by W. W. Jacobs
Produced by David Widger
DEEP WATERS
By W.W. JACOBS
FAMILY CARES
Mr. Jernshaw, who was taking the opportunity of a lull in business toweigh out pound packets of sugar, knocked his hands together and stoodwaiting for the order of the tall bronzed man who had just entered theshop--a well-built man of about forty--who was regarding him with blueeyes set in quizzical wrinkles.
"What, Harry!" exclaimed Mr. Jernshaw, in response to the wrinkles."Harry Barrett!"
"That's me," said the other, extending his hand. "The rolling stone comehome covered with moss."
Mr. Jernshaw, somewhat excited, shook hands, and led the way into thelittle parlour behind the shop.
"Fifteen years," said Mr. Barrett, sinking into a chair, "and the oldplace hasn't altered a bit."
"Smithson told me he had let that house in Webb Street to a Barrett,"said the grocer, regarding him, "but I never thought of you. I supposeyou've done well, then?"
Mr. Barrett nodded. "Can't grumble," he said modestly. "I've got enoughto live on. Melbourne's all right, but I thought I'd come home for theevening of my life."
"Evening!" repeated his friend. "Forty-three," said Mr. Barrett,gravely. "I'm getting on."
"You haven't changed much," said the grocer, passing his hand through hisspare grey whiskers. "Wait till you have a wife and seven youngsters.Why, boots alone----"
Mr. Barrett uttered a groan intended for sympathy. "Perhaps you couldhelp me with the furnishing," he said, slowly. "I've never had a placeof my own before, and I don't know much about it."
"Anything I can do," said his friend. "Better not get much yet; youmight marry, and my taste mightn't be hers."
Mr. Barrett laughed. "I'm not marrying," he said, with conviction.
"Seen anything of Miss Prentice yet?" inquired Mr. Jernshaw.
"No," said the other, with a slight flush. "Why?"
"She's still single," said the grocer.
"What of it?" demanded Mr. Barrett, with warmth. "What of it?"
"Nothing," said Mr. Jernshaw, slowly. "Nothing; only I----"
"Well?" said the other, as he paused.
"I--there was an idea that you went to Australia to--to better yourcondition," murmured the grocer. "That--that you were not in a positionto marry--that----"
"Boy and girl nonsense," said Mr. Barrett, sharply. "Why, it's fifteenyears ago. I don't suppose I should know her if I saw her. Is hermother alive?"
"Rather!" said Mr. Jernshaw, with emphasis. "Louisa is something likewhat her mother was when you went away."
Mr. Barrett shivered.
"But you'll see for yourself," continued the other. "You'll have to goand see them. They'll wonder you haven't been before."
"Let 'em wonder," said the embarrassed Mr. Barrett. "I shall go and seeall my old friends in their turn; casual-like. You might let 'em hearthat I've been to see you before seeing them, and then, if they'rethinking any nonsense, it'll be a hint. I'm stopping in town while thehouse is being decorated; next time I come down I'll call and seesomebody else."
"That'll be another hint," assented Mr. Jernshaw. "Not that hints aremuch good to Mrs. Prentice."
"We'll see," said Mr. Barrett.
In accordance with his plan his return to his native town was heralded bya few short visits at respectable intervals. A sort of human butterfly,he streaked rapidly across one or two streets, alighted for half an hourto resume an old friendship, and then disappeared again. Having given atleast half-a-dozen hints of this kind, he made a final return to Ramsburyand entered into occupation of his new house.
"It does you credit, Jernshaw," he said, gratefully. "I should have madea rare mess of it without your help."
"It looks very nice," admitted his friend. "Too nice."
"That's all nonsense," said the owner, irritably.
"All right," said Mr. Jernshaw. "I don't know the sex, then, that's all.If you think that you're going to keep a nice house like this all toyourself, you're mistaken. It's a home; and where there's a home a womancomes in, somehow."
Mr. Barrett grunted his disbelief.
"I give you four days," said Mr. Jernshaw.
As a matter of fact, Mrs. Prentice and her daughter came on the fifth.Mr. Barrett, who was in an easy-chair, wooing slumber with a handkerchiefover his head, heard their voices at the front door and the cordialinvitation of his housekeeper. They entered the room as he sat hastilysmoothing his rumpled hair.
"Good afternoon," he said, shaking hands.
Mrs. Prentice returned the greeting in a level voice, and, accepting achair, gazed around the room.
"Nice weather," said Mr. Barrett.
"Very," said Mrs. Prentice.
"It's--it's quite a pleasure to see you again," said Mr. Barrett.
"We thought we should have seen you before," said Mrs. Prentice, "butI told Louisa that no doubt you were busy, and wanted to surprise her.I like the carpet; don't you, Louisa?"
Miss Prentice said she did.
"The room is nice and airy," said Mrs. Prentice, "but it's a pity youdidn't come to me before deciding. I could have told you of a betterhouse for the same money."
"I'm very well satisfied with this," said Mr. Barrett. "It's all Iwant."
"It's well enough," conceded Mrs. Prentice, amiably. "And how have youbeen all these years?"
Mr. Barrett, with some haste, replied that his health and spirits hadbeen excellent.
"You look well," said Mrs. Prentice. "Neither of you seem to havechanged much," she added, looking from him to her daughter. "And I thinkyou did quite well not to write. I think it was much the best."
Mr. Barrett sought for a question: a natural, artless question, thatwould neutralize the hideous suggestion conveyed by this remark, but iteluded him. He sat and gazed in growing fear at Mrs. Prentice.
"I--I couldn't write," he said at last, in desperation; "my wife----"
"Your what?" exclaimed Mrs. Prentice, loudly.
"Wife," said Mr. Barrett, suddenly calm now that he had taken the plunge."She wouldn't have liked it."
Mrs. Prentice tried to control her voice. I never heard you weremarried!" she gasped. "Why isn't she here?"
"We couldn't agree," said the veracious Mr. Barrett. "She was verydifficult; so I left the children with her and----"
"Chil----" said Mrs. Prentice, and paused, unable to complete the word.
"Five," said Mr. Barrett, in tones of resignation. "It was rather awrench, parting with them, especially the baby. He got his first tooththe day I left."
The information fell on deaf ears. Mrs. Prentice, for once in her lifethoroughly at a loss, sat trying to collect her scattered faculties. Shehad come out prepared for a hard job, but not an impossible one. Allthings considered, she took her defeat with admirable composure.
"I have no doubt it is much the best thing for the children to remainwith their mother," she said, rising.
"Much the best," agreed Mr. Barrett. "Whatever she is like," continuedthe old lady. "Are you ready, Louisa?"
Mr. Barrett followed them to the door, and then, returning to the room,watched, with glad eyes, their progress up the street.
"Wonder whether she'll keep it to herself?" he muttered.
His doubts were set at rest next day. All Ramsbury knew by then of hismatrimonial complications, and seemed anxious to talk about them;complications which tended to increase until Mr. Barrett wrote out a listof his children's names and ages and learnt it off by heart.
Relieved of the attentions of the Prentice family, he walked the streetsa free man; and it was counted to him for righteousness that he neversaid a hard word about his wife. She had her faults, he said, but theywere many thousand miles away, an
d he preferred to forget them. And headded, with some truth, that he owed her a good deal.
For a few months he had no reason to alter his opinion. Thanks to hispresence of mind, the Prentice family had no terrors for him. Heart-whole and fancy free, he led the easy life of a man of leisure, acondition of things suddenly upset by the