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diff --git a/old/13085-8.txt b/old/13085-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c64a795 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13085-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13160 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Diversity of Creatures, by Rudyard Kipling + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: A Diversity of Creatures + +Author: Rudyard Kipling + +Release Date: August 2, 2004 [eBook #13085] +Most recently updated: December 10, 2012 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DIVERSITY OF CREATURES*** + + +E-text prepared by Charles Aldarondo, Charlie Kirschner, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +A DIVERSITY OF CREATURES + +By + +RUDYARD KIPLING + +1917 + + + + + + + +PREFACE + + +With two exceptions, the dates at the head of these stories show when +they were published in magazine form. 'The Village that Voted the Earth +was Flat,' and 'My Son's Wife' carry the dates when they were written. + +RUDYARD KIPLING. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +As Easy as ABC + + _MacDonough's Song_ + +Friendly Brook + + _The Land_ + +In the Same Boat + + '_Helen all Alone_' + +The Honours of War + + _The Children_ + +The Dog Hervey + + _The Comforters_ + +The Village that Voted the Earth was Flat + + _The Press_ + +In the Presence + + _Jobson's Amen_ + +Regulus + + _A Translation_ + +The Edge of the Evening + + _Rebirth_ + +The Horse Marines + + _The Legend of Mirth_ + +'My Son's Wife' + + _The Floods_ + + _The Fabulists_ + +The Vortex + + _The Song of Seven Cities_ + +'Swept and Garnished' + +Mary Postgate + + _The Beginnings_ + + + + +A DIVERSITY OF CREATURES + + + + +As Easy as A.B.C. + +(1912) + +_The A.B.C., that semi-elected, semi-nominated body of a few score +persons, controls the Planet. Transportation is Civilisation, our motto +runs. Theoretically we do what we please, so long as we do not interfere +with the traffic_ and all it implies. _Practically, the A.B.C. confirms +or annuls all international arrangements, and, to judge from its last +report, finds our tolerant, humorous, lazy little Planet only too ready +to shift the whole burden of public administration on its shoulders_. + +'With the Night Mail[1].' + +[Footnote 1: _Actions and Reactions_.] + +Isn't it almost time that our Planet took some interest in the +proceedings of the Aërial Board of Control? One knows that easy +communications nowadays, and lack of privacy in the past, have killed +all curiosity among mankind, but as the Board's Official Reporter I am +bound to tell my tale. + +At 9.30 A.M., August 26, A.D. 2065, the Board, sitting in London, was +informed by De Forest that the District of Northern Illinois had +riotously cut itself out of all systems and would remain disconnected +till the Board should take over and administer it direct. + +Every Northern Illinois freight and passenger tower was, he reported, +out of action; all District main, local, and guiding lights had been +extinguished; all General Communications were dumb, and through traffic +had been diverted. No reason had been given, but he gathered +unofficially from the Mayor of Chicago that the District complained of +'crowd-making and invasion of privacy.' + +As a matter of fact, it is of no importance whether Northern Illinois +stay in or out of planetary circuit; as a matter of policy, any +complaint of invasion of privacy needs immediate investigation, lest +worse follow. + +By 9-45 A.M. De Forest, Dragomiroff (Russia), Takahira (Japan), and +Pirolo (Italy) were empowered to visit Illinois and 'to take such steps +as might be necessary for the resumption of traffic and _all that that +implies.'_ By 10 A.M. the Hall was empty, and the four Members and I +were aboard what Pirolo insisted on calling 'my leetle godchild'--that +is to say, the new _Victor Pirolo_. Our Planet prefers to know Victor +Pirolo as a gentle, grey-haired enthusiast who spends his time near +Foggia, inventing or creating new breeds of Spanish-Italian olive-trees; +but there is another side to his nature--the manufacture of quaint +inventions, of which the _Victor Pirolo_ is, perhaps, not the least +surprising. She and a few score sister-craft of the same type embody his +latest ideas. But she is not comfortable. An A.B.C. boat does not take +the air with the level-keeled lift of a liner, but shoots up +rocket-fashion like the 'aeroplane' of our ancestors, and makes her +height at top-speed from the first. That is why I found myself sitting +suddenly on the large lap of Eustace Arnott, who commands the A.B.C. +Fleet. One knows vaguely that there is such a thing as a Fleet somewhere +on the Planet, and that, theoretically, it exists for the purposes of +what used to be known as 'war.' Only a week before, while visiting a +glacier sanatorium behind Gothaven, I had seen some squadrons making +false auroras far to the north while they manoeuvred round the Pole; +but, naturally, it had never occurred to me that the things could be +used in earnest. + +Said Arnott to De Forest as I staggered to a seat on the chart-room +divan: 'We're tremendously grateful to 'em in Illinois. We've never had +a chance of exercising all the Fleet together. I've turned in a General +Call, and I expect we'll have at least two hundred keels aloft +this evening.' + +'Well aloft?' De Forest asked. + +'Of course, sir. Out of sight till they're called for.' + +Arnott laughed as he lolled over the transparent chart-table where the +map of the summer-blue Atlantic slid along, degree by degree, in exact +answer to our progress. Our dial already showed 320 m.p.h. and we were +two thousand feet above the uppermost traffic lines. + +'Now, where is this Illinois District of yours?' said Dragomiroff. 'One +travels so much, one sees so little. Oh, I remember! It is in +North America.' + +De Forest, whose business it is to know the out districts, told us that +it lay at the foot of Lake Michigan, on a road to nowhere in particular, +was about half an hour's run from end to end, and, except in one corner, +as flat as the sea. Like most flat countries nowadays, it was heavily +guarded against invasion of privacy by forced timber--fifty-foot spruce +and tamarack, grown in five years. The population was close on two +millions, largely migratory between Florida and California, with a +backbone of small farms (they call a thousand acres a farm in Illinois) +whose owners come into Chicago for amusements and society during the +winter. They were, he said, noticeably kind, quiet folk, but a little +exacting, as all flat countries must be, in their notions of privacy. +There had, for instance, been no printed news-sheet in Illinois for +twenty-seven years. Chicago argued that engines for printed news sooner +or later developed into engines for invasion of privacy, which in turn +might bring the old terror of Crowds and blackmail back to the Planet. +So news-sheets were not. + +'And that's Illinois,' De Forest concluded. 'You see, in the Old Days, +she was in the forefront of what they used to call "progress," and +Chicago--' + +'Chicago?' said Takahira. 'That's the little place where there is +Salati's Statue of the Nigger in Flames? A fine bit of old work.' + +'When did you see it?' asked De Forest quickly. 'They only unveil it +once a year.' + +'I know. At Thanksgiving. It was then,' said Takahira, with a shudder. +'And they sang MacDonough's Song, too.' + +'Whew!' De Forest whistled. 'I did not know that! I wish you'd told me +before. MacDonough's Song may have had its uses when it was composed, +but it was an infernal legacy for any man to leave behind.' + +'It's protective instinct, my dear fellows,' said Pirolo, rolling a +cigarette. 'The Planet, she has had her dose of popular government. She +suffers from inherited agoraphobia. She has no--ah--use for Crowds.' + +Dragomiroff leaned forward to give him a light. 'Certainly,' said the +white-bearded Russian, 'the Planet has taken all precautions against +Crowds for the past hundred years. What is our total population to-day? +Six hundred million, we hope; five hundred, we think; but--but if next +year's census shows more than four hundred and fifty, I myself will eat +all the extra little babies. We have cut the birth-rate out--right out! +For a long time we have said to Almighty God, "Thank You, Sir, but we do +not much like Your game of life, so we will not play."' + +'Anyhow,' said Arnott defiantly, 'men live a century apiece on the +average now.' + +'Oh, that is quite well! I am rich--you are rich--we are all rich and +happy because we are so few and we live so long. Only _I_ think Almighty +God He will remember what the Planet was like in the time of Crowds and +the Plague. Perhaps He will send us nerves. Eh, Pirolo?' + +The Italian blinked into space. 'Perhaps,' he said, 'He has sent them +already. Anyhow, you cannot argue with the Planet. She does not forget +the Old Days, and--what can you do?' + +'For sure we can't remake the world.' De Forest glanced at the map +flowing smoothly across the table from west to east. 'We ought to be +over our ground by nine to-night. There won't be much sleep afterwards.' + +On which hint we dispersed, and I slept till Takahira waked me for +dinner. Our ancestors thought nine hours' sleep ample for their little +lives. We, living thirty years longer, feel ourselves defrauded with +less than eleven out of the twenty-four. + +By ten o'clock we were over Lake Michigan. The west shore was lightless, +except for a dull ground-glare at Chicago, and a single +traffic-directing light--its leading beam pointing north--at Waukegan on +our starboard bow. None of the Lake villages gave any sign of life; and +inland, westward, so far as we could see, blackness lay unbroken on the +level earth. We swooped down and skimmed low across the dark, throwing +calls county by county. Now and again we picked up the faint glimmer of +a house-light, or heard the rasp and rend of a cultivator being played +across the fields, but Northern Illinois as a whole was one inky, +apparently uninhabited, waste of high, forced woods. Only our +illuminated map, with its little pointer switching from county to county +as we wheeled and twisted, gave us any idea of our position. Our calls, +urgent, pleading, coaxing or commanding, through the General +Communicator brought no answer. Illinois strictly maintained her own +privacy in the timber which she grew for that purpose. + +'Oh, this is absurd!' said De Forest. 'We're like an owl trying to work +a wheat-field. Is this Bureau Creek? Let's land, Arnott, and get hold of +some one.' + +We brushed over a belt of forced woodland--fifteen-year-old maple sixty +feet high--grounded on a private meadow-dock, none too big, where we +moored to our own grapnels, and hurried out through the warm dark night +towards a light in a verandah. As we neared the garden gate I could have +sworn we had stepped knee-deep in quicksand, for we could scarcely drag +our feet against the prickling currents that clogged them. After five +paces we stopped, wiping our foreheads, as hopelessly stuck on dry +smooth turf as so many cows in a bog. + +'Pest!' cried Pirolo angrily. 'We are ground-circuited. And it is my own +system of ground-circuits too! I know the pull.' + +'Good evening,' said a girl's voice from the verandah. 'Oh, I'm sorry! +We've locked up. Wait a minute.' + +We heard the click of a switch, and almost fell forward as the currents +round our knees were withdrawn. + +The girl laughed, and laid aside her knitting. An old-fashioned +Controller stood at her elbow, which she reversed from time to time, and +we could hear the snort and clank of the obedient cultivator half a mile +away, behind the guardian woods. + +'Come in and sit down,' she said. 'I'm only playing a plough. Dad's +gone to Chicago to--Ah! Then it was _your_ call I heard just now!' + +She had caught sight of Arnott's Board uniform, leaped to the switch, +and turned it full on. + +We were checked, gasping, waist-deep in current this time, three yards +from the verandah. + +'We only want to know what's the matter with Illinois,' said De Forest +placidly. + +'Then hadn't you better go to Chicago and find out?' she answered. +'There's nothing wrong here. We own ourselves.' + +'How can we go anywhere if you won't loose us?' De Forest went on, while +Arnott scowled. Admirals of Fleets are still quite human when their +dignity is touched. + +'Stop a minute--you don't know how funny you look!' She put her hands on +her hips and laughed mercilessly. + +'Don't worry about that,' said Arnott, and whistled. A voice answered +from the _Victor Pirolo_ in the meadow. + +'Only a single-fuse ground-circuit!' Arnott called. 'Sort it out gently, +please.' + +We heard the ping of a breaking lamp; a fuse blew out somewhere in the +verandah roof, frightening a nestful of birds. The ground-circuit was +open. We stooped and rubbed our tingling ankles. + +'How rude--how very rude of you!' the maiden cried. + +''Sorry, but we haven't time to look funny,' said Arnott. 'We've got to +go to Chicago; and if I were you, young lady, I'd go into the cellars +for the next two hours, and take mother with me.' + +Off he strode, with us at his heels, muttering indignantly, till the +humour of the thing struck and doubled him up with laughter at the foot +of the gang-way ladder. + +'The Board hasn't shown what you might call a fat spark on this +occasion,' said De Forest, wiping his eyes. 'I hope I didn't look as big +a fool as you did, Arnott! Hullo! What on earth is that? Dad coming home +from Chicago?' + +There was a rattle and a rush, and a five-plough cultivator, blades in +air like so many teeth, trundled itself at us round the edge of the +timber, fuming and sparking furiously. + +'Jump!' said Arnott, as we bundled ourselves through the none-too-wide +door. 'Never mind about shutting it. Up!' + +The _Victor Pirolo_ lifted like a bubble, and the vicious machine shot +just underneath us, clawing high as it passed. + +'There's a nice little spit-kitten for you!' said Arnott, dusting his +knees. 'We ask her a civil question. First she circuits us and then she +plays a cultivator at us!' + +'And then we fly,' said Dragomiroff. 'If I were forty years more young, +I would go back and kiss her. Ho! Ho!' + +'I,' said Pirolo, 'would smack her! My pet ship has been chased by a +dirty plough; a--how do you say?--agricultural implement.' + +'Oh, that is Illinois all over,' said De Forest. 'They don't content +themselves with talking about privacy. They arrange to have it. And now, +where's your alleged fleet, Arnott? We must assert ourselves against +this wench.' + +Arnott pointed to the black heavens. + +'Waiting on--up there,' said he. 'Shall I give them the whole +installation, sir?' + +'Oh, I don't think the young lady is quite worth that,' said De Forest. +'Get over Chicago, and perhaps we'll see something.' + +In a few minutes we were hanging at two thousand feet over an oblong +block of incandescence in the centre of the little town. + +'That looks like the old City Hall. Yes, there's Salati's Statue in +front of it,' said Takahira. 'But what on earth are they doing to the +place? I thought they used it for a market nowadays! Drop a +little, please.' + +We could hear the sputter and crackle of road-surfacing machines--the +cheap Western type which fuse stone and rubbish into lava-like ribbed +glass for their rough country roads. Three or four surfacers worked on +each side of a square of ruins. The brick and stone wreckage crumbled, +slid forward, and presently spread out into white-hot pools of sticky +slag, which the levelling-rods smoothed more or less flat. Already a +third of the big block had been so treated, and was cooling to dull red +before our astonished eyes. + +'It is the Old Market,' said De Forest. 'Well, there's nothing to +prevent Illinois from making a road through a market. It doesn't +interfere with traffic, that I can see.' + +'Hsh!' said Arnott, gripping me by the shoulder. 'Listen! They're +singing. Why on the earth are they singing?' + +We dropped again till we could see the black fringe of people at the +edge of that glowing square. + +At first they only roared against the roar of the surfacers and +levellers. Then the words came up clearly--the words of the Forbidden +Song that all men knew, and none let pass their lips--poor Pat +MacDonough's Song, made in the days of the Crowds and the Plague--every +silly word of it loaded to sparking-point with the Planet's inherited +memories of horror, panic, fear and cruelty. And Chicago--innocent, +contented little Chicago--was singing it aloud to the infernal tune that +carried riot, pestilence and lunacy round our Planet a few +generations ago! + + 'Once there was The People--Terror gave it birth; + Once there was The People, and it made a hell of earth!' + +(Then the stamp and pause): + + 'Earth arose and crushed it. Listen, oh, ye slain! + Once there was The People--it shall never be again!' + +The levellers thrust in savagely against the ruins as the song renewed +itself again, again and again, louder than the crash of the +melting walls. + +De Forest frowned. + +'I don't like that,' he said. 'They've broken back to the Old Days! +They'll be killing somebody soon. I think we'd better divert +'em, Arnott.' + +'Ay, ay, sir.' Arnott's hand went to his cap, and we heard the hull of +the _Victor Pirolo_ ring to the command: 'Lamps! Both watches stand by! +Lamps! Lamps! Lamps!' + +'Keep still!' Takahira whispered to me. 'Blinkers, please, +quartermaster.' + +'It's all right--all right!' said Pirolo from behind, and to my horror +slipped over my head some sort of rubber helmet that locked with a snap. +I could feel thick colloid bosses before my eyes, but I stood in +absolute darkness. + +'To save the sight,' he explained, and pushed me on to the chart-room +divan. 'You will see in a minute.' + +As he spoke I became aware of a thin thread of almost intolerable light, +let down from heaven at an immense distance--one vertical hairsbreadth +of frozen lightning. + +'Those are our flanking ships,' said Arnott at my elbow. 'That one is +over Galena. Look south--that other one's over Keithburg. Vincennes is +behind us, and north yonder is Winthrop Woods. The Fleet's in position, +sir'--this to De Forest. 'As soon as you give the word.' + +'Ah no! No!' cried Dragomiroff at my side. I could feel the old man +tremble. 'I do not know all that you can do, but be kind! I ask you to +be a little kind to them below! This is horrible--horrible!' + + 'When a Woman kills a Chicken, + Dynasties and Empires sicken,' + +Takahira quoted. 'It is too late to be gentle now.' + +'Then take off my helmet! Take off my helmet!' Dragomiroff began +hysterically. + +Pirolo must have put his arm round him. + +'Hush,' he said, 'I am here. It is all right, Ivan, my dear fellow.' + +'I'll just send our little girl in Bureau County a warning,' said +Arnott. 'She don't deserve it, but we'll allow her a minute or two to +take mamma to the cellar.' + +In the utter hush that followed the growling spark after Arnott had +linked up his Service Communicator with the invisible Fleet, we heard +MacDonough's Song from the city beneath us grow fainter as we rose to +position. Then I clapped my hand before my mask lenses, for it was as +though the floor of Heaven had been riddled and all the inconceivable +blaze of suns in the making was poured through the manholes. + +'You needn't count,' said Arnott. I had had no thought of such a thing. +'There are two hundred and fifty keels up there, five miles apart. Full +power, please, for another twelve seconds.' + +The firmament, as far as eye could reach, stood on pillars of white +fire. One fell on the glowing square at Chicago, and turned it black. + +'Oh! Oh! Oh! Can men be allowed to do such things?' Dragomiroff cried, +and fell across our knees. + +'Glass of water, please,' said Takahira to a helmeted shape that leaped +forward. 'He is a little faint.' + +The lights switched off, and the darkness stunned like an avalanche. We +could hear Dragomiroff's teeth on the glass edge. + +Pirolo was comforting him. + +'All right, all ra-ight,' he repeated. 'Come and lie down. Come below +and take off your mask. I give you my word, old friend, it is all right. +They are my siege-lights. Little Victor Pirolo's leetle lights. You know +_me_! I do not hurt people.' + +'Pardon!' Dragomiroff moaned. 'I have never seen Death. I have never +seen the Board take action. Shall we go down and burn them alive, or is +that already done?' + +'Oh, hush,' said Pirolo, and I think he rocked him in his arms. + +'Do we repeat, sir?' Arnott asked De Forest. + +'Give 'em a minute's break,' De Forest replied. 'They may need it.' + +We waited a minute, and then MacDonough's Song, broken but defiant, rose +from undefeated Chicago. + +'They seem fond of that tune,' said De Forest. 'I should let 'em have +it, Arnott.' + +'Very good, sir,' said Arnott, and felt his way to the Communicator +keys. + +No lights broke forth, but the hollow of the skies made herself the +mouth for one note that touched the raw fibre of the brain. Men hear +such sounds in delirium, advancing like tides from horizons beyond the +ruled foreshores of space. + +'That's our pitch-pipe,' said Arnott. 'We may be a bit ragged. I've +never conducted two hundred and fifty performers before.' He pulled out +the couplers, and struck a full chord on the Service Communicators. + +The beams of light leaped down again, and danced, solemnly and awfully, +a stilt-dance, sweeping thirty or forty miles left and right at each +stiff-legged kick, while the darkness delivered itself--there is no +scale to measure against that utterance--of the tune to which they kept +time. Certain notes--one learnt to expect them with terror--cut through +one's marrow, but, after three minutes, thought and emotion passed in +indescribable agony. + +We saw, we heard, but I think we were in some sort swooning. The two +hundred and fifty beams shifted, re-formed, straddled and split, +narrowed, widened, rippled in ribbons, broke into a thousand white-hot +parallel lines, melted and revolved in interwoven rings like +old-fashioned engine-turning, flung up to the zenith, made as if to +descend and renew the torment, halted at the last instant, twizzled +insanely round the horizon, and vanished, to bring back for the +hundredth time darkness more shattering than their instantly renewed +light over all Illinois. Then the tune and lights ceased together, and +we heard one single devastating wail that shook all the horizon as a +rubbed wet finger shakes the rim of a bowl. + +'Ah, that is my new siren,' said Pirolo. 'You can break an iceberg in +half, if you find the proper pitch. They will whistle by squadrons now. +It is the wind through pierced shutters in the bows.' + +I had collapsed beside Dragomiroff, broken and snivelling feebly, +because I had been delivered before my time to all the terrors of +Judgment Day, and the Archangels of the Resurrection were hailing me +naked across the Universe to the sound of the music of the spheres. + +Then I saw De Forest smacking Arnott's helmet with his open hand. The +wailing died down in a long shriek as a black shadow swooped past us, +and returned to her place above the lower clouds. + +'I hate to interrupt a specialist when he's enjoying himself,' said De +Forest. 'But, as a matter of fact, all Illinois has been asking us to +stop for these last fifteen seconds.' + +'What a pity.' Arnott slipped off his mask. 'I wanted you to hear us +really hum. Our lower C can lift street-paving.' + +'It is Hell--Hell!' cried Dragomiroff, and sobbed aloud. + +Arnott looked away as he answered: + +'It's a few thousand volts ahead of the old shoot-'em-and-sink-'em game, +but I should scarcely call it _that_. What shall I tell the Fleet, sir?' + +'Tell 'em we're very pleased and impressed. I don't think they need wait +on any longer. There isn't a spark left down there.' De Forest pointed. +'They'll be deaf and blind.' + +'Oh, I think not, sir. The demonstration lasted less than ten minutes.' + +'Marvellous!' Takahira sighed. 'I should have said it was half a night. +Now, shall we go down and pick up the pieces?' + +'But first a small drink,' said Pirolo. 'The Board must not arrive +weeping at its own works.' + +'I am an old fool--an old fool!' Dragomiroff began piteously. 'I did not +know what would happen. It is all new to me. We reason with them in +Little Russia.' + +Chicago North landing-tower was unlighted, and Arnott worked his ship +into the clips by her own lights. As soon as these broke out we heard +groanings of horror and appeal from many people below. + +'All right,' shouted Arnott into the darkness. 'We aren't beginning +again!' We descended by the stairs, to find ourselves knee-deep in a +grovelling crowd, some crying that they were blind, others beseeching us +not to make any more noises, but the greater part writhing face +downward, their hands or their caps before their eyes. + +It was Pirolo who came to our rescue. He climbed the side of a +surfacing-machine, and there, gesticulating as though they could see, +made oration to those afflicted people of Illinois. + +'You stchewpids!' he began. 'There is nothing to fuss for. Of course, +your eyes will smart and be red to-morrow. You will look as if you and +your wives had drunk too much, but in a little while you will see again +as well as before. I tell you this, and I--I am Pirolo. Victor Pirolo!' + +The crowd with one accord shuddered, for many legends attach to Victor +Pirolo of Foggia, deep in the secrets of God. + +'Pirolo?' An unsteady voice lifted itself. 'Then tell us was there +anything except light in those lights of yours just now?' + +The question was repeated from every corner of the darkness. + +Pirolo laughed. + +'No!' he thundered. (Why have small men such large voices?) 'I give you +my word and the Board's word that there was nothing except light--just +light! You stchewpids! Your birth-rate is too low already as it is. Some +day I must invent something to send it up, but send it down--never!' + +'Is that true?--We thought--somebody said--' + +One could feel the tension relax all round. + +'You too big fools,' Pirolo cried. 'You could have sent us a call and we +would have told you.' + +'Send you a call!' a deep voice shouted. 'I wish you had been at our end +of the wire.' + +'I'm glad I wasn't,' said De Forest. 'It was bad enough from behind the +lamps. Never mind! It's over now. Is there any one here I can talk +business with? I'm De Forest--for the Board.' + +'You might begin with me, for one--I'm Mayor,' the bass voice replied. + +A big man rose unsteadily from the street, and staggered towards us +where we sat on the broad turf-edging, in front of the garden fences. + +'I ought to be the first on my feet. Am I?' said he. + +'Yes,' said De Forest, and steadied him as he dropped down beside us. + +'Hello, Andy. Is that you?' a voice called. + +'Excuse me,' said the Mayor; 'that sounds like my Chief of Police, +Bluthner!' + +'Bluthner it is; and here's Mulligan and Keefe--on their feet.' + +'Bring 'em up please, Blut. We're supposed to be the Four in charge of +this hamlet. What we says, goes. And, De Forest, what do you say?' + +'Nothing--yet,' De Forest answered, as we made room for the panting, +reeling men. '_You've_ cut out of system. Well?' + +'Tell the steward to send down drinks, please,' Arnott whispered to an +orderly at his side. + +'Good!' said the Mayor, smacking his dry lips. 'Now I suppose we can +take it, De Forest, that henceforward the Board will administer +us direct?' + +'Not if the Board can avoid it,' De Forest laughed. 'The A.B.C. is +responsible for the planetary traffic only.' + +'_And all that that implies_.' The big Four who ran Chicago chanted +their Magna Charta like children at school. + +'Well, get on,' said De Forest wearily. 'What is your silly trouble +anyway?' + +'Too much dam' Democracy,' said the Mayor, laying his hand on De +Forest's knee. + +'So? I thought Illinois had had her dose of that.' + +'She has. That's why. Blut, what did you do with our prisoners last +night?' + +'Locked 'em in the water-tower to prevent the women killing 'em,' the +Chief of Police replied. 'I'm too blind to move just yet, but--' + +'Arnott, send some of your people, please, and fetch 'em along,' said De +Forest. + +'They're triple-circuited,' the Mayor called. 'You'll have to blow out +three fuses.' He turned to De Forest, his large outline just visible in +the paling darkness. 'I hate to throw any more work on the Board. I'm an +administrator myself, but we've had a little fuss with our Serviles. +What? In a big city there's bound to be a few men and women who can't +live without listening to themselves, and who prefer drinking out of +pipes they don't own both ends of. They inhabit flats and hotels all the +year round. They say it saves 'em trouble. Anyway, it gives 'em more +time to make trouble for their neighbours. We call 'em Serviles locally. +And they are apt to be tuberculous.' + +'Just so!' said the man called Mulligan. Transportation is Civilisation. +Democracy is Disease. I've proved it by the blood-test, every time.' + +'Mulligan's our Health Officer, and a one-idea man,' said the Mayor, +laughing. 'But it's true that most Serviles haven't much control. They +_will_ talk; and when people take to talking as a business, anything may +arrive--mayn't it, De Forest?' + +'Anything--except the facts of the case,' said De Forest, laughing. + +'I'll give you those in a minute,' said the Mayor. 'Our Serviles got to +talking--first in their houses and then on the streets, telling men and +women how to manage their own affairs. (You can't teach a Servile not to +finger his neighbour's soul.) That's invasion of privacy, of course, but +in Chicago we'll suffer anything sooner than make Crowds. Nobody took +much notice, and so I let 'em alone. My fault! I was warned there would +be trouble, but there hasn't been a Crowd or murder in Illinois for +nineteen years.' + +'Twenty-two,' said his Chief of Police. + +'Likely. Anyway, we'd forgot such things. So, from talking in the houses +and on the streets, our Serviles go to calling a meeting at the Old +Market yonder.' He nodded across the square where the wrecked buildings +heaved up grey in the dawn-glimmer behind the square-cased statue of The +Negro in Flames. 'There's nothing to prevent any one calling meetings +except that it's against human nature to stand in a Crowd, besides being +bad for the health. I ought to have known by the way our men and women +attended that first meeting that trouble was brewing. There were as many +as a thousand in the market-place, touching each other. Touching! Then +the Serviles turned in all tongue-switches and talked, and we--' + +'What did they talk about?' said Takahira. + +'First, how badly things were managed in the city. That pleased us +Four--we were on the platform--because we hoped to catch one or two +good men for City work. You know how rare executive capacity is. Even if +we didn't it's--it's refreshing to find any one interested enough in our +job to damn our eyes. You don't know what it means to work, year in, +year out, without a spark of difference with a living soul.' + +'Oh, don't we!' said De Forest. 'There are times on the Board when we'd +give our positions if any one would kick us out and take hold of things +themselves.' + +'But they won't,' said the Mayor ruefully. 'I assure you, sir, we Four +have done things in Chicago, in the hope of rousing people, that would +have discredited Nero. But what do they say? "Very good, Andy. Have it +your own way. Anything's better than a Crowd. I'll go back to my land." +You _can't_ do anything with folk who can go where they please, and +don't want anything on God's earth except their own way. There isn't a +kick or a kicker left on the Planet.' + +'Then I suppose that little shed yonder fell down by itself?' said De +Forest. We could see the bare and still smoking ruins, and hear the +slag-pools crackle as they hardened and set. + +'Oh, that's only amusement. 'Tell you later. As I was saying, our +Serviles held the meeting, and pretty soon we had to ground-circuit the +platform to save 'em from being killed. And that didn't make our people +any more pacific.' + +'How d'you mean?' I ventured to ask. + +'If you've ever been ground-circuited,' said the Mayor, 'you'll know it +don't improve any man's temper to be held up straining against nothing. +No, sir! Eight or nine hundred folk kept pawing and buzzing like flies +in treacle for two hours, while a pack of perfectly safe Serviles +invades their mental and spiritual privacy, may be amusing to watch, but +they are not pleasant to handle afterwards.' + +Pirolo chuckled. + +'Our folk own themselves. They were of opinion things were going too far +and too fiery. I warned the Serviles; but they're born house-dwellers. +Unless a fact hits 'em on the head they cannot see it. Would you believe +me, they went on to talk of what they called "popular government"? They +did! They wanted us to go back to the old Voodoo-business of voting with +papers and wooden boxes, and word-drunk people and printed formulas, and +news-sheets! They said they practised it among themselves about what +they'd have to eat in their flats and hotels. Yes, sir! They stood up +behind Bluthner's doubled ground-circuits, and they said that, in this +present year of grace, _to_ self-owning men and women, _on_ that very +spot! Then they finished'--he lowered his voice cautiously--'by talking +about "The People." And then Bluthner he had to sit up all night in +charge of the circuits because he couldn't trust his men to keep +'em shut.' + +'It was trying 'em too high,' the Chief of Police broke in. 'But we +couldn't hold the Crowd ground-circuited for ever. I gathered in all the +Serviles on charge of Crowd-making, and put 'em in the water-tower, and +then I let things cut loose. I had to! The District lit like a sparked +gas-tank!' + +'The news was out over seven degrees of country,' the Mayor continued; +'and when once it's a question of invasion of privacy, good-bye to right +and reason in Illinois! They began turning out traffic-lights and +locking up landing-towers on Thursday night. Friday, they stopped all +traffic and asked for the Board to take over. Then they wanted to clean +Chicago off the side of the Lake and rebuild elsewhere--just for a +souvenir of "The People" that the Serviles talked about. I suggested +that they should slag the Old Market where the meeting was held, while I +turned in a call to you all on the Board. That kept 'em quiet till you +came along. And--and now _you_ can take hold of the situation.' + +'Any chance of their quieting down?' De Forest asked. + +'You can try,' said the Mayor. + +De Forest raised his voice in the face of the reviving Crowd that had +edged in towards us. Day was come. + +'Don't you think this business can be arranged?' he began. But there was +a roar of angry voices: + +'We've finished with Crowds! We aren't going back to the Old Days! Take +us over! Take the Serviles away! Administer direct or we'll kill 'em! +Down with The People!' + +An attempt was made to begin MacDonough's Song. It got no further than +the first line, for the _Victor Pirolo_ sent down a warning drone on one +stopped horn. A wrecked side-wall of the Old Market tottered and fell +inwards on the slag-pools. None spoke or moved till the last of the dust +had settled down again, turning the steel case of Salati's Statue +ashy grey. + +'You see you'll just _have_ to take us over,' the Mayor whispered. + +De Forest shrugged his shoulders. + +'You talk as if executive capacity could be snatched out of the air like +so much horse-power. Can't you manage yourselves on any terms?' he said. + +'We can, if you say so. It will only cost those few lives to begin +with,' + +The Mayor pointed across the square, where Arnott's men guided a +stumbling group of ten or twelve men and women to the lake front and +halted them under the Statue. + +'Now I think,' said Takahira under his breath, 'there will be trouble.' + +The mass in front of us growled like beasts. + +At that moment the sun rose clear, and revealed the blinking assembly to +itself. As soon as it realized that it was a crowd we saw the shiver of +horror and mutual repulsion shoot across it precisely as the steely +flaws shot across the lake outside. Nothing was said, and, being half +blind, of course it moved slowly. Yet in less than fifteen minutes most +of that vast multitude--three thousand at the lowest count--melted away +like frost on south eaves. The remnant stretched themselves on the +grass, where a crowd feels and looks less like a crowd. + +'These mean business,' the Mayor whispered to Takahira. 'There are a +goodish few women there who've borne children. I don't like it.' + +The morning draught off the lake stirred the trees round us with promise +of a hot day; the sun reflected itself dazzlingly on the canister-shaped +covering of Salati's Statue; cocks crew in the gardens, and we could +hear gate-latches clicking in the distance as people stumblingly +resought their homes. + +'I'm afraid there won't be any morning deliveries,' said De Forest. 'We +rather upset things in the country last night.' + +'That makes no odds,' the Mayor returned. 'We're all provisioned for six +months. _We_ take no chances.' + +Nor, when you come to think of it, does any one else. It must be +three-quarters of a generation since any house or city faced a food +shortage. Yet is there house or city on the Planet to-day that has not +half a year's provisions laid in? We are like the shipwrecked seamen in +the old books, who, having once nearly starved to death, ever afterwards +hide away bits of food and biscuit. Truly we trust no Crowds, nor system +based on Crowds! + +De Forest waited till the last footstep had died away. Meantime the +prisoners at the base of the Statue shuffled, posed, and fidgeted, with +the shamelessness of quite little children. None of them were more than +six feet high, and many of them were as grey-haired as the ravaged, +harassed heads of old pictures. They huddled together in actual touch, +while the crowd, spaced at large intervals, looked at them with +congested eyes. + +Suddenly a man among them began to talk. The Mayor had not in the least +exaggerated. It appeared that our Planet lay sunk in slavery beneath the +heel of the Aërial Board of Control. The orator urged us to arise in our +might, burst our prison doors and break our fetters (all his metaphors, +by the way, were of the most mediæval). Next he demanded that every +matter of daily life, including most of the physical functions, should +be submitted for decision at any time of the week, month, or year to, I +gathered, anybody who happened to be passing by or residing within a +certain radius, and that everybody should forthwith abandon his concerns +to settle the matter, first by crowd-making, next by talking to the +crowds made, and lastly by describing crosses on pieces of paper, which +rubbish should later be counted with certain mystic ceremonies and +oaths. Out of this amazing play, he assured us, would automatically +arise a higher, nobler, and kinder world, based--he demonstrated this +with the awful lucidity of the insane--based on the sanctity of the +Crowd and the villainy of the single person. In conclusion, he called +loudly upon God to testify to his personal merits and integrity. When +the flow ceased, I turned bewildered to Takahira, who was +nodding solemnly. + +'Quite correct,' said he. 'It is all in the old books. He has left +nothing out, not even the war-talk.' + +'But I don't see how this stuff can upset a child, much less a +district,' I replied. + +'Ah, you are too young,' said Dragomiroff. 'For another thing, you are +not a mamma. Please look at the mammas.' + +Ten or fifteen women who remained had separated themselves from the +silent men, and were drawing in towards the prisoners. It reminded one +of the stealthy encircling, before the rush in at the quarry, of wolves +round musk-oxen in the North. The prisoners saw, and drew together more +closely. The Mayor covered his face with his hands for an instant. De +Forest, bareheaded, stepped forward between the prisoners, and the +slowly, stiffly moving line. + +'That's all very interesting,' he said to the dry-lipped orator. 'But +the point seems that you've been making crowds and invading privacy.' + +A woman stepped forward, and would have spoken, but there was a quick +assenting murmur from the men, who realised that De Forest was trying to +pull the situation down to ground-line. + +'Yes! Yes!' they cried. 'We cut out because they made crowds and invaded +privacy! Stick to that! Keep on that switch! Lift the Serviles out of +this! The Board's in charge! Hsh!' + +'Yes, the Board's in charge,' said De Forest. 'I'll take formal evidence +of crowd-making if you like, but the Members of the Board can testify to +it. Will that do?' + +The women had closed in another pace, with hands that clenched and +unclenched at their sides. + +'Good! Good enough!' the men cried. 'We're content. Only take them away +quickly.' + +'Come along up!' said De Forest to the captives, 'Breakfast is quite +ready.' + +It appeared, however, that they did not wish to go. They intended to +remain in Chicago and make crowds. They pointed out that De Forest's +proposal was gross invasion of privacy. + +'My dear fellow,' said Pirolo to the most voluble of the leaders, 'you +hurry, or your crowd that can't be wrong will kill you!' + +'But that would be murder,' answered the believer in crowds; and there +was a roar of laughter from all sides that seemed to show the crisis +had broken. + +A woman stepped forward from the line of women, laughing, I protest, as +merrily as any of the company. One hand, of course, shaded her eyes, the +other was at her throat. + +'Oh, they needn't be afraid of being killed!' she called. + +'Not in the least,' said De Forest. 'But don't you think that, now the +Board's in charge, you might go home while we get these people away?' + +'I shall be home long before that. It--it has been rather a trying day.' + +She stood up to her full height, dwarfing even De Forest's +six-foot-eight, and smiled, with eyes closed against the fierce light. + +'Yes, rather,' said De Forest. 'I'm afraid you feel the glare a little. +We'll have the ship down.' + +He motioned to the _Pirolo_ to drop between us and the sun, and at the +same time to loop-circuit the prisoners, who were a trifle unsteady. We +saw them stiffen to the current where they stood. The woman's voice went +on, sweet and deep and unshaken: + +'I don't suppose you men realise how much this--this sort of thing means +to a woman. I've borne three. We women don't want our children given to +Crowds. It must be an inherited instinct. Crowds make trouble. They +bring back the Old Days. Hate, fear, blackmail, publicity, "The +People"--_That! That! That_!' She pointed to the Statue, and the crowd +growled once more. + +'Yes, if they are allowed to go on,' said De Forest. 'But this little +affair--' + +'It means so much to us women that this--this little affair should never +happen again. Of course, never's a big word, but one feels so strongly +that it is important to stop crowds at the very beginning. Those +creatures'--she pointed with her left hand at the prisoners swaying like +seaweed in a tideway as the circuit pulled them--'those people have +friends and wives and children in the city and elsewhere. One doesn't +want anything done to _them_, you know. It's terrible to force a human +being out of fifty or sixty years of good life. I'm only forty myself. +_I_ know. But, at the same time, one feels that an example should be +made, because no price is too heavy to pay if--if these people and _all +that they imply_ can be put an end to. Do you quite understand, or would +you be kind enough to tell your men to take the casing off the Statue? +It's worth looking at.' + +'I understand perfectly. But I don't think anybody here wants to see +the Statue on an empty stomach. Excuse me one moment.' De Forest called +up to the ship, 'A flying loop ready on the port side, if you please.' +Then to the woman he said with some crispness, 'You might leave us a +little discretion in the matter.' + +'Oh, of course. Thank you for being so patient. I know my arguments are +silly, but--' She half turned away and went on in a changed voice, +'Perhaps this will help you to decide.' + +She threw out her right arm with a knife in it. Before the blade could +be returned to her throat or her bosom it was twitched from her grip, +sparked as it flew out of the shadow of the ship above, and fell +flashing in the sunshine at the foot of the Statue fifty yards away. The +outflung arm was arrested, rigid as a bar for an instant, till the +releasing circuit permitted her to bring it slowly to her side. The +other women shrank back silent among the men. + +Pirolo rubbed his hands, and Takahira nodded. + +'That was clever of you, De Forest,' said he. + +'What a glorious pose!' Dragomiroff murmured, for the frightened woman +was on the edge of tears. + +'Why did you stop me? I would have done it!' she cried. + +'I have no doubt you would,' said De Forest. 'But we can't waste a life +like yours on these people. I hope the arrest didn't sprain your wrist; +it's so hard to regulate a flying loop. But I think you are quite right +about those persons' women and children. We'll take them all away with +us if you promise not to do anything stupid to yourself.' + +'I promise--I promise.' She controlled herself with an effort. 'But it +is so important to us women. We know what it means; and I thought if you +saw I was in earnest--' + +'I saw you were, and you've gained your point. I shall take all your +Serviles away with me at once. The Mayor will make lists of their +friends and families in the city and the district, and he'll ship them +after us this afternoon.' + +'Sure,' said the Mayor, rising to his feet. 'Keefe, if you can see, +hadn't you better finish levelling off the Old Market? It don't look +sightly the way it is now, and we shan't use it for crowds any more.' + +'I think you had better wipe out that Statue as well, Mr. Mayor,' said +De Forest. 'I don't question its merits as a work of art, but I believe +it's a shade morbid.' + +'Certainly, sir. Oh, Keefe! Slag the Nigger before you go on to fuse the +Market. I'll get to the Communicators and tell the District that the +Board is in charge. Are you making any special appointments, sir?' + +'None. We haven't men to waste on these back-woods. Carry on as before, +but under the Board. Arnott, run your Serviles aboard, please. Ground +ship and pass them through the bilge-doors. We'll wait till we've +finished with this work of art.' + +The prisoners trailed past him, talking fluently, but unable to +gesticulate in the drag of the current. Then the surfacers rolled up, +two on each side of the Statue. With one accord the spectators looked +elsewhere, but there was no need. Keefe turned on full power, and the +thing simply melted within its case. All I saw was a surge of white-hot +metal pouring over the plinth, a glimpse of Salati's inscription, 'To the +Eternal Memory of the Justice of the People,' ere the stone base itself +cracked and powdered into finest lime. The crowd cheered. + +'Thank you,' said De Forest; 'but we want our break-fasts, and I expect +you do too. Good-bye, Mr. Mayor! Delighted to see you at any time, but I +hope I shan't have to, officially, for the next thirty years. Good-bye, +madam. Yes. We're all given to nerves nowadays. I suffer from them +myself. Good-bye, gentlemen all! You're under the tyrannous heel of the +Board from this moment, but if ever you feel like breaking your fetters +you've only to let us know. This is no treat to us. Good luck!' + +We embarked amid shouts, and did not check our lift till they had +dwindled into whispers. Then De Forest flung himself on the chart-room +divan and mopped his forehead. + +'I don't mind men,' he panted, 'but women are the devil!' + +'Still the devil,' said Pirolo cheerfully. 'That one would have +suicided.' + +'I know it. That was why I signalled for the flying loop to be clapped +on her. I owe you an apology for that, Arnott. I hadn't time to catch +your eye, and you were busy with our caitiffs. By the way, who actually +answered my signal? It was a smart piece of work.' + +'Ilroy,' said Arnott; 'but he overloaded the wave. It may be pretty +gallery-work to knock a knife out of a lady's hand, but didn't you +notice how she rubbed 'em? He scorched her fingers. Slovenly, I +call it.' + +'Far be it from me to interfere with Fleet discipline, but don't be too +hard on the boy. If that woman had killed herself they would have killed +every Servile and everything related to a Servile throughout the +district by nightfall.' + +'That was what she was playing for,' Takahira said. 'And with our Fleet +gone we could have done nothing to hold them.' + +'I may be ass enough to walk into a ground-circuit,' said Arnott, 'but I +don't dismiss my Fleet till I'm reasonably sure that trouble is over. +They're in position still, and I intend to keep 'em there till the +Serviles are shipped out of the district. That last little crowd meant +murder, my friends.' + +'Nerves! All nerves!' said Pirolo. 'You cannot argue with agoraphobia.' + +'And it is not as if they had seen much dead--or _is_ it?' said +Takahira. + +'In all my ninety years I have never seen Death.' Dragomiroff spoke as +one who would excuse himself. 'Perhaps that was why--last night--' + +Then it came out as we sat over breakfast, that, with the exception of +Arnott and Pirolo, none of us had ever seen a corpse, or knew in what +manner the spirit passes. + +'We're a nice lot to flap about governing the Planet,' De Forest +laughed. 'I confess, now it's all over, that my main fear was I mightn't +be able to pull it off without losing a life.' + +'I thought of that too,' said Arnott; 'but there's no death reported, +and I've inquired everywhere. What are we supposed to do with our +passengers? I've fed 'em.' + +'We're between two switches,' De Forest drawled. 