THE STORY-TELLER. Topham's Chance.

Evening Post, Volume LXVII, Issue LXVII, 30 January 1904, Page 10

THE STORY-TELLER. Toph am's Ch an ce.

CIIAI'TEIt I. On a summer afternoon two surly men Bat together in a. London lodging. Ono of them occupied an easy chah, smoked a cigarette, and load tho newspaper; the other was sealed at the table, with a mass of papers beforo him, on which he laboured as though correcting exercises. Thoy wcro much of an ago, and thnt alxmt thirty, but whereus the idler was well dressed, hui companion had a seedy appearance aud looked altogether hko a man uiio neglected himself. For half an hour they h.ul not spoken. Of a sudden the num iv the chair jumped up. "Woll, I have to go into town," ho i said, giuflly, "and it's uncertain when I shall get back. Gel that stuii cleared oil, and roply to the- uigent letters. Mind you wnto iv the pioper tone to Dixon — as «oapy as you can make it. le.l Mh>s Brewer wo cau't lotluco fees, but that we'll givo iier credit iov a month. Guarantee the Leice&lei'sinro leliow a pass if he begins ab once." » Tho other, who listened, bit the end of his wooden penholder to splinters. "All right,' liv loplied. "But, look here, I want n little- money." "So do I." "Yes, but you're not like me, without a coin in your pocket. Look here, give mo .half a crown. I havo absolute need of it. Why, 1 enn't even get my hair cut. I'm sick of this slavery." "Then go nnd do butter," cried the well-dressed man, insolently. "You were glad enough of tlio job when I ottered it to you. It's no good your looking to me for luonoy. I can do no more myself than just live ; and us soon as I see a chance you may bo sum I shall clear out of this rotten business." He moved towards tho door, but before opening it stood hesitating. "Want to get £t>ur hair cut, do you?" Woll, there's sixpence, mid it's all I can spare. Tho door closed. And the man at tho table, leaning back, stared gloomily nt tho sixpenny pieco on tho table before him. His name was Topham ; he hnd a university degree and a damnged reputation. Sue months ago, when his choico seemed to bo between staying iv tho street nnd turning sandwich-man, luck hnd mudo him acquainted with Atr, Rudolph Stnrkoy, Mho wrote himself M.A. of Dublin "University, nnd advertised a system of tuition by correspondence. In return for mere board and lodging, Topham became Mjt. Slarkey's assistant ; that is to say, he did by fur tho greater part of Mr. Starkey's work. The tutorial business vas but moderntely successful j still, it sept its proprietor in cigarettes, und onibled him to pass somo hours a day at a club, where he was convinced that beforo long some better clnnce. in life would offer itself to him. Having always boen a Inzy dog, Starkey regarded himself as an example of industry unrewarded ; being as selfish a follow as. one could meet, lie reproached .himself with the unworldliness of his nature, which had so hindered liim in a basely material age. Ono of his ventures was a half-mor*!, half-practical little Toiumo entitled, "Success in Life." Had it been either more moral or moro practical this book would probably havo yielded Tiim a modest income, for such works are dear to the British public ; but Rudolph Starkey, M.A., was ono of those men who do everything by halves and snarl over the ineffectual results. Topham's fault was tJbat of a man Mho had followed his instincts but too thoroughly. .They brought him to an end of everything, and, as Starkey said, he had been glad enough to take the employment which was offered without nny ininconveijient enquiries. The work which he undertook bo did competently and honestly, for somo timo without a grumble. Beginning with a cortnin gratitude to hia employer, though without any liking, ho aoon grew to detect tho man, and hud much ado- to keeo up a show of decent civility in their intercourse. Of hotter birth and breeding than iStnrkey, ho burned with resentment ab tho scant ceremony with •which be. was treated, and loathed the iweannes's which could oxnet so much toil .to such poor remuneration. When offering his terms Starkey had talked in that bland way characteristic of him with strangers. "I'm really as.hamod to