0JE CAUF. LIBRARY, LOS ANGELES
THOMAS
BY
H. B. CRESWELL
NEW YORK
Robert M. McBride Gf Company
1919
Printed in the
United States of America
(Second Printing Auywst, 1919;
Published August, 1918
TO
E. J. P.
STANTON
2126216
CONTENTS fc
CHAPTER PAGE
I. MY MOTHER RUBS IT IN I
II. NITA DRESSES ME DOWN 14
III. MY ABORTIVE ATTEMPT ON THE POET
BENSON 32
IV. BAT VERNON AND His "BLUE WAG-
TAIL" 50
V. TRAGIC EXPERIENCES AT CAFF PADDOX 72
VI. HILDON HALL 87
VII. I EXPLAIN TO RACHEL 106
VIII. SUSAN LETS ME DOWN 125
IX. MR. BERT SUTHERLAND BOUNDS INTO
THE ARENA 145
X. CANON TABB MEETS BAT VERNON .. .165
XI. MODESTY REWARDED 186
XII. SINGE WATERBURY'S WAY 204
XIII. MY ONLY DUKE BECOMES A TOTAL Loss 226
XIV. RACHEL EXPLAINS TO ME 252
XV. HOME AGAIN a8i
XVI. NITA .... 308
THOMAS
CHAPTER I
MY MOTHER RUBS IT IN
IN my experience the most difficult question a man
is called upon to decide is whether he shall, or
shall not, marry. It is not as if there were any middle
course: there is none. At a precise moment in the
marriage service marked in some rituals by the firing
of a pistol you are married. Up to that point you
may scream and be let off. Beyond that point you
may scream, but it is of no use. Marriage is a definite
act: you have to make up your mind one way or the
other. It is very difficult indeed to come to this de-
cision, and no one who has not actually lived through
the experience can have any conception of the strain
and weariness of it all.
For instance, you get up in the morning feeling
absolutely fit. Your skin is as tight as a drum ; you
see your dear old, clean, pink jowls coming to view
behind the razor, and you say: "No, I'm dashed if
2 THOMAS
I do." Later in the day it may snow, or you miss
a train, and you begin to feel sorry you have decided
not to do it. Then perhaps in the evening, sitting
in front of the fire after dinner, you begin to be
mournful. You think of the good old days that are
gone, and then you decide: "Yes, by jove, I will
I'll do it." The more thoughtful a man is the more he
suffers. The harder I think about it the more I don't
know what to do. I ask myself repeatedly, "Why
not?" Then again, on the other hand, "Why?" And
so on backwar4s and forwards ; forwards and back.
It makes me sigh.
My difficulty in making up my mind is increased by
mother, or I should rather say that it is probably due
to her that I trouble my head on the matter at all.
If one doesn't want to be married, well don't marry;
if one does, well do it. That seems easy enough!
My trouble is, however, that a day rarely passes but
my mother reminds me, by some conversational nudge,
that I ought to be married, or know the reason why
not.
It would be all right if my dear mother would say
outright, "Get married, you ass !" or convey her advice
in some other direct way: I could then discuss the
matter with her and get ballast, no doubt, from her
mellowed experience. But the deadly thing about my
mother is her insuperable tact. Never to say a thing ;
always to imply it, and never to mean anything if
challenged, is her system. "Tact at all costs" is her
guiding principle and my confusion.
MY MOTHER RUBS IT IN 3
The scene at breakfast this morning was not in any
way out of the ordinary. The same sort of thing hap-
pens nearly every day, and I shall probably have
another whiff of Ferdinand before I go to bed. I
merely report today's breakfast as an illustration of
tomorrow's dinner or next Saturday's lunch. These
attacks by my mother have gradually become formid-
able. In short she is beginning to warm to her pur-
pose, and I am finding it difficult to keep my end up.
I have to explain that this lady is not really my
mother, but my stepmother. She is, however, the only
mother I have ever known ; and, as she has brought
me up in strict observance of filial obligations, we
are mother and son by long confirmed habit.
Breakfast was nearly over when I entered the room.
Before I could shut the door my mother exclaimed
in a voice thrilling with exultation :
"I've got news for you, Thomas. Can you guess?"
"What! You don't mean Uncle Joe ?"
You see I am old at the game. I have become as
sensitive as a cobweb, and can detect the direction
of the wind at once. I have to be wary.
"Oh, my dear son! No, I am thankful to say.
How can you ! No. Someone's going to be married.
Aren't they, Nita? Can't you guess who it is,
Thomas ?"
Nita is my half-nephew's young widow. The rela-
tionship is too complicated to explain.
I kissed my mother thoughtfully and pondered so
that I might let her down as heavily as possible. It'*
4 THOMAS
the only way. Then I said suddenly:
"Ben."
Ben is the village lad of seventeen who comes on
Fridays to help mow the lawn.
"Oh, surely you "
"Sarah."
Sarah is our middle-aged parlor maid.
"My dear "
"Bishop of London, No; Princerwales."
"Oh, you're shouting! How can you be so ridicu-
lous, Thomas! Is it likely I should want you to
guess if it was Nita guessed at once, didn't you,
Nita?"
Nita nodded to me as she fanned away a wasp,
and said in her rapid contralto tones that always re-
mind me of someone decanting a very musical
bottle of port wine:
"Not going to tell you."
"I don't want to know."
"Well then, it is your cousin Ferdinand."
"What! Poor old Ferdinand! Are they going to
do it to him all over again?"
"What does my boy mean?" cried my mother de-
spairingly, trying hard not to be dashed.
Then she collected herself and went on:
"I have just heard from your aunt, Thomas, telling
me of Ferdinand's engagement. And quite time.
Only four years younger than you! Naturally your
aunt is overjoyed. Dear Elizabeth, how well I under-
stand her feelings / can sympathize. Now don't
MY MOTHER RUBS IT IN 5
forget to write and congratulate "
"But the man's married already," I broke in.
"Married already!" my mother exclaimed aghast.
"You're going off your head," Nita put in cheer-
fully.
"But he was married two years ago !"
"Ferdinand was?"
"Well, someone was."
"Oh, you must be thinking of John, of course," my
mother exclaimed in a tone of relief.
"Am I?"
"Considering you were dining with Ferdinand only
a week or two ago you ought to know whether he is
married or not," said Nita.
"Why? Women are never allowed in the Cub."
"Of course I know that; but he would have men-
tioned his wife."
"Would he? Why?"
"M well" My mother made a gesture of despair
as she picked up the letters beside her plate and left
the room.
"Oh, you can't carry it off with me," Nita ran ore
laughing. "It will be your turn soon. Poor old T. !
No more developing photographs in the bath for him
then ; no more cigarette ends thrown into the fender ;
no more coming down to breakfast in slippers at
ten on Sunday morning; no more smoking in bed
and burning holes in the blankets ; no more prac-
tising golf shots against the dining-room curtains
and breaking the windows, poor boy!"
6 THOMAS
"You aon't know anything about it," I said.
""You're completely wrong. She's going to be a dear
old thing; fat, I tell you, with dimples, and a bunch
of keys in a basket. She won't mind picking up
matches and cigarette-ends she will like doing things
for me.
Nita laughed her characteristic peal of gurgles.
It's pleasant to hear her.
"You may joke," said she ; "but you've got a sharp
lesson to learn, I can tell you." She laughed again
and brought up with a final, "Oh dear!"
"Oh dear what?" I commented. "You know the
country; then why not give me a lead? That would
be the really handsome thing to do. There are any
number of men who would snap you up if you gave
them a chance of a snap. You shouldn't be so un-
Icind, Nita. You're a cruel woman. You should take
your pick and be thankful. There's poor Williams,
for instance : what's wrong with Williams ? And poor
''Poodle,' he's all right; and then there's that poor
blighter who holds the plate in church; and poor old
Thing-um-bob, and poor "
I broke off because Nita tried to bonnet me with the
tea-cosy.
It must not be supposed that I always carry things
off as gaily as I did this morning. Nita is a great
ally. She is always ready to take part in any non-
sense; doesn't mind being chaffed; believes more or
less everything I tell her; and can be drawn out with
absolute certainty, always, just as easily as one can
MY MOTHER RUBS IT IN 7
draw a kitten from under a chair with the corner of
one's handkerchief. She is, besides, the best-natured
woman I ever came across. When she is not with
us, my everlasting fencing with my mother on the
matrimonial question has to be more adroit, and is
wearing to a degree, so that I sometimes feel I shall
break down and fling myself away on someone.
It is several weeks now since my stepmother made
use of an expression which filled me with a sort of
panic at the time and the consciousness of which still
hangs about me as if I had just had my hair cut.
I admit I was in the wrong. I had thrown a sofa
cushion at Nita and, without knowing it, must have
knocked one of her gilded hairpins into the new
piano. This would not have mattered but that it got
astride E-flat, and made the note sound like a Jew's
harp, so that my mother was thrown into consterna-
tion when, in a sentimental mood, she visited the piano
after dinner. It was an expert called down from
London who found the hairpin, and it was I who had
to explain the circumstances.
"Ah well, of course some day. All men are the
same Till they settle down," my mother said
finally.
"Settle down." I don't like itl There is some-
thing sinister about it! I pretend I don't understand
it, but I do. It means that as a matter of course I
must be married some day. But why "settled down 1"
If I were married I should want to throw cushions
at Nita just the same. At least, I hope so. If I
S THOMAS
did not want to, it would be because I felt dreary.
I don't want to be dreary. I want always to be gay
and happy. Those references to being "settled down"
<;atch me like the east wind.
I had a touch of it only a few days after this jolt
my mother gave me. I happened to get into the same
carriage with Goben on my way up to town. He
may be a few years older than I am ; nine-and-twenty
perhaps certainly not more. I had heard he was
going to be married, so I congratulated him.
"Thanks," said Goben with easy complacency as he
turned his paper; "yes I've decided to settle down."
Now I appeal to the universe to tell me in what
possible way Goben could "settle down"? In what
-way, I ask, could the droning key to which his life
is tuned be made more spiritless and monotonous?
Here are the facts. Goben holds a good billet in
a service which looks after him with the solicitude of
a doting aunt. All his needs are provided for. They
even give him a penknife. They cook for him in the
basement so that he may have a chop served all hissing
to his blotting-pad at one o'clock and go out to see
the papers at his Club afterwards. He has a fourth
share in a bottle that looks like furniture polish, but
which is actually Worcester Sauce. The service pro-
tects him against most of the misfortunes and anxi-
eties that can beset a man in this life ; the success of
"his career is guaranteed by printed and bound tables
of yearly increment; and he can calculate exactly
when the men above him will retire and he will be-
MY MOTHER RUBS IT IN 9
come successively possessed of their rooms, salaries,
ink-pots, and copper-scuttles with bits of brown
paper covering holes in the bottoms. If he has a cold
he wires to the Hon. Rupert Heronshaw, his chief, to
tell him about it, and afterwards fills in a form, and
a report is written on it and Goben's cold is filed away
among the National Records. He can have forty
colds a year if he must; due importance will be given
to each of them, and no one will grow weary of them ;
and if the recorder of colds breaks down, a cuccessor
will automatically appoint himself at a salary of
i. rising by yearly increments of i to i. .
Goben therefore, so far as his career is concerned,
is already "settled." It would take a question asked
in the House of Commons to shift him.
For the rest, Goben's life is entirely given up to
the pursuit of beetles. When "Mr. Goben has not
come back from lunch yet," he may often be seen
in one of the parks making dirt pies. This means that
Goben, having collected nearly all known visible
beetles, is engaged in harvesting those which cannot
be seen with the naked eye. Directly he gets home
Goben sifts out the dirt under a magnifying glass until
a moving particle is detected. The particle is put into
the killing-bottle and examined under a microscope.
If no true beetle it is cast aside with a grunt; a life
has been sacrificed in vain. If a right one, it is
combed with camels'-hair brushes, laid out on a scrap
of mounting card, and identified in a heavy volume
which gives the number of joints in the antennae of
10 THOMAS
each known beetle. When this has been done noth-
ing remains but for Goben to refer to the list of his
own collection and find that he already possesses the
specimen in question and that another life has been
sacrificed to no purpose. In fact Goben's pursuit may
be fairly described as "eternal." Long before his
last specimens are enshrined in his boxes, the earlier
ones will have been devoured by lice.
Goben is a remote, unsmiling creature, and his dull
pedantry specially struck me on the day he showed
me his collection and I missed the only beetle I am
familiar with. I hope I know a blackbeetle when I
see one. They were the fashion when I was a child,
and cook told me they were "lucky," and that no
house where there were plenty of blackbeetles ever
took fire. She said they dearly loved a bit of music.
"Go to bed Tom. Go to bed Tom. Go to bed Tom.
Go to bed Tom," ad lib, was the song they appeared
to like best. Goben, however, solemnly told me that
blackbeetles are not beetles at all ; as if what was
good enough for me, and everybody else for that
matter, was not good enough for him!
It was these facts that held me dumb when Goben
told me he was going to get married in order to
settle down. The only way I can fill in the idea of
his settling down when he gets married is by supposing
that Mrs. Goben will collect beetles too. In that way,
certainly, he might feel more solid and immovable.
He would know, for instance, that if he were to fall ill,
beetles would not be allowed to suffer. Nevertheless,
MY MOTHER RUBS IT IN 11
knowing Goben as I do, it seems to me that his expec-
tations of a bland married life, even under these con-
ditions, is doomed to disappointment. I picture the
thoughtful spectacled face of Mrs. Goben as I imagine
her entering the breakfast-room where Goben, glued
to his microscope, has seized the opportunity of a
spare moment to refresh himself with a first morning
beetle.
"You remember, Winifred, what I told you about
the Daliocathythius Ponthadichitos when I woke you
up last night."
"Certainly."
"Well, I've had another look this morning, and in
the better light I find she is only a Pahchardonto
Bensoniensis."
"Oh dear! Are you sure?"
"Quite. And she has lost two feathers out of her
tail."
"How very annoying! That misled you, I
suppose ?"
"Exactly. It's the work of those blackguard red
ants again, I'll be bound."
"Are you sure he is not a "
"She."
"But "
" Sure she is not a hybrid?"
"Quite. Pelirson clearly states that mules are
unknown among the Palichardonti."
"Yes, I know; but you are wrong, that is all I can
say."
12 THOMAS
"Thank you. Have you examined his thorax, may
I ask?"
"Her thorax I keep on telling you it's a doe. No,
not yet, I must turn her over. Give me some hot
water."
"Oh, come to breakfast, the coffee's made."
"Some hot water, please. I'll take my breakfast
at this table.."
"No, you certainly will not. We lost a Wando-
potindoctoros two years ago by your eating it with
your bread and butter, and the last time you had
breakfast with the microscope you left jam on the
object-glass. Please remember that I have to work
after you. I nearly went crazy."
And so on.
These are the scenes which arise in my mind when
I speculate on the married life of Goben. They do
not bring me any nearer to an understanding of what
Goben has in his head when he talks of "settling
down," but they confirm my intention on no account
to do so myself. Always to avoid settling down is at
this moment my determination. Of course it is the
right thing to be polite to ladies, I know that; but
such politeness need not be carried so far as a pro-
posal of marriage. That is absurd. I define marriage
as "politeness carried to the point of idiocy." That's
how I define marriage. Besides, it does not seem
very polite to tell a girl that you have decided to
settle down and would she like to do it to you i.e.
settle you down. One would have to put it the other
MY MOTHER RUBS IT IN 13
way and offer to do it to her. Even that would appear
rude unless managed gracefully.
I had intended to end the chapter there, but since
then my mother has given me another nudge about
Ferdinand. I expected as much.
I was in the drawing-room looking for a volume
in the bookcase near the door, when she came
in through the French windows from the gar-
den. In spite of my attention being held by my
search, I noticed that she seemed to hesitate, and
moved aimlessly about the room rubbing her
hands together. Then she opened the door, and
I thought she had gone out. The next moment,
however, she spoke close to me.
"Always remember that it will be the happiest
moment of my life when I see my Son safely married."
"Why? What have I done now?" I asked as I
turned.
But my mother had already left the room.
I have never known my mother to give tongue on
this subject so clearly. For her it was almost as if
she had bitten me. Her tones were solemn, in fact
tragical. They struck a chill through me. I joined
Nita in the garden, and we amused ourselves by teas-
ing the swan with a crust tied to a bit of string ; but I
teased him with a heavy heart
CHAPTER II
NITA DRESSES ME DOWN
THE gloomy thoughts which filled the last chapter
gave me no chance to explain that the work
I am engaged upon is no less than an account of
my holiday. I am snaching a holiday. I say "snatch-
ing" because I am entitled, officially, to "twenty-eight
days," but by careful interpretation of the rules I
find I can stretch them to more than six weeks. This
is my first summer leave, and I don't know whether
anyone expects me to be away so long. They will
know when I don't come back. It will dawn on them
slowly for a fortnight, so that they will get used to
the idea by degrees. What I did was to apply for
"my month's leave." This was granted, and I was
left to decide whether I had meant a lunar month
of twenty-eight, or a calendar month of thirty-one,
days. I have decided that I meant a calendar month
of thirty-one days. Then, I am not including Sundays
and the Bank Holiday as part of my leave as I never
work on those days. For the same reason I am only
counting Saturdays as half days. The result is that
14
NITA DRESSES ME DOWN 15
I have seven days to add to the thirty-one, and this
throws another week-end into the boiling and entitles
me to add another day and a half. Then, again, I
applied for my leave to date from a Tuesday, and
asked my chief to let me take the Monday "because
I was going away for the week-end and did not want
to come back to Town for the one day unless it was
absolutely necessary." It was not absolutely neces-
sary, and this concession gave me five extra days, for
it made my holiday begin on Saturday, so that I
could add a day and a half to the other end of my
leave, which roped in still another week-end and gave
me another extra day and a half. Forty-four days!
Not a holiday to be sniffed at, I think, and all brought
about by a logical application of the official rules.
My tour is to be a great success. I have promised
myself that.
My leading idea is to look up my friends. It is
extraordinary what a number of friends one finds
one has when one sits down to make a list, although
it takes a long time to think of them all ; especially
old friends. It was two hours before I thought of
Miss Vetch, for instance. I remembered the Duke
of Sarum first: I am always reminded of him when
the weather changes. It will be understood that I
have many more friends than those in the schedule
below, but, as they do not promise to satisfy the
demands which I shall make on them, their names
do not appear. I would not wish to stay in every
house I know. There are some houses, too, where I
16 THOMAS
might consent to pay a visit, but where I would not
care to present myself suddenly with a wide-smiling
expectation of being asked to stop. As it is, there
are names on my list which I am uncertain about. I
feel I may funk them at the pinch and they are
accordingly marked as Doubtful Starters. It is un-
pleasant to walk beamingly into a house with the
intention of being invited to stop, and then have to
realize that the company has dispersed to dress for
dinner and that you have got to leave. However, the
worst goer on the card is a dead cert, for lunch: I
will say that for my little crowd. I have added ex-
planatory notes, because without these my list looks
dreary.
Quinn's Final Selections
*The Duke of Sarum. (He peppered me once.)
Lady Jane Waterbury (a sort of cousin) and
Singe Ditto (the Yank).
Mr. and Mrs. Wallace. (Also Sam and Miss
"The Wallaces.")
Mrs. Connagh (and Dogs).
The Misses Nox. (i.e. the Miss Noxes. Old
friends.)
Lady Wilson. (Aunt Elizabeth.)
Mrs. Graham (and Daughters).
The Viscount Heckfield. (A family possession.
He and my father saved each other's lives.)
*Admiral Sir Anthony Ridd, K.C.M.G., R.N.
Mrs. Baker Trondell. ("Paul Davenport," author
NITA DRESSES ME DOWN 17
of Mable MacMurtrie, etc.)
Richard Piper, Esq., K.C. (Cousin Dick.)
Richard Everard Benson, Esq., J.P. ("The Benson,"
i.e. residuum of The Bensons," family friends.)
Mr. and Mrs. Walter Pettigen. (Cousin Walter.)
Walter Fenton, Esq. (If he rents the Wye fishing
this year.)
Ambrose Vernon, Esq. ("Bat" Vernon.)
Admiral and Mrs. Druce. ("The Dear Druces.")
*Miss Vetch.
Caution is necessary in accepting invitations to stay
with friends. They suppose you will want to be
entertained, and they do not ask you unless they
have made preparations. This means that you have
got to pretend you are being entertained whether you
are or not. There is no hope for the morrow. You
must stick it out to the very dregs. The only thing
to do is to hide, and just roll up for meals.
With my faithful little car "Silent Susan," how-
ever, I can face these difficulties with a careless heart.
I shall be like a bluebottle fly buzzing capriciously
from one delectable spot to another. Distance will be
no object, for a journey in Susan is a sheer delight,
and motor travel is to afford the chief part of the
pleasure I have promised myself. With Susan I can
present myself suddenly to my friend like a dog rush-
ing up for recognition. If he likes the way I do my
hair; the pattern of my tweeds; the hearty freedom
Doubtful Starter
18 THOMAS
from reserve with which I plunge upon his luncheon-
table after spoiling a towel in the lavatory (to keep
Susan running is a job for a sweep) if, in short, he
does not want me to go, he will be at liberty to ask
me to stay. If on my part, after sampling his table
and his company, and testing how far time has
affected the old reciprocity of ideas between us, I de-
cide that I should like to stay, I can accept : but if, on
the other hand, I don't like the cooking ; or the middle-
aged lady in the cap and spectacles; or the smell of
mackintoshes pervading the outer hall ; or the hushed
repressed atmosphere of the house as though there
were an invalid upstairs, I can decline.
You see, this is to be my holiday. I have not been
scheming and planning to provide amusement for my
friends. I am, however, going to give every host a
good chance. Directly he claps eyes on Susan he will
know what he has bitten off. My luggage will be
abundant beyond the nightmares of a railway porter.
It will comprise nearly every article of wearing
apparel I possess, including my fancy costume of
Sinbad the Sailor. The object of this is to give
me confidence at whatever house I may approach, for
I shall know that wherever I go my wardrobe will
be equal to any emergency. I shall also be independent
of the laundress. It will help to keep Susan well
down on the road, too, and prevent her from hopping
and slithering about as she is apt to do when traveling
light at high speeds. Six weeks' supply of four dif-
ferent kinds of shirts will, alone, make a hefty lift ;
NITA DRESSES ME DOWN 19
my total luggage will no doubt run to several hun-
dred-weight; and Susan will be proportionately grate-
ful.
What I specially referred to when I said that my
host will know what he has bitten off directly he sets
eyes on Susan was, however, my toys. I am going
to take all my toys with me and stow them so that they
will bulge, and entrance the beholder. When my
host sees my cricket bats, tennis racquets, golf clubs,
banjo, fishing rods, guns, billiard cue and croquet
mallet, he will know where he stands. If he cannot
offer me cricket, lawn tennis, golf, croquet, shooting,
fishing and billiards, or some of them, he will have
to make an awkward apology. In these circum-
stances I can promise myself a varied holiday. Under
the auspices of Susan I can be my own bonny self ; I
need not try to please anyone, or pretend to be amused
when I am bored. That suits me. I pretend to noth-
ing. I have no political convictions, I have no phi-
losophical ideals ; I am not anti-anything nor pro-
anything else. I am merely Quinn; simply that and
nothing more. When people ask me, religiously or
politically, "What are you?" I always reply: "Noth-
ing. I'm just plain Quinn." So let them leave me
or take me just as I am with my luggage and my
toys take me or leave me, I shall not care. If they
don't take me I will go somewhere else. One turn of
the handle (or mort) ; one rasp of the hooter; one
terrific explosion through the exhaust of which
Susan alone among motor-cars knows the unfathom-
20 THOMAS
able secret and I shall shake the dust of the front
drive from off my wheels, and in forty seconds noth-
ing will be left of me but the reverberating echoes
from the distant hills, and a dense trailing cloud of
suffocating blue smoke, which, under favorable atmos-
pheric conditions, will hang about the shrubberies for
an hour.
Just as I wrote these last words, somebody quietly
tried the handle of the door, which I had locked.
As I got no reply to my inquiry, I went and opened
it. No one was there, but on the floor I found a small
parcel tied in brown paper. It was not addressed to
me, but the following words were written upon the
wrapper in my mother's handwriting:
"I feel sure my son will like to read this, in spare
moments, on his tour." ,
I cut the string with a sinking of heart which was
only too well justified. It was a book about it. My
mother had planted it and fled.
"MARRIAGE
An examination into the fundamental
principles underlying the reciprocity,
spiritual as well as temporal, which
essentially constitutes the prescience of
the Dual State
by
Montague James Erasmus Tabb, M.A. (Oxon)
Canon of Tanbury, late Rector of Pridd,
NITA DRESSES ME DOWN 21
and formerly curate in charge of Pinbottle
Lane Chapel of Ease, Whitton; Hon.
Chaplain to St. Waldorf's College for Wo-
men ; Author of "Conscience Awakened,"
Breakfast Table Homilies," etc., and Joint
Editor of Tidd's Biblical Almanac
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
The Right Reverend (Ha!) Frederick
Barton Blims, D.D., Lord Bishop of
Tanbury."
I must read this. This will nourish me. Nutri-
ment on the marriage question is perhaps exactly
what I want.
INTRODUCTION
By (Bishop as before)
"This book, which has been written by a Canon
of mine "
X)n second thoughts I will read what his Canon
has got to say first.
Chapter I
"Scarcely three thousand years have come
and gone, if we may venture to trust, and I
think we may, the observation of those learned
men, the sages of our modern years, whose
beards have verily gone gray in their deep pon-
derings and meditations over the Cufic inscrip-
22 THOMAS
tions bitten into the adamantine living granite
of Asia Minor scarcely three thousand years
have come and gone, sweeping before them "
Can't read it. I am out of breath already. I'll skip
a page.
"... those strenuous pleadings, those
rhapsodies of petitioning, those clamorous
yearnings, those "
Wow Wow Wow Wow. Tabb is an ass. I'll
take a sample from Chapter VII.
"... and so we see that sorrow, that bitter
herb which, growing among the weeds of hu-
man folly, cures where it pains; sorrow which
guides us in the path of self-immolation, this
sorrow is at once the impulse of the marriage
bower, and the rock to which they twain must
cling to lift them above the strife, and the tur-
moil, and the vanity, and "
The joint editor of Tidds' Biblical Almanac is
a howling prig. I cannot read his book. There is
something wrong with the man. I have glanced
through his pages, and the conclusion I come to is
that Tabb is mentally crippled. According to Tabb a
pretty girl is too indelicate a thing to be mentioned.
Tabb seems to consider that no one can be ideally
wedded unless he is miserable, and afflicted with bad
NITA DRESSES ME DOWN 23
health or depressed by some like misfortune. His
book affects me like the mewing of a cat.
Later in the day I had a quite astonishing talk
with Nita. She is really * most extraordinary wo-
man. I found her sitting in the drawing-room in
her garden hat fiddling about with some of that lace
embroidery she is so clever at. I mentioned that my
mother had dumped the book.
"Yes ; she told me of it," said Nita, busy with her
needle.
"Why did she do it?"
"Thought you wanted stiffening up, old man, per-
haps," Nita laughed.
"It's the most awful blather I ever read."
"Oh well, it's quite short."
"Short ! You talk as if it were a punishment. Have
you read it?"
"Of course not. I don't read such books."
"I don't either."
"Well ; time enough. There is no chance of your
being married for many a long day."
"You mean I don't intend to be."
Nita laughed. "You do amuse me so," she said.
"Well, what do you mean?" I asked.
"I mean that no really nice girl would look at you."
Nita glanced up. She seemed almost serious.
"Why? What's wrong?"
"Oh, there's plenty wrong," said Nita, laughing
again. "You are a great deal too pleased with your-
self for one thing."
24 THOMAS
"I don't understand you," I said.
"You mock at everything. You have no respect,
no reverence. Women like self-depreciation and mod-
esty in a man."
"I believe you're trying to pull my leg. Who said
I was immodest?"
"You know what I mean well enough. You are
arrogant; you are impatient of other people's
opinions "
"That's not arrogance if people talk rub-
bish "
"Conceited then."
"Oh come! You can't say I'm conceited. You
never caught m& riding the high horse."
"You ridicule other people's ideas."
"Well, it amuses me. I like it."
"Exactly. You are selfish."
"Nita! Selfish! ME!!"
"My dear boy, you are quite the most selfish man
I ever met. I don't believe you ever think of anyone
but yourself from the moment you get up in the
morning till you go to bed."
"But I think of others when I am in bed and
dream of them all night long."
"You can't joke it off. You're very selfish. You
are even greedy."
"Oh come, Nita, that's beyond a joke."
"Well, but aren't you? Why did you snap up all
the savories at supper on Sunday night, for in-
stance ?"
NITA DRESSES ME DOWN 25
"Good gracious do you mean I never thought
I mean I thought you well, anyhow, my mother
never takes them."
"There you are, you see." Nita waved a hand.
"Look here," I said, "why are you rattling me
like this, Nita?"
"You asked me to tell you why there is no chance
of your being married yet. You can't change your-
self all at once. Girls will not trouble about a man
who is self -centered, arrogant, and scornful. They
expect modesty, and a certain amount of reserve, and
consideration for others, and deference to their
opinions, and respect, and veneration "
"You've been reading Tabb."
"Oh no, I haven't."
"Well, then, I can tell you this: I don't care a
fig about girls who esteem modesty, and humility,
and deference, and veneration, and benignity, and
self-effacement, and snivelling, and carpet-scraping.
They bore me to death. Not one of them knows
how to dress, or how to do her hair becomingly, or
how to look pretty and charming. What's the good
of a girl without charm?"
Nita laughed merrily. "There you go !" she cried.
"They bore you! Thomas is bored! That's enough!
Cast them aside, sweep them out of the way, give
Thomas more room! It does not, of course, matter
whether Thomas bores them."
"He doesn't care if he does they deserve to be
bored. But I know you are chaffing. You cannot
26 THOMAS
make out that I bore people, Nita. Now, can you?"
"There are other ways of boring people besides
being polite and decorous. For instance, why do you
always insist on saying what you want to say, instead
of what other people want to hear?"
"Well, I can't be forty different people. I don't
pretend to be anything but just plain Quinn. You
know that, Nita."
"I know it well; but the things plain Quinn says
are appalling."
"Now what do you mean by that? Do explain."
"I mean that you are the rudest man I ever
met."
"Oh, bosh! When was I rude? I wish you would
look up; I can't see you under your hat."
"Well, for instance, yesterday afternoon when
Mrs. Yates was here, you told her that her horse
looked as if his dam had been frightened by a
hippopotamus."
"But that wasn't rude ! It was the truth. Besides,
Mrs. Yates admitted he was fat."
"Not rude ! Good gracious ! You never hear Aunt
Emmy say a thing like that."
"It was only a joke."
"I daresay it amused you; it was not yotir
gee."
"Well can you give me another instance?"
"You told Mrs. Yates she would know what Rachel
Graham looked like if she imagined Maud and Val-
erie shaken up together in a bottle."
NITA DRESSES ME DOWN 27
"Well! She asked how Rachel was growing up,
and I told her exactly. We are all friends. Give
me another sample, I don't count that one."
"No, I won't. You will repeat them, and you ought
to forget them. You should be more circumspect."
"Well, it's no good finding fault with me. That's
no help. You've called me nearly every bad name
you can think of. Tell me your idea of how I ought
to behave."
Nita put down her work and got up. "I'll give
you a book," she said, and she hurried out of the
room.
I half fancied Nita was pulling my leg all the
time. We are perfectly good friends always, in fact,
we are, in a sense, quite pals. She could not really
have meant that she thinks I am conceited, and selfish,
and greedy, and generally beastly. I was not able
to see her face properly, yet she seemed serious. I
must have upset her in some way. She came run-
ning downstairs a minute later and I heard her jump
the last steps, so I knew there was nothing seriously
amiss.
"There !" she said a little breathlessly.
"Why, when did you get hold of this?"
"I found it."
"Where?"
"In the pocket of my dress box. Someone's servant
must have thought it was mine and packed it."
" 'Social Deportment'," I read, " 'By a member of
the British Aristocracy.'" I turned the leaves of
28 THOMAS
the dingy old book. " 'What to say to a lady who
has dropped her fan.'
"'Dear Lady.' He calls her 'Dear Lady.' 'Dear
Lady, to stoop before you is my proudest privilege.'
"Now, can you imagine my saying a thing like
that, Nita?"
"No I can't," said Nita. "That is why I say you
will never please women. You are incapable of
sentiment."
"Now it's 'Sentiment'! Do put down that work
and attend. This is serious, and I believe you're
laughing."
"I can't help being amused. You seem to think
you know more than people who write books."
"Well, I confess I don't understand. Do explain
what the idea is. Take the book and teach me. I'll
look over you, and we will do it together. Here
you are 'Talk at the Dinner Table.' You be Mrs.
F. and I will be Mr. D."
Nita began to read:
"Mrs. F. might say : 'Was not the Royal Academy
Exhibition truly delightful? I think Millais' pictures
are too utterly sweet, and so intensely sincere.' "
"To which Mr. D. might reply," I read: "'I en-
tirely agree with you, they are most sincere. Sir
John is a charming disciple of the brush, but to my
mind Sir Frederick is a more sensitive and fastidious
votary of the palette.' Lummy! I can't read this.
Let's try something else," I broke off. "Here you
are 'Sporting Prattle.' You begin again."
NITA DRESSES ME DOWN 29
Nita read : " 'I am so devoted to dogs. Do you
not agree with me that they are a fascinating
study?'"
" 'The dog is, indeed, a delightful animal,' " I read,
" 'and wonderfully faithful ; but to my mind the horse
is to be preferred.' "
" 'Quite true ; he is a noble beast.' "
"If you talk like that, Nita," I said, "I'll never
speak to you again."
"You must follow the book," said Nita. "Go on:
'Mr. D. might reply.'"
" 'Might reply 1 take your finger away 'reply :
'Yes, he is a noble beast indeed. I always call the
horse the friend of man.' Why are you shivering,
are you cold ?"
"Nothing to matter. That's all right, but don't talk
as if you had a plum in your mouth."
"I can't do it. I don't want to live in such a world.
Let's try somewhere else. Here you are: 'Airy
Nothings for the Ballroom.' Let's rehearse some airy
nothings. I begin this time." I read:
" 'I envy that butterfly perched so daintily on your
hair close to that shell-like ear. What secrets would
I not whisper were I so near. Happy butterfly!'
Now you reply."
'"Unlike you, my butterfly has no feeling, so ft
does not appreciate its happiness, which is, I believe,
characteristic of butterflies you ought to know some-
thing about it.' "
"Oh, Nita, you minx I"
30 THOMAS
"Go on and finish."
" 'You are kind enough to anticipate my feelings,' "
I read. "'I have not found my wings as yet. I
am still in a chrysalis state.' "
"That's better," Nita told me, "but you are too
heavy. You don't put any warmth into your voice.
You should be more ardent."
"All right. Let me try again. I shall do it this
time. I'll begin at the beginning 'I envy that butter-
fly perched so ' "
"Oh ! oh ! you're tickling my ear."
"That's the 'airy' part of the 'nothing.' Don't
laugh, I am just going to be ardent do sit still."
But Nita would not sit still, and went on laughing,
and finally she jumped up and dodged round the
tables till my mother, who had come into the room,
cried to her to "take care of the vases." Then she
slipped out of the window.
My mother drifted nervously about the room,
rubbing her hands together as she always does when
she is preparing to make one of her springs at me.
Then she confronted me and whispered :
"Did you get ?" and stopped.
I nodded my head at her. Far away in the garden
I could see Nita swaying about in a paroxysm of
laughter.
"Give me a kiss, my son," said my mother; and
then she added, as I bent to her, "Such a devout
man."
Oh dear! oh dear! oh dear! I can only console
NITA DRESSES ME DOWN 31
myself with the thought that Susan is greased up to
a point beyond belief and that I have repacked the
gland of the pump spindle so that water cannot drain
from the radiator into the crank chamber any more
at least I hope not. The day after tomorrow I shall
be off.
CHAPTER III
MY ABORTIVE ATTEMPT ON THE POET BENSON
I AM off. I have had a glorious day of crowded
life, and I am now at the Lamb Hotel, Fradford.
"Bat" Vernon is in the bar "keeping out the damp,"
as he calls it, and trying to embarrass a very well-
matured barmaid. I am sitting in the parlor, and
as the result of an arduous day, topped off with an
honest British feed, my condition is one of holy
calm. I should, by rights, be at Cradhill Court,
testing the table and bed-linen of The Benson, but
there has been a hitch.
I must explain that two days ago I had a letter
from "Bat," asking me to join him for a week-
end's fishing at Fradford. That suited me, for my
tour allows me to do just what I like from moment
to moment. I told Bat I would pick him up at
Reading, and that we would go on together by road.
In order that there might be no chance of our missing
one another, I was careful to be exact. "If I am
not on the platform when your train pulls up," I
underlined, "you will find me outside waiting in the
car."
32
MY ABORTIVE ATTEMPT 33
As a result of the greasing I had given her, Susan's
action this morning was sublime. She started of?
with a thick, suety note which was a pure delight
to hear. I drove her gently and revelled in it, and
began to deprecate the extravagance of six-cylinder
and patent "silent" cars. I felt Bat would be im-
pressed. He has an uncomfortable way of making
light of Susan. When, however, the good tough
grease began to melt and run, and the sun got to
work on her body, all the well-known chirrups came
to life one after the other, and the old girl rattled
along in her usual one-cylinder style.
My road lay through Rickmansworth, Maidenhead,
and Henley. I choose by-roads. They fit the holiday
humor. The drawback to this method of travel is,
however, that one is apt to lose one's way, and I
made an ass of myself this morning in consequence
or, rather, an unknown motorist made an ass of
himself. No one, of course, knew it was I. The
fact is, poor little Susan does not, I am afraid, accel-
erate very well unless she is on a down grade, so
that one never lets her stop, when once she is fairly
on the move, if it can possibly be avoided. When
there is doubt about the road, all that is necessary
is to slow Susan down to about fifteen miles an hour
and shout the name of the place wanted at a passer-
by with the voice raised in a strong note of inquiry.
If the passer-by has ordinary intelligence he can
easily yell an answer before Susan is out of range.
I could not today, however, get replies from anyone,
34 THOMAS
when I wanted to know whether I was on the right
track.
First it was a pedlar.
"Maidstone?" I bellowed. He stared like a stunned
sheep.
"Idiot!"
Then a laborer.
"Maidstone ?" "Idiot !"
It should be explained that "Maidstone ?" is shouted
as Susan approaches the stranger, "Idiot!" as she
recedes.
"Maidstone?" "Idiot!" This time it was a man
pushing a perambulator with a sack in it.
Once more : "Maidstone ?" "Idiot !"
I began to get annoyed the place was close at
hand, I knew. A white-haired, keen- faced clergy-
man, with leggings and a stout stick in his hand, came
out of a roadside cottage a little way ahead. The
old man stood right up into the hedge, smiling, to
let me pass. I stopped.
"Can you tell me whether I am right for Maid-
stone?"
"I am a little deaf."
"Maidstone."
"No. I am sorry. I am sorry."
"Not a soul can tell me," I complained. "The place
cannot be much more than ten miles away, and no
one in all this county knows how to get there."
"Ten miles! Are you quite sure you don't mean
Maidenhead?"
MY ABORTIVE ATTEMPT 35
"Of course I mean it. Why, what did I say?"
"You said Maidstone."
It is extraordinary how dull-witted country folk
are. Not one of all those persons guessed that when
I said "Maidstone" I meant Maidenhead, although
they were only a few miles from the place.
After we had passed Henley we took a wrong
road, and, in the act of turning, Susan went up on to
the path and stopped an argument between two men.
The suspicion flashed upon me that Susan was not
behaving, and this was confirmed when she bumped
into Reading Station and knocked a bit of brick out
of the buttress by the cabstand, with the winding end
of her crank shaft. It was a heavy blow and I
trembled for Susan, but she seems to be all the
better for it. It has tightened her up somewhere,
apparently. An examination showed that she had
slobbered herself with grease from end to end, and
that it had involved her brakes.
While I was still on my back putting things to
rights, a pair of white linen spats wandered into my
restricted field of view, and I realized that Bat's train
had arrived and that, not finding me on the platform,
he was following instructions and looking for me in
the car.
Bat got his name at school, possibly from the
whimsical, peering expression in his eyes. He is a
man who can scarcely tie a knot, and who always tries
to unscrew a thing by tightening it up. This makes
him worse than useless when anything goes wrong
36 THOMAS
with Susan, for he not only stands aside and looks
on with an air of indulgent amusement, but affects
to see a humorous side to incidents which are not in
the least funny. As usual, he was exquisitely clothed ;
carried a light overcoat and walking stick with gold
match-box in the handle ; and was attended by a
porter with his fishing-gear and a crocodile-hide suit-
case with silvered mountings. It was annoying having
to wriggle out, hot and dusty, and greet him with
hands and arms smeared with black grease, and a
tickle on my nose.
"Oh!" he said in a tone of enlightenment as I
rose into view on the opposite side of Susan and
desperately rubbed my nose on the spare tire.
" Oh ! I see ; under, not in, the car."
He stored his things away, and then, as I lay down
in the road again, said he thought he would "just go
and keep out the damp a bit."
"But," he continued, "I want you to understand
how it was I kept you waiting. In your letter you
distinctly said you would be in the car. You never
told me I was to look under the car. So that's how
it was. I only just want to be sure you understand
about it." Then he moved off towards the refresh-
ment-room.
When at length we started I noticed a dull re-
luctance in Susan's progress down the slope to the
Caversham road, and I was soon made aware of a
deadly struggle that was going on between Susan
and her brakes. Bat complained that Susan was
MY ABORTIVE ATTEMPT 37
being too cautious. The position was critical. The
question was would the one cylinder be able to over-
come the brakes, or would the brakes prove too much
for the cylinder? No one could possibly say. Susan
had got to fight it out and decide for herself. In
spite of Bat's protest that we had only just started
and that it was too soon to go back, I turned Susan
round, after she had staggered up the slope of Cav-
ersham Bridge on the second gear, and decided to
travel by the more level road through Pangbourne.
Gradually, to my joy, the cylinder began to get the
advantage of the brakes. The road-grit, working up
with the grease, made a first-rate grinding mixture
which ground down the bands and brake-drums at
every turn. Then as the metal got hot the grease
ran freely and released the bands which had a ten-
dency to bind, and at last little Susan, with her back
hubs all a- fry and her radiator boiling with the stern-
ness of the struggle, began to forge ahead into a
gentle trot. It was all most praiseworthy. Another
car might have kept up tinkering by the roadside for
hours. Not so Susan. The white plume spouting
from the radiator looked quite impressive. "Steam
was up at last," as Bat said. There was a good deal
of smoke too, but, as I explained to Bat, it was only
the oil frying on the brakes. There was no chance
of the fishing-rods catching fire, althought they were
"only wood," as he put it.
"Talking of frying," he said, "reminds me. Have
you ordered dinner?"
38 THOMAS
I told him my plans. The Benson lived only three
miles above Fradford, where he had a choice bit of
water that was rarely fished. The hotel water at
Fradford was, however, getting very tired indeed.
Nearly everything that could be caught had been taken
out of it, and most of the good fish remaining were
known by name. Sammy was a trout to be always
remembered when once seen, and Fred was known
by reputation far and wide. He still wore a rusty
hook in the side of his head that he got two seasons
ago. The most famous of all was, however, Edward.
Scores of anglers had been trying to catch Edward
for years. The "Eddy Sweep" had become historic
in fishing circles. A party of visitors at the "Lamb"
had once paid a shilling each into a pool which was
to be scooped by the first of them who caught Edward
by fair fly-fishing. He was not caught then, and he
is still not caught. You pay your shilling and you
take your chance of Edward and a prize which is
said to be now worth more than twenty pounds. The
water, as I told Bat, was quite used up. I proposed,
therefore, to tap The Benson for a week-end visit, and
bring Bat over. We could not very well drive up on
a Sunday morning.
Bat thought it a good idea, and at once filled in
what he regarded as the most important details. I
was to provide the sandwiches, as those supplied by
the hotel would be very dull, and he would bring
something to keep out the damp. "I feel sorry,
already, for those trout," he concluded.
MY ABORTIVE ATTEMPT 39
Bat is not an expert fly-fisher. He has all the
cheerfulness and imperturbability that go to make
one, but he has not the aptitude. He has a genius
for catching fish in all sorts of unheard-of ways. He
hooked a trout by the tail. He took a frog on a
may-fly. He caught a heavy grayling, which an hour
before had broken me, by getting his hook foul of
my cast which the fish was trailing about. He had
allowed his line to lie out on the water and sink
while he filled his pipe, and I can hear now his
joyous shouts, when, on taking up his rod, he found,
as he thought, that he had hooked a fish by such
idle methods. I secretly observe him sometimes,
when sport is slow, allowing his line to sink un-
heeded, evidently in the hope that the miracle may
happen again.
Bat has, however, fallen from the high ambition
of his initiation, when he struck at a small rising
trout, hooked it under the belly, and whipped it up
thirty feet into the top of an ash tree. He has formed
a taste for bottom fishing. He does not call it
"fishing," however. His name for the sport is
"drowning worms."
"I drowned some worms three weeks ago near
Weltham on the Broads," he told me as we bustled
along. "I hired a boat and a rod after breakfast
from the hotel, where I was putting in a short
alcoholic rest, and rowed down the river looking for
a likely spot. I went a long way without seeming
to smell any fish, and then I came to a sort of inlet.
40 THOMAS
I pushed through some rushes and found a capital
bit of water, with a rustic summer-house at the far
end under some trees, so I tied up and began to
fish. It was all right, I tell you. I caught fish, one
after another. How big? Oh! I don't know how
big. One or two pounds, I should say four or five
perhaps ; not so big as salmon, but nice, fat fish. No,
I don't know what sort of fish. They were simply
fish you know what a fish is like? It is wet and
has a tail and dances about well, mine were like
that. I tell you the boat was beginning to sink
well, anyhow, it looked as if it would. It's a
fact. I even began to be afraid there would not
be enough worms to go round. Then a boy
came to the far bank of the river and began
shouting something about 'Mr. Cook' and the
'time.' I was too busy to pay much attention,
but after five minutes it dawned upon me that
I was catching 'time' fish belonging to Mr. Cook: but
I tell you what! Tame fish are the right sort to go
after. Don't forget that! What one wants is fish
that are nice and tame and lots of them the tamer
the better. No fish is too tame for me."
By half -past four we were at the Lamb Hotel,
"Fradford, and three minutes later Bat's luggage had
been carried off, and he himself was interviewing the
lady with the fair hair and earrings, who lives in the
glass retort at the foot of the stairs, and asking
searching questions about his bed. How big was it?
What was the mattress stuffed with? Would it bear
MY ABORTIVE ATTEMPT 41
his weight? Could she guess what his weight was?
etc. The quality of being able to behave in this way
without offensiveness or loss of dignity, and the more
remarkable quality of finding unending amusement in
it, are quite special to Bat.
Meanwhile I started off in Susan on my visit to
The Benson so that I might not miss the auspicious
occasion of his tea-table.
I call Richard Everard Benson, Esquire, J.P., "The
Benson" because the term is precise and grammatical.
In my boyhood The Bensons were a large family.
Since then, daughters have married, sons have left
home. The head of the family now lives alone at
Cradhall Court, and when I go there, I go definitely
to see The Benson, i.e. the solitary, final residuum of
The Bensons.
The Benson has spent his life aching. He always
seems to have a grievance too deep for words and
too well understood to need explanation. Yet my
mother exclaimed, "What do you mean, my son?"
when a little time ago I mentioned that "The Benson
was aching up in Town."
What I referred to is the fact that The Benson
spends his waking hours with one eyebrow raised
and the other depressed to the extreme limits of mus-
cular contraction. If you catch him dozing you will
see that his forehead has taken a permanent set from
loss of elasticity of the membrane arising from this
habit of nursing a grievance. The Benson aches
through meals. He aches as he reads. He aches at
42 THOMAS
a joke. This is not the result of troubles or anxieties
or of ill-health. It is a pose. If anyone asked me
when he first began to ache I should find out
when he first wrote poetry and fix the date at
that.
