“I don’t think so, Mr. Tappitt,” said the foreman. “I don’t think so indeed.”
“But I tell you it is,” said Tappitt, “and I don’t care what you think.”
“Just as you please, Mr. Tappitt,” said the foreman, who thereupon retired from the office, leaving his master to meditate over the newspaper in solitude.
It was a very bitter time for the poor brewer. He was one of those men whose spirit is not wanting to them while the noise and tumult of contest are around them, but who cannot hold on by their own convictions in the quiet hours. He could storm, and talk loud, and insist on his own way while men stood around him listening and perhaps admiring; but he was cowed when left by himself to think of things which seemed to be adverse. What could he do, if those around him, who had known him all his life as those newspaper people had known him—what could he do if they turned against him, and talked of bad beer as Rowan had talked? He was not man enough to stand up and face this new enemy unless he were backed by his old friends. Honyman had told him that he would be beaten. How would it fare with him and his family if he were beaten? As he sat in his little office, with his hat low down over his eyes, balancing himself on the hind legs of his chair, he abused Honyman roundly. Had Honyman been possessed of wit, of skill, of professional craft—had he been the master of any invention, all might have been well. But the attorney was a fool, an ass, a coward. Might it not be that he was a knave? But luckily for Honyman, and luckily also for Mr. Tappitt himself, this abuse did not pass beyond the precincts of Tappitt’s own breast. We all know how delightful is the privilege of abusing our nearest friends after this fashion; but we generally satisfy ourselves with that limited audience to which Mr. Tappitt addressed himself on the present occasion.
In the meantime Mrs. Tappitt was sitting upstairs in the brewery drawing-room with her daughters, and she also was not happy in her mind. She had been snubbed, and almost browbeaten, at dinner time, and she also had had a little conversation in private with Mr. Honyman. She had been snubbed, and, if she did not look well about her, she was going to be ruined. “You mustn’t let him go on with this lawsuit,” Mr. Honyman had said. “He’ll certainly get the worst of it if he does, and then he’ll have to pay double.” She disliked Rowan quite as keenly as did her husband, but she was fully alive to the folly of spiting Rowan by doing an injury to her own face. She would speak to Tappitt that night very seriously, and in the meantime she turned the Rowan controversy over in her own mind, endeavouring to look at it from all sides. It had never been her custom to make critical remarks on their father’s conduct to any of the girls except Martha; but on the present great occasion she waived that rule, and discussed the family affairs in full female family conclave. “I don’t know what’s come over your papa,” she began by saying. “He seems quite beside himself today.”
“I think he is troubled about Mr. Rowan and this lawsuit,” said the sagacious Martha.
“Nasty man! I wish he’d never come near the place,” said Augusta.
“I don’t know that he’s very nasty either,” said Cherry. “We all liked him when he was staying here.”
“But to be so false to papa!” said Augusta. “I call it swindling, downright swindling.”
“One should know and understand all about it before one speaks in that way,” said Martha. “I dare say it is very vexatious to papa; but after all perhaps Mr. Rowan may have some right on his side.”
“I don’t know about right,” said Mrs. Tappitt. “I don’t think he can have any right to come and set himself up here in opposition, as one may say, to the very ghost of his own uncle. I agree with Augusta, and think it is a very dirty thing to do.”
“Quite shameful,” said Augusta, indignantly.
“But if he has got the law on his side,” continued Mrs. Tappitt, “it’s no good your papa trying to go against that. Where should we be if we were to lose everything and be told to pay more money than your papa has got? It wouldn’t be very pleasant to be turned out of the house.”
“I don’t think he’d ever do it,” said Cherry.
“I declare, Cherry, I think you are in love with the man,” said Augusta.
“If I ain’t I know who was,” said Cherry.
“As for love,” said Mrs. Tappitt, “we all know who is in love with him—nasty little sly minx! In the whole matter nothing makes me so angry as to think that she should have come here to our dance.”
“That was Cherry’s doing,” said Augusta. This remark Cherry noticed only by a grimace addressed specially to her sister. A battle in Rachel’s favour under present circumstances would have been so losing an affair that Cherry had not pluck enough to adventure it on her friend’s behalf.
“But the question is—what are we to do about the lawsuit?” said Mrs. Tappitt. “It is easy to see from your papa’s manner that he is very much harassed. He won’t admit him as a partner;—that’s certain.”
“Oh dear! I should hope not,” said Augusta.
“That’s all very well,” said Martha; “but if the young man can prove his right, he must have it. Mamma, do you know what Mr. Honyman says about it?”
“Yes, my dear, I do.” Mrs. Tappitt’s manner became very solemn, and the girls listened with all their ears.
