She had 
 a fixed, though not a strictly correct impression, 
 that the working classes could be induced to under- 
 take readily any amount of occasional porterage, 
 for the price of a pint of ale ; and no matter what 
 the weight or the distance might be, objected to go 
 beyond that limit. This, at times, led to serious 
 altercation, and resulted not unfi'equently in indig- 
 nant protests, and occasionally bad language on the 
 part of the person employed ; and had even culmi- 
 nated in the violent depositing of the luggage on 
 the ground, accompanied by a sullen refusal to 
 move further on without an additional fee ; at which 
 times the unprotected Skimple had been known to 
 reluctantly depart from her principle ; and taking 
 
 4 — 2 
 
 UNIVERSfTY OF lUINOQ 
 
52 " shoddy:' 
 
 a hint front that most conscientious of professions, 
 the Bar, to secure by means of an opportune 
 " refresher/' continued exertion in her cause. 
 Whether in early life she had been taught to dis- 
 trust the nature of man — which we may see as we 
 go further on — or from some other cause, it was 
 clear she was the subject of a nervous suspicion 
 from the commencement, and during the continuance, 
 till the end of the journey. She appeared oppressed 
 with the belief that the railway company, from the 
 chairman and the directors to the porters and engine 
 drivers, had formed an unworthy cabal to defraud, 
 harass, and annoy her. To see the staid and 
 majestic Miss Skimple, the personation of propriety 
 itself, spring from the carriage and canter sideways 
 down the platform, because the porter was conveying 
 her box to the luggage van ; to observe her anxiety 
 on the question of a change of carriage, and her 
 evident emotion lest she should be conveyed to the 
 wrong place, was painful in the extreme. The 
 whistle of the engine was to her a signal of danger 
 and impending destruction. A diminution of speed 
 implied, to her morbid state, a fracture in the 
 machinery ; whilst, by an unexpected increase, she 
 was convinced the engine had obtained a com- 
 plete mastery over driver and stoker, and was 
 running away with the persons committed to their 
 charge. 
 
DALESFOBD. 63 
 
 Now all these things, to say nothing of tunnels 
 and viaducts, rendered Miss Skimple a not desirable 
 fellow-traveller. But youth is elastic and buoyant, 
 and when at the appointed time Prissy commenced 
 her journey under all these difficulties, she bore up 
 pretty well, and wrote to Dolly a droll account of 
 it afterwards. The girl cried a little when she said 
 good-by to her sister, for perhaps in the midst of 
 the excitement and pleasurable anticipation her 
 conscience reminded her she had been acting rather 
 selfishly ; but Dolly, smiling and kind as ever, 
 kissed her lovingly, and slyly whispering to her not 
 to let Miss Skimple — who had provided herself with 
 a pair of peculiar list slippers to be worn over her 
 boots during the journey, thereby presenting a 
 somewhat grotesque appearance — '' get her feet 
 wet,''"' sent her off on her journey, in a fit of girlish 
 laughter, to be followed in turn by a flood of 
 hysterical tears. 
 
 The Eeverend Ernest Palethorpe called in the 
 evening to ask Dolly to take a tray at the semi- 
 annual tea-drinking that day week, of the Religious 
 Tract Distribution Society, Established with a view 
 to the Regeneration of the Struggling Poor, and was 
 quite surprised to learn that Miss Priscilla had left 
 the town. Was it to be a long visit ? Oh, yes ; 
 he knew Redwell ; he had officiated there on one 
 occasion — he did not bathe — no — it brought on 
 
54 "SHOBDY." 
 
 his spasms — did Miss Worsdale suffer from spasms ? 
 Oh_, because preserved ginger was a pleasant pre- 
 ventive ; and in compliance with Miss Dolly^s 
 invitation^ as it was the hour for tea^ he would — 
 yes — ^just take one cup. 
 
 Matthew Worsdale was civil to the young curate ; 
 as one of the Establishment he could not be other- 
 wise, but he did not care about him. The strong 
 masculine character of the one could have no 
 sympathy with the nature of the other ; and as 
 the Reverend Ernest sat at one end of the table, 
 with his knees crossed, a sweet cake between his 
 third finger and his thumb, Mr. Worsdale regarded 
 him with a look closely akin to contempt. 
 
 Tim and the young minister seemed to have a 
 mutual dislike, and as for honest little Phil, the 
 curate was so given to catechising the boy on every 
 occasion on points of faith, or the ultimate destina- 
 tion of sinners, that the lad used to bolt from the 
 room as quickly as possible, to find companionship 
 more agreeable. 
 
 But this evening Dolly was out of sorts, and 
 declined the tray and the tea- drinking. She was 
 housekeeper, she said, and couldn''t leave home ; so 
 after an hour or two of innocuous talk the curate 
 took his leave, and bent his course to the house of 
 an operative, who had been injured by some 
 machinery to the risk of his life, and whose family. 
 
JDALESFORD. 55 
 
 in consequence, was in a very poor way ; so the 
 Reverend Ernest called — and left a tract. 
 
 *' Where does Tim spend his evenings, do you 
 know, Dolly ?'' Matthew asked, when the two were 
 left alone. *' I am afraid the boy has got some 
 bad companions. Who are his correspondents ? He 
 always seems ashamed of his letters.^^ 
 
 " Boys don^t make confidants of their sisters, you 
 know, father," Dolly answered. ^' But I think it is 
 only Tim^s way, and that he has really nothing to 
 be ashamed of.^^ 
 
 " I hope it may be as you say, my dear ; but he 
 keeps later hours than I approve : and, I perceive, 
 he persists in smoking, in spite of my express desire 
 to the contrary. Boys are different to what they 
 were in my own young days,^^ he muttered, and 
 returned to the newspaper he had been reading. 
 
 Dolly, silently employed on some little work of 
 feminine ingenuity, had been seated near the window, 
 pausing sometimes to look into the western sky, 
 where the gold and crimson clouds marked the 
 bright sunset, and her work had fallen on her knee. 
 
 '^ Do you think there is any attraction in this 
 house that draws Mr, Palethorpe here so fre- 
 quently?" Mr. Worsdale abruptly asked, keeping 
 the paper in his hand, and speaking from behind it. 
 
 " Attraction, father ! What is it you mean ?" 
 asked Dolly in some surprise. 
 
66 « SHODDY." 
 
 " My meaning is not very difficult to surmise, 
 my dear/^ her father answered drily ; ^^ but to make 
 it clearer, if you desire it, I observed his disappoint- 
 ment, as you must have done, when he learnt your 
 sister had gone from home ; that''s what I mean/' 
 
 " Oh, you mean Prissy ! Very likely, father ; 
 who can help admiring her, bless her V' and the girl 
 said it honestly enough, for the sisters were very 
 fond of each other ; but she flushed a little, too, 
 for she could not help remembering how many 
 times she had caught the young curate looking at 
 herself in a way which her woman^s instinct told 
 her meant more than mere accident; and she knew 
 that the surprise which the Rev. Ernest professed 
 to feel at her sister^s absence was nothing more 
 than that innocent kind of tarradiddle which 
 society permits even to ministers of the truth; and 
 that if it were possible for the light of love to lurk 
 in a pair of dull eyes and a sickly smile, it surely 
 lay in those features of the interesting young gen- 
 tleman, as he had sat before her. But I suppose 
 the far-seeing gaze of her shrewd father travelled 
 beyond the earnest, thoughtful girl, sitting in the 
 fading sunlight, and rested, as a natural result, on 
 his bright-haired, blue-eyed little favourite, just 
 installed in her temporary home at Redwell. 
 
 Now, although the curate was a " sweet-spoken^' 
 young maU; andj in the absence of the Rector and 
 
DALESFOED. 67 
 
 his lady, was given to holding forth on most subjects 
 (theology for choice), yet on certain themes and at 
 certain times he "was reticent to a degree ; and this 
 caused his persecutor, Mrs. Batley, to twit him with 
 slyness of character, as well as the possession of a 
 power to charm in society, that was calculated to 
 work disquiet in the breast of feminine Dalesford. 
 And the estimable Ernest, not displeased with a 
 reputation for the one, and secretly believing in the 
 other, took her badinage in singularly good part, 
 and smiled in a more sickly fashion than ever. But 
 as a proficient in the noble game of chess will 
 deliberate and reflect and calculate the chances of 
 his opponent's play before he will commit himself 
 to an important move, so did this most wily of 
 curates resolve in his heart of hearts to say nothing 
 to Mr. Worsdale's daughter until he had discovered 
 how the maiden herself was affected towards him, 
 and in what position he stood in reference to her 
 father. 
 
 " No,"" he said to himself when he had reached 
 home and sat nursing his favourite knee, with his 
 somewhat large feet in a pair of slippers he had 
 himself embroidered, before a small fire in his neat 
 room (his chest was delicate and he needed warmth), 
 whilst taking a mild repast of dry biscuit and mar- 
 malade, with a glass of ginger wine — " No, I will 
 wait ; she is a sweet girl, and to my mind far pre- 
 
58 
 
 "SHODDYr 
 
 ferable to the sister. Certainly she is older, but she 
 has a solidity of character which we look in vain 
 for in Priscilla, and I fancy a greater degree of 
 amiability as well. I should think/^ he added,, after 
 a short pause, " that, as the eldest child, Mr. Wors- 
 dale would give her a good round sum.'' 
 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A CONVERT. 
 
 BOUT a week later^ and at that time of 
 the evening when the shortening hours 
 caused Miss Skimple to observe^ as she 
 stood on the pier at Redwell, '' that the days were 
 drawing in," and Mrs. Dingwall to remark in return 
 that "that was to be expected at this time of the year," 
 whilst a gentleman, who had written down his name 
 at the Wellington Hotel, Redwell Rise, as ^^ Captain 
 Clarence," remarked to a friend, as they leaned 
 against the palisades of the pier and glanced towards 
 Prissy and her friends, that "that girl with the 
 yellow hair and blue eyes would be a beautiful 
 woman if she lived," that (coming back to Dales- 
 ford) young Tim Worsdale and his friend Frank 
 Ossett turned up a by-street from the market 
 place, and paused before a door, over which was 
 a lamp, bearing the inscription " People^s Hall." 
 
 "This is the place, I tell you," said Tim. " Look ! 
 and here is the placard !" and they read this laconic 
 announcement : 
 
60 « SEODDY." 
 
 " People's Hall. The Hallelujah Band. Fiddler 
 Creek^ the Converted Clogger, will lecture at the 
 above this evening, and relate the history of his 
 conversion. He will conclude by burning his fiddle 
 and his clogs. A collection at the close. Glory ! 
 Hallelujah V 
 
 " Well, but/"* said Frank, laughing, ^^ why burn 
 his fiddle and clogs ? They've done no harm ! and, 
 by the way, what is a * dogger ?' " 
 
 ^' Why, a dancer, of course/' said the other. ^' He 
 used to go to the public-houses and dance steps for 
 wagers, and play the fiddle at the same time. Tom 
 Stepper knows him well, and says its all a ' barney' 
 and got up as a ^ dodge.' " 
 
 ♦^ Where is old Stepper? Will he be here?'' 
 Frank asked. 
 
 " Oh, never fear !" cried Tim Worsdale, " Tom 
 will do anything for me. It will be a rare lark ! 
 But mind, Frank, keep quiet till I give the signal. 
 Then you open the basket and let 'em out — hush !" 
 
 The youth suddenly ceased talking, as he observed 
 a young man, an operative in appearance, standing 
 near to them and reading the placard. 
 
 " Are you going in, sir ?" Tim asked gravely, for, 
 as he was wont to remark, he had a great enjoyment 
 of a joke. 
 
 " Why ?" asked the man quietly. 
 
 " I hope you have secured your seat, sir," replied 
 
A CONVERT. 61 
 
 this young wag. " The bishop of the diocese and 
 the neighbouring clergy of all denominations have 
 taken places, and they expect a full house." 
 
 The stranger looked steadily at Tim and his friend, 
 and turned away. 
 
 '^ We wont go in yet, Frank/^ said Tim ; ^' let's 
 look old Stepper up/' and the two friends strolled 
 off in another direction. 
 
 As it drew near eight o'clock — the hour for the 
 commencement of the lecture, or the narrative, or 
 the sermon, or whatever it was to be — parties of 
 two and three collected about the doors ; some of 
 them entered the room to secure a good seat — most 
 of these were women with children in their arms ; 
 then came a rather numerous body, walking five or 
 six abreast, and singing loudly, to some popular air 
 of the day, the words of a psalm for which the 
 swing of the tune was well adapted. The majority 
 of these, women as well as men, were in their 
 working clothes, but they were led by some half 
 score who were better dressed and were probably the 
 Elders of the community. More than one of those 
 who followed in the ranks had a small dog under 
 his arm, or peeping, with pink nose and keen eyes, 
 out of a capacious coat side pocket ; but they all 
 walked in good order, and sang in time and tune. 
 
 Following on their heels, or racing by their side, 
 were troops of children, as young as ten or twelve. 
 
62 " shoddy:' 
 
 who worked in the mills as '^ servers/^ or ^' piecers/' 
 or were " half-timers :'' that is to say worked only 
 half the usual time in consideration of their tender 
 age and school education^ and who joined in the 
 lively melody with a shrill treble to their own 
 satisfaction. 
 
 The small hall was quickly filled, and the air was 
 close and stifling. On the platform the Elders 
 were seated in a row, and on a small table before 
 them was a large jug of water ; while in front was 
 a sheet of iron to protect the floor from the move- 
 able fire-grate, against the time when the con- 
 demned violin and clogs should be consigned to the 
 flames. 
 
 Shortly after eight o^clock one of the Elders, who 
 had been a soldier in his youth and was known 
 among his townsmen, in consequence, as ^^ ou^d 
 Swaddy,^^ advanced to the front of the platform and 
 requested the congregation to join him in a hymn. 
 He gave out the lines two at a time; and it was 
 sung to an air which had sprung into great popu- 
 larity, by having been expressly composed for a 
 celebrated comic vocalist. He then proceeded to 
 introduce the attraction of the evening, speaking, 
 like the rest, with a strong West Riding accent, and 
 being frequently encouraged by expressions of ap- 
 proval from his auditory, or occasionally reminded 
 by a brusque remonstrance, when he seemed likely 
 
A CONVERT. 63 
 
 to trespass beyond the limits usually allowed to a 
 speaker on such an occasion. 
 
 He told them, however,, that he was going to 
 bring before them Friend and Brother Fiddler Creek. 
 (" That's it, Swaddy.") They all knew and had 
 heard of ouM Fiddler Creek— (" We have, lad'')— 
 and how he used to get his living by fiddling in ale- 
 houses, and stepping for wagers. But he has seen 
 the error of his ways, and had come among 'em. 
 (" Glory ! Glory !") He had made up his mind to 
 give up such wickedness ! Glory ! Glory ! {" Glory ! 
 Glory !") He wasn't going to fiddle no more, nor 
 he wasn't going to step no more ! (" Hallelujah ! 
 Hooray !") Nor he wasn't going to get drunk no 
 more ! {'' Eight he is, ou'd Fiddler !") For the 
 light of conversion had fallen on him — {'' Aye ! 
 aye !") — like a refreshing stream of co'd watter ! 
 (" Glory !") He was no longer one o' them as 
 lived in t' pit ! (" Sit down, Swaddy ! Where's 
 Fiddler ?") But he was theer ! — theer ! Rough 
 and ready ! Rough and ready, my lads ! to burn 
 the Devil's fiddle ! Yea, verily, to consume his 
 clogs in flames of burning fire ! 
 
 " Who is he sitting at the end of the platform ?" 
 asked the man who had spoken to Tim Worsdale 
 outside the hall. '' He looks like a fighting man." 
 
 •^ He was a fighting man," replied the person 
 addressed, one of the auditory; ^^yon's Curly 
 
64 " snoDDYr 
 
 Gideou. That there man wi' th' book is the chap 
 they call Poacher George ; he's a Staffordshire lad, 
 and oue 0"* t' best hands the Hallelujahs have. To 
 hear him tell his conversion would draw tears out 
 of a millstone V^ 
 
 " They all seem to have been strange characters 
 at one time of their lives/' the stranger remarked. 
 " Do the band prefer that class of men to lead 
 them ?" 
 
 "They publish the glad tidings of salvation, and 
 hundreds of souls are brought to grace !" the other 
 responded devoutly. He was a working man him- 
 self, and in his working clothes, with hands and face 
 begrimed and greasy; but he spoke earnestly, 
 and, as it seemed, with sincerity. " They break the 
 bonds of sin, and the awakening is so joyful that 
 many can neither sleep by night nor work by day ! 
 Glory ! glory !" 
 
 The stranger seemed about to inquire whether 
 the religious ecstasy so manifested was not found to 
 interfere with prospects of trade in Dalesford ; but 
 having learnt, as others have done under corre- 
 sponding circumstances, that instead of direct 
 answers he would be favoured with a flood of that 
 kind of eloquence, chiefly composed of well-tried 
 phrases and expressions, mingled with zealous 
 ejaculations, he preferred to remain silent, and 
 tacitly to observe the proceedings. 
 
A CONVERT. 65 
 
 When the convert himself came forward^ he was 
 received with applause, which actually amounted to 
 an ovation as he placed the instruments of sin, the 
 fiddle and the clogs, upon the table. He was a 
 short man and slight in figure, with an intelligent 
 but not satisfactory expression of face. Small, 
 piercing, rattish eyes glanced quickly from side to 
 side ; and the first few sentences he spoke evinced 
 the ability he possessed to interest a rough audience 
 like the one before him. He had very little of the 
 platform cant or slang in his address; but he gave 
 the narrative of his early life and the means of his 
 conversion with a good deal of vigour and graphic 
 power. As he warmed to his subject, he threw off 
 his coat and took copious draughts of water from 
 the half- gallon jug on the small table. He had 
 been talking quite an hour, without flagging or 
 pausing for a word, and he said, as he approached 
 the termination of his address, that before he burnt 
 his ou^d fiddle and his clogs, that had earned him 
 many a meal, when he might otherwise have 
 " clemmed,^' he'd just have one more dance to show 
 'em what he could do, and then he'd done wi' such 
 foolishness for ever ! 
 
 In anticipation of this unexpected diversion the 
 delight of the audience was unbounded ; and having 
 hastily put on his dancing shoes of red leather, 
 attached to wooden soles by sn'iall brass-headed 
 
 VOL. I. 5 
 
66 "Shoddy:' 
 
 nails, and tuned his fiddle, lie accomplished a step- 
 dance with considerable ability, playing at the 
 same time his own accompaniment with precision 
 and effect. 
 
 At this moment a confused uproar was heard at 
 the lower end of the hall, and a flock of sparrows 
 flew against the windows and the walls, fluttering and 
 chattering in their fear and bewilderment. To this 
 was added the barking of the dogs, and some strong 
 expressions of anger and annoyance by a portion of 
 the audience ; and in the midst of all this tumult 
 and confusion the gas was turned off. Then the 
 uproar was increased. Little children, who had 
 been asleep in their mothers' arms, were awakened 
 by the din and cried piteously. The women 
 screamed; and more than one Elder, muttering 
 what sounded like a powerful oath, jumped from 
 the platform, scrambling and pushing their way to 
 the doors, as the noise appeared to increase every 
 moment. 
 
 Tim Worsdale, with his friend, was making the 
 best of his way down the street, laughing heartily 
 at the abrupt termination of the convert's address, 
 and the absurd confusion their practical joke had 
 caused, when he felt a hand laid on his shoulder, 
 and, turning round, found himself face to face with 
 the stranger to whom he had spoken at the com- 
 mencement of the evening. 
 
A CONVERT. 67 
 
 " Look here^ gentlemen," said the man quietly ; 
 " if you w^ant to go home with a sound skin, you 
 had better make haste. They have got hold of 
 your friend with the basket, and he^s telling them 
 all about it/' 
 
 " You douH mean that !" said the lad, turning 
 pale ; and then recovering himself, added, " but how 
 do you know ?" 
 
 " Never mind that," replied the strange man. 
 ''Be off home ; they ^11 teach your friend a lesson 
 he wont forget." 
 
 " They^d better mind what they are about if they 
 touch Tom Stepper," vapoured the lad, confident in 
 his associate's strength and skill. 
 
 " They don't seem to set much value on him," 
 said the other, quietly as before. " When I left 
 them just now, the man they call ou'd Swaddy had 
 got hold of Stepper, and seemed disposed to shake 
 the life out of him." 
 
 " Let's be off, Frank," said Tim, aside to his 
 friend, and buttoning up his coat preparatory to a 
 hasty retreat. 
 
 *' No ! Let's go back to him, Tim !" cried young 
 Ossett. " Let's go and stand by old Tom — he'd 
 have stood by us !" 
 
 " Don't do anything of the kind," said the man, 
 with a strange kind smile on the hearty young lad, 
 who was true to his friend in his trouble. '' Don't 
 
 5—2 
 
68 " shoddy:' 
 
 do anything of the kind ! He isn^t worth it. Go 
 home while you can, and take your friend with you." 
 
 " No \" cried Frank. " Til stop and see Tom 
 out of it. Here they comel" And, as he spoke, 
 the crowd turned the corner of the narrow street, 
 and, in the midst of them, a short and stout man, 
 carrying an empty basket. The mane's countenance 
 was a mixture of cunning and ferocity ; he walked 
 with a limp, and was noisily defending himself from 
 some charge or other. 
 
 " Well, but see thee V' they heard him plead. 
 " rd gotten the birds (he pronounced them ' buds^) 
 for t^ sparrow match, thou knows, and some young 
 gents says to me, ^ How much for ^em, Tom/ they 
 says, and I " 
 
 But this was cut short by the Elder, known as 
 " Swaddy," catching sight of, and suddenly pouncing 
 upon, the unhappy Tim, and shaking him in his 
 large sinewy hand as one might shake a froward 
 child. It was in vain the lad cried out and struggled ; 
 the old soldier^s grip was not easily eluded. 
 
 " Here, you let him be, you Swaddy I" cried 
 young Ossett, bustling up, and endeavouring to effect 
 a rescue of his unfortunate friend. " Do you hear ? 
 You let him be V' But the old soldier, though 
 now ostensibly and by preference a man of peace, 
 had not forgotten the cunning of his hot youth, and 
 with the left hand he dexterously collared the other 
 
A CONVERT. 69 
 
 lad, and so stood between them^ shaking both, like 
 a second Giant Despair with two unhappy pilgrims 
 in his clutches. 
 
 ** Give it 'em, Swaddy ! Serve ''em right V^ cried 
 one of the bystanders. 
 
 " Call theirselves gentlemen V^ exclaimed another. 
 
 " Ah, this is how poor folks gets trampled on V 
 remarked a third. 
 
 " And might ha"* killed the little bairns V ob- 
 served a fourth. Which last reflection, being the 
 keynote to the maternal feelings of the women 
 present, they burst, with one accord, into a chorus 
 of shrill indignation, and one, who carried a crying 
 child in her arms, and whose dishevelled hair and 
 torn dress bore e^ddence of the recent confusion, 
 losing all further forbearance, flew at poor Tim, 
 and so bemauled, struck, scratched, and otherwise 
 maltreated him, that the lad howled for mercy, 
 and was thankful to escape from the infuriated 
 woman, with the loss of his hat, and the sacrifice of 
 some of his hair, and a considerable portion of his 
 wearing apparel. 
 
 " Let him alone, can't you T* exclaimed Frank 
 Ossett, escaping at last from the old soldier's grasp. 
 '' How do you know it was he that did it, whatever 
 it was ? Come along, Tim ; let's be ofi^. It's no 
 use expecting reason from such a set of canting 
 ruffians \" 
 
70 " SHODDY." 
 
 But personal courage, of which the lad had a far 
 greater share than his friend^ is not always judicious, 
 and the unfortunate expression he used only made 
 matters worse. 
 
 " What do you say, you young varmin ?" cried 
 one of the indignant members of the Band — a 
 powerful, and, it must be admitted, a somewhat 
 forbidding-looking personage. " Thou^rt a bonnie 
 lad to talk of ' ruffians,' see thee V' 
 
 " I'd ^ cant^ thee, if I had hold on you ha^f a 
 minute V exclaimed the woman, who had probably 
 illustrated her meaning of the word in her encounter 
 with Tim. 
 
 " Why it^s lawyer Ossett^s son, ain^t it ?' the 
 old soldier asked. 
 
 '^ Don^t have nought to say to him,'''' remarked 
 another, " or he^ll charge you for it V which re- 
 flection on the probity of the legal profession, as 
 represented then and there by young Frank, having 
 met with a noisy laugh of approval, several other 
 grim jests were immediately forthcoming, having 
 for their object the profession generally, and Frank's 
 father in particular. 
 
 '' I don^t want to have anything to say to you \" 
 replied the youth. " Come along, Tim V 
 
 " Nay, not so \" said the indignant member, who 
 had been pointed out as the ex-pugilist, Curly 
 
A CONVERT. 71 
 
 Gideon. " Fll learn you to keep a civil tongue in 
 your head, whoever you are/^ 
 
 The mention of Frank's father seemed to rankle in 
 the breast of this active member of the Hallelujah 
 Band ; for, in earlier days, before he had forsaken 
 the evil ways of his youth, he had been constrained 
 to an interview with the borough magistrates, 
 touching a little case of assault, in which the gifted 
 Gideon had availed himself of his extensive know- 
 ledge of the resources of his profession ; and Mr. 
 Ossett, senior, having to appear for the complainant 
 on that occasion, a few weeks" seclusion from society 
 on the part of the Curly one was the result, and it 
 was a circumstance which probably he could not 
 quite forget ; so he threw aside his coat, and, with 
 a powerful blow from either hand, he sent the two 
 lads floundering in opposite directions, to fall in the 
 gutter of the dirty and badly-paved little street. 
 
 ^' I'd give a dozen such young whelps a hiding as'd 
 do 'em good, if they come any games wi' us V* he 
 added, preparing to repeat his treatment of them, so 
 soon as they should regain their feet. 
 
 " Here, mate, that^ll do,"" the stranger struck in. 
 " You've given "em quite enough."" 
 
 '' Not more than they deserved !" said lialf a 
 dozen voices. 
 
 " Never mind that,"" replied the man ; " they are 
 
72 "SHODDY." 
 
 only lads — and you don't give ^em any more/' he 
 added quietly. 
 
 " What ha' you to do wi' it ?'^ demanded Curly 
 Gideon, with a threatening gesture. 
 
 " Ah ! what has he got to do wi' it ?" chorused 
 the others. '* You give him one, Curly, if he don't 
 mind his own business." For it is generally the case 
 in street disturbances that, when the bystanders are 
 possessed of the spirit of quarrelling, the primary 
 cause of dispute — as well as the original antagonists 
 — is frequently lost sight of in favour of any new 
 diflPerence, if it only promises a greater amount of 
 popular interest or violent demonstration. 
 
 " Never mind what I have to do with it/' replied 
 the man who had interposed. " You don't knock 
 these boys about any more." 
 
 " Don't us ?" cried Curly. " Why, d— n thee, 
 I'd knock thee about as soon as look at thee, or 
 sooner !" 
 
 '' Mind what you're about, mate," quietly re- 
 joined the other. ^^ I don't want to have any 
 row with you, but keep your hands off," for Gideon 
 was advancing, evidently bent on a personal 
 contest. 
 
 " You mun watch it, stranger," said the man 
 they called Stepper creeping up, and speaking in a 
 low voice to the boy's champion. "Yon's Curly 
 Gideon; he's a Hallelujah now, but it's him as 
 
A CONVERT. 73 
 
 fought and ' de-fet' Young Congo of Man- 
 chester/^ 
 
 " I am not ' Young Congo of Manchester/ '^ re- 
 plied the man, moving slightly backwards, so as to 
 have his face to the crowd, who were pressing on 
 him, '^ and he hasn^t ' fought and de-fet^ me yet." 
 
 And so saying he fell into the easy attitude of 
 self-defence, which a fair amount of courage, and 
 a consciousness of approved strength and skill im- 
 part ; and as Curly Gideon approached, prepared 
 for war, that " hero of a hundred fights" met with 
 so sudden and so a warm reception, that when he 
 recovered himself he prepared to renew hostilities 
 with considerably more caution than before. But 
 the new-comer, whoever he might be, was clearly 
 an adept in the use of his natural weapons of 
 defence; and being somewhat taller than his 
 brawny assailant, as well as longer in the reach, 
 and always cool and self-possessed, he had again 
 so marked an advantage, that the ex-pugilist 
 observing, " Eh, lads ! but he's been at this game 
 before V proposed an adjournment to an adjacent 
 open, where in a properly regulated ring, and with 
 respective partisans to " see fair," his own science 
 and prowess, which in other days had prevailed 
 over the warlike ardour of the valiant Congo, might 
 convey to the obtrusive stranger a meet and proper 
 warning not to interfere a second time with the 
 
74 " shoddy:' 
 
 local champion of Dalesford. How, under such 
 conditions, the contest would have terminated, it is 
 needless to consider, as the opportune arrival of 
 some ^ of the police prevented further hostilities, and 
 in the confusion of question and answer, in which 
 every one spoke as loudly and incoherently as 
 possible, and in which that most discordant of 
 unpleasant noises, the indistinct gabble in the shrill 
 tones of infuriated women inade itself most audible, 
 the stranger and the two youths got away. 
 
 " You know how to use your fists V said Tim 
 admiringly, as the three stopped at the gate of the 
 garden before Mr. Worsdale^s house. " I shan't 
 soon forget the plucky way you sent Mr. Curl^ 
 backwards ! It was first-class, wasnH it, Frank?'' 
 
 " We were both wrong, Tim ; we had no right 
 to interfere with the Hallelujahs, and they served 
 us right/' replied Frank, applying his pocket- 
 handkerchief to his nose, and looking anxiously at 
 it to see whether the result of Curly Gideon's 
 onslaught had ceased. 
 
 " The Hallelujahs ! the humbugs ! a parcel of 
 canting hypocrites !" exclaimed Tim, who now that 
 the danger was over manifested a good deal of 
 indignant courage. " I wouldn't have cared if 
 they hadn't come on us all at once; Vd have 
 stood my ground against any one of them, / 
 know !" 
 
A CONVERT. 75 
 
 " Never mind what you would have douc, sir/^ 
 said their new compaDion, with ever so slight a 
 sneer in his voice and manner ; " you had better 
 wash that blood from your face, and pull your coat 
 together, and go home at once; so Fll say good 
 night/' 
 
 And without more words he walked away. He 
 was deliberately retracing his steps, for he had 
 evidently come out of his way to see the boys 
 safely home, and had gone a little distance when 
 he heard some one running behind him, and Frank 
 Ossett, out of breath, came up with him, as he 
 turned round. 
 
 " You don't leave me like that, old fellow V cried 
 the boy; " I don't know who you are, or what you 
 are, and I don't care ; but look here ! — here's my card 
 and that's my father's house" (and he pointed to a 
 good-looking dwelling as he spoke), " and if you'll 
 only call on me to-morrow, if I can do anything 
 for you in any way, now mind — any way — I'll do 
 it ! I will (&c. &c.)" 
 
 And the youngster enforced his assertion with an 
 oath, which I consider so extremely improper, that 
 I forbear to write it down ; at the same time — being, 
 as the reader may perhaps have remarked, a lad 
 of generous impulses, excitable and ingenuous, very 
 foolish and simple-hearted, and in consequence 
 very easily impressed by what he considered gal- 
 
76 " shoddy:' 
 
 lantry, and soon touched by kindness — T hope the 
 indiscretion will be forgiven him. 
 
 " Thank you, sir/"* said the man, and they walked 
 on in silence. 
 
 After a time the man resumed — " Your friend, sir, 
 him with the torn coat — seems very — venturesome ?'' 
 he had paused before speaking the word, as if in 
 doubt what expression to employ. 
 
 "Who— Tim Worsdale ?'' Frank asked. "Tim's 
 a good fellow enough, but if heM talk less and do 
 more, heM be better. Why, you know,''-' continued 
 he, with the loquaciousness which the recent 
 excitement had provoked, " it was all his doing ; I 
 advised him not to meddle with the Hallelujahs, 
 but he would do it ! He's always doing these kind 
 of things and coming to grief. I said, ' let 'em 
 alone,' but he wouldn't, you know." 
 
 And so he talked on as the two walked side by side. 
 
 " Are there many more like him in the family ?" 
 the stranger asked with the sneer in the voice 
 again; for Tim's performance in the recent affray 
 had evidently not impressed him favourably. 
 
 " He is the eldest son," replied Frank. " He 
 has a younger brother, a little fellow, and two 
 sisters, and one is certainly the dearest — I mean 
 the nicest girl you ever saw ! Her name is Dorothy, 
 but they call her Dolly at home ; she has brown 
 eyes, you know, and " 
 
A CONVERT. 77 
 
 But he stopped suddenly, for he felt the strange 
 man was looking at him, and he was ashamed of 
 his garrulousness ; so he added hastily — " Oh, here 
 we are at our place V 
 
 " Will you come in ?^^ cried the lad earnestly ; 
 ^' mind, I mean what I say ! I shall very likely tell 
 my governor everything — for the matter of that," 
 he added, with a short laugh, " if I don^t, some 
 good-natured friend or other will ; and if you will 
 come in and have some supper with me, you will be 
 very welcome !" 
 
 " No, thank you,^^ said the man. '^ I know my 
 place." 
 
 " Place V cried the lad indignantly, '^ place be 
 hanged ! You^re a good and kind fellow ! I can't 
 ask you to take any money, because you seem so 
 diflPerent to our fellows about here, but I shan't 
 forget your courage to-night; and if I ever can 
 serve you in any way, or oblige you in any way, I 
 will, and there's my hand on it !" 
 
 " Well, then," said the man, giving his hand a 
 cordial and kindly grasp, ^' you can oblige me. 
 You're a brave lad ! and you've got a good deal of 
 the gentleman in you, and if you really would 
 oblige me, you'll give that gallant friend of yours, 
 as we've just parted from, as little of your com- 
 pany as you can; and so good night, sir, good 
 night !" 
 
78 ''SEODDYr 
 
 Poor Tim^ very sore and chap-fallen^ remained in 
 doubt some time whether he should ring the bell; 
 applying to his face in the meanwhile the large 
 leaves of some plant that grew near the hall-door of 
 his father^s house^ in the fond hope that they would 
 reduce the swelling, and allay the inflammation of 
 his somewhat disfigured countenance. At length he 
 made up his mind, and having very cautiously rang 
 the bell once or twice, waited for the opening of the 
 door in fear and trembJing. 
 
 ^^ What, Master Tim \" exclaimed the man- 
 servant, as he contemplated the miserable figure 
 before him, " what on earth '' 
 
 " Hush, Martin V whispered the lad, '^ whereas 
 Dolly ? Tell her to come to me, at once ! Fm 
 not very well — and I^m going to bed f and so 
 saying, he slid away upstairs as rapidly as possible. 
 
 Dolly, who generally became uneasy if Tim were 
 out after the usual time, guessing by experience 
 from the • cautious ring at the bell that all was not 
 quite right, slipped out of the room, where her 
 father sat reading the paper as usual. It was not 
 the first time by many that her brother had been 
 in that plight, and at such times, like the good and 
 true little woman she was, Dolly had gone softly to 
 the wretched lad^s assistance, and had smuggled a 
 little wine or other creature comfort into his bed- 
 room, to revive his drooping spirits; at the same 
 
A CONVERT. 79 
 
 time reading liim a lesson on his folly^ and making 
 him promise not to do so any more. 
 
 On this occasion, Tim having been refreshed and 
 invigorated, gave a very spirited and circumstantial 
 account of his night's adventure; from which he 
 caused Dolly to gather that his friend Frank, having 
 fallen into the indignant clutches of the Old Soldier 
 and Curly Gideon, had requested his, Tim's, assist- 
 ance ; who, hastening to aid his friend in the un- 
 equal contest, had received the wounds that the 
 gentle hands of Dolly were doing their best to heal. 
 
 '' I have always told you to beware of Frank 
 Ossett,'' said the girl. " By your own admission, 
 he is always tempting you into trouble, and then 
 leaving you to shift for^ yourself; and he must be 
 little better than a coward for his pains V 
 
 And so while poor Frank laid his aching head 
 on his pillow, and thought that what he had under- 
 gone for Tim he would gladly have borne twice 
 over for Tim's pretty sister, trying his best to dream 
 about her, and finally falling asleep and dreaming 
 of the old Soldier and Stepper, Dolly herself was 
 inveighing bitterly against the youth's mischievous 
 propensities, that had led her hapless brother into 
 so many scrapes. 
 
 I have thought sometimes that if, like Asmodeus, 
 when he took the roofs off the houses in Madrid 
 that he might divert Don Cleofas with his history 
 
80 " SHODDY." 
 
 of the inmates,, we could peep into the inner life 
 of the sleepers and read their dreams, what strange 
 romances or startling disclosures might be revealed 
 to us ! Here a bright vision of youthful hope and 
 innocent love, side by side with the troubled dream 
 of worldly care and hard fortune ; here, the stern 
 cruel lines of a disappointed life softening to some 
 tender memory, that a trivial incident of the day 
 had reproduced in sleep ; and there, the traces of a 
 guilty fear, or miserable secret, that will not be 
 laid at rest, haunting the slumbers with its ghostly 
 presence, and tormenting the wretched sleeper with 
 dread of its discovery. Perhaps, like Queen Mab, 
 Nemesis comes to us in our sleeping hours, and in 
 more ways than one. If we have a skeleton in our 
 closet, we may hear its bones rattle in the still 
 dark hours of the night. If we hide some guilty 
 knowledge in our breast, which the turmoil of the 
 busy day helps us to forget, we may be sure it will 
 come back, in some strange way mixed up with 
 happier thoughts, to haunt our slumbers and to 
 spoil our dreams ; but it will return surely and 
 often, like the fantastic creations of our childhood^s 
 fancy, but invested with new meanings and with 
 greater terrors. 
 
 As the historian of this little Yorkshire familv, I 
 have at least the privilege of knowing their thoughts 
 by day and night ; and Master Tim^s slumbers were 
 
A CONVERT. 81 
 
 short, feverish, and broken. His younger brother, 
 who slept in another bed in the same room, remem- 
 bered afterwards that Tim had cried out in his 
 sleep, " You let me alone, can^t you ! " with such 
 like words of entreaty or remonstrance. Probably 
 Nemesis, in the form of " OuM Swaddy,^^ or the 
 infuriated mother of the crying child, was retaliating 
 on him for the cruel joke he had played on the 
 inoffensive members of the Hallelujah Band. Dolly 
 had not seen young Ossett since the day of the 
 gala at Daisy Hill, and whether the mention of his 
 name had awakened some subtle link of association, 
 I cannot tell ; but she lay in innocent sleep, her 
 lips slightly parted, and her gentle bosom rising 
 and falling placidly, as she sat again, in her dream, 
 under the sycamore tree, with a bunch of faded 
 flowers by her side. 
 
