"I wish you wouldn't father," said Mary, again beginning to cry.

"Mary, my pet, I can't help it," said Jones, fairly giving way to feelings too long repressed; "there aint room for two, that's the plain truth of it, and if another grocer comes, why, he must ruin me, or I must ruin him; and that aint pleasant to think of, is it?"

Mary was not without spirit.

"Father," she cried resolutely, "if it's to be, why, it's to be, and it can't be helped; but I wouldn't give in without trying to get the upper hand, that I wouldn't."

Her father shook his head disconsolately.

"Child," he said, "it's like setting an old horse against a mettlesome young one. That new fellow has got every advantage. Look at his shop, then look at mine; why, his is twice as big again. Look at his front-- all plate gla.s.s; look at his counters--all polished oak!"

"Well, and can't you get the shop--our shop--done up too?" ambitiously asked Mary. "There's time yet."

"Why yes, there is--but the money, Mary dear!"

"Never mind the money."

"No more I would, my pet, if I had got it; but you see, the one pound ten a week hasn't kept up; and those things cost a precious deal."

Mary reflected a while. "S'pose," she suggested, "you got in a fresh stock of jams in gla.s.s jars, for the front window."

"And what shall we do with the old?"

"Eat them. And s'pose you add a few pots of pickles?"

"Pickles!" echoed Jones, looking doubtful.

"And s'pose," continued Mary, "you add macaroni, and sauces, and set up as a superior grocer."

Jones scratched his head.

"Law, child!" he said, "this aint a stylish neighbourhood--and who'll buy my macaroni and my sauces?"

"Why no one, of course," superciliously replied Mary. "It's not to sell them, you want them; it's for the look of the thing--to be a superior grocer, you know."

The words "superior grocer," gently tickled secret ambition. Mr. Richard Jones seriously promised his daughter to think about it.

Mary had other thoughts, which she did not communicate to her father; and of these thoughts, the chief was to find out what had become of Mr.

Saunders, and return to the old plan of enticing him into partnership.

She was so full of this project, that, partly to get a.s.sistance, partly to take a little consequence on herself, she imparted it, under the strictest secrecy, to Rachel Gray; and at the close, she pretty clearly hinted, that if Mr. Joseph Saunders behaved well, he might, in time, aspire to the honour of her hand.

Rachel heard her silently, and looked very uncomfortable.

"My dear," she said, hesitatingly, "you must not think of anything of the kind; indeed you must not."

"And why shouldn't I?" tartly asked Mary, with a saucy toss of the head.

"Because, my dear," said Rachel, gently and sadly, "Jane is going to marry that Mr. Saunders, who ifs cousin to Mr. Smithson, who is putting him in the new grocer's shop."

For a moment, Mary remained stunned; then she burst into tears.

"He's a mean, sneaking fellow! that's what he is!" she cried.

"Oh, my dear--my dear!" gently said Rachel, "will you not take something from the hand of G.o.d! We have all our lot to bear," she added, with a half sigh.

But gently though Rachel spoke, Mary looked more rebellious than submissive.

"He's a mean--" she began again; the entrance of Mrs. Brown interrupted her.

Mrs. Brown was in a very ill humour. At first, she had behaved pretty decently to Rachel and her father; but of late, she had given free vent to her natural disposition; and it was not, we have no need to say, an amiable one. On the present occasion, she had, moreover, additional cause for dissatisfaction.

"And so," she exclaimed, slamming the door, and irefully addressing Rachel, "and so your beggarly father has been and broke my china cup! Eh, ma'am!"

Rachel turned pale, on hearing of this new disaster.

"Indeed, Mrs. Brown--" she began.

"Don't Mrs. Brown me," was the indignant rejoinder. "I tell you, I have never had a moment's peace, ease, and quiet, and never shall have--since you and your beggarly father entered this house."

For, by a strange perversion of ideas, Mrs. Brown persisted in a.s.serting and thinking that it was Rachel and her father who had entered the house, and not she. And this, Rachel might have said; and she might have added that to bear daily reproaches and insults, formed no part of her agreement with Mrs. Brown. She might--but where would the use have been?

She was free to depart any day she liked; and since she preferred to stay, why not bear it all patiently? And so she remained silent, whilst Mrs. Brown scolded and railed; for, as she had said to Mary, "we have all our lot to bear."

The lesson was lost on the young girl. No sooner was Mrs. Brown's back turned, than again Mary abused Mr. Saunders, Jane, Mr. Smithson and the new shop collectively, until she could go home to her father's. He already knew all, and gloomily exclaimed, "that it was no more than he expected; that it was all of a piece; and that there was neither honesty, grat.i.tude, nor goodness left in this wicked world."

From which comprehensive remark we can clearly see that Mr. Jones is turning misanthropic. And yet the matter was very simple--an everyday occurrence. Smithson had seen that he might find it profitable to cut the ground under Jones's feet. Why should he not do it? Is not profit the abject of commerce? and is not compet.i.tion the fairest way of securing profit?

CHAPTER XVI.

The reader may easily imagine Jane and Joseph Saunders married. It was an old engagement Imagine them, too, retained from their wedding tour to Gravesend. It is evening; and on the next morning, "The two Teapots" is to open.

Richard Jones spent a sleepless night, and took down his shutters as soon as a gray, dull light entered the street. It availed little; only a dirty child came in for a pennyworth of brown sugar. It was half-past eight when Saunders opened his shop; and just about that time a chill, drizzling rain began to fall.

The morning was miserable, and only a few wretched figures flitted about the wet street. No one entered the "Teapot;" but then not a soul either crossed the threshold of the rival shop.

And thus the dull morning wore on until the church clock struck ten. A sprinkling of customers then entered the shop of Richard Jones. They were one and all mightily indignant at the impudence of the opposite shop in coming there--a lady in a large, black, shabby straw bonnet in particular.

"Ay, ay, you may flare away--you may flare away," she added, knowingly wagging her head at it, "you'll have none of my custom, I can tell you.

An ounce of your four shilling best, Mr. Jones, if you please?"

"Coming, ma'am, di-rectly," was the prompt reply. .

"I never heard anythink like it--never," observed another lady, with solemn indignation. "Did the low fellow think we wanted his shop!"

An indignant "no," was chorused around.

Richard Jones's heart swelled, and his throat too. He was much moved.