All this while Willy was busy with his shop. He had taken a whole house, and at first he had thought of letting a room, but for many reasons this scheme had to be abandoned. He did not know who might take the room. “Who knows--perhaps one of my own friends, a member of my club, for instance?” Then it would give the missus a lot of bother and worry, and she had all she could do in looking after the shop. To make a thing a success you must think of nothing else. It was a pity, but it wasn't to be thought of. Otherwise he seemed fairly well satisfied. There was a back door leading on to a back lane, in turn leading on to a back street, so with his latch-key he could pop in and out unobserved. All his books and papers in the drawing-room, the ledger, the day-book, the cash-book all ready, all to hand, so that after dinner, when he had smoked his pipe, he could go to work. Frank alone was in the secret. And how the young men enjoyed going to Brighton together. Frank worried Willy, who ran up and down stairs collecting his brown paper parcels, calling upon him to make haste. They set forth, Willy firm and methodical, his shoulders set well back: Frank loose and swaggering, over-dressed. How to get to the shop was a matter of anxious consideration. Willy was fearful of detection, and all sorts of stratagems were resorted to. Sometimes they would walk down to the Old Steyne, and suddenly double and get back through a medley of obscure streets, or else they would publicly walk up and down the King's Road, and when they thought no one was looking, hurry up one of the by-streets, and so gain their haven, the lane. Once they were in the lane they slackened speed, all danger was then over, and they laughed consumedly at their escapes, and delighted in telling each other how So-and-so and his daughter had been successfully avoided. Willy always had his latch-key ready; in a moment they were inside, and Frank would rush upstairs and throw himself into the armchair, crying: “Here we are!” One day they were at the window, when, to their amazement, the Manor House carriage pulled up before the shop, and they had only just time to dodge behind the curtain and escape Sally's eyes. Never before had the carriage arrived later than five o'clock, and now it was nearly six. What could be the meaning of this? Begging of Frank not to move, Willy went out on the landing and listened to his sisters talking to his wife. The girls--who were, of course, ignorant of their relationship to the shop-woman--liked Mrs. Brookes very much, and were fond of a chat with her; and, looking through the blinds, Frank saw the footman in all the splendour of six feet and grey livery carrying a small pot of flowers worth sixpence from the carriage to the shop.