A Breaker of Laws/Chapter 10

attitude of reticence towards her neighbours which Caroline had observed at Exmouth Terrace was continued in the higher circles that Lewisham presented. The lady of the next house was one who, having in her salad days been in the chorus of a London theatre, never ceased to bewail her want of luck in finding a husband in the tea business instead of a husband in the aristocracy. On washing-days, when both ladies were flagging their back gardens with white linen—these being the rare occasions when Caroline was available for conversation—the lady next door would speak of the past in a high, shrill, regretful voice, reviewing her admirers of the early eighties in strict chronological order. Caroline wondered open-eyed at these revelations, amazed to find that it had been possible for the next-door lady to flit, butterfly-like, in her love affairs, remaining constant for a moment only.

It seemed to the good young woman that affection could not possibly be fixed upon more than one person in a lifetime, and she was sometimes tempted to expound this view to her neighbour, but that lady was of those who desire only to talk, and have no desire to listen; Caroline could only, therefore, argue the matter out with baby, who was argumentative in an indistinct way at first, but could always be persuaded into agreement by the promise of a royal princess for wife, a house in Park Lane, a South-Eastern Railway engine, and a ha'porth of sweets, the last-named to be handed over at once, the rest to be supplied by Caroline when her ship came home.

The house on the other side was occupied by two quiet old ladies, who sometimes borrowed Trafalgar, returning him always with a large silver coin held in one of his chubby hands, which coin was at once added to that young man's account at the Savings Bank. Trafalgar grew a big open-eyed baby, able with a great mental and physical effort to call William Finnis by the short name of 'Fin-fin,' his mother by the title 'Mum-mum,' and to hail his father with great delight by every other word in his limited vocabulary; with his father he had stirring prize-fights, where a dexterous habit of getting in with his left plump fist at a moment when Alfred's head chanced to be in the way always gained triumph for him, forcing Alfred to utter agonizing groans, which could be stopped only by an affectionate hug from the young victor.

The crowning touch to Caroline's happiness came in a letter from Barnstaple informing her that the two elder sisters, having considered the matter since their infancy, had now determined to pay a visit to London; that a cheap excursion had been arranged by the Great Western Railway almost, as they seemed to hint, for their special convenience; that they had determined now or never was their time to see life; the writer (who was the second sister) added a postscript to the effect that in the district around Barnstaple there seemed no more chance of getting a husband than of getting the moon.

And one morning at an amazingly early hour the two brown-faced sisters arrived at Lewisham, having come across from Paddington by a series of fortunate accidents, to find Caroline and Trafalgar up, with breakfast nearly ready, ham and eggs and potatoes dancing and chattering in the frying-pan. They cried with delight over their young sister and their marvellous nephew.

'Her's terribly bent on gettin' married,' said the elder sister, with a jerk of the head in the direction of the second sister, just then telling Trafalgar an interesting anecdote about some pigs that went to market. 'Her'll be cruel disappointed if nothin' don't happen.'

'Why,' said Caroline with sudden inspiration, 'the very man!'

'Is he hereabouts?' asked the eldest sister.

'He'll be downstairs in ten minutes.'

'You mean that Mr. Finnis that comed down with Alfred to?'

'That's the one,' decided Caroline with great enjoyment.

'I doan't think she'm too particular,' said the elder sister confidentially, 'so long as 'tis a man.'

'Now, let's see,' said the young conspirator artfully. 'We must do all we can to throw them together, without letting either of them see what we're at.'

'Still satisfied with your husband, Carry, my dear?'

'He's the best husband in all the world,' said Caroline emphatically.

Unfortunately for the success of their scheme, the two matchmakers showed excess of zeal in their efforts. They left the second sister in the shop alone with Mr. Finnis; at meal-times they rallied the two on presumed absent-mindedness, a game into which Alfred threw himself with extraordinary zest. Caroline gave to William Finnis a brief testimonial of the second sister's character and virtues that might well have been counted extravagant if applied to an angel, and Finnis, perceiving the intentions, assumed an almost ferocious attitude towards the second sister, contradicting everything that she ventured to say, and declining to convey her to Madame Tussaud's or to the Tower or to the National Gallery unless the company of the other sisters could be obtained. Upon Caroline taking him to task for all this, William Finnis looked at her for a few moments without speaking.

'Don't think you quite understand me,' he said slowly.

