by G. A. Henty
CHAPTER VIII.
STRUGGLES FOR A LIVING.
When at Christmas time Robert Gregory heard that one of the springswhich were supposed to open the secret door was found, he gave up for atime even the pretence of looking for anything to do; but not very longafterwards he met an old friend, and most unexpectedly went into abusiness with him, and that perhaps the only one which could have beennamed for which he was really fitted.
He had one day, as was his usual custom, entered a public-house where hewas well known, and had gone into the bar parlour, where he was sittingreading the paper, smoking his pipe, and drinking a glass of spirits andwater, when another man entered the room, looked carelessly at Gregory,then more attentively, and finally burst out,--
"Hallo, Robert? is that you? How fares the world with you all thistime?"
"By Jove, Fielding! is that you? How are you, my boy?"
They greeted each other warmly, for they had been a great deal togetherin the time when Gregory was in London, and their satisfaction atmeeting was mutual. After a while, they sat down before the fire,ordered fresh glasses of spirits and water, and prepared for a long talkover all that had happened since they had parted some four yearsago--Robert to return to his father at Canterbury, Fielding to continuefor a short time longer the reckless life they were living about town.
"Now, Gregory," Fielding said, "let me hear what you have been doingfirst."
Robert, in reply, related pretty accurately the whole of his life sincehe had left London.
"Well, that is a rum start," his companion said when he had finished hisstory. "And you really think that you will some day come in for all thismoney?"
"I do," Robert answered. "As I have told you they are trying down therenow, and have a good chance; but if that fails, I mean to try for itmyself. And now what have you been doing?"
"The easiest way to answer would be to tell you what I have not beendoing. You left us in the winter, and I held on, as I had been doingbefore, till the next Derby Day; but I dropped so much upon that, that Ihad to make myself scarce for a bit. Then I came back again, and set towork to earn my living, and very hard work I found it."
"I should think so," Robert Gregory put in. "I have been trying to getsomething to do for the last three months, and I am no nearer, as far asI can see, than when I began. How did you set about it?"
"To tell you the truth, Robert, I found it rather up-hill work at first.I worked for the papers for a bit,--went to all the fires, and theinquests, and the hospitals, and sent accounts to all the dailies. Ofcourse at first they did not often put them in, still they didsometimes, and after a month or two they came to take them prettyregularly. At last I did what I really very seldom did do; but I wasvery hard-up, and I sent an account of a fire which only existed in myimagination. Well, it turned out that there was a row about it, and ofcourse that put an end to that line. It was winter then, and I was veryhard-up, and was glad to earn a few shillings a week as super at one ofthe pantomimes. Then I happened to meet with a man with a few pounds,and together we set up a very profitable business--advertising to findsituations for clerks and servants. They paid us five shillings to entertheir names in our books; then we answered every advertisement thatappeared in any of the papers for that sort of thing, and sent them tolook after the situations. If they got them, they paid us thirty percent, on the first year's earnings, down on the nail. There were threeor four of us in that game. I kept the head office, and they took placesin other parts, and each of them wanted clerks at L150 a year. It was acapital dodge, and we made a lot of money; but at last it got blownupon, and we had to give it up.
"Then I did the ladies employment business. Lessons given for a guinea,and constant employment guaranteed when the art was learnt. We used tosend them a book on illuminating, which by the gross cost us twopenceeach. None of the ladies, as it turned out, ever became perfect enoughfor us to give them employment; but that was their fault you know, notours. Well, that paid uncommonly well for a bit. After that, I tried noend of moves, and did sometimes well, sometimes badly; still I was notoften without a sovereign in my pocket. At last I took up my presentline; I have been at it now a year and a half, and I mean to stick toit."
"What is it?" Robert Gregory asked rather curiously, for his companionhad the look of a well-to-do man, although perhaps rather of a sportingcut. He wore a good substantial great-coat with a velvet collar, a verygood hat, put rather on one side of his head, and a quiet scarf, with agold pin representing a jockey's cap and whip.
"I am a betting man," Fielding said. "I make a book on all the races. Ihave certain places--public-houses, quiet streets, and so on--where I amalways to be found at regular hours of the day, and I do a very fairbusiness."
"And do you always win, Fielding?"
"Not always; occasionally one gets hit hard, but nineteen times out oftwenty, if one is careful, one wins. The great thing is always to haveenough in hand to pay your losses the day after the race; and as onereceives all the money when the bets are made, two or three monthsbefore a race, it is hard if one cannot do that. In this way I have gota good name, am looked upon as a safe man, and so am getting a goodbusiness together.
