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.
