CHAPTER XIV
PARTNERSHIP
As darkness closed in, and the New Year's throng became scarce,Philip's hesitation about accompanying Coulson faded away. He wasmore comfortable respecting Sylvia, and his going to see her mightbe deferred; and, after all, he felt that the wishes of his mastersought to be attended to, and the honour of an invitation to theprivate house of Jeremiah not to be slighted for anything short of apositive engagement. Besides, the ambitious man of business existedstrongly in Philip. It would never do to slight advances towards thesecond great earthly object in his life; one also on which the firstdepended.
So when the shop was closed, the two set out down Bridge Street tocross the river to the house of Jeremiah Foster. They stood a momenton the bridge to breathe the keen fresh sea air after their busyday. The waters came down, swollen full and dark, with rapid rushingspeed from the snow-fed springs high up on the moorland above. Theclose-packed houses in the old town seemed a cluster of white roofsirregularly piled against the more unbroken white of the hill-side.Lights twinkled here and there in the town, and were slung fromstern and bow of the ships in the harbour. The air was very still,settling in for a frost; so still that all distant sounds seemednear: the rumble of a returning cart in the High Street, the voiceson board ship, the closing of shutters and barring of doors in thenew town to which they were bound. But the sharp air was filled, asit were, with saline particles in a freezing state; little pungentcrystals of sea salt burning lips and cheeks with their coldkeenness. It would not do to linger here in the very centre of thevalley up which passed the current of atmosphere coming straightwith the rushing tide from the icy northern seas. Besides, there wasthe unusual honour of a supper with Jeremiah Foster awaiting them.He had asked each of them separately to a meal before now; but theyhad never gone together, and they felt that there was somethingserious in the conjuncture.
They began to climb the steep heights leading to the freshly-builtrows of the new town of Monkshaven, feeling as if they were risinginto aristocratic regions where no shop profaned the streets.Jeremiah Foster's house was one of six, undistinguished in size, orshape, or colour; but noticed in the daytime by all passers-by forits spotless cleanliness of lintel and doorstep, window and windowframe. The very bricks seemed as though they came in for the dailyscrubbing which brightened handle, knocker, all down to the veryscraper.
The two young men felt as shy of the interview with their masterunder such unusual relations of guest and host, as a girl does ofher first party. Each rather drew back from the decided step ofknocking at the door; but with a rebuffing shake at his own folly,Philip was the one to give a loud single rap. As if they had beenwaited for, the door flew open, and a middle-aged servant stoodbehind, as spotless and neat as the house itself; and smiled awelcome to the familiar faces.
'Let me dust yo' a bit, William,' said she, suiting the action tothe word. 'You've been leanin' again some whitewash, a'll be bound.Ay, Philip,' continued she, turning him round with motherly freedom,'yo'll do if yo'll but gi' your shoon a polishin' wipe on yon othermat. This'n for takin' t' roughest mud off. Measter allays polisheson that.'
In the square parlour the same precise order was observed. Everyarticle of furniture was free from speck of dirt or particle ofdust; and everything was placed either in a parallel line, or atexact right-angles with every other. Even John and Jeremiah sat insymmetry on opposite sides of the fire-place; the very smiles ontheir honest faces seemed drawn to a line of exactitude.
Such formality, however admirable, was not calculated to promoteease: it was not until after supper--until a good quantity ofYorkshire pie had been swallowed, and washed down, too, with thebest and most generous wine in Jeremiah's cellar--that there was theleast geniality among them, in spite of the friendly kindness of thehost and his brother. The long silence, during which mute thanks forthe meal were given, having come to an end, Jeremiah called forpipes, and three of the party began to smoke.
Politics in those days were tickle subjects to meddle with, even inthe most private company. The nation was in a state of terroragainst France, and against any at home who might be supposed tosympathise with the enormities she had just been committing. Theoppressive act against seditious meetings had been passed the yearbefore; and people were doubtful to what extremity of severity itmight be construed. Even the law authorities forgot to be impartial,but either their alarms or their interests made too many of themvehement partisans instead of calm arbiters, and thus destroyed thepopular confidence in what should have been considered the supremetribunal of justice. Yet for all this, there were some who dared tospeak of reform of Parliament, as a preliminary step to fairrepresentation of the people, and to a reduction of the heavywar-taxation that was imminent, if not already imposed. But thesepioneers of 1830 were generally obnoxious. The great body of thepeople gloried in being Tories and haters of the French, with whomthey were on tenter-hooks to fight, almost unaware of the risingreputation of the young Corsican warrior, whose name would be usedere a dozen years had passed to hush English babies with a terrorsuch as that of Marlborough once had for the French.
