CHAPTER X
_The Eternal Feminine_
All unknown to George Grice, there was a certain young person in hisimmediate surroundings who was watching the course and trend of eventswith a pair of eyes which were at least as keen as his own. Hisdaughter-in-law had come to her new life armed with a goodly stock ofcommon sense and no small share of the family characteristics of love ofmoney and astuteness in getting it. Lucilla, indeed, was a worthydaughter of her father, the draper, who was as much of a money-grubberas his brother of Savilestowe, and had implanted in his children--allgirls--a thorough devotion to Mammon. The draper had played no smallpart in engineering the marriage between Lucilla and Albert. Having readthe letter which Albert brought him from George, he had conductedLucilla into privacy and set forth certain facts before her. One, thathis brother George was a very warm man, a very warm man indeed, with thetrue instinct for scraping money together and sticking to it when it wasscraped. A second was that he was now an elderly man, of a plethorichabit, and could not, in all reason, expect to live so very much longer.A third was that Albert was an only child and would accordingly comeinto his father's property and business; a fourth, that the propertywas considerable and the business a monopoly. And the fifth, and notleast important one, was that Albert was the sort of fellow that anywoman could twist round her finger and tie up to her apron strings.
Lucilla made up her mind there and then, and skilfully detaching Albertfrom her two sisters, to whom she and her father said a few words inprivate, led him through the by-ways of love to the hymeneal altar. Whenshe had safely conducted him there, she took stock of the new world inwhich she found herself. A close inspection of her father-in-lawconvinced her that George Grice had a decided tendency to apoplexy, andmight be seized at any time. She foresaw great things for Albert andherself--a few years more of monopolistic trading in Savilestowe, andthey would be able to sell the business and goodwill for a handsome sumand retire, to be lady and gentleman for all the rest of their lives.This was Lucilla's ambition. It had been hers when she helped her fatherin his drapery stores; it remained hers when she began to post up herfather-in-law's account-books. Linen and lace, bacon and bread were not,in themselves, objects of interest to Lucilla; they were means to anend. The end was a genteel competency in a smart villa residence, withat least a good horse and a showy dog-cart, two maids, and real silveron the dinner table.
But when the golden teapot rose across the street, set high above thearch of Jeckie Farnish's front door, a flaming reminder to George Gricethat the enemy's outworks had been pushed close to his citadel, Lucillabegan to foresee much. Her brain was small but sharp, and she had beentrained in a shrewd school. It needed little reflection to show her thather father-in-law's monopoly was in a fair way of being broken down, andthat Albert's partnership in George Grice & Son was not worth as much asit had been when he and his father set their signatures to the deed.Before the first week of the rival's campaign was over, Lucilla, asbookkeeper, was aware of some stern facts. She drew Albert's attentionto them during the temporary absence of old Grice from the shop.
"Look here!" she said, pointing to some figures on a sheet of paper."The takings for this week are not one-third of what they were lastweek! That's as regard the cash trade. And look at that!" she went on,indicating a row of small account-books. "Where there used to bethirty-three of those, there's now only seventeen. That means thatsixteen good customers, who used to pay their accounts weekly, have goneover yonder. She's driving her knife in pretty deep, Albert, is that oldflame of yours!"
Albert had been obliged to tell Lucilla of his former attachment; havingsecured Albert for herself, she had paid little attention to it; shealso had had sweethearts in her maiden days. True, she had felt a senseof great injury when Jeckie Farnish got her fifteen hundred pounds, butshe had made up her mind that that was never to be brought into accountagainst Albert--George Grice had broken off the match and he must pay.And her last remark was more jocular than reproachful--something in hermade her see the humour of a situation in which George was getting theworst of it.
"Now you reckon up, Albert, and just see for yourself what a falling offlike this is going to mean at the end of the year!" she continued."You'll find it'll be a nice round sum."
Albert, who was not behindhand at mental arithmetic, nodded.
"Aye," he said. "But--will it last? I expected naught else thisweek--folks will go to aught that's new. But a lot of 'em'll come back."
"Will they?" demanded Lucilla, with a certain grimness of aspect. "We'llsee!"
There was a note in her voice which seemed to suggest that she hadconsiderable doubt about Albert's optimism, and as time went on her ownfears proved to have been well grounded. The truth was, as Lucilla knew,that George Grice & Son had become old-fashioned. George had got into arut, and nothing could lift him out of it. Instead of laying in what hiscustomers wanted, or developing new lines of trade, he went on in theway to which he had become accustomed, dealing with the same firms,driving away travellers who wanted to introduce new goods, refusing tomarch with the times. And nobody knew this better than Jeckie Farnish,who welcomed anything new and up-to-date, studied the likes, pleasures,and convenience of her customers in everything, and, in her shop and inall her dealings, cultivated a suavity and charm of manner whichsometimes made Farnish and Rushie wonder if she were the same woman towhose sharp tongue and hard words they were not infrequently treated.
