<h2><SPAN name="page263"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>XXXIII.</h2>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Dunkin’s</span> notice to quit
arrived early the next morning. The service of that notice
was a duty he owed to society, morality, conscience, virtue,
propriety, religion, and several other things, which he
enumerated without hesitation. He could not have sat in his
pew the next day with any comfort, knowing that such a duty
remained unperformed; he would have felt a hypocrite.</p>
<p>The notice might have come before, for the trade had been good
and steady; but Mr. Dunkin also had heard the whispers that the
ship-yard might be shut, and he had hesitated long. Now,
however, there was no alternative—if Mrs. May were left to
flaunt her infamy the trade must decline under the scandal, and
the place fall worthless again. More, her expulsion at this
time would seem less a seizure of the new branch than a popular
vindication of righteousness.</p>
<p>Johnny was at home when the notice came. He had sent a
message to Mr. Cottam, pleading urgent family affairs.</p>
<p>“Might have expected it,” Johnny said, giving the
<SPAN name="page264"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>paper to
Hicks, whom he had called into counsel. “Anyway
mother swears she can’t show her face in the shop
again. She seems almost afraid to come out of her bedroom,
talks wild about disgracing her children, an’ wishes she
was dead. She’s pretty bad, an’ as to the
shop—that’s done up. Question is what to do
now.”</p>
<p>Then Hicks rose to his feet, and met the occasion face to
face. “We’ll do this thing between us,”
he said, “and damn everybody! I ain’t a man
o’ business, not special, but I got you all into this
’ere mess an’ I’ll see you out of it, or
I’ll bust. Fust thing, this ’ere Mr.
Dunkin’s game’s plain enough.
’Ere’s a very decent business goin’ on,
an’ ’e takes this excuse to collar it
’isself. You ain’t took the shutters down yet,
an’ we won’t take ’em down. We’ll
stick up a big bill ‘Business come to a end,’ or such
other words, an’ let the customers go where they like
an’ ’ope they won’t come back. Then
p’raps ’e’ll come along in a day or two
an’ offer to buy the stock, thinkin’
’e’ll get it for next to nothin’, you
bein’ all at sixes an’ sevens. We won’t
sell it—not one farden candle. But we won’t say
so. No. We’ll fight cokum. We’ll
ask ’im to think over it for another day or two an’
see if ’e can’t make it a quid or two more.
’E’ll let it slide all the week if we do it right,
expectin’ to land us at the last minute an’ make us
take anythink. But we’ll just be walkin’ the
stuff all away very quiet in the evenin’s, in a barrer,
an’ then ’e’ll come into a empty <SPAN name="page265"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>shop
unexpected, an’ ’e won’t know what the
customers is used to, an’ that’ll give ’im fits
for another week or two. See?”</p>
<p>“But where shall we take the stuff?”</p>
<p>“Take it? Lord, anywhere!” replied Hicks,
with a sweep of the hand. “There’s plenty
o’ empty shops ready to be took everywhere. Why the
number I’ve seen these two or three days ’ud surprise
ye! Some ain’t as good as others p’raps, but
that we’ll settle in the week. It’s just
beginnin’ again, that’s all, same as what ye did
three or four year back! Lord, we’ll do it, I tell
ye—do it flyin’!” Long Hicks waved his
arms enthusiastically. “As to the—the
ha’pence,” he went on, “p’raps your
mother’s got some, p’raps she
ain’t—don’t matter either way. I’m
a single man, an’ bin in good work years, an’ I got a
bit in the savin’s bank. All right! I
ain’t goin’ to offer no favours, so don’t sing
out! Sixpence in the pound’s all I get out o’
the Post Office, an’ that ain’t much. I’m
open to make it a bit more—three per cent. if ye
like—on loan; any security, or none—there’s
plenty in the place in the Forest an’ the stock an’
all—’ave it yer own way. Business!
’Ard business! That’s all it is.
An’ now we’ll clear decks. Fust, get your
mother an’ sister out o’ this, somewhere out o’
Harbour Lane, where they ain’t known, an’ where
they’ll quit frettin’.”</p>
<p><SPAN name="page266"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">p.
266</span>“Where?” Hicks’s impetuosity
left Johnny’s wits lagging.</p>
<p>“Temp’ry lodgin’s. Needn’t be
fur; next parish is as good as fifty mile auf, in London.
Better. An’ by George! now I think of it, I see the
very place when I was goin’ round. Party o’ the
name o’ Bushell, in Poplar. ’Ouse too big for
’em—got a furnished bedroom to let; showed it me,
case I might know anyone an’ send ’em, them
’avin’ done me a turn sendin’ me to Old
Ford. What’s more, there’ll be two more rooms,
unfurnished, next week, tenant goin’ out—young gal, a
dressmaker. So we can take them too, if we get pushed,
an’ run the sticks in there. There’s luck to
begin with! Why, things’ll go like
clockwork!”</p>
<p>Hicks rushed off to make sure of the lodging, and in half an
hour was back with a four-wheeled cab.</p>
<p>“Get ’em down an’ pop ’em in
sharp,” said Hicks. “I’ve told the cabby
where to go. You go with ’em an’ make ’em
comfortable, an’ I’ll wait ’ere till you come
back. Mind—people at the ’ouse on’y know
she’s in trouble ’cos ’er ’usband’s
run away, an’ I paid a week in advance. Go
on—I’ll keep out o’ the way in the back till
they’re clear auf; they don’t want to see
me.”</p>
<div class="gapspace"> </div>
<p>Nan and Bessy wore veils, and hurried into the cab, while
Johnny glowered fiercely at every face he could see turned toward
them. To Johnny the streets seemed <SPAN name="page267"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">p.
267</span>unreasonably familiar as the cab jolted through
them—unreasonably like what they were a day ago, before
this blow fell and knocked the world out of shape. They
went out through Blackwall Cross, by the High Street, and past
the Institute, where the familiar housekeeper—the
housekeeper who had given him Nora’s farewell
letter—stood on the steps with a broom; through the two
streets, and past that corner where they had parted—it
seemed years ago. As to when they might meet again, and
how—that was not to be thought of now. His head was
too full already.</p>
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