proposo nothing better to n. man of your standing. Butwell, I'm making «. start, you see, and tho fact of the matter's that, just at present, I could very woll ra.innge to do .all the work myself. Still, if you think it worth your-wjaile, there's no doubt wo shall ?et on capitally togehlicr ; and, of course, n,eod nob sny, us soon as our progress justifies it, wo must come to new jirrangeinents. A matter of six or seven fcours a day will be nil I shall ask of you at present. For my »wn part, I work chiefly at night." CHAPTEH 11. By tho end of the first month Tophnm was working, not six or seven, but ten or twelve hours a day, and his spells of labour only lengthened as time went on. Seeing himself victimised, ho ono day alluded to the promise of better terms, but Stnrkey turned sour. "You surprise me, Topham. Here are wo, practically partners, doing our best to make this thing a surtcoss, and all at once you spring upon me an unreasonab.o demand. You* know peitfectly well Ihat every penny that I can spare goca in advertising. You know how expensive these rooms are— for we must hn-ve a decent address If you are dissatisfied, say so, and give mo timo to look out for somo ouo Topham wns afraid of tie streot, and that his employer woll knew. The conversation ended in mutual sulKnness, which thenceforward becamo tho note of their colloquies. Starkey fell himself a victim of ingratitude, and consequently thlew «yen v more work upon his helpless assistant That the work was so conscientiously done did not at all astonish him. Now juid then ho gave himself tho satisfaction of finding fault, just to remind loptanm that his bread depended on nnothci t goodwill. Congenial indolenco grew upon Sim but he talked only the moro of his coaaeless exertion Sometimes m the «voning ho wo Id throw up hi 3 amis, yawn wenrily, und declare Oiat so much toil with such paltry results was a henrtr TopLm stared sullenly at the six- - pence. This was but the latest of mnny insults, yet never beforo had he so tasted the shame of his subjection. Though ho Wns earning a living, and a right to selfrespect, more strenuously than Starkey ever had, this fellow made him feel like p, mendicant. His nervos quivered; he struck the tabfe fiercely, shouting within himoelf—" Brute! Cud 1" Then pocketed the coin, and got on with his duties. Tt wan toil of a peculiarly wearisome and enervating kind. Starkey's advertisements, which were chiefly in the chunfrv newspapers, put him in communication v.ith persons of both sexes, and of ; ny .i'.!^ fiotn Beventeen onwards, tho * Ht.ii Mi'iisiic common to them all being irtoiMiru-jri".- and intellectual helpl^sness. l\l<,,[ -.1 these torrespondfnts lit jred to pa , .> '.no examination; " fow nirned— or psnic r,-.d uj — merely at self-hniirovo-nunt. or wlJt thf-y c.Jlcd "culture." Bl.>sl. v. of course, undertook tuition in any vibject, to any cv<\, stipulatimj only tHuf los f<-"K hliou'k! l<e p«i I »n advance, aiu-ouifhout the duy hw slave hpd been

cmrecting Latin ami Greek oxereises, papers in mathematical or physical science, uiiM\ers to historical questions; nil elemcnlaiy, and many grotesquely hnd. On oomph' ling each .set, he wroto tho evpectt'd comment, sometimes briefly, sometimes at, considerable length. lie now tinned to a lhindlo of so-enlled essnys, und, on opening the fir.st, could not. repiess a gruau. No! This wns beyond his .stren^lh. He would make up thu parcels fur post, writu tho hnlf-dosseu letters that must be- sent to-day, and go out. Had ho not pixpeuco in his pocket? Just ns ho had tnken this lesolvc, sumo ono knocked at tho sitting-room door, and with the inattention of a man who expeots nothing, Tophnm bade enter. " A gen'mnn asking for Mr. Starkey, sir," said tho servant. "All right. Send him in." And then entered a man -whose years seemed to he something shoit of fifty, a hnle, ruddy-cheeked, stout i.sli man, whoao dress and bearing mado it probable that ho was no Londoner. "Mr. Starkey, M.A. ?" ho enquired, rather nervously, though his smile and his upright posturo did not lack a certain dignity. " Quito right," murmured Tophnm, who wns authorised to represent his principal to any one coining on business. " Will you take a seat ?" " You will know my name," begnn tho stranger. " Wigmure— Abraham Wigmore." " Very glad to meet you, Mr. Wigmoro. 