Ten Thousand a-Year. Volume 1

["There!" whispered Mr. Gammon, suddenly and apprehensively, in the ear of Mr. Quirk, "you hear that? A little wretch! We have been perfectly insane in going so far already with him! Is not this what I predicted?"—"I don't care," said Mr. Quirk, stubbornly. "Who first found it out, Mr. Gammon? and who's to be at the expense and responsibility? Pshaw! I know what I'm about—I'll make him knuckle down—never fear me! Caleb Quirk a'n't a man to be trifled with!"]

"That," continued Titmouse, snapping his fingers with an air of defiance—"for Mr. Tag-rag! That for Mother Squallop—Ah, ha, gents! It won't do to go back to that—eugh!—eh? will it?—you know what I mean! Fancy Mr. Tittlebat Titmouse—or Mr. Tittlebat Titmouse, Esquire—standing behind"–

The partners looked rather blank at this unexpected sally.

"We would venture to suggest, Mr. Titmouse," said Mr. Gammon, seriously, "the absolute necessity there is for everything on your part, and our parts, to go on as quietly as before, for a little time to come: to be safe and successful, my dear sir, we must be very—very secret."

"Oh, I see, gents! I see; mum—mum's the word, for the present! But, I must say, if there is any one whom I want to hear of it, sooner than another, it's"–

"Rag-bag and Co., I suppose! ha, ha, ha!" interrupted Mr. Gammon, his partners echoing his gentle laugh.

"Ha, ha, ha! Cuss the cats—that's it—ha, ha, ha!" echoed Mr. Titmouse; who, getting up out of his chair, could not resist capering to and fro, sticking his hands on his hips, in something of the attitude of a hornpipe dancer, whistling and humming by turns, and indulging in various other wild antics.

"And now, gents—excuse me, but, to do a bit of business—when am I to begin scattering the shiners, eh?" he inquired, interrupting a low-toned, but somewhat vehement conversation, between the two senior partners; while Snap sat silently eying him like a terrier a rat coming within his reach!

"Oh, of course, sir!" replied Mr. Gammon, rather coldly, "very—considerable—delay is unavoidable. All we have done, as yet, is to discover that, as far as we are advised, and can judge, you will turn out to be the right owner; but—as we've already intimated—very extensive and expensive operations must be immediately commenced, before you can be put into possession. There are some who won't be persuaded to part with £10,000 a-year, Mr. Titmouse, for the mere asking!" added Mr. Gammon, with an anxious and bitter smile.

"The devil there are! Who are they that want to keep me any longer out of what's my own?—what's justly mine? Eh? I want to know! Haven't they kept me out long enough?—hang 'em! Put 'em in prison directly—don't spare 'em—the villains!"

"They'll probably, ere long, find their way in that direction—for how," replied Mr. Quirk, "he's ever to make up, poor devil, the mesne profits"–

"Mean profits?—is that all you call them, gents? 'Pon my life, it's rogue's money—villain's profits! So don't spare him—d—n him!—he's robbed the fatherless, which I am, and an orphan. Keep me out of what's mine, indeed! Curse me if he shall, though!"

"My dear Mr. Titmouse," said Gammon, very gravely, "we are getting on too fast—dreadfully too fast. It will never do, matters of such immense importance as these cannot be hurried on, or talked of, in this way"–

"I like that, sir!—I do, by Jove!"—exclaimed Titmouse, scornfully.

"You will really, if you go on in this wild way, Mr. Titmouse, make us regret the trouble we have taken in the affair, and especially the promptness with which we have communicated to you the extent of your possible good fortune."

"Beg pardon, I'm sure, gents, but mean no offence: am monstrous obliged to you for what you've done for me—but, by Jove, it's taken me rather a-back, I own, to hear that I'm to be kept so long out of it all! Why can't you offer him, whoever he is that has my property, a slapping sum to go out at once? Gents, I'll own to you I'm most uncommon low—never so low in my life—devilish low! Done up, and yet it seems a'n't to get what's justly mine! What am I to do in the meanwhile? Consider that, gents!"