'If we drop them in any +place that isn't under the Board the natives will make their presence an +excuse for cutting out, same as Illinois did, and forcing the Board to +take over. If we drop them in any place under the Board's control +they'll be killed as soon as our backs are turned.' + +'If you say so,' said Pirolo thoughtfully, 'I can guarantee that they +will become extinct in process of time, quite happily. What is their +birth-rate now?' + +'Go down and ask 'em,' said De Forest. + +'I think they might become nervous and tear me to bits,' the philosopher +of Foggia replied. + +'Not really? Well?' + +'Open the bilge-doors,' said Takahira with a downward jerk of the thumb. + +'Scarcely--after all the trouble we've taken to save 'em,' said De +Forest. + +'Try London,' Arnott suggested. 'You could turn Satan himself loose +there, and they'd only ask him to dinner.' + +'Good man! You've given me an idea. Vincent! Oh, Vincent!' He threw the +General Communicator open so that we could all hear, and in a few +minutes the chart-room filled with the rich, fruity voice of Leopold +Vincent, who has purveyed all London her choicest amusements for the +last thirty years. We answered with expectant grins, as though we were +actually in the stalls of, say, the Combination on a first night. + +'We've picked up something in your line,' De Forest began. + +'That's good, dear man. If it's old enough. There's nothing to beat the +old things for business purposes. Have you seen _London, Chatham, and +Dover_ at Earl's Court? No? I thought I missed you there. Immense! I've +had the real steam locomotive engines built from the old designs and the +iron rails cast specially by hand. Cloth cushions in the carriages, too! +Immense! And paper railway tickets. And Polly Milton.' + +'Polly Milton back again!' said Arnott rapturously. 'Book me two stalls +for to-morrow night. What's she singing now, bless her?' + +'The old songs. Nothing comes up to the old touch. Listen to this, dear +men.' Vincent carolled with flourishes: + + Oh, cruel lamps of London, + If tears your light could drown, + Your victims' eyes would weep them, + Oh, lights of London Town! + +'Then they weep.' + +'You see?' Pirolo waved his hands at us. 'The old world always weeped +when it saw crowds together. It did not know why, but it weeped. We know +why, but we do not weep, except when we pay to be made to by fat, wicked +old Vincent.' + +'Old, yourself!' Vincent laughed. 'I'm a public benefactor, I keep the +world soft and united.' + +'And I'm De Forest of the Board,' said De Forest acidly, 'trying to get +a little business done. As I was saying, I've picked up a few people +in Chicago.' + +'I cut out. Chicago is--' + +'Do listen! They're perfectly unique.' + +'Do they build houses of baked mudblocks while you wait--eh? That's an +old contact.' + +'They're an untouched primitive community, with all the old ideas.' + +'Sewing-machines and maypole-dances? Cooking on coal-gas stoves, +lighting pipes with matches, and driving horses? Gerolstein tried that +last year. An absolute blow-out!' + +De Forest plugged him wrathfully, and poured out the story of our doings +for the last twenty-four hours on the top-note. + +'And they do it _all_ in public,' he concluded. 'You can't stop 'em. The +more public, the better they are pleased. They'll talk for hours--like +you! Now you can come in again!' + +'Do you really mean they know how to vote?' said Vincent. 'Can they act +it?' + +'Act? It's their life to 'em! And you never saw such faces! Scarred +like volcanoes. Envy, hatred, and malice in plain sight. Wonderfully +flexible voices. They weep, too.' + +'Aloud? In public?' + +'I guarantee. Not a spark of shame or reticence in the entire +installation. It's the chance of your career.' + +'D'you say you've brought their voting props along--those papers and +ballot-box things?' + +'No, confound you! I'm not a luggage-lifter. Apply direct to the Mayor +of Chicago. He'll forward you everything. Well?' + +'Wait a minute. Did Chicago want to kill 'em? That 'ud look well on the +Communicators.' + +'Yes! They were only rescued with difficulty from a howling mob--if you +know what that is.' + +'But I don't,' answered the Great Vincent simply. + +'Well then, they'll tell you themselves. They can make speeches hours +long.' + +'How many are there?' + +'By the time we ship 'em all over they'll be perhaps a hundred, counting +children. An old world in miniature. Can't you see it?' + +'M-yes; but I've got to pay for it if it's a blow-out, dear man.' + +'They can sing the old war songs in the streets. They can get +word-drunk, and make crowds, and invade privacy in the genuine +old-fashioned way; and they'll do the voting trick as often as you ask +'em a question.' + +'Too good!' said Vincent. + +'You unbelieving Jew! I've got a dozen head aboard here. I'll put you +through direct. Sample 'em yourself.' + +He lifted the switch and we listened. Our passengers on the lower deck +at once, but not less than five at a time, explained themselves to +Vincent. They had been taken from the bosom of their families, stripped +of their possessions, given food without finger-bowls, and cast into +captivity in a noisome dungeon. + +'But look here,' said Arnott aghast; 'they're saying what isn't true. My +lower deck isn't noisome, and I saw to the finger-bowls myself.' + +'My people talk like that sometimes in Little Russia,' said Dragomiroff. +'We reason with them. We never kill. No!' + +'But it's not true,' Arnott insisted. 'What can you do with people who +don't tell facts? They're mad!' + +'Hsh!' said Pirolo, his hand to his ear. 'It is such a little time since +all the Planet told lies.' + +We heard Vincent silkily sympathetic. Would they, he asked, repeat their +assertions in public--before a vast public? Only let Vincent give them a +chance, and the Planet, they vowed, should ring with their wrongs. Their +aim in life--two women and a man explained it together--was to reform +the world. Oddly enough, this also had been Vincent's life-dream. He +offered them an arena in which to explain, and by their living example +to raise the Planet to loftier levels. He was eloquent on the moral +uplift of a simple, old-world life presented in its entirety to a +deboshed civilisation. + +Could they--would they--for three months certain, devote themselves +under his auspices, as missionaries, to the elevation of mankind at a +place called Earl's Court, which he said, with some truth, was one of +the intellectual centres of the Planet? They thanked him, and demanded +(we could hear his chuckle of delight) time to discuss and to vote on +the matter. The vote, solemnly managed by counting heads--one head, one +vote--was favourable. His offer, therefore, was accepted, and they moved +a vote of thanks to him in two speeches--one by what they called the +'proposer' and the other by the 'seconder.' + +Vincent threw over to us, his voice shaking with gratitude: + +'I've got 'em! Did you hear those speeches? That's Nature, dear men. Art +can't teach _that._ And they voted as easily as lying. I've never had a +troupe of natural liars before. Bless you, dear men! Remember, you're on +my free lists for ever, anywhere--all of you. Oh, Gerolstein will be +sick--sick!' + +'Then you think they'll do?' said De Forest. + +'Do? The Little Village'll go crazy! I'll knock up a series of old-world +plays for 'em. Their voices will make you laugh and cry. My God, dear +men, where _do_ you suppose they picked up all their misery from, on +this sweet earth? I'll have a pageant of the world's beginnings, and +Mosenthal shall do the music. I'll--' + +'Go and knock up a village for 'em by to-night. We'll meet you at No. 15 +West Landing Tower,' said De Forest. 'Remember the rest will be coming +along to-morrow.' + +'Let 'em all come!' said Vincent. 'You don't know how hard it is +nowadays even for me, to find something that really gets under the +public's damned iridium-plated hide. But I've got it at last. Good-bye!' + +'Well,' said De Forest when we had finished laughing, 'if any one +understood corruption in London I might have played off Vincent against +Gerolstein, and sold my captives at enormous prices. As it is, I shall +have to be their legal adviser to-night when the contracts are signed. +And they won't exactly press any commission on me, either.' + +'Meantime,' said Takahira, 'we cannot, of course, confine members of +Leopold Vincent's last-engaged company. Chairs for the ladies, +please, Arnott.' + +'Then I go to bed,' said De Forest. 'I can't face any more women!' And +he vanished. + +When our passengers were released and given another meal (finger-bowls +came first this time) they told us what they thought of us and the +Board; and, like Vincent, we all marvelled how they had contrived to +extract and secrete so much bitter poison and unrest out of the good +life God gives us. They raged, they stormed, they palpitated, flushed +and exhausted their poor, torn nerves, panted themselves into silence, +and renewed the senseless, shameless attacks. + +'But can't you understand,' said Pirolo pathetically to a shrieking +woman, 'that if we'd left you in Chicago you'd have been killed?' + +'No, we shouldn't. You were bound to save us from being murdered.' + +'Then we should have had to kill a lot of other people.' + +'That doesn't matter. We were preaching the Truth. You can't stop us. We +shall go on preaching in London; and _then_ you'll see!' + +'You can see now,' said Pirolo, and opened a lower shutter. + +We were closing on the Little Village, with her three million people +spread out at ease inside her ring of girdling Main-Traffic +lights--those eight fixed beams at Chatham, Tonbridge, Redhill, Dorking, +Woking, St. Albans, Chipping Ongar, and Southend. + +Leopold Vincent's new company looked, with small pale faces, at the +silence, the size, and the separated houses. + +Then some began to weep aloud, shamelessly--always without shame. + + + + MACDONOUGH'S SONG + + Whether the State can loose and bind + In Heaven as well as on Earth: + If it be wiser to kill mankind + Before or after the birth-- + These are matters of high concern + Where State-kept schoolmen are; + But Holy State (we have lived to learn) + Endeth in Holy War. + + Whether The People be led by the Lord, + Or lured by the loudest throat: + If it be quicker to die by the sword + Or cheaper to die by vote-- + These are the things we have dealt with once, + (And they will not rise from their grave) + For Holy People, however it runs, + Endeth in wholly Slave. + + Whatsoever, for any cause, + Seeketh to take or give, + Power above or beyond the Laws, + Suffer it not to live! + Holy State or Holy King-- + Or Holy People's Will-- + Have no truck with the senseless thing. + Order the guns and kill! + _Saying--after--me:--_ + + _Once there was The People--Terror gave it birth; + Once there was The People and it made a Hell of Earth. + Earth arose and crushed it. Listen, O ye slain! + Once there was The People--it shall never be again!_ + + + + +Friendly Brook + +(March 1914) + + +The valley was so choked with fog that one could scarcely see a cow's +length across a field. Every blade, twig, bracken-frond, and hoof-print +carried water, and the air was filled with the noise of rushing ditches +and field-drains, all delivering to the brook below. A week's November +rain on water-logged land had gorged her to full flood, and she +proclaimed it aloud. + +Two men in sackcloth aprons were considering an untrimmed hedge that ran +down the hillside and disappeared into mist beside those roarings. They +stood back and took stock of the neglected growth, tapped an elbow of +hedge-oak here, a mossed beech-stub there, swayed a stooled ash back and +forth, and looked at each other. + +'I reckon she's about two rod thick,' said Jabez the younger, 'an' she +hasn't felt iron since--when has she, Jesse?' + +'Call it twenty-five year, Jabez, an' you won't be far out.' + +'Umm!' Jabez rubbed his wet handbill on his wetter coat-sleeve. 'She +ain't a hedge. She's all manner o' trees. We'll just about have to--' He +paused, as professional etiquette required. + +'Just about have to side her up an' see what she'll bear. But hadn't we +best--?' Jesse paused in his turn, both men being artists and equals. + +'Get some kind o' line to go by.' Jabez ranged up and down till he found +a thinner place, and with clean snicks of the handbill revealed the +original face of the fence. Jesse took over the dripping stuff as it +fell forward, and, with a grasp and a kick, made it to lie orderly on +the bank till it should be faggoted. + +By noon a length of unclean jungle had turned itself into a cattle-proof +barrier, tufted here and there with little plumes of the sacred holly +which no woodman touches without orders. + +'Now we've a witness-board to go by!' said Jesse at last. + +'She won't be as easy as this all along,' Jabez answered. 'She'll need +plenty stakes and binders when we come to the brook.' + +'Well, ain't we plenty?' Jesse pointed to the ragged perspective ahead +of them that plunged downhill into the fog. 'I lay there's a cord an' a +half o' firewood, let alone faggots, 'fore we get anywheres anigh +the brook.' + +'The brook's got up a piece since morning,' said Jabez. 'Sounds like's +if she was over Wickenden's door-stones.' + +Jesse listened, too. There was a growl in the brook's roar as though she +worried something hard. + +'Yes. She's over Wickenden's door-stones,' he replied. 'Now she'll flood +acrost Alder Bay an' that'll ease her.' + +'She won't ease Jim Wickenden's hay none if she do,' Jabez grunted. 'I +told Jim he'd set that liddle hay-stack o' his too low down in the +medder. I _told_ him so when he was drawin' the bottom for it.' + +'I told him so, too,' said Jesse. 'I told him 'fore ever you did. I told +him when the County Council tarred the roads up along.' He pointed +uphill, where unseen automobiles and road-engines droned past +continually. 'A tarred road, she shoots every drop o' water into a +valley same's a slate roof. 'Tisn't as 'twas in the old days, when the +waters soaked in and soaked out in the way o' nature. It rooshes off +they tarred roads all of a lump, and naturally every drop is bound to +descend into the valley. And there's tar roads both two sides this +valley for ten mile. That's what I told Jim Wickenden when they tarred +the roads last year. But he's a valley-man. He don't hardly ever +journey uphill.' + +'What did he say when you told him that?' Jabez demanded, with a little +change of voice. + +'Why? What did he say to you when _you_ told him?' was the answer. + +'What he said to you, I reckon, Jesse.' + +'Then, you don't need me to say it over again, Jabez.' + +'Well, let be how 'twill, what was he gettin' _after_ when he said what +he said to me?' Jabez insisted. + +'I dunno; unless you tell me what manner o' words he said to _you_.' + +Jabez drew back from the hedge--all hedges are nests of treachery and +eavesdropping--and moved to an open cattle-lodge in the centre of +the field. + +'No need to go ferretin' around,' said Jesse. 'None can't see us here +'fore we see them.' + +'What was Jim Wickenden gettin' at when I said he'd set his stack too +near anigh the brook?' Jabez dropped his voice. 'He was in his mind.' + +'He ain't never been out of it yet to my knowledge,' Jesse drawled, and +uncorked his tea-bottle. + +'But then Jim says: "I ain't goin' to shift my stack a yard," he says. +"The Brook's been good friends to me, and if she be minded," he says, +"to take a snatch at my hay, I ain't settin' out to withstand her." +That's what Jim Wickenden says to me last--last June-end 'twas,' +said Jabez. + +'Nor he hasn't shifted his stack, neither,' Jesse replied. 'An' if +there's more rain, the brook she'll shift it for him.' + +'No need tell _me_! But I want to know what Jim was gettin' _at_?' + +Jabez opened his clasp-knife very deliberately; Jesse as carefully +opened his. They unfolded the newspapers that wrapped their dinners, +coiled away and pocketed the string that bound the packages, and sat +down on the edge of the lodge manger. The rain began to fall again +through the fog, and the brook's voice rose. + + * * * * * + +'But I always allowed Mary was his lawful child, like,' said Jabez, +after Jesse had spoken for a while. + +''Tain't so.... Jim Wickenden's woman she never made nothing. She come +out o' Lewes with her stockin's round her heels, an' she never made nor +mended aught till she died. _He_ had to light fire an' get breakfast +every mornin' except Sundays, while she sowed it abed. Then she took an' +died, sixteen, seventeen, year back; but she never had no childern.' + +'They was valley-folk,' said Jabez apologetically. 'I'd no call to go in +among 'em, but I always allowed Mary--' + +'No. Mary come out o' one o' those Lunnon Childern Societies. After his +woman died, Jim got his mother back from his sister over to Peasmarsh, +which she'd gone to house with when Jim married. His mother kept house +for Jim after his woman died. They do say 'twas his mother led him on +toward adoptin' of Mary--to furnish out the house with a child, like, +and to keep him off of gettin' a noo woman. He mostly done what his +mother contrived. 'Cardenly, twixt 'em, they asked for a child from one +o' those Lunnon societies--same as it might ha' been these Barnardo +children--an' Mary was sent down to 'em, in a candle-box, I've heard.' + +'Then Mary is chance-born. I never knowed that,' said Jabez. 'Yet I must +ha' heard it some time or other ...' + +'No. She ain't. 'Twould ha' been better for some folk if she had been. +She come to Jim in a candle-box with all the proper papers--lawful child +o' some couple in Lunnon somewheres--mother dead, father drinkin'. +_And_ there was that Lunnon society's five shillin's a week for her. +Jim's mother she wouldn't despise week-end money, but I never heard Jim +was much of a muck-grubber. Let be how 'twill, they two mothered up Mary +no bounds, till it looked at last like they'd forgot she wasn't their +own flesh an' blood. Yes, I reckon they forgot Mary wasn't their'n +by rights.' + +'That's no new thing,' said Jabez. 'There's more'n one or two in this +parish wouldn't surrender back their Bernarders. You ask Mark Copley an' +his woman an' that Bernarder cripple-babe o' theirs.' + +'Maybe they need the five shillin',' Jesse suggested. + +'It's handy,' said Jabez. 'But the child's more. "Dada" he says, an' +"Mumma" he says, with his great rollin' head-piece all hurdled up in +that iron collar. _He_ won't live long--his backbone's rotten, like. But +they Copleys do just about set store by him--five bob or no five bob.' + +'Same way with Jim an' his mother,' Jesse went on. 'There was talk +betwixt 'em after a few years o' not takin' any more week-end money for +Mary; but let alone _she_ never passed a farden in the mire 'thout +longin's, Jim didn't care, like, to push himself forward into the +Society's remembrance. So naun came of it. The week-end money would ha' +made no odds to Jim--not after his uncle willed him they four cottages +at Eastbourne _an'_ money in the bank.' + +'That was true, too, then? I heard something in a scadderin' +word-o'-mouth way,' said Jabez. + +'I'll answer for the house property, because Jim he requested my signed +name at the foot o' some papers concernin' it. Regardin' the money in +the bank, he nature-ally wouldn't like such things talked about all +round the parish, so he took strangers for witnesses.' + +'Then 'twill make Mary worth seekin' after?' + +'She'll need it. Her Maker ain't done much for her outside nor yet in.' + +'That ain't no odds.' Jabez shook his head till the water showered off +his hat-brim. 'If Mary has money, she'll be wed before any likely pore +maid. She's cause to be grateful to Jim.' + +'She hides it middlin' close, then,' said Jesse. 'It don't sometimes +look to me as if Mary has her natural rightful feelin's. She don't put +on an apron o' Mondays 'thout being druv to it--in the kitchen _or_ the +hen-house. She's studyin' to be a school-teacher. She'll make a beauty! +I never knowed her show any sort o' kindness to nobody--not even when +Jim's mother was took dumb. No! 'Twadn't no stroke. It stifled the old +lady in the throat here. First she couldn't shape her words no shape; +then she clucked, like, an' lastly she couldn't more than suck down +spoon-meat an' hold her peace. Jim took her to Doctor Harding, an' +Harding he bundled her off to Brighton Hospital on a ticket, but they +couldn't make no stay to her afflictions there; and she was bundled off +to Lunnon, an' they lit a great old lamp inside her, and Jim told me +they couldn't make out nothing in no sort there; and, along o' one thing +an' another, an' all their spyin's and pryin's, she come back a hem +sight worse than when she started. Jim said he'd have no more +hospitalizin', so he give her a slate, which she tied to her +waist-string, and what she was minded to say she writ on it.' + +'Now, I never knowed that! But they're valley-folk,' Jabez repeated. + +''Twadn't particular noticeable, for she wasn't a talkin' woman any time +o' her days. Mary had all three's tongue.... Well, then, two years this +summer, come what I'm tellin' you. Mary's Lunnon father, which they'd +put clean out o' their minds, arrived down from Lunnon with the law on +his side, sayin' he'd take his daughter back to Lunnon, after all. I was +working for Mus' Dockett at Pounds Farm that summer, but I was obligin' +Jim that evenin' muckin' out his pig-pen. I seed a stranger come +traipsin' over the bridge agin' Wickenden's door-stones. 'Twadn't the +new County Council bridge with the handrail. They hadn't given it in for +a public right o' way then. 'Twas just a bit o' lathy old plank which +Jim had throwed acrost the brook for his own conveniences. The man +wasn't drunk--only a little concerned in liquor, like--an' his back was +a mask where he'd slipped in the muck comin' along. He went up the +bricks past Jim's mother, which was feedin' the ducks, an' set himself +down at the table inside--Jim was just changin' his socks--an' the man +let Jim know all his rights and aims regardin' Mary. Then there just +about _was_ a hurly-bulloo? Jim's fust mind was to pitch him forth, but +he'd done that once in his young days, and got six months up to Lewes +jail along o' the man fallin' on his head. So he swallowed his spittle +an' let him talk. The law about Mary _was_ on the man's side from fust +to last, for he showed us all the papers. Then Mary come +downstairs--she'd been studyin' for an examination--an' the man tells +her who he was, an' she says he had ought to have took proper care of +his own flesh and blood while he had it by him, an' not to think he +could ree-claim it when it suited. He says somethin' or other, but she +looks him up an' down, front an' backwent, an' she just tongues him +scadderin' out o' doors, and he went away stuffin' all the papers back +into his hat, talkin' most abusefully. Then she come back an' freed her +mind against Jim an' his mother for not havin' warned her of her +upbringin's, which it come out she hadn't ever been told. They didn't +say naun to her. They never did. _I'd_ ha' packed her off with any man +that would ha' took her--an' God's pity on him!' + +'Umm!' said Jabez, and sucked his pipe. + +'So then, that was the beginnin.' The man come back again next week or +so, an' he catched Jim alone, 'thout his mother this time, an' he fair +beazled him with his papers an' his talk--for the law _was_ on his +side--till Jim went down into his money-purse an' give him ten shillings +hush-money--he told me--to withdraw away for a bit an' leave Mary +with 'em.' + +'But that's no way to get rid o' man or woman,' Jabez said. + +'No more 'tis. I told Jim so. "What can I do?" Jim says. "The law's +_with_ the man. I walk about daytimes thinkin' o' it till I sweats my +underclothes wringin', an' I lie abed nights thinkin' o' it till I +sweats my sheets all of a sop. 'Tisn't as if I was a young man," he +says, "nor yet as if I was a pore man. Maybe he'll drink hisself to +death." I e'en a'most told him outright what foolishness he was enterin' +into, but he knowed it--he knowed it--because he said next time the man +come 'twould be fifteen shillin's. An' next time 'twas. Just fifteen +shillin's!' + +'An' _was_ the man her father?' asked Jabez. + +'He had the proofs an' the papers. Jim showed me what that Lunnon +Childern's Society had answered when Mary writ up to 'em an' taxed 'em +with it. I lay she hadn't been proper polite in her letters to 'em, for +they answered middlin' short. They said the matter was out o' their +hands, but--let's see if I remember--oh, yes,--they ree-gretted there +had been an oversight. I reckon they had sent Mary out in the candle-box +as a orphan instead o' havin' a father. Terrible awkward! Then, when +he'd drinked up the money, the man come again--in his usuals--an' he +kept hammerin' on and hammerin' on about his duty to his pore dear wife, +an' what he'd do for his dear daughter in Lunnon, till the tears runned +down his two dirty cheeks an' he come away with more money. Jim used to +slip it into his hand behind the door; but his mother she heard the +chink. She didn't hold with hush-money. She'd write out all her feelin's +on the slate, an' Jim 'ud be settin' up half the night answerin' back +an' showing that the man had the law with him.' + +'Hadn't that man no trade nor business, then?' + +'He told me he was a printer. I reckon, though, he lived on the rates +like the rest of 'em up there in Lunnon.' + +'An' how did Mary take it?' + +'She said she'd sooner go into service than go with the man. I reckon a +mistress 'ud be middlin' put to it for a maid 'fore she put Mary into +cap an' gown. She was studyin' to be a schoo-ool-teacher. A beauty +she'll make!... Well, that was how things went that fall. Mary's Lunnon +father kep' comin' an' comin' 'carden as he'd drinked out the money Jim +gave him; an' each time he'd put-up his price for not takin' Mary away. +Jim's mother, she didn't like partin' with no money, an' bein' obliged +to write her feelin's on the slate instead o' givin' 'em vent by mouth, +she was just about mad. Just about she _was_ mad! + +'Come November, I lodged with Jim in the outside room over 'gainst his +hen-house. I paid _her_ my rent. I was workin' for Dockett at +Pounds--gettin' chestnut-bats out o' Perry Shaw. Just such weather as +this be--rain atop o' rain after a wet October. (An' I remember it ended +in dry frostes right away up to Christmas.) Dockett he'd sent up to +Perry Shaw for me--no, he comes puffin' up to me himself--because a big +corner-piece o' the bank had slipped into the brook where she makes that +elber at the bottom o' the Seventeen Acre, an' all the rubbishy alders +an' sallies which he ought to have cut out when he took the farm, +they'd slipped with the slip, an' the brook was comin' rooshin' down +atop of 'em, an' they'd just about back an' spill the waters over his +winter wheat. The water was lyin' in the flats already. "Gor a-mighty, +Jesse!" he bellers out at me, "get that rubbish away all manners you +can. Don't stop for no fagottin', but give the brook play or my wheat's +past salvation. I can't lend you no help," he says, "but work an' +I'll pay ye."' + +'You had him there,' Jabez chuckled. + +'Yes. I reckon I had ought to have drove my bargain, but the brook was +backin' up on good bread-corn. So 'cardenly, I laid into the mess of it, +workin' off the bank where the trees was drownin' themselves head-down +in the roosh--just such weather as this--an' the brook creepin' up on me +all the time. 'Long toward noon, Jim comes mowchin' along with his +toppin' axe over his shoulder. + +'"Be you minded for an extra hand at your job?" he says. + +'"Be you minded to turn to?" I ses, an'--no more talk to it--Jim laid in +alongside o' me. He's no hunger with a toppin' axe.' + +'Maybe, but I've seed him at a job o' throwin' in the woods, an' he +didn't seem to make out no shape,' said Jabez. 'He haven't got the +shoulders, nor yet the judgment--_my_ opinion--when he's dealin' with +full-girt timber. He don't rightly make up his mind where he's goin' to +throw her.' + +'We wasn't throwin' nothin'. We was cuttin' out they soft alders, an' +haulin' 'em up the bank 'fore they could back the waters on the wheat. +Jim didn't say much, 'less it was that he'd had a postcard from Mary's +Lunnon father, night before, sayin' he was comin' down that mornin'. +Jim, he'd sweated all night, an' he didn't reckon hisself equal to the +talkin' an' the swearin' an' the cryin', an' his mother blamin' him +afterwards on the slate. "It spiled my day to think of it," he ses, when +we was eatin' our pieces. "So I've fair cried dunghill an' run. +Mother'll have to tackle him by herself. I lay _she_ won't give him no +hush-money," he ses. "I lay he'll be surprised by the time he's done +with _her_," he ses. An' that was e'en a'most all the talk we had +concernin' it. But he's no hunger with the toppin' axe. + +'The brook she'd crep' up an' up on us, an' she kep' creepin' upon us +till we was workin' knee-deep in the shallers, cuttin' an' pookin' an' +pullin' what we could get to o' the rubbish. There was a middlin' lot +comin' down-stream, too--cattle-bars, an' hop-poles and odds-ends bats, +all poltin' down together; but they rooshed round the elber good shape +by the time we'd backed out they drowned trees. Come four o'clock we +reckoned we'd done a proper day's work, an' she'd take no harm if we +left her. We couldn't puddle about there in the dark an' wet to no more +advantage. Jim he was pourin' the water out of his boots--no, I was +doin' that. Jim was kneelin' to unlace his'n. "Damn it all, Jesse," he +ses, standin' up; "the flood must be over my doorsteps at home, for here +comes my old white-top bee-skep!"' + +'Yes. I allus heard he paints his bee-skeps,' Jabez put in. 'I dunno +paint don't tarrify bees more'n it keeps em' dry.' + +'"I'll have a pook at it," he ses, an' he pooks at it as it comes round +the elber. The roosh nigh jerked the pooker out of his hand-grips, an' +he calls to me, an' I come runnin' barefoot. Then we pulled on the +pooker, an' it reared up on eend in the roosh, an' we guessed what +'twas. 'Cardenly we pulled it in into a shaller, an' it rolled a piece, +an' a great old stiff man's arm nigh hit me in the face. Then we was +sure. "'Tis a man," ses Jim. But the face was all a mask. "I reckon it's +Mary's Lunnon father," he ses presently. "Lend me a match and I'll make +sure." He never used baccy. We lit three matches one by another, well's +we could in the rain, an' he cleaned off some o' the slob with a tussick +o' grass. "Yes," he ses. "It's Mary's Lunnon father. He won't tarrify us +no more. D'you want him, Jesse?" he ses. + +'"No," I ses. "If this was Eastbourne beach like, he'd be half-a-crown +apiece to us 'fore the coroner; but now we'd only lose a day havin' to +'tend the inquest. I lay he fell into the brook." + +'"I lay he did," ses Jim. "I wonder if he saw mother." He turns him +over, an' opens his coat and puts his fingers in the waistcoat pocket +an' starts laughin'. "He's seen mother, right enough," he ses. "An' he's +got the best of her, too. _She_ won't be able to crow no more over _me_ +'bout givin' him money. _I_ never give him more than a sovereign. She's +give him two!" an' he trousers 'em, laughin' all the time. "An' now +we'll pook him back again, for I've done with him," he ses. + +'So we pooked him back into the middle of the brook, an' we saw he went +round the elber 'thout balkin', an' we walked quite a piece beside of +him to set him on his ways. When we couldn't see no more, we went home +by the high road, because we knowed the brook 'u'd be out acrost the +medders, an' we wasn't goin' to hunt for Jim's little rotten old bridge +in that dark--an' rainin' Heavens' hard, too. I was middlin' pleased to +see light an' vittles again when we got home. Jim he pressed me to come +insides for a drink. He don't drink in a generality, but he was rid of +all his troubles that evenin', d'ye see? "Mother," he ses so soon as the +door ope'd, "have you seen him?" She whips out her slate an' writes +down--"No." "Oh, no," ses Jim. "You don't get out of it that way, +mother. I lay you _have_ seen him, an' I lay he's bested you for all +your talk, same as he bested me. Make a clean breast of it, mother," he +ses. "He got round you too." She was goin' for the slate again, but he +stops her. "It's all right, mother," he ses. "I've seen him sense you +have, an' he won't trouble us no more." The old lady looks up quick as a +robin, an' she writes, "Did he say so?" "No," ses Jim, laughin'. "He +didn't say so. That's how I know. But he bested _you_, mother. You can't +have it in at _me_ for bein' soft-hearted. You're twice as +tender-hearted as what I be. Look!" he ses, an' he shows her the two +sovereigns. "Put 'em away where they belong," he ses. "He won't never +come for no more; an' now we'll have our drink," he ses, "for we've +earned it." + +'Nature-ally they weren't goin' to let me see where they kep' their +monies. She went upstairs with it--for the whisky.' + +'I never knowed Jim was a drinkin' man--in his own house, like,' said +Jabez. + +'No more he isn't; but what he takes he likes good. He won't tech no +publican's hogwash acrost the bar. Four shillin's he paid for that +bottle o' whisky. I know, because when the old lady brought it down +there wasn't more'n jest a liddle few dreenin's an' dregs in it. Nothin' +to set before neighbours, I do assure you.' + +'"Why, 'twas half full last week, mother," he ses. "You don't mean," he +ses, "you've given him all that as well? It's two shillin's worth," he +ses. (That's how I knowed he paid four.) "Well, well, mother, you be too +tender-'carted to live. But I don't grudge it to him," he ses. "I don't +grudge him nothin' he can keep." So, 'cardenly, we drinked up what +little sup was left.' + +'An' what come to Mary's Lunnon father?' said Jabez after a full +minute's silence. + +'I be too tired to go readin' papers of evenin's; but Dockett he told +me, that very week, I think, that they'd inquested on a man down at +Robertsbridge which had poked and poked up agin' so many bridges an' +banks, like, they couldn't make naun out of him.' + +'An' what did Mary say to all these doin's?' + +'The old lady bundled her off to the village 'fore her Lunnon father +come, to buy week-end stuff (an' she forgot the half o' it). When we +come in she was upstairs studyin' to be a school-teacher. None told her +naun about it. 'Twadn't girls' affairs.' + +'Reckon _she_ knowed?' Jabez went on. + +'She? She must have guessed it middlin' close when she saw her money +come back. But she never mentioned it in writing so far's I know. She +were more worritted that night on account of two-three her chickens +bein' drowned, for the flood had skewed their old hen-house round on her +postes. I cobbled her up next mornin' when the brook shrinked.' + +'An' where did you find the bridge? Some fur down-stream, didn't ye?' + +'Just where she allus was. She hadn't shifted but very little. The brook +had gulled out the bank a piece under one eend o' the plank, so's she +was liable to tilt ye sideways if you wasn't careful. But I pooked +three-four bricks under her, an' she was all plumb again.' + +'Well, I dunno how it _looks_ like, but let be how 'twill,' said Jabez, +'he hadn't no business to come down from Lunnon tarrifyin' people, an' +threatenin' to take away children which they'd hobbed up for their +lawful own--even if 'twas Mary Wickenden.' + +'He had the business right enough, an' he had the law with him--no +gettin' over that,' said Jesse. 'But he had the drink with him, too, an' +that was where he failed, like.' + +'Well, well! Let be how 'twill, the brook was a good friend to Jim. I +see it now. I allus _did_ wonder what he was gettin' at when he said +that, when I talked to him about shiftin' the stack. "You dunno +everythin'," he ses. "The Brook's been a good friend to me," he ses, +"an' if she's minded to have a snatch at my hay, _I_ ain't settin' out +to withstand her."' + +'I reckon she's about shifted it, too, by now,' Jesse chuckled. 'Hark! +That ain't any slip off the bank which she's got hold of.' + +The Brook had changed her note again. It sounded as though she were +mumbling something soft. + + + + + THE LAND + + When Julius Fabricius, Sub-Prefect of the Weald, + In the days of Diocletian owned our Lower River-field, + He called to him Hobdenius--a Briton of the Clay, + Saying: 'What about that River-piece for layin' in to hay?' + + And the aged Hobden answered: 'I remember as a lad + My father told your father that she wanted dreenin' bad. + An' the more that you neeglect her the less you'll get her clean. + Have it jest _as_ you've a mind to, but, if I was you, I'd dreen.' + + So they drained it long and crossways in the lavish Roman style. + Still we find among the river-drift their flakes of ancient tile, + And in drouthy middle August, when the bones of meadows show, + We can trace the lines they followed sixteen hundred years ago. + + Then Julius Fabricius died as even Prefects do, + And after certain centuries, Imperial Rome died too. + Then did robbers enter Britain from across the Northern main + And our Lower River-field was won by Ogier the Dane. + + Well could Ogier work his war-boat--well could Ogier wield + his brand-- + Much he knew of foaming waters--not so much of farming land. + So he called to him a Hobden of the old unaltered blood. + Saying: 'What about that River-bit, she doesn't look no good?' + + And that aged Hobden answered: ''Tain't for _me_ to interfere, + But I've known that bit o' meadow now for five and fifty year. + Have it _jest_ as you've a mind to, but I've proved it time + on time, + If you want to change her nature you have _got_ to give her lime!' + + Ogier sent his wains to Lewes, twenty hours' solemn walk, + And drew back great abundance of the cool, grey, healing chalk. + And old Hobden spread it broadcast, never heeding what was in't; + Which is why in cleaning ditches, now and then we find a flint. + + Ogier died. His sons grew English. Anglo-Saxon was their name, + Till out of blossomed Normandy another pirate came; + For Duke William conquered England and divided with his men, + And our Lower River-field he gave to William of Warenne. + + But the Brook (you know her habit) rose one rainy Autumn night + And tore down sodden flitches of the bank to left and right. + So, said William to his Bailiff as they rode their dripping rounds: + 'Hob, what about that River-bit--the Brook's got up no bounds?' + + And that aged Hobden answered: ''Tain't my business to advise, + But ye might ha' known 'twould happen from the way the valley lies. + When ye can't hold back the water you must try and save the sile. + Hev it jest as you've a _mind_ to, but, if I was you, I'd spile!' + + They spiled along the water-course with trunks of willow-trees + And planks of elms behind 'em and immortal oaken knees. + And when the spates of Autumn whirl the gravel-beds away + You can see their faithful fragments iron-hard in iron clay. + + * * * * * + + _Georgii Quinti Anno Sexto_, I, who own the River-field, + Am fortified with title-deeds, attested, signed and sealed, + Guaranteeing me, my assigns, my executors and heirs + All sorts of powers and profits which--are neither mine nor theirs. + + I have rights of chase and warren, as my dignity requires. + I can fish--but Hobden tickles. I can shoot--but Hobden wires. + I repair, but he reopens, certain gaps which, men allege, + Have been used by every Hobden since a Hobden swapped a hedge. + + Shall I dog his morning progress o'er the track-betraying dew? + Demand his dinner-basket into which my pheasant flew? + Confiscate his evening faggot into which the conies ran, + And summons him to judgment? I would sooner summons Pan. + + His dead are in the churchyard--thirty generations laid. + Their names went down in Domesday Book when Domesday Book was made. + And the passion and the piety and prowess of his line + Have seeded, rooted, fruited in some land the Law calls mine. + + Not for any beast that burrows, not for any bird that flies, + Would I lose his large sound council, miss his keen amending eyes. + He is bailiff, woodman, wheelwright, field-surveyor, engineer, + And if flagrantly a poacher--'tain't for me to interfere. + + 'Hob, what about that River-bit?' I turn to him again + With Fabricius and Ogier and William of Warenne. + 'Hev it jest as you've a mind to, _but_'--and so he takes command. + For whoever pays the taxes old Mus' Hobden owns the land. + + + +In the Same Boat + +(1911) + +'A throbbing vein,' said Dr. Gilbert soothingly, 'is the mother of +delusion.' + +'Then how do you account for my knowing when the thing is due?' Conroy's +voice rose almost to a break. + +'Of course, but you should have consulted a doctor before +using--palliatives.' + +'It was driving me mad. And now I can't give them up.' + +''Not so bad as that! One doesn't form fatal habits at twenty-five. +Think again. Were you ever frightened as a child?' + +'I don't remember. It began when I was a boy.' + +'With or without the spasm? By the way, do you mind describing the spasm +again?' + +'Well,' said Conroy, twisting in the chair, 'I'm no musician, but +suppose you were a violin-string--vibrating--and some one put his finger +on you? As if a finger were put on the naked soul! Awful!' + +'So's indigestion--so's nightmare--while it lasts.' + +'But the horror afterwards knocks me out for days. And the waiting for +it ... and then this drug habit! It can't go on!' He shook as he spoke, +and the chair creaked. + +'My dear fellow,' said the doctor, 'when you're older you'll know what +burdens the best of us carry. A fox to every Spartan.' + +'That doesn't help _me_. I can't! I can't!' cried Conroy, and burst into +tears. + +'Don't apologise,' said Gilbert, when the paroxysm ended. 'I'm used to +people coming a little--unstuck in this room.' + +'It's those tabloids!' Conroy stamped his foot feebly as he blew his +nose. 'They've knocked me out. I used to be fit once. Oh, I've tried +exercise and everything. But--if one sits down for a minute when it's +due--even at four in the morning--it runs up behind one.' + +'Ye-es. Many things come in the quiet of the morning. You always know +when the visitation is due?' + +'What would I give not to be sure!' he sobbed. + +'We'll put that aside for the moment. I'm thinking of a case where what +we'll call anæmia of the brain was masked (I don't say cured) by +vibration. He couldn't sleep, or thought he couldn't, but a steamer +voyage and the thump of the screw--' + +'A steamer? After what I've told you!' Conroy almost shrieked. 'I'd +sooner ...' + +'Of course _not_ a steamer in your case, but a long railway journey the +next time you think it will trouble you. It sounds absurd, but--' + +'I'd try anything. I nearly have,' Conroy sighed. + +'Nonsense! I've given you a tonic that will clear _that_ notion from +your head. Give the train a chance, and don't begin the journey by +bucking yourself up with tabloids. Take them along, but hold them in +reserve--in reserve.' + +'D'you think I've self-control enough, after what you've heard?' said +Conroy. + +Dr. Gilbert smiled. 'Yes. After what I've seen,' he glanced round the +room, 'I have no hesitation in saying you have quite as much +self-control as many other people. I'll write you later about your +journey. Meantime, the tonic,' and he gave some general directions +before Conroy left. + +An hour later Dr. Gilbert hurried to the links, where the others of his +regular week-end game awaited him. It was a rigid round, played as usual +at the trot, for the tension of the week lay as heavy on the two King's +Counsels and Sir John Chartres as on Gilbert. The lawyers were old +enemies of the Admiralty Court, and Sir John of the frosty eyebrows and +Abernethy manner was bracketed with, but before, Rutherford Gilbert +among nerve-specialists. + +At the Club-house afterwards the lawyers renewed their squabble over a +tangled collision case, and the doctors as naturally compared +professional matters. + +'Lies--all lies,' said Sir John, when Gilbert had told him Conroy's +trouble. '_Post hoc, propter hoc_. The man or woman who drugs is _ipso +facto_ a liar. You've no imagination.' + +''Pity you haven't a little--occasionally.' + +'I have believed a certain type of patient in my time. It's always the +same. For reasons not given in the consulting-room they take to the +drug. Certain symptoms follow. They will swear to you, and believe it, +that they took the drug to mask the symptoms. What does your man use? +Najdolene? I thought so. I had practically the duplicate of your case +last Thursday. Same old Najdolene--same old lie.' + +'Tell me the symptoms, and I'll draw my own inferences, Johnnie.' + +'Symptoms! The girl was rank poisoned with Najdolene. Ramping, stamping +possession. Gad, I thought she'd have the chandelier down.' + +'Mine came unstuck too, and he has the physique of a bull,' said +Gilbert. 'What delusions had yours?' + +'Faces--faces with mildew on them. In any other walk of life we'd call +it the Horrors. She told me, of course, she took the drugs to mask the +faces. _Post hoc, propter hoc_ again. All liars!' + +'What's that?' said the senior K.C. quickly. 'Sounds professional.' + +'Go away! Not for you, Sandy.' Sir John turned a shoulder against him +and walked with Gilbert in the chill evening. + +To Conroy in his chambers came, one week later, this letter: + + DEAR MR. CONROY--If your plan of a night's trip on the 17th + still holds good, and you have no particular destination in + view, you could do me a kindness. A Miss Henschil, in whom I + am interested, goes down to the West by the 10.8 from + Waterloo (Number 3 platform) on that night. She is not + exactly an invalid, but, like so many of us, a little shaken + in her nerves. Her maid, of course, accompanies her, but if I + knew you were in the same train it would be an additional + source of strength. Will you please write and let me know + whether the 10.8 from Waterloo, Number 3 platform, on the + 17th, suits you, and I will meet you there? Don't forget my + caution, and keep up the tonic.--Yours sincerely, + + L. RUTHERFORD GILBERT. + +'He knows I'm scarcely fit to look after myself,' was Conroy's thought. +'And he wants me to look after a woman!' + +Yet, at the end of half an hour's irresolution, he accepted. + +Now Conroy's trouble, which had lasted for years, was this: + +On a certain night, while he lay between sleep and wake, he would be +overtaken by a long shuddering sigh, which he learned to know was the +sign that his brain had once more conceived its horror, and in time--in +due time--would bring it forth. + +Drugs could so well veil that horror that it shuffled along no worse +than as a freezing dream in a procession of disorderly dreams; but over +the return of the event drugs had no control. Once that sigh had passed +his lips the thing was inevitable, and through the days granted before +its rebirth he walked in torment. For the first two years he had striven +to fend it off by distractions, but neither exercise nor drink availed. +Then he had come to the tabloids of the excellent M. Najdol. These +guarantee, on the label, 'Refreshing and absolutely natural sleep to the +soul-weary.' They are carried in a case with a spring which presses one +scented tabloid to the end of the tube, whence it can be lipped off in +stroking the moustache or adjusting the veil. + +Three years of M. Najdol's preparations do not fit a man for many +careers. His friends, who knew he did not drink, assumed that Conroy had +strained his heart through valiant outdoor exercises, and Conroy had +with some care invented an imaginary doctor, symptoms, and regimen, +which he discussed with them and with his mother in Hereford. She +maintained that he would grow out of it, and recommended nux vomica. + +When at last Conroy faced a real doctor, it was, he hoped, to be saved +from suicide by a strait-waistcoat. Yet Dr. Gilbert had but given him +more drugs--a tonic, for instance, that would couple railway +carnages--and had advised a night in the train. Not alone the horrors of +a railway journey (for which a man who dare keep no servant must e'en +pack, label, and address his own bag), but the necessity for holding +himself in hand before a stranger 'a little shaken in her nerves.' + +He spent a long forenoon packing, because when he assembled and counted +things his mind slid off to the hours that remained of the day before +his night, and he found himself counting minutes aloud. At such times +the injustice of his fate would drive him to revolts which no servant +should witness, but on this evening Dr. Gilbert's tonic held him fairly +calm while he put up his patent razors. + +Waterloo Station shook him into real life. The change for his ticket +needed concentration, if only to prevent shillings and pence turning +into minutes at the booking-office; and he spoke quickly to a porter +about the disposition of his bag. The old 10.8 from Waterloo to the West +was an all-night caravan that halted, in the interests of the milk +traffic, at almost every station. + +Dr. Gilbert stood by the door of the one composite corridor-coach; an +older and stouter man behind him. 'So glad you're here!' he cried. 'Let +me get your ticket.' + +'Certainly not,' Conroy answered. 'I got it myself--long ago. My bag's +in too,' he added proudly. + +'I beg your pardon. Miss Henschil's here. I'll introduce you.' + +'But--but,' he stammered--'think of the state I'm in. If anything +happens I shall collapse.' + +'Not you. You'd rise to the occasion like a bird. And as for the +self-control you were talking of the other day'--Gilbert swung him +round--'look!' + +A young man in an ulster over a silk-faced frock-coat stood by the +carriage window, weeping shamelessly. + +'Oh, but that's only drink,' Conroy said. 'I haven't had one of my--my +things since lunch.' + +'Excellent!' said Gilbert. 