England -- Fiction; English fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, English
"And Jelf is thoroughly hospitable."
"The best and kindest fellow in the world!"
"They have invited me to spend Christmas week with them," pursued
Mr. Dwerrihouse, after a moment's pause.
"And you are coming?"
"I cannot tell. It must depend on the issue of this business
which I have in hand. You have heard perhaps that we are about to
construct a branch line from Blackwater to Stockbridge."
I explained that I had been for some months away from England, and
had therefore heard nothing of the contemplated improvement. Mr.
Dwerrihouse smiled complacently.
"It _will_ be an improvement," he said, "a great improvement.
Stockbridge is a flourishing town, and needs but a more direct
railway communication with the metropolis to become an important
centre of commerce. This branch was my own idea. I brought the project
before the board, and have myself superintended the execution of
it up to the present time."
"You are an East Anglian director, I presume?"
"My interest in the company," replied Mr. Dwerringhouse, "is
threefold. I am a director, I am a considerable shareholder, and,
as head of the firm of Dwerrihouse, Dwerrihouse & Craik, I am the
company's principal solicitor."
Loquacious, self-important, full of his pet project, and apparently
unable to talk on any other subject, Mr. Dwerrihouse then went
on to tell of the opposition he had encountered and the obstacles
he had overcome in the cause of the Stockbridge branch. I was
entertained with a multitude of local details and local grievances.
The rapacity of one squire, the impracticability of another, the
indignation of the rector whose glebe was threatened, the culpable
indifference of the Stockbridge townspeople, who could _not_
be brought to see that their most vital interests hinged upon a
junction with the Great East Anglian line; the spite of the local
newspaper, and the unheard-of difficulties attending the Common
question, were each and all laid before me with a circumstantiality
that possessed the deepest interest for my excellent fellow-traveller,
but none whatever for myself. From these, to my despair, he went on
to more intricate matters: to the approximate expenses of construction
per mile; to the estimates sent in by different contractors; to
the probable traffic returns of the new line; to the provisional
clauses of the new act as enumerated in Schedule D of the company's
last half-yearly report; and so on and on and on, till my head
ached and my attention flagged and my eyes kept closing in spite
of every effort that I made to keep them open. At length I was
roused by these words:
"Seventy-five thousand pounds, cash down."
"Seventy-five thousand pounds, cash down," I repeated, in the
liveliest tone I could assume. "That is a heavy sum."
"A heavy sum to carry here," replied Mr. Dwerrihouse, pointing
significantly to his breastpocket, "but a mere fraction of what
we shall ultimately have to pay."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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