<h2><SPAN name="page271"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>XXXV.</h2>
<p><span class="smcap">At</span> the end of a week Long Hicks
stood astounded at his own performances. At the end of a
year he was still astonished, and proud inordinately; and till
the end of his life he will never forget the smallest particular
of that week’s exploits. The policeman who came with
a warrant for Butson, the young man from Mr. Dunkin, who came
about the stock, the other young man that came the next
time—he polished them all off, and half a dozen others, in
the most dashing and businesslike manner. He found a new
shop—found a score of shops, in fact, so that Nan May was
fain to rouse herself and choose, lest some hopeless sepulchre of
trade were rented without her knowledge. And this was good,
for it gave her work to do and to think of, and once set going,
she buckled to her task with all her old energy, and a world of
riper experience. The shop was not so fortunately placed as
that at Harbour Lane, and trade was never quite so good as it had
been there when at its best. More, its place was in a dingy
street, out of sight of the river and the ships. But it was
a fairly busy thoroughfare, and things could be sold there, which
was <SPAN name="page272"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>the
main consideration. And it was Hicks’s triumph to
stock this shop with the stock from Harbour Lane—conveyed
secretly by night, on a truck, with many chucklings, after
cunning putting-off of Mr. Dunkin. The tale whereof he
would tell ever after with bashful glee, together with the tale
of the sad emptiness and disorganisation of Mr. Dunkin’s
new branch at its opening on Monday morning. And Uncle
Isaac (who found his niece’s new shop ere long) assured the
listener by frequent proclamation, that Mr. Hicks was a gentleman
of vast business ability, and a genius at enterprise.</p>
<div class="gapspace"> </div>
<p>“Yus, a genius, that’s what <i>I</i> say, Mr.
Cottam—a genius of uncommon talent.” It was a
wet afternoon, when Cottam and Hicks had taken ten minutes’
shelter in the round-house by the quay-side: and presently were
joined by Uncle Isaac, on his way across from the docks.</p>
<p>Mr. Cottam grunted. He had met Uncle Isaac twice
before.</p>
<p>“Lord!” Uncle Isaac went on, gazing at the uneasy
Hicks with steadfast admiration, “Lord! If ’e
was on’y ambitious’ ’e might be anythink!
What a ornament ’e ’d be to a Diplomatic
Corpse! Talk about Enterprise! Why at Enterprise
an’ any sort o’ circumventions
’e’s—’e’s—why there,
<i>as</i> I alwis say, ’e might be Ambashador to ’er
Majesty’s possessions!”</p>
<p><SPAN name="page273"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>The
shower flagged, and men came out on the quays. Mr. Cottam
rose from the coil he had been sitting on, took his gaze out of
space, and fixed it on the wall over Uncle Isaac’s
head. “Mr. Mundy!” he trumpeted, in the manner
of a man beginning a speech to an expectant multitude; raising
his forefinger to his shoulder and lowering it till it rested on
Uncle Isaac’s chest; “Mr. Mundy!”</p>
<p>Then he paused, and Uncle Isaac said, “Yus, Mr.
Cottam.”</p>
<p>The pause endured and grew impressive; till at last the
foreman’s face relaxed, his gaze descended till it met
Uncle Isaac’s, and he chuckled aloud, stabbing him
playfully with the forefinger. “Why—what a
windy ol’ kidder you are!” said Mr. Cottam; and
stamped off along the quay, croaking and chuckling all over.</p>
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