"You are rather excited just now, Mr. Titmouse," said Mr. Quirk, seriously; "suppose we now break up, and resume our conversation to-morrow, when we are all in better and calmer trim?"

"No, sir, thanking you all the same; but I think we'd better go on with it now," replied Titmouse, impetuously. "Do you think I can stoop to go back to that nasty, beastly shop, and stand behind that odious counter?—I'd almost as lieve go to the gallows!"

"Our decided opinion, Mr. Titmouse," said Mr. Quirk, emphatically—his other partners getting graver and graver in their looks—"that is, if our opinion is worth offering"–

"That, by Jove! remains to be seen," said Titmouse, with a pettish shake of the head.

"Well, such as it is, we offer it you; and it is, that for many reasons you must continue, for a little while longer, in your present situation"–

"What! own Tag-rag for my master—and I worth £10,000 a-year?" interrupted Titmouse, furiously.

"My dear sir, you've not got it yet," said Mr. Quirk, with a very bitter smile.

"Do you think you'd have told me what you have, if you weren't sure that I should, though? No, no! you've gone too far, by Jove!—but I shall burst, I shall! Me to go on as before!—they use me worse and worse every day. Gents, you'll excuse me—I hope you will; but business is business, gents—it is; and if you won't do mine, I must look out for them that will—'pon my soul, I must, and"—If Mr. Titmouse could have seen, or having seen, appreciated, the looks which the three partners interchanged, on hearing this absurd, ungrateful, and insolent speech of his—the expression that flitted across their shrewd faces; that was, of intense contempt for him, hardly overmastered and concealed by a vivid perception of their own interest, which was, of course, to manage, to soothe, to conciliate him!

How the reptile propensities of his mean nature had thriven beneath the sudden sunshine of unexpected prosperity!—See already his selfishness, truculence, rapacity, in full play!

"So, gents," said he, after a long and keen expostulation with them on the same subject, "I'm really to go to-morrow morning to Tag-rag and Co.'s, and go on with the cursed life I led there to-day, all as if nothing had happened—ha, ha, ha!—I do so like that!"

"In your present humor, Mr. Titmouse, it would be in vain to discuss the matter," said Mr. Quirk, sternly. "Again I tell you that the course we have recommended is, in our opinion, the proper one; excuse me if I add, that you are entirely in our hands—and if I ask you—what can you do but adopt our advice?"

"Why, hang me if I won't employ somebody else—that's flat! S' elp me, Heaven, I will! So, good-night, gents; you'll find that Tittlebat Titmouse isn't to be trifled with!" So saying, Mr. Titmouse clapped his hat on his head, bounced out of the room, and, no attempt being made to stop him, he was in the street in a twinkling.

Mr. Gammon gazed at Mr. Quirk with a look, the significance of which the astounded old gentleman thoroughly understood—'twas compounded of triumph, reproach, and apprehension.

"Did you ever see such a little beast!" exclaimed Mr. Quirk, with an air of disgust, turning to Mr. Snap.

"Beggar on horseback!" exclaimed Snap, with a bitter sneer.

"It won't do, however," said Mr. Quirk, with a most chagrined and apprehensive air, "for him to go at large in his present frame of mind—he may ruin the thing altogether"–

"As good as £500 a-year out of the way of the office," quoth Snap.

"It cannot be helped now," said Mr. Gammon, with a sigh of vexation, turning to Mr. Quirk, and seizing his hat—"he must be managed—so I'll go after him instantly, and bring him back at all hazards; and we must really try and do something for him in the meanwhile, to keep him quiet till the thing's brought a little into train." So out went after Titmouse, Mr. Gammon, from whose lips dropped persuasion sweeter than honey;[3] and I should not be surprised if he were to succeed in bringing back that little stubborn piece of conceited stupidity.