'I knew I could depend on you. Come along. +Wait for a minute, Chartres.' + +A tall woman, veiled, sat by the far window. She bowed her head as the +doctor murmured Conroy knew not what. Then he disappeared and the +inspector came for tickets. + +'My maid--next compartment,' she said slowly. + +Conroy showed his ticket, but in returning it to the sleeve-pocket of +his ulster the little silver Najdolene case slipped from his glove and +fell to the floor. He snatched it up as the moving train flung him +into his seat. + +'How nice!' said the woman. She leisurely lifted her veil, unbottoned +the first button of her left glove, and pressed out from its palm a +Najdolene-case. + +'Don't!' said Conroy, not realising he had spoken. + +'I beg your pardon.' The deep voice was measured, even, and low. Conroy +knew what made it so. + +'I said "don't"! He wouldn't like you to do it!' + +'No, he would not.' She held the tube with its ever-presented tabloid +between finger and thumb. 'But aren't you one of the--ah--"soul-weary" +too?' + +'That's why. Oh, please don't! Not at first. I--I haven't had one since +morning. You--you'll set me off!' + +'You? Are you so far gone as that?' + +He nodded, pressing his palms together. The train jolted through +Vauxhall points, and was welcomed with the clang of empty milk-cans +for the West. + +After long silence she lifted her great eyes, and, with an innocence +that would have deceived any sound man, asked Conroy to call her maid to +bring her a forgotten book. + +Conroy shook his head. 'No. Our sort can't read. Don't!' + +'Were you sent to watch me?' The voice never changed. + +'Me? I need a keeper myself much more--_this_ night of all!' + +'This night? Have you a night, then? They disbelieved _me_ when I told +them of mine.' She leaned back and laughed, always slowly. 'Aren't +doctors stu-upid? They don't know.' + +She leaned her elbow on her knee, lifted her veil that had fallen, and, +chin in hand, stared at him. He looked at her--till his eyes were +blurred with tears. + +'Have I been there, think you?' she said. + +'Surely--surely,' Conroy answered, for he had well seen the fear and the +horror that lived behind the heavy-lidded eyes, the fine tracing on the +broad forehead, and the guard set about the desirable mouth. + +'Then--suppose we have one--just one apiece? I've gone without since +this afternoon.' + +He put up his hand, and would have shouted, but his voice broke. + +'Don't! Can't you see that it helps me to help you to keep it off? Don't +let's both go down together.' + +'But I want one. It's a poor heart that never rejoices. Just one. It's +my night.' + +'It's mine--too. My sixty-fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh.' He shut his +lips firmly against the tide of visualised numbers that threatened to +carry him along. + +'Ah, it's only my thirty-ninth.' She paused as he had done. 'I wonder if +I shall last into the sixties.... Talk to me or I shall go crazy. You're +a man. You're the stronger vessel. Tell me when you went to pieces.' + +'One, two, three, four, five, six, seven--eight--I beg your pardon.' + +'Not in the least. I always pretend I've dropped a stitch of my +knitting. I count the days till the last day, then the hours, then the +minutes. Do you?' + +'I don't think I've done very much else for the last--' said Conroy, +shivering, for the night was cold, with a chill he recognised. + +'Oh, how comforting to find some one who can talk sense! It's not always +the same date, is it?' + +'What difference would that make?' He unbuttoned his ulster with a jerk. +'You're a sane woman. Can't you see the wicked--wicked--wicked' (dust +flew from the padded arm-rest as he struck it) unfairness of it? What +have I done?' + +She laid her large hand on his shoulder very firmly. + +'If you begin to think over that,' she said, 'you'll go to pieces and be +ashamed. Tell me yours, and I'll tell you mine. Only be quiet--be quiet, +lad, or you'll set me off!' She made shift to soothe him, though her +chin trembled. + +'Well,' said he at last, picking at the arm-rest between them, 'mine's +nothing much, of course.' + +'Don't be a fool! That's for doctors--and mothers.' + +'It's Hell,' Conroy muttered. 'It begins on a steamer--on a stifling hot +night. I come out of my cabin. I pass through the saloon where the +stewards have rolled up the carpets, and the boards are bare and hot +and soapy.' + +'I've travelled too,' she said. + +'Ah! I come on deck. I walk down a covered alleyway. Butcher's meat, +bananas, oil, that sort of smell.' + +Again she nodded. + +'It's a lead-coloured steamer, and the sea's lead-coloured. Perfectly +smooth sea--perfectly still ship, except for the engines running, and +her waves going off in lines and lines and lines--dull grey. All this +time I know something's going to happen.' + +'I know. Something going to happen,' she whispered. + +'Then I hear a thud in the engine-room. Then the noise of machinery +falling down--like fire-irons--and then two most awful yells. They're +more like hoots, and I know--I know while I listen--that it means that +two men have died as they hooted. It was their last breath hooting out +of them--in most awful pain. Do you understand?' + +'I ought to. Go on.' + +'That's the first part. Then I hear bare feet running along the +alleyway. One of the scalded men comes up behind me and says quite +distinctly, "My friend! All is lost!" Then he taps me on the shoulder +and I hear him drop down dead.' He panted and wiped his forehead. + +'So that is your night?' she said. + +'That is my night. It comes every few weeks--so many days after I get +what I call sentence. Then I begin to count.' + +'Get sentence? D'you mean _this_?' She half closed her eyes, drew a +deep breath, and shuddered. '"Notice" I call it. Sir John thought it was +all lies.' + +She had unpinned her hat and thrown it on the seat opposite, showing the +immense mass of her black hair, rolled low in the nape of the columnar +neck and looped over the left ear. But Conroy had no eyes except for her +grave eyes. + +'Listen now!' said she. 'I walk down a road, a white sandy road near the +sea. There are broken fences on either side, and Men come and look at me +over them.' + +'Just men? Do they speak?' + +'They try to. Their faces are all mildewy--eaten away,' and she hid her +face for an instant with her left hand. 'It's the Faces--the Faces!' + +'Yes. Like my two hoots. I know.' + +'Ah! But the place itself--the bareness--and the glitter and the salt +smells, and the wind blowing the sand! The Men run after me and I +run.... I know what's coming too. One of them touches me.' + +'Yes! What comes then? We've both shirked that.' + +'One awful shock--not palpitation, but shock, shock, shock!' + +'As though your soul were being stopped--as you'd stop a finger-bowl +humming?' he said. + +'Just that,' she answered. 'One's very soul--the soul that one lives +by--stopped. So!' + +She drove her thumb deep into the arm-rest. 'And now,' she whined to +him, 'now that we've stirred each other up this way, mightn't we have +just one?' + +'No,' said Conroy, shaking. 'Let's hold on. We're past'--he peered out +of the black windows--'Woking. There's the Necropolis. How long +till dawn?' + +'Oh, cruel long yet. If one dozes for a minute, it catches one.' + +'And how d'you find that this'--he tapped the palm of his glove--'helps +you?' + +'It covers up the thing from being too real--if one takes enough--you +know. Only--only--one loses everything else. I've been no more than a +bogie-girl for two years. What would you give to be real again? This +lying's such a nuisance.' + +'One must protect oneself--and there's one's mother to think of,' he +answered. + +'True. I hope allowances are made for us somewhere. Our burden--can you +hear?--our burden is heavy enough.' + +She rose, towering into the roof of the carriage. Conroy's ungentle grip +pulled her back. + +'Now _you_ are foolish. Sit down,' said he. + +'But the cruelty of it! Can't you see it? Don't you feel it? Let's take +one now--before I--' + +'Sit down!' cried Conroy, and the sweat stood again on his forehead. He +had fought through a few nights, and had been defeated on more, and he +knew the rebellion that flares beyond control to exhaustion. + +She smoothed her hair and dropped back, but for a while her head and +throat moved with the sickening motion of a captured wry-neck. + +'Once,' she said, spreading out her hands, 'I ripped my counterpane +from end to end. That takes strength. I had it then. I've little now. +"All dorn," as my little niece says. And you, lad?' + +'"All dorn"! Let me keep your case for you till the morning.' + +'But the cold feeling is beginning.' + +'Lend it me, then.' + +'And the drag down my right side. I shan't be able to move in a minute.' + +'I can scarcely lift my arm myself,' said Conroy. 'We're in for it.' + +'Then why are you so foolish? You know it'll be easier if we have only +one--only one apiece.' + +She was lifting the case to her mouth. With tremendous effort Conroy +caught it. The two moved like jointed dolls, and when their hands met it +was as wood on wood. + +'You must--not!' said Conroy. His jaws stiffened, and the cold climbed +from his feet up. + +'Why--must--I--not?' She repeated the words idiotically. + +Conroy could only shake his head, while he bore down on the hand and the +case in it. + +Her speech went from her altogether. The wonderful lips rested half over +the even teeth, the breath was in the nostrils only, the eyes dulled, +the face set grey, and through the glove the hand struck like ice. + +Presently her soul came back and stood behind her eyes--only thing that +had life in all that place--stood and looked for Conroy's soul. He too +was fettered in every limb, but somewhere at an immense distance he +heard his heart going about its work as the engine-room carries on +through and beneath the all but overwhelming wave. His one hope, he +knew, was not to lose the eyes that clung to his, because there was an +Evil abroad which would possess him if he looked aside by a +hair-breadth. + +The rest was darkness through which some distant planet spun while +cymbals clashed. (Beyond Farnborough the 10.8 rolls out many empty +milk-cans at every halt.) Then a body came to life with intolerable +pricklings. Limb by limb, after agonies of terror, that body returned to +him, steeped in most perfect physical weariness such as follows a long +day's rowing. He saw the heavy lids droop over her eyes--the watcher +behind them departed--and, his soul sinking into assured peace, +Conroy slept. + +Light on his eyes and a salt breath roused him without shock. Her hand +still held his. She slept, forehead down upon it, but the movement of +his waking waked her too, and she sneezed like a child. + +'I--I think it's morning,' said Conroy. + +'And nothing has happened! Did you see your Men? I didn't see my Faces. +Does it mean we've escaped? Did--did you take any after I went to sleep? +I'll swear I didn't,' she stammered. + +'No, there wasn't any need. We've slept through it.' + +'No need! Thank God! There was no need! Oh, look!' + +The train was running under red cliffs along a sea-wall washed by waves +that were colourless in the early light. Southward the sun rose mistily +upon the Channel. + +She leaned out of the window and breathed to the bottom of her lungs, +while the wind wrenched down her dishevelled hair and blew it below +her waist. + +'Well!' she said with splendid eyes. 'Aren't you still waiting for +something to happen?' + +'No. Not till next time. We've been let off,' Conroy answered, breathing +as deeply as she. + +'Then we ought to say our prayers.' + +'What nonsense! Some one will see us.' + +'We needn't kneel. Stand up and say "Our Father." We _must_!' + +It was the first time since childhood that Conroy had prayed. They +laughed hysterically when a curve threw them against an arm-rest. + +'Now for breakfast!' she cried. 'My maid--Nurse Blaber--has the basket +and things. It'll be ready in twenty minutes. Oh! Look at my hair!' and +she went out laughing. + +Conroy's first discovery, made without fumbling or counting letters on +taps, was that the London and South Western's allowance of washing-water +is inadequate. He used every drop, rioting in the cold tingle on neck +and arms. To shave in a moving train balked him, but the next halt gave +him a chance, which, to his own surprise, he took. As he stared at +himself in the mirror he smiled and nodded. There were points about this +person with the clear, if sunken, eye and the almost uncompressed mouth. +But when he bore his bag back to his compartment, the weight of it on a +limp arm humbled that new pride. + +'My friend,' he said, half aloud, 'you go into training. You're putty.' + +She met him in the spare compartment, where her maid had laid breakfast. + +'By Jove!' he said, halting at the doorway, 'I hadn't realised how +beautiful you were!' + +'The same to you, lad. Sit down. I could eat a horse.' + +'I shouldn't,' said the maid quietly. 'The less you eat the better.' She +was a small, freckled woman, with light fluffy hair and pale-blue eyes +that looked through all veils. + +'This is Miss Blaber,' said Miss Henschil. 'He's one of the soul-weary +too, Nursey.' + +'I know it. But when one has just given it up a full meal doesn't agree. +That's why I've only brought you bread and butter.' + +She went out quietly, and Conroy reddened. + +'We're still children, you see,' said Miss Henschil. 'But I'm well +enough to feel some shame of it. D'you take sugar?' + +They starved together heroically, and Nurse Blaber was good enough to +signify approval when she came to clear away. + +'Nursey?' Miss Henschil insinuated, and flushed. + +'Do you smoke?' said the nurse coolly to Conroy. + +'I haven't in years. Now you mention it, I think I'd like a +cigarette--or something.' + +'I used to. D'you think it would keep me quiet?' Miss Henschil said. + +'Perhaps. Try these.' The nurse handed them her cigarette-case. + +'Don't take anything else,' she commanded, and went away with the +tea-basket. + +'Good!' grunted Conroy, between mouthfuls of tobacco. + +'Better than nothing,' said Miss Henschil; but for a while they felt +ashamed, yet with the comfort of children punished together. + +'Now,' she whispered, 'who were you when you were a man?' + +Conroy told her, and in return she gave him her history. It delighted +them both to deal once more in worldly concerns--families, names, +places, and dates--with a person of understanding. + +She came, she said, of Lancashire folk--wealthy cotton-spinners, who +still kept the broadened _a_ and slurred aspirate of the old stock. She +lived with an old masterful mother in an opulent world north of +Lancaster Gate, where people in Society gave parties at a Mecca called +the Langham Hotel. + +She herself had been launched into Society there, and the flowers at the +ball had cost eighty-seven pounds; but, being reckoned peculiar, she had +made few friends among her own sex. She had attracted many men, for she +was a beauty--_the_ beauty, in fact, of Society, she said. + +She spoke utterly without shame or reticence, as a life-prisoner tells +his past to a fellow-prisoner; and Conroy nodded across the smoke-rings. + +'Do you remember when you got into the carriage?' she asked. '(Oh, I +wish I had some knitting!) Did you notice aught, lad?' + +Conroy thought back. It was ages since. 'Wasn't there some one outside +the door--crying?' he asked. + +'He's--he's the little man I was engaged to,' she said. 'But I made him +break it off. I told him 'twas no good. But he won't, yo' see.' + +'_That_ fellow? Why, he doesn't come up to your shoulder.' + +'That's naught to do with it. I think all the world of him. I'm a +foolish wench'--her speech wandered as she settled herself cosily, one +elbow on the arm-rest. 'We'd been engaged--I couldn't help that--and he +worships the ground I tread on. But it's no use. I'm not responsible, +you see. His two sisters are against it, though I've the money. They're +right, but they think it's the dri-ink,' she drawled. 'They're +Methody--the Skinners. You see, their grandfather that started the +Patton Mills, he died o' the dri-ink.' + +'I see,' said Conroy. The grave face before him under the lifted veil +was troubled. + +'George Skinner.' She breathed it softly. 'I'd make him a good wife, by +God's gra-ace--if I could. But it's no use. I'm not responsible. But +he'll not take "No" for an answer. I used to call him "Toots." He's of +no consequence, yo' see.' + +'That's in Dickens,' said Conroy, quite quickly. 'I haven't thought of +Toots for years. He was at Doctor Blimber's.' + +'And so--that's my trouble,' she concluded, ever so slightly wringing +her hands. 'But I--don't you think--there's hope now?' + +'Eh?' said Conroy. 'Oh yes! This is the first time I've turned my corner +without help. With your help, I should say.' + +'It'll come back, though.' + +'Then shall we meet it in the same way? Here's my card. Write me your +train, and we'll go together.' + +'Yes. We must do that. But between times--when we want--' She looked at +her palm, the four fingers working on it. 'It's hard to give 'em up.' + +'But think what we have gained already, and let me have the case to +keep.' + +She shook her head, and threw her cigarette out of the window. 'Not +yet.' + +'Then let's lend our cases to Nurse, and we'll get through to-day on +cigarettes. I'll call her while we feel strong.' + +She hesitated, but yielded at last, and Nurse accepted the offerings +with a smile. + +'_You'll_ be all right,' she said to Miss Henschil. 'But if I were +you'--to Conroy--'I'd take strong exercise.' + +When they reached their destination Conroy set himself to obey Nurse +Blaber. He had no remembrance of that day, except one streak of blue sea +to his left, gorse-bushes to his right, and, before him, a coast-guard's +track marked with white-washed stones that he counted up to the far +thousands. As he returned to the little town he saw Miss Henschil on the +beach below the cliffs. She kneeled at Nurse Blaber's feet, weeping +and pleading. + + * * * * * + +Twenty-five days later a telegram came to Conroy's rooms: '_Notice +given. Waterloo again. Twenty-fourth.'_ That same evening he was wakened +by the shudder and the sigh that told him his sentence had gone forth. +Yet he reflected on his pillow that he had, in spite of lapses, snatched +something like three weeks of life, which included several rides on a +horse before breakfast--the hour one most craves Najdolene; five +consecutive evenings on the river at Hammersmith in a tub where he had +well stretched the white arms that passing crews mocked at; a game of +rackets at his club; three dinners, one small dance, and one human +flirtation with a human woman. More notable still, he had settled his +month's accounts, only once confusing petty cash with the days of grace +allowed him. Next morning he rode his hired beast in the park +victoriously. He saw Miss Henschil on horse-back near Lancaster Gate, +talking to a young man at the railings. + +She wheeled and cantered toward him. + +'By Jove! How well you look!' he cried, without salutation. 'I didn't +know you rode.' + +'I used to once,' she replied. 'I'm all soft now.' + +They swept off together down the ride. + +'Your beast pulls,' he said. + +'Wa-ant him to. Gi-gives me something to think of. How've you been?' +she panted. 'I wish chemists' shops hadn't red lights.' + +'Have you slipped out and bought some, then?' + +'You don't know Nursey. Eh, but it's good to be on a horse again! This +chap cost me two hundred.' + +'Then you've been swindled,' said Conroy. + +'I know it, but it's no odds. I must go back to Toots and send him away. +He's neglecting his work for me.' + +She swung her heavy-topped animal on his none too sound hocks. +''Sentence come, lad?' + +'Yes. But I'm not minding it so much this time.' + +'Waterloo, then--and God help us!' She thundered back to the little +frock-coated figure that waited faithfully near the gate. + +Conroy felt the spring sun on his shoulders and trotted home. That +evening he went out with a man in a pair oar, and was rowed to a +standstill. But the other man owned he could not have kept the pace five +minutes longer. + + * * * * * + +He carried his bag all down Number 3 platform at Waterloo, and hove it +with one hand into the rack. + +'Well done!' said Nurse Blaber, in the corridor. 'We've improved too.' + +Dr. Gilbert and an older man came out of the next compartment. + +'Hallo!' said Gilbert. 'Why haven't you been to see me, Mr. Conroy? Come +under the lamp. Take off your hat. No--no. Sit, you young giant. Ve-ry +good. Look here a minute, Johnnie.' + +A little, round-bellied, hawk-faced person glared at him. + +'Gilbert was right about the beauty of the beast,' he muttered. 'D'you +keep it in your glove now?' he went on, and punched Conroy in the +short ribs. + +'No,' said Conroy meekly, but without coughing. 'Nowhere--on my honour! +I've chucked it for good.' + +'Wait till you are a sound man before you say _that_, Mr. Conroy.' Sir +John Chartres stumped out, saying to Gilbert in the corridor, 'It's all +very fine, but the question is shall I or we "Sir Pandarus of Troy +become," eh? We're bound to think of the children.' + +'Have you been vetted?' said Miss Henschil, a few minutes after the +train started. 'May I sit with you? I--I don't trust myself yet. I can't +give up as easily as you can, seemingly.' + +'Can't you? I never saw any one so improved in a month.' + +'Look here!' She reached across to the rack, single-handed lifted +Conroy's bag, and held it at arm's length. 'I counted ten slowly. And I +didn't think of hours or minutes,' she boasted. + +'Don't remind me,' he cried. + +'Ah! Now I've reminded myself. I wish I hadn't. Do you think it'll be +easier for us to-night?' + +'Oh, don't.' The smell of the carriage had brought back all his last +trip to him, and Conroy moved uneasily. + +'I'm sorry. I've brought some games,' she went on. 'Draughts and +cards--but they all mean counting. I wish I'd brought chess, but I can't +play chess. What can we do? Talk about something.' + +'Well, how's Toots, to begin with?' said Conroy. + +'Why? Did you see him on the platform?' + +'No. Was he there? I didn't notice.' + +'Oh yes. He doesn't understand. He's desperately jealous. I told him it +doesn't matter. Will you please let me hold your hand? I believe I'm +beginning to get the chill.' + +'Toots ought to envy me,' said Conroy. + +'He does. He paid you a high compliment the other night. He's taken to +calling again--in spite of all they say.' + +Conroy inclined his head. He felt cold, and knew surely he would be +colder. + +'He said,' she yawned. '(Beg your pardon.) He said he couldn't see how I +could help falling in love with a man like you; and he called himself a +damned little rat, and he beat his head on the piano last night.' + +'The piano? You play, then?' + +'Only to him. He thinks the world of my accomplishments. Then I told him +I wouldn't have you if you were the last man on earth instead of only +the best-looking--not with a million in each stocking.' + +'No, not with a million in each stocking,' said Conroy vehemently. +'Isn't that odd?' + +'I suppose so--to any one who doesn't know. Well, where was I? Oh, +George as good as told me I was deceiving him, and he wanted to go away +without saying good-night. He hates standing a-tiptoe, but he must if I +won't sit down.' + +Conroy would have smiled, but the chill that foreran the coming of the +Lier-in-Wait was upon him, and his hand closed warningly on hers. + +'And--and so--' she was trying to say, when her hour also overtook her, +leaving alive only the fear-dilated eyes that turned to Conroy. Hand +froze on hand and the body with it as they waited for the horror in the +blackness that heralded it. Yet through the worst Conroy saw, at an +uncountable distance, one minute glint of light in his night. Thither +would he go and escape his fear; and behold, that light was the light in +the watch-tower of her eyes, where her locked soul signalled to his +soul: 'Look at me!' + +In time, from him and from her, the Thing sheered aside, that each soul +might step down and resume its own concerns. He thought confusedly of +people on the skirts of a thunderstorm, withdrawing from windows where +the torn night is, to their known and furnished beds. Then he dozed, +till in some drowsy turn his hand fell from her warmed hand. + +'That's all. The Faces haven't come,' he heard her say. 'All--thank God! +I don't feel even I need what Nursey promised me. Do you?' + +'No.' He rubbed his eyes. 'But don't make too sure.' + +'Certainly not. We shall have to try again next month. I'm afraid it +will be an awful nuisance for you.' + +'Not to me, I assure you,' said Conroy, and they leaned back and +laughed at the flatness of the words, after the hells through which they +had just risen. + +'And now,' she said, strict eyes on Conroy, '_why_ wouldn't you take +me--not with a million in each stocking?' + +'I don't know. That's what I've been puzzling over.' + +'So have I. We're as handsome a couple as I've ever seen. Are you well +off, lad?' + +'They call me so,' said Conroy, smiling. + +'That's North country.' She laughed again. Setting aside my good looks +and yours, I've four thousand a year of my own, and the rents should +make it six. That's a match some old cats would lap tea all night to +fettle up.' + +'It is. Lucky Toots!' said Conroy. + +'Ay,' she answered, 'he'll be the luckiest lad in London if I win +through. Who's yours?' + +'No--no one, dear. I've been in Hell for years. I only want to get out +and be alive and--so on. Isn't that reason enough?' + +'Maybe, for a man. But I never minded things much till George came. I +was all stu-upid like.' + +'So was I, but now I think I can live. It ought to be less next month, +oughtn't it?' he said. + +'I hope so. Ye-es. There's nothing much for a maid except to be married, +and I ask no more. Whoever yours is, when you've found her, she shall +have a wedding present from Mrs. George Skinner that--' + +'But she wouldn't understand it any more than Toots.' + +'He doesn't matter--except to me. I can't keep my eyes open, thank God! +Good-night, lad.' + +Conroy followed her with his eyes. Beauty there was, grace there was, +strength, and enough of the rest to drive better men than George Skinner +to beat their heads on piano-tops--but for the new-found life of him +Conroy could not feel one flutter of instinct or emotion that turned to +herward. He put up his feet and fell asleep, dreaming of a joyous, +normal world recovered--with interest on arrears. There were many things +in it, but no one face of any one woman. + + * * * * * + +Thrice afterward they took the same train, and each time their trouble +shrank and weakened. Miss Henschil talked of Toots, his multiplied +calls, the things he had said to his sisters, the much worse things his +sisters had replied; of the late (he seemed very dead to them) M. +Najdol's gifts for the soul-weary; of shopping, of house rents, and the +cost of really artistic furniture and linen. + +Conroy explained the exercises in which he delighted--mighty labours of +play undertaken against other mighty men, till he sweated and, having +bathed, slept. He had visited his mother, too, in Hereford, and he +talked something of her and of the home-life, which his body, cut out of +all clean life for five years, innocently and deeply enjoyed. Nurse +Blaber was a little interested in Conroy's mother, but, as a rule, she +smoked her cigarette and read her paper-backed novels in her own +compartment. + +On their last trip she volunteered to sit with them, and buried herself +in _The Cloister and the Hearth_ while they whispered together. On that +occasion (it was near Salisbury) at two in the morning, when the +Lier-in-Wait brushed them with his wing, it meant no more than that they +should cease talk for the instant, and for the instant hold hands, as +even utter strangers on the deep may do when their ship rolls underfoot. + +'But still,' said Nurse Blaber, not looking up, 'I think your Mr. +Skinner might feel jealous of all this.' + +'It would be difficult to explain,' said Conroy. + +'Then you'd better not be at my wedding,' Miss Henschil laughed. + +'After all we've gone through, too. But I suppose you ought to leave me +out. Is the day fixed?' he cried. + +'Twenty-second of September--in spite of both his sisters. I can risk it +now.' Her face was glorious as she flushed. + +'My dear chap!' He shook hands unreservedly, and she gave back his grip +without flinching. 'I can't tell you how pleased I am!' + +'Gracious Heavens!' said Nurse Blaber, in a new voice. 'Oh, I beg your +pardon. I forgot I wasn't paid to be surprised.' + +'What at? Oh, I see!' Miss Henschil explained to Conroy. 'She expected +you were going to kiss me, or I was going to kiss you, or something.' + +'After all you've gone through, as Mr. Conroy said,' + +'But I couldn't, could you?' said Miss Henschil, with a disgust as frank +as that on Conroy's face. 'It would be horrible--horrible. And yet, of +course, you're wonderfully handsome. How d'you account for it, Nursey?' + +Nurse Blaber shook her head. 'I was hired to cure you of a habit, dear. +When you're cured I shall go on to the next case--that senile-decay one +at Bourne-mouth I told you about.' + +'And I shall be left alone with George! But suppose it isn't cured,' +said Miss Henschil of a sudden. Suppose it comes back again. What can I +do? I can't send for _him_ in this way when I'm a married woman!' She +pointed like an infant. + +'I'd come, of course,' Conroy answered. 'But, seriously, that is a +consideration.' + +They looked at each other, alarmed and anxious, and then toward Nurse +Blaber, who closed her book, marked the place, and turned to face them. + +'Have you ever talked to your mother as you have to me?' she said. + +'No. I might have spoken to dad--but mother's different. What d'you +mean?' + +'And you've never talked to your mother either, Mr. Conroy?' + +'Not till I took Najdolene. Then I told her it was my heart. There's no +need to say anything, now that I'm practically over it, is there?' + +'Not if it doesn't come back, but--' She beckoned with a stumpy, +triumphant linger that drew their heads close together. 'You know I +always go in and read a chapter to mother at tea, child.' + +'I know you do. You're an angel,' Miss Henschil patted the blue +shoulder next her. 'Mother's Church of England now,' she explained. 'But +she'll have her Bible with her pikelets at tea every night like the +Skinners.' + +'It was Naaman and Gehazi last Tuesday that gave me a clue. I said I'd +never seen a case of leprosy, and your mother said she'd seen too many.' + +'Where? She never told me,' Miss Henschil began. + +'A few months before you were born--on her trip to Australia--at Mola or +Molo something or other. It took me three evenings to get it all out.' + +'Ay--mother's suspicious of questions,' said Miss Henschil to Conroy. +'She'll lock the door of every room she's in, if it's but for five +minutes. She was a Tackberry from Jarrow way, yo' see.' + +'She described your men to the life--men with faces all eaten away, +staring at her over the fence of a lepers' hospital in this Molo Island. +They begged from her, and she ran, she told me, all down the street, +back to the pier. One touched her and she nearly fainted. She's ashamed +of that still.' + +'My men? The sand and the fences?' Miss Henschil muttered. + +'Yes. You know how tidy she is and how she hates wind. She remembered +that the fences were broken--she remembered the wind blowing. +Sand--sun--salt wind--fences--faces--I got it all out of her, bit by +bit. You don't know what I know! And it all happened three or four +months before you were born. There!' Nurse Blaber slapped her knee with +her little hand triumphantly. + +'Would that account for it?' Miss Henschil shook from head to foot. + +'Absolutely. I don't care who you ask! You never imagined the thing. It +was _laid_ on you. It happened on earth to _you_! Quick, Mr. Conroy, +she's too heavy for me! I'll get the flask.' + +Miss Henschil leaned forward and collapsed, as Conroy told her +afterwards, like a factory chimney. She came out of her swoon with teeth +that chattered on the cup. + +'No--no,' she said, gulping. 'It's not hysterics. Yo' see I've no call +to hev 'em any more. No call--no reason whatever. God be praised! Can't +yo' _feel_ I'm a right woman now?' + +'Stop hugging me!' said Nurse Blaber. 'You don't know your strength. +Finish the brandy and water. It's perfectly reasonable, and I'll lay +long odds Mr. Conroy's case is something of the same. I've been +thinking--' + +'I wonder--' said Conroy, and pushed the girl back as she swayed again. + +Nurse Blaber smoothed her pale hair. 'Yes. Your trouble, or something +like it, happened somewhere on earth or sea to the mother who bore you. +Ask her, child. Ask her and be done with it once for all.' + +'I will,' said Conroy.... 'There ought to be--' He opened his bag and +hunted breathlessly. + +'Bless you! Oh, God bless you, Nursey!' Miss Henschil was sobbing. 'You +don't know what this means to me. It takes it all off--from the +beginning.' + +'But doesn't it make any difference to you now?' the nurse asked +curiously. 'Now that you're rightfully a woman?' + +Conroy, busy with his bag, had not heard. Miss Henschil stared across, +and her beauty, freed from the shadow of any fear, blazed up within her. +'I see what you mean,' she said. 'But it hasn't changed anything. I want +Toots. _He_ has never been out of his mind in his life--except over +silly me.' + +'It's all right,' said Conroy, stooping under the lamp, +Bradshaw in hand. 'If I change at Templecombe--for Bristol +(Bristol--Hereford--yes)--I can be with mother for breakfast in her room +and find out.' + +'Quick, then,' said Nurse Blaber. 'We've passed Gillingham quite a +while. You'd better take some of our sandwiches.' She went out to get +them. Conroy and Miss Henschil would have danced, but there is no room +for giants in a South-Western compartment. + +'Good-bye, good luck, lad. Eh, but you've changed already--like me. Send +a wire to our hotel as soon as you're sure,' said Miss Henschil. 'What +should I have done without you?' + +'Or I?' said Conroy. 'But it's Nurse that's saving us really.' + +'Then thank her,' said Miss Henschil, looking straight at him. 'Yes, I +would. She'd like it.' + +When Nurse Blaber came back after the parting at Templecombe her nose +and her eyelids were red, but, for all that, her face reflected a great +light even while she sniffed over _The Cloister and the Hearth_. + +Miss Henschil, deep in a house furnisher's catalogue, did not speak for +twenty minutes. Then she said, between adding totals of best, guest, and +servants' sheets, 'But why should our times have been the same, Nursey?' + +'Because a child is born somewhere every second of the clock,' Nurse +Blaber answered. 'And besides that, you probably set each other off by +talking and thinking about it. You shouldn't, you know.' + +'Ay, but you've never been in Hell,' said Miss Henschil. + +The telegram handed in at Hereford at 12.46 and delivered to Miss +Henschil on the beach of a certain village at 2.7 ran thus: + +'"_Absolutely confirmed. She says she remembers hearing noise of +accident in engine-room returning from India eighty-five._"' + +'He means the year, not the thermometer,' said Nurse Blaber, throwing +pebbles at the cold sea. + +'"_And two men scalded thus explaining my hoots._" (The idea of telling +me that!) "_Subsequently silly clergyman passenger ran up behind her +calling for joke, 'Friend, all is lost,' thus accounting very words._"' + +Nurse Blaber purred audibly. + +'"_She says only remembers being upset minute or two. Unspeakable +relief. Best love Nursey, who is jewel. Get out of her what she would +like best._" Oh, I oughtn't to have read that,' said Miss Henschil. + +'It doesn't matter. I don't want anything,' said Nurse Blaber, 'and if I +did I shouldn't get it.' + + + + + 'HELEN ALL ALONE' + + There was darkness under Heaven + For an hour's space-- + Darkness that we knew was given + Us for special grace. + Sun and moon and stars were hid, + God had left His Throne, + When Helen came to me, she did, + Helen all alone! + + Side by side (because our fate + Damned us ere our birth) + We stole out of Limbo Gate + Looking for the Earth. + Hand in pulling hand amid + Fear no dreams have known, + Helen ran with me, she did, + Helen all alone! + + When the Horror passing speech + Hunted us along, + Each laid hold on each, and each + Found the other strong. + In the teeth of things forbid + And Reason overthrown, + Helen stood by me, she did, + Helen all alone! + + When, at last, we heard the Fires + Dull and die away, + When, at last, our linked desires + Dragged us up to day, + When, at last, our souls were rid + Of what that Night had shown, + Helen passed from me, she did, + Helen all alone! + + Let her go and find a mate, + As I will find a bride, + Knowing naught of Limbo Gate + Or Who are penned inside. + There is knowledge God forbid + More than one should own. + So Helen went from me, she did, + Oh my soul, be glad she did! + Helen all alone! + + + +The Honours of War + +(1911) + +A hooded motor had followed mine from the Guildford Road up the drive to +The Infant's ancestral hall, and had turned off to the stables. + +'We're having a quiet evening together. Stalky's upstairs changing. +Dinner's at 7.15 sharp, because we're hungry. His room's next to yours,' +said The Infant, nursing a cobwebbed bottle of Burgundy. + +Then I found Lieutenant-Colonel A.L. Corkran, I.A., who borrowed a +collar-stud and told me about the East and his Sikh regiment. + +'And are your subalterns as good as ever?' I asked. + +'Amazin'--simply amazin'! All I've got to do is to find 'em jobs. They +keep touchin' their caps to me and askin' for more work. 'Come at me +with their tongues hangin' out. _I_ used to run the other way at +their age.' + +'And when they err?' said I. 'I suppose they do sometimes?' + +'Then they run to me again to weep with remorse over their virgin +peccadilloes. I never cuddled my Colonel when I was in trouble. +Lambs--positive lambs!' + +'And what do you say to 'em?' + +'Talk to 'em like a papa. Tell 'em how I can't understand it, an' how +shocked I am, and how grieved their parents'll be; and throw in a +little about the Army Regulations and the Ten Commandments. 'Makes one +feel rather a sweep when one thinks of what one used to do at their age. +D'you remember--' + +We remembered together till close on seven o'clock. As we went out into +the gallery that runs round the big hall, we saw The Infant, below, +talking to two deferential well-set-up lads whom I had known, on and +off, in the holidays, any time for the last ten years. One of them had a +bruised cheek, and the other a weeping left eye. + +'Yes, that's the style,' said Stalky below his breath. 'They're brought +up on lemon-squash and mobilisation text-books. I say, the girls we knew +must have been much better than they pretended they were; for I'll swear +it isn't the fathers.' + +'But why on earth did you do it?' The Infant was shouting. 'You know +what it means nowadays.' + +'Well, sir,' said Bobby Trivett, the taller of the two, 'Wontner talks +too much, for one thing. He didn't join till he was twenty-three, and, +besides that, he used to lecture on tactics in the ante-room. He said +Clausewitz was the only tactician, and he illustrated his theories with +cigar-ends. He was that sort of chap, sir.' + +'And he didn't much care whose cigar-ends they were,' said Eames, who +was shorter and pinker. + +'And then he _would_ talk about the 'Varsity,' said Bobby. 'He got a +degree there. And he told us we weren't intellectual. He told the +Adjutant so, sir. He was just that kind of chap, sir, if you +understand.' + +Stalky and I backed behind a tall Japanese jar of chrysanthemums and +listened more intently. + +'Was all the Mess in it, or only you two?' The Infant demanded, chewing +his moustache. + +'The Adjutant went to bed, of course, sir, and the Senior Subaltern said +he wasn't going to risk his commission--they're awfully down on ragging +nowadays in the Service--but the rest of us--er--attended to him,' +said Bobby. + +'Much?' The Infant asked. The boys smiled deprecatingly. + +'Not in the ante-room, sir,' said Eames. 'Then he called us silly +children, and went to bed, and we sat up discussin', and I suppose we +got a bit above ourselves, and we--er--' + +'Went to his quarters and drew him?' The Infant suggested. + +'Well, we only asked him to get out of bed, and we put his helmet and +sword-belt on for him, and we sung him bits out of the Blue Fairy +Book--the cram-book on Army organisation. Oh yes, and then we asked him +to drink old Clausewitz's health, as a brother-tactician, in milk-punch +and Worcester sauce, and so on. We had to help him a little there. He +bites. There wasn't much else that time; but, you know, the War Office +is severe on ragging these days.' Bobby stopped with a lopsided smile. + +'And then,' Eames went on, 'then Wontner said we'd done several pounds' +worth of damage to his furniture.' + +'Oh,' said The Infant, 'he's that kind of man, is he? Does he brush his +teeth?' + +'Oh yes, he's quite clean all over!' said Trivett; 'but his father's a +wealthy barrister.' + +'Solicitor,' Eames corrected, 'and so this Mister Wontner is out for our +blood. He's going to make a first-class row about it--appeal to the War +Office--court of inquiry--spicy bits in the papers, and songs in the +music-halls. He told us so.' + +'That's the sort of chap he is,' said Trivett. 'And that means old +Dhurrah-bags, our Colonel, 'll be put on half-pay, same as that case in +the Scarifungers' Mess; and our Adjutant'll have to exchange, like it +was with that fellow in the 73rd Dragoons, and there'll be misery all +round. He means making it too hot for us, and his papa'll back him.' + +'Yes, that's all very fine,' said The Infant; 'but I left the Service +about the time you were born, Bobby. What's it got to do with me?' + +'Father told me I was always to go to you when I was in trouble, and +you've been awfully good to me since he ...' + +'Better stay to dinner.' The Infant mopped his forehead. + +'Thank you very much, but the fact is--' Trivett halted. + +'This afternoon, about four, to be exact--' Eames broke in. + +'We went over to Wontner's quarters to talk things over. The row only +happened last night, and we found him writing letters as hard as he +could to his father--getting up his case for the War Office, you know. +He read us some of 'em, but I'm not a good judge of style. We tried to +ride him off quietly--apologies and so forth--but it was the milk-punch +and mayonnaise that defeated us.' + +'Yes, he wasn't taking anything except pure revenge,' said Eames. + +'He said he'd make an example of the regiment, and he was particularly +glad that he'd landed our Colonel. He told us so. Old Dhurrah-bags don't +sympathise with Wontner's tactical lectures. He says Wontner ought to +learn manners first, but we thought--' Trivett turned to Eames, who was +less a son of the house than himself, Eames's father being still alive. + +'Then,' Eames went on, 'he became rather noisome, and we thought we +might as well impound the correspondence'--he wrinkled his swelled left +eye--'and after that, we got him to take a seat in my car.' + +'He was in a sack, you know,' Trivett explained. 'He wouldn't go any +other way. But we didn't hurt him.' + +'Oh no! His head's sticking out quite clear, and'--Eames rushed the +fence--'we've put him in your garage--er _pendente lite_.' + +'My garage!' Infant's voice nearly broke with horror. + +'Well, father always told me if I was in trouble, Uncle George--' + +Bobby's sentence died away as The Infant collapsed on a divan and said +no more than, 'Your commissions!' There was a long, long silence. + +'What price your latter-day lime-juice subaltern?' I whispered to +Stalky behind my hand. His nostrils expanded, and he drummed on the edge +of the Japanese jar with his knuckles. + +'Confound your father, Bobby!' The Infant groaned. 'Raggin's a criminal +offence these days. It isn't as if--' + +'Come on,' said Stalky. 'That was my old Line battalion in Egypt. They +nearly slung old Dhurrah-bags and me out of the Service in '85 for +ragging.' He descended the stairs and The Infant rolled appealing +eyes at him. + +'I heard what you youngsters have confessed,' he began; and in his +orderly-room voice, which is almost as musical as his singing one, he +tongue-lashed those lads in such sort as was a privilege and a +revelation to listen to. Till then they had known him almost as a +relative--we were all brevet, deputy, or acting uncles to The Infant's +friends' brood--a sympathetic elder brother, sound on finance. They had +never met Colonel A.L. Corkran in the Chair of Justice. And while he +flayed and rent and blistered, and wiped the floor with them, and while +they looked for hiding-places and found none on that floor, I remembered +(1) the up-ending of 'Dolly' Macshane at Dalhousie, which came +perilously near a court-martial on Second-Lieutenant Corkran; (2) the +burning of Captain Parmilee's mosquito-curtains on a hot Indian dawn, +when the captain slept in his garden, and Lieutenant Corkran, smoking, +rode by after a successful whist night at the club; (3) the +introduction of an ekka pony, with ekka attached, into a brother +captain's tent on a frosty night in Peshawur, and the removal of tent, +pole, cot, and captain all wrapped in chilly canvas; (4) the bath that +was given to Elliot-Hacker on his own verandah--his lady-love saw it and +broke off the engagement, which was what the Mess intended, she being an +Eurasian--and the powdering all over of Elliot-Hacker with flour and +turmeric from the bazaar. + +When he took breath I realised how only Satan can rebuke sin. The good +don't know enough. + +'Now,' said Stalky, 'get out! No, not out of the house. Go to your +rooms.' + +'I'll send your dinner, Bobby,' said The Infant. 'Ipps!' + +Nothing had ever been known to astonish Ipps, the butler. He entered and +withdrew with his charges. After all, he had suffered from Bobby since +Bobby's twelfth year. + +'They've done everything they could, short of murder,' said The Infant. +'You know what this'll mean for the regiment. It isn't as if we were +dealing with Sahibs nowadays.' + +'Quite so.' Stalky turned on me. 'Go and release the bagman,' he said. + +''Tisn't my garage,' I pleaded. 'I'm company. Besides, he'll probably +slay me. He's been in the sack for hours.' + +'Look here,' Stalky thundered--the years had fallen from us both--'is +your--am I commandin' or are you? We've got to pull this thing off +somehow or other. Cut over to the garage, make much of him, and bring +him over. He's dining with us. Be quick, you dithering ass!' + +I was quick enough; but as I ran through the shrubbery I wondered how +one extricates the subaltern of the present day from a sack without +hurting his feelings. Anciently, one slit the end open, taking off his +boots first, and then fled. + +Imagine a sumptuously-equipped garage, half-filled by The Infant's +cobalt-blue, grey-corded silk limousine and a mud-splashed, cheap, +hooded four-seater. In the back seat of this last, conceive a fiery +chestnut head emerging from a long oat-sack; an implacable white face, +with blazing eyes and jaws that worked ceaselessly at the loop of the +string that was drawn round its neck. The effect, under the electrics, +was that of a demon caterpillar wrathfully spinning its own cocoon. + +'Good evening!' I said genially. 'Let me help you out of that.' The head +glared. 'We've got 'em,' I went on. 'They came to quite the wrong shop +for this sort of game--quite the wrong shop.' + +'Game!' said the head. 'We'll see about that. Let me out.' + +It was not a promising voice for one so young, and, as usual, I had no +knife. + +'You've chewed the string so I can't find the knot,' I said as I worked +with trembling fingers at the cater-pillar's throat. Something untied +itself, and Mr. Wontner wriggled out, collarless, tieless, his coat +split half down his back, his waistcoat unbuttoned, his watch-chain +snapped, his trousers rucked well above the knees. + +'Where,' he said grimly, as he pulled them down, 'are Master Trivett and +Master Eames?' + +'Both arrested, of course,' I replied. 'Sir George'--I gave The Infant's +full title as a baronet--'is a Justice of the Peace. He'd be very +pleased if you dined with us. There's a room ready for you.' I picked +up the sack. + +'D'you know,' said Mr. Wontner through his teeth--but the car's bonnet +was between us, 'that this looks to me like--I won't say conspiracy +_yet_, but uncommonly like a confederacy.' + +When injured souls begin to distinguish and qualify, danger is over. So +I grew bold. + +''Sorry you take it that way,' I said. 'You come here in trouble--' + +'My good fool,' he interrupted, with a half-hysterical snort, 'let me +assure you that the trouble will recoil on the other men!' + +'As you please,' I went on. 'Anyhow, the chaps who got you into trouble +are arrested, and the magistrate who arrested 'em asks you to dinner. +Shall I tell him you're walking back to Aldershot?' + +He picked some fluff off his waistcoat. + +'I'm in no position to dictate terms yet,' he said. 'That will come +later. I must probe into this a little further. In the meantime, I +accept your invitation without prejudice--if you understand what +that means.' + +I understood and began to be happy again. Sub-alterns without +prejudices were quite new to me. 'All right,' I replied; 'if you'll go +up to the house, I'll turn out the lights.' + +He walked off stiffly, while I searched the sack and the car for the +impounded correspondence that Bobby had talked of. I found nothing +except, as the police reports say, the trace of a struggle. He had +kicked half the varnish off the back of the front seat, and had bitten +the leather padding where he could reach it. Evidently a purposeful and +hard-mouthed young gentleman. + +'Well done!' said Stalky at the door. 'So he didn't slay you. Stop +laughing. He's talking to The Infant now about depositions. Look here, +you're nearest his size. Cut up to your rooms and give Ipps your dinner +things and a clean shirt for him.' + +'But I haven't got another suit,' I said. + +'You! I'm not thinking of you! We've got to conciliate _him_. He's in +filthy rags and a filthy temper, and he won't feel decent till he's +dressed. You're the sacrifice. Be quick! And clean socks, remember!' + +Once more I trotted up to my room, changed into unseasonable unbrushed +grey tweeds, put studs into a clean shirt, dug out fresh socks, handed +the whole garniture over to Ipps, and returned to the hall just in time +to hear Stalky say, 'I'm a stockbroker, but I have the honour to hold +His Majesty's commission in a Territorial battalion.' Then I felt as +though I might be beginning to be repaid. + +'I have a very high opinion of the Territorials myself,' said Mr. +Wontner above a glass of sherry. (Infant never lets us put bitters into +anything above twenty years old.) 