 If it is true that " no man seems a hero to his 
 valet," it is equally so that no man looks like one 
 in a nightcap. Abelard, writing to his Heloise, — 
 Romeo scaling the balcony to talk beautiful love- 
 words to Juliet, — or Jacob toiling seven, and yet 
 another seven years for his Rebecca (I fancy he 
 had some knowledge of Laban's property, real and 
 personal), are simply perfect in their constancy, 
 their romance and their — perseverance ; but what 
 could the ladies have thought of their respective 
 lords, if they had lived to have beheld them in that 
 
 VOL. I. 6 
 
82 ''Shoddy:' 
 
 hideous head-gear? Loyalty^ heroism, courage, all 
 that makes human life poetical, must have perished 
 before that fatal fabric. I suppose, when the bar- 
 barous fashion was in force with our great grand- 
 fathers, of wearing heavy wigs durirg the day, it 
 was necessary to supply their place with some head- 
 covering for the night ; and hence the elastic 
 extinguisher with the tuft; but who was the man 
 who had the temerity to invent it? What was his 
 name ? What became of him ? Did he die m his 
 bed ? — that bed he had rendered ridiculous by such 
 a grotesque absurdity ! Then picture, if you please, 
 what Mr. Worsdale, with his pursed- up under-lip, 
 and his beetling eyebrows, must have been, when 
 sojourning in the land of Dreams ! The dreadful 
 nightcap pulled well down, and a little over one 
 eye, his hands calmly folded on the counterpane on 
 his breast, he lay the personification of Placid Obsti- 
 nacy. The son of his old partner, he thought, had 
 come back with his jackanape airs and offensive 
 patronage, and he had just kicked him out of the 
 front door, as years ago he had sent the lad about 
 Lis business, when he had come idling about the 
 mill. 
 
 The whispers of the Irish Sea on the coast of 
 Eedwell had made their way into Prissy^s chamber, 
 and were shaping themselves to the tones and words 
 of a tall, military-looking man, with soft white hair. 
 
A CONVERT. 83 
 
 but dark moustache and eyebrows,, — for the bright 
 young girl had been the recognised belle of that 
 evening, and now with her long fair curls clustering 
 on the pillow, she was living over again in her 
 dreams the triumphs of the night. The air was 
 warm, and she woke to open the window and look 
 out upon the placid sea, and to wonder what her 
 sister was doing — and then to go to sleep and dream 
 the same strange dream again. 
 
 Miss Skimple was not a pleasant object in her 
 slumbers. Her facial expression was much changed, 
 and there was a scarcity of hair upon her brow. 
 The firm, decided mouth that scarcely ever softened 
 to a smile, and rarely parted except to utter some 
 platitude, or propriety of speech, was more com- 
 pressed than ever. The nose and chin were sus- 
 piciously near, and the Skimple of the daylight was 
 no more. But the face wore a gentler look, too ; 
 and her cheek was wet, as if a frozen tear, like a 
 summer hailstone, had dissolved and left its transi- 
 tory trail. Perhaps some half-forgotten thought 
 had been recalled, — some bitter memory that time 
 had lulled, been reawakened, — some latent current 
 started into life. Moses, we are told, struck the 
 rock and revealed the hidden spring, — perhaps 
 some strange remembrance had been roused in that 
 hard breast, and a little tear had stolen forth in 
 sleep. 
 
 * 6 — z 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 JOE BOOTHROYD. 
 
 WO mornings afterwards, Mr. Worsdale 
 handed his daughter the following letter 
 at the breakfast-table. 
 
 Miss Woksdale, Worsdale Honse, Dalesford, Yorks. 
 " My Dearest and Best of Dollys, 
 
 " Do not think me unkind for not having 
 
 written before, but, Oh, my darling, I have been so 
 
 engaged ! Redwell is a charming place, not so 
 
 pretty, you understand, but so gay and cheerful. 
 
 We have bands and concerts here, and plenty of 
 
 amusements. To night we are to be the guests of 
 
 Mrs. Dingwall. She and Martha are staying at a 
 
 private hotel and boarding house, the Wellington, 
 
 and in the general room in the evening they have 
 
 quite pleasant little re-unions. We have some idea 
 
 of going there to live. We donH like the landlady 
 
 where we are, and Miss Skimple has reason to 
 
 believe she steals the sugar. What do you think ! 
 
 I have had quite a little flirtation here ! There is 
 
 staying at the Wellington, a Captain Clarence — he 
 
JOE BOOTHBOYD. 85 
 
 has travelled a great deal, and is altogether quite 
 out of the common. When I tell you that his hair 
 is quite white, you will think he is an old, old man. 
 But not so, my dear. He told us he has had white 
 hair ever since he was twenty-one, and that a resi- 
 dence of some years in India confirmed it in that 
 colour. Can you understand why living in India 
 should make the hair white ? I can^t, but I mean 
 to look into the Encyclopsedia, and perhaps I shall 
 find out. His eyebrows, moustache, and beard are 
 quite dark brown. He has a scar on the forehead, 
 which he received during the mutiny of the Sepoys, 
 while defending a helpless woman and a dear little 
 thing of a child. WasnH it noble ? The other day 
 we had a delightful pic-nic, and then went home 
 to the Wellington, where we had music in the even- 
 ing. I wore my light-blue dress, and sang " Che 
 la morte.'^ It was a great success, my dear, and I 
 had to sing it again. Poor old Martha, as usual, 
 favoured us with the only one she can play cor- 
 rectly — that of ' Claribers' — ' I cannot sing the old 
 songs,' which Captain C. told me quietly he fully be- 
 lieved. He is very droll at times. We haven't bathed 
 much. I went one morning witii Skimple, but she 
 looked such an object in the water, I shall not 
 go again. I believe Captain C. saw us through a 
 telescope — if so, it was very rude. Martha and 
 her ^ mar' agree as well as ever, and you know 
 
86 " SHODDY." 
 
 what that means. She was taking me to task 
 the other day for flirtings and I believe she is rather 
 jealous, for at a croquet party the other day, I am 
 sure she was doing her utmost to fascinate Captain C. ! 
 She shook her curls at him, and looked ' arch/ 
 and you know what Martha is like when Martha 
 looks ' arch/ And, O my darling old Dolly, I had 
 nearly forgotten ! When we had our pic-nic last 
 Friday, it was the finest fun in the world, — it was 
 too far for some of them to walk, and we took 
 donkeys with us. Well, my dear, fancy dear old 
 Skimple and Mrs. Dingwall riding two donkeys, 
 side by side ! That was droll enough, but when we 
 had to cross a little creek in the sands where the 
 tide had left the water, about as wide as our street 
 at home, both of the donkeys lay down, and we 
 couldn^t make them get up. The donkey boys used 
 dreadful language, but it was no use, and Mrs. Ding- 
 walFs donkey wanted to roll, and I believe he would 
 have done, too, if the boys had not beaten him on 
 the head with thick sticks. There was no mischief 
 done, and we all enjoyed the joke — all, that is, except 
 the two ladies, and poor dear old Martha, who said 
 there was nothing to laugh at, and her ' mar^ might 
 have been drowned. The next day was wet, so I 
 drew a picture of it, and showed it to Captain C, 
 who laughed heartily, and said it was capital. It 
 wasn''t very unkind of me, was it ? I meant the 
 
JOE BOOTIIBOYD. 87 
 
 picture for you and papa^ but Captain C. lias got it, 
 and will not return it. I hope we need ^ot come 
 home yet, for we are enjoying ourselves very much. 
 Give my dearest love to papa and the boys, and with 
 a thousand kisses to my own dear old Dolly, 
 
 " I remain, 
 
 "Her loving sister, 
 
 " Pkissie.^^ 
 
 * 
 
 " P.S. — Captain C. says he has often heard of 
 Dalesford and its manufactures — and I was sur- 
 prised how much he seemed to know about it. He 
 says he shall pay the town a visit before long, and 
 has asked permission to call, so you will have a 
 chance of seeing him, and giving me your opinion 
 of him. Oh, I had nearly forgotten to tell you: 
 after our ^ donkey pic-nic,^ as we were dressing for 
 the evening, I was in dear old Skimple's room, and 
 in looking among some things she let fall a minia- 
 ture, a picture of a young man ! actually, and veiy 
 handsome, though he had a boy^s face perhaps. I 
 asked her who it was, and the poor old thing was 
 quite confused and blushed, only fancy ! and said it 
 was ' one' whom she had known many years ago, 
 who was now dead, and I do believe she always 
 carries that picture about with her. I shall ask 
 her to tell me all about it, in confidence some day, 
 and then I'll tell you/' 
 
88 "SHOBDYr 
 
 Dolly did not read the whole of this aloud, and 
 to her father's inquiries returned such answers as 
 were perfectly true, but had the desired effect of 
 staying further questioning — a species of deception 
 which the very best among us, and women especially, 
 practise most successfully at times ; and by leading 
 to another subject, divert our attention from the 
 point they wish to avoid. Her dearest Prissy was 
 quite well, and enjoying herself greatly; had been 
 to a pic-nic and had sung her Italian song, the one 
 that father was so fond of (though, by the way, he 
 didn^t understand it); she had evidently been much 
 admired, and Mrs. Dingwall had introduced her to 
 some pleasant persons, &c. &c. Dolly ventured also 
 as far as Priscilla^s account of the incident of the 
 donkeys, which produced a grim smile on Mr. 
 Worsdale'^s part, and sent little Phil into ecstacies. 
 Tom was not present at the time, and his father 
 probably had a suspicion all was not right, for he 
 made no inquiries about the eldest son, as if he 
 almost feared some disagreeable revelation. The 
 young gentleman, who had been conspicuous, during 
 the past day, by wearing a green shade over his left 
 cyCj by reason of a violent inflammation in that 
 delicate organ, the result, as he stated, of a severe 
 cold, had made his appearance at the breakfast 
 table, on the previous morning, so immediately 
 after his father's departure, that it might have led 
 
JOE BOOTHBOYD. 8d 
 
 to the inference he had been on the watch for that 
 events and had availed himself of it as early as pos- 
 sible. On this occasion, however, having waited in 
 vain for some time, he sauntered into the room, 
 squaring his elbows as he walked, and chirruping 
 with his lips and teeth, with as easy and uncon- 
 cerned an air as he could assume. Mr. Worsdale 
 at the time was deeply engaged in reading a letter 
 — with no post mark — and having perused it a 
 second time, rang the bell and said to the servant — 
 
 " Where is the person who brought this ?" 
 
 " Waiting in the hall, sir,^^ was the reply. 
 
 " Oh, very well ; tell him to meet me at the 
 factory in — no^^ — he added after a moment^s pause 
 — ^'^ I will see him alone — let him come in.^' 
 
 Tim shifted uneasily upon his chair, and brought 
 his unobscured -eye to bear strongly upon Dolly, 
 with a glance of intense interest and inquiry ; but 
 as she was reading for the second or third time her 
 sister^s letter, he obtained no intelligence from 
 that quarter. 
 
 But his confusion was considerably increased, 
 when the door was opened, and his new acquaintance 
 of a few nights previous — the stranger who had 
 rescued him from the stalwart, burly Gideon, entered 
 the room. 
 
 Seen in the bright sun, instead of the indistinct 
 light and the tumult and confusion in which they 
 
90 "SEODDY." 
 
 had before met, Tim remarked at a glance that he 
 was a fine young fellow between twenty and thirty, 
 of the middle height, with an open bold face, neatly 
 shaved and trimmed. He was dressed cleanly and 
 carefully, but his appearance bore marks of poverty, 
 and having acknowledged DoUy^s presence by a 
 respectful bow, and, as Dolly glanced at himy blushed 
 slightly, he remained silent. 
 
 After the surprise of the first moment had died 
 away, Tim, who, not unnaturally, suspected, and 
 partly too from his father's serious manner, that the 
 man^s visit referred to himself and his recent mis- 
 adventure, strolled with ill-affected ease towards 
 the window, with a yesterday^s newspaper, which he 
 kept carefully before his face, the green patch upon 
 his eye showing in strong contrast to the pallor of 
 his countenance. 
 
 '' Sit down, will you ?" said Mr. Worsdale, look- 
 ing narrowly at the man under his eyebrows. " You 
 are the bearer of this letter from Mr. Sherwin, and 
 you are the person referred to in this ?" 
 
 " I am, sir,'^ the man replied. Dolly looked up 
 as he spoke, and he slightly blushed again. 
 
 " Do you know where Mr. Sherwin is now ?'' 
 Mr. Worsdale asked again. 
 
 " It is impossible for me to say, sir,^' the other 
 replied. '^ His letter to me enclosing the one you 
 have, was dated from Paris.'''' 
 
JOE BOOTHBOYD. 91 
 
 " Just so/" Mr. Worsdale remarked. ' " You are 
 not aware, perhaps, that Mr. Sherw^in wrote to me 
 about you, and that I replied holding out no hope 
 of any employment ?"" 
 
 ''I am sorry to hear it," the man replied. 
 " I should be glad of employment of any kind.'''' 
 
 '' How long have you been in the town ?'' 
 
 '^ A few days only, sir."' 
 
 " A few days, eh ?" Matthew repeated. " Then 
 why did you not present this before ?" 
 
 " Because,"'' said the man boldly, and meeting 
 Mr. Worsdale's searching glance, " I am a poor 
 man, and was obliged to wait till I could make a 
 more decent appearance."" 
 
 " Why should Mr. Sherwin take an interest in 
 you, and what does he know of your capabilities ?"" 
 asked Mr. Worsdale, sternly regarding the man, 
 who never glanced to the right or to the left, but 
 met his eye with a steady look in return. 
 
 " He knows nothing of my capabilities, sir, or 
 whether I have any,"" he replied, " but he takes an 
 interest in my welfare, because I was once able to 
 do him a trifling service."" 
 
 '^ And in recognition of those services, I suppose, 
 he sends you to me ?"" and then, after a moment"s 
 pause, he said — " I suppose you are aware he has 
 no claim whatever on me ?"" 
 
 " He implied as much in his letters to me,"" said 
 
92 "HHODDY." 
 
 the man ; " but assumed that his recommendation 
 to you, as the partner of his late father, might have 
 some weight/^ 
 
 '^ Mr. Sherwin has been in the habit of ^ assu- 
 ming^ a great deal/^ Mr. Worsdale said grimly ; 
 " but he never troubled himself about his father in 
 his life time, or me either. I suppose, like the rest 
 of the world, he remembers his friends when he 
 wants to get anything."" 
 
 As Mr. Worsdale appeared to wait for some 
 rejoinder, the man remarked " Probably,^^ and then 
 remained silent. 
 
 " I suppose you know,^^ Mr. Worsdale resumed, 
 bitterly, as if he were irritated by the man's reserve 
 and self-control, " that your patron, Mr. Sherwin, 
 had a chance of one man in a thousand, to com- 
 mence life in a highly profitable trade, and that he 
 preferred a course of pleasure and idleness V^ 
 
 " I know that Mr. Sherwin seems disposed to be 
 my friend, and I think that is quite enough for me 
 to know at present,^' the other replied, respectfully, 
 but boldly. 
 
 Mr. Worsdale looked at the young fellow from 
 under his heavy eyebrows for a second or two, and 
 then said abruptly, 
 
 '^ And what can you do ?" 
 
 " I am pretty good at accounts, I write a fair 
 hand, and 111 do as much work as you can give me, 
 
JOE BOOTHBOYD. 93 
 
 and sliall be thankful for the remuneration that you 
 may think just/' was the reply. 
 
 " Oh V* said Mr. Worsdale, looking grimly pleased 
 with the young fellow's bearing ; " and suppose I say 
 that I can't give you any work at all — what then ? " 
 
 " I am sorry for it, and I must go somewhere else 
 and try again ;" and he rose as if with the inten- 
 tion of leaving the room, when he suddenly stopped, 
 and said^ " But look here, master^ I have no friends, 
 and I've no money. I can't thieve, and I won't beg, 
 and there you have it." 
 
 Matthew looked hard and long at the stout figure 
 before him. The form of words the man had used, 
 brought back to his mind a scene of thirty years ago, 
 when another young wayfarer had applied for work, 
 and had been saved from destitution, and perhaps 
 worse, by the timely aid given to resolute integrity. 
 The words were well remembered, for they had been 
 quoted by his dear old friend and partner many 
 times, when they recalled in after years their first 
 strange meeting, and he said, after a lengthened 
 pause — 
 
 '^ What's your name ?" 
 
 ^' I am called Joe Boothroyd," the man replied. 
 
 '^ Very well, Joe Boothroyd; come tomy olBce 
 in an hour's time. That young gentleman, my son, 
 is going to Manchester, and you may have his vacant 
 place. Now, mind ; I have been, and I am, a 
 
94 " SHODDY." 
 
 Working Man. I began life poorer than you. I 
 have had many troubles ; I may have many more — '' 
 he paused for a moment, for his glance fell on Tim 
 with the sporting paper, and the green shade over 
 his eye, and there was a tone of disappointment in 
 his voice ; " but what success I have had has been 
 due to two principles of my life — resolute industry 
 and unflinching integrity; and let any man, with 
 average intelligence, start fairly with them, and 
 success is only a question of time. That will do. 
 You may go.^^ 
 
 Joe Boothroyd took his cap, and bowing, almost 
 politely, to Dolly, left the room. 
 
 " That man^s a stranger in Yorkshire, father,^^ said 
 Dolly when Joe had gone. 
 
 "Why?" Mr. Worsdale asked. 
 
 " His speech is different," the girl replied ; " and 
 — ^he is polite to women." 
 
 On Mr. Worsdale taking his departure for 
 business, and Phil scampering off to school, Mr. 
 Tim approached the breakfast table, and, with an 
 appetite considerably improved by the long-deferred 
 meal, fell to with great zest, inveighing very strongly 
 as he did so against his parentis want of foresight, 
 in engaging every vagabond that applied for em- 
 ployment ; and on Dolly stoutly combating that 
 attack on her father, during his absence, and further 
 inquiring the cause of her brother's annoyance, that 
 
JOE BOOTEROYD. 95 
 
 young gentleman cautiously stated that Joe liacl been 
 present at the disturbance of the Hallelujah Band a 
 few nights previously ; and then becoming more 
 and more communicative,, Dolly was constrained to 
 hear a very different version of the affair to that 
 which he had previously favoured her with ; and it 
 now appeared that his disapproval of the course 
 which his father had thought proper to take, arose 
 from an uneasy misgiving that Joe Boothroyd 
 might make a clean breast of it to Mr. Worsdale, 
 and increase, if possible, the difficulty of Mr. Tim's 
 position. 
 
 Dolly, who had listened very patiently to this 
 second account by her brother, became very in- 
 dignant when she found how unjustly she had 
 blamed poor Frank Ossett, and discovered, in spite 
 of his own excuses and self-justification, how 
 unworthy a part her brother Tim had played. 
 
 " I tell you plainly, Tim,'' cried the girl, growing 
 very red in the face, ^' if I had known how badly 
 you, by your own account, had behaved, somebody 
 else might have helped you, but I wouldn't ! The 
 best thing you can do is to go off to Manchester at 
 
 once, and try to make up your lost time and your bad 
 conduct ! If it should come to father's ears — this 
 affair, I mean, of the ' Band ' — I should be frightened 
 at the consequences." 
 
 " What I am afraid of, you know/' said the boy. 
 
96 - " shoddy:' 
 
 witli his habitual chirrup, '' is that Boothroyd fellow. 
 Do you think he^ll tell the governor ?^^ 
 
 " It would serve you right if he did, and I hope 
 he will ! It was a very shameful and unworthy 
 trick altogether ! What had the Hallelujahs done 
 to annoy you ? If I see Mr. Boothroyd I shall beg 
 he will lose no time in telling father ! There, then ! '' 
 and so Miss Dolly bounced into the garden through 
 the open French window, and if she had met Joe at 
 that moment, she would have entreated him on no 
 account to broach the matter to her father — as a 
 personal favour to her — so very inconsistent are good 
 women ! and if Joe Boothroyd could have resisted 
 the earnest appeal from that bright young face, 
 with the low and soft voice, it would very much 
 have belied the impression her presence that morning 
 in her father^s room had apparently produced upon 
 him. 
 
 Tim, whose many experiences of his sister s affec- 
 tionate sympathy in his troubles might have taught 
 him better, was yet much disquieted by Dolly^s ex- 
 pressed resolve, and he determined, like a cunning 
 young diplomatist as he was, to defeat her object 
 by his own promptitude and adroitness. And so, 
 with that end in view, his hat placed on one side, 
 switching his legs with a small dress cane, and 
 chirruping as usual, he started for the factory, to lie 
 in wait for Joe on his way for the appointment in 
 
JOE JWOTHROYD. 97 
 
 an hour's time, as desired by Mr. Worsdale. As he 
 approached the bridge of the dirty little stream 
 which flowed through the town, he descried the 
 very man he was in search of, leaning against the 
 parapet, with his hands thrnst deep in his pockets, 
 and his thoughts evidently far away, for the yonth 
 had approached him before he was aware of it. 
 
 ^' Hullo ! I say ! you know — how are you ?" 
 Tim began, for the man had taken no notice of 
 him, and the boy was beginning to feel confused. 
 '^ Oh — look here ! I want to have a word with 
 you.'' 
 
 Joe Boothroyd looked at him, and said, '^ Well ?" 
 
 ^' Well, you were at our house just now, you 
 know — Mr. Worsdale's. I am his son, you know — 
 don't you see '^'^ 
 
 " Well ?" said Joe again. 
 
 ^^ I say I am his son," Tim continued, and 
 paused, for the man's stolid manner embarrassed 
 him. " You remember the other night at the 
 Hallelujah Band ? Rare bit of fun_, you know ! 
 Will you take anything to drink ?" 
 
 But Tim was obliged to pause again, for Joe 
 Boothroyd maintained so imperturbable and stolid a 
 countenance, that he felt fidgety and ill at ease, 
 and from commencing with a patronising air, he 
 had descended with much rapidity to one of consi- 
 derable humility, and so, flushing aTid stammering 
 
 VOL. T. 7 
 
98 " SHODDY." 
 
 under Joe''s steady gaze^ waited for him to resume the 
 conversation ; but as there seemed little or no pro- 
 bability of that, he at last blurted out — 
 
 " Why don't you speak ?" 
 
 " I don^t know you/' said Joe ; and as the town 
 clock at that moment sounded the first stroke of 
 ten, he turned away and left Tim to his reflections. 
 
 Whatever those reflections might have been, they 
 were evidently of the most absorbing description, 
 for the chimes of the half-hour on the town clock 
 found the youth in the same attitude, deep in 
 thought, and quite unconscious of what was passing. 
 He might have remained so for another half-hour, 
 but was aroused by the voice of a man addi-essing 
 him, and then, breaking through the reverie that 
 had held him, observed Stepper by his side. 
 
 " Why, Maister Tim \" said the man_, " what*s up ? 
 I spoke to thee three times.''' 
 
 " Oh, did you ?" said Tim. " I was only think- 
 ing; that's all.'' 
 
 *^ Why, I've been waitin' about to se^ thee ever 
 so long," said Stepper. " This is an awk'ard 
 business, thou knows !" 
 
 ^' What's an awkward business ?" Tim asked. 
 
 " Why, this here Hallelujah business," the man 
 grumbled. " It's cost me my place at Blackburn's 
 mill, and I mun look to you to help me a bit." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" Tim inquired anxiously. 
 
JOE BOOTHEOYD. 99 
 
 " Why, Lawrence Blackburn, thou knows, is a 
 Methody hisself, and he says he wont have the 
 Hallelujahs meddled wi', so he's took and gave me 
 the sack ; that's what it means,'' Stepper replied. 
 
 " Well, Stepper, I can't help it, you know/' Tim 
 argued. 
 
 " Ah, but you mun help it !" the man answered. 
 " I've had nought to eat, and I've got nought to 
 buy wi'. I've a bairn down wi' t' fever, and no 
 work to do. What do you think of that, then ?" 
 
 " Well, I can't help it, I tell you," Tim repeated. 
 " It was your own action letting the sparrows loose, 
 not mine. I've suffered enough already." 
 
 " You'll have to suffer a bit more, then," the 
 fellow said roughly. " The Hallelujahs are going 
 to have a summons out again' thee and young 
 Ossett. What do you think o' that ?" 
 
 " Summons !" cried the lad, turning pale. '^ You 
 don't mean that ! What's to be done ?" 
 
 " There's only one thing as you can do, and what 
 a gentleman like you, as calls hisself a gentleman, 
 can do," said Stepper, speaking low and earnestly. 
 " You offer ou'd Swaddy to make all the damage 
 good, and make a present, like, to the Band, and 
 they wont go no furder in t' business." 
 
 " How much will he want ?" asked the youth 
 eagerly ; '' and where does he live ?" 
 
 " Now don't you mind that theer," Stepper 
 
 7— :i 
 
100 " shoddy:' 
 
 replied. " YouM better leave it to me. P'raps if 
 you was to show yourself in it/' lie added, after a 
 pause, '' it would have a bad look."" 
 
 Tim did not see the force of the argument, but, 
 glad to get out of the scrape, he. hastily rejoined, 
 feeling in his pocket as he did so — 
 
 " Look here, Tom ; you might give this to 
 Swaddy, and say, with my compliments — don't you 
 see ? — that it was a bit of a lark, and we didn't 
 mean any harm, and it was Frank Ossett's doing — 
 don't you see ? — and perhaps that might square 
 him, eh ?" 
 
 And so saying he put half a sovereign into his 
 companion's hand. 
 
 ^^ What's this here for ?" inquired Mr. Stepper, 
 surveying the piece of coin in his large and dirty 
 palm, and turning it about as if it were some na- 
 tural curiosity, that he was desirous of examining 
 under every possible form ; " what's this here for ?" 
 
 ''Why, to give old Swaddy, of course," the lad 
 replied. 
 
 (' Why, Lord bless you ! you don't suppose as 
 half a sov will do it, do you ?" Mr. Stepper in- 
 quired, with an expression of utter disgust on his 
 face. 
 
 " Why, how much does he want ?" Tim asked. 
 
 '•' How much ?" Mr. Stepper repeated, with a 
 grunt of contempt; "why the damage to the gas 
 
JOE BOOTnnOYD. 101 
 
 is at least forty shillings ; then them blessed 
 sparrows broke a window ; and there was forms 
 knocked to pieces to the tune of another pounds I 
 know/' 
 
 " That's three pound and over !'' cried the lad in 
 astonishment. 
 
 "Ah, it is three pound and over, and every 
 farthing of the money/' Stepper repeated; "and 
 then you mun make the Band a present, or else out 
 goes summons, as sure as you are standing there/' 
 
 " What the deuce will satisfy them ?" cried Tim 
 in despair. 
 
 " Now you look here, Maister Tim," Stepper 
 argued plausibly — and his forbidding countenance 
 never looked so truly repellent as when he wished 
 to be persuasive — " you make it a quiet five pounds, 
 and leave it to me, and I'll be bound neither ou'd 
 Swaddy nor Curly will say any more about it/' 
 
 " Five pounds !" cried Tim aghast, " how am I 
 to get five pounds ? Besides," he added, as a 
 luminous thought occurred to him, " what am I to 
 do it all for ? Frank Ossett had as much to do 
 with it as I had ; let him pay his share !" 
 
 " Of course he'll have to pay his share !" Mr. 
 Stepper quickly assented ; " I don't mean to do 
 nothinof but what's rioht. Why should vou and 
 me suffer, and him get off? that wouldn't do, I 
 think." 
 
102 « SHODDY.'* 
 
 " Well then/' cried Tim, " I'll see Frank, and 
 perhaps we can raise the five pounds between us/' 
 
 *' Five pounds atween you ! Ah \" Mr. Stepper 
 grunted, '^ I should think so ! but it mun be five 
 pounds apiece, thou knows !" 
 
 " Ten pounds ! Confound it, what are you talk- 
 ing of? You said five pounds just now V* Tim cried. 
 
 " Well, five for you, and five for him, that makes 
 ten, don't it ?" and Mr. Stepper put the question 
 brusquely, as an arithmetical problem that could 
 admit of no dispute. 
 
 " But I can't raise the money !" pleaded the 
 unhappy lad. 
 
 *' I can't help that," retorted the fellow coarsely, 
 '' I know if I don't have the money by to-night you'll 
 have t^ summons by to-morrow/' and he quietly 
 filled a small and foul pipe, and proceeded to smoke 
 it complacently. 
 
 Tim remained in a deep study for a minute or 
 two, and then he said — 
 
 " Look here, Tom, I'll see what I can do ; I'll 
 look in at the ^ Red Lion' at eight o'clock, and see 
 you there ; but mind, I think Frank ought to help 
 me in this." 
 
 " Of course he mun, and handy an' all," Mr. 
 Stepper remarked, smoking complacently, and eye- 
 ing Tim askance, whose nervous, fidgety manner 
 showed the mental uneasiness he was suffering. 
 
• JOE BOOTEBOYD. 103 
 
 '' Of course he mun, or he^U have the Hallelujahs 
 about him, thou knows V 
 
 " Well then, the ' Red Lion/ at eight o'clock/' 
 Tim repeated ; and turning away, sick with miserable 
 apprehension, bent his steps slowly towards home. 
 He had not gone very far, however, before Mr. 
 Stepper, having had a few moments' deliberation 
 with himself, followed ; and after several short and 
 sharp whistles through his teeth in order to attract 
 Tim's attention (a popular mode of salutation 
 among the operative classes), came up with him, as 
 Tim asked impatiently — 
 
 " What the devil is it now ?" 
 
 " I've been thinking, Maister Tim," said Stepper 
 in his most persuasive tones, ^' that if you was to 
 make your share six pounds, it would have a very 
 pleasing effect on the Band." 
 
 ^' No, no !" cried Tim, " I can't stand that. How 
 I am to get the five pounds I don't know, but any 
 more is quite out of the question." 
 
 " All right, sir, up to now/' Mr. Stepper re- 
 plied ; '^ only I thought it would look very hand- 
 some of you, that's all." 
 
 And so Tim again turned away, revolving in his 
 mind schemes for raising the necessary supplies. 
 As*for himself, he was generally in a state of utter 
 impecuniosity, as his quarter's allowance was 
 usually engaged long before it was due ; that 
 
104 " SHODLYr 
 
 young gentleman_, like others we meet sometimes 
 in life;, preferring to negotiate for his requirements in 
 every way rather than by cash payments, not unfre- 
 quently contrived, by a species of ingenuity peculiar 
 to the class, to pay thirty shillings for every pound, 
 by which means his circumstances were at times 
 considerably embarrassed, and his creditors occa- 
 sionally rather troublesome. 
 
 Wondering what the time might be, he referred 
 to a handsome watch he carried, and the idea then 
 occurred to him that he might effect a mortgage 
 on that useful and ornamental article, and he had 
 serious thoughts of taking the train ta the nearest 
 town for that purpose (objecting to that kind of 
 transaction in Dalesford), but was reminded that his 
 father might remark its absence, and make unplea- 
 sant inquiries. 
 
 His quarterns allowance of pocket-money would 
 be due, he remembered, in the course of a week or 
 two; but that would be too late for his present 
 purpose, and, besides, was already engaged in other 
 ways. What could he do ? Ha ! he had it ! that 
 was it ! He knew that his sister Dolly, who was a 
 careful, saving soul, had put some money by with 
 a view to some little purchase or other, which the 
 girl had set her mind on. He had no doubt he 
 could prevail on her to advance it, and so quicken- 
 ing his pace, he reached home shortly afterwards. 
 
JOE BOOTRROYD. 105 
 
 But Dolly was not in the house ; she had gone out 
 half an hour ago, the servant said, down to the 
 town, and had taken her little basket with her ; for 
 that young lady, among other of her peculiarities 
 at which her bright and mischievous sister was wont 
 to laugh, and which Miss Skimple did not always 
 approve, had a practice of diving into the remote 
 lanes and dirty little streets of Dalesford, where 
 there might happen to be a sick woman or an 
 ailing child; for whom she would be provided with 
 such physical comforts as were adapted to the 
 invalid, and then after a little conversation of a 
 cheerful tone, in which — another of her peculiari- 
 ties — no question of creed or doctrine formed an 
 element, would leave the miserable home of penury 
 or disease far more hopeful or resigned, and very 
 grateful to the dear little woman, who earnestly 
 did good in her own innocent and unobtrusive 
 fashion. 
 
 On one occasion she had met the Reverend Ernest 
 Palethorpe hastening from a squalid house, into 
 which she was about to turn, whither he had been 
 on an errand of consolation. He was much excited, 
 and earnestly begged his dear Miss Worsdale not to 
 venture near the dreadful place ; for it appeared that 
 the 'worthy young curate having got into a disputa- 
 tion with the invalid (an operative with a broken 
 leg), respecting the ultimate fate of all operatives 
 
106 « SEOBBYr 
 
 with fractured limbs, who refused to be solaced by 
 views of eternal condemnation^ the infuriated sufferer 
 had made violent efforts to leave his bed, for the 
 avowed purpose of assaulting the Reverend Ernest 
 with the crutch that stood in the corner of the sick 
 room. 
 
 Dolly, however, with the boldness and indis- 
 cretion that Miss Skimple so much deprecated, 
 called at the house of the invalid, and having left 
 some tobacco for the man himself, and some tea 
 or sugar for his wife and family, quitted the cottage 
 half an hour afterwards perfectly safe and sound ; 
 the only powerful language she had been compelled 
 to hear, having been a very fervent, " God in Heaven 
 bless thee, my dear young lady \" from the broken- 
 legged man on the bed. 
 
 Thus it fell out, that on the day and at the pre- 
 cise time when Tim reached home in quest of his 
 sister's aid in his pecuniary difficulty, and at the 
 very time also that Mr. Thomas Stepper, with an 
 ugly leer of success on his unpleasant countenance, 
 had arrived in the street in which the office of Mr. 
 Ossett, solicitor, was situated, with the intention of 
 meeting if possible Mr. Osett, junior, to repeat 
 upon that unsuspecting youth the successful attempt 
 he had already practised on the companion of* his 
 pleasures — that Dolly herself stopped before a 
 miserable tenement in a nasty little court, off one 
 
JOE BOOTEBOYD, 107 
 
 of the most disagreeable streets in the worst part 
 or the town. 
 
 The look-out of the front door was not an 
 animated scene, for immediately opposite, and at 
 the distance of a few feet only, w^s the general re- 
 ceptacle for the dust and ashes of the court, in 
 one of the half-dozen squalid dwellings, of which, 
 and that too where the girl had stopped, resided 
 that worthy member of society, Mr. Thomas 
 Stepper. 
 
 Mr. Stepper was, ostensibly, by vocation a bill- 
 poster, and indications of his profession in the form 
 of a paste-can and short ladder, with the appro- 
 priate kind of brush, might be observed in a corner 
 of his front parlour. But the can was dry, and 
 such paste as remained adheriug to the rim and 
 the sides had hardened into a thin brittle cake ; 
 whilst the bristles of the brush had matted together 
 and stiffened, giving it the appearance of a garden 
 rake, or some mysterious instrument of torture — to 
 which latter use it had, indeed, been more than once 
 converted by the ingenious proprietor, on the occa- 
 sion of a slight matrimonial difference occurring in 
 that happy home. That these implements of trade 
 were not retained for the purpose originally in- 
 tended, was furthermore evidenced by the paste-can 
 having been converted into the temporary residence 
 of a bull-terrier puppy of tender age, whose 
 
108 " shoddy:' 
 
 smootli white ears had been only recently cropped, 
 and being still raw they did not improve his other- 
 wise blunt and good-natured little face. 
 
 Indeed,, the profession of bill-sticking being a 
 legitimate one, and necessitating a good portion of 
 physical labour and industry, was not to Mr. Stepper^s 
 taste ; and he had virtually discarded it in favour of 
 speculation in such objects of interest as pigeons 
 and fancy-dogs ; and was more recognised in Dales- 
 ford as a purveyor of sparrows and rats for sport- 
 ing purposes^ than- as an agent for the diflPusion of 
 information in the form of placards and bills. A 
 lean, sharp, and long-legged dog, who could trace 
 his descent from a greyhound on the paternal, and 
 a rough terrier on the maternal side (a very 
 popular half-caste in that part of the country, being 
 held in much repute for rabbit-coursing, and recog- 
 nised as a " Snap^^), barked and snarled at Dolly 
 as she entered ; but as if divining, with the sagacity 
 of his race, that that gentle face and soft voice 
 had no other end in view but one of mercy and 
 Christian love, concluded by an apologetic wag of 
 his stumpy tail, and retired to a hole underneath 
 the shaky staircase, which was understood to be his 
 home. 
 
 "Who's there?'' cried a voice from the floor 
 above, in the harsh tones common to the women of 
 the lower working-classes, whose lives are passed 
 
JOE BOOTimOYD. 109 
 
 aniong liard work, poor food, bad words, and heavy- 
 blows. " Who's there ? Tom ?" 
 
 ''No, it is I, Mrs. Stepper/' Dolly rephed ; ''I 
 have called to see how little Tilly is to-day ?" 
 
 " I'll be down in a minute^ Miss/' the woman 
 replied briskly. 
 
 Dolly looked round the wretched place with a 
 feeling of loathing and sickness she could not 
 restrain. Besides the indications of miserable 
 poverty and coarse debauch which the place pre- 
 sented, in the broken pipes and the rank odour of 
 stale tobacco^ as well as in the deficiency of all 
 articles of comfort or convenience, there pervaded 
 the stifling atmosphere of the room that sickly- 
 sweet effluvium that intimates the presence of 
 fever. 
 