As soon as Mr. Titmouse heard the street door shut after him with a kind of bang, he snapped his fingers once or twice, by way of letting off a little of the inflammable air that was in him, and muttered, "Pretty chaps those, upon my soul!" said he, disdainfully. "I'll expose them all! I'll apply to the lord-mayor—they're a pack of swindlers, they are! This is the way they treat me, who've got a title to £10,000 a-year! To be sure"—He stood still for a moment—and another moment—and another—and then dismay came quickly over him; for the thought suddenly occurred to his partially obfuscated intellect—what hold had he got on Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap?—what could he do?—or rather, what had he done?

Ah—the golden vision of the last few hours was fading away momentarily, like a dream! Each second of his deep and rapid reflection, rendered more impetuous his desire and determination to return and make his peace with Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap. By submission for the present, he could get the whip-hand of them hereafter! He was in the act of turning round towards the office, when Mr. Gammon gently laid his hand upon the shoulder of his repentant client.

"Mr. Titmouse! my dear sir," said Mr. Gammon, softly, "what is the matter with you? How could we so misunderstand each other?"

Titmouse's small cunning was on the qui vive, and he saw and followed up his advantage. "I am going," said he, in a resolute tone, "to speak to some one else in the morning."

"Ah, to be sure!" replied Mr. Gammon, with a smile of utter unconcern—"I supposed as much—'tis a matter which of course, however, signifies nothing to any one—but yourself. You will take any steps, my dear sir, that occur to you, and act as you may be advised!"

"Monstrous kind of you, 'pon my life! to come and give me such good advice!" exclaimed Titmouse, with a sneer—but consciously baffled.

"Oh, don't mention it!" said Gammon, coolly; "I came out of pure good-nature, to assure you that our office, notwithstanding what has passed, entertains not the slightest personal ill feeling towards you, in thus throwing off our hands a fearfully expensive, and most harassing enterprise—which we have feared from the first had been too rashly undertaken"–

"Hem!" exclaimed Titmouse, involuntarily, once or twice.

"So good-night, Mr. Titmouse—good-night! God bless you! and think hereafter of all this as a mere idle dream—as far as we are concerned!" Mr. Gammon, in the act of returning to the door, extended his hand to Mr. Titmouse, whom he instantly perceived to be melting rapidly.

"Why, sir," quoth Titmouse, with a mixture of embarrassment and alarm, "if I thought you all meant the correct thing—hem! I say, the correct thing by me—I shouldn't so much mind a little disappointment for the time; but you must own, Mr. Gammon, it is very hard being kept out of one's own so long—honor, now! isn't it?"

"True, very true, Mr. Titmouse. Very hard it is, indeed, to bear, and we all felt deeply for you, and would have set everything in train"–

"Would have! oh my stars!"–

"Yes, my dear Mr. Titmouse, we would have done it, and believed we could have brought you through every difficulty—over every obstacle, prodigious though they are, and almost innumerable."

"Why—you—don't—hardly—quite—mean to say you've given it all up?—What, already! 'Pon my life! Oh Lord!" exclaimed Titmouse, in evident trepidation.

Mr. Gammon had triumphed over Mr. Titmouse! whom, nothing loath, he brought back, in two minutes' time, into the room which Titmouse had just before so insolently quitted. Mr. Quirk and Mr. Snap had now their parts to perform in the little scene which they had determined on enacting. They were in the act of locking up desks and drawers, evidently on the move, and received Mr. Titmouse with an air of cold surprise.

"Mr. Titmouse again!" exclaimed Mr. Quirk, taking his gloves out of his hat. "Back again!—This, sir, is quite an unexpected honor!"

"Leave anything behind?" inquired Mr. Snap, affecting to look about him—"don't see anything"–

"Oh no, sir! No, sir!" exclaimed Titmouse, with eager anxiety. "This gent, Mr. Gammon, and I, have made it all up, gents! I'm not angry any more—not the least, 'pon my soul I'm not—and quite forgive you—and no mistake!"

"Angry!—Forgive!! Mr. Titmouse!" echoed Mr. Quirk, with an air sternly ironical. "We are under great obligations to you for your forbearance!"

