“Mrs. Butler Cornbury seemed to think it all right,” said Cherry.
“Mrs. Butler Cornbury is not everybody,” said Mrs. Tappitt. “I didn’t think it right, I can assure you;—and what’s more, your papa didn’t think it right.”
“And he was going on all the evening as though he were quite master in the house,” said Augusta. “He was ordering the musicians to do this and that all the evening.”
“He’ll find that he’s not master. Your papa is going to speak to him this very day.”
“What!—about Rachel?” asked Cherry, in dismay.
“About things in general,” said Mrs. Tappitt. Then Mary Rowan returned to the room, and they all went back upon the glories of the ball. “I think it was nice,” said Mrs. Tappitt, simpering. “I’m sure there was no trouble spared—nor yet expense.” She knew that she ought not to have uttered that last word, and she would have refrained if it had been possible to her;—but it was not possible. The man who tells you how much his wine costs a dozen, knows that he is wrong while the words are in his mouth; but they are in his mouth, and he cannot restrain them.
Mr. Tappitt was not about to lecture Luke Rowan as to his conduct in regard to Rachel Ray. He found some difficulty in speaking to his would-be partner, even on matters of business, in a proper tone, and with becoming authority. As he was so much the senior, and Rowan so much the junior, some such tone of superiority was, as he thought, indispensable. But he had great difficulty in assuming it. Rowan had a way with him that was not exactly a way of submission, and Tappitt would certainly not have dared to encounter him on any such matter as his behaviour in a drawing-room. When the time came he had not even the courage to allude to those champagne bottles; and it may be as well explained that Rowan paid the little bill at Griggs’s, without further reference to the matter. But the question of the brewery management was a matter vital to Tappitt. There, among the vats, he had reigned supreme since Bungall ceased to be king, and for continual mastery there it was worth his while to make a fight. That he was under difficulties even in that fight he had already begun to know. He could not talk Luke Rowan down, and make him go about his work in an orderly, everyday, businesslike fashion. Luke Rowan would not be talked down, nor would he be orderly—not according to Mr. Tappitt’s orders. No doubt Mr. Tappitt, under these circumstances, could decline the partnership; and this he was disposed to do; but he had been consulting lawyers, consulting papers, and looking into old accounts, and he had reason to fear, that under Bungall’s will, Luke Rowan would have the power of exacting from him much more than he was inclined to give.
“You’d better take him into the concern,” the lawyer had said. “A young head is always useful.”
“Not when the young head wants to be master,” Tappitt had answered. “If I’m to do that the whole thing will go to the dogs.” He did not exactly explain to the lawyer that Rowan had carried his infatuation so far as to be desirous of brewing good beer, but he did make it very clear that such a partner would, in his eyes, be anything but desirable.
“Then, upon my word, I think you’ll have to give him the ten thousand pounds. I don’t even know but what the demand is moderate.”
This was very bad news to Tappitt. “But suppose I haven’t got ten thousand pounds!” Now it was very well known that the property and the business were worth money, and the lawyer suggested that Rowan might take steps to have the whole concern sold. “Probably he might buy it himself and undertake to pay you so much a year,” suggested the lawyer. But this view of the matter was not at all in accordance with Mr. Tappitt’s ideas. He had been brewer in Baslehurst for nearly thirty years, and still wished to remain so. Mrs. Tappitt had been of opinion that all difficulties might be overcome if only Luke would fall in love with one of her girls. Mrs. Rowan had been invited to Baslehurst specially with a view to some such arrangement. But Luke Rowan, as it seemed to them both now, was an obstinate young man, who, in matters of beer as well as in matters of love, would not be guided by those who best knew how to guide him. Mrs. Tappitt had watched him closely at the ball, and had now given him up altogether. He had danced only once with Augusta, and then had left her the moment the dance was over. “I should offer him a hundred and fifty pounds a year out of the concern, and if he didn’t like that let him lump it,” said Mrs. Tappitt. “Lump it!” said Mr. Tappitt. “That means going to a London lawyer.” He felt the difficulties of his position as he prepared to speak his mind to young Rowan on the morning after the party; but on that occasion his strongest feeling was in favour of expelling the intruder. Any lot in life would be preferable to working in the brewery with such a partner as Luke Rowan.
“I suppose your head’s hardly cool enough for business,” he said, as Luke came in and took a stool in his office. Tappitt was sitting in his customary chair, with his arm resting on a large old-fashioned leather-covered table, which
