The Door without a Knocker, and other tales

Front matter

MR. PUKEPOY ENJOYS A MUSICAL EVENING. Page 121. THE j DOOR WITHOUT A KNOCKER, ! BY MRS. PEOSSEK, Author of "the cheeky chime of garth," "the d1ts of the cattle plague," etc. LONDON : THE KELIGIOUS TKACT SOCIETY, 56, PATERNOSTER ROW; 65, ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD; AND 16-, PICCADILLY. MANCHESTER; 100, COBPOBATIOJf STREET. BbIGHTON : 31, WeSTEBS ROAD. CONTENTS. The Door Without a Knocker. CHAP. PAG E I. The Portrait op a Selfish Man 9 ii. What Strange Things the Doctor Did ... 1,9 in. Not Safe to Trust to a Title Page .... 31 iv. Wheel within Wheel 42 v. The Leaven Put In . . ' 54 vi. The Leaven at Work . ' 67 vn. Marvellous Changes 80 vin. A Happy Wind-up ,93 The Master of Aynthoe. i. The Old Manor-House ....... 105 n. The People of Aynhoe 113 in. The Aynhoe Singing Birds 124 rv. The Eeal " Master " 133 v. The Way to Conquer 141 vi.

Coming to the Push 147 vn. Manœuvring 151 vm. At Head Quarters 164 ix. A Eenewal op Friendship . . . . . .176 x. The Meeting CONTENTS. VI Blind John Netherway. CHAP. . PA<" i. The Flood 195 h. The Tea Party 208 hi. A Strange Gentleman •• • 220 iv. Eyes at the End of a Stick .... . 236 v. Match-making 251 vi. The Architect 257 vn. Manœuvring 267 vni. A Model Lawyer 274 ix. Eestitution 276 x. A New Place 285 xi. A Wedding 292 xii. " Rank Hypocrisy " 298 xin. A Joyous Ending MH. GAMMIDGE MEETS DR. HEND1UE. Page 13.

Chapter I. The Portrait Of

A SELFISH MAN. here certainly had been a knocker ; for there were three unmistakable holes, or marks where holes had been, — puttied up, indeed, and painted over, but beyond all contradiction saying, " Here were three rivets that riveted on a knocker." i> But what removed the knocker ? — and what had become of it ? What removed it ? Perhaps it was taken off by lawful design ; perhaps it was mischievously removed ; perhaps it was stolen ; one cannot possibly form any other theories respecting the loss of a knocker. What had become of it ? It was in some dark, obscure receptacle for old iron, or, if it had been brass, was blazing, in all the refulgence of bath-brick and vitriol, on some happier door. Happier ? — that question will be answered presently. The house was inhabited by a gentleman who was, as he might think, superior to the pleasures of a knocker.

By a single im perative rap with his walking-stick, which rap plainly said, " I," he could bring hurried feet to the door, when, having forgotten his latch-key, he was unable let himself in. But then his friends ? He had but few, and they lived far away. Such as were of more recent date, and dwelt in nearer neighbourhood, he cared not enough for to regret their having to make ineffectual bumpings, and go away in disgust. When more than usually disinclined towards interruption, he would sit with a self-hugging smile over his newspaper, and enjoy the knowledge that Carline was far away at the back of the house, and there was "no admission," while some unfortunate intruder was attacking his fortress with knuckles, fist, or stick in vain. A certain rapid impatience, expressed in the last neglected summons, would make him lay down his paper, creep quietly to the window, and peep through the side of the blind — that was always down — he knew that the enemy had been put to flight, and he liked to find out by the shape of his back who he was.

Postman ! — he care for the postman, or want the postman ! Why, the very sight of a letter put him out of humour. He prognosticated a begging petition, or a complaint from a tenant, or a bill that he didn't owe, or something equally disagreeable. He had never ceased to abuse the government for establishing the penny post; every evil that the country had suffered or was threatened with — every domestic annoyance that was complained of in his hearing — he put down to the penny post. The very sight of the rheumatic old postman in his little green cart passing his window gave him an uncomfortable qualm ; a regular rat-tat at his door from a ringing iron or clattering brass knocker would have sent him into a frenzy. Carline, — properly called Caroline. — his one washer, brewer baker, cook, housemaid, shoe-black, gardener, errand-boy, and housekeeper, — performed all these various parts in entire ignorance of the arts of reading and writing.