The second sister consoled herself for this disappointment by the reflection that there were more men than one in the world, a sentiment of optimism justified by events. Listening to the band on Blackheath on an evening of their first week in London, the fiery-haired Mr. Dowton was encountered. Mr. Dowton gave up for a space his work of keeping an eye on pickpockets in the crowd, and chatted amiably with the ladies, going so far as to suggest threepenny ices, and eventually seeing them home. The next day Dowton called at Loampit Vale with a copy of a weekly paper, containing his portrait and an applauding notice of himself to present to the second sister, and the second sister declared that the portrait was not nearly good enough, a remark that gave Mr. Dowton much satisfaction.

Alfred, engaged in easy repairing work in the shop, watched the visit with some nervousness; but, reassured by the feeling that he was not doing wrong at the current time, he made no protest against Dowton's call, and when Dowton suggested to him that bygones should be considered as bygones, and as nothing else, he agreed heartily. Dowton's marked attentions to the second sister were also welcomed by the relieved proprietor of the shop, and the entire strength of the company was thus brought to bear upon the situation. The second sister said hopefully that although Dowton was not her ideal, still, a red-headed husband was a very great deal better than no husband at all.

'An' if I do get so comfortable a home as what you've got, Carry,' added the second sister, 'I shan't have no cause to grumble. There's one thing as I've set me mind on what you haven't got.'

'And that is?' inquired Alfred.

'A pianner,' replied the second sister.

'Ah!' said Caroline.

'Why, what's the use of a piano to you?' asked Alfred. 'You can't play on it.'

'Shouldn't never think of letting any person play 'pon it,' replied the second sister with austerity. '’Twould stand in the corner, and have books and what not set 'pon top.'

'Well,' said Alfred to the other two sisters, 'of all the dem silly'

Caroline and the eldest sister interrupted at once. They were, it appeared, entirely at one with their sister on the question. The eldest sister declared that a pianoforte gave a high-class finish to a house, whilst Caroline confessed that she herself had always looked forward to some bright day when her sitting-room would be thus adorned.

'Not,' the good young woman hastened to add, 'not that I expect it, Elf, for many years yet, but some day when Falgy is grown up'

'Why didn't you mention it before?' expostulated Alfred. 'If I'd had the least idea that you wanted such a article of furniture, I'd 'ave got one for you somehow.'

'Don't be so foolish, Elf. Why, we never could have afforded to buy one.'

'You couldn't get a real gude-fashioned pianner,' said the elder sister wisely, 'for a penny under ten pound.'

'My general practice,' remarked Alfred, 'is to beg, borrow, or steal anything I want. Buying's old-fashioned.'

'Elf dear, you mustn't talk like that,' said his young wife earnestly.

'Don't you be surprised,' he said cheerfully, 'if I bring one 'ome for you under me arm one of these evenings. We can't let the future Mrs. Dowton score over us.'

The future Mrs. Dowton was called for at that moment by Detective Dowton, and went into the shop, chaperoned by her elder sister, to see that gentleman.

'I didn't mean what I said about wanting a piano. Elf,' said Caroline.

'Yes you did, Kerry.'

'How d'you know I did?'

'By the look in your eye,' said Alfred.

'Oh, well,' confessed Caroline, 'I suppose, after all, it is the one wish of me life. But I can wait.'

'You ain't going to wait,' said Alfred. 'You ain't goin' to be beaten by no sisters. Give us a kiss, and I'll look round the first chance I get.'

William Finnis had nearly completed the specifications necessary for taking out his patent, but as he was still busy with experiments, Alfred found himself with little time to go out during the day. Cycles in Lewisham were increasing in number, and the trade in disposing of second-hand machines, and in repairing these after they were sold, continued brisk. That evening, however, Alfred walked down to the Pavement and inspected a music-shop. He found new instruments marked at prices which were, for him, quite impossible, and when he mentioned this to the pert young woman in charge, who had already played for him two waltzes and a set of quadrilles, she remarked satirically that an organette with a handle would perhaps suit him better. He wandered back into Lewisham High Road, and from there he turned into New Cross Road, arriving presently at Deptford. The Broadway reminded him of old times, with its flaring naphtha-lamps, its long-haired, triumphant quack, its stall of photographs of gone and forgotten beauties.

'Why, my son,' said a jovial, panting voice from the seat of a trap at the apex of the triangular space, 'don't tell me you've forgotten Mother Fayres!'

