toad-in-the hole, little woman? Splendid! I say, can you really make one, though?’
‘Yes, indeed I can. Father used to say——’
For a moment her voice quivered and her eyes filled with tears.
Smiling through them as the April sun gleams through the showers she went on:
‘You must taste my toad-in-the-hole. I’ll make one to-day, and you shall help me.’
‘I—I don’t think I can, dear,’ answered her husband, pulling his moustache doubtfully. ‘I’m an awful duffer with my hands, you know.’
‘Don’t be a goose. You shall go and buy the things.’
George had his hat on directly.
Bess gave him her reticule to take on his arm, and then told him to buy two neck chops and some flour and some eggs.
‘And be sure you see your change is right, you careless boy,’ she added, laughing.
George Heritage marching down the street with a reticule in his hand was a sight worth seeing. He felt as proud of his commission as if Her Majesty had made him a plenipotentiary. He wasn’t quite sure where you got the flour and the eggs, so he tried the butcher’s for the latter and the greengrocer’s for the former, but at last he got into the right shops.
‘I want some flour, please,’ he said to the man behind the counter.
‘How much, sir?’
‘Well, I don’t know quite. About enough to make a toad-in-the-hole for two.’
The man stared at his customer for a minute, and then suggested perhaps half a quartern would do.
‘Certainly,’ said George. If the man had said a hundredweight or an ounce he would have said the same.
When all his commissions were executed—though not without considerable puzzling over quantities—George marched home in triumph.
He had only broken one egg and let the flour all over the reticle by poking the chops in so that the sharp point of the bone made a hole in the bag. Bess lifted the lid, looked into the reticule, and gave a little scream.
It was annoying to have the chops and a broken egg and the flour all mixed up together; but still, as it was George’s first journey to market, he was forgiven.
He had a hug, and was ordered to sit still and not get into mischief while his wife went downstairs into the kitchen and prepared the delicate dish.
It was a happy dinner, I can tell you; better than all your Richmond follies and your London restaurant nonsenses. The toad-in-the-hole was delicious, and George insisted upon Miss Duck tasting it, and he informed Miss Duck that he’d been to market, and did Miss Duck ever taste anything so delicious in her life?
Miss Duck said, ‘La, Mr. Smith, what a funny man you are!’ and then George made small jokes, smaller than any Jabez had ever been guilty of in his life; but Miss Duck giggled prodigiously.
George declared privately to Bess that Miss Duck was a very decent old soul; and as Georgina had been particularly gracious, Bess agreed that she was. ‘Only it’s lucky for you. George, she’s so old and plain, or I should be jealous.’
I hope Miss Duck wasn’t listening at the key-hole to hear this remark, and I sincerely trust she wasn’t looking through it to witness the manner in which George closed Bess’s wicked little mouth.
That was yesterday. This morning there is no frivolity going on. George is reading the newspaper in order to find a berth that will suit him.
The disappearance of half his capital has reminded him that he is no longer a gentleman, but a young man who has a wife to keep and his living to earn.
When he comes to a likely advertisement, he reads it aloud to Bess, and they discuss it.
‘How do you think this will do, dear?’ he says, presently:
‘ “Wanted, a married man, without encumbrance, to drive a pair, look after a small garden, help in the house, and fill up his spare time as amanuensis to a deaf lady. A small salary, but the person will have the advantage of living in a vegetarian family, where total abstinence and Church of England principles offer special advantages to a true Christian.” ’
‘How’ll that do?’ asked George, with a smile.
‘Not at all,’ answered Bess, laughing. ‘But George dear, what does “encumbrance” mean?’
‘You, my pet.’
‘Oh, I’m sure it doesn’t. What does it mean?’
‘Ask me again in a year or two, my darling,’ answered George, with a wicked little smile, and then he went on with his paper.
Bess went on wondering what ‘encumbrance’ a married man could have till George read her another advertisement.
‘Advertiser would be glad to hear of a gentleman by birth, not more than thirty, who would introduce advertiser’s homemade brandy to the upper classes. A liberal commission given. A real gentleman might do well.’
‘Oh, George,’ said Bess, ‘don’t go after that, dear. I don’t want you to go walking about with brandy-bottles sticking out of your pockets.’
‘And fancy introducing it to the upper classes, eh? This sort of thing:—Allow me to introduce you: Upper Classes—Home-made Brandy. Home-made Brandy—Upper Classes.’
Bess laughed as George introduced the arm-chair to the sofa with a stately bow. The arm-chair was the brandy, and the sofa was the upper classes.
George read on, selecting the funny advertisements for Bess’s amusement. Suddenly he put the paper down.
‘By Jove, Bess,’ he exclaimed, rubbing his hands, I believe I’ve found the very thing. Listen to this, little woman.’
George picked the paper up, folded it out carefully, rose and struck a commanding attitude, then, clearing his voice, he read aloud the following advertisement:
‘ “Wanted immediately, a gentleman for a commercial office. No previous experience necessary. Hours, ten to four. Salary to commence with, £150 per annum. N.B.—Must be of gentlemanly appearance and address.—Apply, in first instance by letter, to A. B., Burkett’s Library, Leicester Square.” ’
‘Oh, George,’ exclaimed Bess, when he had finished, ‘do write at once. It would be just the thing to begin with.’
‘Magnificent!’ answered her husband. ‘Hours ten to four, no previous knowledge, and £3 a week. Why, my dear, it would be a splendid beginning.’
‘So it would,’ said Bess; ‘and I’m sure, dear, you’re just what they want.’
George grinned.
‘I say, little woman’ (the conceited fellow was looking in the glass all the while), ‘the applicant must be of gentlemanly appearance. Perhaps my appearance will be against me.’
‘You vain boy; you want me to flatter you,’ said Bess, looking at him lovingly, ‘and I shan’t. You’ll do very well indeed, sir, and you know it.’
George was quite certain he should do.
Bess routed out some writing-paper, and then she went down to Miss Duck and borrowed a pen and ink, and then she and George sat down and spoilt a dozen sheets of paper, and at last between them they produced the following:
‘Mr. George Smith presents his compliments to Mr. A. B., and he would be very pleased to accept his offer. He is four-and-twenty, active, and anxious to get on. If Mr. A. B. wishes for an interview, he will call at any time Mr. A. B. chooses to appoint. Mr. George Smith thinks it well to enclose his carte for Mr. A. B. to see. Will Mr. A. B. kindly answer per return.’