The Master of the Ceremonies

by George Manville Fenn

indeed, Mr Denville, and it do make me sohot."

  "There, that'll do, old lady. Mr Denville wants to see me on business.Don't you, Denville?"

  "Yes--on a trifle of business; but I know that Mrs Barclay is in yourconfidence. You'll pardon me, Mrs Barclay?"

  A looker-on would have imagined that he was about to dance a minuet withthe lady, but he delicately took her fingers by the very tip and led herback to her seat, into which she meant to glide gracefully, but plumpeddown in a very feather-beddy way, and then blushed and frowned.

  "Oh, Mr Denville won't mind me; and him an old neighbour, too, as knowshow I keep your books and everything. It isn't as if he was one of yourwicked bucks, and bloods, and macaronies as they calls 'em."

  "Now, when you've done talking, woman, perhaps you'll let Denvillespeak."

  "Jo-si-ah!" exclaimed the lady, reddening, or to speak more correctly,growing more red, as she raised a large fan, which hung by a silkencord, and used it furiously.

  "Now then, Denville, what is it?" said Barclay, throwing himself back inhis chair, and looking the extreme of vulgarity beside the visitor'srefinement.

  "You'll pardon me, Mr Barclay?" said the MC, bowing. "Thanks. Thefact is, my dear Barclay, the time has arrived when I must launch my sonMorton upon the stream of the fashionable world."

  "Mean to marry him well?" said Barclay, smiling.

  "Exactly. Yes. You'll pardon me."

  He took snuff in a slow, deliberate, and studied mode that Mrs Barclaywatched attentively, declaring afterwards that it was as good as a play,while her husband also took his pinch from his own box, but in a loud,rough, frill-browning way.

  "I have high hopes and admirable prospects opening out before him, mydear Barclay. Fortune seems to have marked him for her own, and to havebegun to smile."

  "Fickle jade, sir; fickle jade."

  "At times--you'll pardon me. At times. Let us enjoy her smiles whilewe can. And now, my dear Barclay, that I wish to launch him handsomelyand well--to add to his natural advantages the little touches of dress,a cane and snuff-box, and such trifles--I find, through the absence ofso many fashionable visitors affecting my fees, I am troubled,inconvenienced for the want of a few guineas, and--er--it is veryridiculous--er--really I did not know whom to ask, till it occurred tome that you, my dear sir, would oblige me with, say, forty or fifty uponmy note of hand."

  "Couldn't do it, sir. Haven't the money. Couldn't."

  "Don't talk such stuff, Jo-si-ah," exclaimed Mrs Barclay, fanningherself sharply, and making a sausage-like curl wabble to and fro, andher ribbons flutter. "You can if you like."

  "Woman!" he exclaimed furiously.

  "Oh, I don't mind you saying `woman,'" retorted the lady. "Telling suchwicked fibs, and to an old neighbour too. If it had been that nasty,sneering, snickle dandy, Sir Harry Payne, or that big, pompous,dressed-up Sir Matthew Bray, you'd have lent them money directly. I'mashamed of you."

  "Will you allow me to carry on my business in my own way, madam?"

  "Yes, when it's with nobodies; but I won't sit by and hear you tell ourold neighbour, who wants a bit of help, that you couldn't do it, andthat you haven't the money, when anybody can see it sticking out inlumps in both of your breeches' pockets, if they like to look."

  "'Pon my soul, woman," said Barclay, banging his fist down upon thetable, "you're enough to drive a man mad. Denville, that woman willruin me."

  Mrs Barclay shut up her fan and sat back in her chair, and there was acurious kind of palpitating throbbing perceptible all over her that wasalmost startling at first till her face broke up in dimples, and the redlips parted, showing her white teeth, while her eyes half-closed. ForMrs Barclay was laughing heartily.

  "Ruin him, Mr Denville, ruin him!" she cried. "Ha, ha, ha, and meknowing that--"

  "Woman, will you hold your tongue?" thundered Barclay. "There, don'ttake any notice of what I said, Denville. I've been put out thismorning and money's scarce. You owe me sixty now and interest, besidestwo years' rent."