'What ho!' remarked Alfred casually. The old lady leaned out to shake hands, and pulled him, in spite of his timid resistance, up to the seat beside her. 'How's the world using you?'

'Shameful,' said Mother Fayres. 'Nothing doing. Everybody's either retired from business or joined the Salvation Army. I never saw such a world, and I've lived in it close on sixty-two year. You got married, didn't you? Who was the fair charmer?'

'No one you know,' he retorted brusquely.

'What you've been wanting is furniture,' the old lady went on with good temper. 'Why didn't you come and let me rig you out? I've got a chest of drawers that wasn't made under twenty pounds, and'

'As a matter of fact, I was looking out, not for a chest of drawers, but for a piano, cheap.'

'P'lup, ole gal!' said Mother Fayres to her pony. The pony darted off so suddenly that Alfred had to hold the side of the trap. 'This seems as though it was to be.'

'Where 're you drivin' to?' demanded Alfred.

'My arch,' replied the old lady.

'I don't want to go to your railway arch, and I don't want to have nothing to do with you. I've cut meself away from the old bisness, and I don't want'

'That's all right, my son. (Steady, ole gal, don't run past yourself!) You're a kepitalist now, that's what you are. You're the man who romps in and picks up a bargain and doesn't trouble to ask any questions. I don't blame you for giving up the old bisness; I don't throw out any nasty snacks. 'Ave you ever found me behavin' otherwise than a lady?'

'No,' admitted Alfred, 'I never 'ave.'

'Very well, then,' said Mother Fayres; 'that jest cuts the ground from under your feet. Here's the key; you jump down and run in and 'ave a look at the pianner that's jest inside the arch, and come back 'ere and tell me what you think of it. See how I trust you!'

Alfred returned a few minutes later with the key.

'Well?' said Mother Fayres.

'Looks pretty right,' said Alfred.

'It's got a fresh maker's name on and a fresh number,' said the old lady, 'and it's a beauty. Ten pounds buys it. Twelve to anyone else, but you was always a fav'rite with me.'

'Make it five.'

'Not,' said Mother Fayres definitely, 'if it was to me own brother.'

'Five pounds is good enough for you.'

'Ten pounds is better. I'll keep it over for you for a day or two. It's a forty-guinea instrument.'

'You might take five,' he urged.

'I might,' said the old lady, 'but I shan't. Bisness is bisness. Call down when you've got the other five. So long, my son; glad to see you lookin' well.'

'Bye-bye,' said Alfred thoughtfully. 'You'd better take five.'

'My first word is my last word,' cried the old lady in driving off. 'I ain't like some.'

'I'll call again Sunday.'

'Make it earlier,' called out Mrs. Fayres, 'I don't do bisness on the Lord's Day. P'lup, ole gal!'

He took the untidy route home through Mill Lane, where Italian organ-grinders lived and mysterious lodging-houses, with oil-glistening heads at windows nodding to him familiarly, bordered the way, and thought over this meeting. His brain became alert with the old interest, and he found a pleasure in trying to find some means of obtaining the five pounds in a way not honest; he consoled his doubts by the reminder that it would be done to give pleasure to Caroline. How considerate all the old set were! Once again it occurred to him that he had heard of a man who tried to reform and whose chums would not allow him to do so, threatening to peach upon him if he persisted in his intention to pursue a regular life. In his own case it had been different; not one of them had made any attempt to persuade him to return;, he could not see far enough to perceive that had they done so it would but have strengthened his determination to remain straight. He would still earn a living, of course, but why should he not add to his income and increase the comforts of Caroline and Trafalgar by

Besides, there would be enjoyment in doing it.

At a broken fence near the end of the deplorable lane he noticed three men whom he knew by sight as old lags. One of them held in his open hand a gold cross that sparkled in the evening sun. He closed his hand swiftly on seeing Alfred approach, and as he passed they talked about the County Council in the manner of law-conforming citizens. He turned and looked back. No one in Mill Lane appeared to be working; it was a street where everybody dawdled more or less dishonestly through life, where no man was master and the vagabond spirit pervaded. He had known the place well in old days; most of the inhabitants had come to their present state of fine recklessness through an ancestry of wrongdoers with odd strains of mixed breeding here and there; rarely even in the lodging-houses did one find the man or woman who had broken away from immaculate families. Alfred felt that he himself had something in his blood that might have come from a gipsy predecessor; perhaps the desire to fight laws was one of those hereditary traits which a father handed down to his son as a family possession. He continued his walk home to Lewisham, bending his mind in the direction of inventing means for securing the ten pounds. It seemed to him that he had allowed ingenuity to rust.

