'Uncommon sense?' suggested Daniel, with his quiet smile.
'You may call it so, if you like--and each of you will be a right hand
to the other. Here's my own right hand upon it, as a practical man, to
both of you.' The purchase was completed within a month. It left Arthur in possession
of private personal means not exceeding a few hundred pounds; but it
opened to him an active and promising career. The three friends dined
together on the auspicious occasion; the factory and the factory wives
and children made holiday and dined too; even Bleeding Heart Yard
dined and was full of meat.
Two months had barely gone by in all, when
Bleeding Heart Yard had become so familiar with short-commons again,
that the treat was forgotten there; when nothing seemed new in the
partnership but the paint of the inscription on the door-posts, DOYCE
AND CLENNAM; when it appeared even to Clennam himself, that he had had
the affairs of the firm in his mind for years.
The little counting-house reserved for his own occupation, was a room of
wood and glass at the end of a long low workshop, filled with benches,
and vices, and tools, and straps, and wheels; which, when they were
in gear with the steam-engine, went tearing round as though they had a
suicidal mission to grind the business to dust and tear the factory to
pieces. A communication of great trap-doors in the floor and roof with
the workshop above and the workshop below, made a shaft of light in
this perspective, which brought to Clennam's mind the child's old
picture-book, where similar rays were the witnesses of Abel's
murder.
The noises were sufficiently removed and shut out from the
counting-house to blend into a busy hum, interspersed with periodical
clinks and thumps. The patient figures at work were swarthy with the
filings of iron and steel that danced on every bench and bubbled up
through every chink in the planking. The workshop was arrived at by a
step-ladder from the outer yard below, where it served as a shelter for
the large grindstone where tools were sharpened. The whole had at once
a fanciful and practical air in Clennam's eyes, which was a welcome
change; and, as often as he raised them from his first work of getting
the array of business documents into perfect order, he glanced at these
things with a feeling of pleasure in his pursuit that was new to him.
Raising his eyes thus one day, he was surprised to see a bonnet
labouring up the step-ladder. The unusual apparition was followed by
another bonnet. He then perceived that the first bonnet was on the head
of Mr F.'s Aunt, and that the second bonnet was on the head of Flora,
who seemed to have propelled her legacy up the steep ascent with
considerable difficulty. Though not altogether enraptured at the sight
of these visitors, Clennam lost no time in opening the counting-house
door, and extricating them from the workshop; a rescue which was
rendered the more necessary by Mr F.'s Aunt already stumbling over some
impediment, and menacing steam power as an Institution with a stony
reticule she carried.