"Oh, come, gents!" said Titmouse, more and more disturbed, "I was too warm, I dare say, and—and—I ask your pardon, all of you, gents! I won't say another word if you'll but buckle to business again—quite exactly in your own way—because you see"–

"It's growing very late," said Mr. Quirk, coldly, and looking at his watch; "however, after what you have said, probably at some future time, when we've leisure to look into the thing"–

Poor Titmouse was near dropping on his knees, in mingled agony and fright.

"May I be allowed to say," interposed the bland voice of Mr. Gammon, anxiously addressing himself to Mr. Quirk, "that Mr. Titmouse a few minutes ago assured me, outside there, that if you, as the head of the firm, could only be persuaded to permit our house to take up his case again"–

"I did—I did indeed, gents! so help me–!" interrupted Mr. Titmouse, eagerly backing with an oath the ready lie of Mr. Gammon.

Mr. Quirk, with a stern countenance, drew his hand across his chin musingly, and stood silently for a few moments, apparently irresolute.

"Well," said he at length, but very coldly, "since that is so, probably we may be induced to resume our heavy labors in your behalf; and if you will favor us with a call to-morrow night, at the same hour, we may have, by that time, made up our minds as to the course we shall think fit to adopt."

"Lord, sir, I'll be here as the clock strikes, and as meek as a mouse; and pray, have it all your own way for the future, gents—do!"—cried Titmouse, clasping his hands together on his breast.

"Good-night, sir—good-night!" exclaimed the partners, stiffly—motioning him towards the door.

"Good-night, gents!" said Titmouse, bowing very low, and feeling himself at the same time being—bowed out! As he passed out of the room, he cast a lingering look at their three frigid faces, as if they were angels sternly shutting him out from Paradise. What misery was his, as he walked slowly homeward, with much the same feelings (now that the fumes of the brandy had somewhat evaporated, and the reaction of excitement was coming on, aggravated by a recollection of the desperate check he had received) as those of a sick and troubled man, who, suddenly roused out of a delicious dream, drops into wretched reality, as it were out of a fairyland, which, with all its dear innumerable delights, is melting overhead into thin air—disappearing, forever!

Closet Court had never looked so odious to him as it did on his return from this memorable interview. Dreadfully distressed and harassed, he flung himself on his bed for a moment, directly he had shut his door, intending presently to rise and undress; but Sleep, having got him prostrate, secured her victory. She waved her black wand over him, and—he awoke not completely till about eight o'clock in the morning. A second long-drawn sigh was preparing to follow its predecessor, when he heard the clock strike eight, and sprang off the bed in a fright; for he ought to have been at the shop an hour before. Dashing a little water into his face, and scarce staying to wipe it off, he ran down-stairs, through the court, and along the street, never stopping till he had found his way into—almost the very arms of the dreaded Mr. Tag-rag; who, rarely making his appearance till about half-past nine, had, as the deuce would have it, happened to come down an hour and a half earlier than usual on that particular morning, the only one out of several hundreds on which Titmouse had been more than ten minutes beyond his time.

"Yours ve-ry respectfully, Mr. Titmouse—Thomas Tag-rag!" exclaimed that personage, with mock solemnity, bowing formally to his astounded and breathless shopman.

"I—I—beg your pardon, sir; but I wasn't very well, and overslept myself," stammered Titmouse.

"Ne-ver mind, Mr. Titmouse! ne-ver mind!—it don't much signify, as it happens," interrupted Mr. Tag-rag, bitterly; "you've just got an hour and a half to take this piece of silk, with my compliments, to Messrs. Shuttle and Weaver, in Dirt Street, Spitalfields, and ask them if they aren't ashamed to send it to a West-end house like mine; and bring back a better piece instead of it! D' ye hear, sir?"

"Yes, sir—but—am I to go before my breakfast, sir?"

"Did I say a word about breakfast, sir? You heard my orders, sir; you can attend to them or not, Mr. Titmouse, as you please!"

