READY – MONEY MORTIBOY.

Grey River Argus, Volume XIII, Issue 1630, 25 October 1873, Page 4

READY - MONEY MORTIBOY.

A MATTER-OF-FACT STORY.* Chapter XLII — Continued " Found me out, has she V he murmured. "After fifteen years— 'Laid up in dock, serene — ' No, that won't do. Mr Melliship, wait a moment. Don't go and leave me in this pinch; Can't nothing be done ? See here. After fifteen years to go back to prison ! It's more than I looked for. Tell me what to do. Help me to ride out the gale." " There is nothing to be done," said Frank. " But perhaps you had better see her. Suppose she's not your wife, after all T "Stay with me. Stand byau old ship-mate. Don't desert me, Mr Melliship." " But I can't interfere between you and your wife. Be brave, man. You ought not to be afraid of a woman." "As an ordinary rule," said Captain Bowker, clearing his throat, "there aint a braver man .goiujr than me. Not. another woman in the world I'm afraid of. But this one's an exception. You didn't know my Polly. I don't care fov the rest of 'em, if they were all to come on together. But Folly's too much for any man." There was a rnstiing of a dress on *he stairs, and Frank waited for a moment. A tall figure iv black silk, with a thick veil, g'ided in. As Frank glanced at her, somehow- he thought of Market Basing and Parkside. " Don't sheer off," murmured the Captain, in an ecstasy of terror. But Frank st>le softly out of the room, and closed the door, bringing the red-armed one down with him. She j had followed Mrs Bowker up the stairs, with intent to listen at the keyhole. Mrs Skimp and her daughter were at ! the bottom, with the same laudable object. "Now, Mrs Skimp," said Frank, "no listening." And he sat down on the bottom steps byway of preciution. " Oh ! Jem," cried Polly, falling on his unresting neck, and kissing his grizzled forehead—" oh ! Jem, to think I should find you, and after so many years, and your dreadful cruel conduct " Oh ? this is a blessed day !" " How did you find me, Polly 1" asked her husband. " Went to Leggatfc and Browne's— your old firm. The clerk told me. This is a blessed day !" "D the clerk's," said the Captain. " And why didn't you go before, if you wanted to find me ?" i " Because I thought you were dead, i Jem. I've wore bJark ever since in mourning for you. See here. They told me at Poplar that you was alive, and wh«re to ask for you. Oh, what a joyful thing to find your husband after fifteen years!" She pulled out her handkerchief, and began to weep — t.ut not plentifully. "Well, what's to be done now?" asked the Captain. j

" That's a pretty thing to say to your wife," she answered. "Done! What should be done? I've come to lire with you." "Oh?" groaned the Captain. "I'm not going to live in a boardinghouse. How much money have you gotf r He named his modest income. "That will do. We will have lodgings. What'a the name of the woman of the house ?" " Skimp." , She went to the head of the staircase, and called out — " Mrs Skimp ! You Mrs Skimp ! Come up here at once." Frank quietly went away. " We're going to leave this to clay," said Polly. " A week's notice. Bring the bill in ten minutes. I'll pay ib. And none of your extras for me!" " You don't stay in my house another hour," said the aggrieved Mrs Skimp " Cap'n Bowker, I'm a-hamed of yo.u. I pity you, I do. Paying attentions to my. daughter, too." «Eh I" said Polly. « What's that f " I never did," said the Captain, outraged and insulted. " They're all upon me together. I never did. I'm — I'm — I'm dabined if I did! Mrs Skimp, what do you mean by saying .such things? And you a married woman yourself, and know the misery of beiDg married. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. I never looked at your daughter, even. I never look at any woman,"

" You won't pay her any more attentions, for you shall come out of this place in quick sticks," said Mrs Bowker. How long will it take you to pack your things up?" "Well," said the unresisting seaman, fairly over-stunned by the logic of facts, "I think; to do it comfortable, you know, it might take a couple of hours." "Very well," said the lady. "You pack eveiything vp — mind you don't leave nothing behind you in a place like this — and I'll just go down to Poplar and let 'em know aa I've found you, and Til be back here before tVe two hours are tip, This is a blessed day!" • She gave the Captain one chastp salute, shot a look of anger at Mrs Skimp, and marched out of the,r,oom. Chapter XL 111

