________________________________________________
_ Four-and-twenty years ago Toby Hall (I need not say that his
proper Christian name was Tobias) had married Miss Priscilla
Bratt, then a calm and self-reliant young woman of twenty-three,
and Priscilla had the house, together with a certain income, under
the will of her father. The marriage was not the result of burning
passion on either side. It was a union of two respectabilities,
and it might have succeeded as well as such unions generally do
succeed, if Priscilla had not too frequently mentioned the fact
that the house they lived in was hers. He knew that the house was
hers. The whole world was perfectly aware of the ownership of the
house, and her references to the matter amounted to a lack of
tact. Several times Toby had indicated as much. But Priscilla took
no heed. She had the hide of an alligator herself (though a
personable girl), and she assumed that her husband's hide was of
similar stuff. This assumption was justifiable, except that in
just one spot the skin of Toby was tender. He really did not care
to be reminded that he was living under his wife's roof. The
reiteration settled on his nerves like a malady. And before a year
had elapsed Priscilla had contrived to remind him once too often.
And one day he put some things in a carpet-bag, and a hat on his
head, and made for the door. The house was antique, and the front-
parlour gave directly on to the street.
'Where be going?' Priscilla asked him.
He hesitated a second, and said--
'Merica.'
And he was. In the Five Towns we are apt to end our marriages in
that laconic manner. Toby did not complain too much; he simply and
unaffectedly went. It might be imagined that the situation was a
trying one for Priscilla. Not so! Priscilla had experienced
marriage with Toby and had found it wanting. She was content to be
relieved of Toby. She had her house and her money and her self-
esteem, and also tranquillity. She accepted the solution, and
devoted her days to the cleanliness of the house.
Toby drew all the money he had out of the Bursley and Turnhill
Permanent Fifty Pounds Benefit Building Society (four shares,
nearly paid up) and set sail--in the Adriatic, which was then the
leading greyhound of the Atlantic--for New York. From New York he
went to Trenton (New Jersey), which is the Five Towns of America.
A man of his skill in handling clay on a wheel had no difficulty
whatever in wresting a good livelihood from Trenton. When he had
tarried there a year he caused a letter to be written to his wife
informing her that he was dead. He wished to be quite free; and
also (we have our feeling for justice) he wished his wife to be
quite free. It did not occur to him that he had done anything
extraordinary, either in deserting his wife or in forwarding false
news of his death. He had done the simple thing, the casual thing,
the blunt thing, the thing that necessitated the minimum of
talking. He did not intend to return to England.
However, after a few years, he did return to England. The cause of
his return is irrelevant to the history, but I may say that it
sprang from a conflict between the Five Towns temperament and the
Trenton Union of Earthenware Operatives. Such is the power of
Unions in the United States that Toby, if he wished to remain
under the Federal Flag, had either to yield or to starve. He would
not yield. He changed his name and came to England; strolled
calmly into the Crown Porcelain Works at Derby one day, and there
recommenced his career as an artificer of earthenware. He did
well. He could easily earn four pounds a week, and had no desires,
save in the direction of fly-fishing--not an expensive diversion.
He knew better than to marry. He existed quietly; and one year
trod on the heels of another, and carried him from thirty to forty
and forty to fifty, and no one found out his identity, though
there are several direct trains daily between Derby and Knype.
And now, owing to the death of a friend and a glass of beer, he
was in Child Row, crossing the street towards the house whose
ownership had caused him to quit it.
He knocked on the door with the handle of his umbrella. There was
no knocker; there never had been a knocker. _
Read next: PART X - BEGINNING THE NEW YEAR: CHAPTER III
Read previous: PART X - BEGINNING THE NEW YEAR: CHAPTER I
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