"You take good care never to speak to customers as you speak to me,"remonstrated Rushie on one occasion. "You're as mealy-mouthed as everthey make 'em when you're in t'shop, even if it's in servin' naught buta pennorth o' pepper! It's all smiles and soft talk then--t'customers isfair fawned on when you're behind t'counter!"
"I'm makin' my money out o' customers!" retorted Jeckie. "I'm makin'none out o' you, mi lass. I should be a fool, an' all, if I didn't do abit o' soft sawderin' to folks 'at brings brass i' their hands. Poundsor pence, politeness is due to all. It costs naught."
There was more gruffness than politeness across the way, and at the endof six months Lucilla knew that George Grice and Son were seriouslyaffected. Certain old customers had stuck to the old firm; certain ofthe village folk still came in at the door; there were others whocontinued to trade with the Grices because they were in debt to them andwere paying by instalments. But Lucilla knew--for she kept the books.And without saying anything to Albert, she formed plans and ideas of herown which eventually developed into a project, and one winter afternoon,when George and his son had gone to Clothford on business which requiredtheir joint presence, she boldly walked across the street, and, enteringthe rival establishment, marched calmly up to the mistress at the cashdesk.
"Good afternoon, Miss Farnish," she said, in as matter-of-fact tones asshe would have employed if she had called in to change a sovereign intosilver. "Can I have a word or two with you? You know me, MissFarnish?--Mrs. Albert Grice."
For once in her life Jeckie was taken aback. She stared at her visitoras if Lucilla had been one of the animals from the menagerie just thenbeing shown at Sicaster, and the vivid colour which always distinguishedher healthy cheeks deepened. In silence, and with a glance at Rushie,who was staring open-mouthed at Mrs. Albert, she left the cash desk andushered the caller into the parlour.
"What do you want?" she demanded with asperity. "I'm busy!"
"You're always busy," said Lucilla. "Anybody can see that. But you'llspare me a minute or two, I'm sure, and I'll sit down, if you please,Miss Farnish," she went on, when Jeckie had ungraciously indicated thechair and had taken one herself--to sit on the extreme edge of it in aseverely rigid and disapproving attitude. "Miss Farnish, there's no needfor you and me to be enemies, whatever you may be with the men opposite.I'd naught to do with what happened between you and the Grices. I neverknew that you and Albert had been engaged when he came to our house atNottingham. I never knew till we were married. What I know is that Ibrought Albert Grice a couple of thousand pounds, and that me and myfather exp
ected I was marrying into something that was worth having!"
"Isn't it?" demanded Jeckie, with a grim face.
"It's not going to be if things go on as they are!" answered Lucilla,with obvious candour. "I'm all for plain speaking, and truth, and seeingthings as they are, I am! And what's the use of endeavouring to concealthings, Miss Farnish? I've kept the books across there ever since I cameto this place, and I know how George Grice & Son is situated."
"Well?" said Jeckie, grim as ever. "Well?"
"Well," answered Lucilla, "I should think the plain truth's obvious toanybody that has eyes! Their trade's falling off. Of course, you knowthat as well as I do. You've got what they've lost. I don't see any usein concealing matters; their turn-over this year'll not be half of whatit was last year. Now, Miss Farnish, I put it to you--how long's thisgoing to last?"
Jeckie shifted her stiff position, and began to grow interested.
"I don't know what you mean," she said.
"Why, I mean this," replied Lucilla. "I've been brought up to business,and I know what I'm talking about. Here's two businesses in one place,covering the same district--rival businesses. The probability is thatthings have got to a settled point now--you've established yourbusiness, and very quick, too, and George Grice & Son, if they've lostwhat you've gained, have got a certain number of customers that'll stickto them. You'll not get any farther in one way and they'll not gofarther in the other. Now, what foolishness to have two such businessesin one place, trying to cut one another's throats! Why not come toterms, Miss Farnish? Amalgamate!--that's what's wanted. Call it Farnish& Grice, or Grice & Farnish. Turn the two firms into a limited liabilitycompany, if you like, but bring them together! That's what I say,anyway."
"Who sent you?" asked Jeckie.
Lucilla stared.
"Sent--me?" she exclaimed. "Lord, do you think anybody sent me? What,old Grice? or Albert? I should like to see either of 'em send me aboutanything! No, I came on my own hook. They don't know. It's my idea.But--if you'd agree to what I say I would bring them to it, both of 'em.Albert, of course, he'd do just what I told him to do, and as for hisfather, well, I could talk him round. But what do you say?"
For the first time since her visitor had entered the parlour Jeckie lether stern features relax into a smile. It was the sort of a smile whichmight overspread the face of a conqueror who, having his enemy at hisfeet, is asked, suddenly, to let him off, unscathed.