The first thing a man usually does when he is led
to try his hand at verse-making is to discover that
he is a poet. I am a poet; but I am redeemed by
not being an ass as well. The Benson is not so re-
deemed. Astounded by the amazing revelation, he
laid himself out to be a poet on the large plan. The
writing of poetry was a secondary matter. Many
poets, he knew, did not publish a line for years
together. The great thing was to be a poet, and
The Benson's aspirations are still proclaimed by his
dress.
His first difficulty was, of course, that one cannot
begin to be a poet until other people have accepted
the fact. Otherwise they say: "What's wrong?"
"Buck up, lad!" "Why so moldy?" etc. etc., while
all the time you are merely trying to be a poet. On
the other hand, if they know you are a poet, they
regard your demeanor with respect. The Benson's
own family, of course, knew he was a bit of a poet,
but a man cannot impress his own belongings. Lit-
erary glamor is a fragile thing. For my part, by
the time I have seen a man eat a poached egg I
have no desire to read anything he has written.
I can entirely enter into The Benson's feelings and
sympathize with him. Knowing that he was a poet
43
he would be well aware that he necessarily felt things
more deeply; was more subtly appreciative of the
appeals of nature; more sensitive to the changing
phases of the soul ; more awake to the consciousness
of the finer essence and spirit of life and of the
universe, and all that sort of rot, than other people.
Such self-approbation is no easy load for a man to
carry; and when it is remembered that the precious
burden has not only to be borne in secret but is
liable to come into collision with the attributes of
common minds, it will be realized that the job a poet
tackles is not a job to be sniffed at by any manner
of means.
The Benson, conscious that, as a poet, life held
for him refinements of delight which were denied to
the common herd, would get up in the dark to play
the fool with a sunrise. He would pace the garden
in full view of the house, gathering sweetness from
the reflection that the dawn was breaking upon him
and that the great poet would soon glow in the
"ruddy, effulgent beams of the sun." He would
ponder the spiritual grandeur of his employment and
fondle the idea that it linked him with the very salt
of the earth. He would build up sublime thoughts
around the humblest objects ; smile raptly, with nod-
ding head, at the silver trail of a slug across the
gravel; and dote on the flash of genius which pre-
sented to his mind "dye me" as a rhyme to "slimy."
He would feel that a poet thus employed ought not
to hear the gong, and that he ought to start
44 THOMAS
-violently when he was called to go to breakfast.
All this no doubt was exhilarating, but in order
to get other people to agree that he is a poet a man
must actually publish a poem or two. This is not
so easy as might be supposed. Certainly he may sub-
mit a poem to any editor he chooses, but will that
editor keep it? That is the point. The Benson
probably found that editors sometimes did keep his
poems, but that this only happened when they had
not been accompanied with a "stamped and addressed
envelope, a stamped and addressed cover, or a
stamped and addressed wrapper." The Benson is not
the man to grudge the editor a stamp; he would cer-
tainly make no demur about throwing in an envelope ;
but he might well shrink from presenting the envelope
already stamped and addressed. It would make it
so perilously easy for the editor to return his poem;
whereas if that editor knew he had to stick on the
stamp and address the envelope he might think twice
about rejecting Benson's heart-throb.
It may have been such experiences as these which
galled The Benson to publish in volume form. To
do this he had to find a publisher whose reputation
was already wrecked and pay him for the job of
printing and distributing (a) Haec aut Nulla, (b)
The Sublime Intensity, and (c) The Carrion Crowd.
The two first were published simultaneously, and this
gives color to my belief that, when he went to the
publishers, our author was at the point of bursting
with suppressed poeticality. The Carrion Crowd ap-
MY ABORTIVE ATTEMPT 45
peared rather more than a year afterwards, and is
no less than a sporting attempt on the part of The
Benson (Ref. Life of Lord Byron) to square accounts
with a public that ignored his books, and with critics
who gave it first-class reasons for doing so. He
considers that the wit latent in the title should alone
have made the work famous, as by altering one
letter only it becomes Carrion Crows. I pointed out
to him that in this title, which compares his readers
to vultures, he entirely gives himself away by sug-
gesting that his verses are putrid, a harder word
than any which has yet been applied to them.
"Oh dear no!" said The Benson. "That's not at
all the way to look at it."
Well well ! The publishers printed his books, but
the question of distribution remained a problem.
With a fly-blown copy of Haec open at page 43
("Dear Thames, I love, love, love you") bleaching
in the window of the Fradford newsagent, where in
November I have seen it competing for public favor
with cheap fireworks; and with many cubic yards of
stock cumbering the cellars of his publishers, The
Benson bethought him of his friends' birthdays to
the extent of three consecutive birthdays to each
friend as follows: first birthday, Haec ant Nulla;
second birthday, The Sublime Intensity; third birth-
day, The Carrion Crowd. It was immediately after
the third birthday that philanthropy was made to
serve its turn and give our poet a further hoist.
I came down to breakfast one morning and found
46 THOMAS
a postal packet by my plate. I cut the string with
interest.
"Why," I exclaimed, "it's that brute Haec on the
job again."
Such indeed was the fact. Folded into the title-
page was a printed slip stating that the profits from
the sale of the book would be paid to the "Decayed
Gentlewomen's Relief Society," and that "Three and
tenpence should be sent to Richard Everard Benson,
Esquire, J.P." It was a shrewd stroke, I admit. I
do not know what tonnage of volumes The Benson
got rid of by this device but I observed that he has
now hit upon another method of planting out his
verses, which, to do him justice, is most ingenious.
He brings out anthologies and smuggles some of his
own poems in with the rest. He grows in boldness.
He lately sent me a publisher's notice of Selected
Sonnets by Shakespeare, Herrick, and Benson.
The lodge-keeper at Cradhall Court told me that
her master was at home, but that there were not
any visitors! Susan went sedately along the mag-
nificent avenue of beeches which leads to the house.
We passed the turning to the stables and opened up
the gardens, and I saw The Benson sitting under a
tree some distance away, aching all over. As Susan
ran "free" and silent round the sweep of the drive,
a little table-fed dog I well remembered, with wisps
of white hair on a pink skin, barked at me like a
sheep coughing two fields away. That bark settled
it. It brought overwhelmingly upon me all the de-
MY ABORTIVE ATTEMPT 47
pressing associations of The Benson, pure and un-
diluted, in the empty house. I funked it. Susan
roared as I wildly jammed in the gears and opened
the throttle, and as she swept round past the front
door I saw The Benson start to his feet and stand
amazed. We rushed on; completed the loop; and
hurtled with passionate eagerness down the drive,
back to the "Lamb" and to Bat. The lodge-keeper,
who was talking to a friend in the road as we
clanged into view, ran and opened the gate as
though to save it from being smashed, and we
raged forth upon the road to Fradford.
So here I am.
Just as I finished writing the above Bat strolled
in, having used up the barmaid for the time being
and decided to give her a rest. He announced that
he was going in for the "Eddy Sweep."
"It's perfectly useless," I told him. "The best of
the fishing is over now. You will only disappoint
yourself, and you're going back on Monday morning.
You had much better fish the Legewater with me.
There will be a little color in it, and it holds plenty of
nice fish."
"I'm going to leave another hook or two in
Edward," Bat persisted, "or I shall be able to tell
you why not. I was talking to a chap in the bar
just now, and he said Edward weighed at least seven
pounds. He is always in the same hole, and they
have put a fence round him to keep off poachers.
48 THOMAS
He told me Ben is missing. He has not been seen
since early in the season. He said the fish they
called Sammy was caught this year by a schoolboy
who had been brought down by his father. The
wretched father handed the rod to his son to hold
for a moment and the boy played about with it and
caught Sammy at once. He had, just before, seen
him and thrown a stone at him. I tell you what it
is," Bat ended, "you fellows know a lot, but the fish
know all you know. The boy got Sammy off his
guard because he was fishing wrong. If he had been
fishing the right way, Sammy would be Sammy still.
That's how I look at it. He weighed four pounds
eleven and a half ounces exactly, Sammy did. I'll
tell you what Edward weighs, exactly, before you
get into bed tomorrow night."
After a pause and a short cough he went on:
"Look here, I've got an explanation to make," and
he paused again.
"Well?" I asked.
"Why, you know that time when I thought I had
mistaken the day, I mean."
I shook my head.
"Oh, yes, you do you can't have forgotten you
know that time when I couldn't find you."
I had no idea what he was talking about. He
went on:
"Well, I've looked up your letter and you dis-
tinctly said you would be waiting in the car. So
that's how it was No! look out, you'll upset this
MY ABORTIVE ATTEMPT 49
stuff I only just want to explain how it was I
couldn't find you. If you had told me you would
be unddjr the car No! All right; but what I am
going to say now, is serious. I'll tell you what it is.
I'm going to have a bit more of that cheese before
I go to bed: you see if I don't. It will go splen-
didly with this cherry brandy. It's not every day
one meets a cheese like that, remember. You'd better
have some, too."
The table was laid, and while Bat, the embodi-
ment of radiant content and good humor, was eating
his cheese, he told me he once possessed a very fine
Blue Vinney which every one but himself found
rather too strong. It was kept in a particular cellar
with the door shut when not in use. At that time
the house was being painted, and when the account
was sent in, there was an item of "extra for dirty-
money to men painting in cellar." Bat explains that
"dirty-money" is recompense claimed by a workman
when he does work of a disgusting character which
he could not be expected to undertake.
When Bat went to get his candle, I cut a slice
from the cheese, put it into an envelope, followed
him upstairs to his room, and hid it under his
pillow.
"Happy dreams, old lad," I said as I left
him.
CHAPTER IV
BAT VERNON AND HIS "BLUE WAGTAIL"
WHEN Boots woke me in the morning by
chinking the jug of shaving-water against the
wash-basin, I felt full of beans. Curly white clouds,
gliding from the southwest across a blue rain-washed
sky, promised good fishing. All was well.
I hailed Bat to his bath after leaving mine. His
room called dimly to mind a grocer's shop. I lifted
the blankets, put his boots in bed with him, covered
him up again and left him.
Walking through the archway, which led under
the house from the yard, into the cool sunlit street,
my eye fell on bottles of stuffed olives displayed in
the window of a shop. They reminded me of Nita,
and I determined to send her a bottle as a peace-
offering. Then I thought better of it. She had no
business to tell me I was greedy. But I thought I
might perhaps as well send her one after all, just
to show I did not mind for, of course, I don't care
what she says: it's all her nonsense. After that it
seemed to me I was making too much of it all, and
50
BAT VERNON'S "BLUE WAGTAIL" 51
that it would look sentimental. It is true Nita said
I ought to be more sentimental than I am. On the
whole, I have decided to send her a bottle tomorrow.
Just a small one.
I strolled back to the inn yard, and found an ostler
washing down Susan. A few words about Susan will
not be amiss.
She was not my first. Bill the Buzzer gave me
serious employment for part of two seasons before
Susan came on the scene. He was a six-horsepower
motor-bicycle with side-car and a patent two-speed
gear in his back hub. [This matter is somewhat
technical, and the uninformed reader should skip to
the next paragraph.] Four and a quarter of Bill's
six horse was taken up in driving his patent gears
round, and what was left over was not enough for
his requirements as a motor-bicycle with side-car and
two passengers. Bill's back hub was an air-cooled
back hub; the spokes acted as radiators and pre-
vented the gears from getting too hot. It took from
five to seven miles, traveling at fair speed, to bring
the hub to a blue heat and make it smoke. This was
due to the bearings, which fed their balls out one
or two at a time into the hub and, accordingly, the
chief work done by the engine was the grinding up
of chilled steel and oil into a firm paste having the
appearance of plumbago but no commercial value.
Bill's limit of speed at any particular time varied,
therefore, with the size and number of balls he migh"
at the moment be engaged in digesting. Bill the
52 THOMAS
Buzzer would travel about fifteen hundred miles
before his ball bearings were assimilated and it be-
came necessary to give him a new back wheel and
start him off afresh.
The reasons which decided me to part with the
Buzzer were, in the main, surgical. They were
prompted by repeated gun-shots in the leg, caused by
the patent sparking-plug continually blowing out and
shooting me in the old wound. They were, however,
partly dictated by the exigencies of social expedi-
ency, as it does not do when invited out to dinner
to arrive forty minutes late with your coat-tails torn
off. Mine got wound up in the back wheel. Accord-
ingly I disposed of Bill the Buzzer, and, in so doing,
I am very sorry to say, also disposed of an Inter-
national Rugby footballer. My successor did not
'treat all Bill's patents with due respect, with the result
that one day the gears seized up and the pedals,
suddenly whirling round like the propellors of an aero-
plane, stripped the calves off his legs before he could
say "What ho!"
When I first decided to get a car I went to the
Motor Show to see what was to be had. My method
of selection was defective, I admit. It had the merit
of simplicity, but I am now aware that it did not
go far enough. My system was to test the cushions.
I would pick out one or two cars which specially
attracted me by their shape and color ; get into one ;
rub myself well into the seat; and then, without any
loss of time, skip off to the next and rub myself
BAT VERNON'S "BLUE WAGTAIL" 53
into the seat of that so as to compare sensations
while they were yet vivid. I would repeat this until
I could recognize each by touch, so to speak, and thus-
gauge their respective merits to a nicety.
It was while I was occupied with my tests and
was in the act of running across on tiptoe to a
bottle-blue "Rover" with my every faculty strained
to hold the sensations that instant derived from the
crimson seat of a green "Wolseley," that I cannoned
into Williams. He is a neighbor of ours, and the first
of the daily duties I set myself is to avoid getting
into the same carriage with him on the journey up
to town. He is a loud, commonplace man, with his
mouth entirely hidden with a moustache that serves
as soup-strainer and respirator. What employs him
is not known, but I always imagine he is some sort
of auctioneer.
Williams greeted me with a roar of recognition
and shook hands warmly. It was as if we had met
in Bagdad. It was useless to disguise the fact that
I was contemplating the purchase of a car. Had I
known it, my only defence was to insist on selling
a car to Williams. As it was, I was his natural
prey. He enfolded me. I thought I had escaped when
I finally told him I had no intention of buying a new
car. At parting, however, he said that on second
thoughts he felt sure that I was wise to go in for a
second-hand car if I could find just what I wanted.
The next scene was played on our front drive
when one evening Williams arrived with Susan.
54 THOMAS
Williams had found just what I wanted, for me.
For persuasiveness he relied chiefly on noise. His
voice made me feel ashamed for the garden. He
showed off Susan's paces in a fury of enthusiasm.
He answered all my objections; he raised objections
himself and answered them ; and he answered imagi-
nary objections that might conceivably, be raised by
others. His ardor, and disinterested conviction, over-
whelmed me. In order not to dash him too much,
I said: "She seems just the sort of car I want."
A little time after it dawned upon me that Williams
had understood me to say I would buy Susan. That
was why he nodded to the man who brought the
car and who thereupon went off. That was why he
wiped the lining of his hat with his handkerchief.
That was why he said he was very glad he came,
asked if he should just run Susan into the coach-
liouse for me, and told me I had better make the
cheque payable to him, as he would have to post a
cheque that night. Thus it was that I became the
owner of Susan, almost unbeknown.
But I never allow anyone to say a word against
Susan. Even Bat admits that she "gets there." It
took a little time to find out exactly what parts
needed renewing, and which only repair, but since then
Susan has been the delight of my heart. It adds
pleasure to one's traveling to know that the excellent
performance of one's car relies upon the applica-
tion of a navvy's leather garter to the joint of a
-circulating pipe; and to be aware, when the engine
BAT VERNON'S "BLUE WAGTAIL" 5$
fails in a particular way, that nothing is wanted but
a new paper-fastener on the commutator lever. 1
once ran Susan sixty miles on a hairpin begged from
a lady on a bicycle ; and most of Susan's ills can be
cured with a bootlace or an old nail. If you showed
a bit of wire oil a soda-water bottle to a Rolls Royce
the thing would hoot at you. Susan, on the other
hand, would be grateful for it, and that is why
I dote on her so much.
Speaking of hooting, reminds me that Susan's
hooter is the most up-to-date thing about her. You
simply pull a wire and it makes a noise like a rhin-
oceros coughing. It is designed to lift children and
dogs from Susan's path. It will also partly lift in-
valid old ladies out of Bath-chairs, and it once made
an architect fall off a ladder. Last year it put Bat
out of temper for nearly a minute. It was his first
introduction to Susan. In describing the points of
the little car, I told him that when the engine w?.s
running there was a leakage from the electric accumu-
lators through the cap of the radiator.
"Why!" What does it do?" asked Bat.
"It gives you a little shock, nothing to speak of..
Touch it."
Bat bent down and examined the cap suspiciously.
Then he slowly approached his forefinger; pulled it
away apprehensively ; advanced it again ; drew it back,
and at last made a little dab and lightly touched the
brass. At the same moment I let off the hooter at
his elbow.
56 THOMAS
Bat tries to compensate himself for the shock of
this experience by playing the trick on everyone he
can inveigle. His method does not, however, inspire
confidence, and he never produces an effect at all
equal to the agonized convulsion with which he re-
warded me.
When Bat came down to breakfast he sniffed the
steam of his coffee with gusto.
"I'll tell you what it is, T,'" he said; "I made a
mistake with that cheese last night."
"How do you mean?"
"Why, it does not do to take a cheese like that
just before going to bed. It persists. One can't
forget it. One lies awake in bed and feels one is
getting tired of cheese. One does not look forward
to tomorrow's cheese as much as one ought."
"Did you dream of it?"
"No, I didn't dream of it. In point of fact, I
dreamed I was down a drain. You know, there's
something queer about that cheese. It's a very tena-
cious cheese. I shall pass cheese today."
It was while we were walking down to the river
half an hour later that Bat startled me by telling
me that he was thinking of getting married.
I stood for a moment. The idea of dear old Bat
Vernon being married gave me quite a shock. It
seemed such a solemn idea for Bat. It was as though
he were taking a step towards death. Birth, Mar-
BAT VERNON'S "BLUE WAGTAIL" 57
riage, Death that is the epitome of human life given
in the front page of the daily papers. It was dis-
tressing to think of Bat as already preparing for
his coffin. These thoughts flashed through my mind.
I was incredulous.
"Rot!" I exclaimed.
"It's a solemn fact," said Bat. "You ask Kate
Vassaleur if it isn't."
He was engaged, then ! A gulf seemed to open be-
tween us. I said complainingly :
"Well, you need not have told me so soon. You
might at least have waited till I was seeing you off."
"Why?" said Bat. "It won't make any differ-
ence."
"It's all very well," he went on, "but I'll tell you
what it is. It's no good putting off a job like this
till you are too old. Some of these girls the pick
of them, in fact are confoundedly particular, you
must know that. I'm going to begin to get bald soon.
Can you fancy me wanting to marry the sort of
girl who would be content with a husband who
showed a bald place behind when he had his hat on?"
"But that does not apply to me. I am not going
to get bald yet."
"Oh, well, there are worse things than going
bald," said Bat. "You're just the sort of chap to
get up one fine morning and find hair growing out
of your ears."
I was annoyed with Bat. It is no joking matter
growing old. On the other hand, were these the
58 THOMAS
reasons that induce men to marry? There if a. mys-
tery about it. Has Bat really opened my eyes? Has
he let me into a secret?
Bat was eager to get to work on Edward. When
we turned off the road he pounded along the back
in his stockings with half-leg spats, and his frieze
coat with leather collar and buttons, and lots of
waist, scaring the trout, which fled from him up
and down the stream, and spoiling the fishing for
an hour to come. The Watcher's cottage, with a
six-foot spiked iron fence and barbed wire tangled
along the top, appeared in view. We passed through
a gate. A woman came out to the door.
"Any tickets for the Sweep, gentlemen?"
Bat presented himself as a candidate. He had
many questions to ask. Would he have a better
chance if he bought two tickets? What sort of a
hook did Edward like best? Could he see the money
in the pool so as to get an appetite for the job? and
so forth. The woman did not respond to his banter.
He paid two shillings one to the pool, and one for
the Watcher. The woman told us that the total
amount of the pool was twenty-seven pounds sixteen.
Bat asked whether she had counted in his shilling,
or whether he would get that back in addition. "I
want to know exactly how I stand," he explained.
After we left the cottage he went back and asked
for an introduction. "I have never met Edward," he
said. "Where is he?"
The woman complained that her husband was
BAT VERNON'S "BLUE WAGTAIL" 39
about somewhere, but, not seeing him, she put on
some clogs and led us down to the river. At a
place where the current had eroded a small bay below
an alder bush she peered over the bank, pointed down-
wards, and left us.
We advanced cautiously and looked, and behold!
there was Edward. He floated like a balloon in,
a deep swirl of water sweeping under the bank. He
was about two feet below the surface, and he swung
as immovably in the heavy current as though he had
been anchored. One had to look closely to notice
the almost imperceptible movement of the mighty
tail of the huge fish. He was well aware that we
were looking at him, for he careened over to one
side a little so as to bring an eye to bear on us.
It was evident that he was distrustful.
Bat glanced cautiously about him, slowly raised
the handle of his landing-net above his shoulder, and
sent it with all his force, like a javelin, fiercely down
upon Edward's devoted head. It would have been
a blackguard act in anyone but Bat, but it seemed
that Edward was used to it. As the shaft cut the
water he jerked his head to one side like a boxer
avoiding a straight left, and it missed him by two
inches. Bat hastily made another wild stab, on
which Edward glided forward with perfect dignity
until he was lost in the shadows of deeper water.
"They'll put you in prison," I said. "You've got
to kill him by fair fly-fishing. You've spoilt your
chance for this morning now."
60 THOMAS
"I wasn't trying to kill him," said Bat. "I only
wanted to stun him a bit and muddle up his brains.
It's almost useless trying to catch a fish like that
when his head is clear. It's just what you experts
can never understand."
I left him, after arranging that he should go on
up stream and that I would fish the Legewater and
come down and meet him at one o'clock for lunch.
I had a pleasant morning, and my bag held three
good trout and two grayling. What more does a
man want? I had returned several fish to the water.
For each I landed I missed another, and rose two
besides. My morning had been one of keen entranc-
ing occupation, both of mind and body, with the
gaiety of a careless summer holiday to set it off;
tobacco to give it tone; and strong boots and tough
ofd threadbare tweeds to give it dignity. I have no
sympathy with a man who vaunts large baskets.
When I have caught a score of trout I begin to feel
like a fishmonger.
I filled up my bag with stones and grass, put the
fish on top with the tail of one grayling and the
head of the other sticking out, so as to give Bat
the impression that I had a bagful topped off with
a three-pounder, and set off to join him and the
lunch.
I could not find him. I followed the river till the
Watch Cottage was near at hand still no Bat. I
was standing at a loss when I noticed the flash of
his rod. I then saw that he was reclining on the
BAT VERNON'S "BLUE WAGTAIL" 61
bank, his head supported on his hand, fishing Ed-
ward's pitch. With serene contentment in his face
he was idly throwing his line into the water and,
after a rather long pause, snatching it out again.
No one ever rose a fish by such methods.
"Have you moved him?" I asked as I came up,
using a term by which a fly-fisher expresses that
a fish has nosed at, or shown an interest in the fly.
"Oh, yes," Bat replied, reeling up his line, "he's
moving about all right. He's getting restless. He'll
jump out onto the bank soon. There are too many
hooks about today for his liking."
I then saw that Bat was fishing with four flies
tied to his line. It was futile. No one ever used
anything but one small fly on such water.
He told me, as he ate his sandwiches, that he
had been fishing the same spot all the morning. He
lay down because he got tired of sitting up. He said
that at different times two fishermen had come up
to see, as Bat put it, "Whether Edward was engaged
or not." Bat had invited the second to join him,
telling him that there was "plenty of room," but he,
too, had gone off like the first.
I left Bat in the act of tying on a fifth fly, and
made a cut across two fields to the upper Legewater
where it approaches the Fradford road.
It was about half -past four when I heard the first
shouts. They arrested me at once, but I did not
immediately realize they were cries for help. I ran
62 THOMAS
back into the meadow in order to get "the direction,
and it was then I recognized Bat's voice and knew he
was fast into Edward. I ran like a hare.
He was standing on the bank, with his legs bare
to the knee, gripping his rod like an infantryman
with bayonet fixed at the "ready." The woman had
come out of the cottage and was by his side holding
her skirts with one hand. A motor-car with ladies
in it had stopped on the bridge; and three youths in
new caps, with roses in their buttonholes, and very
long walking sticks, were charging across from the
road with a dog.
"Hold your rod up," I panted. "Keep your line
taut."
"Leave me alone," said Bat. "He can use all the
line I've got."
It seemed quite hopeless. I stood by with the
landing-net and looked on.
The fish, for some reason, made no attempt to
run. At one moment he was a catherine-wheel on
the surface ; the next, only the eddies indicated his
struggles in the deep. After a time these struggles
became less violent. The ladies from the motor-
car announced their presence by a strong smell of
peppermint.
Minutes passed, and it began to look as though
Bat had got the fish.
"If you could lead him in, I might manage to net
him," I said.
Edward replied by a strong flurry, and was thn
BAT VERNON'S "BLUE WAGTAIL" 63
3lowly towed, motionless and inert, into view. He
was trussed up like a whiting, head to tail, with
Bat's line tangled about him. It was as though
he had been spinning a cocoon.
"There you are," Bat said. "I told you he could
use all the line I could give him."
A few moments later I was able to get the net
under the fish and lift him safely to the bank. The
impossible had happened. Bat had caught Edward.
"Be careful he doesn't jump in again," Bat said
warningly.
At that moment a man pressed forward.
"Hullo! What's this here?" he asked.
"This is Edward here," said Bat, lighting his pipe
as I set about getting the hooks out.
"You must put him back again, young gentleman,
he ain't caught fair," said the man ominously.
"My job was to catch Edward with the artificial
fly," said Bat, "and scoop the pool, and I've brought
it off."
"I keeps this water, and I say you must put him
back," the man reiterated. "He's foul hooked."
"Well, that's nothing to do with me," said Bat.
"You're his keeper, you say, you trained the fish,
and if he doesn't know better than to take the fly
under his wing like a swallow, it's your look-out."
"He's foul hooked, and that ain't fair fishing,"
the keeper said, and he took a step towards me as I
stooped over the fish.
"You might as well say it isn't fair cricket if you
64 THOMAS
try for a drive and snick it through the slips," I told
him; "of course it's fair."
"Why, you can see for yourself he's taken off his
stockings," the keeper complained. "That's another
thing. Wading is not allowed; it's all printed clear
on the back of the ticket."
"I was sitting with my feet in the water," Bat
explained. "It sends the blood to the head, and that's
where one wants it when one tackles a job like this,
I can tell you."
I felt ashamed of Bat. Fishing is a dignified sport,
and it is strictly so regarded by all true fishermen.
Bat, however, made the stupendous event of his cap-
ture of Edward a broad absurdity. To my adept eye
he looked almost revolting as he stood on the bank
with naked legs in his elaborate new patent sporting
coat.
We overbore the keeper, who had to put a good
face on it. Edward was withdrawn from the water,
where I had placed him securely bagged in the net,
and knocked on the head, and we went to the cottage
to weigh in. The scales announced six pounds seven
and a quarter ounces.
When we came out the throng had increased, as
people passing along the road and seeing the staring
crowd thought someone had been drowned, and came
running up like chickens expecting food. We marched
into Fradford at the head of a procession of a dozen
boys and men, all treading on each other's heels in
BAT VERNON'S "BLUE WAGTAIL" 65
their eagerness to keep an eye on Edward, who,
slung tail and head like a salmon, was borne by Bat
himself. When we turned into the Lamb Hotel we
left a crowd in the road outside.
Edward was laid in state on the top of the counter
between the tap and the bar parlor. We gloated
over him till seven o'clock, and then tore ourselves
away to change our things, and came back and stared
at him till dinner was served.
We had hardly finished the meal when the land-
lord entered and said that Mr. Wrench and Mr.
Plenty were very anxious to speak to us. Mr. Wrench
and Mr. Plenty were distinguished local anglers, the
landlord explained.
They were shown in and sat down awkwardly, and
Bat called for drinks.
Mr. Wrench was a hardy, stout, red- faced, intent-
looking man with grizzled hair and a bald forehead.
He sat on the extreme edge of his chair with an
elbow on one knee and leant forward dangling his
hat. Mr. Plenty was a pale, wedge-faced young man,
with a long thin neck and straw-colored hair brushed
up into a quiff on his forehead. He sat stiffly, as
though he had been put into his chair and was waiting
to be carried upstairs on it.
"I've just been to see Edward," Mr. Wrench ad-
dressed us both gravely, jerking his head towards
the bar, "and they tell me it was one of you two
gentlemen who caught him. Mr. Plenty here took
the fish they named Archie, four seasons ago, five
66 THOMAS
pounds two ounces and three shot," he added, intro-
ducing his companion. Mr. Plenty cast down hit
eyes and swallowed audibly.
I indicated Bat, who lay at full length on the
sofa and smoked a cigar, as the hero of the exploit,
and he was at once closely questioned by Mr. Wrench
on the events of the day. Bat replied that he had
really very little of interest to tell them. Yes ; it was
he that had caught Edward. No; the fish did not
rise often. In his opinion patience, more than any-
thing else, was what had won the day patience com-
bined with the new principles of piscatology.
Here Bat paused to examine his cigar, while Mr.
Plenty regarded him fixedly with his lip drooping,
and Mr. Wrench shifted further forward in his chair
and pressed his questions.
What were these new principles? Oh, merely to
create a false sense of security in the fish, Bat told
him. How was it done? Why, in various ways;
for instance, one sat with one's legs splashing in the
water as though one were going to bathe, or tied
a handkerchief on to one's rod so that the fish would
suppose one was out flag-flapping with the boy scouts.
That day he had whistled up a dog and pitched him
in on top of Edward, and made him swim about a bit,
and bark. As a result Edward had been completely
deceived, and so he had caught him.
No; he had not changed his flies often. One fly
had certainly caught Edward the most, but others
had lent a hand. What fly was it? Oh, simply a
BAT VERNON'S "BLUE WAGTAIL" 6f
fly feathers and tail; they knew what a fly was
like.
Mr. Wrench seemed balked. He squatted forward
until he appeared to lose contact with his chair alto-
gether, as if, in fact, he were merely pointing to it
with his back.
"What I mean, what sort of fly was it?*' he blurted.
"What's its name, as you may say ?"
Bat does not know the names of any flies, but
prefers to invent grotesque nicknames for such as
he can recognize. Most of these are extremely insult-
ing to the natural insect and quite inadmissible in
print. He stirred a little, exhaled smoke, and care-
fully knocked off the ash.
"Blue Wagtail," he said negligently, as he put th*
cigar back in his mouth.
"Blue Wagtail! I never heard of such," said Mr.
Wrench. "Did you ever?" he added, making con-
tact with his chair again and turning to his com-
panion.
Mr. Plenty shook his head, and both men stared
mutely at Bat.
"A blue Wagtail," said Bat, tolerantly, "is a fly
that wags its tail besides being blue. That is what
a fish likes to see a blue fly wag its tail. The wag-
tail wagged its tail, and that made Edward wag his
tail, and so at last they got friendly like two ducks,
and then Edward ate him."
Mr. Wrench gazed at Mr. Plenty, then at me, and
then again at Bat, in a baffled way. Then he said
68 THOMAS
suddenly to Bat, who was looking at his watch:
"Where do you get these Wagtail flies, if I may
be allowed to ask?"
"I make them," Bat replied, after a moment's
thought.
"Oh; could you show me one now, perhaps, if
it's not a trouble to you?"
"They're all eaten," said Bat. "Edward had the
last."
Mr. Wrench looked perplexed, but seemed to re-
member himself. "Well now, how would you go for
to make one of these Wagtails; could you tell me,
if I may be so bold?" he said.
"The first thing," said Bat, getting up and empha-
sizing his points by tapping Mr. Wrench, who had
also risen, on the chest intimately, "is to catch a nice
young blue parrot and pull its tail out. Select only
the tastiest morsels and construct the fly in the usual
way, being careful to choose a good sharp hook. I'm
going to see how Edward is getting on," he con-
cluded. "Are you coming?"
I was afraid that Bat was about to embark on
absurdities which would ruin his little show, for it
was clear that it would be as easy to joke with a
mole and a frog as with Messrs. Wrench and Plenty
on the sacred subject of fly-fishing.
If these two gentlemen formed part of the company
which that evening thronged the tap and the bar
parlor, where Bat stood guard, so to speak, over
Edward, they had further drinks without paying for
BAT VERNON'S "BLUE WAGTAIL" 69
them, and perhaps got to know that they had
had their legs pulled. I do not think that Bat Vernon
ever spent a happier evening in his life. An earnest
fisherman, who felt that in the capture of Edward
he had attained the highest ambition of his art, would
have been a person to commiserate in the light of the
radiant felicity of Bat. It was the very knowledge
of his own ignorance and futility as a fly-fisher that
provoked his impish humor and made his false posi-
tion an exquisite delight to him. If anything could
have added to his pleasure it would have been to-
know that he had caught Edward with a feather and
a bit of string, or a lady's hat on the end of a clothes-
line.
His listeners were a mixed company and, as Bat
stood beside Edward inviting inquiry, his whimsies
were at first received with serious perplexity. But
after a little bursts of laughter marked his intimate
speculations on Edward's connubial ambitions, and he
was surrounded by a broadly smiling audience.
After leaving him for an hour, I drew near again,
"Come along to bed," I said. "You've got to have
breakfast at seven if you are going to catch the early
train."
We saw Edward safely into the larder, where Bat
had him put into a tub of water. "I want him to
feel quite at home," he told the Boots. I left him in
close talk with the landlord.
Just as I was ready for bed, he came into my
room.
70 THOMAS
"That's all right," he said, "I'm not too late. I
always like to keep my promises. Now do attend;
you remember that time, don't you ; you know ; no,
really, honor bright, this is serious when we were
talking last night, I mean? Well, look here, I was
afraid I was too late, the fellow kept me down-
stairs, but I promised you remember that I would
tell you exactly what Edward weighed before you got
into bed to-night. Well, I'm going to do it now. Do
listen. He weighs exactly eleven pounds and seven
and a quarter ounces when wet, and a trifle less when
<lry. Can you recollect that, or would you like me
to write it down for you? Next week, of course, it's
quite likely he may weigh a pound or two more."
I was just dropping off to sleep when he cam
back in his pajamas.
"Look here," he said, "I've got a bone to pick with
you."
"What's wrong?"
"Why, about that fish."
"Well?"
"Well, I've made a big mistake about Edward, and
it's your fault, I tell you."
"What have I done?"
"What have you done! Why, you've killed Ed-
ward; that's what."
"But, good gracious," I said, "you couldn't keep
him alive."
"Of course I could," Bat replied. "Tub of water
and a wheelbarrow."
TRAGIC EXPERIENCES 71
"But why? What's your idea?"
"Well, it's no fun catching a dead fish, is it?
Edward's been wasted, that's how I look at it. He's
done for, and no good for anything but to be stretched
and stuffed he will stretch well, I can see there's
loose skin about him '
"Do you mean that you wanted to go on catch-
ing him ?"
"Of course I did. I should have taken him home
and put him in the fountain with the goldfish, and
now you've killed him. He would have had lots of
sport. I might have caught him before breakfast
on fine mornings, and my old uncle could have been
wheeled in to have a go at him. We would have
kept rods set up in the hall and gone and put hooks
in him after dinner no end of fun with the ladies;
and now you've spoilt it all."
CHAPTER V
TRAGIC EXPERIECES AT CAFF PADDOX
ON the Monday morning, after I had taken Bat
to the station and was just finishing breakfast,
a telegram arrived from my mother: "Mrs. Graham
wants you to let her know beforehand."
I suppose my mother wrote to Mrs. Graham and
fished for an invitation. She had my address, as I
sent her a post card on Saturday night.
It is a nuisance to have arrangements made for
me and to be under obligations to keep engagements.
It is exactly what I do not want, but my mother con-
siders that my plans for turning up uninvited are an
unheard-of breach of good manners.
However, I decided to go on to Hildon Hall, as
it was a pleasant run of about 130 miles, and I should
liave some justification for presenting myself. After
the way I funked The Benson I was beginning to
lose faith in my hardihood.
Before I left Fradford I bought the bottle of olives
for Nita. I thought I might as well send them. There
is nothing, of course, m a bottle of stuffed olives!
72
TRAGIC EXPERIENCES 73
Afterwards I felt uncertain, and I went back to the
grocer's without knowing exactly what to do. The
fact is women are rather a nuisance to have about
one, and they really can be almost unpleasant some-
times: at least Nita can. It is impertinent to tell a
man, just because you happen to be his step-niece
by marriage, that he is selfish, and greedy, and
arrogant, and lord knows what else. Not that I care
what Nita says, of course ; besides, she was joking all
the time, I know that. Still, it is unpleasant. I
found the grocer had made up the parcel for posting,
so I let it go. It was a small bottle, only. After-
wards I went back again and wrote on the cover,
"To be kept in a cool dry place till I return." All
the same, I wish I had not sent it now. Nita will
suppose I mind what she thinks of me.
Susan did not behave that day and I had trouble
with the bent threepenny bit that serves the valve
tappit. After that I took the wrong road, and finally
I decided to stay a day or two with Mrs. Connagh if
the old girl should be game. This was the beginning
of much trouble.
I consider that my claim to be a careful driver is
made incontestable by the fact that in twenty thou-
sand miles I have killed nothing but one chicken, and
it was the chicken's fault. But I don't want to beat
about the bush. If the reader refers to the list of
my final selections on page 16 he will see that Mrs.
Connagh's description is completed by the words "and
dogs." Well, to make a clean breast of it (and it
74 THOMAS
was a miserable business), the fact is that as we were
trundling up the drive Susan ran over one of these
dogs. A small pack of cream poodles and chocolate
Poms ran out of the shrubbery right into the car; I
felt a wheel lift and there was the poor little brute
laid out in the road behind. Mercifully it was killed
outright. The notice, "Mind the Dogs," which I had
seen at the entrance gates, had evidently been set
up out of concern for the dogs, rather than, as I had
supposed, in apprehension for the visitors' trousers.
To run over the dog is quite one of the worst
ways of introducing yourself uninvited at a friend's
house. I felt this keenly as I stared back at the
blot of brown fur on the road. It was just as if a
lady had dropped her muff. It was some moments
before I got out of the car, and even then I did not
know what I was going to do. I felt stunned.
I do not say for a moment that I did the right
thing. I only claim to have acted with the best
intentions.
It was at once clear that I could not turn the
car round and go away and say nothing about it.
That was unthinkable. Nor could I bring myself
to approach the house, a hopeful candidate for the
spare bed, dangling my hostess' pet as though I had
come with an offering of game. Nor could I endure
the idea of waiting in the drawing-room with "I want
you to come and see what I've got in my car" tremb-
ling on my lips. Besides, if I were not careful, Mrs.
Connagh might receive a shock. It was a difficult
TRAGIC EXPERIENCES 75
question. In the end I decided to hide the little
body in the shrubbery ; find the first convenient oppor-
tunity of breaking the news to my hostess ; and then,
if she wished, show her the sad little remnant of her
pet. Accordingly I carried the poor little lady into
the plantation and hid her among the undergrowth.
It was when I approached the front door and a
deluge of dogs rushed upon the scene from all direc-
tions, that it occurred to me that one or two, more
or less, might not be of much account. I also won-
dered if the creature would actually be missed if I
had not decided, of course, to break the news, I
mean.
I had always remembered that while Mrs. Con-
nagh honored you with a call, her dogs employed
themselves by scratching the paint off your front
door or making hay of the geraniums; but I had
no idea of the hold her hobby had taken on her until
this visit of mine to Caff Paddox. I can only say
that the house has been entirely given up to the dogs
and that Mrs. Connagh resides in their kennel. The
gardens are spoiled; the house is dingy. It is bitten,
scratched, stained and torn from top to bottom.
I was shown into what the dogs had left of the
drawing-room. One of the chocolate Poms with a
bandaged leg was taking care of itself on the sofa.
The furniture was scratched and dirty; the carpet
spoilt; the hearthrug in part eaten. The hopeless-
ness of keeping pace with the destructiveness of the
dogs seemed to have had a disheartening effect on
76 THOMAS
things that were out of their reach. Cobwebs hung
on the curtain-poles, and dusty bits of evergreen, pre-
sumably the remains of Christmas decorations, still
lolled over the picture-frames. Upon the mantel-
piece was a row of silver cups each inscribed with a
date and the name of the dog whose ability in being
a dog had won the distinction for its owner.
Mrs. Connagh walked briskly into the* room, a
little riding-switch in her hand and a swarm of dandy
dogs about her heels, with an air as though she were
entering a public arena to give a display. It was
obvious that she liked to vaunt her pets and that she
glowed with the distinction of the number and quality
of those about her. She was dressed in stylish tweeds
which she showed off well, for she is slick in the
haunch and carries her head like a racer. She wore
smart boots and gauntleted gloves on remarkably neat
hands, and her gray hair was swept up under a tweed
hat. A large brass safety-pin, under her ear, called
attention, oddly, to a flannel bandage about her neck
which had worked up into view.
She greeted me warmly; said that of course I
would stay; and ran on with questions about my
mother and my journey. As she talked, her eyes
kept wandering about among the dogs, of whom she
soon began to speak, sitting with one of them on
her knees which repeatedly licked her face in spite
of her half-hearted gestures of avoidance.
Many celebrities were pointed out to me. The Pom
with the bandaged foot was specially introduced as
TRAGIC EXPERIENCES 77
having had its leg broken by a brutal motorist in the
front drive. There was no excuse, she declared, with
the notice staring everyone in the face.
As she rattled on an old bulldog staggered into
the room with his legs wide apart, as though he felt
the spin of the earth and was afraid of being thrown
down. He came to me ; sniffed in friendly inquiry ;
then chirruped with suppressed delight; wagged his
tail ; put his head sentimentally on my knee .and slob-
bered on me. Mrs. Connagh, without pausing in her
account of Ribstone the fifth, got up; went to a
drawer; handed me a red calico duster; and when
I had mopped my trouser, put it away again. In its
way, it was evidently a well-ordered house. The
second time the bulldog stamped me with the mark
of his esteem Mrs. Connagh explained that he al-
ways did it as tea-time approached. So that was
all right.
It was after tea, when the other dogs had been
driven out of the room and the bulldog had cleared
up all the bread and butter and finished the tea out
of the slop-basin, that Mrs. Connagh asked me sud-
denly, as though opening up a fresh subject, whether
I would like to "see the dogs." I had been quite
unable to come to the point of confession. No open-
ing was allowed me. I had to go and inspect the
animals, knowing that every minute made my task
more difficult. I began at last to try and think that
I had not killed any dog at all. It seemed impossible
I could have such a crime on my shoulders.
78 THOMAS
We went over the house. The dogs were kennelled
in the rooms ; six, eight, or a dozen in each. In some
rooms they used the beds; in one, hutches had been
set up. They were delicate dogs, Mrs. Connagh ex-
plained, and, besides, they had to be trained as house
pets. A bathroom had been adapted to the purpose
of a dogs' toilet, and here a burly woman was squat-
ting on the floor gloomily cliping a poodle. The dogs
were tended by women. They were ladies' dogs.
They did not "understand men." The attic floor was
given up to the purposes of an infectious disease hos-
pital. A door was opened. Six dogs tried to get
out. What sort were they? "Mange." Another
door, "Distemper." Another "Influenza." It was all
so well arranged! There was a room set entirely
apart for one dog who was doing his course of in-
fluenza and mange at the same time. Yet another
door and the dogs all had flannel bandages round
their necks, fastened under the ear with a big safety-
pin. Complaint unknown. Difficulty in swallowing.
Mrs. Connagh here appeared to swallow, and with
difficulty. I myself seemed to be conscious of a
retarded mechanism in my own throat when I se-
cretly tested it. My wish that I had never come
increased.
Dinner had all the discomfort of a meal taken
immediately before departure on a journey. There
seemed somehow to be a dozen things to be thought
of at once. Mrs. Connagh kept looking at her watch.
She was expecting the vet., she said. I tried to
TRAGIC EXPERIENCES 79
interest her with an account of the exploits of my
bulldog pup "Bruiser." Bruiser was given to me be-
cause he needed a change of postmen. He had bitten
one. I knew nothing about his points, but I sent him
to our local Dog and Cat Show, and put him in for
everything just to see what he could do for himself.
To my delight he carried off three first prizes value,
one pound seventeen and seemed to think nothing
of it. He won first prize for being the best Bulldog
in the show; first prize for being the best Gray-
hound in the show ; and first prize for being the
best tom-cat in the show. Mrs. Connagh could not
follow this, so I had to explain that Bruiser got
first prize in the bulldog class ; first prize in the class
reserved for bulldogs and grayhounds, and his final
rival was a grayhound; and first prize for being the
best animal exhibited, and as the final selection lay
between Bruiser and two tom-cats, it follows that
Bruiser was considered to be a better tom-cat than
either of the cats were bull-dogs.
My hostess did not seem much interested in the
triumphs of Bruiser, and the dessert had hardly been
put on the table when the vet. arrived and she jumped
up and whisked out of the room, leaving me alone.
I had begun to be haunted by a fear that some
of the dogs would discover the victim and drag the
carcase into view before I had had a chance of
confessing, and I crept out of the house like a mur-
derer fascinated by the scene of his crime. I
breathed more freely, for it was clear that the dogs
80 THOMAS
had all been shut up for the night. None was to be
seen but the bulldog and one or two pets, and the
house echoed far and near with their yappings be-
hind closed doors. Poncho came staggering after
me down the drive, but soon stood and watched me
out of sight. The old dog was reconciled to the
limitations of age.
It was getting dark when I reached the scene of
the accident and turned into the plantation, and it
was some time before I found the place where I
had hidden the body. My little friend was gone.
There was no doubt about it. Had I really killed
her? I began to think it was possible I had only
laid her out and that she had recovered and run off
to rejoin her companions. The dogs would certainly
be counted when they were shut up for the night;
and I should hear about it if one were missed, for
I heard about it if one sneezed. I had a possible
excuse, anyhow. I was not absolutely certain she
had been killed.
When I returned, Mrs. Connagh was seeing the
vet. out. The house was now silent as regards the
dogs, but the three parrots, who, not being able to
hear themselves speak, endured the daytime in sulky
silence, had now brightened up and were all yapping
and howling without pause, and thus it is that
things are kept cheerful at Caff Paddox both day
and night.
Mrs. Connagh mentioned nothing about having lost
a dog. She rattled along with accounts of all the
TRAGIC EXPERIENCES 81
vet. had said of her various invalids, and we finished
the evening with a game of chess in which I was
beaten by my hostess, two parrots, and a dog whom
I was asked not to "encourage."
It was only ten o'clock when I said good night.
My room seemed to have been kept holy. The bed,
on examination, appeared to be a virgin bed; but
I had grounds for revising that judgment ten minutes
after I got into it. This was not the only reason I
could not sleep, however. I worried over the dog.
I came to believe that my search in the plantation had
not been thorough. Then, being turned upon gloomy
thoughts, I was reminded of Bat's solemn admission,
and began to ponder his remarks about getting too
old for the job i.e. marriage. I counted up how
many years it would take before I was seventy- three,
which always appears to me a most difficult age to
face. There seemed very few of them when one
came to think of it. Until one is seventy-three there
is some hope for one; after that point there is none
one has simply got to throw up the sponge. I
counted how many times I should live over again the
number of years since I left school before I reached
this dreadful age. The figure was eight only. I had
never realized this before. This was serious. The
matter needed close attention.
After a while I settled down to test myself against
Williams. I know his age, for he told us in the
train one morning, and he told the ticket collector
too. For some reason he seemed to be immensely
82 THOMAS
gratified by the fact that his age was what it was.
Well, I had to face the fact that in seventeen years I
shall be as old as Williams is. It was appalling. But
there was worse to come. In barely seven years I
should be as old as Williams was only ten years ago !
I could hardly realize it. I did the sum again. It
was awful. What was seven years? I was aghast.
I had been actually living in a fool's paradise. I tried
it in many ways, but all comparisons brought me face
to face with such deadly facts as: that by the time I
am as old as Williams will be, when I am as old as
he is now, Williams will be on the very verge of
seventy-three.
I felt frightened. It was no good trying to dis-
guise the fact: I was beginning to get old. That
was the idea I had to get used to. Old age. Per-
haps after all there was some sense in the grave
view Tabb seemed to take of life. I had brought
his book with me as part of Susan's ballast, and I
got out of bed and found it. I took the opportunity
as I passed the dressing-table to have a close look
at my ears in the glass. They were still all right,
thank goodness.
