“They are very nice,” said Mr. Dockwrath. When a man has had produced before him for his own and sole delectation any article or articles, how can he avoid eulogium? Mr. Dockwrath found himself obliged to pause, and almost feared that he should find himself obliged to buy.
“Nice! I should rather think they are,” said Mr. Kantwise, becoming triumphant—“and for fifteen ten, delivered, boxes included. There’s nothing like iron, sir, nothing; you may take my word for that. They’re so strong, you know. Look here, sir.” And then Mr. Kantwise, taking two of the pieces of whitey-brown paper which had been laid aside, carefully spread one on the centre of the round table, and the other on the seat of one of the chairs. Then lightly poising himself on his toe, he stepped on to the chair, and from thence on to the table. In that position he skillfully brought his feet together, so that his weight was directly on the leg, and gracefully waved his hands over his head. James and Boots stood by admiring, with open mouths, and Mr. Dockwrath, with his hands in his pockets, was meditating whether he could not give the order without complying with the terms as to ready money.
“Look at that for strength,” said Mr. Kantwise from his exalted position. “I don’t think any lady of your acquaintance, sir, would allow you to stand on her rosewood or mahogany loo-table. And if she did, you would not like to adventure it yourself. But look at this for strength,” and he waved his arms abroad, still keeping his feet skilfully together in the same exact position.
At that moment Mr. Moulder awoke. “So you’ve got your iron traps out, have you?” said he. “What; you’re there, are you? Upon my word I’d sooner you than me.”
“I certainly should not like to see you up here, Mr. Moulder. I doubt whether even this table would bear five-and-twenty stone. Joe, lend me your shoulder, there’s a good fellow.” And then Mr. Kantwise, bearing very lightly on the chair, descended to the ground without accident.
“Now, that’s what I call gammon,” said Moulder.
“What is gammon, Mr. Moulder?” said the other, beginning to be angry.
“It’s all gammon. The chairs and tables is gammon, and so is the stools and the screens.”
“Mr. Moulder, I didn’t call your tea and coffee and brandy gammon.”
“You can’t; and you wouldn’t do any harm if you did. Hubbles and Grease are too well known in Yorkshire for you to hurt them. But as for all that show-off and gimcrack-work, I tell you fairly it ain’t what I call trade, and it ain’t fit for a commercial room. It’s gammon, gammon, gammon! James, give me a bedcandle.” And so Mr. Moulder took himself off to bed.
“I think I’ll go too,” said Mr. Dockwrath.
“You’ll let me put you up the set, eh?” said Mr. Kantwise.
“Well; I’ll think about it,” said the attorney. “I’ll not just give you an answer tonight. Good night, sir; I’m very much obliged to you.” And he too went, leaving Mr. Kantwise to repack his chairs and tables with the assistance of James the waiter.
VII
The Masons of Groby Park
Groby Park is about seven miles from Leeds, in the direction of Bradford, and thither on the morning after the scene described in the last chapter Mr. Dockwrath was driven in one of the gigs belonging to the Bull Inn. The park itself is spacious, but is flat and uninteresting, being surrounded by a thin belt of new-looking fir-trees, and containing but very little old or handsome timber. There are on the high road two very important lodges, between which is a large ornamented gate, and from thence an excellent road leads to the mansion, situated in the very middle of the domain. The house is Greek in its style of architecture—at least so the owner says; and if a portico with a pediment and seven Ionic columns makes a house Greek, the house in Groby Park undoubtedly is Greek.
Here lived Mr. and Mrs. Mason, the three Misses Mason, and occasionally the two young Messrs. Mason; for the master of Groby Park was blessed with five children. He himself was a big, broad, heavy-browed man, in whose composition there was nothing of tenderness, nothing of poetry, and nothing of taste; but I cannot say that he was on the whole a bad man. He was just in his dealings, or at any rate endeavoured to be so. He strove hard to do his duty as a county magistrate against very adverse circumstances. He endeavoured to enable his tenants and labourers to live. He was severe to his children, and was not loved by them; but nevertheless they were dear to him, and he endeavoured to do his duty by them. The wife of his bosom was not a pleasant woman, but nevertheless he did his duty by her; that is, he
