Delphi Complete Works of Jerome K. Jerome (Illustrated) (Series Four) (118 page)

Grindley junior took the book —
Bell’s Introduction to the Study of the Classics
,
for Use of Beginners
— and held it between both hands. Its price was ninepence, but Grindley junior appeared to regard it as a volume of great value.

“It will be hard work at first,” Miss Appleyard warned him; “but you must persevere. I have taken an interest in you; you must try not to disappoint me.”

And Miss Appleyard, feeling all the sensations of a Hypatia, departed, taking light with her and forgetting to pay for the telegram. Miss Appleyard belonged to the class that young ladies who pride themselves on being tiresomely ignorant and foolish sneer at as “blue-stockings”; that is to say, possessing brains, she had felt the necessity of using them. Solomon Appleyard, widower, a sensible old gentleman, prospering in the printing business, and seeing no necessity for a woman regarding herself as nothing but a doll, a somewhat uninteresting plaything the newness once worn off, thankfully encouraged her. Miss Appleyard had returned from Girton wise in many things, but not in knowledge of the world, which knowledge, too early acquired, does not always make for good in young man or woman. A serious little virgin, Miss Appleyard’s ambition was to help the human race. What more useful work could have come to her hand than the raising of this poor but intelligent young grocer’s assistant unto the knowledge and the love of higher things. That Grindley junior happened to be an exceedingly good-looking and charming young grocer’s assistant had nothing to do with the matter, so Miss Appleyard would have informed you. In her own reasoning she was convinced that her interest in him would have been the same had he been the least attractive of his sex. That there could be danger in such relationship never occurred to her.

Miss Appleyard, a convinced Radical, could not conceive the possibility of a grocer’s assistant regarding the daughter of a well-to-do printer in any other light than that of a graciously condescending patron. That there could be danger to herself! you would have been sorry you had suggested the idea. The expression of lofty scorn would have made you feel yourself contemptible.

Miss Appleyard’s judgment of mankind was justified; no more promising pupil could have been selected. It was really marvellous the progress made by Grindley junior, under the tutelage of Helvetia Appleyard. His earnestness, his enthusiasm, it quite touched the heart of Helvetia Appleyard. There were many points, it is true, that puzzled Grindley junior. Each time the list of them grew longer. But when Helvetia Appleyard explained them, all became clear. She marvelled herself at her own wisdom, that in a moment made darkness luminous to this young man; his rapt attention while she talked, it was most encouraging. The boy must surely be a genius. To think that but for her intuition he might have remained wasted in a grocer’s shop! To rescue such a gem from oblivion, to polish it, was surely the duty of a conscientious Hypatia. Two visits — three visits a week to the little shop in Rolls Court were quite inadequate, so many passages there were requiring elucidation. London in early morning became their classroom: the great, wide, empty, silent streets; the mist-curtained parks, the silence broken only by the blackbirds’ amorous whistle, the thrushes’ invitation to delight; the old gardens, hidden behind narrow ways. Nathaniel George and Janet Helvetia would rest upon a seat, no living creature within sight, save perhaps a passing policeman or some dissipated cat. Janet Helvetia would expound. Nathaniel George, his fine eyes fixed on hers, seemed never to tire of drinking in her wisdom.

There were times when Janet Helvetia, to reassure herself as to the maidenly correctness of her behaviour, had to recall quite forcibly the fact that she was the daughter of Solomon Appleyard, owner of the big printing establishment; and he a simple grocer. One day, raised a little in the social scale, thanks to her, Nathaniel George would marry someone in his own rank of life. Reflecting upon the future of Nathaniel George, Janet Helvetia could not escape a shade of sadness. It was difficult to imagine precisely the wife she would have chosen for Nathaniel George. She hoped he would do nothing foolish. Rising young men so often marry wives that hamper rather than help them.

One Sunday morning in late autumn, they walked and talked in the shady garden of Lincoln’s Inn. Greek they thought it was they had been talking; as a matter of fact, a much older language. A young gardener was watering flowers, and as they passed him he grinned. It was not an offensive grin, rather a sympathetic grin; but Miss Appleyard didn’t like being grinned at. What was there to grin at? Her personal appearance? some
gaucherie
in her dress? Impossible. No lady in all St. Dunstan was ever more precise. She glanced at her companion: a clean-looking, well-groomed, well-dressed youth. Suddenly it occurred to Miss Appleyard that she and Grindley junior were holding each other’s hand. Miss Appleyard was justly indignant.

