The Town Traveller | Page 7

the joke nor resented the name; she was
listening with a preoccupied air.
"You'll never find him," said Mrs. Bubb, shaking her head.
"Don't be so sure of that. I shan't lose sight of this man Quodling. It's
the strangest likeness I ever saw, and I shan't be satisfied till I've got to
know if he has any connexion with the name of Clover. It ain't easy to
get at, but I'll manage it somehow. Now, if I had Polly to help me--I
mean Miss Sparkes--"
With a muttering of impatience the girl rose; in the same moment she
drew from her belt a gold watch, and deliberately consulted it.
Observing this Mrs. Bubb looked towards Mr. Gammon, who, also
observant, returned the glance.
"I shan't want dinner," Polly remarked in an off-hand way as she moved
towards the door.
"Going to see Mrs. Clover?" Gammon inquired.
"I'm sick of going there. It's always the same talk."
"Wait till your 'usband runs away from you and stays away for five
years," said Mrs. Bubb with a renewal of anger, "and then see what you
find to talk about."
Polly laughed and went away humming.
"If it wasn't that I feel afraid for her," continued Mrs. Bubb in a lower
voice, "I'd give that young woman notice to quit. Her cheek's getting
past everything. Did you see her gold watch and chain?"
"Yes, I did; where does it come from?"
"That's more than I can tell you, Mr. Gammon. I don't want to think ill
of the girl, but there's jolly queer goin's-on. And she's so brazen about it!
I don't know what to think."
Gammon knitted his brows and gazed round the kitchen.
"I think Polly's straight," he observed at length. "I don't seem to notice
anything wrong with her except her cheek and temper. She'll have to be
taken down a peg one of these days, but I don't envy the man that'll
have the job. It won't be me, for certain," he added with a laugh.
Moggie came into the room, bringing a telegram.

"For me?" said Gammon. "Just what I expected." Reading, he
broadened his visage into a grin of infinite satisfaction. "'Please explain
absence. Hope nothing wrong.' How kind of them, ain't it! Yesterday
they chucked me; now they're polite. Reply-paid too; very considerate.
They shall have their reply."
He laid the blank form on the table and wrote upon it in pencil, every
letter beautifully shaped in a first-rate commercial hand:
"Go to Bath and get your heads shaved." "You ain't a-goin' to send
that!" exclaimed Mrs. Bubb, when he had held the message to her for
perusal.
"It'll do them good. They're like Polly--want taking down a peg."
Moggie ran off with the paper to the waiting boy, and Mr. Gammon
laughed for five minutes uproariously.
"Would you like a little bull-pup, Mrs. Bubb? he asked at length.
"Not me, Mr. Gammon. I've enough pups of my own, thank you all the
same."

CHAPTER III
THE CHINA SHOP

Mr. Gammon took his way down Kennington Road, walking at a
leisurely pace, smiting his leg with his doubled dog-whip, and looking
about him with his usual wideawake, contented air. He had in
perfection the art of living for the moment, no art in his case, but a
natural characteristic, for which it never occurred to him to be grateful.
Indeed, it is a common characteristic in the world to which Mr.
Gammon belonged. He and his like take what the heavens send them,
grumbling or rejoicing, but never reflecting upon their place in the sum
of things. To Mr. Gammon life was a wonderfully simple matter. He
had his worries and his desires, but so long as he suffered neither from
headache nor stomach-ache, these things interfered not at all with his
enjoyment of a fine morning.
He was in no hurry to make for Dulwich; as he walked along his
thoughts began to turn in a different direction, and on reaching the end

of Upper Kennington Lane he settled the matter by striking towards
Vauxhall Station. A short railway journey and another pleasant saunter
brought him to a street off Battersea Park Road, and to a china shop,
over which stood the name of Clover.
In the window hung a card with an inscription in bold letters: "Glass,
china, and every kind of fashionable ornament for the table for hire on
moderate terms." Mr. Gammon read this with an appreciative smile,
which. accompanied by a nod, became a greeting to Mrs. Clover, who
was aware of him from within the shop. He entered.
"How does it go?"
"Two teas and a supper yesterday. A wedding breakfast this morning."
"Bravo! What did I tell you? You'll want a bigger place before the end
of the