Off trotted Titmouse instanter, without his breakfast; and so Tag-rag gained one object he had had in view. Titmouse found this rather trying: a four-mile walk before him, with no inconsiderable load under his arm; having, moreover, had nothing to eat since the preceding evening, when he had partaken of a delicate repast of thick slices of bread, smeared slightly over with somewhat high-flavored salt butter, and moistened with a most astringent decoction of quasi tea-leaves sweetened with brown sugar, and discolored with sky-blue milk. He had not even a farthing about him wherewith to buy a penny roll! As he went disconsolately along, so many doubts and fears buzzed impetuously about him, that they completely darkened his little soul, and bewildered his petty understanding. Ten Thousand a-Year!—it could never be meant for the like of him! He soon worked himself into a conviction that the whole thing was infinitely too good to be true; the affair was desperate; it had been all moonshine; for some cunning purpose or another, Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, had been—ah, here he was within a few yards of their residence, the scene of last night's tragic transactions! As he passed Saffron Hill, he paused, looked up towards the blessed abode,

"Where centred all his hopes and fears,"—

uttered a profound sigh, and passed slowly on towards Smithfield. The words "Quirk, Gammon, and Snap," seemed to be written over every shop-window which he passed—their images filled his mind's eye. What could they be at? They had been all very polite and friendly at first—and of their own seeking: but he had affronted them. How coldly and proudly they had parted with him over-night, although they had professed themselves reconciled to him! It was evident that they would stand no nonsense—they were great lawyers; so he must (if they really would allow him to see them again) eat humble pie cheerfully till he had got all that they had to give him. How he dreaded the coming night! Perhaps they intended civilly to tell him that, since seeing him, they would have nothing more to do with him; they would get the estate for themselves, or some one else who would be more manageable! They had taken care to tell him nothing at all about the nature of his pretensions to this grand fortune. Oh, how crafty they were—they had it all their own way!—But what, after all, had he really done? The estates were his, if they were really in earnest—his and no one's else; and why should he be kept out of them at their will and pleasure? Suppose he were to say he would give them all he was entitled to for £20,000 down, in cash? Oh no; on second thoughts, that would be only two years' income! But on the other hand—he dared hardly even propose it to his thoughts—still, suppose it should really all turn out true! Goodness gracious!—that day two months he might be riding about in his carriage in the Parks, and poor devils looking on at him, as he now looked on all those who now rode there. There he would be, holding up his head with the best of them, instead of slaving as he was that moment, carrying about that cursed bundle—ough! how he shrunk with disgust as he changed its position, to relieve his aching right arm! Why was his mouth to be stopped—why might he not tell his shopmates? What would he not give for the luxury of telling it to the odious Tag-rag? If he were to do so, Mr. Tag-rag, he was sure, would ask him to dinner the very next Sunday, at his country house at Clapham!—Ah, ha!—Thoughts such as these so occupied his mind, that he did not for a long while observe that he was walking at a rapid rate towards the Mile-end road, having left Whitechapel church nearly half a mile behind him! The possible master of £10,000 a-year was nearly dropping with fatigue, and sudden apprehension of the storm he should have to encounter when he first saw Mr. Tag-rag after so unduly prolonged an absence on his errand. He was detained for a cruel length of time at Messrs. Shuttle and Weaver's; who, not having the exact kind of silk required by their imperious customer at that moment on their premises, had some difficulty in obtaining it, after having sent for it to one or two neighboring manufactories; by which means it came to pass that it was two o'clock before Titmouse, completely exhausted, had returned to Tag-rag and Company's. The gentlemen of the shop had finished their dinners.

"Go up-stairs and get your dinner, sir!" exclaimed Tag-rag, sternly, after having received Messrs. Shuttle and Weaver's obsequious message of apologies and hopes.

