The Call of the Town: A Tale of Literary Life

by J. A. Hammerton

"There's the 'Wings and Spur,' to be sure, but I am doubtful of its comfort."

"It's an inn, and that's enough for one who has wandered strange roads," and the bright earnestness of the novelist proved to Henry that he really meant to carry out this whim of his.

Nor did he fail to notice a strange elation of manner in Mr. P. for which he could not satisfactorily account.

The incident, however, was the matter of a moment, and the novelist went away as hurriedly as he entered after ascertaining the train by which Henry purposed travelling from St. Pancras, leaving the journalist with the uncomfortable sense of being party to some absurd freak.

His wits were not nimble enough, thus suddenly taxed, to see all sides of the project, and he swayed between the pleasant thought of visiting his old home in the company of one so distinguished as Adrian Grant, and the dubious fear of the impression which his humble relatives might make upon this polished man of the world. His father's doubtful h's sounded uncomfortably on the ear of his memory; the prospect of his toil-worn mother entertaining such a guest, if only for an occasional meal, seemed too unlikely a thing to contemplate. He turned again to his work with the wish that Adrian Grant might stay in London, or find some other rural retreat to suit his capricious taste.

But it was necessary to warn the folks at home, and to make the best of what might well prove an awkward business. So Henry wrote to his father that night, explaining that he was bringing a distinguished visitor to the village, and though he would reside at the inn, he would no doubt be a good deal at their house. This he did after having seriously debated with himself the idea of writing to his friend and framing a set of excuses or plausible reasons why he should not go. Henry's ingenuity was not equal to that.

All this explains why on a certain autumn afternoon the Post Office of Hampton Bagot, and indeed the whole of the village street, exhaled an air of expectancy. There were hurried traffickings between the shop of Edward John Charles, the "Wings and Spur," the butcher's, and sundry others. Perhaps the loudest note of warning that an event of unusual interest portended was struck by the bright red necktie which Edward John Charles had donned at the urgent request of his daughters. This was truly a matter for surprise, for while he had been seen occasionally on weekdays wearing a collar, the tie had always been a Sunday vanity. His clothes, too, were his Sunday best. His appearances at the door were frequent and short, with no pleasant play of the coat-tails; and his earnest questing glances towards the road from the station, which opened into the main street of the village some little distance east of the Post Office, were foolishly unjustified before the dinner hour, as there was no possibility of the visitors arriving until the late afternoon.

Customers at the Post Office were all condemned to a delightfully exaggerated account of the "lit'ry gent from Lunnon" who was to grace the village with his presence and suffuse Henry Charles with reflected glory, though it seemed a difficult thing to conceive the pride of Hampton as in need of glorifying. But the customers were as keen for Edward John's gossip as he to purvey it, and it is more than probable that several ounces of shag were bought that day by persons who stood in no immediate need of them, but were glad of an excuse for a chat with the postmaster. Even the snivelling Miffin shuffled across with such an excuse for a chat, and returned to tell his apprentice that he could see no reason for all this "'ow d'y' do."

"S'possin' there was a railway haccident! Stranger things 'ave 'appened, merk moi werds," said he, with a waggle of his forefinger in the direction of his junior, who, though much in use as an object for Miffin's addressing, seldom had the courage to comment upon his employer's opinions.

At the "Wings and Spur," as the afternoon wore on, there was also the unusual excitement of despatching a creaky old gig to the station to bring up the travellers, and Edward John must needs wander down to exchange opinions with his friend Mr. Jukes as the vehicle was being got ready.