The Caxley Chronicles by Miss Read Page A

well-polished harness.
    The pace slackened as Bill, the horse, approached Beech Green. The long pull up the downs was taken gently and steadily. The reins lay loosely across the glossy back, and Bender reviewed his situation as they jogged along together through the grey and white countryside.
    Things were serious, that was plain. Bob had been picked up by the London police ten days earlier, and now awaited his trial at the next Assizes. He had been in possession of fourteen shillings and ninepence at the time of his arrest, and could not—or would not—give any idea of where the rest of the
money had gone. Clearly, nothing would be restored to his employer.
    What would he do, Bender asked himself? He could get a further loan from the bank, but would it be of any use? Had the time come to take a partner who would be willing to put money into the firm? Bender disliked the idea. He could approach both Sep Howard and Jesse Miller who had offered help, but he hated the thought of letting Sep Howard see his straits, and he doubted whether Jesse Miller could afford to give him the sum needed to give the business a fresh start. Jesse was in partnership with his brother Harry at the farm, and times were hard for them both at the moment.
    The other course was a much more drastic one. Tenby's had approached him with a tentative offer. If he ever decided to part with the business would he give them first offer. He would of course be offered a post with the firm who would be glad of his experience. They were thinking of housing their agricultural machinery department on separate premises. North's, in the market square, handy for all the farmers in the district, would suit them perfectly. They asked Bender to bear it in mind. Bender had thought of little else for two days, but had said nothing to Hilda. He knew well enough that she would be all in favour of the action, and he wanted to be sure that it was right before making any final decisions.
    Hilda, for years now, had been pressing Bender to move from the shop to one of the new houses on the hill at the south side of the town.
    'It's so much healthier for the children,' asserted Hilda. 'You know how chesty Mary is—she takes after you, you know-and it's so damp right by the river here.'
    'She looks all right to me,' Bender said.
    'Besides,' continued his wife, changing her tactics, 'everyone's moving away from the businesses—the Loaders, the Ashtons, the Percys—'
    'The Howards aren't,' pointed out Bender. Hilda tossed her head impatiently.
    'Don't be awkward, Bender! Who cares what the Howards do anyway? It would be far better for Bertie and Winnie, and Mary too, later on, to have a place they can ask their friends to without feeling ashamed.'
    'Ashamed?'
echoed Bender thunderously. 'What's wrong with this place?'
    'We could have a tennis court if we had a bigger garden,' said Hilda. Her blue eyes held that far-away look which Bender had come to realize was the prelude to some expense or another. 'The children could invite all sorts of nice people to tennis parties.'
    'They're free to invite them here to parties—boating and otherwise—as far as I'm concerned,' said Bender. 'Don't tell me that it's the children who want to move. It's entirely your notion, my dear, and a mighty expensive one too.'
    Hilda had fallen silent after that, but returned to the attack many times until Bender had begun to wonder if there was something in the idea after all. It was not social progress, though, that caused Bender to give the matter his attention, but the financial possibilities of the move.
    If Tenby's made him the substantial offer he expected, he could well afford to buy Hilda the house of her dreams. There was no doubt about it that the market place living quarters were rambling and far too large for their needs. Bertie and
Winnie, it was reasonable to suppose, would be married and away before long. It would be more economical, in every way, for those who were