I opened Tabb at random, and dabbed a finger
on to a page to try my luck. All divines should
be equal to this test if they are worth their salt,
but it seems that Tabb is not on working terms with
Providence. When I looked I found I had fetched a
paragraph where Tabb endeavors to disentangle, from
the confusion caused by the sublimity of his own die-
TRAGIC EXPERIENCES 83
tion, the childish idea that to bestow benefits on others
is to win their affection. No generalization could
well be less true of human nature. It must, how-
ever, be admitted, in justice to Tabb, that on this
occasion, at any rate, he did the trick; for what
with the numbers of us there were kicking about
together in the bed, and our general restlessness, and
Tabb's pompous diction and smug incompetence, I
was made so angry that I did not care whether I was
getting old or not, and so went to sleep at last.
I was awakened in the morning by the voice of
my hostess resounding in the room through the open
window, "Drop it, sir!" "Drop it, I say!" followed
by deafening yaps and barks, and became aware that
the dog I had been told not to "encourage" was in
the room. He had evidently come in with the hot
water. I drove him out.
In the bath-room, which passed muster, I got hold
of a bit of soap that smelt gratefully aseptic. I
soon noticed that it was of a bracing quality, and
at first I was thankful for the pacifying effect it
had on a rash I had contracted during the night, but
soon I found that it was too drastic, so to speak,
and was taking my enamel off; and on inspection I
discovered that the detestable word "DOG" still sur-
vived in embossed letters on its wasted shape. I rinsed
myself thoroughly, but I shall never be the sleek
man I was. It has taken away all my gloss. My
velvet touch has gone. I am for ever spoilt for pur-
poses of satin embraces.
84 THOMAS
I was horribly worried about the dog. I had no
doubt that I missed him the night before. I felt
ashamed of myself. It seemed a very easy thing to
confess to the accident, compared with the explana-
tion I now had to make. The wretched animal was
positively spoiling my holiday. I cut myself in
shaving. Finally I decided, in a sort of anger, to
make a clean breast of it at breakfast and get it
over. I was, however, still desperately racking my
brains to find a loophole for escape as I went heavy-
footed downstairs.
Then, three steps from the bottom, I clapped my
fist into my palm and exclaimed, "By jove, I've got
it!" with such effect that some thirty dogs came
rushing at me, and Mrs. Connagh ran out to pacify
them. I beamed as I returned her greeting and fol-
lowed her to the breakfast-room.
Mrs. Connagh appeared a little subdued. She only
became her usual alert self for a moment when I
returned from the side-table after cutting myself
three slices of tongue. I had helped myself to mus-
tard and had got hold of my fork, when she jumped
up and took the plate away from me.
"Not that one. It's Poncho's " she said. Then
she added, as though to remove any embarrassment
I might feel at having committed a faux pas of the
break fast- table, "He licks it so clean, you would
never know he had used it."
A little later she broke a silence of the dogs by
saying ;
HILDON HALL 85
"I'm one short this morning."
"Indeed," I said. "How's that?"
Mrs. Connagh shrugged. "They must have missed
count last night. So careless ! It's one of the Poms."
"Don't you know which?"
"I have not sorted them out yet. The names are
on the collars. There are so many it is difficult to
remember them all, but I think it must be either
Binch, Virtue, or Max the Third, or perhaps Riff or
Bramble it wont take long to find out."
"I like those little chocolate Poms," I said. "I
wish you could let me have one."
Mrs. Connagh became interested at once. I closed
the deal for a bitch rising two years, and I was to
have the pick of eight. My choice fell on Casca the
Second.
Gaily I waved farewell to my hostess as, an hour
later, she ran round Susan, shepherding a cloud of
her pets from the wheels ; and gaily we bowled down
the drive with half a dozen truants running behind
and yapping at Casca, who, with her pretty little
ears cocked, looked wistfully over the door from
among the golf-sticks and fishing-rods.
At a certain point I cautiously slowed down ;
stopped ; and then slipped away through the shrub-
bery. In the plantation the dogs soon led me to find
what I had overlooked the night before. It was
"Viccy." I took off the collar; carried the small
rumpled body to the car ; packed it away on the floor ;
put the collar on Casca and Casca's in my pocket, and
86 THOMAS
set her down to run with her little relatives. Then
once more, with a light heart, I gave Susan the
gears, burst out upon the sunny highway and laid
a course for Hildon Hall.
CHAPTER VI
HILDON HALL
I HAVE been at Hildon more than a week and
it is quite all right though I never thought I
could have made it out with a pack of girls for such
a long time but the hour is coming when I must
say "good-bye" and give the Grahams a rest. The
fact is that little Nibbs is getting badly on my nerves,
though not I am thankful to say on those particu-
lar nerves to which she applies herself so untiringly.
If it were not that she is a young lady I should de-
scribe little Nibbs as a public nuisance.
To begin with, I don't like very little girls with
watery voices who remind you of the small apple
that the shopman throws into the bag as a gift;
neither do I admire impossibly tiny feet squeezed
into kid-topped boots, and little Chinese hands with
rings on half the fingers and gold bangles slipping
down over the knuckles. Also I have lately found
out, from being talked at by Nibbs, that I don't like
the writings of John Ruskin ; and hate miniatures ;
and detest old china; and that the older the china is
88 THOMAS
the more I loathe it. To me sculpture is a bore, and
I don't know why they do it; and / say although I
don't set up to be an authority that all the old
masters were cock-eyed. I said it to Nibbs, and
she tried to find the word in the calf-bound diction-
ary which has been requisitioned to make little Nibbs
high enough on the seat of the morning room piano
to play Grieg's Wedding March six times a day with-
out fatigue. I admit that it is the sort of wedding
march that anyone might wish for who was being
married to little Nibbs, but if it is played as a hint
to me it quite misses its point. Sorry, Nibbs but
it does! In fact it expresses her in such a deadly
way that I cannot now sit in the room while a wed-
ding march session is in progress. This, indeed, is
a house where every prospect pleases and only Nibbs
is vile. That prospect comprises Mrs. Graham, and
Maud, Valerie and Rachel Graham, besides Miss
Wyndacotte (Beatrice) from Magnolia Lodge, the
Druce girls, and others. I never used to care much
for Rachel as a name. It always suggested a girl who
made everyone uncomfortable in her indulgence of a
weakness for self-sacrifice. I find I was wrong.
Rachel is a very pretty name.
I flushed Hildon Hall at the propitious hour of
one o'clock. It is a large four-square, stuccoed house,
with a Doric portico; stands in a fine park; and is
surrounded on three sides by fine gardens of the
"landscape" type. There are wonderful lawns dotted
with noble beeches, and dense rhododendron shrub-
HILDON HALL 89
beries that partly screen from view a large pool.
Graham married late but was consoled by a young
wife, and Mrs. Graham has spent almost all her life
in the character of a widow with three daughters
who have grown up in this luxurious home .like
three princesses in a castle. Rachel, the youngest,
has only thrown off the fetters of the schoolroom
for a few months. Maud and Valerie are some years
older.
Mrs. Graham is an elastic matron of well, say
forty odd, with marks of arrested growth that date,
no doubt, from the day of her widowhood. Her
sentiments were formed under the influence of the
sepulchral era which followed the death of the Prince
Consort. She actually wears a long chain made of
human hair linked with gold, and a locket that has a
glass back and yet more hair, and she wears two
mourning rings with a small further addition of hair
in each. She has, however, been dragged along at the
tail of her daughters, who, with every disadvantage
of home education, Oxford frames with pictures
of young women in nightgowns clinging to slaps of
rock in a storm, statuettes under bell jars, cut glass
candlesticks and baskets of wax fruit, have yet con-
trived to be athletic and to identify themselves with
the best that is characteristic of modern girlhood.
The mother has a little the air of being a general
officer in command. She keeps things up to the
mark. The girls do what they are supposed to do.
The nine gardeners work seriously as though they
90 THOMAS
knew they had better not leave off. The butler and
two footmen bear themselves as if "master" were
about; in fact, the butler seems to be a broken man.
He has formed a habit of grudging obedience like a
tamed lion. Mrs. Graham meets his sulkiness with
dignified, gentle ferocity. It is, no doubt, mere usage,
and there is no feeling on either side.
The lady was crossing the entrance hall as I gave
my name, and hurried to greet me. I followed her
to the boudoir. The girls were somewhere about, she
said. A Miss Farquhar was staying with them; there
were no other guests. Would I like my things car-
ried up to my room, so that I could take the car to
the stables?
She rang the bell, and after a pause, which would
just have given the butler time to get to the door if
he had been standing on the mark with running
corks, she took hold of it again and wrenched at it
two or three times fiercely, but quite amiably. Shortly
afterwards the door began to open so mysteriously
that I found myself staring at it and wondering what
was going to happen. It was the butler entering.
"Yes, we all had a very pleasant six weeks in
Town," my hostess said, when the butler had re-
ceived his orders and retired, "and I was thankful
to get away from house worries. We stayed at De
Vere Mansions, as you know, and took our meals
in the restaurant. I gave a couple of dinners, and
the girls had a number of dances and theater parties,
and ought to consider themselves lucky young women.
HILDON HALL 91'
I feel all the better for the rest ah! here they are,"
she broke off: "you know Maude and Valerie, let me
introduce you to Miss Farquhar."
This was my first meeting with little Nibbs. She
held up her hand as if she thought I might like to
kiss it; looked at me glitteringly ; and then turned
about to show off her pretty little figure.
Maude and Valerie exhibited their usual fresh
comely faces, and if in country clothes they looked
a little less tapering and sylph-like than when I saw
them last in London, there is nothing wrong with
that. In fact, I like it better. It is more wholesome.
It is less disturbing to my peace of mind ; I prefer girls
in mufti. I come of Puritan stock, and when I see
a girl exquisitely dressed I suffer from conflicting
ambitions; and one of those ambitions is to get to
work on her with an axe. Little Nibbs seems to
think that the whole duty of a woman is to make
herself look wicked, and I believe that if she did not
do it so badly I should have had those two worrying
little feet off her before now; for the same reaso
that if I found myself in the stalls, of a musical-
comedy theater with a gun, I should be impelled to
shoot at the stage. My respect for womankind would
demand it of me.
While I was passing the time of day with Maude
and Valerie I became aware that Bates had come
into the room and was standing dejectedly as if he
were poised to make a "dead man's dive," which is
a high dive with the arms held to the sides. Mrs.
92 THOMAS
Graham indicated that he wished to speak to me.
"Do you wish everything taken out of the car
conveyed to your room, sir?"
"Yes," I told him, "except the golf clubs and
those things. Perhaps they could stay down-
stairs."
Bates drooped towards me, and turned to leave
the room, but a moment later he was back again as
before.
"Do you wish the dog conveyed to your room,
sir?"
"The dog!" I exclaimed.
"Oh! have you brought a dog?" cried Valerie.
"Where is he?"
"No, I haven't brought any . . . Oh yes of
course, yes No. Not upstairs It'll come out
Yes. That's all right, thanks. No, I've not brought
any dog," I explained to the girls. "He's made a
mistake. It's quite all right I'll go and show him.
There's no trouble about it I shan't be a minute
I must just go and see what he means," and I
nodded cheerfully to the company and led the way
out, shutting the door behind Bates.
"What on earth made you say that before the
ladies?" I asked.
"I thought perhaps you would not wish it con-
veyed to your room, sir."
"Good gracious! Of course not! I forgot all
about it. I'll take it round to the stables."
"Why, it's gone !" I exclaimed, when I looked into
HILDON HALL 93
the car. Bates fell back from the entrance invitingly
and I leaped up the steps again. The donkey had
arranged a sort of lying-in-state for poor Viccy on
a newspaper against the wall of the entrance hall.
"My dear man!" I expostulated. "Put it back
quickly. The young ladies didn't see it, did they?"
"I think not, sir."
I noticed the boudoir door beginning to open. I
sprang to it. Miss Farquhar's smiling face looked
into mine through a six-inch opening: devouring
curiosity was in her eyes. I shut the door and held
it. "Quick!" I whispered, beside myself. "Put it
back in the car."
Bates was evidently looking about for a footman.
As a butler it did not occur to him to do the thing
himself, and he was not used to finding a footman
all of a sudden. He was lost.
I let go the door-handle, caught up the parcel,
and rushed out to Susan. I had started the engine
and was getting into the seat when Miss Farquhar
came to the entrance door and stood looking down
at me with a pleased smile, as though we had been
playing a game.
"I see you," she said.
Once round in the stable yard, all was serene.
What a mercy men are to be sure. They came
round the car. They regretted the poor bitch, ap-
proved her little defaced points, and undertook her
obsequies with a grave air of competence which left
me to know that the little carcase would be treated
94 THOMAS
with respect. In point of fact, I found two days
later that one of the stable boys had been to con-
siderable trouble in shaping a headstone out of a
bit of oak paling, and had painted the name "Viccy"
and the date upon it, and set it up in the place.
As I was returning to the house I heard a firm
quick step behind me and the chinking of golf clubs,
and behold Rachel was laughing at me and telling
me she had recognized my back. She was rosy and
a little breathless with rapid walking. I knew better
than to offer to carry her clubs. There is no mistake
about Rachel being a very bonny lass indeed. She
is a quaint little thing too; not that ske is really
small, however. She is less in height than her
sisters, certainly, but I don't mind that. She has
an oval face with high cheeks as firm as apples, which
give her a slightly Japanese look. When she laughs
her eyes seem to shut up, and they don't come out
again until she begins to get serious. If you catch
her at a thoughtful moment they are big hazel eyes.
Of course her hair is brown. I don't care for fair
hair such as the show Nibbs puts up with curling
tongs, and crimping irons, and lotion, and electric
brushes. She is quite simple and outspoken, and
always sees a thing in the right way, and laughs at
the right moment, and yet, at the same time, she is
somehow very reserved. There is a sort of mystery
about her. One wonders what is behind those funny
screwed-up laughing eyes; and what does she think
about when she is thoughtful? She seems to spend
HILDON HALL 95
much time by herself, while her sisters go in double
harness most of the day. For instance, the morning
I arrived she had been out practising over the five
holes that have been laid out in the park. I have
only seen her once in the least put out, and that was
at a moment when I surprised her reading and noticed
the book before I realized that she did not intend
that I should. I won't say what it was, except that
it was the poet The Benson is always yapping about
because hardly anyone can understand him.
We got through an informal lunch with the help
of the butler, two footmen, and a sort of midship-
man of the servants' hall, who, though he had washed
his face and brushed his hair till he appeared brand
new, had evidently forgotten to look at his hands
in a glass. In spite of this parade of servitors,
Mrs. Graham, indicating the side-table, invited me
to help myself, which I was glad to do; and the
ranks opened out and let me through and pointedly
ignored my operations on the sirloin and a double-
cured Bradenham ham which I shall remember to
my dying day.
Little Nibbs kept prodding me on the subject of
the dog. It was clear she was eaten up with
curiosity.
"We thought Mr. Quinn had brought a dog with
him," she finally said in a pointed way to Rachel.
"The butler said so. But it was a mistake after all.
Isn't it funny! Mr. Quinn says there wasn't any
dog, don't you, Mr. Quinn?"
96 THOMAS
At this moment Bates was filling my glass. The
firmness of his hand gave me fortitude.
"There is an iron thing used to grip the wheels
which some people call a dog," I said. "But I
always call it a sprag, and so confusion sometimes
arises."
I saw Nibbs looking at me archly over her ever-
lasting smile as I changed the subject, but no one
else seemed interested. The little wretch had com-
pelled me to lie. It was a poisonous thing to tell
fibs to those fine-spirited young women. I made up
my mind to take it out of little Nibbs by all fair
means. I even for a moment imagined myself fright-
ening her in the dark.
After lunch I found a chance of privately telling
Mrs. Graham all that had happened. She was
amused. "It was just like Bates," she said. "He
is utterly foolish, a real Simple Simon, and worth
his weight in gold; a perfect godsend to me. If he
tried to cheat me I should find him out at once. I
always know what is in his mind, and he is the greatest
comfort."
This morning I got a letter from Nita. She cer-
tainly can be almost annoying. This is how she
begins :
"DEAR T ,
"I got the olives, but I wouldn't think of de-
vouring anything so precious. You are blossoming
out at last, old man, depend on it, and this is the
HILDON HALL 97
first bud. I hope you feel none the worse for it.
I have written your name and date on the bottle and
strapped it with pink ribbon finished with a bow. It
is now in the drawing-room and looks like a bottle
of scent. The Verschoyles, who came in yesterday
afternoon, agreed that you were getting quite sen-
timental in your old age. ..."
It is really not playing the game for a girl to give
a fellow away like that; besides, she knows that I
sent the olives as a joke, pure and simple. Then
at the end of the letter she writes:
P.S. How is Valerie ! ! !
I don't see any point in it. Nita does not know
any of the Grahams. I wonder what her idea is.
Has she heard that Valerie is a very dazzling person,
and is trying to pull my leg?
By the same post I received a picture postcard of
Gwennie Marchmon, the "Popular Comedienne" as
she entitles herself : great coarse chaps and a naked
neck under a wide hat, leering eyes, and lips pain-
fully retracted from two rows of heavy teeth like a
horse preparing to bite you. It had been posted
from London and redirected. I could not recognize
the writing, but I supposed it was from Bat. It made
me laugh, and I passed it round the table where
we sat at breakfast. I wish I hadn't now. The
Graham girls did not seem to think it funny when
they glanced at it, and Mrs. Graham remarked, "What
98 THOMAS
a terrible looking young person," and turned it down.
Thereupon little Nibbs at once stretched for it, and
Mrs. Graham pushed it towards her.
As she examined it she asked:
"Do you know her, Mr. Quinn?"
I had no intention of letting Miss Nibbs worry
me. The question might have been mischievous.
"I met her out motoring once," I said "I ran over
her. You can see she was still in pain when the
photograph was taken."
Nibbs rapidly glanced from face to face round
the table like a pretty little yellow ferret. She
seemed to nose a mystery.
I have been thoroughly enjoying myself here,
although I really don't know why. It is all very quiet.
Nothing exciting happens. Take yesterday, for in-
stance. After breakfast Rachel drove me into the
village where she had some commissions. The girls
don't ride. Mrs. Graham seems to think it is dan-
gerous; and there is no car. They are waiting for
the carriage-horses to die. Castor and Pollux are
as big as giraffes, and their special duty is to prance
a yard into the air for every foot of progress;
to champ the bit ; to rattle their silver mount-
ings, and cover themselves with lather. Eked
out with cockades for the coachman and foot-
man, and a black silk mantle and ostrich plumes
for Mrs. Graham, the whole turnout is the
best contrivance for leaving visiting cards at the
houses of people you don't want to know that can be
HILDON HALL 99
well imagined, but it does not satisfy the modern
taste for getting there.
Rachel, however, has availed herself of permission
to drive, by sporting a buggy and an American pacer.
I hang over to one side of the bucket-seat in which
we sit jambed up together, and Rachel leant forward
with the reins twisted round her rather fat little
thumbs, and we skim along at twenty miles an hour.
What Ham exactly does with his legs I don't know,
but he is a glorious little beast and seems to run on
wheels. The girl can steer to an inch, and as the
country people have never got rid of the idea that
Ham is running away and always move to the side
of the road, we streak into Lidham and out again in
no time.
"I daren't look," Mrs. Graham said to me one day,
turning away as Rachel came pacing round the
sweep of the drive like a skater on the outside edge.
"I wish you could make her drive more slowly," she
added.
I did not feel able to undertake this. I hav,
however, been coaching Rachel at golf, and we went
out after getting back yesterday. We had a pleasant
morning, only marred by little Nibbs, who came
creeping to us, richly dressed, and stood by looking
on and listening. She managed to convey to us that,
though intelligently interested, she was also bored
by our commonplace employment. Rachel invited her
to try her hand, and she responded with smiling con-
descension, but as she had no idaa what to do, and
100 THOMAS
no ambition, and persisted in keeping her eye on me
instead of on the ball, it was rather a nuisance. She
is a pretty little witch and seems to be rolling in
money, to judge from her clothes and jewels; but
her dress is always impracticable and unfitted for the
purpose, or indeed for any purpose except to rouse
unruly passions. She is always holding her rich
skirts and mincing about in fragile looking shoes, so
that no one shall forget the enchantment of her fem-
ininity. How she can be so lost to what is womanly
with Rachel before her as a model, is more than I
can understand. There is nothing more beautiful than
Rachel's feet when she is in golfing kit. If a painter
wanted a subject for an Academy picture, there it is
for him: Rachel's two feet nothing else. Imagine
them! She wears an Irish frieze skirt: a light black
and white mixture of a bluish cast and of sensible
length. Below you see rough, pale blue-gray, ribbed
worsted stockings and black brogues. There is some-
thing quite bewitching in the small, hard, blunt,
leather shoes, and the warm, rough stocking clothing
the strong, light, shaft of the leg that carries her so
gracefully. It is all Rachel's own idea, too. It is
just characteristic of her. Clean, neat, serviceable,
and expressive of nice feeling and feminine conscious-
ness for there is not an atom of mannishness about
Rachel. I admire Rachel's shoes and stockings
enormously. I wish I had not made that remark
about her being like Maude and Valerie shaken up
together in a bottle. It is true in a sense, but Nita
HILDON HALL 101
will joke about it and people will not understand how
I meant it.
After lunch I slipped away to read, as I generally
do, or write, till tea. I always take the precaution,
after strolling out of sight, to pelt away round to
the other side of the house, or back on my own
tracks, so as to baffle pursuit in case Nibbs should
come crawling after me, as I feel sure she did on
one occasion.
There is a mystery about this young lady. All
I can gather is that "She is not very happy at home."
I can quite understand that. She would certainly
not be happy in any home of mine. She appears to
have no special grounds of intimacy with the
Grahams. She condescends to them, and seems to try
on all occasions to point her own superiority in social
experience, cultivated tastes, dress, and personal
attractions. They must be extremely good-natured
girls, for when there are visitors here "Nibby dear,"
as they call her, lays herself out to attract and hold
attention to the exclusion of everyone else, by dressing
conspicuously and making conversation in a high
throaty voice about art, and music, and old lace, and
old bungalorum. It is only on these occasions that
she takes much notice of her little dog. She carries
him about with her, holds him against her face, and,
at tea, makes him go through all his tricks. Yes-
terday, when the Wyndacottes and others came in
to tennis, "Baby," however, would not do his tricks
properly. By tomorrow he will not do them at all,
102 THOMAS
I hope, for I am privately wnteaching him. I tell him
to lie dead and repeatedly stir him up with my foot
until he refuses to obey and gets the bit of sugar;
or I tell him to sit up and keep on pushing him over
until he becomes sulky and won't, and is rewarded.
It requires patience, but I have plenty to spare in the
interests of these topping young women in comparison
with whom little Nibbs is absolute rubbish.
I have decided to try an "Airy Nothing for the Ball-
room" on Nibbs. Nita's letter has reminded me of
Social Deportment, and I have been looking at it.
There may be something in what the author says
after all. I certainly do not make much way with
the girls here. There seems to be a sort of crust I
can't get through. I do not feel in the least that I
am getting into her confidence. There are pauses be-
tween us sometimes when I have to think what to say
to her next to Rachel, I mean. I want to know
more about her, and she behaves as if there were not
any more about her; in fact, we got on much better
in the first days of my visit when there seemed to
be none of these reserves. You can't help thinking
of her and wondering about her. There is something
fascinating in the composed air of her broad, swift
motions I can't describe it and the way her shoulder
slopes away just by her neck, and all sorts of other
things too. She is quite different from anyone else
and you can't forget her. I feel it may be my own
fault that we don't get on better, and so I am going
to try an "Airy Nothing" on Nibbs, just as a test, and
HILDON HALL 103
to see if I can do it right. If she does not respond
I shall not mind, and no harm will be done. If it
goes off well I shall feel justified in feeling my way
to something of the same kind with Rachel.
Although little Nibbs is, as I have said, such a
little horror, she contributes in some degree to my
entertainment here, for it is quite good fun laying"
plans to let her down heavily when she deserves it
which is forty times a day. It is a tame business
certainly, but it becomes quite absorbing when one
gives one's mind to it, and helps to fill in the time
and make things pleasant.
For instance, last night, when there was no one
dining here and we spent a quiet evening, Nibbs,
(who was ostentatiously making notes from a large
volume brought from the library,) feeling that she
was not being observed, said across the room to
Rachel :
"It says here that the real old Blue Nankin was
not made in Nankin at all ; I never knew that. Isn't
it interesting?"
"Very, Nibby dear," said Rachel.
Rachel does not care about Blue Nankin, or Red
Yankow, or Green Meeow, or Yellow Bow-wow-wow,
any more than Nibbs does. Nibbs only pretends these
things in order to shine. I have seen her sitting apart
and admiring a miniature with an eye alert to note
whether the movements of her pretty little neck
which I should like to clip through with the garden
shears was being observed. Her admiration of the
104 THOMAS
miniature was entirely due to a rather fanciful low
lace collar she was wearing.
Soon after, she went to the piano and began to
play Grieg's Wedding March so softly as to be
hardly audible, till at last Rachel said, "Do play it,
dear/' and we had it for the third time that day.
It is her show piece. She does not seem to care to
play anything else. She plays it with a terrible
facility, in which the pedal is put down to cover up
the untidy places. After she had played "Grigg's
dance," as I call it, twice, she suddenly got up, with
an exclamation that made Mrs. Graham look round
and held the attention of us all.
"Oh, do let's play a game of week-ends!"
Rachel good-humoredly put down her book ; Maude
and Valerie did not seem to find their game of Halma
interesting; and Mrs. Graham's letters could appar-
ently wait quite well ; so we sat down with pencils
and bits of paper to gratify Nibbs by making a list,
in three minutes by my watch, of as many things as
we could think of beginning with "T" that we might
take away on a week-end visit.
Nibbs is always springing brainy little games on
us, because she rather excels at them. She wanted
taking down again.
When "time's up" was declared, I had only
eleven words, which was but half the number on
any other list. Nibbs, of course, had the most. Each
in turn read out the words on her list, and if anyone
else had the same word, that word was struck out
HILDON HALL 105
by everyone. "Trunk," "Toilet Case," "Ticket," etc.
etc., however, did not affect me, and I still had my
eleven words intact when my turn came, last of all,
to read out the things I might take away with me on
a week-end visit. The first was "Typhoid Fever."
This led to a discussion. Nibbs said it was not a
fair word. Why not? Typhoid Fever was quite a
likely thing to take away on a week-end visit, I con-
tended. It must have actually happened over and
over again. You might not know you had it on you.
A week-end visitor was much more likely to bring
Typhoid to a house than a Tambourine, which was
one of the words Nibbs had scored with.
In the end, Typhoid Fever was allowed, and the
road was clear for:
"Toothache, Trichinosis, Thrush, Typhus, Ton-
silitis, and Tetanus." Next I offered "Tagarosis."
Nibbs questioned this last.
"Tagarosis," I repeated, in a tone of mild reproach.
"You've heard of 'Tagarosis'?"
The Grahams had not, but little Nibbs exclaimed:
"Oh, certainly; how forgetful I am." So I scored
it. "Tozopethisis."
Nibbs swallowed this, too, when I had suggested
that she probably knew the disease by its more com-
mon name of "Remps."
And so on. Final score Nibbs eight, me eleven.
Down goes Nibbs, "and so to bed," as the diarists
say.
CHAPTER VII
I EXPLAIN TO RACHEL
MRS. GRAHAM'S confidences on the subject of
her butler have led me to take an interest in
one of the footmen, who, in the afternoon, wears
powder and black satin breeches, and swags, knots,
and tassels of silken cord slung across his chest.
He wears powder, too, when he goes out with the
carriage to help Mrs. Graham, Castor, and Pollux
distribute visiting cards. From childhood there has
always, for me, been a glamor over the powdered
footman, and I asked the poor chap how he did it.
Instead of crushed pearls supported in ambergris and
maccassar oil, I find that the dignity of the Graham
family is upheld, and a wholesome chill struck to
the hearts of unwelcome callers, with nothing more
than flour and soap. It seemed to me that oswego,
or even ground rice or semolina, would be more im-
pressive, but Wilfred said he had not tried them. He
answered my question so seriously that I did not
follow up my idea of bribing him to drest himself
with tapioca pudding, to see how Mrs. Graham would
106
I EXPLAIN TO RACHEL 107
take it. Thinking I was interested in the subject, the
poor fellow surprised me by returning with "those
tools of his trade" which cannot be seized to satisfy
a debt, namely, a very old hair-brush ; a bar of yellow
soap much used up ; and a large tin flour-dredger.
You wet the brush and damp your hair, and alter-
nately brush the soap and your head till there is a
certain quantity of soap in your hair, and as I
observed a certain quantity of hair on the soap. You
then spread a newspaper on the floor, robe yourself
in towels, stop your ears, and turn on the flour without
stint. Wilfred, however, tells me it is not correct
to dress the eyebrows or eyelashes. When you have
knocked your head once or twice against the wall,
you are ready to open the front door, always pro-
vided that if you trip on the stairs, or sneeze, you
must get someone to brush you down. It is very easy,
it seems, for a powdered footman to be too much
powdered.
Mrs. Graham is accustomed to make considerable
sacrifices in the cause of dignity, and her daughters
have been taught better than to interfere. One after-
noon at tea there was a flutter among the girls, and
Valerie got very pink. Mrs. Graham took command
at once and rang the bell. It appeared that there was
a wasp in the room and Valerie "does not like
wasps." Her sisters respect that dislike, and Valerie
has grown up to feel that she would not be doing
what was expected of her if she allowed a wasp in the
room without showing feeling. Mrs. Graham rang
108 THOMAS
the bell a second time, falling back in her chair after
the violence of the attack, and when Bates opened
the door the bell could be faintly heard pealing in the
distance. Bates, being informed of the trouble ad-
vanced to the wrong window ; was directed by Mrs.
Graham to the right one; and made a thorough in-
spection of the wasp hurrying up and tumbling down
the pane. He appeared to be satisfied for he made
no comment, and withdrew. Three minutes later
Mrs. Graham again rang the bell. Bates entered as
though he had been awaiting the signal and held the
door for the entrance of another person. This proved
to be the second footman with a napkin. Bates closed
the door and led the way to the window ; the footman
adroitly smothered the wasp in the napkin, and,
escorted by Bates, who opened the door and went
out after him, carried it from the room. The whole
thing took about seven minutes. A practical man
would have dabbed a bit of bread and butter over
the wasp and then thrown it out on the path for some-
one to carry away on his boot, in twenty seconds.
There is a strapping great chap here known to the
Grahams as Edgar Druce, a brother of the Druce
girls who live at the next place and inundate Hildon
from time to time. He is Captain in an Indian Regi-
ment and has just arrived home on leave. The
Grahams seem to have caught the enthusiasm of the
sisters for their brother, for, so far as I can discover,
the special merit in the man appears to lie in the
fact that he once killed a tiger. After seeing him,
I EXPLAIN TO RACHEL 109
I can imagine that Edgar trod on the unlucky tiger.
He is an enormous man, six foot five or thereabouts,
with flanks like a bullock. Valerie says he is a
"magnificent lawn-tennis player." Oh, is he! We
will try that. This morning I found that Rachel
had arranged to take him over the five holes. They
asked me to join, but it would have been a three-
cornered affair so I backed out. I know what the
result will be: he will put Rachel wrong and undo
all my work. She was just getting nicely into my
swing.
When they moved off I turned, and was confronted
by little Nibbs smiling at me archly with her head
on one side, and asking whether I was going to take
the boat out. The Grahams never use the boat, and
I had accepted this idea from Nibbs on a previous
occasion, so she went to "get ready," stepping daintily
on to the sill of the open window and flashing a
glance over her shoulder to see whether I was look-
ing at her. Ten minutes later she joined me, having
decorated herself in various subtle ways, and with a
dashing hat, a green silk parasol, and a sort of cloak
affair lined with crimson satin, which she handed to
me to carry for her.
We procured the key of the boathouse and found
the boat half full of water with a dead bat floating.
We got things cleared up, however, and rugs fetched
from the house, and at last little Nibbs was en-
throned with her fineries in the stern and I was
paddling past the serpentine banks loaded with
110 THOMAS
rhododendrons upon which a few blooms still lingered.
My passenger took off one of her gloves and watched
her jeweled fingers trailing in the water, glancing up at
me with a little self-conscious smile, from time to time.
Conversation flagged. Nibbs has no small-talk.
She cannot play. There is an undercurrent of mean-
ing running through her talk which one soon becomes
quick to recognize, and almost everything she says
either detracts from others by condescending to them,
or directly implies her own superiority.
"This is a very quiet house, isn't it, Mr. Quinn?"
she said after a pause.
"Yes. Don't you like it?"
"Oh yes. It's delightful so restful ; one can re-
cuperate and start again like a giant refreshed after
a visit here."
No comment.
"I am rather sorry for the Grahams the girls
I mean; they must feel rather out of it some-
times."
No comment.
"What a pity it is Valerie does not dress better,
Mr. Quinn; such a pretty girl if she were not quite
so lumpish. Dear old Valerie, I am devoted to her;
she is so simple! Like an affectionate old dog, a
perfect dear, isn't she?"
"The Grahams are old friends of mine," I said.
"It is a little difficult for me to discuss them."
The young lady continued to smile at the water
rippling against her fingers. After a pause she said:
I EXPLAIN TO RACHEL 111
"What is your favorite book, Mr. Quinn?" Then
she added, "My favorite is Browning, The Ring and
the Book; it used to be Shakespeare but not now;
what's yours?"
"How to be Happy though Married" I said at a
venture.
This seemed to take little Nibbs from a new direc-
tion. She said nothing for a time. Then the little
wretch began :
"Don't you think 'Rachel' a very pretty name, Mr.
Quinn? I do. Very."
This was said to the fingers. I did not reply at
once and she looked up with smiling eyes in which
I thought I could see a malicious purpose. It was
more than I could stand. I am not ashamed of admir-
ing Rachel, but to have this little terror
I began to feel my way in order to lead her into
labyrinths where she would lose herself.
"I never think of names as being pretty or other-
wise," I answered.
"Why?"
"Because I am susceptible. If I thought of how
pretty names are, I should not know where to stop.
Placed as I am, I can't face the racket. I have to go
piano."
"How do you mean? How are you placed?"
Nibb's mouth was open below her little short lip.
She gazed at me with eager interest. The bow of
the boat slid under a mass of blossoms and grounded.
112 THOMAS
I shipped the oars and crawled aft, and sat beside
her. She moved to make room for me.
"I am cooked," I said gravely, looking at the
pearl set in brilliants that swung from her ear and
trembled against her neck. Her hat was cocked up
with a bow under it on my side, and the view before
me could well bear close inspection. Her little bones
are all so shapely, and there is a faint down on her
cheek. I could follow the perky little jut of her chin.
It was damnable. I could have drowned her.
She looked slowly round with parted lips and a
serious question in her face. Her eyes met mine
at a range of six inches, and she shut up her mouth
and turned away her head.
"I don't quite understand you," she said with a
faint smile, fanning her hand about to dry it.
"I have never before breathed the story, but I
am in a horrible fix," I said. "It's a terrible stew.
I can rely on you to respect my confidence, I am
sure."
She nodded eagerly and glanced round at me.
"You might show me a way out."
"Yes. Quite likely I might. Oh, do tell me."
"Once," I whispered to her, "and only once, I
popped it."
"You what! Popped it?"
"Yes. Popped it to a dear lady how dear that
lady was I need not say. I wrote to her no matter
what I said I asked her hand."
"Well?"
I EXPLAIN TO RACHEL 113
"She hasn't replied."
"When did you write?"
"Rather more than two years ago."
"Two years! And you haven't seen her since!"
"Oh lor, yes; lots of times."
"Didn't you ask her whether she got your letter?"
"Good gracious! No; of course not."
"But why not?"
"Why not! Don't you realize that if I did she
would want to know what was in it."
"But that would be all right. If she never re-
ceived it you could write again."
"Oh! I see now what you mean, but I changed
my mind. I regretted the letter, of course, the mo-
ment I had posted it."
Little Nibbs became thoughtful. Her face has not
a very pleasant expression when you catch it with
the mask off. After a pause, she said:
"Either she never got the letter at all, or she must
have ignored it in order to give you a snub. I don't
see how you are in a fix, as you don't now feel "
"My difficulty is that I am absolutely cooked."
"But how? It's all over."
"No. It's only beginning. You must understand
that, though I dare not ask her outright, I can tell
quite well by the way she talks that she has never
got my letter."
"Well, then, it's quite all right."
"No; it's quite all wrong. She may get the letter
any day."
114 THOMAS
"But it's lost."
"Possibly. But I posted it myself. It went into
the Post Office all right, but it has never come out.
They don't call it lost. The Post Office never loses
a letter. They call it 'delayed in delivery/ It has
slipped down a crack, or a postman put it inside the
lining of his helmet to make it fit, and has for-
gotten. Didn't you see in the paper yesterday that
someone had received with his morning's letters a
card that was posted eleven years ago?"
"Did you write to the Post Office people?"
"Yes."
"Did they answer?"
"By return."
"What did they say?"
" 'Dear Sir or Madam. We have the honor to
acknowledge the receipt of your communication of
the 1 5th inst, which is receiving attention.' "
"Was that all?"
"No ; I wrote again."
"What did they say then?"
" 'Dear Sir or Madam. We have the honor to
acknowledge your communication of the 29th inst.,
which is receiving attention.' "
"Did you never hear any more ?"
"About two months afterwards they wrote saying
that they had been quite unable to trace my letter,
and thought that I must have been mistaken in think-
ing I posted it?"
"And that was all?"
I EXPLAIN TO RACHEL 115
"That was all."
"But, even now, I don't see "
"How I'm cooked? Well, I cannot go back on my
solemn plighted word. If in years to come that letter
is delivered, I must make good. I can't possibly back
out. And if after, say, seven years, I presumed the
letter to be destroyed, and put an advertisement in
The Times disclaiming all letters posted more than
seven years ago and not delivered, how could I even
then approach the idea of marriage? How could I tell
the lady of my choice, when I declared myself, that
a proposal of marriage from me might at that very
moment be under the consideration of another."
Little Nibbs was pensive and smiling.
"And you say you are susceptible, Mr. Quinn?"
I took my chance of an "Airy Nothing for the Ball-
room."
"I do. I envy that little bow perched so daintily
against your hair close to that shell-like ear. What
secrets would I not whisper were I so near. Oh,
happy, happy little bow !"
"Oh, Mr. Quinn, how can you be so ridiculous?"
She wriggled.
"No, that's not right I mean er you are very
kind to me and anticipate my feelings er exactly
I mean I am I have not found my wings as yet.
I am only a wretched caterpillar, don't you know."
It did not fit in properly, but little Nibbs was de-
lighted, and laughed, and put her hand over her ear,
and said how absurd I was, and appeared to be in-
116 THOMAS
viting more remarks of the same kind, when she sud-
denly glanced up, seemed to recover herself, and then
began waving her handkerchief.
I do not know whether she did this to save her
face or to attract the attention of Rachel so that
she might notice our romantic situation, wedged up
together in the narrow boat among the blazing blos-
soms. It was Rachel she was signalling to, however.
She and Captain Druce had come into view. I was
glad that I had time to get to the oars and push the
boat out before they saw us, and I made an excuse
to land Miss Nibbs before I took the boat in.
A very little of Nibbs goes a long way with me.
I have decided to clear out. I've had enough of
Hildon. It came upon me at breakfast this morn-
ing that I would like a change, so I told Mrs. Graham
that I should have to go tomorrow so many visits
to pay, etc. etc. Mrs. Graham has been kindness
itself; I have really enjoyed my fortnight here. She
said she hoped I would come again. I will certainly
think it over. I don't feel capable of arriving at a
decision just at present. It would be like ordering
tomorrow's dinner while cracking the nuts of today's,
and that is true in more ways than one, for there is
a nut for me to crack before I go.
The fact of the matter is, I have had a mix-up
with Rachel. I can't go until I have patched up
some sort of understanding with her, or it might spoil
my holiday. I haven't the least idea what she thinks
of me, and I should like to throw Society Deport-
I EXPLAIN TO RACHEL 117
ment at Nita's wicked head. I have just noticed that
my copy is the seventh edition and that it is dated
thirty-six years ago, but even so the flunkey who-
wrote it ought to be dug up and boiled. I can't think
how I came to make such an ass of myself. After
the way Nibbs wallowed in the "Airy Nothing for the
Ballroom" I thought I might venture something of
the same sort with Rachel, but I should have known
that it was not the sort of joke she would care about
though in point of fact it was not altogether a
joke, and I thought at the time I was doing it ex-
tremely well. You see, I think a tremendous lot of
Rachel. She really is a charming little thing. I
never meant any harm, yet I feel like a whipped
man, and I can do nothing but hang about for a
chance of a quiet talk with her. She avoids me
and will not let me catch her alone. I was on the
prowl all yesterday afternoon, and the whole of this
morning, and Mrs. Graham noticed it and sent out
Bates to me with a bit of cotton- wool and a bottle
of Mumby*s Pain Killer. She thought I'd got tooth-
ache. Damn !
It happened yesterday morning, but it seems like
a week ago. I had been showing her how to throw
a fly. There are no trout in the pool, but there are
plenty of small rudd that rise freely, and Rachel
has a light wrist for them. We had been having a
good deal of fun, and she was standing with her
plump brown fingers trying to knot her cast, and I
was looking on over her shoulder, when I said it.
118 THOMAS
There was no sort of harm in it. The worst any-
one could say would be that it was idiotic, or that
it was so insincere as to be quite the reverse of com-
plimentary. It was not altogether insincere, but what
sticks in my gizzard is that she should suppose that
I don't know better than to say things like that.
She did not make any sign of having heard me
for a moment, except that she got a little pink. Then
she suddenly looked round and cried "Yes, Maud?"
and listened as though she had heard her sister calling
her. The next instant she put the line quickly into
my hand and ran away to the house, and it's the end
of my comradeship with Rachel. I can see that.
I hardly knew what had happened till she did not
come back, but at lunch I was able to realize the
extent of the damage. Instead of sitting quiet and
observant and chipping in, as is her wont, she kept
tip a low-toned conversation with her sisters. I tried
to get her to look at me, but she wouldn't. When I
addressed her and compelled an answer I got a short
one, and it was "Mr. Quinn" this, and "Mr. Quinn"
the other, and her eyes were all screwed up into the
queer defensive smile with which she greets
strangers.
In the afternoon she was always somewhere out of
sight except while I was playing tennis. I had a
five-set match with Captain Druce, and she came out
and looked on for a time. I did my best to take down
his colors, but he fairly beat me; in fact, I only
scored one set, and that one the first. He got up
I EXPLAIN TO RACHEL 119
to the net and returned everything. It was like trying
to pass the revolving blades of an aeroplane propeller.
I can well believe in any number of tigers now.
Killing tigers is an easy job compared with killing my
drives down the side lines. He made me look per-
fectly helpless, and of course Rachel will not guess
what a deadly hand he is. Oh well, this time to-
morrow I shall be miles away.
There seemed to be a subdued air oppressing the
party, as though I were a naughty boy, or else I
imagined it, for my tail was certainly down yester-
day. Sir Evelyn Wyndacotte and his daughter dined
here, and it was even a little dull. Nibbs, of course,
was all over the place, stuck about with jewels and
rustling very much, and apparently trying her best
to displace Beatrice Wyndacotte in the esteem of her
own father. The old boy evidently thinks I am here
on the matrimonial lay. As we sat over cigarettes
in the dining-room, he commended Mrs. Graham for
her "capacity and pluck," and praised the girls for
being so "sensible." I don't know exactly what he
means. Why shouldn't they be sensible? Of course
they are! Then he went on to tell me gravely as
though he suspected I was not sound on the subject
that Maud would make any man a "splendid wife."
Of course I assented, though it was a new idea to
me. I had given the matter no thought whatever,
I never bother my head about what sort of wife any
particular girl will make someone else whom I don't
know.
120 THOMAS
"Eh?" queried Sir Evelyn. He is a little deaf.
"Yes, certainly. I quite agree with you, sir," I told
him again.
"A most excellent wife," he repeated. "The fellow
who gets her will be a lucky man."
Of course old Maud's all right, I know that, but
I don't see why he should rub it into me that she
is "sensible" and will make an "excellent wife."
AVhen I get a wife, if I ever do, I want to feel
sure she will be a real snorter, so that we can kick
up our heels together and have a good time. I cannot
endure the thought of my wife crying over the gro-
wer's book and all really "excellent" wives do that
sometimes. No; the very last thing I should hope
for is to be included in Sir Evelyn Wyndacotte's list
of "lucky men." I want to go on being, in his estima-
tion, an unlucky one "miserable dog" is, I believe,
the accepted term. Well, I want to remain a "miser-
able dog." Hurrah for the "miserable dogs"! We
are a happy family, and so say all of us.
I don't often break into song like this. I'm getting
a bit above myself, I think. I cannot forget that
my favorite "dog," among all the miserable ones, will
take the road tomorrow along o' Susan, who is all the
wife he wants.
I have had it out with Rachel, more or less, and it's
all quite right or nearly so so far as I can see,
I mean. She is a little trump, of course, but one is
apt to forget she is scarcely more than a child in
some ways. She is so independent, competent, and
I EXPLAIN TO RACHEL 121
generally self-contained that one instinctively regards
her as a woman, and, in a sense, one's equal. But
she is not, and I realized this when I came to tackle
the business, and it made it difficult, and somehow I
did not put things as clearly as I had intended. I
wanted her to understand that I could appreciate her
feelings, and that she was not to suppose I was the
sort of chap who said such things.
As Rachel generally appears at breakfast through
the window with her hat on, I got down early this
morning to resume my prowl, but I could not find
her. The letters were brought in as we were at
table, and my share was another picture postcard
from Bat at least, I cannot imagine who else would
send them. This time the subject was Miss Bertie
Farlow, a large fluffy beauty with very showy Jewish
nostrils, bilious eyes, and a secretive smile. I slipped
the card into my pocket directly I saw what it was,
but Rachel was passing behind my chair at the mo-
ment and I think she must have had a glimpse of it.
She disappeared after breakfast, and soon I caught
sight of a distant object flashing across between the
trees, and had to realize that Ham was racing off
with his mistress by the South Lodge.
It was not till the afternoon that I came upon
Rachel. I was nursing my toothache, as Mrs. Graham
would have supposed, when I fairly caught her in a
remote arbor, reading.
"I wanted to find you, to tell you how annoyed I
am," I said at once, confronting her.
122 THOMAS
"About yesterday?" she asked simply, looking up
at me with shoulders stooping over the book on her
knees.
"Yes. What you must think of me I don't know,
but I want to tell you that I am not at all that sort
of chap. No one ever heard me say a thing like
that before except, of course, in joke," I added, as I
remembered Nibbs in the boat.
"I thought you meant it as a joke," said Rachel.
She was sitting up now, with her eyes wandering
over the ground. While I spoke she stooped and
picked up a pea blossom which had fallen from a
handful on the seat beside her.
"Yes, exactly; so it was a joke, in a sense; but
I don't make jokes like that to girls like you. It
makes me feel a cad. I could not possibly go away
without explaining things, it would absolutely ruin
my holiday."
"Oh, don't say that."
"It would indeed. I am not exaggerating. My
holiday would be spoilt. I think you are simply
splendid, and I should hate to go away and feel I
had given you a bad impression of me; it would
make me feel dreary, because I am not at all the
sort of fellow you think."
"It's all right. I don't mind. I only thought it
a little odd."
She was fingering the pages of her book now, with
her head bowed so that I could not see her face.
"Odd!" I said. "I don't know that I should call
I EXPLAIN TO RACHEL 123
it exactly odd. 'Playful' is more the word I should
choose besides, I do mind very much. I hate upsets
like this. I like everything to be cheerful and gay,
and always lots of fun, especially now I am on a
holiday. It gives me the blues, you know, when
things go wrong, and I like to come to an understand-
ing at once, and have it out, and put things right
again. I want you to realize that I should simply
hate to have things out of joint between us."
"Oh, that's all right, please don't think about it."
She glanced up for a moment, smiling.
"But I do think of it, I want things to be as they
were before I before yesterday."
"Well, then, they are." She looked up.
"But are they?"
"Yes, of course." She smiled again. "You make
too much of it."
"Do you mean that?"
"Of course I do."
