"Take a day. If, to-morrow, you do not present yourself in the workshop prepared for you, I shall tell Miss Messenger that you have refused her offer."
Harry walked away with a quickened pulse. So far he had been posturing only as a cabinet-maker. At the outset he had no intention of doing more than posture for a while, and then go back to civilized life with no more difference than that caused by the revelation of his parentage. As for doing work, or taking a wage, that was very, very far from his mind. Yet now he must either accept the place, with the pay, or he must stand confessed a humbug. There remained but one other way, which was a worse way than the other two. He might, that is to say, refuse the work without assigning any reason. He would then appear in the character of a lazy and worthless workman—an idle apprentice, indeed; one who would do no work while there was money in the locker for another day of sloth. With that face could he stand before Miss Kennedy, revealed in these—his true colors?
It was an excellent opportunity for flight. That occurred to him. But flight—and after that last talk with the woman whose voice, whose face, whose graciousness had so filled his head and inflamed his imagination.
He walked away, considering.
When a man is very much perplexed, he often does a great many little odd things. Thus, Harry began by looking into the office where his cousin sat.
Josephus' desk was in the warmest part of the room, near the fire—so much promotion he had received. He sat among half a dozen lads of seventeen or twenty years of age, who did the mechanical work of making entries in the books. This he did, too, and had done every day for forty years. Beside him stood a great iron safe, where the books were put away at night. The door was open. Harry looked in, caught the eye of his cousin, nodded encouragingly, and went on his way, his hands in his pockets.
When he came to Mrs. Bormalack's he went in there too, and found Lord Davenant anxiously waiting for the conduct of the case to be resumed, in order that he might put up his feet and take his morning nap.
"This is my last morning," Harry said. "As for your case, old boy, it is as complete as I can make it, and we had better send it in as soon as we can, unless you can find any more evidence."
"No—no," said his lordship, who found this familiarity a relief after the stately enjoyment of the title, "there will be no more evidence. Well, if there's nothing more to be done, Mr. Goslett, I think I will"—here he lifted his feet—"and if you see Clara Martha, tell her that—that——"
Here he fell asleep.