1 wns on tho point of sending your last batch of papers to tho post. You will find, (his time, I have been nblo to prniso them unreservedly." The listener fairly blushed with delight; then he grasped his short beard with his left hand nnd laughed silently, showing excellent teeth. " Wdi, Mr. Stnrkey," ho replied, at length, in n, modestly subdued voice, " 1 did really think I'd managed belter than usual. But there's much thanks due to you, sir. Vou'vo helped me, Mr. Starkey, j'ou really have. And that's one reason why, happening to como up to Loudon, I wished to have the pleasure of seeing you ; I really did wnnfc to thank you, sir." c CHAPTER 111. Tophnm was closely observing this singular visitor. lie had nlwnys taken " Abraham Wigmoro " for a youth of nineteen or so, some not over-bright, but plodding and earnest clerk or counterman in the little Gloucestershire town from -which the correspondent wrote ; it [ astonished him to see this mature and most respectable person. They talked on. Ml 1 . Wigmore had a slight westcountry accent, but otherwise his language differed little from that of the normally cducutod ; in every word he revealed n good nnd kindly, if simple, nature At length a slight embarrassment interfered with the flow of his talk, which, having been solely of tuitional matters, began to take a turn moro personal. Was he taking too much of Mr. Slnrkey's time? Reassured on this point, ho bogged leave to givo some account of himself. ' 1 daresay, Mr. Starkey, j'on're surprised to see how old 1 am. It seems strango to you, no doubt, (hnt at my ago I should be going to school." He grasped his benrd and laughod. " Well, it is strange, and I'd like to explain it to you. To begin with, I'll tell you what my ago is ; I'm seven-nnd-forty. Only that. But I'm the father of two daughters— both married. Yes, 1 was married young myself, nnd my good wifo died long ago, more's the pity," 110 pnused, looked round the room, stroked lub hard-felt hat, Topham murmuring a sympathetic sound. " Now as to my business, Mr. Storkoy. T'm a fruiterer und greengrocer. I might have said fruiterer alone — it. sounds more respectable; but the hone&l truth is, I do soil vegetables ns well, nnd 1 want you to know that, Mr. Starkey. Does it make you feel ashamed for me?" "My dear sir ! What business could bo moro honourable? I heartily wish I had one as good aud ns luea-alive." " Well, that's your kindness, sir," snid Wigmore, with it pleased smile. "Tho fnct is, I have done pretty well, though I'm nofc by any means a rich man ; conifortablo, that's nil. I gn.ve my girls a good schooling, and what with that and their good looks, they've bofh mndo what may be cnlled better marriages thnn might havo been expected. For down in our country, you know, sir, a shopkeeper is ono thing nnd a gentleman's another. Now, my girls havo married gentlemen." Again he paused, and with .emphnsis. Again Topham murmured, this time congratulation. " Ono of them is wifo to a y<lung solicitor; the other to a young gentleman farmer. And they've both gone* to live in. another part of the county. 1 dnre say you understand that, Mr. St arkey ?" The speukoi's eyes had fallen ; nt the same time a twitching of tho brows and hardening of the mouth changed' the expression of h& face, marking it with tin unexpected sadness, all but pnin. 'Do you mean, Mr. Wi<?inore," asked Tophftm, "that your daughters rTesiro to live nt n distance from you?" "Well, I'm sorry to say that's what I I do mean, Mr. Starkey. My soii-iu-lnw i the bclicitor had intended practising in our town, where he wns born ; ' instead i of that, ho went to another a long way ' off. My son-in-law the gentleman farmer ' was to havo tnken a farm close by us ; ' to altered his mind, nnd went into an- i other countj. You tieo, sir? It's quite! natural ; I find no fault. There's novcr ' been an unkind word between any of I us. ■ But — " j He was growing moro and more, embar- j rassed. .Evidently the ni.m had some- ' thing ho wished to sny, something to ' which ho had been loading up by this