The House of Cobwebs and Other StoriesGissing, George
General
The House of Cobwebs and Other Stories
Gissing, George
Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Short stories
He sat on a stool in Mr. Chadwick's office, a clerk at a trifling salary.
Everything, his father reminded him, must have a beginning; let him work
well and his progress would be rapid. Two years passed and he was in much
the same position; his salary had increased by one half, but his work
remained the same, mechanical, dreary, hateful to him in its monotony.
Meanwhile his father's venture in the new premises had led to great
embarrassments; business did not thrive; the day came when Mr. Humplebee,
trembling and shamefaced, felt himself drawn to beg help of his son's
so-called benefactor. He came away from the interview with empty hands.
Worse than that, he had heard things about Harry which darkened his mind
with a new anxiety.
'I greatly fear,' said Mr. Chadwick, 'that your son must seek a place in
some other office. It's a painful thing; I wish I could have kept him; but
the fact of the matter is that he shows utter incapacity. I have no fault
to find with him otherwise; a good lad; in a smaller place of business he
might do well enough. But he's altogether below the mark in an office such
as _mine_. Don't distress yourself, Mr. Humplebee, I beg, I shall make it
my care to inquire for suitable openings; you shall hear from me--you shall
hear from me. Pray consider that your son is under notice to leave this day
month. As for the--other matter of which you spoke, I can only repeat that
the truest kindness is only to refuse assistance. I assure you it is. The
circumstances forbid it. Clearly, what you have to do is to call together
your creditors, and arrive at an understanding. It is my principle never to
try to prop up a hopeless concern such as yours evidently is. Good day to
you, Mr. Humplebee; good day.'
A year later several things had happened. Mr. Humplebee was dead; his
penniless widow had gone to live in another town on the charity of poor
relatives, and Harry Humplebee sat in another office, drawing the salary at
which he had begun under Mr. Chadwick, his home a wretched bedroom in the
house of working-folk.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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