The Three Clerks I

THE THREE CLERKS

Norman and Charley, wet as the latter was, contrived to bring the shattered boat back to Hampton. When they reached the lawn at Surbiton Cottage they were both in high spirits. An accident, if it does no material harm, is always an inspiriting thing, unless one feels that it has been attributable to one’s own fault. Neither of them could in this instance attach any blame to himself, and each felt that he had done what in him lay to prevent the possible ill effect of the mischance. As for the boat, Harry was too happy to think that none of his friends were hurt to care much about that.

As they walked across the lawn Mrs. Woodward ran out to them. ‘My dear, dear Charley,’ she said, ‘what am I to say to thank you?’ It was the first time Mrs. Woodward had ever called him by his Christian name. It had hitherto made him in a certain degree unhappy that she never did so, and now the sound was very pleasant to him.

‘Oh, Mrs. Woodward,’ said he, laughing, ‘you mustn’t touch me, for I’m all mud.’

‘My dear, dear Charley, what can I say to you? and dear Harry, I fear we’ve spoilt your beautiful new boat.’

‘I fear we’ve spoilt Katie’s beautiful new hat,’ said Norman. Mrs. Woodward had taken and pressed a hand of each of

them, in spite of Charley’s protestations about the mud.

‘Oh! you’re in a dreadful state,’ said she; ‘you had better take something at once; you’ll catch your death of cold.’

‘I’d better take myself off to the inn,’ said Charley, ‘and get some clean clothes; that’s all I want. But how is Katie — and how is Linda?’

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And so, after a multitude of such inquiries on both sides, and of all manner of affectionate greetings, Charley went off to make himself dry, preparatory to the reading of the manuscript.

During his absence, Linda and Katie came down to the drawing-room. Linda was full of fun as to her journey with the bargeman; but Katie was a little paler than usual, and somewhat more serious and quiet than she was wont to be.

Norman was the first in the drawing-room, and received the thanks of the ladies for his prowess in assisting them; and Charley was not slow to follow him, for he was never very long at his toilet. He came in with a jaunty laughing air, as though nothing particular had happened, and as if he had not a care in the world. And yet while he had been dressing he had been thinking almost more than ever of Norah Geraghty. O that she, and Mrs. Davis with her, and Jabesh M’Ruen with both of them, could be buried ten fathom deep out of his sight, and out of his mind!

When he entered the room, Katie felt her heart beat so strongly that she hardly knew how to thank him for saving her life. A year ago she would have got up and kissed him innocently; but a year makes a great difference. She could not do that now, so she gave him her little hand, and held his till he came and sat down at his place at the table.

‘Oh, Charley, I don’t know what to say to you,’ said she; and he could see and feel that her whole body was shaking with emotion.

‘Then I’ll tell you what to say: ‘Charley, here is your tea, and some bread, and some butter, and some jam, and some muffin,’

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for I’ll tell you what, my evening bath has made me as hungry as a hunter. I hope it has done the same to you.’

Katie, still holding his hand, looked up into his face, and he saw that her eyes were suffused with tears. She then left his side, and, running round the room, filled a plate with all the things he had asked for, and, bringing them to him, again took her place beside him. ‘I wish I knew how to do more than that,’ said she.

‘I suppose, Charley, you’ll have to make an entry about that barge on Monday morning, won’t you?’ said Linda. ‘Mind you put in it how beautiful I looked sailing through the arch.’

‘Yes, and how very gallant the bargeman was,’ said Norman.

‘Yes, and how much you enjoyed the idea of going down the river with him, while, we came back to the Cottage,’ said Charley. ‘We’ll put it all down at the Navigation, and old Snape shall make a special minute about it.’

Katie drank her tea in silence, and tried to eat, though without much success. When chatting voices and jokes were to be heard at the Cottage, the sound of her voice was usually the foremost; but now she sat demure and quiet. She was realizing the danger from which she had escaped, and, as is so often the case, was beginning to fear it now that it was over.

‘Ah, Katie, my bonny bird,’ said her mother, seeing that she was not herself, and knowing that the excitement and overpowering feelings of gratitude were too much for her — come here; you should be in bed, my foolish little puss, should you not?’

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‘Indeed, she should,’ said Uncle Bat, who was somewhat hard-hearted about the affair of the accident, and had been cruel enough, after hearing an account of it, to declare that it was all Katie’s fault.

‘Indeed, she should; and if she had gone to bed a little earlier in the evening it would have been all the better for Master Norman’s boat.’

‘Oh! mamma, don’t send me to bed,’ said she, with tears in her eyes. ‘Pray don’t send me to bed now; I’m quite well, only I can’t talk because I’m thinking of what Charley did for me;’ and so saying she got up, and, hiding her face on her mother’s shoulder, burst into tears.

‘My dearest child,’ said Mrs. Woodward, ‘I’m afraid you’ll make yourself ill. We’ll put off the reading, won’t we, Charley? We have done enough for one evening.’

‘Of course we will,’ said he. ‘Reading a stupid story will be very slow work after all we’ve gone through to-day.’

‘No, no, no,’ said Katie; ‘it shan’t be put off; there won’t be any other time for hearing it. And, mamma it must be read; and I know it won’t be stupid. Oh; mamma, dear mamma, do let us hear it read; I’m quite well now.’

Mrs. Woodward found herself obliged to give way. She had not the heart to bid her daughter go away to bed, nor, had she done so, would it have been of any avail. Katie would only have lain and sobbed in her own room, and very probably have gone into hysterics. The best thing for her was to try to turn the current of her thoughts, and thus by degrees tame down her excited feelings.