"Well, in point of fact, it wasn't exactly a joke
not altogether; I meant it in a sense, you under-
stand You see, it's like this I have been reading
a book Well, it's difficult to explain, but, look here
do let me feel that everything is cleared up now."
"I agree," she said, glancing up with a smile.
It wasn't quite satisfactory, somehow, all the
same.
"Well, then, shake," I said.
She gave me her hand at once, dry, soft, and
warm, looking at me with her eyes shut up in that
124 THOMAS
inscrutable way I have got to know so well of late.
There was a sort of glitter in them. What did that
mean?
I did not intend to hold the hand, and I am not
aware that I did so, but she certainly pulled it out of
mine.
"What's the time?" she asked suddenly.
I told her it was twenty minutes past three, and
she jumped up with a show of dismay. "I must go
in," she said.
She walked rapidly, and talk flagged as we went
up across the lawns. Then she suddenly ran on
and slipped in through the dining-room window. It
is characteristic of Rachel to pop in and out every-
where all day, like a little animal.
Now, when at the beginning of my explanation I
said, "No one ever heard me say a thing like that
before," Rachel, who was looking at me, suddenly
cast down her eyes. It flashed upon me that Nibbs
had been letting on. I wonder! It would be just
like her.
CHAPTER VIII
SUSAN LETS ME DOWN
IT rained the morning I left Hildon to join Aunt
Elizabeth at Rork's Drift, but the sky was clear-
ing as, with Susan pumping away at the front door,
I said goodby. The ladies, with the exception of
Rachel, came to the door to see me off. Nibbs was
smilingly to the fore ; Bates ministered with unneces-
sary services in the van ; and the two footmen and
the midshipmen loomed dejectedly in the back-
ground. "Where is Rachel?" Mrs. Graham
asked; but Rachel was not to be seen, and I felt
pipped as Susan slogged heavily down the drive with
a bad attack of dirty commutator. However, when
the West Lodge came into view there was Rachel,
sure enough, waiting for me, and she held the gate
open. She had evidently planned to say goodby in
seclusion, so to speak, but I don't understand how
she knew that I would leave by the West Lodge.
It was quick-witted of her. My route lay by the
South Lodge, but they had been mending the high
road beyond so I decided to go round, and Rachel
125
126 THOMAS
had thought it all out, and there she was. She seemed
a little embarrassed. I could understand that she
did not quite trust herself to say goodby under the
eye of her mother and Nibbs. It was a delicacy of
feeling that appealed to me. I cannot quite describe
it, but I felt flattered. I admire Rachel, and after
our little turn-up in fact I admire her tremendously.
She had her golf clubs, so she must have come right
across the park to see me. I pulled off my glove to
shake hands, but she was behind the gate holding
it with one hand and her golf clubs with the other, so
that she could not very well respond. There was
nothing particular to say, and I felt that the idea of
my going caused her regret which she was too shy
to avow, and this naturally led to constraint in her
manner. She pretended to look radiant, but I could
not see her eyes. And so we parted.
She had on the turquoise stockings again. It is
remarkable she should have known that I admire
them; or possibly it was merely an instinctive senti-
ment that made her wish that I should see the last
of her in the dress she had worn when we first began
to know one another. If I were an artist I could
touch off Rachel to the life as I saw her, the little
ruddy brown creature, smiling at me through the
bars of the gate. Just as I said goodby I caught
sight of a man who sometimes carried for her stand-
ing with another bag, so I suppose she was going
round with him, though I had no idea he knew the
game. I was tempted to stop for an hour and take
SUSAN LETS ME DOWN 127
her on myself, but I had a long journey before me,
Susan was out of sorts, and I was late. I have pretty
well decided to go to Hildon again before my holiday
comes to an end. Mrs. Graham evidently wished me
to understand that I should be welcomed.
As I passed the Druce's gate, Captain Druce was
hurrying out. He was absorbed, thinking of tigers
I suppose, and rather started when I cheered to
him.
I don't know what's coming to Susan. She behaved
like a mule that day. I felt inclined more than once
to get out and kick her. It was while I was search-
ing myself all over for something which would cure
Susan that I found a sovereign in my ticket-pocket,
and realized that I had tipped Bates with a lead
counter I use for putting into the butt of a fly rod
to balance it. The odd thing is that I think Bates
must have known what he had got, for he certainly
appeared to glance at it, and I tried to catch a sign
of gratification in his slab of a face. Perhaps he
thought it was a talisman and did not wish to show
enthusiasm until he had tested its powers.
Mrs. Graham and the rest were ranged to per-
fection, banked up one above the other on the front
steps, for a clear view of my tipping Bates. I tried
to get him to come round to the far side of Susan,
so that we should be partly screened from view, but
the donkey would not tumble to it. It was a very
awkward job, and all the time I had to keep up a
rally of chaffing talk with the ladies. I think they
128 THOMAS
might well have pointed out objects in the sky to
one another or found some other excuse to relinquish,
for a moment, their concentrated gaze, for they must
have seen what I was about. I tried to manoeuvre
so as to place Bates between them and me, but he
thought he was getting in the way, and we did a kind
of dance together and "set to partners" on the gravel
before I was able secretly to palm the counter and
push my hand into his waistcoat and make him catch
hold of the thing. I must send him a postal order.
A Guide to Tipping would be a most useful hand-
book. The only rule I know is "a bob a day for
the house-servants, with a shilling under the door-
mat for the cook"; but this will not work, and I
never put anything under the mat for the cook be-
cause I should be tortured with the uncertainty of her
finding it; unless I felt she was looking on from
some secret hiding-place ready to pounce directly I
retired, and then I should have to go into hiding
myself and watch the mat to make sure she got the
money. I cannot, however, face the risk of being
caught by my hostess playing "peep-a-bo" with the
cook.
I never understand the attitude of the master
towards the tipping of his servants. I should be
taken aback if my host said to me: "How much did
you give the footman just now?" and yet he cer-
tainly can't be indifferent. He must either be grati-
fied to know that his footman is getting extraneous
nourishment which will hearten him for his job, or
SUSAN LETS ME DOWN 129
he will dislike the idea that the hospitality he extends
to his friends costs them in tips nearly as much as
the amount of their bills at a hotel. I am always
ill at ease when I become aware that my host knows
I am in the act of tipping his servants, for I know
that the reasons which prompt me are not such as I
would care to confide to him. Take the case of the
butler. In the first place, there is the wish not to
be under obligations to the poor man. One's feeling
of gratitude to the butler must be changed to a sense
of gratitude due from the butler. That is certainly
not a generous sentiment. In the second place, there
is the desire to relieve the sedate mournfulness of
the butler's life and reconcile him to the obscurity
in which he exists. The obscurity of a butler affects
me like that of a mole. It distresses me to see one,
for a moment, outside a house. It looks foolhardy.
My idea of a butler is a man who does not possess
a hat. The modern youthful butler is a different
thing, he has an air of being superior to his job ;
but the thoroughgoing old-fashioned butler who gives
one the impression of being a butler because he has
been one too long to even think of leaving off, quickens
my compassion, though I dare not let my host
know it.
The third impulse to tip the man could least of all
be confided to his master. It arises from the cir-
cumstances that, quite to enjoy a visit to any house,
it is necessary to feel sure that one has the approval
of the butler. I may not care what my host thinks
130 THOMAS
of me, for perhaps I know that I am as good a
man as he is; but I cannot endure the idea that his
butler may have grounds for unfavorable criticism.
I don't know any finer stimulus to polite conduct
than to be up against a good butler. That man would
never laugh loudly or use a slang expression. I watch
the butler with a yearning eye. What does he think
of me? A butler, alone of all men, even makes me
feel a little ashamed of poor old Susan. I am aware
that in tipping him I wish to give him the idea that
I have a contempt for money, but part of the pleasure
in giving a large tip is that it enables me, in some
way I do not understand, to feel I am expressing con-
tempt for the butler himself.
Aunt Elizabeth lives at Ludlow, so that there was
a long run before us, and owing to Susan's ill-
health and trouble with her tires, I had only got
as far as Bromsgrove by half -past seven. I ordered
dinner at the hotel and then went to the Post Office
to wire to "Rork's Drift," so that they could air
the sheets, as I did not expect to arrive before ten-
thirty. I was told that it was doubtful whether the
telegram would be delivered that night, but at any
rate it would look polite when it turned up at break-
fast, and Aunt Elizabeth likes people to be polite.
When I took the road again, however, the acetylene
generator blew up, as it sometimes does. This led
to delay, and I tried a short cut by a road which,
though clearly shown on the map, proved difficult
to follow. After stopping several times to read sign-
SUSAN LETS ME DOWN 131
posts with a match burning my fingers, I got at last
a clear direction. Aunt Elizabeth is a formidable
person to face if one is late. She does not say much
but there is an air of suppressed vivacity about her on
those occasions which has always terrified me. I
never feel sure that she will not hit me. I still be-
lieved I should just make "Rork's Drift" by eleven
when Susan put on some of her frills and knocked the
bottom out of the whole enterprise.
One of Susan's little ways is to balk on a stiff bank
if the petrol is low ; and she will not budge till you
have filled up her tank. At the crest of a steep hill,
in a wood, eight miles from Ludlow, she jibbed in this
way. As the road was narrow I let her run back to
its edge; and because the brakes were doubtful I
took the precaution to lodge one wheel firmly against
the bank. There was a strong camber to the road,
and it had been also partly washed out at the side,
and this cocked her up still more with the result
that, when I had given her the emergency tin of
petrol, I could get no response from her but a gasp
and a back-fire. After working away with the
starting-handle for some time, like an organ-grinder,
I had to realize that I was fairly landed. I could
not go uphill, and the bank prevented me from going
down. Susan was fast. It was terrible to contem-
plate one who five minutes before had been full of
power and courage, now lying silent and immovable.
It was like gazing at a dead elephant.
While I was turning over what to do, a man in a
132 THOMAS
trap with a pretty woman beside him came down
the hill. I asked where I could get petrol near by.
"Nowhere!" Could he send anybody into Ludlow,
or telephone? "No, he couldn't." He was quite
friendly, but these were the facts. When I explained
what was wrong, he said:
"If you want to raise the level of the petrol, you've
only got to fill up the tank with stones."
The brilliance of this simple suggestion took me
aback. I thanked him warmly. "Oh, don't mention
it," he said, as he drove on.
I have since suspected that this man was Fred
Yardley, the famous comedian. His face struck me
as familiar at the time, and I now think it must have
been he.
As I bustled to set about the job, I wondered why
I had not at once hit on the idea myself. There were
plenty of loose stones at the side of the road, but
it occurred to me it might be a tiresome business
getting them out again. Inspiration, however, haunts
the night hours, and I saw that if I pushed a cloth
down into the tank while holding the corners, and
filled the stones into the bag so formed, I could
afterwards draw up the cloth and bring the stones
successively within reach of my fingers.
I selected one of Susan's medium wipes for this
purpose. Susan's wipes are towels which my mother
has "missed" and afterwards written off as "lost in
the wash" ; and a "medium wipe" is a towel which
is about half-way through its career. Susan's wipes
SUSAN LETS ME DOWN 133
begin as face-wipes, and their course is run when, as
brake-wipes, they at last begin to put more grease
on to the brakes than they take off. Wipes from fair
to medium are graduated for various uses about her
body, and ranking below these again come the engine
and brake-wipes, for, one way and another, Susan
takes a deal of wiping.
It was a pleasure dropping the first dozen stones
in through the filling eye I glowed with a sense of
practical efficiency; but after the second dozen the
task grew monotonous. It was troublesome selecting"
stones in the darkness of the wood, and before the
third dozen had been posted I felt dreary and dis-
heartened. I realized that bucketfuls of stones were
wanted, and at the same time I became aware that
the wipe was drawing out the petrol like a lampwick
and that I was engaged in a race against evaporation.
Haste was necessary. I kicked up stones, gravel,
and dirt, and poured them into the tank; forced the
mass fiercely down ; and then, without hope, wound
away at the starting-handle. Susan gave one thick,
choking cough and showed no further signs of life-
There was nothing for it but to take the stones
out. After fumbling in the dark I secured one small
pebble. I got impatient over the second pebble, with
the result that the wipe split, and the whole of the
rubbish fell into the tank.
I may say here that many of the stones would
only pass the opening at particular angles, and the
man who next day had the job of getting them out
134 THOMAS
was obliged to remove the tank ; turn it upside down ;
lie on his back underneath it and coax the stones
out on to his face with special probes and forceps
adapted to the various shapes of each. Every stone
presented a new problem; and when, after two days,
the job was finished, he possessed an outfit that would
have provoked the envy of a dentist.
After one more futile attempt to wind up the
engine, I sat down to reconsider the position. It
was a quarter to twelve and a fine starlight night,
and it did not take me long to decide to go to bed
in Susan. I turned some the luggage on to the
front seat, pulled down the hood, and curled up in
a nest of overcoats.
The birds awoke me soon after three. I threw
back the hood and languidly contemplated dawn
breaking in the forest. It was rather wonderful. I
had never had the experience before. It was as
though there were a great mystery working in secret,
and it was astonishing to think that this was hap-
pening every morning, and all day long, and through
countless centuries. It suddenly struck me. "What
did it all mean"? I asked myself "Why is a tree?"
Then, "Why am I?" Susan seemed out of it, and
yet in a sense she had life too. The air was fresh,
and cool, and scented. The birds were all cheerful,
and so was a mouse. Even the trees were happy too,
and somehow I felt overcome. I was very hungry,
and I suppose that is what was wrong with me.
Then I saw a man walking down the hill with a
SUSAN LETS ME DOWN 135
milk-pail and a basket. He was a fine stocky little
man. He might have been a little younger perhaps,
but otherwise he was exactly the sort of man I
wanted.
He told me he was a gardener. To explain the
milk-pail and basket I had to imagine that he was
a gardener on the track of his "perquisites" before
anyone was about. He agreed to lend me a hand
and we took the things out and, with a log of wood
as a wheel-block, we got a good purchase on the
bank with our feet, and inch by inch just managed
to work Susan out-and-across the road. If I am
ever the subject of a post-mortem examination in.
years to come, my friends must expect to be told
that I have gone through life with a cockled heart,
and I distinctly heard the gardener crack. I wound
up Susan, packed in the luggage and toys, dropped
the gardener and a florin at the bottom of the hill,
and arrived at "Rork's Drift," all serene, at 4.20
a.m.
"Rork's Drift" is a "luxurious family residence
with carriage drive approach, standing in its own
grounds and surrounded by tastefully laid out gar-
dens, comprising lawns, flower-beds, shrubberies, and
noble forest trees," as the House Agent would say;
but I prefer to describe it as an abject gabled villa
partly redeemed by ivy and Virginia creeper. There
is a drive in and out enclosing shrubs which screen
the front door from the road ; and there is a rectangu-
lar strip of garden running along the hedge, with a.
136 THOMAS
lawn big enough for curtailed croquet and a fine
copper-beech at the bottom. The house was probably
huilt at the time of the Zulu War, and was named
by a speculative builder trained in the idea that
to equip it for the market every villa must have
the name of a bloody battle or a famous general
painted on the gate.
I left Susan in the road, where I could keep an
eye on her through the hedge, and went down the
.garden and made myself comfortable with my writing-
pad on the seat under the copper-beech until such
time as the house should be astir for breakfast. I
sat in full view of the dining-room window, and I
tecame interested to observe how, and by whom, I
.should be first recognized.
A clock had struck six before I noticed blinds
drawn up and heard a door open somewhere, and,
soon after, a black Cocker spaniel came rambling
down the garden. Aunt Elizabeth does not keep
dogs, but this was an old one, and he was nearly
"blind, as I could see by the way he blundered into
the croquet hoops as he ranged over the lawn. One
of the boys must have brought him. My heart warms
to the Cocker more than to other dogs. He has no
exaggerated ideas of the importance of rats, and no
ambitions that are not proper to a gentleman. He
appeals first as being a humble little dog and a gro-
tesque one, but before you are aware of it you have
discovered that his self-possession and doggy equip-
ment are perfect, and that his beauty is a thing to
SUSAN LETS ME DOWN 137
marvd at with ever-renewed wonder. His complete
and utter blackness may seem a negative merit until
you notice the perfection with which the curves and
ripples of his coat are arranged to clothe his small,
burly rotundities. I love his feathered paws, and his
little clownish, tailor-made rump. I watched this
one without making any sign. After a little he became
aware of my presence, and approached me with his
muzzle up until he stood and cautiously advanced his
nose to within an inch of my leg. He was attentive
for an instant and then started, as though he had
been stung; pressed down his bit of tail; trundled
off down the path with his ears turned inside-out;
bustled round the corner of the house and was seen
no more. It was not a generous welcome. It was
as though I did not smell right.
Some time afterwards I noticed two maid-servants
at the dining-room window, and shortly afterwards
a third, and a few minutes later two maids and a
figure in a pink dressing-gown were at the landing
window. I kept my head well down, and waited for
Aunt Elizabeth to open the window and call to me
to know what business I had in her garden. She
did not do so, however; but after further movements
at the window and considerable delay, a young man
in knickerbockers and dancing-pumps came down the
garden. I did not allow myself to see more than
his legs, and remained busy with my writing. He
stopped five yards off, and then, to my astonishment,
went quickly away again. A few seconds later a
138 THOMAS
strange young voice addressed me from a distance.
"I say, my mother says what do you want in our
garden?"
I looked up and saw a weedy youth of washed-
out appearance standing in sloppy clothes, his hair
loaded with grease and brushed back off his fore-
head, a loose underlip, and eyes like a hen. His
personality was so colorless that, as I recalled after-
wards, it was I who led in expressing astonishment
and in cross-questioning as to who the intruder was,
and what explanation he had for being there. I gath-
ered from him by severely pressing my questions that
his name was Verscoyle, that he and his mother were
living at "Rork's Drift," and that Aunt Elizabeth had
let the house to them for three months and was
herself at Bourncombe. When he had explained these
things I told him something of myself. "Why don't
you come closer," I said. "Are you afraid of me?"
He smiled weakly and approached and listened to
me with a drooping lip. Just then Jelf, the occasional
gardener, came on the scene, and he was able to
confirm my identity. I asked the sawny to carry
my apologies to his mother and shook his limp moist
hand at the gate. Just as I had got Susan started,
however, he came out and mumbled:
"I say, my mother says won't you come in and
have some breakfast."
As this proposal accorded with the scheme of my
tour, and my consent would go some way towards
atoning for the disturbance I had occasioned, I ac->
SUSAN LETS ME DOWN 139
cepted, and brought Susan in through the gate.
In the hall, my companion, in response to an
admonitory voice went upstairs, and returning to me,
said: "My mother says, would you like to change
your things?"
I found breakfast on the table and Mrs. Verscoyle
and her son gazing at the door when, half an hour
later, I entered the dining-room. The lady was a
tall, stylish-looking woman, with a strong cast in her
right eye. Her face was otherwise rather handsome
the features were good ; she would have looked well
in a fireman's helmet. Her graying hair was strained
back from her forehead and her skin was red and
rough. She kept her lips compressed and oddly
twisted to one side, and, as her cast favored the oppo-
site direction, she looked as though she were offering
a sour kiss to someone on the left with one eye
swiveled round to make sure it was not under observa-
tion from the right. She spoke rapidly in a shrill,
querulous voice that came oddly from such a stalwart
frame, and cut short my apologies for intrusion with
a cold inclination of her head. It was soon obvious to
me that her sole reason for inviting me to breakfast
was to complain to me about the house. She cer-
tainly was quite unconcerned as to whether I got
anything to eat. They seemed to think they were
feeding a canary. I have never been more hungry
in my life, and there were three poached eggs in an
entree dish: one for the sawny; one for me; and
140 THOMAS
the third, as I had to realize with bitter resentment,
for "Mr. Manners," as we used to say in the nursery.
There was nothing else to be got at except some
chips of toast set like jewels in scraggy little toast-
racks. It was partly light-headedness due to ex-
haustion, and partly the impossibility of thinking of
anything but the unattainable poached egg chilling
under the metal cover that, I suppose, led me to reply
to Mrs. Verscoyle's insistent fretful comments on the
house with any elusive nonsense that came into my
head. The lady refused altogether to accept the idea
that it was nothing to do with me. She seemed to
feel that I was a relative of "Rork's Drift," and that
an account of its defects would deservedly hurt me in
the tender parts of my self-respect. First it was the
bath.
"I am afraid you could get no hot water from the
tap. The range won't heat the water at all. It's im-
possible to have a hot bath."
"Have you pulled out the damper?" I said. "That's
the thing to do. Some cooks even throw them
away."
"It's always out. If we push it in the range smokes,"
the mother said tartly, and the weed smiled and
glanced at me with his lips pushed out flinchingly
towards the hot edge of his cup.
"We are disappointed with the house. There is
too much furniture and it harbors dust. Nice for
my hay-fever! It must be very damp here in the
winter. The house smells damp. We have dis-
SUSAN LETS ME DOWN 141
covered a horrid smell in the cupboard under the
stairs."
"Isn't it rather a mistake to search for smells?" I
commented.
"We can't imagine what it can be," Mrs. Verscoyle
complained.
"But as long as they stay in their cupboards, and
don't come out" ... I was continuing.
"We naturally want to know. It may be the drains,
though I distinctly understood that the drains had
been tested. I myself had the water thoroughly
analyzed."
"Was it improved?"
My hostess looked at me as though I were a fool,
instead of a man dying of hunger.
"The analysis looked dreadful, but the man said
it was an average water and fairly safe for drinking
purposes if carefully filtered."
"It's not so nourishing, of course, if you filter it."
"We always drink filtered water. We were
astonished to notice how small the filter was here.
We have had to hire a larger one, and some fire
buckets. We are in terror of fire. There is no
fire escape."
"Some people think them very dangerous things,"
I said. "I know a lady who left her hotel at ten
o'clock at night because she had seen a fire escape."
Mrs. Verscoyle appeared to turn this over in her
mind as she eyed me for a moment. Then she went
on rapidly, "We cannot make the scullery tap stop
142 THOMAS
running and the floor is always splashed and wet in
consequence. Charles saw a mouse."
Charles nodded to me gravely.
"Servants take them about with them in their
boxes," I explained.
"Good gracious ! I am sure none of my servants
would do a thing like that."
"It's not the servants who do it; it's the mice,"
I told her. "They climb in after the candles and
groceries."
Mrs. Verscoyle looked at the teapot and moved a
little in her chair, then she seemed to recollect
herself.
"I never saw anything, anywhere, to equal the flies
in the kitchen."
"When Sir Edmund Wilson was alive," I told her,
"he would not allow a fly in his kitchen. The
result- was there were no spiders, consequently no
cobwebs."
"How did he keep them out, pray."
"With a Maltese cook."
"But I don't understand."
"Maltese thoroughly understand flies," I explained,
"and Sir Edmund thoroughly understood Maltese.
He told his cook that if he ever found a fly in the
kitchen he would make him swallow it."
All this time I was doing the best I could for
myself. I did not dally with the viands. I ate the
cargo of a special rack of toast almost before the
servant who brought it had left the room. I couldn't
SUSAN LETS ME DOWN 143
help it. I saw two bananas in a plate on the side-
board. It was awful. I gave my hostess the earliest
opportunity of rising.
As we passed towards the hall, the lady suddenly
opened a door and said :
"This is the smell I spoke to you about, Mr.
Quinn !"
It was the first time I had ever been formally in-
troduced to a smell. I would describe this one as a
tall pink smell, probably a mixture of naphthalin and
goloshes.
"Surely it's a bad smell?" she complained.
"That entirely depends on whether you like it or
not," I said.
"We don't like it at all. It can't be wholesome. I
must do something."
"It's not my smell," I told her. "It belongs to Lady
Wilson. She may value it, and if you interfere with
it you may spoil it."
Exactly an hour later I stretched myself on the
lounge in the entrance hall of the Three Feathers.
My complaint was so obvious that everyone who
went in or out of the hotel gazed at me and smiled
lingeringly. I was absolutely prostrated with bliss.
I had had breakfast.
When I sat down I told the waiter I wanted one
double-breakfast. Mrs. Verscoyle's breakfast had
provoked my hunger to such a pitch that I was almost
144 THOMAS
in tears. My performance was, I feel, worthy of
record :
QUINN'S DOUBLE BREAKFAST
THREE FEATHERS, LUDLOW, July 2gth.
Bacon and (2) eggs.
Tea toast.
Cold beef and ham, while awaiting the
appearance of:
Bacon and (2) eggs.
Another teapot and toast.
Cold ham.
Another go of cold ham.
Bread, butter, marmalade, e*c.
CHAPTER IX
MR. BERT SUTHERLAND BOUNDS INTO THE ARENA
IT is a week since I last wrote. I am sitting in
the sun on the beach at Bourncombe with a
near view of the white cliffs and brown seaweed of
Shelly Head. Nita is a little way below me to the
left, with a towel over her shoulders and her russet
hair spread out to dry. I have told her that I object
to these outrages on the privacy of the toilet. She
is reading, I think, and every now and then a pebble
falls on the beach near her (one did just then), and
she glances about dubiously as though she suspected
someone was throwing stones at her. It can't pos-
sibly be me, for Nita can see, when she looks round,
that I am writing. The most guilty-looking person is
an old gentleman who is lying on the beach idly
playing "knuckle bones" with some pebbles. He has
begun to notice that Nita keeps glancing round at
him. Oh, it's a pleasant life!
Ferdinand and his "fiance" (as they call it in
America) are "somewhere about." They are always
"somewhere about." Aunt Elizabeth has made her-
self comfortable on a camp stool under a groin, in a
145
146 THOMAS
shady black hat with a scrap of white in it, for the
dear old thing always keeps the flag flying. At this
moment she is looking up from her book and re-
garding the approach of a monkey in a red frock
with severe disapproval. If the monkey is as dirty
as the boy with the accordion appears to be, I can
sympathize with her. The old lady always insists
on looking after herself and is equal to all occasions.
At a few words from her the boy jerks the monkey
who has a wary hand on his lead to prevent his
head being pulled off to his shoulder, and turns
away; on which Aunt Elizabeth relents and gets out
her purse and, still warning him, sternly throws two-
pence to the winds, and then is dreadfully concerned
lest he should not find both coins, and is actually
getting out another penny when the boy makes good,
and grins, and touches his hat.
Yes, it's a pleasant life here in the sun ; one's skin
tingling after a bath; the cool air invading one, all
over, through thin flannels ; no cares, and with a good
hairbrush and a buck lunch to look forward to in an
hour's time. Since I came to Bourncombe I have
discovered that I am an eupeptic: before I have fin-
ished one meal I am thinking of the next.
Aunt Elizabeth has a charming little house in the
old town, with a shady walled garden from which,
over a neighboring orchard, one looks out on the
swelling bosom of the South Downs. A blank gable
of the house flanks the road, and you enter through
a postern in the garden wall which opens magically
MR. BERT SUTHERLAND 147
to the visitors by virtue of a wire operated in the
front hall.
Aunt E. pretended to be slightly rumpled and made
little complaining noises on coming home to dinner
and finding Susan piled with luggage in the street
outside and me in the garden with the Morning Post.
The whole party had been out picnicking, and the
first notice I had of their arrival was Aunt Elizabeth's
voice without, asking in stern tones of the world
at large, "Why is that car standing out here?"
Nita greeted me in rather an off-hand manner I
thought, and she said airily to Miss Hornby, Ferdi-
nand's fiancee, whom I had never seen before, "This
is Thomas," and then laughed. The young lady
greeted me in a particular way with a warm hand-
shake, as though she were welcoming me, instead of
allowing me, as a member of the family she was
marrying into, to welcome her. It is evident that
Nita has been talking about me to Myra. I wonder
what she has been saying 1 Myra is all right, how-
ever. She is really a capital ort. She is a tall, strap-
ping young woman, dark, with a wide mouth and an
engaging grin, and a fine open face and large, glowing
brown eyes under thick wide brows. She dresses in
rather a flowery style, so that at first shock she
appears a dazzler and rather takes one's breath away ;
but one soon realizes that her beauty is of a homely
kind, and she really is capital company. Her slow,
mirthful contralto tones, and her calm deep-bosomed
laugh, give a quality to the company. One misses
148 THOMAS
her at once when she is out of the room. Ferdinand
seems rather overawed, as if he were not yet used
to having achieved Myra. He is reserved and pre-
occupied, and is not half the good fellow he used
to be. I can't get him for golf or tennis; he spends
his time hanging about: in fact he is making rather
an ass of himself, I think. Nita seems to have be-
come like a sister of Myra, although they only met
a fortnight ago. They are continually to be seen
twined together, Nita looking like a slip of a girl
beside the majestic Myra, although she herself has
the lines of a stately woman. Myra is, in fact, too
big for Ferdinand. She looks as though she could
easily break his back and, from what I hear of
married life from confidential sources, she will prob-
ably want to break it some day. One can only hope
she will have enough self-control to hold her hand
when that hour comes.
There is no room for me at Aunt E.'s, so I have
a bedroom at Mrs. Willand's hard by. Everyone
knows Mrs. Willand's, though I don't know why,
unless it is by virtue of the notoriety of a despond-
ing stuffed dog in her front window. It looks like
an exhibit from the Veterinary Museum under the
catalogue title "Sarcoptic Mange (advanced)." The
house, which is one of a long line of villas like a
row of postage stamps, is known as "Mrs. Willand's,"
and my address is "Mrs. Willand's, Old Bourn-
combe." It is here that a much battered and post-
marked official envelope has reached me. I repro-
MR. BERT SUTHERLAND 149
duce the document as completed with my reply:
Ref. P.T. ^
DOUBLE MINUTE
Margins must on no account be written upon except
as regards brief penciled notes. All communications
must be addressed to the Department and not to in-
dividuals.
2$th July, 19
H.M. Statistics Office, To : Mr. Thomas A. Quinn
(Malnutrition Dept.)
Whitehall, London,
S.W.
COMMUNICATION
Date: 3rd August, 19..
Sir,
1. I have the honor to
call your attention to the
circumstance that accord-
ing to the records of this
Department, your leave
which commenced on the
2$th June, terminated on
the 2yd July ult.
2. It does not appear
that you have attended at
this Office or that any
REPLY.
Date: loth Aug., 19 .
i. It appears that there
is an error in the records.
Reference should be made
42
to P. X. F of 4/6.
S
T. Q.
150
THOMAS
communication has been
received from you.
3. I have to request
that I may receive your
observations on this mat-
ter without delay.
I have the honor to
be,
Sin
Your obedient Servant,
F. C. Binkinter.
Deputy Comptroller of
Staff Records, H.M.S.O.
/P S 2 for
P.S.
Also try
solution,
N 3 i
How goes it B., you old
blighter?
My postscript was one of those "Brief Penciled
notes" specially provided for in the instructions. It
would be good fun to see old Binkinter trying to
exact the cube root of one of his own file references.
They have evidently sent me a reminder intended
for someone else.
When I went back to the Pond House after putting
up the car at the inn and changing my clothes, II
found Nita walking in the garden.
I joined her where she stood passing in review
the roses that straggled over the old sunburnt brick
wall.
"Well," she said as I came up, while she reached
for a bloom. "How is Valerie?"
MR. BERT SUTHERLAND 151
She was certainly very off-hand in her manner.
"Quite well," I said. "Except," I added, "she's got
mumps; you knew that?"
"Mumps!" Nita turned and stared at me with
parted lips and laughing eyes. "Is that why you
came away then?"
"No. She had them when I arrived."
"Then you never saw her?"
"Only in the distance. She didn't want me to
see her."
Nita burst into a peal of laughter, and turned and
walked towards the house. "Oh, how lovely!" she
cried, and she reeled, and fell up against me in an
uncontrollable spasm of gurgles.
"I don't see what there is to laugh at," I said, pre-
tending not to be amused and pushing her away from
me. "Why are you so interested in Valerie all of a
sudden? You have never even seen her."
"Oh dear!" Nita gasped when she had recovered
herself a little. "If you had only heard your mother,
you'd be laughing too." She became inarticulate
again.
"Aunt Emmy thinks you have been making
love to Valerie all this time she doesn't say so, but
one knows what is in her mind. Oh dear!"
"Why does she think that?"
"Oh, I don't know. She wants to think it, I sup-
pose. She showed me a letter of yours in which you
mentioned Maud and Rachel but did not refer to
Valerie. That was conclusive proof for Aunt Emmy.
152 THOMAS
She's expecting to hear of your engagement by every
post. Oh, it's too delicious."
"Now then, you'll be late. Supper's on the table,"
said Aunt Elizabeth from the window in an admoni-
tory tone as though she disapproved of laughter,
though, in point of fact, she loves to hear young people
about her; and we followed her into the dining-room
where the free and easy, movable, holiday meal was
awaiting us.
Nita was still laughing when we sat down.
"What's the matter?" said Aunt E. She had not
quite regained suavity after the disturbance of my
invasion.
"Valerie Graham has got mumps," Nita splut-
tered.
"I don't see anything to laugh at in that," said the
old lady severely. "Who told you?"
Nita, with her handkerchief to her mouth, pointed
at me.
"Good gracious, I hope you're not bringing infec-
tion here," said Aunt Elizabeth, in an alarmed tone.
"It's all right," I said. "It's only a joke. No one
was ill at Hildon."
"Not a very pretty joke," the old lady commented.
"I hope you won't make such jokes here."
Nita looked at me seriously for a moment, and
then smiled and subsided with a final, "Oh dear!"
After supper it came out that the two "fiances"
were going down to the sea front, so I asked Nita
to come, and we would all run down in Susan. Nita
MR. BERT SUTHERLAND 153
said she would stay with Aunt Elizabeth, but the
old lady affected to be indignant at the idea that
she could not be left alone, although in fact she
values these little attentions ; so finally we all four
went, and Nita and I sat on the shingle, while the
other two strolled up the slope of Shelly Head.
It was pleasant having a yap with Nita again. I
told her the incidents of my tour while the moon tried
to give the appearance of night to what was very like
day, and the waves laved the pebbles with little short
"plops" like the sound of rising trout. After a time
Nita got quite serious for her. She said she was
thinking of going back to Australia. It is all rather
hard luck on her. She married poor Bill when he
was on the Sydney station, and followed his ship
home, and since the accident a few months later (a
bag fell on the poor chap when they were coaling
ship), she has been staying about or living in rooms,
but all her own people are in Australia. She rather
dreads going back ; I can see that. She has a slender
purse, and it's a rough and tumble world, though she
is so bright no one would ever think she had any
troubles. That's the best of having a sunny tempera-
ment. It's just the same thing with me. She seemed
tired when we got home, and we found, when we
wanted her, that she had slipped away to bed. I am
getting to find out that she's a queer girl at bottom.
This is what happened yesterday, for instance.
Nita goes in for playing the piano, though she
doesn't play for me because she thinks I don't care
154 THOMAS
for it; but that's all rot; I am very musical, really.
Nita plays in a light feathery sort of way and never
punches the piano properly. Myra, on the other
hand, has a masterful style, and I gather that Nita
looks upon her as a corker, and they have matches
one against the other. Myra lets fly with a little thing
by Podderblitz, and Nita retaliates with a trifle by
Bumblepootz that takes twenty minutes, and so they
are at it, tit-for-tat, through half an afternoon. You
can't talk when Nita is playing, or it would interrupt ;
and you can't hear yourself speak when Myra is on
the job.
Well, yesterday after lunch, Ferdinand had gone
to the village and left me in the garden, when I
heard the piano and went to the drawing-room win-
dow. It was Myra's turn, and as usual she was
letting Aunt Elizabeth's piano have it in the neck
every time, while Nita was lying back in a chair evi-
dently much enraptured. In order not to disturb
them I sat down outside on the window-sill, and
listened. It was all a distressing rush and clash of
wrong notes, with no time and no tune ; and then the
din suddenly ended with a sort of change of tone that,
in fact, rather took by breath away. Myra's back
was towards me and when she ended she sat motion-
less with her hands on the keys for a moment, and
then began to get out her handkerchief. At the same
moment Nita rose and went to her, and put her arms
round her, and kissed her. I had just realized that I
had no business to be present, when Nita caught
MR. BERT SUTHERLAND 155
sight of me and looked at me gravely, and slightly
shook her head, and I stole away.
Later in the afternoon when we had all gone on
to the pier where the picket boats from a battleship
outside were coming and going, I said to Nita:
"What was wrong with Myra this afternoon?"
She did not reply for a moment. She stood with
one knee on the seat gazing down into the beautiful
pinnace that sidled and flirted against the weed-
covered piles. After a little she said in a low voice:
"The music made her cry."
"Why? Isn't she happy?"
Again Nita did not answer at once. I was look-
ing at her and her color seemed to mount, and she
closed her eyes. Then she stood up and looked me
in the face and said quietly but in rather a breath-
less voice :
"It was because she is happy. Can't you understand
that?"
"I can't understand anyone crying about such music,
unless it couldn't be made to stop," I said.
Nita almost frowned at me. She faced me with
indignant eyes. Then she spoke impetuously in her
quick, bubbling, port wine tones.
"Are you never going to grow up? Don't you
realize that you are blind, and deaf, and dumb?
What's the good of a man if he is never going to
understand !"
She really is an extraordinary woman. I don't
see that I had said anything dreadful and what she
156 THOMAS
meant goodness only knows, but she spoke with
vehemence. I had no idea she could show so much
feeling. I was taken aback; naturally.
"I simply don't know what you are talking about,"
I said. "All I mean is that the music had no time,
and no tune, and was half wrong notes."
Nita laughed and we walked on together.
"Oh, you're not a bad sort," she said. "There
is no reason, I suppose, why you should like a fugue
of Bach's ; and if you could only make allowances
for people to whom such things are like a ray from
heaven, there would be some hope for fat Thomas."
"Fat!"
"Yes, fat!"
"Well, I'm really glad you've said that," I told
her. "Thank you, Nita. I could not broach the matter
myself, but now you have introduced the subject I
can go ahead and tell you a thing that has been
much on my mind. Tell me: have you looked in
the glass lately?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Since I came down here?"
"Yes, of course I have."
"And haven't you noticed anything?"
"Why, what do you mean. What should I
notice ?"
"Look here, old lady, you can't carry it off like
that. You're getting simply enormous. You're like
a ripe gooseberry. I never saw such a girl. You
look as if you had just been pumped up."
MR. BERT SUTHERLAND 157
This was perfectly true. I suppose the sea air suits
Nita, for she has quite plumped out and looks
bonny.
Nita received my communication with an uneasy,
doubting concern, which it was charming to watch.
I knew she was trying to find a looking-glass. At
last she spied one in the top of a weighing machine,
and went and frowned at herself, and put up her
chin and tried to get a side view. She had probably
noticed her own well-being, for she dresses so cleverly
that she must pay herself a lot of attention; but she
was now evidently perturbed as to how she might
strike other people.
She turned from the glass to me with her low-
voiced intimate air of appeal to try and get from me
a serious opinion in her favor.
"No, T., really! Do you think I am? I know
you're joking."
"Indeed it's no joke. You'll be a huge woman in
a year or two if you go on at this rate," I laughed,
"Look at yourself again. Surely you notice the
change."
Nita followed my suggestion and frowned at her-
self again and was troubled.
"I don't see anything wrong," she said.
"Oh, Nita !"
"Is it here?" and she touched herself under the
chin.
"Yes," I said.
I told her she ought to weigh herself every day
158 THOMAS
at noon, and keep tally; and I slipped a penny in
the slot for her, and by secretly putting my foot
on the stand, I brought her up to ten stone five and
almost frightened her.
"You shouldn't be depressed," I told her as we
walked away. "It's quite likely you'll grow into a
fine big woman."
Her pleasure was being spoilt, so I had to tell
her of the trick I had played on her. It was charm-
ing to see the ridiculous way she brightened and
laughed when I told her she was quite all right.
She is like a child in some ways, and the very best
of companions upon my word she is. I never had a
sister, but they must be good fun when they are like
Nita.
Bat is coming down for the week-end. He is
evidently bitten with his success as a trout fisher,
for I had a letter this morning proposing another
visit to Fradford "to get out the other bounders,"
and Aunt Elizabeth has let me wire and invite him
down "but mind," she said, "he must understand
that he won't get wines and a London cook here."
It was just after I wrote these last words, two
days ago, that I had a sort of seaside adventure.
I still feel flat, and as though I had swallowed a
fly, and my head sings a bit. It happened that we
MR. BERT SUTHERLAND 159
had not come down to the front in Susan. After
our bath the party straggled off for various reasons
to meet later at lunch, and I was sitting on the
beach which, at one o'clock, was almost deserted,
when there was a succession of shrieks like a steam
whistle, and the next moment I realized that the
only bather in view was in difficulties, and that his
companion on the beach was letting off the danger
signals I heard. I got rid of coat and waistcoat and
collar, and had waded in breast-deep before I again
saw the man not very far out.
The lady meanwhile was letting off shriek after
shriek and all Bourncombe was running. Before I
reached the place he had gone. I paddled about
looking for a sign and suddenly he came up strug-
gling, and kicked me on the jaw. It must have nearly
knocked me out of time, for when I recovered myself
I was retching and choking, and the fellow was
clutching me. I had a struggle to get up my knee
and push him off, but he was pretty well done by
that time, and I knew then that I could manage him
all right if. I took things cooly. I got him on his
back and lay on my own and just kicked along with
my legs while I held him round the chin, and so
towed him. It was a slow business and I had swal-
lowed a lot of water. I think I went into a sort of
trance as I pumped along, for a great time seemed
to pass, and the next thing was that someone caught
hold of me and I found I was standing. All I
wanted was just to lie down and be left alone. I
160 THOMAS
knew they had got the other fellow all right, but
I don't know what they did with him. Some other
people came and helped me to the beach, and then
the crowd closed round in a dense circle and watched
me being sick. Soon a young doctor forced his way
to me and drove the crowd back, and he and another
man drained me, and undressed me and toweled me.
Someone produced brandy and I began to feel quite
cheerful. I was given my coat and waistcoat, and
Brereton, the doctor, lent me an overcoat and gave
me an elbow up the beach to his car.
Just as I was making a bit of a tug of it to get
up the steep slope of shingle at high water-mark, a
man came scrambling along the beach, slid down in
an avalanche of stones on top of us, and nearly
knocked us both over.
"I congratulate you, sir! Your name, please.
The Bourncombe Advertiser."
I felt rather lost.
"He wants to know your name for the paper," said
Brereton.
"Williams," I said.
"Christian name please, and address."
"Alfred," I said. "Grand Hotel."
"A visitor! Home address?"
"Hundred and seventy-seven Tottenham Court
Road."
"London?"
"No, Edinburgh."
Brereton pushed the fellow aside, and we left him
MR. BERT SUTHERLAND 161
scribbling eagerly in his notebook like a dog with a
bone.
As we got into the car, the crowd broke into a
cheer. I wondered when I got to Willand's whether,
among the people who cheered, I had heard the
voice of the person who stole my watch, and three
pounds ten in gold, from my pockets while I was in
the water. I feel ashamed to mention it, but the
thing had been done.
Brereton insisted on coming up and giving me
another rub down, and making me put on thick
underwear, as I wouldn't go to bed and have a scene,
and, in fact, there was no need for it. Brereton
wouldn't hear of a fee. He seemed quite hurt. He
said he would come again next day and just give
me an overhaul.
"Oh no, you just won't," I said. "I know you
fellows. You'll tell me I've got Bright's disease,
or Mackenzie's disease, and that I ought to go in for
Fletcherism or Haigism. The only disease I've got
is Quinn's disease, and I like it, and I don't want
to be cured at all if it can't be cured by a regular
course of Quinnism."
When I reached the luncheon table Aunt Eliza-
beth made little noises as though she were too in-
dignant to find suitable words in which to express
herself.
"What have you been doing? Why are you so
late? We've nearly finished. I don't know what
162 THOMAS
the fish will be like, I'm sure. I told them to put
it back in the steamer, so it will be your fault if
you don't like it. It's no good trying to keep curry
hot, the rice gets dried up, so I had to carve for you.
I've done the best I can. There's a cold pie if you
like it better."
"Sorry, sorry, sorry," I said, patting her hand, as
I sat down.
Everyone looked at me. I hadn't realized that my
voice was so croaky.
"Why, what's happened?" said Nita. "Oh, look
at him! He's ill!"
So I had to tell them something, and made them
laugh, and got them to forget all about it in ten
minutes. I had Nita at me after lunch, however. I
managed to answer her questions satisfactorily,
though she accepted my account grudgingly.
"I believe you are telling fibs," she said.
I can't help realizing, all the same, that I am
well out of it; though it would have been a simple
business if he hadn't kicked me. I told Ferdinand
about it, and he says he saw the fellow just before
he left the beach showing off to a girl, and pre-
tending he was an expert, though evidently no swim-
mer at all. Ferdinand had been amused to watch
him. This evening I got a copy of the weekly
Bourncombe Advertiser. The account is so funny that
I reproduce it in full :
MR. BERT SUTHERLAND 163
"FATAL ACCIDENT
ALMOST EVENTUATES
MR. BERT SUTHERLAND
NEARLY DROWNED
"Bourncombe was rudely startled last Tuesday by
what might have been a fatal bathing misadventure,
the victim being no other than the well-known and
popular leading comedian of the Marguerite Reper-
toire Co., now delighting audiences in the Royal Pier
Pavilion with the delightful extravaganza 'Rosey
Posey Limited,' with Mr. Bert Sutherland in the
inimitable personation of 'Porgie Geordie.'
"It is a long time since any serious bathing mishap
has eventuated at Bourncombe, which is well known
as by far the safest beach on the South or any other
coast, and thanks to the precautions taken by our
worthy Councillors, the Beach Committee, and the
R.H.S., it will be supposed that the misadventure of
which Mr. Bert Sutherland was the subject was such
as must always obtain in reference to those who go
down to the sea, whether in ships or in pursuit of the
manly sport of bathing; and this it appears was the
case.
"Mr. Bert Sutherland informs us that he had been
swimming for some considerable time in a direction
parallel to the beach when he suddenly found him-
self in difficulties. Fortunately, Miss Girlie Alexander,
who is known to our readers by her dainty witchery
in the charming part of Rosey Posey, was at the mo-
ment reclining on the beach, and realizing that a
tragedy might be on the point of commencing, with
the most praiseworthy presence of mind appealed to
a bystander for assistance. This gentleman, who
proves to be Mr. Alfred Williams, of 177 Tottenham
164 THOMAS
Court Road, Edinburgh, now a visitor at the Grand
Hotel, most gallantly responded to the lady's suppli-
cations, and hurriedly divesting himself of his coat
and vest, at once plunged into the sea, which, at that
hour (1 p.m.) was at about half-tide, and in due
course, with the able assistance of Mr. Henry Hinch,
who followed Mr. Williams into the water, that gen-
tleman succeeded in being instrumental in the safe
restoration of Mr. Bert Sutherland to terra firma.
After the application of restorative methods by Dr.
Hoxton [M.D.], who was providentially passing in his
motor brougham at the time, Mr. Bert Sutherland
was conveyed to his suite at Sandview Private Hotel
which, under the personal direction of the propriet-
ress, Mrs. Bunyan, is so deservedly popular with our
theatrical visitors.
"Mr. Bert Sutherland was unable to appear in
Rosey, Posey Limited, on Wednesday, but on Thurs-
day evening he rejoined the cast, when his appear-
ance on the stage led to an ovation which speaks well
for the popularity of this screaming comedian among
Bourncombe visitors and residents."
CHAPTER X
CANON TABS MEETS BAT VERNON
BAT burst upon us in all his glory on Saturday.
His arrival was a tremendous success from his
point of view. He had told us to expect him to lunch,
and at half -past eleven we were all in the sea, and
I was standing, after my swim, watching Myra and
Nita teaching each other to float, and looking at Nita's
ten toes sticking up out of the water, which I observed
to be smaller and pinker than Myra's, when something
seized me by the ankles, and before I knew what was
happening, I was shot up into the air and fell back
head over heels into the water. For the moment I
thought I was again in the clutches of Mr. Bert
Sutherland, but when I got my head out it was to
see Bat laughing at the success with which he had
come all the way from London and torpedoed me. He
had got away earlier than he expected and, after
calling at the house, had followed us down.
"Oh, it's you, is it?"
"Yes," said Bat, "it's me all right, but it's not
my bathing-suit," he added, hitching the garment over
165
166 THOMAS
his shoulder. "It's the bathing-suit Professor Dow-
son, the champion weight-lifter, expanded last year."
"What on earth are you talking about?"
