Money had flowed apace into
his pocket of late. His wife had begun to go about so fine that it
was well for her the old sumptuary laws had fallen into practical
disuse. His son was an idle young dog, chiefly known to the
neighbourhood as being the main leader of a notorious band of
Scourers, of which more anon, and many amongst his former friends
and associates shook their heads, and declared that Charles Mason
was growing so puffed up by wealth that he would scarce vouchsafe a
nod to an old acquaintance in the street, unless he were smart and
prosperous looking.

The Master Builder had a house upon Old London Bridge. Once he had
carried on his business there, but latterly he had grown too fine
for that. To the disgust of his more simple-minded neighbours, he
had taken some large premises in Cheapside, where he displayed many
fine stuffs for upholstering and drapery, where the new-fashioned
Indian carpets were displayed to view, and fine gilded furniture
from France, which a little later on became the rage all through
the country. His own house was now nothing more than a dwelling
place for himself and his family; even his apprentices and workmen
were lodged elsewhere. The neighbours, used to simpler ways, shook
their heads, and prophesied that the end of so much pride would be
disaster and ruin. But year after year went by, and the Master
Builder grew richer and richer, and could afford to laugh at the
prognostications of those about him, of which he was very well
aware.

He was perhaps somewhat puffed up by his success. He was certainly
proud of the position he had made. He liked to see his wife sweep
along the streets in her fine robes of Indian silk, which seemed to
set a great gulf between her and her neighbours. He allowed his son
to copy the fopperies of the Court gallants, and even to pick up
the silly French phrases which made the language at Court a mongrel
mixture of bad English and vile French. All these things pleased
him well, although he himself went about clad in much the same
fashion as his neighbours, save that the materials of his clothing
were finer, and his frills more white and crisp; and it was in his
favour that his friendship with his old friend James Harmer had
never waned, although he knew that this honest tradesman by no
means approved his methods.

Perhaps in his heart of hearts he preferred the comfortable living
room of his neighbour to the grandeur insisted upon by his wife at
home.