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‘Well, darling, then we will have the story, if Charley will let us. Go and fetch it, dearest.’ Katie raised herself from her mother’s bosom, and, going across the room, fetched the roll of papers to Charley. As he prepared to take it she took his hand in hers, and, bending her head over it, tenderly kissed it. ‘You mustn’t think,’ said she, ‘that because I say nothing, I don’t know what it is that you’ve done for me; but I don’t know how to say it.’

Charley was at any rate as ignorant what he ought to say as Katie was. He felt the pressure of her warm lips on his hand, and hardly knew where he was. He felt that he blushed and looked abashed, and dreaded, fearfully dreaded, lest Mrs. Woodward should surmise that he estimated at other than its intended worth, her daughter’s show of affection for him.

‘I shouldn’t mind doing it every night,’ said he, ‘in such weather as this. I think it rather good fun going into the water with my clothes on.’ Katie looked up at him through her tears, as though she would say that she well understood what that meant.

Mrs. Woodward saw that if the story was to be read, the sooner they began it the better.

‘Come, Charley,’ said she, ‘now for the romance. Katie, come and sit by me.’ But Katie had already taken her seat, a little behind Charley, quite in the shade, and she was not to be moved.

‘ButIwon’treaditmyself,’saidCharley;‘youmustreadit,Mrs. Woodward.’

‘O yes, Mrs. Woodward, you are to read it,’ said Norman. ‘O yes, do read it, manna,’ said Linda.

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“CRINOLINE AND MACASSAR.”

“The lovely Crinoline was sitting alone at a lattice window on a summer morning, and as she sat she sang with melancholy cadence the first part of the now celebrated song which had then lately appeared, from the distinguished pen of Sir G — H — ,”

‘Who is Sir G — H — , Charley?’

‘Oh, it wouldn’t do for me to tell that,’ said Charley. ‘That must be left to the tact and intelligence of my readers.’

‘Oh, very well,’ said Mrs. Woodward, ‘we will abstain from all impertinent questions’ —’from the distinguished pen of Sir G — H — . The ditty which she sang ran as follows: —

My heart’s at my office, my heart is always there —

My heart’s at my office, docketing with care;

Docketing the papers, and copying all day,

My heart’s at my office, though I be far away.

“’Ah me!’ said the Lady Crinoline — “

‘What — is she a peer’s daughter?’ said Uncle Bat.

‘Not exactly,’ said Charley, ‘it’s only a sort of semi-poetic way one has of speaking of one’s heroine.’

“’Ah me!’ said the Lady Crinoline —’his heart! his heart! — I wonder whether he has got a heart;’ and then she sang again in low plaintive voice the first line of the song, suiting the cadence to her own case: —

His heart is at his office, his heart is always there.

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“’It was evident that the Lady Crinoline did not repeat the words in the feeling of their great author, who when he wrote them had intended to excite to high deeds of exalted merit that portion of the British youth which is employed in the Civil Service of the country.

“Crinoline laid down her lute — it was in fact an accordion — and gazing listlessly over the rails of the balcony, looked out at the green foliage which adorned the enclosure of the square below.

“It was Tavistock Square. The winds of March and the showers of April had been successful in producing the buds of May.” ‘Ah, Charley, that’s taken from the old song,’ said Katie,

‘only you’ve put buds instead of flowers.’

‘That’s quite allowable,’ said Mrs. Woodward — “successful in producing the buds of May. The sparrows chirped sweetly on the house-top, and the coming summer gladdened the hearts of all — of all except poor Crinoline.

“’I wonder whether he has a heart, said she; ‘and if he has, I wonder whether it is at his office.’

“As she thus soliloquized, the door was opened by a youthful page, on whose well-formed breast, buttons seemed to grow like mushrooms in the meadows in August.

“’Mr. Macassar Jones,’ said the page; and having so said, he discreetly disappeared. He was in his line of life a valuable member of society. He had brought from his last place a twelvemonth’s character that was creditable alike to his head and heart; he was now found to be a trustworthy assistant in the household of the Lady Crinoline’s mother, and was the delight of his aged parents, to whom he regularly remitted no

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inconsiderable portion of his wages. Let it always be remembered that the life even of a page may be glorious. All honour to the true and brave!”

‘Goodness, Charley — how very moral you are!’ said Linda. ‘Yes,’ said he; ‘that’s indispensable. It’s the intention of the Daily Delight always to hold up a career of virtue to the lower orders as the thing that pays. Honesty, high wages,

and hot dinners. Those are our principles.’

‘You’ll have a deal to do before you’ll bring the lower orders to agree with you,’ said Uncle Bat.

‘We have a deal to do,’ said Charley, ‘and we’ll do it. The power of the cheap press is unbounded.’

“As the page closed the door, a light, low, melancholy step was heard to make its way across the drawing-room. Crinoline’s heart had given one start when she had heard the announcement of the well-known name. She had once glanced with eager inquiring eye towards the door. But not in vain to her had an excellent mother taught the proprieties of elegant life. Long before Macassar Jones was present in the chamber she had snatched up the tambour-frame that lay beside her, and when he entered she was zealously engaged on the fox’s head that was to ornament the toe of a left-foot slipper. Who shall dare to say that those slippers were intended to grace the feet of Macassar Jones?”

‘But I suppose they were,’ said Katie.

‘You must wait and see,’ said her mother; ‘for my part I am not at all so sure of that.’

‘Oh, but I know they must be; for she’s in love with him,’ said Katie.

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