CHAPTER VII
_The Golden Teapot_
While George Grice was driving out of Sicaster, groaning and grumblingat his ill-luck, Jeckie Farnish, in the Finkle Street lodging, wascontemplating a pile of linen which had just been sent in to her forstitching. Rushie contemplated it, too, and made a face at it.
"Looks as if we should never get through it!" she said mournfully, "Andit's such dull work, sewing all day long."
"Don't you quarrel with your bread-and-butter, miss!" answered Jeckie,with ready sharpness. "You'd ought to be thankful we've got work to dorather than grumble at it."
"There's other work nor this that a body can do," retorted Rushie. "Anda deal pleasanter!"
"Aye, and what, miss, I should like to know?" demanded Jeckie as shethrust a length of linen into her sister's hands. "What is there thatyou could do, pray?"
"Herbert Binks says Mr. Fryer wants one or two young women in his shop,"answered Rushie, diffidently. "I could try for that if I was only let.And it's far more respectable learning the drapery and millinery thansewing sheets and things all day long."
"Is it?" said Jeckie. "Well, I know naught about respectability, and Ido know 'at Mr. Fryer 'ud want a nice bit o' money paying to him if hetook you as apprentice. And you mind what you're doing with that HerbertBinks! I've no opinion o' these town fellers; he'll be turning your headwith soft talk. You be thankful 'at we've got work to do that keeps usout o' the workhouse. Where should we all ha' been now, I should like toknow, if it hadn't been for me?"
Then she sat down in her usual place by the window, and began to sew asif for dear life, while Rushie, taking refuge in poutings and silence,set to work in languid fashion. Already Jeckie was having trouble withher and with Farnish. The younger sister openly revolted against theinterminable sewing. Farnish, whose pocket-money had been fixed at fiveshillings, found eightpence-halfpenny a day all too little for his beer,and sulked every night when he came home from the greengrocer's.Moreover, Jeckie found it impossible to keep Rushie to heel; she couldnot always be watching her, and as soon as her back was turned of anevening Rushie was out and away about the town, always with someshop-boy or other in attendance. It was not easy work to manage her orFarnish, and Jeckie foresaw a day in which both would strike. Some folk,she knew, would have said let them strike and see to themselves, butJeckie was one of those unfortunate mortals who are cursed with anexaggerated sense of personal responsibility, and she worried much moreabout her father and sister than about herself.
"You stick to what work we've got for a bit, Rushie, my lass!" she saidpresently, in mollifying tones. "I know well enough it's trying, butthere'll very likely be something better to do before long; you neverknow what's going to turn up!"
Something was about to turn up at that moment, though Jeckie wasunconscious of it. One of Palethorpe & Overthwaite's office boys camewhistling along the street, and, catching sight of Jeckie at the openwindow, paused and grinned; Jeckie eyed him over with a sudden feelingof anticipation.
"Are you wanting me?" she demanded.
"Mr. Palethorpe's compliments, and would you mind stepping round to ouroffice, miss?" said the lad. "They want to see you, particular."
"I'll be there in a few minutes," answered Jeckie. She laid aside hersewing when the lad had turned on his heel, and looked at her sister."Get on with your work while I'm out, Rushie," she said. "I'll be asquick as I can--and, maybe, I'll have some news for you when I comeback."
Then she hurried into her best garments and hastened round to Palethorpe& Overthwaite's, wondering all the way what they wanted. The partnerssmiled at her as she was shown in, and Overthwaite manifested an extrapoliteness in handing her a chair.
"Well, Miss Farnish!" said Palethorpe, almost jocularly. "We've goodnews for you. The enemy's capitulated! Never made a bit of a fight,either. Clean beaten!"
Jeckie looked from one man to the other with surprised questioning eyes.
"He's going to pay?" she suggested.
Palethorpe pointed to a cheque which lay face downwards on his desk.
"He's paid!" he answered. "Half an hour ago. There's the cheque. I'lltell you all about it in a few words. I served Albert with the writmyself yesterday afternoon. Albert had nothing to say; old Georgeblustered, and said he'd see his solicitor. I said he could do nothingbetter. He came in first thing this morning, and saw Camberley;Camberley came on to see us. And, of course, he knew they hadn't a legto stand on, so, as you'd given us full permission to settle on yourbehalf, he came to terms. And--there's the money!"
Jeckie caught her breath, and looked at the cheque with a glance keenenough, as Overthwaite afterwards remarked, to go through it and thewood beneath it. It was with an obvious effort that she got out twowords.
"How much?"
"Fifteen hundred pounds--and our costs," answered Palethorpe. "I hopeyou're satisfied?"
Jeckie gave him a queer, shrewd, enigmatical look.
"Aye, I'm satisfied!" she said in a low voice. "I should ha' made AlbertGrice a rare good wife and George Grice a saving daughter-in-law,but--yes, I'm satisfied. And--I know well enough what I shall do withit--as George Grice'll find out! So--I'm worth fifteen hundred pound?That's one thousand five hundred! Very well! And--I'm much obliged toyou."
