Dariel: A Romance of SurreyBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
General
Dariel: A Romance of Surrey
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Surrey (England) -- Fiction
It is a righteous thing that men of such achievements should have their
reward, where it is sweetest. Fame they may never get, for that is all a
fluke; gold they scarcely ever gain, because they are no grubbers; love
they cannot stop to grasp, and see but savage frames of it; rank they
laugh at, having found it the chief delight of black boys; but to get
his grog for glory, and his victuals for victory, is the utmost any
English pioneer can hope of England.
"Cranleigh, you can go," said Strogue, for his manners were not perfect;
"you are involved in this little shindy, and you want to know all about
it. These thieves shut shop at one o'clock on a Saturday, some one told
me. But if you will come back by two, I shall have set this rib by then,
and have rump-steak and oysters. Join me, without any ceremony. I owe
you a debt, and you shall have it."
I had seen too many strange things now to be surprised at anything, as I
might have been six months ago; and it was plain that this companion of
the hateful Hafer meant to do me some good turn at a private
opportunity. So I promised to return by two o'clock, and hurried to
Stoneman's business place, avoiding the crowd that still was yelling at
every approach to the House of Mammon. "Bless you, sir; it is nothing at
all compared to what it was yesterday. Ah, that was something like a
row!" a big policeman told me; "there was fifty taken to hospital, and
the barriers snapped like hurdles. Why, there ain't been half-a-dozen
ribs to-day. You can't call that no panic."
Neither did I find any panic at Jackson Stoneman's offices. A stolid old
clerk was putting things away, and evidently anxious to get home to
early dinner. He told me that his principal had been disappointed at not
meeting me, and concluded (as the train had been in long enough) that
something had occurred to stop me, and so had departed on his own
account. When I asked how things had gone that morning, old Peppersall
eyed me with some indignation, as if it were impossible for anything to
go wrong with a firm so stable and majestic. "Well, how did the senior
partner look?" I asked; and Peppersall replied: "He was a bit put out
about a sixpence that rolled off a desk in room No. 8, till it turned up
under the wainscoting."
"You'll do," I said rather rudely, for this rebuff was not too
courteous, and he stared at me as if there could be any doubt about his
doing. "That is the sort of fellow for a business-man, instead of any
new young manager"--was my reflection, as I strode with good heart
towards the rump-steak and oysters.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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