"It's quite all right. The bathing 'pro.' told me it
was the suit Dowson wore. It's been burst by Pro-
fessor Dowson, and that makes it valuable."
Here Bat went under.
"Where are the ladies?" he said, sweeping back
his hair. "Are those they? Introduce me now, will
you?"
"Come along," I said, so we dived and swam under
water with hands linked, and came up like twins close
to the pair. It is impossible to be serious in the
water.
Bat, unable to forget his ill-fitting dress, of course
dragged in Dowson.
"Yes. T.'s quite right," he said, when I introduced
him, "it's me, but it's not my dress. It's the one
they got Professor Dowson down to stretch for them
last year, and he stretched it too far."
He and I went out to the deserted diving-boat, and,
on the far side of it, kicked off our costumes and
revelled in a swim as alone it can be fully enjoyed:
and that is mother naked, with one's clean, slick limbs
urging one forward in great bounds, and the water
gurgling at one's ear, racing over one's skin from
shoulder to heel, and nursing one secure in delicious
arms, while one's body tingles with vitality and the
sense of being. There was a moment when I could
have leaped from the water like a salmon. I felt I
CANON TABB MEETS BAT VERNON 167
was supreme and a man. I felt there was a woman
for me somewhere. But where? How glorious to
swim beside her and see her sunlit hair twisted up
dry upon her head, and the blue water crumbling
white against her neck and gushing over her soft
contours! And then to kiss her, all wet and laugh-
ing! I thought of Rachel, but she didn't quite fit,
somehow. She would be rather too solid and prosaic
though I do admire her most tremendously all the
same. What I seemed to want was a goddess. The
trouble is that hardly any woman is perfect. Many
are quite dazzling at first shock, but very soon one dis-
covers their blemishes. I don't like women who
wris^le, for one thing. Over the portal of my affec-
tions it is written : "Abandon wriggling, ye who'd enter
here."
Bat is the prettiest swimmer I know. He cuts the
water in long surges in which you will hardly trace
the moment of impulse. He makes so little disturb-
ance that the drops running from his fingers, as his
arm is raised and poised above the water, seem to
rebound from the glassy blue surface and ride away
like pearls upon a hard dry sea. He is one of those
men who can float only with difficulty, while I lie
out on the water on my chest like a frog.
The result of Bat's aquatic introduction was that
when we all met again on the beach it was as though
he had known Myra and Nita intimately for months.
I suppose that since he had seen them out of their
clothes they felt that their show was already given
168 THOMAS
away, and they made no attempt to engage him with
barricades up and all bunting flying, which is the
enigmatic way pretty women always seem to greet
the approach of a strange man. This was no doubt
Bat's idea when he plunged into the sea on top of
us. He is a knowing old bird a very thoughtful man
in his own way.
Bat, of course, played off Professor Dowson again
on Aunt Elizabeth at lunch. She had no sort of idea
what he was talking about, and this, as usual, de-
lighted Bat. He gets on splendidly with the old lady,
and she was all smiles and graces while he was with
us, and he did not shock her once, though this is a
thing I can hardly avoid doing from hour to hour.
We were a merry part at lunch, and a remark of
Myra's led us to the idea of giving up the after-
noon to a prawning expedition.
"The great thing in fishing for prawns," said Bat
oracularly, after a preliminary cough, "is to catch the
little beggars by the whiskers. All you want is a pair
of tongs. Then you are all right."
"I hope you play bridge, Mr. Vernon," said Aunt
Elizabeth. It appeared that she had invited the in-
cumbent of St. Audrey's to dinner.
"Mr. Tabb is the best bridge-player in Bourn-
combe," she said, shaking her finger at me, "so mind !"
"Tabb !" I said. "Is that Montague James Erasmus,
editor ot Tidds' Biblical Almanac?"
"I don't know anything about the almanac, but he
is a very clever person, so you had better be on your
CANON TABB MEETS BAT VERNON 169
best behavior, young man," Aunt Elizabeth admon-
ished me.
"Is he Canon Tabb of Tanbury?"
"Yes. He is taking Mr. Booth's place while he is
away on his holiday."
"By jove, it's the editor," I said, laughing. "Is
Mrs. Tabb coming too?"
Aunt E. did not reply for a moment. Then she
said in a low voice
"The Canon was not blessed in marriage. His wife
left him, poor man. She is doing typewriting in
America, they say."
"Ha, ha!" I cried triumphantly. "I should like to
meet Mrs. Tabb. She must be the right sort."
"Well, really, Thomas," complained the old lady,
"you have the most extraordinary manners of any-
one I know."
"But, my dear aunt," I assured her, "you'd laugh,
too, if you'd read his book on marriage. Nita," I
cried, "Canon Tabb, Professor of Matrimony, is com-
ing to dinner, so keep a long upper lip tonight, and
no laughing, please; and Myra, couldn't you raise a
red nose for the occasion and wear one of Nita's old
dresses inside out, and make Ferdinand brush his hair
well down into his eyes and look chastened? You
see," I explained to Aunt Elizabeth, "it would only be
kind to try and keep poor Mr. Tabb in countenance."
Aunt E. sighed and shrugged her shoulders, as she
does when she feels out of her depth, so I patted her
on the hand and told her it was all right.
170 THOMAS
After lunch, when Ferdinand, in his quiet way, had
gone off to arrange about the prawning gear, I told
Bat of Tabb's book.
"It's all very well," he said, "but he probably knows
his job a good deal better than you think. I've a
respect for the Church, and I can tell you that these
downy old boys make a very good thing out of it.
Your mother gave you the book; well, that was a
shilling for Tabb, and there are probably thousands
and thousands of mothers doing the same for their
sons and for Tabb, and Tabb, for all you know,
is feathering his nest very well."
"But it's the most horrible cant you ever read."
"Exactly," said Bat. "There's an enormous demand
for cant."
I fek stumped out, as I always do when Bat turns
on his worldly wisdom tap.
Just at this point Nita and Myra joined us, dressed
for prawning, each looking like the old lady of the
nursery rhyme after her engagement with the pedlar
named Stout ; and we all five of us packed down into
Susan and started off on our expedition ; the ladies in
their improvised prawning skirts and with bathing
shoes on their stockinged feet. It is wonderful how
enduring is the grace of a comely woman. I could see
that Nita filled Bat's eye, and I felt an uncle's pride in
her. In the course of the evening, after she sat
down in two feet of water, her appearance was even
improved.
Myra quickly retired up the beach after we started
CANON TABS MEETS BAT VERNON 171
fishing, where Ferinand soon joined her ; the explana-
tion offered was that Myra did not like crabs. Nita
stuck out the crabs all right, with the help of a few
screams in which Bat joined. There were certainly
plenty of crabs. If we had been out after crabs we
should have had nothing to complain of.
"You know," Bat told Nita, "you can't tickle prawns
as you can trout. The little blighters always tickle
you first and put you off the job. It's the same with
a crab. You can't tickle a crab, because the beggar
is much better at tickling than you are. You try it,
and you'll see what I mean."
However, we did not go back empty-handed. We
caught a prawn at last. We all caught him, but I
caught him most. It was in the excitement of this
chase that Nita met with her mishap.
We ran Nita home at once. As she stood in the
back of the car I could hear Bat complaining to
her.
"Look here, Mrs. Fargeon, you're dripping on me.
A- A- Ah! I say! Look out! you're making me all
damp! Why don't you sit down. These brine com-
presses are splendid things. They're all the rage just
now. It's a solemn fact. They'd charge you two
guineas in Harley Street for prescribing something
far inferior to what you've got on now."
Bat and I were standing together in the garden,
each with a gin and Vermouth as a whet for dinner,
when the parlormaid came unexpectedly to the draw-
172 THOMAS
ing-room window and told us that Canon Tabb had
arrived, and the next moment there he was, rubbing
his hands together under his chin with an action as
though he were washing them and gazing at us from
the hearth-rug. As we couldn't take the drinks into
the drawing-room I asked him to come outside. When
I invited him to have a cocktail, he threw up one
hand and turned his head aside with a sound resem-
bling a groan.
He is a tall, loosely built, drooping, shaven man,
with a very bald head bearing a long tuft of thin
sandy red hair on the center of the forehead, which
is brushed back in a sort of plume. He has a heavy
beaky nose and a long lip with a little rabbit chin
below, and eyes like oysters. Although slim, he has
an appearance, of excessive comfort about the waist,
and he calls to mind some unholy sort of bird. His
shoulders also are like a bird's. He is a man of fifty,
rather seamed about the face, but with a little color.
He looked from Bat to me over his eyeglasses while
he held his hands behind his back. He appeared so
exactly as though he were going to shake his head at
us and groan disapproval again, that if we had not
been laughing when he surprised us we should have
had some difficulty in avoiding an appearance of undue
gaiety. As it was, I am afraid we behaved rather
badly; but it is impossible to be serious when Bat
is feeling happy, and I was feeling happy too, and
the intrusion of the exotic Tabb at that moment was
more than our gravity could compass.
CANON TABB MEETS BAT VERNON 173
"Let me introduce my friend, Mr. Vernon," I said.
"Mr. Vernon is the captor of Edward. You have
perhaps read of his exploit in The Field, Canon
Tabb."
Tabb bowed.
"And this," said Bat, "is my friend, Mr. Alfred
Williams, of Hundred and Seventy-seven Tottenham
Court Road, Edinburgh, of whom you may have read
an account in today's paper."
"Mr. Tabb's name is no doubt familiar to you as
joint editor of Tidds' Biblical Almanac" I said to
Bat.
"Tidds!" exclaimed Bat. "I know Tidds' dog
biscuits, of course. They're famous all the world
over. Everyone knows Tidds."
"Totally different thing different firm altogether,"
said Tabb quickly.
"Well, anyhow, they're splendid things, those dog
biscuits," Bat went on, enthusiastically. "Do you
know," he said impressively, "that there's meat in
them! It's a solemn fact. They're most excellent
things. I'm sure you're to be congratulated, Canon
Tabb, whether it's the same firm or not."
At this moment Aunt Elizabeth's voice reached us
from the window : "Ah ! there you are !" Tabb crept
back into the room with a movement which was one
long-drawn obeisance, his shoulders drooping and his
coat hanging much longer in front than behind. Aunt
Elizabeth always warms up when a parson is within
her horizon, in fact she is never quite herself, I think,
174 THOMAS
unless one is at hand. The old lady actually sported
ear-rings in honor of the occasion, and had an effect
of white lace about her bust, and a brighter color
and a readier smile than usual. She is a grand old
dame, and Tabb looked a particularly gaunt and un-
wholesome object as he stood before her.
At dinner Tabb's demeanor was one of polite in-
difference to four of us, with a certain warmth of con-
descension towards Ferdinand. During the whole
time he sat with a distinct list in Aunt Elizabeth's
direction, and kept up a low-toned private conver-
sation with her in which she joined with an appearance
of even gaiety.
With the idea of making him leave go of Aunt
Elizabeth, and thaw him out, I said: "I hear you're
a bridge-player, Canon. Have you heard the story
of the curate who took a hand with his bishop?"
Tabb looked at me over his spectacles as if I
were a museum specimen of grave import. He never
looks over his glasses at Aunt Elizabeth, and not
always at Ferdinand, so I imagine that it is merely a
defensive habit.
"Well!" I said, addressing myself to Tabb, who
remained looking at me unwinkingly with the naked
oyster, "the curate was the new precentor, and the
bishop asked him to dinner. During dinner the bishop
asked his curate if he played cards, and the curate
answered 'Oh, yes. Ha! Ha!' But as the unfor-
tunate curate was suffering from nervousness and
replied 'Oh, yes. Ha ! Ha !' to everything the bishop
CANON TABB MEETS BAT VERNON 175
said to him, the bishop inquired a little sternly:
" 'Do you play bridge ?'
" 'Oh, yes ; at least, I haven't played a great deal,
but I've read a lot about it. Ha ! Ha !'
" 'Then you'd like to take a hand ?'
"'Oh, yes. Hal Ha!'
"When they went into the drawing-room the tables
were got ready and the bishop and the curate sat at
the same table and were cut for partners."
"Now this is the bit that wants following closely,"
I warned the company.
"The dealer who was on the left of the curate
declared 'No trumps/
"The bishop doubled and led the ace of hearts.
"Dummy played the four of hearts, and
"The curate threw the ace of clubs and cried
'SNAP.' "
Nita and Myra laughed, and Tabb looked repeat-
edly from one to the other over his glasses, as though
he were comparing them; then he looked in turn
at Bat, at me, and at Ferdinand ; and last he lifted his
head and looked at Aunt Elizabeth, and then slowly
responded to the amusement in her face with a pursed
smile.
"Really, these young people are so ridiculous," said
Aunt Elizabeth, "that they make one laugh in spite
of oneself."
After the ladies left the table, Bat opened the
conversation by telling Tabb we had been prawn
fishing, and developed his theories on prawning; and
176 THOMAS
then, finding that Tabb had a distant interest in fly-
fishing, he gave him a playful account of the capture
of Edward and of the style of fishing he himself
favored, and the flies he liked best. Tabb listened
to all this with his elbow on the table, his face resting
on the palm of his hand, and his expressionless eyes
fixed on the speaker.
A footstep was heard on the gravel, and Ferdinand
went to the window and then vanished into the night.
Tabb stared round after him and then turned and
pillowed his head on his hand again.
"Mr. Wilson is responding to the call of the wild,"
I said to Tabb. "He is very sensible of the charms of
darkness just now."
"It's a queer thing, you know," said Bat, "but a
woman is always most appealing when you can't see
her. Haven't you noticed it ?" he asked Tabb. "That's
why they cover themselves with big hats, and fluff
out their hair, and peep at you through a veil with
one eye, from a mass of fur or feathers. They're
all quite irresistible when they do that. Don't you
think so?"
"I don't agree with you," I said. "You're leaving
out the spiritual appeal. The less graceful, the more
gawky, ill-dressed, and ugly a woman is, the more
readily she kindles the flame of spiritual exaltation.
All flesh is vile. It ruins the spiritual significance of
the dual state. Is it not so, Canon?"
"It depends entirely where it is, whether it is vile
or not," said Bat. "That's just what you fellows
CANON TABB MEETS BAT VERNON 177
can never understand. If you mean on the ankles,
I entirely agree with you; I can't endure a girl with
her calves running down into her shoes; but upon
the shoulders, for instance. No ! no ! There's nothing
vile about it then. Quite the reverse."
Tabb stirred in his chair and sat back with his
hands resting on the table before him, and quite forgot
to look over the top of his glasses.
"You entirely misunderstand me in supposing that
I used the word as a butcher would," I replied. "You
talk like a pagan. There is no credit in admiring an
athletic man or a beautiful woman. That's what the
ancient Greeks did. Have you forgotten all about
the holy men in the Middle Ages who lived in sties,
or holes in the ground, starving on offal; and who
remained unwashed and crawled over by vermin all
their lives to prove, by actual example, that the Greek
ideal was unworthy? There is no credit whatever in
being alive to the appeals of physical perfection. Even
a bullock knows a pretty cow when he sees one. The
supreme attainment of humanity is to find affinity,
through pity and sorrow, in ugliness, incompetence,
dirt, and disease; when you have achieved that, my
boy, you will be in a position to boast, and not before.
Am I not right, Canon?"
"In principle, yes, Mr. er " said Tabb, halting
for my name, "but the manner in which you ah
expressed yourself would be considered in the sphere
in which my own humble lot is cast as, if I may say
so, infelicitous: your illustrations were unusual ah
178 THOMAS
quite unconventional; unconventional. It was only
last month that I had occasion to remind a very
dear friend of mine, now, I regret to say, slowly re-
covering from a dangerous illness endured with
exemplary fortitude, that, alas! it is not meant that
we should regard our ideals as practical aspirations ;
and this dear friend replied," Tabb went on, smiling
bemused at his glasses which he was dangling before
his nose, "in words which I shall never forget, 'My
dear Canon, I am grateful now, as ever, for the quick-
ening lucidity of your mind, 'quickening lucidity'
quite admirably expressed, I think." He glanced at
us.
"Quite! and I, too, entirely agree with you, Canon
Tabb," said Bat. "No one can apply ideals, and that's
why I don't try. I like girls to be nice and plump,
but slim and fairly tall ; not too young, and, for pref-
erence, fair ; bright, and good dressers, and thoroughly
conscious of the appeals they make, with a bit of
money of their own, and lots and lots of them. Then
I begin to think of marriage. But I tell you what it
is I like 'em dainty. I do. Nothing's too dainty for
me. I nearly got caught once," he went on confi-
dentially to Tabb, who had again put his arm on the
table and pillowed his head, and was gazing wearily
at Bat with the naked oyster as before. "I had quite
met my fate, as I thought. I was just taking a last
hasty look round calling about everywhere to make
sure I had not overlooked anything, and having a last
look at all the other ones so as to be sure I hadn't
CANON TABB MEETS BAT VERNON 179
made a mistake about any of them before. I finally
committed myself when it happened! But it was
only a last precaution, you must understand. I had
quite made up my mind that it was all right.
"Well, it was like this you don't mind my telling
you, do you? Well, you see, we were in a garden.
There was a garden party going on you know the
idea. We were in a remote shrubbery out of view,
and she suddenly noticed that a lace trimming inside
her skirt had come loose and was hanging down in
one place. I was able to produce a pin, but she stooped
down; tore the whole thing out; crushed it into a
ball, and threw it away out of sight among *the
bushes."
He stopped.
"Well, what then?" I asked.
"Well! Then it was all over," said Bat. There
was another pause.
"Tell me"? asked Tabb, sitting up again. "Why
did the incident you describe affect your intentions
towards the young lady ?"
"It wasn't being dainty," said Bat.
Tabb cast down his eyes and slowly shook his
head, while a smothered groan escaped him.
"But I'll tell you what it is," Bat went on, "there's
one thing that is wrong with all of them ; have you
noticed, Canon, that no woman is long enough in the
leg? There never was a woman whose legs were
the proper length. And they all know it. They do.
That's why they wear high heels and deceptive waists,
180 THOMAS
and stand on a book when they are photographed in
their Court dresses. Even the great hotel and rail-
way companies play up to it, and try to get their
barmaids to look right. Have you ever noticed,
Canon, that they make the floor behind the bar three
or four inches higher than the level we stand on?
Well, its a fact. They do it on purpose. That's how
it is they get us on."
Tabb had not appeared to be listening while Bat
was speaking. He was making circles on the cloth
with the foot of his wineglass. Directly Bat stopped
he broke in.
"I will tell you a beautiful experience of my own,"
he said, "among many, many such experiences which
I have exp to which I have been subject, and
which illustrates the spiritual significance of the dual
state to which Mr. Quinn has referred. One of my
poor people, a woman of my parish, became engaged
to a young man from a neighboring parish. He was a
young man who was highly spoken of by the rector
of that parish ; and he employed himself humbly with
a little cart, to which he harnessed his ass; and he
and his ass from day to day collected rags, and bones,
and disused bottles, and the sustenance of pigs, and
whatnot from the houses of the rich, and by so doing
preserved what might otherwise have been wasted.
On Sundays he helped the clerk, and rang the bell,
and I do not doubt that if Providence had so willed
he would now be holding the position of clerk in the
parish, in which he had been born, and in which he
CANON TABB MEETS BAT VERNON 181
had spent so many happy and fruitful years years
not only of piety but of material welfare. Well, this
poor young man, as the day of his nuptials approached,
found himself becoming gradually afflicted with
carbuncles "
"Look here," said Ferdinand suddenly from the
window, "the ladies say you've got to come and play
bridge."
Bat and I started up from our chairs with alacrity,
so that I cannot say what Tabb's beautiful experience
with the afflicted scavenger actually was.
When we gained the drawing-room we found the
table set for cards and Nita, especially, in very high
feather. To calm her down a bfty I tucked the joker
into the back of her dress so adroitly, and at such a
moment, that it looked as though Tabb had done it,
and I had the pleasure of watching his face when he
unexpectedly met Nita's swift flashing glance of ques-
tioning astonishment. I won't attempt to describe it,
but it persuaded me that Tabb is not such an old sheep
as he makes out.
Nita and I were partners against Tabb and Myra.
Bat sat out and entertained Aunt Elizabeth, while
Ferdinand took up a position behind Myra and glowed
in her radiance while he pretended to watch her play.
Nita dealt the first hand, laughing and talking the
while, and then cheerfully asked us to count our
cards.
"Twelve," I announced. "How many have you,
Mr. Tabb?"
182 THOMAS
"My hand is correct," said Tabb.
"I've only got ten," cried Nita. "There must be
some missing."
"No, it's all right," Myra exclaimed; "I've got
seventeen. It's only a misdeal."
So Nita had another try and we all watched her,
and she did it very nicely. As I shuffled the pack I
was tempted by Tabb's weighty demeanor to test his
reputation as the best bridge-player in Bourncombe.
Nothing particular happened until the fourth hand
had been played, when it was observed that Tabb was
in difficulties in counting the tricks. They were on
the table before him but, do what he would, he could
not make seven and five total thirteen. Two hands
earlier he had been content to count his own tricks
only ; but now he handled and examined all the tricks,
and finally he counted the pack and found that there
were only forty-eight cards. I then took the four
queens out of my pocket and gave them to him.
Tabb couldn't see the joke. The only effect upon
him was that he became pensive, like a bird with in-
digestion. Nita kept me in countenance by laughing
so uproariously that Aunt Elizabeth began to grow
restive in her chair. It is not the first time that I
have taken the queens out of the pack, as Nita is
aware, and she is also aware that no one ever misses
them.
All Tabb said was:
"Tell me ? Were the queens missing when the pack
was dealt before?"
CANON TABB MEETS BAT VERNON
I had to inform him they were.
After that we settled down, for it was evident that
Aunt Elizabeth was a little vexed at what was going
on. Tabb played a sound game, but he has an annoy-
ing way, when he is third or fourth player, of naming,
under his breath, the card he has got to beat, before
referring to his own hand.
We won the first rubber, and then Bat took Myra's
place. The principle of Bat's game is to lose, as soon
as possible, every trick he thinks he has got to lose,
so as to be able to throw down a string of best cards
with a flourish at the end. This often costs him dear,
but he can't play a bit, anyhow, and doesn't want to
learn.
He pffered to explain to us what the lady in
Collier's picture "The Cheat" had done in order to
justify the painting, which shows a bridge-table, and
one player in the act of challenging another, who is
guilty We none of us knew what was intended, but
Bat explained.
"It's quite simple," he said. "What the beggars
do is to secretly substitute a winning card drawn from
the tricks on the table, for a worthless card, and to
play it again."
Tabb could not follow this, so Bat offered to
"teach him how to do it," and the cards were dealt
round. With much fumbling and by dint of draw-
ing away our attention by saying "What's that
on the wall over there," and so on, he managed to take-
two tricks with the ace of diamonds, and three with
184 THOMAS
the ace of clubs, and seemed much delighted.
Tabb was still not satisfied. "But I perceived what
you were doing," he protested.
"Exactly," said Bat. "I told you I was going to
cheat. You were on the look-out. These people in
fast society don't tell you beforehand, mind that.
They just cheat you and bolt."
"It seems incredible," said Tabb, "that it should
not be remarked when the ace of clubs is played three
times by the same player from the one hand."
"It's no more remarkable than that it was not
noticed just now that all the queens were missing.
Besides, you can always pass a winning card under
the table, Canon, and let your partner have a turn
with it. Of course they are found out sometimes,
or we should not know they do it, and Mr. Collier
would not be able to paint them at the job."
Tabb seemed puzzled but not convinced.
"Have you seen this card trick?" said Bat. And
he began a simple little card trick, popular with
children, in which knaves, queens and kings after being
"put to bed" promiscuously are found, when the pack
has been manipulated and cut, in their respective
downies.
Tabb, however, in spite of Bat's attempts to hold
him, looked at his watch, and then withdrew and
engaged Aunt Elizabeth in conversation. Shortly
afterwards he bowed himself out.
Aunt Elizabeth is, I am afraid, annoyed with us,
but I don't see why she should put it all on me.
CANON TABB MEETS BAT VERNON 185
She says I am one of the family, and should try to
make her guests feel at home. That, however, is
Ferdinand's job; besides, I cannot help Tabb being
so ridiculous. It was all pure fun, and one must
have a bit of fun sometimes. If Tabb had ruled
the roost it would have been a horribly dull evening,
and Aunt Elizabeth would then have got at me from
the other side, I suppose. Nita did not seem to think
anything of it though she kept a long face when Aunt
Elizabeth was letting fly at me.
CHAPTER XI
MODESTY REWARDED
A DAY or two after the Monday morning when
I saw Bat into the London train, Nita and I
were sitting on the beach, trying which of us could
make the highest pile by building single stones one
on top of another, when a shadow fell upon our labors,
and I heard a voice say:
"That's him."
I looked up and saw two men standing before
us. The taller of the two, who had spoken, and who
nudged the air in my direction, was a stranger to me.
The face of the shorter man seemed familiar, how-
ever, and a moment later I realized that I was con-
fronted by Mr. Bert Sutherland. He was dressed
in rather dirty white flannels ; blacked boots ; a double-
breasted blue cheviot coat; pink satin tie; wore a
buff -colored Homburgh hat with a broad blue ribbon,
and carried a very long crook-handled walking-stick
with a chased gold band. In his other hand he held a
large white envelope.
"Am I to understand that I am addressing the
gentleman to whom I owe the preservatidh of my
life?" he asked, advancing.
186
MODESTY REWARDED 187
I hardly knew what to say. The situation was
ridiculous, and I felt Nita to be all ears.
"That's him right enough," said the companion, who
had closed up and was picking a bit of seaweed to
pieces in his fingers as he looked at me seriously.
"I pulled you out the other day if that's what you
mean," I said. "I hope you are none the worse."
"I hardly know how to thank you, sir. I went
to the 'Grand,' but there's some mistake, for they
said you were not staying there ; and I've been to
some other hotels too. But this gentleman said he'd
seen you down here of a morning, so now I've found
you."
"That's all right," I said. "I hope you're quite fit
again."
"I shouldn't be if it wasn't for you. I'm proud to
be a Briton and an Englishman like you. I don't
know what happened myself, but they told me how
you behaved. I call it heroic. It's my idea of a
gentleman. I think you ought to have a presentation
saving me like that. I can't say what I feel. I want
you to be on the free list. There's a box for you
whenever you like to ask for it. Inquire for Mr.
Graham Dennis at the Box Office, he will look after
you. I've made it all right with him, so don't worry.
I hope you'll come and bring your friends," he looked
towards Nita. "And if you will all come round behind
after the second act, it will make us proud and Miss
Alexander too. My heart is too full for words, and
as the poet says, 'It's a full heart that never rejoices/
188 THOMAS
and it makes me feel serious all the time. I'm sure
the whole company is indebted to you. I want you
to accept this photograph as a poor return for the
service you have rendered me, and I hope you will
remember it always."
As he spoke he took a very large photograph out
of the envelope and handed it to me. It represented
the speaker dressed in new clothes, with his hair
brushed to perfection, standing among rich furniture
with an earnest, fixed expression, as though he had
been stuffed for exhibition.
Across the lower right-hand corner an inscription
had been written in bold unflinching characters :
"Presented by Bert Sutherland of the Marguerite
Light Opera Company (Rosey Posey Limited) with
heartfelt thanks to his preserver, Alfred Williams,
Esqre."
I looked at the photograph and thanked Mr. Suth-
erland, and he handed me the envelope. I was glad
he had not left any of the talking to me.
"Might I request a reciprocal gift of your photo,
sir?"
"I'm afraid I haven't got any," I said.
"Perhaps you will be able to send one. I should
take it kindly, sir. If you address to the agency men-
tioned on this card, it will always find me."
"Right. I'll note it," I said.
It was extremely awkward that Nita should over-
hear everything. It made me feel such an ass. I
was thankful when Mr. Sutherland, with many bows
MODESTY REWARDED 189
to Nita and farewell salutations to me, moved away
with his friend.
I never felt such a fool in my life as I did when
he left us. I knew Nita was staring at me. I was
so ashamed that when I tried to look at her I couldn't.
Suddenly she jumped up and hurried after the two
men, and engaged them in conversation. I could see
the friend, excited by Mr. Sutherland's gesticulations,
bound on to the stage, thrust the chief performer aside,
and give a display in pantomime with such energy
that it was afterwards necessary for him to mop his
forehead. At one moment it looked as though Nita
might become caught in the vortex of his enthusiasm
and receive some hurt.
It was five minutes before Mr. Sutherland and his
friend walked away. Nita rejoined me pensively
where I was digging in the shingle with my hands.
She sat down beside me without a word, while I
worked away.
When at last I glanced up at her it was to find
her looking at me with a tooth on her lip and eyes
that were brimming with tears.
"What on earth's the matter with you," I said.
"You're as bad as Myra."
It is the first time I ever saw Nita angry. I
couldn't have believed it. Her whole face changed;
her eyes drank back their tears instantly and blazed
at me. As I recall her she looked rather fine, but
one felt one had to be careful. She did not raise
her voice, it seemed toneless. I can see her now
190 THOMAS
striking her knee with the fist clenched and her thumb
sticking out in the ridiculous way women do it.
"I'm not," she said. "I'm not. How dare you
say a thing like that to me. As if I cared a fig about
you and your affectations. I was thinking of that
poor man; perhaps he's married he might have
been drowned if And: Why, what are you do-
ing?" she exclaimed with a change of tone.
"Burying Bert," I said as I pressed the wretched
photograph into the hole and began to rake sand
and shingle over it.
"You're not to you mustn't," cried Nita. She fell
forward on her knees and began digging with her
hands. She was as active as a cat. I tried to fill
up, but she forced her hand down and got hold of
the photograph, and I did too. It began to tear. Nita
was beside herself. She seemed to sob. I had to
leave go, and when she had the thing safe she
scrambled wildly up the beach with it like an animal,
as though she thought I was going to run after her
and take it away. It was all most annoying and
humiliating. I began to feel angry. I saw her go
up to where Aunt Elizabeth was sitting, and hide the
photograph away among the bathing things. Then
she came back to me and sat down.
"I feel perfectly ashamed of you," she began. "And
look here, Thomas, you've got to send that poor man
your photograph, do you hear."
"I can hear," I said ; "but I won't send it."
"You must," said Nita. "If you don't I shall give
MODESTY REWARDED 191
him the one Aunt Elizabeth I shall ask your mother
for one and send it to him myself, so there, Mr.
Thomas."
All the stuffing seemed to go out of Nita all of a
sudden and she got pink.
"What's the matter now," I said. "You're blush-
ing. What's Aunt Elizabeth got to do with my photo-
graphs ?"
"She hasn't anything to do with them, and I'm
sure I don't want any of them ; looking so solemn
and important in them and thinking yourself such
a fine fellow, and snubbing that poor man who was
trying his best to thank you for saving his life. Who
are you that you should save people's lives and then
put on a pose as though you were ashamed of having
done it. I hate men who are self-conscious and
affected. They are not men at all. That poor Mr.
Sutherland is twice the man you are. He is a human
being at any rate."
I felt I had been punished enough, one way and
another, for pulling the blighter out of the water,
so I got up and left Nita to talk to herself if she
wanted to hear her own voice.
As I stood I said: "Well, you've taught me one
lesson at any rate. Just go in now, and begin to
drown, and see if I will pull you out. I shall just
sit up there talking to Aunt Elizabeth as if nothing
was happening."
As I chatted with Aunt Elizabeth I could see Nita
supporting herself with one arm, while with the other
192 THOMAS
she tossed pebbles down the beach; and so she re-
mained for nearly half an hour, until Aunt Elizabeth
asked me to call to her that it was time to go home.
I can't understand the woman. There must be
something wrong with her. She was rather flushed
at lunch and hardly spoke, and once, I declare, was
nearly in tears again.
After lunch she came to me quietly in the garden
and said softly, "Here you are, Thomas," and
handed me the detested envelope with the torn edge.
"Thanks," I said.
"What are you going to do with it?"
"Bury it."
Nita cast her eyes to the ground in silence.
"What else can I do," I wailed. "Do you expect
me to frame the wretched thing, or wear it round
my neck like an order? What can I do with it? If
I hide it, some one will find it. If I lock it away, it
will be dragged out after I am dead, or I shall forget
it and come upon it unawares and have a fit. How
can I do anything with it but destroy it?"
Nita had nothing to say.
"Now look here, Nita, you haven't been very nice
to me today," I went on; "you shall be parson and
crumble the earth, while I do the sexton's job."
Nita smiled faintly and we went round beyond
the shrubbery, and I got a trowel from the potting
shed. Just as I was beginning to dig, Nita exclaimed :
"Oh, don't bury it, Thomas, you'll spoil it! Do
let me keep it."
MODESTY REWARDED 193
"Well, you really are the most ridiculous girl I
ever heard of. What perfect folly ! Keep it ! You'll
compromise yourself dragging about a photograph the
size of a chess-board with you wherever you go. The
thing's impossible. It must be destroyed."
"No, no," pleaded Nita. "Not yet. Let me keep
it; for a little."
She appeared to clasp the thing in her arms as
she spoke.
"But what do you want to do with it?"
"Only keep it."
"Keep it!"
"Yes, Thomas, that's all."
"Well," I sighed in utter perplexity, "I suppose I
shall have to agree, but you must lock it up and not
show it to a soul: promise?"
"All right," said Nita, in a very doubtful voice,
"Why! What's the matter now?"
"Well, will you let me show it to Myra?"
"No, I will not. It's too bad of you trying to
make a fool of me like this. It must go to its
funeral. You will show it to my mother, and I
shall be obliged to fly the country."
"No, no. Never to her, Thomas," Nita said
earnestly.
"It won't do, old girl. It must be buried. So
come on. Be nice and help me. Why don't you
ask Bert to inscribe one of his photographs for you?
He'd do it like a shot."
So we buried Bert and trod him well down, and
194 THOMAS
smoothed the earth over him and left him to rot.
"Feel better?" I asked her as we walked away.
But Nita made no reply.
There is no release from Mr. Sutherland for me.
At the end of the week Ferdinand handed me a
copy of the Bourncombe Advertiser, and pointed to a
paragraph.
"Read that," he said with a grin.
"THE MODESTY OF VALOR
LOCAL HEHOISM BY A BOURNCOMBE GENTLEMAN
'TOO MODEST BY HALF*
The act of local heroism which we reported in our last
issue and by which the life of Mr. Bert Sutherland has
been preserved to the Marguerite Light Opera Com-
pany, gives an interesting example of what has been so
aptly described as the 'Modesty of Valor.' It appears
that the gentleman who rescued Mr. Bert Sutherland
at the risk of his own life, and who led our representa-
tive to understand that his name was Alfred Williams,
Esq., of Edinburgh, a visitor at the Grand Hotel, proves
to be none other than Mr. Thomas Alphonse Grinn, a
nephew of Lady Wilson, relic of the late General Sir
Edward Wilson, K.C.B., who resides at the Pond House,
Pond Lane, Old Town. We owe this information to
Mr. Bert Sutherland himself who has been indefatigable
in tracking down his preserver. Mr. Grinn is to be con-
gratulated on his manly British qualities, and we are
glad that we may claim him as a resident and add his
name to the long list of local heroes of which Bourn-
combe is so justly proud."
MODESTY REWARDED 195
While I was reading the stuff Myra joined us with
rather a subdued air.
"We'd better not let Aunt Elizabeth see this," I
said as I finished.
"She has seen it," said Myra. "The cook showed
it to her. No, don't go in to her now," she con-
tinued, detaining me. "She's very much upset. But
it's all right. Nita is with her."
"Nita!" I cried. "Why the whole thing is Nita's
doing! If it had not been for her, no one need
have known anything about it. I'll never pull any-
one out of the water again. A fellow like this
Sutherland ought to be drowned. It's what the sea
is for."
I was thoroughly annoyed, I admit.
"But why is Aunt Elizabeth upset?" I asked. "She
would naturally be vexed; but there's no reason why
she should be upset."
"She doesn't like being called a relic," said Myra
gravely.
We looked at each other with blank faces.
"By Jove!" I exclaimed as an idea struck me, "I
can get a little bit back anyhow" and I went to the
writing-table and wrote as follows:
"POND HOUSE,
OLD TOWN.
To the Editor,
The Bourncombe Advertiser.
SIR,
As you consider that I am not entitled to the
196 THOMAS
anonymity I thought I might venture to claim in a
private matter which concerned no one but Mr. Bert
Sutherland and myself, may I express the hope that
Bourncombe Residents and Visitors will acclaim your
announcement that I am 'too modest by half,' and
that they will not allow their own modesty to inter-
fere with the early return to me of my watch, watch-
chain and pencil-case, and three pounds ten in gold,
which disappeared from the pockets of my waistcoat
while I was advertising myself in the sea?
Your obedient Servant,
T. ALPHONSE GRINN."
It is not often one has a chance of insulting a
whole town at one go, and I felt much nicer after
writing the letter. It was duly published but I never
got back my property, although I had previously put
the police on the track of it.
As I rose from the table Nita came in.
"She's better now. It's best to leave her alone,"
she said as I left the room.
When I reached the drawing-room I found the
dear old soul crouching in a chair. She tried to pull
herself together when I came in, and I sat down
beside her and made love to her. She likes it.
"I never thought I should live to be called a 'relic'
in a newspaper," she murmured while she dabbed her
handkerchief to her eyes.
"They mean relict," I said ; "everyone will under-
stand that. It's quite a different thing. It's a legal
MODESTY REWARDED 197
term like spinster, only much nicer. It's a great
compliment to be called a relict."
"And to call him Sir Edward 1" she complained.
"As if everyone did not know his name. The dear
General! Is this his country's gratitude to him, after
fourteen medals and the White Elephant of Siam?""
"The paper's an absurdity," I said. "No one ever
bothers about what it says."
"And why do they call you Mr. Grinn?" Aunt
Elizabeth asked me indignantly. "I never heard such
a name. I'm sure no sister of mine would have mar-
ried a man with a name like that. Grinn indeed !' r
"Well," I said, "it's not my doing. If it hadn't
been for Nita no one would have known anything;
about it."
"But you saved this Mr. Bert Sutherland from the
sea?"
"Oh yes, I pulled him out."
"I wish you would let other people do these things,""
the old lady complained gently. "It's so very un-
pleasant getting into the papers, and being told one
is a relic with a nephew named Grinn really I don't
know what things are coming to."
"It's annoying," I said, "and I'm sure everyone will
be very sorry for you."
"But I don't want anyone to be sorry for me,' r
whimpered Aunt Elizabeth, again overcome.
We had a dreary tea. Nita tried to be playful but
I would not respond.
I got away with a book into the garden as soon
198 THOMAS
as I could. Soon afterwards Nita came out and began
picking flowers. As she drifted casually down in my
direction I watched her. She is a graceful creature,
when one comes to think of it. One can readily
understand poor old Bill going crazy over her. I
think her special charm is her intense femininity. All
her lines are fine and delicate and she stands like an
arrow, or like one of those girls, in pictures, carrying
vases on their heads. But she is not angular. She
flows all over in soft curves when she moves. I
watched her as she reached for rose blooms high on
the wall, and stood poised for a moment as she listened
to something Myra said to her from the open window.
I was very much annoyed with her, but it was im-
possible to feel angry with anything so pretty and
so gracious. I meant to have it out with her how-
ever, and I did not enjoy the prospect; yet it was
somehow a pleasure to feel she was coming nearer
and nearer. There is something appealing in all
women to me: when they have charm, I mean. I
was perfectly aware that Nita knew what she was
in for, and that this flower-picking business was her
dodge for sidling up to me. I felt I should like to
take her and give her two slaps, like a child, and
then kiss her and forget all about it, and go on as if
nothing had happened.
She knew I was looking at her: I meant her to
know; but she pretended to be absorbed in making
her nosegay. Then she suddenly turned and beamed
on me like the little rogue she is.
MODESTY REWARDED 199
"Come here," I said.
She took no notice for a minute, but seemed intent
on completing her posy. Then she sat down on the
seat beside me and began coaxing and arranging the
blossoms in her hand.
It was quite pleasant, somehow, having her there.
I never quite realized till that moment what an ap-
pealing sort of woman Nita is. The sunlight hummed
with life and slanted in upon her as she sat under
the tree; and was reflected from the crimson roses
to tint her face, while she was bathed in their scent.
I could not feel vexed with such a pretty picture.
She knew exactly what was passing in my mind, I
swear, as she pulled the blooms into place with a great
show of preoccupation while I gazed at her.
"Nita," I said, "why don't you get married?"
"Oh, I've had enough of being married!" said she
without looking up.
"Bosh ! Dont you believe that ; and don't be down-
hearted."
"No one will have me," she smiled at her flowers.
"That's bosh too; you're fishing for compliments.
I know half a dozen."
"Well, I don't want to be, and that's my business,
so don*t be cheeky, Mr. Thomas. Perhaps the right
man hasn't come my way yet."
"How would Bat do? His engagement is off, he
tells me."
Nita burst out laughing.
"Oh dear!" she said.
200 THOMAS
"Well now! Why not?"
"Why," said Nita, "as soon as he married me
he'd be off after somebody else that's why. He even
began making up to Myra. He quite annoyed her. I
was too many for him," she laughed.
"That's only Bat's fun," I said. "It amuses him."
"Well, it didn't amuse Myra one bit, and I like
wen"
"Don't be down on Bat," I said. "He's a dear
old thing: one of the very best. I suppose your stand-
ard of manhood has risen since your acquaintance
with Mr. Bert Sutherland."
"Don't be spiteful," Nita rejoined. "And remem-
ber you've got to send him one of your photographs
or I shall be very much annoyed with you."
"I don't care a fig whether you're annoyed with
me or not; but I've got something io say to you,
lady I want you to drop this sort of possessive
attitude you've taken up of late. We've been good
pals, but I don't know why you should act as if I
ought to be, and behave, just as you think. I never
saw such a woman. You're only a kind of step-niece,
and yet if you were my elder sister you could not
assume more t /ourself. I'm getting fed up with it.
You seem to forget, too, that you're extremely rude
sometimes."
"I don't mean to be, Thomas. It's because I speak
without thinking. I'm always very sorry after-
wards."
"Yes, all right ; but you go on doing what I object
MODESTY REWARDED 201
to, and interfere in things that are no sort of con-
cern of yours. Look what an upset you've brought
about with this paragraph in the paper."
"It's not my fault," said Nita pleadingly. "I
couldn't stand by and see that poor man made ridicu-
lous. Alfred Williams indeed! Besides, I gave him
your name quite right and he wrote it down, and I
told him 'Edmund' and not Edward'; and as for
'relict' I never use the word."
"It was obliging of you to make the most of the
Alphonse, when you know I detest the name and
always sink it."
"You're the vainest man I ever met," said Nita.
"You're even ashamed of your own name. Why
don't you call yourself 'Dante Gabriel' or something,
and have done with it ? I am not responsible for your
name."
"Well," I said, "I've given you fair warning, so
look out."
"Look out for what?"
"What will happen if you don't change your
tactics."
"Tactics! What do you mean by 'tactics'? How
dare you say a thing like that !"
Her eyes blazed at me. Then she turned away
and looked straight in front of her for a moment
with a wild terrified expression. Suddenly, she got
up and hurried away to the house. As she rose, I
heard her say under her breath : "I hate you."
I was absolutely taken aback. I sat as she left me
202 THOMAS
and felt numb and sick. The girl must be going
crazy. What had I said? Nothing at all; I had
uttered nothing but a mild, reasoned protest. It was
much less than what I had intended to say.
And all this bother has come about from my pulling
a fellow out of the water who was drowning because
he pretended to be able to swim when he couldn't.
If I see Mr. Bert Sutherland I feel I shall let my-
self go, and give him a swift kick such as will keep
him out of the cast of Rosey Posey Limited for
reasons that he will not feel inclined to advertise.
The fellow, I notice, is represented all over the town
by colored posters of some other actor wrapped in a
blanket, and squinting down his nose at a banana held
in the mouth, which he is trying to light at a carrot.
I had no right to interfere with the provisions of the
great unknown which had decreed that it was fitting
he should die by his own folly. I admit my error.
I will make any reparation in my power when oppor-
tunity arises, and it will be an unlucky day for Mr.
Bert Sutherland when he meets me anywhere alone
in the dark. That is how I feel about the matter at
this moment.
However, I shall probably never see him again,
as I have told Aunt Elizabeth I must be off to pay
outstanding visits tomorrow. I can't face any more
of the racket. My holiday is being quite spoiled.
Nita left her flowers on the seat, and I carried them
in and gave them to her. She took them without a
word. She looked pale.
SINGE WATERBURY'S WAY 203
She appeared at supper after we were all seated.
She was in the blues and no mistake about it. When
Ferdinand and I went to the drawing-room after our
smoke, she was not there. Myra explained that she
had letters to write, but she did not appear again.
CHAPTER XII
SINGE WATERBURY'S WAY
THIS morning, before I left, I got a letter from
my mother.
"My own dear Son," she begins. She addresses me
in this form, I always think, with the idea of dis-
guising from herself that I am not her son.
"Mv OWN DEAR SON,
You will be glad, I know, to hear that Mrs.
Graham has written to say how delighted they all
were with your visit, and she is most anxious you
should go and stay ? at Hildon again before your
holiday ends. Of course, I wrote and told her that
I knew you would be only too delighted, so be sure
and write to let her know when to expect you."
After touching on one or two home matters the
letter ends : "P. S. Have you read of Miss Padlow's
engagement ! ! ! "
My mother certainly writes teasing letters. I sup-
pose that repeated touches in the same nerve make
204
SINGE WATERBURY'S WAY 205
me sensitive: certainly, after reading this over, I
felt like a horse maddened by the spur; and yet I
know that my mother's intention is to make an in-
sensible appeal, merely, which shall quicken my aspira-
tions and render it easy for me to accept Mrs. Gra-
ham's hospitality. It seems to me that she might
as well try to make a shy dog fond of the water by
repeatedly throwing him into the sea. No one would
trouble to tell me of Miss Padlow's engagement, and
Mrs. Graham certainly did not write in such terms
as those in which my mother expresses her.
Another letter I got this morning was the Double
Minute from the office, this time correctly filled in,
and it is beside me now completed, with "observa-
tions" explaining my prolonged absence. My
observations don't read as plausibly as I could wish.
The diction demanded in official comunications makes
it difficult to present one's arguments attractively.
"I have, further, the honor to acquaint you," I
write, "that Bank Holiday, falling within the term
of my leave, has been deducted by me, as the day
is a public holiday enforceable by law, and pre-
sumably, cannot be included as one of those working
days in respect of which my leave is to be computed."
There is going to be a row, I'm afraid ; but, any-
how, they can't make it a serious matter, as I was
careful to follow strictly the letter of the rules. It's
the wording of the rules that is at fault, and not
me.
Yet a third letter I had this morning, but it did
206 THOMAS
not come by post. It was handed me privately by
Myra, who looked at me with great glowing eyes as
she gave it to me, and asked me not to open it till
I had left Bourncombe. Myra has gradually worked
up to the point of treating me like a son. She was
warm and intimate in her farewell. It was as though
there were some special ground for a confidential
understanding between us. Aunt Elizabeth grunted
her salutations and told me to mind and not run into
the ditch. She thinks it her duty to find pretext for
shaking a warning finger at me on all conspicuous
occasions. Nita gave me a rather careless good-bye.
The first thing Susan did when we got clear of the
place was to drop her silencer, so that it dragged on
the road. She did it right in front of a Daimlerful
of theatrical ladies, with a "golliwog" on the radiator
cap, and I never felt more ashamed in all my life.
Susan looks rather a little frump beside these great
glittering modern cars. In order to appreciate her
properly you want to see her alone.
I slung the silencer up with wire and then got out
Myra's letter: "Mv DEAR COUSIN THOMAS," writes
the forward girl, "I think you ought to know that
Nita is very much troubled at something that passed
between you the other evening. She seems to be
more sorry for her own part in it than vexed with
you, but I think that you must, unintentionally, have
hurt her feelings in some way. She is such a dear,
and I am so fond of her, that I am sure you will
not mind my writing to you. I need hardly say
SINGE WATERBURY'S WAY 207
that Nita has no idea of what I am doing, and would
be annoyed with me if she knew. She has not many
friends in England, and, naturally, values your friend-
ship, as I happen to know.
Ever yours sincerely,
M. H."
The way women write letters, that have absolutely
no point whatever, is extraordinary. I couldn't make
head or tail of this one; it did not tell me anything
nor ask anything of me. If Nita is in the dumps it is
her own fault, but I am not able to write and tell her
so, and cheer her up, because if I did I should give
Myra away. Anyhow, I have just written to Myra,
and a very nice letter too, considering all I have had
to put up with; although I say it.