Palethorpe turned to his partner.
"Write out a cheque for Miss Farnish for one thousand five hundredpounds," he said. "And she'll give us a receipt. Now Miss Farnish," hewent on, as Overthwaite produced a cheque-book, "You'll want to bankthis money, no doubt? If you like, I'll introduce you to the Old Bank."
"Much obliged to you," answered Jeckie. "I have some money of my own inthe Penny Bank, but of course, it's naught much. Yes, I'll go to the OldBank, if you please, Mr. Palethorpe. And--don't I owe you something?"
"Nothing!" answered Palethorpe, with a smile. "We made Grice pay yourcosts--every penny."
"I hope you charged him plenty," said Jeckie.
Palethorpe laughed, and presently handing her the cheque, took her offto the Old Bank and introduced her to its manager. Half an hour later,Jeckie, with a virgin cheque-book in her hand, burst in upon Rushie.
"There now, Rushie!" she said, "didn't I tell you there'd happen bebetter times i' store for us. You can drop that sewing--we've done withit. We'll hand it over to Mrs. Thompson; she'll finish it and be glad o'the job an' all. But--we've done wi' that."
Rushie dropped her needle into the folds of the linen and stared.
"Whatever's happened?" she demanded. "You're all red, like!"
"Never you mind if I'm blue or green," said Jeckie. "I've made themGrices pay!--I never told you, but I put t'lawyers on to Albert forbreach of promise. And of course there was no defence, and he's had topay, or old George has paid for him, and I've got the money, and it'ssafe in the bank!"
"How much?" asked Rushie eagerly. "A lot?"
"No, I shan't tell!" replied Jeckie, with a firm shake of her head."Then you won't know when father asks, for I certainly shan't tell him.But now, Rushie, you listen here. Take all this stuff to Mrs. Thompsonand ask her if she'll finish it off. And see to your own and father'sdinner--I shan't be in for dinner; I've important business to see to,and I shall be out till evening. Now don't go trailing about the town,Rushie--be a good girl, and you'll hear news when I come home."
"Then we aren't going to do any more sewing?" asked Rushie.
"We're going to do no more sewing!" said Jeckie. "Not one stitch! We'regoing to do something a deal better. You'll see, if you behaveyourself--and it'll be a deal better, too, nor going 'prentice to Mr.Fryer."
She gave her sister a decisive nod as she left the house and the colourwas still bright in her cheeks as she marched off in the direction of apath across the fields which lay between Sicaster and Savilestowe. Itwas but a very short time since she and Rushie and Farnish had comealong that path, carrying their entire belongings in bundles; now, shereflected, she was retracing her steps with the proud consciousness thatshe had fifteen hundred pounds of solid money
in the bank--the knowledgewas all the sweeter to her because it had been wrung out of old GeorgeGrice.
"Aye!" she muttered, as she walked swiftly along over the quiet meadowsand through the growing cornfields. "And now 'at I've got a start, I'lllet George Grice see 'at he's not the only one 'at can play at the gameo' makin' money! He's a hard and a healthy old feller, and he'll live agood while yet, and I'd let him see 'at I can make money as cleverly ashe's done--aye, and at his expense, too! I'll make him and Albert ruethe day 'at they cast me aside--let 'em see if I don't!"
The path across the fields led Jeckie out close by Applecroft, but itwas indicative of her mood that she never once turned her head aside toglance at the old place. She marched straight down the lane, crossed thechurchyard, and presently turned into Stubley's trim garden. It was tosee Stubley that she had come to Savilestowe.
Stubley, who had just been round his land, was entering his house whenJeckie came up. He led her inside, and, finding she would drink nothingstronger brought out a bottle of home-made wine; he himself turned to ajug of ale which stood ready on the sideboard.
"And what brings ye here, mi lass?" he asked, eyeing her inquisitivelyas he sat down in his big elbow chair. "Ye're lookin' uncommon well."
"Mr. Stubley," answered Jeckie, "I've come to see you. I've something totell you, for you were always a good friend to me. You knew that I wasgoing to marry Albert Grice, and that him and his father threw me awaywhen my father came smash. Well, I've made 'em pay! Old George has paidfifteen hundred pound--and I've got it, all safe, in the bank."
Stubley's face lighted up with undisguised admiration, and he broughthis big hand down on his knee with a hearty smack.
"Good lass!" he exclaimed. "Good lass! That's the ticket! An' right an'all--they tret you very bad did them two! Good, that 'ud make old Georgegrunt and grumble! But fifteen hundred pound--that's a sight o' money,mi gel--mind you take care on it."
"Trust me!" answered Jeckie, with a sharp look, "I know the value ofmoney as well as anybody. But now, Mr. Stubley, do you know what I'mgoing to do with that fifteen hundred pound?"
"Nay, sure-ly!" said the farmer. "How should I know, mi lass?"
