“N.B.—Coke supplied in your own sacks, on the most moderate terms.”
By the next delivery, Cradock got another letter, far more elegantly written, but not half so honest.
“Mr. Hearty Wibraham, having heard of Mr. Charles Newman from a mutual friend, Mr. Clinkers, of Hammersmith, presents his compliments to the former gentleman, and thinks it might be worth Mr. Newmanʼs while to call upon him, Mr. H. W., at six oʼclock this evening, supposing the post to do its duty, which it rarely does. Hearty Wibraham, No. 66, Aurea Themis Buildings, Notting Hill district. N.B.—The above is bonâ fide. References will be required. But perhaps they may be dispensed with.
“H. W.”
“Well,” said Cradock to Wena, shivering as he said it, for the cold was striking into him, “you see we are in request, my dear. Not that I have any high opinion of Mr. Hearty Wibraham; as a gentleman, I mean. But for all that he may be an honest man. And beggars—as you know, Wena, dear, when you sit up so prettily—beggars must not be choosers. Do you think you could walk so far, Wena? If you could, it would do you good, my beauty; and Iʼll see that you are not run over.”
Wena agreed, rather rashly, to go; for the London stones, to a country dog, are as bad as a mussel–bank to a bather; but she thought she might find some woodcocks—and so she did, at the game–shops, and some curlews which they sold for them—but her real object in going, was that she had made some nice acquaintances in the neighbourhood, whom she wanted to see again. She wouldnʼt speak to any low dog, for she meant to keep up the importance and grandeur of the Nowell family, but there were some dogs, heigho! they had such ways with them, and they were brushed so nicely, what could a poor little country dog do but fall in love with them?
Therefore Wena came after her master, and made believe not to notice them, but she lingered now and then at a scraper, and, when she snapped, her teeth had gloves on.
When Cradock and his little dog, after many a twist and turn, found Aurea Themis Buildings, the master rang at the sprightly door, newly grained and varnished. Being inducted by a young woman, with a most coquettish cap on, he told black Wena to wait outside, and she lay down upon the door–step.
Then he was shown into the “first–floor drawing–room,” according to arrangement, and requested to “take a seat, sir.” The smart maid, who carried a candle, lit the gas in a twinkling, but Cradock wondered why the coal–merchant had no coals in his fireplace.
Just when he had concluded, after a fit of shivering, that this defect was due perhaps to that extreme familiarity which breeds in a grocer contempt for figs, Mr. Wibraham came in, quite by accident, and was evidently amazed to see him.