His firm persuasion was, that if she had learned those pernicious accomplishments she would have been incapable or indisposed — bringing it much to the same thing — to do any one service well. If he found an individual in her class that could read, he looked on such with suspicion. If writing were added to reading, suspicion was changed to dark certainty, — he gave the individual up. And now the reader will understand how Air. Gammidge could be happy, if he could at all, in a house without a knocker. If he could at all, that's the point. But wasn't there a bell ? Yes, and a wire, and a handle ; but some mischance or — as in the case of the knocker — some design had destroyed the good understanding that must necessarily exist among the three to make them work together. To explain, the wire had been cut, half hung dangling by the handle, and half by the bell ; so the handle being unnerved, as it were, the bell was silent.

But Mr. Gammidge was as much above bells as he was above knockers. The only person in the " town " whom he didn't turn his back on virtually was the doctor. A latent fear of death, a nervous dread of disease, and, in fact, an impatience under the slightest inroad on his health, bowed his heart and his head to the healing power, and he never cut, slighted, or in any way gave offence to it. Not that he ever had a real illuess and received benefit from his skill, but he had a superstitious inkling that to be on good terms with the doctor would be to charm away for a time the need of him. He might have found an excuse for his preference of him in the pleasure of his society ; for Dr. Hendrie was the universal friend of the place. Always earnest in his profession, in which he was highly skilled, his lively, ardent temperament made him as agreeable as he was useful, and if popularity could have turned his head, it would certainly have done it ; but he was as much above popularity as Mr. Gammidge was above bells and knockers.

It was natural that, with Mr. Gammidge's aversion to the approach of death and decay, he should be a very prudent liver. He was sufficiently generous and self-indulgent to keep up his strength and vigour, and at the same time temperate and moderate in all his enjoyments, striking a balance between those two ordinary mistakes of " eating to live " and " living to eat " — great mistakes both of them in the eyes of Mr. Gammidge. Indeed, with regard to Mr. Gammidge's eyes, it may be said that they looked with the coldness of strict censorship on the ways of others, but with all the warmth of liberal allowance on his own. Never, certainly, was man so approved of by man, for wisdom and discretion, and other subordinate good qualities, as was John Gammidge by John Gammidge. His attention to diet, his habits of early rising and exercise in the open air, and other sanitary measures, Mr. Gammidge put down to his own credit as cardinal virtues, as if he were really performing an exemplary work, and conferring an important benefit on the world by preserving to it, and in it, the existence of John Gammidge !

It was plain that he had this view of things : for when he heard of the death of others he usually remarked, " The world could manage without them," or, "No great loss," or, worse still, "Good riddance!" There were very few whom he honoured with a shake of his head, saying, " Ah, it's a pity ! He didn't follow my plan. A great pity ! " He had one walk of a certain length for the mornino-, and another for the afternoon, from which he rarely varied. His morning walk was a gentle ascent from the base of a hill, near which his house stood, towards the summit. Here, in all weathers, clad for the season, waterproofed and umbrella'd in the heaw rain might be seen John Gammidge, morning after morning, looking, when the day was anything but inviting, like some well-satisfied pilgrim, much in love with his righteous work.

But it was a fine day among the fine ones of the opening autumn that saw him as we are about to introduce him, after this long preface, to the reader. He had nearly completed his task : half a furlong more to the stump beyond that cottage, wliose blue smoke curled among the orange and crimson-tipped trees, and he would turn to descend. The stump was gained, and, taking his customary " look round him " (not that he saw anything half so interesting to him as his gaiters, which he always finished his survey with, to see if they had got twisted or loosened by Ms toilsome climb), lie began his march homewards. As he passed the cottage he saw some one appearing from it. Surely it was Dr. Hendrie ! Dr. Hendrie there ? — on foot, of course, for there was no bridle way that he knew of up to that dwelling.

He lagged a little till the doctor — for it was he — had reached the road, and joined him. " What, doctor ! I didn't expect to see you there ! " he ex claimed, when they met. " I had no expectation of being there, I assure you, Mr. Gammidge," replied Dr. Hendrie. " It's an ill wind that blows nobody good. I shall have the benefit of your company to the foot of the hill. I particularly wanted to ask you, doctor, about a little pain I've had in my left shoulder." And Mr. Gammidge entered on a very elaborate history of every twinge and every approach to a twinge with which his said shoulder had been visited. Dr. Hendrie heard as though he did not hear ; and when Mr. Gammidge, who at first had felt gratified by his patience, became at length suspicious of it, and turned round to observe him, he found that he was in a brown study on some other subject.

