Ralph the Heir Part 4

Sir Thomas, as he walked along the banks of the river while the young ladies prepared each other for dinner, reflected that he had never in his life done such a day's work before as he had just accomplished.

When he had married a wife, that indeed had been a great piece of business; but it had been done slowly,--for he had been engaged four years,--and he had of course been much younger at that period. Now he had brought into his family a new inmate who would force him in his old age to change all his habits of life. He did not think that he would dare to neglect Mary Bonner, and to stay in London while she lived at the villa. He was almost sorry that he had ever heard of Mary Bonner, in spite of her beauty, and although he had as yet been able to find in her no cause of complaint. She was ladylike and quiet;--but yet he was afraid of her. When she came down into the drawing-room with her hand clasped in that of Clarissa, he was still more afraid of her. She was dressed all in black, with the utmost simplicity,--with nothing on her by way of ornament beyond a few large black beads; but yet she seemed to him to be splendid. There was a grace of motion about her that was almost majestic. Clary was very pretty,--very pretty, indeed; but Clary was just the girl that an old gentleman likes to fetch him his slippers and give him his tea. Sir Thomas felt that, old as he was, it would certainly be his business to give Mary Bonner her tea.

The two girls contrived to say a few words to their father that night before they joined Mary amidst her trunks in her bedroom. "Papa, isn't she lovely?" said Clarissa.

"She certainly is a very handsome young woman."

"And not a bit like what I expected," continued Clary. "Of course I knew she was good-looking. I had always heard that. But I thought that she would have been a sort of West Indian girl, dark, and lazy, and selfish. Ralph was saying that is what they are out there."

"I don't suppose that Ralph knows anything about it," said Sir Thomas. "And what do you say of your new cousin, Patience?"

"I think I shall love her dearly. She is so gentle and sweet."

"But she is not at all what you expected?" demanded Clarissa.

"I hardly know what I expected," replied the prudent Patience. "But certainly I did not expect anything so lovely as she is. Of course, we can't know her yet; but as far as one can judge, I think I shall like her."

"But she is so magnificently beautiful!" said the energetic Clarissa.

"I think she is," said Sir Thomas. "And I quite admit that it is a kind of beauty to surprise one. It did surprise me. Had not one of you better go up-stairs to her?" Then both the girls bounded off to a.s.sist their cousin in her chamber.

CHAPTER V.

MR. NEEFIT AND HIS FAMILY.

Mr. Neefit was a breeches-maker in Conduit Street, of such repute that no hunting man could be said to go decently into the hunting field unless decorated by a garment made in Mr. Neefit's establishment. His manipulation of leather was something marvellous; and in latter years he had added to his original art,--an art which had at first been perfect rather than comprehensive,--an exquisite skill in cords, buckskins, and such like materials. When his trade was becoming prosperous he had thought of degenerating into a tailor, adding largely to his premises, and of compensating his pride by the prospects of great increase to his fortune; but an angel of glory had whispered to him to let well alone, and he was still able to boast that all his measurements had been confined to the legs of sportsmen.

Instead of extending his business he had simply extended his price, and had boldly clapped on an extra half-guinea to every pair that he supplied. The experiment was altogether successful, and when it was heard by the riding men of the City that Mr. Neefit's prices were undoubtedly higher than those of any other breeches-maker in London, and that he had refused to supply breeches for the grooms of a Marquis because the Marquis was not a hunting man, the riding men of the City flocked to him in such numbers, that it became quite a common thing for them to give their orders in June and July, so that they might not be disappointed when November came round. Mr. Neefit was a prosperous man, but he had his troubles. Now, it was a great trouble to him that some sporting men would be so very slow in paying for the breeches in which they took pride!

Mr. Neefit's fortune had not been rapid in early life. He had begun with a small capital and a small establishment, and even now his place of business was very limited in size. He had been clever enough to make profit even out of its smallness,--and had contrived that it should be understood that the little back room in which men were measured was so diminutive because it did not suit his special business to welcome a crowd. It was his pride, he said, to wait upon hunting men,--but with the garments of the world at large he wished to have no concern whatever. In the outer shop, looking into Conduit Street, there was a long counter on which goods were unrolled for inspection; and on which an artist, the solemnity of whose brow and whose rigid silence betokened the nature of his great employment, was always cutting out leather. This grave man was a German, and there was a rumour among young sportsmen that old Neefit paid this highly-skilled operator 600 a year for his services! n.o.body knew as he did how each morsel of leather would behave itself under the needle, or could come within two hairbreadths of him in accuracy across the kneepan. As for measuring, Mr. Neefit did that himself,--almost always. To be measured by Mr. Neefit was as essential to perfection as to be cut out for by the German. There were rumours, indeed, that from certain cla.s.ses of customers Mr.

