Next day, he not only sold a fine haddock to Mrs. Wilson, but was promised the Wilsons' influence and best word with Mr. Rider. And the upshot of the search for Mary Wilson's shilling was, that Roger got the haunted house for fifteen pounds a year.
Now began a busy time indeed. The first thing Roger did, was to take a holiday, and a trip by rail to Colchester. He had seen fishmongers' shops in London, but he wanted to refresh his memory. The glories of the shops in Colchester almost disheartened him—the gold letters, the gilt rails, the marble tables with water always trickling gently down to keep the fish fresh.
"But I'll just do the best I can," he said aloud as he walked back to the station. "To be first in the field is half the battle. I can't afford one of those outside blinds; but then, luckily, I'm on the shady side of the street. I must make a sloping table, though it won't be of stone, and I can keep a watering-pot and trickle water over the fish every now and then. I must make some way for the water to run into a tub, though; I can't have it slopping about the floor. Fishmonger, M O N G E R, not U; now, I'd have spelt it with a U if I hadn't looked! What luck, to be sure."
He went back to Kingsmore and set to work. His savings amounted to twenty pounds and a few shillings; but he had to pay half a year's rent in advance for his shop, Mr. Rider saying that if he were fool enough to be frightened away by the ghosts, he should forfeit his rent. If he employed carpenters and painters, the rest of his money would speedily disappear; so he valiantly determined to clean, mend, and paint for himself.
Every day, as soon as his fish was sold, he shut himself up in the house in Cecil Street and set to work. He bought only what he found he could not do without; a little stock of coal, a big tub, a big iron pot, a water-can, and a scrubbing-brush. Thus provided, he scrubbed and dusted and scrubbed again, until the house was clean from top to bottom.
Then he went to a timber yard and bought wood. The men there were so much amused at the minute accuracy of his measurements and his determination to get exactly enough and no more, that they took pains to suit him; and one of them, who lived in Cecil Street, helped him to carry it home, Roger gratefully making him a present of a fine fish next day. Hammer and nails he purchased, and a ladder he borrowed from Mr. Allen, and, thus provided, he mended and altered the woodwork to suit his purposes, putting a broad sloping table in the window.
Now came the painting. Several pounds of yellow paint and some brushes had to be bought; but the time he had spent in watching the workmen at Sandsea terminus was now proved not to have been wasted, for he made a very good job of his painting. He painted his shutters black and varnished them until they shone again. He removed the glass from the lower part of the window. Finally, he remounted the ladder and painted the board over the window, on which he could discern dim traces of former tenants' names; but he blotted them all out with two or three coats of white paint.
By this time, curiosity was excited in the neighbourhood, and several passers-by asked him, "What sort of shop was this to be?"
"You'll see to-morrow or next day," was all the answer Roger would make.
And when he had devoted a third evening to the white board, he came down the ladder and retired to his shop to consider the state of affairs.