The cessation of words made a greater impression than the words themselves had done. Dr. Hendrie rephed tothe look of inquiry, accompanying it with — " Indigestion, Mr. Gammidge." If Mr. Gammidge had been accused of witchcraft, or rebellion, he could not have manifested more disgust and indignation than he did at this charge of indigestion. " How in the world — by what possible means — can I get indi gestion ? Don't I diet myself, exercise myself, and study my health from morning to night ? " "Possibly so," replied the doctor, who had a little relapsed into his reverie ; " but with all the care you can take of it, your stomach won't last for ever, you know ; man, frail, perishable man, is but vanity at his best estate ; and at your years, however firm the house has been, cracks and crevices will appear."

Cracks and crevices ' his years ! stomach won't last for ever ! How very uncomfortable ! Mr. Gammidge felt a little shudder all through him ; the glow his walk had given him was succeeded by a chill ; he begun to wish he had not met the doctor. But now Dr. Hendrie woke up ; he saw some of the effect he had produced on his companion ; he was thoroughly kind-hearted, and though he never disguised truth from a patient, he was always guarded (where it was unwelcome) in telling it, that he might not, by want of sympathy, or needless bluntness or exaggeration, increase the smart it occasioned. " You see, my friend," he said, " you and I are going down hill (he was many years his companion's junior) ; we are not the men we were ; we don't expect to feel as we did at five-and-twenty ; but there is a poor fellow in that house in the very prime of man hood sinking into the grave, and no art can save him !

" If the whole house with its inmates had gone together into the grave, Mr. Gammidge would have been less moved than he had been at the charge of indigestion, or still worse at the idea of being " cracked and creviced." " I was in hopes at one time," said the doctor, " that something might be done ; he was coming round favourably, but last night a vessel gave way, and he will sink, I fear." It was now Mr. Gammidge's turn to fall into a reverie, and he did — but not about the probability of the cottager's recovery, no ; he was strictly examining his regimen, and trying to detect a flaw. " As to your pain," said the doctor, " I will call in and talk to you about it. I am pressed for time now, but I shall go up and see that poor fellow if I can this evening, and then as I pass on my return will give you five minutes.

I dare say it is only some accidental thing that a trifle will remove. You look well, and seem well, so far as size, gait, and colour can testify." Balm, cordial balm was this ; so soothing that Mr. Gammidge went the length to say that he hoped the man would recover. " He will not," said the doctor ; " and, accustomed as I am to death, and the sorrow it brings, I cannot get this poor fellow, his wife, so soon to be a widow, and his children, so soon to be orphans, out of my thoughts." " Ah, that comes of marrying so young. These large families they are a very heavy burden on the parish when anything happens to the parents," said Mr. Gammidge. " Five poor little things," said the doctor, not having listened to his companion's last sentiment, " and the woman not strong." " That's what I complain of ; no doubt she will die next, and then off to the parish with all five — really it's too bad."

" What ! " said the doctor, turning suddenly on him, " do you mean to say that a poor man is to be denied all the happiness of family relationship because he may fall ill and die ? " " I wouldn't have them marry till they can secure a maintenance for a family in case of their sickness or death," said Mr. Gammidge. " Then ninety-nine hundredths of the poor wouldn't many at all," said the doctor. " Well, what then ? I've never married, and I consider— pardon me, doctor, I know you differ from me, having a fine family of your own — that a man who is so wise as to keep out of the troubles of life by remaining single is — is — is — greatly to be " " " Admired for his wisdom and envied for his happiness — is that it?" " Well — yes — not far from it," said Mr. Gammidge, with an inward chuckle of joy that he was the man.

"Now as you have not disguised your sentiments on those that marry, allow me to express mine on those who from choice, in order to give all their care to their own precious persons, do not marry. I look on them as the most short-sighted of mortals, who live joyless and die unmissed. I could wax eloquent on this subject, but I have not time ; my horse waits at the turn." " Joyless indeed ! " said Mr. Gammidge, as he watched him mount and ride off at a sharp trot. " I should like to know what he sees of joy ! there's a pretty tribe of them at his house, and he is scampering over the country to keep the pot boiling. Un missed ! certainly he has that honour, he wouldn't die unmissed ; but what does that signify ? who cares about being missed ? " It was singular that several times throughout that day the question, scornfully asked, arose in Mr. Gammidge's mind " Who cares about being' missed ?

" and though he always replied to the query with a forced contemptuous laugh, his heart told him there was one individual at least who did not like the newly-awakened idea of the lonely death of a lonely man — and that was John Gammidge. Altogether, his conversation with Dr. Hendrie had had an unpleasant effect upon him ; and if the pain in his shoulder had not returned] with increased force towards the evening, he would have felt half-disposed to let him thump at the door and go away — he knew he would not thump twice. But love of health and life prevailed, and he charged Carline to be on the look out and listen, and have the door open the moment Dr. Hendrie's stick saluted it. Carline was threshing out the seed from the mustard and cress she had dried, and looked dubious when she received the order.

" You hear ? " asked Mr. Gammidge. " I don't see how I can hear him while I am beating this seed out," replied Carline, with a certain overcast expression of countenance which Mr. Gammidge instinctively understood to mean, " let me alone." " Then — then you had better put off that job till another time," he said, walking quickly away lest he should hear an answer that would make a reprimand necessary. "She gets very crabbed ; " he soliloquised, as he sat by the fire ; " very crabbed — and the more I give way to her the more I must ; I can see that." Mr. Gammidge's eyes were faithful reporters on this particular case. Carline had long been acquainted with her own value to her master, and when her temper was crossed (which it had been that morning), she took httle pains to disguise it, presuming on his dependence on her ; perhaps this presumption was latent, and had never been dressed up in words even mentally, but it existed.

" It's likely I am going to shift my work about from hour to hour just to listen to a fumbling at the door ; why can't he have a knocker like other folks ? " This was the speech which Mr. Gammidge escaped, and it was well he did escape it, for it would have provoked him. Why didn't he have a knocker ? she knew very well why it was, and the asking the question in the style in which she put it, was with her invariably meant for a throwing down the gauntlet. Upon every other particular, excepting this of the knocker, in their c household economy she agreed with her master, or, to speak more correctly, her master agreed with her ; for, in addition to the posts enumerated as occupied by her, should have been written — Mistress. Yes, mistress ; the independent John Gammidge, who boasted of the happiness of freedom from all the cares of domestic life — who looked with pity and contempt on husbands obliged to bear with the infirmities of a wife, and fathers compelled to toil or take thought for the support of children — who was for ever drawing comparisons between his own felicitous lot and the evil, or at least defective lots of others — was in his very castle, where he fancied, and would have had others fancy, he reigned supreme, the servant of his servant. But he had never suspected it — at least, not so strongly as he did on the evening when he told her to listen for Dr. Hendrie's knock.

Chapter II. What Strange Things The Doctor Did

bird in its hurried flight drops the straw it was carrying for its nest into a little gurgling, brooklike stream ; it falls in the centre of an eddy, and is whirled round and round, and does not sail down the rivulet ; thus a nucleus is formed, and other straws, withered tendrils, leaves, and grasses are attracted to it, till a little island of debris is formed. Now Dr. Hendrie had that day played bird, and dropped a straw, in the shape of a deeply-sug gestive thought, into the current of John Gammidge's mind, which formed a nucleus for many other thoughts to gather round, so that by the time he arrived at the door without a knocker, a very considerable island had established itself in his patient's stream of reflections. The straw dropped was the idea suggested of " the lonely death of a lonely man."

The collected straws that had floated about hither and thither heretofore, sometimes manifest on the surface, sometimes hidden and half-drowned, were the following : — First, Carline had a short temper. Second, the longer she lived with him the shorter it grew. Third, would it continue to shorten in that ratio ? Fourth, how would it be if illness came ? — which, of course, he had no expectation of. But then humanity can never hold itself exempt ; therefore, if he should have a long, lingering, severe, perhaps fatal and final illness, how then about his con dition ? Fifth, — but fifth, sixth, seventh, etc., were not sufficiently formed to be described or given in catalogue ; they were frag mentary atoms, suspicions, misgivings, founded on putting that and that together. " That and that " often consisted of a look and a word, which apart had little significance, but which when united helped each other to a grave meaning.

Carline httle expected how the island was growing, — how many straws were ready to go with the stream, and settle around the doctor's hint. But she had, meantime, an island of ber own ; it had not formed itself on the casual hint of another, but on her one principle of life and action, self-interest. This was Carline's island. Round " I myself — I " had gathered all her aspirations, desires, thoughts, and feelings in hfe. Her mind was not capacious, though she was shrewd and sufficiently common-sense gifted. But whatever good qualities she had, or whatever outward faults she might be free from, she was, like her master, utterly selfish and ungodly. As I am describing real persons and narrating a true story, the reader will best see from homely incidents the characters presented. For there is a danger in holding the mirror up to human nature, of holding it above people's heads, and so they miss seeing the image of their own selfish and sinful features.

Carline gave several thumps on the cress seed before she could so far give in to authority as to leave it, and half apologised to herself for the concession by saying, "It's hardly dry enough." Then shaking out what she had threshed into a paper ba°-, she hung the sheaf in its old place on the south wall of the house, for the benefit of a few more hours of air and sunshine. " You're the one to make the most of everything, Mrs. Carline," said a man's voice, in a bland, complimentary tone. " I wish all the women had the same wit to manage that you have. I should like to have half the pounds that you save and make for Mr. Gammidge in a year." " I does my best," said Carline, who, though rather startled by the near neighbourhood of a witness when she knew of none, was not insensible to the beguilements of flattery.

