The pamphlet was to be had gratis at the Company’s offices, Lincoln’s Inn Fields; it was forwarded free by post to all parts of England; it was made the subject of newspaper comment and private criticism, until, in absolute despair, Lord Kemms cursed the Protector, and Mr. Black, and all his own kindred, and, under the shades of his ancestral trees, vowed a vow that the next time he rushed into print he might be pilloried, and pelted with eggs, and bespattered with mud and dirt, as had been the case latterly.
But he stuck to his point; and, although right is not always might, in the hands even of a nobleman, still Lord Kemms may have been pronounced the victor, insomuch as he contrived to do the Protector a vast deal of injury; to shake the Company to its very foundation; to create an enormous amount of alarm amongst the shareholders; and to cause the directors much perplexity and annoyance.
After all, a company is very like a woman; once blown upon, its credit is worth but little from that time forth for ever. It may demean itself with the extremest propriety; under circumstances of temptation it may remain honest and fair dealing, it may struggle for a livelihood, and earn one in the properest manner possible; and yet, when all these things are placed to the credit side of the account, they shall not outweigh the damning fact that a shadow once fell over it; that it was “talked about;” that there were diversities of opinion as to its conduct; that there were doubts expressed as to its perfect and immaculate purity.
Thus, at any rate, affairs turned out with the Protector. By a curious feminine logic, ladies discovered that the quality of the Company’s bread was affected by the newspaper correspondence.
Heaven knows! perhaps the fair creatures were weary of waging an unprofitable war with their servants—those real chiefs of London households; perhaps the entreaties—very humble and servile—of Markby, round the corner, carried due weight with the so-called mistresses of town mansions and suburban villas; perhaps the “cash down” principles of the Company were too strict to suit the laxer views of people who had been accustomed to the greater freedom of a “six months’ run;” perhaps—but why go on multiplying suppositions, when the actual result is all which need be stated?—customers fell off in abundance; week after week a smaller quantity of bread required to be baked, a more limited supply of flour was demanded; till at length the directors began to look gloomily in each other’s faces, and inquire “what business was coming to.” The shares also decreased in value, and by the time another half year came round, things had begun to look, as Mr. Black declared, “very blue.”
As for Arthur Dudley, he had reluctantly renewed those bills, for which Mr. Black was, he considered, responsible, once again, and paid off the others out of the money raised on Berrie Down.
He did not, so he conceived, owe a sixpence in the world, and he had the property in Lincoln’s Inn, his furniture and his salary, but still things were “looking blue” with him also. When he came to cast up his year’s expenditure, he discovered a thousand pounds would nothing like see him through it.
He was an honest man, as I have said before, but he had gone on spending—spending—without a thought of how all this spending was to be provided for, until the gradual depreciation of the Protector’s shares roused him from his dream of security, and compelled him to look his position in the face.
Then he realised to himself for the first time, how much easier it is to be economical in the country than in London; how much less chance there is of a person living beyond his income amidst green fields than amongst bricks and mortar. At Berrie Down, he could have accounted for every sixpence; in town, all he could clearly determine was that the money had gone—where it was gone he might have defied a conjuror accurately to tell.
Cabs here; expenses there; a luncheon with so-and-so, a dinner with some one else; a picnic at Bushey; Heather’s visit to Hastings; fees to Dr. Chickton. It was but a guinea now, and ten pounds again, and half a sovereign on such a date; and yet, these items mounted up.