But there came a different kind of test. In the winter which
followed upon Mutimer's downfall, Nicholas Dabbs fell ill and died.
He was married but had no children, and his wife had been separated
from him for several years. His brother Daniel found himself in
flourishing circumstances, with a public-house which brought in
profits of forty pounds a week It goes without saying that Daniel
forthwith abandoned his daily labour and installed himself behind
the bar. The position suited him admirably; with a barmaid and a
potman at his orders (he paid them no penny more than the market
rate), he stood about in his shirt sleeves and gossiped from morn to
midnight with such of his friends as had leisure (and money) to
spend in the temple of Bacchus. From the day that saw him a licensed
victualler he ceased to attend the Socialist meetings; it was, of
course, a sufficient explanation to point to the fact that he could
not be in two places at the same time, for Sunday evening is a
season of brisk business in the liquor trade. At first he was
reticent on the subject of his old convictions, but by degrees he
found it possible to achieve the true innkeeper's art, and speak
freely in a way which could offend none of his customers. And he
believed himself every bit as downright and sincere as he had ever
been.
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