The Adventures of a Three-Guinea Watch

by Talbot Baines Reed

  CHAPTER NINETEEN.

  HOW, AFTER MUCH CEREMONY, I FOUND MYSELF IN THE POCKET OF A GENIUS.

  Muggerbridge is a straggling, picturesque little midland village, withone principal street, an old church, a market-place, and a pound. Itspopulation, all told, does not number a thousand, the majority of whomare engaged in agriculture; its houses are for the most part old-fashioned and poor, though clean; and altogether its general characterand appearance combine to proclaim the village an unpretending Englishhamlet, with nothing whatever but its name to distinguish it from ahundred others like it.

  It was here I found myself duly installed in the window of the villagejeweller's--held out as a bait to the purses of Muggerbridge. Thecountryman who had purchased me was a big enough man in his own place,though very little had been made of him in the "Central Mart." He wasjeweller, silversmith, church warden, postmaster, and specialMuggerbridge correspondent to the London _Thunderbolt_ all in one here,and appeared to be aware of his accumulated dignities!

  It was his custom twice a year to visit London for the purpose ofreplenishing his stock. It was the common talk of the place that healways returned from such expeditions with prodigies of bargains, whichwent far to encourage the popular tradition as to the prodigal wealth ofthe metropolis. People who knew him in town, on the other hand, alwayslaughed at him, and were unkind enough to hint that he never by anychance bought an article at less than its full price, and often paid anextremely fanciful ransom for his purchases.

  The churchwarden and postmaster of Muggerbridge would have been veryindignant had such an insinuation ever reached his ears. It never did,happily, and the worthy man was consequently always well satisfied withhis purchases; which--whatever he gave for them--he always contrived tosell at a very respectable profit.

  It was with a view to this profit that I found myself looking out of MrArgent's window, in the High Street of Muggerbridge, with a ticket roundmy neck, conveying the (to me) very gratifying information that "thissuperb watch was to be disposed of for the moderate amount of L4 10shillings only," and a parenthesis below further indulged my vanity byvolunteering the information that I was worth L6. It _did_ occur to meto wonder why, if I was worth L6, Mr Argent should be such a donkey asto sell me for only three-quarters of that sum. Either he was a verybenevolent man, or he was in immediate want of L4 10 shillings, or hehad his doubts as to my alleged value. I somehow fancied the last wasthe true reason, and was half afraid he was right too.

  Well, I looked out of Mr Argent's windows for two months, and by thattime became acquainted with nearly all the inhabitants of Muggerbridge.

  On my first arrival I was an object of a good deal of curiosity andadmiration, for any change in a country shop window is an excitement,and when that change takes the form of a L6 "superb" watch offered forL4 10 shillings, it was no wonder the honest Muggerbridgians gaped in atme and read my label.

  But in a very little time familiarity had bred contempt, and I layalmost unheeded by the outside world. The grocer opposite, with histriumphal arch of jam-pots monopolised all the wonder, and most of theadmiration, and I had the mortification of seeing passers turn theirbacks on me, and step over the way to contemplate that vulgar structure.

  I had, however, one or two constant admirers. One of these was a youth,scarcely more than a boy, with a very pale, thoughtful face. He waspoorly dressed, but respectable. A book was generally tucked under hisarm, and very often I could see his lips moving, as if repeatingsomething to himself.

  He paid me more attention than anybody. Every time he passed the shophe halted and looked at me, as I thought, wistfully, and usuallyappeared relieved to find me still in my place.

  "George Reader's took a fancy to the new watch, I can see," I heard MrArgent say one day to his wife.

  He spoke, let me observe, in a very broad country dialect, which I donot feel equal to reproducing here.

  "Poor lad!" said Mrs Argent; "I dare say he'd like to have it in hispocket when he goes to college."

  "He is going, then?"

  "Yes, for certain; the clergyman says it would be a sin for a boy of hiscleverness not to go, and so I think."