"DEAR MYRA,
I didn't mind your writing to me a bit. Sorry
Nita has got the pip, but she will cheer up again all
right. She need not think she is in my black books.
Of course she isn't. She is a very good sort, Nita is,
and I really don't think anything of what she said, so
you had better tell her. Never build yourself a house.
The Waterburys have started one, and it seems to be
getting on Cousin Jane's nerves. I shall stay here
three days if I can stick it. ..."
Why Lady Jane wants to build, I can't imagine.
Langdon Hill is a spacious old house of mellowed
208 THOMAS
brick gables and ruddy-brown panelling; and you
look from the terraced gardens over rolling gorse
and heath to Poole Harbor, with Branksea Castle set
in the eye of the sun like a picture postcard.
The Waterburys are a quaint couple. They are
childless, and live together like brother and sister.
Lady Jane found Singe at the American Embassy.
Heckfield told me he was popular, and a man who
would have gone far if mature Cousin Jane had not
twitched him out of his niche, and carried him off to
Hampshire to spend his life yachting and otter-hunt-
ing with her. Cousin Jane is a real good sort, but
voluble and impetuous, and, on occasions, so frank
as to embarrass everyone. Her trick of rapping out
a cuss-word when excited, I attribute to her having
been brought up in her father's stables. She can be
truly astonishing. 'She is a short, sturdy, homely,
hard-bitten woman, who never was a beauty, and
scorned to pretend she was ; but she used to ride as
straight as anyone, and still handles the tiller like a
man. Her face is rounder and redder every time I
see her she now looks as though she shaved over a
bucket in the yard and, ever since I can remember,
she has worn her hair, in defiance of fashions, strained
back to a bright, clean, knob behind her head. She
used, at one time, to wear in the evenings, as a con-
cession to the amenities of sex, a diamond butterfly,
or a bow, perched on this knob.
Just as we drew up at the front door, Singe Water-
bury, as large as life, came round the corner of the
SINGE WATERBOTY'S WAY 209
house with his easy, spacious, long-limbed air. He
was dressed, just as I have always known him, in
dark coat and check trousers and shady hat. He
stood, when he saw me, with his fingers pushed down
into his fobs, rolling a cigar in his wide, genial mouth.
Then he took the cigar from his lips and strolled up.
"Well, Cousin," he said, "didn't know you were
knocking around here. Statistics worked out eh?
Thought you were the Stores."
I told him I was on a tour.
He made a playful signal with his finger: "Watch
me bolt your Cousin Jane out the door," he said.
He went to the entrance and called into the house.
"Say, Jane ; there's the Stores or something out here."
He listened for a moment, then nodded to me. In
three seconds Cousin Jane ran out on to the steps.
When she saw me she checked and stared.
"How can you be so childish, Singe?" she said, as
she came down to greet me.
"I am building a house, Thomas," she explained,
"and the Stores have promised to send ; but they keep
putting off and putting off, although the work is
much behind-hand, and the foreman sending away all
the sand again, and the men kicking a bucket about in-
stead of attending to their business. However, they
have promised to send to-morrow, and I thought you
were the man." She turned and clapped her hands
and "shoo'd" at Singe, "You old wretch," she said.
"But what have the Stores got to do with it?" I
asked, mystified.
210 THOMAS
"Oh, the Stores do it all !" said Cousin Jane. "You
simply tell the Stores, and they have bricks and archi-
tects and everything, and it would be no trouble
whatever if only the Stores would send. But they
won't, and they give me a lot of trouble in conse-
quence. Now where have you come from? Are you
staying near by ?"
I told her I was on the road from Bourncombe.
The old girl tumbled to the idea at once.
"Well, you will stay for a few days, won't you,
Thomas? It must be two years since we saw you.
I will get you to talk to Mr. Pentland, or whoever it
is, when he comes to-morrow; and help me tell the
foreman. He is dreadfully obstinate, and Singe is
no use at all. He spends all his time with the garden-
ers."
Cousin Singe had seated himself by my side and
he showed me the way round to the stables. Then
he took me to the gardens.
He is a man who seems able to spend his whole
life resting. I always remember him as strolling about
in check trousers ; or looking on at an otter hunt ; or
lying on the deck of a scudding yacht, with his cap
tilted over his eyes : yet his thin handsome face is full
of fire and energy, though it looks seamed and prema-
turely old. In point of fact, I have no idea how old
he is. He might be any age between forty and sixty.
He never seems to have moods, but to be always in
a state of meditative enjoyment. He never laughs out,
and you don't know exactly when he is serious or
SINGE WATERBURY'S WAY 211
when joking. For some reason he always uses his
most mystifying slang when speaking to me.
"Why does Jane want another house?" I asked him
as we walked along the Terrace.
"f you get into close cauc - with her, Cousin,
she'll let out her squeak all right, and after that you'll
know less than you do now. We shan't bide there."
He shook his head, and looked at me. Then he
stopped and took his cigar out of his mouth.
"You English don't appreciate your own country,"
he said. "For business well, I like America; but
for play holiday-time!" He threw out his hands.
"I tell you, Cousin, I stand here yes, after fifteen
years and it melts me every time. We'd go fair
crazy in th' States 'f we could wave a thing like this.
It's beyond price. Look at that house! Four hun-
dred years it's stood there and history hustling along
all the time four hundred years! Think of it! And
those bricks yonder ! It takes centuries of sunlight to
put on a color like that, and you English would tear
'em down and pitch 'em into the sea soon as not.
Look at these old stones on the wall where you're sit-
ting: think of the generations of your race that have
leant upon them, and all the pretty English girls that
have looked out yonder to your English Channel in
the sunset, and had love made to them, sitting just
where you're hunched now. You folks don't under-
stand these things, Cousin. When you've been out of
the country for two three generations they all come
back and roost with you. That's so."
212 THOMAS
"But that's exactly why I can't understand Cousin
Jane wanting another house," I told him.
"Well, Thomas, your cousin's not been very well
lately," he said, as we walked from the garden into
a woodland path, where the ruddy boles of the fir
trees stood knee-deep among the bracken. "Jane's
fretting for the vote. She's getting turrible logical.
She finished with 'Why should the man who blacks
my boots, vote' long way back. She's used up that
old stunt, and quotes John Stuart Mill now. I don't
argue it. I just sniff my nose, and I say, right out
loud, women ought to vote; they ought to be encour-
aged to vote ; let them have two votes if they want
three, if they're set for it."
"Three votes!"
"Sure."
"But why?"
"High Politics."
"I don't understand," I said. "What are High
Politics?"
"Well, Cousin, it isn't the voting that hurts, is it?"
He said over his shoulder as he walked on before me :
"It's counting the votes. Well, don't count! That's
what they call High Politics, and I guess they are
so. It's what the niggers get in th' States."
"But I don't see why wanting a vote should make
Cousin Jane build a house," I said.
"No, Cousin? Well, as I say, your Cousin Jane
is getting turrible logical. She needs to have some-
thing to pacify her, and if old Bill Dawson, the fore-
SINGE WATERBURY'S WAY 213
man, is going to do it for her, well that suits hey?"
He turned and looked at me gravely. He's an odd
chap. Then he said :
"You're not going to get married, Cousin are
you?"
"No," I said.
"No. Well, you're a wise cousin. You stay right
there, Thomas. Don't quit. Keep your shoulders
square, and if a girl blows a kiss, just rubber around
at the chimney-pots. When you see one coming down
the side-walk hike across the street right away. You
just keep busy, so, until you feel good and safe, and
then they'll crawl up the vent flues to get at you
while you're saying your prayers." He walked before
me down the narrow path.
"I know you're joking," I said, "but I don't find
that girls throw themselves at one except," I added,
as I remembered little Nibbs, "when I don't like
them."
Singe stopped again and turned round.
"Sure," he said. "It's so, Cousin. If you want
a pretty girl come jump into your lap don't observe
her, Thomas. Don't recollect what she's for; just
go and ask her the time and make a quick get away.
Soap her up that way, Cousin, and in a week you may
wear her in your hat like a feather. It's right here,"
he broke off.
"The new house?"
"Sure."
"I should like to see it," I said.
214 THOMAS
"Spy round, Cousin, and you'll see all there is. Way
down yonder. I'm shy. I'm waiting. Guess they'll
whistle me before the flag goes up. You'll see a clear-
ing and a near-by shack." He strolled slowly on.
A hundred yards or so brought me to a crescent
of open ground cleared at the margin of the wood,
and here I found myself on the scene of operations.
The walls were beginning to go up ; at one point scaf-
fold poles had been erected, and brick, timber, and
the builder's sheds were scattered near and far. There
was not much to see, and I soon rejoined Cousin Singe.
"It's going to be a fine big house," I said.
He walked on before me without reply.
After dinner the plans were laid out for my in-
spection. They were wonderfully drawn on thick,
oily, transparent paper, which had such a strange,
piercing, rancid smell that it was necessary to move
the table near to the open window. Cousin Jane,
with a potpourri jar before her and her handkerchief
to her nose, told me she could never study the plans
as she wished owing to the nausea caused by this
smell. She complained of the Stores for sending her
such plans, and it certainly did seem unnecessary.
The drawings were inscribed: "House for Lady
Jane Waterbury. Design No. 2721, of the Universal
Stores, Ltd. Mr. William Wordsworth, Director of
Sanitation, Architecture, and Building."
"You will see plain, Cousin," said Singe, who had
moved up behind us, "that old man Wordsworth has
pegged out a new claim."
SINGE WATERBURY'S WAY 215
"Oh, do go away, Singe !" cried his wife.
"This design, Cousin," Singe went on, pointing with
his cigar, "was webbed by the Stores. Those old
women, who come out at six o'clock and throw damp
sawdust into the upturned bottoms of our trousers,
have all had a dab at it; like stirring the Christmas
pudding."
"Singe ! Do leave us alone."
Cousin Singe moved off "out the window," as he
would say, and the plans were explained to me in
detail. I don't, however, understand plans, and I
could not make my impressions of the actual build-
ing agree with what was shown in the drawings.
"The house looks much bigger on the ground than
it does on paper," I said.
"They always do, I believe," Cousin Jane told me.
"The men scatter things about so, and dig holes to
such an extent that I have really given up trying to
follow the work. The walls, however, will be going
up soon, and then we shall see."
The next morning Cousin Jane carried me off with
her "to help tell the foreman." She explained that
there was no regular contract because that would
have meant delays. No! There was, instead, a
schedule of prices, so that when the house was built
the Stores could come and count the bricks and
measure the roof and then you paid the Stores for
whatever you had had a la carte, so to speak, and it
216 THOMAS
was a great mercy if only the Stores would send.
She gave a cry of satisfaction when we came to
the place. She had not been to the site for several
days, she told me, arid had no idea that things were
getting on so fast.
When I set my eyes on the long lines of brickwork
rising from the ground and the widespread activity of
the scene, and recalled the plan Cousin Jane had shown
me, I felt puzzled. A man came out of an office like a
bathing-hut, and touched his sunburnt straw "pan-
ama" respectfully.
I could see a desk with drawings on it in this fore-
man's office, and while the man followed Cousin Jane
down a planked gangway, I slipped in to have a look
at them.
They were plans right enough, and they were duly
inscribed as the Stores design No. 2712 for Lady
Jane, and the poet's name gave authority to them ; but
I could not recognize them. I don't understand plans
and I felt lost. Then, in a flash, I got hold of the
idea.
I hurried out. We were evidently going to have
some excitement and I didn't want to miss anything.
The sun shone; the ringing trowels made an almost
continuous chorus; a traction engine was snorting on
the road behind me with a load of bricks ; a steam en-
gine was running a mill to mix the mortar, and the
whole concern working to perfection. What would
Cousin Jane do! It was a nightmare. I hoped and
prayed that it would not fall to my lot to tell her
SINGE WATERBURY'S WAY 217
what was happening. I hurried down to the place
where Cousin Jane had already entered on her task of
telling the foreman.
"Well," said Cousin Jane as I joined them. "You're
beginning to get along now, I'm glad to see."
"The brickwork soon goes up after the footings are
in, m'lady."
The foreman spoke in slow level tones, and drawled
a little when Lady Jane showed impatience.
"So I see, and you've got nice dry weather."
"Bit too dry, m'lady."
"Well, we need not mind about that just now, if
you please, Dawson," Cousin Jane said impetuously.
"It will dry the mortar quickly, that's what I was
thinking of."
"Bit too quick, m'lady. Takes me all my time to
keep the work wet."
"My good man, I want the house dry. Can't you
understand that? I particularly told the person the
Stores sent Tell that man not to throw water on
the bricks."
"I know my business, m'lady ; he's doing what he's
been told," said Dawson respectfully.
"Well, I shall complain to Mr. Wordsworth, Daw-
son, if you persist in refusing to obey orders. Some-
one is coming down to-day and it will have to be
understood that the bricks are to be kept dry. . . .
Tell me : Why does that bit stick out like that?"
"That'll be the drawring-room gable, m'lady."
"Dining-room you mean, I think. What comes over?"
218 THOMAS
"The big day nursery, m'lady."
"NURSERY ! Really, Dawson ! The big- spare room,
you mean."
"Maybe I do, m'lady; one name's as good as an-
other for me. It's not my business what names they
call them by."
"It doesn't seem right, it all conies too far this way
somehow."
"The house is set out quite correct, m'lady; Mr.
Grindle he came and measured and made a mark
with the toe of his boot, he did, just so, same as I do
now I knows he did, though ; and after I had it all
pegged out, Mr. Boot he came down and checked it
every bit, he did, and it wasn't that much out any-
where, m'lady."
The foreman measured off the top joint of his finger
with his thumb and held it up for the inspection of
Lady Jane.
"Who's Mr. Boot? Was it him I saw here when I
said where the house was to go ?"
"No, m'lady, that wouldn't be Mr. Boot; he's one
of the setters-out. It would likely be one of the can-
vassers, Mr. Gorge or Mr. Rinse ; they're all about they
are, both on 'em."
"Well, Mr. Pentland will be down to-day, and he
will know all about it."
"No, m'lady, Mr. Pentland's one of the measurers.
He'd get into trouble if he meddled."
"No one knows. Really, it's hopeless. Why doesn't
Mr. Wordsworth come down and see to things ? How
SINGE WATERBURY'S WAY 219
on earth am I to be sure that everything is right?"
"Oh, it's all right, m'lady, I'll see to that; why, Mr.
William Wordsworth couldn't tell you. He's all for
signing papers and the like, Mr. William Words-
worth is."
"It's really disgraceful," Cousin Jane said to me,
growing peppery. "I trust to the Stores, and they
do absolutely nothing. Oh yes! If you want a thing
done, do it yourself, of course. Nice for me that
doesn't matter Oh dear, no. Well now. Show
me! Dawson, go on in front! I want to see every-
thing. Show me! Which is the front door?"
"Along o' here, m'lady.
"There!"
"Yes, m'lady, this here."
"But it's wrong!"
"No, m'lady."
"But I say it is wrong, Dawson. Oh, damn the
Stores Thomas, they've been and made the front
door open into the kitchen!"
"This a'n't the kitchen," Dawson drawled in a high-
pitched note of despair. "This here's the lounge,
m'lady. The kitchens are over yonder, along o' that
stack of poles."
"There! Why, that's the stables why, they're
building them on to the house. Whoever heard of
such a thing ! I won't have it. Tell the men to leave
off. The stables are to be separate. Why, it's all
wrong. Where are the plans? The plans, quick!
Get the plans, Dawson."
220 THOMAS
The foreman walked off philosophically with a wry
glance at me, and Cousin Jane hurried down to a
point where she could view the south front of the
building. I saw her throw out her hands. She re-
turned to meet the foreman, who spread the drawings
out on a pile of bricks.
"You've brought the wrong ones."
"These are the only plans I've got, m'lady."
Lady Jane stared at them, then she stared at me.
She grew crimson. Suddenly her glance traveled
beyond me, over my shoulder.
"Who is that man is he Mr. Pentland?"
The foreman looked attentively under his hand at a
figure which was approaching down the Clearing. The
Stores had Sent.
"No, m'lady, that won't be Pentland; that'll be
Wedge."
"What, another! Ask him to come here. I want
to speak to him at once."
The Stores had sent Mr. Wedge in a black frock
coat, straw hat and white satin tie, and he looked a
bit exotic among the fir trees. He carried an umbrella
and brown attache case in one hand, and in the other,
like a symbol of rank, a pair of abortive gloves. He
raised his hat, without looking at us, in an ambiguous
way, as though he did not wish to commit himself,
but meant us to decide for ourselves whether he was
saluting or merely ventilating his head. Cousin Jane
evidently concluded that he was ventilating his head.
He went into the hut, where we could see him twice
SINGE WATERBURY'S WAY 221
lick the palm of his hand and smooth his hair with it,
and arrange his tie in the foreman's scrap of looking-
glass, and pull down his cuffs. He came out into the
sunlight and walked towards us. He was a slim pale
young man, and as he approached he raised his hat
again and ventured to beam a little.
"Getting on, your ladyship, I'm glad to see."
"Yes : with the wrong house."
"Something wrong, your ladyship?"
"Tell him, please."
"M'lady says as what it's a wrong J un, Mr. Wedge."
"Eh? Speak clear, Dawson; what are you talking
about?"
"Theres been a slip," I put in.
"Oh well, Dawson will see to that; what slip is it,
please ?"
"The Stores have delivered the wrong goods," I
said.
"Ah yes? They can be returned, of course. What
do you refer to, please?"
"The House."
"Beg pardon?"
"It's the wrong one."
"Do I you say the house is wrong?"
"Oh no; there's no complaint about the house. It
seems a splendid house so far as one can see."
Mr. Wedge smiled and bowed acknowledgments on
behalf of the Stores. "But you say there is some-
thing wrong, I understand?"
"Yes."
222 THOMAS
"May I ask ?"
"It's the wrong house."
"The wrong house f"
"Yes."
"The wrong house?"
"Yes."
"You mean different from what was ordered?"
"Quite so."
"You say all this concrete and brickwork won't
fit?"
"Yes."
"Then it's the wrong house altogether, you mean ?"
"Exactly."
Mr. Wedge gazed at me blankly, and then stared at
the plans. His lips formed the words of "wrong
house" as though he were trying to fix the idea in his
mind. Then he soliloquised with a long pause for
meditation between each utterance, while we stood
silent, and the foreman tilted his hat over his eyes
and scratched his head.
"I don't know anything about this."
"I'm sure I don't know at all what Mr. William
Wordsworth will say when he hears about it. The
wrong house! Ah!"
"Mr. William Wordsworth has signed the plans;
he must know all about it, that's certain."
"I should say, if you were to arst me, there's been
a sort of mistake somewhere or other a bit of a
misunderstanding, as you may say."
At this point the foreman broke in.
SINGE WATERBURY'S WAY 223
"It's been and done now, though, arn't it, Mr.
Wedge?"
"As Dawson points out, the house is already a
good way towards being half built," said Wedge. "If
it is wrong it ought to have been mentioned before-
hand. We don't take responsibility when a thing is
not mentioned beforehand. It's one of our rules. I
expect that is what Mr. William Wordsworth will say
when he hears."
Lady Jane, who had been standing by with her
back turned, here spun round.
"No one cares a twopenny damn about your rules,"
she blurted, "nor what Mr. Wordsworth may say; I
ordered a house, and I won't have anyone else's. This
has all got to be pulled down and taken away. Then
start fresh. Begin now."
A long argument began, in the course of which Mr.
Wedge discovered among his papers the letter Lady
Jane had written when she ordered the house. He
laid it before her with an air of noble forbearance.
"Sunday.
THE STORES.
Lady Jane Waterbury will take the house No. 2712
and it is to begin at once. She does not want any
contract, but the work is to be done under a shedule
(can't spell it) as the Stores suggest. She will be
glad to hear how soon the work can begin and when
it will be finished.'
What had happened was that the design intended
by Cousin Jane was numbered "two seven twenty-
224 THOMAS
one," but she had described it as "two seven twelve."
She had copied "twelve," however, from a Stores
letter, and the whole thing resolved itself into the
mistake of a typist, who had written "twelve" instead
of "twenty-one." The great William had imperish-
ably confirmed the error with his momentous signa-
ture: "one house Lady Jane Waterbury, No. 2712,"
had been put into the slot, so to speak, at the Stores,
and its huge mechanism had been automatically thrown
into action. The whole blame clearly lay with the
typist.
The dispute was still vigorous when I stole away,
and Mr. Wedge was beginning to get a bit haughty.
Cousin Jane, in the frenzy of debate, had expressed
a desire to disembowel Mr. William Wordsworth.
I hurried to the house, packed my things, brought
Susan round to the front and then went to say good-
bye to Cousin Singe.
When I gently told him what had happened, he
looked at me fixedly, his face became crimson and
swelled alarmingly, and his eyes filled with tears. He
frightened me for a moment, and then I knew, by a
faint pulsing of his chest, that Singe had broken the
habit of years and was enjoying a hearty laugh. He
stared at me in silence, and only responded to my
"good-bye" by dribbling at the mouth. I was anxious
not to meet Cousin Jane again and hurried off to
Susan. He followed me with his fingers thrust into
his fobs, and stood gazing at me while I wound her up.
Just as I was getting into the seat he spoke :
SINGE WATERBURY'S WAY 225
"What did you say?" I asked.
"Covered by insurance," he blurted.
"How do you mean? How could it be insured?" I
asked.
He shook his head, while a happy tear ran unheeded
down the side of his nose. "Nunk! I keep your
cousin insured. You never know where a suffragist
may bog you."
I saw Cousin Jane approaching from the distance,
and as I put in the gears he shouted again.
" 'f you ever change your mind, Cousin, take out
a full Wife policy for Mrs. Quinn 'Domestic Benefits
Limited, Broadway, N' York.' " He nodded again,
with his neck bursting ; and so I left him.
The drive sweeps through the park in a wide loop,
and as I approached the lodge gate I caught a glimpse,
through the trees, of Singe Waterbury executing com-
plicated manoeuvres on the lawn, with remarkable
agility and sprightliness. In another flash I saw
Cousin Jane busily working the pump of the gardener's
watering-tank.
CHATER XIII
MY ONLY DUKE BECOMES A TOTAL LOSS
IT is no good having a duke at all if you let him
drop. There are only a couple of dozen of them
and it makes them precious. That is why I looked
up my duke. It is no good waiting for your duke to
look you up. They won't be bothered.
The particular tie between me and my duke is
that he shot me. He blew a bit out of my leg; in
fact, I don't thank the duke that I have any leg except
a celluloid one, which, though it is the next best thing
to one's own, has the drawback of being explosive.
I have rather to thank my lucky stars.
I find it an awkward business alluding to my duke
at all. You must hide your duke under a bushel. If
you even let him peep out, however coyly, your audi-
ence will suppose you are trying to slog them with
your precious duke, and they will resent him, and you.
The fact is that everybody is so well aware of snobbish
aspirations that they dare not mention a duke, if they
have one, for fear of revealing their snobbishness, and
are indignant at the assurance of anyone else who has
the hardihood to do so. It is almost impossible for a
226
MY DUKE BECOMES A TOTAL LOSS 227
commoner to experience the radiance of a duke and
not become at once either a vulgarian or a snob. To
discredit the sublimity of the ducal state, as I am doing
now, is vulgar. It is, of course, the impulse of one
who is trying to reconcile himself to having lost his
duke as I have. On the other hand, no commoner
can exist in that radiance unless he consents to fill
his allotted notch and defer to rank; and as he can
find the gratification which induces him to do this only
in a mean admiration for mean ideals, he is a con-
fessed snob. A duke makes radicals out of the vul-
garians and tones out of the snobs. A duke squirts
out radicals as a by-product of dukedom much as a
locomotive blows cinders into the air, but he can
always make conservatives by touching his hat.
There is one man I know who is entirely superior
to snobbishness. He is as unconscious of snobbish
aspirations as he is of the flow of blood in his veins.
He has an admiration for rank, and collects experi-
ences of the higher aristocracy with the simplicity of a
child collecting shells from the beach ; and recounts his
adventures in the belief that what is of such interest
to him will interest others. He has no idea of vaunt-
ing his swell acquaintances. If a lord informs him
that he thinks it will rain, Reggie Bage feels the opin-
ion, from such a source to be so weighty that he will
tell you impressively, "The Marquis of Kennington
said to me just now that the weather is going to
change." The result of all this is that Reggie gets
shot at.
228 THOMAS
I was in the smoking-room of the Qub one day
when he pushed open the glazed doors and stood look-
ing round the room.
"Well, and how's the duke, Reggie?" Dick Banner-
man called out cheerily, across the floor.
"What duke?"
When I left Cousin Singe practising first exercises
in apoplexy on his front drive I had no idea where I
was going to fill up the three days before I was due at
Hildon. My chief need was to get somewhere quick
so that I could begin to enjoy the joke of Lady Jane
and the Stores without loss of time. A joke like that
must be shared. I hadn't had a proper laugh over it.
Finally I turned Susan in the direction of Compton
Barns. Lord Heckfield always laughs at Lady Jane,
and I had barely forty miles to go to reach him.
In order to disarm hostility I may mention, in con-
fessing to an acquaintance with Lord Heckfield, that
he is the second Viscount only, and that he and my
father were brother officers and close friends long
before his father was raised to the Peerage. Lord
Heckfield became my guardian after my father's
death. Our friendship may therefore be ascribed to
physical coincidences and not to family connection or
social eminence on my part, and I hope that these cir-
cumstances will exculpate me, and remove any impres-
sion that I am dragging in Heckfield for the purpose
of making a display of him. He always treats me
MY DUKE BECOMES A TOTAL LOSS 229
as if I were an absurdity. What the idea is, I don't
know, but he refuses to take me seriously. He stutters
a little and suffers, with his advancing years, from
asthma. I found him ill, but I was shown into the
library where the old fellow, for he is beginning to get
old, was sitting in an invalid-chair, beautifully tailored
as usual, with a dense atmosphere of cigarette smoke
and a medicine-bottle and glass at his elbow.
"Well, you're a nice chap, dropping out of the
clouds like this ! Why didn't you say you were com-
ing? You'll kill all your friends by giving them these
sudden joys."
When I had given him an account of Lady Jane's
house, he said:
"You're a terrible fellow! You ought to be sorry
for your unfortunate cousin. Where's your gallantry?
Did it happen to-day?"
"Three hours ago."
He laughed and gasped.
"You shouldn't come here making me ill. Go and
tell the Duke, they've got a small party at Yend. He
hates Lady Jane declares she stuck him over a
horse."
He insisted on coming to the door to see me off,
and seemed dazzled at the spectacle of Susan equipped
for touring.
I told him the scheme of my tour.
"You graceless young ruffian 1" he said, suffocating
again. "I must go in. Good-bye. Sorry I can't ask
you to stop."
230 THOMAS
Yend was only fifteen miles off and I thought I
would risk it. I felt at the moment quite equal to
keeping my end up in the crowd there if I were
asked to stay. The Duchess is an American, very
off-hand and a little lacking in dignity, perhaps; and
the Duke, who is a good deal older than she, is genial,
and easygoing, and very popular with all his depen-
dants. He bears the responsibilities of his rank light-
ly, and takes no part in public affairs beyond lending
his patronage in local matters. He and his Duchess
will go through a bazaar like a couple of bluebottle
flies : you can hear them buzzing, and in half an hour
their job is done and they are off again.
I entered the park by a lodge I did not know, and
found myself approaching the Castle from the back.
I was pulling up to get my bearings near some out-
buildings when, as luck would have it, the Duke him-
self came round a corner with a keeper and two
couple of terriers.
"Who? Who?" he asked, pointing at me with
his stick. "I shot you! Quinn! Quinn, of course!
How's your leg?"
"As good as ever."
"I'm very glad to hear that. Coming up? I'll get
in. I've been on my feet all day. Where do you
hail from?"
"Well, you must join us for a day or two," he said,
when I told him. "We don't go north till next week.
Bring the car round here."
We stopped at a side-door, where a servant was
MY DUKE BECOMES A TOTAL LOSS 231
put in charge of Susan, and I followed my host down
corridors and across a vast, stone vaulted, modern
Gothic hall which, like the front entrance, resembles
part of a church, and looks as if it had been designed
to strike a chill to the heart and attune the mind to the
cold state of dukedom. We went to a drawing-room
or boudoir, also with church windows, which were in-
congruously fitted with gilded poles and heavy cur-
tains, where the Duchess and a number of other ladies
were playing cards in an atmosphere of mingled cigar-
ettes and roses.
"There you are 1 Was it a good bag, Frank ?"
"Seventy- four brace. You remember Mr. Quinn?
he's staying to-night."
"How do you do, Mr. Quinn? Glad you're joining
us," said her Grace, glancing up to shake hands.
"Whose shout? We shall meet again later on." She
smiled dismissal, and I followed her husband to the
billiard-room. This was a huge place with an enor-
mous stone mantelpiece carved and blazoned with the
arms of the great house. Half a dozen men were sit-
ting at ease in their shooting-clothes, while others
were coming from the adjoining gun-room. Two of
my host's brothers, Lord Richard and Lord John, I
knew. The others were strangers.
There was low-toned talk and a general tendency
to stretch legs. A small clean-cut man, a Captain
Romer, called by everyone Freddy, chatted and laughed
gaily. Everyone else seemed tired except the Duke,
who fizzed out of the room. After about an hour of
232 THOMAS
this someone began practising billiard shots, walking
slowly about the table, and the click of the balls helped
to put us all to sleep. Thirty minutes later general
yawning began, and the men got out of their chairs and
slowly dispersed. Captain Romer came over to me
and said, "The Duke peppered you, they tell me."
"Yes. Got me in the leg."
"Bad?"
"No. But it took a bit clean out of my calf. It
looks, now, as if someone had had a bite off me."
"By Jove! Clean out, you say?"
We were away at the side of the room, the others
were drifting out, and my leg interests and gives
pleasure to all who see it. It makes it rather a special
show being a duke's job. It is a thoroughly popular
exhibition, and I pulled down my stocking for Freddy
to have a look.
"It's one of the queerest things I ever saw," he said,
complimenting me as he stooped forward in his chair.
At that moment the Duke walked in through the gun-
room door just behind us. I did not know it was
he till I heard his voice. Luckily he could not, I think,
have seen what I was doing.
"Here, Dick, look after Quinn, will you? He
doesn't know his room," he said to his brother, and
went out again. Freddy laughed shrilly and walked
off. It was annoying. After all, to all intents and
purposes, Freddy asked to see it. You can't possibly
refuse when a fellow asks to be allowed to look at
your leg. It would be "selfish," as Nita calls it.
MY DUKE BECOMES A TOTAL LOSS 233
A servant led the way to my room.
My things had all been laid out in due order as
though I were a "quick-change artiste," with the shirt
opened and the links and studs in place, but when I
wanted my trousers I couldn't find them. There was
a break in the orderly rank along the edge of the bed.
I searched in the wardrobe and chest of drawers, but
without result, and then rang the bell. They had evi-
dently unpacked the whole of my luggage and stowed
the things away. I went through all the cupboards
and drawers a second time in vain. No one had an-
swered the bell. I rang again, and in a sort of per-
plexity I opened the door and peeped out with some
vague hope of rescue. The man was standing on the
mat outside. Down the corridor I could see two others
doing sentinel in the same way.
"I can't find my trousers."
The valet came in, looked at the bed, and glanced
round the room.
"I will inquire, sir," he said, and he bowed and left
me. While I was awaiting his return I read again the
card which was thrust centrally into the frame of
my looking-glass.
Vend Castle.
Dinner. August gth.
MR. THOMAS QUINN
to take in
THE HON. MILDRED TICH-GOWER.
J thought of Mildred and wondered whether she
were thinking of me. No doubt she had a ticket
234 THOMAS
stuck into her glass too. She had never seen me!
How exciting for Mildred! I might, for all she
knew, be HE! Was I HE? I felt a bit interested
myself. I was glad she could not see me; I never
look my best in sock suspenders. How far had Mil-
dred got ? I wondered. I kissed my hand towards the
west, which was the direction in which I judged Mil-
dred to be. I could picture her comparing different
colored gowns against her bosom, and blushing at her-
self a wonderful moment in the life of a young girl,
and all on my account. Mildred must be fair or she
would have some other name a washed-out sort of
fairness, but I don't mind that if, as Bat says, they
are "nice and dainty." Dear Mildred! I was all
impatience to see her. But I was getting much more
impatient to see my trousers. I was uneasy. Time
was short. At last I put on a dressing-gown and
looked out into the corridor. No one was in sight,
but almost immediately my man appeared following
Lord Richard down the passage.
His lordship was in full evening dress, with the
exception that he was wearing the striped green and
violet trousers of a pyjama suit.
He is a tall, elegant-looking man, with a toy mous-
tache, and he never shows more than the faint glim-
mer of a smile on his impassive face. He has a way
of holding up his chin and speaking with restrained
murmuring lips, which makes him appear to be carry-
ing a spoonful of wine about in his mouth.
"I am afraid the ladies have taken them," he
MY DUKE BECOMES A TOTAL LOSS 235
mumbled, looking at me placidly. "We are wearing
these." he added, lowering his lids to indicate his
trousers. After glancing at me again, with a dim sug-
gestion of a smile, he nodded and walked off.
It promised to be what they considered a gay even-
ing, evidently; but I heartily wished, when I put on
my pyjamas, that they had chosen another evening for
this particular joke. I did not at all relish a first in-
troduction to the ladies in the dress I saw reflected in
my glass. Apart from any other consideration, my
pyjamas seemed too short, and they did not hang well.
I had never noticed it before, but they did not appear
to fit and made my legs look craoked. Mildred would
not like me so, I knew. Lord Richard's must have
been made of silk, and by a tailor. I tried some blue
cheviot trousers, turned up and ironed at the bottoms,
but the result was impossible. Mildred would have
taken a violent dislike to me. It was clear that pyjama-
legs was the proper garment in which to carry off the
joke ; for I supposed it was meant as a joke. Then I
had a splendid idea. Sinbad the Sailor ! I got out his
drawers. I had noticed where they had been put away
and I was into them in a moment. They are of lemon-
colored sateen, buttoning round the angle and growing
properly baggy as you go upwards. They looked
superb. I should be the best-dressed man in the com-
pany and Mildred would be delighted. The . onK
defect was that they were so voluminous below the
waist that they made my coat-tails stand out and show
a lemon "V" insertion at a back view. I tried putting
236 THOMAS
my coat-tails inside, but decided that Mildred would
prefer that I did not. I should have to be careful to
avoid turning my back on hec, that was all. It was the
best I could do, anyhow, and time was up. I left my
room at the stroke of eight o'clock, feeling like a
bather in dread of a chilly plunge.
I encountered no one in my journey to the great
landing. The place was vast and arcaded like a ca-
thedral. The stone vaulting went towering up above
me to a sort of Gothic skylight. I would undertake to
drive Susan up the wide, shallow flight of stairs. The
uncarpeted stone was flanked with a heavy pierced
balustrade, like the parapet of a church, and at every
turn great bosky, heraldic lions, carved in stone, shoul-
dering pikes, and with crowns on their heads, pro-
truded curly tongues at me. The Duchess told me
once that these stairs were a great resource, and that
they had toboggan races on tea-trays down them to
help out Christmas; but the place seemed to me op-
pressive to the point of being inhuman. I felt no more
than three feet high as I crept alone down the vast
cloistered flights, vividly aware of Sinbad's lemon
drawers and of my coat-tails cocking out behind me.
And then I caught a whiff. Yes ! There was no mis-
take about it! It was a smell of cooking! It was
gone in a moment, but it had been like a ray of sun-
light, and I took heart. The bottom seemed to fall
out of the whole ducal fabric at that touch of nature.
I felt reassured.
When I reached the foot of the stairs I noticed a
MY DUKE BECOMES A TOTAL LOSS 237
group of servants standing to one side as though the
whole establishment were waiting on my appearance.
They observed me, without looking at me, with grave
respect. Apparently guests always came down to
dinner cocktailed and in Arabian drawers. It made
me ill at ease. What I wanted was sympathy. A
loud swelling, medley of clashing bell-sounds filled the
vast building with a soft din. I began to feel scared.
I was not prepared for such solitary state.
"Which room is it?" I asked ; and I shivered.
One of the men stepped briskly forward with a bow,
and led the way to a door which he held open for me.
As I entered I glanced aside and saw one of the group
turn to his fellows. I could clearly discern the wink
in the back of his head, and see it reflected in the rigid
countenances of the others who stared past him. It
was a small matter, but it cheered me at the moment
I entered the room.
I found myself in the brilliantly lighted salon of the
Castle. It was a huge apartment. At the further end
I could see a dozen splendidly dressed women, various-
ly grouped and talking pleasantly together; but not a
single man was present.
I had been done brown and no mistake. It was
evidently a conspiracy to get me to appear, unknown,
before all these great ladies in my pyjamas. My anger
luckily kept me up to the scratch. I advanced resent-
fully down the room. Some of the ladies glanced
towards me casually. Others did not appear to ob-
serve my entrance. Then suddenly a lovely figure
238 THOMAS
broke from a group near the fireplace and stepped
gaily towards me.
"Well, how do you do, again, Mr. Quinn ?" said the
Duchess, looking me steadily in the eyes with her own
very bright and sparkling ones. "I couldn't talk to you
this afternoon. It was so very critical, but we won
the rubber, and the next too. Where have you last
come from?"
The Duchess does not speak like an American ex-
actly, but there is a strongly personal note in her
speech, as though she had been taught the English
manner of utterance very carefully by the best masters.
It is a sort of sticky, clicking enunciation, and is
rather fascinating.
"They're building a house," she was continuing,
after I had answered her question, when her attention
seemed to wander, and her glance travelled past me
towards the end of the room.
I turned and saw an impressive sight indeed. A
group of nine men in evening dress and gaudy pyjama
legs straggled negligently into the room and gradually
distributed themselves among the ladies. There was
no laughter, nor any particular sign of amusement.
The men, generally, had an air of being mildly bored
and a little too much at their ease for good manners.
Some of their night fits were no better than my own.
The Duchess's eye flashed briefly from one to the
other, and then she left my side in one of her charac-
teristic rapid movements and addressed some serious
questions to Freddy (who goes in for pink sleeping-
MY DUKE BECOMES A TOTAL LOSS 239
suits) about the recovery of a gun, which, it seemed,
had been dropped overboard at the ferry.
"Will you introduce me to Miss Mildred Tich-
Gower?" I said when I could get the chance. "I'm
taking her in."
"She's over here," and her Grace led the way through
a throng adorned with very bright eyes and dazzling
costumes. All the women were young in style, if not
in years, and there was a lot of electricity about, cer-
tainly; but one could not detect any special gaiety.
Mildred did not appear to notice Sinbad's beautiful
drawers at all, but she could not hide a certain mis-
chievousness lurking in her gray eyes when I looked
into them at short range. She turned and nodded to
me as if she knew me when the Duchess mentioned my
name. She was quite a charmer: tall, slim, with a
short delicate nose, a lifted lip, and animated gray
eyes. She was fair, of course, and wore her hair
across her forehead in a wide swathe like a turban,
and fastened over the temple with a great diamond
buckle in a most disquieting fashion. On the whole, I
thought I had got the pick of the bevy.
I moment later the Duke fizzed into the room with
quick steps, a little vexed at being late, and made
straight for one of the elder ladies and bore her off.
His dress alone was complete: they had spared his
trousers; and I could see by the sudden surprised
glances he shot about him that he was not in the secret.
As he passed near me he glanced at my legs, and then
240 THOMAS
at me, in a baffled way, and I saw his partner squeeze
his arm.
When we were seated at dinner the joke was safely
out of mind below the table. It was a delightful meal.
The talk was gay, and traveled up and down the table
with a happy absence of the two-birds-on-a-perch ar-
rangement of some dinner-parties I have attended,
where each man has his lady allotted to him, and has
got to make the best he can of her. There was a good
deal of fun at Freddy's corner, but we only got stray
reports of it down at our end. The food was lovely,
and there was not too much of it, and no time was
wasted. In this way I lost a delicious morsel of
asparagus iced in a parmesan sauce, which was
snatched away at a moment when I had laid down
my fork to show Mildred, with a pellet of bread, how
the thimble-rigger secretes the pea. Before I knew it,
it had gone from me for ever a moment never to
be recaptured this side the grave.
Mildred confided to me that she likes to have a bit
"on," and knows a bookie or two, it seems. She is a
dear girl. She is not in the least racy. She seemed as
though she had stepped, in disguise, out of a convent
for the occasion. She impressed me as a quiet looker-
on at life with just this spark of a passion for spotting
the winner. She pointed out her mother, who seemed
nearly as young as she did herself. In fact, we became
quite thick. I got really fond of Mildred, but I did not
speak to her after I bowed her from the table that
night, and I suppose we shall never meet again. Such
MY DUKE BECOMES A TOTAL LOSS 241
is life! And Mildred! How is it with you, dear?
It was quite a shock to see the incongruous flash of
colored garments above the table when the men rose
in compliment to the retiring ladies. We looked in-
expressibly foolish at that moment. While seated, we
duly set off, in our masculine way, the perfections the
ladies displayed ; but when they expanded their fuller
glories by standing, the inadequacy of the men to
dignify the moment was grotesque. I could see the
Duchess bite her lip and turn her head, and a momen-
tary disturbance was to be noticed in many faces.
When the door closed our countenances relaxed into
broad smiles.
"Whose little game is this?" said the Duke. "It
looks like Dot. You've all played up to it well.
Where do you get your pyjamas, Quinn? That's the
way they should be made plenty of room and but-
toned round the ankle."
I told him it was part of a fancy dress.
"Has Waterbury been giving a fancy-dress ball?
He could go as he is. Has he taken his hands out of
his pockets yet ? Move up this end."
Here was my opening and I made the most of it.
The story was quite a success. The Duke was de-
lighted, and the other men amused. Lord Richard was
even in serious difficulties to avoid spilling his spoon-
ful.
"Don't let's join the ladies," he murmured to his
brother. "Let's shift to the billiard-room and have the
caftis there. They'll come after us see if they don't."
242 THOMAS
"Yes ; yes ; it'll be a lesson to 'em," said the Duke.
Here, Foster" and he gave orders to a servant.
When we got to the billiard-room the tables were
set out. Two men played billiards, and the rest of us
sat down to bridge. I was cut with Lord John against
the Duke and Freddy Romer.
"What stakes?" I asked a little nervously.
"Oh, anything you like," the Duke said, consider-
ately. "Half a crown a hundred?"
"Better make it half a sov.," Lord John put in
rather quickly. "Easier to add up. Suit you?" he
asked.
I nodded, consoling myself with the reflection that
it would be all right if I won. In point of fact I won
thirty-four half-sovereigns that night, a pleasure which,
however, involved me in the duty, later in the evening,
of receiving a ten-pound note from the Marchioness of
Darlingford and giving her six pounds ten in exchange
for it. I don't like these transactions with ladies, and
I would much rather have cried "quits" and given the
Marchioness five bob out of my own pocket into the
bargain, if that would have added anything to her
pleasure.
I felt very much above myself when I sat down,
what with the success of Sinbad's drawers and the
glow of my exploits as a raconteur, and the first time
I shuffled I managed to get all the queens safely out of
the pack. I wish I hadn't done it now.
When these cards were dealt Lord John went "two
no trumps," Freddy having previously bid two dia-
MY DUKE BECOMES A TOTAL LOSS 243
monds. The Duke led ace, king, and then the ten, and
looked surprised when Freddy threw a small one in-
stead of planking on the queen and making good the
three other diamonds in his hand. My partner then
went ahead with clubs and Freddy and the Duke
looked at one another oddly when the latter omitted
to put the queen on the knave. The next round he
threw away.
"Having none?"
"Then you've revoked," Lord John said to the Duke.
"You hold the queen."
But the Duke said he hadn't got it.
"It must have been thrown with another card," he
added, and he counted the cards in the tricks on the
table.
They were quite correct.
"On the floor?"
No! There was no card on the floor.
"The pack must be short," said Freddy, counting his
cards.
We all did the same.
Freddy was perfectly right. There were only forty-
eight cards. We all looked at one another dumb-
founded; at least they did. I had begun to see that
I was making a fearful ass of myself.
"Count again," said the Duke. "The pack's only
just been opened."
"No," I said, "here they are." And I produced the
four queens from my breast pocket.
They stared.
244 THOMAS
"I took them out when I shuffled," I said.
No one seemed to understand me.
"It was a joke," I explained.
They still stared in astonishment.
"I often do it," I said, "and no one ever notices.
This is the first time anyone has found out that the
queens are missing until the tricks are counted."
They all looked puzzled, while I tried to appear as
cheerful as possible. Then Freddy broke silence with
a cackle of laughter. One of them, anyhow, had seen
the joke.
"Come on," said Lord John. "Start fresh," and he
tore the score-sheet off the block and marked a fresh
one.
They are a bit too exclusive in their ideas of a joke
at Yend Castle, I think.
It was close on eleven o'clock before the door opened
and the Duchess, followed by a long straggling train of
ladies, came in. "Here they are!" she exclaimed.
No one got up but, as the ladies came about us, first
one and then another cut in ; other tables were set out,
and the last of us did not disband till nearly three in
the morning.
There was no one waiting to undress me and put me
to bed, but short of that everything possible had been
done for me. My sleeping suit was laid out so that I
could almost have jumped into it, and the display on
my toilet-table included a collapsible drinking-cup in
an aluminum case which I had lost for years. I sup-
pose it had been found in some recess or wallet of one
MY DUKE BECOMES A TOTAL LOSS 24$
of my portmanteaux. I was glad to get it again. One
mark of attention, however, baffled me. On the corner
of the dressing-table, standing in the center of a neat
little doily, was a tumbler with one inch of water in
the bottom of it. What this was for I could not
imagine, unless Welch, the valet, had judged from my
appearance that I was the sort of man who ought to
gargle before getting into bed.
Before I went to sleep I began thinking of Rachel
again. In point of fact, although I haven't said so,.
I've been thinking a lot about Rachel of late. I
couldn't get her out of my head all the time I was at
Bourncombe, and by this continued thinking of her I
have somehow gradually lost the power of visualizing
her. In the early days of our separation I was con-
tinually aware of her in the sense that I was conscious
of the qualities of her proximity, and my eye and ear
could conjure up her characteristic movements and
graces of person, and the cadence of her speech and
laughter; but all that has gone now. I really hardly
know what she looks like. I can't explain it exactly,
but it is so, and I have come to believe that I have
fallen in love with Rachel. For one thing, there was
a poetry book in my bedroom at Willand's to prevent
the looking-glass from swinging over, and I read it.
That is good evidence! I must be in love. I feel I
should like to have a bit of her hair. I never wanted
any hair before, and that seems to prove it. It is
nearly quite black but very fine and silky, I can re-
member that and it comes over by her ear some-
246 THOMAS
how I can't describe it and all piles up on the top
of her little head. She had a way of cramming it
away snugly under a frieze hat when she came out to
play golf, and it made her look like a cheeky boy ; but
it showed her neck, and her head looked so shapely
with the loops of black hair, like curls, encircling it
tinder the brim of her hat. But it's the flavor of her
personality that haunts me most. I mean to see her
again, by jove! And talk to her! I've thought of a
few things to say to Rachel.
I was wakened in the morning by Welch leaving
the room with Sinbad's drawers over his arm. He
was taking them away to brush and fold with the
rest of my evening wear. He returned soon after-
wards with a tray containing tea, milk, cream, white
and brown bread-and-butter, a boiled egg, hot buttered
anchovy toast under a cover, a dose of whiskey in a
vial, and a siphon. He is a most considerate soul. I
really had no use for the things, but I took a cup of
tea, just to please him, and tried the anchovy toast,
with the result that I finally finished the en-
tire dish.
The house seemed deserted when I went down to
"breakfast soon after nine. I found the room empty till
two servants appeared and made tea for me. Later
on, a lady who had worn turquoises that night before
came in and nodded to me, and sat down at the other
nd of the table. We ate in silence after she had asked
how late we had been that morning. Afterwards
JFreddy appeared in flannels. I heard him tell the tur-
MY DUKE BECOMES A TOTAL LOSS 247
quoise lady that he was going to play someone a match
at racquets for a "pony."
It was precious dull. Lord Richard had not finished
breakfast at eleven, for I saw him through the window.