 Dolly had taken several judicious sniffs of some 
 little preparation she had with her, in which cam- 
 phor was clearly discernible, while she awaited the 
 woman's coming. The poor soul had probably 
 been endeavouring to make a somewhat better 
 appearance, for the shabby and ragged gown had 
 been pinned, to conceal, as far as possible, the 
 rents. She was a spare thin woman, and might 
 have been, when a girl of Dolly's age, a comely 
 young thing, with large blue lustrous eyes, which 
 were hollow enough now, and had that glittering 
 brightness — not brilliancy — that I have noticed 
 
110 " SHODDY." 
 
 among persons of this class, and under similar 
 conditions. There was a brownish discoloration, 
 on her cheekbone, and a corresponding bruise on 
 the brow, that looked suspiciously like the remains 
 of a savage blow ; but she took no pains to hide it, 
 perhaps had forgotten its existence — and so wiping 
 a rickety chair with an old apron, invited Dolly to 
 be seated. Would she like to see the poor bairnie 
 upstairs ? she asked — Or was she afraid of the 
 fever ? No, Dolly was not afraid, and if the poor 
 little thing was awake, she would see her. Yes, 
 the child was awake, worse luck ! the woman said ; 
 she had been sleeping sweetly, but the minister, a 
 young man — a Mr. — Mr. Palethorpe, she thought 
 was the name — had not been gone many minutes 
 before Miss Dolly had arrived, and had awakened 
 the invalid to read a little book he had brought 
 with him. 
 
 As Dolly entered the sick-room where the little 
 sufferer lay, she saw at a glance that the curate had 
 been before her in the errand of mercy ; for on the 
 miserable bed lay a few of those little publications 
 issued for the benefit of sinners generally, and which 
 being for the most part written in a metaphorical 
 or figurative style, are supposed by certain well- 
 meaning persons to be beneficial to the illiterate 
 poor. 
 
 The attenuated little figure on the poor bed 
 
JOE BOOTEROYD. Ill 
 
 turned her round blue eyes on Dolly as she entered, 
 and as the girl read in the pallid wasted face, and 
 the look of passive resignation, how brief the little 
 one's Jife was destined to be, her tears fell thick and 
 fast as she bent over her. 
 
 '' Don^t catch her breath, ma'am,'^ said the woman 
 in a softened voice, touched by Dolly^s sympathy, 
 '' you may take the fever else/' 
 
 " I'm not afraid," said Dolly, seating herself by 
 the bed, " but I'll be careful, thank you — at least I 
 may take this poor little hand — can she read ?" 
 
 " Not such as them," replied the woman, with 
 an almost contemptuous glance at the little books 
 the curate had kindly left — (I suppose they were 
 considered especially adapted to children of limited 
 education, being a warning to them to "flee from 
 the wrath to come") — •" but sometimes she makes 
 out the letters on my maister's bills, after a sort." 
 
 " Well, perhaps these will amuse her,^^ and 
 Dolly drew from her basket one or two large-typed 
 books, with coloured woodcuts of animals — birds 
 and quadrupeds — at which the little one gazed with 
 wonder, and listened, with manifest interest and 
 delight, to Dolly's simple explanation of them. 
 
 " Poor little thing ! How I wish she could go 
 into the country somewhere, where she could see 
 all these things as they really are — and get away 
 from this dreadful place !" Dolly said, speaking 
 
112 « SHODDYr 
 
 more to herself than to the mother of the child ; 
 for she couldnH help thinking of her sister's letter 
 of the morning, full of health and enjoyment^ and 
 she fell to wondering why there should be such 
 difference in our lots in life. 
 
 " The country that our Tilly will go into/"* said 
 the woman simply, " she wont leave agaiuj thou 
 knows/' 
 
 " Don't say so/' said Dolly, " hope for better 
 things. God is A^ery good and merciful to all His 
 creatures, and He wont forget this little one." 
 
 " Then He'll take her to Himself, Miss, and not 
 leave her in this world of care and trouble," the 
 mother replied, with dry eyes and a hard voice, 
 while Dolly sat with the tears on her round young 
 cheeks. " Better she should die now, than live to 
 be clemmed and beaten, like her mother." 
 
 And then as is the wont of women of this class, 
 who have been inured to ill-usage, having found a 
 patient listener, she told Dolly of her miserable 
 life, — how the man she called " husband" spent his 
 wretched earnings in the public-house, and beat 
 her when he learnt there was no bread in the cup- 
 board for his breakfast ; and then, as she told the 
 story of her griefs, the voice that had softened 
 under Dolly's influence, grew harsh and coarse 
 again, as it always did when she was talking to the 
 master of the house. Dolly glanced at the little 
 
JOE BOOTHBOYD. 113 
 
 patient on the bed, wondering what she must think 
 of a home like that, and what her feelings towards 
 such a father must be ; but the poor child had been 
 used to hear hard words from her earliest life, and 
 was now looking wistfully at the picture-book ; 
 until the round blue eyes grew heavy, and she fell 
 asleep, holding DoUy^s hand. 
 
 VOL. I. 8 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 STEPPER. 
 
 F Mr. Thomas Stepper, bill-poster, &c., of 
 Jobling^s Court, Dalesford, was con- 
 spicuous for one talent more than another, 
 that talent was undoubtedly commercial. He was 
 constituted for a business man. His essentially 
 practical views of life — his. superiority to all minor 
 considerations of others — the utter absence of any- 
 thing like sentiment in his nature — his insensibility 
 to, or slowness to recognise, failure or defeat — his 
 tenacity of purpose, habitual reticence, deliberation, 
 judgment, and his perseverance in holding his own 
 (or some one^s else) — marked him as a man peculiarly 
 adapted for enterprise and trade. He could not be 
 called a scholar, perhaps; his handwriting was 
 confined to a heavy signature, in a wavy direction, 
 after the word '' paid,^^ and had only been acquired 
 as a concession to such of his customers who required 
 these formalities in discharging their accounts ; 
 in which the peculiar arithmetic of this remarkable 
 man was displayed in his facility of Addition. His 
 
STEPPER. 115 
 
 faculty of Subtraction was apparent in his vocation 
 of bill-poster, as probably twenty-five per cent, of 
 the bills committed to his charge found their way, 
 in due time, to the waste-paper shops ; and whilst 
 his ingenuity in Multiplication was to be observed 
 in his constantly increasing stock of pigeons and 
 rabbits, and other prolific animals — which had never 
 certainly been hatched or born on his premises — 
 his partners in trade soon learned his views of 
 Division, when it came to the sharingof the profits 
 of any speculation in which Mr. Stepper required 
 co-operation. As is common with leading minds, 
 whose workings cannot be duly appreciated by their 
 inferiors, he was occasionally assailed with charges 
 of appropriating the greatest and best portion for 
 himself, and of not rendering always a strict account 
 of his receipts ; but Mr. Stepper, with the sound 
 philosophy of a great nature, treated such malignant 
 allegations with the contempt they deserved, and 
 pursued his own path. 
 
 His facile nature could adapt itself to all occa- 
 sions, and vary as the emergency of the case 
 required. Thus with a pusillanimous or impression- 
 able subject, his firmness of demeanour partook of 
 absolute sternness, and by some weak natures was 
 considered ruffianly. At other times, such as the 
 defence of his character before, say, a bench of magis- 
 trates, he could assume a manner so deferential as 
 
 8—2 
 
116 "SHODDY J' 
 
 to approach servility. In addition to these many 
 and great advantages^ he had a certain quickness of 
 perception, which, guided by a due caution, enabled 
 him to seize on any occurrence which might tend to 
 his own advancement, combined, at the same time, 
 with a lofty disregard of the means of obtain- 
 ing it. 
 
 His classical attainments were, no doubt, of the 
 smallest; smce, all his lifetime, he had failed to 
 perceive the difference between " meum'' and 
 ^^ tuwn ;" but, on the other hand, his powers of cal- 
 culation were so acute, that in all the harmless re- 
 laxations of life by which he relieved the tedium 
 of labour — such as tossing at taverns for half- pints 
 of beer, the best out of three — he was invariably 
 the winner. It may also be mentioned that he 
 possessed no small share of manual dexterity, as 
 those who were induced to join him in a game of 
 cribbage, or a turn at skittles, never failed to per- 
 ceive. Indeed, his skill in the latter sport had 
 once resulted unpleasantly, for his opponent in the 
 game having lost all his money on the match, and 
 having in the excitement of the hour wagered a 
 silver watch, which was also won by the fortunate 
 Mr. Stepper, had the extremely bad taste to ignore 
 his skill, and to ascribe his success to nothing more 
 nor less than " sharpiug,^^ and a temporary resi- 
 dence in Wakefield Gaol was the result. 
 
STEPPER. 117 
 
 Mr. Stepper, having arrived at tlie office-door of 
 Mr. Ossett, deliberated for some time as to the 
 course he should next adopt ; for this remarkable 
 man had a few weaknesses, and among them was a 
 strange distrust and suspicion of anything connected 
 with the law of the land. 
 
 He never seemed so truly ill at ease as when 
 in converse with a magistrate, or a town clerk, or 
 even a sergeant of police. It was an unworthy 
 feeling, but it was hereditary ; his father had it 
 before him; and all his philosophy could neither 
 overcome nor conceal it. Therefore he judged it 
 more expedient to await young Frank^'s arrival or 
 departure, than to make inquiries for him ; espe- 
 cially, as in the event of his seeing him alone, his 
 arguments or eloquence might be exerted with 
 greater success. 
 
 He had waited for some time for the opportunity 
 he desired, with singular patience — another com- 
 mercial quality — and had smoked several short pipes- 
 full. He had looked into the mouth of a horse, 
 belonging to a sporting butcher, with whom he had 
 a slight difference touching the alleged age of the 
 quadruped ; he had also persuaded a strange terrier 
 to repose confidence in him, and had then suspended 
 the unsuspecting animal by one ear to test his 
 gameness, when Frank Ossett rode up to the office- 
 door, and springing from his horse, called to the 
 
118 " shoddy:* 
 
 office boy to hold him. Here was the opportunity ; 
 the prudent Stepper availed himself of it at 
 once. 
 
 ." ni hold him for you, sir V he said_, assuming 
 his blandest manner. 
 
 The young fellow coloured deeply, and turning 
 full upon him, said, ^^ You ! You'll do nothing of 
 the kind. Come here, Edwards, and hold the mare, 
 will you ?'* and then walked into the office. 
 
 This was not quite the reception Mr. Stepper 
 expected. It was, to say the least, ungracious and 
 unfriendly, and such conduct towards any other, not 
 possessed of his own equanimity, might have 
 affected that person deeply. But not so in this 
 case. The evident disgust of the youngster weighed 
 with the philosophic Stepper in as great a degree, 
 and no more, as the proverbial drop of water that 
 rolls off the back of the proverbial duck; and so 
 far from evincing any confusion, or even disappoint- 
 ment, he fell into easy converse with the office boy 
 on the age, height, and qualities of the mare he was 
 holding. He also, by the application of several 
 tests, such as pinching her nostrils until the animal 
 tossed her head and snorted, taking her by the 
 throat, or passing his large and ill-favoured hand 
 down her sleek forelegs, essayed to discover whe- 
 ther she was afflicted with any of the disorders that 
 horseflesh is subject to; and having expressed his 
 
STEPPER. 119 
 
 conviction that, all things considered, she was a 
 clipping tit, awaited the return of her owner. 
 
 Mr. Frank Ossett, on making his appearance, did 
 not seem too well pleased at finding Mr. Stepper 
 still in attendance, and was for remounting his 
 mare and riding off without any other recognition ; 
 but that careful observer, noting his intention, con- 
 tinued to edge himself in between the animal and her 
 master, and looking extremely concerned, said — 
 
 '' This is a very awkward business, this here V 
 
 '' I suppose you refer to the other night ?" said 
 the young fellow as carelessly as he could do. 
 
 " Yes ; and that's just what I want to talk to you 
 about, maister," replied the man. 
 
 '^Very well," continued Frank in his off-hand 
 manner, " speak away."" 
 
 " Nay, not afore him ," and Mr. Stepper, by 
 winking the eye nearest the office boy, indicated his 
 objection to that party j and further, by thrusting 
 his tongue into the corresponding cheek, was under- 
 stood to imply that it was not desirable he should 
 be present at their conference. 
 
 " Come this way then, will you V^ said Frank, and 
 led the way into his own office. 
 
 He seated himself at the table where he was 
 accustomed to read, and Stepper, having closed the 
 door, dropped into a chair beside it. 
 
 " A very awkward business, this here V' he repeated. 
 
120 " SHODDY." 
 
 " Go on/' said the young man, quietly enough. 
 
 Mr. Stepper, who did not expect quite so much 
 coolness, was yet equal to the occasion, and told his 
 story with considerable effect. It was, in the main, 
 the same he had before related to Tim Worsdale, 
 with such variations as he conceived might enhance 
 its value, or conduce to his own advantage. Thus, 
 the probable damage done to the property was very 
 much in advance of his estimate to Tim ; and that 
 young gentleman, he observed with much emphasis, 
 had at once seen the justice of the claim, and had 
 agreed to allow the Band ten pounds, as his stare, 
 towards repairing the mischief; and if he, Mr. 
 Frank Ossett, would advance the same amount, he had 
 no doubt things might be arranged, the summons 
 abandoned, and the difficulty amicably adjusted. 
 
 When Mr. Stepper had got thus far, Mr. Frank 
 Ossett repeated, " Go on."" 
 
 ^^ I don't know as Pve got to go on much furder,'' 
 said Mr. Stepper, puzzled for a moment at the 
 lad's coolness ; " only, I should say, the sooner 
 you and Mr. Worsdale settle the affair, the better 
 for you." 
 
 " Very well," replied the other, '^ then I'll call 
 on Worsdale, and we'll see the principals of the Band 
 at once." 
 
 " Nay, that wunnot do, thou knows," said Mr. 
 Stepper ; " they'll lay it on if you go yourselves ; you 
 
STEPPER. 121 
 
 mun let me hold the money. Why, I shouldn't 
 wonder/' he added, as if in horror at the thought, 
 " if ou'd Swaddy was to stick it up to the tune of 
 fifty or sixty, see thee !" 
 
 " Has Tim Worsdale paid his share then ?" asked 
 Frank. 
 
 '' In a moment, sir, like the true gentleman 
 he is !'' exclaimed Mr. Stepper enthusiastically. 
 •^ ^ Tom,' says he to me, * take it,' he says, ' I can 
 never do enough for you,' he says, ^ for your hand- 
 some conduct,' he says ;" and he was about to make 
 other additions to the imaginary conversation, when 
 Ossett cut him short by asking abruptly — 
 
 " Is that door shut ?" 
 
 " Quite, sir ; and as I wur sayin',^^ Mr. Stepper 
 pursued — 
 
 " Then look here, you lying scoundrel !" said 
 Frank, becoming indignant, '^ you have told me a 
 pack of lies, and I''ll tell you the plain truth. I 
 have been most heartily ashamed of the stupid, 
 senseless joke we played on those fellows — we had 
 no business to do it, and I repeat I was ashamed of 
 it, heartily ; so I went the very next morning to 
 old Swaddy, as you call him, to tell him, for my 
 own part, I was sorry, and to offer to pay at once 
 for the damage — which didn't amount to more than 
 a pound altogether. I told him frankly I knew we 
 were to blame, and begged his pardon, for I was 
 
122 " SBOBBYr 
 
 ashamed of it ; but what I regret the most is^, that 
 I should ever have so far forgotten myself, even for 
 a moment, as to have associated with such a con- 
 founded, swindling, low-lived . ruffian as you are ; 
 and if you attempt to impose on Tim Worsdale as 
 you have on me, as sure as I'm sitting here Fll 
 give you in charge for obtaining money under false 
 pretences/'' 
 
 This was rather an unexpected turn in affairs, 
 and to a less astute person than Mr. Thomas Stepper 
 might have been somewhat embarrassing ; but that 
 worthy, not unaccustomed, in the exercise of his 
 various vocations, to have his integrity impugned, 
 and to hear threats held out affecting his personal 
 liberty, was in nowise abashed, but fell to regret- 
 ting that he should have fallen so easy a victim to 
 the deception of Swaddy, who had given him to 
 understand that the injury done to the People's 
 Hall was exactly to the amount he had stated, and 
 that he had moreover begged and prayed of him, 
 Mr. Stepper, to open negotiations with the young 
 gentlemen. 
 
 This vindication of himself, and of the course he 
 had adopted, not appearing to make much impres- 
 sion on Frank, Mr. Stepper further assured that 
 gentleman that his wish was to go through life 
 quietly, and not to have no fallings-out nor un- 
 pleasantnesses with nobody; that the aim of his 
 
STEPPER. 123 
 
 existence would always be, as it always had been, to 
 do right by them as did right by him ; and always, 
 under any and every provocation, to act only on 
 the square ; and as to obtaining money under false 
 pretences, he felt bound to say that them remarks 
 hurt him very severely, as his object was to go 
 through life quietly, &c. &c. ; and so da capo and 
 da capo over again. 
 
 How long he would have continued in this strain 
 it is impossible to surmise, but iVank peremptorily 
 telling him to get out, he descended the stairs, aad 
 so out of the office, looking round once, as Frank 
 remounted his mare, with an expression in his eye 
 that did not increase the amiability of his coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 Mr. Francis Ossett, junior, feeling conscious 
 he had administered a severe but just rebuke, in a 
 manner at once impressive and worthy of the name 
 he bore, and wondering, half aloud, at the " fellow's 
 confounded impudence,^' rode jauntily down the 
 street, and turned his mare's head towards Worsdale 
 House. He would go round that way, he thought, 
 and tell Tim what he had done ; he would put him 
 on his guard against that scamp Stepper (and 
 perhaps he might see his sister Dolly), for the 
 young fellow sat his horse gracefully, and rode 
 well — most Yorkshiremen do — and he knew he 
 should be seen to more advantage under such 
 
124 " 8H0DDY:' 
 
 circumstances. So with a smart flower in his coat, 
 and his hat pushed (just a little) to one side, 
 the handsome lad cantered gallantly up to the 
 gate. 
 
 There is something surely very pleasant in the 
 harmless fopperies of this time of life. The 
 assumption of manner, so deliciously transparent — 
 which seems born of the very simplicity natural to 
 an honest lad — the love of authority, sometimes 
 dictatorial, sometimes even priggish, and yet so 
 sensitive to check or rebuff ; his absurd crotchets, or 
 foolish enthusiasm on particular points, often a 
 source of trouble and annoyance to some tender 
 mother or anxious father, yet which a year's 
 experience in the world lays to rest, belong as 
 naturally to him at this age as the white down that 
 begins to creep over his lips and chin, or the blush 
 that mantles his forehead and his cheek. Have 
 you ever sat by and observed his first flirtation? 
 Is it not simply delightful in its freshness and its 
 very absurdity ? His rush into conversation, and 
 his sudden paralysis of speech ? His efforts to turn 
 a neat compliment, and his inevitable failure ? Yet 
 all the while so charmingly unsuspicious that the 
 mild blue-eyed little miss beside him in the 
 quadrille, or at the dinner-table, is quietly quizzing 
 every peculiarity, however minute, to be mimicked 
 and laughed at afterwards, but who probably will 
 
STEPPER. 125 
 
 dream of him for all that^ and count the hours until 
 they meet again. 
 
 Such is the love of boys and girls, and a pleasant 
 thing to see ; so fresh in its simplicity, so amusing 
 in its absurdity, with its confidences and jealousies, 
 its quarrels and its makings-up, sometimes to be 
 forgotten by a month^s absecce, and sometimes to 
 last our lifetime, and at the end to be as pure and 
 as innocent as at first. 
 
 So Mr. Frank Ossett, very much in love with 
 the unconscious Dolly, observing, as he turned into 
 the drive, a female head at one of the upper 
 windows, touched his mare^s flank with the oflP-side 
 heel, and the animal, perceiving probably with the 
 instinct of her sex the state of her owner^s 
 affections, commenced caracoling and curveting, 
 arching her pretty neck, and tossing her head like 
 an equine coquette — as I daresay she was. Frank 
 rang a good sounding peal at the bell, and the 
 servant appeared. " No ; Mr. Tim wasn^t at 
 home,^^ the man said, '^ nor Miss Worsdale ; she 
 had been out some time and had not yet come 
 back.^' So Frank turned his mare^s head to retrace 
 his steps, looking round as he neared the gate for 
 the face he had seen at the chamber window, and 
 thereby somewhat embarrassing the housemaid, who, 
 taking advantage of her young mistress's absence, 
 was trying on Dolly^s bonnet at the glass. He 
 
126 " SHODDY." 
 
 wondered very much -where Dolly had gone^ and 
 which way she would return home, and then 
 determined to defer his call on Tim until there was 
 another chance of meeting his sister. 
 
 In the meanwhile Mr. Stepper walked slowly 
 down the street and — swore. He called in at the 
 '' Red Lion/' and there too he swore, at nothing in 
 particular, but employing that very comprehensive 
 pronoun " if for his purpose. An acquaintance, 
 who happened to be refreshing nature with an 
 invigorating pint, kindly inquired what was amiss, 
 but Mr. Stepper, vouchsafing no reply beyond the 
 powerful expression of his sentiments towards the 
 pronoun referred to, the other was constrained to 
 infer that something had ruffled his temper, and 
 desisted from further inquiries. 
 
 So, having passed half an hour in the bar of the 
 " Lion,'' he turned his steps homewards, swearing 
 as he did so. He leaned his back against a lamp- 
 post, watching in an absent manner some fowls 
 searching for food, and swore once more. Then he 
 sauntered as far as the bridge over the little stream, 
 and gazing idly at the water, swore again, for there 
 was evidently some strong feeling at work inside, 
 and the oaths seemed the safety-valve that prevented 
 an explosion. 
 
 In fact, this worthy had been so accustomed to 
 garnish his conversation with expletives, that at last 
 
STEPPER. 127 
 
 he came to employ them, as a certain class of 
 musicians do that grace in music, called an 
 appogiatura, who introduce it so persistently on 
 every occasion that the simplicity of the original 
 melody is well-nigh lost in ornamentation^ and 
 becomes little else than trills and turns. 
 
 And thus he continued, alternately sauntering on 
 and stopping, but always swearing, till he reached 
 the place he called home^ in Jobling's Court. He 
 stamped heavily into the room, and dropped sulkily 
 into a chair. The small bull-terrier with the sore 
 ears, believing in the confidence of its canine nature 
 that the benevolent Stepper had possibly returned, 
 provided with fragments of meat for its own and 
 the '^ Snap^s'"* sustenance, testified approval of its 
 master's forethought by standing with its white 
 paws on the rim of the paste-can and with its head 
 on one side, pricking up the remainder of its ears 
 in an inquiring manner, with an inquisitive frown 
 wrinkling its sleek white forehead, uttering a whine 
 of interrogation as it did so. But such demon- 
 strative conduct was speedily checked by the prompt 
 presentation of Mr. Stepper's clog, with an ad 
 libitum accompaniment of his appogiaturas. 
 
 It is probable a similar reception would have 
 awaited any advances on the part of the " Snap/' 
 but he was a dog of the world, who had observed 
 for himself, and like a sly dog as he was, remained 
 
128 " shoddy:' 
 
 in his bed under the stairs, keeping a watchful eye 
 round the corner on his master^s proceedings. 
 
 "Now, Missus/"* shouted Mr. Stepper to his 
 partner up the stairs, " is there nought to eat ?'' 
 
 " Husht V said the woman as she came softly- 
 down the stairs, with one or two of the parcels 
 Dolly had left for the sick child; "husht! Tilly's 
 asleep." 
 
 Mr. Stepper, without any apparent effort, turned 
 off one of his appogiaturas, as he demanded a second 
 time if there was " nought to eat, and what them 
 things was V 
 
 ^^ What Worsdale's lass ha' left for our bairn, 
 and bless her for it !'' said the mother. 
 
 " Eh ! has she been here then T^ the man asked 
 quickly, thinking her errand had been perhaps on 
 Tim's account ; but when he learnt the real purpose 
 of her visit, he manifested a good deal of irritability, 
 not usual with one of his philosophic temperament, 
 and inquired eagerly — 
 
 " Did she leave thee no money, then ?" 
 
 *' No," said the woman curtly, " no more than 
 what you see." 
 
 Mr. Stepper grumbled a good deal at this 
 thoughtless conduct on the part of Dolly, and 
 asked of his better-half, with much disgust, what 
 was the use of them things ? But on his wife's 
 producing a piece of cold bacon on a broken plate. 
 
STEPPER. 129 
 
 and some very stale bread, he uttered a string of 
 expletives in favour of Tim_, Frank, everything and 
 everybody — probably by way of grace before meat— 
 and fell- to with a good will. 
 
 When the master of the house gave such indi- 
 cations of a ruffled temper, his wife was accustomed 
 to retire to the greatest distance the limits of the 
 dwelling in Jobliug^s Court would allow, for when 
 in such moods he was apt to become slightly 
 demonstrative, and at such times broken crockery 
 was by no means uncommon ; so she left him to 
 finish his meal alone. 
 
 That being done, and having filled a short, black, 
 and foul pipe with the remains of some tobacco he 
 collected from the corners of his various pockets, he 
 lighted it with one of the Reverend Ernest Pale- 
 thorpe^s tracts, and sat down to ruminate. 
 
 From this deliberation, or the pipe, he seemed to 
 derive some comfort, for shortly afterwards he fell 
 into a gentle slumber, during which his under jaw 
 dropped upon his breast, the pipe slid from his lips, 
 and his breathing became loud and stertorous. 
 Then, when his snoring became regular and deep, 
 the woman returned softly down the stairs, having 
 first removed her shoes, and went carefully towards 
 a corner cupboard. There, from the second shelf, 
 she took a small spoutless black teapot, and gently 
 emptied into her hand its contents of a few 
 
 VOL. I. 9 
 
130 " shoddy:' 
 
 shillings and some pence — keeping a watchful eye 
 on her lord and master as she did so. The copper 
 she returned to the teapot, which she replaced in 
 the cupboard, but the silver she took upstairs. 
 About an hour afterwards Mr. Stepper awoke from 
 his slumbers and began to grumble, as he had 
 previously sworn, at nothing in particular but 
 everything in general, and having yawned and 
 stretched himself, went straight to the cupboard 
 where the black teapot was. This he took down, 
 and emptying the contents in his hand, as the 
 woman had previously done, he counted the coppers 
 and transferred them to his own. pocket, grumbling 
 as he did so. Fortunately he was not aware of the 
 money Dolly had left with the poor mother of the 
 sick child, and which the woman had carefully 
 concealed, or probably that worthy licensed victualler, 
 whose outward sign was a Red Lion, and who kept 
 a good dry skittle-ground behind his house, a pack 
 of dirty cards in his bar, and a few dice in a wine- 
 glass on a top shelf, might have been by a few 
 shillings a more wealthy man. As it was, Mr. 
 Stepper gave a sharp whistle through his teeth, as 
 an invitation to the " Snap" to accompany him on a 
 short excursion, and that artful observer of human 
 nature cama bounding out of his retreat, with the 
 most extravagant manifestations of joy and happi- 
 ness ; but having received from his owner a reminder, 
 
STEPPEB. 131 
 
 in the form of a heavily-soled boot, that such im- 
 pulsive conduct was not acceptable, be became 
 suddenly sedate, and trotted gently at his master's 
 heels. 
 
 Turning out of Jobling's Court, Mr. Stepper 
 walked slowly through the town, till he came to a 
 pathway leading to the fields. He crossed the 
 stile, and sauntered slowly on, chewing a straw, and 
 idly watching a party of gleaners in the stubble-fields. 
 Then he seated himself on a gate, and threw little 
 stones at the dog, that was enjoying a roll on its 
 back in the fresh air ; but still with an air of 
 abstraction all the while. Then he resumed his 
 walk, and having made a round of the fields, came 
 back into the town at another portion of it. There 
 he turned into a druggist's shop — a shop of a dusky 
 and mysterious appearance, where bunches of dried 
 herbs were hung up conspicuously, and with labels 
 in the window setting forth the druggist's claim as 
 a dentist and an accoucheur — and asked for a small 
 quantity of laudanum. 
 
 *' What do you want it for ?" asked the shopman. 
 
 " Tse gotten tush-ache, thou knows," he replied. 
 
 " Better have it out," said the man. 
 
 " Nay, gi' me some'at to ease it a bit/' Stepper 
 answered. 
 
 ^'I can only sell you a little drop," said the 
 druggist. 
 
 9— a 
 
132 "SHODDY." 
 
 '^ Well, I only want a little drop/^ said Stepper. 
 
 '^ Don't leave it about ; mind, it's poison/' the 
 druggist said, as he pasted the customary pre- 
 cautionary label on it. 
 
 ^'I don't want to poison nobody," Mr. Stepper 
 grumbled, as paying for the drug and putting the 
 phial in his pocket_, he left the shop. 
 
 Whether the sight of the dentist had frightened 
 Mr. Stepper's tooth-ache away, as it is said some- 
 times to do, or whether he had no faith in the 
 sedative he had just purchased, he took no pains to 
 apply it, but again turned his steps towards the 
 outskirts of Dalesford, and sauntered listlessly along, 
 with the '^ Snap" following at his heels. His purpose 
 seemed to be simply to get through the time, for 
 he loitered about in a desultory manner through the 
 evening, and it was not until the clocks struck the 
 quarter to eight that he turned his face homewards. 
 Then he struck into a brisker walk, and in a short 
 time turned into the bar of the " Red Lion." 
 
 " There's been a young gent asking for you," said 
 the woman in attendance. 
 
 Mr. Stepper's face brightened ; that is to say, as 
 far as such a countenance as his was capable of ex- 
 pressing pleasurable surprise, and he asked — 
 
 " Where is he ?" 
 
 '' Oh, he's been and gone again," the woman 
 replied. 
 
STEPPER. 133 
 
 ^' Well, but did he leave no message nor nought ?" 
 Mr. Stepper again asked. 
 
 " Nought as I see," the woman said, and pro- 
 ceeded with her business of washing some sticky 
 tumblers and mugs. 
 
 Mr. Stepper was silent for a few moments, and 
 then muttered something, which sounded like his 
 favourite conversational garnish, when a voice behind, 
 calling him by name, caused him to look round 
 and confront Tim Worsdale. 
 
 " I want to see you, and IVe been before — where 
 can we go V the lad asked in a flurried and nervous 
 manner. 
 
 " Come in here,^^ Stepper replied, and led the 
 way into a dismal chamber called the "parlour," 
 where a beer-stained and mouldy bagatelle-table 
 occupied the centre of the sanded floor, the walls 
 of the room being adorned by portraits of fighting- 
 men in their professional attitude, and the mantel- 
 piece by a stuff'ed terrier in a glass case. 
 
 " Have you got the money ?" Stepper asked ; 
 " for ou^d Swaddy has been a-going on that awful, 
 that if I don't take it to him this blessed night he^U 
 have the summons out to-morrow morning, aud 
 that^s all about it !" 
 
 " There^s no occasion to make any violence about 
 it '/' said Tim, with an attempt at dignity ; for being 
 ashamed probably of both the room and the com- 
 
134 "SHODDY." 
 
 pany in which he found himself, he assumed an ease 
 of manner he was far from feeling; -and then he 
 added lightly — 
 
 " When I give my word, I think it may be relied 
 on." 
 
 *^Why, of course, I knowed you was a gent as 
 would do the right thing," Mr. Stepper rejoined, 
 " and so I told ou*d Swaddy and Curly, but they 
 was that nasty about it, you see, that I was naturally 
 anxious. But I told^em you^dbe sure to get the stuff." 
 
 " Of course — of course," said Tim, as he pre- 
 pared to pay the money. He didn't think it 
 necessary to hint how he had been indebted to the 
 affectionate fidelity of Dolly, whose gentle nature 
 had been shocked, and whose kind heart touched by 
 the picture her brother had drawn of the impending 
 wrath of Swaddy and the rest of the infuriated 
 brethren ; and when the lad had sat whimpering on 
 the side of his bed, as he told the fate which probably 
 awaited him and his friend, Frank Ossett, if the 
 money were not forthcoming, how the girl could 
 think of nothing but his distress, but went to her 
 own chamber at once, unlocked a drawer where she 
 kept certain little treasures, and then producing a 
 small box, unlocked that also, and procured the 
 amount her brother required. 
 
 Tim counted out the five pounds, and Stepper 
 observing he had some more in his purse, inquired — 
 
STEPPER. 135 
 
 " You wont make it six, then ?" 
 
 '' No ; I told you so before/' Tim answered 
 doggedly. 
 
 " It would look very handsome, that's all,'' Step- 
 per suggested. 
 
 " No, five is enough, and precious dear too at 
 the price," Tim said ; but fearing he had been be- 
 trayed into an unworthy emotion, he added with 
 much condescension of manner — ^^ Will you take 
 anything ?" 
 
 "Well," replied Mr. Stepper, with becoming 
 hesitation, " I'm agreeable, if you'll take anything 
 yourself; the rum's very nice here." 
 
 " Very weU, order two rums then, for my time's 
 precious," said the youth, looking at the handsome 
 watch he carried as he leaned back in his chair, and 
 threw his feet on the bagatelle-table preparatory to 
 filling a small meerschaum pipe, which he took from 
 his pocket — " So look sharp with the liquor." 
 
 Next to gilding refined gold, or painting lilies, 
 any anxiety on the score of Mr. Stepper's sharp- 
 ness would be as great a waste of energy as well 
 could be conceived ; that active and intelligent 
 person could never look otherwise ; and although, if 
 critically considered by the classical standard of 
 manly beauty, his countenance might not favourably 
 impress an observer, yet he would be only a very 
 cursory one who did not at once arrive at the con- 
 
136 ''SHODDY." 
 
 elusion that the quality we call '*" sharpness'" lurked 
 ill every line^ curve, or wrinkle. It lay in the dull 
 pale eye, that leered round at you under the heavy 
 brow ; in the corner of the coarse, full mouth, and 
 in the small but inquisitive nose. Not exactly 
 quickness, mark you ; but the aptness to take an 
 advantage — to detect a weak part, and to turn the 
 opportunity to hia own account — if that constitute 
 sharpness, Mr. Thomas Stepper was rich in its pos- 
 session. 
 
 So, without any of the hurry or bustle which 
 waiters are wont to exhibit, he very speedily returned 
 with the two glasses of liquor, hot water and sugar. 
 
 " I thought youM like to mix for yourself, sir,^^ 
 he remarked, as he pushed the hot water towards 
 Tim. '^ It''s real good stuff this, thou knows ! and 
 the night^s chilly — so drink it off !^^ 
 
 " Yes,^^ Tim assented, " it is cold, as you say — so 
 here goes !'^ 
 
 And following Mr. Stepper's suggestion, the boy 
 swallowed the liquor at once. 
 

 ±^^.' 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 RE DWELL- SUPER-MARE. 
 
 ND SO you really leave us iu a few days^ 
 time r' 
 
 " And we really leave you in a few 
 days^ time ! What do you think of that ? Or is 
 it too dreadful to dwell upon ?" 
 
 " I know Uedwell will lose its greatest charm 
 when Miss Worsdale leaves it ; and I_, at least, 
 shall find no other attraction to reconcile me to her 
 absence.'''' 
 
 Prissy was seated on a rustic bench, attired in 
 the simplest yet the prettiest of seaside costumes, 
 drawing lines with her parasol on the yellow sands 
 as she spoke. The unclouded blue of that bright 
 autumn morning was reflected in the young girPs 
 clear and bright eyes, and the cool breeze that came 
 from over the sea, gave a heightened colour of 
 health to her fair cheeks, and played and toyed 
 with the long tresses that fell on her pretty droopin j 
 shoulders. By her side lay her drawing block and 
 her box of colours ; for bearing in mind her father^s 
 
138 " SHODDY." 
 
 injuDction that her taste for landscape should be 
 fostered, the young lady had latterly evinced a 
 great desire to sketch from Nature, rightly explain- 
 ing to the watchful Miss Skim pie, that it was only by 
 observing the effects of colours and of distance in. 
 the objects themselves, that an artist could learn 
 properly to transfer them to his paper or his canvas. 
 With this end in view, she had been accustomed 
 recently to start on short sketching excursions, 
 accompanied by her dearest friend Martha, who 
 had also a fancy for art, and who would return in 
 company of her darling and precious Prissy, with 
 several choice bits of scenery in her drawing-book ; 
 in which a bright green field was backed by an 
 intensely blue ocean, whereon the fisherman''s 
 simple lugger in the extreme distance would appear 
 to be hovering o^er the chimney of the humble 
 cottage that adorned the immediate foreground. 
 In these excursions, Miss Priscilla Worsdale was 
 wont to propose to her darling of darlings, Pattie, 
 that each should select her own particular subject, 
 and then compare the result of their efforts when 
 the morning labour should be completed ; and it 
 was worthy of remark that, more than once, on 
 the simple Dingwall rejoining her friend, she had 
 found her in conversation with a resident at the 
 hotel, where they themselves were staying — one 
 Captain Clarence, who was something of a con- 
 
BEDWELL-SUPEB-3fABE. 139 
 
 noisseur in art^ as he explained to her, and who 
 owned he was addicted to rambles in the fields and 
 on the shore, in quest of subjects worthy an artistes 
 contemplation. He would remark also on the 
 evident similarity of taste which led them to the 
 same spot, and which conduced to the strange 
 coincidence of their frequent though accidental 
 meetings; at which Miss Dingwall woidd look at 
 him in a winning though artless way; and would 
 then archly shake her curls, of which she had a 
 great profusion, of dark brown hue, on each side of 
 her round and, it must be owned, somewhat 
 freckled face. 
 
 At the first and second of these accidental meet- 
 ings Martha simply expressed surprise; but on a 
 recurrence of the same incident she held up her 
 finger and archly exclaimed, " Oh ! Fve caught 
 you, have I ?'' when Prissy turned very red, and 
 the Captain made a sportive and complimentary 
 rejoinder. But when it came to the fourth or 
 fifth discovery of Prissy affecting to draw, and 
 Captain Clarence leaning over her and appearing 
 to talk earnestly, there was a slight asperity in 
 Miss DingwalFs tone, as she said with emphasis, 
 " When you have quite finished your — landscape, 
 Priscilla, perhaps we had better return.''-' I don^t 
 know how it was, whether she had been unsuccessful 
 in her search of a subject, or unfortunate in her 
 
140 "SHODDYr 
 
 treatment of it, but on that particular occasion 
 Martha^s fresh young spirits seemed unduly de- 
 pressed. The return walk home was performed in 
 silence on her part_, not to say dudgeon, which was 
 by no means diminished by the Captain, who accom- 
 panied them, addressing his remarks exclusively to 
 Prissy. On her return to the hotel she com- 
 plained of the headache, which was probably the 
 fact, for her gentle face was heavy, and there was 
 a sparkle in her usually dull eye which was not 
 the light of youthful joy. Her indisposition ex- 
 tended even to the drawing-room in the evening, 
 and when pressed by Captain Clarence to favour 
 them with her favourite song, she replied with a 
 dryness of tone, not usual with her, that " perhaps 
 Miss Worsdale would sing instead — which would 
 be much better and more welcome ;" and so retired 
 to the balcony, where she sat with her pockethand- 
 kerchief tied over her ears, looking at the waves as 
 they tumbled over one another in the moonlight. 
 