At such a place as Monkshaven all these opinions were held inexcess. One or two might, for the mere sake of argument, dispute oncertain points of history or government; but they took care to bevery sure of their listeners before such arguments touched onanything of the present day; for it had been not unfrequently foundthat the public duty of prosecuting opinions not your own overrodethe private duty of respecting confidence. Most of the Monkshavenpoliticians confined themselves, therefore, to such generalquestions as these: 'Could an Englishman lick more than fourFrenchmen at a time?' 'What was the proper punishment for members ofthe Corresponding Society (correspondence with the Frenchdirectory), hanging and quartering, or burning?' 'Would theforthcoming child of the Princess of Wales be a boy or a girl? If agirl, would it be more loyal to call it Charlotte or Elizabeth?'
The Fosters were quite secure enough of their guests this evening tohave spoken freely on politics had they been so inclined. And theydid begin on the outrages which had been lately offered to the kingin crossing St James's Park to go and open the House of Lords; butsoon, so accustomed were their minds to caution and restraint, thetalk dropped down to the high price of provisions. Bread at 1_s_.3_d_. the quartern loaf, according to the London test. Wheat at120_s_. per quarter, as the home-baking northerners viewed thematter; and then the conversation died away to an ominous silence.John looked at Jeremiah, as if asking him to begin. Jeremiah was thehost, and had been a married man. Jeremiah returned the look withthe same meaning in it. John, though a bachelor, was the elderbrother. The great church bell, brought from the Monkshavenmonastery centuries ago, high up on the opposite hill-side, began toring nine o'clock; it was getting late. Jeremiah began:
'It seems a bad time for starting any one on business, wi' pricesand taxes and bread so dear; but John and I are getting into years,and we've no children to follow us: yet we would fain draw out ofsome of our worldly affairs. We would like to give up the shop, andstick to banking, to which there seemeth a plain path. But firstthere is the stock and goodwill of the shop to be disposed on.'
A dead pause. This opening was not favourable to the hopes of thetwo moneyless young men who had been hoping to succeed their mastersby the more gradual process of partnership. But it was only the kindof speech that had been agreed upon by the two brothers with a viewof impressing on Hepburn and Coulson the great and unusualresponsibility of the situation into which the Fosters wished themto enter. In some ways the talk of many was much less simple andstraightforward in those days than it is now. The study of effectshown in the London diners-out of the last generation, who preparedtheir conversation beforehand, was not without its parallel inhumbler spheres, and for different objects than self-display. Thebrothers Foster had all but rehearsed the speeches they were aboutto make this evening. They were aware of the youth of the parties towhom they were going to make a most favourable proposal; and theydreaded that if that
proposal was too lightly made, it would be toolightly considered, and the duties involved in it too carelesslyentered upon. So the _role_ of one brother was to suggest, that ofthe other to repress. The young men, too, had their reserves. Theyforesaw, and had long foreseen, what was coming that evening. Theywere impatient to hear it in distinct words; and yet they had towait, as if unconscious, during all the long preamble. Do age andyouth never play the same parts now? To return. John Foster repliedto his brother:
'The stock and goodwill! That would take much wealth. And there willbe fixtures to be considered. Philip, canst thee tell me the exactamount of stock in the shop at present?'
It had only just been taken; Philip had it at his fingers' ends.'One thousand nine hundred and forty-one pounds, thirteen shillingsand twopence.'
Coulson looked at him in a little dismay, and could not repress asigh. The figures put into words and spoken aloud seemed to indicateso much larger an amount of money than when quickly written down innumerals. But Philip read the countenances, nay, by some process ofwhich he was not himself aware, he read the minds of the brothers,and felt no dismay at what he saw there.
'And the fixtures?' asked John Foster.
'The appraiser valued them at four hundred and thirty-five poundsthree and sixpence when father died. We have added to them since,but we will reckon them at that. How much does that make with thevalue of the stock?'
'Two thousand one hundred and seventy-six pounds, sixteen shillingsand eightpence,' said Philip.
Coulson had done the sum quicker, but was too much disheartened bythe amount to speak.
'And the goodwill?' asked the pitiless John. 'What dost thee setthat at?'
'I think, brother, that that would depend on who came forward withthe purchase-money of the stock and fixtures. To some folks we mightmake it sit easy, if they were known to us, and those as we wishedwell to. If Philip and William here, for instance, said they'd liketo purchase the business, I reckon thee and me would not ask 'em somuch as we should ask Millers' (Millers was an upstart petty rivalshop at the end of the bridge in the New Town).
