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Updated: May 29, 2025
"Cobbler" Horn started, and drew back. It was not in his nature to be malicious; and to decline the offered civility was the furthest thing from his thoughts. He was simply lost in amazement. The gentleman who was offering to shake hands with him was one of the most important men in Cottonborough.
The will was ready, and, having signed it, he said "good day" to the lawyers, and took the next train to Cottonborough, where he arrived early in the afternoon. Subsequently, at the dinner-table, he answered freely the questions of Miss Jemima concerning his doings during his absence. Nor did he feel the presence of his young secretary to be, in any degree, a restraint.
"Cobbler" Horn foiled, by dint of sheer unresponsiveness, the first attempt to introduce itself to him made by the world. On his return from America, one of the first things which attracted his attention was a pile of visiting cards on a silver salver which stood on the hall table. Some of these bore the most distinguished names which Cottonborough or its vicinity could boast.
"And may I ask, my dear sir? If Miss Horn should die, say shortly after your own decease, what then?" "I have thought of that too. Would it be in order, to appoint a trustee, to hold the property, in such a case, for my child?" "Yes, quite in order. Have you the name ready, my dear sir?" "I will give you that of Rev. George Durnford, of Cottonborough." "And, for how long, Mr. Horn," asked Mr.
One evening, about a fortnight after the last-recorded events, an elderly tramp was sitting against a haystack upon some farm premises, at no great distance from the town of Cottonborough. His age might be sixty, or, allowing for the rough life he had led, something less. He looked jaded and unwell.
In a small house, in a back street, in the large manufacturing town of Cottonborough, the young wife of "Cobbler" Horn lay dying.
After having been away no longer than four weeks, he landed at Liverpool on a bright winter's morning, and, taking an early train, reached Cottonborough about mid-day. He had telegraphed the time of his arrival, and Bounder, the coachman, was at the station to meet him with the dog-cart.
She placed her hand upon the table to steady herself, as the two women, all unconscious of the effect of their gossiping words, moved slowly away. "The Golden Shoemaker" and his friends arrived at Cottonborough late that night. A carriage was waiting for them at the station; and, having said "good night" to Mr. Durnford and Tommy Dudgeon, they were soon driven home.
It needed no further pursuasion to induce the minister to remain: with his assistance, "Cobbler" Horn soon came to terms with the young lady; and, as, upon a hint conveyed in the letter she had received from the minister, she had come to Cottonborough prepared, if necessary, to remain, it was arranged that she should commence her duties on the following day.
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