I got hold of the Morning Post, and went to sleep over
it in the billiard-room which was the only room I
knew my way to. I was roused by Lord Imagweres
(pronounced Eamcs), whom I had partnered the night
before. He came in and proposed a stroll.
"The Duke peppered you, didn't he?" he asked, as
we walked.
I told him "Yes."
"That's the third I've heard of," he said. "He's
very excitable. I always feel nervy if I am within
reach of his gun when it's rabbits or the cock. Freddy
Captain Romer declares he once saw him blow the
hat off a girl's head. They were shooting the West
Wood near the cottage, and the keeper's daughter,
dressed to kill, came along behind the fence with a hat
full of feathers ; just then someone cried 'Ware cock,'
and the Duke spun round and shot away the whole
blooming show."
"It was a pure accident in my case," I said. "He
was sitting with his gun across his knees, tying his
bootlace I believe, and somehow managed to touch the
thing off. Got me in the leg at four yards."
"Badly?"
"No, rather luckily; an inch more and he would
have had my calf off. It looks now as though someone
had taken a bite out of me."
248 THOMAS
"No wonder, at four yards. Cut a bit clean
you say."
We were in a secluded spot. There was no one
.about. I have rather got into the habit of showing
my leg, as the fact that the job was done by a duke
.gives a sort of special merit to my little show. I put
my foot up on the bottom rail of the fence and stripped
down my stocking.
"By jove ; but that's funny !" said my companion.
At that moment the Duke came round the corner
right on top of us.
It was rank bad luck. I whipped up my stocking,
but it was too late. I wish now that I had faced it
out and invited the Duke to have a look. I could see
he was a bit pipped. His eyes fell, and then he turned
and whistled his dog.
"Come and look at the setters," he said to Lord
Imagweres. I joined them, feeling I was making a
very bad third. It was rather a sickener. The Duke
had been very much cut up at the time of the acci-
dent. He quite lost his presence of mind, and cursed
himself up and down, and smashed the gun over a
log of wood, and was awfully nice about it after-
wards, and couldn't say enough, and altogether most
kind. I felt very sorry for myself indeed, and it
seemed to me that I had better clear off before I made
any more mistakes. It sticks in my mind now that he
probably saw what I was doing in the billiard-room.
He certainly went out again quickly. Anyhow, I felt
certain that I had finally extinguished my Duke
MY DUKE BECOMES A TOTAL LOSS 249
smashed him up and destroyed him for good and all.
At lunch things had brightened up. Some of
the ladies were in hats, including the Duchess, and a
party appeared to have come over by motor from
somewhere. It was a free-and-easy meal, and you
could have everything on earth, or get yourself a
biscuit and sherry. I managed to capture my hostess
afterwards to say good-bye, but she told me she hoped
I would stay till the morning as she was expecting a
lot of people that afternoon, and was short of men to
play lawn-tennis. I compromised matters by making
excuses for leaving at half -past six.
It was an omnium gatherum I found, and there
was a gay scene in the gardens at four o'clock. There
were five lawn-tennis courts, and ladies ready to keep
all occupied, although the occasion was so far a
formal one that the rigor of the game was sacrificed
to elegance. One lady merely unbuttoned her glove
and thrust her hand through. I fed the balls back to
the beauties and admired their frocks, and watched
their graceful movements and their smiles, and felt
nearly happy.
Tea was carried about to scattered tables under the
beeches on the west lawn, each with its gilded epergne
piled high with exquisite fruits. It was while I was
standing talking to my latest partner that I heard a
voice near me say :
"Why are they taking down the flag?"
The tower of the huge house starts from the ground
as though it were going to make a job of it and be a
250 THOMAS
church spire while it was about it ; and then half-way
up funks it, and ends by trying to pass itself off as the
Belfry at Bruges. It is salient at this side of the
castle, and carries a mast which can be seen for miles
on all sides above the trees. I glanced up and ob-
served the Union Jack, which had been flaunting the
summer air throughout the afternoon, sliding down-
wards.
A minute or two afterwards I noticed another lady
gazing perplexedly through her lorgnette, and on look-
ing up I saw what might have been a long string of
signal flags just completing their journey to the truck.
The sismal was not being made with flags, however,
but with what appeared to be the family washing ; and
a brief inspection showed that this particular \vash
was confined to feminine garments of a diaphanous
and exciting kind. I have to except one garment,
however, which was quite prosaic ; it even flapped.
From something I overheard I attributed this dis-
play of laundry to a coalition of the brains of Freddy
and Lord Richard. I could see Freddy on the lawn.
He kept his back turned. He did not look. I did not
look. No one looked, but everyone saw. The exploit
gave general pleasure, as was quite apparent, although
exhibitions of enjoyment were far from being riotous.
People drifted about casually, confiding their amuse-
ment to their friends with laughing shoulders and
skilful precautions against the nature of those confi-
dences being guessed by others. The garden sim-
mered with such secret engagements for the rest of
MY DUKE BECOMES A TOTAL LOSS 251
the afternoon. Some of the guests were, however,
quite out of it. They were, physically, like badly-
dressed lost sheep not knowing where to turn. Neme-
sis was at work overtaking the serious-minded.
It was fully five minutes before the signal streamed
down in a series of panic jerks. The flag was not run
up again. The impression the afternoon^ guests
would be likely to get from the incident was: either,
that the Duke's washing did not take long to dry ; or,
that the laundry people found they had made a mis-
take in the day.
Soon after six I slipped away. I had already said
good-bye to the Duchess. I couldn't come across my
host, but I saw Lord Richard who bid me farewell
without running the risk of spilling a drop. Welch
was awaiting me and finished packing while I bathed,
and held my socks for me and helped me with my but-
tons. As I stole away in Susan I got a last glimpse
through the trees of the gay crowd still thronging the
lawns. I was thankful to be out of it. I didn't feel
at all equal to facing the ladies' attempt to go one
better.
CHAPTER XIV
RACHEL EXPLAINS TO ME
SUSAN was full of beans the evening I left Yend :
I have never before known her to show such
vigor. It was as if association with swell cars in the
ducal garage had given her a better opinion of her-
self. The little trull ran up hills on top gear as if
she thought she was a forty horse. I fancy that the
float of the carburetor has gone wrong, and I have
made up my mind not to mend it.
Owing to this unexpected bounciness on Susan's
part I was before my time when next day, after spend-
ing a night at Chescote, I approached Hildon ; and
accordingly I took a leisurely course by the wooded
lane that leads through the "splash." I went gently
down into the stream, but by some carelessness with
the extra air managed to stop the engine midway
across. The water was up to the axles and, as the
muddy bottom did not invite wading, it occurred to me
that it might be possible to start the engine from the
bonnet. I kicked off my shoes so as not to scratch
Susan ; climbed out on to her wing ; and, as the
252
RACHEL EXPLAINS TO ME 253
radiator was hot, I took off my coat, folded it over
the bonnet, lay across it and got to work. I could
reach the handle all right, but, try as I would, I could
not give it such a swing as would start Susan into
life.
While I was struggling in this posture I heard
sounds of splashing in the ford behind me, and looking
over my shoulder beheld Rachel in her buggy, with
Ham. She colored a little when she saw who it was,
and I sat on the bonnet in my shirt-sleeves with my
stockinged feet on the mud-guard, and chatted with
her. She looked different, somehow, and she seemed
remote as she sat above me with the water between
us. Ham was restless, and she soon drove on saluting
me with her whip as she splashed out on to the road.
I climbed back into the seat and fell into a muse
as I pulled off my stockings. So that was Rachel!
She seemed, in a way, just like any other pretty girl
when one met her like that. I couldn't, somehow,
realize that it was actually Rachel who had a moment
before driven off with a flourish of her whip. I
stared at the muddy water still running in the tracks
of her wheels. I wanted her to return and let me
have another look at her. She had on rather a
fetching hat, and gloves with gauntlets which she did
not usually wear. They made her hands look ridicu-
lously small : in fact, all coarse, strong sorts of clothing
suit Rachel. They seem to show off her small parts.
I realized what a little beauty she is and suddenly felt
quite excited. I slipped out into the water and lost
254 THOMAS
no time in starting up Susan so that I could overtake
Rachel and, at least, watch her back as she drove
along. I did not, however, come up with her, and
there was no sign of her trap when I took my car
round to the stables at Hildon ; nor did Rachel her-
self appear till everyone had finished tea.
Mrs. Graham was all smiles when I was shown into
the drawing-room ; but when a movement at the far
end of the room revealed little Nibbs I felt like George
III who, on revisiting Tavistock after four months'
absence, exclaimed : "What, raining still !" It ap-
peared, however, that Nibbs had arrived only the day
before, for a dance which Mrs. Graham is giving to-
morrow. On Saturday there is to tbe a village enter-
tainment got up by Maud, and I have promised to
sing "Tickle Toby" in the dress of Sinbad the Sailor
with my face blacked. I am rather looking forward
to it. It will be a success, I think, with "Hunka,
Hunka" as a follow on. Little Nibbs is down for a
piano solo, and I know what that means. Maud is
going to recite; Rachel refuses to do anything, but
Valerie is to sing. I did not know that Valerie sang.
"Oh yes! Valerie sings," Mrs. Graham told me
without enthusiasm. "She has a natural voice," she
added, as if to excuse her.
As Mrs. Graham said she was very glad to have
me for the dance, and that she had been disappointed
of one man who was coming to stay for it, I sug-
gested Bat as a substitute and Mrs. Graham gave me
an invitation to enclose to him. That will make it
RACHEL EXPLAINS TO ME 255
possible for Bat and me to enrich Maud's programme,
with our special "turn" of Professor Schwartz and
Herr Pipft all quite original, and elaborated between
us on numerous occasions. I have told him to bring
his make-up and have asked my mother to send my
own things.
The die is cast! I have taken the momentous step.
The thing is settled at last for good or ill. I am going
to marry Rachel. I decided last night in bed. She is
a dear little creature (though she might be a bit taller
and no harm), and it is wonderful how fond I have
felt of her to-day after making up my mind, I mean.
I shall be proud of her, and I am looking forward to
showing her to Bat. He will be dazzled, I know. I
daresay she will get a little thinner as she grows
older ; but anyhow I've quite made up my mind. Of
course it is a very serious step to take, I know that;
but everything points to its being the best thing to do.
My mother tells me I ought to be married ; Bat says
it's dangerous to put it off; I shall not get another
holiday till Christmas ; I am in love with Rachel ; she
is certain to have a bit of money, which will be quite
all right ; and Mrs. Graham has been so very kind and
hospitable that it will be really a pleasure to pay her
the compliment.
I can't feel sure whether I ought to tell Mrs. Gra-
ham first, or not. On the whole, I think not. It
would be an awkward kind of interview in any case.
She might want to kiss me, or suppose that I expected
256 THOMAS
her to, and I hate scenes. I feel that she would not
have asked me to stay if I were not the sort of man
she would wish her daughter to marry, so there can
be no positive reason why I should take her into my
confidence beforehand: besides, Rachel has probably
prepared her, and if not she would certainly object
to her mother being informed before she herself knew.
It would be a snub for her, running with the great
news, to be met with: "Yes, my dear, I know. He
told me yesterday."
No. I shall not tell Mrs. Graham. I have, of
course, no idea of keeping the thing secret: I shall
simply take Rachel to her mother and we will tell her
together and joke it off, and that will be much the
best way. It will be good fun, too, to let my mother
suppose it is Valerie, and I have just written to her
to tell her I have news for her and she can try and
guess what it is. Nita will take to Rachel at once, I
know; and she to Nita; and my mother will be de-
lighted with her. In fact, there will be no awkward-
ness anywhere.
Rachel is a shy little thing. She appears more re-
served than ever. That is feminine coyness, of course !
She knows well enough what is in my mind, and that
would naturally incline her to be coy; but her man-
ner might well put another fellow off altogether: in
fact she rather overdoes the defensive business. We
went round the five holes this morning four times and
I got the idea Rachel wants me to speak. Certainly it
was she who proposed golf; and I saw from the very
RACHEL EXPLAINS TO ME 257
offhand way she asked me that she was feigning in-
difference. It is the contradictory way women have:
they give you your chance and then act as though to
put you off. Once, as we left one of the greens, I be-
gan to make way, and Rachel cut me off short with
"It's your honor, Mr. Quinn," and ran away to the
tee box.
Never mind! To-morrow night your number will
go up, my Rachel. I'll get you in a corner, and it
will be my turn then, as you will find, my little darling.
I positively ached to-day when I looked at the girl,
knowing that we were at arm's length all the time.
She does not like to meet my gaze, I notice. She
knows. She knows.
Captain Druce, of tiger renown, was playing tennis
here this afternoon and, as I heard him promise Maude
that he would come to the entertainment, I asked him
to do the cat in my show with Bat. He replied that
he couldn't "to save his life," though I explained that
he had only got to yowl behind the scenes, and I even
gave him an illustration of what I meant. Captain
Druce's superb reticence evidently consists in his hav-
ing nothing to say ; and he appears to be trying to get
himself filled up with Rachel's ideas, for she chatters
away to him, and he swallows it all like a fish.
The forthcoming dance and entertainment over-
shadow everything else. It is great fun. After din-
ner to-night Valerie tried over her songs to Nibbs's
accompaniment. Little Nibbs evidently thinks that
258 THOMAS
the idea of a song is to give the accompanist a show,
and she practised her effects before us in a most un-
abashed manner; ogling the music, and looking aside
at Valerie, and waiting on her long notes like a hun-
dred-guinea pro, on the job. Valerie's song was dole-
ful. It represented a dying child as petitioning its
mother, and the word "mother" got rather used up
before the song came to an end. Her second, or
"encore" song, as Nibbs called it, was nearly as de-
pressing. It depicted another unfortunate child re-
questing its parent to come out of a public-house, and
telling him the dreadful results of inebriation with a
knowledge of the world which was much deeper and
more varied than any I possess. Valerie sings in a
low mournful voice which gains some effect for the
songs she favors by being a little out of tune.
Bat wired to-day to Mrs. Graham accepting, so
that's all right ; and I had a turn at my part on the
piano at a private moment as I hoped, but it brought
little Nibbs on the scene at once like the cry of "Meat"
to a London cat.
"Do you play the piano, Mr. Quinn?" she asked,
interrupting me.
I told her I did not.
She seemed satisfied after she had listened a few
moments, for she disappeared.
We broke up early to-night in anticipation of late
hours to-morrow, and I am going to turn in at this
moment. I kiss both my hands in the direction of
Rachel. What is that dear little head dreaming about,
RACHEL EXPLAINS TO ME 259
I wonder ? There will be new dreams to occupy it to-
morrow, my sweetheart!
The dance is over. We got up to bed at about
four, but I could not sleep and I rose soon after
six, and had a cold bath, and have been wandering
about the garden with the idea that I might meet
Rachel somewhere. I had a head on me. At eight
o'clock I managed to get hold of some tea, but I still
feel rotten, and I wish I could get out of this enter-
tainment business to-night. I am now sitting in the
little den which was used as a smoke-hole by the men
last night. The litter is all about still, and the stale
smell. Why people give dances I can't imagine. It
upsets the whole house.
Rachel has turned me down. She won't accept me.
I don't seem, however, to have had it really out with
her. I didn't manage as well as I might have done.
The chairs were all wrong for one thing, and she
could not see me properly, either. She is an odd
girl. If I had found her in the garden just now I
should have tried her again, but, as it is, I shall let
her alone for a bit and see how that will work. She
will notice the difference when I don't play up to her
and go away and don't write for weeks. Girls like to
be made a fuss over. Besides, I must preserve my
dignity, and Rachel ought not to be so outspoken.
She asked me to forgive her, I admit, and I said I
would ; but I didn't see clearly, then, as I do now. It
all seems different this morning. Of course I do for-
260 THOMAS
give her all the same, but that doesn't mean that I'm to
behave exactly as if nothing 1 had happened. I'm
glad that I forgot to post the letter to my mother.
Bat turned up yesterday afternoon all serene, and
a fellow named Marchland with a sister. I hope
they'll enjoy themselves more than I am doing, but I
can think of nothing except what happened last night.
I have just been to look at the place again. It is
under the stairs where the hot-water pipes are, as you
go towards the conservatory. They put a screen
across. Someone has moved the chairs since we were
there. The carriage rug thrown over the hot-water
coil; and the pots of fern; and the Chinese lantern
in the passage are all there; but they somehow look
shabby and stupid in the morning light.
The dancing began soon after half-past nine.
Rachel was in a plain white frock with pearls and just
one red flower hanging in her hair. I did not notice
her dress much. Nibbs was gorgeous to the point of
being revolting. Her arms were bare to the shoulders,
and she was covered with powder like a chicken just
dredged for the roasting-pan, so that she left chalky
stains on the coats of the men she danced with. It
was on her eyelashes too, and made her seem like a
darling little miller. She looked an alluring little
devil and no mistake. She must have been borrowing
jewellery right and left, for she was hung over with
diamonds and sported a tiara that would have graced
the wife of a pork-packer or of a prince. You could
hear her rustling all over the room. She wore a dress
RACHEL EXPLAINS TO ME 261
of thin, white, shining silk swathed close about her
little figure, with a sort of russet net weighted with
gilded beads, which embraced her and showed off all
the lithe movements of her body. The men crowded
about her like flies ; and you could see them watching
her as she danced, and pulling their moustaches. I
won't try to describe, her hair, but directly I saw it I
knew who the man with a bag like a piano-tuner was,
whom I had met in the corridor when I went upstairs
to dress : and oh ! her two little damned golden slip-
pers, running up to a peak on the instep with just one
naughty paste button against the stocking, making her
foot seem as soft and delicate as a pretty hand in a
glove. If I ever go to hell I shall expect to find Nibbs
there in her ballroom rig-out, just on the other side
of a fiery chasm. I felt I should like to throw a bucket
of tar over her.
I could only get two dances with Rachel. She
seemed to have promised her whole programme.
After our first dance, when I was walking her off to
the nook under the stairs, she suddenly left my arm
and sat down beside Beatrice Wyndacotte ; and when
she joined me again, with an apology, she seated her-
self in the hall, saying: "We shall know directly the
music begins, here."
Before our second dance I found an opportunity to
visit the place under the stairs again, to see that
everything was ready, and the chairs placed right ; and
when the dance was over I gave Rachel no chance of
breaking away. She is a girl who must be handled
262 THOMAS
firmly. If I am more firm in future I shall get her:
I have learnt that.
"I want you to come with me," I said, as I hurried
her off.
She tripped experimentally into the nook on my arm,
like a little scared rabbit, and stood looking about her
until I indicated the chair, and then, in seating her-
self, she shifted it so that she somewhat faced me. I
tried to correct this as I took my seat, but my own
chair had fouled the water-pipes and wouldn't come
round.
"I've got something to tell you," I said, as I un-
folded the screen across the opening.
Rachel looked at me seriously with her lips parted,
as I could see although the light was dim, but she
said nothing.
"Can't you guess?"
She shook her head.
"I've fallen head over ears in love with you, Ra-
chel."
"Oh, don't, don't; you mustn't" she exclaimed,
looking quickly about her as though she were startled.
"But I must," I laughed. "I can't help myself ; I'm
absolutely bowled over."
"Oh, please, please don't say such things, Mr.
Quinn."
"But they're the only things I've got to say : besides,
you know I do, dear. I'm really in love this time.
You're perfectly sweet. I can think of nothing else
but you. There's no one else I think so much of.
RACHEL EXPLAINS TO ME 263
I'm proud of you, Rachel. I've put off saying it, and
put off, but now I've made up my mind, and I brought
you here to tell you ; I planned it days ago so you need
have no doubts about it, sweetheart. I really and truly
love you, with all my heart; I'm proud of you and I
don't care who tries to chaff me. I have not told your
mother because I thought you would rather we went
to her together ; let me kiss my dear one."
She was clasping and pressing her ringers, and
staring in front of her. As I said this I slipped my
hand under her elbow, but she eluded me in some
way, and when I leant to her she turned away her
head. I couldn't capture her, for the chairs were all
wrong, and when I tried to shift mine it was fast.
"No! No!" she cried in a whisper. "You mustn't.
Oh, why do you talk to me like this? Why can't it
all be as it was at first?"
"Because I love you, Rachel ; don't you understand,,
sweetheart? I want to marry you."
I slid forward on to one knee and caught both her
hands in mine. She pretended to try and pull them
away.
"Oh, please let go; you mustn't, you mustn't; it's
all a mistake," she whispered breathlessly.
"No, my darling," I said gently, but I couldn't help
laughing a little. "There's no mistake; it's just ex-
actly what I tell you. I want to marry you. I don't
want to be separated from you ever again."
"Oh, why do you say these things ! Why, why did
you ever come back !"
264 THOMAS
"To tell you that I want you to be my wife," I said
impressively.
"But Oh, Mr. Quinn, I am so sorry, but but I
don't want to be." She got one hand free, and then
tegan nervously untwining my fingers from the other.
"Don't want to be ?" I asked gently.
"No Oh, I am so sorry, I never thought it would
be like this."
"Yes, Rachel, I know exactly how you feel. It's all
quite natural, dear. You must wait till to-morrow. It
is the sudden surprise, so don't fret: come."
"No, no, you mustn't. Oh, why do you go on."
She gazed full at me for a moment, and then suddenly
put her hands over her face. "Oh dear, oh dear; I
never thought you would feel so."
"But you see I do, Rachel dear," I said, trying to
take her hands down. Directly I touched them she
pulled them away and hid them behind her back.
"You simply mustn't go on saying these things, Mr.
Quinn."
"Why not, dear?"
"Because it can never, never, never be."
I couldn't help smiling at her amphasis. "But my
dearest girl, you are not reasonable," I told her. "If
we love one another what's to prevent it ?"
"Oh, don't you understand ?" she said, with her face
looking piteous and her hands clasping and pressing
one another.
"Why it can never be?" I said. "No, I don't ! Tell
me."
RACHEL EXPLAINS TO ME 265
She seemed troubled. "Its so nice of you I know
but you see " she faltered.
"Well?" I said, smiling at the embarrassment.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Quinn; I can't help it, it's
really not my fault, but well, I'm afraid I don't
don't you see?"
"Don't what?"
"Don't feel as you do."
"Don't feel as I do! but in what way, Rachel?"
"Oh, why do you make me say it. I I don't love
you, Mr. Quinn."
She blushed crimson ; I could see her neck even in
the dim light. Her face was hidden. It was certainly
a hopeful sign, but I was naturally utterly taken
aback.
"You don't care about me at all perhaps?" I said
with an effort, after a pause.
She slightly shook her bowed head.
"You dislike me, you mean?"
She looked up. "Oh, Mr. Quinn you know I never
said that."
Her gaze was so frank and searching that I couldn't
meet it somehow. I sat back in my chair and looked
at her through the gloom. She was sitting with her
head bowed over her glove and was trying to twist off
one of the buttons with her fingers. It was such a
facer that I could find nothing to say. There really
was nothing to say. I wanted to think. She glanced
up at me pleadingly, I thought, and then began atten-
tively smoothing out an end of ribbon across her knee.
266 THOMAS
I don't think I knew how fond I was of her till that
moment.
The music began in the distance. She got out her
programme and examined it. Then she suddenly stood
up.
As I reached to open the screen back for her,
she turned to me and our gaze met. The light fell
upon her face for the first time. The eyes were
glowing, the face looked piteous.
"Oh, Mr. Quinn, I am so sorry:" her voice broke.
"Say you forgive me."
I did it then : on her warm perfumed neck. She did
not shrink. Then I held her at arm's length with her
two hands in mine, and looked at her. I had forgiven
her. As I looked at her I felt quite ready to forgive
her again.
I didn't mind it so much at first. That moment of
intimacy seemed to bear me up, but as the evening
wore on it made me feel dreary to see Rachel flitting
round the ballroom with other men, and apparently
enjoying herself; and I was always wondering and
uneasy when she was not in sight. I was careful
not to let her know I was looking at her though, and
once when I caught her looking at me I felt gratified ;
it was as though I had scored a point. At supper she
sat at the same table with me, and Bat was there too,
and we kept things gay in spite of the heavy decorum
of Druce, who was Rachel's companion. I did not
want Rachel to think I minded. It was only a first
RACHEL EXPLAINS TO ME 267
bid, and the wine was a stand-by. Champagne helps
one to forget, and I didn't care how much of it I swal-
lowed. Bat got very jolly too, and after the guests
had gone and the ladies retired to bed we two, and
Marchland, lit cigars and did a "razzle-drazzle" up
and down the supper-room and upset a table. I re-
member Bat interfering when I was trying to take the
bust of the late Graham off its pedestal to put it out in
the garden. I resented the sour look with which he
stood apart from our revels.
Another day has passed. It is half-past six on
Sunday morning now, and here I am once more sitting
in the Smoking Den. Again, last night, I could not
sleep. I felt perfectly rotten ; I kicked about in bed,
and then tried to read, and then kicked about again till
I could stand it no longer and got up. This business
with Rachel is, of course, the main cause of it, but
there was more on top yesterday. I don't think I ever
spent such a heavy day in my life. To begin with, lest
I should be feeling too frisky and bobbish, the Hon.
Rupert Heronshaw, my chief, chose yesterday morn-
ing on which to honor me, for once and away, with
an autograph letter : just to show what he can do when
he tries, the little bounder. I found this letter when I
left off writing yesterday and went to the breakfast-
room. It had been re-addressed by Nita, so she is
back with my mother again. Poor old Nita !
268 THOMAS
"H.M. OFFICE OF STATISTICS,
August yd, 19
MR. THOMAS A. QUINN,
I have to-day considered the circumstances
20 P
dealt with in K ! 1 and certain other matters, and
N.SI.
have directed that you lost twelve months seniority.
You will do well to note that no official can continue
to lose seniority and remain in His Majesty's Service.
The discipline of this office must be maintained.
As one who remembers your father, I will add that
he is no true son of that father who shuts his eyes to
the elementary obligations of manhood. This office is
not to be regarded as a house of recreation for super-
annuated schoolboys.
RUPERT HERONSHAW,
Sec."
Short and sweet with the sting in the tail; "Prince
Rupert" doing his damnedest. He is a little man, as
red as a fox, with a big eyeglass glued to his face,
which he only drops when he particularly wants to see
something. He is always buttoned up ; is as smart as
a new pin; stays till seven every night; never turns
a hair, and keeps a tongue in his head which can flick
you like a wet towel.
I don't care. The office is an old goat anyway.
They can sack me if they like, and I will go to the
Colonies, and make a name for myself, and perhaps
RACHEL EXPLAINS TO ME 269
Rachel will realize that she has made a mistake, and
feel sorry. But I'll never propose to another girl. I've
quite made up my mind to that. They lead you on to
it just for the pleasure of telling you they dislike you,
and getting on top. Women are no good for anything
except to make pets of, and flash about.
When Marchland turned up at breakfast yesterday,
while I was eating toast and chips of lean ham, I asked
him if he would do the Cat for us. I showed him
what was wanted, though it made me feel ill to re-
member what I was in for. He caught on to the idea,
however, and was practising all day, so that Mrs.
Graham asked at large: "What is that dreadful noise
I keep hearing?"
Marchland did the "meeow," and the snarl of an
angry cat, and then the yowl of a cat in love, and at
last worked up to a really good imitation of two cats
fighting. I realized that he would enrich the perform-
ance, but there promised to be too much cat. We had
a rehearsal in the afternoon, and as we couldn't sub-
due Marchland's enthusiasm we decided to have two
cats to keep him in countenance, and I requisitioned
the kitchen cat, and another I had seen frequenting
the stables.
It was difficult to keep Nibbs away while we were
rehearsing, but at last Bat, who manages her very
well, and had made extraordinary progress in the one
day, cried:
"Here! Outside Teresina!" and took her by the
shoulders, and ran her out of the room. Nibbs seemed
\
270 THOMAS
delighted. Her name is not Teresina of course, though
Bat calls her so publicly, and refers to her by that
name to Mrs. Graham and the others.
"She's all right," said Bat, grinning to us when
he returned. A little later Nibbs was smiling in
through the window and Bat pulled down the blind in
her face. Miss Nibbs, I may mention, had managed
to get through the night without taking down her hair.
She was preserving it for the evening.
"Why are you so mouldy?" Bat challenged me.
"You were all right last night, and a bit over. What's
the matter with you? You'll let the show down."
I told him I wasn't mouldy and should be all right
when the time came, but I didn't feel much in key for
the buffoonery I was engaged to. I went out for a
walk so as to avoid appearing at tea. Rachel acted
as though everything were all right. I thought it well
to let her see what tea was like when I wasn't there.
I had still a day, I thought, in which to bring her
round.
Bat persuaded me to come down to dinner in my
make-up. He said he was doing it because it would
make "Teresina" want to kiss him. As we had got
to start directly after dinner, I agreed, and we met in
the smoke-room so as to make our entry to the draw-
ing-room together, at the last moment. As Professor
Schwartz, Bat wears a mane of gray hair like a sky
terrier; while I, as Herr Pip ft, have a bald forehead
and a fringe of lank, black hair, hanging over my col-
lar all round. We both are wrinkled and have red
RACHEL EXPLAINS TO ME 271
noses and horn spectacles. I didn't enjoy it, how-
ever, and would have been glad to be quit of the whole
thing. It was then, just before we joined the others,
that Bat told me the news.
"There's a flutter in the dovecot here," he said.
"Teresina tells me that the little black one is engaged
to that great big chap who was here last night; Cap-
tain someone or other. I suppose it was what the
dance was for: and a jolly nice dance it was too. I
should have proposed to Teresina myself only I was
afraid she would accept me. Come on, there's din-
ner!" he broke off, slapping me on the back. "Buck
up!"
He had given me quite a heavy let down. I was
thankful for my disguise when I seated myself at
the table. Everyone was very merry in anticipation
of the night's amusement, and Rachel seemed espec-
ially gay, but I could not help feeling dreary. At a
moment when I was absorbed in my own thoughts I
suddenly became aware that everyone was looking at
me and laughing, and that Bat was calling me "Ham-
let." As usual, Bat could not let his joke alone, and
worked it to death. I got quite sick of myself.
"The Dane is not feeding properly," he said. "Here,
I say, it's no good waiting for the cheese-straws, Ham-
let. You can't make a meal off them you know."
While we were putting on our wraps in the en-
trance hall Captain Druce arrived, evidently as a duly-
appointed escort. He was smiling at the open door, a
center of attention, as he seemed to expect. I saw
272 THOMAS
Mrs. Graham looking across to where his head towered
above the others, with an intent look of pleasure, as
she fastened her mantle. Then, in turning, she caught
my eye.
"I wanted to tell you this afternoon, Mr. Quinn,
but I did not see you," she said, "that Captain Druce
and Rachel are engaged. Only since last night"
she smiled to me "but we are announcing it to-day.
They are so happy," she added, looking again towards
the laughing group at the door.
The carriages drove up.
"Here, I've lost the Prince," I heard Bat announce.
"Has anyone seen a Dane about. Come along," he
said, approaching me.
He led me out through the group at the door, and
on the step brought me up short, and confronted me
with Captain Druce.
"Let me introduce you to my friend Hamlet," he
said.
Druce, of course, had nothing to say and didn't
know what to do. He bowed in his superb manner
and I felt nettled. However, as I stood idiotically be-
fore him, I looked him steadily in the face through the
empty horn spectacle rims; flung up one arm; yelped
as if someone was hurting me; danced half a dozen
steps of a Highland fling with great speed and vio-
lence; span round on my toe, and walked gravely
down the steps to the carriage. I quite turned the
tables on Druce, and Bat, who, with his unerring in-
stinct for personality, had designed to make fools of
RACHEL EXPLAINS TO ME 273
both of us was, no doubt, somewhat disappointed.
We arrived nobly late to find the room filled with
clean, smiling old women and some of the elder men,
with a sprinkling of juveniles, and a racket of sophisti-
cated louts shuffling and laughing in the back benches ;
a natural antithesis to the Hildon party strung out
with bare shoulders in the front row.
The curtain went up and discovered the Rector
standing before a table with a green baize cover, on
which was a lighted bedroom candle and some papers.
He seemed to invite applause, but not to expect it.
Someone crowed like a cock in the back of the room.
A sturdy farmer got up and went down the hall and
there was the sound of a blow. No more cocks
crowed that night. There was a good deal of shuf-
fling and coughing while the Rector enlarged in de-
tail upon the voracity of the church stove. Then the
curtain came down.
It went up again on the Rector's announcement that
Mr. Fredericks would play an overture, "The Ten
Plagues of Egypt," and the schoolmaster was revealed
seated at the piano. He was received with applause
which he did not acknowledge in any way whatever.
He announced each plague before he played it. I pre-
ferred the Boils.
The Rector next announced, "Recitation. 'Lochin-
var,' by Miss Maud Graham."
Maud was discovered in a pink dress and holding
a book. She declaimed the poem threateningly, and
274 THOMAS
changed the book from one hand to the other in order
to perform the action of young Lochinvar drawing his
sword: "And save his good broadsword (wallop) he
weapon had none." The reciter here paused and re-
ferred to her book to see what came next. It was the
sort of recitation one would not throw at a dog. It
was received coolly.
Then the hand-bell ringers were revealed, amid
much laughter and the encouragement of individual
performers from the body of the hall. There were
six ringers grouped round a music-stand, each ringer
with two bells, and they played many tunes. The dif-
ficulty of playing in the key of G without F sharp was
got over by playing F natural. The two lowest bells
were, further, in charge of a ringer who required a
nod or a wink to make him ring; and this seriously
interfered with the time, as one nudge was not always
enough to break the trance in which this ringer gazed
at the music-stand. Tune followed tune, and the
Rector stood up once or twice in an uncertain way,
and then sat down. He was beginning to try to make
the ringers stop ringing. The ringers had the advan-
tage however. A hesitating movement among them at
one time raised hopes which were shattered by a fresh
book of tunes being put up on the stand. Maud then
disappeared into the retiring room, and directly the
first tune of the second book ended the curtain came
down. It rose again for the ringers to bow their
acknowledgments. They were discovered leaving the
stage, but finding the curtain up they quickly fell into
RACHEL EXPLAINS TO ME 275
place and had opened the book again, when the cur-
tain descended and extinguished them for good and
all.
Valerie got through her songs with Nibbs well ; and
made a great success. I think they were the best ap-
preciated items in the programme.
Next Bat and I appeared.
Bat plays the fiddle a bit; in fact he was quite a
ood hand until he got ashamed of the accomplish-
ment. Our turn consists in "The Last Rose of Sum-
mer with variations," by Professor Schwartz (at the
piano, Herr Pipft). Rachel and Captain Druce were
just in front, and I could observe the way she turned
to him inviting him to share her amusement.
We come on hand in hand, and bow elaborately.
Then Pipft goes to the piano and sounds a crashing
chord which makes Schwartz start violently, and drop
his bow. Then the business of tuning begins in earn-
est. Schwartz goes miserably round the stage, trying
to find a convenient place to rest the head of the
fiddle so as to get a purchase on the pegs, and even
tries Pipft's bald head in his desperation. Pipft expos-
tulates. Pipft meanwhile gradually becomes absorbed
in testing the piano as though tuning it as well. At
last we are ready. Pipft keeps touching the opening
note, but Schwartz hangs fire ; he is waiting to catch a
sneeze. Then they bite together, but Schwartz feels at
that moment he would be more comfortable without
his collar, so he takes it off; and this reminds Pipft
that he has not removed his cuffs, and he pulls off two
276 THOMAS
celluloid reversibles fastened with solitaires, and
places them conspicuously on the piano beside
Schwartz's collar and tie.
Then we make a fair start.
" Tis the last rose" Schwartz here plays E natural
instead of E flat, and though Pip ft hammers on E
flat to prompt him, and even calls to him behind his
hand, he persists in playing E natural throughout, be-
ing so much caught up in the rapture of his own per-
formance as to be deaf to everything else. Then the
cats join in, and at last the persistency of the cats is
such that Pipft calls Schwartz's attention to the din,
and after some fruitless search they both run and look
into the piano together, from which they appear to
extract two cats.
"Why, surely that's our Felix," I heard Mrs. Gra-
ham say.
She was quite right. It was Felix sure enough.
We end with the variations, which are so frantically
difficult for both instruments, and are played at such
incredible speed that the effect is one of mere noise
and confusion.
The thing is a perfect scream, really; but though
there was laughter when the cats appeared the audi-
ence seemed bored. Bat said it was all my fault, but I
don't think it was altogether, though I admit that I
could put no conviction into my part. I felt dreary.
There was a sentimental song sung by the village
tenor, and then Miss Farquhar was announced for
her piano solo. She was conducted on to the platform
RACHEL EXPLAINS TO ME 277
by Bat, with her last night's coiffeur still intact and
dressed in a very provocative way; and she had the
Rector, Bat and Maud up on the platform together be-
fore the seat of the chair could be made high enough to
please her. It was Grieg's Wedding March, of course,
as the Rector had announced ; and whether it was
that the name "Grieg" struck the audience as a hint of
a facetious intention, or the sprightly way Nibbs
played the piece made it appear a travesty of a wed-
ding march an idea which would gain ground owing
to the elastic foundation on which she sat, making
Nibbs dance up and down in her chair in time with the
dance up and down in her chair in time with the
music the audience certainly received the perform-
ance with ope.i amusement, and delighted Nibbs with
shouts of applause ; so that she immediately played it
all over again, and looked immensely pleased with her-
self.
Soon after this I had to give my song "Tickle
Toby." I was dressed as Sinbad, turban and all, with
my face thoroughly blacked. I had practised a nigger
laugh to come in at the end of each verse a gurgle
beginning in my boots and rising to a kind of screech ;
but it didn't go. I had no heart for it. I did it bitterly.
I didn't want to laugh. After the murmur of expec-
tation that greeted me when I seated myself at the
front of the stage had subsided, the whole thing fell
flat. Mrs. Graham was immediately below me looking
at me with a nervous proprietory smile ; and Bat and
Nibbs were laughing together next to her.
278 THOMAS
Just as I was going to begin I heard Bat say to
Nibbs, evidently for my benefit: "Hamlet looks as
though he were out for murder, this time."
I saw Sir Evelyn Wyndacotte look at me seriously
from the second row, after wiping his glasses. I
couldn't face it out, and I ended after three verses. As
I came off into the retiring-room, I found Rachel and
Captain Druce there. She was talking eagerly to
make herself heard above the stamping and whistling
with which the back benches, balked of their fun,
clamored for a new attempt ; and he was standing be-
mused, looking at her. When Rachel saw me she
stopped short, and smiled at me so that her eyes dis-
appeared altogether.
"How splendid, Mr. Quinn. You have amused
them."
That was a bitter moment. Captain Druce nodded
to me indulgently. I felt I should like to black the
fellow's face, and throw him out on the platform to
do what he could for himself.
Bat, Rachel, Nibbs and I went home in the same
carriage with Druce on the box.
"Jump in quick, Hamlet, before the horse sees you,"
said Bat, "or he'll want to lie down."
Rachel engaged me in conversation, but I knew she
was only doing it to cheer me up. It was jolly nice
of her, all the same.
I found an opportunity, when I said good-night, and
congratulated her.
"I wish you the best of good luck," I said as I took
HOME AGAIN 279
her hand. "I'm afraid mine's run out," I added.
"It will come in again on the flood, I hope," said
she ; "and thank you ever so. I know you mean what
you say. And please don't mind about it, for it makes
me so unhappy."
"It was all my fault," I said. "I was an ass."
"No. You mustn't think that," said Rachel. "Be-
sides," she went on, "no one will ever know."
"What ! No one ?" I queried.
Her color deepened. "Well, no one that counts,"
she laughed.
"And all I ever asked," I complained, "was to be
merely the one who doesn't count."
"Good night," she said.
"Good night," said I.
She looked brilliant. I felt perfectly ready to for-
give her all over again if she offered me the excuse.
So that's all over; and in a couple of hours Susan
and I take the road once more, with good-bye to Hil-
don hospitality, and a cold welcome to the pickle tub
in Whitehall to-morrow morning.
CHAPTER XV
HOME AGAIN
MY tour is at an end, and here I am back at home
once more.
The morning I left Hildon, Nibbs came down to
breakfast with a volume under her arm. It was her
album. Bat and I were asked to write in it. Bat
signed his name and wrote :
"Hildon Hall August 5 19 ." "And very nice,
too."
I scribbled under my name :
"I went to market to buy a fat pig,
Home again, Home again, jiggy -jig-jig.
Hamlet."
Nibbs seemed to think it pointless nonsense. I
wonder whether she has shown it to Rachel. Of
course Rachel isn't fat, or I could not have written it ;
but she is certainly plump. She came running to me
in the hall as if she were in a hurry ; said "Good-bye,
Mr. Quinn," with her eyes shut up tight; paused for
an instant, smiling at me as our hands gripped ; and
then turned and ran off crying "I'm coming!" I
280
HOME AGAIN 281
know well Rachel's little devices for extricating her-
self: all >ery neat and cunning, to be sure! She
started off walking alone to church, instead of waiting
to drive with the rest, although it was raining. The
rain accompanied us all the way back.
I dropped Bat at High Wycombe station. I got
rather tired of him on the journey. He kept whistling
the first four bars of Grieg's Wedding March, at inter-
vals, all day . I hope I shall never again hear that des-
pairing jig as long as I live.
It was a cloudy, cold August evening, and getting
dark, when I reached home. The geraniums along
the drive were all falling to pieces ; the garden looked
used up. The place seemed small and strange, some-
how. The sensations of coming home were very dif-
ferent from the adventurous expectations with which
I had driven up to so many houses during the past
weeks.
It was a relief to know I should find Nita in the
house. My mother's persistent questionings would
be hard to face out, but I was determined not to let
it appear that anything had gone wrong.
It was pleasant to meet Ben on the drive. He
comes on Sunday evening to feed the dogs, and
shut up the fowls. I told him to go back and carry
in my things, and when I got out of Susan I threw
out my legs and arms and tried to feel brisk and
cheerful.
282 THOMAS
My mother came out into the hall directly she heard
me.
"How late my son is," she said as she kissed me, in
a voice that seemed an echo of long ago. "Oh, how
well he looks ! Come into the light ! You have been
enjoying yourself, I can see. Nita ! Doesn't Thomas
look well? Now tell me all about it. How are the
Grahams ?"
Nita was standing with her foot on the fender,
gazing into the fire, as I followed my mother through
the open door of the drawing-room.
"How d'y do, T. !" she said, smiling, as I went up
and shook hands with her. "Had a good time ?"
"Well, don't keep the dear boy now. You can see
he looks tired. He'd like to go upstairs, I know.
Don't be long, Thomas. Supper is ready."
I felt very dull indeed when I got to the familiar
room. Everything seemed to have come to an end :
but I did not intend that my mother and Nita should
see that I was down on my luck. I sponged my face
with scalding water to brighten myself up a bit.
I carried things off well at supper with an account
of the Waterburys. My mother had produced a bottle
of champagne in my honor, and that, and Nita's ready
laughter, kept me going all right.
In the drawing-room I told them something of the
doings at Yend. My mother was so very much
gratified at the idea of my having been a visitor at
the great house, that she tried hard to discredit my
account of the undipnified pursuits with which the
HOME AGAIN 283
Duke's guests keep themselves from getting bored;
and she persisted in laughing as though I were invent-
ing as 1 went along.
"Oh, how ridiculous my son is!" she exclaimed.
"Isn't he absurd, Nita?"
Nita listened to as much as it was possible for
me to tell them, with amusement, but she laughed out
when I described how the Duke surprised my exhi-
bition of the gun-shot wound, and my exploit at tke
bridge table. I could not resist rather overstating
the catastrophe of these events for the pleasure of
watching my mother. Her face expressed horror.
She threw up her eyes as though I had utterly dis-
graced the family.
"But ^vhy did you take the queens out of the pack,
my dear son? You knew it was not the correct thing
to do."
Nita was delighted. She gurgled with merriment
whenever she looked at my mother's scared face.
I cleared matters up by letting it seem that the
whole story was more or less a joke, and my mother
caught at the straw eagerly. She came over and
kissed me.
"Of course, I knew my dear son would never be-
have like that when he was staying with a duke. But
I like his jokes. It's always a pleasure to me to see
him so happy. Nita," she added, "it's time for bed.
Are you ready?"
"Oh dear!" said Nita, dismissing her laughter as
the rose from her chair.
284 THOMAS
My mother went out, leaving the door open for
Nita. We stood side by side gazing into the grate
without speaking for nearly half a minute. Then
Nita said softly, without looking at me :
"What's wrong, T.?"
I was completely taken by surprise. I stared at
her as she stood watching the surging glow of the
dying fire.
"Wrong?" I asked.
"Yes, T. What's happened?" She turned and
looked at me serenely. It didn't occur to me that it
was no business of hers. It seemed quite natural she
should ask the question. What puzzled me was how
she should have guessed anything. I stared.
"Well, I said, "I've had a bit of an upset; but I
can't imagine how you found it out."
She said nothing, but I knew, as I kicked down
a bit of coal with my shoe, that she was looking at
me.
"Here you are; you can read it," I said, after a
strained pause; and I took the envelope containing
Prince Rupert's letter out of my pocket and handed it
to her.
She glanced back over her shoulder with one of her
graceful motions to locate her chair, and slowly seated
herself as she drew out the paper and unfolded it. I
watched her as she read.
In a few moments the hand holding the letter fell
to her lap, and she looked at me.
"Oh, Thomas !"
HOME AGAIN 285
An air of reproval in her voice nettled me.
"It was only a lark," I said, when I had explained
the circumstances. "I didn't mean any harm."
Nita said nothing to this, and I stared into the fire.
"I am so sorry," she said, taking up the letter and
reading again.
She was making too much of it all. She was even
being a little stupid about it, I thought.
"Oh well, I don't care," I went on. "The office is
an old goat, anyway. They may sack me if they want
to, and I can go to the Colonies. That's the place for
men. This stilted, stuffy old country is only fit for
curates, and grocers, and old maids."
"But that's not like you, Thomas to be down-
hearted."
"Downhearted! I'm not downhearted."
"But you are, or you wouldn't say such things.
It's not manly. If you don't like the service you
ought not to remain in it. You have only got one
life to live. You mustn't waste it. The whole world's
before you. You have education and capacity; you
can afford to choose the work you want to do, but it's
unworthy for anyone to shuffle along the easiest road.
No one can be happy who has a contempt for his
work."
"They're such a dull lot of men. There's no life in
the place. There's not one of them that can join in
any fun."
"But it isn't the place for fun. You should keep
your fun for outside." She smiled.
286 THOMAS
"Well, I shall clear out of the place," I said, "and
go away."
"But you can't do that until you have shown Mr.
Heronshaw, and all of them, that you are not what
they suppose. You can't go off with your tail between
your legs."
I felt this to be true.
"I am waiting, Nita," my mother's voice called from
the distance.
"Coming," cried Nita, with a momentary shadow
of vexation on her forehead.
"He's such a little bounder," I complained.
"Well, but is he? He's got to see that the rules
are kept! It is what he is there for! You must
realize that, Thomas. Suppose everyone played about,
and stayed away! You may feel quite sure it was
no pleasure to him to haul you over the coals. He
had to do his duty, that was all."
"Yes, I understand that" I was replying, when
my mother came into the room with a lighted candle
and interrupted me.
"I'm waiting, Nita."
"Your Aunt Emmy wants to tuck you up," I said.
"My dear son, you know I am always afraid of the
house catching fire. I know I can trust you to put
out the lights," she added, as she kissed me again.
Nita got up, handed me the letter with a nod, and
preceded my mother out of the room.
The latter, however, returned to me, after going
half-way to the door.
HOME AGAIN 287
"Anything I should like to see?" she asked, with her
eyebrows raised.
"No only something official," I told her. It would
have served no purpose to show her the letter. Nita
was different.
She smiled and left me.
"Don't be long," she said, turning as she reached
the door.
"You never told me about your visit to the Gra-
hams," said my mother, when I came down to break-
fast next morning.
"I told you all there was to tell," I said.
"And how are the girls?"
"Quite well."
"And you saw Valerie, of course?"
"Of course she was at home. I told you so."
"Yes, dear. Such a nice girl, Valerie. Well, I
always say there's a girl if you like I was always
so fond of Valerie, and such pretty manners ; and
so stylish. She's not engaged yet, I suppose?"
"Not that I've heard of."
"Oh, you would have heard if she had been. You
may be quite sure of that, my dear son. Did Mrs.
