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Growther as Haldane came in that evening with face aglow with gladness and excitement. "According to your theory I've been promoted sure," laughed the youth, and he related the unexpected event of the day. "That's jest like Mrs. Arnot," said Mr. Growther, rubbing his hands as he ever did when pleased; "she's allers givin' some poor critter a boost.
After that sermon none could delude themselves with the hope that being decorous, well-dressed worshippers at St. Paul's would be all that was required. But Mr. Growther needed no argument on this subject, and he had long believed that his only chance was, as he expressed it, "such an out-and-out shakin' to pieces, and makin' over agin that I wouldn't know myself."
Growther appeared to be revolving some subject in his mind, and his question, at last, was only seemingly abrupt, for it came at the end of quite a long mental altercation, in which, of course, he took sides against himself. "I say, young man, do you think you could stand me?" "What do you mean?" asked Haldane. "Well, before you say no, you ought to realize all the bearin's of the case.
A growl from Mr. Growther's dog greeted him as he entered, and the old man himself snarled: "Well, I s'pose you stood me as long as you could, and then went to prison for a while for a change." "You are mistaken, Mr. Growther; I went to prison because I deserved to go there, and it's very good of you to let me come back again." "No, it ain't good of me, nuther.
The prospect of trudging a mile or more through the drenching rain to his previous squalid resting-place at No. 13, whose only attraction consisted in the fact that no questions were asked, was so depressing that he decided to ask Mr. Growther for permission to sleep in the corner of his woodshed. "Come in," shouted Mr. Growther, in response to his knock at the door.
In his new employment, Haldane, from the first, had found considerable leisure on his hands, and after a little thought decided to review carefully the studies over which he had passed so superficially in his student days. Mr. Growther persisted in occupying the kitchen, leaving what had been designed as the parlor or sitting-room of his cottage to dust and damp.
Arnot described is doin' me a sight o' good, and if I could find some poor little critter just like him, with no one to look after him, I'd take him in and do for him in a minit." "Mr. Growther," said Haldane, huskily, "you have found that poor misshapen, dwarfed creature that I fear will never attain the proportions of a true man. Of course you see through Mrs. Arnot's imagery.
It was some time before Haldane could get him quieted down so as to answer all the questions that he was longing to put; but at last he drew out the story in full of Mr. Arnot's forgery and its consequences. "Has Mr. Beaumont married Miss Romeyn?" at last he faltered. "No; I reckon not," said Mr. Growther dryly. "What do you mean?" asked Haldane sharply.
"I'm through," said Haldane laconically. "Well, I ain't," replied Mr. Growther; "you wouldn't mind taking that cheer till I am, would you?" Haldane found the cushioned armchair and the genial fire exceedingly to his taste, and he felt that in such comfortable quarters he could endure hearing the old man berate himself or any one else for an hour or more.
That's the way to talk to people who don't want their right hand to know what cussedness their left hand is up to. Now, Jeremiah Growther, the next time you want to do a mean thing that you wouldn't have all the town know, just remember what a wrigglin' snake in the grass you are." With this personal exhortation Mr.
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