A devout widow let religious rooms opposite the churchyard: they were
religious because tables were piled with theological tomes, and walls
were covered by black and white memorial cards, comforting texts, and
discomposing pictures of Biblical tragedies in yellow and scarlet which
helped to warm the house in chilly weather. Towards this dwelling George
made his way, knowing the importance of being respectable, although he
could not help feeling he had done nothing to deserve those pictures.
But presently he swung round, and went off in the opposite direction. An
idea had come to him: he remembered the Art Dyers.
That name described a married couple; not a business of giving a new
colour to old garments; but the vocation of bread baking, cake making,
and specialising in doughnuts. Arthur Dyer was the stingiest man in
Highfield; he gave away no crumbs of any kind; had any one asked a stone
of him, he would have refused it, but would assuredly have put that
stone into his oven and baked it, hoping to see some gold run out. He
went to church once a week, no entrance fee being demanded, and always
put two fingers into the offertory bag, but whether he put anything else
was doubtful. He was also Robert's employer. Mrs. Dyer had learnt in
the school of her husband until she was able to give him lectures in
economy; and in times past she had implored George, out of his charity,
to drive the wolf from their door by finding her a lodger.
"She will ask a stiff price, and I shall get nothing to eat except bread
puddings," he muttered, "but the game will be worth starvation."
George might also have remarked with poetic melancholy he had lived to
receive his warmest welcome in a lodging house, when Mrs. Dyer had taken
him in, showed him a bed, certain to be well aired as it stood above the
oven, and promised to be much more than an ordinary mother in her
attentions. The rooms appeared somewhat barren, but the air was
excellent, being impregnated with an odour of hot fat which was a dinner
in itself, and might very possibly be charged as one.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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