Neefit and the great foreigner kept themselves personally aloof. It was believed that Mr. Neefit would not condescend to measure a retail tradesman. Latterly, indeed, there had arisen a doubt whether he would lay his august hand on a stockbroker's leg; though little Wallop, one of the young glories of Capel Court, swears that he is handled by him every year. "Confound 'is impudence," says Wallop; "I'd like to see him sending a foreman to me. And as for cutting, d'you think I don't know Bawwah's 'and!" The name of the foreign artist is not exactly known; but it is p.r.o.nounced as we have written it, and spelt in that fashion by sporting gentlemen when writing to each other.

Our readers may be told in confidence that up to a very late date Mr. Neefit lived in the rooms over his shop. This is certainly not the thing for a prosperous tradesman to do. Indeed, if a tradesman be known not to have a private residence, he will hardly become prosperous. But Neefit had been a cautious man, and till two years before the commencement of our story, he had actually lived in Conduit Street,--working hard, however, to keep his residence a deep secret from his customers at large. Now he was the proud possessor of a villa residence at Hendon, two miles out in the country beyond the Swiss Cottage; and all his customers knew that he was never to be found before 9.30 A.M., or after 5.15 P.M.

As we have said, Mr. Neefit had his troubles, and one of his great troubles was our young friend, Ralph Newton. Ralph Newton was a hunting man, with a stud of horses,--never less than four, and sometimes running up to seven and eight,--always standing at the Moonbeam, at Barnfield. All men know that Barnfield is in the middle of the B. B. Hunt,--the two initials standing for those two sporting counties, Berkshire and Buckinghamshire. Now, Mr. Neefit had a very large connexion in the B. B., and, though he never was on horseback in his life, subscribed twenty-five pounds a year to the pack. Mr.

Ralph Newton had long favoured him with his custom; but, we are sorry to say, Mr. Ralph Newton had become a thorn in the flesh to many a tradesman in these days. It was not that he never paid. He did pay something; but as he ordered more than he paid, the sum-total against him was always an increasing figure. But then he was a most engaging, civil-spoken young man, whose order it was almost impossible to decline. It was known, moreover, that his prospects were so good!

Nevertheless, it is not pleasant for a breeches-maker to see the second hundred pound acc.u.mulating on his books for leather breeches for one gentleman. "What does he do with 'em?" old Neefit would say to himself; but he didn't dare to ask any such question of Mr. Newton. It isn't for a tradesman to complain that a gentleman consumes too many of his articles. Things, however, went so far that Mr. Neefit found it to be inc.u.mbent on him to make special inquiry about those prospects. Things had gone very far indeed,--for Ralph Newton appeared one summer evening at the villa at Hendon, and absolutely asked the breeches-maker to lend him a hundred pounds!

Before he left he had taken tea with Mr. and Mrs. and Miss Neefit on the lawn, and had received almost a promise that the loan should be forthcoming if he would call in Conduit Street on the following morning. That had been early in May, and Ralph Newton had called, and, though there had been difficulties, he had received the money before three days had pa.s.sed.

Mr. Neefit was a stout little man, with a bald head and somewhat protrusive eyes, whose manners to his customers contained a combination of dictatorial a.s.surance and subservience, which he had found to be efficacious in his peculiar business. On general subjects he would rub his hands, and bow his head, and agree most humbly with every word that was uttered. In the same day he would be a Radical and a Conservative, devoted to the Church and a scoffer at parsons, animated on behalf of staghounds and a loud censurer of aught in the way of hunting other than the orthodox fox. On all trivial outside subjects he considered it to be his duty as a tradesman simply to ingratiate himself; but in a matter of breeches he gave way to no man, let his custom be what it might. He knew his business, and was not going to be told by any man whether the garments which he made did or did not fit. It was the duty of a gentleman to come and allow him to see them on while still in a half-embryo condition. If gentlemen did their duty, he was sure that he could do his. He would take back anything that was not approved without a murmur;--but after that he must decline further transactions. It was, moreover, quite understood that to complain of his materials was so to insult him that he would condescend to make no civil reply. An elderly gentleman from Ess.e.x once told him that his b.u.t.tons were given to breaking.

"If you have your breeches,--washed,--by an old woman,--in the country,"--said Mr. Neefit, very slowly, looking into the elderly gentleman's face, "and then run through the mangle,--the b.u.t.tons will break." The elderly gentleman never dared even to enter the shop again.

Mr. Neefit was perhaps somewhat over-imperious in matters relating to his own business; but, in excuse for him, it must be stated that he was, in truth, an honest tradesman;--he was honest at least so far, that he did make his breeches as well as he knew how. He had made up his mind that the best way to make his fortune was to send out good articles,--and he did his best. Whether or no he was honest in adding on that additional half guinea to the price because he found that the men with whom he dealt were fools enough to be attracted by a high price, shall be left to advanced moralists to decide. In that universal agreement with diverse opinions there must, we fear, have been something of dishonesty. But he made the best of breeches, put no shoddy or cheap st.i.tching into them, and was, upon the whole, an honest tradesman.