disclosure of his domestic affairs ; but ho could not utter his thourht. Topihnm tried the commonplaces naturally suggest- , cd by tho situation ; thoy wero received with gratiturio, but still Mr. Wigmore hung his bond and talked vaguely, with hesitations, pauses. . "I'vo always been what ono may call serious-minded, Mr. Starkoy. As a boy I liked reading, nnd I've always hnd a book at hand fo» my leisure "time-ythe kind of book thnt does one good. Just now I'm rending "J^bo Christian Year.' And since my daughters married — well, ns I tell you, Mr. Stnrkey, I've douo pretty well in business — there's really no reason why I should keep on in my shop, if I ohose to — to do otherwise," "£ quito understand," interposed Tophnm, in whom thoro began to stir a thought which mndo his brnin warm. "You would like to retire from business. And you would like to — well, to pursuo your studies more iioriously." Again Wigmore looked grateful, but even yet tho burden was uol off his mind. "I know," ho resumed pTesentlj, turning his hat round nnd round, "thnt ib Houndtt a strange thing to any, but — well, sir, I've always done my best to live ns a religious man." "Of that I have no doubt whatever, Mr Wigmore." "Well, then, sir, what I .should like to ask you is> this. Do \ou think, ff I gave up tho shop and vent to live aomovhei* else, and worked very hard nt niy studief — with help, of course, with help — do you think, Mr Starkoy, that I could hopo to get on?" Ho was ns ml as n peony, his voice choked. "You mean." put in TouUnm, he, too,

becoming excited, "lo become a really wcll-oducatvd man?" "Yes, bir, jvs. But, mpio than thnt. 1 want, Mr. Starkey, to nuiko iny&elf — Komething — «o that my daughters anil my honi>-in-l.iw would nevrtr .fed uxhnmcd of me — .mo limb their children won't bo afmid to talk of their grandfnithcr. I know [{'» v very bold thoug>ht, sir, but if I could — ' "Speak, Mr. Wigmore,"' cried Toph.un, quivering with clirioxily, "sjienk nioio plainly. Whnfc do you to liecome? With competent help — qf course, with competent help — anything is possible." "Really?" oxclnimed Ibo other. "You moan that, Mr. Starkoy*? Then, sir" — ho leaned forward, blusjiing, trembling, gasping — "conal 1 get to be — n. curate?" Topham fell buck int<\ his dinir. For ♦wo or three minutes ho wns muto with astonishment ; then tho very soul of him sinitf jubilee. "My dear Mr. Wigmoire," he begnn, rest r.i in ing himself to an impressive gravity, "I xhould be the last mnn lo .speak lightly of tho profession of a clergyman, or 'to urgo any ono to enter the Ohurch whom I thought unfFHcd for tho sacred oftice. But in your csusp, my good sir, thoto can be no such mysgiving. I entertain no doubt whatever of yoiir fi|-ness—-your moral fitness,' and I will go so far ns to say thnt, with competent aid, you might, in no .very long time, bo prepared for the necessary examinations." _ i , Tho listener laughed vritb delight. He began to talk rapidly, a.U- diffidence subdued. Ho told how the. idea hnd first come to him, how ho hnd brpoded upon it, how ho hnd worked at elementary lesson books, very secretly,, nnd then how tho sight of Starkey's nclverli'semcni, had inspired him with hope. ] "Just to get to be a c/urnte — that's nil. I should never be worthy of being a vicar or n rector; I doa't 100k 1 so high ns that, Mr. Starkey. But a curate is a clergyman, nnd for my daughters to bo able to say their father is in the Church — thnt would bo a good thing, sir, a good thing!" Ho slapped his kneo, nud n/«»ain laughed with joy. Meanwhile Tophu m weomed to have become poiraive ; his "head wns on his hand. "Oh," he murmured at leugth, "if I had timo to work seriously with you, several hours a day." Wigmore looked at him, and let his eyes fall. "You nro, of course, very busy, Mr Starkey?" "Very, very." Tophnm waved bis Imnd n,t the papercovered table, and appeared to sink into despondency. Thereupon, Wigmore cautiouuly nnd delicately approached tho next thought he had in mind, Topham — curaiing fellow— at one moment facilitating-, at another retarding whnt ho wwhod to say. If, caißo out at length. Would it. be quite hnpos.sible for Mr Stnrkey to devote himself to ono solo pupil? CHAPTER