'But if you had any experience of the +Service, you would find that the Average Army Man--' + +Here The Infant suggested changing, and Ipps, before whom no human +passion can assert itself, led Mr. Wontner away. + +'Why the devil did you tell him I was on the Bench?' said Infant +wrathfully to me. 'You know I ain't now. Why didn't he stay in his +father's office? He's a raging blight!' + +'Not a bit of it,' said Stalky cheerfully. 'He's a little shaken and +excited. Probably Beetle annoyed him in the garage, but we must overlook +that. We've contained him so far, and I'm going to nibble round his +outposts at dinner. All you've got to do, Infant, is to remember you're +a gentleman in your own house. Don't hop! You'll find it pretty +difficult before dinner's over. I don't want to hear anything at all +from you, Beetle.' + +'But I'm just beginning to like him,' I said. 'Do let me play!' + +'Not till I ask you. You'll overdo it. Poor old Dhurrah-bags! A scandal +'ud break him up!' + +'But as long as a regiment has no say as to who joins it, it's bound to +rag,' Infant began. 'Why--why, they varnished me when I joined!' He +squirmed at the thought of it. + +'Don't be owls! We ain't discussing principles! We've got to save the +court of inquiry if we can,' said Stalky. + +Five minutes later--at 7.45 to be precise--we four sat down to such a +dinner as, I hold, only The Infant's cook can produce, with wines worthy +of pontifical banquets. A man in the extremity of rage and injured +dignity is precisely like a typhoid patient. He asks no questions, +accepts what is put before him, and babbles in one key--very often of +trifles. But food and drink are the very best of drugs. I think it was +Heidsieck Dry Monopole '92--Stalky as usual stuck to Burgundy--that +began to unlock Mr. Wontner's heart behind my shirt-front. Me he snubbed +throughout, after the Oxford manner, because I had seen him in the sack, +and he did not intend me to presume; but to Stalky and The Infant, while +I admired the set of my dinner-jacket across his shoulders, he made his +plans of revenge very clear indeed. He had even sketched out some of the +paragraphs that were to appear in the papers, and if Stalky had allowed +me to speak, I would have told him that they were rather neatly phrased. + +'You ought to be able to get whackin' damages out of 'em, into the +bargain,' said Stalky, after Mr. Wontner had outlined his +position legally. + +'My de-ah sir,' Mr. Wontner applied himself to his glass, 'it isn't a +matter that gentlemen usually discuss, but, I assure you, we +Wontners'--he waved a well-kept hand--'do not stand in any need of +filthy lucre.' In the next three minutes, we learned exactly what his +father was worth, which, as he pointed out, was a trifle no man of the +world dwelt on. Stalky envied aloud, and I delivered my first kick at +The Infant's ankle. Thence we drifted to education, and the Average Army +Man, and the desolating vacuity--I remember these words--of Army +Society, notably among its womenkind. It appeared there was some sort of +narrow convention in the Army against mentioning a woman's name at Mess. +We were much surprised at this--Stalky would not let me express my +surprise--but we took it from Mr. Wontner, who said we might, that it +was so. Next he touched on Colonels of the old school, and their +cognisance of tactics. Not that he himself pretended to any skill in +tactics, but after three years at the 'Varsity--none of us had had a +'Varsity education--a man insensibly contracted the habit of clear +thinking. At least, he could automatically co-ordinate his ideas, and +the jealousy of these muddle-headed Colonels was inconceivable. We would +understand that it was his duty to force on the retirement of his +Colonel, who had been in the conspiracy against him; to make his +Adjutant resign or exchange; and to give the half-dozen childish +subalterns who had vexed his dignity a chance to retrieve themselves in +other corps--West African ones, he hoped. For himself, after the case +was decided, he proposed to go on living in the regiment, just to +prove--for he bore no malice--that times had changed, _nosque mutamur in +illis_--if we knew what that meant. Infant had curled his legs out of +reach, so I was quite free to return thanks yet once more to Allah for +the diversity of His creatures in His adorable world. + +And so, by way of an eighty-year-old liqueur brandy, to tactics and the +great General Clausewitz, unknown to the Average Army Man. Here The +Infant, at a whisper from Ipps--whose face had darkened like a mulberry +while he waited--excused himself and went away, but Stalky, Colonel of +Territorials, wanted some tips on tactics. He got them unbrokenly for +ten minutes--Wontner and Clausewitz mixed, but Wontner in a film of +priceless cognac distinctly on top. When The Infant came back, he +renewed his clear-spoken demand that Infant should take his depositions. +I supposed this to be a family trait of the Wontners, whom I had been +visualising for some time past even to the third generation. + +'But, hang it all, they're both asleep!' said Infant, scowling at me. +'Ipps let 'em have the '81 port.' + +'Asleep!' said Stalky, rising at once. 'I don't see that makes any +difference. As a matter of form, you'd better identify them. I'll show +you the way.' + +We followed up the white stone side-staircase that leads to the +bachelors' wing. Mr. Wontner seemed surprised that the boys were not in +the coal-cellar. + +'Oh, a chap's assumed to be innocent until he's proved guilty,' said +Stalky, mounting step by step. 'How did they get you into the sack, +Mr. Wontner?' + +'Jumped on me from behind--two to one,' said Mr. Wontner briefly. 'I +think I handed each of them something first, but they roped my arms +and legs.' + +'And did they photograph you in the sack?' + +'Good Heavens, no!' Mr. Wontner shuddered. + +'That's lucky. Awful thing to live down--a photograph, isn't it?' said +Stalky to me as we reached the landing. 'I'm thinking of the newspapers, +of course.' + +'Oh, but you can easily have sketches in the illustrated papers from +accounts supplied by eye-witnesses,' I said. + +Mr. Wontner turned him round. It was the first time he had honoured me +by his notice since our talk in the garage. + +'Ah,' said he, 'do you pretend to any special knowledge in these +matters?' + +'I'm a journalist by profession,' I answered simply but nobly. 'As soon +as you're at liberty, I'd like to have your account of the affair.' + +Now I thought he would have loved me for this, but he only replied in an +uncomfortable, uncoming-on voice, 'Oh, you would, would you?' + +'Not if it's any trouble, of course,' I said. 'I can always get their +version from the defendants. Do either of 'em draw or sketch at all, Mr. +Wontner? Or perhaps your father might--' + +Then he said quite hotly, 'I wish you to understand very clearly, my +good man, that a gentleman's name can't be dragged through the gutter to +bolster up the circulation of your wretched sheet, whatever it may be.' + +'It is ----' I named a journal of enormous sales which specialises in +scholastic, military, and other scandals. 'I don't know yet what it +can't do, Mr. Wontner.' + +'I didn't know that I was dealing with a reporter' said Mr. Wontner. + +We were all halted outside a shut door. Ipps had followed us. + +'But surely you want it in the papers, don't you?' I urged. 'With a +scandal like this, one couldn't, in justice to the democracy, be +exclusive. We'd syndicate it here and in the United States. I helped you +out of the sack, if you remember.' + +'I wish to goodness you'd stop talking!' he snapped, and sat down on a +chair. Stalky's hand on my shoulder quietly signalled me out of action, +but I felt that my fire had not been misdirected. + +'I'll answer for him,' said Stalky to Wontner, in an undertone that +dropped to a whisper. I caught--'Not without my leave--dependent on me +for market-tips,' and other gratifying tributes to my integrity. + +Still Mr. Wontner sat in his chair, and still we waited on him. The +Infant's face showed worry and heavy grief; Stalky's, a bright and +bird-like interest; mine was hidden behind his shoulders, but on the +face of Ipps were written emotions that no butler should cherish towards +any guest. Contempt and wrath were the least of them. And Mr. Wontner +was looking full at Ipps, as Ipps was looking at him. Mr. Wontner's +father, I understood, kept a butler and two footmen. + +'D'you suppose they're shamming, in order to get off?' he said at last. +Ipps shook his head and noiselessly threw the door open. The boys had +finished their dinner and were fast asleep--one on a sofa, one in a long +chair--their faces fallen back to the lines of their childhood. They had +had a wildish night, a hard day, that ended with a telling-off from an +artist, and the assurance they had wrecked their prospects for life. +What else should youth do, then, but eat, and drink '81 port, and +remember their sorrows no more? + +Mr. Wontner looked at them severely, Ipps within easy reach, his hands +quite ready. 'Childish,' said Mr. Wontner at last. 'Childish but +necessary. Er--have you such a thing as a rope on the premises, and a +sack--two sacks and two ropes? I'm afraid I can't resist the temptation. +That man understands, doesn't he, that this is a private matter?' + +'That man,' who was me, was off to the basement like one of Infant's own +fallow-deer. The stables gave me what I wanted, and coming back with it +through a dark passage, I ran squarely into Ipps. 'Go on!' he grunted. +'The minute he lays hands on Master Bobby, Master Bobby's saved. But +that person ought to be told how near he came to being assaulted. It was +touch-and-go with me all the time from the soup down, I assure you.' + +I arrived breathless with the sacks and the ropes. 'They were two to one +with me,' said Mr. Wontner, as he took them. 'If they wake--' + +'We'll stand by,' Stalky replied. 'Two to one is quite fair.' + +But the boys hardly grunted as Mr. Wontner roped first one and then the +other. Even when they were slid into the sacks they only mumbled, with +rolling heads, through sticky lips, and snored on. + +'Port?' said Mr. Wontner virtuously. + +'Nervous exhaustion. They aren't much more than kids, after all. What's +next?' said Stalky. + +'I want to take 'em away with me, please.' + +Stalky looked at him with respect. + +'I'll have my car round in five minutes,' said The Infant. 'Ipps'll help +carry 'em downstairs,' and he shook Mr. Wontner by the hand. + +We were all perfectly serious till the two bundles were dumped on a +divan in the hall, and the boys waked and began to realise what +had happened. + +'Yah!' said Mr. Wontner, with the simplicity of twelve years old. 'Who's +scored now?' And he sat upon them. The tension broke in a storm of +laughter, led, I think, by Ipps. + +'Asinine--absolutely asinine!' said Mr. Wontner, with folded arms from +his lively chair. But he drank in the flattery and the fellowship of it +all with quite a brainless grin, as we rolled and stamped round him, and +wiped the tears from our cheeks. + +'Hang it!' said Bobby Trivett. 'We're defeated!' + +'By tactics, too,' said Eames. 'I didn't think you knew 'em, Clausewitz. +It's a fair score. What are you going to do with us?' + +'Take you back to Mess,' said Mr. Wontner. + +'Not like this?' + +'Oh no. Worse--much worse! I haven't begun with you yet. And you +thought you'd scored! Yah!' + +They had scored beyond their wildest dream. The man in whose hands it +lay to shame them, their Colonel, their Adjutant, their Regiment, and +their Service, had cast away all shadow of his legal rights for the sake +of a common or bear-garden rag--such a rag as if it came to the ears of +the authorities, would cost him his commission. They were saved, and +their saviour was their equal and their brother. So they chaffed and +reviled him as such till he again squashed the breath out of them, and +we others laughed louder than they. + +'Fall in!' said Stalky when the limousine came round. 'This is the score +of the century. I wouldn't miss it for a brigade! We shan't be +long, Infant!' + +I hurried into a coat. + +'Is there any necessity for that reporter-chap to come too?' said Mr. +Wontner in an unguarded whisper. 'He isn't dressed for one thing.' + +Bobby and Eames wriggled round to look at the reporter, began a joyous +bellow, and suddenly stopped. + +'What's the matter?' said Wontner with suspicion. + +'Nothing,' said Bobby. 'I die happy, Clausewitz. Take me up tenderly.' + +We packed into the car, bearing our sheaves with us, and for half an +hour, as the cool night-air fanned his thoughtful brow, Mr. Wontner was +quite abreast of himself. Though he said nothing unworthy, he triumphed +and trumpeted a little loudly over the sacks. I sat between them on the +back seat, and applauded him servilely till he reminded me that what I +had seen and what he had said was not for publication. I hinted, while +the boys plunged with joy inside their trappings, that this might be a +matter for arrangement. 'Then a sovereign shan't part us,' said Mr. +Wontner cheerily, and both boys fell into lively hysterics. 'I don't see +where the joke comes in for you,' said Mr. Wontner. 'I thought it was my +little jokelet to-night.' + +'No, Clausewitz,' gasped Bobby. 'Some is, but not all. I'll be good now. +I'll give you my parole till we get to Mess. I wouldn't be out of this +for a fiver.' + +'Nor me,' said Eames, and he gave his parole to attempt no escape or +evasion. + +'Now, I suppose,' said Mr. Wontner largely to Stalky, as we neared the +suburbs of Ash, 'you have a good deal of practical joking on the Stock +Exchange, haven't you?' + +'And when were you on the Stock Exchange, Uncle Leonard?' piped Bobby, +while Eames laid his sobbing head on my shoulder. + +'I'm sorry,' said Stalky, 'but the fact is, I command a regiment myself +when I'm at home. Your Colonel knows me, I think.' He gave his name. Mr. +Wontner seemed to have heard of it. We had to pick Eames off the floor, +where he had cast himself from excess of delight. + +'Oh, Heavens!' said Mr. Wontner after a long pause. 'What have I done? +What haven't I done?' We felt the temperature in the car rise as +he blushed. + +'You didn't talk tactics, Clausewitz?' said Bobby. 'Oh, say it wasn't +tactics, darling!' + +'It was,' said Wontner. + +Eames was all among our feet again, crying, 'If you don't let me get my +arms up, I'll be sick. Let's hear what you said. Tell us.' + +But Mr. Wontner turned to Stalky. 'It's no good my begging your pardon, +sir, I suppose,' he said. + +'Don't you notice 'em,' said Stalky. 'It was a fair rag all round, and +anyhow, you two youngsters haven't any right to talk tactics. You've +been rolled up, horse, foot, and guns.' + +'I'll make a treaty. If you'll let us go and change presently,' said +Bobby, 'I'll promise we won't tell about you, Clausewitz. _You_ talked +tactics to Uncle Len? Old Dhurrah-bags will like that. He don't love +you, Claus.' + +'If I've made one ass of myself, I shall take extra care to make asses +of you!' said Wontner. 'I want to stop, please, at the next milliner's +shop on the right. It ought to be close here.' + +He evidently knew the country even in the dark, for the car stopped at a +brilliantly-lighted millinery establishment, where--it was Saturday +evening--a young lady was clearing up the counter. I followed him, as a +good reporter should. + +'Have you got--' he began. 'Ah, those'll do!' He pointed to two hairy +plush beehive bonnets, one magenta, the other a conscientious electric +blue. 'How much, please? I'll take them both, and that bunch of peacock +feathers, and that red feather thing.' It was a brilliant crimson-dyed +pigeon's wing. + +'Now I want some yards of muslin with a nice, fierce pattern, please.' +He got it--yellow with black tulips--and returned heavily laden. + +'Sorry to have kept you,' said he. 'Now we'll go to my quarters to +change and beautify.' + +We came to them--opposite a dun waste of parade-ground that might have +been Mian Mir--and bugles as they blew and drums as they rolled set +heart-strings echoing. + +We hoisted the boys out and arranged them on chairs, while Wontner +changed into uniform, but stopped when he saw me taking off my jacket. + +'What on earth's that for?' said he. + +'Because you've been wearing my evening things,' I said. 'I want to get +into 'em again, if you don't mind.' + +'Then you aren't a reporter?' he said. + +'No,' I said, 'but that shan't part us.' + +'Oh, hurry!' cried Eames in desperate convulsions. 'We can't stand this +much longer. 'Tisn't fair on the young.' + +'I'll attend to you in good time,' said Wontner; and when he had made +careful toilet, he unwrapped the bonnets, put the peacock's feather into +the magenta one, pinned the crimson wing on the blue one, set them +daintily on the boys' heads, and bade them admire the effect in his +shaving-glass while he ripped the muslin into lengths, bound it first, +and draped it artistically afterwards a little below their knees. He +finished off with a gigantic sash-bow, obi fashion. 'Hobble skirts,' he +explained to Stalky, who nodded approval. + +Next he split open the bottom of each sack so that they could walk, but +with very short steps. 'I ought to have got you white satin slippers,' +he murmured, 'and I'm sorry there's no rouge.' + +'Don't worry on our account, old man--you're doing us proud,' said Bobby +from under his hat. 'This beats milk-punch and mayonnaise.' + +'Oh, why didn't we think of these things when we had him at our mercy?' +Eames wailed. 'Never mind--we'll try it on the next chap. You've a +mind, Claus.' + +'Now we'll call on 'em at Mess,' said Wontner, as they minced towards +the door. + +'I think I'll call on your Colonel,' said Stalky. 'He oughtn't to miss +this. Your first attempt? I assure you I couldn't have done it better +myself. Thank you!' He held out his hand. + +'Thank _you_, sir!' said Wontner, shaking it. 'I'm more grateful to you +than I can say, and--and I'd like you to believe some time that I'm not +quite as big a--' + +'Not in the least,' Stalky interrupted. 'If I were writing a +confidential report on you, I should put you down as rather adequate. +Look after your geishas, or they'll fall!' + +We watched the three cross the road and disappear into the shadow of the +Mess verandah. There was a noise. Then telephone bells rang, a sergeant +and a Mess waiter charged out, and the noise grew, till at last the Mess +was a little noisy. + +We came back, ten minutes later, with Colonel Dalziell, who had been +taking his sorrows to bed with him. The ante-room was quite full and +visitors were still arriving, but it was possible to hear oneself speak +occasionally. Trivett and Eames, in sack and sash, sat side by side on a +table, their hats at a ravishing angle, coquettishly twiddling their +tied feet. In the intervals of singing 'Put Me Among the Girls,' they +sipped whisky-and-soda held to their lips by, I regret to say, a Major. +Public opinion seemed to be against allowing them to change their +costume till they should have danced in it. Wontner, lying more or less +gracefully at the level of the chandelier in the arms of six subalterns, +was lecturing on tactics and imploring to be let down, which he was with +a run when they realised that the Colonel was there. Then he picked +himself up from the sofa and said: 'I want to apologise, sir, to you and +the Mess for having been such an ass ever since I joined!' + +This was when the noise began. + +Seeing the night promised to be wet, Stalky and I went home again in The +Infant's car. It was some time since we had tasted the hot air that lies +between the cornice and the ceiling of crowded rooms. + +After half an hour's silence, Stalky said to me: 'I don't know what +you've been doing, but I believe I've been weepin'. Would you put that +down to Burgundy or senile decay?' + + + + +THE CHILDREN + + These were our children who died for our lands: they + were dear in our sight. + We have only the memory left of their home-treasured + sayings and laughter. + The price of our loss shall be paid to our hands, not + another's hereafter. + Neither the Alien nor Priest shall decide on it. That is our right. + _But who shall return us the children_? + + At the hour the Barbarian chose to disclose his pretences, + And raged against Man, they engaged, on the breasts + that they bared for us, + The first felon-stroke of the sword he had long-time + prepared for us-- + Their bodies were all our defence while we wrought our defences. + + They bought us anew with their blood, forbearing to blame us, + Those hours which we had not made good when the Judgment + o'ercame us. + They believed us and perished for it. Our statecraft, our learning. + + Delivered them bound to the Pit and alive to the burning + Whither they mirthfully hastened as jostling for honour. + Not since her birth has our Earth seen such worth loosed upon her. + + Nor was their agony brief, or once only imposed on them. + The wounded, the war-spent, the sick received no exemption: + Being cured they returned and endured and achieved our redemption, + Hopeless themselves of relief, till Death, marvelling, closed + on them. + + That flesh we had nursed from the first in all cleanness was given + To corruption unveiled and assailed by the malice of Heaven-- + By the heart-shaking jests of Decay where it lolled on the wires-- + To be blanched or gay-painted by fumes--to be cindered by fires-- + To be senselessly tossed and retossed in stale mutilation + From crater to crater. For this we shall take expiation. + _But who shall return us our children_? + + + +The Dog Hervey + +(April 1914) + +My friend Attley, who would give away his own head if you told him you +had lost yours, was giving away a six-months-old litter of Bettina's +pups, and half-a-dozen women were in raptures at the show on +Mittleham lawn. + +We picked by lot. Mrs. Godfrey drew first choice; her married daughter, +second. I was third, but waived my right because I was already owned by +Malachi, Bettina's full brother, whom I had brought over in the car to +visit his nephews and nieces, and he would have slain them all if I had +taken home one. Milly, Mrs. Godfrey's younger daughter, pounced on my +rejection with squeals of delight, and Attley turned to a dark, +sallow-skinned, slack-mouthed girl, who had come over for tennis, and +invited her to pick. She put on a pince-nez that made her look like a +camel, knelt clumsily, for she was long from the hip to the knee, +breathed hard, and considered the last couple. + +'I think I'd like that sandy-pied one,' she said. + +'Oh, not him, Miss Sichliffe!' Attley cried. 'He was overlaid or had +sunstroke or something. They call him The Looney in the kennels. +Besides, he squints.' + +'I think that's rather fetching,' she answered. Neither Malachi nor I +had ever seen a squinting dog before. + +'That's chorea--St. Vitus's dance,' Mrs. Godfrey put in. 'He ought to +have been drowned.' + +'But I like his cast of countenance,' the girl persisted. + +'He doesn't look a good life,' I said, 'but perhaps he can be patched +up.' Miss Sichliffe turned crimson; I saw Mrs. Godfrey exchange a glance +with her married daughter, and knew I had said something which would +have to be lived down. + +'Yes,' Miss Sichliffe went on, her voice shaking, 'he isn't a good life, +but perhaps I can--patch him up. Come here, sir.' The misshapen beast +lurched toward her, squinting down his own nose till he fell over his +own toes. Then, luckily, Bettina ran across the lawn and reminded +Malachi of their puppyhood. All that family are as queer as Dick's +hatband, and fight like man and wife. I had to separate them, and Mrs. +Godfrey helped me till they retired under the rhododendrons and had it +out in silence. + +'D'you know what that girl's father was?' Mrs. Godfrey asked. + +'No,' I replied. 'I loathe her for her own sake. She breathes through +her mouth.' + +'He was a retired doctor,' she explained. 'He used to pick up stormy +young men in the repentant stage, take them home, and patch them up till +they were sound enough to be insured. Then he insured them heavily, and +let them out into the world again--with an appetite. Of course, no one +knew him while he was alive, but he left pots of money to his daughter.' + +'Strictly legitimate--highly respectable,' I said. 'But what a life for +the daughter!' + +'Mustn't it have been! _Now_ d'you realise what you said just now?' + +'Perfectly; and now you've made me quite happy, shall we go back to the +house?' + +When we reached it they were all inside, sitting in committee on names. + +'What shall you call yours?' I heard Milly ask Miss Sichliffe. + +'Harvey,' she replied--'Harvey's Sauce, you know. He's going to be quite +saucy when I've'--she saw Mrs. Godfrey and me coming through the French +window--'when he's stronger.' + +Attley, the well-meaning man, to make me feel at ease, asked what I +thought of the name. + +'Oh, splendid,' I said at random. 'H with an A, A with an R, R with a--' + +'But that's Little Bingo,' some one said, and they all laughed. + +Miss Sichliffe, her hands joined across her long knees, drawled, 'You +ought always to verify your quotations.' + +It was not a kindly thrust, but something in the word 'quotation' set +the automatic side of my brain at work on some shadow of a word or +phrase that kept itself out of memory's reach as a cat sits just beyond +a dog's jump. When I was going home, Miss Sichliffe came up to me in the +twilight, the pup on a leash, swinging her big shoes at the end of her +tennis-racket. + +''Sorry,' she said in her thick schoolboy-like voice. 'I'm sorry for +what I said to you about verifying quotations. I didn't know you well +enough and--anyhow, I oughtn't to have.' + +'But you were quite right about Little Bingo,' I answered. 'The spelling +ought to have reminded me.' + +'Yes, of course. It's the spelling,' she said, and slouched off with the +pup sliding after her. Once again my brain began to worry after +something that would have meant something if it had been properly +spelled. I confided my trouble to Malachi on the way home, but Bettina +had bitten him in four places, and he was busy. + +Weeks later, Attley came over to see me, and before his car stopped +Malachi let me know that Bettina was sitting beside the chauffeur. He +greeted her by the scruff of the neck as she hopped down; and I greeted +Mrs. Godfrey, Attley, and a big basket. + +'You've got to help me,' said Attley tiredly. We took the basket into +the garden, and there staggered out the angular shadow of a sandy-pied, +broken-haired terrier, with one imbecile and one delirious ear, and two +most hideous squints. Bettina and Malachi, already at grips on the lawn, +saw him, let go, and fled in opposite directions. + +'Why have you brought that fetid hound here?' I demanded. + +'Harvey? For you to take care of,' said Attley. 'He's had distemper, but +_I_'m going abroad.' + +'Take him with you. I won't have him. He's mentally afflicted.' + +'Look here,' Attley almost shouted, 'do I strike you as a fool?' + +'Always,' said I. + +'Well, then, if you say so, and Ella says so, that proves I ought to go +abroad.' + +'Will's wrong, quite wrong,' Mrs. Godfrey interrupted; 'but you must +take the pup.' + +'My dear boy, my dear boy, don't you ever give anything to a woman,' +Attley snorted. + +Bit by bit I got the story out of them in the quiet garden (never a sign +from Bettina and Malachi), while Harvey stared me out of countenance, +first with one cuttlefish eye and then with the other. + +It appeared that, a month after Miss Sichliffe took him, the dog Harvey +developed distemper. Miss Sichliffe had nursed him herself for some +time; then she carried him in her arms the two miles to Mittleham, and +wept--actually wept--at Attley's feet, saying that Harvey was all she +had or expected to have in this world, and Attley must cure him. Attley, +being by wealth, position, and temperament guardian to all lame dogs, +had put everything aside for this unsavoury job, and, he asserted, Miss +Sichliffe had virtually lived with him ever since. + +'She went home at night, of course,' he exploded, 'but the rest of the +time she simply infested the premises. Goodness knows, I'm not +particular, but it was a scandal. Even the servants!... Three and four +times a day, and notes in between, to know how the beast was. Hang it +all, don't laugh! And wanting to send me flowers and goldfish. Do I look +as if I wanted goldfish? Can't you two stop for a minute?' (Mrs. Godfrey +and I were clinging to each other for support.) 'And it isn't as if I +was--was so alluring a personality, is it?' + +Attley commands more trust, goodwill, and affection than most men, for +he is that rare angel, an absolutely unselfish bachelor, content to be +run by contending syndicates of zealous friends. His situation seemed +desperate, and I told him so. + +'Instant flight is your only remedy,' was my verdict. I'll take care of +both your cars while you're away, and you can send me over all the +greenhouse fruit.' + +'But why should I be chased out of my house by a she-dromedary?' he +wailed. + +'Oh, stop! Stop!' Mrs. Godfrey sobbed. 'You're both wrong. I admit +you're right, but I _know_ you're wrong.' + +'Three _and_ four times a day,' said Attley, with an awful countenance. +'I'm not a vain man, but--look here, Ella, I'm not sensitive, I hope, +but if you persist in making a joke of it--' + +'Oh, be quiet!' she almost shrieked. 'D'you imagine for one instant that +your friends would ever let Mittleham pass out of their hands? I quite +agree it is unseemly for a grown girl to come to Mittleham at all hours +of the day and night--' + +'I told you she went home o' nights,' Attley growled. + +'Specially if she goes home o' nights. Oh, but think of the life she +must have led, Will!' + +'I'm not interfering with it; only she must leave me alone.' + +'She may want to patch you up and insure you,' I suggested. + +'D'you know what _you_ are?' Mrs. Godfrey turned on me with the smile I +have feared for the last quarter of a century. 'You're the nice, kind, +wise, doggy friend. You don't know how wise and nice you are supposed to +be. Will has sent Harvey to you to complete the poor angel's +convalescence. You know all about dogs, or Will wouldn't have done it. +He's written her that. You're too far off for her to make daily calls on +you. P'r'aps she'll drop in two or three times a week, and write on +other days. But it doesn't matter what she does, because you don't own +Mittleham, don't you see?' + +I told her I saw most clearly. + +'Oh, you'll get over that in a few days,' Mrs. Godfrey countered. +'You're the sporting, responsible, doggy friend who--' + +'He used to look at me like that at first,' said Attley, with a visible +shudder, 'but he gave it up after a bit. It's only because you're new +to him.' + +'But, confound you! he's a ghoul--' I began. + +'And when he gets quite well, you'll send him back to her direct with +your love, and she'll give you some pretty four-tailed goldfish,' said +Mrs. Godfrey, rising. 'That's all settled. Car, please. We're going to +Brighton to lunch together.' + +They ran before I could get into my stride, so I told the dog Harvey +what I thought of them and his mistress. He never shifted his position, +but stared at me, an intense, lopsided stare, eye after eye. Malachi +came along when he had seen his sister off, and from a distance +counselled me to drown the brute and consort with gentlemen again. But +the dog Harvey never even cocked his cockable ear. + +And so it continued as long as he was with me. Where I sat, he sat and +stared; where I walked, he walked beside, head stiffly slewed over one +shoulder in single-barrelled contemplation of me. He never gave tongue, +never closed in for a caress, seldom let me stir a step alone. And, to +my amazement, Malachi, who suffered no stranger to live within our +gates, saw this gaunt, growing, green-eyed devil wipe him out of my +service and company without a whimper. Indeed, one would have said the +situation interested him, for he would meet us returning from grim walks +together, and look alternately at Harvey and at me with the same +quivering interest that he showed at the mouth of a rat-hole. Outside +these inspections, Malachi withdrew himself as only a dog or a +woman can. + +Miss Sichliffe came over after a few days (luckily I was out) with some +elaborate story of paying calls in the neighbourhood. She sent me a note +of thanks next day. I was reading it when Harvey and Malachi entered and +disposed themselves as usual, Harvey close up to stare at me, Malachi +half under the sofa, watching us both. Out of curiosity I returned +Harvey's stare, then pulled his lopsided head on to my knee, and took +his eye for several minutes. Now, in Malachi's eye I can see at any hour +all that there is of the normal decent dog, flecked here and there with +that strained half-soul which man's love and association have added to +his nature. But with Harvey the eye was perplexed, as a tortured man's. +Only by looking far into its deeps could one make out the spirit of the +proper animal, beclouded and cowering beneath some unfair burden. + +Leggatt, my chauffeur, came in for orders. + +'How d'you think Harvey's coming on?' I said, as I rubbed the brute's +gulping neck. The vet had warned me of the possibilities of spinal +trouble following distemper. + +'He ain't _my_ fancy,' was the reply. 'But _I_ don't question his +comings and goings so long as I 'aven't to sit alone in a room +with him.' + +'Why? He's as meek as Moses,' I said. + +'He fair gives me the creeps. P'r'aps he'll go out in fits.' + +But Harvey, as I wrote his mistress from time to time, throve, and when +he grew better, would play by himself grisly games of spying, walking +up, hailing, and chasing another dog. From these he would break off of a +sudden and return to his normal stiff gait, with the air of one who had +forgotten some matter of life and death, which could be reached only by +staring at me. I left him one evening posturing with the unseen on the +lawn, and went inside to finish some letters for the post. I must have +been at work nearly an hour, for I was going to turn on the lights, +when I felt there was somebody in the room whom, the short hairs at the +back of my neck warned me, I was not in the least anxious to face. There +was a mirror on the wall. As I lifted my eyes to it I saw the dog Harvey +reflected near the shadow by the closed door. He had reared himself +full-length on his hind legs, his head a little one side to clear a sofa +between us, and he was looking at me. The face, with its knitted brows +and drawn lips, was the face of a dog, but the look, for the fraction of +time that I caught it, was human--wholly and horribly human. When the +blood in my body went forward again he had dropped to the floor, and was +merely studying me in his usual one-eyed fashion. Next day I returned +him to Miss Sichliffe. I would not have kept him another day for the +wealth of Asia, or even Ella Godfrey's approval. + +Miss Sichliffe's house I discovered to be a mid-Victorian mansion of +peculiar villainy even for its period, surrounded by gardens of +conflicting colours, all dazzling with glass and fresh paint on +ironwork. Striped blinds, for it was a blazing autumn morning, covered +most of the windows, and a voice sang to the piano an almost forgotten +song of Jean Ingelow's-- + + Methought that the stars were blinking bright, + And the old brig's sails unfurled-- + +Down came the loud pedal, and the unrestrained cry swelled out across a +bed of tritomas consuming in their own fires-- + + When I said I will sail to my love this night + On the other side of the world. + +I have no music, but the voice drew. I waited till the end: + + Oh, maid most dear, I am not here + I have no place apart-- + No dwelling more on sea or shore, + But only in thy heart. + +It seemed to me a poor life that had no more than that to do at eleven +o'clock of a Tuesday forenoon. Then Miss Sichliffe suddenly lumbered +through a French window in clumsy haste, her brows contracted against +the light. + +'Well?' she said, delivering the word like a spear-thrust, with the full +weight of a body behind it. + +'I've brought Harvey back at last,' I replied. 'Here he is.' + +But it was at me she looked, not at the dog who had cast himself at her +feet--looked as though she would have fished my soul out of my breast on +the instant. + +'Wha--what did you think of him? What did _you_ make of him?' she +panted. I was too taken aback for the moment to reply. Her voice broke +as she stooped to the dog at her knees. 'O Harvey, Harvey! You utterly +worthless old devil!' she cried, and the dog cringed and abased himself +in servility that one could scarcely bear to look upon. I made to go. + +'Oh, but please, you mustn't!' She tugged at the car's side. 'Wouldn't +you like some flowers or some orchids? We've really splendid orchids, +and'--she clasped her hands--'there are Japanese goldfish--real +Japanese goldfish, with four tails. If you don't care for 'em, perhaps +your friends or somebody--oh, please!' + +Harvey had recovered himself, and I realised that this woman beyond the +decencies was fawning on me as the dog had fawned on her. + +'Certainly,' I said, ashamed to meet her eye. 'I'm lunching at +Mittleham, but--' + +'There's plenty of time,' she entreated. 'What do _you_ think of +Harvey?' + +'He's a queer beast,' I said, getting out. 'He does nothing but stare at +me.' + +'Does he stare at you all the time he's with you?' + +'Always. He's doing it now. Look!' + +We had halted. Harvey had sat down, and was staring from one to the +other with a weaving motion of the head. + +'He'll do that all day,' I said. 'What is it, Harvey?' + +'Yes, what _is_ it, Harvey?' she echoed. The dog's throat twitched, his +body stiffened and shook as though he were going to have a fit. Then he +came back with a visible wrench to his unwinking watch. + +'Always so?' she whispered. + +'Always,' I replied, and told her something of his life with me. She +nodded once or twice, and in the end led me into the house. + +There were unaging pitch-pine doors of Gothic design in it; there were +inlaid marble mantel-pieces and cut-steel fenders; there were stupendous +wall-papers, and octagonal, medallioned Wedgwood what-nots, and +black-and-gilt Austrian images holding candelabra, with every other +refinement that Art had achieved or wealth had bought between 1851 and +1878. And everything reeked of varnish. + +'Now!' she opened a baize door, and pointed down a long corridor flanked +with more Gothic doors. 'This was where we used to--to patch 'em up. +You've heard of us. Mrs. Godfrey told you in the garden the day I got +Harvey given me. I'--she drew in her breath--'I live here by myself, and +I have a very large income. Come back, Harvey.' + +He had tiptoed down the corridor, as rigid as ever, and was sitting +outside one of the shut doors. 'Look here!' she said, and planted +herself squarely in front of me. 'I tell you this because you--you've +patched up Harvey, too. Now, I want you to remember that my name is +Moira. Mother calls me Marjorie because it's more refined; but my real +name is Moira, and I am in my thirty-fourth year.' + +'Very good,' I said. 'I'll remember all that.' + +'Thank you.' Then with a sudden swoop into the humility of an abashed +boy--''Sorry if I haven't said the proper things. You see--there's +Harvey looking at us again. Oh, I want to say--if ever you want anything +in the way of orchids or goldfish or--or anything else that would be +useful to you, you've only to come to me for it. Under the will I'm +perfectly independent, and we're a long-lived family, worse luck!' She +looked at me, and her face worked like glass behind driven flame. 'I may +reasonably expect to live another fifty years,' she said. + +'Thank you, Miss Sichliffe,' I replied. 'If I want anything, you may be +sure I'll come to you for it.' She nodded. 'Now I must get over to +Mittleham,' I said. + +'Mr. Attley will ask you all about this.' For the first time she laughed +aloud. 'I'm afraid I frightened him nearly out of the county. I didn't +think, of course. But I dare say he knows by this time he was wrong. Say +good-bye to Harvey.' + +'Good-bye, old man,' I said. 'Give me a farewell stare, so we shall know +each other when we meet again.' + +The dog looked up, then moved slowly toward me, and stood, head bowed to +the floor, shaking in every muscle as I patted him; and when I turned, I +saw him crawl back to her feet. + +That was not a good preparation for the rampant boy-and-girl-dominated +lunch at Mittleham, which, as usual, I found in possession of everybody +except the owner. + +'But what did the dromedary say when you brought her beast back?' Attley +demanded. + +'The usual polite things,' I replied. 'I'm posing as the nice doggy +friend nowadays.' + +'I don't envy you. She's never darkened my doors, thank goodness, since +I left Harvey at your place. I suppose she'll run about the county now +swearing you cured him. That's a woman's idea of gratitude.' Attley +seemed rather hurt, and Mrs. Godfrey laughed. + +'That proves you were right about Miss Sichliffe, Ella,' I said. 'She +had no designs on anybody.' + +'I'm always right in these matters. But didn't she even offer you a +goldfish?' + +'Not a thing,' said I. 'You know what an old maid's like where her +precious dog's concerned.' And though I have tried vainly to lie to Ella +Godfrey for many years, I believe that in this case I succeeded. + +When I turned into our drive that evening, Leggatt observed half aloud: + +'I'm glad Zvengali's back where he belongs. It's time our Mike had a +look in.' + +Sure enough, there was Malachi back again in spirit as well as flesh, +but still with that odd air of expectation he had picked up from Harvey. + + * * * * * + +It was in January that Attley wrote me that Mrs. Godfrey, wintering in +Madeira with Milly, her unmarried daughter, had been attacked with +something like enteric; that the hotel, anxious for its good name, had +thrust them both out into a cottage annexe; that he was off with a +nurse, and that I was not to leave England till I heard from him again. +In a week he wired that Milly was down as well, and that I must bring +out two more nurses, with suitable delicacies. + +Within seventeen hours I had got them all aboard the Cape boat, and had +seen the women safely collapsed into sea-sickness. The next few weeks +were for me, as for the invalids, a low delirium, clouded with fantastic +memories of Portuguese officials trying to tax calves'-foot jelly; +voluble doctors insisting that true typhoid was unknown in the island; +nurses who had to be exercised, taken out of themselves, and returned on +the tick of change of guard; night slides down glassy, cobbled streets, +smelling of sewage and flowers, between walls whose every stone and +patch Attley and I knew; vigils in stucco verandahs, watching the curve +and descent of great stars or drawing auguries from the break of dawn; +insane interludes of gambling at the local Casino, where we won heaps of +unconsoling silver; blasts of steamers arriving and departing in the +roads; help offered by total strangers, grabbed at or thrust aside; the +long nightmare crumbling back into sanity one forenoon under a +vine-covered trellis, where Attley sat hugging a nurse, while the others +danced a noiseless, neat-footed breakdown never learned at the Middlesex +Hospital. At last, as the tension came out all over us in aches and +tingles that we put down to the country wine, a vision of Mrs. Godfrey, +her grey hair turned to spun-glass, but her eyes triumphant over the +shadow of retreating death beneath them, with Milly, enormously grown, +and clutching life back to her young breast, both stretched out on cane +chairs, clamouring for food. + +In this ungirt hour there imported himself into our life a +youngish-looking middle-aged man of the name of Shend, with a blurred +face and deprecating eyes. He said he had gambled with me at the Casino, +which was no recommendation, and I remember that he twice gave me a +basket of champagne and liqueur brandy for the invalids, which a sailor +in a red-tasselled cap carried up to the cottage for me at 3 A.M. He +turned out to be the son of some merchant prince in the oil and colour +line, and the owner of a four-hundred-ton steam yacht, into which, at +his gentle insistence, we later shifted our camp, staff, and equipage, +Milly weeping with delight to escape from the horrible cottage. There we +lay off Funchal for weeks, while Shend did miracles of luxury and +attendance through deputies, and never once asked how his guests were +enjoying themselves. Indeed, for several days at a time we would see +nothing of him. He was, he said, subject to malaria. Giving as they do +with both hands, I knew that Attley and Mrs. Godfrey could take nobly; +but I never met a man who so nobly gave and so nobly received thanks as +Shend did. + +'Tell us why you have been so unbelievably kind to us gipsies,' Mrs. +Godfrey said to him one day on deck. + +He looked up from a diagram of some Thames-mouth shoals which he was +explaining to me, and answered with his gentle smile: + +'I will. It's because it makes me happy--it makes me more than happy--to +be with you. It makes me comfortable. You know how selfish men are? If a +man feels comfortable all over with certain people, he'll bore them to +death, just like a dog. You always make me feel as if pleasant things +were going to happen to me.' + +'Haven't any ever happened before?' Milly asked. + +'This is the most pleasant thing that has happened to me in ever so many +years,' he replied. 'I feel like the man in the Bible, "It's good for me +to be here." Generally, I don't feel that it's good for me to be +anywhere in particular.' Then, as one begging a favour. 'You'll let me +come home with you--in the same boat, I mean? I'd take you back in this +thing of mine, and that would save you packing your trunks, but she's +too lively for spring work across the Bay.' + +We booked our berths, and when the time came, he wafted us and ours +aboard the Southampton mail-boat with the pomp of plenipotentiaries and +the precision of the Navy. Then he dismissed his yacht, and became an +inconspicuous passenger in a cabin opposite to mine, on the port side. + +We ran at once into early British spring weather, followed by sou'west +gales. Mrs. Godfrey, Milly, and the nurses disappeared. Attley stood it +out, visibly yellowing, till the next meal, and followed suit, and Shend +and I had the little table all to ourselves. I found him even more +attractive when the women were away. The natural sweetness of the man, +his voice, and bearing all fascinated me, and his knowledge of practical +seamanship (he held an extra master's certificate) was a real joy. We +sat long in the empty saloon and longer in the smoking-room, making +dashes downstairs over slippery decks at the eleventh hour. + +It was on Friday night, just as I was going to bed, that he came into my +cabin, after cleaning his teeth, which he did half a dozen times a day. + +'I say,' he began hurriedly, 'do you mind if I come in here for a +little? I'm a bit edgy.' I must have shown surprise. 'I'm ever so much +better about liquor than I used to be, but--it's the whisky in the +suitcase that throws me. For God's sake, old man, don't go back on me +to-night! Look at my hands!' + +They were fairly jumping at the wrists. He sat down on a trunk that had +slid out with the roll. We had reduced speed, and were surging in +confused seas that pounded on the black port-glasses. The night promised +to be a pleasant one! + +'You understand, of course, don't you?' he chattered. + +'Oh yes,' I said cheerily; 'but how about--' + +'No, no; on no account the doctor. 'Tell a doctor, tell the whole ship. +Besides, I've only got a touch of 'em. You'd never have guessed it, +would you? The tooth-wash does the trick. I'll give you the +prescription.' + +I'll send a note to the doctor for a prescription, shall I?' I +suggested. + +'Right! I put myself unreservedly in your hands. 'Fact is, I always did. +I said to myself--'sure I don't bore you?--the minute I saw you, I said, +"Thou art the man."' He repeated the phrase as he picked at his knees. +'All the same, you can take it from me that the ewe-lamb business is a +rotten bad one. I don't care how unfaithful the shepherd may be. Drunk +or sober, 'tisn't cricket.' + +A surge of the trunk threw him across the cabin as the steward answered +my bell. I wrote my requisition to the doctor while Shend was struggling +to his feet. + +'What's wrong?' he began. 'Oh, I know. We're slowing for soundings off +Ushant. It's about time, too. You'd better ship the dead-lights when you +come back, Matchem. It'll save you waking us later. This sea's going to +get up when the tide turns. That'll show you,' he said as the man left, +'that I am to be trusted. You--you'll stop me if I say anything I +shouldn't, won't you?' + +'Talk away,' I replied, 'if it makes you feel better.' + +'That's it; you've hit it exactly. You always make me feel better. I can +rely on you. It's awkward soundings but you'll see me through it. We'll +defeat him yet.... I may be an utterly worthless devil, but I'm not a +brawler.... I told him so at breakfast. I said, "Doctor, I detest +brawling, but if ever you allow that girl to be insulted again as +Clements insulted her, I will break your neck with my own hands." You +think I was right?' + +'Absolutely,' I agreed. + +'Then we needn't discuss the matter any further. That man was a murderer +in intention--outside the law, you understand, as it was then. They've +changed it since--but he never deceived _me_. I told him so. I said to +him at the time, "I don't know what price you're going to put on my +head, but if ever you allow Clements to insult her again, you'll never +live to claim it."' + +'And what did he do?' I asked, to carry on the conversation, for Matchem +entered with the bromide. + +'Oh, crumpled up at once. 