I can do anything about those,” Thaddeus said. “The manse is furnished by the congregation.”
“Well, at the very least I can take them outside and give them a good airing,” she said, and then moved two stuffed chairs to the other side of the room.
Martha found the manse furnishings old-fashioned and fusty, but she was so delighted to be with her grandfather again that she resolved to make whatever domestic improvements she could and stay mum about any remaining shortcomings. In the meantime, she was determined to earn her keep and look after his every comfort.
“Of course I can make dumplings,” she said when Thaddeus brought it up to her over supper. “Chicken and dumplings it is. And shortcake for dessert, if you like, if I can find something nice to go with it. Is there a good market here?”
“We’ll find out tomorrow. I need to go to the bank, anyway. Then if you want to stock the larder, I can help carry the packages.” He reached into his pocket and counted out a handful of coins, then shoved them across the table to her. “This is yours, by the way.”
“Mine? You mean for housekeeping?” She was taken aback by what a small pile it was. She would have to be very careful indeed to stretch this over a whole week. Maybe a chicken dinner wasn’t possible after all.
“No. I’ll give you the housekeeping money after I go to the bank. This is yours, personally. It’s from a wedding. Wedding money goes to the preacher’s wife, except in this case it goes to the preacher’s granddaughter.”
She was astonished. “Mine? Mine for whatever I want?”
“Yours for whatever you want,” he said.
And suddenly the pile of coins that had seemed so small a moment before became riches beyond belief. Martha had never had any money of her own, other than a few pennies given to her here and there for candy or ribbons. She scarcely knew what she could buy. She would take some time to think about it, she decided. It would be foolish to spend it just for the sake of spending it, when there might be something she truly wanted later. In the meantime, she could revel in the fact that she had it at all.
The next morning, after breakfast, Thaddeus fetched down his coat and gave it a thorough brushing, then carefully wiped the mud from his boots. He looked at Martha a little sheepishly. “I don’t want anyone to wonder what such a pretty girl is doing with such a seedy old coot,” he said.
She laughed. “Oh go on, you’re so handsome, everyone will think you’re my beau, of course.”
The sun shone down brightly as they walked into the heart of the bustling town. Cobourg’s prosperity had grown from the long wharves that formed a safe harbour for the ships and schooners that sailed across and along Lake Ontario, carrying passengers and freight of all descriptions, from the wheat that grew on the upland plains to timber drawn from the back country, as well as the output from the woollen mills and the town’s small manufactories. Tradespeople of all descriptions had found a good living in Cobourg, and an astounding collection of businesses maintained shopfronts on King Street, the main thoroughfare of the town. There were several grocers and provisioners, dry goods stores and tailors, and even a bookseller who offered a large selection of reading materials, both books and periodicals as well as stationery supplies.
But the temperament of Cobourg was really set by Victoria College. Founded by the Wesleyans as an unofficial seminary, the college’s activities spilled over into the town, and its debates, lectures, and celebrations were enthusiastically attended by local residents. The streets were often full of the young men from the college, who enlivened the otherwise staid demeanour of Cobourg with their lively pursuits. Martha found the bustle very different from the sleepy village atmosphere she was used to.
“How many people live in Cobourg?” she asked as they walked along.
“Oh, I should think maybe five thousand,” Thaddeus said. “But I’m not sure how many of them are students.”
Even so early in the morning, they encountered a few groups of boys who were running errands in town. As they walked by Axtell’s Bookstore, three young men spilled out in front of them onto the plank sidewalk. Thaddeus and Martha had to step aside into the street to avoid them. Rather than apologize, they stopped in the middle of the walk and looked Martha up and down in a very insolent way as she walked by. She responded with a stony indifference. Thaddeus scowled at them.
“You could sour milk with a look like that,” Martha remarked.
“They were very rude. They were staring at you.”
“Let them stare, I don’t care.” And then she squeezed his arm. “Don’t worry. If they get too bold, I’ll let them have it.”
They reached a rather imposing building with a small sign that announced the premises of the Northumberland and Durham Savings Bank.
“I won’t be long here,” Thaddeus said. “I just need to send off the collection money.”
She waited just inside the door, a little intimidated by the solemnity of the interior, although she supposed that a bank needed to impart a dignified atmosphere in order to reassure its clients. It was very quiet. She could hear the low murmur of voices and the scratching of pens, an occasional footstep and the ticking of a clock, but none of the sounds from the street outside seemed to penetrate into this sanctum of finance. The quiet was suddenly disturbed by her grandfather’s slightly raised voice.
“What do you mean they’re no good?”
She took a few steps forward. Even so, she couldn’t quite make out the clerk’s reply.
“I’m not sure what good that will do,” Thaddeus said. “This money came from my congregation. I can hardly go through the collection box and reject what they’ve offered. It would be as good as calling them thieves.”
Another almost inaudible response from the bank clerk, and then Thaddeus strode toward her, obviously exasperated.
Martha waited until they were outside before she asked what the problem was.
“Three of the banknotes were counterfeit,” he said. “The bank wouldn’t honour them. The clerk said there’s quite a lot of bad money around. Somebody’s been shoving. The constables know all about it, apparently, but there isn’t much anyone can do unless they catch someone in the act.”
“It was the notes? The Canadian notes that were no good?” Martha asked.
“Yes. Why?”
“It’s just that sometimes we’d get bad money at the hotel, but usually it would be American coins. You really had to watch the nickels.”
“Oh well, I’m not out too much. They weren’t big notes, just changemakers. The clerk showed me what was wrong with them, but honestly, I can’t stand and peer at the money people give. And what am I supposed to do if it’s no good? Hand it back and demand better?”
“No, I suppose not,” Martha said.
“Still, maybe we’d better forget about chicken for this week anyway. I don’t want to leave you short.”
“We can use the money you gave me, if you like. I don’t need anything right now.”
Thaddeus shook his head. “No. That’s yours. To get what you