"What do you make on an average a week?"
"Well, on an average, five or six pounds--more than that a good deal inthe season, but very little just at this time of year; in a month or soI shall be beginning again."
"I should like to join you, Fielding," Robert said, eagerly.
"Aye, but what capital could you put in? I acknowledge I could do verywell with a partner who would take one end of the town while I took theother. I could easily double the business. But I should want a good sumof money with one. I have been, as I told you, a year and a half at it,and have got a good connection together."
"How much do you call a good sum?"
"That would depend upon the man," Fielding answered. "I have known youwell, and I am sure we should pull well together. I would take a hundredpounds with you; not for my own use, mind, but to lay in a bank in ourjoint names. You see it makes the beginning of an account, and we couldpay in there all we took, and settle our losses by cheques, which looksmuch better, and would give us a much better name altogether."
"I should have difficulty in getting a hundred pounds," Robert said; andindeed the sixty pounds the pony carriage had fetched had melted awayvery fast; for Robert had spent a large amount in this daily search foremployment, and Sophy often wondered to herself, with a little sigh, howRobert could possibly spend as much money as he did. "No, Fielding, I amsure I could not manage a hundred, but I think I could go as far assixty."
"Suppose you think it over, Gregory, and see what you can do. Let usmeet here again to-morrow at the same time, and then we will enter intoit again; and I will bring you some of my old books to show you thatwhat I say is correct."
"Very well," Robert said, and they parted to meet again next day.
That evening Robert told Sophy what had occurred, and said that itseemed to him an opportunity for getting on which might not occur to himagain, but that he would be guided entirely by her.
Sophy was a little alarmed at the thought of their whole availablecapital being embarked; but she assented cheerfully to the proposal, asshe was delighted at anything which seemed likely to occupy Robert'stime and thoughts, and prevent him being driven, from sheer want ofsomething to do, to spend his time in drinking. So the next day thegrand pianoforte was sent to an auction-room to be sold; it fetchedfifty-five pounds, and with this and twenty-five of their former stockRobert joined Fielding as a partner, leaving a solitary ten pounds onlyin Sophy's charge. But as she was now regularly giving lessons six hoursa day, she had very little occasion to break in upon this, as thethirty-six shillings she earned quite covered her household expenses;and she was now able to go to her work with a light heart, knowing thather absence from home no longer drove her husband to spend his time inpublic-houses.
The firm of Gregory and Fielding flourished; in a short time they hadplen
ty to do; and as the spring came on and the racing season began,they had their hands quite full. At first they went about together; andthen, when Robert became known to Fielding's connection, the one tookthe east end of the town, the other the west, meeting twice a day atsome middle point to compare their books and see how they stood. Theynow, too, started as racing prophets and commission agents, andadvertised in the sporting papers, and by the end of April they weremaking a large income. How large a portion of the money they receivedwould be clear profit, they could not tell until the races were over, sothey agreed to draw five pounds a week each, and to pay the rest intothe bank to draw from as required. Sophy knew Robert was doing well; forhe again begged her to give up teaching, and generally gave her fourpounds out of the five he drew every week for the expenses. This was, asshe told him double what they spent; but he said that he was makingthat, and therefore gave it to her; that he did not want to know how itwent, but any she could save she might put by with her own earnings, incase of a rainy day.
For the first two months after Robert Gregory had commenced his work,his wife did not see much of him, for his business now often kept himout the whole evening; and when he came back late he was seldom quitesober, and he was frequently not up when she started to her work at nineo'clock. This went on until, in the middle of March, the news came thatthe secret of the door was found, and Robert was in such a state ofexcitement at what he considered the certainty of the missing will beingfound, that he was quite unable to attend to his business, so Fieldingagreed to give him a holiday at any rate until he heard of the result.These three days Robert spent in going about from public-house topublic-house treating every one he knew; telling them all it wasprobable that this was the last time he should see them, as he was aboutto come into an immense fortune. Proportionate therefore to hisexultation, was the disappointment when the news came that the secretchamber had been entered, and that the will was not there. Sophy hadnever seen him in a rage before, indeed she had never seen any onereally in a passion, and she was thoroughly frightened and horror-struckby it. She listened in silence to the terrible imprecations and oathswhich he poured out, and which shocked and terrified her indeed, but ofthe meaning of which she had, of course, not the slightest idea.
