Hermitage; I've brought her with me to prevent mistakes. You may take her on my recommendation. Nobody in the neighborhood of Stepney wants a better recommendation than mine. One of Bunker's, they say, and they ask no more."
"What a beautiful, what an enviable reputation!" murmured his nephew. "Oh, that I were one of Bunker's!"
Mr. Bunker glared at him, but answered not; never, within his present experience, had he found himself at a loss to give indignation words. On occasion, he had been known to swear "into shudders" the immortal gods who heard him. To swear at this nephew, however, this careless, sniggering youth, who looked and talked like a "swell," would, he felt, be more than useless. The boy would only snigger more. He would have liked knocking him down, but there were obvious reasons why this was not to be seriously contemplated.
He turned to the girl who had come with him.
"Rebekah," he said with condescension, "you may speak up; I told your father I would stand by you, and I will."
"Do not, at least," said Angela, in her stateliest manner, "begin by making Miss Hermitage suppose she will want your support."
She saw before her a girl about two- or three-and-twenty years of age. She was short of stature and sturdy. Her complexion was dark, with black hair and dark eyes, and these were bright. A firm mouth and square chin gave her a pugnacious appearance. In fact, she had been fighting all her life, more desperately even than the other girls about her, because she was heavily handicapped by the awkwardness of her religion.
"Mr. Bunker," said this young person, who certainly did not look as if she wanted any backing up, "tells me you want a forewoman."
"You want a forewoman," echoed the agent, as if interpreting for her.
"Yes, I do," Angela replied. "I know, to begin with, all about your religious opinions."
"She knows," said the agent, standing between the two parties, as if retained for the interests of both – "she knows, already, your religious opinions."
"Very well, miss." Rebekah looked disappointed at losing a chance of expounding them. "Then, I can only say, I can never give way in the matter of truth."
"In truth," said the agent, "she's as obstinate as a pig."
"I do not expect it," replied Angela, feeling that the half-a-crown-an-hour man was really a stupendous nuisance.
"She does not expect it," echoed Mr. Bunker, turning to Rebekah. "What did I tell you? Now you see the effect of my recommendations."
"Take it off the wages," said Rebekah, with an obvious effort, which showed how vital was the importance of the pay. "Take it off the wages, if you like; and, of course, I can't expect to labor for five days and be paid for six; but on the Saturday, which is the Sabbath-day, I do no work therein, neither I, nor my man-servant, nor my maid-servant, nor my ox, nor my ass."
"Neither her man-servant, nor her maid-servant, nor her ox, nor her ass," repeated the agent solemnly.
"There is the Sunday, however," said Angela.
"What have you got to say about Sunday now?" asked Mr. Bunker, with a change of front.
"Of all the days that's in the week," interpolated the sprightly one, "I dearly love but one day – and that's the day – "
Rebekah, impatient of this frivolity, stopped it at once.
"I do as little as I can," she said, "on Sunday, because of the weaker brethren. The Sunday we keep as a holiday."
"Well – " Angela began rather to envy this young woman, who was a clear gainer of a whole day by her religion; "well, Miss Hermitage, will you come to me on trial? Thank you; we can settle about deductions afterward, if you please. And if you will come to-morrow – that is right. Now, if you please to take a turn with me, we will talk things over together; goodnight, Mr. Bunker."
She took the girl's arm and led her away, being anxious to get Bunker out of sight. The aspect of this agent annoyed and irritated her almost beyond endurance; so she left him with his nephew.
"One of Bunker's!" Harry repeated softly.
"You here!" growled the uncle, "dangling after a girl when you ought to be at work! How long, I should like to know, are we hard-working Stepney folk to be troubled with an idle, good-for-nothing vagabond? Eh, sir? How long? And don't suppose that I mean to do anything for you when your money is all gone. Do you hear, sir? do you hear?"
"I hear, my uncle!" As usual, the young man laughed; he sat upon the arm of a garden-seat, with his hands in his pockets, and laughed an insolent, exasperating laugh. Now, Mr. Bunker in all his life had never seen the least necessity or occasion for laughing at anything at all, far less at himself. Nor, hitherto, had any one dared to laugh at him.
"Sniggerin' peacock!" added Mr. Bunker fiercely, rattling a bunch of keys in his pocket.
Harry laughed again, with more abandon. This uncle of his, who regarded him with so much dislike, seemed a very humorous person.
"Connection by marriage," he said. "There is one question I have very much wished to put to you. When you traded me away, now three-and-twenty years ago, or thereabouts – you remember the circumstances, I dare say, better than I can be expected to do —what did you get for me?"
Then Bunker's color changed, his cheeks became quite white. Harry thought it was the effect of wrath, and went on.
"Half a crown an hour, of course, during the negotiations, which I dare say took a week – that we understand; but what else? Come, my uncle, what else did you get?"
It was too dark for the young man to perceive the full effect of this question – the sudden change of color escaped his notice; but he observed a strange and angry light in his uncle's eyes, and he saw that he opened his mouth once or twice as if to speak, but shut his lips again without saying a word; and Harry was greatly surprised to see his uncle presently turn on his heel and walk straight away.
"That question seems to be a facer; it must be repeated whenever the good old man becomes offensive. I wonder what he did get for me?"
As for Mr. Bunker, he retired to his own house in Beaumont Square, walking with quick steps and hanging head. He let himself in with his latch-key, and turned into his office, which, of course, was the first room of the ground-floor.
It was quite dark now, save for the faint light from the street-gas, but Mr. Bunker did not want any light.
He sat down and rested his face on his hands, with a heavy sigh. The house was empty, because his housekeeper and only servant was out.
He sat without moving for half an hour or so; then he lifted his head and looked about him – he had forgotten where he was and why he came there – and he shuddered.
Then he hastily lit a candle, and went upstairs to his own bedroom. The room had one piece of furniture, not always found in bedrooms; it was a good-sized fireproof safe, which stood in the corner. Mr. Bunker placed his candle on the safe, and stooping down began to grope about with his keys for the lock. It took some time to find the keyhole; when the safe was opened, it took longer to find the papers which he wanted, for these were at the very back of all. Presently, however, he lifted his head with a bundle in his hand.
Now, if we are obliged to account for everything, which ought not to be expected, and is more than one asks of scientific men, I should account for what followed
