Such meals had a relish all their own, and if business drove me to a cook-shop for the orthodox cut off the joint and two vegetables for sixpence, I never enjoyed it as well, with one exception. A local cook-shop made a speciality of stewed steak, at least that is what they called it, though it was really shin of beef, and it was very good and satisfying, with plenty of thick brown gravy. They only charged fourpence for it, so that with a pennyworth of potatoes and a pennyworth of pudding afterwards I could make a really good meal for sixpence. Here I learned what was of great use to me, a lesson that I now see inculcated on every hand, how small a quantity of food the body really needs to do good work upon, and conversely how much more food than is really necessary the average man or woman does consume. But I cannot take any credit for this learning, for like so many other useful lessons conveyed to us it was compulsory, I had no choice but to learn it. The result has been at any rate that the "pleasures of the table" have never since then meant anything to me, one plain meal in the middle of the day sufficing for all my needs, and keeping me in such health as the results of my overwork will allow me.
Still I should be very sorry to go about endeavouring to force other people to go and do likewise, because I have learned very thoroughly how great a factor is individuality, and how true is the old proverb that one man's meat is another man's poison. And I humbly think that if some of our vociferous propagandists would learn that lesson also it would be much better for the general peace.
CHAPTER XI NEARING THE END
There was no especial reason as far as I know for closing that last chapter, and commencing a new one, except that it was getting too long in my opinion. For the story I was telling was incomplete, I having gone off at an unexpected angle on the question of food supplies. However, I will now resume and say that the influx of work I mentioned lasted for a fortnight, during the whole of which time I can aver that, except on Sundays, I was never in bed after 3 a.m. or before 11 p.m., and that I was often so weary on coming home from the city with a load of moulding, that I would sit down on a chair in the shop and be unable to rise for half an hour. But as I would not allow myself to think about the future, or ask myself what was the good of it all, I was not unhappy, and I was able to take a good deal of pride in my work. And by the time the pressure slackened, I had settled that wretched summons, had paid my rates, and a few other immediate liabilities, besides being able to buy a few sorely needed articles of clothing for the family.
There was however no lightening of the old burden of debt, and in fact I realised that nothing short of a miracle would enable me to do that. For if I got all the work I craved for I should surely break down, while the utmost that I could earn would not do much more than pay the heavy current expenses of the shop. Had I been able to employ some help, it might have been better, but I don't know about that. I had to do my own errands—I could not delegate my buying in the city to anybody else, although it did entail such a heavy burden upon me physically. Meanwhile I paid cash for everything I had, though I did not pay anything of the bills already incurred.
In this connection I have an amusing recollection. The moulding merchant with whom I dealt was an elderly German in a large way of business, and I had always heard of him as a kindly old soul, but had never come into personal contact with him. Now, however, I owed him nearly £30, for which I had given a bill, and was constantly renewing it; and, consequently, although I dealt with the firm for all my mouldings, and paid cash, I dreaded meeting one of the principals, and indeed slank in and out of the premises like a thief. One day, however, I ran right into the old gentleman, who looked at me keenly and said, "Ach, Meesder Boollen, aindt id?" I humbly answered, "Yes, sir." "Yes, sir," he rather mockingly replied, "now I haf peen in pizness here in London for more as tirty year, andt I nefer ad a gustomer dot righdt me sooch nice ledders as you. But you tondt send me no money, hein? I likes to read dose ledders, dey vas very goot, but vy tondt you pay some money too, hein?"
I endeavoured to give him such reasons as I had, and he listened carefully, saying when I had done, "Ach so! Vell, you pay ven you can, undt tondt you go puying your mouldings someveres ellas mit your ready money. Ve all haf droubles, undt ve get over 'em. You get over yours somedime I hope, and den you pay your bill. Goodt efening." And he turned and went into his office, while I went on into the moulding shop with a warm feeling of gratitude to the kind old man, and a firm determination that he should not suffer loss through me if I could possibly help it.