Johnny Ludlow Fourth Series Part 33

"What about him?" asked Jacob. "Has he been up to any mischief?"

"Mischief! Tom! Why, Jacob, I hardly think there can be such another young man as he, for steadiness and good conduct; and, I may say, for kindness. I have never heard anything against him. What I want to ask you is, when you think of making a change?"

"A change?" echoed Jacob, as if the words puzzled him, biting away at the feather of his pen. "A change?"

"Is it not time that he should be taken into the business? I--I thought--and Tom I know also thought, Jacob--that you would have done it when he was twenty-one."

"Oh, did you?" returned Jacob, civilly.

"He is twenty-four, you know, now, Jacob, and naturally wishes to get forward in life. I am anxious that he should; and I think it is time--forgive me for saying it, Jacob--that something was settled."

"I was thinking of raising Tom's salary," coolly observed Jacob; "of giving him, say, fifty pounds a-year more. Valentine has been bothering me to do the same by him; so I suppose I must."

The fixed colour on Mrs. Chandler's thin cheeks grew a shade deeper.

"But, Jacob, it was his father's wish, you know, that he should be taken into partners.h.i.+p, should succeed to his own share of the business; and I thought you would have arranged it ere this. An increase of salary is not the thing at all: it is not that that is in question."

"Nothing can be so bad for a young man as to make him his own master too early," cried Jacob. "I've known it ruin many a one."

"You promised my husband when he was dying that it should be so," she gently urged. "Besides, it is Tom's right. I understood that when he was of a proper age, he was to come in, in accordance with a previous arrangement made between you and poor Thomas."

Jacob bit the end of the pen right off and nearly swallowed it. "Thomas left all things in my hands," said he, coughing and choking. "Tom must acquire some further experience yet."

"When do you propose settling it, then? How long will it be first?"

"Well, that depends, you know. I shall see."

"Will it be in another year? Tom will be five-and-twenty then."

"Ay, he will: and Val four-and-twenty. How time flies! It seems but the other day that they were in jackets and trousers."

"But will it be then--in another year? You have not answered me, Jacob."

"And I can't answer you," returned Jacob. "How can I? Don't you understand me when I say I must wait and see?"

"You surely will do what is right, Jacob?"

"Well now, can you doubt it, Betsy? Of course I shall. When did you hear from George?"

Mrs. Chandler rose, obliged to be satisfied. To urgently press any interest of her own was not in her nature. As she shook hands with Jacob she was struck with the sickly appearance of his face.

"Are you feeling quite well, Jacob? You look but poorly."

"I have felt anything but well for a long time," he replied, in a fretful tone. "I don't know what ails me: too much work, perhaps, but I seem to have strength for nothing."

"You should give yourself a rest, Jacob, and take some bark."

"Ay. Good-day."

Now it came to pa.s.s that in turning out of the house, after nodding to Tom and Valentine, who sat at a desk side by side in the room to the left, the door of which stood open, Mrs. Chandler saw the Squire on the opposite side of the street, and crossed over to him. He asked her in a joking way whether she had been in to get six and eightpenceworth of law. She told him what she had been in for, seeing no reason for concealing it.

"Bless me, yes!" cried he, in his impulsive way. "I'm sure it's quite time Tom was in the firm. I'll go and talk to Jacob."

And when he got in--making straight across the street with the words, and through the pa.s.sage, and so to the room without halt or ceremony--he saw Jacob leaning back in his chair, his hands thrust into his black side-pockets, and his head bent on his chest in deep thought. The Squire noticed how deep the lines in his brow had grown, just as Mrs. Chandler had.

"But you know, Jacob Chandler, that it was an agreement with the dead,"

urged the Squire, in his eagerness, after listening to some plausible (and shuffling) remarks from Jacob.

"An agreement with the dead!" repeated Jacob, looking up at the Squire for explanation. They were both standing on the matting near the fender: which was filled with an untidy ma.s.s of torn and twisted sc.r.a.ps of paper. "What do you mean, Squire? I never knew before that the dead could make an agreement."

"You know what I mean," cried the Squire, hotly. "Poor Thomas was close upon death at the time you and he had the conversation: he wanted but two or three minutes of it."

"Oh, ah, yes; that's true enough, so far as it goes, Squire," replied Jacob, pulling up his white cravat as if his throat felt cold.

"Well," argued the Squire. "Did not you and he agree that Tom was to come in when he was twenty-one? Both of you seemed to imply that there existed a previous understanding to that effect."

"There never was a word said about his coming in when he was twenty-one," contended Jacob.

"Why, bless my heart and mind, do you suppose my ears were shut, Jacob Chandler?" retorted the Squire, beginning to rub his head with his red silk handkerchief. "I heard the words."

"No, Squire. Think a bit."

Jacob spoke so calmly that the Squire began to rub up his memory as well as his head. He had no cause to suppose Jacob Chandler to be other than an honourable man.

"'When Tom shall be of age, he must take my place:' those were I think the very words," repeated the Squire. "I can see your poor brother's face now as he lay down on the floor and spoke them. It had death in it."

"Yes, it had death in it," acquiesced Jacob, in a tone of discomfort.

"What he said was this, Squire: 'When Tom shall be of an age.' Meaning of course a suitable age to justify the step."

"I don't think so: I did not hear it so," persisted the Squire. "There was no 'an' in it. 'When Tom shall be of age:' that was it. Meaning when he should be twenty-one."

"Oh dear, no; quite a mistake. You can't think my ears would deceive me at such a time as that, Mr. Todhetley. And about our own business too."

"Well, you ought to know best, of course, though my impression is that you are wrong," conceded the Squire. "Put it that it was as you say: don't you think Tom Chandler is now quite old enough for it to be acted upon?"

"No, I don't," replied Jacob. "As I have just told his mother, nothing can be more pernicious for a young man than to be made his own master too early. Nine young fellows out of every ten would get ruined by it."

"Do you think so?" asked the Squire, dubiously.

"I am sure so, Squire. Tom Chandler is steady now, for aught I know to the contrary; but just let him get the reins into his hands, and you'd see what it would be. That is, what it might be. And I am not going to risk it."

"He is as steady-going a young man as any one could wish for; diligent, straightforward. Not at all given to spending money improperly."

"Because he has not had it to spend. I have known many a young blade to be quiet and cautious while his pockets were empty; and as soon as they were filled, perhaps all at once, he has gone headlong to rack and ruin.

How do we know that it would not be the case with Tom?"

"Well, I--I don't think it would be," said the Squire, with hesitation, for he was coming round to Jacob's line of argument.

"But I can't act upon 'thinking,' Squire; I must be sure. Tom will just stay on with me at present as he is; so there's an end of it. His salary is going to be raised: and I--I consider that he is very well off."