"For the sake of peace and quietness I agree. But I want you to promise one thing--don't waste money over an engagement-ring; as, if you do, I won't wear it."

"That's a splendid idea! But all the same, Nellie, I should never have thought of going to any expense."

"You are so economical. It's the one thing I like about you."

"And the one thing I like about you," said George, not to be outdone in compliments, "is your willingness to listen to good advice."

They parted, with quite a friendly handshake. George went to his bed, and was baked so soundly above the oven that, before he reached Windward House the following morning, Miss Yard and her attendants had departed.

CHAPTER XVII

PLOUGHING THE GROUND

Kezia had locked up the house and given to Bessie possession of the keys; because she had always been left in charge when the family departed to the seaside, having received her commission as holder of the keys from Captain Drake himself in the days when she was growing. Now there was a husband in command, and one who held decided views regarding property. Robert expressed his willingness to undertake the duties of custodian; but, in order that the work might be performed efficiently, he proposed to Bessie that they should close their own cottage and retire into luxurious residence across the road.

So when George called at his own house, which was occupied by caretakers he had not appointed, the doors were locked against him. He was not refused admittance, as that might have looked like an unfriendly act; his presence was simply ignored. Robert, smoking in the parlour, with his feet upon the sofa, heard the knocking; but he struck another match and smiled. Bessie, who was preparing the best bedroom, heard the ringing; but she peeped behind the curtain and muttered, "Can't have him in here taking things."

George retired to his lodgings and stared at the framed advertis.e.m.e.nts, until he heard Dyer singing as he scoured the oven. The baker had been heard to declare that, if he had not known how to sing, he would have lost his senses long ago owing to the fightings and despondings which beset him. As a matter of fact he did not know how to sing, and those who listened were far more likely to lose their senses. George descended, a.s.sured Dyer it was a sin to bake bread with a voice like that, and went on to inquire affectionately after the business.

"Going from bad to worse, sir," came the answer. Dyer was more than a pessimist; he was not content merely to look on the dark side of things, but a.s.sociated himself with every bit of shadow he could find.

"I don't see how that can be. People may give up meat, they may reduce their clothing; but they must have bread," replied George.

"But they don't want nearly so much as they used to," said Dyer bitterly, "and they looks at anything nowadays avore they takes it. When I started business a healthy working man would finish off two loaves a day; and one's as much as he can manage now. The human race ain't improving, sir; 'tis dying out, I fancy. They used to be thankful vor anything I sold 'em, but now if they finds a b.u.t.ton, or a beetle, or a dead mouse in the bread--and the dough will fall over on the floor sometimes--they sends the loaf back and asks vor another gratis. And the population is dwindling away to nought."

"According to the census--" began George.

"Don't you believe in censuses," cried the horrified Dyer. "That's dirty work, sir. Government has a hand in that. If me and you wur the only two left in Highfield parish, they'd put us down, sir, as four hundred souls."

"You have a big sale for your cakes and doughnuts," George suggested.

"I loses on 'em," said the dreary Dyer.

"Then why do you make them?"

"I suppose, sir, 'tis a habit I've got into."

"My uncle used to say he had never tasted better cakes than yours."

"Captain Drake was a gentleman, sir. His appet.i.te belonged to the old school what be pa.s.sed away vor ever. When he wur alive I could almost make both ends meet. But he gave me a nasty fright once, when he got telling about a tree what grows abroad--bread tree he called it. Told me volks planted it in their gardens, and picked the loaves off as they wanted 'em. 'Twas a great relief to my mind when he said the tree wouldn't be a commercial success in this country because the sun ain't hot enough to bake the bread. Talking about gentlemen, sir, what do you think of the Brocks?"

"A bad lot," said George, wagging his head.

"Sure enough! They make their own bread," whispered the baker.

"I didn't know they went so far as that," replied the properly horrified George.

"Some volks stick at nothing. But is it fair, sir? How be struggling tradesmen to escape ruin when volks break the law--"

"It's not illegal."

