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On the Thursday afternoon with which we began, Brunt's was deserted save for the housekeeper and Eva, who was writing letters in her room. 'I saw you from my window, coming up the street, she said to Clive, 'and so I ran down to open the door. Will you come into father's room? He is in Manchester for the day, buying. 'I knew that, said Timmis.
When Clive Timmis paused at the side-door of Ezra Brunt's great shop in Machin Street, and the door was opened to him by Ezra Brunt's daughter before he had had time to pull the bell, not only all Machin Street knew it within the hour, but also most persons of consequence left in Hanbridge on a Thursday afternoon Thursday being early-closing day.
Fortunately, Timmis had a proud, confident spirit the spirit of one who, unaided, has wrested success from the world's deathlike clutch. Had Eva the reversion of fifty thousand a year instead of five, he, Clive, was still a prosperous plain man, well able to support a wife in the position to which God had called him.
'Clive Timmis has asked me to marry him, father. 'Has he! 'Surely you must have known, father, that he and I were seeing each other a great deal. 'Not from your lips, my girl. 'Well, father Again she stopped, this strong and capable woman, gifted with a fine brain to organize and a powerful will to command.
Clive, who was seldom seen in Hanbridge, made a favourable impression on everyone by his pleasing, unaffected manner and his air of discretion and success. He was a bachelor of thirty-two, and lived in lodgings at Bursley. On the return of the funeral-party from the cemetery, Clive Timmis found Brunt's daughter Eva in his uncle's house.
Timmis's shop; more than twenty years have elapsed since he first opened negotiations for it. Mr. Timmis was by no means eager to sell indeed, his attitude was distinctly a repellent one but a bargain would undoubtedly have been concluded had not a report reached the ears of Mr.
These were his words: "You can marry my daughter, Mr. Timmis, when your uncle agrees to part with his shop!" 'That I shall never do, nephew, said the aged patriarch quietly and deliberately. 'Of course you won't, uncle. I shouldn't think of suggesting it. I'm merely telling you what he said. Clive laughed harshly. 'Why, he added, 'the man must be mad!
But there was one serious hiatus in the plans of Ezra Brunt to wit, No. 54, Machin Street. No. 54, separating 52 and 56, was a chemist's shop, shabby but sedate as to appearance, owned and occupied by George Christopher Timmis, a mild and venerable citizen, and a local preacher in the Wesleyan Methodist Connexion. For nearly thirty years Brunt had coveted Mr.
His lawyer expended diplomacy in vain, raising the offer week by week till the incredible sum of three thousand pounds was reached. Then Ezra Brunt himself saw Mr. Timmis, and without a word of prelude said: 'Will ye take three thousand guineas for this bit o' property? 'Not thirty thousand guineas, said Mr. Timmis quietly; the stern pride of the benevolent old local preacher had been aroused.
'Why! You are back early, father! How She stopped. Something in the old man's glance gave her a premonition of disaster. To this day she does not know what accident brought him from Manchester two hours sooner than usual, and to Machin Street instead of Pireford. 'Has young Timmis been here? he inquired curtly. 'Yes. 'Ha! with subdued, sinister satisfaction, 'I saw him going out.
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