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Having allowed his eyes to rest on the lair, Stifford allowed his memory to forget the rule of the shop, and left the counter for the door of the lair, determined that Miss Orgreave should see the genuineness of his anxiety to do his utmost for so sympathetic a woman. Edwin, perceiving the intention from his lair, had to choose whether he would go out or be fetched out.
But Stifford was not deceived. Safe within his lair, Edwin was conscious of quite a disturbing glow. He smiled to himself a little self-consciously, though alone. Then he scribbled down in pencil "Light of Asia. Miss J. Orgreave." Darius came heavily, and breathing heavily, into the little office.
"I think I must come up and have a look at that glazing this afternoon," he said, as she stood on the pavement. She nodded, smiling benevolence and appreciation, and departed round the corner in the soft sunshine. Edwin put on a stern, casual expression for the benefit of Stifford, as who should say: "What a trial these frivolous girls are to a man immersed in affairs!"
His discretion objected to this act, but Edwin was not his own master. Stifford, hurrying in exactly at eight, was somewhat perturbed to find his employer's son already installed in the cubicle, writing by the light of gas, as the shutters were not removed. Edwin had finished and stamped his first love-letter just as his father entered the cubicle.
Edwin having been to the Bank himself, instead of sending Stifford, had departed with the minimum of ostentation. He had in fact crept away. Since the visit of Janet and the child he had not seen either of them again, nor had he mentioned the child to anybody at all.
It grew almost impossible for Edwin to pass the time. At moments when his father was not stirring in the cubicle, and Stifford happened to be in repose, he could hear the ticking of the clock, which he could not remember ever having heard before, except when he mounted the steps to wind it.
"Are you going to look after the printing shop, or aren't you?" Darius growled at length. Edwin rose and went. As he passed through the shop, Stifford, who had in him the raw material of fine manners, glanced down, but not too ostentatiously, at a drawer under the counter. The printing office was more crowded than ever with men and matter. Some of the composing was now done on the ground-floor.
Edwin said `Certainly, using a tone that he had never used before. He decided. The man departed, and Edwin saw him spring on to the Hanbridge car as it swept down the hill. The man would not have been interested in the news that Darius Clayhanger had been to business for the last time. Edwin was glad of the incident because it had preserved him from embarrassed conversation with Stifford.
"It's not quite time yet, sir." "Go to yer dinner, I tell ye." Stifford had three-quarters of an hour for his dinner. Darius combined the slip with the book and made a total. "Petty cash," he muttered shortly. Edwin produced the petty cash-book, a volume of very trifling importance. "Now bring me the till."
Every one was glad and relieved, but every one took the change as a matter of course; the attitude of every one to the youth was: "Well, it's not too soon!" No one saw a romantic miracle. "I suppose you haven't got `The Light of Asia' in stock?" began Janet Orgreave, after she had greeted the youth kindly. "I'm afraid we haven't, miss," said Stifford. This was an understatement.
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