"There's Government again! I tell ye how 'tis, sir, Government means to get rid of me, though I never done anything worse than stop my ears when parson prays vor Parliament. I hates Government, sir, and I do wish it wur possible to vote against both parties. If I wur to make my own tobacco, or vizzy wine such as rich volk drink at funerals, they'd put me away in prison. Why ain't it illegal vor volks to make their own bread? I'll tell ye why, sir: 'tis because Government means to do away wi' bakers. They ha' been telling a lot lately about encouraging home industries, and that's how they stir up volks to ruin we tradesmen by making all they want at home."

"You are not ruined yet. Robert declares you are the richest man in Highfield--not that I believe much he says," George remarked, settling down to business.

"Quite right, sir. I ha' learned Robert to bake, but I can't prevent him from talking childish. He'd like to see me out of the business, so that he could slip into the ruins of it. When he sees I'm the richest man in the village he means the poorest. 'Tis just a contrairy way of talking.

Captain Drake often looked in to tell wi' me--out of grat.i.tude vor my doughnuts what helped him to sleep, he said--'twur avore he died so sharp like."

"I guessed as much," said George.

"And he used to tell me, if you wanted to make a man real angry you had only to say the opposite of what you meant in the most polite language you could find. He told Robert the like, I fancy."

"My uncle generally found the soft answer a success," said George. "He told me once how another captain once called him 'a bullying old scoundrel with a face like a lobster-salad,' and he replied, 'You're a ewe-lamb.' The other man got madder than ever though, as my uncle said, you can't find anything much softer than a ewe-lamb. But Robert isn't always calling you a rich man. He's in our kitchen every evening, and he talks pretty freely when he has a drop of cocoa in him."

"He ain't got nothing against me. Me and the missus ha' been a father to him," said the baker, with suspicious alacrity.

"He thinks he has a grievance."

"Then I suppose he's still worrying over his honeymoon. A man what's been married years and years ought to be thinking of his future state and his old-age pension. He might as well be asking vor his childhood back again."

"He says you cheated him out of his honeymoon," said George, who knew the story: how Dyer's wedding present to his a.s.sistant had been leave of absence, without pay, from Sat.u.r.day to Monday; coupled with a promise of a week's holiday, with half pay, at some future date when business might be slack; which promise belonged to that fragile order of a.s.surances declaimed so loudly at election time.

"'Tis a lot too late now," said the baker.

"I suppose a deferred honeymoon is better than none at all," George remarked. "Anyhow, Robert and his wife are grumbling a good bit and, as I'm staying here, they asked me to remind you of your promise, business being very slack at present."

"I ha' never known it to be anything else, but 'tis funny it should be picking up a little just now. I got a big order vor cakes this morning, as there's a school treat next week. Me and Robert will be kept very busy all this month--but it's a losing business. There's no profit in cakes, nor yet in bread. There used to be a profit in doughnuts, but that's gone now."

The cautious George said no more, being content with the knowledge that he had given Dyer something to worry about. The baker would certainly not mention the matter so long as Robert kept silent; and Robert had probably forgotten all about the promise, although many months back George had overheard him a.s.suring Bessie it would be time to think of a new dress when master's wedding present came along.

"One thing is certain: n.o.body can get the better of me," George chuckled as he left the bakehouse. "I beat Hunter at his own game, I diddled Crampy in his, I scared Percy out of the country--at least that's my belief--and now I'm going to make old Dyer set a trap to catch the furniture s.n.a.t.c.hers."

The Mudges, unsuspecting treachery, were glittering like two stars of fashion; Robert lolling at ease in the parlour until Bessie summoned him to supper in the dining room. If it was their duty to look after the house, it was also their pleasure to take care of themselves. They did not regard George as either friend or enemy; they despised and pitied a poor fellow who possessed no visible means of support, while attributing his presence in Highfield to a cat-like habit of returning to a house which might have been his had he behaved with propriety.

The only person they feared was Kezia, who certainly did appear to have almost as much right to the Captain's furniture as themselves. This suspicion was in Robert's mind when, the shutters having been closed and the lamps lighted, he stood beside the round table upon which were spread various sc.r.a.ps of paper beginning to show signs of wear and tear.

"If we takes all that Mrs. Drake sees we'm to have, what do Kezia get?"

he asked.

"Not much," replied Bessie.

"If Kezia takes all the things Mrs. Drake said she could have, what do we get?" continued Robert.

"Nought," said Bessie.