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Updated: June 19, 2025
But Julian was led entirely by his cousin, and, as she knew quite well, there was not the least danger of his going on his own account to the shop in Gray's Inn Road; he dreaded the thought of such an interview. Waymark was not charmed with Miss Smales; the more he thought of this marriage, the more it amazed him; for, of course, he deemed it wholly of his friend's bringing about.
The business might be better; yes, might be better. You won't have much practice in dispensing, I'm afraid, unless things improve. It is mostly hair-oil, and the patent medicines. It's a poor look-out for you, Julian." There was a silence. "Harriet isn't quite well yet, is she?" Smales went on, half to himself. "No, she looked poorly to-night."
Thus it came about that, on the Tuesday evening of the ensuing week, Julian was startled by his landlady's announcing another visit from Miss Smales. Harriet came into the room with a veil over her face, and sank on a chair, sobbing. What she had feared had come to pass. The lodger had told Mrs.
Harriet Smales left London, and went to live with her sole relative, except Julian, an aunt who kept a stationer's shop in Colchester. She was taught the business, and assisted her aunt for more than two years, when, growing tired of the life of a country town, she returned to London, and succeeded in getting a place at a stationer's in Gray's Inn Road. This was six months ago.
The heat, however, was intense, and could be plainly felt, even in the cold night air, as we passed some distance to leeward. All hands were clustered in our rigging, on the deck-house or on the bridge, to see the last of the poor 'Monkshaven, as she was slowly being burnt down to the water's edge. Smales, of Whitby, of 657 tons burden, and classed A 1 for ten years at Lloyd's.
A quarter of an hour brought her to a little out-of-the-way thoroughfare called Boston Street, close to the west side of Regent's Park, and here she entered a chemist's shop, over which stood the name Smales. A middle-aged man of very haggard and feeble appearance stood behind the counter, and his manner to the lady as she addressed him was painfully subservient.
Is is it anything about me." "I hit Harriet Smales with a slate, and covered her all over with blood, and I thought I'd killed her." She could not meet her mother's eyes; stood with head hung down, and her hands clasped behind her. "What made you do it?" asked Lotty in amazement. "I couldn't help it, mother; she she said you were a bad woman."
You've always been kind and good to me, and see if I'm not the same to Harriet." His voice trembled with generous emotion. "No, I sha'n't see it, my boy," said Smales, shaking his head drearily; "but the promise will be a comfort to me at the end, a comfort to me. You're a good lad, Julian!" Silence came upon them again.
From that day to the present nothing more had been heard of Signor Casti, and all the care of his sister's child had fallen upon poor Smales, who was not too well provided with means to support his own small household. It was by this time understood that, on leaving school, he should come into the shop, and there qualify himself for the business of a chemist.
Miss Rutherford darted into the schoolroom, and at once there was quietness, save for half-choked sobs here and there, and a more ominous kind of moaning from the crowded corner. "Gracious goodness, children, what is it? Who's that lying on the floor? Harriet Smales! What ever has happened?" The cluster of children had fallen aside, exposing a strange picture.
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