At last he calmed down, but from that time he was a changed man. Amonghis associates he had no longer a loud laugh and ready joke; he wasbecome a moody, surly man, doing all that he had to do in a dogged,resolute way, as if it was only by sheer force of will that he couldkeep his attention to the work upon which he was engaged. He came to beknown among them as a dangerous customer; for one or two of them who hadventured to joke him about the fortune he had told them of, had beenwarned fiercely and savagely to leave that subject alone; while one who,more adventurous than the others, had disregarded the warning andcontinued his jokes, had been attacked with such fury, that had notRobert been pulled off him by the bystanders, the consequences wouldhave been most serious. So it came to be understood amongst them that hewas a man who was safer to be left alone.
Still the business did not suffer by the change, but, as I have said,throve and increased wonderfully through the months of April and May.People seemed to fancy that their money was safer with "Surly Bob," ashe generally came to be known among them, than with some of the otheroffhand, careless, joking speculators. At any rate, the firm throve.They were lucky on the "Two Thousand," and won heavily upon the "Derby;"so the money in the bank accumulated, and Fielding and Gregory came tobe looked well upon among their associates.
Robert now arranged for his partner to take as much as possible of theevening work off his hands. He gave up all his former companions, andreturned back to Sophy at half-past six, after which, except on the weekpreceding very important races, when he was obliged to be at work, hedid not go out again.
But he did not give up drinking. He told Sophy that he would stop athome of an evening if she would not interfere with him, but that hecould not give up drink till the will was found or they started forAustralia: in either of which cases, he swore a great oath that he wouldnever touch spirits again.
Sophy tried in vain to point out to him that the will now seemedaltogether lost, and that it would be better to start for abroad atonce. But Robert said that he did not give it up yet, and that, as hewas doing very well, he was in no hurry to start; but that if by the endof the next racing season--that was to say, in about eighteen months--itwas not found, he would give up his present work and go abroad, for bythat time he should have made enough money to take them out comfortably,and to start them fairly in the new country.
Indeed, in his heart Robert Gregory would rather have gone on as he was,for he knew that he should find no work out in the colony so easy andsuitable for him as his present; but yet he was determined that he wouldgo, for Sophy's sake. He thought that there, with hard work as asettler, he could keep from drink, and he was sincere in hisdetermination never again to touch it. There he might be a respectableman yet, and, cost him what it would, he was resolved to try.
Sophy was satisfied with the new arrangement. She was glad to know that,at any rate, he was now safe at home of an evening. It relieved her fromthe anxiety with which she had sat, sometimes for hours, listening forhis heavy, and usually unsteady, footfall. So after that Robert,whenever he could, stayed at home, drank large quantities of spirits,and smoked moodily; arousing himself sometimes to talk with Sophy, whowould sit by working, and always ready to answer with a cheerful smile.Occasionally he brought home some book or paper about Australia, andSophy looked through it and read out to him such parts as she thoughtwould interest him; and then he would leave his spirits untasted for awhile, and listen to the accounts of the struggles of the back-woodsettler, of the clearings in the dark forests, and of the abundantreturn nature gave for the labour; and his eye would brighten, and hisfinger tighten as if on the handle of an axe, and he longed for the timeto come when he too would be there, away from all debasing associations,and out of reach of the spirit-bottle. And sometimes he told Sophy thatperhaps, after all, he should not wait as long as he had said, but mightstart in the early spring. The spirits he drank of an evening had littleeffect upon his hardened frame, and he generally went to bed, if notquite sober, at any rate not very drunk.
He now succeeded in persuading Sophy to give up teaching; telling herthat she might be of the greatest use answering the correspondence ofthe firm, for that this was now growing too large for them to manage. Heurged that they would otherwise have to pay some one else to do it, andthat it would be a great annoyance to have to let a stranger into alltheir secrets. He added that of course they should be glad to pay herfor her work instead of a clerk, and that they would give herthirty-five shillings per week, which she should have for her ownprivate use.
Sophy, seeing that she really could be of service, at once agreed; andtelling her pupils that for a time she must give up teaching, shesettled to her new employment. Accordingly, the first thing afterbreakfast of a morning, she now sat down to her writing-desk, with thelist, on one side of her, of the horses selected by the firm as theprobable winners of the various races; on the other, of the entries forthe different races, and the current odds against each horse. She thenopened the letters received that morning, and made a list of the variouscommissions sent to back different horses, to be given to Robert when hecame in for them at one o'clock; then she answered those which requiredreply, and sent out circulars and lists to their numerous town andcountry subscribers. Generally she had done her work about twelveo'clock, but on the few days preceding great races she was frequentlyengaged until quite late in the evening.
