The Last Tenant. Farjeon Benjamin Leopold

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СКАЧАТЬ can afford to move, Mr. Millet," said my wife with dignity.

      "I am very glad to hear it," said Bob; "it is always pleasant to hear of a friend's good fortune."

      My wife smiled kindly, and we all made a good meal; and then she bustled away to see to some domestic matters, while the maid cleared the table. Before she left the room she said to Bob:

      "Mr. Millet, not a word about that delightful house until I join you."

      CHAPTER IV.

      BOB MILLET GIVES US SOME CURIOUS INFORMATION ABOUT THE HOUSE IN LAMB'S TERRACE

      "Now, Bob," said I, "here's a clean pipe and some bird's eye. Do you remember our first cigar in your little bedroom in your father's house? How we suffered, and vowed never to smoke again! We have time for a pipe and a chat before my wife comes in. She has many virtues, Bob, and a special one for which she deserves a medal-she does not object to my smoking in any room in the house. Heaven knows what rules she will lay down, and what changes for the worse there will be when we move! I am not going to anticipate evils, however. Without pretending that I am a philosopher, I take things as they come, and try to make the best of them; it is the pleasantest way. Tell me what you have been doing all these years."

      He told me all about himself-of his leaving school with fair expectations; of his entering into his father's business; of his marrying for love, and, after three years of happy married life, of the death of his wife, and the ruin of his prospects; of his subsequent struggles and disappointments; and of his sinking lower and lower until he found himself fixed upon that depressing platform which is crowded with poor clerks struggling with all their might and main for bread and butter. Except when he spoke of his wife there was no sadness in his voice; and I saw that the cheerful temperament which had distinguished him when we were at school together had not deserted him.

      "It has been a tussle," he said, "but I have managed to rub along, and it might have been worse than it is. You don't mind my calling you Ned, do you?"

      "If I did," I replied, "I should have good reason to be ashamed of myself. It was Ned and Bob when we were boys; it is Ned and Bob now that we are elderly men. A few pounds more in my purse than in yours can make no difference; and as far as that goes, I can spare a little check if you need it."

      "No, Ned," he responded quickly, "that is the last thing in the world I hope I shall have to do. Though I don't sit down to a banquet every day for dinner, I have never borrowed, and I never will if I can possibly help it. Don't judge me by my sad looks-I have a disagreeable impression that I am not a cheerful fellow to contemplate; but if the truth were known there are much harder lots than mine. I have a comical trick of twisting things to my own advantage, and of rather pitying men who could sell me up over and over again. Ned, as there is no station in life, however high, without its miseries, so there is no station in life, however low, without its compensations."

      "You're the philosopher, Bob," quoth I.

      "I don't know about that. I have grown into the belief that the poor have as much enjoyment as the rich, and when I take a shilling's worth in the gallery of a theater, I am positive that I don't get less pleasure out of it than the people who sit in the stalls do out of their half-guineas. If I am a philosopher that is the use I make of my philosophy. Then, Ned, I have the past to think of; for three years there was no happier man than I, and my sad memories are sweetened with gratitude. And life is short after all; time flies; tomorrow we shall all be on a level, rich and poor alike."

      Thus spoke my old schoolfellow, Bob Millet, in his shabby coat, and the regard I used to have for him grew stronger every minute that passed.

      When my wife came in, bustling and cheerful as usual, she nodded brightly at us, sat down with a piece of needlework in her hand-she is never idle, this wife of mine-and said:

      "Now, Mr. Millet, let us hear about the house in Lamb's Terrace."

      "I will tell you all I know. Have you the keys, Ned?"

      "My wife has," I replied.

      She opened her bag and took them out, remarking, as she wiped her fingers, that they were very dusty.

      "As you see," observed Bob, "they are covered with rust."

      "They could have been used very little lately," I said.

      "Hardly at all," said Bob; "and this is one of the singular features in connection with the house with which you should be made acquainted. Did not the information Mr. Gascoigne gave you of the last tenant strike you as rather extraordinary?" He turned to my wife for an answer, but she did not reply.

      "It struck me as very extraordinary," I said. "I could not understand it at all, nor can I now understand why a house, with so many rooms, with stabling, a large garden, and so many other advantages, should be offered at so low a rent."

      Bob looked at me, looked at my wife, hesitated, coughed, cleared his throat, and spoke.

      "As a matter of fact, the house has been empty for four or five years."

      "Really a matter of fact?" inquired my wife. "Within your own knowledge?"

      "Not exactly that; I can speak only of what I have gathered."

      "So that your matter of fact," observed my wife shrewdly, "is merely hearsay."

      "I must admit as much, I am afraid," he said a little awkwardly.

      "Why should you be afraid to admit it?"

      I detected in these questions one of my wife's favorite maneuvers. When she met with opposition to a project which she had resolved to carry out, she was in the habit of seizing upon any chance words which she could construe in such a way as to confuse and confound the enemy. Often had she driven me so hard that I have been compelled to beat a retreat in despair, and to give up arguing with her.

      "Upon my word I don't know why," said Bob. "It was only a form of speech. I seem to be getting into a tangle."

      "I will assist you to get out of it," said my wife, with playful severity. "Go on, Mr. Millet."

      "It was originally taken on lease," continued Bob, "and the term having expired, the tenant-I suppose we must call him so-wished to renew. The landlord says, 'I will renew on one condition, that you live in the house.' The tenant objects. 'What does it matter,' he says, 'whether I live in the house or not, so long as the rent is paid?' The landlord replies that it matters a great deal, that a house cannot be kept in a satisfactory condition unless it is occupied, and that he does not like to see his property fall into decay, as this house has been allowed to do."

      "Did you hear these words pass, Mr. Millet?" asked my wife.

      "No; I am only throwing into shape what I have gathered."

      Here we were interrupted by a knock at the door, and my wife was called from the room to see a tradesman whom she had sent for to put some locks in order. As she left us she gave Bob rather a queer look. I took advantage of her absence by asking Bob why he hesitated when he began to speak about the house.

      "Well," he answered, "this is the first time I have had the pleasure of seeing your wife, and I don't know if she is a nervous woman."

      "She is not easily frightened," I said, "but what has that to do with it?"

      "Everything. I have heard that the house is haunted."

      I clapped my hand on the table. "And that is the reason of the СКАЧАТЬ