No Thoroughfare | Page 7

care, Mr.
Bintrey, and eight of them her confidentially acknowledged son! You
know the story, Mr. Bintrey, who but you, sir!" Mr. Wilding sobbed
and dried his eyes, without attempt at concealment, during these
remarks.
Mr. Bintrey enjoyed his comical port, and said, after rolling it in his
mouth: "I know the story."
"My late dear mother, Mr. Bintrey," pursued the wine-merchant, "had
been deeply deceived, and had cruelly suffered. But on that subject my
late dear mother's lips were for ever sealed. By whom deceived, or
under what circumstances, Heaven only knows. My late dear mother
never betrayed her betrayer."
"She had made up her mind," said Mr. Bintrey, again turning his wine
on his palate, "and she could hold her peace." An amused twinkle in his
eyes pretty plainly added--"A devilish deal better than YOU ever will!"

"'Honour,'" said Mr. Wilding, sobbing as he quoted from the
Commandments, "'thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long
in the land.' When I was in the Foundling, Mr. Bintrey, I was at such a
loss how to do it, that I apprehended my days would be short in the
land. But I afterwards came to honour my mother deeply, profoundly.
And I honour and revere her memory. For seven happy years, Mr.
Bintrey," pursued Wilding, still with the same innocent catching in his
breath, and the same unabashed tears, "did my excellent mother article
me to my predecessors in this business, Pebbleson Nephew. Her
affectionate forethought likewise apprenticed me to the Vintners'
Company, and made me in time a free Vintner, and--and--everything
else that the best of mothers could desire. When I came of age, she
bestowed her inherited share in this business upon me; it was her
money that afterwards bought out Pebbleson Nephew, and painted in
Wilding and Co.; it was she who left me everything she possessed, but
the mourning ring you wear. And yet, Mr. Bintrey," with a fresh burst
of honest affection, "she is no more. It is little over half a year since she
came into the Corner to read on that door-post with her own eyes,
WILDING AND CO., WINE MERCHANTS. And yet she is no more!"
"Sad. But the common lot, Mr. Wilding," observed Bintrey. "At some
time or other we must all be no more." He placed the forty-five year old
port-wine in the universal condition, with a relishing sigh.
"So now, Mr. Bintrey," pursued Wilding, putting away his pocket-
handkerchief, and smoothing his eyelids with his fingers, "now that I
can no longer show my love and honour for the dear parent to whom
my heart was mysteriously turned by Nature when she first spoke to me,
a strange lady, I sitting at our Sunday dinner-table in the Foundling, I
can at least show that I am not ashamed of having been a Foundling,
and that I, who never knew a father of my own, wish to be a father to
all in my employment. Therefore," continued Wilding, becoming
enthusiastic in his loquacity, "therefore, I want a thoroughly good
housekeeper to undertake this dwelling-house of Wilding and Co.,
Wine Merchants, Cripple Corner, so that I may restore in it some of the
old relations betwixt employer and employed! So that I may live in it
on the spot where my money is made! So that I may daily sit at the

head of the table at which the people in my employment eat together,
and may eat of the same roast and boiled, and drink of the same beer!
So that the people in my employment may lodge under the same roof
with me! So that we may one and all--I beg your pardon, Mr. Bintrey,
but that old singing in my head has suddenly come on, and I shall feel
obliged if you will lead me to the pump."
Alarmed by the excessive pinkness of his client, Mr. Bintrey lost not a
moment in leading him forth into the court-yard. It was easily done; for
the counting-house in which they talked together opened on to it, at one
side of the dwelling-house. There the attorney pumped with a will,
obedient to a sign from the client, and the client laved his head and face
with both hands, and took a hearty drink. After these remedies, he
declared himself much better.
"Don't let your good feelings excite you," said Bintrey, as they returned
to the counting-house, and Mr. Wilding dried himself on a jack-towel
behind an inner door.
"No, no. I won't," he returned, looking out of the towel. "I won't. I have
not been confused, have I?"
"Not at all. Perfectly clear."
"Where did I leave off, Mr. Bintrey?"
"Well, you left off--but I wouldn't excite myself, if I was you, by taking
it up again just yet."