'Lead still going, Matchem?' + +'I 'aven't 'eard,' said that faithful servant of the Union-Castle +Company. + +'Quite right. Never alarm the passengers. Ship the dead-light, will +you?' Matchem shipped it, for we were rolling very heavily. There were +tramplings and gull-like cries from on deck. Shend looked at me with a +mariner's eye. + +'That's nothing,' he said protectingly. + +'Oh, it's all right for you,' I said, jumping at the idea. '_I_ haven't +an extra master's certificate. I'm only a passenger. I confess it +funks me.' + +Instantly his whole bearing changed to answer the appeal. + +'My dear fellow, it's as simple as houses. We're hunting for sixty-five +fathom water. Anything short of sixty, with a sou'west wind means--but +I'll get my Channel Pilot out of my cabin and give you the general idea. +I'm only too grateful to do anything to put your mind at ease.' + +And so, perhaps, for another hour--he declined the drink--Channel Pilot +in hand, he navigated us round Ushant, and at my request up-channel to +Southampton, light by light, with explanations and reminiscences. I +professed myself soothed at last, and suggested bed. + +'In a second,' said he. 'Now, you wouldn't think, would you'--he glanced +off the book toward my wildly swaying dressing-gown on the door--'that +I've been seeing things for the last half-hour? 'Fact is, I'm just on +the edge of 'em, skating on thin ice round the corner--nor'east as near +as nothing--where that dog's looking at me.' + +'What's the dog like?' I asked. + +'Ah, that _is_ comforting of you! Most men walk through 'em to show me +they aren't real. As if I didn't know! But _you're_ different. Anybody +could see that with half an eye.' He stiffened and pointed. 'Damn it +all! The dog sees it too with half an--Why, he knows you! Knows you +perfectly. D'you know _him_?' + +'How can I tell if he isn't real?' I insisted. + +'But you can! _You're_ all right. I saw that from the first. Don't go +back on me now or I shall go to pieces like the _Drummond Castle_. I beg +your pardon, old man; but, you see, you _do_ know the dog. I'll prove +it. What's that dog doing? Come on! _You_ know.' A tremor shook him, and +he put his hand on my knee, and whispered with great meaning: 'I'll +letter or halve it with you. There! You begin.' + +'S,' said I to humour him, for a dog would most likely be standing or +sitting, or may be scratching or sniffling or staring. + +'Q,' he went on, and I could feel the heat of his shaking hand. + +'U,' said I. There was no other letter possible; but I was shaking too. + +'I.' + +'N.' + +'T-i-n-g,' he ran out. 'There! That proves it. I knew you knew him. You +don't know what a relief that is. Between ourselves, old man, he--he's +been turning up lately a--a damn sight more often than I cared for. And +a squinting dog--a dog that squints! I mean that's a bit _too_ much. +Eh? What?' He gulped and half rose, and I thought that the full tide of +delirium would be on him in another sentence. + +'Not a bit of it,' I said as a last chance, with my hand over the +bellpush. 'Why, you've just proved that I know him; so there are two of +us in the game, anyhow.' + +'By Jove! that _is_ an idea! Of course there are. I knew you'd see me +through. We'll defeat them yet. Hi, pup!... He's gone. Absolutely +disappeared!' He sighed with relief, and I caught the lucky moment. + +'Good business! I expect he only came to have a look at me,' I said. +'Now, get this drink down and turn in to the lower bunk.' + +He obeyed, protesting that he could not inconvenience me, and in the +midst of apologies sank into a dead sleep. I expected a wakeful night, +having a certain amount to think over; but no sooner had I scrambled +into the top bunk than sleep came on me like a wave from the other side +of the world. + +In the morning there were apologies, which we got over at breakfast +before our party were about. + +'I suppose--after this--well, I don't blame you. I'm rather a lonely +chap, though.' His eyes lifted dog-like across the table. + +'Shend,' I replied, 'I'm not running a Sunday school. You're coming home +with me in my car as soon as we land.' + +'That is kind of you--kinder than you think.' + +'That's because you're a little jumpy still. Now, I don't want to mix +up in your private affairs--' + +'But I'd like you to,' he interrupted. + +'Then, would you mind telling me the Christian name of a girl who was +insulted by a man called Clements?' + +'Moira,' he whispered; and just then Mrs. Godfrey and Milly came to +table with their shore-going hats on. + +We did not tie up till noon, but the faithful Leggatt had intrigued his +way down to the dock-edge, and beside him sat Malachi, wearing his +collar of gold, or Leggatt makes it look so, as eloquent as Demosthenes. +Shend flinched a little when he saw him. We packed Mrs. Godfrey and +Milly into Attley's car--they were going with him to Mittleham, of +course--and drew clear across the railway lines to find England all lit +and perfumed for spring. Shend sighed with happiness. + +'D'you know,' he said, 'if--if you'd chucked me--I should have gone down +to my cabin after breakfast and cut my throat. And now--it's like a +dream--a good dream, you know.' + +We lunched with the other three at Romsey. Then I sat in front for a +little while to talk to my Malachi. When I looked back, Shend was +solidly asleep, and stayed so for the next two hours, while Leggatt +chased Attley's fat Daimler along the green-speckled hedges. He woke up +when we said good-bye at Mittleham, with promises to meet again +very soon. + +'And I hope,' said Mrs. Godfrey, 'that everything pleasant will happen +to you.' + +'Heaps and heaps--all at once,' cried long, weak Milly, waving her wet +handkerchief. + +'I've just got to look in at a house near here for a minute to inquire +about a dog,' I said, 'and then we will go home.' + +'I used to know this part of the world,' he replied, and said no more +till Leggatt shot past the lodge at the Sichliffes's gate. Then I +heard him gasp. + +Miss Sichliffe, in a green waterproof, an orange jersey, and a pinkish +leather hat, was working on a bulb-border. She straightened herself as +the car stopped, and breathed hard. Shend got out and walked towards +her. They shook hands, turned round together, and went into the house. +Then the dog Harvey pranced out corkily from under the lee of a bench. +Malachi, with one joyous swoop, fell on him as an enemy and an equal. +Harvey, for his part, freed from all burden whatsoever except the +obvious duty of a man-dog on his own ground, met Malachi without reserve +or remorse, and with six months' additional growth to come and go on. + +'Don't check 'em!' cried Leggatt, dancing round the flurry. 'They've +both been saving up for each other all this time. It'll do 'em worlds +of good.' + +'Leggatt,' I said, 'will you take Mr. Shend's bag and suitcase up to the +house and put them down just inside the door? Then we will go on.' + +So I enjoyed the finish alone. It was a dead heat, and they licked each +other's jaws in amity till Harvey, one imploring eye on me, leaped into +the front seat, and Malachi backed his appeal. It was theft, but I took +him, and we talked all the way home of r-rats and r-rabbits and bones +and baths and the other basic facts of life. That evening after dinner +they slept before the fire, with their warm chins across the hollows of +my ankles--to each chin an ankle--till I kicked them upstairs to bed. + + * * * * * + +I was not at Mittleham when she came over to announce her engagement, +but I heard of it when Mrs. Godfrey and Attley came, forty miles an +hour, over to me, and Mrs. Godfrey called me names of the worst for +suppression of information. + +'As long as it wasn't me, I don't care,' said Attley. + +'I believe you knew it all along,' Mrs. Godfrey repeated. 'Else what +made you drive that man literally into her arms?' + +'To ask after the dog Harvey,' I replied. + +'Then, what's the beast doing here?' Attley demanded, for Malachi and +the dog Harvey were deep in a council of the family with Bettina, who +was being out-argued. + +'Oh, Harvey seemed to think himself _de trop_ where he was,' I said. +'And she hasn't sent after him. You'd better save Bettina before they +kill her.' + +'There's been enough lying about that dog,' said Mrs. Godfrey to me. 'If +he wasn't born in lies, he was baptized in 'em. D'you know why she +called him Harvey? It only occurred to me in those dreadful days when I +was ill, and one can't keep from thinking, and thinks everything. D'you +know your Boswell? What did Johnson say about Hervey--with an e?' + +'Oh, _that's_ it, is it?' I cried incautiously. 'That was why I ought to +have verified my quotations. The spelling defeated me. Wait a moment, +and it will come back. Johnson said: "He was a vicious man,"' I began. + +'"But very kind to me,"' Mrs. Godfrey prompted. Then, both together, +'"If you call a dog Hervey, I shall love him."' + +'So you _were_ mixed up in it. At any rate, you had your suspicions from +the first? Tell me,' she said. + +'Ella,' I said, 'I don't know anything rational or reasonable about any +of it. It was all--all woman-work, and it scared me horribly.' + +'Why?' she asked. + +That was six years ago. I have written this tale to let her +know--wherever she may be. + + + +THE COMFORTERS + + + Until thy feet have trod the Road + Advise not wayside folk, + Nor till thy back has borne the Load + Break in upon the Broke. + + Chase not with undesired largesse + Of sympathy the heart + Which, knowing her own bitterness, + Presumes to dwell apart. + + Employ not that glad hand to raise + The God-forgotten head + To Heaven, and all the neighbours' gaze-- + Cover thy mouth instead. + + The quivering chin, the bitten lip, + The cold and sweating brow, + Later may yearn for fellowship-- + Not now, you ass, not now! + + Time, not thy ne'er so timely speech, + Life, not thy views thereon, + Shall furnish or deny to each + His consolation. + + Or, if impelled to interfere, + Exhort, uplift, advise, + Lend not a base, betraying ear + To all the victim's cries. + + Only the Lord can understand + When those first pangs begin, + How much is reflex action and + How much is really sin. + + E'en from good words thyself refrain, + And tremblingly admit + There is no anodyne for pain + Except the shock of it. + + So, when thine own dark hour shall fall, + Unchallenged canst thou say: + 'I never worried _you_ at all, + For God's sake go away!' + + + + +The Village that Voted the Earth was Flat + +(1913) + + +Our drive till then had been quite a success. The other men in the car +were my friend Woodhouse, young Ollyett, a distant connection of his, +and Pallant, the M.P. Woodhouse's business was the treatment and cure of +sick journals. He knew by instinct the precise moment in a newspaper's +life when the impetus of past good management is exhausted and it +fetches up on the dead-centre between slow and expensive collapse and +the new start which can be given by gold injections--and genius. He was +wisely ignorant of journalism; but when he stooped on a carcase there +was sure to be meat. He had that week added a half-dead, halfpenny +evening paper to his collection, which consisted of a prosperous London +daily, one provincial ditto, and a limp-bodied weekly of commercial +leanings. He had also, that very hour, planted me with a large block of +the evening paper's common shares, and was explaining the whole art of +editorship to Ollyett, a young man three years from Oxford, with +coir-matting-coloured hair and a face harshly modelled by harsh +experiences, who, I understood, was assisting in the new venture. +Pallant, the long, wrinkled M.P., whose voice is more like a crane's +than a peacock's, took no shares, but gave us all advice. + +'You'll find it rather a knacker's yard,' Woodhouse was saying. 'Yes, I +know they call me The Knacker; but it will pay inside a year. All my +papers do. I've only one motto: Back your luck and back your staff. +It'll come out all right.' + +Then the car stopped, and a policeman asked our names and addresses for +exceeding the speed-limit. We pointed out that the road ran absolutely +straight for half a mile ahead without even a side-lane. 'That's just +what we depend on,' said the policeman unpleasantly. + +'The usual swindle,' said Woodhouse under his breath. 'What's the name +of this place?' + +'Huckley,' said the policeman. 'H-u-c-k-l-e-y,' and wrote something in +his note-book at which young Ollyett protested. A large red man on a +grey horse who had been watching us from the other side of the hedge +shouted an order we could not catch. The policeman laid his hand on the +rim of the right driving-door (Woodhouse carries his spare tyres aft), +and it closed on the button of the electric horn. The grey horse at once +bolted, and we could hear the rider swearing all across the landscape. + +'Damn it, man, you've got your silly fist on it! Take it off!' Woodhouse +shouted. + +'Ho!' said the constable, looking carefully at his fingers as though we +had trapped them. 'That won't do you any good either,' and he wrote once +more in his note-book before he allowed us to go. + +This was Woodhouse's first brush with motor law, and since I expected +no ill consequences to myself, I pointed out that it was very serious. I +took the same view myself when in due time I found that I, too, was +summonsed on charges ranging from the use of obscene language to +endangering traffic. + +Judgment was done in a little pale-yellow market-town with a small, +Jubilee clock-tower and a large corn-exchange. Woodhouse drove us there +in his car. Pallant, who had not been included in the summons, came with +us as moral support. While we waited outside, the fat man on the grey +horse rode up and entered into loud talk with his brother magistrates. +He said to one of them--for I took the trouble to note it down--'It +falls away from my lodge-gates, dead straight, three-quarters of a mile. +I'd defy any one to resist it. We rooked seventy pounds out of 'em last +month. No car can resist the temptation. You ought to have one your side +the county, Mike. They simply can't resist it.' + +'Whew!' said Woodhouse. 'We're in for trouble. Don't you say a word--or +Ollyett either! I'll pay the fines and we'll get it over as soon as +possible. Where's Pallant?' + +'At the back of the court somewhere,' said Ollyett. 'I saw him slip in +just now.' + +The fat man then took his seat on the Bench, of which he was chairman, +and I gathered from a bystander that his name was Sir Thomas Ingell, +Bart., M.P., of Ingell Park, Huckley. He began with an allocution +pitched in a tone that would have justified revolt throughout empires. +Evidence, when the crowded little court did not drown it with applause, +was given in the pauses of the address. They were all very proud of +their Sir Thomas, and looked from him to us, wondering why we did not +applaud too. + +Taking its time from the chairman, the Bench rollicked with us for +seventeen minutes. Sir Thomas explained that he was sick and tired of +processions of cads of our type, who would be better employed breaking +stones on the road than in frightening horses worth more than themselves +or their ancestors. This was after it had been proved that Woodhouse's +man had turned on the horn purposely to annoy Sir Thomas, who happened +to be riding by'! There were other remarks too--primitive enough,--but +it was the unspeakable brutality of the tone, even more than the quality +of the justice, or the laughter of the audience that stung our souls out +of all reason. When we were dismissed--to the tune of twenty-three +pounds, twelve shillings and sixpence--we waited for Pallant to join us, +while we listened to the next case--one of driving without a licence. +Ollyett with an eye to his evening paper, had already taken very full +notes of our own, but we did not wish to seem prejudiced. + +'It's all right,' said the reporter of the local paper soothingly. 'We +never report Sir Thomas _in extenso_. Only the fines and charges.' + +'Oh, thank you,' Ollyett replied, and I heard him ask who every one in +court might be. The local reporter was very communicative. + +The new victim, a large, flaxen-haired man in somewhat striking +clothes, to which Sir Thomas, now thoroughly warmed, drew public +attention, said that he had left his licence at home. Sir Thomas asked +him if he expected the police to go to his home address at Jerusalem to +find it for him; and the court roared. Nor did Sir Thomas approve of the +man's name, but insisted on calling him 'Mr. Masquerader,' and every +time he did so, all his people shouted. Evidently this was their +established _auto-da-fé_. + +'He didn't summons me--because I'm in the House, I suppose. I think I +shall have to ask a Question,' said Pallant, reappearing at the close +of the case. + +'I think _I_ shall have to give it a little publicity too,' said +Woodhouse. 'We can't have this kind of thing going on, you know.' His +face was set and quite white. Pallant's, on the other hand, was black, +and I know that my very stomach had turned with rage. Ollyett was dum. + +'Well, let's have lunch,' Woodhouse said at last. 'Then we can get away +before the show breaks up.' + +We drew Ollyett from the arms of the local reporter, crossed the Market +Square to the Red Lion and found Sir Thomas's 'Mr. Masquerader' just +sitting down to beer, beef and pickles. + +'Ah!' said he, in a large voice. 'Companions in misfortune. Won't you +gentlemen join me?' + +'Delighted,' said Woodhouse. 'What did you get?' + +'I haven't decided. It might make a good turn, but--the public aren't +educated up to it yet. It's beyond 'em. If it wasn't, that red dub on +the Bench would be worth fifty a week.' + +'Where?' said Woodhouse. The man looked at him with unaffected surprise. + +'At any one of My places,' he replied. 'But perhaps you live here?' + +'Good heavens!' cried young Ollyett suddenly. 'You _are_ Masquerier, +then? I thought you were!' + +'Bat Masquerier.' He let the words fall with the weight of an +international ultimatum. 'Yes, that's all I am. But you have the +advantage of me, gentlemen.' + +For the moment, while we were introducing ourselves, I was puzzled. Then +I recalled prismatic music-hall posters--of enormous acreage--that had +been the unnoticed background of my visits to London for years past. +Posters of men and women, singers, jongleurs, impersonators and +audacities of every draped and undraped brand, all moved on and off in +London and the Provinces by Bat Masquerier--with the long wedge-tailed +flourish following the final 'r.' + +'_I_ knew you at once,' said Pallant, the trained M.P., and I promptly +backed the lie. Woodhouse mumbled excuses. Bat Masquerier was not moved +for or against us any more than the frontage of one of his own palaces. + +'I always tell My people there's a limit to the size of the lettering,' +he said. 'Overdo that and the ret'na doesn't take it in. Advertisin' is +the most delicate of all the sciences.' + +'There's one man in the world who is going to get a little of it if I +live for the next twenty-four hours,' said Woodhouse, and explained how +this would come about. + +Masquerier stared at him lengthily with gunmetal-blue eyes. + +'You mean it?' he drawled; the voice was as magnetic as the look. + +'_I_ do,' said Ollyett. 'That business of the horn alone ought to have +him off the Bench in three months.' Masquerier looked at him even longer +than he had looked at Woodhouse. + +'He told _me_,' he said suddenly, 'that my home-address was Jerusalem. +You heard that?' + +'But it was the tone--the tone,' Ollyett cried. + +'You noticed that, too, did you?' said Masquerier. 'That's the artistic +temperament. You can do a lot with it. And I'm Bat Masquerier,' he went +on. He dropped his chin in his fists and scowled straight in front of +him.... 'I made the Silhouettes--I made the Trefoil and the Jocunda. I +made 'Dal Benzaguen.' Here Ollyett sat straight up, for in common with +the youth of that year he worshipped Miss Vidal Benzaguen of the Trefoil +immensely and unreservedly. '"_Is_ that a dressing-gown or an ulster +you're supposed to be wearing?" You heard _that_?... "And I suppose you +hadn't time to brush your hair either?" You heard _that_?... Now, you +hear _me_!' His voice filled the coffee-room, then dropped to a whisper +as dreadful as a surgeon's before an operation. He spoke for several +minutes. Pallant muttered 'Hear! hear!' I saw Ollyett's eye flash--it +was to Ollyett that Masquerier addressed himself chiefly,--and +Woodhouse leaned forward with joined hands. + +'Are you _with_ me?' he went on, gathering us all up in one sweep of the +arm. 'When I begin a thing I see it through, gentlemen. What Bat can't +break, breaks him! But I haven't struck that thing yet. This is no +one-turn turn-it-down show. This is business to the dead finish. Are you +with me, gentlemen? Good! Now, we'll pool our assets. One London +morning, and one provincial daily, didn't you say? One weekly commercial +ditto and one M.P.' + +'Not much use, I'm afraid,' Pallant smirked. + +'But privileged. _But_ privileged,' he returned. 'And we have also my +little team--London, Blackburn, Liverpool, Leeds--I'll tell you about +Manchester later--and Me! Bat Masquerier.' He breathed the name +reverently into his tankard. 'Gentlemen, when our combination has +finished with Sir Thomas Ingell, Bart., M.P., and everything else that +is his, Sodom and Gomorrah will be a winsome bit of Merrie England +beside 'em. I must go back to town now, but I trust you gentlemen will +give me the pleasure of your company at dinner to-night at the Chop +Suey--the Red Amber Room--and we'll block out the scenario.' He laid his +hand on young Ollyett's shoulder and added: 'It's your brains I want.' +Then he left, in a good deal of astrachan collar and nickel-plated +limousine, and the place felt less crowded. + +We ordered our car a few minutes later. As Woodhouse, Ollyett and I were +getting in, Sir Thomas Ingell, Bart., M.P., came out of the Hall of +Justice across the square and mounted his horse. I have sometimes +thought that if he had gone in silence he might even then have been +saved, but as he settled himself in the saddle he caught sight of us and +must needs shout: 'Not off yet? You'd better get away and you'd better +be careful.' At that moment Pallant, who had been buying +picture-postcards, came out of the inn, took Sir Thomas's eye and very +leisurely entered the car. It seemed to me that for one instant there +was a shade of uneasiness on the baronet's grey-whiskered face. + +'I hope,' said Woodhouse after several miles, 'I hope he's a widower.' + +'Yes,' said Pallant. 'For his poor, dear wife's sake I hope that, very +much indeed. I suppose he didn't see me in Court. Oh, here's the parish +history of Huckley written by the Rector and here's your share of the +picture-postcards. Are we all dining with this Mr. Masquerier to-night?' + +'Yes!' said we all. + + * * * * * + +If Woodhouse knew nothing of journalism, young Ollyett, who had +graduated in a hard school, knew a good deal. Our halfpenny evening +paper, which we will call _The Bun_ to distinguish her from her +prosperous morning sister, _The Cake_, was not only diseased but +corrupt. We found this out when a man brought us the prospectus of a new +oil-field and demanded sub-leaders on its prosperity. Ollyett talked +pure Brasenose to him for three minutes. Otherwise he spoke and wrote +trade-English--a toothsome amalgam of Americanisms and epigrams. But +though the slang changes the game never alters, and Ollyett and I and, +in the end, some others enjoyed it immensely. It was weeks ere we could +see the wood for the trees, but so soon as the staff realised that they +had proprietors who backed them right or wrong, and specially when they +were wrong (which is the sole secret of journalism), and that their fate +did not hang on any passing owner's passing mood, they did miracles. + +But we did not neglect Huckley. As Ollyett said our first care was to +create an 'arresting atmosphere' round it. He used to visit the village +of week-ends, on a motor-bicycle with a side-car; for which reason I +left the actual place alone and dealt with it in the abstract. Yet it +was I who drew first blood. Two inhabitants of Huckley wrote to +contradict a small, quite solid paragraph in _The Bun_ that a hoopoe had +been seen at Huckley and had, 'of course, been shot by the local +sportsmen.' There was some heat in their letters, both of which we +published. Our version of how the hoopoe got his crest from King Solomon +was, I grieve to say, so inaccurate that the Rector himself--no +sportsman as he pointed out, but a lover of accuracy--wrote to us to +correct it. We gave his letter good space and thanked him. + +'This priest is going to be useful,' said Ollyett. 'He has the impartial +mind. I shall vitalise him.' + +Forthwith he created M.L. Sigden, a recluse of refined tastes who in +_The Bun_ demanded to know whether this Huckley-of-the-Hoopoe was the +Hugly of his boyhood and whether, by any chance, the fell change of name +had been wrought by collusion between a local magnate and the railway, +in the mistaken interests of spurious refinement. 'For I knew it and +loved it with the maidens of my day--_eheu ab angulo!_--as Hugly,' wrote +M.L. Sigden from Oxf. + +Though other papers scoffed, _The Bun_ was gravely sympathetic. Several +people wrote to deny that Huckley had been changed at birth. Only the +Rector--no philosopher as he pointed out, but a lover of accuracy--had +his doubts, which he laid publicly before Mr. M.L. Sigden who suggested, +through _The Bun_, that the little place might have begun life in +Anglo-Saxon days as 'Hogslea' or among the Normans as 'Argilé,' on +account of its much clay. The Rector had his own ideas too (he said it +was mostly gravel), and M.L. Sigden had a fund of reminiscences. Oddly +enough--which is seldom the case with free reading-matter--our +subscribers rather relished the correspondence, and contemporaries +quoted freely. + +'The secret of power,' said Ollyett, 'is not the big stick. It's the +liftable stick.' (This means the 'arresting' quotation of six or seven +lines.) 'Did you see the _Spec._ had a middle on "Rural Tenacities" last +week. That was all Huckley. I'm doing a "Mobiquity" on Huckley +next week.' + +Our 'Mobiquities' were Friday evening accounts of easy +motor-bike-_cum_-side-car trips round London, illustrated (we could +never get that machine to work properly) by smudgy maps. Ollyett wrote +the stuff with a fervour and a delicacy which I always ascribed to the +side-car. His account of Epping Forest, for instance, was simply young +love with its soul at its lips. But his Huckley 'Mobiquity' would have +sickened a soap-boiler. It chemically combined loathsome familiarity, +leering suggestion, slimy piety and rancid 'social service' in one +fuming compost that fairly lifted me off my feet. + +'Yes,' said he, after compliments. 'It's the most vital, arresting and +dynamic bit of tump I've done up to date. _Non nobis gloria!_ I met Sir +Thomas Ingell in his own park. He talked to me again. He inspired +most of it.' + +'Which? The "glutinous native drawl," or "the neglected adenoids of the +village children"?' I demanded. + +'Oh, no! That's only to bring in the panel doctor. It's the last flight +we--I'm proudest of.' + +This dealt with 'the crepuscular penumbra spreading her dim limbs over +the boskage'; with 'jolly rabbits'; with a herd of 'gravid polled +Angus'; and with the 'arresting, gipsy-like face of their swart, +scholarly owner--as well known at the Royal Agricultural Shows as that +of our late King-Emperor.' + +'"Swart" is good and so's "gravid,"' said I, 'but the panel doctor will +be annoyed about the adenoids.' + +'Not half as much as Sir Thomas will about his face,' said Ollyett. 'And +if you only knew what I've left out!' + +He was right. The panel doctor spent his week-end (this is the +advantage of Friday articles) in overwhelming us with a professional +counterblast of no interest whatever to our subscribers. We told him so, +and he, then and there, battered his way with it into the _Lancet_ where +they are keen on glands, and forgot us altogether. But Sir Thomas Ingell +was of sterner stuff. He must have spent a happy week-end too. The +letter which we received from him on Monday proved him to be a kinless +loon of upright life, for no woman, however remotely interested in a man +would have let it pass the home wastepaper-basket. He objected to our +references to his own herd, to his own labours in his own village, which +he said was a Model Village, and to our infernal insolence; but he +objected most to our invoice of his features. We wrote him courtously to +ask whether the letter was meant for publication. He, remembering, I +presume, the Duke of Wellington, wrote back, 'publish and be damned.' + +'Oh! This is too easy,' Ollyett said as he began heading the letter. + +'Stop a minute,' I said. 'The game is getting a little beyond us. +To-night's the Bat dinner.' (I may have forgotten to tell you that our +dinner with Bat Masquerier in the Red Amber Room of the Chop Suey had +come to be a weekly affair.) 'Hold it over till they've all seen it.' + +'Perhaps you're right,' he said. 'You might waste it.' + +At dinner, then, Sir Thomas's letter was handed round. Bat seemed to be +thinking of other matters, but Pallant was very interested. + +'I've got an idea,' he said presently. 'Could you put something into +_The Bun_ to-morrow about foot-and-mouth disease in that fellow's herd?' + +'Oh, plague if you like,' Ollyett replied. 'They're only five measly +Shorthorns. I saw one lying down in the park. She'll serve as a +sub-stratum of fact.' + +'Then, do that; and hold the letter over meanwhile. I think _I_ come in +here,' said Pallant. + +'Why?' said I. + +'Because there's something coming up in the House about foot-and-mouth, +and because he wrote me a letter after that little affair when he fined +you. 'Took ten days to think it over. Here you are,' said Pallant. +'House of Commons paper, you see.' + +We read: + + DEAR PALLANT--Although in the past our paths have not lain + much together, I am sure you will agree with me that on the + floor of the House all members are on a footing of equality. + I make bold, therefore, to approach you in a matter which I + think capable of a very different interpretation from that + which perhaps was put upon it by your friends. Will you let + them know that that was the case and that I was in no way + swayed by animus in the exercise of my magisterial duties, + which as you, as a brother magistrate, can imagine are + frequently very distasteful to--Yours very sincerely, + + T. INGELL. + + _P.S._--I have seen to it that the motor vigilance to which + your friends took exception has been considerably relaxed in + my district. + +'What did you answer?' said Ollyett, when all our opinions had been +expressed. + +'I told him I couldn't do anything in the matter. And I couldn't--then. +But you'll remember to put in that foot-and-mouth paragraph. I want +something to work upon.' + +'It seems to me _The Bun_ has done all the work up to date,' I +suggested. 'When does _The Cake_ come in?' + +'_The Cake_,' said Woodhouse, and I remembered afterwards that he spoke +like a Cabinet Minister on the eve of a Budget, 'reserves to itself the +fullest right to deal with situations as they arise.' + +'Ye-eh!' Bat Masquerier shook himself out of his thoughts. '"Situations +as they arise." I ain't idle either. But there's no use fishing till the +swim's baited. You'--he turned to Ollyett--'manufacture very good +ground-bait.... I always tell My people--What the deuce is that?' + +There was a burst of song from another private dining-room across the +landing. 'It ees some ladies from the Trefoil,' the waiter began. + +'Oh, I know that. What are they singing, though?' + +He rose and went out, to be greeted by shouts of applause from that +merry company. Then there was silence, such as one hears in the +form-room after a master's entry. Then a voice that we loved began +again: 'Here we go gathering nuts in May--nuts in May--nuts in May!' + +'It's only 'Dal--and some nuts,' he explained when he returned. 'She +says she's coming in to dessert.' He sat down, humming the old tune to +himself, and till Miss Vidal Benzaguen entered, he held us speechless +with tales of the artistic temperament. + +We obeyed Pallant to the extent of slipping into _The Bun_ a wary +paragraph about cows lying down and dripping at the mouth, which might +be read either as an unkind libel or, in the hands of a capable lawyer, +as a piece of faithful nature-study. + +'And besides,' said Ollyett, 'we allude to "gravid polled Angus." I am +advised that no action can lie in respect of virgin Shorthorns. Pallant +wants us to come to the House to-night. He's got us places for the +Strangers' Gallery. I'm beginning to like Pallant.' + +'Masquerier seems to like you,' I said. + +'Yes, but I'm afraid of him,' Ollyett answered with perfect sincerity. +'I am. He's the Absolutely Amoral Soul. I've never met one yet.' + +We went to the House together. It happened to be an Irish afternoon, and +as soon as I had got the cries and the faces a little sorted out, I +gathered there were grievances in the air, but how many of them was +beyond me. + +'It's all right,' said Ollyett of the trained ear. 'They've shut their +ports against--oh yes--export of Irish cattle! Foot-and-mouth disease at +Ballyhellion. _I_ see Pallant's idea!' + +The House was certainly all mouth for the moment, but, as I could feel, +quite in earnest. A Minister with a piece of typewritten paper seemed to +be fending off volleys of insults. He reminded me somehow of a nervous +huntsman breaking up a fox in the face of rabid hounds. + +'It's question-time. They're asking questions,' said Ollyett. 'Look! +Pallant's up.' + +There was no mistaking it. His voice, which his enemies said was his one +parliamentary asset, silenced the hubbub as toothache silences mere +singing in the ears. He said: + +'Arising out of that, may I ask if any special consideration has +recently been shown in regard to any suspected outbreak of this disease +on _this_ side of the Channel?' + +He raised his hand; it held a noon edition of _The Bun_. We had thought +it best to drop the paragraph out of the later ones. He would have +continued, but something in a grey frock-coat roared and bounded on a +bench opposite, and waved another _Bun_. It was Sir Thomas Ingell. + +'As the owner of the herd so dastardly implicated--' His voice was +drowned in shouts of 'Order!'--the Irish leading. + +'What's wrong?' I asked Ollyett. 'He's got his hat on his head, hasn't +he?' + +'Yes, but his wrath should have been put as a question.' + +'Arising out of that, Mr. Speaker, Sirrr!' Sir Thomas bellowed through a +lull, 'are you aware that--that all this is a conspiracy--part of a +dastardly conspiracy to make Huckley ridiculous--to make _us_ +ridiculous? Part of a deep-laid plot to make _me_ ridiculous, Mr. +Speaker, Sir!' + +The man's face showed almost black against his white whiskers, and he +struck out swimmingly with his arms. His vehemence puzzled and held the +House for an instant, and the Speaker took advantage of it to lift his +pack from Ireland to a new scent. He addressed Sir Thomas Ingell in +tones of measured rebuke, meant also, I imagine, for the whole House, +which lowered its hackles at the word. Then Pallant, shocked and pained: +'I can only express my profound surprise that in response to my simple +question the honourable member should have thought fit to indulge in a +personal attack. If I have in any way offended--' + +Again the Speaker intervened, for it appeared that he regulated these +matters. + +He, too, expressed surprise, and Sir Thomas sat back in a hush of +reprobation that seemed to have the chill of the centuries behind it. +The Empire's work was resumed. + +'Beautiful!' said I, and I felt hot and cold up my back. + +'And now we'll publish his letter,' said Ollyett. + +We did--on the heels of his carefully reported outburst. We made no +comment. With that rare instinct for grasping the heart of a situation +which is the mark of the Anglo-Saxon, all our contemporaries and, I +should say, two-thirds of our correspondents demanded how such a person +could be made more ridiculous than he had already proved himself to be. +But beyond spelling his name 'Injle,' we alone refused to hit a man when +he was down. + +'There's no need,' said Ollyett. 'The whole press is on the huckle from +end to end.' + +Even Woodhouse was a little astonished at the ease with which it had +come about, and said as much. + +'Rot!' said Ollyett. 'We haven't really begun. Huckley isn't news yet.' + +'What do you mean?' said Woodhouse, who had grown to have great respect +for his young but by no means distant connection. + +'Mean? By the grace of God, Master Ridley, I mean to have it so that +when Huckley turns over in its sleep, Reuters and the Press Association +jump out of bed to cable.' Then he went off at score about certain +restorations in Huckley Church which, he said--and he seemed to spend +his every week-end there--had been perpetrated by the Rector's +predecessor, who had abolished a 'leper-window' or a 'squinch-hole' +(whatever these may be) to institute a lavatory in the vestry. It did +not strike me as stuff for which Reuters or the Press Association would +lose much sleep, and I left him declaiming to Woodhouse about a +fourteenth-century font which, he said, he had unearthed in the sexton's +tool-shed. + +My methods were more on the lines of peaceful penetration. An odd copy, +in _The Bun's_ rag-and-bone library, of Hone's _Every-Day Book_ had +revealed to me the existence of a village dance founded, like all +village dances, on Druidical mysteries connected with the Solar Solstice +(which is always unchallengeable) and Mid-summer Morning, which is dewy +and refreshing to the London eye. For this I take no credit--Hone being +a mine any one can work--but that I rechristened that dance, after I +had revised it, 'The Gubby' is my title to immortal fame. It was still +to be witnessed, I wrote, 'in all its poignant purity at Huckley, that +last home of significant mediæval survivals'; and I fell so in love with +my creation that I kept it back for days, enamelling and burnishing. + +'You's better put it in,' said Ollyett at last. 'It's time we asserted +ourselves again. The other fellows are beginning to poach. You saw that +thing in the _Pinnacle_ about Sir Thomas's Model Village? He must have +got one of their chaps down to do it.' + +''Nothing like the wounds of a friend,' I said. 'That account of the +non-alcoholic pub alone was--' + +'I liked the bit best about the white-tiled laundry and the Fallen +Virgins who wash Sir Thomas's dress shirts. Our side couldn't come +within a mile of that, you know. We haven't the proper flair for +sexual slobber.' + +'That's what I'm always saying,' I retorted. 'Leave 'em alone. The other +fellows are doing our work for us now. Besides I want to touch up my +"Gubby Dance" a little more.' + +'No. You'll spoil it. Let's shove it in to-day. For one thing it's +Literature. I don't go in for compliments as you know, but, etc. etc.' + +I had a healthy suspicion of young Ollyett in every aspect, but though I +knew that I should have to pay for it, I fell to his flattery, and my +priceless article on the 'Gubby Dance' appeared. Next Saturday he asked +me to bring out _The Bun_ in his absence, which I naturally assumed +would be connected with the little maroon side-car. I was wrong. + +On the following Monday I glanced at _The Cake_ at breakfast-time to +make sure, as usual, of her inferiority to my beloved but unremunerative +_Bun_. I opened on a heading: 'The Village that Voted the Earth was +Flat.' I read ... I read that the Geoplanarian Society--a society +devoted to the proposition that the earth is flat--had held its Annual +Banquet and Exercises at Huckley on Saturday, when after convincing +addresses, amid scenes of the greatest enthusiasm, Huckley village had +decided by an unanimous vote of 438 that the earth was flat. I do not +remember that I breathed again till I had finished the two columns of +description that followed. Only one man could have written them. They +were flawless--crisp, nervous, austere yet human, poignant, vital, +arresting--most distinctly arresting--dynamic enough to shift a +city--and quotable by whole sticks at a time. And there was a leader, a +grave and poised leader, which tore me in two with mirth, until I +remembered that I had been left out--infamously and unjustifiably +dropped. I went to Ollyett's rooms. He was breakfasting, and, to do him +justice, looked conscience-stricken. + +'It wasn't my fault,' he began. 'It was Bat Masquerier. I swear _I_ +would have asked you to come if--' + +'Never mind that,' I said. 'It's the best bit of work you've ever done +or will do. Did any of it happen?' + +'Happen? Heavens! D'you think even _I_ could have invented it?' + +'Is it exclusive to _The Cake_?' I cried. + +'It cost Bat Masquerier two thousand,' Ollyett replied. 'D'you think +he'd let any one else in on that? But I give you my sacred word I knew +nothing about it till he asked me to come down and cover it. He had +Huckley posted in three colours, "The Geoplanarians' Annual Banquet and +Exercises." Yes, he invented "Geoplanarians." He wanted Huckley to think +it meant aeroplanes. Yes, I know that there is a real Society that +thinks the world's flat--they ought to be grateful for the lift--but Bat +made his own. He did! He created the whole show, I tell you. He swept +out half his Halls for the job. Think of that--on a Saturday! They--we +went down in motor char-à-bancs--three of 'em--one pink, one primrose, +and one forget-me-not blue--twenty people in each one and "The Earth +_is_ Flat" on each side and across the back. I went with Teddy Rickets +and Lafone from the Trefoil, and both the Silhouette Sisters, and--wait +a minute!--the Crossleigh Trio. You know the Every-Day Dramas Trio at +the Jocunda--Ada Crossleigh, "Bunt" Crossleigh, and little Victorine? +Them. And there was Hoke Ramsden, the lightning-change chap in _Morgiana +and Drexel_--and there was Billy Turpeen. Yes, you know him! The North +London Star. "I'm the Referee that got himself disliked at Blackheath." +_That_ chap! And there was Mackaye--that one-eyed Scotch fellow that all +Glasgow is crazy about. Talk of subordinating yourself for Art's sake! +Mackaye was the earnest inquirer who got converted at the end of the +meeting. And there was quite a lot of girls I didn't know, and--oh, +yes--there was 'Dal! 'Dal Benzaguen herself! We sat together, going and +coming. She's all the darling there ever was. She sent you her love, and +she told me to tell you that she won't forget about Nellie Farren. She +says you've given her an ideal to work for. She? Oh, she was the Lady +Secretary to the Geoplanarians, of course. I forget who were in the +other brakes--provincial stars mostly--but they played up gorgeously. +The art of the music-hall's changed since your day. They didn't overdo +it a bit. You see, people who believe the earth is flat don't dress +quite like other people. You may have noticed that I hinted at that in +my account. It's a rather flat-fronted Ionic style--neo-Victorian, +except for the bustles, 'Dal told me,--but 'Dal looked heavenly in it! +So did little Victorine. And there was a girl in the blue brake--she's a +provincial--but she's coming to town this winter and she'll knock +'em--Winnie Deans. Remember that! She told Huckley how she had suffered +for the Cause as a governess in a rich family where they believed that +the world is round, and how she threw up her job sooner than teach +immoral geography. That was at the overflow meeting outside the +Baptist chapel. She knocked 'em to sawdust! We must look out for +Winnie.... But Lafone! Lafone was beyond everything. Impact, +personality--conviction--the whole bag o' tricks! He sweated conviction. +Gad, he convinced _me_ while he was speaking! (Him? He was President of +the Geoplanarians, of course. Haven't you read my account?) It _is_ an +infernally plausible theory. After all, no one has actually proved the +earth is round, have they?' + +'Never mind the earth. What about Huckley?' + +'Oh, Huckley got tight. That's the worst of these model villages if you +let 'em smell fire-water. There's one alcoholic pub in the place that +Sir Thomas can't get rid of. Bat made it his base. He sent down the +banquet in two motor lorries--dinner for five hundred and drinks for ten +thousand. Huckley voted all right. Don't you make any mistake about +that. No vote, no dinner. A unanimous vote--exactly as I've said. At +least, the Rector and the Doctor were the only dissentients. We didn't +count them. Oh yes, Sir Thomas was there. He came and grinned at us +through his park gates. He'll grin worse to-day. There's an aniline dye +that you rub through a stencil-plate that eats about a foot into any +stone and wears good to the last. Bat had both the lodge-gates +stencilled "The Earth _is_ flat!" and all the barns and walls they could +get at.... Oh Lord, but Huckley was drunk! We had to fill 'em up to make +'em forgive us for not being aeroplanes. Unthankful yokels! D'you +realise that Emperors couldn't have commanded the talent Bat decanted on +'em? Why, 'Dal alone was.... And by eight o'clock not even a bit of +paper left! The whole show packed up and gone, and Huckley hoo-raying +for the earth being flat.' + +'Very good,' I began. 'I am, as you know, a one-third proprietor of +_The Bun_.' + +'I didn't forget that,' Ollyett interrupted. 'That was uppermost in my +mind all the time. I've got a special account for _The Bun_ to-day--it's +an idyll--and just to show how I thought of you, I told 'Dal, coming +home, about your Gubby Dance, and she told Winnie. Winnie came back in +our char-à-banc. After a bit we had to get out and dance it in a field. +It's quite a dance the way we did it--and Lafone invented a sort of +gorilla lockstep procession at the end. Bat had sent down a film-chap on +the chance of getting something. He was the son of a clergyman--a most +dynamic personality. He said there isn't anything for the cinema in +meetings _qua_ meetings--they lack action. Films are a branch of art by +themselves. But he went wild over the Gubby. He said it was like Peter's +vision at Joppa. He took about a million feet of it. Then I photoed it +exclusive for _The Bun_. I've sent 'em in already, only remember we must +eliminate Winnie's left leg in the first figure. It's too arresting.... +And there you are! But I tell you I'm afraid of Bat. That man's the +Personal Devil. He did it all. He didn't even come down himself. He said +he'd distract his people.' + +'Why didn't he ask me to come?' I persisted. + +'Because he said you'd distract me. He said he wanted my brains on ice. +He got 'em. I believe it's the best thing I've ever done.' He reached +for _The Cake_ and re-read it luxuriously. 'Yes, out and away the +best--supremely quotable,' he concluded, and--after another survey--'By +God, what a genius I was yesterday!' + +I would have been angry, but I had not the time. That morning, Press +agencies grovelled to me in _The Bun_ office for leave to use certain +photos, which, they understood, I controlled, of a certain village +dance. When I had sent the fifth man away on the edge of tears, my +self-respect came back a little. Then there was _The Bun's_ poster to +get out. Art being elimination, I fined it down to two words (one too +many, as it proved)--'The Gubby!' in red, at which our manager +protested; but by five o'clock he told me that I was _the_ Napoleon of +Fleet Street. Ollyett's account in _The Bun_ of the Geoplanarians' +Exercises and Love Feast lacked the supreme shock of his version in _The +Cake_, but it bruised more; while the photos of 'The Gubby' (which, with +Winnie's left leg, was why I had set the doubtful press to work so +early) were beyond praise and, next day, beyond price. But even then I +did not understand. + +A week later, I think it was, Bat Masquerier telephoned to me to come to +the Trefoil. + +'It's your turn now,' he said. 'I'm not asking Ollyett. Come to the +stage-box.' + +I went, and, as Bat's guest, was received as Royalty is not. We sat well +back and looked out on the packed thousands. It was _Morgiana and +Drexel_, that fluid and electric review which Bat--though he gave Lafone +the credit--really created. + +'Ye-es,' said Bat dreamily, after Morgiana had given 'the nasty jar' to +the Forty Thieves in their forty oil 'combinations.' 'As you say, I've +got 'em and I can hold 'em. What a man does doesn't matter much; and how +he does it don't matter either. It's the _when_--the psychological +moment. 'Press can't make up for it; money can't; brains can't. A lot's +luck, but all the rest is genius. I'm not speaking about My people now. +I'm talking of Myself.' + +Then 'Dal--she was the only one who dared--knocked at the door and stood +behind us all alive and panting as Morgiana. Lafone was carrying the +police-court scene, and the house was ripped up crossways with laughter. + +'Ah! Tell a fellow now,' she asked me for the twentieth time, 'did you +love Nellie Farren when you were young?' + +'Did we love her?' I answered. '"If the earth and the sky and the +sea"--There were three million of us, 'Dal, and we worshipped her.' + +'How did she get it across?' Dal went on. + +'She was Nellie. The houses used to coo over her when she came on.' + +'I've had a good deal, but I've never been cooed over yet,' said 'Dal +wistfully. + +'It isn't the how, it's the when,' Bat repeated. 'Ah!' + +He leaned forward as the house began to rock and peal full-throatedly. +'Dal fled. A sinuous and silent procession was filing into the +police-court to a scarcely audible accompaniment. It was dressed--but +the world and all its picture-palaces know how it was dressed. It +danced and it danced, and it danced the dance which bit all humanity in +the leg for half a year, and it wound up with the lockstep finale that +mowed the house down in swathes, sobbing and aching. Somebody in the +gallery moaned, 'Oh Gord, the Gubby!' and we heard the word run like a +shudder, for they had not a full breath left among them. Then 'Dal came +on, an electric star in her dark hair, the diamonds flashing in her +three-inch heels--a vision that made no sign for thirty counted seconds +while the police-court scene dissolved behind her into Morgiana's +Manicure Palace, and they recovered themselves. The star on her forehead +went out, and a soft light bathed her as she took--slowly, slowly to the +croon of adoring strings--the eighteen paces forward. We saw her first +as a queen alone; next as a queen for the first time conscious of her +subjects, and at the end, when her hands fluttered, as a woman +delighted, awed not a little, but transfigured and illuminated with +sheer, compelling affection and goodwill. I caught the broken mutter of +welcome--the coo which is more than tornadoes of applause. It died and +rose and died again lovingly. + +'She's got it across,' Bat whispered. 'I've never seen her like this. I +told her to light up the star, but I was wrong, and she knew it. She's +an artist.' + +''Dal, you darling!' some one spoke, not loudly but it carried through +the house. + +'Thank _you_!' 'Dal answered, and in that broken tone one heard the last +fetter riveted. 'Good evening, boys! I've just come from--now--where the +dooce was it I have come from?' She turned to the impassive files of +the Gubby dancers, and went on: 'Ah, so good of you to remind me, you +dear, bun-faced things. I've just come from the village--The Village +that Voted the Earth was Flat.' + +She swept into that song with the full orchestra. It devastated the +habitable earth for the next six months. Imagine, then, what its rage +and pulse must have been at the incandescent hour of its birth! She only +gave the chorus once. At the end of the second verse, 'Are you _with_ +me, boys?' she cried, and the house tore it clean away from +her--'_Earth_ was flat--_Earth_ was flat. Flat as my hat--Flatter than +that'--drowning all but the bassoons and double-basses that marked +the word. + +'Wonderful,' I said to Bat. 'And it's only "Nuts in May," with +variations.' + +'Yes--but _I_ did the variations,' he replied. + +At the last verse she gestured to Carlini the conductor, who threw her +up his baton. She caught it with a boy's ease. 'Are you _with_ me?' she +cried once more, and--the maddened house behind her--abolished all the +instruments except the guttural belch of the double-basses on +'_Earth_'--'The Village that voted the _Earth_ was flat--_Earth_ was +flat!' It was delirium. Then she picked up the Gubby dancers and led +them in a clattering improvised lockstep thrice round the stage till her +last kick sent her diamond-hiked shoe catherine-wheeling to the +electrolier. + +I saw the forest of hands raised to catch it, heard the roaring and +stamping pass through hurricanes to full typhoon; heard the song, pinned +down by the faithful double-basses as the bull-dog pins down the +bellowing bull, overbear even those; till at last the curtain fell and +Bat took me round to her dressing-room, where she lay spent after her +seventh call. Still the song, through all those white-washed walls, +shook the reinforced concrete of the Trefoil as steam pile-drivers shake +the flanks of a dock. + +'I'm all out--first time in my life. Ah! Tell a fellow now, did I get it +across?' she whispered huskily. + +'You know you did,' I replied as she dipped her nose deep in a beaker of +barley-water. 'They cooed over you.' + +Bat nodded. 'And poor Nellie's dead--in Africa, ain't it?' + +'I hope I'll die before they stop cooing,' said 'Dal. + +'"_Earth_ was flat--_Earth_ was flat!"' Now it was more like mine-pumps +in flood. + +'They'll have the house down if you don't take another,' some one +called. + +'Bless 'em!' said 'Dal, and went out for her eighth, when in the face of +that cataract she said yawning, 'I don't know how _you_ feel, children, +but _I_'m dead. You be quiet.' + +'Hold a minute,' said Bat to me. 'I've got to hear how it went in the +provinces. Winnie Deans had it in Manchester, and Ramsden at +Glasgow--and there are all the films too. I had rather a heavy +week-end.' + +The telephones presently reassured him. + +'It'll do,' said he. 'And _he_ said my home address was Jerusalem.' He +left me humming the refrain of 'The Holy City.' Like Ollyett I found +myself afraid of that man. + +When I got out into the street and met the disgorging picture-palaces +capering on the pavements and humming it (for he had put the gramophones +on with the films), and when I saw far to the south the red electrics +flash 'Gubby' across the Thames, I feared more than ever. + + * * * * * + +A few days passed which were like nothing except, perhaps, a suspense of +fever in which the sick man perceives the searchlights of the world's +assembled navies in act to converge on one minute fragment of +wreckage--one only in all the black and agony-strewn sea. Then those +beams focussed themselves. Earth as we knew it--the full circuit of our +orb--laid the weight of its impersonal and searing curiosity on this +Huckley which had voted that it was flat. It asked for news about +Huckley--where and what it might be, and how it talked--it knew how it +danced--and how it thought in its wonderful soul. And then, in all the +zealous, merciless press, Huckley was laid out for it to look at, as a +drop of pond water is exposed on the sheet of a magic-lantern show. But +Huckley's sheet was only coterminous with the use of type among mankind. +For the precise moment that was necessary, Fate ruled it that there +should be nothing of first importance in the world's idle eye. One +atrocious murder, a political crisis, an incautious or heady +continental statesman, the mere catarrh of a king, would have wiped out +the significance of our message, as a passing cloud annuls the urgent +helio. But it was halcyon weather in every respect. Ollyett and I did +not need to lift our little fingers any more than the Alpine climber +whose last sentence has unkeyed the arch of the avalanche. The thing +roared and pulverised and swept beyond eyesight all by itself--all by +itself. And once well away, the fall of kingdoms could not have +diverted it. + +Ours is, after all, a kindly earth. While The Song ran and raped it with +the cataleptic kick of 'Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay,' multiplied by the West +African significance of 'Everybody's doing it,' plus twice the infernal +elementality of a certain tune in _Dona et Gamma_; when for all +practical purposes, literary, dramatic, artistic, social, municipal, +political, commercial, and administrative, the Earth _was_ flat, the +Rector of Huckley wrote to us--again as a lover of accuracy--to point +out that the Huckley vote on 'the alleged flatness of this scene of our +labours here below' was _not_ unanimous; he and the doctor having voted +against it. And the great Baron Reuter himself (I am sure it could have +been none other) flashed that letter in full to the front, back, and +both wings of this scene of our labours. For Huckley was News. _The Bun_ +also contributed a photograph which cost me some trouble to fake. + +'We are a vital nation,' said Ollyett while we were discussing affairs +at a Bat dinner. 'Only an Englishman could have written that letter at +this present juncture.' + +'It reminded me of a tourist in the Cave of the Winds under Niagara. +Just one figure in a mackintosh. But perhaps you saw our photo?' I +said proudly. + +'Yes,' Bat replied. 'I've been to Niagara, too. And how's Huckley taking +it?' + +'They don't quite understand, of course,' said Ollyett. 'But it's +bringing pots of money into the place. Ever since the motor-bus +excursions were started--' + +'I didn't know they had been,' said Pallant. + +'Oh yes. Motor char-à-bancs--uniformed guides and key-bugles included. +They're getting a bit fed up with the tune there nowadays,' +Ollyett added. + +'They play it under his windows, don't they?' Bat asked. 'He can't stop +the right of way across his park.' + +'He cannot,' Ollyett answered. 'By the way, Woodhouse, I've bought that +font for you from the sexton. I paid fifteen pounds for it.' + +'What am I supposed to do with it?' asked Woodhouse. + +'You give it to the Victoria and Albert Museum. It is fourteenth-century +work all right. You can trust me.' + +'Is it worth it--now?' said Pallant. 'Not that I'm weakening, but merely +as a matter of tactics?' + +'But this is true,' said Ollyett. 'Besides, it is my hobby, I always +wanted to be an architect. I'll attend to it myself. It's too serious +for _The Bun_ and miles too good for _The Cake_.' + +He broke ground in a ponderous architectural weekly, which had never +heard of Huckley. There was no passion in his statement, but mere fact +backed by a wide range of authorities. He established beyond doubt that +the old font at Huckley had been thrown out, on Sir Thomas's +instigation, twenty years ago, to make room for a new one of Bath stone +adorned with Limoges enamels; and that it had lain ever since in a +corner of the sexton's shed. He proved, with learned men to support him, +that there was only one other font in all England to compare with it. So +Woodhouse bought it and presented it to a grateful South Kensington +which said it would see the earth still flatter before it returned the +treasure to purblind Huckley. Bishops by the benchful and most of the +Royal Academy, not to mention 'Margaritas ante Porcos,' wrote fervently +to the papers. _Punch_ based a political cartoon on it; the _Times_ a +third leader, 'The Lust of Newness'; and the _Spectator_ a scholarly and +delightful middle, 'Village Hausmania.' The vast amused outside world +said in all its tongues and types: 'Of course! This is just what Huckley +would do!' And neither Sir Thomas nor the Rector nor the sexton nor any +one else wrote to deny it. + +'You see,' said Ollyett, 'this is much more of a blow to Huckley than it +looks--because every word of it's true. Your Gubby dance was +inspiration, I admit, but it hadn't its roots in--' + +'Two hemispheres and four continents so far,' I pointed out. + +'Its roots in the hearts of Huckley was what I was going to say. Why +don't you ever come down and look at the place? You've never seen it +since we were stopped there.' + +'I've only my week-ends free,' I said, 'and you seem to spend yours +there pretty regularly--with the side-car. I was afraid--' + +'Oh, _that's_ all right,' he said cheerily. 'We're quite an old engaged +couple now. As a matter of fact, it happened after "the gravid polled +Angus" business. Come along this Saturday. Woodhouse says he'll run us +down after lunch. He wants to see Huckley too.' + +Pallant could not accompany us, but Bat took his place. + +'It's odd,' said Bat, 'that none of us except Ollyett has ever set eyes +on Huckley since that time. That's what I always tell My people. Local +colour is all right after you've got your idea. Before that, it's a mere +nuisance.' He regaled us on the way down with panoramic views of the +success--geographical and financial--of 'The Gubby' and The Song. + +'By the way,' said he, 'I've assigned 'Dal all the gramophone rights of +"The Earth." She's a born artist. 'Hadn't sense enough to hit me for +triple-dubs the morning after. She'd have taken it out in coos.' + +'Bless her! And what'll she make out of the gramophone rights?' I asked. + +'Lord knows!' he replied. 'I've made fifty-four thousand my little end +of the business, and it's only just beginning. Hear _that_!' + +A shell-pink motor-brake roared up behind us to the music on a key-bugle +of 'The Village that Voted the Earth was Flat.' In a few minutes we +overtook another, in natural wood, whose occupants were singing it +through their noses. + +'I don't know that agency. It must be Cook's,' said Ollyett. 'They _do_ +suffer.' We were never out of earshot of the tune the rest of the way +to Huckley. + +Though I knew it would be so, I was disappointed with the actual aspect +of the spot we had--it is not too much to say--created in the face of +the nations. The alcoholic pub; the village green; the Baptist chapel; +the church; the sexton's shed; the Rectory whence the so-wonderful +letters had come; Sir Thomas's park gate-pillars still violently +declaring 'The Earth _is_ flat,' were as mean, as average, as ordinary +as the photograph of a room where a murder has been committed. Ollyett, +who, of course, knew the place specially well, made the most of it to +us. Bat, who had employed it as a back-cloth to one of his own dramas, +dismissed it as a thing used and emptied, but Woodhouse expressed my +feelings when he said: 'Is that all--after all we've done?' + +'_I_ know,' said Ollyett soothingly. '"Like that strange song I heard +Apollo sing: When Ilion like a mist rose into towers." I've felt the +same sometimes, though it has been Paradise for me. But they +_do_ suffer.' + +The fourth brake in thirty minutes had just turned into Sir Thomas's +park to tell the Hall that 'The _Earth_ was flat'; a knot of obviously +American tourists were kodaking his lodge-gates; while the tea-shop +opposite the lych-gate was full of people buying postcards of the old +font as it had lain twenty years in the sexton's shed. We went to the +alcoholic pub and congratulated the proprietor. + +'It's bringin' money to the place,' said he. 'But in a sense you can buy +money too dear. It isn't doin' us any good. People are laughin' at us. +That's what they're doin'.... Now, with regard to that Vote of ours you +may have heard talk about....' + +'For Gorze sake, chuck that votin' business,' cried an elderly man at +the door. 'Money-gettin' or no money-gettin', we're fed up with it.' + +'Well, I do think,' said the publican, shifting his ground, 'I do think +Sir Thomas might ha' managed better in some things.' + +'He tole me,'--the elderly man shouldered his way to the bar--'he tole +me twenty years ago to take an' lay that font in my tool-shed. He _tole_ +me so himself. An' now, after twenty years, me own wife makin' me out +little better than the common 'angman!' + +'That's the sexton,' the publican explained. 'His good lady sells the +postcards--if you 'aven't got some. But we feel Sir Thomas might ha' +done better.' + +'What's he got to do with it?' said Woodhouse. + +'There's nothin' we can trace 'ome to 'im in so many words, but we think +he might 'ave saved us the font business. Now, in regard to that votin' +business--' + +'Chuck it! Oh, chuck it!' the sexton roared, 'or you'll 'ave me cuttin' +my throat at cock-crow. 'Ere's another parcel of fun-makers!' + +A motor-brake had pulled up at the door and a multitude of men and +women immediately descended. We went out to look. They bore rolled +banners, a reading-desk in three pieces, and, I specially noticed, a +collapsible harmonium, such as is used on ships at sea. + +'Salvation Army?' I said, though I saw no uniforms. + +Two of them unfurled a banner between poles which bore the legend: 'The +Earth _is_ flat.' Woodhouse and I turned to Bat. He shook his head. 'No, +no! Not me.... If I had only seen their costumes in advance!' + +'Good Lord!' said Ollyett. 'It's the genuine Society!' + +The company advanced on the green with the precision of people well +broke to these movements. Scene-shifters could not have been quicker +with the three-piece rostrum, nor stewards with the harmonium. Almost +before its cross-legs had been kicked into their catches, certainly +before the tourists by the lodge-gates had begun to move over, a woman +sat down to it and struck up a hymn: + + Hear ther truth our tongues are telling, + Spread ther light from shore to shore, + God hath given man a dwelling + Flat and flat for evermore. + + When ther Primal Dark retreated, + When ther deeps were undesigned, + He with rule and level meted + Habitation for mankind! + +I saw sick envy on Bat's face. 'Curse Nature,' he muttered. 'She gets +ahead of you every time. To think _I_ forgot hymns and a harmonium!' + +Then came the chorus: + + Hear ther truth our tongues are telling, + Spread ther light from shore to shore-- + Oh, be faithful! Oh, be truthful! + Earth is flat for evermore. + +They sang several verses with the fervour of Christians awaiting their +lions. Then there were growlings in the air. The sexton, embraced by the +landlord, two-stepped out of the pub-door. Each was trying to outroar +the other. 'Apologising in advarnce for what he says,' the landlord +shouted: 'You'd better go away' (here the sexton began to speak words). +'This isn't the time nor yet the place for--for any more o' this chat.' + +The crowd thickened. I saw the village police-sergeant come out of his +cottage buckling his belt. + +'But surely,' said the woman at the harmonium, 'there must be some +mistake. We are not suffragettes.' + +'Damn it! They'd be a change,' cried the sexton. 'You get out of this! +Don't talk! _I_ can't stand it for one! Get right out, or we'll +font you!' + +The crowd which was being recruited from every house in sight echoed the +invitation. The sergeant pushed forward. A man beside the reading-desk +said: 'But surely we are among dear friends and sympathisers. Listen to +me for a moment.' + +It was the moment that a passing char-à-banc chose to strike into The +Song. The effect was instantaneous. Bat, Ollyett, and I, who by divers +roads have learned the psychology of crowds, retreated towards the +tavern door. Woodhouse, the newspaper proprietor, anxious, I presume, to +keep touch with the public, dived into the thick of it. Every one else +told the Society to go away at once. When the lady at the harmonium (I +began to understand why it is sometimes necessary to kill women) pointed +at the stencilled park pillars and called them 'the cromlechs of our +common faith,' there was a snarl and a rush. The police-sergeant checked +it, but advised the Society to keep on going. The Society withdrew into +the brake fighting, as it were, a rear-guard action of oratory up each +step. The collapsed harmonium was hauled in last, and with the perfect +unreason of crowds, they cheered it loudly, till the chauffeur slipped +in his clutch and sped away. Then the crowd broke up, congratulating all +concerned except the sexton, who was held to have disgraced his office +by having sworn at ladies. We strolled across the green towards +Woodhouse, who was talking to the police-sergeant near the park-gates. +We were not twenty yards from him when we saw Sir Thomas Ingell emerge +from the lodge and rush furiously at Woodhouse with an uplifted stick, +at the same time shrieking: 'I'll teach you to laugh, you--' but Ollyett +has the record of the language. By the time we reached them, Sir Thomas +was on the ground; Woodhouse, very white, held the walking-stick and was +saying to the sergeant: + +'I give this person in charge for assault.' + +'But, good Lord!' said the sergeant, whiter than Woodhouse. 'It's Sir +Thomas.' + +'Whoever it is, it isn't fit to be at large,' said Woodhouse. The crowd +suspecting something wrong began to reassemble, and all the English +horror of a row in public moved us, headed by the sergeant, inside the +lodge. We shut both park-gates and lodge-door. + +'You saw the assault, sergeant,' Woodhouse went on. 'You can testify I +used no more force than was necessary to protect myself. You can testify +that I have not even damaged this person's property. (Here! take your +stick, you!) You heard the filthy language he used.' + +'I--I can't say I did,' the sergeant stammered. + +'Oh, but _we_ did!' said Ollyett, and repeated it, to the apron-veiled +horror of the lodge-keeper's wife. + +Sir Thomas on a hard kitchen chair began to talk. He said he had 'stood +enough of being photographed like a wild beast,' and expressed loud +regret that he had not killed 'that man,' who was 'conspiring with the +sergeant to laugh at him.' + +''Ad you ever seen 'im before, Sir Thomas?' the sergeant asked. + +'No! But it's time an example was made here. I've never seen the sweep +in my life.' + +I think it was Bat Masquerier's magnetic eye that recalled the past to +him, for his face changed and his jaw dropped. 'But I have!' he groaned. +'I remember now.' + +Here a writhing man entered by the back door. He was, he said, the +village solicitor. I do not assert that he licked Woodhouse's boots, but +we should have respected him more if he had and been done with it. His +notion was that the matter could be accommodated, arranged and +compromised for gold, and yet more gold. The sergeant thought so too. +Woodhouse undeceived them both. To the sergeant he said, 'Will you or +will you not enter the charge?' To the village solicitor he gave the +name of his lawyers, at which the man wrung his hands and cried, 'Oh, +Sir T., Sir T.!' in a miserable falsetto, for it was a Bat Masquerier of +a firm. They conferred together in tragic whispers. + +'I don't dive after Dickens,' said Ollyett to Bat and me by the window, +'but every time _I_ get into a row I notice the police-court always +fills up with his characters.' + +'I've noticed that too,' said Bat. 'But the odd thing is you mustn't +give the public straight Dickens--not in My business. I wonder why +that is.' + +Then Sir Thomas got his second wind and cursed the day that he, or it +may have been we, were born. I feared that though he was a Radical he +might apologise and, since he was an M.P., might lie his way out of the +difficulty. But he was utterly and truthfully beside himself. He asked +foolish questions--such as what we were doing in the village at all, and +how much blackmail Woodhouse expected to make out of him. But neither +Woodhouse nor the sergeant nor the writhing solicitor listened. The +upshot of their talk, in the chimney-corner, was that Sir Thomas stood +engaged to appear next Monday before his brother magistrates on charges +of assault, disorderly conduct, and language calculated, etc. Ollyett +was specially careful about the language. + +Then we left. The village looked very pretty in the late light--pretty +and tuneful as a nest of nightingales. + +'You'll turn up on Monday, I hope,' said Woodhouse, when we reached +town. That was his only allusion to the affair. + +So we turned up--through a world still singing that the Earth was +flat--at the little clay-coloured market-town with the large Corn +Exchange and the small Jubilee memorial. We had some difficulty in +getting seats in the court. Woodhouse's imported London lawyer was a man +of commanding personality, with a voice trained to convey blasting +imputations by tone. When the case was called, he rose and stated his +client's intention not to proceed with the charge. His client, he went +on to say, had not entertained, and, of course, in the circumstances +could not have entertained, any suggestion of accepting on behalf of +public charities any moneys that might have been offered to him on the +part of Sir Thomas's estate. At the same time, no one acknowledged more +sincerely than his client the spirit in which those offers had been made +by those entitled to make them. But, as a matter of fact--here he became +the man of the world colloguing with his equals--certain--er--details +had come to his client's knowledge _since_ the lamentable outburst, +which ... He shrugged his shoulders. Nothing was served by going into +them, but he ventured to say that, had those painful circumstances only +been known earlier, his client would--again 'of course'--never have +dreamed--A gesture concluded the sentence, and the ensnared Bench looked +at Sir Thomas with new and withdrawing eyes. Frankly, as they could see, +it would be nothing less than cruelty to proceed further with +this--er-unfortunate affair. He asked leave, therefore, to withdraw the +charge _in toto_, and at the same time to express his client's deepest +sympathy with all who had been in any way distressed, as his client had +been, by the fact and the publicity of proceedings which he could, of +course, again assure them that his client would never have dreamed of +instituting if, as he hoped he had made plain, certain facts had been +before his client at the time when.... But he had said enough. For his +fee it seemed to me that he had. + +Heaven inspired Sir Thomas's lawyer--all of a sweat lest his client's +language should come out--to rise up and thank him. Then, Sir +Thomas--not yet aware what leprosy had been laid upon him, but grateful +to escape on any terms--followed suit. He was heard in interested +silence, and people drew back a pace as Gehazi passed forth. + +'You hit hard,' said Bat to Woodhouse afterwards. 'His own people think +he's mad.' + +'You don't say so? I'll show you some of his letters to-night at +dinner,' he replied. + +He brought them to the Red Amber Room of the Chop Suey. We forgot to be +amazed, as till then we had been amazed, over the Song or 'The Gubby,' +or the full tide of Fate that seemed to run only for our sakes. It did +not even interest Ollyett that the verb 'to huckle' had passed into the +English leader-writers' language. We were studying the interior of a +soul, flash-lighted to its grimiest corners by the dread of 'losing its +position.' + +'And then it thanked you, didn't it, for dropping the case?' said +Pallant. + +'Yes, and it sent me a telegram to confirm.' Woodhouse turned to Bat. +'Now d'you think I hit too hard?' he asked. + +'No-o!' said Bat. 'After all--I'm talking of every one's business +now--one can't ever do anything in Art that comes up to Nature in any +game in life. Just think how this thing has--' + +'Just let me run through that little case of yours again,' said Pallant, +and picked up _The Bun_ which had it set out in full. + +'Any chance of 'Dal looking in on us to-night?' Ollyett began. + +'She's occupied with her Art too,' Bat answered bitterly. 'What's the +use of Art? Tell me, some one!' A barrel-organ outside promptly pointed +out that the _Earth_ was flat. 'The gramophone's killing street organs, +but I let loose a hundred-and-seventy-four of those hurdygurdys twelve +hours after The Song,' said Bat. 'Not counting the Provinces.' His face +brightened a little. + +'Look here!' said Pallant over the paper. 'I don't suppose you or those +asinine J.P.'s knew it--but your lawyer ought to have known that you've +all put your foot in it most confoundedly over this assault case.' + +'What's the matter?' said Woodhouse. + +'It's ludicrous. It's insane. There isn't two penn'orth of legality in +the whole thing. Of course, you could have withdrawn the charge, but the +way you went about it is childish--besides being illegal. What on earth +was the Chief Constable thinking of?' + +'Oh, he was a friend of Sir Thomas's. They all were for that matter,' I +replied. + +'He ought to be hanged. So ought the Chairman of the Bench. I'm talking +as a lawyer now.' + +'Why, what have we been guilty of? Misprision of treason or compounding +a felony--or what?' said Ollyett. + +'I'll tell you later.' Pallant went back to the paper with knitted +brows, smiling unpleasantly from time to time. At last he laughed. + +'Thank you!' he said to Woodhouse. 'It ought to be pretty useful--for +us.' + +'What d'you mean?' said Ollyett. + +'For our side. They are all Rads who are mixed up in this--from the +Chief Constable down. There must be a Question. There must be a +Question.' + +'Yes, but I wanted the charge withdrawn in my own way,' Woodhouse +insisted. + +'That's nothing to do with the case. It's the legality of your silly +methods. You wouldn't understand if I talked till morning,' He began to +pace the room, his hands behind him. 'I wonder if I can get it through +our Whip's thick head that it's a chance.... That comes of stuffing the +Bench with radical tinkers,' he muttered. + +'Oh, sit down!' said Woodhouse. + +'Where's your lawyer to be found now?' he jerked out. + +'At the Trefoil,' said Bat promptly. 'I gave him the stage-box for +to-night. He's an artist too.' + +'Then I'm going to see him,' said Pallant. 'Properly handled this ought +to be a godsend for our side.' He withdrew without apology. + +'Certainly, this thing keeps on opening up, and up,' I remarked inanely. + +'It's beyond me!' said Bat. 'I don't think if I'd known I'd have +ever ... Yes, I would, though. He said my home address was--' + +'It was his tone--his tone!' Ollyett almost shouted. Woodhouse said +nothing, but his face whitened as he brooded. + +'Well, any way,' Bat went on, 'I'm glad I always believed in God and +Providence and all those things. Else I should lose my nerve. We've put +it over the whole world--the full extent of the geographical globe. We +couldn't stop it if we wanted to now. It's got to burn itself out. I'm +not in charge any more. What d'you expect'll happen next. Angels?' + +I expected nothing. Nothing that I expected approached what I got. +Politics are not my concern, but, for the moment, since it seemed that +they were going to 'huckle' with the rest, I took an interest in them. +They impressed me as a dog's life without a dog's decencies, and I was +confirmed in this when an unshaven and unwashen Pallant called on me at +ten o'clock one morning, begging for a bath and a couch. + +'Bail too?' I asked. He was in evening dress and his eyes were sunk feet +in his head. + +'No,' he said hoarsely. 'All night sitting. Fifteen divisions. 'Nother +to-night. Your place was nearer than mine, so--' He began to undress +in the hall. + +When he awoke at one o'clock he gave me lurid accounts of what he said +was history, but which was obviously collective hysteria. There had been +a political crisis. He and his fellow M.P.'s had 'done things'--I never +quite got at the things--for eighteen hours on end, and the pitiless +Whips were even then at the telephones to herd 'em up to another +dog-fight. So he snorted and grew hot all over again while he might have +been resting. + +'I'm going to pitch in my question about that miscarriage of justice at +Huckley this afternoon, if you care to listen to it,' he said. 'It'll be +absolutely thrown away--in our present state. I told 'em so; but it's my +only chance for weeks. P'raps Woodhouse would like to come.' + +'I'm sure he would. Anything to do with Huckley interests us,' I said. + +'It'll miss fire, I'm afraid. Both sides are absolutely cooked. The +present situation has been working up for some time. You see the row was +bound to come, etc. etc.,' and he flew off the handle once more. + +I telephoned to Woodhouse, and we went to the House together. It was a +dull, sticky afternoon with thunder in the air. For some reason or +other, each side was determined to prove its virtue and endurance to the +utmost. I heard men snarling about it all round me. 'If they won't spare +us, we'll show 'em no mercy,' 'Break the brutes up from the start. They +can't stand late hours.' 'Come on! No shirking! I know _you've_ had a +Turkish bath,' were some of the sentences I caught on our way. The House +was packed already, and one could feel the negative electricity of a +jaded crowd wrenching at one's own nerves, and depressing the +afternoon soul. + +'This is bad!' Woodhouse whispered. 'There'll be a row before they've +finished. Look at the Front Benches!' And he pointed out little personal +signs by which I was to know that each man was on edge. He might have +spared himself. The House was ready to snap before a bone had been +thrown. A sullen minister rose to reply to a staccato question. His +supporters cheered defiantly. 'None o' that! None o' that!' came from +the Back Benches. I saw the Speaker's face stiffen like the face of a +helmsman as he humours a hard-mouthed yacht after a sudden following +sea. The trouble was barely met in time. There came a fresh, apparently +causeless gust a few minutes later--savage, threatening, but futile. It +died out--one could hear the sigh--in sudden wrathful realisation of +the dreary hours ahead, and the ship of state drifted on. + +Then Pallant--and the raw House winced at the torture of his +voice--rose. It was a twenty-line question, studded with legal +technicalities. The gist of it was that he wished to know whether the +appropriate Minister was aware that there had been a grave miscarriage +of justice on such and such a date, at such and such a place, before +such and such justices of the peace, in regard to a case which arose-- + +I heard one desperate, weary 'damn!' float up from the pit of that +torment. Pallant sawed on--'out of certain events which occurred at the +village of Huckley.' + +The House came to attention with a parting of the lips like a hiccough, +and it flashed through my mind.... Pallant repeated, 'Huckley. The +village--' + +'That voted the _Earth_ was flat.' A single voice from a back Bench sang +it once like a lone frog in a far pool. + +'_Earth_ was flat,' croaked another voice opposite. + +'_Earth_ was flat.' There were several. Then several more. + +It was, you understand, the collective, overstrained nerve of the House, +snapping, strand by strand to various notes, as the hawser parts from +its moorings. + +'The Village that voted the _Earth_ was flat.' The tune was beginning to +shape itself. More voices were raised and feet began to beat time. Even +so it did not occur to me that the thing would-- + +'The Village that voted the _Earth_ was flat!' It was easier now to see +who were not singing. There were still a few. Of a sudden (and this +proves the fundamental instability of the cross-bench mind) a +cross-bencher leaped on his seat and there played an imaginary +double-bass with tremendous maestro-like wagglings of the elbow. + +The last strand parted. The ship of state drifted out helpless on the +rocking tide of melody. + + 'The Village that voted the _Earth_ was flat! + The Village that voted the _Earth_ was flat!' + +The Irish first conceived the idea of using their order-papers as +funnels wherewith to reach the correct '_vroom--vroom_' on '_Earth_.' +Labour, always conservative and respectable at a crisis, stood out +longer than any other section, but when it came in it was howling +syndicalism. Then, without distinction of Party, fear of constituents, +desire for office, or hope of emolument, the House sang at the tops and +at the bottoms of their voices, swaying their stale bodies and +epileptically beating with their swelled feet. They sang 'The Village +that voted the _Earth_ was flat': first, because they wanted to, and +secondly--which is the terror of that song--because they could not stop. +For no consideration could they stop. + +Pallant was still standing up. Some one pointed at him and they laughed. +Others began to point, lunging, as it were, in time with the tune. At +this moment two persons came in practically abreast from behind the +Speaker's chair, and halted appalled. One happened to be the Prime +Minister and the other a messenger. The House, with tears running down +their cheeks, transferred their attention to the paralysed couple. They +pointed six hundred forefingers at them. They rocked, they waved, and +they rolled while they pointed, but still they sang. When they weakened +for an instant, Ireland would yell: 'Are ye _with_ me, bhoys?' and they +all renewed their strength like Antaeus. No man could say afterwards +what happened in the Press or the Strangers' Gallery. It was the House, +the hysterical and abandoned House of Commons that held all eyes, as it +deafened all ears. I saw both Front Benches bend forward, some with +their foreheads on their despatch-boxes, the rest with their faces in +their hands; and their moving shoulders jolted the House out of its last +rag of decency. Only the Speaker remained unmoved. The entire press of +Great Britain bore witness next day that he had not even bowed his head. +The Angel of the Constitution, for vain was the help of man, foretold +him the exact moment at which the House would have broken into 'The +Gubby.' He is reported to have said: 'I heard the Irish beginning to +shuffle it. So I adjourned.' Pallant's version is that he added: 'And I +was never so grateful to a private member in all my life as I was to +Mr. Pallant.' + +He made no explanation. He did not refer to orders or disorders. He +simply adjourned the House till six that evening. And the House +adjourned--some of it nearly on all fours. + +I was not correct when I said that the Speaker was the only man who did +not laugh. Woodhouse was beside me all the time. His face was set and +quite white--as white, they told me, as Sir Thomas Ingell's when he +went, by request, to a private interview with his Chief Whip. + + + + +THE PRESS + + The Soldier may forget his sword + The Sailorman the sea, + The Mason may forget the Word + And the Priest his litany: + The maid may forget both jewel and gem, + And the bride her wedding-dress-- + But the Jew shall forget Jerusalem + Ere we forget the Press! + + Who once hath stood through the loaded hour + Ere, roaring like the gale, + The Harrild and the Hoe devour + Their league-long paper bale, + And has lit his pipe in the morning calm + That follows the midnight stress-- + He hath sold his heart to the old Black Art + We call the daily Press. + + Who once hath dealt in the widest game + That all of a man can play, + No later love, no larger fame + Will lure him long away. + As the war-horse smelleth the battle afar, + The entered Soul, no less, + He saith: 'Ha! Ha!' where the trumpets are + And the thunders of the Press. + + Canst thou number the days that we fulfil, + Or the _Times_ that we bring forth? + Canst thou send the lightnings to do thy will, + And cause them reign on earth? + Hast thou given a peacock goodly wings + To please his foolishness? + Sit down at the heart of men and things, + Companion of the Press! + + The Pope may launch his Interdict, + The Union its decree, + But the bubble is blown and the bubble is pricked + By Us and such as We. + Remember the battle and stand aside + While Thrones and Powers confess + That King over all the children of pride + Is the Press--the Press--the Press! + + + +In The Presence + +(1912) + +'So the matter,' the Regimental Chaplain concluded, 'was correct; in +every way correct. I am well pleased with Rutton Singh and Attar Singh. +They have gathered the fruit of their lives.' + +He folded his arms and sat down on the verandah. The hot day had ended, +and there was a pleasant smell of cooking along the regimental lines, +where half-clad men went back and forth with leaf platters and +water-goglets. The Subadar-Major, in extreme undress, sat on a chair, as +befitted his rank; the Havildar-Major, his nephew, leaning respectfully +against the wall. The Regiment was at home and at ease in its own +quarters in its own district which takes its name from the great +Muhammadan saint Mian Mir, revered by Jehangir and beloved by Guru Har +Gobind, sixth of the great Sikh Gurus. + +'Quite correct,' the Regimental Chaplain repeated. + +No Sikh contradicts his Regimental Chaplain who expounds to him the Holy +Book of the Grunth Sahib and who knows the lives and legends of all +the Gurus. + +The Subadar-Major bowed his grey head. The Havildar-Major coughed +respectfully to attract attention and to ask leave to speak. Though he +was the Subadar-Major's nephew, and though his father held twice as +much land as his uncle, he knew his place in the scheme of things. The +Subadar-Major shifted one hand with an iron bracelet on the wrist. + +'Was there by any chance any woman at the back of it?' the +Havildar-Major murmured. 'I was not here when the thing happened.' + +'Yes! Yes! Yes! We all know that thou wast in England eating and +drinking with the Sahibs. We are all surprised that thou canst still +speak Punjabi.' The Subadar-Major's carefully-tended beard bristled. + +'There was no woman,' the Regimental Chaplain growled. 'It was land. +Hear, you! Rutton Singh and Attar Singh were the elder of four brothers. +These four held land in--what was the village's name?--oh, Pishapur, +near Thori, in the Banalu Tehsil of Patiala State, where men can still +recognise right behaviour when they see it. The two younger brothers +tilled the land, while Rutton Singh and Attar Singh took service with +the Regiment, according to the custom of the family.' + +'True, true,' said the Havildar-Major. 'There is the same arrangement in +all good families.' + +'Then, listen again,' the Regimental Chaplain went on. 'Their kin on +their mother's side put great oppression and injustice upon the two +younger brothers who stayed with the land in Patiala State. Their +mother's kin loosened beasts into the four brothers' crops when the +crops were green; they cut the corn by force when it was ripe; they +broke down the water-courses; they defiled the wells; and they brought +false charges in the law-courts against all four brothers. They did not +spare even the cotton-seed, as the saying is. + +'Their mother's kin trusted that the young men would thus be forced by +weight of trouble, and further trouble and perpetual trouble, to quit +their lands in Pishapur village in Banalu Tehsil in Patiala State. If +the young men ran away, the land would come whole to their mother's kin. +I am not a regimental school-master, but is it understood, child?' + +'Understood,' said the Havildar-Major grimly. 'Pishapur is not the only +place where the fence eats the field instead of protecting it. But +perhaps there was a woman among their mother's kin?' + +'God knows!' said the Regimental Chaplain. 'Woman, or man, or +law-courts, the young men would _not_ be driven off the land which was +their own by inheritance. They made appeal to Rutton Singh and Attar +Singh, their brethren who had taken service with _us_ in the Regiment, +and so knew the world, to help them in their long war against their +mother's kin in Pishapur. For that reason, because their own land and +the honour of their house was dear to them, Rutton Singh and Attar Singh +needs must very often ask for leave to go to Patiala and attend to the +lawsuits and cattle-poundings there. + +'It was not, look you, as though they went back to their own village and +sat, garlanded with jasmine, in honour, upon chairs before the elders +under the trees. They went back always to perpetual trouble, either of +lawsuits, or theft, or strayed cattle; and they sat on thorns.' + +'I knew it,' said the Subadar-Major. 'Life was bitter for them both. But +they were well-conducted men. It was not hard to get them their leave +from the Colonel Sahib.' + +'They spoke to me also,' said the Chaplain. '_"Let him who desires the +four great gifts apply himself to the words of holy men."_ That is +written. Often they showed me the papers of the false lawsuits brought +against them. Often they wept on account of the persecution put upon +them by their mother's kin. Men thought it was drugs when their eyes +showed red.' + +'They wept in my presence too,' said the Subadar-Major. 'Well-conducted +men of nine years' service apiece. Rutton Singh was drill-Naik, too.' + +'They did all things correctly as Sikhs should,' said the Regimental +Chaplain. 'When the persecution had endured seven years, Attar Singh +took leave to Pishapur once again (that was the fourth time in that year +only) and he called his persecutors together before the village elders, +and he cast his turban at their feet and besought them by his mother's +blood to cease from their persecutions. For he told them earnestly that +he had marched to the boundaries of his patience, and that there could +be but one end to the matter. + +'They gave him abuse. They mocked him and his tears, which was the same +as though they had mocked the Regiment. Then Attar Singh returned to the +Regiment, and laid this last trouble before Rutton Singh, the eldest +brother. But Rutton Singh could not get leave all at once.' + +'Because he was drill-Naik and the recruits were to be drilled. I myself +told him so,' said the Subadar-Major. 'He was a well-conducted man. He +said he could wait.' + +'But when permission was granted, those two took four days' leave,' the +Chaplain went on. + +'I do not think Attar Singh should have taken Baynes Sahib's revolver. +He was Baynes Sahib's orderly, and all that Sahib's things were open to +him. It was, therefore, as I count it, shame to Attar Singh,' said the +Subadar-Major. + +'All the words had been said. There was need of arms, and how could +soldiers use Government rifles upon mere cultivators in the fields?' the +Regimental Chaplain replied. 'Moreover, the revolver was sent back, +together with a money-order for the cartridges expended. _"Borrow not; +but if thou borrowest, pay back soon!"_ That is written in the Hymns. +Rutton Singh took a sword, and he and Attar Singh went to Pishapur and, +after word given, the four brethren fell upon their persecutors in +Pishapur village and slew seventeen, wounding ten. A revolver is better +than a lawsuit. I say that these four brethren, the two with _us_, and +the two mere cultivators, slew and wounded twenty-seven--all their +mother's kin, male and female. + +'Then the four mounted to their housetop, and Attar Singh, who was +always one of the impetuous, said "My work is done," and he made +_shinan_ (purification) in all men's sight, and he lent Rutton Singh +Baynes Sahib's revolver, and Rutton Singh shot him in the head. + +'So Attar Singh abandoned his body, as an insect abandons a blade of +grass. But Rutton Singh, having more work to do, went down from the +housetop and sought an enemy whom he had forgotten--a Patiala man of +this regiment who had sided with the persecutors. When he overtook the +man, Rutton Singh hit him twice with bullets and once with the sword.' + +'But the man escaped and is now in the hospital here,' said the +Subadar-Major. 'The doctor says he will live in spite of all.' + +'Not Rutton Singh's fault. Rutton Singh left him for dead. Then Rutton +Singh returned to the housetop, and the three brothers together, Attar +Singh being dead, sent word by a lad to the police station for an army +to be dispatched against them that they might die with honours. But none +came. And yet Patiala State is not under English law and they should +know virtue there when they see it! + +'So, on the third day, Rutton Singh also made _shinan_, and the youngest +of the brethren shot him also in the head, and _he_ abandoned his body. + +'Thus was all correct. There was neither heat, nor haste, nor abuse in +the matter from end to end. There remained alive not one man or woman of +their mother's kin which had oppressed them. Of the other villagers of +Pishapur, who had taken no part in the persecutions, not one was slain. +Indeed, the villagers sent them food on the housetop for those three +days while they waited for the police who would not dispatch that army. + +'Listen again! I know that Attar Singh and Rutton Singh omitted no +ceremony of the purifications, and when all was done Baynes Sahib's +revolver was thrown down from the housetop, together with three rupees +twelve annas; and order was given for its return by post.' + +'And what befell the two younger brethren who were not in the service?' +the Havildar-Major asked. + +'Doubtless they too are dead, but since they were not in the Regiment +their honour concerns themselves only. So far as _we_ were touched, see +how correctly we came out of the matter! I think the King should be +told; for where could you match such a tale except among us Sikhs? _Sri +wah guru ji ki Khalsa! Sri wah guru ji ki futteh!_' said the +Regimental Chaplain. + +'Would three rupees twelve annas pay for the used cartridges?' said the +Havildar-Major. + +'Attar Singh knew the just price. All Baynes Sahib's gear was in his +charge. They expended one tin box of fifty cartouches, lacking two which +were returned. As I said--as I say--the arrangement was made not with +heat nor blasphemies as a Mussulman would have made it; not with cries +nor caperings as an idolater would have made it; but conformably to the +ritual and doctrine of the Sikhs. Hear you! _"Though hundreds of +amusements are offered to a child it cannot live without milk. If a man +be divorced from his soul and his soul's desire he certainly will not +stop to play upon the road, but he will make haste with his +pilgrimage_." That is written. I rejoice in my disciples.' + +'True! True! Correct! Correct!' said the Subadar-Major. There was a +long, easy silence. One heard a water-wheel creaking somewhere and the +nearer sound of meal being ground in a quern. + +'But he--' the Chaplain pointed a scornful chin at the +Havildar-Major--'_he_ has been so long in England that--' + +'Let the lad alone,' said his uncle. 'He was but two months there, and +he was chosen for good cause.' + +Theoretically, all Sikhs are equal. Practically, there are differences, +as none know better than well-born, land-owning folk, or long-descended +chaplains from Amritsar. + +'Hast thou heard anything in England to match my tale?' the Chaplain +sneered. + +'I saw more than I could understand, so I have locked up my stories in +my own mouth,' the Havildar-Major replied meekly. + +'Stories? What stories? I know all the stories about England,' said the +Chaplain. 'I know that _terains_ run underneath their bazaars there, and +as for their streets stinking with _mota kahars_, only this morning I +was nearly killed by Duggan Sahib's _mota-kahar_. That young man is +a devil.' + +'I expect Grunthi-jee,' said the Subadar-Major, 'you and I grow too old +to care for the Kahar-ki-nautch--the Bearer's dance.' He named one of +the sauciest of the old-time nautches, and smiled at his own pun. Then +he turned to his nephew. 