Coppleston’s Christmas.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 3406, 23 December 1911, Page 1 (Supplement)

Coppleston’s Christmas.

Gadd was not a hard man—no, nor a fast man, and yet he was both, being bound hard and fast by rule. Regularity was the keynote of his life, and this virtue he endeavored to instil into all with -whom lie came in contact. iShortly after his advent the tenants of Eden'Gardens began to feel that excuses which had stood them in- good stead during the reign of his predecessors had lost their magic. Gadd wanted “his rents,” as he called them, and mere, he wanted them regularly, so he came to be regarded as .a hard man.

But. Gadd was not hard. As he more than once explained to the backward ones, he was not doing his duty to himself and his employer. “I’m not paid to listen to excuses,” he would say “Pm paid to collect rents, and rents I must collect " And so it came to pass that the. little patch of tumbledown property under his control from being a white elephant on the hands of its owner became a paying concern. Whether it was this cheerful reflection, or that the spirit of Christmas had crept into his heart, Gadd whistled —actually whistled —a .proceeding that he would have described as most irregular in a business man —as lie made his way to the house of. liis principal. “Good —very good,” he exclaimed, rubl'ing bis bands —for the frost bite shrewdly—as he .stood on the doorstep .awaiting admission. “All but one " be broke off as the door opened, and stamping the snow from his boots entered the hall. “Come in, Gadd. come in,” cried a cheery voice as he was ushered into a well-lighted apartment, where a roaring fire seemed to laugh at the cold without as with a merry crackle, the fiames danced up the chimney.

“Come in. The clock struck seven as you knocked. I knew it-was you.” “Nothing like regularity, Mr Copplcstrn.” j# “Yes. I know, Gadd. an excellent trait, though I fear I cannot lay claim to it myself Take a glass of wine, Gadd. Help yourself,” pushing the decanter towards him. “-It will warm you.” “Why, thank you, Mr. Coppleston,’

said Gadd, filling a glass. “It is rathert—‘ '*•’ “Cold, eli? Cold as charity, eh, Gada —or the- heart of the rent collector, ehP Eli, Gadd, eh?” And the old fellow laughed as though he Kad made an excellent joke. . '‘Why, sir,” replied Gadd. holding his glass up to the light, “one has to appear cold and hard—one has to be hard, to* ” “Where should I be, eh?” “One must insist on regularity, or they—” “Wouldn’t pay at all, eh? Well, perhaps you are -right. But, Gadd, we’ll stop at appearances, eh? You understand?” . . “Umph! yes,” he answered, raising his glass to Ins lips. Having drained it, he produced from an inner pocket a "undle of papers. Selecting one, he handed it to his employer. “Umph 1” said the old man. laying it down. “This is good. Gadd. All paid but one. I did not expect ” “Nothing like regularity, sir.” “But this is Christmas week.” “The greater' reason one should make them- pay. If you don’t insist on it this week you are not likely to get it next.” “But -” “A.h ! yes, sir. . I know what you would say. Most irregular, sir. Besides, they would only squander it—and. nobody a. penny the better.” _ “Well, well, perhaps you-are right ; •but a. little indulgence at ” . . “My dear sir,” said Gadd, building up little piles of money which he counted from a fat leathern, hag, “if ...you, are not to get your rents from the property, why keep the property at all?” . . This was evidently a question the old gentleman was unable to solve, for he contented himself with ejaculating

“Well, well!” as he counted the piles as Gadd sent- them down.

“After all,” he said, gazing into the fire, 'when Gadd had gone, “that’s not a bad idea, of his—why keep the property at all ? It’s a great responsibility —why not he rid of it P.She isnot.likely to return, and when I am gone--” He opened one of the pa-pers Gadd had left ; it was an estimate for repairs. “Poor old Dick.” His eyes assumed a far-away expression as he glanced from the paper into the fire, as though seeking the semblance of his lost brother there. “Poor old Dick; I must fulfill Jus wish. What’s become of her, I wonder ? Poor little girl; her romance has not proved a happy one. What’s this?” as a half-sheet of blackbordered paper fluttered from the folds of foolscap in his hand. He caught it as it fell. It was a note in a woman’s writing begging for time. “A well-written letter —a reverse of fortune's wheel, I suppose. I hope Gadd has —but 'of course lie would.” Seeking to dismiss the matter from his mind he composed himself to read, but somehow the paper failed to interest. Thoughts of hits brother Dick would mix themselves up with the Parliamentary news, the black-bordered appeal obtruding itself and confusing both Until at length ho gave up the attempt, and sat gazing into the fire lost in reverie. When at length he retired to rest it was not to the sweet sleep of Forgetfulness, for thougihout the night be was haunted by confused images of Iris dead brother draped in black-bord-ered paper, making frantic appeals to bis daughter Nell, who in turn by so.nm strange yet apparently quite natural process was herself and a broker's man. Morning found him with a fixed resolve.