Titmouse having laid down his heavy bundle on the counter, went up-stairs hungry enough, and found himself the sole occupant of the long close-smelling room in which his companions had been recently dining. His dinner was presently brought to him by a slatternly slipshod servant-girl. It was in an uncovered basin, which appeared to contain nothing but the leavings of his companions—a savory intermixture of cold potatoes, broken meat, (chiefly bits of fat and gristle,) a little hot water having been thrown over it to make it appear warm and fresh—(faugh!) His plate (with a small pinch of salt upon it) had not been cleaned after its recent use, but evidently only hastily smeared over with a greasy towel, as also seemed his knife and fork, which, in their disgusting state, he was fain to put up with—the table-cloth on which he might have wiped them, having been removed. A hunch of bread that seemed to have been tossing about in the pan for days, and half a pint of turbid table-beer, completed the fare set before him; opposite which he sat for some minutes, too much occupied with his reflections to commence his repast. He was in the act of scooping out of the basin some of its inviting contents, when—"Titmouse!" exclaimed the voice of one of his shopmates, peering in at him through the half-opened door, "Mr. Tag-rag wants you! He says you've had plenty of time to finish your dinner!"

"Oh, tell him, then, I'm only just beginning my dinner—eugh! such as it is," replied Titmouse, sulkily.

In a few minutes' time Mr. Tag-rag himself entered the room, stuttering with fury—"How much longer, sir, may it be your pleasure to spend over your dinner, eh?"

"Not another moment, sir," answered Titmouse, looking with unaffected loathing and disgust at the savory victuals before him; "if you'll only allow me a few minutes to go home and buy a penny roll instead of all this"–

"Ve—ry good, sir! Ve—ry parti—cu—larly good, Mr. Titmouse," replied Tag-rag, with ill-subdued rage; "anything else that I can make a leetle memorandum of—against the day of—your leaving us?"

This hint of twofold terror, i. e. of withholding on the ground of misconduct the wretched balance of salary which might be then due to him, and of also giving him a damning character—dispelled the small remains of Titmouse's appetite, and he rose to return to the shop, involuntarily clutching his fist as he brushed close past the tyrant Tag-rag on the stairs, whom he would have been delighted to pitch down head-foremost. If he had done so, none of his fellow-slaves below, in spite of their present sycophancy towards Tag-rag, would have shown any particular alacrity in picking up their common oppressor. Poor Tittlebat resumed his old situation behind the counter; but how different his present, from his former air and manner! With his pen occasionally peeping pertly out of his bushy hair over his right ear, and his yard-measure in his hand, no one, till the previous Monday morning, had been more cheerful, smirking, and nimble than Tittlebat Titmouse: alas, how chopfallen now! None of his companions could make him out, or guess what was in the wind; so they very justly concluded that he had been doing something dreadfully disgraceful, the extent of which was known to Tag-rag and himself alone. Their jeers and banter were giving place to cold distrustful looks, which were far more trying to bear. How he longed to be able to burst upon their astounded minds with the pent-up intelligence that was silently racking and splitting his little bosom! But if he did—the terrible firm of Quirk, Gammon, and Snap—Oh! the very thought of them glued his lips together. There was one, however, of whom he might surely make a confidant—the excellent Huckaback, with whom he had had no opportunity of communicating since Sunday night. That gentleman was as close a prisoner at the establishment of Diaper and Sarsenet, in Tottenham-court Road, as Titmouse at Messrs. Tag-rag's, of which said establishment he was, by the way, quite as great an ornament as Titmouse of Messrs. Tag-rag's. They were of about the same height, and equals in vulgar puppyism of manners, dress, and appearance; but Titmouse was certainly the better-looking. With equal conceit apparent in their faces, that of Huckaback, square, flat, and sallow, had an expression of ineffable impudence, made a lady shudder, and a gentleman feel a tingling sensation in his right toe. About his small black eyes there was a glimmer of low cunning;—but he is not of sufficient importance to be painted any further. When Titmouse left the shop that night, a little after nine, he hurried to his lodgings, to make himself as imposing in his appearance before Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, as his time and means would admit of. Behold, on a table lay a letter from Huckaback. It was written in a flourishing mercantile hand; and here is a verbatim copy of it: