The Ffolliots of Redmarley | Page 5

as to politics.
One day he asked his aunt when they would go again.
"I don't fancy we shall go much now," she replied; "most of my friends
have left. It's all different now up at the 'Manshun,' with a young missus
and a new housekeeper; though they seem pleased enough about it in
the village; a well-spoken, nice-looking young lady they says she is,
but I shan't go there no more. They don't know me and I don't know
them, and there we'll have to leave it."
And there it was left.
Redmarley would probably have faded altogether from Eloquent's mind,
but for something that occurred to give it a new interest in his eyes.
The summer that he was seven, he was sent to the Grammar School. He
came home every day directly after morning lessons, for he was as yet
considered too small to take part in the games which were at that time
but slightly supervised.
One day he returned to find a victoria and pair standing at the shop
door, coachman on the box, footman standing on the pavement. This
was unusual. Such an equipage must, he felt, belong to some member
of the dangerously seductive "upper classes" his dada warned him
against so often. The class that some day would want him. The class he
was to keep at arm's length till he was safely "in."
The shop door was open, and Eloquent looked in. Dada, himself, was
serving a customer; moreover, he was looking particularly brisk and
pleased.
Eloquent crept into the shop cautiously. None noticed him. The four
shopmen were serving other customers, and they all happened to be at
the counter on the right-hand side.

It was a long shop with two counters that stretched its entire length, and
was rather dark and close as a rule, but to-day there was bright sunshine
outside. It shone through the big plate-glass windows, the glass door
stood open, and somehow the shop looked gay. Dada had the left-hand
counter all to himself.
Eloquent had never before seen anyone in the least like this customer,
who, with slender hands, sat turning over little ready-made suits, boy's
suits, and feeling the stuff to see if it were strong; she had taken off one
of her long white gloves, and it lay beside the suits.
Eloquent gazed and gazed, and edged up the side of the counter
towards her. Had he possessed eyes for anybody else he would have
observed that the four assistants were staring also, and that his father,
even, seemed very much absorbed by this particular purchaser.
And, after all, why?
She was just a tall, quite young woman, very simply dressed in white.
But she was beautiful.
Not pretty; beautiful in a large, luminous, quite intelligible way.
It was all there, the gracious sovereignty of feature, colouring, above all,
expression--that governs men.
Little Eloquent knew it and came edging up the shop, drawn irresistibly
as by some powerful magnetic force.
The young shopmen knew it, and neglected their patrons as much as
they dared to stare at her.
Mr Gallup knew it, and stood rubbing his hands and thoroughly
enjoying the good moment.
Those other customers knew it, and although the inattention of the
young shopmen annoyed them, they sat well sideways in their chairs
that they, too, might take a peep at the lady without rudely turning

round.
The only person in the shop who appeared to know nothing about it
was the lady herself. She bent her lovely head over the little suits and
pondered, murmuring:
"I do wish I knew which they'd like best, a Norfolk jacket, or a jacket
and waistcoat. Can you remember which you liked best?" she asked,
suddenly lifting large, earnest eyes to Mr Gallup's flushed and cheerful
countenance.
"Really, madam," said Mr Gallup, rather taken aback at the very
personal turn the subject had taken, "I shouldn't think it matters in the
least. Both are equally suitable."
At that moment, the lady caught sight of Eloquent edging, edging up
the side of the counter, ever nearer to this astonishing vision.
"Here's somebody who can tell us," she exclaimed. "I'll explain to
him. . . . I'm buying suits for three little boys--Sunday suits, for church
and Sunday school, you know--I want them plain and serviceable so
that by and bye they won't look funny for school--you know; well,
would they like coats and waistcoats, or a Norfolk--which do you
think?"
"Coats and waistcoats," said Eloquent promptly, his eyes still glued to
her face.
"Why?" asked the lady.
"Because you can take off your coat, and then you're in your
shirt-sleeves."
"But aren't you in your shirt-sleeves when you take off a Norfolk?"
"No," said Eloquent, "then you're in your shirt."
The lady laughed. Mr Gallup laughed.