Rachel Ray Part 42

"You ought just to look at this," a burly old foreman had said, handing him the paper in question, with his broad thumb placed upon a certain column. This foreman had known Bungall, and though he respected Tappitt, he did not fear him. "You should just look at this. Of course it don't amount to nothing; but it's as well to see what folks say." And he handed the paper to his master, almost making a hole in it by s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g his thumb on to the spot he wished to indicate.

Tappitt read the article, and his spirit was very bitter within him. It was a criticism on his own beer written in no friendly tone.

"There is no reason," said the article, "why Baslehurst should be flooded with a liquor which no Christian ought to be asked to drink.

Baslehurst is as capable of judging good beer from bad as any town in the British empire. Let Mr. Tappitt look to it, or some young rival will spring up beneath his feet and seize from his brow the hop-leaf wreath which Bungall won and wore." This attack was the more cruel because the paper had originally been established by Bungall's money, and had, in old days, been altogether devoted to the Bungall interest. That this paper should turn against him was very hard. But what else had he a right to expect? It was known that he had promised his vote to the Jew candidate, and the paper in question supported the Cornbury interest. A man that lives in a gla.s.s house should throw no stones. The brewer who brews bad beer should vote for n.o.body.

But Tappitt would not regard this attack upon him in its proper political light. Every evil at present falling upon him was supposed to come from his present enemy. "It's that dirty underhand blackguard," he said to the foreman.

"I don't think so, Mr. Tappitt," said the foreman. "I don't think so indeed."

"But I tell you it is," said Tappitt, "and I don't care what you think."

"Just as you please, Mr. Tappitt," said the foreman, who thereupon retired from the office, leaving his master to meditate over the newspaper in solitude.

It was a very bitter time for the poor brewer. He was one of those men whose spirit is not wanting to them while the noise and tumult of contest are around them, but who cannot hold on by their own convictions in the quiet hours. He could storm, and talk loud, and insist on his own way while men stood around him listening and perhaps admiring; but he was cowed when left by himself to think of things which seemed to be adverse. What could he do, if those around him, who had known him all his life as those newspaper people had known him,--what could he do if they turned against him, and talked of bad beer as Rowan had talked? He was not man enough to stand up and face this new enemy unless he were backed by his old friends.

Honyman had told him that he would be beaten. How would it fare with him and his family if he were beaten? As he sat in his little office, with his hat low down over his eyes, balancing himself on the hind legs of his chair, he abused Honyman roundly. Had Honyman been possessed of wit, of skill, of professional craft,--had he been the master of any invention, all might have been well. But the attorney was a fool, an a.s.s, a coward. Might it not be that he was a knave?

But luckily for Honyman, and luckily also for Mr. Tappitt himself, this abuse did not pa.s.s beyond the precincts of Tappitt's own breast.

We all know how delightful is the privilege of abusing our nearest friends after this fashion; but we generally satisfy ourselves with that limited audience to which Mr. Tappitt addressed himself on the present occasion.

In the mean time Mrs. Tappitt was sitting up-stairs in the brewery drawing-room with her daughters, and she also was not happy in her mind. She had been snubbed, and almost browbeaten, at dinner time, and she also had had a little conversation in private with Mr.

Honyman. She had been snubbed, and, if she did not look well about her, she was going to be ruined. "You mustn't let him go on with this lawsuit," Mr. Honyman had said. "He'll certainly get the worst of it if he does, and then he'll have to pay double." She disliked Rowan quite as keenly as did her husband, but she was fully alive to the folly of spiting Rowan by doing an injury to her own face. She would speak to Tappitt that night very seriously, and in the mean time she turned the Rowan controversy over in her own mind, endeavouring to look at it from all sides. It had never been her custom to make critical remarks on their father's conduct to any of the girls except Martha; but on the present great occasion she waived that rule, and discussed the family affairs in full female family conclave. "I don't know what's come over your papa," she began by saying. "He seems quite beside himself to-day."

"I think he is troubled about Mr. Rowan and this lawsuit," said the sagacious Martha.

"Nasty man! I wish he'd never come near the place," said Augusta.

"I don't know that he's very nasty either," said Cherry. "We all liked him when he was staying here."

"But to be so false to papa!" said Augusta. "I call it swindling, downright swindling."

"One should know and understand all about it before one speaks in that way," said Martha. "I dare say it is very vexatious to papa; but after all perhaps Mr. Rowan may have some right on his side."

"I don't know about right," said Mrs. Tappitt. "I don't think he can have any right to come and set himself up here in opposition, as one may say, to the very ghost of his own uncle. I agree with Augusta, and think it is a very dirty thing to do."

