Still, as he had further need of Heckett’s services, and as that worthy’s house was, for the present, the centre of some rather important operations, he thought it just as well to investigate the matter at once. If Miss Gertie was in the habit of listening to conversations and reporting them to customers, the sooner Miss Gertie had a little change of air and scene the better.
CHAPTER XXV.
GEORGE HAS ‘THE STRAIGHT TIP.’
George had got on capitally in his situation. He found the Work remarkably easy, the salary was paid regularly, and he was earning the sweet bread of independence—the first he had ever tasted in his life.
He had some vague idea that he wouldn’t always be a city clerk. He didn’t believe that his father’s temper would last. Eventually, of course, he would be forgiven, the prodigal would return by special invitation, plus a Mrs. Prodigal, the fatted calf would be killed, and George, having proved that he was of some use in the world, and could earn money as well as spend it, would settle down to a country life. Bess’s father would have a nice little cottage somewhere, and everything would come right.
But George was not going to make the first advance. His father had cast him off, and cast off he would remain till he was sent for. He didn’t even let his father know his whereabouts or that he was married. Bess wrote once to her father to say she was in London and well and happy, and she hoped he would have faith in her and believe all she had done was for the best. But she gave no address, for George was determined to cut himself completely adrift from old associations. For the present he was Mr. George Smith, and nothing that concerned Mr. George Heritage concerned him.
Bess was very happy; she would have been happier still if she might have told her father all, looked up with unblushing cheeks in his dear old face and asked his blessing.
That was the one thing denied her. But George did his best to console her, and Bess believed the world did not hold his equal. It seemed sometimes that she was dreaming when her face was pressed close to his, and he kissed her and called her little wife. She dreaded to wake up and find it all unreal.
George was sure that had he chosen from the Belgravian conservatories of rare English girlhood he could not have improved upon his sweet wildflower of the Surrey hills. Bess was not only beautiful and amiable; she was the cleverest little woman in the world. It was a treat to watch her sew a button on. She no sooner took it between her rosy fingers and tickled it gently with the needle than, hey, presto! there it was as firm as a rock. And then her cooking. I should like to know what beautiful young lady of society could have come near Bess in the matter of pie-crust. No duchess in the land could ever hope to equal her haricot mutton; and I’m quite sure that the united efforts of the whole of the upper ten thousand would have failed to make a shilling go as far as Bess could make sixpence go.
One proof of her skill absolutely astonished her husband, he saw a very beautiful bonnet in a shop in Regent’s Street, and he told Bess he should like to buy it for her.
‘You dear old goose,’ said his wife; ‘why, you’d have to pay three guineas for it!’