 It had been arranged that the day of which the 
 present chapter is to treat, should be the last for 
 the country excursions, and it was only in com- 
 pliance with Prissy^s urgent request that Miss 
 Skimple had consented, arguing that, as September 
 was nearly over, they might expect cold evenings — 
 with other truisms it would have been useless to 
 controvert. But the weather was so bright and 
 
BEDWELL-SUPER-3IABE. 141 
 
 warm in the middle of the day that the prospect 
 of a farewell pic-nic was too much for some of the 
 youngsters staying at the boarding house to forego 
 without a struggle, and thus eventually the older 
 and the wiser heads allowed themselves to be per- 
 suaded, and a large party set off for their favourite 
 resort, some three or four miles from the town. 
 
 Mrs. Dingwall and her daughter were of the 
 party, for whether Martha had recovered from her 
 headache and her low spirits, or did not foresee 
 much enjoyment in being left behind, she had added 
 her entreaties to the others, and a little reserve and 
 grandeur towards Prissy notwithstanding, she shook 
 her brown curls, and looked more artless than ever. 
 That phrase, " a little change by the seaside,^' 
 which comes very much into use between June and 
 September, means a great deal more than at the 
 first hearing it seems to do. It sounds like the 
 keen enjoyment of breathing the pure ozone of the 
 sands and the downs, after the stifling atmosphere 
 of a smoky town ; or, instead of the accustomed 
 daily toil over a desk or writing-table, the delicious 
 leisure and voluptuous idleness under a cloudless 
 sky, in a yacht or on the beach ; and then a re- 
 turn to duty with increased vitality and a greater 
 appetite for work. But in many cases — probably 
 in most — it means as sudden and entire a trans- 
 formation from established habit and appearance. 
 
142 " SROBBYr 
 
 as tlie metamorpliosis of a little creeping grub into 
 the free and careless butterfly^ tbat knowing its 
 holiday is only of a very short duration^ gets itself a 
 new pair of wings, of divers patterns and colours, 
 determined to spend its brief existence in the praise- 
 worthy endeavour to press as much variety of 
 delightful idleness into its allotted space as possible ; 
 and as the ephemerae lay a few hundred eggs and 
 then withdraw from the world and its vanities, so 
 the autumnal visitor to the watering-place lays 
 aside his plaid suit " adapted for seaside wear,^^ 
 pays his account, balances his cash, and returns to 
 the counting-house or chambers, to lay the com- 
 mercial or professional eggs that are to produce 
 the means for another September holiday the 
 following year. Yet, if you had not met him face 
 to face on the sands, would vou have believed that 
 that jubilant person, bestriding a donkey and 
 habited in a costume that must have cost sleepless 
 nights to design and laborious days to execute, 
 was the same grave and serious individual by whose 
 side you have ridden every day to the City in the 
 Brixton or Hammersmith ^bus ? And, if you had 
 not seen with your own eyes their names in the 
 list of fashionable arrivals, what could have con- 
 vinced you that those giddy young things, prancing 
 and splashing, laughing and squealing in the sea, 
 or sharply disputing the priority of claim to the 
 
RED WELL-SUPEB-MARE. 143 
 
 bathing machine, were identical with our charming, 
 but strictly sedate, young neighbours of Rosemary 
 Lodge, whose relaxations of life appeared to be 
 bounded by a performance of sacred music or a 
 Penny Reading ? These are some of the results of 
 a " little change by the seaside/^ 
 
 So it was with Miss Skimple. A little change 
 by the seaside had even affected her. She, who 
 under Mr. Worsdale's roof and, so to speak, under 
 his nose, lost no opportunity of inculcating prin- 
 ciples of propriety and habits of deportment, 
 seemed under the influence of the free and bracing 
 air of Redwell to have departed from her austerity, 
 and to have closed, or at least winked, that watch- 
 ful eye that was wont to follow her young charges 
 with the jealous regard that the dragon may be 
 supposed to have exercised in the garden of the 
 Hesperides. Many a time, when Prissy would skip 
 up to her, and throwing her arms about her gover- 
 nesses neck would tell her " dear Skimple she was 
 going for a run on the sands,^^ that demure guardian 
 of youth would only offer a mild protest, or smile 
 a grim assent, and not unfrequently would then 
 retire into her own chamber, accompanied by a 
 volume of a serious nature, over which she would 
 presently fall asleep. So Prissy had plenty of op- 
 portunities for cultivating the art of drawing, and 
 the art of flirtation as well ; and as the former 
 
144 " shoddy:' 
 
 required some application and labour^ and the second 
 came quite natural to the pretty young girl^ we 
 need not stay to inquire in which she was the more 
 proficient. 
 
 Thus, on the day in question^ while Miss Skim- 
 ple and her congenial acquaintance^ Mrs. Dingwall, 
 who had also a serious turn, were sedately conversing 
 in platitudes, on subjects especially adapted for 
 boring the young, the youngsters of the party had 
 dispersed themselves in the various pursuits their 
 different fancies suggested ; and while some sought 
 for shells or seaweed on the beach, or explored the 
 adjacent coppice in quest of wild fruit or flowers, the 
 studious Martha had taken her drawing materials, 
 and was in search of a fitting subject for her skill, 
 when she came, quite unexpectedly, on Captain 
 Clarence, as he leaned over Prissy' s shoulder and 
 conversed in a low tone. 
 
 Now Miss Martha Dingwall having been edu- 
 cated at a first-class establishment, the principal of 
 which made it a rule to instil habits of perfect polite- 
 ness into her pupils, was far too well-bred to 
 come between two persons when conversing ; so 
 she took up her position noiselessly behind them, 
 and, seated on the ground, silently prepared to 
 sketch — nothing. I think some of the Captain^s 
 remarks were uttered loud enough to reach her ear, 
 for more than once her pencil lay idly in her 
 
BEDWELL-SUPER-MABE. 145 
 
 hand, while her round face expressed intense 
 interest. 
 
 Captain Clarence, who was regarding Prissy very 
 earnestly, was considerably her senior; a man of 
 forty, perhaps ; but his perfectly white hair and 
 strongly-marked face were so strangely contrasted 
 with the upright form and vigorous frame, that it 
 would have been a matter of difficulty to have 
 assigned to him any particular age by the appearance 
 he presented. A somewhat bronzed countenance^ 
 and a dark, almost a black moustache, gave him a 
 remarkable, but at the same time a dignified ap- 
 pearance ; and this was further enhanced by the 
 quiet and self-contained manner which bespoke the 
 man of travel and of the world. His otherwise 
 handsome face was slightly marred by the dark eyes 
 being rather too near together, thus imparting to 
 his countenance an occasional expression of craftiness^ 
 which his slightly aquiline nose tended to confirm. 
 
 " Do you know, Captain Clarence," Prissy said, 
 " that I am rather tired of hearing these compli- 
 ments — if compliments they may be called — which 
 are uttered, I suppose, to every girl in turn, as she 
 comes and goes, and which were said yesterday, and 
 will be repeated to-morrow, and so on, and so on, 
 over and over again V 
 
 " If it is possible for a young lady to be wearied 
 by admiration, I can readily comprehend, my dear 
 
 VOL. I. 10 
 
146 " shoddy:' 
 
 Miss WorsdalCj that you must feel surfeited/' the 
 Captain replied ; " and_, on my side^ I wish I could 
 express myself in terms less hackneyed than those 
 which to you must be common enough. But, un- 
 fortunately/'' he continued after a moment's pause, 
 '^ in one's path through this hollow world of society 
 we acquire habits and mannerisms of speech, and 
 employ them so frequently and on any occasion, that 
 we are at a loss how properly to express any genuine 
 sentiment we may feel. I wish you would teach 
 me — you would find me a very apt pupil." 
 
 '' All of which, I have no doubt, you will say to 
 your partner the next time you waltz, or to the lady 
 by whose side you stand to turn over the leaves of 
 the song she is singing V And Prissy looked up 
 quickly and archly ; but meeting the two dark eyes 
 fixed brightly on her own, withdrew her gaze in a 
 little confusion. 
 
 " I tell you, Miss Worsdale/' the Captain pro- 
 ceeded still more earnestly, " I have been in the 
 Service, and have omitted to cultivate many of the 
 graces of society which might otherwise have been 
 of much assistance to me, and 1 have regretted the 
 lost opportunity — though a man who sets his heart 
 on a soldier's life rather undervalues these acquire- 
 ments ; but 1 say bluntly — you must pardon my 
 brusqueness — that I have never seen any one so 
 simply charming as yourself ! Yet I have travelled 
 
EEDWELL-SUPEB'MABE. 147 
 
 a great deal, and seen the various beauty of many- 
 nations. But the utter absence of anything like 
 affectation of manner — the freshness of a young 
 and pure nature — is so delicious to meet ! One gets 
 so wearied with the eternal masquerade of life, when 
 every one seems to be speaking under lock and key, 
 and to be moving in the disguise of another person's 
 dress ! It is such a relief to escape from the bore- 
 dom of genteel life ! It is like throwing open the 
 window of our chamber and admitting the bracing 
 air of heaven, to chase away the lingering odours of 
 pastille or Regalia ! Respectability sometimes is very 
 tedious V 
 
 " Respectability tedious !'■* Prissy exclaimed in 
 evident surprise; " what do you mean V^ 
 
 " T mean what we generally understand by that 
 term/' the Captain answered. " Look at our life at 
 the boarding-house : can anything be more perfectly 
 correct, and (but for you) more dull? We are all 
 acquainted with one another, and yet no one knows 
 anybody. The conversation never rises to the sum- 
 mer heat of discussion, but is restrained generally to 
 the freezing-point of commonplace. It would not 
 be in strictly good taste, perhaps, to broach any 
 subject of a political or highly-interesting nature, as 
 we never can know whom we may be affronting by 
 our warmth or our candour. We arrange fishing 
 parties, and we organise picnics; but these are 
 
 10—2 
 
148 " shoddy:' 
 
 dependent for success on the weather; besides we 
 cannot always be pulling gasping fishes out of their 
 native element, nor is it wise to risk rheumatism by 
 lunching under the most unfavourable conditions. 
 We English make a great parade of our freedom, 
 and we sing the popular refrain of ' Rule Britannia^ 
 fortissime, yet I question whether there is more 
 abject servitude anywhere than persons of fashion 
 suflPer in the cause of their divinity. But I beg 
 your pardon, perhaps I bore you ?^^ 
 
 He added this as Prissy was listening attentively, 
 and he observed it. 
 
 " No, not at all,^^ she replied hastily. " Please, 
 go on j I like to hear it.^^ 
 
 " I have sometimes thought,^^ the Captain pro- 
 ceeded in an absent kind of way, and looking into 
 the far distance, though probably he saw the in- 
 terested face of his fair companion while he did so, 
 *' that the labourer who lives from hand to mouth — 
 like those fishing fellows pulling out to sea yonder — 
 is, after all, the happiest mortal breathing. True, 
 his life is uncertain ; there is even a risk about it, 
 and his earnings are often wretchedly low ; but, in 
 the first place, he does not belong to a class who 
 trouble themselves about the morrow — while the 
 risk tinges his life with the interest of adventure, 
 and his wants are easily met. Ah \" he exclaimed 
 moodily, and as if to himself, '^ what avail good 
 
BEDWELL-SUPEB-MAEE. 149 
 
 birth, competence, or position in the world, when we 
 are sickened by the falsehood of society, and wearied 
 by the sameness of it ?" 
 
 " I think you take a very uncomfortable view of 
 things,^^ said Prissy, uneasily ; for she remembered 
 certain fishing and picnic parties where she had 
 been the bright particular luminary, and she shud- 
 dered at such a gloomy aspect of life. 
 
 ^' My dear Miss Worsdale, I earnestly hope 
 nothing may ever cloud your fair young life V he said 
 in reply ; and then dropping his voice, and speaking 
 almost in a whisper, " That bright face ought never 
 to know the shadow of a moment^s care or grief V 
 
 " You speak," said Prissy, with an effort to be 
 gay, '' as if you had known both. What a dread- 
 fully mysterious being you are !" 
 
 " I suppose no person has lived to the age of — 
 to my age — without having had some such expe- 
 rience," her companion rejoined. " Though I don^t 
 know why I should inflict my melancholy on you. 
 It cannot interest you." 
 
 " No, indeed," said Prissy, laughing again, " it 
 does not interest me in the least." 
 
 Probably though it did interest her, and pro- 
 bably the Captain, being an observant man of the 
 world, knew it. 
 
 Perhaps the proverb that says, " Like atti'acts 
 like," has in reality no more wisdom in it than 
 
150 " shoddy:' 
 
 many another accepted dictum, that sounds so deep 
 and is so shallow, at any rate as applied to affairs 
 of the heart ; or why do we so frequently find the 
 volatile and the grave reciprocally drawn together, 
 and why should bright Miss May wed with old and 
 frosty December, when brave young June, with only 
 a month^s difference, is by her side ? But these 
 are some of the incongruities of love, and their 
 depths are not to be fathomed; and we know that 
 with many women where there is a mystery there 
 is an interest, and that kind of interest, too, that has 
 affection for one of its affinities. 
 
 " Well, let us change the subject,^^ said the Cap- 
 tain gaily. ^^That was a charming song you gave 
 us last evening, and you have the rare gift of a truly 
 sympathetic voice/' 
 
 " Do you think so V' said the girl frankly, and 
 evidently pleased ; then a moment after she added 
 archly, "Now, candidly, did you not prefer Miss 
 Dingwall's ?" 
 
 " Miss Dingwall is a very superior young person," 
 returned Captain Clarence ; " very amiable, I am 
 sure, and extremely accomplished no doubt, but 
 vocalisation is not \er forte " 
 
 " No ?" cried Miss Prissy in well- feigned surprise ; 
 " then if that isn't, what is ?" 
 
 The Captain paused, and then said gravely and 
 drily — 
 
BEDWELL-SUPEB-MAEE. 151 
 
 '' I don't know." 
 
 When the subject of this conversation stole a 
 glance at the couple seated within a couple of yards, 
 she could perceive that Prissy was laughing, and the 
 Captain was bending over her and saying something 
 under his voice — she could not quite hear what, but 
 fancied she could distinguish the words " landscape" 
 and "perspective," at which Prissy laughed still 
 more. Then they became serious and earnest 
 agiin, and so taking advantage of their absorbing 
 conversation, as noiselessly as she had approached, 
 so silently did she withdraw, and when at a little 
 distance she looked round and saw them still con- 
 versing, she concluded, and rightly, she had been 
 unobserved. 
 
 When she rejoined the picnic party, Martha 
 found the cloth spread and the cold collation pre- 
 pared, and only awaiting the arrival of herself and 
 Prissy, She had been in search of a subject for her 
 brush, she said, and could not think where Prissy 
 had gone ! . . . They had parted early in the 
 forenoon, and had not met since ; no doubt she had 
 wandered away in quest of an interesting object — 
 (this was uttered with an emphasis) ; she was so fond 
 of drawing ! — and was so clever — and so indus- 
 trious ! — and so artless too ! 
 
 And thus the ingenuous maiden ran on, but not 
 to Miss Skimple's satisfaction, who, now that her 
 
152 "Shoddy:' 
 
 pupil had considerably overstayed the time^ began to 
 be haunted by dismal forebodings of Prissy having 
 been overtaken by the rising tide^ or having fallen 
 down cliffs^ or other mishaps incidental to those who 
 wander about the sea coast ; nor was her anxiety in 
 the least assuaged by the particular kind of comfort 
 offered by Martha's mother, who, like many other 
 worthy persons that select the moments of intense 
 suspense for appropriate anecdotes, began to recount 
 how a young man of great promise and botanical 
 pursuits had been missed on just such anothsr 
 occasion, and whose body was afterwards found a 
 mile further away, with his pockets full of cockles 
 and periwinkles, and a Manual of Botany in his 
 hand. The game of the horrible being once fairly 
 started, another lady recalled how a young female 
 friend of her own had incautiously peeped down the 
 shaft of a disused coal-mine in Staffordshire^ and 
 never having been seen afterwards, was said to have 
 fallen in, and was popularly " supposed to be at the 
 bottom ;'' with other narratives of a similarly cheer- 
 ful tendency. Indeed, to such a length did emula- 
 tion in the dreadful carry these worthy creatures, 
 that the unhappy Skimple was presently conscious 
 of that peculiar sensation in the back known as 
 " creeping,'^ and she was picturing to herself all 
 kinds of tragical terminations to Prissy's existence, 
 when Prissy herself, with heightened colour, breath- 
 
liEDWELL'SVPER-MABE. 153 
 
 less with haste^ and profuse in apologies for having 
 delayed them so long, skipped in among them. She 
 had been sketching, she said, and had not minded 
 the time ; and although the elders were disposed to 
 be severe, the girl looked so bright, so happy, and 
 so full of health and youth, that her high animal 
 spirits infected the others, and they forgot their 
 anger. 
 
 " Do let us see your sketches, darling ?" said her 
 friend Martha ; '^ you know I am so fond of them, 
 and you draw so nicely !" 
 
 Prissy coloured ; she knew she had no drawings 
 with which to gratify her ingenuous friend, so she 
 artfully rejoined, " No, dear ; I didn^t satisfy myself, 
 so I tore them out and threw them away.'^ 
 
 Martha took up the drawing block; it was a 
 new one, and the leaves had not been touched. 
 
 " Ah, then,''^ said that discerning young person, 
 '^ you must have had another book with jou." 
 
 Prissy, who saw the trap, though she could not 
 divine the reason for it, said in confusion that was 
 so, and the matter dropped for the time ; but as 
 Martha had occasion to pass her, she whispered in 
 her ear — 
 
 " Priscilla, you are as deceitful as you are un- 
 truthful." 
 
 Prissy coloured again at that remark ; and her 
 dearest Martha observing the advantage she had 
 
154 " shoddy:' 
 
 obtained, did not scruple to make the most of it 
 by various observations of a two-edged and veno- 
 mous nature ; that, appearing innocuous to the rest 
 of the company, could not fail to confuse and dis- 
 turb her friend. Thus, when one of the seniors re- 
 marked on the unusual warmth of that September 
 day. Miss Dingwall observed that she preferred 
 truth before all things ; a sentiment much approved 
 by the elder ladies, though they probably failed to 
 see the connexion between the two observations; and 
 again, when some one, as they returned home in 
 the evening, drew attention to the rich light of the 
 sinking sun on the calm waters of the sea, she com- 
 menced a trope or metaphor of the smiles that might 
 play over a false and hollow heart, but the simile 
 was not well- sustained, and the shaft fell harmless. 
 But Prissy for all that was ill at ease ; the more so 
 as she didn^t quite know what her friend meant, or 
 to what the remark tended ; and she felt besides the 
 guilt at having been detected in a falsehood ; but 
 although she endeavoured to balance her uneasiness 
 by a forced flow of spirits, Martha remarked it and 
 enjoyed her confusion. 
 
 When they arrived at the hotel. Prissy learned 
 that a young gentleman, who was then in the 
 billiard-room, had called during their absence, and 
 had ordered a bed j and while Miss Skimple and she 
 were wondering who it could be — Miss Skimple 
 
BEDWELL-SUPER-MABE. 155- 
 
 opining it might be the Reverend Ernest Palethorpe, 
 who had availed himself of his holiday to call upon 
 them, and Prissy reminding her that this, being the 
 best time of the year, the Rector usually appro- 
 priated it for himself — brother Tim strolled easily 
 into the room. 
 
 That interesting youth was dressed in a choice 
 seaside costume, with as much variety of colour 
 and pattern as he could conveniently put together 
 on his somewhat small person ; and in answer to 
 the wondering questions of his sister, explained that, 
 having to go to Manchester in his new position of a 
 student for the law, he had taken the opportunity 
 to run down to Redwell to say "how-de-do^^ be- 
 fore settling down to work. Beyond the natural 
 affection which the young girl had for those who 
 were near and dear to her, Prissy did not seem over- 
 whelmed with satisfaction at her brother's presence, 
 and Miss Skim pie sniffed significantly; for Tim was 
 one of those who involuntarily inspire others with 
 an uneasy misgiving as to what they are going to 
 say or to do next. We have all of us, I think, 
 met with persons of this kind, who make us feel 
 uncomfortable, we don^t know why ; and whose 
 presence, although we may not have a particle of 
 ill-feeling towards them, we never desire. He began, 
 unfortunately, by saying he had just lost a trifle 
 with a devilish nice fellow in the billiard-room, 
 
156 " shoddy:' 
 
 which laudatory phrase was not acceptable to the 
 Skim pie ears ; and his sister^ whom the events of 
 the past weeks seemed to have hurried from girl to 
 woman-hood_, was by no means pleased at the airs the 
 ridiculous young fellow gave himself. He had an 
 unpleasant way too^ this youth, of calling her by 
 fancy names^ which, though they savour of home 
 associations and kindly endearments, are probably 
 best restricted to those places where such innocent 
 nonsense is more in keeping, than before a promis- 
 cuous company of strange persons. But Mr. Tim, 
 when not plunged in despair by the result of some 
 ill-considered prank, or suffering from the effect of 
 some scrape, was as a rule remarkably loquacious, 
 and bestowed liberally the fruits of his experience 
 and observation on whomsoever he might meet. 
 They decided to have tea alone in another room, 
 before joining the other inmates of the house in the 
 evening, and Tim had a great deal to say — 
 especially about himself. We may be sure the in- 
 cident of the Hallelujah Band was not referred to ; 
 but he mentioned a new fellow coming for the 
 counting-house, whom the governor had taken on 
 the fellow^s own recommendation ; and how he, 
 Tim, was to go to old Spiak^s office in Manchester, 
 and how he had laid a wager with Frank Ossett 
 that he would pass his examination before Frank 
 should pass his — and how sure he was of winning 
 
BEDWELL-SUPEB-MABE. 157 
 
 it — and how lie had had a fit — hadn't they heard ? 
 No ? Oh^ yes, he had had a fit ! — and was found 
 lying one night just outside the front door in the 
 garden, and somehow or other he had lost all his 
 money and his watch. 
 
 " Not that pretty watch that papa gave you ?" 
 cried Prissy. 
 
 " Yes, by jingo, but I did though !" Tim replied ; 
 " I was strolling quietly home, and all of a sudden 
 I was taken queer, and I remember nothing else till 
 the next morning ; and Martin said he found me 
 lying just inside the gate of the garden, in a fit V' 
 
 " Was it convulsive V Miss Skimple calmly in- 
 quired, feeling, as a well-bred person, she ought to 
 take part in the conversation. 
 
 " No,^' said the lad ; " Martin said I was lying 
 as if I had been fast asleep : and no doubt while I 
 was there some one eased my pocket for me — con- 
 found them V^ 
 
 " What a dreadful thing !" Prissy cried, in 
 simple horror at his misfortune. 
 
 '^ Ah well, never mind. Pets !" said the gay 
 youth ; " there are worse losses at sea V' With 
 which piece of proverbial philosophy, and chirrup- 
 ing with his lips and teeth, he withdrew to his 
 chamber, having first informed the two ladies it 
 was necessary to make a slight alteration in his 
 toilet before appearing in the general circle. 
 
158 " SHODDY." 
 
 This was to be Prissy's last evening at the board- 
 ing-house where she and Miss Skimple had taken 
 up their residence; for a letter, a few days previously, 
 from Dolly, had expressed her father^s wish as to 
 the date of their return home. Prissy, who gene- 
 rally spent some little time before her mirror in 
 arranging her toilet, was unusually expeditious this 
 evening, and appeared nervously excited. 
 
 Her bright and happy face had never seemed so 
 singulai'ly pretty, and all the more so as she ap- 
 peared — this night at least — to be unconscious of 
 it. From the girFs constant and anxfous glance 
 towards the door, when they were assembled in the 
 drawing-room, she evidently was anticipating some 
 one's arrival, which the observant Martha did not 
 fail to remark ; and as each visitor at the hotel 
 entered the room, her face was shaded by a mo- 
 mentary cloud of disappointment. But when at 
 last Captain Clarence appeared in the doorway, the 
 girl's colour heightened, and her blue eyes grew 
 brighter and fuller of mischief than ever ; for 
 coquette as this little lady was by nature, she had not 
 at that time acquired the useful art of concealing 
 her feelings in the least degree, and her joy or her 
 annoyance was reflected with unmistakable truth 
 in the varying expression of her face. 
 
 Mr. Tim, who had thought proper to assume full 
 evening dress, with an elaborate shirt-front and 
 
BED WELL-SUPEE-MABF. 159 
 
 lavender- coloured kids, seeing the Captain and his 
 sister in conversation as he entered the room, 
 strolled up to them in an easy and jaunty manner, 
 squaring his elbows as he walked, and startled 
 Prissy by saying, '' Well, Pops, and how are we by 
 this time ?'' The Captain, in evident annoyance, 
 put his glass to his eye and regarded the youngster 
 from his varnished boots to his odoriferous forelock 
 with undisguised disgust, and turning to Prissy, 
 asked in a lazy insolent tone — 
 
 " Do you know him ?'' 
 
 " Know him ! That^s a good one,''^ laughed the 
 youth, " know her own brother ! I should think 
 so — rather ! '* 
 
 " Your brother ?^' asked the C aptain, in some surprise . 
 
 " Yes,^^ the girl said, looking annoyed, " my 
 eldest brother, — come to see us before we leave/^ 
 
 '' Yes, that^s about the size of it, Captain. I say,^' 
 Tim added in undiguised admiration, " that was a 
 devilish fine break of yours this afternoon, in the 
 billiard-room ! I wish I could play as you do ! " 
 
 " You are fond of the game ?" the other asked 
 carelessly, 
 
 '' Fond ! I believe you ! It's my hobby ! But 
 it wouldn't do to play with fellows like you ! You''d 
 break a fellow in no time, you would !" Tim 
 exclaimed, as the recollection of certain losses 
 recurred to him. 
 
160 " SHOBBYr 
 
 '^ My young friend/'' replied the Captain quietly, 
 with a slightly sarcastic emphasis on the adjective, 
 *' if you will ride your hobby on the public roads 
 you must not object now and then to pay the 
 turnpikes/^ 
 
 " Yes^ exactly ; but what deceived me so," said 
 the candid Timothy, " was, that before we began to 
 play — regularly I mean — you seemed — pray excuse 
 me for saying so — such a bad player yourself." 
 
 " Ah, very likely," the Captain rejoined, " I never 
 can play till I have warmed to the work;" and 
 there was a peculiar twinkle in his dark eyes as he 
 said this, which the youth did not observe. "But," 
 he added, " as you are this young lady^s brother, 
 though we have not been introduced " 
 
 " No," Tim interrupted, " but we met, you know, 
 in the billiard-room downstairs." 
 
 "Exactly," the Captain replied quietly, and 
 dropping his voice a little ; " but we don^t always 
 know men we meet in a billiard-room. Well, as 
 you are the brother of Miss Worsdale, to whom I 
 and the other visitors here have been indebted for 
 the principal attraction of the place, I will give you 
 your revenge in the course of the evening." 
 
 " Ah," Tim said, half laughing, but wincing 
 rather notwithstanding, " it must be before you 
 have warmed to the work then." 
 
 " Oh, certainly ; stay, a lady is going to favour 
 
BEDWELL-SUPER-MARE. 161 
 
 us with some music /^ and glad of any excuse to 
 shake Tim off, the Captain moved away to another 
 part of the room. But the evening was a failure ; 
 Miss Dingwall retired early, " with a bilious 
 headache/^ her mamma explained. Prissy had 
 become strangely absent in her manner, and her 
 mood of unusual excitement was followed by an air 
 of depression and almost melancholy. This was 
 observable to most except Miss Skimple ; for that 
 pattern of propriety, who had secured a very 
 comfortable seat by the fire ('^The evening being 
 cold a little fire was acceptable/^ she had remarked), 
 was at this time slumbering gently in a perfectly 
 upright posture, the only indication of her 
 somnolence being a gradual and reverend bowing 
 of the head, until it finished with a sharp jerk, when 
 Skimple immediately became her watchful self 
 again. So the little concert was left in the hands 
 of some only indifferent performers, on whose 
 capabilities Tim was pleased to be somewhat severe, 
 and exercised his critical acumen with that unsparing 
 vigour which persons similarly gifted frequently 
 exhibit. Thus he did not scruple to inform an 
 elderly lady, who was listening with manifest satis- 
 faction to the modest attempt at vocalisation on the 
 part of a young lady then seated at the piano, that 
 if the singer would kindly take that ball of worsted 
 from her throat it would be better for all parties ; 
 
 VOL. I. 11 
 
162 « shoddy:' 
 
 but as the party to whom he addressed himself 
 
 happened to be the young lady's mother, he did 
 
 not, probably, improve his position in her esti- 
 mation. 
 
 In due course Prissy was asked to favour them 
 
 « 
 
 with " that sweet thing of Verdi's/^ and for the first 
 time the girl declined, politely at first under various 
 excuses, but on being pressed firmly refused. 
 
 " Come, Tibby/"* said that gay brother of hers, 
 " give us my favourite, you know \" 
 
 ^' No, I can't, Tim, and please do be quiet, and 
 please don''t call me ^ Tibby,' ^^ she replied. 
 
 '^Not to oblige me?'' pursued the lad. 
 
 "Not to oblige meP^' said a low voice in her 
 ear, as the Captain had resumed his seat by her 
 side. 
 
 " No, don't ask me. I am not well," said Prissy, 
 with her face changing again and again ; and then 
 beginning to cry, she left the room. 
 
 It was so unusual for Prissy 's pretty face to be 
 anything but smiles and brightness, that, naturally, 
 this emotion, whatever it might be, caused several 
 inquiring glances to be darted from one to another ; 
 but when we are well-bred, it is quite remarkable 
 how easily we can turn observations into a difi'ereiit 
 channel, either by a well-judged question or 
 opportune remark ; and on this occasion the Captain, 
 who for a moment had directed a searching and 
 
BEDWELL-SUPEB-3IARE. 163 
 
 earnest look at the girl as she quitted the apart- 
 ment, had in a second or two afterwards started a 
 fresh subject of interest, and then took occasion to 
 say under his breath to Tim, " Your sister^s not 
 well, you had better see to her/' That young 
 gentleman had not remarked his sister's manner, 
 for at the time he had just caught sight of the 
 reflection of Mr. Timothy Worsdale in the glass 
 over the mantelpiece, and he found that object so 
 intensely interesting, that he neither noticed his 
 sister's embarrassment, nor did he hear the Captain's 
 whispered admonition. Neither had Miss Skim pie 
 observed the little incident, for she was then 
 placidly sleeping. In fact that lady, having re- 
 covered once more her erect posture, and being, as 
 it were, well balanced, was far advanced in a dream, 
 in which the events of the day having mixed them- 
 selves up in the strange and incongruous manner 
 common to that state, it seemed that the young 
 lady who had fallen down the Staffordshire coal 
 pit, and the ill-fated youth who had been washed 
 ashore laden with shell-fish, as already described, 
 were one and the same person, and were at that 
 moment seated in the drawing-room of the hotel, 
 playing on the piano and singing in a husky voice, 
 and. saying to her, " I think, my dear, Prissy is not 
 well; wont you go to her?" This question being 
 repeated, resolved itself into the tones of Mrs. 
 
 11—2 
 
164 « shoddy:' 
 
 Dingwall, on which Miss Skimple, feeling she had 
 been surprised in a surreptitious nap, smiled in a 
 constrained manner and left the room. 
 
 She found poor little Prissy, who had thrown 
 herself on the bed, crying bitterly. 
 
 " Why, my dear, what is the matter ?" Miss 
 Skimple asked. But Prissy didnH know, she said. 
 When were they going home, and why did Tim 
 come — making himself so unpleasant ; and what 
 was the matter with Martha — did Miss Skimple 
 know ; and was the Captain still in the drawing- 
 room ? No, she would not come down that evening ; 
 she did not feel well, but very miserable, and wished 
 to go home again to see papa and Dolly. And as 
 she went on, asking questions and not waiting for 
 answers, and talking as young persons do, over 
 whose volatile spirits reaction asserts its influence, 
 and who feel besides, perhaps, the awakening of a 
 new passion, creating a strange and aching void in 
 the heart — that passion that takes so many shapes, 
 according to our several natures and temperaments — 
 sometimes despondency, at others hilarious excite- 
 ment, with these a strange reticence, and with others 
 a restless jealousy, but affecting all of us, sooner or 
 later, in one way or another, and which we, with 
 convenient brevity, call Love. 
 
 The governess sat beside the bed, caressing and 
 fondling her little pupil, and saying such soothing 
 
BED WELL-8UPER-MABE. 165 
 
 words of comfort and gentleness as she could think 
 of; for though she was somewhat hard and un- 
 sympathetic, there was that ahout Prissy's guileless, 
 though capricious nature, which found its way 
 through the cold exterior of that type of propriety 
 to the woman^s heart beneath, and the voice of the 
 rigid lady became more low and soft as she whis- 
 pered kindly to the flushed face, that, resting on 
 her bosom, sobbed a little more and fell asleep. 
 
 The party downstairs soon broke up. Those 
 who had been to the picnic were drowsy, and so 
 slipped away quietly to their respective chambers. 
 Tim accompanied the Captain to the billiard-room, 
 and having defeated that accomplished player in a 
 most remarkable manner — of which we may be 
 satisfied he did not forget to talk the next morning — 
 the two friends partook of a little supper together, 
 in the course of which the ingenuous young gentle- 
 man communicated, very freely, several family 
 affairs ; such as his father^s position, his own 
 prospects and those of his sisters; and all, as it 
 seemed, without his host asking any questions 
 whatever, so naturally did the conversation appear 
 to flow in that direction, and so easily in conse- 
 quence did Tim follow it up. Several observations 
 volunteered by the youth seemed to interest the 
 Captain, for he remained very quiet, and scarcely 
 interrupted his young and talkative friend^ unless 
 
166 '' shoddy:' 
 
 it was to invite him to replenish his glass_, or to try 
 another cigar. 
 
 And so^ in due time^ the little world of Red well 
 fell asleep, to wake the next morning to its pleasures, 
 its business^ or schemes, as the wakers were visitors, 
 residents, or adventurers. 
 
 Miss Dingwall awoke bilious and malignant, and 
 snapped at and snubbed her mamma until three 
 o'clock in the afternoon, that being the hour that 
 her ^^ dearest friend" and " pet of pets,'"* Prissy, 
 had arranged to leave Red well for Dalesford. Tim 
 arose, feeling thirsty and parched in the mouth, 
 with an aching head and a confused notion of the 
 last evening's occurrences. Prissy was shy and 
 embarrassed, and when in the general breakfast- 
 room was obviously desirous of avoiding observa- 
 tion, and her manner was more distraught than was 
 usual with her. Miss Skimple, punctual to the 
 minute, appeared with her wonted propriety and 
 dignity ; whilst Captain Clarence, whose manner 
 never seemed to vary at any hour or under any 
 circumstances, strolled on the esplanade, and said 
 quietly to himself, as he looked towards the window, 
 where Prissy that moment appeared — 
 
 " If only half of what that idiot boy said last 
 night were true, I might do worse." 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 HOME AGAIN. 
 
 OOR little Priscilla felt strangely depressed 
 as the hour approached when the train 
 was to leave Redwell Station. She had 
 not seen her friend Martha, that young lady having 
 been confined to her bed by severe indisposition, 
 though she recovered sufficiently to peep through 
 the blind, when the cab was driven to the door of 
 the hotel, and also to make a face at the unconscious 
 Prissy, as the latter took her place in it. Prissy 
 had received a letter with the superscription in 
 Martha's handwriting — " For one who was her 
 FRIEND. To be read in the train," — and which 
 missive she had put in her little travelling-bag for 
 the purpose. Whilst they were awaiting the de- 
 parture of the train, the Captain appeared on the 
 platform, accompanied by the lively Tim, who was 
 doing his utmost to be ill, by means of a cigar of 
 gigantic dimensions, which, projecting from the 
 youth's somewhat baby face, looked like the bow. 
 sprit over the figure-liead of '^ The Lovely Nancy,'' or 
 
168 ''SEOBBYr 
 
 " The Margaret, of Shields/^ Prissy felt annoyed 
 at seeing her brother in the Captain^s company — 
 why, she did not know, but she had an uneasy 
 feeling or misgiving that the youngster made him- 
 self ridiculous, and that the Captain was not the 
 sort of man to be blind to it. The latter, perhaps, 
 had his reasons for enduring the lad^s company, for 
 by desiring Tim to attend to Miss Skimple, obtain 
 tickets, look after the labelling of the luggage, &c., 
 he and Prissy had a most agreeable ten minutes' 
 conversation before the train started ; and when she 
 was fairly seated in the snug first-class carriage, 
 with Miss Skimple as the only other passenger at 
 the further end of the compartment, with her back 
 to the engine and well enveloped in wraps and 
 shawls, the travelling overslippers carefully adjusted, 
 and her feet resting on the hot-water pan, he was 
 enabled to hold further converse with the young 
 lady at the carriage window, where, by carefully 
 standing with his figure well in front, he entirely 
 prevented the ofiicious Timothy's intrusion of noisy 
 assurances that the luggage was all right and that 
 " there was no occasion for alarm or uneasiness of 
 any kind, as he had squared it with the guard V 
 All which laudable anxiety on his part was probably 
 unnoticed, as Miss Skimple was too far ofiF to hear, 
 and the others too much engaged in their own 
 conversation to listen. 
 
HO:^IE AGAIN. 169 
 
 As the train steamed outwards, the Captain 
 kissed his hand, and his countenance appeared to 
 Prissy to fall into an expression of gentle melancholy 
 she had never seen it assume before. This seemed to 
 dwell in the poor little girFs mind, for during several 
 miles of the journey she remained silent, looking out 
 of the window, and crying a little to herself; at any 
 rate, she had had no eyes for the jocose Tim, who 
 had stood on the extreme edge of the platform, 
 pulling vigorously at the huge cigar, and brandishing 
 his cane in a waggishly menacing manner, as if to 
 assure her that, unless she kept up her spirits like 
 a good little girl, corporal punishment would be her 
 inevitable lot. 
 
