And so, with sobs at intervals, she at length fell asleep.
The once wealthy merchant held a very modest position in the business house of Jefferson & Son. He was, in fact, but one of their book-keepers. He--the erstwhile employer of fifty clerks and five hundred workpeople--now sat on a high stool at a high desk and laboured at the books for a small salary. When a man has come down in the world with a sudden run he is generally to be had at a low figure, and Jefferson & Son bore the fact in mind when they engaged Mr Maybury. The hours (ten to four) were short, it is true, but Mr Maybury would have worked later willingly could he have thereby added to his earnings.
The other clerks at Jefferson & Son's were mainly young fellows between whom and Mr Maybury no great bond of fellowship could very well exist. He was left largely to himself, therefore, went out to his frugal mid-day meal alone, returned alone, and said very little to those about him from the time the office opened till its closing hour.
Harold Jefferson did not trouble himself with business more than he could help. He preferred the West End to the City. However, he put in a certain number of appearances per week, and whilst at the office treated Mr Maybury with respect, mingled with a slight but distinct air of patronage.
Such conversations as they held related, of course, entirely to the firm's business, and so it was with no little surprise that, on the day following Jim's arrival at No. 9, Mr Maybury received an invitation from Harold Jefferson. "I want to speak to you about one or two matters," ran the pencilled note which the office-boy handed to Dora's father, "so shall be glad if you will lunch with me at 1.30. I will be waiting for you at the front entrance at that hour."
It was, of course, as much a command as an invitation. At the appointed time Mr Maybury met young Mr Jefferson, who at once hailed a cab and drove his guest to a restaurant in the West End. It would not do at all (thought young Mr Jefferson) to be seen lunching with one of his clerks at a restaurant in the City.
"Now, Mr Maybury," said the host, when lunch was over and they had lit their cigars, "I have two things to say to you. One of them concerns your daughter--Miss Dora."
Mr Maybury inclined his head. He had not imagined that this invitation was the outcome of purely hospitable motives.
"I have been paying her attentions for some time," said the well-to-do young stockbroker, "and I propose, with your sanction, to ask her to marry me."
"You have my full consent to do so," said the ruined merchant, graciously.