However, she liked it much better than the teaching, for there was acertain excitement in seeing whether the prophecies of the firm werecorrect; and as she now knew pretty nearly what horses they stood to winor lose upon in each race, she quite shared in their interest in theresult of the different events. Every Saturday she received her pay,which she put by as regularly. She had now two funds. The one sheconsidered the common fu
nd; this consisted of the ten pounds whichremained in hand after paying the partnership money to Fielding, andwhich had been increasing at the rate of nearly two pounds a week--hersavings out of the housekeeping money--ever since that time; the otherwas her private fund, her own earnings since Robert had been able to paytheir expenses. Of the existence of either of these hoards Robert wasquite ignorant. He was himself so careless in money matters, and hadalways parted with his money so freely, that he never thought what Sophywas saving. He knew that she always had everything very comfortable forhim, and he asked nothing more. If he had been asked, he would havesaid, perhaps, that Sophy might have laid by a few pounds; but if he hadbeen told what the total amount came to at the end of the six months, hewould have been perfectly astounded. But Sophy said nothing about it.She was laying it by till the time should come for starting abroad.
She was more comfortable now than she had been at all. Her husband,although he was gloomy, and talked little, still was not unkind, andvery, very seldom spoke harshly to her.
Mrs. Billow had turned out a really kind-hearted, motherly old woman,and had conceived quite an affection for her quiet, pale young lodger.
Mr. Billow she saw very little of. He was generally quite drunk orasleep, and she never heard him except as he tumbled upstairs to bed. Atfirst, indeed, he had been inclined to be disagreeable, and had takenupon himself to tell Robert Gregory that he would not have his lodgerscoming in drunk at all times of the night. But Robert turned upon himfiercely, loaded him with abuse, told him that he was a drunken oldvagabond, and a receiver of stolen goods; and that if he ever venturedto say a word to him again, he would go the next morning to ScotlandYard, and mention what he knew of his goings on.
Mr. Billow cowered under this fierce and unexpected attack, and was fromthat time in deadly fear of his lodger, and kept scrupulously out of hissight.
Sophy, too, had by this time got to know many of her neighbours,--mostof them professional people, simple, kind-hearted women with families,struggling hard for existence. Some of these would frequently bringtheir work over of an afternoon, and sit awhile with her. They would onthese occasions talk unrestrainedly of their lives and struggles; andSophy came to take quite an interest in their histories, and occasionallittle triumphs, and in talk with them forgot her own trials andtroubles. They would have been much more sociable had Sophy chosen, andseveral times asked her and her husband over to take tea with them, onevenings when they were not professionally engaged. But Sophy declinedthese invitations, saying that her husband had a dislike to society, andwould not go out anywhere. Their only visitor of an evening wasFielding, who occasionally came over for a quiet talk with his partner,to compare their books, and discuss at leisure the chances of thevarious horses, and which to lay against. He took a strong liking toRobert's quiet lady-wife, reminding him as she did of the women he usedto meet when he was young, before he left his father, a quiet countryclergyman, and came up to London.
Sophy's great treat was upon occasions when the firm had doneparticularly well, and when Robert had come home in an unusually goodtemper. Then Sophy would petition him to take her to the theatre; and asit was so very seldom that Sophy did ask for anything, Robert, on theseoccasions, would give up his pipe and his spirit-bottle, and go with herto the pit of one of the theatres. These were the great treats ofSophy's life, and she enjoyed them immensely. She had never been to atheatre before the first of these expeditions, and she entered into itwith all her heart. Even Robert was pleased at seeing her gratified, andpromised himself that he would come oftener with her, as when so littlemade her happy he would be a brute not to let her have that little. Itwas too much self-denial, however, for him voluntarily to suggest givingup his spirits and his pipe, but he never refused on the rare occasionswhen she proposed it; and when he did go, he went willingly, and with anair of pleasure which doubled Sophy's enjoyment. After their return fromthe theatre, Sophy always had a nice little supper ready--some oysters,or a lobster; and they would chat over their evening's entertainment,while Robert drank a glass of spirits-and-water, before going to bed;and Sophy, for the time, would really feel as happy as she had long agodreamt she should be when Robert Gregory was her husband.