The Tale of Timber Town Part 6

Old Varnhagen gave a sigh of relief.

"You'll nefer do that again, Rachel?"

"I hope I shall never need to."

"You shouldn't upset your poor old father like that, Rachel."

"You shouldn't drive me to use such means to make you do your duty."

"My duty!"

"Yes, to give me that watch."

"Ah, the watch. I forgot it."

"I shall go now, and get it."

"Yes, my child, get it."

"I'll say you will pay at the end of the month."

"Yes, I will pay--perhaps at the end of the month, perhaps it will go towards a contra account for watches I shall supply to Tresco. We shall see."

"Good-bye, father."

"Good-bye, Rachel; but won't you gif your old father a kiss pefore you go?"

The vision of muslin and ribbons laid her parasol upon an upturned barrel, and came towards the portly Jew. Her soft dress was crumpled by his fat hand, and her pretty head was nestled on his shoulder.

"Ah! my 'tear Rachel. Ah! my peautiful. You loaf your old father. My liddle taughter, I gif you everything; and you loaf me very moch, eh?"

"Of course, I do. And won't it look well with a brand-new gold chain to match?"

"Next time my child wants something, she won't climb on the wool-bales and nearly kill herself?"

"Of course not. I shall wear it this afternoon when I go out calling."

"Now kiss me, and run away while I make some more money for my liddle Rachel."

The saintly face raised itself, and looked with a smile into the face of the old Jew; and then the bright red lips fixed themselves upon his wrinkled cheek.

"You are a good girl; you are my own child; you shall have everything you ask; you shall have all I've got to give."

"Good-bye, father. Thanks awfully much."

"Good-bye, Rachel."

The girl turned; the little heels tapped regularly on the floor; the pigeon-like walk was resumed; and Rachel Varnhagen, watched by the loving eyes of her father, pa.s.sed into the street.

The gold-buying clerk at the Kangaroo Bank was an immaculately dressed young man with a taste for jewelry. In his tie he wore a pearl, in a gold setting shaped like a diminutive human hand; his watch-chain was of gold, wrought in a wonderful and extravagant design. As he stepped through the swinging, glazed doors of the Bank, and stood on the broad step without, at the witching hour of twelve, he twirled his small black moustache so as to display to advantage the sparkling diamond ring which encircled the little finger of his left hand. His Semitic features wore an expression of great self-satisfaction, and his knowing air betokened intimate knowledge of the world and all that therein is. He nodded familiarly to a couple of young men who pa.s.sed by, and glanced with the appreciative eye of a connoisseur at the shop-girls who were walking briskly to their dinners.

Loitering across the pavement he stood upon the curbing, and looked wistfully up and down the street. Presently there hove in sight a figure that riveted his attention: it was Rachel Varnhagen, with muslins blowing in the breeze and ribbons which streamed behind, approaching like a s.h.i.+p in full sail.

The gold-clerk crossed over the street to meet her, and raised his hat.

"You're in an awful hurry. Where bound, Rachel?"

"If _your_ old Dad told _you_ to go and buy a gold watch and chain, _you'd_ be in a hurry, lest he might change his mind."

"My soul hankers after something dearer than watches and chains. If your Dad would give me leave, I'd annex his most precious jewel before he could say, 'Knife!' He'd never get a chance to change his mind. But he always says, 'My boy, you wait till you're a manager, and can give me a big overdraft.' At that rate we shall have to wait till Doomsday."

"The watch is at Tresco's. Come along: help me turn the shop upside down to find the dandiest."

"How d'you manage to get round the Governor, Rachel? I'd like to know the dodge."

"He wouldn't mind if _you_ fell off a stack of bales and broke your neck. He'd say, 'Thank G.o.d! that solves that liddle difficulty.'"

"Wool bales? Has wool gone up? I don't understand."

"Of course you don't, stupid. If you were on the top of a pile of swaying bales, old Podge would say, 'Packett, take away the ladder: that nice young man must stay there. It's better for him to die than marry Rachel--she'd drive him mad with bills in a month.'"

"Oh, that wouldn't trouble me--I'd draw on _him_."

"Oh, would you?" Rachel laughed sceptically. "You don't know the Gov. if you think that. You couldn't bluff him into paying a s.h.i.+lling. But _I_ manage him all right. _I_ can get what I want, from a trip to Sydney to a gold watch, dear boy."

"Then why don't you squeeze a honeymoon out of him?--that would be something new, Rachel."

She actually paused in her haste.

"Wouldn't it be splendid!" she exclaimed, putting her parasol well back behind her head, so that the glow of its crimson silk formed a telling background to her face. "Wouldn't it be gorgeous? But as soon as I'm married he will say, 'No, Rachel, my dear child, your poor old father is supplanted--your husband now has the sole privilege of satisfying your expensive tastes. Depend on him for everything you want.' What a magnificent time I should have on your twelve notes a month!"

The spruce bank-clerk was subdued in a moment, in the twinkling of one of Rachel's beautiful black eyes--his matrimonial intentions had been rudely reduced to a basis of pounds, s.h.i.+llings and pence.

But just at this embarra.s.sing point of the conversation they turned into Tresco's doorway, and confronted the rubicund goldsmith, whose beaming smile seemed to fill the whole shop.

"I saw an awf'ly jolly watch in your window," said Rachel.

"Probably. Nothing more likely, Miss Varnhagen," replied Benjamin. "Gold or silver?"

"Gold, of course! Let me see what you've got."

"Why, certainly." Tresco took gold watches from the window, from the gla.s.s case on the counter, from the gla.s.s cupboard that stood against the wall, from the depths of the great iron safe, from everywhere, and placed them in front of the pretty Jewess. Then he glanced with self-approval at the bank-clerk, and said: "I guarantee them to keep perfect time. And, after all, there's nothing like a good watch--a young lady cannot keep her appointments, or a young man be on time, without a watch. Most important: no one should be without it."

Rachel was examining the chronometers, one by one; opening and shutting their cases, examining their dials, peering into their mysterious works.

She had taken off her gloves, and her pretty hands, ornamented with dainty rings, were displayed in all their shapeliness and delicacy.

"What's the price?" she asked.

"Prices to suit all buyers," said Tresco. "They go from ten pounds upwards. This is the one I recommend--it carries a guarantee for five years--jewelled throughout, in good, strong case--duplex escapement--compensation balance. Price 25." He held up a gold chronometer in a case which was flat and square, with rounded corners, and engraved elaborately--a watch which would catch the eye and induce comment.