Smith by Warwick Deeping

Author:Warwick Deeping
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction, family life, medicine
Publisher: Distributed Proofreaders Canada
Published: 1932-08-15T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

1

At eight o’clock Keir went to the office, but the office had not yet opened, and having one or two jobs to overlook, he rode off on the day’s round. His first call was at a house that was being built by the firm on Kingham Hill, and as he dismounted, he heard loud laughter coming from the shell of the new building. Putting his bicycle against the hedge, he passed through the temporary gate, and entering the house by what was to be its front door, he surprised the men in conclave. Two of them were smoking pipes, and it was obvious that the occasion was so socially significant that the postponement of the day’s work was justified.

Keir looked at the group of men and at his watch.

“About time to get a move on, isn’t it?”

He was conscious of receiving ironical glances. The smokers did not put away their pipes, and instantly he was wise as to the situation. The atmosphere of that brick shell was hostile. Rumour had spread. His authority slid upon thin ice.

He did not utter another word. He stood there with his watch in his hand, and no one addressed a remark to him. One of the smokers, a bricklayer, seated on a plank supported by two buckets, knocked out his pipe and, ignoring Keir, issued an invitation.

“What about a little job of work, boys?”

Keir understood. He put his watch away. The men were on the move, but their activities were self-ordained and were not inspired by his presence. He had to move out of the way to let them pass to their various places, and not one of them looked at him. The facetious fellow of the party began to mount a ladder, and as he did so, he tapped the toe of a boot against each rung.

“Put your money on Early Worm, Charlie.”

Keir waited until they had distributed themselves about the building, and, returning to the road, mounted his bicycle. As he pedalled off, he heard laughter celebrating his retreat. Someone shouted: “What price the Sergeant Major?” There was more laughter.

Keir rode back to the yard and, going to the office, found that Mr. Hoad had arrived. He had sat down a moment ago at his desk and was adjusting his pince-nez. A clerk was busy with the morning’s mail, and when Hoad saw Keir’s face, he let fall over his own face the veil of a little, shimmering smile.

“That you, Keir. Come in. Just a moment, Hobbs. I want a few words with Mr. Smith.”

The clerk, with a curious glance at Keir, got up and went out. Mr. Hoad’s hands began to fiddle with the various objects on his desk; not that any readjustment or rearranging of these articles was needed. Mr. Hoad’s uneasy hands sought occupation.

“You had my letter, Keir?”

His air of embarrassed brightness was an offence to Keir. It was so like the man and so like his silly question.

“Oh, yes—I suppose you couldn’t let me know earlier.”

“If it would have made any difference, Keir, of course I should have notified you.

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