Dodson

“ With an automatic obedience which neither sought to comprehend nor to control, Dodson’s hands dived into the recesses of his overcoat. Therefrom they produced a reporter’s notebook, half-full of a hasty and clumsy pencil scrawl. This he gave to the old man.
“It begins here,” he said, indicating the place in an urgent whisper. “It is not very clear, but I hadn’t much time. Can you make it out? Read it as quickly as ever you can, and then perhaps he will not notice that it is not all that it might be.”
“Begin, O my father!” said the gentle voice of the dying man. ”

“ The boy did not reply to this indictment. He felt that there was.
“There’s something missing,” said Mr. Dodson impressively.
The silence of William Jordan, Junior, continued to corroborate Mr. Dodson.
“As I have already said, my son,” said Mr. Dodson, “you are just about fivepence halfpenny to the shilling, not more, not a farthing more. I cast no aspersions, mind, upon the maiden aunt who undertook your up-bringing. I don’t doubt that she is a good and worthy, and nice-minded old woman, but I blame her for one thing, my son, for one thing I am forced to blame her.” ”

“ As the unhappy Dodson entered this evening the presence of the poet, he seemed to discern a curious anguish in the eyes of his dying friend.
“Jimmy,” said the poet in a scarcely audible voice, “the hand of death is upon me. There hardly remains more than a day and a night of the sands of life. Yet I would like to hear that my labours have received some sort of sanction. Have they made no sign? Have they said nothing?”
The entreaty in the sightless gaze filled the unhappy Dodson with a kind of reckless despair. ”

“ One evening, after Jimmy Dodson had sat in a kind of entrancement for several hours while the poet had recited many passages, he was moved to ask with dry lips, “I say, old boy, Homer and Milton were blind, weren’t they?”
“Tradition has it so,” said the poet, and his sightless aspect was suffused with that secret and beautiful smile that had come to haunt poor Dodson in his dreams. “But what is ‘tradition’ but an adumbration of the light that never was?” ”

“ With immemorial calm Mr. M. Arnold Dodson disclosed for the edification of Mr. G. Eliot Davis, the fly-leaf of the volume he carried. A short exclamation of surprise and incredulity escaped the lips of that young gentleman, which Mr. Dodson did not pause to elucidate.
As the thin, tall, melancholy but intellectual form of Mr. Walter Pater Walkinshaw wended its way up-stairs, Mr. Dodson turned to William Jordan, Junior, with a Napoleonic air.
“Luney,” he said, “you can fetch me the time-book.” ”

“ Leaving the ground with the air of a father mourning over some prodigal son, he encountered Mr Jacob Dodson, of Manchester.
Now, Mr Dodson was perhaps the slightest bit shy on the finer feelings. He should have respected the grief of a fallen foe. He should have abstained from exulting. But he was in too exhilarated a condition to be magnanimous. Sighting Mr Rackstraw, he addressed himself joyously to the task of rubbing the thing in. Mr Rackstraw listened in silent anguish. ”

“ Dodson. “It simply means that, like everybody else, you have got to take Octavius for your model. Of course you needn’t keep it up out of office hours unless you like. Only chaps with a strong constitution can keep it up all the time.”
“I—I d-don’t understand,” said the boy.
“You Juggins!” said Mr. Dodson, whose scorn sought in vain to express itself adequately. “The whole thing is so simple. If you are going to keep your stool in the counting-house of Crumpett and Hawker, you have got to show yourself up to the traditions of the house. I can’t talk plainer. You have got to copy Octavius. ”

“ Ever smiling in the same manner, the dying poet then extended the fragile hand again, this time towards the astonished Jimmy Dodson, whose every faculty seemed to be atrophied by so strange a situation.
“We would have thee also make obeisance, faithful servant,” said the poet gently. “It is not for this insignificant flesh that we seek thy homage; it is not to appease an unworthy pride, which too often devours princes, that we would crave thy vassalage. ”

“ At the hands of this austere master of “hard-shell” practicality he was the daily recipient of much profound advice which probed the depths of human wisdom, tempered by more or less severe personal chastisement to help him to assimilate it.
“They say Nature gives one talent to every cove gratis,” Mr. Dodson would say as he proceeded thoughtfully to administer reproof and correction, “but this talent of yours takes a deal of finding, my son.”
During the first weeks of the boy’s servitude he had much to endure. ”