"What do I say?" she said. "Why, I say 'at you don't know me, or elseyou'd never come here with such a proposal! Lord bless you! I wouldn'thave aught to do with George Grice were it ever so! Why should I? I'venot been seven month at this business, and I've made it pay. Aye, nobodybut myself knows how well, for all I've cut prices to the last extent.And this is naught to what I intend to do. I'm servin' a radius o' fivemiles now, but it'll be ten next year. I'm not going to content myselfwith Savilestowe, you make no mistake! An' you started out by saying,how long's this going to last? I'll tell you how long it's going tolast. It's going to last till I've done what I aimed at doing when Istarted!"
"And what's that?" inquired Lucilla. "What did you aim at?"
"I aimed at forcing George Grice to put up his shutters!" answeredJeckie, in harsh, tense tones. "And--I'll do it!"
Lucilla rose from her chair, staring at the stern eyes and hard mouth.
"Oh, well, in that case," she said, "of course, if you're feeling thatway, there's no more to be said about it, and I shall know what to do."
"And what's that?" demanded Jeckie, who was still inquisitive. "Whatwill you do?"
"That's my business," answered Lucilla. "However, I'm obliged to you formaking things plainer. I shall know better what course to take. And, asI said, there's no reason why you and me should be enemies; I've nothingagainst you. I reckon you're doing your best for yourself. So am I!"
Jeckie asked no more questions, and Lucilla marched calmly back acrossthe street, and spent the remainder of the afternoon and evening makinga minutely close and accurate examination of the books of George Grice &Son. And that night, in the security of their own parlour, where she andher husband spent all their leisure now that there was a coolnessbetween George and herself, she gave Albert definite orders as to thefuture. It was in his power to dissolve the partnership and to claimhis share at any moment. The moment, in Lucilla's opinion, was at hand.Next year, by that time, the goodwill of the firm would not be worthanything like so much as it was then. The year after that it would beworth still less. In three years, said Lucilla, it would be worth justnothing. Albert gave in, only stipulating that Lucilla should break thenews to George and do all the talking. Lucilla was as ready for this asfor her breakfast, and within a month George had paid Albert out withsix thousand pounds, and stood in his shop a lonely and sour-mouthedman.
It was about this time that Jeckie also came to the waters ofbitterness, if not of actual tribulation. Rushie led her to them. Inspite of all that her elder sister could say, Rushie would not give upthe society and attentions of Mr. Herbert Binks. Herbert was one ofthose young men who part their hair in the middle, use much pomatum, andare never seen out of doors without gloves; he also wore a tailed coatand a top-hat on Sundays. His chief ideas were centered in the draperytrade, but he was of an innocently amorous nature, and Rushie consideredhim a perfect gentleman. Not even Jeckie could prevent these two meetingon Sunday afternoons, and as Jeckie would not admit Herbert to herhouse, he and Rushie took to having tea together at the"Coach-and-Four," whence they invariably proceeded to evensong at theparish church and sang out of the same hymn-book. It was a mark ofrespectability to go to church, said Herbert, and stood you well inwith customers. But the expenditure at the "Coach-and-Four" rousedJeckie's contempt, and hardened her against Rushie's young man.
"A nice sort o' feller you've got!" she said, with one of her grimsneers. "Spending what bit of money he's got in teain' at t''Coach-and-Four' every Sunday! I know what they'll charge him for yourteas! Ninepence each--such extravagance! Eighteenpence every Sunday.That's three pounds eighteen shillings a year--enough to buy him a newsuit o' clothes or you a new gown! And I'll lay my lord must do thegrand and put a sixpence in t'plate when you go to church--just to lookfine. That's another six-and-twenty shillings! You might as well tellhim to chuck his brass i' t'horsepond!"
"We don't have tea at the 'Coach-and-Four' every Sunday in the year!"declared Rushie. "And Herbert doesn't give sixpence at church--he keepsthreepenny bits for that. And there'd be no need to have tea at all atthe public if you'd behave as you ought and ask him here! But I shall behaving a house of my own some day--you'll see!"
"And a fine place it'll be, out o' two pounds a week!" sneered Jeckie."Nay, I'd ha' summat better nor a feller 'at measures tape and sellspins and needles. Isn't there two or three young fellers abaht 'at hasbrass? I'd say naught if you'd tak' up wi' young Summers, forinstance--he's been looking like a sheep at you this long while, andhe's a rare good farm and money i' plenty."
"Never you mind!" retorted Rushie. "Herbert hasn't got a head like aturnip nor a face like a cake with raisins in it. Make up to youngSummers yourself!"
Rushie, it was clear, was sentimentally and badly in love with thepomatumed Herbert. But Jeckie had no belief that it would ever come toanything serious until she awoke one morning to discover that her sisterhad risen much earlier and had departed to Sicaster, where by that timeshe had become Mrs. Binks.