From 9.30 to 5.15 were Mr. Neefit's hours; but it had come to be understood by those who knew the establishment well, that from half-past twelve to half-past one the master was always absent. The young man who sat at the high desk, and seemed to spend all his time in contemplating the bad debts in the ledger, would tell gentlemen who called up to one that Mr. Neefit was in the City. After one it was always said that Mr. Neefit was lunching at the Restaurong. The truth was that Mr. Neefit always dined in the middle of the day at a public-house round the corner, having a chop and a "follow chop," a pint of beer, a penny newspaper and a pipe. When the villa at Hendon had been first taken Mrs. Neefit had started late dinners; but that vigilant and intelligent lady had soon perceived that this simply meant, in regard to her husband, two dinners a day,--and apoplexy.

She had, therefore, returned to the old ways,--an early dinner for herself and daughter, and a little bit of supper at night. Now, one day in June,--that very Sat.u.r.day on which Sir Thomas Underwood brought his niece home to Fulham, the day after that wicked kiss on the lawn at Fulham, Ralph Newton walked into Neefit's shop during the hour of Mr. Neefit's absence, and ordered,--three pair of breeches.

Herr "Bawwah," the cutter, who never left his board during the day for more than five minutes at a time, remained, as was his custom, mute and apparently inattentive; but the foreman came down from his perch and took the order. Mr. Neefit was out, unfortunately;--in the City. Ralph Newton remarked that his measure was not in the least altered, gave his order, and went out.

"Three pair?--leather?" asked Mr. Neefit, when he returned, raising his eyebrows, and clearly showing that the moment was not one of unmixed delight.

"Two leather;--one cord," said the foreman. "He had four pair last year," said Mr. Neefit, in a tone so piteous that it might almost have been thought that he was going to weep.

"One hundred and eighty-nine pounds, fourteen shillings, and nine pence was the Christmas figure," said the foreman, turning back to a leaf in the book, which he found without any difficulty. Mr. Neefit took himself to the examination of certain completed articles which adorned his shop, as though he were anxious to banish from his mind so painful a subject. "Is he to 'ave 'em, Mr. Neefit?" asked the foreman. The master was still silent, and still fingered the materials which his very soul loved. "He must 'ave a matter of twenty pair by him,--unless he sells 'em," said the suspicious foreman.

"He don't sell 'em," said Mr. Neefit. "He ain't one of that sort. You can put 'em in hand, Waddle."

"Very well, Mr. Neefit. I only thought I'd mention it. It looked queer like, his coming just when you was out."

"I don't see anything queer in it. He ain't one of that sort. Do you go on." Mr. Waddle knew nothing of the hundred pounds, nor did he know that Ralph Newton had,--twice drank tea at Hendon. On both occasions Mrs. Neefit had declared that if ever she saw a gentleman, Mr. Newton was a gentleman; and Miss Neefit, though her words had been very few, had evidently approved of Mr. Newton's manners. Now Miss Neefit was a beauty and an heiress.

Mr. Waddle had hardly been silenced, and had just retired with melancholy diligence amidst the records of unsatisfactory commercial transactions, before Ralph Newton again entered the shop. He shook hands with Mr. Neefit,--as was the practice with many favourite customers,--and immediately went to work in regard to his new order, as though every Christmas and every Midsummer saw an account closed on his behalf in Mr. Neefit's books. "I did say just now, when I found you were out, that last year's lines would do; but it may be, you know, that I'm running a little to flesh."

"We can't be too particular, Mr. Newton," said the master.

"It's all for your sake that I come," said the young sportsman, walking into the little room, while Mr. Neefit followed with his sc.r.a.ps of paper and tapes, and Waddle followed him to write down the figures. "I don't care much how they look myself."

"Oh, Mr. Newton!"

"I shouldn't like 'em to wrinkle inside the knee, you know."

"That isn't likely with us, I hope, Mr. Newton."

"And I own I do like to be able to get into them."

"We don't give much trouble in that way, Mr. Newton."

"But the fact is I have such trust in you and the silent gentleman out there, that I believe you would fit me for the next twenty years, though you were never to see me."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Newton,--2, 4, and 1/8th, Waddle. I think Mr.

Newton is a little stouter. But, perhaps, you may work that off before November, Mr. Newton. Thank you, Mr. Newton;--I think that'll do. You'll find we shan't be far wrong. Three pair, Mr. Newton?"

"Yes;--I think three pair will see me through next season. I don't suppose I shall hunt above four days, and I have some by me."

Some by him! There must be drawers full of them,--presses full of them, chests full of them! Waddle, the melancholy and suspicious Waddle, was sure that their customer was playing them false,--raising money on the garments as soon as they were sent to him; but he did not dare to say anything of this after the snubbing which he had already received. If old Neefit chose to be done by a dishonest young man it was nothing to him. But in truth Waddle did not understand men as well as did his master;--and then he knew nothing of his master's ambitious hopes.

"The bishops came out very strong last night;--didn't they?" said Ralph, in the outer shop.

"Very strong, indeed, Mr. Newton;--very strong."

"But, after all, they're nothing but a pack of old women."

"That's about what they are, Mr. Newton."

"Not but what we must have a Church, I suppose."

"We should do very badly without a Church, Mr. Newton. At least that is my opinion." Then Ralph left the shop, and the breeches-maker bowed him out of the door.