 In due time, however, the circumspect Skimple, 
 rightly assuming it would be some time before they 
 could enjoy the comforts of home, proposed a sand- 
 wich with some sherry, which she appeared to keep 
 in her own custody, while Priscilla took charge of the 
 more substantial refreshment. In compliance, there- 
 fore, the girl turned to her travelling-bag, and, 
 producing the parcel of sandwiches, symmetrically 
 cut and neatly wrapped up, was reminded of the 
 letter from her dearest Martha, which lay crumpled 
 and greasy below. So she took it out, and read — 
 
 " Priscilla, — 
 
 '' There is no blow to the generous mind like 
 
170 « shoddy:' 
 
 mistaken . confidence and misplaced attachment. I 
 believed you to be affectionate and sincere. I have 
 found — what ? That one who was once my dearest, 
 dearest friend, is as deceitful as she is untruthful ! 
 Do not think I have not observed you. Your 
 duplicity has shocked^ your ingratitude has hurt me ! 
 You have acted a foolish, erring part. We may 
 never more meet on earth, but I forgive your deceit 
 and your want of truthfulness. I forgive and pray 
 for you I And, O dear companion of our once 
 happy days of innocence and mutual love {for so my 
 heart bids me still call you), may you never , never 
 know the feeling of mistaken friendship, which you 
 have caused to your wounded, but yet sympathetic 
 
 " Martha/' 
 
 At another time Prissy would have laughed at 
 the clumsy masquerade of sentiment,, under which 
 she would at once have detected the utterance of a 
 mean envy of her own superior attainments and 
 attractions ; but, dull and dispirited, the letter only 
 increased her depression, and she felt her conscience 
 did not fully acquit her of several ingenious feminine 
 cruelties she had practised towards her less attractive 
 friend. Left to herself in the carriage — for Miss 
 Skimple, after expressing her usual doubts relative 
 to the capacity of the engine, the intentions of the 
 
EOME AGAIN. 171 
 
 driver, or the course of line they were taking, had 
 become sleepy — she could not but remember how she 
 had attracted observation to Miss Dingwall's land- 
 scapes, or her songs, by apparently artless questions 
 or undue praise. But as they drew nearer home, 
 and old, familiar objects were discoverable, the girFs 
 naturally elastic spirits returned, and she began to 
 picture the comfortable room, with her father and 
 Dolly anxiously awaiting them. 
 
 It was quite dark when the train stopped at the 
 Dalesford Station, and the lamps were lit ; but 
 Prissy, looking out of the window, could discern 
 the gentle, beaming face and trim figure of her 
 sister, who was waiting to receive them. 
 
 " Oh, my darling ! Here you are, at last ! Bless 
 your dear, bright face \" cried Dolly, as Prissy lightly 
 sprang from the carriage into her loving embrace. And 
 then came the hundred questions and exclamations, 
 which make up the delightful confusion of tongues, 
 when the dear ones meet again in love and trust. 
 
 So seemed to think a man, who quietly attired 
 stood at a little distance, observing the meeting of 
 the sisters with evident interest and pleasure ; and 
 so they stood for a minute or so, the girls chat- 
 tering, and the bystander looking on, until Dolly^s 
 attention was directed to Miss Skimple, by the 
 lady's futile endeavours to leave the railway carriage. 
 Her primary intention had evidently been to quit 
 
172 " SHODDYr 
 
 it in her usual diguified manner, with a becoming 
 attention to the importance of deportment ; but the 
 step being somewhat steep and narrow, she had 
 abandoned, from motives of personal safety, that 
 method, and had turned partially round with a view 
 to backing out. Here, however, she had caught 
 sight of the bystander referred to, and surmising 
 that such a mode of egress might expose more list 
 slipper, not to say positive ankle, than was quite 
 discreet, had remained in an undecided state until 
 Dolly came to the rescue. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Boothroyd,"-' cried the girl, '' will you 
 kindly assist Miss Skimple ?" 
 
 The man politely raised his hat, and giving the 
 lady his hand, assisted her to alight. 
 
 Miss Skimple gave Dolly a frosty kiss, and 
 immediately became intensely anxious on the sub- 
 ject of luggage. 
 
 " Pray give yourself no anxiety ,^^ said Joe Booth- 
 royd ; " the carriage is waiting, and if you will 
 describe the luggage, and the quantity of it, I will 
 see to its being brought up to the house/^ 
 
 " There are eleven packages altogether, addressed 
 ' W/ and tied with blue riband — don't forget, if 
 you please, blue riband,^^ replied Miss Skimple, in a 
 hard and distinct voice. 
 
 " Quite so,"*^ Joe answered ; '^ I will observe, and 
 have it sent up at once.^' 
 
HOME AGAIN, 173 
 
 *^ But/' — hesitated the lady, as the vision of the 
 person before her snapping up the luggage and 
 making off with it across the country, appeared to 
 pass before her, — " had it not better go with «s ^ 
 
 " There will be scarcely room for it on the car- 
 riage, I am afraid/^ said the man quietly ; " some 
 of it might be thrown off, I think /^ 
 
 " Oh, you think so ? But/' Miss Skimple added, 
 *' perhaps you would ride with the coachman and — 
 and hold it on ?" 
 
 There was a slight twinkle in his eye, and a 
 twitch about the corners of his mouth, as Joe 
 replied respectfully, " Better have it sent up, I 
 think,'' and he moved away to give the orders. 
 
 " I assume/' said Miss Skimple, with an uneasy 
 
 look at the retreating figure, " that this ," she 
 
 hesitated for a moment whether to say " man" or 
 " gentleman," for Joe's manner and his dress rather 
 contradicted one another, so fell back on neutral 
 ground and substituted, " person, may he trusted r" 
 
 '' Why, certainly !" laughed Dolly, '' he's father's 
 new accountant, and came here on purpose ! But 
 come along ! there's ^lartin with the carriage ! You 
 must be so cold and tired !" 
 
 And so, in due time, they reached home, where 
 a good substantial Yorkshire tea aw^aited them, and 
 where they were received with a hearty welcome 
 from Mr. Worsdale, and a noisy demonstration by 
 
174 " SEODDYr 
 
 Phil. Then came the pleasant hour by the fire, 
 when Prissy, on her little stool at her father's feet, 
 recounted their doings at Redwellj and, as she 
 looked up in his face, so bright, so happy, so win- 
 ning, Dolly thought, in her own unselfish heart, 
 there never was, never could be, such a pretty little 
 creature as her sister. It is, however, to be observed, 
 that, although when she spoke of Red well, the form 
 of Captain Clarence occupied a prominent position 
 in her own mind, she did not further refer to him 
 than as " a gentleman staying at the hotel,'^ or as 
 " the person I think I may have mentioned -/' and 
 when her father, or sister, appeared inclined to 
 press her on that part of the subject, she rather 
 avoided it by adroitly turning the conversation into 
 another channel. 
 
 About a week after their return home, Dolly, on 
 going into the chamber she shared with her sister, 
 startled her by saying — 
 
 " Good gracious. Prissy ! whoever are you writing 
 that long letter to?" for she found Miss PrisciJla 
 so absorbed in pen, ink, and paper as not to have 
 remarked her entrance. 
 
 ^' Oh, it's nothing ! — nothing at all V replied 
 Prissy, hastily putting a piece of blotting-paper 
 over it and colouring deeply as she did so. '^ What 
 do you come in so quietly for, Dolly, and startle 
 one in that absurd way?^' 
 
HOME AGAIN. 175 
 
 " You should have locked the door, my dear, if 
 you didn't wish to be surprised/' Dolly replied 
 gently, looking in her chest of drawers for some 
 article she wanted. '' Go on, my dear/' she added, 
 seeing Prissy waiting ; " I don't wish to see what it 
 is, you know/' and so left her sister to her corre- 
 spondence. 
 
 This being in due time completed. Miss Prissy 
 put on her bonnet and cloak and skipped down- 
 stairs, and so out of the house, having first looked 
 furtively round to see if Dolly had observed her. 
 Then she bent her nimble steps out of the town to 
 a post-office in an adjacent village, about half a 
 mile off; and after passing the door once or twice, 
 with some marks of hesitation and confusion, 
 entered, and inquired if any letter addressed to 
 Miss Warrington, to be kept till called for, were 
 awaiting her? Having obtained one so directed, 
 she slipped the one she had been writing into the 
 box, and tripped off home again. 
 
 The following week, and the week after that, 
 Prissy made a similar excursion, and on the evening 
 of the latter occasion joined the family circle at the 
 hour for tea_, looking particularly bright and happy. 
 
 She found the Reverend Ernest Palethorpe seated 
 by the fire, and conversing pleasantly with Miss 
 Skimple ; for Mr. Worsdale had gone to a dinner 
 of the shareholders of the Dalesford and Basset 
 
176 " shoddy:' 
 
 Joint-Stock Banking Company^, of which he was a 
 conspicuous caeniber and active director, on which 
 occasion a piece of plate was to be presented to the 
 chairman, " in recognition of his eminent services/' 
 &c. ; and it was a noteworthy fact that more than 
 once when Mr. Worsdale^s absence was probable, 
 the curate had, accidentally, '' dropped in,'' as the 
 phrase goes, with a new book of a serious character, 
 which he " thought the ladies might like to see/' — 
 or a new stitch in tatting or crochet ; or any other 
 innocent excuse for making an agreeable call; and 
 from the extreme surprise he always manifested, at 
 hearing that Mr. Worsdale was out, Dolly, in her 
 own mind, argued that her father's absence had 
 been anticipated by the sagacious young gentleman, 
 and the opportunity secured. On the present 
 occasion, he had brought with him a small volume 
 of " Original Poems," by Susannah Lobb, a Sunday 
 school-girl, with a preface and short biographical 
 sketch by the Reverend Ernest Palethorpe, B.A. 
 (author of '' Minnie Day," " The Little Convert," 
 ^' Where are we Going ?" " Where are we Now ?" 
 &c. &c.), and when Prissy entered the room, she 
 found him seated on a low chair, nursing his knee, 
 and directing Miss Skimple's attention to the high 
 moral tone of the composition. After the customary 
 salutations, with the usual compliments on his side, 
 and a half demure acknowledgment on hers, they 
 
SOME AGAIN. 177 
 
 took their seats at the table, where they were joined 
 by little Phil, with his bright and shining face, 
 giggling and grinning, as he invariably did, in the 
 presence of the Reverend Ernest. 
 
 " And may I ask,^^ inquired Miss Skimple, re- 
 moving her eyeglass and closing the little book she 
 had been glancing over, " who is Susannah Lobb ?'' 
 
 ^' Susannah is — or rather was," the curate re- 
 plied, holding his teacup midway to his lips, with 
 his little finger curled up, and sighing gently, as if 
 in remembrance of the uncertainty of life, even 
 among the young, '^ was a very remarkable young 
 person. Her life was brief, and devoid altogether 
 of incident ; for she was simply a mill-hand, and 
 attended our Sunday school, where, by the punc- 
 tual performance of her duties, she was elevated in 
 a singularly short space of time to the enviable 
 position of teacher of the younger classes, a respon- 
 sibility she discharged to the satisfaction of all 
 parties. If you turn to the commencement, you 
 will observe I have, in the biographical notice of 
 the subject of our sketch, glanced at her condition 
 of life, and the circumstances attending her early 
 departure. Shall I read it ?" 
 
 By Dolly asking immediately whether he would 
 not take some more tea, and Prissy inquiring what 
 time they expected papa home, it is possible that 
 the two younger ladies would have been as well 
 
 VOL. I. 12 
 
178 " shoddy:' 
 
 pleased to have been spared the recital of Miss 
 Lobb's uneventful life ; but the young curate, con- 
 cluding — naturally enough for one who had so high 
 an opinion of the Reverend Ernest Palethorpe — 
 that what interested him could not fail to interest 
 others also, commenced the memoir. Phil, like 
 most boys, was fond of narrative in any shape, and 
 listened with rapt attention to the mill-girPs simple 
 story. Dolly quietly pressed her sister's foot under 
 the table, and by a glance with her eloquent brown 
 eyes directed Priscilla^s attention to the lad, while 
 the Reverend Ernest read aloud how the subject of 
 the memoir had been born of poor but honest 
 parents ; how at a very early age she had evinced 
 an extraordinary desire to acquire learning, the first 
 words she could lisp being, " ^Tend me to ^tool, 
 mo'ver, 'tend me to 'tool V Also how, on being 
 admitted a pupil, her abilities rapidly developed ; 
 and how she possessed a singular facility in the 
 composition of verses, as would be testified by the 
 following pages ; but how she, unfortunately, fell a 
 victim to a surfeit of cake at a tea-drinking, and 
 at the tender age of fourteen fell asleep in grace. 
 
 As the young minister read the concluding line 
 in the mincing tone peculiar to him, the boy, inte- 
 rested in the story such as it was, blurted out, quite 
 honestly — 
 
 " Where did she fall asleep, sir ? In Greece ?" 
 
HOME AGAIN. 179 
 
 " Grace^ Philly/' said Dolly gently ; " fell asleep 
 in grace/^ 
 
 " Well, go on/' said the lad ; " when they waked 
 her what did she do ?" 
 
 The Reverend Ernest smiled a sickly smile of 
 patient endurance ; Miss Skimple, who had a horror 
 of Phil, as of all small boys, sniffed significantly ; 
 while Prissy was convulsed with laughter behind 
 her handkerchief, her face violently red, and her 
 blue eyes sparkling with merriment at the curate's 
 manifest discomfiture. 
 
 It was for Dolly therefore, biting her lip, to say 
 after a short pause, in her low, rich, and sweet 
 voice — 
 
 " It means she died, Philly/'' 
 
 " Well, then,^' said the boy, in evident disappoint- 
 ment, " why don't they say so at once ? What do 
 they say one thing and mean another for ?'' 
 
 " I don't know, dear," said the girl quietly ; 
 " perhaps it's the author's way." 
 
 As she said this, she stole a glance at the curate ; 
 but he had not noticed the remark, and was turning 
 over the leaves in quest of some other extract. 
 
 " I think," said Miss Skimple, having sniffed 
 once or twice, as was her custom, before delivering 
 her opinion, '' I think Susannah Lobb might have 
 utilised her leisure time to better purpose if, instead 
 of adopting the form of verse, she had compiled an 
 
 12—2 
 
180 " shoddy:' , 
 
 earnest address to young persons of her own age. 
 The study of poetry fosters a love of the fictitious 
 and the frivolous ; or if it presumes to deal with the 
 more important questions of life, it becomes too 
 frequently obscure or incomprehensible/' 
 
 " I don't think/' said Dolly, quietly as usual, 
 '' that good poetry is more incomprehensible than 
 bad prose,'"' and she glanced again involuntarily 
 towards the curate ; and then added hastily, colour- 
 ing as she did so, '^ I mean to say that the truest 
 poetry is oftentimes the most simple, while the very 
 simplest is frequently the most true." 
 
 " I am always happy to agree with you, Miss 
 Worsdale," said the Reverend Ernest, with his 
 sickly smile a trifle more radiant ; " do tell us what 
 poetry you mean?" 
 
 " I mean some of the Psalms, and portions of 
 the Book of Job," replied Dolly, " and that most 
 pathetic lament of David for Saul and Jonathan, as 
 instances of one kind ; and some of our old north- 
 country poems, with all their ruggedness and some- 
 times uncouthness, have in their simplicity much of 
 the essence of true poetry." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you speak in that way of 
 simple poetry," exclaimed the curate, "for I have 
 a little poem here that I was induced to insert, 
 though not written by Susannah. In fact, the 
 volume was published by subscription, and it re- 
 
H03IE AGAIN. 181 
 
 quired a little extraneous aid. It is called, 'The 
 Infidel Converted by a Child/ " 
 
 The poem in question purported to be a dialogue 
 between a vicious parent, addicted to habits of in- 
 temperance and Free Thought, and a child of tender 
 years but of remarkable promise, who not only 
 argued with his father after a learned and orthodox 
 fashion, but eventually, by virtue of the constantly- 
 recurring phrase, " Yet Vm a simple child \" (which 
 served to mark the innocence of the character), 
 completely converted, in four short verses, the 
 erring parent, from a life of vicious indulgence to 
 one of the strictest honour and probity, as it was 
 easy to gather from the concluding remark of the 
 repentant father, in the last stanza; wherein he 
 adopted the termination of the verses, quoting with 
 a slight variation the language of his infant son, 
 and exclaiming with parental pride and pleasure, 
 " Yet he's a simple child !" 
 
 This being a favourite poem with the Reverend 
 Ernest — in fact, he had read it with considerable 
 effect at more than one Penny Reading — he was well 
 up iu the subject, and personated with much felicity 
 the two characters in turn. Thus, when the intem- 
 perate father urged his infant child to leave him — 
 
 " .... to the taproom, 
 The tavern 's pleasant bar !" 
 
 he adopted a deep and guttural, I may say a 
 
182 "Shoddy:' 
 
 truculent voice. When, on the other hand, the 
 gifted child advanced cogent reasons in favour of 
 temperance, and glanced at the happiness which 
 must ensue on taking the pledge of total abstinence, 
 
 and 
 
 " . . . . quaffing of the streamlet 
 The purling, limpid brook ; 
 
 he assumed a high treble, with a mincing, lisping 
 utterance, that led the auditors at once to the 
 conclusion that it was the drunkard^s child, and 
 none other, that was placing those startling facts 
 before him. 
 
 Before the termination of the first verse, Dolly- 
 felt constrained, in spite of herself, to touch her 
 sister^s foot again under the table, and glance at 
 Phil. The boy was staring at the Reverend Ernest, 
 with perfect gravity, with his mouth, quite uncon- 
 sciously to himself, working in sympathy with the 
 reader's expression of face and voice. When the 
 first verse came to an end, Phil cast an inquiring 
 glance round the table as if to discover what the 
 impression of the company was, but as Dolly was 
 bending over the tea-tray, and Prissy was looking 
 in another direction, he could not ascertain. Miss 
 Skimple was, as usual, impassive. 
 
 In the second verse, where the dissolute father 
 sternly inquires if his offspring knows whither he, 
 the father, is bound, and the child makes the beau- 
 
HOME AGAIN. 183 
 
 tiful and filial response, in the simplest and plainest 
 language, as to the presumably certain destination 
 of his parent after death, the unexpected reply 
 took Phil so by surprise, that for a momeni the 
 boy^s gravity appeared to give way, and he seemed 
 to be on the verge of an explosion of laughter. 
 Dolly^s steady countenance, however, which had 
 slightly relaxed a moment before, restored the boy^s 
 seriousness, and they entered on verse the third. 
 This they got over pretty well, but when the fourth 
 stanza commenced, and when the parent's contrition 
 took a weak and even a snivelling tone, PhiFs fate 
 appeared inevitable. He shifted about in his chair, 
 drew his mouth down with unnatural distortions, 
 then a little humming noise would issue from his 
 nose, followed by an extreme gravity for a few 
 seconds, and he took refuge in a cup of tea ; but in 
 the last line, when the drunkard was made to adopt 
 the artless elocution of the child, the effect was too 
 much for the lad, and with a loud snort, he spurted 
 out the tea over the Reverend Ernest and the 
 original poems of Susannah Lobb. 
 
 Prissy cried, " Oh, Phil !" though she appeared 
 disposed to join in the laughter ; while Miss 
 Skimple observed, '' I am ashamed of you, Philip ;" 
 but Dolly, whose blessed mission, it seemed, was to 
 help all those in trouble, patted the boy^s back, and 
 told him not to choke again in that absurd way ; 
 
184 " SHODDY" 
 
 so probably the Reverend Ernest Paletborpe Tvas^ 
 in reality, quite ignorant of the cause of PhiFs 
 explosion. 
 
 '^ I beg your pardon, sir V' said the boy frankly, 
 " I am very sorry, but I couldn^t help it ! You 
 do read so funny V^ 
 
 The curate seemed in doubt whether to consider 
 this as a tribute to the excellence of his charac- 
 teristic reading or not ; but he smiled a sickly 
 smile, and took a macaroon. 
 
 " Is it seven o'clock yet, Dolly ?'' the boy asked. 
 " Not quite, but you may go, I daresay,''"' 
 replied the sister, and the lad left the room, and 
 was heard soon after to close the outer door. 
 
 '^ Where is Philip gone, my dear ?" Miss Skimple 
 inquired in her hard voice, at which time that 
 expression might mean anything from cold endear- 
 ment to mild reproach. 
 
 " He goes to see Mr. Boothroyd two or three 
 times a week,'' Dolly replied; and she added, 
 laughing in her own sweet, pleasant manner, " they 
 have struck up a friendship together, Mr. Pale- 
 thorpe, and Phil seems to look for nothing better 
 than an evening with his friend ^ Joe,' as he calls 
 him." 
 
 ^' Do you think such a companionship quite 
 desirable. Miss Worsdale ?" Miss Skimple inquired, 
 looking propriety and decorum to the utmost. 
 
HOME AGAIN. 185 
 
 "Why not, Miss Skimple ?'' Dolly asked in 
 evident surprise ; " Mr. Boothroyd seems a superior 
 person, for one in his position ; he seems to take a 
 pleasure in assisting Philip, and Phil himself has 
 shown much more assiduity since the acquaintance 
 began. ^^ 
 
 "I am quite sure, Miss Worsdale," the curate 
 interposed, " that what you think right cannot be 
 far wrong, but still are we quite sure that Mr. — 
 what name ? Boothroyd ? — Yes — thank yon — is a 
 person whose principles and views are quite what 
 we look for in a companion of youth T' 
 
 Now, probably, if there existed in the world a 
 little woman who strove might and main to keep 
 watch and guard over a generous and somewhat 
 hasty temper, and who generally succeeded in 
 doing so, it was the one who, at that moment, was 
 flushing up to the temples, under the hard gaze of 
 Miss Skimple, and the sickly patronising air of the 
 Beverend Palethorpe. But as the most carefully 
 guarded temper has some little weak point or loop- 
 hole through which an assault can be made, so poor 
 Dolly^s guard was beaten down, whenever the young 
 clergyman adopted the tone of infallibility or 
 superiority ; so she fired up with — 
 
 " Good gracious, Mr. Palethorpe ! what nonsense 
 you talk ! The boy goes with his next day's lessons, 
 and Joe — I mean Mr. Boothroyd — helps him in his 
 
186 « shoddy:' 
 
 difficulties, and sliows him the way out of them. 
 The good of it is seen in the results ; Phil takes far 
 more interest in his school duties, and we have 
 excellent accounts of his progress/^ 
 
 "Yes — just so, my dear Miss Worsdale — quite 
 so V' replied the curate, adopting his persuasive 
 tone, which, when addressed to ladies, was never 
 known to fail ; " but what may be that person^s 
 principles, and what views may he entertain ? Who 
 can tell how they may influence your brother in 
 later life ? You know, just as ' the twig is bent the 
 tree's inclined/ '' 
 
 Miss Skimple bowed her head in grim approval 
 of the sagacity of the curate, who smirked rather 
 more than usual, and sipped his tea, so he probably 
 did not observe the glance of irritation that Dolly 
 flashed at him from her dark eyes ; but she 
 answered quietly — 
 
 '* I am not in a position to know what Mr. 
 Boothroyd's principles may be, or his views either ; 
 but if he may be judged by my father's experience of 
 him, I do not think we have much cause for 
 anxiety for Phil. Father has more than once 
 mentioned his intelligence in the highest terms; 
 how, in a short time he has mastered all the 
 details of the business, and corrected many errors 
 that had crept into the accounts during Tim's time 
 in the counting-house." 
 
EOME AGAIN. 187 
 
 " Yes — but I was rather referring to his moral 
 qualities/^ said the Reverend Ernest, " and I should 
 be glad to know in what direction his proclivities 
 pointj before so many opportunities are afforded for 
 influencing the tender and susceptible mind of a 
 mere child, like your brother Philip. It is at such 
 a time the evil seed is sown, the Enemy cometh at 
 night and soweth the tares/^ 
 
 Again, Miss Skimple bowed in acquiescence, and 
 grimly smiled approval. 
 
 *' I don^t suppose,"" replied Dolly brusquely, 
 " that a schoolboy of PhiFs age thinks about, or 
 even understands, the distinctions of creeds and doc- 
 trines ; and so long as he finds his friend kind and 
 intelligent, who will help to explain away the diffi- 
 culties of his tasks, or will interest him with stories 
 of things and places of which Phil himself knows little 
 or nothing, that he will stop to consider whether 
 Mr. Boothroyd is strictly orthodox or otherwise." 
 
 " I donH think there can be much doubt on the 
 latter part of the question/^ said the Reverend 
 Ernest, with rather more acidity of tone than usually 
 flavoured his discourse, " for I remember to have 
 seen him at church only once.^' 
 
 " I don^t wonder V Dolly broke in with ; for 
 the curate^s reference to his own ministry brought 
 to the girl's mind a vivid recollection of the average 
 quality of his sermons ; but she added, almost 
 
188 " SHODDY." 
 
 apologetically, ^^ I mean to say, that after the 
 labour of the week he may be. only too glad of a 
 day^s rest." 
 
 " But there are duties as well as privileges on 
 the Sabbath," the curate reminded her, " and 
 unless Mr. Boothroyd has joined the ranks of 
 Dissent, or contemplates embracing the errors of 
 the Church of Rome, in which case I should be 
 one of the last " 
 
 '^ Yes — yes — we know, we know," Dolly inter- 
 rupted, " please change the subject. I daresay 
 Mr. Boothroyd knows his own affairs best, and 
 doesn't want either yon or me to point out the 
 path for him." 
 
 ^' Mr. Boothroyd is fortunate in his advocate, at 
 all events," the curate observed, swaying his head 
 from side to side, and smirking as he did so, as 
 one who is conscious of his power to administer a 
 scorching rebuke when necessary. 
 
 " Mr. Boothroyd is perhaps still more for- 
 tunate," she retorted, reddening, " in being com- 
 petent for the business he is engaged for, and in — 
 minding it !" and she flushed still more, and in rising 
 from the table rang the bell for the servant to 
 remove the tea-things ; for the conversation had 
 arrived at that pitch, when we, who are polite 
 persons, conscious of having caused and suffered a 
 little soreness, conclude it is high time to change 
 
HOME AGAIN. 189 
 
 the subject, not knowing into what indiscretion 
 of speech the next rejoinder may lead us ; and at 
 the same time not feeling satisfied with the result 
 of our recent encounter. Under such circum- 
 stances, it is generally some little time before amity 
 is quite restored. We smile and converse, it is true ; 
 and we are perhaps a trifle more polite than 
 usual, but we are aware of a smart lingering in our 
 minds, and we can see it reflected in our friend 
 as well. There is a constraint about the smile and a 
 furtive glance of the eye, and sometimes a little spark 
 of anger glistening there, that gives the broad lie to 
 our words and our manners, let us be guarded as 
 we may. It is best at such times to say nothing. 
 It is as well to leave those troubled waters alone. 
 The heaviest seas will have their turn of repose all 
 in good time ; better to sit still and keep a good 
 hold of the helm. 
 
 On these occasions Miss Skimple usually pre- 
 served a demure silence, and Prissy, who regarded 
 all serious discussion as a bore of the most tedious 
 kind, and became fretful if she were not taking the 
 leading part in whatever might be going on, had 
 dropped on her knees by the fire and was reading a 
 book by its fitful light; so the conversation had to 
 be sustained by Dolly and the young minister in a 
 spasmodic or desultory manner until the return of 
 Mr. Worsdale, when the curate took his leave. 
 
190 " SHODDY." 
 
 A more abstemious man, or rather a man on 
 whom wine had less effect, than Matthew Worsdale, 
 could not live. The worst of his enemies, and 
 having been a successful man we may be sure he 
 had several, could not say they had ever seen him 
 the worse for liquor, nor had they ever seen him 
 the better for it. We have all of us, I think, met 
 some men on whom the most generous wine has no 
 other eflPect than that of rendering them more 
 secret and reserved ; while others become under 
 its influence hilarious or maudlin, or quarrelsome, 
 on these it acts like a drop of vinegar on the head 
 of a garden snail, and drives them more than ever 
 within the shell of their inner life, from which 
 there is no dislodging them while the influence 
 endures. They may not, perhaps, be quite sober ; 
 yet no one would suspect them of being any- 
 thing else. So with Mr. Worsdale ; he ate and 
 drank copiously, and enjoyed himself accordingly. 
 When the health of the directors of the Dalesford 
 and Basset Joint-Stock Banking Company was 
 proposed, as the senior he responded, '^ in a neat 
 and appropriate speech, and took occasion to con- 
 gratulate the shareholders on the favourable aspect 
 of aff'airs,''' &c. (see the Dalesford Sentinel of that 
 date), and resumed his seat without making any 
 mistake or achieving any success. His hearers 
 knew that as a man of business he would come to 
 
HOME AGAIN. 191 
 
 the point, and he did so, and lost no time about it ; 
 and he drank more wine, and was as clear-headed 
 as ever. 
 
 But at such times he pursed out his under lip, 
 and lowered his heavy brow on his return home, more 
 than usual, and then Miss Dolly made coffee and 
 asked no questions ; and on that particular evening 
 she was very grateful to her father for putting to 
 flight the Reverend Ernest Palethorpe. 
 
 But that estimable young man did not feel 
 quite satisfied with the result of the conversa- 
 tion. He had an uneasy sense that the girl, for 
 whom he had a considerable amount of admiration, 
 did not reciprocate that feeling. His most persuasive 
 manner and attractive mood seemed to be lost upon 
 her; and though he could not by any process of 
 thought be brought to conclude that the Reverend 
 Ernest Palethorpe could, in the smallest degree, or 
 however remotely, approximate to a bore, he had a 
 sore misgiving that as yet he had failed to strike 
 the particular note that would respond in a full 
 chord with the lady of his choice. There was also 
 a feeling of irritation, that this stranger, this Joe 
 Boothroyd, whom nobody knew, nobody had ever 
 heard of; who had only once sat under him at 
 church, and had then yawned perceptibly; who, 
 when the curate had had occasion to speak to him 
 on one or two trifling matters, had replied (however 
 
192 "SHODDY." 
 
 respectfully) in a tone that seemed to imply 
 superiority^ — that this counting-house clerk or 
 factory foreman, or whatever he was, should enjoy 
 the confidence of Miss Dolly, at least as respected 
 her brother ; whilst he himself, the Reverend 
 Ernest Palethorpe, B.A., curate of St. Mary^ 
 Dalesford, was regarded with apparent indifference 
 by the sister, and occasionally treated by the little 
 fellow with downright rudeness. These thoughts 
 rankled in the young minister's breast, as he walked 
 along the pavement of the market-place with one 
 shoulder a little in advance of the other, and his 
 neat umbrella carried slightly in front. The sickly 
 smile had fled, and over the worsted wrapper for his 
 throat appeared on each cheek the hectic spot of 
 annoyance. Mr. Worsdale having returned sooner 
 than expected, it was still quite early in the even- 
 ing, and the curate deftly avoiding the puddles or 
 the mire, and skipping over the kennels with a step 
 not dissimilar to that of a rook, bent his steps quickly 
 to the lodge at the gate of Mr. Worsdale's mill. The 
 door, which opened into the living-room of the lodge- 
 keeper, stood a little ajar, and the curate could hear 
 the voices of ^women in loud talk. He knocked a 
 second time with his umbrella, and then a voice 
 within said — 
 
 " Husht, wi^ you ! There's somebody at door. 
 Come in !" So the curate entered. The lodge- 
 
HOME AGAIN. 193 
 
 keeper, a widow was seated knitting worsted stock- 
 ings; and by the fire, leaning against the mantel- 
 piece, was a woman, gaunt and shabby, with lean 
 face and figure, a handkerchief tied over her head, 
 and her hands locked idly before her. She took 
 but slight notice of the minister, as the lodge- 
 keeper placed a chair for him, and dropped a little 
 bob of a curtsey. 
 
 " I wont sit down, thank you,^' said the curate, 
 " I am not going to stop : I merely wish to ascer- 
 tain where Mr. Boothroyd is living, if you can 
 inform me?^' 
 
 " Why, dear me V' said the woman, " I knowed 
 yesterday for certain, and now it^s gone clean out of 
 my head ! there ! — now only to think ! — do you 
 know, Mrs. Stepper?^' 
 
 " I heerd him say some' at about Marsden's cot- 
 tage — up t' hill, there,'' replied the woman standing 
 by the fire. 
 
 " Ah, to be sure, that's it !" cried the lodge- 
 keeper. " Was you wanting to see him, sir ?" 
 
 '' Oh, there, eh ?" the Reverend Ernest rejoined. 
 " Oh, a nice place, and not very far. Thank you, 
 I'll go at once, as I know the way very well." 
 
 " You don't come and see our nice place !" the 
 woman, leaning by the mantelpiece, observed in an 
 insolent, bantering tone ; — and I dunnot blame you, 
 for t' matter o' that !" 
 
 VOL. I. 13 
 
194 " shoddy:' 
 
 " Your place ? Well, I really don^t remember 
 at this moment^^ — the curate began. 
 
 '^ Nay, why should you \" the woman replied, 
 with a short and coarse laugh — "it warn^t never 
 much, an^ its worse now ! Not as you, an^ the 
 likes o^ you, are much good, when you do come ! — 
 an^ they say weVe getten t' fever in t' court ; I 
 don^t know myself, for sure, but it can't be much 
 worse than it is now, whatever it is V^ 
 
 " Oh, dear V said the Reverend Ernest, this is 
 very sad ! Have you illness at home ?'' 
 
 " Illness V said the woman, with her short and 
 hard laugh. " Have we ought else ! Ought else !" 
 she added bitterly, " but empty cupboards, and 
 nought to eat — an' no bit of fire, and scarcely ought 
 to keep life together, — an' our Tilly well-nigh 
 dead !" 
 
 " This is very sad/' said the curate, " very sad 
 indeed ! Can't your husband get work ?" 
 
 " He get work !" the woman said, turning, almost 
 fiercely, upon him ; '' he ain't the sort to get work, 
 or ought else, but drink ! He'll take that when he 
 can get it !" 
 
 " Where is your husband then ?" the curate 
 inquired. 
 
 " God knows ! — I don't !" the woman replied — 
 " an' I don't want to, for what good he is to us ! 
 It's hard times, mester, when you do what's right 
 
HOME AGAIN. 195 
 
 by others, and get nought but hard blows and foul 
 words back again. It's hard times to be left wi' a 
 sick bairn on your hands, and nought to make a 
 fire on but the table and the chair, as you haven't 
 had to sell to get bread ! It's better for poor folk 
 like us to make a hole in t' watter and ha' done wi' it, 
 than to go on from day to day, clemming by inches, 
 and starved through by cold and hunger ! — Better 
 take our poor bairns, and lie down in t' river at once ! — 
 we should be quiet there! — we should be quiet there!" 
 
 " Peace is everywhere," said the amiable young 
 curate, " if we are resigned and bear our cross with 
 meekness. Tribulation is the lot of erring humanity. 
 If we are tried and not found wanting, we shall 
 reap the reward at last." 
 
 " Look here, mester," said the woman, loudly — 
 and her gaunt and hungry look, her wretched 
 ragged dress, and unkempt hair formed a strange 
 contrast to the comfort and warmth suggested by 
 the appearance of the young minister, — '^ it's very 
 easy to preach ; — words don't cost much — but you 
 come and change places wi' me for half a day; — 
 you come and try what hunger means, when there's 
 nought in t' cupboard ; — and what cold means, 
 when you've nought but such as these" — and she 
 touched her shabl)y and ragged clothes as she said 
 it — " to keep it out, and then if you'll talk about 
 meekness and such like, I'll come and listen to vou !" 
 
 13— :z 
 
196 " SHODDY." 
 
 " I am very sorry to hear this/'' said the Revereud 
 Ernest. ^' Can nothing be done to help you V 
 
 " Nothing be done ! Ah ! plenty can be done/' 
 the woman replied^ with the short hard laugh of 
 dogged despair. " Plenty can be done, but who^ll do 
 it ? Not you ! Will you pay my last week''s 
 rent ? It ain^t much — at least, to you ! Two 
 shillings — that^s all ! For a house as lets t^ wind 
 and i' rain in, and hasnH a door or a window that 
 shuts tight ! Why, I tell you, mester, I should ha^ 
 done it long ago, if it hadna been for Worsdale''s 
 lass V 
 
 " Done what T' Mr. Palethorpe asked, becoming 
 interested. 
 
 " Made a hole in t^ watter, thou knows, and 
 floated oflP into some other parish, where the men as 
 we call husbands don''t knock us about, and then 
 leave us ; and where they don^t pull the bed fi'om 
 under us for rent V 
 
 The miserable woman looked so utterly forlorn as 
 she said this, that the Reverend Ernest Palethorpe, 
 startled into horror, perhaps, rather than pity, put 
 his hand into his pocket and produced a few useful 
 little publications, with appropriate titles and ap- 
 plicable texts, and especially adapted for such cases 
 of misery as the one before him. He laid the little 
 packet on the table, and intimated she was at liberty 
 to make her own selection. 
 
HOME AGAIN. 197 
 
 " Themes no use V cried the woman^ impatiently. 
 " We canH boil them things and make broth out on 
 'em ! Them there things wou^t pay the rent and 
 keep the cold out ! It's food we want, mester, food 
 and warmth ! Give us them first, and we'll come 
 to church afterwards. You get your money easy 
 enough, I dare say. If you can gi' us some of it, 
 gi' it ; if you can't, you may keep them books for 
 them as has got a fire, and wants some'at to kindle 
 it wi' V 
 
 The Reverend Ernest Palethorpe, somewhat 
 shocked, notwithstanding, groped in his pocket, 
 and after considerable delay produced a fourpenny- 
 piece. 
 
 " I am sorry I have no more to offer, Mrs. 
 Stepper,'"* he said, smiling after his old fashion, 
 " but at this moment"- 
 
 " It's better than nought," said the woman, 
 taking it greedily, and ofi'ering no word of thanks. 
 " It's better than nought !" And then, wrapping 
 her poor shawl about her figure as best she could, 
 and taking a small bundle tied up in a handker- 
 chief, she left without saying another word. 
 
