John himself, though immersed in business which some of the ‘plain people’ have been used to look askance at, lived after the simple fashion of the straiter sect.
After his day’s work at the office, where as head clerk much responsibility lay on his shoulders, he would go straight home and employ his leisure on fine days in his garden, and on wet days in his library, for John was not only a book-collector, but also a reader.
One pipe of tobacco he allowed himself before going to bed on week days and two on ‘first-days,’ and flavoured his tobacco with a chapter of ‘George,’ as he styled in affectionate intimacy his favourite author (Mr. Meredith) on week-days, but a portion of Barclay’s ‘Apology’ on ‘first-day’ evenings.
One evening John was sitting reading as usual, when the maid-servant came in to say that Mr. Coody wished to have a few words with him. ‘Very well,’ replied her master, laying aside ‘George’ with a sigh, and wondering what business Bill might have on hand to come at such an untimely hour.
In came his friend as unceremoniously as ever, and, sitting himself down on the sofa, drew vigorously at his cheroot for a minute or two before entering upon the topic that had brought him thither.
‘Look here, John,’ he exclaimed all at once, ‘you’re a confidential cuss, I guess, and I’ve got a scheme on hand that will “scoop the boodle” if properly carried out; and what I want to know is, whether your people will take a hand in it or no. It’s a certain thing, and will go ahead like a runaway buggy anyway; but the less friction the better, so that if your people will grease the wheels a bit, so much the better for them and all consarned.’
‘Tell me precisely what it is,’ replied John cautiously, ‘then I may be able to offer an opinion; but, of course, I can’t say off-hand whether the firm will entertain the idea or not.’
‘Waal,’ replied Bill, ‘I guess you’re the firm pretty often, for your bosses are generally away huntin’ or shootin’ or foolin’ around somewhere; anyway, your advice is generally listened to, I guess. Waal, to come to business. I’m fixin’ up a new store on the most modern principles. I sell everything cheaper than anybody else anywhere in this little country of yours; any bloomin’ thing that’s asked for, why, it’s there, delivered free to any part of the United Kingdom. Everybody comes along—Noah’s Ark on a wet day ain’t in it for the pushin’ there’ll be at our doors once we get opened out—and, another thing, everybody gets made into an automatic shareholder; for profits have to lie till they reach £5, when each man, woman, and child gets a share given them, will they, nill they—and you bet, John, they will. I tell you, the thing’s fixed up, and is goin’ to give Old Quay shocks. Why, I’m buyin’ up here and there bankrupt stocks enough to bust the place with—pianners, hardware, bicycles, rose-trees, fam’ly Bibles, rat-traps—every taste will be suited, for I tell you cosmopolitanism ain’t in it with Bill Coody. I tell you I’ll be in a position to bust every single bicycle dealer in this little one-hoss place; every pianner dealer can shut up shop when I get started. Why, there won’t be a pitman in Northumberland who hasn’t got a demi-grand Eureka B. C. piano in his house in another three weeks’ time, and every colliery village will have its Bayreuth Festival with “Canny Dog Cappie” and “Weel may the keel row” tinklin’ away down each row.’
‘But think of the poor shopkeeper!’ John interrupted, aghast at this slaughter of the innocents.
‘Now, John,’ expostulated Bill, as one who reproves a child for foolishness, ‘it’s not “first-day,” and you ain’t “in meeting,” so stick to business, if you please. Waal, the thing’s got to go, as I’m sayin’, and the only question is, are your people goin’ to join in or no? If not, I bust their little donkey go-cart of Supply Stores which they set up a few years back in South Street “for the mutual encouragement of thrift and the supply of the best articles at first-hand cost” as the prospectus says, combinin’ philanthropy and five per cent, plus their commission on floatin’ the shop. Now, I know how much they have in it, your bosses. J. B. has 10,000 shares, and young T. he has 5,000 out of a total of 30,000, so they’re the largest shareholders in the concern, but Bill Coody has shares in it, too, John, he or his nominees. Likely you’ve noticed the shares have been jumpin’ up a bit lately and been wonderin’ what the jooce was up, eh?’