'I wish Philip and William was to come after us,' said John. 'Butthat's out of the question,' he continued, knowing all the whilethat, far from being out of the question, it was the very question,and that it was as good as settled at this very time.
No one spoke. Then Jeremiah went on:
'It's out of the question, I reckon?'
He looked at the two young men. Coulson shook his head. Philip morebravely said,--
'I have fifty-three pounds seven and fourpence in yo'r hands, MasterJohn, and it's all I have i' the world.'
'It's a pity,' said John, and again they were silent. Half-past ninestruck. It was time to be beginning to make an end. 'Perhaps,brother, they have friends who could advance 'em the money. We mightmake it sit light to them, for the sake of their good service?'
Philip replied,--
'There's no one who can put forwards a penny for me: I have but fewkin, and they have little to spare beyond what they need.'
Coulson said--
'My father and mother have nine on us.'
'Let alone, let alone!' said John, relenting fast; for he was wearyof his part of cold, stern prudence. 'Brother, I think we haveenough of this world's goods to do what we like wi' our own.'
Jeremiah was a little scandalized at the rapid melting away ofassumed character, and took a good pull at his pipe before hereplied--
'Upwards of two thousand pounds is a large sum to set on thewell-being and well-doing of two lads, the elder of whom is notthree-and-twenty. I fear we must look farther a-field.'
'Why, John,' replied Jeremiah, 'it was but yesterday thee saidstthee would rather have Philip and William than any men o' fifty thatthee knowed. And now to bring up their youth again them.'
'Well, well! t' half on it is thine, and thou shall do even as thouwilt. But I think as I must have security for my moiety, for it's arisk--a great risk. Have ye any security to offer? any expectations?any legacies, as other folk have a life-interest in at present?'
No; neither of them had. So Jeremiah rejoined--
'Then, I suppose, I mun do as thee dost, John, and take the securityof character. And it's a great security too, lads, and t' best o'all, and one that I couldn't ha' done without; no, not if yo'd payme down five thousand for goodwill, and stock, and fixtures. ForJohn Foster and Son has been a shop i' Monkshaven this eighty yearsand more; and I dunnot think there's a man living--or dead, for thatmatter--as can say Fosters wronged him of a penny, or gave shortmeasure to a child or a Cousin Betty.'
They all four shook hands round with the same heartiness as if ithad been a legal ceremony necessary to the completion of thepartnership. The old men's faces were bright with smiles; the eyesof the young ones sparkled with hope.
'But, after all,' said Jeremiah, 'we've not told you particulars.Yo're thanking us for a pig in a poke; but we had more forethought,and we put all down on a piece o' paper.'
He took down a folded piece of paper from the mantel-shelf, put onhis horn spectacles, and began to read aloud, occasionally peeringover his glasses to note the effect on the countenances of the youngmen. The only thing he was in the habit of reading aloud was achapter in the Bible daily to his housekeeper servant; and, likemany, he reserved a peculiar tone for that solemn occupation--a tonewhich he unconsciously employed for the present enumeration ofpounds, shillings, and pence.
'Average returns of the last three years, one hundred andtwenty-seven pounds, three shillings, and seven penny and one-sixtha week. Profits thereupon thirty-four per cent.--as near as may be.Clear profits of the concern, after deducting all expenses exceptrent--for t' house is our own--one thousand two hundred and twopound a year.'
This was far more than either Hepburn or Coulson had imagined it tobe; and a look of surprise, almost amounting to dismay, crept overtheir faces, in spite of their endeavour to keep simply motionlessand attentive.
'It's a deal of money, lads, and the Lord give you grace to guideit,' said Jeremiah, putting down his paper for a minute.
'Amen,' said John, shaking his head to give effect to his word.
'Now what we propose is this,' continued Jeremiah, beginning afreshto refer to his paper: 'We will call t' value of stock and fixturestwo thousand one hundred and fifty. You may have John Holden,appraiser and auctioneer, in to set a price on them if yo' will; oryo' may look over books and bills; or, better still, do both, and socheck one again t'other; but for t' sake o' making the ground o' thebargain, I state the sum as above; and I reckon it so much capitalleft in yo'r hands for the use o' which yo're bound to pay us fiveper cent. quarterly--that's one hundred and seven pound ten perannum at least for t' first year; and after it will be reduced bythe gradual payment on our money, which must be at the rate oftwenty per cent., thus paying us our principal back in five years.And the rent, including all back yards, right of wharfage,warehouse, and premises, is reckoned by us to be sixty-five poundper annum. So yo' will have to pay us, John and Jeremiah Foster,brothers, six hundred and twelve pound ten out of the profits of thefirst year, leaving, at the present rate of profits, about fivehundred and eighty-nine pound ten, for the share to be dividedbetween yo'.'