"Quite shameful," said Augusta, indignantly.

"But if he has got the law on his side," continued Mrs. Tappitt, "it's no good your papa trying to go against that. Where should we be if we were to lose everything and be told to pay more money than your papa has got? It wouldn't be very pleasant to be turned out of the house."

"I don't think he'd ever do it," said Cherry.

"I declare, Cherry, I think you are in love with the man," said Augusta.

"If I ain't I know who was," said Cherry.

"As for love," said Mrs. Tappitt, "we all know who is in love with him,--nasty little sly minx! In the whole matter nothing makes me so angry as to think that she should have come here to our dance."

"That was Cherry's doing," said Augusta. This remark Cherry noticed only by a grimace addressed specially to her sister. A battle in Rachel's favour under present circ.u.mstances would have been so losing an affair that Cherry had not pluck enough to adventure it on her friend's behalf.

"But the question is,--what are we to do about the lawsuit?" said Mrs. Tappitt. "It is easy to see from your papa's manner that he is very much hara.s.sed. He won't admit him as a partner;--that's certain."

"Oh dear! I should hope not," said Augusta.

"That's all very well," said Martha; "but if the young man can prove his right, he must have it. Mamma, do you know what Mr. Honyman says about it?"

"Yes, my dear, I do." Mrs. Tappitt's manner became very solemn, and the girls listened with all their ears. "Yes, my dear, I do. Mr.

Honyman thinks your father should give way."

"And take him in as a partner?" said Augusta. "Papa has got that spirit that he couldn't do it."

"It doesn't follow that your papa should take Mr. Rowan in as a partner because he gives up the lawsuit. He might pay him the money that he asks."

"But has he got it?" demanded Martha.

"Besides, it's such a deal; isn't it?" said Augusta.

"Or," continued Mrs. Tappitt, "your papa might accept his offer by retiring with a very handsome income for us all. Your papa has been in business for a great many years, working like a galley-slave.

n.o.body knows how he has toiled and moiled, except me. It isn't any joke being a brewer,--and having it all on himself as he has had. And if young Rowan ever begins it, I wish him joy of it."

"But would he pay the income?" Martha asked.

"Mr. Honyman says that he would; and if he did not, there would be the property to fall back upon."

"And where should we live?" said Cherry.

"That can't be settled quite yet. It must be somewhere near, so that your papa might keep an eye on the concern, and know that it was going all right. Perhaps Torquay would be the best place."

"Torquay would be delicious," said Cherry.

"And would that man come and live at the brewery?" said Augusta.

"Of course he would, if he pleased," said Martha.

"And bring Rachel Ray with him as his wife?" said Cherry.

"He'll never do that," said Mrs. Tappitt with energy.

"Never; never!" said Augusta,--with more energy.

In this way the large and influential feminine majority of the family at the brewery was brought round to look at one of the propositions made by Rowan without disfavour. It was not that that young man's sins had been in any degree forgiven, but that they all perceived, with female prudence, that it would be injudicious to ruin themselves because they hated him. And then to what lady living in a dingy brick house, close adjoining to the smoke and smells of beer-brewing, would not the idea of a marine villa at Torquay be delicious? None of the family, not even Mrs. Tappitt herself, had ever known what annual profit had accrued to Mr. T. as the reward of his life's work.

But they had been required to live in a modest, homely way,--as though that annual profit had not been great. Under the altered circ.u.mstances, as now proposed, they would all know that papa had a thousand a year to spend;--and what might not be done at Torquay with a thousand a year? Before Mr. Tappitt came home for the evening,--which he did not do on that day till past ten, having been detained, by business, in the bar of the Dragon Inn,--they had all resolved that the combined ease and dignity of a thousand a year should be accepted.

Mr. Tappitt was still perturbed in spirit when he took himself to the marital chamber. What had been the nature of the business which had detained him at the bar of the Dragon he did not condescend to say, but it seemed to have been of a nature not well adapted to smooth his temper. Mrs. Tappitt perhaps guessed what that business had been; but if so, she said nothing of the subject in direct words. One little remark she did make, which may perhaps have had allusion to that business.

"Bah!" she exclaimed, as Mr. Tappitt came near her; "if you must smoke at all, I wish to goodness you'd smoke good tobacco."

"So I do," said Tappitt, turning round at her sharply. "It's best mixed bird's-eye. As if you could know the difference, indeed!"

"So I do, T. I know the difference very well. It's all poison to me,--absolute poison,--as you're very well aware. But that filthy strong stuff that you've taken to lately, is enough to kill anybody."