The church bells were ringing for morning service
as Mr. Vickers, who had been for a stroll with Mr.
William Russell and a couple of ferrets, returned
home to breakfast. Contrary to custom, the small
front room and the kitchen were both empty, and breakfast,
with the exception of a cold herring and the bitter
remains of a pot of tea, had been cleared away.
[Illustration: “Mr. Vickers had been for
a stroll with Mr. William Russell.”]
“I’ve known men afore now,” murmured
Mr. Vickers, eyeing the herring disdainfully, “as
would take it by the tail and smack’em acrost
the face with it.”
He cut himself a slice of bread, and, pouring out
a cup of cold tea, began his meal, ever and anon stopping
to listen, with a puzzled face, to a continuous squeaking
overhead. It sounded like several pairs of new
boots all squeaking at once, but Mr. Vickers, who was
a reasonable man and past the age of self-deception,
sought for a more probable cause.
A particularly aggressive squeak detached itself from
the others and sounded on the stairs. The resemblance
to the noise made by new boots was stronger than ever.
It was new boots. The door opened, and Mr.
Vickers, with a slice of bread arrested half-way to
his mouth, sat gazing in astonishment at Charles Vickers,
clad for the first time in his life in new raiment
from top to toe. Ere he could voice inquiries,
an avalanche of squeaks descended the stairs, and
the rest of the children, all smartly clad, with Selina
bringing up the rear, burst into the room.
“What is it?” demanded Mr. Vickers, in
a voice husky with astonishment; “a bean-feast?”
Miss Vickers, who was doing up a glove which possessed
more buttons than his own waistcoat, looked up and
eyed him calmly. “New clothes—and
not before they wanted’em,” she replied,
tartly.
“New clothes?” repeated her father, in
a scandalized voice. “Where’d they
get’em?”
“Shop,” said his daughter, briefly.
Mr. Vickers rose and, approaching his offspring, inspected
them with the same interest that he would have bestowed
upon a wax-works. A certain stiffness of pose
combined with the glassy stare which met his gaze
helped to favour the illusion.
“For once in their lives they’re respectable,”
said Selina, regarding them with moist eyes.
“Soap and water they’ve always had, bless’em,
but you’ve never seen’em dressed like
this before.”
Before Mr. Vickers could frame a reply a squeaking
which put all the others in the shade sounded from
above. It crossed the floor on hurried excursions
to different parts of the room, and then, hesitating
for a moment at the head of the stairs, came slowly
and ponderously down until Mrs. Vickers, looking somewhat
nervous, stood revealed before her expectant husband.
In scornful surprise he gazed at a blue cloth dress,
a black velvet cape trimmed with bugles, and a bonnet
so aggressively new that it had not yet accommodated
itself to Mrs. Vickers’s style of hair-dressing.