"Then, I'll tell you," replied Jeckie. She leaned forward across thetable, looking earnestly into Stubley's shrewd eyes. "This!" she said."I'm going to start a grocery business here in Savilestowe--inopposition to Grice and Son! There!"
Stubley started as if somebody had suddenly trod on a corn. He stared athis visitor, rubbed his chin, and shook his head.
"You're a bold 'un!" he said in accents which were not withoutadmiration. "And a clever 'un, an' all! Aye, there's summat in thatnotion, mi lass; old George has had his own way i' this neighbourhood i'that line too long, and t'place 'ud be all t'better for a bit o'competition. But--what do ye know o' t'trade?"
"I know how to buy and sell with anybody," asserted Jeckie. "An' I'mthat quick at picking things up 'at I shall know all there is to beknown before I start. My mind's made up, Mr. Stubley. I've reckoned andfigured things. George Grice isn't popular here, as you know; there'slots of folks'll give their custom to me. And I'll warrant you I'll haveall t'poor folks away from him as soon as ever I open my doors! He'sbeen hard on them, and his prices is shameful, and he doesn't layhimself out to keep what they want; as it is, most on 'em have to go toSicaster for their stuff. Now, I'll capture all t'lot of 'em, here andin this district; I know what they want, and what they can pay, and I'llprovide accordingly. An' I'll cut George Grice's prices wherever I can;I know what I'm about! An' I'm sure and certain that there's lots o' thebetter sort'll give me their trade; you would yourself, now, Mr.Stubley, wouldn't you?"
"Aye, I think I can say I should, mi lass!" asserted the farmer. "I'mnone bound to no George Grice; he's a hard, grasping old feller, andthere's no love lost between me and him. But you know ye'd want a likelyshop, and----"
"That's just what I've come about," interrupted Jeckie. "I want you tolet me that empty house that old Mrs. Mapplebeck had; I know it'syours, and I know what she paid you for it. Those two bottom frontrooms'll make a splendid shop, and I'd have 'em fitted up at once. Letit to me, Mr. Stubley, and I'll pay you the first year's rent inadvance, just now."
Stubley suddenly smote his knee again, and burst into laughter.
"Good; it's right opposite old George's!" he chuckled. "He'd havet'opposition shop straight before his eyes, right i' front of his nose!They talk about poetic justice, what?--now that would be it, wi' avengeance. Gow!--I can see t'old feller's face! Ye're a bold 'un,Jeckie, mi lass, ye're a bold 'un!"
"Let me the house!" said Jeckie. "It's just because it's in front ofGrice's that I do want it. Don't you see, Mr. Stubley, that one o' mybest chances is to be right before his very door? There's many that setout to go to him 'ud turn into me when they saw it was better worththeir while."
Stubley chuckled again at his visitor's eagerness, and suddenly hepulled up his chair to the table and became serious.
"Now, then, let's go into matters," he said, gravely. "Ye're a smartlass, you know, Jeckie, but it's a serious thing starting to fight anold-established firm like Grice and Son. Let's hear a bit more aboutwhat you propose, like."
Jeckie wished for nothing better. She talked, and explained, andoutlined her schemes, and pointed out to the farmer, himself a keen manof business, where Grice & Son were hopelessly out of date and whereshe could hope to draw a considerable amount of trade away from them.She also showed him that she was thoroughly conversant with certaincustoms of the trade which she now proposed to take up, and that she hadalready made herself acquainted with the methods of purchase fromwholesale grocers and manufacturers. Stubley was struck by herknowledge.
"You've been meditating this, mi lass?" he said. "You've been preparingfor it!"
"Ever since I knew there was a chance of getting money out o' GeorgeGrice, I have!" admitted Jeckie. "As soon as ever Palethorpe andOverthwaite told me 'at I'd a good case, and that Albert 'ud have topay, I determined what I'd do with the money even if it wasn't as muchas it's turned out to be. And I shall do well, Mr. Stubley, you'll see!"
Stubley let her the house she wanted, and she paid him a year's rent inadvance, and went off, triumphant, to the village carpenter, and, havingsworn him to secrecy, told him her plans and gave him orders for thefitting up of the two big ground-floor rooms. He, too, got a cheque onaccount, and promised to go to work at once and to tell nobody who itwas that he was working for. But he was wise enough to know that suchwork as his could not be done in a corner and that there would beinfinite curiosity in the shop across the way.
"Ye'll none get that secret kept long, ye know, miss," he said. "Whent'Grices sees 'at I'm fittin' yon place up as a shop they'll want toknow what it's all about like. It'll have to come out i'now."
"Not till I let it!" said Jeckie. "You go on as fast as you can withyour work, and wait till I say the word."
During the next month the carpenter and his men were busy day by daywith counters and shelving, and George Grice, crossing the road to themmore than once got nothing but evasive replies in answer to hisinquisitiveness. But one day, chancing to look across at the mysteriousbuilding, he saw the carpenter coming down a ladder from the mouldingover the front door; he had just fixed there a great golden teapot. Thestrong sunlight fell full on its grandeur, and the village street wassuddenly bathed in glory.