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Updated: June 4, 2025
'But suppose it's all right? wailed Gideon. 'Suppose the piano comes, and I am not here to receive it? I shall have hanged myself by my cowardice. No, Uncle Ned, enquiries must be made in Padwick; I dare not go, of course; but you may you could hang about the police office, don't you see? 'No, Gid no, my dear nephew, said Mr Bloomfield, with the voice of one on the rack.
"But suppose it's all right?" wailed Gideon. "Suppose the piano comes, and I am not here to receive it? I shall have hanged myself by my cowardice. No, Uncle Ned, inquiries must be made in Padwick; I dare not go, of course; but you may you could hang about the police office, don't you see?" "No, Gid no, my dear nephew," said Mr. Bloomfield, with the voice of one on the rack.
"You see I thought it better that even you should be ignorant of my address; those rascals, the Finsburys, would have wormed it out of you. And just to put them off the scent I hoisted these abominable colours. But that is not all, Gid; you promised me to work, and here I find you playing the fool at Padwick." "Please, Mr. Bloomfield, you must not be hard on Mr. Forsyth," said Julia.
'By Jove, I'll do it, cried Gideon. 'Jimson is the boy! Mr Edward Hugh Bloomfield having announced his intention to stay in the neighbourhood of Maidenhead, what more probable than that the Maestro Jimson should turn his mind toward Padwick? Near this pleasant riverside village he remembered to have observed an ancient, weedy houseboat lying moored beside a tuft of willows.
The Dartie within him made him chaffer for five minutes with young Padwick concerning the favourite for the Cambridgeshire; then with the words, "Put the gee down to my account," he walked away, a little wide at the knees, and flipping his boots with his knotty little cane. 'I don't feel a bit inclined to go out, he thought.
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