William Adolphus Turnpike

by William Banks

CHAPTER XXIV

The day before the marriage of Flo Dearmore and Tommy Watson, the latter's assistants in his auctioneering rooms signed a formal and formidable looking agreement, framed by Whimple, and copied in duplicate by one William Adolphus Turnpike. It was William's first piece of typewriting for his boss, and he was mightily proud of it, for it was neatly done, so neatly done in fact that it did not need a single correction. And William's pride was the greater because he was asked to accompany Whimple to the store, there to witness the signing of the agreement. The ceremony was a solemn one—too solemn almost for William—whose efforts to maintain a dignified bearing were almost too much for Tommy. Whimple had no difficulty in maintaining the pose of a lawyer engaged in a serious case, while the assistants were too frightened to be anything else but soberly sheepish. The main clause of the agreement was read over twice, the assistants affirming in timid tones that they knew what it meant, and believed they had sense enough to live up to it. And it ran something like this:—

"And we the parties hereinbefore and hereinafter referred to as assistants to Thomas Watson, auctioneer of the said city of Toronto, County of York, do hereby solemnly agree and bind ourselves on our honour to respect such agreement; that we will not during the absence of the said Thomas Watson from his lawful place of business during the period of four weeks dating from the date of this agreement, to which in the presence of witnesses we have signed our names, discuss, argue, talk of, whisper, or shout in the presence of each other, or write or read in the presence of each other, anything relating in any manner to the Battle of Bannockburn or any other battle fought in or out of Scotland or England or elsewhere between armies or forces or individuals of either of the countries named. We also agree that we will not in the presence of each other, by actions or other show that might be so construed, attempt to convey each to the other any thoughts we may have as to such battle, or battles, or conflicts. And we further declare that we know and understand and comprehend the meaning of the foregoing in all respects, that we are over twenty-one years of age respectively, and are not subject to the control or permission of parents or guardians in entering into the agreement as set forth in the foregoing, and in the succeeding clauses of this agreement."

They signed both copies solemnly, William signed them too, as a witness, and so did Whimple. One copy was nailed to the wall at the back of the store, the other was given to Whimple, who was also given power of attorney by the auctioneer during the absence of Tommy on his honeymoon.

The first wedding that William Adolphus Turnpike ever attended as a guest was that of Tommy Watson and Flo Dearmore. The formal invitation was a startling surprise to the lad. It arrived at his home one morning just as he was about to depart for the office. He read it through three times, and then handed it over to his mother. "Ma," he cried, "look at that!" She read it through, and a blush of pleasure tinged her cheeks as she did so. "A church wedding, Willie, and you invited; and then there's a—a—a de-jun-er. I guess that means a spread at the house of the bride's mother."

"But me! Ma: why, I'd feel like a fish outer water among the bunch that'll be there, unless," he added thoughtfully, "'Chuck' Epstein goes too, and I can hang onto him."

The time between the reception of the invitation and the wedding was a trying one for William. He worried about what he should wear—and his choice was rather limited—but he worried more about what he should give, "For," said his mother, "you'll have to give the bride something: everybody does that when they're invited to a wedding." In the crisis of his dilemma over this proposition William consulted "Chuck" Epstein, and the result of their deliberations was the sending to the prospective bride of a parrot "that could talk to beat the band," as William said. Epstein never told him that he had himself paid the original owner of the parrot a larger amount than William could spare, and had arranged with him to accept the sum that the boy offered. And of all the gifts that Flo Dearmore received from others but the man of her choice, that parrot pleased her most, "For," said she, "he is the slangiest bird imaginable, and sometimes he uses swear words—just like my Tommy."

The wedding, which took place at "high noon" in an Anglican church, was a wonderful experience for William. With "Chuck" Epstein, he had a good seat near the altar, and many were the smiles and knowing nods exchanged between other invited guests at the evident eagerness of the lad to take in all the proceedings. And yet no other person, perhaps, in the assembly—and it was a large one—felt more than William the real solemnity of the ceremony. He was not very clear as to his exact feelings, but the dignity of the rector, the simple beauty of the marriage ritual, the singing of the choir, the love light in the eyes of the bride and of Tommy, combined to impress him profoundly. He smiled once, in fact he scarcely suppressed a snicker, but a warning touch of Epstein's hand aided him to control himself.

The "dejeuner" almost put him "on the blink," he declared afterwards. He was conscious only of two things: first, that the bride, amid all the sweet confusion and merriment incidental to the occasion, found time to introduce him to several ladies as "the dearest and cleverest boy I know, next to Tommy," and that when the toasts were proposed he had to make a speech. Epstein assisted him to stand, for the lad was overwhelmed with embarrassment that amounted to fear. He never knew just what he said at first, but when he recovered sufficiently to realise that the faces turned toward him were kindly, and the smiles were encouraging, his self-possession returned. Observant always, and quick to see the right thing to do, William hoped that "Mister Watson and his wife would live happy ever after, and," he concluded, with a smile that was full of confidence, "I nearly snickered once when the marriage was on. That was when the minister says something about, 'Do you, Thomas Watson, take this woman for your wife?' or words something like that, and I says to myself, 'Does he! Gee! And him looney about——'" The rest was lost in a breeze of laughter and joyous acclamations.

Afterwards there was more hustle and bustle, and finally the bride and groom started for the railway station, with all the accompaniments considered so necessary to start newly wedded couples on such journeys. Others may have noticed, William certainly did, that though she smiled, there were tears in Mrs. Dearmore's eyes as she stood at the doorstep and waved her hands in farewell. And, as he left for the office, William was thinking of that. "It means a lot for her," he said to himself—"a lot. She—why—Flo will be—" he paused—"of course, of course, it's always the way. It'll never be the same again for Mrs. Dearmore, or Flo, or Tommy. This is a rummy world."

Later in the day he dropped into Tommy Watson's store and found the assistants engaged in the hottest kind of argument. They took no notice of him at all; indeed, they did not know he was there. He listened for a few minutes, wrathful and unhappy, because he felt that this was the time above all others when Tommy's business should be attended to with diligence and enthusiasm, and then, still unnoticed, he stole out of the store and ran back to the office. Whimple was not in, and William, hastily glancing over his employer's daily reminder, made a bee line for the county court. Here he found Whimple, having just successfully emerged from a case in which he had defended a man accused of theft, chatting with the county crown attorney.

"Excuse me, Mister Whimple," said William, abruptly, "but them guys are at it again."

"Meaning——?" began Whimple.

"In Tommy Watson's store," William went on hurriedly, "and, honest, it's fierce. I was in and outer the store, and neither of 'em even looked at me."

Whimple bade adieu to the crown attorney, and started away with William.

"What are they fighting about now, William?" said Whimple, disgustedly, as he hurried along the street with William by his side.

"Home r'rule fer I'r'r'reland or 'ome rule for Hireland! I don't know just which," answered William with a smile.