Rogues and Vagabonds. George R. Sims

him?’ asked the visitor.

      ‘As soon as there’s a good chance,’ answered Mr. Brooks.

      Mr. Brooks and the visitor had a short conversation, and then the visitor left. And Mr. Brooks put on his hair and beard, and amused himself by practising handwriting on a piece of paper.

      It was singular that he kept on writing the same name, and it wasn’t his own.

      When George returned he informed Mr. Brooks that there was nothing for Smith & Co., from Dublin, and Mr. Brooks said, ‘Oh, all right,’ and didn’t seem at all surprised.

      At four o’clock George’s work was done for the day, and he went home.

      Bess ran down to meet him at the door. She had been watching from the windows, and had seen him coming along the street.

      She had an idea that he would be quite worn out with hard work, and had had half a mind to go and fetch him. City work, she knew, was very hard. She had read in the newspapers about clerks committing suicide, and merchants going mad through overwork. She was quite surprised to see George come up the steps two at a time, and when he caught her in his arms, and gave her a good hug that nearly squeezed the breath out of her body, she was more astonished still.

      When they got upstairs, and George had flung himself into his favourite ehair, Bess poured in a broadside of questions.

      ‘Did he like it? Was A. B. nice? What did he have to do? Was the office comfortable?’

      George, in reply, gave a full, true, and particular account of his day’s work.

      ‘It’s nothing at all,’ he said. ‘I’d no idea how easy it was to earn money in the City. I’m a jolly lucky fellow, little woman, and I’m glad I’m able to earn my own living. You see, I shall have plenty of spare time to do something else, and perhaps, if Smith & Co. like me, I shall get promoted, and drop in for a good thing. Why, I have heard that a thousand a year is nothing of a salary in the City. Fancy me earning a thousand a year! By Jove, what would the governor say to that?’

      Bess was lost in calculating how much a thousand a year would be a week, and how much she should be able to spend in housekeeping.

      Presently she started up.

      ‘Oh, dear me—I’d quite forgotten,’ she exclaimed, and, darting downstairs, returned with a basinful of something that steamed furiously, and a big spoon.

      ‘There,’ she said, putting it down in front of her husband; ‘now you must have it all. You mustn’t leave a drop.’

      ‘Why, what the dickens is this, my dear?’ said George, staring at the basin in astonishment.

      ‘Beef-tea—I made it myself. You must have it to keep your strength up now you work so hard, dear.’

      George roared with laughter. The idea of his wanting beef-tea to give him strength to sit on a stool and write names out of a directory in a big book!

      But he scalded his throat with a few spoonfuls of the steaming liquid, just to please his wife.

      That evening George took Bess out to dinner. Had he not earned ten whole shillings, the first money he had ever earned in his life? Of course he had. Then he had a perfect right to spend fifteen shillings and sixpence at once.

      The young couple had a cab home that evening. George had earned ten shillings, and surely he could afford half-a-crown for a cab out of it.

      And before they retired to rest that evening Mr. and Mrs. Smith had taken a charming little villa near town, and George had bought a little pony and a basket-carriage for Bess to drive about in, and they had a delightful garden, beautifully kept, and a little conservatory; and George had condescended to make it up with his father, and had sent him an invitation to come and dine with him at his villa.

      But this was not done out of the ten shillings. Oh, dear, no. George and Bess were not so foolish as that.

      This was all arranged in advance out of the thousand a year which George was going to get by-and-by.