  "Well, learning's a great thing; and when a gamekeeper's son does take afit of it, I suppose it's all right to humour it. But you and I, wife,can get on very well without it."

  "Speak for yourself," retorted Mrs Argent; "I wish you had half as muchin your head as that boy has got, that's all!"

  "And I suppose you wish you'd got the other half, eh? Stuff!"

  And after this little tiff the worthy couple were silent for a while.Presently Mrs Argent again spoke. "I wonder what they'll do about thechurch organ when George's gone?"

  "Ah! you may say so," said the husband, with a touch of importance inhis voice which became a churchwarden when speaking of church matters;"it'll be hard to fill his place there."

  "So it will. Did you stay after the service on Sunday?"

  "No; you know I had to go round to the curate's. Why?"

  "Just because if you'd heard him play you'd have been glued to yourchair, as I was. It was beautiful. I couldn't have got up from thatchair if I'd tried."

  "Good job you didn't try, if you were glued down, especially in yourSunday gown. I shouldn't care to have to buy many of them a month."

  "Now, John, you know I've not had a new gown for nearly a year."

  And then the talk took a departure over a range of topics to which Ineed not drag my unoffending reader. This short conversation sufficedto satisfy my curiosity in part as to the boy who was paying me suchconstant attention; and another event which shortly happened served tobring me into still closer acquaintance with George Reader. One daythere entered the shop a party consisting of half a dozen persons. Oneof them was a young man in the dress of a clergyman, and the others Iknew well by sight as respectable and respected villagers.

  "Good-morning, Mr Argent," said the curate, for the clerical gentlemanwas none other; "we've come to see you on a little matter of business."

  "Hope there's nothing wrong with the heating stoves in the church, sir,"said Mr Argent, with an anxious face, "I was always against them beingused at all."

  "The stoves are quite well, I believe," said the curate, smiling; "ourbusiness is of quite a different kind. We've come to make a purchase,in fact."

  Mr Argent's face brightened considerably, partly at the assurance as tothe salubrity of the gas-stoves and partly at the prospect of business.

  "What can I do for you, sir?" he said, no longer with his churchwarden'svoice, but as the Muggerbridge silversmith.

  "Well, we have been asked to select a small present to be given by thechoir and congregation of our church to George Reader, who, I supposeyou know, is going next week to college."

  "I have heard tell of it, sir," said Mr Argent, "and my wife and I wereonly wondering the other day what was to become of the music at thechurch when he's gone."

  "We don't like to think of it," said one of the party. "It would want agood one to take his place," said another.

  "We shall all miss him," said the curate; "and we are anxious before heleaves us to present him with some little token of our regard. We havekept the thing from you, Mr Argent, as of course we should have to cometo you to procure whatever we decided on getting, so your contributionto the gift will have to be some good advice on the matter we are stillundecided about--what to get."

  "I shall be very glad to help--have you decided--er--I mean--hasanything been said--that is--about what--"

  "About how much? Well, we have nearly four pounds--in fact, we mightcall it four. What have you about that price that would be suitable?"

  Oh! how my heart fluttered, for I could guess by this time what wascoming.

  Mr Argent looked profound for a minute, and then said, "There's onething, I think, would do."

  "What?" asked the deputation.

  He pulled me out of the window and laid me on the counter.

  "A watch! Dear me! we
thought of all sorts of things, but not once ofthat!"

  "It would be a suitable present," said one of the party; "but this oneis L4 10."

  "That needn't matter," said Mr Argent; "if you like it my wife and Iwill settle about the difference."

  "That's very kind of you, Mr Argent. Does any one know if George has awatch?"

  "I know he hasn't," said one of the party. "And what's more, I've heardhim say he wishes he had one."

  "And I can answer for it he's been looking in at my window at this veryone every day for the last month," said the silversmith.

  "Well, what do you say to getting this, then? We needn't ask you ifit's a good one, Mr Argent."

  "No, you needn't, sir," replied the smiling Mr Argent, who, as I hadremained run down since the day he bought me, could not well haveanswered the question more definitely.