  "I do--I do, my dear sir; but really, my dear Barclay, I intend to repayyou every guinea."

  "He's going to lend it to you, Mr Denville," said Mrs Barclay. "It'sonly his way. He always tells people he hasn't any money, and that hehas to get it from his friend in the City."

  "Be quiet, woman," said Barclay, smiling grimly. "There, I'll let youhave it, Denville. Make a memorandum of it, my gal. Let's see: howmuch do you want? Twenty-five will do, I suppose?"

  "My dear friend--you'll pardon me--if you could make it fifty you wouldconfer a lasting obligation upon me. I have great hopes, indeed."

  "Fifty? It's a great deal of money, Denville."

  "Lend him the fifty, Josiah, and don't make so much fuss about it," saidthe lady, opening the ledger, after drawing her chair to the table,taking a dip of ink, and writing rapidly in a round, clear hand. "Got astamp?"

  "Yes," said Barclay, taking a large well-worn pocket-book from hisbreast, and separating one from quite a quire. "Fill it up. Two monthsafter date, Denville?"

  "You'll pardon me."

  "What's the use of doing a neighbour a good turn," said Mrs Barclay,filling up the slip of blue paper in the most business-like manner, "andspoiling it by being so tight. `Six months--after--date--interest--at--five--per--centum'--there."

  Mrs Barclay put her quill pen across her mouth, and, turning the billstamp over, gave it a couple of vigorous rubs on the blotting-paperbefore handing it to her husband, who ran his eye over it quickly.

  "Why, you've put five per cent, _per annum_," he cried. "Here, fill upanother. Five per cent."

  "Stuff!" said Mrs Barclay stoutly; "are you going to charge the poorman sixty per cent? I shan't fill up another. Here, you sign this, MrDenville. Give the poor man his money, Josiah."

  "Well," exclaimed Barclay, taking a cash-box from a drawer and openingit with a good deal of noise, "if ever man was cursed with a tyrant fora wife--"

  "It isn't you. There!" cried Mrs Barclay, taking the bill which thevisitor had duly signed, and placing it in a case along with some of itskin.

  "There you are, Denville," said Barclay, counting out the money innotes, "and if you go and tell people what a fool I am, I shall have toleave the town."

  "Not while I live, Mr Barclay," said the MC, taking the notescarefully, but with an air of indolent carelessness and grace, as ifthey were of no account to such a man as he. "Sir, I thank you from myvery heart. You have done me a most kindly action. Mrs Barclay, Ithank you. My daughter shall thank you for this. You'll pardon me. Myvisit is rather short. But business. Mr Barclay, good-day. I shallnot forget this. Mrs Barclay, your humble servant."

  He took the hand she held out by the tips of the fingers, and bent overit to kiss them with the most delicate of touches; but somehow, justthen there seemed to be a catch in his breath, and he pressed his lipsfirmly on the soft, fat hand.

  "God bless you!" he said huskily, and he turned and left the room.

  "Poor man!" said Mrs Barclay after a few moments' pause, as she and herlord listened to the descending steps, and heard the front door close."Why, look here, Josiah, at my hand, if it ain't a tear."

  "Tchah! an old impostor and sham. Wipe it off, woman, wipe it off.Kissing your hand, too, like that, before my very face."

  "No, Jo-si-ah, I don't believe he's a bad one under all his sham andfuss. Folks don't know folkses' insides. They say you are about thehard-heartedest old money-lender that ever breathed, but they don't knowyou as I do. There, it was very good of you to let him have it, poorold man. I knew you would."

  "I've thrown fifty pounds slap into the gutter."

  "No, you haven't, dear; you've lent it to that poor old fellow, andyou've just pleased me a deal better than if you'd given me a diamondring, and that's for it, and more to come."

  As she spoke she threw one plump arm round the money-lender's neck, andthere was a sound in the room as of a smack.

  Volume One, Chapter XXV.

>   A REVELATION.

  "Oh, May, May! As if I had not care and pain enough without this.Surely it cannot be true."

  "Hush! don't make a fuss like that, you silly thing. You'll have thepeople hearing you down in the street. How could I help it?"

  "Help it? May, you must have been mad."

  "Oh! no, I