The ball made a new man of Denry. He had danced with the Countess -- the first man to dance with her. Bursley thought he was a wonderful fellow, and so did Denry himself. He had always been a hopeful, cheerful kind of person. Now he was filled with happiness all the time, and when he got out of bed in the morning, he felt like singing and dancing. Something good was going to happen, he knew; he just had to wait. He didn't have to wait very long.

Mr Duncalf was an important man at the Town Hall. Because of this, Mrs Codleyn thought that he should make the taxes lower on her houses. Mrs Codleyn had chosen Mr Duncalf to collect her rents because she thought he was an honest man -- but an honest man would never try to change the taxes specially for one person. What strange ideas people have sometimes!

A few days after the ball, Mrs Codleyn came to see Mr Duncalf. Mrs Codleyn was a widow, a woman of nearly sixty. She owned about seventy small houses in Bursley, and Mr Duncalf collected the rents for her. (Denry, of course, actually went to the houses to get the money.) Although the rent from all these houses was about twelve pounds a week, Mrs Codleyn always said that it was not enough. And the taxes! Every year the taxes on those houses got higher and higher, and Mrs Codleyn hated paying her taxes.

"Who invited you to the ball?"

There it was. A very difficult question.

"Why?"

"Machin!"

He had not meant to say it. The same little question had amused the Countess greatly, but it was true to say that it was not amusing his employer now. Mr Duncalf's own dance with the Countess had come to a very quick ending, because he had stepped heavily on her skirt.

"Write this letter to Mrs Codleyn," he said angrily. "Madam, I understand from our conversation this morning that you prefer to find another lawyer…"

Denry knew what was coming. He had known it was coming ever since the ball.

"I did, sir." Denry just could not think of a lie.

"I thought perhaps you'd forgotten to, sir."

"I suppose you think you're a really fine fellow after your dance with the Countess?" Mr Duncalf said unpleasantly.

Denry wrote down the letter. As he was leaving the room, Mr Duncalf spoke again.

"Yes," said Denry. "Do you?"

Mrs Codleyn had just heard that her taxes were going up again, but she did not stay long in Mr Duncalf's office. The conversation (which Denry listened to through the wall) was short, loud, and not very polite. When Mrs Codleyn left, Mr Duncalf called Denry into his office.

"I wish I could find someone else to collect my rents."

"Oh, very well," said Denry. And he said to himself: "something good must happen now." He had no idea what he would do next, but he was still cheerful. And he still had Harold Etches" five pounds.

"Nothing to do with me, you know!" said Denry.

"You will leave my office at the end of the week," said Mr Duncalf, coldly.

The next morning both Mrs Codleyn and Denry were late for church. Mrs Codleyn was late by accident and also because she was fat. Denry was late because he had planned it that way. The two met at the church door.

"Well, you're nice people, I must say!" Mrs Codleyn said to Denry. She meant Duncalf and all his office workers.

"I can still collect them for you, if you like," said Denry.

"You?"

"I've told Duncalf I'm leaving him," Denry said. "The fact is, he and I don't agree on a lot of things."

Mrs Codleyn looked at him and thought about it. He was just a young office worker, and his mother was a washer-woman. His suit was clean, but old and unfashionable.

"And what's more," Denry went on, "I'll do the work for less money. You pay Duncalf ninety pence a week -- well, I'll do it for sixty pence a week. And I'll collect them better than him. Give me a month and you'll see the difference!"

E. H. MACHIN

Rent Collector

At the end of the week a notice appeared on the front door of Denry's mother's house, which said:

One Monday morning he went to Mrs Hullins' house to collect the rent. It was a very small house, not much more than one room downstairs and one room upstairs. The rent was fifteen pence a week, and the Widow Hullins had not paid any rent at all for some weeks. She had lived there all her life, and after two husbands and eleven children, she now lived alone. She had seen a lot of life, and was old and tired.

In a few weeks, Denry was doing very well. He was working for himself, and in two days he earned more money than in a week with Mr Duncalf. He walked around the town, smiling, looking important, talking to other young men, and thinking of new ways of making money.

"It'll be a long wait. I'll have nothing until Saturday, when my son Jack starts a new job."

"That's not good enough, I'm afraid," said Denry cheerfully. "I'm not leaving until I get ten pence."

"I'm sorry," said Denry kindly, "but if you don't pay, you'll have to go. Mrs Codleyn will put you out in the street, you know. Why don't you go and live with one of your children?"

"I've nothing for you," she said when Denry came in.

After some more conversation, Denry left the house, still smiling cheerfully. And then, two minutes later, he put his head round the door again.

"Look here, mother," he said, "I'll lend you ten pence if you like. But you must pay me a penny a week for it. You must pay me back next week and give me eleven pence."

And he wrote down "Ten pence, paid" in her rent book.

The next Monday, all the neighbours knew that Denry could be very helpful about problems with the rent. And Denry, with his cheerful, smiling face, saved many families from a life in the street. Of course, it was good business for him, too. If someone borrowed ten pence for four weeks, when they paid Denry back, they had to give him fourteen pence. If it was for six months, they had to pay him back thirty-six pence. Money made like this just grows and grows.

"Eh, you're a funny fellow, Mr Machin," said Mrs Hullins.

"I'll buy the Widow Hullins' house," he said. "I'll give you forty-five pounds for it." It was all the money he had.

Denry began to think that he was different from other men. He had invited himself to the ball, danced with the Countess, left his job with Duncalf, taken Duncalf's rent-collecting, and then introduced the idea of collecting rents and lending money at the same time. He was becoming well-known in Bursley as an unusual and amusing fellow -- in other words, a card.

Mrs Codleyn agreed. And selling this one house, for the moment, seemed to be enough for her.

Denry was now a property owner. And he had also joined the Sports Club -- the club for the rich, the fashionable, and the successful men of Bursley. It was a great thing for the son of a washer-woman to join a club like this.

But then the day came when Mrs Codleyn decided to sell some of her smaller houses. This was very bad news for Denry because these houses were the most important part of his business. Denry talked to her, and tried to show her that it was not a sensible idea, but it was no good. Finally, Denry said wildly that he would buy some of the houses himself.

On Denry's second visit to the club, he saw that some of the most important men in Bursley were there. A group of them were arguing in a corner of the comfortable bar.

"Some of the poor people in this town live in the most terrible old houses," said Charles Fearns, a lawyer. "And the town just doesn't care about them. There's an old woman -- Hullins is her name -- who's lived in the same awful old house for fifty years. She pays fifteen pence a week rent for this place, and now she's going to be put out into the street because she can't pay."

"Who's the hard-hearted owner?" someone asked.

"Mrs Codleyn," said Fearns.

"Mrs Codleyn isn't the owner," called Denry, who was sitting at the next table, smiling. "I am."

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Fearns, "I had no idea --"

"Not at all!" said Denry. "But what can I do? She can't pay, or doesn't want to pay. Do I let her live in the house for no rent because she's seventy? Come on, tell me. What do I do?"

"Fearns would make her a present of the house!" a voice said laughing, and everybody else laughed too.

"Well, that's what I'll do," said Denry. "I'll give her the house. That's the kind of hard-hearted owner I am."

The room was silent for a moment.

"I mean it!" said Denry, and picked up his glass. "she can have the house! Good health to the Widow Hullins."

And the next morning, everybody in Bursley was talking about it. "I say, have you heard Machin's latest?"

He was now not just a card; he was the card.