“My dear Jemima,” he said, “I must be going at once. These people cannot have any business with me; and I have a good deal of work to do. You have received the other people; and you can manage these. But, Jemima, do not encourage them to come again!”
So saying, he moved towards the door; but Miss Jemima placed an agitated hand upon his arm.
“Thomas,” she cried, “what shall I say to them?”
“Tell them I am obliged to go out. Do you think it would be right to keep my poor people waiting for their boots and shoes, while I spent the time in idle ceremony?”
Miss Jemima ceased to remonstrate, and her brother again moved towards the door. But, before he reached it, a servant appeared with the cards of Mr. and Mrs. Brownlow, who were by this time installed in the drawing-room. Miss Jemima took the cards, and “Cobbler” Horn made for the front-door.
“Not that way, Thomas!” she cried after him. “They’ll see you!”
“Cobbler” Horn looked around in surprise.
“Why not, my dear? They will thus perceive that I have really gone out.”
The next moment he was gone, and Miss Jemima was left to face the visitors with the best excuses she could frame.
The question of returning the numerous calls they had received occasioned much perplexity to Miss Jemima’s mind. Nothing would induce her brother to accompany her on any expedition of the kind. While, therefore, in some cases, she was able to go by herself, in others she was obliged to refrain from going altogether, and, as a matter of course, offence was given. The natural consequence was that the number of callers rapidly diminished, and “the Golden Shoemaker’s” reputation for eccentricity was thoroughly established.