 The Revereud Ernest then learnt in answer to 
 his inquiries, that that valuable member of society, 
 Mr. Thomas Stepper, had a short time previously, 
 for reasons best known to himself, suddenly with- 
 drawn from Dalesford, and had gone no one knew 
 
195 ''SHODDY." 
 
 whither, leaving his wife and children to shift for 
 themselves. That this having come to the ears of 
 Miss Dolly, during one of her visits to the wretched 
 place the poor woman called home, she had inte- 
 rested herself so far as to have the only son, a 
 stout little fellow, taken on at the mill, as a " half- 
 timer,^' as it is called, while she herself had mate- 
 rially assisted the wretched mother in her struggle 
 against poverty and starvation, by sundry little 
 presents of money or medicine, and occasionally a 
 basin-full of such broken food as might otherwise 
 have been far less usefully employed, and which 
 was left at the lodge for the unhappy woman to call 
 for and carry away. It also appeared that, in fur- 
 therance of this, she had enlisted the sympathy and 
 assistance of Joe Boothroyd, who had shown himself 
 a very active auxiliary indeed. This was a part of 
 the communication the least acceptable to the 
 Reverend Palethorpe. He asked himself why was 
 Boothroyd selected when he was at hand, not 
 only with energy for the service, but as a member 
 of a vocation in whose province such acts of 
 charity certainly lay ; and so again, in spite of 
 his own sentiments touching meekness and resigna- 
 tion, and other Christian virtues, implied or 
 expressed, the sickly smile forsook the clerical lip, 
 and the hectic spot of irritation glowed on the 
 curate's cheek. 
 
HOME AGAIN. 199 
 
 Ten minutes^ brisk walking brought him to the 
 little garden in front of Mrs. Marsden^s cottage^, on 
 the outskirts of the town, and on the brow of a 
 short hill. It was a snug little plaee, though some- 
 what homely, and, being very quiet, he could hear 
 Joe^s voice inside, reading or talking, when he 
 stopped at the gate. He knocked softly at the outer 
 door, and, no one coming in answer, turned the 
 handle, and walked in. There was no light in the 
 passage, but a door leading into the parlour, on the 
 left hand, was open, and a paraffin lamp, burning 
 brightly on the table, lighted up the apartment. 
 The curate passed a few seconds to survey the little 
 room. It was quite eight o''clock in the evening, 
 but the tea service was still on the table ; the fire 
 was burning cheerfully, and the room was warm 
 and cosy. It was furnished in that plain, but com- 
 fortable manner, noticeable in Yorkshire among the 
 better class of working people ; but a piano in one 
 corner, and some well-laden book-shelves, gave to 
 the apartment a rather superior aspect. On one side 
 of the fire, in a capacious easy chair, of that old- 
 fashioned sort that can readily be converted into a 
 bed if required, sat Joe Boothroyd. He had evi- 
 dently been reading, for a book partially closed 
 rested on his knee, and he was at that moment 
 explaining some portion of it. On the other side, 
 facing him, and having his proflle towards the 
 
200 "SHODDY." 
 
 curate^ sat little Phil, a large piece of toast iu his 
 hand, of which he had taken one bite only, the con- 
 gealed butter suggesting his attention had been too 
 much absorbed for him to taste a second time, with 
 his boy^s bright eyes as wide open as they could 
 conveniently be stretched, and the expression of his 
 whole figure denoting the most intense interest in 
 the conversation of his companion. In spite of the 
 annoyance the curate had experienced a few minutes 
 previously at the thought of Joe Boothroyd, he could 
 not refrain from pausing to note the contrast between 
 the two friends before him, so different in every 
 other respect, and yet each, in his own way, so evi- 
 dently in earnest. On resuming his book, Joe^s 
 attention was arrested by the figure of the curate, 
 peering in through the open door. 
 
 " I hope I don^'t disturb you ?" Ernest said in 
 his blandest tones. " I merely called " 
 
 " Come in, sir," Joe replied, " and be seated. 
 Don^t rise, Phil, he added, seeing the boy about to 
 leave his chair by the fire, and the Reverend Ernest 
 about to take it. " We can find another chair, I 
 dare say." 
 
 But the little fellow, whose face had fallen when 
 he discovered the cause of the interruption, vacated 
 his seat, and was now standing by Joe^s side^ leaning 
 on his friend's knee. 
 
 "And may 1 ask," the curate inquired, seeing a 
 
HOME AGAIN. 201 
 
 little Leap of books on the table^ '' what we have 
 been reading this evening ?" 
 
 " We have been reading the story of Regulus/^ 
 Joe quietly replied, '^ and of the large serpent that 
 was said to have kept his Roman army at bay ; and 
 we have come to the conclusion/'' and he laid his 
 hand kindly on the boy's shoulder as he spoke, 
 " that it wasn't a serpent at all, but probably a 
 crocodile — haven't we, Phil ?" 
 
 " Yes," Phil said, almost sulkily, " and we had 
 got to the best part of it, when you came in." 
 
 " I am sorry to have disturbed your studies, I 
 am sure, Master Philip," the curate replied with the 
 sickly smile returning to his face ; " but do you 
 know what time it is ? Eight o'clock." 
 
 "^ Phil's leave of absence extends to half-past, 
 thank you, sir," Joe returned, " and we are very 
 punctual here. You said you called merely to " 
 
 " Oh just so," the Rev. Ernest replied, ^' I merely 
 called in passing, to say his papa had come home, 
 and might be inquiring for him." 
 
 " Papa knows where I am, sir, and so does 
 Dolly," the boy said reddening. " What is the 
 right time, Mr. Joe ?" 
 
 " Time you were going," said Joe, " so put on 
 your coat and your comforter, and we'll have the 
 rest of the story the next time." 
 
 '' If we are not interrupted," the boy answered^ 
 
202 " shoddy:' 
 
 darting a resentful glance at the curate,, who had 
 taken his chair^ and was complacently regarding the 
 fire, as he nursed and caressed his knee. 
 
 So Joe, with a smile lurking in the corner of his 
 mouth, and twinkling in his thoughtful eyes, packed 
 the lad's books and strapped them together, and 
 Phil casting another vindictive glance at the Rev. 
 Ernest from his large dark eyes, gave him a sulky 
 good night, and then shaking hands cordially with 
 his friend Joe, left the cottage and scampered ofi" 
 towards home. 
 
 While Joe had been preparing for PhiFs depar- 
 ture, the curate narrowlv observed the room. The 
 small cottage piano fitted snugly into a little recess 
 near the window, and on the book-shelves near the 
 chair, where Joe had been seated, he could dis- 
 tinguish Shelley's Poems, Paley's Natural Theology, 
 Fielding's works, Macaulay's Essays, with more of 
 our English classics, besides an Encyclopaedia and 
 other works of reference. 
 
 '' You have quite a little library here, Mr. 
 Boothroyd V' the cnrate, smirking, began, when 
 they were alone. " Quite so ! But the works are of 
 a slightly varying character, I think ?" 
 
 " Will you tiake some tea or any refreshment ?" 
 the other asked, disregarding his remark. 
 
 But the Bev. Ernest had already had tea — much 
 obliged but no, thank you — he did not think it 
 
HOME AGAIN. 203 
 
 advisable to take tea so late in the evening — it was 
 of so stimulating a nature, that with an excitable 
 temperament like his own, it prevented his sleeping, 
 &c., &c., so Joe struck a little gong bell that stood 
 on a bracket by his side, and a stout, round-faced, 
 red-armed Yorkshire lass appeared, and whisked 
 away the tea things, with considerable despatch and 
 not a little noise, staring hard at the Rev. Ernest 
 Palethorpe as she did so, as if in doubt whether the 
 little boy in knickerbockers whom she had admitted 
 rather more than an hour before, had not suddenly 
 developed into a pasty-looking young man, with a 
 white neckcloth ; but still with an increased respect 
 for the lodger, when she found he had a real live 
 curate for boon companion or visiting acquaintance. 
 
 " I assume you don't play the piano ?''■' Ernest 
 asked, becoming slightly interested in the character 
 of the man who sat opposite to him, quietly awaiting 
 his questions or remarks. 
 
 " If by playing you imply proficiency,^^ Joe 
 replied, " I can^t say that I do ; but I know enough 
 to amuse myself when the evenings are wet or there 
 is no attraction out of doors.^^ 
 
 " It is a pleasant pastime, certainly. Do you 
 find Philip, now, an intelligent boy and well- 
 advanced in his studies ?^^ the curate asked, nursing 
 his knee and looking sideways at the fire. 
 
 '^ The boy has average intelligence, I think/^ 
 
204 « SHODDY." 
 
 Boothroyd replied, " but at his school;, whatever it 
 may be, they seem to have adopted the usual forcing 
 process, and crammed the lad^s head with learning of 
 which he will make very little use in after life, I 
 dare say/' 
 
 " How do you mean ?" the curate asked. 
 
 " That, like most schoolboys I have met,'^ Joe 
 observed, " whatever he has had to learn he has not 
 been taught the application of — I mean as regards 
 the business of life — and that he has been set to 
 master many things, for which he has no bent and, 
 apparently, no ability/'' 
 
 ^' Dear me, you surprise me !" the other replied. 
 '^ What do you more particularly refer to ?'"' 
 
 '^ The little fellow brought me some of his draw- 
 ings in black-leads, the other day, " Joe returned, 
 '' for which he had received a sort of prize or mark 
 of distinction, and was naturally proud of his 
 success : they were copies, of course, and had been 
 carefully transferred from the original by means of 
 measurement.^'' 
 
 '^ How did you know that ?" Ernest inquired. 
 
 I observed the little holes pricked by the com- 
 passes and the dots to mark the starting points ; I 
 don't profess to be a connoisseur in art/' Joe added, 
 smiling a little, '^ but it didn't require a very keen 
 eye to distinguish the vigorous strokes with which 
 the master had touched up the pupil's efibrts." 
 
HOME AGAIN. 205 
 
 " But do you rest your opinion on tliat only ?'' 
 the curate asked again. 
 
 " Not altogether/^ Joe replied. '' I asked him to 
 draw a little picture for me, all of his own, you 
 know, and I found the boy had not the slightest idea 
 of anything of the kind/^ 
 
 ^^ Excuse me, Mr. Boothroyd/^ the Bev. Ernest 
 said blandly, '' but you must be mistaken. I have 
 it from the family, that the principal of the academy 
 assured Mr. Worsdale that his son Philip had a 
 decided talent for drawing/^ 
 
 " Probably ;" said Joe quietly. " And if you 
 and I were schoolmasters, Mr. Palethorpe, and made 
 an extra charge for such accomplishments, we should 
 say the same, I dare say.^"* 
 
 The Bev. Ernest seemed disposed to dispute this 
 inference of Joe^s, but meeting his steady look, 
 simply quiet and self-possessed, his resolution 
 wavered, and he substituted " Just so.^^ 
 
 But after a slight pause he began again — 
 
 " And what do you think, now, of Philip's classical 
 acquirements ?'' 
 
 " He does the best with them he can, because 
 they have to be done,'' Joe answered, " but he has 
 no taste for languages, at least that kind of language. 
 "VMien he has to deal with facts, or with what 
 appear to be facts, let us say, for instance, the 
 histories of Caesar, Nepos, or Livy, he will work 
 
206 " shoddy:' 
 
 against the difficulty for the sake of the information 
 they hold out ; but with the selections from Virgil 
 or Ovid which they give him at school to construe, 
 he makes but little progress/^ 
 
 " Then I don^t exactly see, accepting your opi- 
 nion as correct, which I don^t dispute/^ and the 
 curate, though he smiled somewhat, imported a 
 little acerbity into his tone, " what is the use of his 
 going to school at all/' 
 
 " Neither do 1/^ replied Joe, ^' as far as making 
 him a classic or an artist goes. But perhaps you 
 overlook, Mr. Palethorpe, the valuable knowledge 
 which the children of the better classes can only 
 acquire in a large school — the lesson of self-reliance, 
 and the knowledge of one^s power and aptitude. 
 In this particular, a public school, as it seems to 
 me, is all-important in introducing a boy to the 
 world in which he will have to move hereafter — to 
 fight his way and learn to hold his own. A public 
 school is a great leveller, Mr. Palethorpe; and if 
 boys are hero-worshippers, which they no doubt are, 
 their idol must be a hero one way or another, or 
 they wont worship him for long. Lads are marvel- 
 lously quick to detect sham,''' and Joe looked rather 
 keenly at the young minister as he spoke, '' and they 
 can tell at a glance, as readily as one of us in the 
 trade, the difference between the sound wool and 
 the shoddy. Perhaps it is when we grow older that 
 
HOME AQAIN. 207 
 
 we confuse the two_, or don't care to distinguish 
 them/' 
 
 The curate nursed his leg in silence for a few 
 moments, and then said, smirking as before : 
 
 " I have the privilege of intimacy with Mr. 
 Worsdale's family, and can speak with confidence of 
 their amiability, and the superiority of their attain- 
 ments. Candidly, in what direction does our little 
 friend's abilities lie ?" 
 
 " I can't help thinking, sir," said Joe, with his 
 characteristic quietness, " that if 1 could boast the 
 same privilege as you, I should have discovered that 
 for myself before now. As far as it is possible 
 for me to judge of one so young, the boy seems 
 to have the makings of a sound man of business 
 in him. His aptitude for figures, his assiduity 
 in acquiring what he deems essential to be known, 
 and his search after fact in preference to fiction, 
 appear to me to indicate the germs of the 
 commercial character, which time may develop 
 in as marked a manner as is observable in his 
 father." 
 
 ^' I think your estimate of Philip singularly accu- 
 rate," observed Mr. Palethorpe. " And what, now," 
 added this wily young curate, who had been cautiously 
 leading up to the question, " what, now, may be 
 your opinion of the other members of Mr. Wors- 
 dale's family ?" and he rubbed the shin of the leg 
 
208 '* shoddy:' 
 
 he was nursin^^ as if he relishedj in a sensuous 
 manner, his own astuteness. 
 
 " The intimacy you enjoy with the family, sir/^ 
 Joe replied, " must qualify you much better than 
 myself to form an opinion/^ 
 
 The curate smiled and said, '^ O yes/' in a rather 
 awkward manner, for the other's move had some- 
 what baulked his own play in the game he was 
 meditating ; '^ I merely asked — I don't know why, 
 I am sure ; but you exhibit such singular penetra- 
 tion of character, that I should have been glad 
 
 really — to " And as he paused, Joe took up 
 
 the conversation and said — 
 
 " Well, sir, the elder son left for Manchester so 
 shortly after my arrival here, that I have really had 
 no opportunity of exercising the penetration you 
 speak of in his case." 
 
 The Reverend Ernest shifted his position on the 
 chair, and changed the leg he was nursing ; and 
 then, smiling with a little embarrassment of manner, 
 explained that he was referring rather to the — the 
 — ladies of the family ; and then went on to say — 
 
 '' They are charming young persons, certainly ! 
 Indeed, we consider Miss Priscilla — that is the 
 younger one, you know — as one of the belles of 
 Dalesford. Don't you think so ?" 
 
 " You see, sir, I haven't the privilege of meeting 
 the belles of any place where I am employed," Joe 
 
HOME AGAIN. 209 
 
 Boothroyd replied^ looking quietly at Ernest, with- 
 out the slightest perceptible expression in his face 
 but one of slight weariness. 
 
 " Ah, true ; I had nearly forgotten she has been 
 from home. I had overlooked that. "Well, then/' 
 and the Reverend Ernest rubbed his shin almost 
 nervously, " what do you think of the other ?'' 
 
 " I don't know/' said Joe, leaning forward and 
 looking the curate steadily in the eyes. " What do 
 
 you?" 
 
 " Oh, my dear sir \" said Ernest, taken some- 
 what aback by the question and Joe's manner of 
 putting it, " I don't think it is for me to say ! 
 She is a charming young person, of course — but — 
 but " 
 
 " I see," said Joe ; '^ you would have me infer 
 she is inferior to her sister." 
 
 " Oh dear no !" hastily exclaimed the curate ; 
 " I wouldn't have you infer anything of the kind." 
 
 " Well, then/' resumed Joe, " we wont say infe- 
 rior, but that the young lady is less attractive than 
 her sister. Is that your meaning ?" 
 
 " My meaning !" the Reverend Ernest repeated, 
 " oh no ! 1 don't wish to draw any comparison for 
 a moment between them. I was rather asking your 
 opinion. In my position, I do not think it is for 
 me to make any observations on the family." 
 
 ^' Well, to speak candidly/' said Joe, " I don't 
 
 VOL. I. 14 
 
210 " SHODDY." 
 
 think it is, or for me either. Suppose we change 
 the subject. Will you take some supper ?" 
 
 Eut the curate declined. Suppers didn't agree 
 with him, he said ; he was subject to dyspepsia, and 
 a substantial meal at night he thought injurious as 
 a rule. 
 
 " You have a long and cold walk before you, sir," 
 said Joe, quite gravely ; " may I order you a little 
 — arrowroot ?" 
 
 But still the young curate declined, and sat by 
 the fire nursing his leg in silence, and with a some- 
 what troubled expression of countenance. Joe re- 
 garded him with a smile lurking about his mouth 
 and eyes, but otherwise with gravity ; and at last, 
 finding the Reverend Ernest maintained his silence, 
 he took up a book and was reading when the 
 curate suddenly observed — 
 
 " I should be sorry, Mr. Boothroyd, if you were 
 to think that I had indulged in any unseemly 
 remarks on a family for whom I have the highest 
 regard." 
 
 " Your remarks are quite safe with me, sir," Joe 
 quietly replied. 
 
 " Of course, I am sure of that," the curate 
 rejoined. " But any observations I may have made 
 were not intended to reflect in any way — that is, 
 you understand " 
 
 " I can't say I do, quite," Joe said. 
 
HOME AGAIN. 211 
 
 " Well, I mean, that if I may have mentioned or 
 said anything, in the moment of animated and 
 social converse, that being repeated might conduce 
 to — well, shall I say ? — to unpleasantness, I think I 
 may rest assured you would not for a moment be 
 induced to take advantage of it ?" 
 
 " What your real object has been in favouring 
 me with a visit to-night, Mr. Palethorpe,^^ Joe an- 
 swered, " is best known to yourself. The penetra- 
 tion on which you were pleased to compliment me 
 assures me it was not in reference to the little 
 fellow who went away when you came. But you 
 need be under no apprehension ; and if youll only 
 keep your own secret, you need have no fear of my 
 not doing so. I endeavour to mind my own busi- 
 ness, and I find that quite enough.^^ 
 
 The curate turned paler than usual, for Joe's 
 manner bewildered him, and he began to wonder 
 how much he had said on the subject that was so 
 interesting to him ; but not quite certain what 
 course to take, he nervously looked at his watch, 
 and declared it was nearly ten o'clock ; so hastily 
 resuming his overcoat, he shook Joe's hand, which 
 if not quite so soft and white, was as clean as, and 
 much firmer than, his own; and thanking Joe for 
 one of the pleasantest evenings he had ever passed, 
 he hastened from Marsden Cottage, cordially hating 
 Joe Boothroyd in his heart, and with the 
 
212 '' shoddy:' 
 
 unpleasant conviction^ that while his errand had 
 been to draw out all Joe knew or thought about 
 Dolly, the fellow had in some way led him, the 
 prudent Palethorpe, into certain indiscretions of 
 speech, which might be used against him in some 
 way or another. 
 
 " I wonder what the fellow meant V' he ejaculated 
 as he lighted his lamp at home, " with his secret ! 
 and his piano ! — and his books ! Who is he, I 
 wonder, to talk of his Virgils and his Ovids ? I 
 wish,^"* he added, as he caught sight of himself in 
 the parlour mirror over the mantelpiece, " I had 
 asked him severely" (and the young minister frowned 
 heavily as he said it), " severely — who he was ? He's 
 a sly fellow that ! And I hate — that is, I disap- 
 prove of — slyness in any form. Hang him V' (he 
 said " Hang him," but the word was uttered in so 
 mild a manner, that I do not think his character 
 could be said to have suffered by the expression) — 
 '' hang him ! Til have an eye on that vagabond V 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE MAN IN THE CLOAK. 
 
 HATEVER may have been the Reverend 
 Ernest Palethorpe^s moral fortitude, a 
 quality which, whether in the discharge 
 of his public duties, or, as we have seen, when 
 brought face-to-face with individual trouble or 
 misery, he lost no opportunity of recommending, 
 physical courage formed no conspicuous element 
 in his character ; and when seated, as he might 
 frequently have been found, in his own cosy apart- 
 ment before a cheerful fire, employed in the con- 
 genial task of preparing a sermon, which should 
 exhort others to endure the toils and privations he 
 had never known himself — or relaxing his arduous 
 labours by some harmless occupation, such as illu- 
 minating scripture texts, or working in crochet a 
 circular mat, whereon to place one of the many 
 pots of pomade or cold cream that were arranged 
 in the strictest order on his toilet table, he formed 
 a startling contrast to that school of musculai* 
 Christians, to whom a day's toil at cricket, an after- 
 
2u " shoddy:' 
 
 noon on tte ice_, or at football^, or even a burst now 
 and then after the hounds^ imparts a good deal of 
 manly health and vigour, and with no injury what- 
 ever — I take the liberty of thinking — to their more 
 serious employment. Therefore, if the Reverend 
 Ernest Palethorpe, being a minister of peace in its 
 widest' signification, not only spiritual and social, 
 but also as opposed to physical exertion, or personal 
 inconvenience or fatigue, could have known that no 
 sooner had he left the little lodge at the mill gate, 
 whither he had gone to inquire for Joe Boothroyd^s 
 house, than a tall figure of a man, wrapped in a 
 cloak or very loose overcoat, and muffled up to 
 the eyes, and with a profusion of dark hair, had 
 stealthily emerged from the shadow of a gateway 
 on the opposite side of the street and was then 
 following him, the estimable young curate would 
 probably have accelerated his pace, even to a run, 
 or dived into one of the courts or alleys with which 
 he was familiar, as if suddenly remembering an 
 errand of mercy to some sufiering creature lying 
 sick of fever or disabled by casualty; but at all 
 events, he would scarcely have maintained the uni- 
 formly steady pace which brought him so easily to 
 Joe Boothroyd's cottage. Fortunately for his tran- 
 quillity of mind, however, he was so preoccupied by 
 what he had heard at the lodge a few minutes^ 
 previously, that he never perceived the figure had 
 
THE MAN IN THE CLOAK. 215 
 
 advanced to his side and was about to address him^ 
 when abruptly stopping, as if suddenly altering his 
 purpose, the stranger turned sharply round and re- 
 traced his steps to the lodge. 
 
 To the old woman^s invitation to " Come in/' in 
 reply to his knock at the lodge door, he rather 
 startled that worthy person by suddenly presenting 
 before her the appearance of a rough and somewhat 
 mysterious traveller, with the lower part of his face 
 considerably concealed by the shawl he wore round 
 his throat, and the upper portion obscured by 
 the felt hat he had pulled over his brows. He 
 dropped easily on the chair nearest to him, and 
 without saying a word loosened the wrapper from 
 his neck, and pushed back the felt hat from his 
 forehead. 
 
 ''What was you wanting ?'' the lodge-keeper 
 asked, straightening her apron and nervously rub- 
 bing her hands one over the other. 
 
 " Don't let me alarm you,'' said the stranger in 
 a low voice, " and please to excuse my freedom ; but 
 you can give me some information, I dare say, and 
 I have no doubt you will." 
 
 '' What was you wanting to know ?" the old 
 woman asked, still watching her strange visitor with 
 some apprehension as he sat in a sort of reckless, 
 easy attitude, regarding her in a cool and audacious 
 manner. 
 
216 "SHODDY." 
 
 " Is this Sherwin^s mill T' he asked brusquely. 
 
 " It's Sherwin and Worsdale's mill, thou knows/' 
 the woman replied. '^ Old Mr. Sherwin has been 
 dead many year '' 
 
 " Wellj well, I know that \" the stranger roughly 
 interposed, " but it's called ' Sherwin's mill ' isn't 
 it?" 
 
 '' No it ain't !" the woman rejoined. '' It's called 
 ' Sherwin and Worsdale's mill ' — that's what it's 
 called." 
 
 '' That will do ; and how is Mr. Worsdale ?" the 
 stranger asked. 
 
 " Oh, he's well enough, for t' matter o' that. 
 Why? — Do you want to see him?" the woman 
 inquired in her turn. 
 
 " Never you mind whether I want to see him or 
 not. Is he here ?" the man asked again. 
 
 " Here !" the old woman said in some surprise. 
 " At this time o' night ? Not very likely. He's 
 at home, I should say, by this." 
 
 '^ It's a cold place, this Dalesford," the stranger 
 said, shivering, after a pause. " I'll come a little 
 nearer the fire." 
 
 As he drew his chair nearer the fireplace, the 
 old lodge-keeper glanced at him with an expression 
 in which curiosity was, almost drolly, mingled with 
 apprehension. 
 
 Probably, as she observed the rough exterior and 
 
THE MAN m THE CLOAK. 217 
 
 bold bearing of the man^ her thoughts recurred to 
 stories she had frequently heard of Turpin^ or that 
 celebrity among the highwaymen of her own county^ 
 one Mat Graves, who was popularly supposed, among 
 other points of resemblance to the notorious Dick, 
 to have been in the habit of placing householders 
 on the kitchen fire, with a view to eliciting more 
 correct information as to the place where the un- 
 fortunate victim had concealed his money or other 
 valuables. 
 
 "I should like some grog/' said the man. ^^"Will 
 you give me a little hot water ?" and he produced a 
 case bottle from his pocket. 
 
 Too much astonished at her visitor to refuse or 
 hesitate, the woman placed a glass before him, 
 and removed the kettle from the fire to the hob 
 in readiness for mixing. 
 
 '^Ah/' said the man, stretching out his legs, 
 " this is comfortable." 
 
 He mixed a good stiff" tumbler of brandy and 
 water, and with a jovial politeness, off'ered it to the 
 lodge- keeper. " Now, ma'am,'' said he, " do me 
 the favour to put your lips to that." 
 
 Visions of Messrs. Graves and Turpin arose 
 before the bewildered woman, blended with a sus- 
 picion of drugged liquor, and she steadily declined. 
 
 " No ?" cried her visitor. " Then I will !" and 
 he took a long draught. " Now, ma'am," he con- 
 
218 " SHODDY." 
 
 tinned^ throwing himself back in his chair, and turn- 
 ing his bold but sagacious face on the astonished 
 lodge-keeper, " don^t be alarmed. I^m strange, 
 perhaps, and rough ; but there^s no harm in me 
 whatever. This Dalesford is much changed !" 
 
 ^^ Oh, you know Dalesford then ?'' the woman 
 rejoined, feeling relieved by the man's observation, 
 though why, she did not know. 
 
 *^ Perhaps I do," the stranger replied with a half- 
 smile, and then, as he offered her the brandy and 
 waiter, " better have a mouthful ? — but I forgot — a 
 clean glass, of course/' 
 
 The brandy smelt good and comforting, the 
 room was warm and the fire bright, and the stran- 
 ger's appearance seemed to have lost somewhat of 
 its questionable character, so the old woman produced 
 a modest little tumbler and said — - 
 
 " Well, thank you, sir, I don't mind if I 
 do." 
 
 Her visitor mixed the liquor, and the woman 
 dropping her little bob of .1 curtsey said, " Well, 
 here's my respects and thank you," and then 
 having taken a little sip, fell to sniffing and choking 
 and catching her breath, presently saying when she 
 had recovered — 
 
 " Eh ! but its varry strong, thou knows !" 
 
 " Yes, but it's very good ; pretty well up to 
 proof — take another sip — good liquor does not hurt 
 
THE MAN IN TEE CLOAK. 219 
 
 any one/' then he added after a pause of a few 
 seconds, '* you'll be Mrs. Lockwood, I think ?'' 
 
 " Nay/' the woman replied, " that was my name 
 afore I wedded. Ah ! nigh thirty years ago ! My name, 
 thou knows, is Wainwright ; ou'd Noah Lockwood 
 was my feyther — him as wur in t'raill when Matthy 
 Worsdale came into Dalesford, wi'out e'er a shoe to 
 his foot, and wur took on at Sherwin's mill. It wur 
 just after that as me and my 'Lijah wur joined." 
 
 " You and your what ?" the other asked. 
 
 " Me and ray 'Lijah ; that wur his name, see 
 thee ; 'Lijah Wainwright," the woman explained. 
 
 " Oh, true !" the man answered, and added, half 
 to himself, " ^Elijah/ of course; I forgot, they have 
 nothing but that kind of name in this part of the 
 country," 
 
 " He wur a good lad, wur 'Lijah," the old woman 
 went on to say, " till he wur crushed in t'mill, 
 twelve years ago ! Ah, dear !" 
 
 " I should like to hear about 'Lijah," said the 
 stranger in a somewhat gentler voice than before. 
 
 So the poor widow sat down and told the simple 
 story of her married life; and then spoke of her 
 father, old Noah, and how the old man to the last 
 used to tell of the day when Matthew Worsdale, a 
 ragged and weary wayfarer, earned his first dinner 
 in Job Sherwin's mill ; and from that the story, 
 prompted perhaps by occasional questions from her 
 
220 " shoddy:' 
 
 listener, expanded, as narratives under such circum- 
 stances frequently do, until it embraced an account 
 of Matthew^s progress in the world, and Mr. 
 Sherwin^s death, and the continued absence of his 
 son, and many other things which, as a faithful 
 historian, I have already endeavoured to describe. 
 
 When the old woman^s story came to treat of 
 the Worsdale family, and the particulars of Mr. 
 Sherwin^s death, and glanced at a rumour that had 
 been prevalent in the town at the time, of the 
 younger Sherwin^s decease as well, the stranger 
 shifted his attitude, and his face became strangely 
 attentive and interested, and he more than once 
 called her back to some portion of the narrative 
 that he probably had failed to catch or she to make 
 clear. A more observant person than the lodge- 
 keeper might, perhaps, have remarked that it did not 
 seem merely curiosity that made him so attentive a 
 listener, and withal so patient a one ; for now and 
 then when the old woman would recur, naturally 
 enough to her own affairs, he as constantly, by some 
 question or comment, would bring her back to that 
 part of the story in which he evidently had the 
 greatest interest. So the widow continued to talk, 
 repeating and explaining in obedience to his 
 promptings, and dwelling on those parts which 
 seemed to have the greatest effect on her listener ; 
 for there is surely a sort of intoxication born of 
 
THE MAN IN THE CLOAK. 221 
 
 talk; as well as one produced by liquor, and under 
 its influence the speaker will become excited and 
 hilarious, sentimental and maudlin, forgetful of 
 the present, regardless of consequences, and more 
 and more absorbed in the interest of the moment, 
 as the long pent-up feelings have at last a free out- 
 pouring through the organs of speech. 
 
 " And do you suppose this young Sherwin — that 
 was his name, I think ? — is dead ?'' the stranger 
 asked at length when the old woman had apparently 
 made an end of her tale. 
 
 " I dunnot know that/"* she replied, " but as good, 
 for aught they know of him hereabouts.^^ 
 
 " I suppose,^"* the man said after a short silence, 
 " if you were to see him you would know him 
 directly 7" 
 
 " I can^t rightly say,^'' the woman answered, " I 
 haven^t thought about it ; but he''s been in foreign 
 parts I^m told, and foreign parts change folks Vye 
 heerd say/' 
 
 " Quite so," the other replied ; " foreign parts do 
 change folks, as you say." 
 
 So replacing his hat and shawl and folding his 
 cloak about him, he slipped five shillings into the 
 lodge-keeper's hand, pleasantly observing it was to 
 be regarded as a water-rate for the quantity required 
 to lower the strong liquor they had been drinking, 
 and prepared to take his leave. 
 
222 « SEODDYr 
 
 " There^s one question^ mester/^ the woman said^ 
 '^ as I should like to be so bold to ask ?'' 
 
 " Well ?'' replied the man^ pausing on the door- 
 step. 
 
 " Who may you be ?" 
 
 " I^m a commercial traveller in the spirit trade/"* 
 the man said,, smiling as he spoke, '^ and that was 
 one of my samples you did me the favour of tasting 
 just now. Good evening.^^ And so, turning on his 
 heel^ he left the lodge. 
 
 '^ Who^s yon chap, Mark ?'^ inquired, on the same 
 evening, a customer seated in the bar parlour of 
 the " Talbot,'^ of the landlord, as a man with a pro- 
 fusion of dark hair, having thrown aside the cigar 
 he had been smoking and replaced a memorandum 
 book in which he had been making notes, adjusted 
 his loose overcoat or cloak and left the hotel. 
 
 " I know no more than you,^^ the landlord 
 rejoined; "he^s staying here.^^ 
 
 " Commercial ?'' the other inquired again. 
 
 '^ Hasn^t got the cut of that, has he ?" the 
 landlord asked by way of reply. 
 
 " Gives me the idea of a detective/^ a third 
 joined in with. ^^ Been here long, Mr. Bell ?'^ 
 
 " Since yesterday morning,^' the landlord replied. 
 
 " Luggage with him ?" the first customer asked. 
 
 '' Not much,''^ replied Mark ; " but whoever he is. 
 
TEE MAN IN THE CLOAK. 223 
 
 he knows how to live as well as anyone I ever 
 
 see." 
 
 " Take care he donH ' shoot ^ you, Mark/^ inter- 
 posed a yellow-faced young wiseacre of twenty^ or 
 thereabouts^ who, with a glass of spirits before him^ 
 and a fancy pipe stuck between his teeth, was en- 
 deavouring to pass as a man before he had lost the 
 appearance of a boy. " Don^t let him ' shoot '' you, 
 my son, and leave a portmanteau of bricks by way 
 of payment/^ 
 
 " When gents of that kind goes out ' shooting/ " 
 the landlord replied in the dry tone and manner we 
 find so common in Yorkshire, " they mustn''t come 
 down to the West Riding, see thee; the birds are 
 rather shy about here" — and then he added, glancing 
 at the clock, " I say, young gentleman, isn''t it time 
 you were in bed ? " 
 
 The elders seated round the room uttered a chuckle 
 of approval, and the humiliated youth very shortly 
 afterwards left them to their own conversation. 
 
 " Customers like him ain^t of much use,''"' Mark 
 continued, indicating by a jerk of his head the 
 departing lad. 
 
 '' It's Matthew Worsdale's son, aint it ?" the first 
 speaker asked. 
 
 " Nay,'"* the landlord replied. " Young W^orsdale's 
 left the town, I heard some one say. I wish he^d 
 paid me his account before he left. But this is one 
 
224 *' shoddy:' 
 
 of the same set — Batley^s son — ev^er since his father 
 was mayor^ he^s growed very much/^ 
 
 "Any truth in the report of Worsdale^s girl?'' 
 one of the company asked. 
 
 " I haven't heard any/' Mr. Bell replied. 
 
 " Why, to be married to young Palethorpe, the 
 curate/' the other explained. 
 
 "Ah, that'll be the eldest girl you're talking of, 
 I expect ?" another inquired. 
 
 " Eh ! Matthy Worsdale knows better than that, 
 I should think," Mark said. 
 
 " There's no truth whatever in the report," ex- 
 claimed a young fellow who had hitherto remained 
 silent, apparently absorbed in the newspaper before 
 him, but who now roused up and reddened exces- 
 sively. " There is no truth whatever in the report 
 — not that I've heard it before, mind you — but 
 I know the family, and should have known all 
 about it.'' 
 
 " Of course, to be sure/' said the first speaker. 
 Mr. Ossett would have heard as soon as anyone. 
 Young Worsdale was a friend of yours, I think ?" 
 
 " He was a friend, and is/' Frank said, reddening 
 again ; " and, mind you, Tim W^orsdale's not a bad 
 fellow. He may be foolish perhaps sometimes, but 
 he's a good fellow at heart, and I dare say he has 
 forgotten your little account, Mr. Bell ; and, if you 
 like, when I'm writing I'll mention it to him. He's a 
 
THE MAN IN THE CLOAK. 225 
 
 friend of mine, and I can easily do it, you 
 know ?" 
 
 "Well, thank you, sir/^ the landlord answered, 
 " I should feel obliged. It's not much, but it's 
 more than I should care to lose, and I don't like 
 teasing his father about it ; it might make un- 
 pleasantness between them." 
 
 For it may have flashed across the shrewd mind 
 of the landlord of the hotel, that debts contracted 
 in billiard-rooms and bar-parlours were not easily 
 recoverable from minors, and he saw a pleasanter 
 way to come by his own, through the friendly 
 mediation of Frank Ossett ; so he added politely, 
 seeing the youth about to go — 
 
 " Take a glass with me, sir ?" 
 
 " No, thank you," Frank replied, with his cus- 
 tomary cheery voice and bright smile, " I must be 
 going, so good night all ; " but when he had left 
 the hotel his face fell, and the poor young simple 
 lad walked towards his home in a miserably unsettled 
 and depressed state of mind, by reason of what he 
 had heard in the hotel of Dolly Worsdale's rumoured 
 engagement. To his chivalrous feeling and boyish 
 love, it seemed a violation of the sanctity with which 
 he had invested his friend's sister, that she should 
 have been the subject of remark in a room associated 
 with drink and smoke, and the loose talk they some- 
 times engender — in a room where he had heard 
 
 VOL. I. 15 
 
226 " shoddy:' 
 
 coarse jokes uttered and coarsely applauded, or 
 songs sung in a subdued voice and with closed 
 doors, and he felt annoyed and shocked, though he 
 couldn^t tell why, that her name should be associated 
 with another, and in such a place. 
 
 '^ She has a right to make her own choice, of 
 course,^^ he thought almost aloud ; '^ but such a 
 fellow as that !" and then he fell to devising 
 impracticable schemes to ascertain the truth of the 
 report. Should he make a friend of Tim^ and so 
 relieve from the weight of suspense his lad^s honest 
 heart ? Should he boldly tell Dolly herself, or 
 should he make love to Dolly^s sister, in the hope 
 that a spirit of jealousy thereby aroused might stand 
 his friend and urge Dolly to some manifestation of 
 affection? But a moment afterwards he discarded 
 the unworthy stratagem, when he thought of her 
 gentle face, and low soft voice, and how shameful it 
 would be to give that innocent girl a moment^s pain 
 or disquiet ; and then back again came the miserable 
 misgiving that it would be very little disquiet that 
 Dolly would feel for him ! And with that came a 
 romantic vision of rescuing her from some imminent 
 danger — say of death by fire or drowning — and so 
 compel a return of his love ; and, underlying all 
 this, was an insane and fierce desire to assail and 
 utterly destroy that exemplary minister of peace, 
 the E-everend Ernest Palethorpe. 
 
 Absorbed in these reflections, as he turned sud- 
 
TEE MAN IN THE CLOAK. 227 
 
 denly to the garden gate, which led to his father's 
 house, he ran against the figure of a man leaning 
 on the railings, and steadfastly regarding the 
 building. The man had the large cloak and the 
 profusion of dark hair that Frank, with others, had 
 remarked at the hotel. Frank looked at him for 
 a few minutes with surprise, not unmixed with 
 suspicion, and then said rather brusquely — 
 
 " I beg your pardon, I live here — do you want 
 anything T^ 
 
 " Nothing at all,"*' the man coolly replied, " Why?'' 
 