'When I was a lad and came back to my village +on leave, I waited the convenient hour, and, the elders giving +permission, I spoke of what I had seen elsewhere.' + +'Ay, my father,' said the Havildar-Major, softly and affectionately. He +sat himself down with respect, as behoved a mere lad of thirty with a +bare half-dozen campaigns to his credit. + +'There were four men in this affair also,' he began, 'and it was an +affair that touched the honour, not of one regiment, nor two, but of all +the Army in Hind. Some part of it I saw; some I heard; but _all_ the +tale is true. My father's brother knows, and my priest knows, that I was +in England on business with my Colonel, when the King--the Great Queen's +son--completed his life. + +'First, there was a rumour that sickness was upon him. Next, we knew +that he lay sick in the Palace. A very great multitude stood outside the +Palace by night and by day, in the rain as well as the sun, waiting +for news. + +'Then came out one with a written paper, and set it upon a +gate-side--the word of the King's death--and they read, and groaned. +This I saw with my own eyes, because the office where my Colonel Sahib +went daily to talk with Colonel Forsyth Sahib was at the east end of the +very gardens where the Palace stood. They are larger gardens than +Shalimar here'--he pointed with his chin up the lines--'or Shahdera +across the river. + +'Next day there was a darkness in the streets, because all the city's +multitude were clad in black garments, and they spoke as a man speaks in +the presence of his dead--all those multitudes. In the eyes, in the air, +and in the heart, there was blackness. I saw it. But that is not +my tale. + +'After ceremonies had been accomplished, and word had gone out to the +Kings of the Earth that they should come and mourn, the new King--the +dead King's son--gave commandment that his father's body should be laid, +coffined, in a certain Temple which is near the river. There are no +idols in that Temple; neither any carvings, nor paintings, nor gildings. +It is all grey stone, of one colour as though it were cut out of the +live rock. It is larger than--yes, than the Durbar Sahib at Amritsar, +even though the Akal Bunga and the Baba-Atal were added. How old it may +be God knows. It is the Sahibs' most sacred Temple. + +'In that place, by the new King's commandment, they made, as it were, a +shrine for a saint, with lighted candles at the head and the feet of the +Dead, and duly appointed watchers for every hour of the day and the +night, until the dead King should be taken to the place of his fathers, +which is at Wanidza. + +'When all was in order, the new King said, "Give entrance to all +people," and the doors were opened, and O my uncle! O my teacher! all +the world entered, walking through that Temple to take farewell of the +Dead. There was neither distinction, nor price, nor ranking in the host, +except an order that they should walk by fours. + +'As they gathered in the streets without--very, very far off--so they +entered the Temple, walking by fours: the child, the old man; mother, +virgin, harlot, trader, priest; of all colours and faiths and customs +under the firmament of God, from dawn till late at night. I saw it. My +Colonel gave me leave to go. I stood in the line, many hours, one +_koss_, two _koss_, distant from the temple.' + +'Then why did the multitude not sit down under the trees?' asked the +priest. + +'Because we were still between houses. The city is many _koss_ wide,' +the Havildar-Major resumed. 'I submitted myself to that slow-moving +river and thus--thus--a pace at a time--I made pilgrimage. There were in +my rank a woman, a cripple, and a lascar from the ships. + +'When we entered the Temple, the coffin itself was as a shoal in the +Ravi River, splitting the stream into two branches, one on either side +of the Dead; and the watchers of the Dead, who were soldiers, stood +about It, moving no more than the still flame of the candles. Their +heads were bowed; their hands were clasped; their eyes were cast upon +the ground--thus. They were not men, but images, and the multitude went +past them in fours by day, and, except for a little while, by +night also. + +'No, there was no order that the people should come to pay respect. It +was a free-will pilgrimage. Eight kings had been commanded to come--who +obeyed--but upon his own Sahibs the new King laid no commandment. Of +themselves they came. + +'I made pilgrimage twice: once for my Salt's sake, and once again for +wonder and terror and worship. But my mouth cannot declare one thing of +a hundred thousand things in this matter. There were _lakhs_ of _lakhs_, +_crores_ of _crores_ of people. I saw them.' + +'More than at our great pilgrimages?' the Regimental Chaplain demanded. + +'Yes. Those are only cities and districts coming out to pray. This was +the world walking in grief. And now, hear you! It is the King's custom +that four swords of Our Armies in Hind should stand always before the +Presence in case of need.' + +'The King's custom, our right,' said the Subadar-Major curtly. + +'Also our right. These honoured ones are changed after certain months or +years, that the honour may be fairly spread. Now it chanced that when +the old King--the Queen's son--completed his days, the four that stood +in the Presence were Goorkhas. Neither Sikhs alas, nor Pathans, Rajputs, +nor Jats. Goorkhas, my father.' + +'Idolaters,' said the Chaplain. + +'But soldiers; for I remember in the Tirah--' the Havildar-Major began. + +'_But_ soldiers, for I remember fifteen campaigns. Go on,' said the +Subadar-Major. + +'And it was their honour and right to furnish one who should stand in +the Presence by day and by night till It went out to burial. There were +no more than four all told--four old men to furnish that guard.' + +'Old? Old? What talk is this of old men?' said the Subadar-Major. + +'Nay. My fault! Your pardon!' The Havildar-Major spread a deprecating +hand. 'They were strong, hot, valiant men, and the youngest was a lad of +forty-five.' + +'That is better,' the Subadar-Major laughed. + +'But for all their strength and heat they could not eat strange food +from the Sahibs' hands. There was no cooking place in the Temple; but a +certain Colonel Forsyth Sahib, who had understanding, made arrangement +whereby they should receive at least a little caste-clean parched grain; +also cold rice maybe, and water which was pure. Yet, at best, this was +no more than a hen's mouthful, snatched as each came off his guard. They +lived on grain and were thankful, as the saying is. + +'One hour's guard in every four was each man's burden, for, as I have +shown, they were but four all told; and the honour of Our Armies in Hind +was on their heads. The Sahibs could draw upon all the armies in England +for the other watchers--thousands upon thousands of fresh men--if they +needed; but these four were but four. + +'The Sahibs drew upon the Granadeers for the other watchers. Granadeers +be very tall men under very tall bearskins, such as Fusilier regiments +wear in cold weather. Thus, when a Granadeer bowed his head but a very +little over his stock, the bearskin sloped and showed as though he +grieved exceedingly. Now the Goorkhas wear flat, green caps--' + +'I see, I see,' said the Subadar-Major impatiently. + +'They are bull-necked, too; and their stocks are hard, and when they +bend deeply--deeply--to match the Granadeers--they come nigh to choking +themselves. That was a handicap against them, when it came to the +observance of ritual. + +'Yet even with their tall, grief-declaring bearskins, the Granadeers +could not endure the full hour's guard in the Presence. There was good +cause, as I will show, why no man could endure that terrible hour. So +for them the hour's guard was cut to one-half. What did it matter to the +Sahibs? They could draw on ten thousand Granadeers. Forsyth Sahib, who +had comprehension, put this choice also before the four, and they said, +"No, ours is the Honour of the Armies of Hind. Whatever the Sahibs do, +we will suffer the full hour." + +'Forsyth Sahib, seeing that they were--knowing that they could neither +sleep long nor eat much, said, "Is it great suffering?" They said, "It +is great honour. We will endure." + +'Forsyth Sahib, who loves us, said then to the eldest, "Ho, father, tell +me truly what manner of burden it is; for the full hour's watch breaks +up our men like water." + +'The eldest answered, "Sahib, the burden is the feet of the multitude +that pass us on either side. Our eyes being lowered and fixed, we see +those feet only from the knee down--a river of feet, Sahib, that +never--never--never stops. It is not the standing without any motion; it +is not hunger; nor is it the dead part before the dawn when maybe a +single one comes here to weep. It is the burden of the unendurable +procession of feet from the knee down, that never--never--never stops!" + +'Forsyth Sahib said, "By God, I had not considered that! Now I know why +our men come trembling and twitching off that guard. But at least, my +father, ease the stock a little beneath the bent chin for that +one hour." + +'The eldest said, "We are in the Presence. Moreover _He_ knew every +button and braid and hook of every uniform in all His armies." + +'Then Forsyth Sahib said no more, except to speak about their parched +grain, but indeed they could not eat much after their hour, nor could +they sleep much because of eye-twitchings and the renewed procession of +the feet before the eyes. Yet they endured each his full hour--not half +an hour--his one full hour in each four hours.' + +'Correct! correct!' said the Subadar-Major and the Chaplain together. +'We come well out of this affair.' + +'But seeing that they were old men,' said the Subadar-Major +reflectively, 'very old men, worn out by lack of food and sleep, could +not arrangements have been made, or influence have been secured, or a +petition presented, whereby a well-born Sikh might have eased them of +some portion of their great burden, even though his substantive rank--' + +'Then they would most certainly have slain me,' said the Havildar-Major +with a smile. + +'And they would have done correctly,' said the Chaplain. 'What befell +the honourable ones later?' + +'This. The Kings of the earth and all the Armies sent flowers and +such-like to the dead King's palace at Wanidza, where the funeral +offerings were accepted. There was no order given, but all the world +made oblation. So the four took counsel--three at a time--and either +they asked Forsyth Sahib to choose flowers, or themselves they went +forth and bought flowers--I do not know; but, however it was arranged, +the flowers were bought and made in the shape of a great drum-like +circle weighing half a _maund_. + +'Forsyth Sahib had said, "Let the flowers be sent to Wanidza with the +other flowers which all the world is sending." But they said among +themselves, "It is not fit that these flowers, which are the offerings +of His Armies in Hind, should come to the Palace of the Presence by the +hands of hirelings or messengers, or of any man not in His service." + +'Hearing this, Forsyth Sahib, though he was much occupied with +office-work, said, "Give me the flowers, and I will steal a time and +myself take them to Wanidza." + +'The eldest said, "Since when has Forsyth Sahib worn sword?" + +'Forsyth Sahib said, "But always. And I wear it in the Presence when I +put on uniform. I am a Colonel in the Armies of Hind." The eldest said, +"Of what regiment?" And Forsyth Sahib looked on the carpet and pulled +the hair of his lip. He saw the trap.' + +'Forsyth Sahib's regiment was once the old Forty-sixth Pathans which +was called--' the Subadar-Major gave the almost forgotten title, adding +that he had met them in such and such campaigns, when Forsyth Sahib was +a young captain. + +The Havildar-Major took up the tale, saying, 'The eldest knew that also, +my father. He laughed, and presently Forsyth Sahib laughed. + +'"It is true," said Forsyth Sahib. "I have no regiment. For twenty years +I have been a clerk tied to a thick pen. Therefore I am the more fit to +be your orderly and messenger in this business." + +'The eldest then said, "If it were a matter of my life or the honour of +_any_ of my household, it would be easy." And Forsyth Sahib joined his +hands together, half laughing, though he was ready to weep, and he said, +"Enough! I ask pardon. Which one of you goes with the offering?" + +'The eldest said, feigning not to have heard, "Nor must they be +delivered by a single sword--as though we were pressed for men in His +service," and they saluted and went out.' + +'Were these things seen, or were they told thee?' said the +Subadar-Major. + +'I both saw and heard in the office full of books and papers where my +Colonel Sahib consulted Forsyth Sahib upon the business that had brought +my Colonel Sahib to England.' + +'And what was that business?' the Regimental Chaplain asked of a sudden, +looking full at the Havildar-Major, who returned the look without +a quiver. + +'That was not revealed to me,' said the Havildar-Major. + +'I heard it might have been some matter touching the integrity of +certain regiments,' the Chaplain insisted. + +'The matter was not in any way open to my ears,' said the +Havildar-Major. + +'Humph!' The Chaplain drew his hard road-worn feet under his robe. 'Let +us hear the tale that it is permitted thee to tell,' he said, and the +Havildar-Major went on: + +'So then the three, having returned to the Temple, called the fourth, +who had only forty-five years, when he came off guard, and said, "We go +to the Palace at Wanidza with the offerings. Remain thou in the +Presence, and take all our guards, one after the other, till we return." + +'Within that next hour they hired a large and strong _mota-kahar_ for +the journey from the Temple to Wanidza, which is twenty _koss_ or more, +and they promised expedition. But he who took their guards said, "It is +not seemly that we should for any cause appear to be in haste. There are +eighteen medals with eleven clasps and three Orders to consider. Go at +leisure. I can endure." + +'So the three with the offerings were absent three hours and a half, and +having delivered the offering at Wanidza in the correct manner they +returned and found the lad on guard, and they did not break his guard +till his full hour was ended. So _he_ endured four hours in the +Presence, not stirring one hair, his eyes abased, and the river of +feet, from the knee down, passing continually before his eyes. When he +was relieved, it was seen that his eyeballs worked like +weavers' shuttles. + +'And so it was done--not in hot blood, not for a little while, nor yet +with the smell of slaughter and the noise of shouting to sustain, but in +silence, for a very long time, rooted to one place before the Presence +among the most terrible feet of the multitude.' + +'Correct!' the Chaplain chuckled. + +'But the Goorkhas had the honour,' said the Subadar-Major sadly. + +'Theirs was the Honour of His Armies in Hind, and that was Our Honour,' +the nephew replied. + +'Yet I would one Sikh had been concerned in it--even one low-caste Sikh. +And after?' + +'They endured the burden until the end--until It went out of the Temple +to be laid among the older kings at Wanidza. When all was accomplished +and It was withdrawn under the earth, Forsyth Sahib said to the four, +"The King gives command that you be fed here on meat cooked by your own +cooks. Eat and take ease, my fathers." + +'So they loosed their belts and ate. They had not eaten food except by +snatches for some long time; and when the meat had given them strength +they slept for very many hours; and it was told me that the procession +of the unendurable feet ceased to pass before their eyes any more.' + +He threw out one hand palm upward to show that the tale was ended. + +'We came well and cleanly out of it,' said the Subadar-Major. + +'Correct! Correct! Correct!' said the Regimental Chaplain. 'In an evil +age it is good to hear such things, and there is certainly no doubt that +this is a very evil age.' + + + + +JOBSON'S AMEN + + 'Blessed be the English and all their ways and works. + Cursed be the Infidels, Hereticks, and Turks!' + 'Amen,' quo' Jobson, 'but where I used to lie + Was neither Candle, Bell nor Book to curse my brethren by: + + 'But a palm-tree in full bearing, bowing down, bowing down, + To a surf that drove unsparing at the brown-walled town-- + Conches in a temple, oil-lamps in a dome-- + And a low moon out of Africa said: "This way home!"' + + 'Blessed be the English and all that they profess. + Cursed be the Savages that prance in nakedness!' + 'Amen,' quo' Jobson, 'but where I used to lie + Was neither shirt nor pantaloons to catch my brethren by: + + 'But a well-wheel slowly creaking, going round, going round, + By a water-channel leaking over drowned, warm ground-- + Parrots very busy in the trellised pepper-vine-- + And a high sun over Asia shouting: "Rise and shine!"' + + 'Blessed be the English and everything they own. + Cursed be the Infidels that bow to wood and stone!' + 'Amen,' quo' Jobson, 'but where I used to lie + Was neither pew nor Gospelleer to save my brethren by: + + 'But a desert stretched and stricken, left and right, left + and right, + Where the piled mirages thicken under white-hot light-- + A skull beneath a sand-hill and a viper coiled inside-- + And a red wind out of Libya roaring: "Run and hide!"' + + 'Blessed be the English and all they make or do. + Cursed be the Hereticks who doubt that this is true!' + 'Amen,' quo' Jobson, 'but where I mean to die + Is neither rule nor calliper to judge the matter by: + + 'But Himalaya heavenward-heading, sheer and vast, sheer and vast, + In a million summits bedding on the last world's past; + A certain sacred mountain where the scented cedars climb, + And--the feet of my Beloved hurrying back through Time!' + + + +REGULUS + +(1917) + +_Regulus, a Roman general, defeated the Carthaginians 256 B.C., but was +next year defeated and taken prisoner by the Carthaginians, who sent him +to Rome with an embassy to ask for peace or an exchange of prisoners. +Regulus strongly advised the Roman Senate to make no terms with the +enemy. He then returned to Carthage and was put to death._ + +The Fifth Form had been dragged several times in its collective life, +from one end of the school Horace to the other. Those were the years +when Army examiners gave thousands of marks for Latin, and it was Mr. +King's hated business to defeat them. + +Hear him, then, on a raw November morning at second lesson. + +'Aha!' he began, rubbing his hands. '_Cras ingens iterabimus aequor._ +Our portion to-day is the Fifth Ode of the Third Book, I +believe--concerning one Regulus, a gentleman. And how often have we been +through it?' + +'Twice, sir,' said Malpass, head of the Form. + +Mr. King shuddered. 'Yes, twice, quite literally,' he said. 'To-day, +with an eye to your Army _viva-voce_ examinations--ugh!--I shall exact +somewhat freer and more florid renditions. With feeling and +comprehension if that be possible. I except'--here his eye swept the +back benches--'our friend and companion Beetle, from whom, now as +always, I demand an absolutely literal translation.' The form laughed +subserviently. + +'Spare his blushes! Beetle charms us first.' + +Beetle stood up, confident in the possession of a guaranteed construe, +left behind by M'Turk, who had that day gone into the sick-house with a +cold. Yet he was too wary a hand to show confidence. + +'_Credidimus_, we--believe--we have believed,' he opened in +hesitating slow time, '_tonantem Joven_, thundering Jove--_regnare_, +to reign--_caelo_, in heaven. _Augustus_, Augustus--_habebitur_, +will be held or considered--_praesens divus_, a present +God--_adjectis Britannis_, the Britons being added--_imperio_, to the +Empire--_gravibusque Persis_, with the heavy--er, stern Persians.' + +'What?' + +'The grave or stern Persians.' Beetle pulled up with the +'Thank-God-I-have-done-my-duty' air of Nelson in the cockpit. + +'I am quite aware,' said King, 'that the first stanza is about the +extent of your knowledge, but continue, sweet one, continue. _Gravibus_, +by the way, is usually translated as "troublesome."' + +Beetle drew a long and tortured breath. The second stanza (which carries +over to the third) of that Ode is what is technically called a +'stinker.' But M'Turk had done him handsomely. + +'_Milesne Crassi_, had--has the soldier of Crassus--_vixit_, +lived--_turpis maritus_, a disgraceful husband--' + +'You slurred the quantity of the word after _turpis_,' said King. 'Let's +hear it.' + +Beetle guessed again, and for a wonder hit the correct quantity. 'Er--a +disgraceful husband--_conjuge barbara_, with a barbarous spouse.' + +'Why do you select _that_ disgustful equivalent out of all the +dictionary?' King snapped. 'Isn't "wife" good enough for you?' + +'Yes, sir. But what do I do about this bracket, sir? Shall I take it +now?' + +'Confine yourself at present to the soldier of Crassus.' + +'Yes, sir. _Et_, and--_consenuit_, has he grown old--_in armis_, in +the--er--arms--_hositum socerorum_, of his father-in-law's enemies.' + +'Who? How? Which?' + +'Arms of his enemies' fathers-in-law, sir.' + +'Tha-anks. By the way, what meaning might you attach to _in armis_?' + +'Oh, weapons--weapons of war, sir.' There was a virginal note in +Beetle's voice as though he had been falsely accused of uttering +indecencies. 'Shall I take the bracket now, sir?' + +'Since it seems to be troubling you.' + +'_Pro Curia_, O for the Senate House--_inversique mores_, and manners +upset--upside down.' + +'Ve-ry like your translation. Meantime, the soldier of Crassus?' + +'_Sub rege Medo_, under a Median King--_Marsus et Apulus_, he being a +Marsian and an Apulian.' + +'Who? The Median King?' + +'No, sir. The soldier of Crassus. _Oblittus_ agrees with _milesne +Crassi_, sir,' volunteered too-hasty Beetle. + +'Does it? It doesn't with _me_.' + +'_Oh-blight-us_,' Beetle corrected hastily, 'forgetful--_anciliorum_, of +the shields, or trophies--_et nominis_, and the--his name--_et togae_, +and the toga--_eternaeque Vestae_, and eternal Vesta--_incolumi Jove_, +Jove being safe--_et urbe Roma_, and the Roman city.' With an air of +hardly restrained zeal--'Shall I go on, sir?' + +Mr. King winced. 'No, thank you. You have indeed given us a translation! +May I ask if it conveys any meaning whatever to your so-called mind?' + +'Oh, I think so, sir.' This with gentle toleration for Horace and all +his works. + +'We envy you. Sit down.' + +Beetle sat down relieved, well knowing that a reef of uncharted +genitives stretched ahead of him, on which in spite of M'Turk's +sailing-directions he would infallibly have been wrecked. + +Rattray, who took up the task, steered neatly through them and came +unscathed to port. + +'Here we require drama,' said King. 'Regulus himself is speaking now. +Who shall represent the provident-minded Regulus? Winton, will you +kindly oblige?' + +Winton of King's House, a long, heavy, tow-headed Second Fifteen +forward, overdue for his First Fifteen colours, and in aspect like an +earnest, elderly horse, rose up, and announced, among other things, +that he had seen 'signs affixed to Punic deluges.' Half the Form shouted +for joy, and the other half for joy that there was something to +shout about. + +Mr. King opened and shut his eyes with great swiftness. '_Signa adfixa +delubris_,' he gasped. 'So _delubris_ is "deluges" is it? Winton, in all +our dealings, have I ever suspected you of a jest?' + +'No, sir,' said the rigid and angular Winton, while the Form rocked +about him. + +'And yet you assert _delubris_ means "deluges." Whether I am a fit +subject for such a jape is, of course, a matter of opinion, but.... +Winton, you are normally conscientious. May we assume you looked out +_delubris_?' + +'No, sir.' Winton was privileged to speak that truth dangerous to all +who stand before Kings. + +''Made a shot at it then?' + +Every line of Winton's body showed he had done nothing of the sort. +Indeed, the very idea that 'Pater' Winton (and a boy is not called +'Pater' by companions for his frivolity) would make a shot at anything +was beyond belief. But he replied, 'Yes,' and all the while worked with +his right heel as though he were heeling a ball at punt-about. + +Though none dared to boast of being a favourite with King, the taciturn, +three-cornered Winton stood high in his House-Master's opinion. It +seemed to save him neither rebuke nor punishment, but the two were in +some fashion sympathetic. + +'Hm!' said King drily. 'I was going to say--_Flagito additis damnum_, +but I think--I think I see the process. Beetle, the translation of +_delubris_, please.' + +Beetle raised his head from his shaking arm long enough to answer: +'Ruins, sir.' + +There was an impressive pause while King checked off crimes on his +fingers. Then to Beetle the much-enduring man addressed winged words: + +'Guessing,' said he. 'Guessing, Beetle, as usual, from the look of +_delubris_ that it bore some relation to _diluvium_ or deluge, you +imparted the result of your half-baked lucubrations to Winton who seems +to have been lost enough to have accepted it. Observing next, your +companion's fall, from the presumed security of your undistinguished +position in the rear-guard, you took another pot-shot. The turbid chaos +of your mind threw up some memory of the word "dilapidations" which you +have pitifully attempted to disguise under the synonym of "ruins."' + +As this was precisely what Beetle had done he looked hurt but forgiving. +'We will attend to this later,' said King. 'Go on, Winton, and retrieve +yourself.' + +_Delubris_ happened to be the one word which Winton had not looked out +and had asked Beetle for, when they were settling into their places. He +forged ahead with no further trouble. Only when he rendered _scilicet_ +as 'forsooth,' King erupted. + +'Regulus,' he said, 'was not a leader-writer for the penny press, nor, +for that matter, was Horace. Regulus says: "The soldier ransomed by gold +will come keener for the fight--will he by--by gum!" _That's_ the +meaning of _scilicet_. It indicates contempt--bitter contempt. +"Forsooth," forsooth! You'll be talking about "speckled beauties" and +"eventually transpire" next. Howell, what do you make of that doubled +"Vidi ego--ego vidi"? It wasn't put in to fill up the metre, you know.' + +'Isn't it intensive, sir?' said Howell, afflicted by a genuine interest +in what he read. 'Regulus was a bit in earnest about Rome making no +terms with Carthage--and he wanted to let the Romans understand it, +didn't he, sir?' + +'Less than your usual grace, but the fact. Regulus _was_ in earnest. He +was also engaged at the same time in cutting his own throat with every +word he uttered. He knew Carthage which (your examiners won't ask you +this so you needn't take notes) was a sort of God-forsaken nigger +Manchester. Regulus was not thinking about his own life. He was telling +Rome the truth. He was playing for his side. Those lines from the +eighteenth to the fortieth ought to be written in blood. Yet there are +things in human garments which will tell you that Horace was a +flâneur--a man about town. Avoid such beings. Horace knew a very great +deal. _He_ knew! _Erit ille fortis_--"will he be brave who once to +faithless foes has knelt?" And again (stop pawing with your hooves, +Thornton!) _hic unde vitam sumeret inscius_. That means roughly--but I +perceive I am ahead of my translators. Begin at _hic unde_, Vernon, and +let us see if you have the spirit of Regulus.' + +Now no one expected fireworks from gentle Paddy Vernon, sub-prefect of +Hartopp's House, but, as must often be the case with growing boys, his +mind was in abeyance for the time being, and he said, all in a rush, on +behalf of Regulus: '_O magna Carthago probrosis altior Italiae ruinis_, +O Carthage, thou wilt stand forth higher than the ruins of Italy.' + +Even Beetle, most lenient of critics, was interested at this point, +though he did not join the half-groan of reprobation from the wiser +heads of the Form. + +'_Please_ don't mind me,' said King, and Vernon very kindly did not. He +ploughed on thus: 'He (Regulus) is related to have removed from himself +the kiss of the shameful wife and of his small children as less by the +head, and, being stern, to have placed his virile visage on the ground.' + +Since King loved 'virile' about as much as he did 'spouse' or 'forsooth' +the Form looked up hopefully. But Jove thundered not. + +'Until,' Vernon continued, 'he should have confirmed the sliding fathers +as being the author of counsel never given under an alias.' + +He stopped, conscious of stillness round him like the dread calm of the +typhoon's centre. King's opening voice was sweeter than honey. + +'I am painfully aware by bitter experience that I cannot give you any +idea of the passion, the power, the--the essential guts of the lines +which you have so foully outraged in our presence. But--' the note +changed, 'so far as in me lies, I will strive to bring home to you, +Vernon, the fact that there exist in Latin a few pitiful rules of +grammar, of syntax, nay, even of declension, which were not created for +your incult sport--your Boeotian diversion. You will, therefore, Vernon, +write out and bring to me to-morrow a word-for-word English-Latin +translation of the Ode, together with a full list of all adjectives--an +adjective is not a verb, Vernon, as the Lower Third will tell you--all +adjectives, their number, case, and gender. Even now I haven't begun to +deal with you faithfully.' + +'I--I'm very sorry, sir,' Vernon stammered. + +'You mistake the symptoms, Vernon. You are possibly discomfited by the +imposition, but sorrow postulates some sort of mind, intellect, _nous_. +Your rendering of _probrosis_ alone stamps you as lower than the beasts +of the field. Will some one take the taste out of our mouths? +And--talking of tastes--' He coughed. There was a distinct flavour of +chlorine gas in the air. Up went an eyebrow, though King knew perfectly +well what it meant. + +'Mr. Hartopp's st--science class next door,' said Malpass. + +'Oh yes. I had forgotten. Our newly established Modern Side, of course. +Perowne, open the windows; and Winton, go on once more from _interque +maerentes_.' + +'And hastened away,' said Winton, 'surrounded by his mourning friends, +into--into illustrious banishment. But I got that out of Conington, +sir,' he added in one conscientious breath. + +'I am aware. The master generally knows his ass's crib, though I acquit +_you_ of any intention that way. Can you suggest anything for _egregius +exul_? Only "egregious exile"? I fear "egregious" is a good word ruined. +No! You can't in this case improve on Conington. Now then for _atqui +sciebat quae sibi barbarus tortor pararet_. The whole force of it lies +in the _atqui_.' + +'Although he knew,' Winton suggested. + +'Stronger than that, I think.' + +'He who knew well,' Malpass interpolated. + +'Ye-es. "Well though he knew." I don't like Conington's "well-witting." +It's Wardour Street.' + +'Well though he knew what the savage torturer was--was getting ready for +him,' said Winton. + +'Ye-es. Had in store for him.' + +'Yet he brushed aside his kinsmen and the people delaying his return.' + +'Ye-es; but then how do you render _obstantes_?' + +'If it's a free translation mightn't _obstantes_ and _morantem_ come to +about the same thing, sir?' + +'Nothing comes to "about the same thing" with Horace, Winton. As I have +said, Horace was not a journalist. No, I take it that his kinsmen bodily +withstood his departure, whereas the crowd--_populumque_--the democracy +stood about futilely pitying him and getting in the way. Now for that +noblest of endings--_quam si clientum_,' and King ran off into the +quotation: + + 'As though some tedious business o'er + Of clients' court, his journey lay + Towards Venafrum's grassy floor + Or Sparta-built Tarentum's bay. + +All right, Winton. Beetle, when you've quite finished dodging the fresh +air yonder, give me the meaning of _tendens_--and turn down +your collar.' + +'Me, sir? _Tendens_, sir? Oh! Stretching away in the direction of, sir.' + +'Idiot! Regulus was not a feature of the landscape. He was a man, +self-doomed to death by torture. _Atqui, sciebat_--knowing it--having +achieved it for his country's sake--can't you hear that _atqui_ cut like +a knife?--he moved off with some dignity. That is why Horace out of the +whole golden Latin tongue chose the one word "tendens"--which is utterly +untranslatable.' + +The gross injustice of being asked to translate it, converted Beetle +into a young Christian martyr, till King buried his nose in his +handkerchief again. + +'I think they've broken another gas-bottle next door, sir,' said Howell. +'They're always doing it.' The Form coughed as more chlorine came in. + +'Well, I suppose we must be patient with the Modern Side,' said King. +'But it is almost insupportable for this Side. Vernon, what are you +grinning at?' + +Vernon's mind had returned to him glowing and inspired. He chuckled as +he underlined his Horace. + +'It appears to amuse you,' said King. 'Let us participate. What is it?' + +'The last two lines of the Tenth Ode, in this book, sir,' was Vernon's +amazing reply. + +'What? Oh, I see. _Non hoc semper erit liminis aut aquae caelestis +patiens latus_[2].' King's mouth twitched to hide a grin. 'Was that +done with intention?' + +[Footnote 2: 'This side will not always be patient of rain and waiting +on the threshold.'] + +'I--I thought it fitted, sir.' + +'It does. It's distinctly happy. What put it into your thick head, +Paddy?' + +'I don't know, sir, except we did the Ode last term.' + +'And you remembered? The same head that minted _probrosis_ as a verb! +Vernon, you are an enigma. No! This Side will _not_ always be patient of +unheavenly gases and waters. I will make representations to our +so-called Moderns. Meantime (who shall say I am not just?) I remit you +your accrued pains and penalties in regard to _probrosim, probrosis, +probrosit_ and other enormities. I oughtn't to do it, but this Side is +occasionally human. By no means bad, Paddy.' + +'Thank you, sir,' said Vernon, wondering how inspiration had visited +him. + +Then King, with a few brisk remarks about Science, headed them back to +Regulus, of whom and of Horace and Rome and evil-minded commercial +Carthage and of the democracy eternally futile, he explained, in all +ages and climes, he spoke for ten minutes; passing thence to the next +Ode--_Delicta Majorum_--where he fetched up, full-voiced, upon--'_Dis te +minorem quod geris imperas_' (Thou rulest because thou bearest thyself +as lower than the Gods)--making it a text for a discourse on manners, +morals, and respect for authority as distinct from bottled gases, which +lasted till the bell rang. Then Beetle, concertinaing his books, +observed to Winton, 'When King's really on tap he's an interestin' dog. +Hartopp's chlorine uncorked him.' + +'Yes; but why did you tell me _delubris_ was "deluges," you silly ass?' +said Winton. + +'Well, that uncorked him too. Look out, you hoof-handed old owl!' Winton +had cleared for action as the Form poured out like puppies at play and +was scragging Beetle. Stalky from behind collared Winton low. The three +fell in confusion. + +'_Dis te minorem quod geris imperas_,' quoth Stalky, ruffling Winton's +lint-white locks. 'Mustn't jape with Number Five study. Don't be too +virtuous. Don't brood over it. 'Twon't count against you in your future +caree-ah. Cheer up, Pater.' + +'Pull him off my--er--essential guts, will you?' said Beetle from +beneath. 'He's squashin' 'em.' + +They dispersed to their studies. + + * * * * * + +No one, the owner least of all, can explain what is in a growing boy's +mind. It might have been the blind ferment of adolescence; Stalky's +random remarks about virtue might have stirred him; like his betters he +might have sought popularity by way of clowning; or, as the Head +asserted years later, the only known jest of his serious life might have +worked on him, as a sober-sided man's one love colours and dislocates +all his after days. But, at the next lesson, mechanical drawing with Mr. +Lidgett who as drawing-master had very limited powers of punishment, +Winton fell suddenly from grace and let loose a live mouse in the +form-room. The whole form, shrieking and leaping high, threw at it all +the plaster cones, pyramids, and fruit in high relief--not to mention +ink-pots--that they could lay hands on. Mr. Lidgett reported at once to +the Head; Winton owned up to his crime, which, venial in the Upper +Third, pardonable at a price in the Lower Fourth, was, of course, rank +ruffianism on the part of a Fifth Form boy; and so, by graduated stages, +he arrived at the Head's study just before lunch, penitent, perturbed, +annoyed with himself and--as the Head said to King in the corridor after +the meal--more human than he had known him in seven years. + +'You see,' the Head drawled on, 'Winton's only fault is a certain +costive and unaccommodating virtue. So this comes very happily.' + +'I've never noticed any sign of it,' said King. Winton was in King's +House, and though King as pro-consul might, and did, infernally oppress +his own Province, once a black and yellow cap was in trouble at the +hands of the Imperial authority King fought for him to the very last +steps of Caesar's throne. + +'Well, you yourself admitted just now that a mouse was beneath the +occasion,' the Head answered. + +'It was.' Mr. King did not love Mr. Lidgett. 'It should have been a rat. +But--but--I hate to plead it--it's the lad's first offence.' + +'Could you have damned him more completely, King?' + +'Hm. What is the penalty?' said King, in retreat, but keeping up a +rear-guard action. + +'Only my usual few lines of Virgil to be shown up by tea-time.' + +The Head's eyes turned slightly to that end of the corridor where +Mullins, Captain of the Games ('Pot,' 'old Pot,' or 'Potiphar' Mullins), +was pinning up the usual Wednesday notice--'Big, Middle, and Little Side +Football--A to K, L to Z, 3 to 4.45 P.M.' + +You cannot write out the Head's usual few (which means five hundred) +Latin lines and play football for one hour and three-quarters between +the hours of 1.30 and 5 P.M. Winton had evidently no intention of trying +to do so, for he hung about the corridor with a set face and an uneasy +foot. Yet it was law in the school, compared with which that of the +Medes and Persians was no more than a non-committal resolution, that any +boy, outside the First Fifteen, who missed his football for any reason +whatever, and had not a written excuse, duly signed by competent +authority to explain his absence, would receive not less than three +strokes with a ground-ash from the Captain of the Games, generally a +youth between seventeen and eighteen years, rarely under eleven stone +('Pot' was nearer thirteen), and always in hard condition. + +King knew without inquiry that the Head had given Winton no such excuse. + +'But he is practically a member of the First Fifteen. He has played for +it all this term,' said King. 'I believe his Cap should have arrived +last week.' + +'His Cap has not been given him. Officially, therefore, he is naught. I +rely on old Pot.' + +'But Mullins is Winton's study-mate,' King persisted. + +Pot Mullins and Pater Winton were cousins and rather close friends. + +'That will make no difference to Mullins--or Winton, if I know 'em,' +said the Head. + +'But--but,' King played his last card desperately, 'I was going to +recommend Winton for extra sub-prefect in my House, now Carton +has gone.' + +'Certainly,' said the Head. 'Why not? He will be excellent by tea-time, +I hope.' + +At that moment they saw Mr. Lidgett, tripping down the corridor, waylaid +by Winton. + +'It's about that mouse-business at mechanical drawing,' Winton opened, +swinging across his path. + +'Yes, yes, highly disgraceful,' Mr. Lidgett panted. + +'I know it was,' said Winton. 'It--it was a cad's trick because--' + +'Because you knew I couldn't give you more than fifty lines,' said Mr. +Lidgett. + +'Well, anyhow I've come to apologise for it.' + +'Certainly,' said Mr. Lidgett, and added, for he was a kindly man, 'I +think that shows quite right feeling. I'll tell the Head at once I'm +satisfied.' + +'No--no!' The boy's still unmended voice jumped from the growl to the +squeak. 'I didn't mean _that_! I--I did it on principle. Please +don't--er--do anything of that kind.' + +Mr. Lidgett looked him up and down and, being an artist, understood. + +'Thank you, Winton,' he said. 'This shall be between ourselves.' + +'You heard?' said King, indecent pride in his voice. + +'Of course. You thought he was going to get Lidgett to beg him off the +impot.' + +King denied this with so much warmth that the Head laughed and King went +away in a huff. + +'By the way,' said the Head, 'I've told Winton to do his lines in your +form-room--not in his study.' + +'Thanks,' said King over his shoulder, for the Head's orders had saved +Winton and Mullins, who was doing extra Army work in the study, from an +embarrassing afternoon together. + +An hour later, King wandered into his still form-room as though by +accident. Winton was hard at work. + +'Aha!' said King, rubbing his hands. 'This does not look like games, +Winton. Don't let me arrest your facile pen. Whence this sudden love +for Virgil?' + +'Impot from the Head, sir, for that mouse-business this morning.' + +'Rumours thereof have reached us. That was a lapse on your part into +Lower Thirdery which I don't quite understand.' + +The 'tump-tump' of the puntabouts before the sides settled to games came +through the open window. Winton, like his House-Master, loved fresh air. +Then they heard Paddy Vernon, sub-prefect on duty, calling the roll in +the field and marking defaulters. Winton wrote steadily. King curled +himself up on a desk, hands round knees. One would have said that the +man was gloating over the boy's misfortune, but the boy understood. + +'_Dis te minorem quod geris imperas_,' King quoted presently. 'It is +necessary to bear oneself as lower than the local gods--even than +drawing-masters who are precluded from effective retaliation. I _do_ +wish you'd tried that mouse-game with me, Pater.' + +Winton grinned; then sobered 'It was a cad's trick, sir, to play on Mr. +Lidgett.' He peered forward at the page he was copying. + +'Well, "the sin _I_ impute to each frustrate ghost"--' King stopped +himself. 'Why do you goggle like an owl? Hand me the Mantuan and I'll +dictate. No matter. Any rich Virgilian measures will serve. I may +peradventure recall a few.' He began: + + 'Tu regere imperio populos Romane memento + Hae tibi erunt artes pacisque imponere morem, + Parcere subjectis et debellare superbos. + +There you have it all, Winton. Write that out twice and yet once again.' + +For the next forty minutes, with never a glance at the book, King paid +out the glorious hexameters (and King could read Latin as though it were +alive), Winton hauling them in and coiling them away behind him as +trimmers in a telegraph-ship's hold coil away deep-sea cable. King broke +from the Aeneid to the Georgics and back again, pausing now and then to +translate some specially loved line or to dwell on the treble-shot +texture of the ancient fabric. He did not allude to the coming interview +with Mullins except at the last, when he said, 'I think at this +juncture, Pater, I need not ask you for the precise significance of +_atqui sciebat quae sibi barbarus tortor_.' + +The ungrateful Winton flushed angrily, and King loafed out to take five +o'clock call-over, after which he invited little Hartopp to tea and a +talk on chlorine-gas. Hartopp accepted the challenge like a bantam, and +the two went up to King's study about the same time as Winton returned +to the form-room beneath it to finish his lines. + +Then half a dozen of the Second Fifteen, who should have been washing, +strolled in to condole with 'Pater' Winton, whose misfortune and its +consequences were common talk. No one was more sincere than the long, +red-headed, knotty-knuckled 'Paddy' Vernon, but, being a careless +animal, he joggled Winton's desk. + +'Curse you for a silly ass!' said Winton. 'Don't do that.' + +No one is expected to be polite while under punishment, so Vernon, +sinking his sub-prefectship, replied peacefully enough: + +'Well, don't be wrathy, Pater.' + +'I'm not,' said Winton. 'Get out! This ain't your House form-room.' + +''Form-room don't belong to you. Why don't you go to your own study?' +Vernon replied. + +'Because Mullins is there waitin' for the victim,' said Stalky +delicately, and they all laughed. 'You ought to have shaken that mouse +out of your trouser-leg, Pater. That's the way _I_ did in my youth. +Pater's revertin' to his second childhood. Never mind, Pater, we all +respect you and your future caree-ah.' + +Winton, still writhing, growled. Vernon leaning on the desk somehow +shook it again. Then he laughed. + +'What are you grinning at?' Winton asked. + +'I was only thinkin' of _you_ being sent up to take a lickin' from Pot. +I swear I don't think it's fair. You've never shirked a game in your +life, and you're as good as in the First Fifteen already. Your Cap ought +to have been delivered last week, oughtn't it?' + +It was law in the school that no man could by any means enjoy the +privileges and immunities of the First Fifteen till the black velvet cap +with the gold tassel, made by dilatory Exeter outfitters, had been +actually set on his head. Ages ago, a large-built and unruly Second +Fifteen had attempted to change this law, but the prefects of that age +were still larger, and the lively experiment had never been repeated. + +'Will you,' said Winton very slowly, 'kindly mind your own damned +business, you cursed, clumsy, fat-headed fool?' + +The form-room was as silent as the empty field in the darkness outside. +Vernon shifted his feet uneasily. + +'Well, _I_ shouldn't like to take a lickin' from Pot,' he said. + +'Wouldn't you?' Winton asked, as he paged the sheets of lines with hands +that shook. + +'No, I shouldn't,' said Vernon, his freckles growing more distinct on +the bridge of his white nose. + +'Well, I'm going to take it'--Winton moved clear of the desk as he +spoke. 'But _you're_ going to take a lickin' from me first.' Before any +one realised it, he had flung himself neighing against Vernon. No +decencies were observed on either side, and the rest looked on amazed. +The two met confusedly, Vernon trying to do what he could with his +longer reach; Winton, insensible to blows, only concerned to drive his +enemy into a corner and batter him to pulp. This he managed over against +the fire-place, where Vernon dropped half-stunned. 'Now I'm going to +give you your lickin',' said Winton. 'Lie there till I get a ground-ash +and I'll cut you to pieces. If you move, I'll chuck you out of the +window.' He wound his hands into the boy's collar and waistband, and had +actually heaved him half off the ground before the others with one +accord dropped on his head, shoulders, and legs. He fought them crazily +in an awful hissing silence. Stalky's sensitive nose was rubbed along +the floor; Beetle received a jolt in the wind that sent him whistling +and crowing against the wall; Perowne's forehead was cut, and Malpass +came out with an eye that explained itself like a dying rainbow through +a whole week. + +'Mad! Quite mad!' said Stalky, and for the third time wriggled back to +Winton's throat. The door opened and King came in, Hartopp's little +figure just behind him. The mound on the floor panted and heaved but did +not rise, for Winton still squirmed vengefully. 'Only a little play, +sir,' said Perowne. ''Only hit my head against a form.' This was +quite true. + +'Oh,' said King. '_Dimovit obstantes propinquos._ You, I presume, are +the _populus_ delaying Winton's return to--Mullins, eh?' + +'No, sir,' said Stalky behind his claret-coloured handkerchief. 'We're +the _maerentes amicos_.' + +'Not bad! You see, some of it sticks after all,' King chuckled to +Hartopp, and the two masters left without further inquiries. + +The boys sat still on the now-passive Winton. + +'Well,' said Stalky at last, 'of all the putrid he-asses, Pater, you are +_the_--' + +'I'm sorry. I'm awfully sorry,' Winton began, and they let him rise. He +held out his hand to the bruised and bewildered Vernon. 'Sorry, Paddy. +I--I must have lost my temper. I--I don't know what's the matter +with me.' + +''Fat lot of good that'll do my face at tea,' Vernon grunted. 'Why +couldn't you say there was something wrong with you instead of lamming +out like a lunatic? Is my lip puffy?' + +'Just a trifle. Look at my beak! Well, we got all these pretty marks at +footer--owin' to the zeal with which we played the game,' said Stalky, +dusting himself. 'But d'you think you're fit to be let loose again, +Pater? 'Sure you don't want to kill another sub-prefect? I wish _I_ was +Pot. I'd cut your sprightly young soul out.' + +'I s'pose I ought to go to Pot now,' said Winton. + +'And let all the other asses see you lookin' like this! Not much. We'll +all come up to Number Five Study and wash off in hot water. Beetle, you +aren't damaged. Go along and light the gas-stove.' + +'There's a tin of cocoa in my study somewhere,' Perowne shouted after +him. 'Rootle round till you find it, and take it up.' + +Separately, by different roads, Vernon's jersey pulled half over his +head, the boys repaired to Number Five Study. Little Hartopp and King, I +am sorry to say, leaned over the banisters of King's landing +and watched. + +'Ve-ry human,' said little Hartopp. 'Your virtuous Winton, having got +himself into trouble, takes it out of my poor old Paddy. I wonder what +precise lie Paddy will tell about his face.' + +'But surely you aren't going to embarrass him by asking?' said King. + +'_Your_ boy won,' said Hartopp. + +'To go back to what we were discussing,' said King quickly, 'do you +pretend that your modern system of inculcating unrelated facts about +chlorine, for instance, all of which may be proved fallacies by the time +the boys grow up, can have any real bearing on education--even the low +type of it that examiners expect?' + +'I maintain nothing. But is it any worse than your Chinese reiteration +of uncomprehended syllables in a dead tongue?' + +'Dead, forsooth!' King fairly danced. 