  "You'll clean it up, will you, and set it going, and send it to me thisafternoon?" said the curate;--"and perhaps you would like to come withus to Reader's cottage this evening, when we are going to present it?"

  Mr Argent promised to form one of the party, and the deputation thenleft.

  I was swiftly subjected to all the cleaning and polishing which brushes,wash-leather, and whiting could give me. I was wound up and set to theright time, and a neat piece of black watered ribbon was attached to myneck, and then I waited patiently till the time came for my presentationto my new master.

  The gamekeeper's cottage to which I was conducted in state that eveningwas not an imposing habitation. It boasted of only three rooms, andjust as many occupants. George, the hero of the occasion, was the sonof its humble owner and his wife, and, as will have been gathered, hadturned out a prodigy. From his earliest days he had displayed aremarkable aptitude for study. Having once learned to read at thevillage school, he became insatiable after books, and devoured all thatcame within his reach.

  Happily he fell into the hands of a wise and able guide, the clergymanof the parish, who, early recognising the cleverness of the boy, stroveto turn his thirst for learning into profitable channels, lent himbooks, explained to him what he failed to understand, incited him tothoroughness, and generally constituted himself his kind and helpfuladviser.

  The consequence of this timely tuition had been that George had grownup, not a boisterous, over bearing prig, showing off his learning atevery available chance, and making himself detestable, and everybodyelse miserable, by his conceited air, but a modest, quiet scholar, withplenty of hidden fire and ambition, and not presuming on his talents toscorn his humble origin, or be ashamed of his home and parents--on thecontrary, connecting them with all his dearest hopes of success andadvancement in the world.

  They, good souls, were quite bewildered by the sudden blaze of theirson's celebrity. They hardly seemed to understand what it all meant,but had a vague sort of idea that they were implicated in "Garge's"achievements. They would sit and listen to him as he read to them, asif they were at an exhibition at which they had paid for admission, andit is not too much to say "Garge" was, in their eyes, almost as dreadfula personage as the lord of the manor himself.

  Among his fellow-villagers George was, as the reader will have gathered,somewhat of a hero, and not a little of a favourite. This distinctionhe owed to a talent for music, which had at a very early age displayeditself, and had been heartily encouraged by the rector. In thispursuit, which he followed as his only recreation, he had made suchprogress that, while yet a boy, he became voluntary organist at thechurch, and as such had won the hearts of the neighbours.

  They didn't know much about music, but they knew the organ soundedbeautiful on Sundays, and that "Garge" played it. And so it was a realtrouble to them now that he was about to leave Muggerbridge.

  You may imagine the state of excitement into which this unexpected visitthrew simple Mr and Mrs Reader. The good lady was too much takenaback even to offer her customary welcome, and as for the gamekeeper, hesat stock still in his chair, with his eyes on his son, like a houndthat waits the signal for action.

  "We are rather an invasion, I'm afraid," said the curate, squeezinghimself into the little kitchen between a clothes-horse and a dresser.

  "Not at all," said George, looking very bewildered.

  "Perhaps you'll wonder why we've come?" added the curate, turning to thegamekeeper.

  "Maybe you've missed something, and thinks one of us has got it," wasthe cheerful suggestion.

  The curate laughed, and the deputation laughed, and George laughed, andGeorge's mother laughed, which made things much easier for all parties.

  "No, we haven't missed anything, Mr Reader," replied the curate, "butwe expect to miss _somebody_--George, and that is the reason of ourvisit."

  And then the curate explained what the business was, and one of thechurchwardens made a speech (the composition of which had kept him awakeall the previous night), and then I was produced and handed over. AndGeorge blushed and stammered out something which nobody couldunderstand, and George's mother began to cry, and George's father,unable otherwise to express his sense of the occasion, began to whistle.And so the little business was satisfactorily concluded, and thedeputation withdrew, leaving me in the pocket of a new master. Threedays afterwards both of us took our departure for Cambridge.