About this time, on a fine ; morning when they were out for a drire together, Dick Morfcibov said to his ward — ! " Bill, I do you the justice to believe that you don't care very muoti about

your mother." The boy shook his head. ' And you would not waut to go away with her — to live with her, I mean V Little Bill's cheeks changed colour, and he turned his blue eyes appealingly at TTncJe Dick. ■ Very well, my boy, then never say anything about her." The boy was mounted on an old pony that had been used occasionally to carry old Ready-money. It was very 1 quieir and easy in its paces, and Dick had given his iwotege a few lessons in horsemanship before they had ventured so far into the country together. Of course, in a gossiping, tittle-tat-tling little place like Market Basing, there was abundance of rumours rife concerning the parentage and history of little Bill. Widely as some of these reports differed from others in many particulars, they were all agreed as to one essential : it was that he was young Ready -moneys son. I have never heard that anybody connected the boy with Polly. * Now, I do not say that Dick Mortiboy's argument concerning his ward was sound or just ; but it was charitable. He argued thus : — " A few months ago, I was told this was my son. I had not seen him. I did not love him. I was a poor man, and I- contributed what I thought j sufficient for his support. The boy had the reputation of being my son. Now I have seen him, and know he isn't mine. I like him, and. I'll take care that he gets some of tl c benefits he would i have got if his mother's tale had been true." It was rather from impulse than from reason that Dick Mortiboy had acted. He was big, and rough, and generous. He had taken the boy from Mrs Kneebone's tender care, and brought him home with him. He hardly thought of what he should do with him. He meant, after a time, to send him to school ; for the boy was bright and sharp as a needle, and, till he talked, might be taken for a polished little gentleman. As he looked down at the child's thin face and deep 1 lue eyes, his heart grew soft. It seemed as if he had missed something all his life which he was finding new. What he had missed were* the influences of love ; now they were upon him He loved a woman. True, she did not love him ; but she cared in a way for him. It was something to know that Grace loved him "as a brother" — as girls are fond of saying when they mean that they feel a friendly interest in a man, but would rather not have him making love to them. Then came the boy. His love for Dick was wonderful. His loyalty and obedience to what Dick told him, the pains he took to <"o everything that Dick said was right, his confidence and trust — all this touched Dick, and moved him : it was the first step upwards — to something like repentance. Only, as yet, the faintest glimmer, like the first gray streaks of light in the east. So Dick Mortiboy rode along- gently, on the stripe of grass by the side of the turnpike road, thinking of many things, when be became aware that his wai'd was calling out lustily — " Mikey O'Grady Mikey O'Grady!" The boy was in the middle of the road, some. twenty yards behind. He had reined in his pony, and was addressing by name a ragged, shoeless, dust-covered tramp. Dick s opped his horse. " Mikey O'Gradv !" the boy called out again. " Shure enough it't me name, your honour," said the man, hat in hand. " Don't you remeral er me Mike ?" The boy took off his cap, and shook his light hair over his c} es. The Irishman gave a yell of delight. " It's little Bill," he cried. Dick listened to this colloquy, and said nothing. You're going to London, Mike, aint you ? Go to the old place, and find out Thoozy. You remember Thoozy, don't you ? ; Well, then, give Thoozy my love — tell him that lam very well, and very happy, and- and I wish he was." Poor little Bill's eyes began to fill with tears. "'Give him the message, my man," said Dick. " Tell him, too, that when I come to town I shall go and see him. Perhaps I shall have something for him. And here's something to help you on your way." The Irishman promised, and went on his w?y. Dick said nothing till bedtime came, when he patted his ward on the head, and said — " Good boy, good boy. Another commandment, Bill. Never foiget old friends. What is the whole duty of a boy?" " Never steal— never tell lies — never swear— hold his jaw—do his work — go away from England— always be ready to fight — look out for shams — never be satisfied— never forget old friends. Ten of 'em now, Uncle Dick;"

" That's a curious coincidence," said Uncle Dick.