" That you do, that you do," said the voice, which came from the gardener at a large house in the village, a man who knew his business well, and attended to some things he had no business to meddle with better still, but was versed best of all in the ways and means of enriching his basket and store. He was in the prime of life, and would have been good-looking, but a stoop in the shoulders spoiled his otherwise well-grown figure, and a sly expression destroyed his by no means uncomely face. He was resting his arms on a low brick fence that divided Mr. Gammidge's yard from a paddock belonging to his master, Captain Calder, and he accompanied his honeyed words with honeyed look. Now Carhne had only very lately begun to learn that a face could consist of anything besides eyes, nose, and mouth, — that is, that there was any such thing as expression.

She had lived with Mr. Gammidge many years, whose face she never looked at except when she wanted to hear more distinctly what he said, for she was rather hard of hearing, or when he paid her her wages. The sight of money always having a powerful effect on her feelings, made her then give him a steady stare as she dropped her quarterly curtsey ; but if she had looked on that face from morning till night, from year's end to year's end, she would have seen nothing but eyes, nose, and mouth, and there were many better worth seeing. But did Mr. Gammidge never think or feel ? Of course he did ; but when he thought it was about himself, directly or indirectly ; and when he felt, it was for himself directly ; so that his face, as it was John Gammidge in the flesh, was also John Gammidge in the spirit, — as much spirit as it had.

But there were other faces in the creation. True ; but what was a creation full of faces to a person who lived in a house without a knocker? But she had begun to learn, and her tutor was giving her a lesson as he stood regarding her with such evident approval from the top of the wall. " Who gets up your 'taters ? " asked the gardener, whose name was Dixey. "I do, to be sure," answered Carline, with conscious self approbation. " Well, well ! — there's our women at the captain's, I wonder he gets 'em to boil a 'tater, so fine as they are. And do you cave 'em too?" " Keeps 'em in a warm shed," rephed Carline. " Now, I'll be bound for it you never get a frost-bite among 'em ? " Carline's face didn't want expression as she looked her answer. " She not a match for Jack Frost!" She had ways and means of watching and covering that set him at defiance.

" I'm sure Mr. Gammidge ought to pay you well. Why, you're worth your weight in gold ! " said, Dixey. Carline was overcome by this handsome sentiment, and coloured up to the roots of her hair, which stood in three httle wiry knobs or curls, on each side of her face. " There's a many as does less and has more, — I beheve that," she said, with a very significant look. (She was growing exceed ingly expressive.) " No doubt, no doubt," responded Dixey. " Well, it's to be hoped he'll remember you when — anything happens to him, as we say." " Die ? " asked Carline, rather bluntly. " Well, yes, — I suppose so. You know he must die some time," said Dixey, encouragingly. " He ain't a going to do that just yet, — not if he can help it, you may believe me," replied Carline. Has the reader never noticed the levity with which ungodly people speak of death ?

Not that the opposite tone is always a sign of godliness, because there is a feeling of awe often resulting from superstitious fear. But, generaUy, where the right fear of God is wanting, death is spoken of with thoughtless levity. " Well," said Dixey, in reply to Carline's remark about her master's not going to die yet, " as long as he pays properly, you have a good home. And then you're at no expense ; you don't spend all your money, like our women up yonder, in finery ; and I'm sure you look a deal nicer, — to my taste." " I haven't got time to think about finery," said Carline, glancing at her whole and clean, but very homely, dress, and wishing in her heart that she had changed her cap that afternoon. " I'm a bit of a figure now," she said, with a very remote touch of coquetry in her air ; " but threshing out that seed makes such work wi' caps, through the dust."

" Oh, it isn't dress that does it," said Dixey, with a philo sophical air; "there's some as nice, put on what 'em will." There was no doubtthat this compliment, whole and entire, was at the service of Carline, and she understood it so. Dixey saw that she did, and began again. " There's very little sense in the world, and less gratitude. Now there's my master, Captain Calder, — where would he ha' been, if he hadn't by good luck pitched ■ upon me ? Why, the cart-loads of fresh soil I've had to put into that garden, and the work I've had in laying out, you'd never credit it." yeS) — Carline was ready to credit anything that Dixey said at that moment. " And yet what thanks is there for it ? " he said, after having most eloquently enlarged on the services he had rendered to Captain Calder. " Oh, it's a very ungrateful world, and it makes one that one's forced to look after one's own good, when there's nobody that'll own to what you've done.