IV. "Mr. Wigmoro, I wfll bo frank with you. If I asked an equivalent for tho value of my business as a business, I could not expect you to agree (o .such a proposal. But, to sneak honestly, my health lm« suffered a good deaf from overwork, nnd I must tnke into consideration the great probability Hint in any case, before lonu, I should be obliged to find some position wliero the duties wet-o lo<=s cx4nui:>ling. "Good <;raciouK !"' exclnhnod tho listener. "Why, you'll kill yourself, B ir. And I'm bound to sny, you look fnr from woll." Tophnm snjiled pathetically, paused a moment n« if to rofloct, and continued in tho same tone of genial confidence. "Let us consider flic matter in detail. Do you proposo, Mr. Wigmoro, to withdraw from business at onco??" Tho fruiterer roplied Unit he could do, so at vry uhort notice. Questioned n« to his wishes regarding a plnco of rosidenco, ho declared that he wns ready to live in nny plnco where, being unknown, ho could make, «s it were, a now beginning. "You would not feql impntienl," said lophum, "if, sny, two or three years had to clnpse before you could be ordained?" j "Impatient," said tho other cheerily. "Why, if it took ten years, I would go through with it. When I make up my , mind about a thing, I'm not enaily diHI mnyed. If I could havo your help &ir— " J?lic necwilv of mnkinor a deGnito proposal turned' Tophnm pnlo ; he wns so afraid of asking too much. Almost in spite of himself, ho at longth spoke. "Suppose, we R«y — if I reside with j-ou — oh, well, two hundred a yonr?" Tho next moment he inwnrdly raged. Wigmore's countenance- expressed such contentment that it was plnin Iho good man would have paid twice that. cum. "Aml" cried Tophtl;n, in his mind. "I always undervalued myself!" Il wns late that evening whan Stnikev en mo home; to his surprise h6 found that Topham was later still. In vain ho snt writing until past 1 o'clock. Tophum did not nppenr, nnd- indeed never camo back at all. Tho overworked corresponding lutor was taking hh ease at the seasido on tho strength of. a quarter's salary in ndvance, which Mr. Wig- | moro, tremulously anxious to clench their 1 bargain, had insisted on puying him. Before leaving London ho had written j to Starkey, opologi«ing for his abrupt i departure, "tho result of unforeseen ciri cumstnncos." Ho enclosed six penny , stamps in repayment of a bum lent, and I added : i "When I think of my greater debt to , you I despair of expressing my gratitude. I Bo assured, however, thnt fho name of Stnrkoy will always bo cherished in my I remembrance." ! Under that name Topham dwelt with ; the retired ahopkpeper, nnd assiduously discharged his tutorial duties. A day , camo when, relying upon the friendship between them, and his pupil's exultation in the progress achieved, tho tutor uni bosomed himself of tho secret. Having heard tho whole story, Wigmore laughed a grent deal, nnd declared that such a fellow as Starkey was rightly sorved. " But," he enquired, after reflection, " how waa it the mnn never wrote to ask why T sent no moro work" "That asks for further confession. While nl the seaside 1 wrote, in a disguised hand, n letter supposed to come from a brother of yours, in which I said you wero very ill, nnd must cease your correspondence. Starkoy hadn't the decency lo reply. If he had done so, I should have got his letter at the post oilico." Mr. Wigmoro looked troubled .for a moment. However, this, too, wns laughed away, aivi tho pursuit of gentility, went on ns rigorously ns evor. But Topham, musing over his good luck, thought with a shiver on how small an accident *t hnd depended. Ilntl Starkey been at homo when the fruitorer called he, it wns plnin, would havo hnd tho offer of this engagement. " With the result that dear old Wigmoro would hnve been bled for who knows how many years by a meie swindler. Whereas ho ia really being educated, nnd, for nil I know ; may some day ndoni the C'lniroli of England. Such thoughts are very consoling. — George Gissing, in the Dnily Mail.

"Evmbody Piiys tho baby looks like you. Doesn't that plenho you?" "I don't know," replied Topley, " but I 101 l you what: I'm glad nobody thinks of saying I look liko tho baby."