On the morning after his refusal by Grace Heathcote, Dick Mortiboy went down to the bank full of his new purpose. It was to make George Ghrimes •md Frank Melliship his junior partners in the concern. The foundry and the brewery would still . be. managed by Ghrimes for Dick's' sole" benefit ; but he had. m^de'up his; mind to rehabilitate Frank's fortunes, and reward the honest and able services of Ghrimes by doing what he thought was to both a simple act of justice.

Young Ready-money was not an adept in the ai;t< o£; speechifying, and did'Uotlkndw exactly tow to begin. He set .forth, his intention to Ghrimes in a sort oF preamble about Frank.

" Ghvirnes," he said, " I've been thinking things over a good deal of late, and I've gota proposall want you to consider. When I was a boy — before I ran away from the governor — if I had a friend to say a word for me and give me a hand, besides John Heathcote, it was my uncle Melliship." " He was a very good sort, poor man," said Ghrimes," guessing half of what was about to come from his employer. " He was," Dick assented. "Well, Ghrimes," he went on, " they've got a sort of rough notion in those rough parts I lived in a good many years, that one good turn deserves another. The very roughest there act up to it. It is not a bad maxim, Ghrimes anywhere. It seems to me that it is not affected by climate. My uncle Melliship did me many good turns. Now I'm going to do his son one good turn : for I'm bound to help Frank. That's all clear, isn't it?" Mr Ghrimes nodded. " Good. I knew you'd agree to all that. I've a word or two more to say' before I've done. There's the man who greases the wheels-^-and there's good many of 'em to grease— of my affairs, who keeps everything straight and square, and adds to the pile I've got already." Mr Ghrimes turned rather red. "That's jou, Ghrimes. You see it. Well, I think I'm bound to do something for you." The manager of Dick Mortiboy's business looked at the pattern of the carpet, and said nothing. He had not had time to find words yet. ' " What can we do best for all of us ? ! The old Bank was Melliship, Mortiboy, & Co. Why not revive the old title by taking Frank and you into partnership ? — Mortiboy, Melliship, & Ghrimes." " Never alter the name of a bank," said Ghrimes. "The most unlucky thing that can be done. Remember Snow's bank, in the Strand." • c Well, we'll have it Mortiboy, Melliship, & Co. I don't quite know how these things are done ; but I suppose there will be something to sign written in a big hand." " A deed of partnership would have to be prepared of course." "Very well. You will do all that. Arrange it with Battiscombe." Dick put on his hat. "Stay, Mr Mortiboy— this won't do." "We're partners now, Ghrimes. Call me Dick." « Well, then, Mr Dick. I don't know how to thank you for myself. As for Frank, it is an act which I call noble. I say it is noble, Mr Mortiboy — I mean Dick." " You wouldn't if you Jcnew everything, perhaps," said Dick. " How- J ever, what is the hitch?" ; " Why, this : we must arrange terms < of partnership, proportions — all sorts of J things." ] "I will see Battiscombe, then, atj once. We will have a deed drawn up on terms which shall be advantageous to yourselves, and consistent with my desire to do a mere act of justice. .Ghrimes, my father was the real cause of Melliship's failure and suicide." "To some extent, I am afraid he was," said Ghrimes. "If your father had been a different sort of man, poor Mr Melliship would have had no scruples about asking a little accomodation from him : especially as he knew how easily he could give it. But your fatheralways seemed to me to be trying to get him into his power— not to break him and ruin him, but to keep him in his power. Your father always loved to have people under his thumb." • " Just so, and my uncle Melliship's death was a protest against my father's way of dealing. We are doing simply an act of reparation. Go-to-meeting folks sometimes do acts of reparation besides repenting of their sins, I hope, Ghrimes 1 That's their affair, not mine, however. I'm going to write to Frank, and make him this offer. He'll accept it ; and as soon as he comes down here we can all three sign Battiseombe's parchment, and enter into our partner- 1 ship." He went away. Bethinking him, however, that the letter should be written at once, he turned into his lather's house in Derngate to do it. He was very careful about the letter. He began by reminding Frank of their relationship — of the many kindnesses he had himself received from Frank's father — of the friendly and affectionate terms with which Mr Mcl- j liship had received him on his return ; and then he went on to enlarge upon the unhappy connection between his own father and the failure of Melliship, Mortiboy, & Co. After this he pro. ceeded to state his proposition. "Ana" now, Frank, having said so much, I have something to propose. I was yestei'dav talking about you to Grace Heathcote, and I have her arathority for saying that she entirely approves of the proposition. What she approves of ought to be law to you. It is that you enter my bank as partner, on equal ternis with Ghrimes ; that the name of Melliship be added to Mortiboy & Co. ; that you come down here at once, and begin as soon as the deeds are drawn j out. I bjape you will see no obstacle! to your accepting this proposition. Re- j member it comes from your cousin, the man who owes a hundred debts of gratitude to your father; that Grace wishes it ; that it will enable you to marry ; in time, to pay off those debts with which your father's estate is encumbered; that it will do what is most desirable for your mother and Kate-^---bring them back to Market Basing; and bring you back, if tins is airy thing, to all your old friends. Ghrimed is most

