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Updated: May 21, 2025
"You had better," advised him his father; "because I warn you, your whole future depends upon it. You know me. You've got to be a credit to me, to be worthy of the name of Grindley or the name, my boy, is all you'll have." Old Grindley meant it, and his son knew that he meant it. The old Puritan principles and instincts were strong in the old gentleman formed, perhaps, the better part of him.
Why Mr Grindley should have been inferior to Mr Maxwell the banker, or to Stone, or to Prettyman who were brewers, or even to Mr Pollock the heavy-weight literary gentleman, I can hardly say. An attorney by his trade is at any rate as good as a brewer, and there are many attorneys who hold their heads high anywhere. Grindley was a rich man, or at any rate rich enough for the life he led.
Grindley junior sat on the cushioned seat beneath the middle window. Good Humour's sub- editor stood before the fire, her hands behind her back. The case appeared to Peter Hope to be one of exceeding difficulty. "Of course," explained Miss Appleyard, "I shall never marry without my father's consent." Peter Hope thought the resolution most proper.
Miss Appleyard paled visibly. For a grocer's assistant to dare to fall in love with her, especially after all the trouble she had taken with him! What could be worse? "I'm not a grocer," continued young Grindley, deeply conscious of crime. "I mean, not a real grocer."
Make a note of anything you do not understand, and I will explain it to you when when next I happen to be passing." Grindley junior took the book Bell's Introduction to the Study of the Classics, for Use of Beginners and held it between both hands. Its price was ninepence, but Grindley junior appeared to regard it as a volume of great value.
Miss Appleyard's judgment of mankind was justified; no more promising pupil could have been selected. It was really marvellous the progress made by Grindley junior, under the tutelage of Helvetia Appleyard. His earnestness, his enthusiasm, it quite touched the heart of Helvetia Appleyard. There were many points, it is true, that puzzled Grindley junior. Each time the list of them grew longer.
Peter Hope arose and expounded at length and in suitable language the folly and uselessness of the scheme. But what chance had ever the wisdom of Age against the enthusiasm of Youth, reaching for its object. Poor Peter, expostulating, was swept into the conspiracy. Grindley junior the next morning stood before his father in the private office in High Holborn.
"She's one of the cripples, not but what she's as sound as a bell, and as good a hunter as ever I wish to ride; but she makes a little noise when she's going." "So that you can hear her three fields off," said Grindley. "Five if the fields are small enough and your ears are sharp enough," said Vavasor. "All the same I wouldn't change her for the best horse I ever saw under you."
"The marvel to me is that no man hitherto has ever had the sense to want her." "Oh, you men!" cried Miss Fossett. "A pretty face and an empty head is all you want." "Must they always go together?" laughed Mrs. Grindley junior, nee Helvetia Appleyard. "Exceptions prove the rule," grunted Miss Fossett. "What a happy saying that is," smiled Mrs. Grindley junior.
Old Grindley in his study chair having talked for half an hour at the top of his voice, chose, partly by reason of physical necessity, partly by reason of dormant dramatic instinct, to speak quietly and slowly. "I'll give you one chance more, my boy, and one only. I've tried you as a gentleman perhaps that was my mistake. Now I'll try you as a grocer." "As a what?"
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