“How dare you!” said Miss Appleyard. “I am exceedingly angry with you. How dare you!”

The olive skin was scarlet. There were tears in the hazel eyes.

“Leave me this minute!” commanded Miss Appleyard.

Instead of which, Grindley junior seized both her hands.

“I love you! I adore you! I worship you!” poured forth young Grindley, forgetful of all Miss Appleyard had ever told him concerning the folly of tautology.

“You had no right,” said Miss Appleyard.

“I couldn’t help it,” pleaded young Grindley. “And that isn’t the worst.”

Miss Appleyard paled visibly. For a grocer’s assistant to dare to fall in love with her, especially after all the trouble she had taken with him! What could be worse?

“I’m not a grocer,” continued young Grindley, deeply conscious of crime. “I mean, not a real grocer.”

And Grindley junior then and there made a clean breast of the whole sad, terrible tale of shameless deceit, practised by the greatest villain the world had ever produced, upon the noblest and most beautiful maiden that ever turned grim London town into a fairy city of enchanted ways.

Not at first could Miss Appleyard entirely grasp it; not till hours later, when she sat alone in her own room, where, fortunately for himself, Grindley junior was not, did the whole force and meaning of the thing come home to her. It was a large room, taking up half of the top story of the big Georgian house in Nevill’s Court; but even as it was, Miss Appleyard felt cramped.

“For a year — for nearly a whole year,” said Miss Appleyard, addressing the bust of William Shakespeare, “have I been slaving my life out, teaching him elementary Latin and the first five books of Euclid!”

As it has been remarked, it was fortunate for Grindley junior he was out of reach. The bust of William Shakespeare maintained its irritating aspect of benign philosophy.

“I suppose I should,” mused Miss Appleyard, “if he had told me at first — as he ought to have told me — of course I should naturally have had nothing more to do with him. I suppose,” mused Miss Appleyard, “a man in love, if he is really in love, doesn’t quite know what he’s doing. I suppose one ought to make allowances. But, oh! when I think of it—”

And then Grindley junior’s guardian angel must surely have slipped into the room, for Miss Appleyard, irritated beyond endurance at the philosophical indifference of the bust of William Shakespeare, turned away from it, and as she did so, caught sight of herself in the looking-glass. Miss Appleyard approached the glass a little nearer. A woman’s hair is never quite as it should be. Miss Appleyard, standing before the glass, began, she knew not why, to find reasons excusing Grindley junior. After all, was not forgiveness an excellent thing in woman? None of us are quite perfect. The guardian angel of Grindley junior seized the opportunity.

That evening Solomon Appleyard sat upright in his chair, feeling confused. So far as he could understand it, a certain young man, a grocer’s assistant, but not a grocer’s assistant — but that, of course, was not his fault, his father being an old brute — had behaved most abominably; but not, on reflection, as badly as he might have done, and had acted on the whole very honourably, taking into consideration the fact that one supposed he could hardly help it. Helvetia was, of course, very indignant with him, but on the other hand, did not quite see what else she could have done, she being not at all sure whether she really cared for him or whether she didn’t; that everything had been quite proper and would not have happened if she had known it; that everything was her fault, except most things, which weren’t; but that of the two she blamed herself entirely, seeing that she could not have guessed anything of the kind. And did he, Solomon Appleyard, think that she ought to be very angry and never marry anybody else, or was she justified in overlooking it and engaging herself to the only man she felt she could ever love?

“You mustn’t think, Dad, that I meant to deceive you. I should have told you at the beginning — you know I would — if it hadn’t all happened so suddenly.”

“Let me see,” said Solomon Appleyard, “did you tell me his name, or didn’t you?”

“Nathaniel,” said Miss Appleyard. “Didn’t I mention it?”

“Don’t happen to know his surname, do you,” inquired her father.

“Grindley,” explained Miss Appleyard—”the son of Grindley, the Sauce man.”

