Such being his reputation, it astonished no one on the Monday following the events recorded in the last chapter to see the shutters of the shop at the Watch-tower Gate up, and a rudely scrawled announcement, “This shop is closed.”
But what did cause astonishment was a subsequent announcement inscribed in print letters:—
“This establishment will reopen on Wednesday under entirely new management. Superior grub at greatly reduced prices. No more shoe-leather or flat swipes! Best tarts 1 penny each; ditto ginger-beer 1½ pence a bottle. Fresh fruit and pastry daily. Rally round the old shop!
“By Order.”
Speculation ran high as to who the enterprising new tradesman could be. Some said it was Mrs Wisdom. Others said one of the Penchurch shops was going to run it as a branch. Others suggested that some of the seniors had a hand in it. But the truth never once leaked out.
Our nine juniors played an artful part in that day’s business. They mingled with the crowd in front of the notice, and freely bandied about wild conjectures as to who the new manager or managers could be, at the same time hinting broadly that they intended to patronise the new concern.
“Tell you what,” said D’Arcy, “perhaps it’s the doctor wants to turn an honest penny. Don’t blame him either.”
“Perhaps it’s Rollitt,” suggested Cash, amid laughter. “What a game! He’ll go selling tarts by the pint and ginger-beer by the ounce. Whew! think of Rollitt’s ginger-beer.”
“I asked Bob if he knew who it was,” said Wally, “and he said, ‘No, he wished he did; he’d get something out of him for good-will.’”
“What’s that?” asked Ashby. “If he’d said bad temper, there might have been some of that going about.”