 " It seems a strange fancy," Frank said, ^' to 
 leave an hotel on a cold night to stare at a private 
 house for nothing — that^s all.'"' 
 
 " It is a strange fancy as you say,'' the man 
 answered, " but as it is mine, I indulge it." 
 
 '^ I think I saw you at the Talbot to-night ?" 
 Frank asked. 
 
 " Very possible," was the reply. *^ I am staying 
 there !" 
 
 " Staying long in the town ?" Frank inquired, 
 rather at a loss what to say. 
 
 " As long as my business, which is no one's 
 else, requires," the stranger returned. 
 
 " Well," said the lad sarcastically, somewhat 
 nettled by the other's manner ; " I suppose you 
 know the outside of the house by this time — perhaps 
 you would like to see the inside as well ?" 
 
 15—2 
 
228 " shoddy:' 
 
 '' The very thing I was about to propose/' the 
 man replied with perfect self-possession. 
 
 '' Ah, but look here/^ Frank argued, rather taken 
 aback by the other's coolness. " I don't know 
 who you are, you see, and " 
 
 " Do you generally give invitations in this part 
 of the country, and withdraw fi'om them when 
 accepted ?" the man asked quietly, '^ or are you 
 afraid of me, because you don't know my name and 
 address ?" 
 
 ^' Afraid !" cried Frank. " No ! I'm not afraid 
 of you or any one else ! You may come in if you 
 like, only mind, my people are gone to bed, and 
 therefore don't make a noise ; you can come into 
 my room." 
 
 So opening the outer door softly with his latch- 
 key, the youngster led the way into the hall, where a 
 lighted lamp had been left, and thence into a 
 small room on one side of the passage. Frank 
 was the only son, and had many of the indulgences 
 accorded to that fortunate position when allied to 
 competence. 
 
 " This is rather a droll adventure," he said, half 
 to himself with a laugh. " However, now you are here, 
 sit down and help yourself;" and he pushed a box of 
 cigars and a small spirit-decanter stand towards the 
 stranger. 
 
 The sagacious glance of the man in the cloak took 
 
THE MAN m THE CLOAK. 229 
 
 in the room and its contents in a moment, the 
 small bookcase in the corner with volumes of light 
 reading — no law books here ! — a cricket-bat and 
 fishing-rod in one corner, a double-barrelled gun in 
 another, the portrait of a favourite hunter over 
 the mantelpiece, the shelf of which was adorned 
 by a pair of bronzes of a setter and pointer ; whilst 
 on the walls hung two or three pairs of skates, a 
 pair of spurs and a riding whip, with some pictures 
 of racing and hunting scenes after Herring or Aiken. 
 Seated by the fire, smoking and conversing plea- 
 santly, Frank did not feel at all disposed to regret 
 his invitation to the man, stranger though he was. 
 The cool effrontery which had irritated him a few 
 minutes before outside the house, was softened 
 down to a gentlemanly ease and pleasant demeanour. 
 The stranger seemed a man of the world and of culti- 
 vation, and a somewhat eccentric appearance notwith- 
 standing, had the manner and the language of a gen- 
 tleman. Eccentricity, however, especially if it have an 
 air of boldness and independence about it, is not gene- 
 rally offensive to high-spirited and sound-hearted 
 young fellows, and when, after an hour's chat, the 
 stranger rose to take his leave, the impulsive and 
 generous lad was really sorry to lose his company, 
 and fairly said as much, and hoped to confirm their 
 acquaintance the next day. To this the man said 
 nothing, but shaking hands with Frank, walked 
 
230 " SEOBBYr 
 
 softly througli the hall of the house, and closed the 
 outer door carefully behind him. However, when 
 Frank called at the hotel the next day, he learnt that 
 the stranger had left the town by an early train, 
 and nothing more was known about him. 
 
 Frank remembered afterwards, when recalling the 
 incidents and conversation of their interview in 
 his little room, that his visitor had more than once 
 changed his position, complaining that the light from 
 the lamp hurt his eyes, so that he sat a great portion of 
 the time with his features in shade ; and on mention- 
 ing with characteristic candour to the landlord of the 
 hotel how pleasant a companion he had found his 
 recent mysterious inmate, and on being asked if 
 he knew who or what he was, he recollected that 
 during their interview no mention had been 
 made of the stranger^s name and business in any 
 way. He gradually remembered, though, as he 
 tried to think out the subjects which had furnished 
 them with conversation, how he had been led on to say 
 that the house which his father held on lease, had 
 belonged some years ago to Mr. Worsdale^s senior 
 partner, Sherwin, before the latter had removed to 
 a smaller residence, on the occasion of his son^s 
 leaving home. On this part of the story the 
 stranger asked several questions — Had Frank seen 
 him ? Did he know him ? though in a tone and 
 a manner that suggested no more interest on the 
 
THE MAN IN THE CLOAK. 231 
 
 subject than a well-bred person assumes who 
 wishes to encourage an agreeable conversation. 
 Frank's father having been the solicitor selected by- 
 Mr. Sherwin, senior, in many matters of business, 
 the youth had some knowledge of the family, and 
 there being no breach of confidence involved, freely 
 communicated it. He had, perhaps, a slight feeling 
 of uneasiness that he might have said more than 
 was quite prudent, but he called for a glass of bitter 
 beer and put the thought away from him ; and then 
 having ascertained the amount of Tim's debt to the 
 Talbot, he fabricated the wicked falsehood that he 
 had heard that very morning from Tim himself, 
 requesting him to call and discharge the account 
 without delay — and this the generous and foolish 
 young fellow did in his loyalty to an unworthy friend, 
 and for the love of that friend's pretty sister. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 MR. TITHERADGE HUMS A TUNE. 
 
 ID it ever occur to you^ in a crowded 
 thoroughfare,, what varied volumes of bio- 
 graphy^ adventure, and romance, — what 
 histories of schemes and aspirations ; of hope, joy, 
 and disappointment; of wild theories, or miserable 
 longings, are before, behind, and on every side of 
 you, more strange and startling, could we but know 
 the inner life of each, than can be found in any 
 circulating library in the world ? 
 
 To know that every person we see has a history 
 and an individuality of his own, and like to no one^s 
 else ; from which, were it fairly written down and dis- 
 passionately read, we might learn the strangest stories 
 from the most prosaic exteriors ; stories of heroism 
 perhaps, such heroism as belongs to fortitude and 
 patience, under great trouble and privation ; tales 
 of ambitious aspirations wretchedly bound in the 
 most threadbare of cloth ; romances of a pure love, 
 and, perhaps, of one honest passion, which it is just 
 possible may be the secret charm of the half-melan- 
 
MB. TITHERADGE HUMS A TUNE. 233 
 
 cboly face that would otherwise be so bright with its 
 wages of sin ; and living and moving essays on the 
 Absurd or the Impracticable, which would place 
 their authors on a level with the veriest madmen 
 that were ever made the subjects for a writ " de 
 Lunatico/' We meet eccentrics by the score, 
 harmless idiots, whose craze not unfrequently arises 
 from a superfluity of self-esteem, and who affect a 
 strange dress or odd manner in the belief that it 
 will add to the interest they think the public 
 attaches to them (as weak women, who have been 
 called pretty, will sometimes pout, stare, or grimace 
 in a prodigal self-enjoyment of their beauty) . But 
 it is among the sober and the staid we must look 
 for the madman who is in earnest. The small 
 grocer who has just sold you a pound of indifferent 
 coffee, or a packet of cocoa, may have a strange 
 crotchet on the subject of religion, which, could you 
 but stimulate him with some of his own tea to talk 
 upon, it would repay you to purchase the strongest 
 his little shop affords. That shabby, anxious-look- 
 ing man, whose umbrella and walking-stick business 
 is becoming daily worse, while he himself is seated 
 in a tavern, and is silently settling down into bank- 
 ruptcy — is not a drunkard ; — when he goes home he 
 doesn^t beat his wife or turn his children out of 
 doors ; he never uses bad language, and never seems 
 the worse for liquor ; he is simply a dreamer, and 
 
234 " SHOBBYr 
 
 is quietly goin^ mad on the subject of a Flying 
 Machine, perhaps, or the secret of Perpetual Motion. 
 That keen and active man of business, with the 
 lithe figure, and the quick and low action that long 
 residence in a town imparts to the habitual walker 
 on pavements, and the red-faced, stalwart yeoman 
 with the ponderous and manly tread, are, both of 
 them, very probably, hypochondriacs ; the former 
 suffering under a miserable presentiment that he 
 will die of apoplexy or softening of the brain, and 
 the other possessed of the idea that consumption 
 will shortly cut him off from the world which he is 
 otherwise so well fitted to enjoy. Perhaps the pre- 
 viously sedentary life of the one, and the absence of 
 sufficient mental work for the other, is the founda- 
 tion of their respective maladies; but they don^t 
 know it, nor would they believe it if you told them, 
 for it is one of the features of that disease called 
 hypochondria, that it resembles the miserable passion 
 of jealousy so far, that every argument brought 
 against it is distorted with morbid ingenuity into 
 further evidence of its own view, and it rejects all 
 comfort in proportion as it gathers strength. 
 
 A felicitous saying was that of the Jews of old, 
 that a man was " possessed of a devil,^^ and no less 
 appropriately did the monomaniac reply, " My name 
 is Legion," for there are many kinds and in great 
 numbers. 
 
MR. TITHEBADGE HUMS A TUNE. 235 
 
 About a week after the events last recorded in 
 the Yorkshire town of Dalesford, among one of the 
 great living streams that flowed towards the legal 
 centres at ten o^clock in the morning, each one, as I 
 say, bearing a strange history within himself — 
 histories chequered pretty much alike, I daresay, 
 in the total, if we could fairly set off the good and 
 evil of each man^s life — worldly success against 
 domestic trouble, physical health, and professional 
 failure, prosperity of the present, and a bitter 
 memory of the past — was one who, bending his steps 
 eastwardly down Holborn, passed on indifferent to the 
 crowd by whom he was surrounded. Calmly and 
 deliberately as he made his way along the pavement, 
 earnest and thoughtful, his glance directed before 
 him rather than on the ground, he walked steadily 
 on as men do whose minds are occupied with the 
 future more than with the past, until he came to 
 the corner of Brownlow Street. He passed up the 
 narrow street, and so through the gateway into 
 Gray^s Inn Gardens, and then referring to his 
 watch, he turned to the right, and so through 
 Warwick Court, back again to the main street. 
 
 Now, perhaps, a better man of business, and one 
 less given to dreaming of any kind, and, in conse- 
 quence, one less easily to be surprised out of his self- 
 possession, than Mr. Titheradge (of the firm of 
 Titheradge and Burnley, solicitors, Raymond Build- 
 
236 "SHODDY." 
 
 iugs, Gray^s Inn)^ it would not be easy to find ; but, 
 perhaps, if this spruce, though somewhat old- 
 fashioned, and shrewd legal practitioner, could have 
 known that at the moment he turned sharply round 
 the corner into the court from Holborn, the well- 
 dressed person against whom he ran was at that 
 moment thinking of him, he, Mr. Titheradge, would, 
 no doubt, have said rather more than the brief 
 apologetic words, " Beg pardon, I^m sure,^' and 
 might have felt greater surprise than he cared to 
 show ; while the courteous " Don^t name it^^ of the 
 other, would have lost considerably its indifference 
 of tone, could he have supposed for an instant that 
 Mr. Titheradge was the very person he was in 
 search of. Do we ever feel, I wonder, instinctively 
 attracted or repelled by persons who exercise a great 
 influence over our after-lives, in our first interview 
 with them ; or is it merely our fancy that guided 
 by the light of subsequent events, leads us to sup- 
 pose so ? This incident, however, had clearly made 
 no impression on the mind of either, for when half 
 an hour later, the same person, in accordance with 
 Mr. Titheradge^s instruction to his junior clerk, 
 who had just presented a card with the name of 
 ^^ Colonel Morton Yf entworth" engraved, entered 
 the attorney's private ofiBce, the two gentlemen 
 merely inclined their heads to each other without 
 evincing any recollection of their previous meeting. 
 
MR. TITIIEUADGE HUMS A TUNE. 237 
 
 " I believe I ought to apologise, Mr. Titheradge, 
 for disturbing you on what may appear a trivial 
 matter/' said the one announced as Colonel Went- 
 worth, " but my object in troubling you is to obtain 
 some information, if possible, of the whereabouts of 
 an old friend of whom I have lost sight for some 
 years, and who is, or was, a client of yours, I 
 believe/'' 
 
 " Pray take a seat,''' said Mr. Titheradge, poking 
 the fire and softly humming a little tune as he did 
 so, and stealing a sharp and observant glance at his 
 \dsitor. '' What is it you wish to know ?'' 
 
 " I am most desirous of knowing what has be- 
 come of my old friend and companion, Edward 
 Sherwin," the Colonel replied. '^ Can you tell me ? 
 Is he still living ? If in England, where can I see 
 him ; if, as when we last met, on the Continent, 
 where will a letter find him ?'' 
 
 The speaker uttered these words with some 
 degree of earnestness, and Mr. Titheradge hummed 
 his tune. It was a way of his on all occasions that 
 might require deliberation or care, to commence a 
 little droning or humming noise, leading an unwary 
 person to suppose he was about to favour him with 
 a song. But those who knew Mr. Titheradge were 
 aware that he only hummed as certain persons only 
 sing — when closely pressed ; and the low melodious 
 murmuring meant an infinity of things, either 
 
238 ''Shoddy:' 
 
 caution, reticence, doubt, deliberation, or decision, 
 as the case might be. 
 
 '^'^Well,^^ said he, poking the fire and still hum- 
 ming, '^well, I can scarcely tell you where Mr. 
 Sherwin is just now — no — I think not — no,^' and 
 he hummed again. 
 
 "I hojje,^^ said the Colonel, rather hastily, " there 
 is no impropriety or irregularity in my question ? 
 or that there would be anything unprofessional in 
 your supplying the information?^^ 
 
 " Oh dear ! certainly not ; my dear sir ! certainly 
 not," the lawyer answered ; " nothing could be 
 further from it — nothing more natural than your 
 inquiry. Oh dear V and hereabouts he hummed to 
 that extent that the clerks heard him, and it caused 
 one of them to observe that " the swell inside was 
 trying something on, for the governor was becoming 
 vocal." 
 
 " In that case," said Colonel Wentworth, " may 
 I beg you will favour me with any information on 
 the matter ?" 
 
 ^' Why, the fact is, my dear sir," Mr. Titheradge 
 rejoined, " I am really not in a position to say. 
 Mr. Sherwin, as I daresay you know, is a person of 
 some little eccentricity, and respecting his move- 
 ments, one really, as I may say, doesn^t know 
 where to have him. Now, some time ago I had a 
 letter from him dated from Paris ; the next was 
 
MB. TITHEBADOE HUMS A TUNE. 239 
 
 from Cairo or Alexandria; and whether he is now 
 in New Zealand or Spitzbergen I dare not under- 
 take to say/' And Mr. Titheradge laughed a little 
 and hummed pleasantly. 
 
 " Do you think he is in England ?^' the other 
 asked. 
 
 "Well, scarcely, I think/' and Mr. Titheradge 
 spoke slowly, and pottered at the fire with the poker ; 
 " scarcely, or he would have called on me, surely !" 
 
 " May I ask how long it is since you saw him ?" 
 the Colonel inquired. 
 
 " Well, let me see,'' and Mr. Titheradge referred 
 to a book like a diary, and humming as he did so, 
 turned over the leaves. " Ah, this is last year's — 
 to be sure. No, it must have been some years 
 since we met." 
 
 " How many years should you say^ now ?" the 
 Colonel asked again. 
 
 " Well," Mr. Titheradge replied, darting a sharp 
 though momentary glance at his questioner, and 
 then partially closing his eyes in an apparent effort 
 of memory, after the manner of an experienced 
 witness who is careful not to commit himself under 
 a rigid cross-examination, " let me see — possibly 
 ten, or even more than that. I should not like to 
 say to a year or so." 
 
 " And he has not been in England since ?" the 
 other asked rather eagerly. 
 
240 "Shoddy:' 
 
 " Ah, that I can't tell — I can't tell — no, no ! 
 hum ! hum V^ and Mr. Titheradge drew up to his 
 table and opened a book, as if to indicate that in 
 his opinion the interview had endured long enough. 
 
 " Then I have no means of communicating, even 
 by letter ?" the Colonel asked, almost impatiently. 
 
 " Well, I am not' in a position to advise on that 
 point/^ the solicitor said blandly. " If you please 
 to address any letter here for him it shall be for- 
 warded ; that is, you understand me, when we have 
 an intimation from Mr. Sherwin where to send it." 
 
 " Then I have nothing more to say, than to 
 apologise for my interruption of your more import- 
 ant business," Colonel Wentworth said. 
 
 " Oh, my dear sir !" Mr. Titheradge interrupted, 
 " you mustn't really mention that — really ! Only 
 sorry I could not give you more satisfactory infor- 
 mation — really ! Hum ! hum !" 
 
 '' But having taken up the time of a professional 
 gentleman, and, I fear, tried his patience, as well,'^ 
 the Colonel said, "■ if you will permit your clerk to 
 communicate with me, my address for the next 
 week is on my card, and " 
 
 " Not for a moment, my dear sir, not for a 
 moment !" the bland Titheradge, repeated, rising ; 
 and then bowing politely, humming pleasantly, and 
 poking the fire tenderly, he resumed his easy chair 
 as the Colonel left the room. 
 
MB. TITEEBADGE HUMS A TUNE. 241 
 
 Mr. Titheradge made a note in his diary. The 
 Colonel passed with a military tread through the 
 outer office to the pavement of Raymond^s 
 Buildings. 
 
 " Is he in England, I wonder ?" he said, almost 
 aloud. 
 
 It was six in the evening when he sat down 
 to dinner, in the coffee-room of the hotel in 
 the West End where he was staying. He had the 
 evening paper in his hand, but though he was 
 glancing at its columns it was evident his thoughts 
 were elsewhere. The waiter placed the daintily- 
 dressed dishes and the wine before him, and the 
 Colonel ate and drank of the best, yet apparently 
 unconscious that he was doing so. He sat a long, 
 long time with his last glass of wine, and then said 
 suddenly and aloud, '^ Vd give half what I am worth 
 to know if he is alive or in England V' 
 
 VOL. L \6 
 
,i~..:y^'^-^^ 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR ! 
 
 HRISTMAS at Dalesford, in the year of 
 which I am writings was a particularly 
 bright one. It was cold and frosty- 
 enough to satisfy the most inveterate skater, with 
 just sufficient snow to glisten and sparkle in the 
 sun, and conceal the ugly objects of the town in its 
 own angel raiment of purity. There was certainly 
 a predominance of blue noses and tightened lips, 
 with a propensity to run or trot in place of walk- 
 ing ; but the air was free and bracing, and most of 
 those who could scarcely articulate for the cold, 
 still contrived to splutter something about its being 
 a very seasonable and an old-fashioned Christmas. 
 It was a time of rejoicing generally ; and, perhaps, 
 most so with the operatives in S her win and Wors- 
 dale^s mill ; for it had been the custom for some 
 years past for all those connected with the works to 
 meet on the evening of Christmas Day in one of the 
 large store rooms, duly prepared and decorated for 
 the occasion, to partake of a substantial tea, and to 
 join in the innocent festivities of that blessed time. 
 
MEBBY CHRISTMAS Sf HAPPY NEW YEAR. 243 
 
 And let it be remembered, that drinking tea in 
 Yorkshire is widely different from a '^ tea-drinking ^' 
 elsewhere ; and whereas in the minds of those who 
 have assisted in the latter (as I have_, in connexion 
 with Sunday schools or young men's meetings), there 
 is an association of cool coffee and seed cake, sloppy 
 tea, wet tables, and dry speeches — a ^'^tea''^ in 
 Yorkshire means a delightful combination of the 
 substantiality of a luncheon, with the bright wake- 
 fulness of the afternoon repast ; and the enjoyable- 
 ness of a picnic in the comfortable warmth of a 
 snug room. Mr. Worsdale had no more idea of 
 entertfiiining his little workmen and workwomen, of 
 twelve or fifteen years of age, with a plum-bun and 
 coffee-grounds, and calling it a ^^ treat,'' than he 
 had of attracting the older hands from the tavern 
 or the dancing-room in holiday time, by insufficient 
 food and a feeble discourse ; but as he was a man 
 who kept little or no company he could very well 
 afford to meet his operatives once a-year upon such 
 terms as encouraged industry and sobriety, and 
 strengthened the bond between master and servant. 
 " Worsdale's do,'' as it was locally called, had 
 become an institution, and was so well known and 
 appreciated that there was no lack of " hands " 
 from Michaelmas to Christmas. Indeed, on most 
 occasions of the annual festival, persons who had 
 no connexion whatever with the mill, would strive 
 
 16—2 
 
244 "SHODDY." 
 
 to squeeze themselves in under the shadow of a 
 relative who happened to be employed; or on the 
 ground of ha^dng themselves worked there some 
 years previously ; or with any other excuse that 
 might suggest itself to serve as an introduction to 
 the good things which they knew, from experience 
 or report^ were awaiting consumption. Matthew 
 Worsdale knew as well as any one when such inter- 
 lopers were present^ but he would pretend not to 
 see them ; and when some officious pickthank in his 
 employment (a growth indigenous to every soil, I 
 am afraid, Yorkshire or otherwise) thought it his, 
 or perhaps more likely " her " duty, to acquaint 
 him, that Caleb This, or old Sally That, '^'^them as 
 used to work, at t^ mill an^ had gotten t^ bag, was 
 in V room, an"* was apeggin^ away at t"* beef in t^ 
 corner •/' Matthew, who detested an informer in 
 any shape, would bid the person get plenty to eat 
 and drink themselves, and never to mind any- 
 one else. One of the few exceptions to Mr. Wors- 
 dale^s forbearance had been the ingenious Mr. 
 Stepper a year previously ; for that worthy, having 
 first stated he had received an express invitation 
 from Mr. Tim, and afterwards, on being taxed with 
 uttering a falsehood, having averred that he had 
 been employed by Mr. Worsdale^s solicitor to post 
 some bills in reference to property of which Mat- 
 thew wished to dispose, and pretended to have thus 
 
MERRY CHRISTMAS ^ EAPPY NEW YEAR. 245 
 
 qualified himself to participate in the enjoyment, 
 the argument was considered insufficient for his 
 purpose, and Mr. Stepper was compelled to retreat 
 with considerable despatch ; his departure being 
 materially accelerated by the powerful grasp and judi- 
 ciously applied foot of a stalwart lad of twenty, whose 
 savings against Christmas Mr. Stepper had contrived 
 to diminish by a game of cribbage the previous day. 
 On the Christmas Eve the hands knocked off 
 work an hour or two earlier, and thus additional 
 time was afforded to prepare the two rooms set 
 apart for the annual gathering. These rooms were 
 in a building removed from the body of the mill ; 
 they were larger and more commodious ; and it was 
 an additional precaution against accident by fire, as 
 on these occasions — and on these only — Mr. Wors- 
 dale permitted smoking on the premises. There 
 were those who had pointed out to him the danger 
 of this practice, but he used to say that tobacco was 
 the poor man^s only luxury, and on that night at 
 least it should be indulged in. But when the 
 humble and happy guests had left, and the rooms 
 were darkened and in silence, very few knew how 
 the careful master used to go alone over the part of 
 the premises where the festivities had been held, 
 sniffing and peering in every hole and corner, with 
 a pitcher of water in his hand, ready to quench the 
 slightest indication of a spark. 
 
246 "SHODDY." 
 
 It was about seven o'clock on this particular 
 Christmas Eve ; the two rooms had been cleared of 
 their contents and swept — for volunteers were never 
 wanted at such times — and two or three of the 
 youngsters were assisting Joe Boothroyd to garnish 
 the walls with holly and mistletoe from a large heap 
 placed in the centre of the floor. Dolly was there, 
 with her beaming, happy face, requesting " Mr. 
 Boothroyd,'^ in her low rich voice, to place a larger 
 piece over the place where her father was used to 
 sit at the table with his workmen ; or deftly tying 
 with nimbleness and dexterity little bouquets of arti- 
 ficial flowers with blue ribbon, that placed at inter- 
 vals might add to the cheerfulness of the room. 
 Miss Prissy had skipped in once or twice, but 
 finding nothing there but a dreadful litter, as she 
 said, had skipped out again, and gone back to her 
 piano and an Italian song she intended to astonish 
 the good Yorkshire folks with. Mr. Tim had 
 come home for the Christmas-tide — and had brought 
 a fellow-pupil with him to spend the holiday- 
 time, a waggish young person of eighteen, with 
 preternaturally large feet — who addressed the mill- 
 girls as " my dear," but appeared ill at ease with 
 Dolly and her sister, and who was also given 
 to calling little Phil '' young snob," and smiting 
 him unawares ; and these two young fellows, 
 each with a large cigar, also looked in, and kindly 
 
MEBBY CHRISTMAS Sf HAPPY NEW YEAR. 2 17 
 
 threw out several suggestions for the more effective 
 decorations of the walls ; but on being told curtly 
 by Joe Boothroyd that smoking before the privileged 
 hour of the morrow was contrary to rule, Tim won- 
 dered, under his breath, at the fellow's impudence, 
 and withdrew with his companion to the billiard- 
 room of the Talbot. Phil, who was never happier 
 than when in his friend Joe^s company, was, after 
 the manner of his kind and age, in every one^s way, 
 and a constant cause of anxiety to Dolly, whose 
 watchful eyes detected him attempting gymnastics 
 on the under-side of a ladder ; or balancing himself 
 on the tressels that were to support the tables- 
 When Mr. Worsdale himself appeared an hour or 
 two later, he found the room gaily decorated, the 
 tables ready placed in order, and everything looking 
 brighter and gayer than he had ever seen it before. 
 
 " Oh, come ! well done !" he was pleased to 
 observe. ^^ You. have lost no time; but T had no 
 desire to deprive you of your evcDing, Boothroyd — 
 this is Christmas Eve, you know/' 
 
 " Very glad to have been of service, sir/^ replied 
 Joe, cheerfully and respectfully. " I don't think I 
 could have employed my time better or more 
 agreeably l^' and as he said this his glance for a 
 second rested on Dolly, who, wdth some fragments 
 of holly and mistletoe gathered up in her apron, a 
 little hat she was in the habit of wearing about the 
 
248 « shoddy:' 
 
 garden, perched jauntily on one side, and some of 
 her long, brown hair that had escaped from its 
 bands falling in a natural curl on her trim little 
 shoulders, and her happy beaming face, full of 
 honesty and good humour, looked as pretty aud as 
 dear a little creature as could have been found on 
 that Christmas Eve in Yorkshire — or out of it. 
 Perhaps her gentleness extended its influence to her 
 father, for he said rather impulsively, and perhaps 
 more kindly than was his wont — 
 
 " You must be tired ; have some supper, Booth- 
 royd ?' 
 
 An expression of pleased surprise flashed in the 
 girFs face for a second, and little Philip jumping 
 up cried out, " Oh do, Joe V but the man quietly 
 and respectfully declined, and shortly after they 
 turned out the lights and left the place. 
 
 It was a cheerful and pleasant sight the next 
 evening, at five o'clock, when Mr. Worsdale's humble 
 guests had assembled, and were seated at the long 
 tables covered with white cloths and loaded with 
 the substantial elements of a " Yorkshire Tea.'' 
 Rounds and sirloins of cold beef, gigantic hams, and 
 large masses of collared brawn, with plenty of good, 
 stout ale for those (and they were not few) who 
 preferred the stronger liquor or who chose to com- 
 mence their repast with it ; and the Enochs and 
 Adams and Gideons — for the prevalence of Scripture 
 
MEBBY CHRISTMAS ^ EAPPT NEW YEAR. 249 
 
 names in this part of the country is rather striking 
 — grinned at one another across the table in mute 
 approval of the feast, and jogged Dinah and Miriam 
 and Sarah (who had come in their best, and for the 
 first hour called one another " ma'am") seated by 
 their side, in open admiration of their employer's 
 hospitality. For Matthew Worsdale did nothing by 
 halves ; the earnestness of character in his younger 
 manhood was still apparent in the thoroughness 
 with which he completed w^hatever he had once 
 commenced ; but even as his liberality at such 
 times was unbounded so was his will indomitable. 
 
 Among the recreations of the evening he would 
 permit no card-playing or games of chance, nor 
 would he allow of dancing. He had his own reasons 
 for this, I dare say, but he never deigned to explain 
 them. A piano had been placed on a low platform 
 at the upper end of the room to conduce to the 
 innocent amusement of his workpeople ; and the 
 arbitrary old fellow, who was a sort of benevolent 
 despot in his way, had a pride in being able to 
 assert, that at the termination of his annual gathering 
 no one left the mill a jot or tittle the worse for the 
 evening's amusement. 
 
 On the other hand, he would allow of nothing in 
 the way of addresses to be delivered by any of those 
 wham he chose to invite, and who were glad to be 
 present at such a happy gathering. When the 
 
250 " shoddy:' 
 
 Rev. Ernest Palethorpe, on one occasion, had pro- 
 posed;, after saying a long grace, that before 
 enjoying the bounties their respected and benevolent 
 friend had provided, his Christian brethren should 
 join him in a hymn of praise, Matthew was down 
 upon him, and snubbed the unfortunate young 
 curate so eflPectually, that Dolly, like the angel of 
 peace she always was, pitying the young minister's 
 embarrassment, engaged him in an animated con- 
 versation until the sickly face of the ill-starred 
 Ernest fairly glowed with satisfaction at the 
 " interest the dear girl seemed to feel for him/' 
 On another occasion a gifted and enthusiastic, 
 though perhaps slightly mad, person who had strong 
 views on the education of the people, proposed to 
 Matthew to improve the occasion with a brief, but 
 instructive address on the subject of Pre- Adamite 
 Man, or something equally cheerful ; but ^Matthew 
 was down on him too, and, pursing out his ominous 
 nether lip, replied in so dry and caustic a fashion, 
 that in spite of the insensibility to sarcasm, which 
 many very estimable persons enjoy, the man of 
 science felt there was a sneer lurking somewhere iu 
 Matthew Worsdale^s retort, and prudently retired 
 from the contest. Mr. Worsdale, as I think we 
 know, could be very blunt, not to say rude, when 
 he chose ; but perhaps in this case he was right. 
 Very good and very clever people are frequently 
 
MEBBY CHRISTMAS ^ HAPPY NEW YEAR. 251 
 
 great bores. Perhaps most of us have at one 
 time or another been oppressed by a person of 
 extensive reading, and I state my conviction that 
 there are times when the utterances of excessive 
 goodness may become tiresome. 
 
 The Rev. Ernest Palethorpe had contrived to be 
 present on the present occasion, and seated at the 
 table "where Dolly was presiding, drank his tea and 
 ate the sweet cakes and biscuits with much gusto. 
 He had suffered a slight pang of annoyance in the 
 earlier part of the evening, when he had caught 
 sight of Joe Boothroyd, dressed so quietly, and 
 seeming so much at his ease that he looked almost 
 like a gentleman ; but Joe was now at the bottom 
 of the long room, and, behind a round of beef, was 
 engaged in meeting the demands of the hearty 
 Yorkshire appetites about him. 
 
 Miss Skimple, with her favourite pupil in charge, 
 remained near the upper end of the room, and 
 calmly surveyed the happy workpeople through her 
 double eye-glass. Mr. Tim, who professed to be 
 superior to this kind of thing, accompanied by his 
 newly found friend from Manchester, i\Ir. Rawley 
 Todd, looked in "just for a minute, you know, to 
 see the beggars eat,^' and was discovered by Phil at 
 a table, where a pretty, black-eyed mill-girl was 
 pouring out the tea, and who was blushing and 
 giggling at the nonsense that the lad and his friend 
 
252 " SEODDYr 
 
 were talking to her. But the observact eye of Mr. 
 Worsdale had already noted this ; and on the 
 delivery by Phil of his message to Tim, the young 
 gentleman guessed that the foul weather signals 
 were being hoisted, and hurried his friend to another 
 part of the room. 
 
 " Do you think/^ whispered the Keverend Ernest 
 to Miss Skimple, as the long meal was drawing to 
 a close, " that a few brief words of humble exhor- 
 tation would be out of season on the present 
 occasion ?'' 
 
 Miss Skimple having replied that words which 
 had for their object encouragement of the humbler 
 classes, or an invitation to seek grace, could never 
 be out of season at any time or place, the ill- 
 advised young man was on his feet in a moment, 
 only too happy for an opportunity to exhibit before 
 Dolly the earnest devotion of his character. But 
 that watchful young lady, divining his purpose in 
 time, came to the point at once, and said eagerly, 
 
 "Pray don't think of it, Mr. Palethorpe. Be 
 advised. Father objects to any one speaking here 
 except himself." 
 
 The curate flushed slightly, and his sickly smile 
 rested for a moment on Dolly ; but the girl was 
 evidently so much in earnest, that the privilege of 
 hearing his sentiments was denied to the work- 
 people that evening. It was well the curate 
 
MEBBY CHRISTMAS 8r HAPPY NEW YEAR. 253 
 
 refrained^ or he would inevitably have come into 
 collision with Mr. Worsdale, as at that moment 
 Matthew, rapping loudly with the handle of a fork 
 on the table, to direct attention to himself, said, in 
 his firm voice and with his deliberate utterance — 
 
 " I am very glad to see you all here to-night. 
 I am very glad to think that most of you who are 
 here to-night were here last year at the same time, 
 and the year before that too ; and I hope we may 
 all be spared to meet again next Christmas, and for 
 many more Christmases after that. It shows we 
 understand one another, and can work with one 
 another. I hope you all will enjoy yourselves. 
 Those who desire to smoke can go into the other 
 room, because we are going to have some music 
 here. Eat, drink, and be merry; and may God 
 bless you all, and all who belong to you !" 
 
 This was followed by many an earnest, " And God 
 bless you, mester V' And then, after three ringing 
 cheers from stout lungs, fortified by a hearty meal 
 and stimulated by a cordial feeling of attachment, 
 the party settled down again to their own various 
 modes of enjoyment, some of the women, who had 
 drank enormous quantities of tea, agreeing that if 
 all *' mesters was like Matthy Worsdale, poor folk 
 wouldna^ get trampled on ■/' and one garrulous old 
 lady, who had put on the one faded silk gown which 
 she kept expressly for this occasion, and had worn 
 
254 "SHODDY." 
 
 ever since the festival had been instituted^ remar]<ed 
 to the Reverend Mr. Palethorpe, whom she unfor- 
 tunately selected for her confidence^ '^ that them 
 few words of Matthy was better nor any sermon." 
 
 Some of the men then retired to the room set 
 apart for smoking ; others prepared to remain and 
 listen to or take part in the musical performances 
 of the evening. Many of them had a rough skill 
 as singers ; and more than one could play an ac- 
 companiment with a taste and delicacy of touch (as 
 I have myself heard) that you would scarcely credit 
 the large and sinewy hands with possessing. Tim^s 
 Manchester friend, who had fallen desperately in 
 love with Miss Priscilla the day before, attempted a 
 clumsy flirtation with that lively and provoking 
 little lady, much to the alarm of Miss Skimple. 
 But the governess need have had no uneasiness on 
 the. subject ; for Prissy had called at the little post- 
 office the day before, and had a vivid remembrance 
 of the manly grace and bearing of her Redwell 
 admirer, to the great disadvantage of her brother's 
 friend, whom she treated with all the pretty inso- 
 lence young ladies of her age know so well how to 
 assume. But the foolish boy persevered, and made 
 himself generally a nuisance, treading on Miss 
 Skimj^le's foot with his large and wandering boots; 
 knocking a cup and saucer off the table with his 
 awkward elbow; and otherwise being as entirely 
 
MERRY CHRISTMAS S- EAPPY NEW YEAR. 255 
 
 objectionable as gawky youth only can be. It 
 was, perhaps, to escape from his clunisy attentions, 
 or probably to rivet her chains the more closely, 
 that the artful little coquette complied with the 
 pressing desire of several about her, and sat 
 down at the piano, and warbled one of her little 
 brilliant Italian songs, which always so delighted 
 her father, who stood gazing at his pretty daughter 
 with a twinkle of paternal pride in his eyes^ under 
 the habitual frown of his heavy brows. 
 
 The Reverend Ernest, having thanked Prissy for 
 her '' nice song,'^ sidled on to the music-stool, and 
 sang a little hymn ; but a heavy German air, with 
 very weak English words (they were his own 
 words, by the way, as he had the indiscretion to 
 admit to Prissy, who replied slyly^ " Well, do you 
 know, I thought they must be !'^) is not a happy 
 combination, and the guests did not demand it a 
 second time. Then in due course followed a rattling 
 old Yorkshire hunting-song, by a mill-hand, with a 
 voice that made the room ring again, and with a 
 strong West-Riding dialect that seemed well in 
 keeping with the vigorous style of the song and the 
 singer, and rather an improvement than otherwise, 
 and which, set to a good swinging melody in the 
 jovial six-eight time, described how " ou^d Tod" 
 (the north-country name for a fox), in the exercise 
 of his native cunning, " Had led us all astray, my 
 
256 " SHODDY." 
 
 lads, liad led us all astray !" yet, nevertheless, how, 
 when the rest of the pack had been deceived by the 
 sagacious Tod, one Towler had followed up the 
 scent, " And pulFd him down at last, my lads ; he 
 puird him down at last V And then, in the last 
 verse, when the singer dexterously introduced the 
 huntsman's cry, and the chorus of the dogs giving 
 tongue, the inborn love of field sport so noticeable 
 in the Yorkshire character broke out in a vociferous 
 shout of delight. 
 
 About this time there was a slight commotion at 
 the lower end of the room, occasioned by a woman 
 who did not belong to the mill in any way endea- 
 vouring to force her way in, for the purpose, as she 
 said, of speaking to Dolly. Eut as Dolly was at 
 this moment seated at the piano, and playing the 
 prelude to a song, the stranger was compelled to 
 remain patiently till its termination. It was a 
 simple, unpretentious song — " Auld Robin Gray,'"* 
 perhaps, or one of that class, wherein the words 
 and the melody seem to arise one from the other; 
 and Dolly sang it in a low, rich, and fresh young 
 voice, without any effort, yet with so much feeling, 
 playing the full chords delicately and expressively. 
 There was no applause at the end, but the people 
 were very still ; and the old lady in the perennial 
 silk gown, who had crept up to the piano, said, as 
 she took Dolly's hand, whilst her own weak old 
 
MEBBY CHBIST2IA8 ^ H^iFPY NEW YEAR. 257 
 
 eyes were brimming over witli tears,, " God Almighty 
 bless thy pretty tongue, my dear ! When I hear 
 thy sweet voice, I can think I am with my own 
 poor lassie^ dead and gone, in heaven. Amen \" — 
 a profanity, perhaps, which it was fortunate Miss 
 Skimple did not hear; whilst poor Palethorpe was 
 rendered so hopelessly in love by Doily^s song that 
 he entirely forgot to correct it. 
 