“This will never do,” he said, as be rose from the breakfast table. “That wretched scrap of., paper has been a ghost—a nightmare to me. It haunts me still. I must find Gadd.” But Gadd was not easy to find, and tired of the search Mr. Coppleston determined to proceed to Eden Gardens himself. A brisk walk speedily brought him to his destination.

‘Ton are doing wrong, Tom Copplesfcon,” he muttered, as he mounted the stairs- -“Gadd. will say this is irregular. Gadd will object to this. If you get taken in yon will have no one to

blame but yourself. You can’t put the blame on Gadd:’ ’

Having thus give himself due warning lie paused for a moment to regain his breath after his unwonted climb, and then gave a gentle rap with his knuckles on the door.

Receiving no reply he rapped again. “Come in. can’t yer?” shouted the gruff voice. ’ “Think yer a bloomin’ woodpecker k-tappin’P Come in.” Thus cordially invited he opened l the door and walked in. Seated close beside the fire, puffing vigorously at a short black pipe, was a bullet-headed little man, with a week’s growth of stubbly grey beard upon his chin. Loo icing over his shoulder as Coppleston entered he shivered, and said, “Shut the door, can’t yer?” Then, seeing that his visitor, was a gentleman, he altered liis, tone,-and half rising from, his chair,, asked—“Wlio might yer want?” “Well,” said Copple6ton, eyeing him with curiosity; “I suppose I want you.” “Me?” said the man, with ,a suppressed chuckle. “ ’Taint many people a,s wants me. Oh! no. Yer room’s better’ll yer comp’ny is the gen’ral werdio’ agin me.” “The folks about here don’t- like you, eh?” “Like me?” He chuckled grimly as lie spoke. “Lor, they’d like ter eat me.” . _ • “Look here, my man,” said Coppiesfcon, trying to look severe. _ “Why do you sit here smoking at this hour of the clay? Why don’t you go out ami look for world?” “ ’Cos I don’t want it.” “Not want work ?” “No; I don’t want it. Look ’ere, mister. You’ve come ter the, wrong shop. I know wat voti > are. You’re one o’ them organisation chaps, or summat o’ that. A cove wot gives

sixpen’orth o’ charity served cold, with half a crown’s worth o’ insult ’ot.” “So you don’t want work, eh?” saici Coppleston, checking his anger. “Who said so? I said I didn’t want work. I don’t. People don’t want wot they’ve got a’ready.” “You liave work! Then why don’t you pay your rent?” “‘Why, don’t I pay my Who’ro yer gittin’ at?” . “Let me explain. Wou wrote this, did you not?” said Coppice;ton, producing the black-bordered 1 letter from his pocket-book. “Me, me write! Why, I 'ardly know a pen from a poker.” _ “Muvver writed that,” said a little girl who had been busily tying some scraps of colored rag round a doll minus both head and legs. “Muvver writed that. Mrs Brown fended us her pen.” “Oh)!” said Coppleston, looking down at the child, who was once more engrossed in. her make-believe motherlined. “Your mother wrote it. Where is your mother?” “Raisin’ the wind,” grunted the man in tlie chimney corner. “Hark’ee sir. I came here prepared to deal kindly with you, but when yon tell me that you sit here smoking while your wife” “My wife! Who’re yet get-tin’ at?’’ “He ain’t muvverV wife,” said the child, regarding her dob with a critical eye. '“He’s the bailiff man. Mrs Brown says, wet's going to take our sticks.” ■•What?” cried Coppleston, turning on the man. “Do you mean to tell me that you are'in possession here? ’ ••That’s about the size on it.” “But —who sent you?” “Well, I don’t know as it’s your pie you’re stickin’ yer fiuger into, but ir it’ll ease yer mind, it was Mr. Gadd.” “Gadd. * How dare Look here, my man. you had better take yourself off.” “Worry good advice, guv’nor,” said ilie man. with an insolent grin, “hut yer ’umble ain’t talcin’ any.” “Hark, you sir. lam the owner o; tins” ' . “Ob. crumbs! I'm a bit of a liar mvself. but — No. no, guv’nor,” shaking his head playfully, “that won't wash. Now. do you observe any wegetation a-sprout-in’ in my eye? Nobodv ain't never seed the owner. ’E

don't interfere. Gadd’s the factonim.’’

