Of course, Aunt Marian and her husband had been asked to Mary's wedding,
but they had sent excuses with a nice little set of silver apostle
spoons, and it was feared that nothing more was to be looked for. However, on Mary's birthday her aunt had written a most affectionate
letter, enclosing a cheque for a hundred pounds from 'Robert' and
herself, and ever since the receipt of the money the Darnells had
discussed the question of its judicious disposal. Mrs. Darnell had
wished to invest the whole sum in Government securities, but Mr. Darnell
had pointed out that the rate of interest was absurdly low, and after a
good deal of talk he had persuaded his wife to put ninety pounds of the
money in a safe mine, which was paying five per cent. This was very
well, but the remaining ten pounds, which Mrs. Darnell had insisted on
reserving, gave rise to legends and discourses as interminable as the
disputes of the schools. At first Mr. Darnell had proposed that they should furnish the 'spare'
room. There were four bedrooms in the house: their own room, the small
one for the servant, and two others overlooking the garden, one of which
had been used for storing boxes, ends of rope, and odd numbers of 'Quiet
Days' and 'Sunday Evenings,' besides some worn suits belonging to Mr.
Darnell which had been carefully wrapped up and laid by, as he scarcely
knew what to do with them. The other room was frankly waste and vacant,
and one Saturday afternoon, as he was coming home in the 'bus, and while
he revolved that difficult question of the ten pounds, the unseemly
emptiness of the spare room suddenly came into his mind, and he glowed
with the idea that now, thanks to Aunt Marian, it could be furnished. He
was busied with this delightful thought all the way home, but when he
let himself in, he said nothing to his wife, since he felt that his idea
must be matured. He told Mrs. Darnell that, having important business,
he was obliged to go out again directly, but that he should be back
without fail for tea at half-past six; and Mary, on her side, was not
sorry to be alone, as she was a little behindhand with the household
books. The fact was, that Darnell, full of the design of furnishing the
spare bedroom, wished to consult his friend Wilson, who lived at
Fulham, and had often given him judicious advice as to the laying out of
money to the very best advantage. Wilson was connected with the Bordeaux
wine trade, and Darnell's only anxiety was lest he should not be at
home. However, it was all right; Darnell took a tram along the Goldhawk Road,
and walked the rest of the way, and was delighted to see Wilson in the
front garden of his house, busy amongst his flower-beds. 'Haven't seen you for an age,' he said cheerily, when he heard Darnell's
hand on the gate; 'come in. Oh, I forgot,' he added, as Darnell still
fumbled with the handle, and vainly attempted to enter. 'Of course you
can't get in; I haven't shown it you.' It was a hot day in June, and Wilson appeared in a costume which he had
put on in haste as soon as he arrived from the City. He wore a straw hat
with a neat pugaree protecting the back of his neck, and his dress was a
Norfolk jacket and knickers in heather mixture. 'See,' he said, as he let Darnell in; 'see the dodge. You don't _turn_
the handle at all. First of all push hard, and then pull. It's a trick
of my own, and I shall have it patented. You see, it keeps undesirable
characters at a distance--such a great thing in the suburbs. I feel I
can leave Mrs. Wilson alone now; and, formerly, you have no idea how she
used to be pestered.' 'But how about visitors?' said Darnell. 'How do they get in?' 'Oh, we put them up to it. Besides,' he said vaguely, 'there is sure to
be somebody looking out. Mrs. Wilson is nearly always at the window. She's out now; gone to call on some friends. The Bennetts' At Home day,
I think it is. This is the first Saturday, isn't it? You know J. W.
Bennett, don't you? Ah, he's in the House; doing very well, I believe. He put me on to a very good thing the other day.' 'But, I say,' said Wilson, as they turned and strolled towards the front
door, 'what do you wear those black things for? You look hot. Look at
me. Well, I've been gardening, you know, but I feel as cool as a
cucumber. I dare say you don't know where to get these things? Very few
men do. Where do you suppose I got 'em?' 'In the West End, I suppose,' said Darnell, wishing to be polite. 'Yes, that's what everybody says. And it is a good cut. Well, I'll tell
you, but you needn't pass it on to everybody. I got the tip from
Jameson--you know him, "Jim-Jams," in the China trade, 39 Eastbrook--and
he said he didn't want everybody in the City to know about it. But just
go to Jennings, in Old Wall, and mention my name, and you'll be all
right. And what d'you think they cost?' 'I haven't a notion,' said Darnell, who had never bought such a suit in
his life. 'Well, have a guess.' Darnell regarded Wilson gravely. The jacket hung about his body like a sack, the knickerbockers drooped
lamentably over his calves, and in prominent positions the bloom of the
heather seemed about to fade and disappear. 'Three pounds, I suppose, at least,' he said at length. 'Well, I asked Dench, in our place, the other day, and he guessed four
ten, and his father's got something to do with a big business in Conduit
Street. But I only gave thirty-five and six. To measure? Of course; look
at the cut, man.' Darnell was astonished at so low a price. 'And, by the way,' Wilson went on, pointing to his new brown boots, 'you
know where to go for shoe-leather? Oh, I thought everybody was up to
that! There's only one place. "Mr. Bill," in Gunning Street,--nine and
six.' They were walking round and round the garden, and Wilson pointed out the
flowers in the beds and borders. There were hardly any blossoms, but
everything was neatly arranged. 'Here are the tuberous-rooted Glasgownias,' he said, showing a rigid row
of stunted plants; 'those are Squintaceæ; this is a new introduction,
Moldavia Semperflorida Andersonii; and this is Prattsia.' 'When do they come out?' said Darnell. 'Most of them in the end of August or beginning of September,' said
Wilson briefly. He was slightly annoyed with himself for having talked
so much about his plants, since he saw that Darnell cared nothing for
flowers; and, indeed, the visitor could hardly dissemble vague
recollections that came to him; thoughts of an old, wild garden, full of
odours, beneath grey walls, of the fragrance of the meadowsweet beside
the brook. 'I wanted to consult you about some furniture,' Darnell said at last. 'You know we've got a spare room, and I'm thinking of putting a few
things into it. I haven't exactly made up my mind, but I thought you
might advise me.' 'Come into my den,' said Wilson. 'No; this way, by the back'; and he
showed Darnell another ingenious arrangement at the side door whereby a
violent high-toned bell was set pealing in the house if one did but
touch the latch.