'You're not going home, you two,' said Caroline the next morning, 'without visiting the sights, so there! 'Tis my birthday to-day, and as time's short we'd best go this day.'

'I was going up to town this afternoon,' said William Finnis, 'to make some inquiries off Chancery Lane.'

'Will you come with us, Mr. Finnis?'

'I ain't much of a 'and at carting ladies about,' said Mr. Finnis candidly. 'What I was going to suggest was that Elf here should take you all three up to London and do this bit of business for me at the Patent Office, whilst I stay at home and look after the shop.'

'Thus killin' two birds with one stone,' remarked Alfred approvingly. 'We'll show 'em London, Carry, on the cheap.'

'Come into the shop, Elf,' said William Finnis, 'and I'll tell you exactly what I want you to do.'

Alfred rose and followed.

'It's like this,' continued Finnis. 'My little dodge is jest about complete now, and I want you to take up these drawings and go to the Patent Office and say: "Look 'ere. What's the formality to go through to enable or allow or permit me to take out a patent?" And if they turns round and says: "What kind of a patent?" you simply whips out these drawings and you says: "On the understanding," says you, "that this is strictly between ourselves, sir, 'ere's something that will give you an idea of it." But for Heaven's sake, old man,' said William Finnis, with unusual impressiveness—' for Heaven's own sake, don't show it to 'em until they've give their word, and don't show 'em to no one else on no account.'

'You must think I'm a jay,' said Alfred, accepting the papers.

A rare afternoon of enjoyment for the Devonshire girls. The second sister considered it seemly to be a little thoughtful at first by the reason of the absence of Mr. Dowton, but cheered slightly under the influence of the headsman's block in the Tower, and other objects of a sanguinary nature, throwing off all show of sentimental absent-mindedness when she had seen the Monument. Caroline's pride and delight defied measurement as Alfred affected to be sole owner of these buildings, explaining, to the amusement of herself and her sisters, how much it had cost him to build St. Paul's and the trouble he had had with the workmen. They entered the Cathedral, and there even Alfred's spirits were awed by the impressive largeness. They read the inscriptions on the pedestals of statues, spelling out with especial care the wording of one that concerned a West-countryman; they found the Wellington statue, too, and Caroline showed a knowledge of the great Duke's exploits that astonished her sisters and gratified Alfred. Caroline said that it was a fine thing to fight for your country, and she should not greatly object if Trafalgar, when he grew up, were to show some desire to become a soldier; even now it was certain that he was fonder of his tin trumpet than of any of the other toys. The choir commenced to rehearse away up at the other end of the chancel, prefaced by a low rumble on the organ that gathered in strength and burst into a regretful scream, filling the entire building, but died away suddenly and left the way clear for a boy with a clear young voice, with pathos in it, that went up and up and up to the very roof of the cathedral The three women sat on rush-bottomed chairs with tears in their eyes; Alfred had to hum to himself to prevent any show of emotion. They came out of the cool, impressive place to the western steps, where the bright sun and the stress of traffic and the continuous movement of people up from Ludgate Circus for a moment dazed the two young women from Devonshire. On Alfred's suggestion they went into a bar in Newgate Street, and whilst the women took careful refreshment of an innocuous nature, Alfred himself took nothing. He was always a temperate man, but this was no virtue, for he had no liking for intoxicating drinks. The girls tried to express the feeling that the cathedral music had given to them.

'Didn't you like it, Elf?'

'Don't consider it so amusin' as a music 'all.'

'Oh, you mustn't listen to him!' begged Caroline of her sisters. 'He is wicked. Elf, I'm surprised at you!'

'There wasn't no dancing,' urged Alfred.

'Be quiet this minute, sir!' commanded Caroline, with a pretty display of despotism, and placing her hand on his lips. 'I won't 'ave you be so bad. You never go to church, and you never so much as put your foot inside a chapel.'

'Didn't I tell you when we was first married,' demanded Alfred humorously, 'that I should expect you to do all the prayin'? Of course, if you've been leaving me out'

'I shouldn't be likely to do that, Elf,' she said, patting his hand gently. 'I'd sooner leave meself out'

'I haven't got no common patience with folk who scoff,' said the elder sister severely.

'What I wonder is,' remarked the second sister, 'wheer they expects they're gwaine to.'