“I'll not argue with you. I tell you to go.” ■ Xo, no, guv’nor. I’m too old a .i-d to Ix 3 collared with chaff.” ‘•Are you, indeed? cried Copplesron, striding towards him. . “We’ll see.” And seizing him by the nape of the neck he fairly lifted l him out .of the chair and shook hint till his teeth rattled. In vain lie struggled'; he was but a. puny fellow, and no match for his captor.' In spite of his struggles and expostulations, /he was dragged out on to the landing, and after a final shake sent flying down the stairs, with the injunction to “find Gadd, and lose no time about it.” “Now. little maiden/’ said Ooppleston, seating himself in the chair vacated by the broker. “Where is your mother?” ' “Out.” “And your father?” “Didn't never have a farvor. Then feeling that she ought to make up for this deficiency in her parentage, she added, “I had! a gran’-farver, tho’.” “Ah! And where is he?” “Hehben.” “Oh!” said Coppleston. repressing a smile at the solemnity with which the child regarded her work. “So' now you have only mother—is that it?” “Yes; me an’ Molly an’ muvvor.” “Who is Molly—your sister?/ “Oh. no.” cried 'she, regarding him with a look of astonishment. “Don’t you know? This is Molly/’ and she bestowed a glance,of the deepest affection upon the object of her care. After watching her for a time he ventured to suggest the disirability of a new doll. The. little one’s eyes brightened" at the suggestion, but after

a moment’s consideration she answered— “l don’t know. I don’t fink Molly would like it, an’—l —l fink I. love Molly best.” “But::that’s a wretched old thing. She’s got no head.” “She ain’t a wretched fing,” cried tile child indignantly. “She’s a prior, dear Molly!” Then, after a pause. “I fink that’s why.” “Here you are, lady-bird,” cried a stout motherly woman bustling into the room, a steaming bowl of bread and milk in liar hand. “Just, you make short work o’ that. [ wish it was as easy to persuade that mother o’ yours,.” she added, as the child began to eat. “ don’t believe she’s had bite or sup this blessed day. “Lawk! sir,” as she cast her eyes on Coppleston, “has—has the other man gone?” “Umpso,” said the child, gulping down a spoonful of milk. “He.” redding towards Coppleston, “Lowed him downstairs.’ ’ “Good gracious!” cried the woman ””’tb a look of alarm, “there'll 'e the dickens to ” “Harkie, my good woman.” said he. !- x-aking in upon her. “this child’s mother —what kind M person is slier” “"Wee], sir, if I say what I think, she’s seen better days, for though she’s ns poor as a church mouse, or two church mice put together for the matter o’ that, she's clean an’ tidy, an' s’ at proud. Bless von. I’d no more dare to '-ffvr b.cr that basin that T dare flv.” “Ts slie is great distress, then?" Distress! What’s shirt making at ; b« best? ’Tween you an’ me. sir if I didnt’ sneak up when she was out an’ dab a hit o’ cload on the fire they'd b? starved with the cold. It ain’t natural to see the poor young thing a 'Servin’ herself when one has the hit? an" srn to spare—hut what’s one to do 5 She vYvivt take it. So I ha-»c t- Jo- the best T can unbeknownst to her—which, begging your pardon, sir. 1 don't know if you’re a relative.” “I hay? never seen the woman.” “Then. sir. if I might make so bold —after what you’ve done I’d get out would indeed. You don't know Godd, sir. When Gadd knows you’ve thrown his man out there’ll he—” ‘Suppose the landlord ” “La n’lord ! A pretty beauty lie must be a-hounding Gadd on to squeedge poor people to death.” “Net but what Gadd is all right if you're reg-lar lan’lord! I’d just like to put the pair of ’em in a sack an’ giye em’ a good shaking - that 1 ivould.” “Umph! perhaps I had better take your advice and go, eh ? Xothing in the house to eat—to-morrow Christmas Day. and the landlord Bless my soul! Yes, yes, I’ll go, and leave them to Gadd. You think lie’ll return, eh? Yes. yes. I’ll go.” And lie took his departure, chuckling all the way downstairs. It was not long ere Gadd appeared. Gadd was wroth—very wroth that his ■uthovity had been set at defiance, and ?ame prepared to wreak vengeance on the wrongdoer. Finding no one more important than the child on whom to rent his anger, he. after reinstating In's custodian, prepared to take his leave, muttering as lie went that he would “let them see.”’ “Look here Grams,” he said, “you iust stick to your post this time. If t set eyes on the rascal that ” By this time lie had reached the door, md flinging it wide ran almost into the arms of his employer.’ “Mr Coppleston!” he gasped. “This. Mr. Coppleston, is irregular, sir, most irregular.” “So it is, Gadd. so it is. d—d irregular —starvation in a land of plenty— Christmas time, too Gadd. But look here. Gadd.” lugging a tradesman’s hoy into the room and displaying the '•entente of hie basket, “here’s a goose. How’s that, Gadd? And here’s a pudfling and a bottle of wine, Gadd i” “Irregular—most irregular!’”'groaned the agent. “And tea- —and oread —and cake—and a. doll for the youngster, eh, Gadd?” emphasising each jwint with -a vigorous dig at that gentleman’s ribs. “And now, Gadd, let’s finish it. Let’s make a good job of it, eh? Where’s the. rent book?” Mr. Coppleston, I must protest, sir.” “Just so, Gadd. I knew you would —protest against this poor woman paying a farthing of arrears. —I know you would.” “Mr. Coppleston, every tenant in the place ” “Shall be clear this Christmas week at any rate. So we’ll kick the bailiff out once more.” “I’ll see as you don’t,” cried Grunts, edging to the door. _ “Keep ’im off, Mr. Gadd, sir—keep ’im off, or ” Seizing a favorable opportunity he made a bolt, from the room, and ran downstairs, upsetting Mrs Brown in his flight. “Well, I never did!” ejaculated that lady as she sat- down forcibly. “What is it. Mrs Brown?” said a young woman who ascended in time to 2, assist her to her feet. if§ | |§ “What is it?” / 1 Mi “Which it’s madness, my dear, jjp I M don't know whether it’s Christina:■ • angels from heaven, but that’s tip /, cond time the broker’s been kjL _ . _ jl.*" jl out. And it’s' turkeys—-leas'# noose, which is all the same, being ed the open door of the root voungor woman loked around k amazement. illllulllfK “What does it mean?” she her eyes fell on the good thing “Look, muvver,” cried tin, : holding up a new doll; “Moll, •pnone 6d6. a guan muvver now.” “Gadd,” whispered Mr. Cqpph wlio had turned to the window, must get me- out of this. —l—dem. sir, I can’t stand a woman’s tongue., His movement, slight as it was, c. rected the woman’s attention toward: them.

' "Oh, Mr. Gadd!” she whispered as that gentleman advanced. "How am I to thank you. sir? This is ’’ "Most irregular, madam, most irregular. Don’t blame me—-blame him.”"Sir,’’ she said, approaching Coppleston, "sir, your kindness Coppleston resolutely peered through the window. _ "Sir,” placing her hand timidly on. his shoulder. "I must thank you--!. s'* 5 '* He turned, and she fell back, hiding her face in her hands. "Oh! Uncle Tom,” she sobbed, "Uncle Tom!” "Good God!” he cried, "it’s Nellie. Nellie, my lass,’ thank God I’ve found you!” and, flinging his arms abont her, he laughed and cried by turns as he rocked her to and fro. "Gadd,” he cried, presently, _ releasing her and wiping his eyes, "this is all irregular, I know-—d l Irregular—but circumstances—eh, Gadd ? You'll come home with me. my dear. Put un a £ TV> let,’ Gadd, and”—as his eyes iV! (.n the provisions— "what’s to be with these? Happy thought. Mrs Mrs Brown,” with mock sevcity. "you're a gcod-heartoed, vindictive. mr-ddhsorne, motherly old woman.You'd like- to shake me up in a sack, vonkl you?” "You hope I won't be'hard on you; but I will though—l will. Take them, thing'- downstairs, madam. Take them down at once and see you eat them.” "And. Or.dd.” he added, slapping hi n on the shoulder, "a goose a-piece for ■-•’.--'it tenant- in the row.” G'-'-I shook his head sadly. He had. r rv.ve suspicions as to the regularity of the proceedings. But the tenants enjoyed their geese, and C-opplestoneA Christmas was none the less happy for his little irregularity.