It was satisfactory to see the shop crowded, but he wished the deportment had been of a more careful nature. Some called him Richards, quite shortly; a porter, for whom it had been his painful duty to obtain three days’ suspension, referred to him more familiarly; and the retired inspector found, as many have discovered, that few of us in London, however important, escape a nickname. A few in sportive mood endeavoured to confuse him over the coins tendered, and when he had to beg one to go out and obtain some small silver for a sovereign, the messenger prolonged absence to such an extent that Mr. Richards became seriously alarmed, refusing to consider the bets offered concerning the possibility of the man never being heard of again. Temper was exhibited when the messenger returned with eighty threepenny-pieces, obtained from a friend connected with a chapel; and when it was pointed out that folk had a prejudice against accepting these, prompt answer came to the effect that in future Richards had better run errands for himself. A mouth-organ started a tune in a corner, and a porter solicited the favour of a labeller’s hand for a dance. “I’m not going to have that noise.” They explained that it was not noise, but music. “Whatever it is, I’m not going to have it. Put a stop to it at once!” “Look here, old man, you’re out of uniform now. None of your gold-braid behaviour, if you please. That’s gone and done with. All change is the motto.” “But,” he pleaded, “I don’t want to be a nuisance to my neighbours.” “You always have been.” They gave up, with reluctance, the idea of frivolous entertainment, and went on to the discussion of political matters. Richards had prided himself on the definite nature of his opinions concerning affairs of the nation, and even intimate colleagues rarely ventured to disagree; he reminded himself now that a shopkeeper had to be extremely careful to show impartiality, and to be cautious not to give offence. Consequently he found that many cherished views had to go; appealed to when the debate became warm, he said there was a good deal to be said on both sides; you found good and bad in everybody; seemed to him you might say in general of politicians that they were six of one and half-dozen of the other. In preparing to go, the customers declared they would not give a brass button for a man who was unable to make up his mind. “Look in again soon,” he said, with a determined effort at cordiality. “Come to-morrow evening, if you’re doing nothing else. Always glad to see you. No friends like the old ones.” He relaxed the usual attitude towards his daughter, and said that if she felt certain hers was a case of genuine affection, and not a mere idle fancy, he had no objection to the young man looking in any evening, every evening in fact, at about half-past six. Harriet promised to convey the permission, although she could not be sure that Arthur would take advantage of it.