“ Dodson far a charity?”
“Well, I cannot say that I remember an instance; only I'm sure that he has his own way of doing good. Every one has, unless he be utterly bad; and I'm seventy years old, gentle-men, and I never met that kind yet.”
“Greatheart is the only man in Liverpool who would say a word for Dodson,” said Lard a minute later, “and in this case his charity has rather overshot the mark; but it does one good to hear the old man. He is a walking Sermon on the Mount, and the best thing about him is that he believes in everybody; the very sight of his white hair makes me a better man.” ”

“ XXIV
“Luney, my son,” said Mr. James Dodson in one of his moments of expansiveness, as they walked together one evening down the Strand, “there are only two rules to remember for this life, whatever there may be for the next. The first is to know [171] what you want; the second is to see that you get it.”
“Have you yet discovered that which is necessary to yourself?” his companion ventured to inquire.
“I have, my son,” said Mr. Dodson. “I have discovered that it is necessary to myself to marry a little money. You see, my son, I have come to an understanding with Chrissie. ”

“ Thus early in his career he had adopted the saying of a compatriot, for he too, like so many of our national heroes, claimed the blood of Caledonia stern and wild, upon his mother’s side, “genius is an infinite capacity for taking pains,” and had made it his own. Therefore in a crisis where one of other clay would have been daunted indeed, Mr. M. A. Dodson girt his loins like a veritable giant, and re-addressed himself to his labours with the greatest possible valour. Luney had failed him, as it was only reasonable to expect such a lunatic to do. ”

“ Dodson already felt a curious susceptibility to the new and strange manner of his companion.
“But, you know, old boy,” said Jimmy Dodson, whose joy in their meeting was suddenly tempered by the things that were, “all this must be kept from my people all the same. You see, my father—well, my father is in the Force, and—and, well naturally, [259] it would not be professional. And of course you are done for socially—it is no use my disguising it, is it, old boy? It is only kindness to tell you. ”

“ Days passed ere Jimmy Dodson returned again to the little room. They were fraught with dire anxiety for the blind poet and the aged man, his father. In his heart the old man was filled with despair, and he knew not how to obtain the strength wholly to conceal his fears. What if he to whom they had entrusted their priceless treasure should never return to them again! He had neither the devotion nor the blind faith of the dying man.
“They are printing it, they are printing it!” the poet would exclaim many times in the day as he kept the chair beside the hearth. ”

“ Dodson inquired.
“E-eighteen years and f-fifty-nine days, sir,” stammered William Jordan, Junior.
“My aunt!” said Mr. Dodson, with incredulity, “you don’t look a day more than twelve and a half. You might travel half-fare on the District Railway.”
Suddenly Mr. Dodson clenched his hands.
“Luney,” said he vehemently, “do you suppose if I were you I should be sitting down-stairs on a high stool? Not me. You ought to go far, my son, you ought. But you never will. You haven’t got it about you; and,” concluded Mr. Dodson grimly, “it is a good thing for some of us you ain’t.” ”

“ Dodson’s very visible surprise. “P-p-perchance after the callow days of our childhood have passed, when the mind is like sand, it is a violation of the dream knowledge that has grown up all about our hearts to turn yet again to those pages in which the great wonders were first revealed to us. But even to this hour I love to gaze on the printed pages which these long years have lain in my soul.”
Mr. Dodson paid no heed to the strange and incoherent phrases which proceeded from the lips of William Jordan, Junior. ”

“ Not even Mr. Samuel Galer, of Dodson's Private Inquiry Agency, could have kept a more unflagging watch than did Jimmy during those hours. There was no rehearsal that afternoon, and the members of the company, in various stages of nervous collapse, strayed distractedly about the grounds. First one, then another, would seize upon Molly, while Jimmy, watching from afar, cursed their pertinacity. ”

“ Having by the exercise of this highly commendable foresight delivered William Jordan, Junior, from the toils of this imminent and deadly peril, Mr. Dodson fortified this social neophyte with further sound advice in regard to his deportment on the devious and narrow path he was about to tread, and finally committed him to the care of his green ’bus in Ludgate Circus.
“It is a dangerous experiment,” mused Mr. Dodson, as the ’bus was lost amid the traffic; “but that young fellow wants bringing out badly. It will do him no end of good. ”