Graham say anything about your going there again?"
"No."
"Oh well, of course, that was her nice feeling; as
you had gone there without an invitation at first, I
mean. So like her. Dear Mrs. Graham. She would
naturally expect you to propose yourself again, of
course."
288 THOMAS
Here Nita entered and the subject dropped.
I found that everybody at the office knew I had
been docked. I was aware of it directly I got into
the place. No one chaffed me or asked why I had
stayed away so long; and even Gregory, the man
who shares my room, did not ask how I had spent
my holiday, and, indeed, seemed pointedly to keep
off the subject. It made me feel uncomfortable.
In the middle of the morning I went up to Bad-
derley's room. Badderley is the Assistant Secretary.
When I came in he gave me a short nod, and sat
back, and waited for me to speak.
"The Chief's docked me twelve months, hasn't he ?"
I said.
"Yes," he answered drily.
"Does he often do it?"
"There was a case four or five years ago: six
months." He looked at me.
"Ought I to go and see him?" I asked, after a
pause.
Badderley shrugged. "Please yourself," he said.
"Question is: Will he see you?"
He looked at me for a moment, and then turned
to his writing again.
I walked up and down the corridor for some min-
utes uncertain what to do. A messenger who came
by stared at me, and then suddenly withdrew his eyes.
Everyone knew about it, then. I felt sick of myself.
Well, if Prince Rupert would not see me, he wouldn't ;
but I felt I wanted to tell him I was sorry, and I
HOME AGAIN 289
determined it shouldn't be my fault if I did not.
His clerk went into his room ; came back ; shut his
door; nodded me to a chair, and went on with his
work. Time passed, and I thought I had been for-
gotten. Then a messenger entered with a basket of
papers. The clerk took the basket in to Prince Rupert
and returned with two others, which he gave to the
messenger. As he seated himself again he pointed to
the inner door.
I pushed it open and walked in.
Prince Rupert's nose was buried in his papers.
I closed the door, and waited. After a few minutes
he tossed a docket into a basket and seemed, in the
act, to catch sight of me. He put up his eyeglass
and looked at me sideways, with his face screwed up,
as is his way when interrupted.
"Well?"
"I want to apologize for the way I've treated the
office, sir!"
"Yes. Right !"
He dropped his eyeglass, and his face went down
into his papers again.
The interview was over, and I came out.*
Pretty manners are certainly not a strong point of
His Majesty's Office of Statistics.
When I told Nita about it, however, she did not
seem surprised.
"It was all right your going in and saying what
290 THOMAS
you did, T.," she said. "And as he consented to see
you, and must have known what it was about, it
shows that he wishes to be just . I don't see that he
could say much more until you have given him grounds
for changing his opinion of you in fact it was a case
of the less said the better."
I see what Nita means. She has quite a little head
on her shoulders, and rather astonishes me sometimes.
She was so nice about it all too, and has cheered me
up no end. I'll show them that I am as good a man
as any of them.
I remembered to-day that I had never written to say
good-bye to Cousin Jane, or to thank her, so I sent
her a wire: "Home again much enjoyed visit many
thanks."
And so my tour is ended. It would have been a
complete success if it had not been for the upset at
the office, and this business with Rachel. That was
my fault, of course. I was an ass. I can see that
clearly, and though I have only been home four days
the whole thing seems to have happened weeks ago.
If I had married Rachel I don't know what I should
have done* with her. We couldn't play golf all day:
I never thought of that. She is such a child in many
ways. Well, it's over and I want to forget all about
Hildori; but my mother keeps harping on my visit
there, and putting out feelers with the quite obvious
design of leading me to tell her exactly what my senti-
ments are towards Valerie. Why she can't ask me
outright and have done with it I don't know. She
HOME AGAIN 291
seems to find ground for her fondest hopes in the
fact that I have nothing whatever to say on the sub-
ject. She evidently feels that I am hiding a secret.
I am bored with Hildon, and it makes me dreary but
quite an odd thing has happened. It is only some-
thing within myself, yet it helps me to forget all
about Rachel.
It is nothing much to tell of. It began on my
second day at the office: the day after my interview
with Prince Rupert, and my talk with Nita. I got to
Whitehall meaning to do my damnedest, but feeling
resentful, too, at the same time. I had never sat down
to work in that mood before. It has always been a
case of taking what was fired at me, and sloping
about the office asking questions, and shoving the job
on to someone else if it didn't clear itself up.
On this Tuesday a mass of confused returns and
memoranda, dealing with Infant Mortality at Brad-
ford, was slung at me. It was a disgusting prospect ;
and it stuck in my gizzard once or twice with Gregory
tilting in his chair, and tapping with a paper-cutter,
and distracting me. I had never much noticed this
habit of his before. The remarkable thing that hap-
pened was that I suddenly seemed to get hold of a
Ihread and become interested in the job. This was not
till the afternoon, but I became so absorbed that I was
quite surprised when Gregory came into the room
with his towel and warned me that it was ten minutes
to five. He worried me by looking out of the window
with his hat on waiting for the clock to strike. "It's
292 THOMAS
gone five," he said, as he went out of the room. He
spoke as though I had involved myself in some catas-
trophe.
It was nearly six before I left, but by that time I had
got the whole of the facts grouped in my mind, and
the paragraphing of the report set out. I had also
found that the man who drew the memorandum on
one section had overlooked a leading point. I felt
quite light-hearted and cheerful when I got home. It
was as if the cloud of drudgery at the office, which I
have always tried to forget, had dissipated. It is
extraordinary how interesting quite dull work becomes
when one really sticks one's head into it.
I mentioned the matter to Nita. It was all her
doing, and I really felt grateful to her. She seemed
partly pleased and partly amused. She always seems
half amused at me when I am serious: she's a queer
girl.
"Well, don't forget you've got to keep it up, T."
"What's he got to keep up ?" asked my mother.
"Hard work," said Nita.
"Oh, don't tell him that," my mother exclaimed,
looking horrified. "I don't want my son to overwork
himself. Please don't say such things."
But Nita is right, all the same.
I had intended to end here, but there is still some-
thing more to tell. I don't understand it. It's just
life, I suppose ; and yet I'm sure I don't deserve all
the knocks I get. It's about Nita. She utterly beats
HOME AGAIN 293
me. However, she's leaving on Monday, and I shan't
be sorry. Everything is so dreary that if it wasn't for
the office I really don't know what I should do with
myself.
It all came about, more or less, through things at
the office, as it happens. A fortnight has passed since
I last wrote and I had quite got my tail up again. I
had a screen put into the room, so as to shut off Greg-
ory and his everlasting shifting in and out, and tilting
in his chair. He fell right over backwards once and
frightened himself, and it is the exciting chance of
its happening again that no doubt keeps him at this
sport of rocking over to the very point of overbalanc-
ing, all day. He's a good chap, all the same.
Last Saturday, at about eleven o'clock, a messenger
came and told me that the Prince wanted me. Gregory
scratched his head, and looked at me whimsically as
I went out, for it is quite unusual for the chief to inter-
view any but the top dogs, and I felt funky. However,
it was quite a score for me as it happened. Badderley
was in the room, and nodded to me as I entered.
Prince Rupert was sitting at his table.
"Good morning," he said. "You drew this report
on Bradford Infant Mortality, I think? Yes. Well I
like the arrangement. The Secretary of State wants
the figures for the Chief Industrial centres. Here's
the list twenty-seven of them ; and here are the other
district reports. I want you to throw the whole into
one report in the form in which your own is drawn.
Wanted in the House on Friday afternoon. Take the
294 THOMAS
docket. Mr. Badderley will deal with the draft, so
please put it into his hands yourself on Wednesday,
latest. Important."
Badderley nodded to me as I took the papers and
cleared out. I felt I was quite one of the swells,
though of course I knew that Prince Rupert only sent
for me just to show there was no bad blood. It was
jolly nice of him, I think. I feel I'd do any damned
thing for the little man now.
I naturally told Nita of all this, and she seemed
pleased, but made light of it too, and laughed, so
that it was difficult for me to thank her as I wished ;
but it was the next day, when I was crossing the park
from the office, that I felt it all so keenly. It seemed
to come over me, as though I had emerged into a
larger world ; it was as if I had found myself all of a
sudden. Things seemed to glow. I felt intensely
grateful to Nita. I should have made an ass of my-
self, one way or another, I knew, if it had not been
for her. She understood things so wonderfully. She
was not a bit like other women, or like my mother,
who never understands anything. I felt, too, what a
gay pretty creature she was, and how comforting to
a chap who's down on his luck.
And then, as I was going up Regent Street, I
walked into old Bat Vernon. I noticed that he met
my rather boisterous greeting a bit stiffiV, which was
explained the next moment by his introducing me to
the lady who accompanied him, and whom I had not
observed in the throng.
HOME AGAIN 295
"Permit me Edward's murderer," was the way he
put it.
A tall erect young lady, with rather a washed-out
look, and thin aquiline features, strikingly dressed
in an inconspicuous way, nodded and smiled to me
gaily, and gave me a further surprise by saying:
"I've heard a lot about you, Mr. Quinn. I ought
to ask after Susan, I suppose ? I hope she is in good
form."
Bat evidently noticed I was perplexed, for he began
elaborately :
"I've an explanation to make, T. Don't you listen,"
he said aside to his companion ; "this is strictly private
as between man and man Mrs. Vassaleur," he ad-
dressed me, glancing towards her, "is going to get
something altered that won't fit any more. It's too
long ; and I am lending a hand, just as a friend, to get
it made shorter that's right, isn't it ?" he asked, turn-
ing to her again.
"How can you be so foolish !" said she. "I'm going
in here, I shall only be two minutes," and she went
into a shop.
"What are you driving at ?" I asked Bat.
"Well, it's like this," he explained. "It's her name.
It's too long, and I'm going to get it changed. It's a
job they do with a sexton and a baby, in a church."
"Then it's all come right !" I said.
"Yes," said Bat, grinning, "so far; but you never
can be sure, in these matters. It's been a tough job,
I can tell you."
296 THOMAS
"Did you say I didn't quite catch Miss Vassa-
leur?" I asked.
"Mrs.," said Bat.
"Oh!" I exclaimed. "Then you're marrying a
widow !"
"And so will you, my boy," Bat laughed, coloring
a little. Then he went on rather hastily: "Why, of
course I am. Everyone would if he could. The very
nicest things are, without doubt, other men's wives
you must have noticed that; it's because we can't get
them: but the next best things are thoroughly refrac-
tory widows. Refractory widows are very Oi'^cult
to come by though, and that's why most of us make do
with girls. But I tell you what it is; the widows let
you sweat for it they do. I lost nearly half a stone
on this job. It's a solemn fact."
When Mrs. Vassaleur joined us, I had just time,
before I hurried on to the station, to offer my con-
gratulations and to take it out of Bat, who was al-
together too pleased with himself.
As I sat in the train, I recalled the scene of my
meeting with Bat and his refractory widow. He
certainly seemed very cheerful, and she was with-
out doubt an attractive woman, but she was not the
sort I should have imagined Bat to take up with.
She would keep him in order too well, I thought;
and then I recalled the odd way he had predicted
that I would marry a widow, and I ran over in my
mind the widows of my acquaintance. It was not
at once that I remembered Nita, and it came like a
HOME AGAIN 297
punch in the ribs. Did Bat suppose that I . He
had certainly seen us together at Bourncombe ; in fact,
that was the only occasion he had met Nita. I got hot
to the roots of my hair ; I felt ashamed. I don't now
understand why it took me like that; I am trying to
set down just what happened, but I cannot explain
things because I do not understand them. My impres-
sion is that it was shame. I felt ashamed of myself,
and I don't think that Bat's presumption of an under-
standing between Nita and me had anything to do
with it. I cannot account for the sensations I ex-
perienced. It was only for a moment, and then I
seemed to begin to understand.
The idea was rather startling. I had always re-
garded Nita as a relative and one of the family, but it
seemed to me, when I thought about it, that Nita was
more to me than anyone in the world. There were
all sorts of things about her that I seemed to have
overlooked : her playfulness ; and cleverness ; and grace
and elegance ; and pretty ways. I had been aware of
these enchantments certainly, and, in a way, proud of
them; but always as a man might notice and admire
the attractions of his sister. The whole thing seemed
to re-arrange itself as I sat there. It was astonishing
and I was in a bemused state when the guard, by open-
ing the door, reminded me I was at my destination.
As I walked, I was filled with expectations of
seeing Nita. I wanted to realize her. The idea of my
possibly not finding her at home, took me aback. It
reminded me that she was engaged for a long round
298 THOMAS
of visits in a few weeks' time, and that I had been
looking forward to the day as a dark one. I began
to believe I was devoted to her. She was, as Myra
had said, "such a dear." I hurried to find her when
I got home. I felt excited. I expected all sorts of
things.
And when I came on her there she was, just the
same; serene, composed, matter-of-fact all as large
as life. It was a relief, somehow, to find her the
actuality I knew so well. And then something hap-
pened.
She was walking in the garden with my mother.
Some wayward branch in the shrubberies must have
caught her hair, for a lock had escaped behind her ear.
I pulled it, and she laughed, and bent her neck, and
raised her arms and deftly tucked it away, and turned
to me with a smile.
I do not understand why it was, but something
in the grace of her abandonment, and the way she
turned to me with her intimate questioning smile,
seized my attention. It was all just Nita and per-
fectly familiar to me, but at that moment a sudden
revelation of her flashed through me. I stared. I was
reminded that I was staring by the change in her
eyes : they seemed to retreat from mine, and I caught
for an instant a look of almost hostility ; the next mo-
ment they softened again, and were perplexed, as she
turned from me. A minute later she glanced keenly
at me. I felt ill at ease, and we walked in silence. My
heart was beating.
HOME AGAIN 299
I sat and thought over it in my dressing-room and
was late for dinner in consequence. She was wonder-
ful ; there were things about her that had been hidden
from me; there was a mystery about her. I went
downstairs filled with the one enthralling idea, "Nita."
I watched her at dinner. I wanted to find her out.
She was just the same as usual : a little quieter, per-
haps. I puzzled over her. I had no wish to chaff her.
She seemed too wonderful to laugh at. She was too
pretty. I felt I wanted to get to close quarters with
her, and hear her talk seriously as she sometimes does ;
but there is a subtle reserve about her, and I was con-
strained, in a way I had never experienced before and
I could not force the pace. It was too dark to go out,
and so it happened that we relapsed into desultory
after-dinner occupations. Nita seemed listless. I
tried to read, but I could not sit in the room apart
from her as though we were nothing to one another,
for we are the best of pals. I felt need of her. I
wanted to understand her.
"Have a game of chicken halma?" I said at last.
It's a stupid game. Nita seemed surprised, but she
consented. I only wanted to feel I was her compan-
ion ; and as she sat opposite I could gaze unheeded on
her composed unconscious face, the lashes on the
cheeks, and the pretty chin resting snugly upon her
slim fingers, and the gentle lifting of her bosom ; and I
somehow began to understand her. She seemed to
pervade me. There was a moment when she glanced
at me mischievously, after extending her arm for some
300 THOMAS
moments, doubtful of her next move, when I felt
stirred as I had been that evening in the garden.
Then, when we were putting the pieces away, one
rolled to the carpet. Nita reached for it sideways over
the arm of the chair, and it upset, so that she could
only hold herself from falling right over, by supporting
herself with one hand on the floor. I know that chair !
"Take care, Nita," said my mother, unnecessarily.
"I am ! Aunt Emmy," laughed Nita, hanging on for
rescue from her predicament.
I reached to her; put my arm about her; and
brought her up like a feather ; but I declare I thrilled
and tingled all over at the touch of her. I had often,
by one chance and another, touched her; but I had
never before been arrested in that way. Was Nita
like that ! What did it mean ? And Nita colored. She
was laughing certainly, but this was a quick flush that
sped at once. She did not look at me : I was watching
her. I was filled with a feeling of triumph. I exulted.
I can't explain it ; I can only state that I was filled with
wild exultation in the consciousness that I was a man
and she was a woman. It seemed I had lost sight of
the fact that she was a woman; and at that moment
it was as though she came to life in me.
The end was two days later, when I was sitting in
the garden on Sunday afternoon.
Nita had been just her old self, and yet in those
two days I had come to see her with a different eye.
I realized that I was devoted to her, and that I could
not face losing her ; and yet the idea of our marrying
HOME AGAIN 301
seemed odd. There was no bar, of course, I had made
sure of that; but I felt shy directly my mind ap-
proached the idea of asking her to marry me. It
seemed such an extraordinary confession to have to
make after the off-hand way I had always treated her.
As I say, I was sitting in the garden. I had walked
fiome from church with Nita in the morning and that
old beau Gainsford had joined us, and bowed and
scraped to her, and showed himself off in the sun like
a pigeon. I was thinking what a good pal she had
been to me : and just then I saw her at the drawing-
room window.
It was a French window, and she stood framed, as
in a picture, from head to heel. Nita. She looked
so sweet such a slip of a girl in her white dress,
standing erect against the dark shadows. I was too
far away to see her face clearly, but I knew well
what her look was at that moment : pensive, absorbed,
and a little sad, but ready to spring to life at a word
at a touch. I felt I should like to surprise her into
life again with a kiss. Then she waved her hand to
me, and turned and disappeared into the darkness.
There was something languorous in her pose as she
moved, that gave me a pang. Her standing there
alone, remote from me; and turning with an air of
weariness ; gave me a keen sense of her loneliness and
of our being aloof, and brought to my mind the mys-
tery and charm of her which had haunted me during
the past days. And what a graceful, pretty creature
she was! I had thought, from her signal, that she
302 THOMAS
intended to join me, and when I did not see her I was
filled with misgivng. Suppose she were to go out of
my life altogether, as she had vanished from my sight
at the window, and leave only black emptiness! It
was impossible that we could always remain as friends
and play-fellows. I felt that I wanted her and noth-
ing else in the world; that I meant to have her; and
that it was nothing but the habit of our established re-
lationship which held me from taking the prize. She
could help me so much. I made up my mind. I got
up and went to her exulting. I did not know how I
was going to tackle the business. I was greatly ex-
cited. I meant to break the ice and get to terms at
once.
I found her in the drawing-room. She was stand-
ing with the fingers of one hand resting against her
neck, looking out of the window again. We were
alone. My mother, I knew, was "resting."
"Nita," I said, approaching her. "I want to talk to
you."
She turned her head slowly, her fingers still at her
neck and her lips parted, with the absorbed look with
which she had been gazing upon the garden still on
her face.
"I want to ask you a question," I said.
"What is it?" she asked, with a faint look of inter-
est.
"Will you marry me?"
Her lips closed ; her eyes awoke in a deep look which
searched mine. The color rose in her cheeks for a
HOME AGAIN 303
moment. She did not speak at once. Her cheek
paled again.
"Why?" she asked quietly, throwing up her chin a
little.
"Because I want you. I'm sick of myself. I want
your help. You can help me so much ; I can't imagine
why I never thought of it before. You're just the
only woman for me, Nita; I know it now. We get
on so well, and I admire you tremendously you know
that ; besides, it's time I thought about getting married,
and I know you feel lonely sometimes."
Nita laughed and shook her head, and looked out
into the garden again.
"I'm not so hard up as all that," she said.
"No, look here, Nita," I protested. "Don't laugh.
I'm in earnest. We know each other so well, and
we've had such good times together and I want to
marry you. I shall be twice the man with you by my
side I know that ; and you're so clever I've felt it
tremendously of late. I want you. I can't bear the
idea of your going away again, the house is awful
without you so come, dear old Nita say you will."
I moved close to her, but she turned and faced me
and at the same moment pulled the curtain partly
across her body with a slight movement of her hand.
"When did you make up your mind to tell me this ?"
she asked.
"Just now, in the garden. I've looked up the Table.
It's all right. There's no bar." I caught my breath
and gulped : I felt it all so much.
304 THOMAS
Nita regarded me with an odd expression of mingled
perplexity, reproval, and merriment. Then she burst
out laughing: stooping forward, as is her way some-
times, and forcing it from her in a long peal which,
however, stopped abruptly.
I was beside myself. It was natural that I should
feel angry with her. I was perfectly justified, I think,
in allowing myself to be so, but in fact I could not
control myself. I had asked her to marry me and she
had laughed in my face, and rudely too. It was not
her usual bright laughter. It was as good as to tell
me she thought me a fool. It was openly contemptu-
ous, and she made no effort to conceal it: in fact, she
tried to laugh.
"Very well," I said, "that's the last time I will give
you a chance of laughing at me, if I can help it. I
asked you to marry me because I wanted you, and be-
cause I thought we should be happy together; and
whatever your feelings may be you have no right to
be contemptuous. You have perfect liberty to think
I'm not good enough for you, but you have no right
whatever to be rude about it."
Nita looked far away out of the window with a cold
face.
"I've a great admiration for you, Nita," I went on,
"and I'm not ashamed of it; and I've put up with
things from you which I would not have let anyone
else in the world say to me ; but this is altogether too
much. I have allowed myself to get too fond of you
it seems, but it doesn't occur to me that you have ever
HOME AGAIN 305
resented our intimacy. You cannot be altogether sur-
prised that I should have grown to feel for you as
I do."
"Perhaps you'd be happier if you did not let such
feelings grow on you," said Nita quickly, still gazing
from the window.
I looked at her. "Very well," I said. "I'll remem-
ber that," and I walked out of the room.
As I turned on my heel I thought I heard her make
some movement, but when I glanced back at her, in
the action of opening the door, she was standing gaz-
ing out of the window with a white face, just as I
had left her. She can look quite a plain woman some-
times.
I felt so enraged and^ indignant that I hardly knew
how to bear myself that afternoon. I tried to walk off
the mood. It is the end of my friendship with Nita:
that's certain. I got home just after she and my
mother had gone to church, and by the time I joined
them at supper I had calmed down. I determined to-
give Nita no opportunities of trespassing beyond the
ordinary bounds of social decorum. I made up my
mind to be studiously polite, and I have been ; but it
makes things fearfully dreary in the house. Nita
shows no wish to revive the old footing; in fact she
seems more depressed than I am, and looks drawn
and thin if I catch her when she does not know I can
see her. She responds to my mother, and appears
cheerful, but when we are not at meals she sits and
reads or sews, and never touches the piano, and we
306 THOMAS
both make excuses if my mother proposes a round
game. In fact life is so dreary at home that I go off
to the office now with pleasure, and come back with a
heavy heart. I have dined in town several times rather
than face the evening at home. My mother has no-
ticed my altered demeanor and highly approves of it, it
seems. She said to me to-day:
"It is such a pleasure to me to see my son growing
every day in politeness and dignity. That is what I
like. I knew he would benefit by his visits to the
palaces of dukes. If you take the aristocracy as a
model, my dear son, you will always please your
mother, remember that."
To-day it leaked out that Nita is leaving us on Mon-
day. This is a new move. She was to have stayed
on till next month, when she is paying a round of
visits ; but now she is going to fill in the intervening
time with a sort of connection at Streatham. Nita
will be rather wasted on Streatham, I'm afraid, but
she is so obviously unhappy here that she had much
better go away. It is just what she told me at Bourn-
combe : speaking without thinking and then being sorry
when it is too late. I am still angry with her, and it
will be a relief when she goes. Things can never be
the same again. My feelings for her have not exactly
changed : there are times when I yearn for her old quiet
intimate air, but that's all over, I know. She has put
me outside the pale, and I will show her I can get
along all right there, and that I have no intention of
trving to climb back. I seem to have quite taken rank
HOME AGAIN 307
as a sort of specialist at the Infant Mortality job, and
I brought home papers on Saturday, though I took
good care not to let Gregory know.
So good-bye to Nita ; and a long winter's work be-
fore me. As if to mark the finality of things, I have
laid up Susan in vaseline and dust sheets till the spring'
Perhaps I shall have another tour next summer, but
there won't be any wife-hunting next time. I have let
my mother understand that I am sick of the subject.
Whenever now she asks leading questions, I keep say-
ing "What?" and when she nudges me I press her as
to her meaning, and she at once beats a disorderly re-
treat. I have learnt a good lesson, I think.
CHAPTER XVI
NITA
I THOUGHT I had no more to tell, but I can't
leave off so. A most wonderful thing has hap-
pened. I hardly know how to write it. I never
dreamed it was possible for anyone to be so cock-a-
whoop, but that doesn't at all express it, for every-
thing is new and different somehow. I did not imagine
things could ever be like this. It's all too good to be
true, and I almost dig the starting tear whenever I
think of it. It's about Nita, of course.
It was all most extraordinary. I had not changed
my mind about her it just happened. The only thing
was that I had begun to feel a bit sorry for poor old
Nita. She was evidently very much down on her luck,
and I didn't like the idea of her going away to that
suburban squalor at Streatham. I began to feel, too,
that though she had behaved perfectly inexcusably, as
I thought, it was nevertheless I who had raised the
racket that provoked her ; and I felt also that some of
the things I said were rather heavy-handed, even though
deserved, and that Nita would go away and continue
308
NITA 309
to be unhappy, and mope in that horrible hole she
was going to. After all, my mother is Nita's nearest
relative in England, and she has been invited to look
upon our house as her home; so that it would be
fairer, I thought, for me to take rooms in Town, as-
I have often thought of doing, rather than that Nita
should be turned out on to the world. That is how I
had been thinking, and a sort of gush of pity for her
took hold of me when I was smoking after lunch on-
Saturday. She was leaving us on the following Mon-
day, and had not been looking happy; so I thought I
would just go and cheer her up a bit, and I went off ta
find her.
As I say, I hardly know how it happened. Nothing
was further from my thoughts than, in the least, to
make love to her. In fact, as I went to look for her r
I definitely fixed in my mind how I could speak kindly
without encroaching on intimacy, and be gentle and
friendly while I remained remote. I felt things could
never be the same as they had been. It was past hop-
ing for, I thought.
I found her reading in the summer-house. I was
walking past when I caught sight of her, so that it
did not appear that I had searched her out.
"Reading?" I said.
She glanced up and smiled a little sadly. Her eyes
looked tired and odd. I know now that it was because
she had been crying, but I only thought how her good
looks were going, and I felt more sorry than ever,
I went and sat down beside her.
310 THOMAS
"Don't be downhearted," I began. "I did not mean
all I said the other day, you know that. I freely 1
admit I made an ass of myself, and you can rely upon
me not to annoy you like that again. You made me
angry or I should not have spoken as I did; but you
were a bit heavy on me, you know. You were rather
unkind, Nita. I meant what I said at the time*, and it
was a little cruel of you to laugh at me, wasn't it? But
cheer up! That's all over! I hate to see you de-
pressed and different from your old self. It makes
me feel absolutely dreary it does indeed, and you
needn't fret about me. I'm all right. I shall forget
all about it in a week or two, no doubt ; and anyhow,
there need be no ill-feeling. Life's too short to worry
about things like these. I've got another important
precis to make, and I feel that my work will be an
enormous stand-by. I don't withdraw a word of
what I said of my gratitude to you. I should have
made an ass of myself if it hadn't been for you, Nita.
You wouldn't believe, either, how work adds to the
pleasure of my spare time. I had a delightful evening
the other night, for instance; dined at the club, and
knocked up against a man who asked me to join his
party as another fellow had failed him ; and I went
with his sister and another girl to the Waldorf, and
to supper afterwards, and had a royal time; but it
wouldn't have been the same if there had not been a
good day's work to my credit. I feel twice the man
for it."
Nita sat all this time with her elbows on the table
NITA 311
and her chin resting on the backs of her locked fing-
ers, gazing in front of her.
"Yes," she throbbed quickly, "it's all very well for
you, with the ball at your feet and the world before
you."
I didn't understand what she meant. Then, to my
astonishment, she got out her handkerchief and I saw
she was crying. She did her best to control herself,
but a moment after she quite broke down and sobbed
with her head on her arm.
It was dreadful. I couldn't bear it to see her
pretty neck bowed and her slender frame shaken with
sobs. She seemed so fragile, so lonely and deserted.
I was filled with a burning pity for her. I wanted to
help her. I hardly knew what I said. I begged her
to stop ; to say how I had grieved her ; to tell me what
was the matter. She couldn't speak. I felt so terribly
sorry. I thought it was something I had done. I said
all the kind things I could think of. I put my arm
over her shoulder ; I kissed her. I hardly knew I did
it; I never meant to, exactly. "Oh, Nita," I said,
"can't I help you? Am I nothing to you at all when,
you are so much to me ?"
She suddenly turned and put her arms round my
neck, with her head bowed, still sobbing. I held her.
I never in my life felt so. I couldn't have believed it.
I forced her face up to mine. It was all stained and
anguished. I kissed her again and again. It didn't
seem to be Nita, somehow. It was all quite different.
I never kissed anyone like that before. I knew then
312 THOMAS
that there was no one I could ever have loved as I
love her. I was surrounded and caught up. It was all
certain and sure; a stupendous revelation, a gigantic
fact that made the whole world only a sort of acces-
sory shell in which to contain us. I can't say it prop-
erly. I only know what I felt: and to think that I
could make her happy ! There was a look deep in her
eyes I simply can't write about it.
I shall never forget that wonderful hour we spent
together in the summer-house before we saw my moth-
er walking in the distance and, evidently, looking for
us. Nita became like a confiding child when she had
composed herself. She nestled to me. We had no
secrets. I even told her of Rachel. She did not seem
to mind a bit in fact she didn't seem surprised; it
-was all as if she had known. "Poor old T. !" was all
she said. She smiled at me.
She told me she had first begun to like me one day
when I took her out in Susan, and stopped to go into a
small shop at High Wycombe to buy a scrubbing-brush
for my mother. How she can remember it all I can't
imagine. I don't. It must be a year ago. She says
it was my voice when I said "Don't touch that pedal
or Susan will have a fit"; and the look of my back
as I went into the shop: but I don't see anything in
that. She said it was much more afterwards when she
noticed the way my hair grows down on the back of
my neck. I have borrowed my mother's hand-glass
so as to have a look at it myself. I think I see what
means it's at the side, she says; but it doesn't
NITA 31S
look much different from anyone else's, so far as I
can judge. She says she was joking that day she told
me I was greedy and selfish and conceited ; but that
she wasn't altogether joking when she said I was too
pleased with myself. She says that she didn't really
mind it in me, though she wouldn't like it in anyone
else. I told her not to be prejudiced. She said she
never minded any of my chaff, and liked it; but she
surprised me by saying that she found her Aunt Emmy
very difficult to get on with. I had no idea it was so.
She said she had a very bad time before she went to
Bourncombe. My mother was always harping on her
ambition that Valerie and I would make a match, and
in such a way as to imply that Nita was, of course,
entirely disqualified in such a field. She rubbed in
Valerie to such an extent that at last Nita could hardly
sit in the room with her.
"Now that's the sort of girl I should like my son
to marry," she would say twenty times in a week, "and
I know so well my dear son's tastes. When Thomas
makes his choice I know it will be a wise one," and she
would enlarge upon the attractions of Valerie's youth-
fulness and riches.
Nita is a couple of years older than I am, and she
hasn't got a blooming cent, managing very cleverly on
a tiny annuity. No wonder she got tired of hearing
my mother's contempt for marriageable ladies who
were not excessively young, nor very well-to-do.
"I've got a confession to make, T.," Nita said with
rather pink cheeks, playing with the frill of her dress.
314 THOMAS
"So you won't be angry, will you?" she added after
a pause.
I wondered what on earth was coming.
"You remember those picture postcards you told me
about?"
"The actresses?"
"Yes."
"Well?"
"Don't be angry I must tell you."
"What's the matter?"
"It was I."
"You sent them?"
"Yes, T."
"But why? What was the joke?"
Nita sighed happily. "So now I've told you," was
all she said.
"But what was the idea? I suppose you thought
that Valerie " I paused.
Nita pushed her forehead into my chest and then
looked up at me.
"I'm really dreadfully ashamed," she said.
But she wasn't a bit. I could see that perfectly. It
was all nonsense.
Well! She's a deeper rogue than I thought, that's
all.
We couldn't let my mother find us. She would have
noticed Nita's face. It was lovely; I never saw any-
thing so glorious as Nita's countenance at that mo-
ment. I know now what a blind, mad fool I have been.
I could hardly bear to let her go from me; but there
NITA 315
she went, flitting through the shrubbery to the house ;
the dear flowing, graceful figure, with the flashing feet
I knew so well. And yet how differently I now viewed
her as I thought of what that precious atom of life
and movement held for me all it gave. My God !
I've learnt what a man's job is, and I'll do it. I can
make her happy; and I'll keep her, and possess her,
and hold her for ever.
I strolled to meet my mother with as sedate a bear-
ing as my bounding heart would allow. I wanted to
be alone ; I wanted a sort of church service all to my-
self, and I felt a chill of heart as I approached her.
She began rubbing her hands together, as is her habit
before she makes a spring at me.
"Where's Nita?" she asked with her eyebrows very
much raised.
"In the house. Do you want her?"
"Oh, no ! No, my dear son, I only wondered. She's
going on Monday. I think she needs a change. Poor
Nita."
"Why 'Poor Nita'?"
"Oh, my dear son, you know, of course, how lonely
she is and losing her good looks, too such as she
had : she doesn't seem to be able to make up her mind,
and of course it's a very difficult position for her no
money, you see!" she shrugged. "In these days men
know better than to marry penniless women nice men,
I mean ; and especially elderly men."
It was odd that she should touch on the subject at
that moment of all others, She had never quite said
316 THOMAS
anything of the kind before, and I wondered whether
she had begun to get an idea of what was in the wind.
I made up my mind to one thing. I would not allow
Nita to be affronted in her reception by my mother.
Nita is a pure gem of womanhood, and a beauty any
man in the world might be proud to win and wear;
and I shall walk straight out of my mother's house
before I will see any slight put upon her. I had to
prevent a scene if I could. I knew well that my
mother would be dashed when she heard the truth, if
only for the reason that she would be robbed of the
excitement of welcoming a stranger, for she has only
met Valerie twice ; and I knew, too, that she would not
control her feelings on my account, nor even confess
to disappointment and then try to forget it. She
would pretend an insincere pleasure which she would
belie by her manner and in every word she uttered ;
and she would persist in expressing hostile feelings, by
innuendo and veiled implication, on all possible occa-
sions. She would do this, I knew, not from any con-
scious intention of wounding; but simply from her
habit, as a spoilt woman, of living in the desires of her
own heart without any sympathy for the feelings of
others.
I turned the matter over in my mind, and decided
on a course of action which, I hoped, would cut the
ground from under my mother's feet, and afterwards
surprise the natural instincts of a human being in her.
If we acted up to her own prejudices and accepted her
view of the matter, the wind would be out of her sails,
NITA 317
and we might afterwards take possession of the tiller ;
and it was in her own interest that I should do some-
thing to dull her edge, for otherwise there would cer-
tainly be a general break-up of our party. I had no in-
tention of keeping the matter secret and living a life of
false pretences.
I spoke to Nita of all this later in the afternoon.
She fell in with my ideas, and so we arranged it
between us. It was a delight to me to have wooed the
old merry Nita back to her kingdom in the dear true
heart, and the wise pretty head. The girl, for she's
a girl, heart and soul, in spite of all is like a chamel-
eon: she is transformed by her moods. I could
scarcely believe, at tea, that it was the same Nita I had
surprised in the summer-house a couple of hours ear-
lier. Nor was it, indeed; nor the same "I" for that
matter. Very long upper lips, however, were to be
the rule we had arranged in the presence of my
mother.
Everything worked out as we planned. I remained
in the drawing-room before dinner till my mother came
down. She is always early. When she entered the
room she saw me sitting forward dejectedly on the
edge of my chair with my elbows on my knees and my
chin in my hands, gazing at a pot of ferns in the
empty grate.
"Not dressed yet !" she exclaimed.
"No."
"But, my dear son, you will be late."
I sighed like a small horse coughing.
318 THOMAS
"Why, what's the matter ?" my mother asked, stand-
ing before me.
"Oh well, it's no good putting it off," I said. "I've
got to tell you. I've decided to marry Nita."
My mother gave a loud gasp. "Marry N But,
my dear son "
"Yes," I broke in, "she's too old, I know ; she'll be
eighty-two before I'm eighty."
"Well, yes! Of course! And then "
"No money. Yes. It's a gloomy prospect. But
I've done it now. I ought to get married, and Nita
doesn't seem to object: anyhow, she has agreed. It's
time I settled down, and there doesn't seem to be any-
one else in particular."
"But "
"Yes, I know what you are going to say, but this
will be easiest. I never have the time to see enough of
girls to know them properly; and it's such a grind
rooting about after them. I've turned over dozens in
my time. It's no good. It's a dreary prospect, I
know, with a gray old wife, but it might be worse.
Nita's a hearty sort of woman when the worst is said,
and a wonderful hand at embroidery. We can get
quite a good house for a low rent at Camden Town, or
some other cheap place, and we shall shake down all
right, I dare say. I wanted to tell you : you've always
encouraged me to get married, so now that's settled."
"Yes; but I never meant Oh dear! oh dear! I
knew what it would be. I knew ! I knew ! I knew !
Oh why ! why did I "
NITA 319
"Yes, it's a disappointing business ; but it might
have been worse, and we shall shake down somehow.
One woman's very like another. Heigh-ho! Well, I
must go and dress," and I got up wearily and walked
out of the room.
"Ah ! My dear son " my mother was beginning
as I went out. I left her staring at the pot of ferns
in the fender.
I skipped, when I got into the hall, and then raced
upstairs on tip-toe and mewed like a cat close to Nita's
door. She was expecting me, and she must have been
standing with her hand on the latch, for she opened
on the instant and confronted me. It was a moment I
shall never forget. The surprise, no doubt, had some-
thing to do with it. She had dressed herself as for
a feast, and I was quite overcome in realizing that
this tender, glowing, rapturous being was my own ;
body and soul. It was a pale coral-pink dress she
wore, with something of lace at the bosom, and all her
smooth body fell shimmering to the floor. And her
face ! The dear thing had plumped out ; joy filled her
veins and transformed her, and I knew who put it
there. Her hair, too! And the way it crowned her
forehead ! And the questioning smile dawning on her
lips! I would have given my life for that moment.
She seemed to crush up deliciously in my arms. She is
such a delicate creature when you take her: almost
fragile, though one would never think it. She was not
perfumed, but she smelt all precious to me. I love her
neck, she is so gentle and gracious, with little
320 THOMAS
startled movements, too; I can't go on, it is all too
damned wonderful.
She laughed and she hummed in my ear and we
began to waltz together round the landing; but very
softly for fear my mother should hear us. We were
bubbling with happiness though her lashes were be-
dewed. My joy was almost more than I could bear. I
was mad with ecstasy. I kissed her eyes. And then
we swung up against the balusters and they cracked
loudly, and we had all we could do to keep our laugh-
ter out of evidence.
After that, Nita stole off downstairs. I had coached
her in the part she was to play. I stood and watched
her swift easy movements as she went from me. She
stood upright as an arrow, and when she moved her
feet shot out one after the other to clear her skirt as,
step by step, she sank to the hall. I felt she would
know I was watching her, I knew she knew that I
knew. She turned and kissed her hands to me and the
door closed on the vision of her.
To think that I might have missed it all, and never
come to know myself or her ! I found myself walking
up and down my dressing-room saying aloud "Thank
God! Thank God!" I believe I am going soft. I
found I was actually snivelling. I suddenly became
aware of it. It was unmanly, but I don't care if it
was ; it's only because of the way I feel about Nita. I
told her I had made an ass of myself about her, and at
first she didn't know what I meant. Then she patted
me on the back of my hand. The idea of Nita patting
NITA 321
me! and of my feeling happy and contented that she
should !
Nita followed out my plan when she encountered
my mother in the drawing-room. She has told me
all that happened.
My mother was standing staring at the pot of ferns
much as I had left her. She glanced round when Nita
entered, and then resumed her fixed gaze into the
grate. Nita went to the far end of the room, seated
herself, and turned the pages of an illustrated journal
as she talked.
"Has Thomas told you anything? He said he
would," she began.
"Yes. He told me just now. Poor boy."
" 'Poor boy !' That's not very flattering to me, is it ?
I don't think he considers himself a 'poor boy.' He
has been pestering me and pestering me ; and so now
I've promised, but I never expected I should end by
fetching up with Thomas. Oh dear !"
"Well, of course not. That's exactly what I feel,
and "
"But what can I do?" Nita went on. "Here is this
stepson of yours hanging about me, and following m<
wherever I go he even came down to Bourncombe,
as you know, to see me and dragging his legs after
him and looking so wretched. People are beginning to
expect us to be married. It's no choice of mine. Aunt
Emmy. I'm weary. I've had to give in at last."
"But "
322 THOMAS
"Oh well, it's done now. Less said soonest mended.
Have you seen these new 'Japanese' mantles, as they
call them? Too stiff and angular, I think. No, it's
no good talking. Thomas wants me to agree to the
wedding being before Christmas, but I should like to
enjoy my freedom a little longer if possible."
"Oh, much too soon, of course," said my mother.
"Well, you'd better tell him so, or he'll give me no
peace; but if it has got to be, I suppose the plunge
may as well take place before Christmas as after, and
get it over; I mean to make the best of it and do my
share."
"Nita," my mother approached her after a pause,
rubbing her hands together, "do you think Thomas
told me, of course, he took me into his confidence,
dear boy, I understand him so well do you think he
is: really?"
"Is really what?" asked Nita, looking at her and
following my plan of running her Aunt Emmy to
earth and then digging her out.
"Well, is he quite sure really quite, I mean?"
"Well, what do you mean, Aunt Emmy 9 ''
"Oh nothing, dear, I don't think you quite under-
stand me. I only meant that perhaps you would think
Thomas being so much younger than you, and not
older of course, and not having had the same experi-
ence of life that you have had, poor boy "
"Well?"
"Oh, I just thought I would ask you, that's all."
"Ask me what?"
NITA 323
"Oh, just whether you were sure."
"Sure of what, Aunt Emmy?"
"Well money matters, for instance."
'What's that got to do with Thomas being so many
years younger than I am, pray?"
"Oh, nothing at all. Of course. I didn't mean
that."
"Well, why not say what you do mean, Aunt
Emmy ?"
"Oh well, dear, perhaps we had better not discuss
the matter: you don't understand me, Nita, and so
the less said the better, as you say. I quite agree if,
of course, it can't be And you and Thomas are
certainly "
She stood rubbing her hands together disconcertedly
for a little, while Nita turned over the fashion pages.
Then she left the room in a doubtful way and appar-
ently came straight to my room. She knocked, and I
opened the door in my braces.
"Oh! You're not ready yet," she said experimen-
tally.
"Not yet. Why?" I asked, as I tied my tie before
the glass.
"Oh nothing! Only "
"Well?"
"Nita was telling me just now ; that's all."
"All what?"
"I say Nita has just told me, my dear son."
"What has she told you?"
"Oh ! Only what you said."
324 THOMAS
"What did I say?"
"About you and Nita, I mean."
"Do you mean that Nita told you she is going to
marry me?"
"Yes : at least she said you had asked her, and that
she had agreed, but nothing fixed."
"Well, I'll do the fixing," I said. "What's wrong
with that?"
"Oh yes, of course, my dear son, I understand per-
fectly; but Nita did not seem quite as if she had
actually understood you, not as a settled thing, I
mean."
"I don't follow."
"Well, not to be told, I mean."
"Who's not to be told what?"
"The, your, what you said 1"
"What did I say?"
"Why, that you wanted to marry Nita."
"No I didn't," I told her. "I said I was going to
marry Nita. What's your point? I don't understand
what you're driving at."
"Oh, my dear son ! I'm not trying to make any
point, of course I know, we understand one another
perfectly; you're quite old enough, and Nita even
more, to know what you intend ; and as for money,
well! You will simply have to do without it, that's
all."
"All right," I said. "Well, now that's settled."
And I put on my waistcoat and began tidying up my
things.
NITA 325
After my stepmother had waited, looking on and
rubbing her hands in a thwarted manner, she crept
off to her own room. I peeped to see the coast was
clear and then ran down to Nita.
The gong sounded soon after, and when my mother
came into the room she found Nita reading in one
chair with a panting bosom, and me sprawling de-
jectedly in another with a heaving shirt-front.
"Oh dear! Why, what's that?"
"That" was a wet place on the floor. We had hoped
she would not notice it. It was all through my dash-
ing style of dancing Sir Roger de Coverley. I had
cleared the table, vase and all, twice, before the acci-
dent happened, without leaving go of Nita's fingers.
It was Nita in fact who brought about the mishap.
She did not give me enough rope. Yoicks! I won-
der my mother had not felt the house shaking.
It was a gloomy dinner we all ate that night. I
sighed more than once, and Nita said on three dif-
ferent occasions that she thought it was going to rain.
Things were more cheerful under the table, where
Nita and I had a game of "Soccer" with a hassock ;
score, several goals to two in my favor. My mother
asked me to turn Peter out of the room, and I opened
the door and called Peter, but still my mother said she
was sure Peter was in the room, and the parlormaid
looked under the table but Peter could not be found.
It was very strange, we all agreed.
We kept it up all Sunday till just before supper.
We decided then to tell my mother the truth when she
326 THOMAS
came back from church. She was evidently much
depressed and disturbed in mind by the disaster which
appeared to lie before us, and if we could suddenly
confront her with the knowledge of our happiness, the
sudden pleasure, I hoped, would go some way to wipe
out her disappointment. My mother is very much a
creature of habit, and she will go on thinking the
same thought, like a horse going round at a circus, for
years, without any reference to changing circum-
stances. The thing to do was to give her the right
thought to start with.
Nita and I went up to her and confessed. My
mother did not wait to understand why we had acted
as we had. The load dropped from her mind; she
was relieved of a burden of care; she kissed us both
spontaneously. She called us "naughty children" for
having played her such a trick, but she added that,
of course, she knew all the time that we were joking.
I see the inevitable "But" shaping itself on my
mother's forehead sometimes, but I pull her up at
once with "Well, what's the matter you're frown-
ing."
"Oh no, my dear son," she says, "I'm quite happy
about you and Nita. I shall be proud to have Nita
for a daughter-in-law."
I have urged Nita to take the same line with my
stepmother, and to do Nita justice she buckles to the
job with gusto. I was amused yesterday to observe
the almost stern manner in which she cross-examined
her Aunt Emmy as to the meaning of some reference
NITA 327
to the passing of time, which I believe to have been in-
nocent of motive. Well, it will not be for very long
that Nita will have to play the adroit game.
Although I know Nita so well she is all new to me.
She is full of surprises. It is always an adventure
being with her. This morning, for instance, and it
is Sunday again, she said she would show me a letter
she had written to her mother when she was a child.
She asked me to her room and there unlocked a
leather-bound despatch case. It had poor old Bill's
initials on it, I noticed.
Within, when she opened it, were displayed all her
business papers neatly tied and packed away; and all
the little odds and ends and trinkets of her nomadic
existence. I watched her clever, active, slender ring-
ers as they searched ; and somehow I felt overcome
with the sense of her brightness and courage, and of
the clumsy part I had played in throwing shadows
upon her ; and when I saw the little orderly secrets of
her lonely life laid bare before such eyes as mine, and
realized all the gift flung into my bosom, I seized her
hands and frantically kissed them and treasured them
in a tumult of love and compassion. I am getting
horribly sentimental, I think, but Nita doesn't mind.
She is a little amused at times, in her queer way, but
she won't tell me Why.
Nita continued turning over the papers in the des-
patch-box until there was revealed, for a moment, ly-
328 THOMAS
ing at the bottom of the case, a large white envelope,
slightly stained, and with a torn edge. She quickly
returned again to their places the papers that had
covered it; but I had seen, and I put my hand down
over hers and made her look at me. She faced me
with a warmer color, and a doubting pathetic smile
hovering in her face.
"Do you mean to tell me," I asked impressively,
"that you actually went and dug that wretched thing
up again?"
"Yes, T."
"Well !" I exclaimed, staring. I felt almost fright-
ened of her.
"And look here, Thomas," Nita said, holding the
lapels of my coat-collar and looking serious, "I want
you to send that poor man one of yours."
So I suppose I shall have to, after all.
THE END
Hvw five thousand men founded a Brit-
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INTERNED IN GERMANY
By H. C. MAHONEY
jpo pages. Illustrated. $2.00 net.
IF you would know what life at a German
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Publishers, Robert M. McBride 6* Co., New York
"NOTHING OF IMPORTANCE"
By BERNARD ADAMS
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*^V TOTHING of Importance" say the
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X SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY
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