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For the true purpose of the executor's visit was now to be made formally manifest. "Now about this statement of account re Elizabeth Maldon, deceased," he growled deeply. "By the way," Louis interrupted him. "Is Julian back?" "Julian back? Not as I know of," said Mr. Batchgrew aggressively. "Why?" "We thought we saw him walking down Moorthorne Road to-night." "Yes," said Rachel.
When he had successfully started the car, and they were sliding down the Moorthorne hill together, side by side, their shoulders touching, Denry threw off the nightmarish effect of the bankrupt household. After all, there was no reason why he should be depressed. He was not a bankrupt. He was steadily adding riches to riches. He acquired wealth mechanically now.
When they had turned into Moorthorne Road, half-way up whose slope lies the station, she asked a question about a large wooden building from whose interior came wild sounds of shouting and cheering, and learnt that the potters on strike were holding a meeting in the town theatre.
Suddenly, there came a tremendous shouting from Duck Square, in front of the shop. The strikers had poured down from Moorthorne Road into Duck Bank and Duck Square. Edwin, who was in the middle of the shop, went to the glazed inner doors, and, passing through into the porch, lifted the letter-flap in a shutter, and, stooping, looked forth.
And when he had suggested a stroll towards Moorthorne, and she had deliciously agreed, he was conscious of a tumultuous uplifting and splendid carelessness of spirits. 'Imagine me bringing it to a climax to-day, he reflected, profoundly pleased with himself. 'Ah well, it will be settled once for all! He admired his own decision; he was quite struck by it.
Any one familiar with the streets of Bursley would have instantly divined that Councillor Thomas Batchgrew stood between the gas-lamp and the front door. And even Rachel, whose acquaintance with Bursley was still slight, at once recognized the outlines of the figure. She had seen Councillor Batchgrew one day conversing with Mrs. Maldon in Moorthorne Road, and she knew that he bore to Mrs.
A figure was moving quickly down Moorthorne Road in the direction of the station. "I dun'no," said he. "It's not Julian, is it?" In a peculiar tone Louis replied "Looks like him, doesn't it?" And then impulsively he yelled "Hi!" The figure kept on its way. "Seeing that the inimitable Julian's still in South Africa, it can't very well be him. And, anyhow, I'm not going to run after him."
It had transformed itself into a limited company, and rented a ground up the Moorthorne Road, and built a grand stand. The Bursley F.C. had 'tied' with the Knype F.C. on the Knype ground a prodigious achievement, an achievement which occupied a column of the Athletic News one Monday morning! But were the tradesmen civically proud of this glory? No!
This impertinent youth was Paul Ford, a solicitor's clerk, who often went to Moorthorne because his employer had a branch office there, open twice a week. Tommy did not respond, but rather showed his displeasure. He hated to be called Tommy, except by a few intimate coevals. "Now then, hurry up, please!" he said coldly.
"Because I have here," said Jabez Hanks, maliciously, "Dod's Beauties o' Shakspere, where I find them very same words, taken from a stage-play called The Tempest." Jock went a little pale as Jabez Hanks opened the book. "They may be Shakspere's words too," said Jock, lightly. "A fortnight ago, at Moorthorne Chapel, I suspected it," said Jabez. "Suspected what?"
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