The plan had, in all its details, been carefully arranged by the twobrothers. They were afraid lest Hepburn and Coulson should bedazzled by the amount of profits, and had so arranged thesliding-scale of payment as to reduce the first year's income towhat the elder men thought a very moderate sum, but what to theyounger ones appeared an amount of wealth such as they, who hadneither of them ever owned much more than fifty pounds, consideredalmost inexhaustible. It was certainly a remarkable instance ofprosperity and desert meeting together so early in life.
For a moment or two the brothers were disappointed at not hearingany reply from either of them. Then Philip stood up, for he felt asif anything he could say sitting down would not be sufficientlyexpressive of gratitude, and William instantly followed his example.Hepburn began in a formal
manner, something the way in which he hadread in the York newspapers that honourable members returned thankswhen their health was given.
'I can hardly express my feelings' (Coulson nudged him) 'hisfeelings, too--of gratitude. Oh, Master John! Master Jeremiah, Ithought it might come i' time; nay, I've thought it might come aforelong; but I niver thought as it would be so much, or made so easy.We've got good kind friends--we have, have we not, William?--andwe'll do our best, and I hope as we shall come up to their wishes.'
Philip's voice quivered a little, as some remembrance passed acrosshis mind; at this unusual moment of expansion out it came. 'I wishmother could ha' seen this day.'
'She shall see a better day, my lad, when thy name and William's ispainted over t' shop-door, and J. and J. Foster blacked out.'
'Nay, master,' said William, 'that mun never be. I'd a'most soonernot come in for the business. Anyhow, it must be 'late J. and J.Foster,' and I'm not sure as I can stomach that.'
'Well, well, William,' said John Foster, highly gratified, 'there betime enough to talk over that. There was one thing more to be said,was there not, brother Jeremiah? We do not wish to have this talkedover in Monkshaven until shortly before the time when yo' must enteron the business. We have our own arrangements to make wi' regard tothe banking concern, and there'll be lawyer's work to do, afteryo've examined books and looked over stock again together; may-bewe've overstated it, or t' fixtures aren't worth so much as we said.Anyhow yo' must each on yo' give us yo'r word for to keep fra'naming this night's conversation to any one. Meantime, Jeremiah andI will have to pay accounts, and take a kind of farewell of themerchants and manufacturers with whom Fosters have had dealings thisseventy or eighty year; and when and where it seems fitting to us wewill take one of yo' to introduce as our successors and friends. Butall that's to come. But yo' must each give us yo'r word not to namewhat has passed here to any one till further speech on the subjecthas passed between us.'
Coulson immediately gave the promise. Philip's assent came lagging.He had thought of Sylvia living, almost as much as of the deadmother, whose last words had been a committal of her child to theFather of the friendless; and now that a short delay was placedbetween the sight of the cup and his enjoyment of it, there was animpatient chafing in the mind of the composed and self-restrainedPhilip; and then repentance quick as lightning effaced the feeling,and he pledged himself to the secrecy which was enjoined. Some fewmore details as to their mode of procedure--of verifying theFosters' statements, which to the younger men seemed a perfectlyunnecessary piece of business--of probable journeys andintroductions, and then farewell was bidden, and Hepburn and Coulsonwere in the passage donning their wraps, and rather to theirindignation being assisted therein by Martha, who was accustomed tothe office with her own master. Suddenly they were recalled into theparlour.
John Foster was fumbling with the papers a little nervously:Jeremiah spoke--
'We have not thought it necessary to commend Hester Rose to you; ifshe had been a lad she would have had a third o' the business alongwi' yo'. Being a woman, it's ill troubling her with a partnership;better give her a fixed salary till such time as she marries.'
He looked a little knowingly and curiously at the faces of the youngmen he addressed. William Coulson seemed sheepish and uncomfortable,but said nothing, leaving it as usual to Philip to be spokesman.
'If we hadn't cared for Hester for hersel', master, we should ha'cared for her as being forespoken by yo'. Yo' and Master John shallfix what we ought t' pay her; and I think I may make bold to saythat, as our income rises, hers shall too--eh, Coulson?' (a sound ofassent quite distinct enough); 'for we both look on her as a sisterand on Alice like a mother, as I told her only this very day.'