Miss Appleyard experienced one of the surprises of her life. Never before to her recollection had her father thwarted a single wish of her life. A widower for the last twelve years, his chief delight had been to humour her. His voice, as he passionately swore that never with his consent should his daughter marry the son of Hezekiah Grindley, sounded strange to her. Pleadings, even tears, for the first time in her life proved fruitless.

Here was a pretty kettle of fish! That Grindley junior should defy his own parent, risk possibly the loss of his inheritance, had seemed to both a not improper proceeding. When Nathaniel George had said with fine enthusiasm: “Let him keep his money if he will; I’ll make my own way; there isn’t enough money in the world to pay for losing you!” Janet Helvetia, though she had expressed disapproval of such unfilial attitude, had in secret sympathised. But for her to disregard the wishes of her own doting father was not to be thought of. What was to be done?

Perhaps one Peter Hope, residing in Gough Square hard by, might help young folks in sore dilemma with wise counsel. Peter Hope, editor and part proprietor of
Good Humour
, one penny weekly, was much esteemed by Solomon Appleyard, printer and publisher of aforesaid paper.

“A good fellow, old Hope,” Solomon would often impress upon his managing clerk. “Don’t worry him more than you can help; things will improve. We can trust him.”

Peter Hope sat at his desk, facing Miss Appleyard. Grindley junior sat on the cushioned seat beneath the middle window.
Good Humour’s
sub-editor stood before the fire, her hands behind her back.

The case appeared to Peter Hope to be one of exceeding difficulty.

“Of course,” explained Miss Appleyard, “I shall never marry without my father’s consent.”

Peter Hope thought the resolution most proper.

“On the other hand,” continued Miss Appleyard, “nothing shall induce me to marry a man I do not love.” Miss Appleyard thought the probabilities were that she would end by becoming a female missionary.

Peter Hope’s experience had led him to the conclusion that young people sometimes changed their mind.

The opinion of the House, clearly though silently expressed, was that Peter Hope’s experience, as regarded this particular case, counted for nothing.

“I shall go straight to the Governor,” explained Grindley junior, “and tell him that I consider myself engaged for life to Miss Appleyard. I know what will happen — I know the sort of idea he has got into his head. He will disown me, and I shall go off to Africa.”

Peter Hope was unable to see how Grindley junior’s disappearance into the wilds of Africa was going to assist the matter under discussion.

Grindley junior’s view was that the wilds of Africa would afford a fitting background to the passing away of a blighted existence.

Peter Hope had a suspicion that Grindley junior had for the moment parted company with that sweet reasonableness that otherwise, so Peter Hope felt sure, was Grindley junior’s guiding star.

“I mean it, sir,” reasserted Grindley junior. “I am—” Grindley junior was about to add “well educated”; but divining that education was a topic not pleasing at the moment to the ears of Helvetia Appleyard, had tact enough to substitute “not a fool. I can earn my own living; and I should like to get away.”

“It seems to me—” said the sub-editor.

“Now, Tommy — I mean Jane,” warned her Peter Hope. He always called her Jane in company, unless he was excited. “I know what you are going to say. I won’t have it.”

“I was only going to say—” urged the sub-editor in tone of one suffering injustice.

“I quite know what you were going to say,” retorted Peter hotly. “I can see it by your chin. You are going to take their part — and suggest their acting undutifully towards their parents.”

“I wasn’t,” returned the sub-editor. “I was only—”

“You were,” persisted Peter. “I ought not to have allowed you to be present. I might have known you would interfere.”

“ — going to say we are in want of some help in the office. You know we are. And that if Mr. Grindley would be content with a small salary—”

“Small salary be hanged!” snarled Peter.

“ — there would be no need for his going to Africa.”

“And how would that help us?” demanded Peter. “Even if the boy were so — so headstrong, so unfilial as to defy his father, who has worked for him all these years, how would that remove the obstacle of Mr. Appleyard’s refusal?”

“Why, don’t you see—” explained the sub-editor.

“No, I don’t,” snapped Peter.

“If, on his declaring to his father that nothing will ever induce him to marry any other woman but Miss Appleyard, his father disowns him, as he thinks it likely—”

“A dead cert!” was Grindley junior’s conviction.

“Very well; he is no longer old Grindley’s son, and what possible objection can Mr. Appleyard have to him then?”