“As serious as I was in the moment of my birth!
There’s no other chance.”
“Very well, then, suppose I offer to lend you
the money.”
“You, Waymark?”
“No less a person.”
And he went on to explain how it was that he was able
to make the offer, adding that any sum up to a hundred
pounds was at his friend’s disposal.
“Ye mean it, Waymark!” cried O’Gree,
leaping round the room in ecstasy. “Bedad,
you are a man and a brother, and no mistake! Ye’re
the first that ever offered to lend me a penny; ye’re
the first that ever had faith in me! You shall
come with me to see Sally on Saturday, and tell her
this yourself, and I shouldn’t be surprised
if she gives you a kiss!”
O’Gree exhausted himself in capering and vociferation,
then sat down and began to exercise his luxuriant
imagination in picturing unheard-of prosperity.
“We’ll take a shop in a new neighbourhood,
where we shall have the monopoly. The people
’ll get to know Sally; she’ll be like a
magnet behind the counter. I shall go to the
wholesale houses, and impress them with a sense of
my financial stability; I flatter myself I shall look
the prosperous shopkeeper, eh? Who knows what
we may come to? Why, in a few years we may transfer
our business to Oxford Street or Piccadilly, and call
ourselves Italian warehousemen; and bedad, we’ll
turn out in the end another Crosse and Blackwell, see
if we don’t!”
At the utmost limit of the time allowed him by the
rules of The Academy, the future man of business took
his leave, in spirits extravagant even for him.
“Faith,” he exclaimed, when he was already
at the door, “who d’ye think I saw last
Sunday? As I was free in the afternoon, I took
a walk, and, coming back, I went into a little coffee-shop
for a cup of tea. A man in an apron came up to
serve me, and, by me soul, if it wasn’t poor
old Egger! I’ve heard not a word of him
since he left last Christmas. He was ashamed
of himself, poor devil; but I did my best to make
him easy. After all, he’s better off than
in the scholastic line.”
Waymark laughed at this incident, and stood watching
Q’Gree’s progress down the street for
a minute or two. Then he went to his room again,
and sitting down with a sigh, fell into deep brooding.
A VISION OF SIN
Maud Enderby’s life at home became ever more
solitary. Such daily intercourse as had been
established between her mother and herself grew less
and less fruitful of real intimacy, till at length
it was felt by both to be mere form. Maud strove
against this, but there was no corresponding effort
on the other side; Mrs. Enderby showed no dislike
for her daughter, yet unmistakably shunned her.
If she chanced to enter the sitting-room whilst Maud
was there, she would, if possible, retreat unobserved;
or else she would feign to have come in quest of something,