“ All who are simple and gentle of heart will take sustenance from this little treatise upon human life. Scan the first lines, faithful one, you who are simple and gentle of heart, and then the pressure of your hand shall tell me that my labours are not vain.”
With indescribable pangs, Jimmy Dodson deferred to the insistence of the glazed eyes, which, although as lifeless as those of a statue, seemed to possess the power to hold him in thrall. ”

“ Dodson,” said Fogg.
“For the grounds of action, sir,” continued Dodson, with moral elevation in his air, “you will consult your own conscience and your own feelings. We, sir, we, are guided entirely by the statement of our client. That statement, sir, may be true, or it may be false; it may be credible, or it may be incredible; but, if it be true, and if it be credible, I do not hesitate to say, sir, that our grounds of action, sir, are strong, and not to be shaken. You may be an unfortunate man, sir, or you may be a designing one ”

“ Dodson, with leisurely dignity, “perhaps you will have the condescension to verify them for yourself.”
“Very good, Dodson,” said Mr. Davis, who by now had regained his own natural self-possession, which was not inconsiderable. “Excuse me for one moment. Take a chair. Make yourself quite at home.”
“I shall make myself quite at home a good deal sooner than you think, you young swine,” said Mr. Dodson through clenched teeth, as Mr. Davis betook himself to the presence of Mr. Octavius Crumpett. “Jack in office! ”

“ What do you mean?” she snapped. “This old prospector never did any real digging on my claim. He’s dead, anyhow. Who is there to make trouble?”
“Nobody will make you trouble, I’m sure, Miss Lowell,” said Dodson with a suave smile. “My brother and I will be pleased to sign over the claim to you.”
“Sign it over to me? What have you got to do with it?”
“We own it. We own practically all the Bald Knob group of mines.”
Hugh spoke for the first time. “News to me, Mr. Dodson. When did you get ’em?”
“Almost two years ago. We bought out Singlefoot Bill.” ”

“ Upon beholding this woe-begone figure William Jordan gave a start of surprise.
“Why, Jimmy,” he said, “why do you come here now?”
“As I was half-way through the performance at the Alcazar,” said Jimmy Dodson apprehensively, “I had a sort of presentiment. Something seemed to tell me, Luney, that after to-night I might never see you again. Something seemed to tell me that you were going away.”
“Nature has certainly spoken to me,” said William Jordan.
“That doesn’t mean, Luney, old boy,” said Jimmy Dodson in a voice not the least like his own, “that you intend to desert an old friend?” ”

“ Mr. Dodson’s manner of addressing this luminary was in such memorable contrast to the one he had lately been using, that even such a one as William Jordan, Junior, who in the phrase of [129] Mr. Dodson “was no more than fivepence ha’penny to the shilling,” was fain to observe it.
“Davis,” said Mr. Dodson, “has Mr. Octavius gone out yet to luncheon?”
“Yes, Dodson,” said Mr. Davis. “Mr. Octavius has gone out to luncheon. He went out at twenty minutes to two, to lunch with Sir Topman Murtle at the Marlborough.” ”

“ We might have tried young Davis, only unfortunately in a weak moment I have asked him to come to the party.”
After a brief period of contemplation, in which Mr. Dodson thoughtfully reviewed the situation from every point of view, he said, “I am afraid, my son, there is only one thing to be done. You [177] will have to get an evening suit of your own. It will be money well invested if you take to going out into society a great deal.”
That evening Mr. William Jordan received an introduction to the gentleman who had the felicity of providing Mr. Dodson with his own immaculate outfit. ”

“ The ridiculousness of such an appeal was too much for Macraven's overtaxed nerves.
“I've told Dodson, my man, to admit Miss Anne Appleby to these rooms on no consideration!” he cried.
“But she goes everywhere in Amboro! You can't quarrel with a woman who claims no less than thirteen blood and marriage relationships on the teaching staff alone. ”

“ Why fear to tell it?”
“The truth is this,” said Dodson. “There is not a publisher in London who would print poor Luney’s poem.”
The old man fell back against the door of the shop with a little cry.
“But—but the first mind of the age lies at the point of dissolution!” he exclaimed. “They owe it to themselves that they cherish its fruits. Do they not know that death itself respects his labours, and awaits some token of homage from those for whom he wrought?” ”