The Grim Smile of the Five Towns | Page 6

But he
received no praise for it. He had only done what every man in his
position ought to do. If Horace had failed for ten times the sum that his
debts actually did amount to, and then paid two shillings in the pound
instead of twenty, he would have made a stir in the world and been
looked up to as no ordinary man of business.
Having settled his affairs in this humdrum, idiotic manner, Horace took
a third-class return to Llandudno. Sidney and Ella were staying at the
hydro with the strange Welsh name, and he found Sidney lolling on the
sunshiny beach in front of the hydro discoursing on the banjo to
himself. When asked where his wife was, Sidney replied that she was
lying down, and was obliged to rest as much as possible.
Horace, ashamed to trouble this domestic idyl, related his misfortunes
as airily as he could.
And Sidney said he was awfully sorry, and had no notion how matters

stood, and could he do anything for Horace? If so, Horace might--
'No,' said Horace. 'I'm all right. I've very fortunately got an excellent
place as manager in a big new manufactory in Germany.' (This is how
we deal with German competition in the Five Towns.)
'Germany?' cried Sidney.
'Yes,' said Horace; 'and I start the day after tomorrow.'
'Well,' said Sidney, 'at any rate you'll stay the night.'
'Thanks,' said Horace, 'you're very kind. I will.'
So they went into the hydro together, Sidney caressing his wonderful
new pearl-inlaid banjo; and Horace talked in low tones to Ella as she
lay on the sofa. He convinced Ella that his departure to Germany was
the one thing he had desired all his life, because it was not good that
Ella should be startled, shocked, or grieved.
They dined well.
But in the night Sidney had a recurrence of his old illness--a bad attack;
and Horace sat up through the dark hours, fetched the doctor, and
bought things at the chemist's. Towards morning Sidney was better.
And Horace, standing near the bed, gazed at his stepbrother and tried in
his stupid way to read the secrets beneath that curly hair. But he had no
success. He caught himself calculating how much Sidney had cost him,
at periods of his career when he could ill spare money; and, having
caught himself, he was angry with himself for such baseness. At eight
o'clock he ventured to knock at Ella's door and explain to her that
Sidney had not been quite well. She had passed a peaceful night, for he
had, of course, refrained from disturbing her.
He was not quite sure whether Sidney had meant him to stay at the
hydro as his guest, so he demanded a bill, paid it, said good-bye, and
left for Bonn-on-the-Rhine. He was very exhausted and sleepy. Happily
the third-class carriages on the London & North-Western are pretty
comfortable. Between Chester and Crewe he had quite a doze, and
dreamed that he had married Ella after all, and that her twenty thousand
pounds had put the earthenware business on a footing of magnificent
and splendid security.

V
A few months later Horace's house and garden at Toft End were put up
to auction by arrangement with his mortgagee and his trade- creditors.

And Sidney was struck with the idea of buying the place. The
impression was that it would go cheap. Sidney said it would be a pity to
let the abode pass out of the family. Ella said that the idea of buying it
was a charming one, because in the garden it was that she had first met
her Sidney. So the place was duly bought, and Sidney and Ella went to
live there.
Several years elapsed.
Then one day little Horace was informed that his uncle Horace, whom
he had never seen, was coming to the house on a visit, and that he must
be a good boy, and polite to his uncle, and all the usual sort of thing.
And in effect Horace the elder did arrive in the afternoon. He found no
one to meet him at the station, or at the garden gate of the pleasaunce
that had once been his, or even at the front door. A pert parlour-maid
told him that her master and mistress were upstairs in the nursery, and
that he was requested to go up. And he went up, and to be sure Sidney
met him at the top of the stairs, banjo in hand, cigarette in mouth,
smiling, easy and elegant as usual--not a trace of physical weakness in
his face or form. And Horace was jocularly ushered into the nursery
and introduced to his nephew. Ella had changed. She was no longer
slim, and no longer gay and serious