# Eliza/Promotion
### PROMOTION

HOW true it is, as one of our English poets has remarked, that it is always darkest before the silver lining!
While this little work was actually in the hands of the printers, an incident occurred of such great and far-reaching importance that I cannot refrain from making it the subject of an additional paper. I can give it in one word—promotion.
It came at a time when I was suffering from great depression and considerable irritation, as I have already indicated in my opening remark. It was on a Wednesday morning, and those who know me know that invariably on Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday I put on a clean shirt. The number may seem excessive, and perhaps out of proportion to my income, but I own without shame ​that I am careful as to my personal appearance. I must also add that I am very particularly careful—and, I think, rightly—on the question of the airing of linen.
All I said was that I should put on that shirt, whether Eliza liked it or not, and that it would probably give me my death; but that it did not matter, and perhaps the sooner it was all over the better. There were circumstances under which life was hardly worth living, and when one's express injunctions were continually disregarded, one began to despair.
Eliza spoke quite snappishly, and said that my linen was always properly aired, and that I was too fussy.
I replied, without losing my temper, that there was airing and airing. Even now I cannot think that Eliza was either just or accurate.
At breakfast-time one or two other little circumstances occurred to put me out. A teacup which is filled so full that it overflows into ​the saucer is a perfect thorn in the flesh to me. So is bacon which is burnt to a cinder. I hardly did more than mention it, but Eliza seemed put out; she said I did nothing but find fault, and as for the bacon, I had better go into the kitchen and find fault with the girl, for it was the girl who had cooked it.
"On the contrary," I said, "in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred when a servant does wrong it is her mistress who deserves the censure."
"Go it!" said Eliza, an expression which I do not think to be quite ladylike. "And if a hansom-cab runs over you in Oxford Street, you go and get the damages out of the Shah of Persia. That's the line to take."
This answer exasperated me by its silliness, and I had quite made up my mind not to say another word of any kind during breakfast. Indeed, but for the fact that I had not quite finished my bacon and that I hate waste, I should have got up and walked out of the room there and then.
​A little later I happened to look up, and it struck me from Eliza's face that she might be going to cry. I therefore made a point of saying that the butter was better than we had been having lately, and that it looked like being a fine day after all. Anything like weakness is repellent to me, but still, when one sees that one's words have gone home, one is justified in not pressing the matter further.
Still, I am prepared to own that I started for the city in but low spirits, and with no inclination to join in the frivolous conversation that was going on in the railway carriage. On arriving at the office I was surprised to find that Figgis, our head clerk, was not there. He gave me the tonic port, and was inclined to be dictatorial, but I must confess that he was always a most punctual man. I was very much surprised.
Our senior partner, Mr. Bagshaw, came much earlier than usual,—10.30, to be precise,—and sent for me at once. He is a big, fat man; he speaks in short sentences, ​and breathes hard in between them. At the moment of entering his room I was as certain that I was about to be sacked as I have ever been of anything that I did not really know. I was wrong.
He made me sit down, glared at me, and began:
"Yesterday evening we detained Mr. Figgis for a few minutes. At the end of our interview with him he left this office for ever, never to return—never!"
I said that I was very much astonished.
"We weren't. We've known there was a leakage. People knew what we were doing—people who oughtn't to know. He sold information. We put on detectives. They proved it. See?"
I said that I saw.
"So you've got Figgis's place for the future. See?"
At that moment you might have knocked me down with a feather; it was so absolutely unexpected. Give me time, and I think I can provide a few well-chosen words suitable to ​the occasion as well as any man. But now I could think of nothing to say but "Thank you."
He went on to explain that this would mean an immediate rise of £75, and a prospective rise of a further £75 at the end of a year if my work was satisfactory. He said that I had not Figgis's abilities, of course, but that a very close eye had been kept on me lately, and I had shown myself to be honest, methodical, and careful in details. It was also believed that I should realize the importance of a responsible and confidential position, and that I should keep the men under me up to the mark.
The rest of our conversation was concerned with my new duties, and at the close of it he handed me Figgis's keys—my own name and the office address had been already put on the label.
I should not be fair to myself if I did not make some reference to Mr. Bagshaw's comparison of Figgis's abilities and my own. I will merely state the fact that on more than ​one occasion Figgis has gained success or avoided failure from suggestions made to him by myself. That he did not give me the credit for this with the firm is precisely what I should have expected from a man of that character. However, I have my opportunity now, and the firm will see.
When I returned to the clerks' office I found one of the juniors playing the fool.
"I wish you'd stop that, please," I said, "and get on with your work."
"Who gave you the right to give orders here?" he asked me, rudely.
Fortunately, that was what I had expected he would say, and therefore I had my answer ready:
"Mr. Bagshaw did, three minutes ago, when he made me head of this department in place of Mr. Figgis."
And without another word I went calmly to Mr. Figgis's desk and unlocked it. The effect was remarkable, and gave me great pleasure. During the luncheon hour I re​ceived several congratulations, and was pressed to partake of liquor. But I had long ago made up my mind that if the firm ever did place me in a good and responsible position, I would give up alcohol during business hours altogether. I carried out that resolution, and shall continue to do so; Figgis, with all his so-called abilities, was frequently drowsy in the afternoon. Apart from that, I hope I was not wanting in geniality. I snatched a few moments to telegraph to Eliza: "Meet train to-night. Very good news for you."
On my way to the station I purchased a small bottle of champagne,—it cost half a crown, but the price for this wine is always pretty stiff. I also took back with me in my bag a tinned tongue and some pears.
Eliza was waiting for me, and was obviously excited. She had guessed what had happened.
"Got Figgis's berth?" she said.
"Yes. Let's get off the platform as soon as we can. Everybody's looking at us."
We walked home very quickly, Eliza asking questions all the way, and looking, as I ​noticed, quite five years younger. After what I have said as to my purchases, I need not add that supper that night was a perfect banquet.
We had a long discussion as to our future, and did not get to bed until past eleven. I was at first in favour of taking a rather better house, but Eliza thought we should do more wisely to spread the money over making ourselves more comfortable generally. When she came to go into it in detail, I found that on the whole hers was the preferable course. New curtains for the drawing-room are to be put in hand at once. The charwoman is to come regularly once a week. We raised the girl's wages a pound, and she went into hysterics. Eliza has insisted that I am to have a first-class season-ticket in future. There is much can be done with £75.
On the whole, about the happiest evening of my life.
THE END.