'Look 'ere,' protested Alfred, 'three to one's rather 'eavy odds. I can't argue with one lady, much more three. Let's go on towards the Zoo. I shan't feel at 'ome till I get in the monkey 'ouse.'

'Which way do we go, Elf?'

'I've got to call in at a place off Chancery Lane for William, and then we'll march on and get a yeller bus,' said Alfred.

'You do knaw your way about,' said the second sister admiringly.

'In this world,' remarked the elder sister pointedly. 'Let un take gude care as he doan' get lost in the next.'

They walked along the level road over Holborn Viaduct, and Caroline, as they dodged the busy people who were rushing out of cycle-shops and rushing into them, explained to her sisters what the road there had been like in the early days of cook at her old place. Alfred found himself for the second time that day in a thoughtful mood; the decisive remark of the elder sister had clipped his mind and declined for the moment to let go. He watched the three girls as they walked in front of him; as his eyes rested on Caroline he wished that he were nearer to being her equal in goodness.

'Hello, my friend, hello, hello, hello! What are you doing in London?'

'Is it your little private town?' demanded Alfred of the man who, standing at the entrance to a smart cycle-shop, had tapped him on the shoulder. 'Ought I to 'ave asked'

'But we've met before,' said the cycle man effusively. 'We're old friends. How's that idea of yours—or your friend's—progressing? Eh, what?'

The window of the shop was set out with a display of waxen-faced young women with agreeable smiles on their too perfect faces, all seated on cycles of the firm's make, and dressed in the latest manner. Two of them were in rational dress, and these smiled harder than the others, as though with a view of disarming criticism; but the ladies from Barnstaple shook their heads solemnly.

'I've fixed you now,' said Alfred quietly. 'For the moment I couldn't place your mug. How's business?'

'Simplee gorgeous,' said the cycle man. 'Come in and have a look over the show. It knocks all the old-fashioned lots into a cocked hat. Just the biggest thing on earth.'

'Got the wife and her sisters with me,' mentioned Alfred.

'Ladies,' said the cycle man, taking off his silk hat with a flourish, 'come inside, I beg of you. Which lady, I wonder, has the happiness of being the wife of my excellent old chum Ah!' said the cycle man, with enthusiasm, as Caroline flushed and bowed. 'I guessed it! I guessed it! I guessed it! J. P. W. may be a bit of a fool, but he knows a pretty face when he sees it. And so do you, you young Mohawk,' he continued, slapping Alfred on the shoulder with great joviality. '’Pon me life, some men get all the luck.'

Now this was really very excellent and agreeable. Here were crimson plush easy-chairs for the ladies to sit upon, whilst respectful attendants wheeled gorgeously tyred cycles up and down in front of them, just for all the world as though they expected that the sisters might say at any moment: 'Send off three of those £30 machines to our address, please, and be quick about it'; whilst the representative of the firm conducted Alfred to what he described as his 'private boudoir,' in order to give him a very big and very long cigar, which appeared to have been made to measure for a giant, but had been left on hand because the size proved somewhat too large. In the private office the two men talked business, and Alfred needed but little pressure to become confidential.

'Pack of nonsense!' said the man when they returned. 'Three handsome young ladies like you can't walk to Tottenham Court Road. Dash it!' he declared explosively, 'it isn't safe. You're going to let J. P. W. call up two hansoms to drive all four of you right away to the Zoo, and as it's my shout I'm going to pay. Bingley, whistle for a couple of cabs. Walk to Tottenham Court Road, indeed! Why, they'd all three be run off with before they got to the corner of the block.'

They reached home that evening after a perfect day, the young women tired but delighted. Alfred left them at New Cross to run down to Deptford, and when he arrived home he came with the news that he had bought a piano for next to nothing, and that it would come by van that very evening, information which slightly depressed the second sister, but gave great happiness to Caroline.

'Did you do that bit of business for me, Elf?' asked William Finnis, when he had listened to the concerted account of the treasures of the Zoological Gardens. Alfred gave a gesture of self-reproach, and brought the papers from his pocket.

'Well,' said William with sarcasm, 'you are a pretty fellow! Now I shall 'ave to go up meself, specially.'

'There's no partic'lar 'urry,' said Alfred.

'No,' said William, with some annoyance—'not so far as you are concerned.'

'Mr. Finnis,' interposed Caroline, 'it's my fault. I ought to have reminded him.'

'Then I can't say nothing more,' replied William Finnis, appeased.