 There was a slight lull in the music and the con- 
 versation after this, and some more of the men 
 joined the company, w^ho were smoking and telling 
 old stories in the other room. Then, as the amuse- 
 ment seemed to flag a little, Mr. Worsdale said 
 cheerily — 
 
 " Come ! Is there no one who will volunteer a 
 song?^' 
 
 There was a slight pause, and then, seeing no one 
 else accept the challenge, Joe Boothroyd quietly 
 and modestly advanced to the piano. The Reverend 
 Ernest looked rather paler than usual, but he pre- 
 served his ordinary amiable, though slightly sickly, 
 smile. Joe sat down, and ran his hands over the 
 keys with the ease and precision of a skilful 
 musician, and no one better than the curate himself 
 felt the contrast to his own undecided and faltering 
 touch of the instrument. With a short introduction 
 of a few bars only, Joe sang, with a full baritone 
 voice, a simple love ditty, set in the expressive minor 
 VOL. I. 17 
 
258 " shoddy:' 
 
 of an old North-country melody^ to which the re- 
 currence of a peculiarly melancholy phrase imparted 
 a singular tenderness. But, in spite of the simple 
 character of the song itself, there was a sentiment 
 in Joe^s treatment of it, and a finish about his 
 style, that suggested higher efibrts if he had been 
 disposed to make them. There was a good deal of 
 noisy approbation when Joe concluded, and the 
 Reverend Ernest felt constrained to say something 
 laudatory. So he told Joe Boothroyd he had a 
 pleasing voice, though perhaps too powerful for that 
 room, and that the song, though simple, was not 
 devoid of merit ; all of which Joe took so quietly, 
 not to say carelessly, that I am afraid he did not 
 improve his position with the young curate. 
 
 ^^ Where's Dolly gone, do you know. Miss 
 Skimple ?'' Matthew asked when he noticed her 
 absence. 
 
 But Miss Skimple had not seen her, nor had 
 Prissy, and Mr. Worsdale repeated the question to 
 Joe, who, having retired for the purpose of inquiring 
 returned shortly afterwards to tell Matthew that a 
 poor woman, the wife of a fellow named Stepper, 
 who had recently deserted her and her family — Mr. 
 Worsdale would remember the circumstance — had 
 sent a neighbour to entreat ]\Iiss Worsdale, for the 
 love of Heaven, to see her that blessed night, before 
 it was too late ! 
 
MEBBY CHRISTMAS Sf HAFPY NEW YEAR. 259 
 
 ^' And I suppose my daughter has gone ?" Mr. 
 Worsdale asked in a tone, of some displeasure. 
 ^' I believe so/^ Joe replied. 
 
 " But what for, on this night of all others ? On 
 what account ?" Mr. Worsdale asked sharply. 
 
 " On a blessed errand of Christian charity,, this 
 night or any other, you may rest assured, sir V Joe 
 replied, with so much earnestness that his employer 
 looked for a moment startled, which Joe probably 
 observed, for he covered some indication of confusion 
 by hastily adding — 
 
 " Shall I go and see for Miss Worsdale, sir, and 
 see her safely home ?" 
 
 " Will you be so kind ?" Mr. Worsdale asked ; 
 and added, almost apologetically, '^ it^s rather a tax 
 on you, Boothroyd, to-night.^^ 
 
 " I will go with pleasure, sir,^^ Joe replied. '' I 
 do not feel it a tax in the least •/' — (and I don^t 
 think he did.) 
 
 It was some little distance from the mill to the 
 miserable court where the unhappy woman lived, 
 and Joe made his way hastily thitherward, availing 
 himself of whatever short cuts he knew. All the 
 houses he passed had lights in their windows, and 
 from nearly every one came sounds of merry- 
 making in the happy Christmas time. The stars 
 overhead were shining clearly through the dark blue 
 sky, and the crystals of the frozen snow glanced 
 
 17— a 
 
260 " SEODDYr 
 
 brightly in their light. The night was singularly 
 beautiful^ and under the Christmas influence even 
 Dalesfordj ugly and uninteresting as it was^ seemed 
 hallowed and refined. 
 
 It was not yet ten o'clock, and, with few 
 passengers in the street, Joe Boothroyd had no 
 difficulty in perceiving the figure of a man, wrapped 
 in a large cloak and, with a profusion of dark hair 
 under his sombrero hat, walking in a line with 
 himself, though on the other side of the street. 
 There was nothing unusual in that, but when the 
 figure crossed directly to Joe, the latter stopped 
 short, and said quietly — 
 
 '' Well r 
 
 " You are one of Worsdale^s men ?'' 
 
 '' What if I am ?" Joe asked. 
 
 " I saw you at the mill to-night," the strange 
 figure replied. 
 
 '^ I didn't see you," Joe said. 
 
 " Perhaps not," the other rejoined. '' Have you 
 been with him long ?" 
 
 " Why do you ask ?" Joe returned. 
 
 " I want answers, not questions," the other 
 observed. 
 
 " So do I," said Joe. " Good night ; " and he 
 walked away. 
 
 There was nothing in it, perhaps, Joe thought ; 
 probably a person wanting employment or assistance. 
 
MEBBY CHBISniAS ^ HAPPY NEW YEAR. 261 
 
 though the stranger^s appearance and manner didn't 
 favour that idea ; or more likely still, some idle 
 fellow who had nothing better to do than to pick up 
 the acquaintance of the next idle fellow who was 
 willing to talk or drink. And yet what was it that 
 made Joe pause, and for a second retrace his steps, 
 as if to ask further questions or prolong the con- 
 versation ? But the object of his errand at that 
 moment recurring to him, he quickened his pace, 
 and speedily arrived at Jobling^s Court. It was the 
 only place he noticed that gave no signs of the 
 Christmas night. Most of the dwellings were 
 without light ; probably the tenants were keeping 
 Christmas at the Red Lion, or some kindred 
 hostelry, presently to emerge therefrom to engage 
 in a free combat, in which fist, boot, clog, teeth, 
 and, perchance, knife, would be called into requisi- 
 tion ; so Joe had little difficulty in finding the place 
 he was in search of by the light in the upstairs 
 window. 
 
 The outer door of the wretched hovel stood open 
 — it generally did — and Joe entered easily enough, 
 for the bright Christmas moon was shining directly 
 through the doorway, and there was no furniture of 
 any kind to fall over, or impede his entrance. He 
 knocked softly, but receiving no answer, and hearing 
 voices upstairs, he began to ascend, pausing now 
 and then as he did so to listen. 
 
262 '' shoddy:' 
 
 , " I knowed she'd never die, till she seed thee 
 again V' he heard the hard, dry tones of the poor 
 mother saying, " for while Mary there "wur gone 
 for thee, the poor bairn kept looking at the door/' 
 
 " But she may live yet, and get well and strong 
 again ! Bless her \" he heard Dolly say in a voice 
 broken by tears — " and be a comfort and a help to 
 you, Mrs. Stepper/' 
 
 '^ Nay, she'll die now !" the woman replied, 
 huskily, but not weeping — " she'll die now ! — An' 
 why shouldn't she ? — why shouldn't she ! She'll 
 die happy, now you've comed — she'll die happy. 
 I knowed she wur bound to live till you comed — 
 but she'll die happy now — and you are happy now, 
 Tilly, my dear ?" 
 
 There was a pause and a movement, as if the little 
 sufferer had been turned on the bed, and Joe softly 
 and reverently, cap in hand, approached the open 
 door of the sick child's room. A wretched place 
 enough, dimly lighted by a swaling candle stuck in 
 an old bottle. On a miserable bed, on which had 
 been thrown some tattered clothes and a piece of 
 worn carpet, for the sake of increasing the warmth, 
 lay the dying child. The mother, whose careworn, 
 hungry face had no trace of tears, stood regarding 
 her little one, with the cold and fixed look of utter 
 despair. Her neighbour — she who had been to 
 fetch Dolly, was weeping silently in a corner, and 
 
MEBBY CHRISTMAS ^ HAPPY NEW YEAR. 263 
 
 mopping up her honest tears with the foot of an old 
 stocking. Dolly^ herself, had fallen on her knees 
 by the poor bed, and holding a little wasted hand 
 in her own, was praying aloud (her back was 
 towards Joe, but he heard every word uttered, as he 
 stood in the shadow of the doorway with his hand 
 across his eyes), praying simply and earnestly, that 
 if it should please Him to take back that little one, 
 from her pain and suffering that night, to give to 
 those left behind the fortitude to bear their trouble 
 meekly, for the love, and in remembrance of One who 
 bore so much for us, and who blessed and loved little 
 children so many years ago. A slight movement 
 in the room aroused Joe^s attention, and he saw the 
 hard features of the poor mother had relaxed, and 
 she, too, was weeping and kneeling by the bed. As 
 Dolly prayed, the blue eyes of the little child, which 
 for a few moments had been strangely bright, grew 
 dim ; and then for the second time — and the last — 
 she fell asleep holding Dolly^s hand. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A SLIGHT SURPRISE. 
 
 FEW days later, tlie inmates of Worsdale 
 House were conscious that something had 
 arisen to disturb the equanimity of its mas- 
 ter. The foul weather signals were more prevalent 
 than usual, and even Prissy's fascinations seemed to 
 lack their customary charm. He snapped at Tim 
 and his friend, and inquired in a caustic manner the 
 probable length of their Christmas vacation ; — he 
 grumbled at Phil for leaving the doors open, and 
 made himself altogether, as his eldest son expressed 
 himself, " deucedly unpleasant.''^ To make matters 
 worse, Dolly, who was usually the peacemaker, had 
 been indisposed, and even hysterical — a strange 
 occurrence for her — and had not appeared, once or 
 twice, at the breakfast-table. Perhaps the old 
 gentleman felt her influence, though he would not 
 acknowledge it, and was very sensible of the blank 
 her absence occasioned. Whatever the cause of his 
 irritability might be, it had certainly not been 
 diminished by that most unfortunate of curates, the 
 Reverend Ernest Palethorpe, who generally made an 
 
A SLIGHT SURPRISE. 265 
 
 observation at the wrong time, hoping that Mr. 
 Worsdale was not suffering from gout, as he had 
 remarked, when he had the pleasure of meeting 
 him the previous evening in the High Street, that 
 Mr. Worsdale was carrying a stout stick — a practice 
 which the hale and hearty old fellow was well 
 known to despise. Matthew had answered the young 
 curate rather shortly at the time, but there, in a 
 corner of the hall, the stick undoubtedly was, and 
 looking as like its present possessor, as it is possible 
 for an inanimate object to resemble a human crea- 
 ture ; being short, thick, stout, and strong, and 
 seeming as obstinate a bit of oak as could well be 
 met with. The truth was that Matthew had not 
 thought it worth while to explain to the Reverend 
 Ernest, that on the Christmas evening after his cus- 
 tomary precaution against fire, he had been followed 
 home by a strange man in a large cloak ; and that 
 the same thing having occurred the following night, 
 he had purchased the stick in question. 
 
 In addition to this, he had received a morning or 
 two later, a letter with the London postmark, and 
 superscribed in a rather strange handwriting. He 
 had read it once or twice at breakfast time — he put 
 it by — and after a short interval read it again. He 
 had taken up his morning paper, only to lay it 
 aside, and to become lost in thought. In short he 
 was eminently unsatisfactory and disagreeable. In 
 
266 " SHODDY." 
 
 the course of the day he had attended a meeting of 
 the directors of the Dalesford Banking Company; 
 and had returned to dinner in a temper more 
 morose than before. He asked a few questions 
 briefly and brusquely^ and muttered a good deal 
 under his voice. How was Dolly ? If she is ill, 
 better have advice ; no occasion to excite herself 
 about the death of that child — seems ^ery absurd — 
 very — very much so indeed ! — shut the door Philip ! 
 — and so on. 
 
 It was in the evening, when the little family were 
 awaiting the return of the master of Worsdale 
 House, and Dolly was seated by the fire, looking a 
 shade paler and graver than usual, that the servant 
 announced that Mr. Boothroyd, from the mill, had 
 brought the books for the master, and, please, could 
 he speak a word or two with Miss Worsdale ? . Dolly, 
 with an almost flurried manner, said hastily, yes, 
 and would the servant show him into the breakfast- 
 room? I am not sure that Miss Skimple did 
 not interpose one or two objections, on the score of 
 strict propriety ; but there were times, and this was 
 one of them, when Miss Dolly could take matters 
 with a rather high hand, and would request her 
 esteemed friend not to talk nonsense, if she pleased, 
 and then Miss Skimple found it best to sniff and 
 be silent. 
 
 Joe Boothroyd was resting with his arm on the 
 
A SLIGHT SURPRISE. 267 
 
 mantelpiece as Dolly entered^ gazing in an ab- 
 stracted manner at the fire. He rather star;:edj 
 when she said — 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Boothroydj is it all over ?' 
 
 •' Quite/^ Joe replied, " and I hope as you would 
 wish it to be?"^ 
 
 " And the poor little grave is in a place where I 
 can see it V' Dolly asked^ her soft eyes filling 
 with tears. 
 
 " Yes, if you wish to do so. I thought it best/" 
 Joe continued, " that everything should be as 
 simple as possible."'' 
 
 " Yes — you were .quite right — and the poor 
 broken-hearted mother?"" the girl asked. 
 
 " I think she is reconciled to her little one"s 
 death, as one of God"s mercies,"" Joe answered 
 gravely ; and after a moment"s pause he added, 
 " and I do not doubt that it is so."^ 
 
 ^' But so young ! so young ! poor little thing !"" 
 Dolly said, with the tears rising again to her eyes. 
 
 " So young and so sinless, what would have 
 been her life here,"' Joe said, almost to himself, 
 " had it pleased Heaven to have spared her !"" 
 
 " And the poor mother knows of the little stone ?"" 
 Dolly anxiously inquired. " You have ordered it 
 for me ?" 
 
 " It is all done, and I propose this for the in- 
 scription/" he answered; giving Dolly a paper as he 
 
268 ''SHOLBYr 
 
 spoke, ^' you will see it is of the very simplest. 
 The poor woman was very grateful that her little 
 one was not to be buried by the parish. It is 
 strange what a dislike these people have of the 
 parish/^ 
 
 '^ I am so glad ! so glad ! Mr. Boothroyd/^ 
 Dolly said with a little hesitation. " I donH know 
 how to thank you for the trouble you have taken, 
 and the sympathy you have shown. In your kind- 
 ness in carrying out my wishes, and your goodness 
 to that poor woman, you have acted like a true 
 friend,^^ and Dolly added with earnestness, giving 
 him her hand — ^' a true gentleman V 
 
 '^ Miss Worsdale,^' Joe said gravely, as he held 
 Dolly^s little hand in his own, and looked down 
 into the earnestly womanly face that met his gaze 
 so fairly and honestly, '' it is I who ought to 
 thank you. You have done more for me than 
 you may ever know ! Your loving kindness to 
 that little suffering child^ your unselfish care of her 
 poor mother, your gentleness to all about you — 
 your — '' he paused as if oppressed by his feelings 
 or afraid of saying too much, and then said more 
 quietly, " you have done a truly kind and Christian 
 act, Miss Worsdale, and God in his own time will 
 reward you for it V 
 
 He spoke so earnestly, still retaining her hand, 
 that Dolly said in simple surprise — 
 
A SLIGHT SURPRISE. 269 
 
 " Mr. Boothroyd !" 
 
 " I say/^ Joe repeated as earnestly as before^ 
 though he spoke in a low and suppressed voice, 
 " that He will reward you in His own time^ and I 
 say, God bless you^ Dolly Worsdale V' 
 
 In sheer amazement at this emotion^ in one 
 usually so calm and self-contained, Dolly allowed 
 her hand to remain in Joe's ; most respectfully and 
 reverently he bent his head over it^ and pressed it 
 to his lips ; and when she a moment afterwards with- 
 drew it_, poor Joe's eyes were wet, and there was a 
 tear on Dolly's hand. 
 
 Dolly was quiet and reserved all that evening, 
 and rather absent, letting her needlework fall from 
 her hands ; and gazing before her with a pre- 
 occupied air, in fact, as Prissy said, ^^very strange." 
 But she resumed her place at the table, and endea- 
 voured to rouse herself, when Mr. Worsdale re- 
 turned. But it was not a cheerful evening by any 
 means. Priscilla complained of having got the 
 " mopes '/' Miss Skimple slept in her usual upright 
 position, at brief intervals waking up to an unna- 
 tural liveliness ; and Dolly retired to bed at an early 
 hour, on the plea of weariness and headache, yet 
 when she reached her trim little chamber she opened 
 her secret drawer to look at a little bunch of faded 
 flowers. 
 
 The next morning's breakfast was passed almost 
 
270 . " seoddy:' 
 
 in silence, Mr. Worsdale merely inclining his head 
 when Miss Skimple entered the room, and taking 
 little or no notice of the rest of the family. He 
 said nothing for some time, but had sat silently 
 reading the paper, when suddenly turoing to the 
 governess, he remarked — 
 
 '^ I should be glad, ma^am, to be favoured with a 
 few minutes' conversation before going to the fac- 
 tory.^' 
 
 Miss Skimple replied, " Oh, certainly,^' and 
 beyond looking rather yellow in the face, betrayed 
 no symptom of surprise or apprehension ; but I think 
 the worthy lady was a little ill at eaae notwithstand- 
 ing, and that visions of her pupils being removed 
 from her care by suggestions that perhaps she would 
 be able to improve her position were she released 
 from her present duties, or by some other pseudo- 
 pleasant form of speech that we polite people adopt, 
 when we wish to be rid of a person for whom we have 
 no further need, might have crossed her mind. But 
 you will have observed by this time, I hope, that 
 Miss Skimple was perfectly well-bred, and saving the 
 slight indication of confusion in her countenance, 
 already noted, Mr. Worsdale's remark might as well 
 have been only his customary growl at the weather. 
 
 But the youDg people had noticed Matthew's 
 manner, and did not kn?w what to make of it. 
 Prissy'a bright blue eyes turned an inquiring glance 
 
A SLIGHT SUnPBISE. 271 
 
 on Dolly, but to uo purpose. The few minutes' 
 interview proposed by Mr. Worsdale were rapidly 
 beiug extended to half-an-hour, and the younger 
 folks wondered more and more what the cause was. 
 Was anything the matter ! Did Dolly know ? 
 " Perhaps jolly old Skimple was going to get the 
 sack/' Mr. Tim submitted, " and time too ! Why 
 didn't the governor bring a pretty girl into the house, 
 and not such an old guy as that ?'^ a suggestion that 
 pleased his Manchester friend greatly, but which 
 brought a severe reprimand from Miss Dolly, who 
 indignantly protested against such expressions in 
 reference to their governess. 
 
 The ingenious Timothy being rather in doubt 
 whether the interview had not some reference to 
 himself, strolled into the hall with the ostensible 
 purpose of looking for his gloves, and was seen by 
 Phil shortly afterwards with his ear at the keyhole 
 of the room, whither Mr. Worsdale had conducted 
 Miss Skimple. His father seemed to be reading a 
 letter, but he spoke in so low a tone of voice the lad 
 could only catch a word here and there ; but he 
 told his sisters afterwards, that while he was looking 
 for his gloves his attention was arrested by his 
 father, who spoke so loudly that he distinctly over- 
 heard the words " Redwell," and " the Wellington'* 
 mentioned. 
 
 Did the governor know lie had been there ou his 
 
272 " shoddy:' * 
 
 way to Manchester, and was lie " criisty^^ in conse- 
 quence ? And what was up with Prissy ? For the 
 girl had flushed crimson, and was then quite white ; 
 but she said, " nothing at all ! What else did papa 
 say ?'' Just then they heard the door opened, and 
 the conference, whatever it was, was at an end. 
 
 Mr. Worsdale went about the business of the day. 
 The two young gentlemen returned to Manchester 
 by an early train, to the great relief of everybody, 
 and principally of the young visitor himself. That 
 youth could not avoid the reflection that his visit 
 had not been a success. Tim had, as usual, been 
 drawing largely on his powers of exaggeration, when 
 he had described his home in Dalesford, and how 
 entirely he was his own master. His friend dis- 
 covered how abjectly in fear of his father Tim really 
 stood, and of how little importance he was with 
 anyone else. Miss Priscilla, with her pretty blue 
 eyes, was not only averse to anything approaching a 
 flirtation, but had called him a rude boy, and 
 mimicked his Manchester accent; and little Phil, 
 smarting under an open handed blow, which his 
 brother^s friend, half in jest and half in earnest, had 
 inflicted, had so far forgotten the rites and courtesies 
 of hospitality, as to challenge him to fight then and 
 there ; and, regardless of the disparity of size, had 
 thrown ofi" his own cap and jacket for the purpose. 
 
 Respecting the nature of the interview between 
 
A SLIGHT SURPRISE. 273 
 
 herself and her employer, Miss Skimple maintained 
 that discreet reticence which is at once so admir- 
 able and so rare a quality. In fact, I am disposed 
 to consider it a talent ; for unless natural to a per- 
 son, it is rarely if ever completely acquired. Many 
 of us know when to speak, but how few when to be 
 silent ! We are timid sometimes, or modest, or 
 slow, and lose perchance many a good opening for 
 a sharp rejoinder, or a wise remark ; but, ah me ! 
 how many a bitter regret to ourselves or pain to 
 others would have been spared, if that unruly and 
 runaway member — the tongue — had only been ridden 
 with the curb rein in lieu of the snatHe ! Miss 
 Dolly kept her own counsel, though, I daresay, she 
 was longing to know all about it ; and to Prissy, 
 who threw her arms round her dear Skimple^s neck, 
 and said, " Do tell us what it was papa said this 
 morning ?" that prudent lady replied, " When he 
 wishes you to know, dear, I dare say he will tell 
 you.^^ So it was in vain that the girl tried to ca- 
 jole her. Miss Skimple kept the confidence in her 
 own cold breast — as the flint contains the spark, 
 though it gives no warmth. 
 
 And so the days went by. The two girls had 
 been out to some of the evening parties usual at 
 this time of the year ; but they were not very 
 enjoyable probably. In the first place, they met 
 the same persons over and over again ; and in spite 
 
 VOL I. 18 
 
274 "SHODDY." 
 
 of her many little triumphs^ Miss Prissy complained 
 again of the " mopes/' and Dolly was at times pre- 
 occupied and silent. She could not avoid recurring 
 many times to her last interview with Joe Booth- 
 roydj when he had spoken so earnestly; then she 
 remembered how tenderly and respectfully he had 
 raised her hand to his lips ; and that led her to 
 think of the gala-night at Daisy Hill, when the 
 stranger had done the same,, and with the same 
 respectful tenderness of manner. And I am con- 
 strained to admit that when once Miss Dolly 
 allowed her thoughts to run on that subject, she 
 would become distraught and absent, and would 
 sometimes brush away a little tear or so that was 
 foolish enough to leave those soft brown eyes of 
 hers to fall on the insensible ground. 
 
 Her sister having gone unsuccessfully several 
 times to the little post-office, began to wonder 
 whether the silence of her mysterious correspon- 
 dent was in any way connected with the interview 
 between Miss Skimple and her father, and so 
 suffered a good deal of disquiet in consequence. 
 And thus as each of these young ladies had a secret 
 of her own which she chose to guard very jealously, 
 and to keep all to herself, there began to rise up — 
 not exactly an estrangement but a sort of caution 
 of one against the other; and there was, perhaps, 
 a slight diminution of that open confidence that 
 
A SLIGHT SURPRISE. 275 
 
 used to exist between them. Well^ I suppose this 
 will be found in all families where there are young 
 and susceptible girls. I think_, as a rule^ Cupid is 
 not a pleasant visitor in a house, and makes a great 
 deal of mischief in families. He is a charming 
 little fellow I dare say to the young person by 
 whom he is introduced ; but generally, as far as the 
 family circle is concerned, he is rather a nuisance. 
 In the social gatherings and jovial round games 
 and pleasant dances, one or two, perhaps, decline to 
 participate in the merriment with a view to culti- 
 vate his acquaintance, or steal away to some remote 
 chamber; and there, with a poor light and tireless 
 grate, to reply to some lengthened epistle the mis- 
 chievous little visitor has been inditing. He sows 
 the seeds of discord, perhaps envy and jealousy, 
 between sisters. Our eldest daughter feels she has 
 a grievance that such an interloper should be ad- 
 mitted in the interest of a younger member of the 
 family; and the devotion of that engaging girl her- 
 self to the gloves or socks of her papa or big 
 brother, is not so entire as of old. Then come 
 those unsettling times when papa, in the sanctity of 
 his chamber, says to mamma, " What is the matter 
 with Clara to night ?" and mamma having long 
 desired the opening hastens to reply, " I am afraid 
 Mr. Frederick is trifling with that dear chikrs feel- 
 ings." Then comes the estrangement of a few days 
 
 18—2 
 
276 " SHODDYr 
 
 between Frederick and Clara^ when Clara is said to 
 be hastening to a premature grave — then the equally 
 unsettling time when the lovers becoming reconciled 
 and Clara is hastening back again ; and you are not 
 to go into the breakfast-parlour_, please^ because 
 they have had a little misunderstanding and are 
 making it up ; and in the meantime the thorough 
 unpleasantness of the Blind Boy^s visit is only duly 
 appreciated by those whom he doesn^t come to see 
 —for theirs is the sympathy without the reward^ 
 and the harass and suspense without a shadow of 
 the romance. 
 
 " Girls/^ said Mr. Worsdale^ at breakfast one 
 mornings about three months since the events last 
 recorded, addressing his daughters, " I expect a 
 visitor to-morrow. He will probably stay a few 
 days. Dolly, let the spare bedroom be prepared, 
 will you ?'' 
 
 " Yes, father, certainly ; but — '' the girl added in 
 surprise, for visitors so announced were not frequent 
 at Worsdale House — " will he stay long ?" 
 
 ^' As long as it suits him, I daresay,^^ her father 
 answered, rising to leave the room. 
 
 " Oh, who is it, father ?" Dolly asked. 
 
 " Mr. Edward Sherwin, my old partner''s son,^' 
 Matthew said, and went off at once to the mill. 
 
 " I never heard such a thing in my life V' cried 
 
A SLIGHT SUEPBISE. 277 
 
 Prissy. " And papa not to tell us before ! Oh, you 
 clear, old Skimple ! I believe you knew all about it !' 
 Miss Skimple replying only by a hard smile, 
 Prissy flew upon her and shook her, laughing as she 
 did so, and protesting that her own Skimpy had 
 been in the secret. For the volatile young lady, 
 having always heard her papa speak of the expected 
 visitor in terms of great contempt and aversion, 
 was, with the perverseness of her sex, perhaps, 
 naturally most anxious to see him ; and, after the 
 manner of her age and temperament, began specu- 
 lating, half in jest, as to what he would be like. He 
 had left Dalesford while she was still so young a 
 child, that she had no recollection of him. Perhaps, 
 she submitted, as he had been so much in Prance, 
 he would have all the characteristics of that nation, 
 and be unable to speak our language, would always 
 shrug his shoulders by way of emphasis, and expect 
 to have frogs for dinner. Or, as papa had once 
 said he had been to Egypt, probably he would be 
 the colour of the piano, and be all over hieroglyphics, 
 like the lid of a mummy^s coffin. Or suppose he 
 should turn out to be a mysterious man in a large 
 cloak, slouch hat, and long dark hair ! 
 
 Miss Skimple, seeming rather preoccupied, had 
 allowed her pupil to run on thus in her girlish 
 nonsense, smiliug grimly once or twice at the fancy 
 portraits of their expected guest ; but at this point 
 
278 " seoddy:' 
 
 she became suddenly serious^ and looked so earnestly 
 at the girl, that Prissy stopped abruptly, and glanced 
 uneasily at her governess. 
 
 Dolly had not observed the expression in Miss 
 Skimple^s face, as she was bending over the table 
 in deep thought. Shortly afterwards the governess 
 quitted the room. The girls, left to themselves, 
 fell to talking on the subject of the anticipated 
 visit, and Prissy had quite forgotten the alteration 
 in Miss Skimple^s face and manner ; but when the 
 hour of tec struck, the usual time for commencing 
 their studies for the day, and the governess had not 
 returned, Dolly went in quest of her, leaving her 
 sister practising a new Italian song against their 
 visitor's arrival. 
 
 Dolly knocked at Miss Skimple's chamber door, 
 and to the inquiry, '' Who's there ?" answered, 
 '' Only I— Dolly. Shall I come in ?'' 
 
 " Yes, you may come in,'' the governess replied. 
 
 Her face pale, and wet with recent tears, and 
 with an expression of suffering and anguish, so 
 startled Dolly that she exclaimed — 
 
 " Miss Skimple, my dear ! what's the matter ! 
 Are you not well ?" 
 
 " Quite well, now," the governess answered, coldly 
 and firmly. ^^ I should like to see your sister, and 
 alone." 
 
 Dolly hastened down stairs to deliver her message. 
 
TEE END OF TEE JOURNEY. 257 
 
 peace. He had attracted some public attention in 
 that capacity by one or two judgments he had deli- 
 vered, notably in connexion with the punishment 
 awarded in the case of a child of tender years, who 
 had been charged with the theft of an apple or two 
 from one of the Rectory trees that hung over the 
 highway ; and it was no doubt in consideration of 
 his many duties in the parish, and with a thoughtful 
 regard for his health, that the Lord Chancellor 
 had kindly proposed to relieve him of his addi- 
 tional responsibilities, and had invited him to retire 
 from the judicial bench, which I am told he in 
 consequence did. 
 
 I do not think I have ever seen Frank Ossett for 
 half an hour, that our conversation has not turned 
 on our old Dalesford acquaintance, and the times 
 and scenes I have endeavoured to narrate. I 
 believe he remained a bachelor, solely because he 
 never entirely overcame his boyish love for Miss 
 Dolly — though he never confessed it ; but replied to 
 all questions tending in that direction, that he sup- 
 posed he was not a marrying man, and could not 
 settle down, on which I have my own opinion. 
 Certainly he remained on the best of terms with his 
 friends, though he confided his opinion to me on one 
 occasion, that Mr. Sherwin, when he condescended 
 to the masquerade of a foreman of a factory, was 
 adopting an unworthy course of deception, and had 
 
 VOL. III. 17 
 
258 ''SHOBBYr 
 
 thus brought on himself and on poor little Dolly 
 many of the troubles they subsequently had to 
 endure ; and that, after all, it was only a scheme 
 that an egotistical and suspicious nature would have 
 conceived. I do not know but Mr. Frank was 
 right; and 1 admit as well, that Dolly herself, in 
 that rebellious spirit which she occasionally dis- 
 played, inherited no doubt from her resolute old 
 father, was not that perfect young person we expect 
 to find in the heroine of a story like this. But I 
 daresay Frank liked her none the less for that ; 
 and, indeed, I am inclined to the opinion that as a 
 rule, we love the best those characters of which the 
 failings are occasionally visible, as the most perfect 
 form on the painter's canvas or in the sculptor's 
 marble, is less attractive than the real flesh and 
 blood, that speaks and moves, but is not created 
 according to the rigid lines and rules of classic 
 beauty. 
 
 Perhaps the character of each — with the flaws 
 and foibles it may have possessed — was sufficiently 
 well known to the other, that sUch defects but rarely 
 appeared ; and so Joe and Dolly travelled the 
 journey of life together, side by side, happy in their 
 well-tried aff'ection, and conscientiously discharging 
 the duties of the position in which Providence had 
 graciously placed them. The very independence of 
 Joe^s character, and his habit of self-control, which 
 
THE END OF THE JOURNEY. 259 
 
 sometimes approached reserve, may have narrowed 
 his circle of acquaintance, though I question if it 
 estranged his friends ; and although not a popular 
 man in his native town, no one was more deeply or 
 generally respected. It was for Dolly that the 
 esteem was intensified by the love her character 
 inspired. It was her gentle voice that whispered 
 the words of hope or sympathy, and her light hand 
 that smoothed the pillow of pain and misery, or 
 ministered to suffering with the tenderness and 
 delicacy that belonged to her. 
 
 I have finished my story of this little Yorkshire 
 family. If I have fallen into the errors of certain 
 historians and biographers, and coloured some of my 
 characters with the tints most pleasant to my own 
 eyes, the outlines of the forms at least were already 
 drawn to my hand, and I have merely arranged in 
 groups for contrast or harmony the individual 
 figures as I found them. 
 
 T submit, we often seek in the pages of fiction for 
 stirring incidents or romantic character, when, in 
 truth, they are on all sides of us, if we would but 
 take trouble or exercise sagacity in the search for 
 them ; as the native of California or Australia, 
 probably, barters the necessaries of life for a glass 
 bead or a piece of Birmingham jewellery, though 
 beneath his foot may lurk a mine of precious metal, 
 
260 " SHODDYr 
 
 only awaiting the enterprise of the intelligent 
 observer to be developed. For, wherever the strong 
 human heart beats vigorously and the active brain 
 of man is at work_, there will always be the fierce 
 passions and the tender sympathy, the reckless 
 daring and the calm endurance, the persistent 
 knavery and the simple honesty, the truth and 
 purity, vice and falsehood, that make up the heroism 
 or the romance of life. 
 
 Thus, like the driver of the old-fashioned stage 
 conveyance, I have picked up my passengers by the 
 wayside, simply as I have met them ; and, having 
 left them at their several places of destination, 
 until I have parted with them all, I come to the 
 termination of my journey — and so ends my story. 
 
 THE END. 
 
A SLIGHT SURPRISE. 279 
 
 forbearing to make any comment on what she had 
 seen, and simply saying Miss Skimple seemed ill. 
 
 Prissy, who had quite forgotten by this time the 
 little incident at the breakfast-table, danced her way 
 upstairs and on the passage, and whisked through 
 the door into the room; but she started when she 
 saw her governess, and said gently — 
 
 " Do you want me, ma^am ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Skimple in a low and hard 
 voice ; " come in and shut the door, Priscilla." She 
 continued calmly, and in her accustomed manner, 
 after a pause of a few seconds, " You are a thought- 
 less girl — well, at your age girls generally are, I 
 suppose I was myself — but I never knew until an 
 hour ago how cruel you could be." 
 
 " 1 ! cruel ?" Prissy cried with genuine surprise 
 in her blue eyes. 
 
 " I said cruel, my dear," the governess continued, 
 cold and hard as before, " and I meant what I said. 
 Your father, Priscilla, is a most indulgent father — 
 to you at least ; but if he knew the pain you so 
 wantonly inflicted on me, I question whether even 
 he could forgive you." 
 
 *' Miss Skimple !" Prissy cried, " what do you 
 mean ? What have I said or done ?" 
 
 " I can make allowance for the giddiness of 
 youth," Miss Skimple said, "but I should have 
 thought my sufferings — and — and — my age," and the 
 
280 " shoddy:' 
 
 poor lady winced a little as slie made the admission, 
 ^' would have secured -me from insult/^ 
 
 '^ Insult ! I insult you ! Oh, Miss Skimple — 
 Miss SkimplCj you can^t mean it V and with a 
 rush of tears,, poor Prissy threw herself on her 
 governess's neck, and begged her not to think it of 
 her. 
 
 The governess put the girl, crying and sobbing, 
 from her — though gently — and said, showing Prissy 
 a miniature she had held in her hand till then — 
 
 " Look at this/' 
 
 It was a portrait on ivory of a handsome young 
 man, apparently about twenty-five ; probably a 
 foreigner, for he wore a kind of Spanish sombrero 
 hat, with long dark, flowing hair, and enveloped in 
 the picturesque folds of a large cloak. 
 
 '^ You saw this when we were at Redwell, I 
 know,"" the governess said, " for you came into my 
 room when I was looking at it. I never thought 
 my little Prissy would have made such an abuse of 
 my confidence.'' 
 
 Prissy, whose weak and aff'ectionate nature could 
 never withstand an appeal to her feelings, burst out 
 crying afresh, and besought her dear old Skimple 
 not for a second to believe she had meant any- 
 thing but nonsense in what she had said ! Would 
 she ask Dolly ? Dolly knew she meant nothing ! 
 She was so sorry ! It was only her fun ! and she 
 
A SLIGHT SURPRISE. 23 L 
 
 could bite her tongue in two for having given her 
 dear Skimple a moment's pain. 
 
 The poor old woman looked at her for some time 
 — long enough for Prissy to feel embarrassed under 
 the steady gaze — without speaking ; perhaps she 
 was travelling back through years of disappoint- 
 ment and suffering, to the happy springtime of her 
 own youth, when her life seemed as bright and her 
 lot as hopeful as the young girFs before her. Then 
 she kissed the sorrowful face of the pretty girl, and 
 said, with her habitual self-restraint — 
 
 " Dry your eyes, my dear ; we will say no more 
 about it/' 
 
 But Prissy was not to be calmed so easily. She 
 entreated her dear governess again and again not 
 to think ill of her, and at last, when Miss Skimple 
 had assured her of her forgiveness, she exclaimed 
 with her characteristic impulsiveness — 
 
 " Oh, Miss Skimple, you must have a strange 
 .story ! Do tell me all about it !" 
 
 Miss Skimple made no reply, but as Prissy con- 
 tinued to entreat her, she said at last — 
 
 '^ Perhaps — some day ; but not now. Let us go 
 downstairs to our duties."" 
 
 I dare say Mr. Worsdale shared some of his 
 daughter's excitement at the thought of their new 
 visitor, for he desired the dinner hour on the 
 following day should be postponed, an unusual 
 
282 " shoddy:' 
 
 concession on his part^ in honour of the new arrival, 
 and seemed more anxious than ordinarily that 
 everything should be suitably prepared for the 
 reception of their guest. 
 
 On the afternoon in question Prissy was in her 
 own room when she heard the cab, in which Mr. 
 Sherwin had been conveyed from the railway, driven 
 up to the door, and she lingered a little at her glass 
 to arrange more carefully her toilet. Then she 
 skipped downstairs to the drawing-room where, to 
 her intense surprise, she beheld, seated by the fire 
 conversing easily with her father and sister, her 
 Redwell admirer and clandestine correspondent — 
 Captain Clarence. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
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