eager that you will see your way to accept my proposal. He is as anxious as any one to see you back again, and in your right position." He folded his letter, put it into au envelope, and took it to Lucy Heathcote, asking her to forward it to Kate- Melliship, who in turn would send it to Frank. Lucy was with his father — she was old Ready-moneys constant nurse and attendant — and was walking by the side of the poor old paralytic, while Hester pushed his Bath chair along the gravel terrace at the back of his house. The aspect was sunny, and every fine day the old man was twice wheeled out to take the air. His state of health had been a good deal improved, and Lucy was full of hope. At first he had been unable to move at all, and had been generally almost unconscious. Then as he got a little better, he had recovered the partial use of one arm, and his wits had brightened very much. He was so far recovered now that he knew everything that was said to him quite well : expressed acquiescence with a slight nod of his old head, and conveyed intelligence of refusal or dislike to anything by wrinkling his forehead into a frown. "When TDick come near him, he puckered his face in a dozen ugly ways. Probably, he only half recollected what had taken place on the night he had the stroke ; but it was clear to his son there was some memoiy left of that night's doings. Dick, however, did not trouble his father with much of his company. Lucy had got a porcelain tablet, and wrote with a blue pencil on it. This she held before the old roan, and kept writing a fresh question till she found out what he wanted. This process was often a very tedious one ; but, with practice, Lucy Heathcote became expert in understanding what was passing in her uncle's mind. His appetite was good ; but as his faculty for tasting his food, was gone, he had no* disposition to quarrel with his cook. They gave him a little weak brandy and water to drink ; and he spent his time between his bed, his sofa, and his Bath chair happily enough. When Dick handed Lucy the letter for Frank, the old man frowned hard, as was his wont. The young man instructed his cousin as to the destination of the letter, asked after his father, and then strode away across the lawn, down the garden, and over the river towards his own little villa. " Why does Uncle Richard always frown so desperately at Cousin Dick whenever he comes here ?" Lucy Heathcote asked herself. She was frightened at Dick, and never had loved Mm much. She already suspected there was something wrong — what, she could not tell. Nor did she set to work with slate and pencil to worm the secret out. But her uncle's conduct, when his idolized son approached him, left a disagreeable impresssion upon her mind she tried in vain to shake off. Dick followed the river, passing the scene of his explot with Polly — the old cross where he had made known his love to Grace Heathcote. This was a sacred spot, and he sat musing under the shadow of the decaying stone for a good half-hour.— Once a-week."