'The only living tongue on earth! +Chinese! On my word, Hartopp!' + +'And at the end of seven years--how often have I said it?' Hartopp went +on,--'seven years of two hundred and twenty days of six hours each, your +victims go away with nothing, absolutely nothing, except, perhaps, if +they've been very attentive, a dozen--no, I'll grant you twenty--one +score of totally unrelated Latin tags which any child of twelve could +have absorbed in two terms.' + +'But--but can't you realise that if our system brings later--at any +rate--at a pinch--a simple understanding--grammar and Latinity apart--a +mere glimpse of the significance (foul word!) of, we'll say, one Ode of +Horace, one twenty lines of Virgil, we've got what we poor devils of +ushers are striving after?' + +'And what might that be?' said Hartopp. + +'Balance, proportion, perspective--life. Your scientific man is the +unrelated animal--the beast without background. Haven't you ever +realised _that_ in your atmosphere of stinks?' + +'Meantime you make them lose life for the sake of living, eh?' + +'Blind again, Hartopp! I told you about Paddy's quotation this morning. +(But he made _probrosis_ a verb, he did!) You yourself heard young +Corkran's reference to _maerentes amicos_. It sticks--a little of it +sticks among the barbarians.' + +'Absolutely and essentially Chinese,' said little Hartopp, who, alone of +the common-room, refused to be outfaced by King. 'But I don't yet +understand how Paddy came to be licked by Winton. Paddy's supposed to be +something of a boxer.' + +'Beware of vinegar made from honey,' King replied. 'Pater, like some +other people, is patient and long-suffering, but he has his limits. The +Head is oppressing him damnably, too. As I pointed out, the boy has +practically been in the First Fifteen since term began.' + +'But, my dear fellow, I've known you give a boy an impot and refuse him +leave off games, again and again.' + +'Ah, but that was when there was real need to get at some oaf who +couldn't be sensitised in any other way. Now, in our esteemed Head's +action I see nothing but--' + +The conversation from this point does not concern us. + +Meantime Winton, very penitent and especially polite towards Vernon, was +being cheered with cocoa in Number Five Study. They had some difficulty +in stemming the flood of his apologies. He himself pointed out to Vernon +that he had attacked a sub-prefect for no reason whatever, and, +therefore, deserved official punishment. + +'I can't think what was the matter with me to-day,' he mourned. 'Ever +since that blasted mouse-business--' + +'Well, then, don't think,' said Stalky. 'Or do you want Paddy to make a +row about it before all the school?' + +Here Vernon was understood to say that he would see Winton and all the +school somewhere else. + +'And if you imagine Perowne and Malpass and me are goin' to give +evidence at a prefects' meeting just to soothe your beastly conscience, +you jolly well err,' said Beetle. 'I know what you did.' + +'What?' croaked Pater, out of the valley of his humiliation. + +'You went Berserk. I've read all about it in _Hypatia_.' + +'What's "going Berserk"?' Winton asked. + +'Never you mind,' was the reply. 'Now, don't you feel awfully weak and +seedy?' + +'I _am_ rather tired,' said Winton, sighing. + +'That's what you ought to be. You've gone Berserk and pretty soon you'll +go to sleep. But you'll probably be liable to fits of it all your life,' +Beetle concluded. ''Shouldn't wonder if you murdered some one some day.' + +'Shut up--you and your Berserks!' said Stalky. 'Go to Mullins now and +get it over, Pater.' + +'I call it filthy unjust of the Head,' said Vernon. 'Anyhow, you've +given me my lickin', old man. I hope Pot'll give you yours.' + +'I'm awfully sorry--awfully sorry,' was Winton's last word. + +It was the custom in that consulship to deal with games' defaulters +between five o'clock call-over and tea. Mullins, who was old enough to +pity, did not believe in letting boys wait through the night till the +chill of the next morning for their punishments. He was finishing off +the last of the small fry and their excuses when Winton arrived. + +'But, please, Mullins'--this was Babcock tertius, a dear little +twelve-year-old mother's darling--'I had an awful hack on the knee. I've +been to the Matron about it and she gave me some iodine. I've been +rubbing it in all day. I thought that would be an excuse off.' + +'Let's have a look at it,' said the impassive Mullins. 'That's a +shin-bruise--about a week old. Touch your toes. I'll give you +the iodine.' + +Babcock yelled loudly as he had many times before. The face of Jevons, +aged eleven, a new boy that dark wet term, low in the House, low in the +Lower School, and lowest of all in his home-sick little mind turned +white at the horror of the sight. They could hear his working lips part +stickily as Babcock wailed his way out of hearing. + +'Hullo, Jevons! What brings you here?' said Mullins. + +'Pl-ease, sir, I went for a walk with Babcock tertius.' + +'Did you? Then I bet you went to the tuck-shop--and you paid, didn't +you?' + +A nod. Jevons was too terrified to speak. + +'Of course, and I bet Babcock told you that old Pot 'ud let you off +because it was the first time.' + +Another nod with a ghost of a smile in it. + +'All right.' Mullins picked Jevons up before he could guess what was +coming, laid him on the table with one hand, with the other gave him +three emphatic spanks, then held him high in air. + +'Now you tell Babcock tertius that he's got you a licking from me, and +see you jolly well pay it back to him. And when you're prefect of games +don't you let any one shirk his footer without a written excuse. Where +d'you play in your game?' + +'Forward, sir.' + +'You can do better than that. I've seen you run like a young +buck-rabbit. Ask Dickson from me to try you as three-quarter next game, +will you? Cut along.' + +Jevons left, warm for the first time that day, enormously set up in his +own esteem, and very hot against the deceitful Babcock. + +Mullins turned to Winton. 'Your name's on the list, Pater.' Winton +nodded. + +'I know it. The Head landed me with an impot for that mouse-business at +mechanical drawing. No excuse.' + +'He meant it then?' Mullins jerked his head delicately towards the +ground-ash on the table. 'I heard something about it.' + +Winton nodded. 'A rotten thing to do,' he said. 'Can't think what I was +doing ever to do it. It counts against a fellow so; and there's some +more too--' + +'All right, Pater. Just stand clear of our photo-bracket, will you?' + +The little formality over, there was a pause. Winton swung round, yawned +in Pot's astonished face and staggered towards the window-seat. + +'What's the matter with you, Dick? Ill?' + +'No. Perfectly all right, thanks. Only--only a little sleepy.' Winton +stretched himself out, and then and there fell deeply and +placidly asleep. + +'It isn't a faint,' said the experienced Mullins, 'or his pulse wouldn't +act. 'Tisn't a fit or he'd snort and twitch. It can't be sunstroke, this +term, and he hasn't been over-training for anything.' He opened Winton's +collar, packed a cushion under his head, threw a rug over him and sat +down to listen to the regular breathing. Before long Stalky arrived, on +pretence of borrowing a book. He looked at the window-seat. + +''Noticed anything wrong with Winton lately?' said Mullins. + +''Notice anything wrong with my beak?' Stalky replied. 'Pater went +Berserk after call-over, and fell on a lot of us for jesting with him +about his impot. You ought to see Malpass's eye.' + +'You mean that Pater fought?' said Mullins. + +'Like a devil. Then he nearly went to sleep in our study just now. I +expect he'll be all right when he wakes up. Rummy business! +Conscientious old bargee. You ought to have heard his apologies.' + +'But Pater can't fight one little bit,' Mullins repeated. + +''Twasn't fighting. He just tried to murder every one.' Stalky described +the affair, and when he left Mullins went off to take counsel with the +Head, who, out of a cloud of blue smoke, told him that all would yet +be well. + +'Winton,' said he, 'is a little stiff in his moral joints. He'll get +over that. If he asks you whether to-day's doings will count against +him in his--' + +'But you know it's important to him, sir. His people aren't--very well +off,' said Mullins. + +'That's why I'm taking all this trouble. You must reassure him, Pot. I +have overcrowded him with new experiences. Oh, by the way, has his +Cap come?' + +'It came at dinner, sir.' Mullins laughed. + +Sure enough, when he waked at tea-time, Winton proposed to take Mullins +all through every one of his day's lapses from grace, and 'Do you think +it will count against me?' said he. + +'Don't you fuss so much about yourself and your silly career,' said +Mullins. 'You're all right. And oh--here's your First Cap at last. Shove +it up on the bracket and come on to tea.' + +They met King on their way, stepping statelily and rubbing his hands. 'I +have applied,' said he, 'for the services of an additional sub-prefect +in Carton's unlamented absence. Your name, Winton, seems to have found +favour with the powers that be, and--and all things considered--I am +disposed to give my support to the nomination. You are therefore a +quasi-lictor.' + +'Then it didn't count against me,' Winton gasped as soon as they were +out of hearing. + +A Captain of Games can jest with a sub-prefect publicly. + +'You utter ass!' said Mullins, and caught him by the back of his stiff +neck and ran him down to the hall where the sub-prefects, who sit below +the salt, made him welcome with the economical bloater-paste +of mid-term. + +King and little Hartopp were sparring in the Reverend John Gillett's +study at 10 P.M.--classical _versus_ modern as usual. + +'Character--proportion--background,' snarled King. 'That is the essence +of the Humanities.' + +'Analects of Confucius,' little Hartopp answered. + +'Time,' said the Reverend John behind the soda-water. 'You men oppress +me. Hartopp, what did you say to Paddy in your dormitories to-night? +Even _you_ couldn't have overlooked his face.' + +'But I did,' said Hartopp calmly. 'I wasn't even humorous about it as +some clerics might have been. I went straight through and said naught.' + +'Poor Paddy! Now, for my part,' said King, 'and you know I am not lavish +in my praises, I consider Winton a first-class type; absolutely +first-class.' + +'Ha-ardly,' said the Reverend John. 'First-class of the second class, I +admit. The very best type of second class but'--he shook his head--'it +should have been a rat. Pater'll never be anything more than a Colonel +of Engineers.' + +'What do you base that verdict on?' said King stiffly. + +'He came to me after prayers--with all his conscience.' + +'Poor old Pater. Was it the mouse?' said little Hartopp. + +'That, and what he called his uncontrollable temper, and his +responsibilities as sub-prefect.' + +'And you?' + +'If we had had what is vulgarly called a pi-jaw he'd have had +hysterics. So I recommended a dose of Epsom salts. He'll take it, +too--conscientiously. Don't eat me, King. Perhaps, he'll be a K.C.B.' + +Ten o'clock struck and the Army class boys in the further studies coming +to their houses after an hour's extra work passed along the gravel path +below. Some one was chanting, to the tune of 'White sand and grey sand,' +_Dis te minorem quod geris imperas_. He stopped outside Mullins' study. +They heard Mullins' window slide up and then Stalky's voice: + +'Ah! Good-evening, Mullins, my _barbarus tortor_. We're the waits. We +have come to inquire after the local Berserk. Is he doin' as well as can +be expected in his new caree-ah?' + +'Better than you will, in a sec, Stalky,' Mullins grunted. + +'Glad of that. We thought he'd like to know that Paddy has been carried +to the sick-house in ravin' delirium. They think it's concussion of +the brain.' + +'Why, he was all right at prayers,' Winton began earnestly, and they +heard a laugh in the background as Mullins slammed down the window. + +''Night, Regulus,' Stalky sang out, and the light footsteps went on. + +'You see. It sticks. A little of it sticks among the barbarians,' said +King. + +'Amen,' said the Reverend John. 'Go to bed.' + + + + +A TRANSLATION + +HORACE, Bk. V. _Ode 3_ + + There are whose study is of smells, + And to attentive schools rehearse + How something mixed with something else + Makes something worse. + + Some cultivate in broths impure + The clients of our body--these, + Increasing without Venus, cure, + Or cause, disease. + + Others the heated wheel extol, + And all its offspring, whose concern + Is how to make it farthest roll + And fastest turn. + + Me, much incurious if the hour + Present, or to be paid for, brings + Me to Brundusium by the power + Of wheels or wings; + + Me, in whose breast no flame hath burned + Life-long, save that by Pindar lit, + Such lore leaves cold: I am not turned + Aside to it + + More than when, sunk in thought profound + Of what the unaltering Gods require, + My steward (friend but slave) brings round + Logs for my fire. + + + +The Edge of the Evening + +(1913) + + Ah! What avails the classic bent, + And what the chosen word, + Against the undoctored incident + That actually occurred? + + And what is Art whereto we press + Through paint and prose and rhyme-- + When Nature in her nakedness + Defeats us every time? + +'Hi! Hi! Hold your horses! Stop!... Well! Well!' A lean man in a +sable-lined overcoat leaped from a private car and barred my way up Pall +Mall. 'You don't know me? You're excusable. I wasn't wearing much of +anything last time we met--in South Africa.' + +The scales fell from my eyes, and I saw him once more in a sky-blue army +shirt, behind barbed wire, among Dutch prisoners bathing at Simonstown, +more than a dozen years ago[3]. 'Why, it's Zigler--Laughton O. Zigler!' +I cried. 'Well, I _am_ glad to see you.' + +[Footnote 3: 'The Captive': _Traffics and Discoveries_.] + +'Oh no! You don't work any of your English on me. "So glad to see you, +doncher know--an' ta-ta!" Do you reside in this village?' + +'No. I'm up here buying stores.' + +'Then you take my automobile. Where to?... Oh, I know _them_! My Lord +Marshalton is one of the Directors. Pigott, drive to the Army and Navy +Cooperative Supply Association Limited, Victoria Street, Westminister.' + +He settled himself on the deep dove-colour pneumatic cushions, and his +smile was like the turning on of all the electrics. His teeth were +whiter than the ivory fittings. He smelt of rare soap and +cigarettes--such cigarettes as he handed me from a golden box with an +automatic lighter. On my side of the car was a gold-mounted mirror, card +and toilette case. I looked at him inquiringly. + +'Yes,' he nodded, 'two years after I quit the Cape. She's not an Ohio +girl, though. She's in the country now. Is that right? She's at our +little place in the country. We'll go there as soon as you're through +with your grocery-list. Engagements? The only engagement you've got is +to grab your grip--get your bag from your hotel, I mean--and come right +along and meet her. You are the captive of _my_ bow and spear now.' + +'I surrender,' I said meekly. 'Did the Zigler automatic gun do all +this?' I pointed to the car fittings. + +'Psha! Think of your rememberin' that! Well, no. The Zigler is a great +gun--the greatest ever--but life's too short, an' too interestin', to +squander on pushing her in military society. I've leased my rights in +her to a Pennsylvanian-Transylvanian citizen full of mentality and moral +uplift. If those things weigh with the Chancelleries of Europe, he will +make good and--I shall be surprised. Excuse me!' + +He bared his head as we passed the statue of the Great Queen outside +Buckingham Palace. + +'A very great lady!' said he. 'I have enjoyed her hospitality. She +represents one of the most wonderful institutions in the world. The next +is the one we are going to. Mrs. Zigler uses 'em, and they break her up +every week on returned empties.' + +'Oh, you mean the Stores?' I said. + +'Mrs. Zigler means it more. They are quite ambassadorial in their +outlook. I guess I'll wait outside and pray while you wrestle with 'em.' + +My business at the Stores finished, and my bag retrieved from the hotel, +his moving palace slid us into the country. + +'I owe it to you,' Zigler began as smoothly as the car, 'to tell you +what I am now. I represent the business end of the American Invasion. +Not the blame cars themselves--I wouldn't be found dead in one--but the +tools that make 'em. I am the Zigler Higher-Speed Tool and Lathe Trust. +The Trust, sir, is entirely my own--in my own inventions. I am the +Renzalaer ten-cylinder aërial--the lightest aeroplane-engine on the +market--one price, one power, one guarantee. I am the Orlebar +Paper-welt, Pulp-panel Company for aeroplane bodies; and I am the Rush +Silencer for military aeroplanes--absolutely silent--which the Continent +leases under royalty. With three exceptions, the British aren't wise to +it yet. That's all I represent at present. You saw me take off my hat +to your late Queen? I owe every cent I have to that great an' good Lady. +Yes, sir, I came out of Africa, after my eighteen months' rest-cure and +open-air treatment and sea-bathing, as her prisoner of war, like a giant +refreshed. There wasn't anything could hold me, when I'd got my hooks +into it, after that experience. And to you as a representative British +citizen, I say here and now that I regard you as the founder of the +family fortune--Tommy's and mine.' + +'But I only gave you some papers and tobacco.' + +'What more does any citizen need? The Cullinan diamond wouldn't have +helped me as much then; an'--talking about South Africa, tell me--' + +We talked about South Africa till the car stopped at the Georgian lodge +of a great park. + +'We'll get out here. I want to show you a rather sightly view,' said +Zigler. + +We walked, perhaps, half a mile, across timber-dotted turf, past a lake, +entered a dark rhododendron-planted wood, ticking with the noise of +pheasants' feet, and came out suddenly, where five rides met, at a small +classic temple between lichened stucco statues which faced a circle of +turf, several acres in extent. Irish yews, of a size that I had never +seen before, walled the sunless circle like cliffs of riven obsidian, +except at the lower end, where it gave on to a stretch of undulating +bare ground ending in a timbered slope half-a-mile away. + +'That's where the old Marshalton race-course used to be,' said Zigler. +'That ice-house is called Flora's Temple. Nell Gwynne and Mrs. Siddons +an' Taglioni an' all that crowd used to act plays here for King George +the Third. Wasn't it? Well, George is the only king I play. Let it go at +that. This circle was the stage, I guess. The kings an' the nobility sat +in Flora's Temple. I forget who sculped these statues at the door. +They're the Comic and Tragic Muse. But it's a sightly view, ain't it?' + +The sunlight was leaving the park. I caught a glint of silver to the +southward beyond the wooded ridge. + +'That's the ocean--the Channel, I mean,' said Zigler. 'It's twenty-three +miles as a man flies. A sightly view, ain't it?' + +I looked at the severe yews, the dumb yelling mouths of the two statues, +at the blue-green shadows on the unsunned grass, and at the still bright +plain in front where some deer were feeding. + +'It's a most dramatic contrast, but I think it would be better on a +summer's day,' I said, and we went on, up one of the noiseless rides, a +quarter of a mile at least, till we came to the porticoed front of an +enormous Georgian pile. Four footmen revealed themselves in a hall hung +with pictures. + +'I hired this off of my Lord Marshalton,' Zigler explained, while they +helped us out of our coats under the severe eyes of ruffed and +periwigged ancestors. 'Ya-as. They always look at _me_ too, as if I'd +blown in from the gutter. Which, of course, I have. That's Mary, Lady +Marshalton. Old man Joshua painted her. Do you see any likeness to my +Lord Marshalton? Why, haven't you ever met up with him? He was Captain +Mankeltow--my Royal British Artillery captain that blew up my gun in the +war, an' then tried to bury me against my religious principles[4]. +Ya-as. His father died and he got the lordship. That was about all he +got by the time that your British death-duties were through with him. So +he said I'd oblige him by hiring his ranch. It's a hell an' a half of a +proposition to handle, but Tommy--Mrs. Laughton--understands it. Come +right in to the parlour and be very welcome.' + +[Footnote 4: "The Captive": _Traffics and Discoveries_.] + +He guided me, hand on shoulder, into a babble of high-pitched talk and +laughter that filled a vast drawing-room. He introduced me as the +founder of the family fortunes to a little, lithe, dark-eyed woman whose +speech and greeting were of the soft-lipped South. She in turn presented +me to her mother, a black-browed snowy-haired old lady with a cap of +priceless Venetian point, hands that must have held many hearts in their +time, and a dignity as unquestioned and unquestioning as an empress. She +was, indeed, a Burton of Savannah, who, on their own ground, out-rank +the Lees of Virginia. The rest of the company came from Buffalo, +Cincinnati, Cleveland and Chicago, with here and there a softening +southern strain. A party of young folk popped corn beneath a mantelpiece +surmounted by a Gainsborough. Two portly men, half hidden by a cased +harp, discussed, over sheaves of typewritten documents, the terms of +some contract. A knot of matrons talked servants--Irish _versus_ +German--across the grand piano. A youth ravaged an old bookcase, while +beside him a tall girl stared at the portrait of a woman of many loves, +dead three hundred years, but now leaping to life and warning under the +shaded frame-light. In a corner half-a-dozen girls examined the glazed +tables that held the decorations--English and foreign--of the late Lord +Marshalton. + +'See heah! Would this be the Ordeh of the Gyartah?' one said, pointing. + +'I presoom likely. No! The Garter has "_Honey swore_"--I know that much. +This is "Tria juncta" something.' + +'Oh, what's that cunning little copper cross with "For Valurr"?' a third +cried. + +'Say! Look at here!' said the young man at the bookcase. 'Here's a first +edition of _Handley Cross_ and a Beewick's _Birds_ right next to +it--just like so many best sellers. Look, Maidie!' + +The girl beneath the picture half turned her body but not her eyes. + +'You don't tell _me_!' she said slowly. 'Their women amounted to +something after all.' + +'But Woman's scope, and outlook was vurry limmutted in those days,' one +of the matrons put in, from the piano. + +'Limmutted? For _her_? If they whurr, I guess she was the limmut. Who +was she? Peters, whurr's the cat'log?' + +A thin butler, in charge of two footmen removing the tea-batteries, slid +to a table and handed her a blue-and-qilt book. He was button-holed by +one of the men behind the harp, who wished to get a telephone call +through to Edinburgh. + +'The local office shuts at six,' said Peters. 'But I can get through +to'--he named some town--'in ten minutes, sir.' + +'That suits me. You'll find me here when you've hitched up. Oh, say, +Peters! We--Mister Olpherts an' me--ain't goin' by that early morning +train to-morrow--but the other one--on the other line--whatever +they call it.' + +'The nine twenty-seven, sir. Yes, sir. Early breakfast will be at +half-past eight and the car will be at the door at nine.' + +'Peters!' an imperious young voice called. 'What's the matteh with Lord +Marshalton's Ordeh of the Gyartah? We cyan't find it anyweah.' + +'Well, miss, I _have_ heard that that Order is usually returned to His +Majesty on the death of the holder. Yes, miss.' Then in a whisper to a +footman, 'More butter for the pop-corn in King Charles's Corner.' He +stopped behind my chair. 'Your room is Number Eleven, sir. May I trouble +you for your keys?' + +He left the room with a six-year-old maiden called Alice who had +announced she would not go to bed ''less Peter, Peter, Punkin-eater +takes me--so there!' + +He very kindly looked in on me for a moment as I was dressing for +dinner. 'Not at all, sir,' he replied to some compliment I paid him. 'I +valeted the late Lord Marshalton for fifteen years. He was very abrupt +in his movements, sir. As a rule I never received more than an hour's +notice of a journey. We used to go to Syria frequently. I have been +twice to Babylon. Mr. and Mrs. Zigler's requirements are, comparatively +speaking, few.' + +'But the guests?' + +'Very little out of the ordinary as soon as one knows their ordinaries. +Extremely simple, if I may say so, sir.' + +I had the privilege of taking Mrs. Burton in to dinner, and was rewarded +with an entirely new, and to me rather shocking view, of Abraham +Lincoln, who, she said, had wasted the heritage of his land by blood and +fire, and had surrendered the remnant to aliens. 'My brother, suh,' she +said, 'fell at Gettysburg in order that Armenians should colonise New +England to-day. If I took any interest in any dam-Yankee outside of my +son-in-law Laughton yondah, I should say that my brother's death had +been amply avenged.' + +The man at her right took up the challenge, and the war spread. Her eyes +twinkled over the flames she had lit. + +'Don't these folk,' she said a little later, 'remind you of Arabs +picnicking under the Pyramids?' + +'I've never seen the Pyramids,' I replied. + +'Hm! I didn't know you were as English as all that.' And when I laughed, +'Are you?' + +'Always. It saves trouble.' + +'Now that's just what I find so significant among the English'--this was +Alice's mother, I think, with one elbow well forward among the salted +almonds. 'Oh, I know how _you_ feel, Madam Burton, but a Northerner +like myself--I'm Buffalo--even though we come over every year--notices +the desire for comfort in England. There's so little conflict or uplift +in British society.' + +'But we like being comfortable,' I said. + +'I know it. It's very characteristic. But ain't it a little, just a +little, lacking in adaptability an' imagination?' + +'They haven't any need for adaptability,' Madam Burton struck in. 'They +haven't any Ellis Island standards to live up to.' + +'But we can assimilate,' the Buffalo woman charged on. + +'Now you _have_ done it!' I whispered to the old lady as the blessed +word 'assimilation' woke up all the old arguments for and against. + +There was not a dull moment in that dinner for me--nor afterwards when +the boys and girls at the piano played the rag-time tunes of their own +land, while their elders, inexhaustibly interested, replunged into the +discussion of that land's future, till there was talk of coon-can. When +all the company had been set to tables Zigler led me into his book-lined +study, where I noticed he kept his golf-clubs, and spoke simply as a +child, gravely as a bishop, of the years that were past since our +last meeting. + +'That's about all, I guess--up to date,' he said when he had unrolled +the bright map of his fortunes across three continents. 'Bein' rich +suits me. So does your country, sir. My own country? You heard what +that Detroit man said at dinner. "A Government of the alien, by the +alien, for the alien." Mother's right, too. Lincoln killed us. From the +highest motives--but he killed us. Oh, say, that reminds me. 'J'ever +kill a man from the highest motives?' + +'Not from any motive--as far as I remember.' + +'Well, I have. It don't weigh on my mind any, but it was interesting. +Life _is_ interesting for a rich--for any--man in England. Ya-as! Life +in England is like settin' in the front row at the theatre and never +knowin' when the whole blame drama won't spill itself into your lap. I +didn't always know that. I lie abed now, and I blush to think of some of +the breaks I made in South Africa. About the British. Not your official +method of doin' business. But the Spirit. I was 'way, 'way off on the +Spirit. Are you acquainted with any other country where you'd have to +kill a man or two to get at the National Spirit?' + +'Well,' I answered, 'next to marrying one of its women, killing one of +its men makes for pretty close intimacy with any country. I take it you +killed a British citizen.' + +'Why, no. Our syndicate confined its operations to aliens--dam-fool +aliens.... 'J'ever know an English lord called Lundie[5]? Looks like a +frame-food and soap advertisement. I imagine he was in your Supreme +Court before he came into his lordship.' + +[Footnote 5: 'The Puzzler': _Actions and Reactions_.] + +'He is a lawyer--what we call a Law Lord--a Judge of Appeal--not a real +hereditary lord.' + +'That's as much beyond me as _this_!' Zigler slapped a fat Debrett on +the table. 'But I presoom this unreal Law Lord Lundie is kind o' real in +his decisions? I judged so. And--one more question. 'Ever meet a man +called Walen?' + +'D'you mean Burton-Walen, the editor of--?' I mentioned the journal. + +'That's him. 'Looks like a tough, talks like a Maxim, and trains with +kings.' + +'He does,' I said. 'Burton-Walen knows all the crowned heads of Europe +intimately. It's his hobby.' + +'Well, there's the whole outfit for you--exceptin' my Lord Marshalton, +_né_ Mankeltow, an' me. All active murderers--specially the Law Lord--or +accessories after the fact. And what do they hand you out for _that_, in +this country?' + +'Twenty years, I believe,' was my reply. + +He reflected a moment. + +'No-o-o,' he said, and followed it with a smoke-ring. 'Twenty months at +the Cape is my limit. Say, murder ain't the soul-shatterin' event those +nature-fakers in the magazines make out. It develops naturally like any +other proposition.... Say, 'j'ever play this golf game? It's come up in +the States from Maine to California, an' we're prodoocin' all the +champions in sight. Not a business man's play, but interestin'. I've got +a golf-links in the park here that they tell me is the finest inland +course ever. I had to pay extra for that when I hired the ranche--last +year. It was just before I signed the papers that our murder +eventuated. My Lord Marshalton he asked me down for the week-end to fix +up something or other--about Peters and the linen, I think 'twas. Mrs. +Zigler took a holt of the proposition. She understood Peters from the +word "go." There wasn't any house-party; only fifteen or twenty folk. A +full house is thirty-two, Tommy tells me. 'Guess we must be near on that +to-night. In the smoking-room here, my Lord Marshalton--Mankeltow that +was--introduces me to this Walen man with the nose. He'd been in the War +too, from start to finish. He knew all the columns and generals that I'd +battled with in the days of my Zigler gun. We kinder fell into each +other's arms an' let the harsh world go by for a while. + +'Walen he introduces me to your Lord Lundie. _He_ was a new proposition +to me. If he hadn't been a lawyer he'd have made a lovely cattle-king. I +thought I had played poker some. Another of my breaks. Ya-as! It cost me +eleven hundred dollars besides what Tommy said when I retired. I have no +fault to find with your hereditary aristocracy, or your judiciary, or +your press. + +'Sunday we all went to Church across the Park here.... Psha! Think o' +your rememberin' my religion! I've become an Episcopalian since I +married. Ya-as.... After lunch Walen did his crowned-heads-of-Europe +stunt in the smokin'-room here. He was long on Kings. And Continental +crises. I do not pretend to follow British domestic politics, but in the +aeroplane business a man has to know something of international +possibilities. At present, you British are settin' in kimonoes on +dynamite kegs. Walen's talk put me wise on the location and size of some +of the kegs. Ya-as! + +'After that, we four went out to look at those golf-links I was hirin'. +We each took a club. Mine'--he glanced at a great tan bag by the +fire-place--'was the beginner's friend--the cleek. Well, sir, this golf +proposition took a holt of me as quick as--quick as death. They had to +prise me off the greens when it got too dark to see, and then we went +back to the house. I was walkin' ahead with my Lord Marshalton talkin' +beginners' golf. (_I_ was the man who ought to have been killed by +rights.) We cut 'cross lots through the woods to Flora's Temple--that +place I showed you this afternoon. Lundie and Walen were, maybe, twenty +or thirty rod behind us in the dark. Marshalton and I stopped at the +theatre to admire at the ancestral yew-trees. He took me right under the +biggest--King Somebody's Yew--and while I was spannin' it with my +handkerchief, he says, "Look heah!" just as if it was a rabbit--and down +comes a bi-plane into the theatre with no more noise than the dead. My +Rush Silencer is the only one on the market that allows that sort of +gumshoe work.... What? A bi-plane--with two men in it. Both men jump out +and start fussin' with the engines. I was starting to tell Mankeltow--I +can't remember to call him Marshalton any more--that it looked as if the +Royal British Flying Corps had got on to my Rush Silencer at last; but +he steps out from under the yew to these two Stealthy Steves and says, +"What's the trouble? Can I be of any service?" He thought--so did +I--'twas some of the boys from Aldershot or Salisbury. Well, sir, from +there on, the situation developed like a motion-picture in Hell. The man +on the nigh side of the machine whirls round, pulls his gun and fires +into Mankeltow's face. I laid him out with my cleek automatically. Any +one who shoots a friend of mine gets what's comin' to him if I'm within +reach. He drops. Mankeltow rubs his neck with his handkerchief. The man +the far side of the machine starts to run. Lundie down the ride, or it +might have been Walen, shouts, "What's happened?" Mankeltow says, +"Collar that chap." + +'The second man runs ring-a-ring-o'-roses round the machine, one hand +reachin' behind him. Mankeltow heads him off to me. He breaks blind for +Walen and Lundie, who are runnin' up the ride. There's some sort of +mix-up among 'em, which it's too dark to see, and a thud. Walen says, +"Oh, well collared!" Lundie says, "That's the only thing I never learned +at Harrow!"... Mankeltow runs up to 'em, still rubbin' his neck, and +says, "_He_ didn't fire at me. It was the other chap. Where is he?" + +'"I've stretched him alongside his machine," I says. + +'"Are they poachers?" says Lundie. + +'"No. Airmen. I can't make it out," says Mankeltow. + +'"Look at here," says Walen, kind of brusque. "This man ain't breathin' +at all. Didn't you hear somethin' crack when he lit, Lundie?" + +'"My God!" says Lundie. "Did I? I thought it was my suspenders"--no, he +said "braces." + +'Right there I left them and sort o' tiptoed back to my man, hopin' he'd +revived and quit. But he hadn't. That darned cleek had hit him on the +back of the neck just where his helmet stopped. He'd got _his_. I knew +it by the way the head rolled in my hands. Then the others came up the +ride totin' _their_ load. No mistakin' that shuffle on grass. D'you +remember it--in South Africa? Ya-as. + +'"Hsh!" says Lundie. "Do you know I've broken this man's neck?" + +'"Same here," I says. + +'"What? Both?" says Mankeltow. + +'"Nonsense!" says Lord Lundie. "Who'd have thought he was that out of +training? A man oughtn't to fly if he ain't fit." + +'"What did they want here, anyway?" said Walen; and Mankeltow says, "We +can't leave them in the open. Some one'll come. Carry 'em to +Flora's Temple." + +We toted 'em again and laid 'em out on a stone bench. They were still +dead in spite of our best attentions. We knew it, but we went through +the motions till it was quite dark. 'Wonder if all murderers do that? +"We want a light on this," says Walen after a spell. "There ought to be +one in the machine. Why didn't they light it?" + +'We came out of Flora's Temple, and shut the doors behind us. Some +stars were showing then--same as when Cain did his little act, I guess. +I climbed up and searched the machine. She was very well equipped, I +found two electric torches in clips alongside her barometers by the +rear seat. + +'"What make is she?" says Mankeltow. + +'"Continental Renzalaer," I says. "My engines and my Rush Silencer." + +'Walen whistles. "Here--let me look," he says, and grabs the other +torch. She was sure well equipped. We gathered up an armful of cameras +an' maps an' note-books an' an album of mounted photographs which we +took to Flora's Temple and spread on a marble-topped table (I'll show +you to-morrow) which the King of Naples had presented to grandfather +Marshalton. Walen starts to go through 'em. We wanted to know why our +friends had been so prejudiced against our society. + +'"Wait a minute," says Lord Lundie. "Lend me a handkerchief." + +'He pulls out his own, and Walen contributes his green-and-red bandanna, +and Lundie covers their faces. "Now," he says, "we'll go into the +evidence." + +'There wasn't any flaw in that evidence. Walen read out their last +observations, and Mankeltow asked questions, and Lord Lundie sort o' +summarised, and I looked at the photos in the album. 'J'ever see a +bird's-eye telephoto-survey of England for military purposes? It's +interestin' but indecent--like turnin' a man upside down. None of those +close-range panoramas of forts could have been taken without my +Rush Silencer. + +'"I wish _we_ was as thorough as they are," says Mankeltow, when Walen +stopped translatin'. + +'"We've been thorough enough," says Lord Lundie. "The evidence against +both accused is conclusive. Any other country would give 'em seven years +in a fortress. We should probably give 'em eighteen months as +first-class misdemeanants. But their case," he says, "is out of our +hands. We must review our own. Mr. Zigler," he said, "will you tell us +what steps you took to bring about the death of the first accused?" I +told him. He wanted to know specially whether I'd stretched first +accused before or after he had fired at Mankeltow. Mankeltow testified +he'd been shot at, and exhibited his neck as evidence. It was scorched. + +'"Now, Mr. Walen," says Lord Lundie. "Will you kindly tell us what steps +you took with regard to the second accused?" + +'"The man ran directly at me, me lord," says Walen. "I said, 'Oh no, you +don't,' and hit him in the face." + +'Lord Lundie lifts one hand and uncovers second accused's face. There +was a bruise on one cheek and the chin was all greened with grass. He +was a heavy-built man. + +'"What happened after that?" says Lord Lundie. + +'"To the best of my remembrance he turned from me towards your +lordship." + +'Then Lundie goes ahead. "I stooped, and caught the man round the +ankles," he says. "The sudden check threw him partially over my left +shoulder. I jerked him off that shoulder, still holding his ankles, and +he fell heavily on, it would appear, the point of his chin, death being +instantaneous." + +'"Death being instantaneous," says Walen. + +'Lord Lundie takes off his gown and wig--you could see him do it--and +becomes our fellow-murderer. "That's our case," he says. "I know how _I_ +should direct the jury, but it's an undignified business for a Lord of +Appeal to lift his hand to, and some of my learned brothers," he says, +"might be disposed to be facetious." + +'I guess I can't be properly sensitised. Any one who steered me out of +that trouble might have had the laugh on me for generations. But I'm +only a millionaire. I said we'd better search second accused in case +he'd been carryin' concealed weapons. + +'"That certainly is a point," says Lord Lundie. "But the question for +the jury would be whether I exercised more force than was necessary to +prevent him from usin' them." _I_ didn't say anything. He wasn't talkin' +my language. Second accused had his gun on him sure enough, but it had +jammed in his hip-pocket. He was too fleshy to reach behind for business +purposes, and he didn't look a gun-man anyway. Both of 'em carried wads +of private letters. By the time Walen had translated, we knew how many +children the fat one had at home and when the thin one reckoned to be +married. Too bad! Ya-as. + +'Says Walen to me while we was rebuttonin' their jackets (they was not +in uniform): "Ever read a book called _The Wreckers_, Mr. Zigler?" + +'"Not that I recall at the present moment," I says. + +'"Well, do," he says. "You'd appreciate it. You'd appreciate it now, I +assure you." + +'"I'll remember," I says. "But I don't see how this song and dance helps +us any. Here's our corpses, here's their machine, and daylight's +bound to come." + +'"Heavens! That reminds me," says Lundie. "What time's dinner?" + +'"Half-past eight," says Mankeltow. "It's half-past five now. We knocked +off golf at twenty to, and if they hadn't been such silly asses, firin' +pistols like civilians, we'd have had them to dinner. Why, they might be +sitting with us in the smoking-room this very minute," he says. Then he +said that no man had a right to take his profession so seriously as +these two mountebanks. + +'"How interestin'!" says Lundie. "I've noticed this impatient attitude +toward their victim in a good many murderers. I never understood it +before. Of course, it's the disposal of the body that annoys 'em. Now, I +wonder," he says, "who our case will come up before? Let's run through +it again." + +'Then Walen whirls in. He'd been bitin' his nails in a corner. We was +all nerved up by now.... Me? The worst of the bunch. I had to think for +Tommy as well. + +'"We _can't_ be tried," says Walen. "We _mustn't_ be tried! It'll make +an infernal international stink. What did I tell you in the smoking-room +after lunch? The tension's at breaking-point already. This 'ud snap it. +Can't you see that?" + +'"I was thinking of the legal aspect of the case," says Lundie. "With a +good jury we'd likely be acquitted." + +'"Acquitted!" says Walen. "Who'd dare acquit us in the face of what 'ud +be demanded by--the other party? Did you ever hear of the War of +Jenkins' ear? 'Ever hear of Mason and Slidel? 'Ever hear of an +ultimatum? You know who _these_ two idiots are; you know who _we_ are--a +Lord of Appeal, a Viscount of the English peerage, and me--_me_ knowing +all I know, which the men who know dam' well know that I _do_ know! It's +our necks or Armageddon. Which do you think this Government would +choose? We _can't_ be tried!" he says. + +'"Then I expect I'll have to resign me club," Lundie goes on. "I don't +think that's ever been done before by an _ex-officio_ member. I must ask +the secretary." I guess he was kinder bunkered for the minute, or maybe +'twas the lordship comin' out on him. + +'"Rot!" says Mankeltow. "Walen's right. We can't afford to be tried. +We'll have to bury them; but my head-gardener locks up all the tools at +five o'clock." + +'"Not on your life!" says Lundie. He was on deck again--as the +high-class lawyer. "Right or wrong, if we attempt concealment of the +bodies we're done for." + +"'I'm glad of that," says Mankeltow, "because, after all, it ain't +cricket to bury 'em." + +'Somehow--but I know I ain't English--that consideration didn't worry +me as it ought. An' besides, I was thinkin'--I had to--an' I'd begun to +see a light 'way off--a little glimmerin' light o' salvation. + +'"Then what _are_ we to do?" says Walen. "Zigler, what do you advise? +Your neck's in it too." + +'"Gentlemen," I says, "something Lord Lundie let fall a while back gives +me an idea. I move that this committee empowers Big Claus and Little +Claus, who have elected to commit suicide in our midst, to leave the +premises _as_ they came. I'm asking you to take big chances," I says, +"but they're all we've got," and then I broke for the bi-plane. + +'Don't tell me the English can't think as quick as the next man when +it's up to them! They lifted 'em out o' Flora's Temple--reverent, but +not wastin' time--whilst I found out what had brought her down. One +cylinder was misfirin'. I didn't stop to fix it. My Renzalaer will hold +up on six. We've proved that. If her crew had relied on my guarantees, +they'd have been half-way home by then, instead of takin' their seats +with hangin' heads like they was ashamed. They ought to have been +ashamed too, playin' gun-men in a British peer's park! I took big +chances startin' her without controls, but 'twas a dead still night an' +a clear run--you saw it--across the Theatre into the park, and I prayed +she'd rise before she hit high timber. I set her all I dared for a quick +lift. I told Mankeltow that if I gave her too much nose she'd be liable +to up-end and flop. He didn't want another inquest on his estate. No, +sir! So I had to fix her up in the dark. Ya-as! + +'I took big chances, too, while those other three held on to her and I +worked her up to full power. My Renzalaer's no ventilation-fan to pull +against. But I climbed out just in time. I'd hitched the signallin' lamp +to her tail so's we could track her. Otherwise, with my Rush Silencer, +we might's well have shooed an owl out of a barn. She left just that way +when we let her go. No sound except the propellers--_Whoo-oo-oo! +Whoo-oo-oo!_ There was a dip in the ground ahead. It hid her lamp for a +second--but there's no such thing as time in real life. Then that lamp +travelled up the far slope slow--too slow. Then it kinder lifted, we +judged. Then it sure was liftin'. Then it lifted good. D'you know why? +Our four naked perspirin' souls was out there underneath her, hikin' her +heavens high. Yes, sir. _We_ did it!... And that lamp kept liftin' and +liftin'. Then she side-slipped! My God, she side-slipped twice, which +was what I'd been afraid of all along! Then she straightened up, and +went away climbin' to glory, for that blessed star of our hope got +smaller and smaller till we couldn't track it any more. Then we +breathed. We hadn't breathed any since their arrival, but we didn't know +it till we breathed that time--all together. Then we dug our +finger-nails out of our palms an' came alive again--in instalments. + +'Lundie spoke first. "We therefore commit their bodies to the air," he +says, an' puts his cap on. + +'"The deep--the deep," says Walen. "It's just twenty-three miles to the +Channel." + +'"Poor chaps! Poor chaps!" says Mankeltow. "We'd have had 'em to dinner +if they hadn't lost their heads. I can't tell you how this distresses +me, Laughton." + +'"Well, look at here, Arthur," I says. "It's only God's Own Mercy you +an' me ain't lyin' in Flora's Temple now, and if that fat man had known +enough to fetch his gun around while he was runnin', Lord Lundie and +Walen would have been alongside us." + +'"I see that," he says. "But we're alive and they're dead, don't ye +know." + +'"I know it," I says. "That's where the dead are always so damned unfair +on the survivors." + +'"I see that too," he says. "But I'd have given a good deal if it hadn't +happened, poor chaps!" + +'"Amen!" says Lundie. Then? Oh, then we sorter walked back two an' two +to Flora's Temple an' lit matches to see we hadn't left anything behind. +Walen, he had confiscated the note-books before they left. There was the +first man's pistol which we'd forgot to return him, lyin' on the stone +bench. Mankeltow puts his hand on it--he never touched the trigger--an', +bein' an automatic, of course the blame thing jarred off--spiteful as +a rattler! + +'"Look out! They'll have one of us yet," says Walen in the dark. But +they didn't--the Lord hadn't quit being our shepherd--and we heard the +bullet zip across the veldt--quite like old times. Ya-as! + +'"Swine!" says Mankeltow. + +'After that I didn't hear any more "Poor chap" talk.... Me? I never +worried about killing _my_ man. I was too busy figurin' how a British +jury might regard the proposition. I guess Lundie felt that way too. + +'Oh, but say! We had an interestin' time at dinner. Folks was expected +whose auto had hung up on the road. They hadn't wired, and Peters had +laid two extra places. We noticed 'em as soon as we sat down. I'd hate +to say how noticeable they were. Mankeltow with his neck bandaged (he'd +caught a relaxed throat golfin') sent for Peters and told him to take +those empty places away--_if you please_. It takes something to rattle +Peters. He was rattled that time. Nobody else noticed anything. +And now...' + +'Where did they come down?' I asked, as he rose. + +'In the Channel, I guess. There was nothing in the papers about 'em. +Shall we go into the drawin'-room, and see what these boys and girls are +doin?' But say, ain't life in England inter_es_tin'? + + + + + REBIRTH + + If any God should say + "I will restore + The world her yesterday + Whole as before + My Judgment blasted it"--who would not lift + Heart, eye, and hand in passion o'er the gift? + + If any God should will + To wipe from mind + The memory of this ill + Which is mankind + In soul and substance now--who would not bless + Even to tears His loving-tenderness? + + If any God should give + Us leave to fly + These present deaths we live, + And safely die + In those lost lives we lived ere we were born-- + What man but would not laugh the excuse to scorn? + + For we are what we are-- + So broke to blood + And the strict works of war-- + So long subdued + To sacrifice, that threadbare Death commands + Hardly observance at our busier hands. + + Yet we were what we were, + And, fashioned so, + It pleases us to stare + At the far show + Of unbelievable years and shapes that flit, + In our own likeness, on the edge of it. + + + +The Horse Marines + +(1911) + +_The Rt. Hon. R.B. Haldane, Secretary of State for War[6], was +questioned in the House of Commons on April 8th about the rocking-horses +which the War Office is using for the purpose of teaching recruits to +ride. Lord Ronaldshay asked the War Secretary if rocking-horses were to +be supplied to all the cavalry regiments for teaching recruits to ride. +'The noble Lord,' replied Mr. Haldane, 'is doubtless alluding to certain +dummy horses on rockers which have been tested with very satisfactory +results.'... The mechanical steed is a wooden horse with an astonishing +tail. It is painted brown and mounted on swinging rails. The recruit +leaps into the saddle and pulls at the reins while the riding-instructor +rocks the animal to and fro with his foot. The rocking-horses are being +made at Woolwich. They are quite cheap_. + +--Daily Paper. + +[Footnote 6: Now Viscount Haldane of Cloan.] + +My instructions to Mr. Leggatt, my engineer, had been accurately obeyed. +He was to bring my car on completion of annual overhaul, from Coventry +_via_ London, to Southampton Docks to await my arrival; and very pretty +she looked, under the steamer's side among the railway lines, at six in +the morning. Next to her new paint and varnish I was most impressed by +her four brand-new tyres. + +'But I didn't order new tyres,' I said as we moved away. 'These are +Irresilients, too.' + +'Treble-ribbed,' said Leggatt. 'Diamond-stud sheathing.' + +'Then there has been a mistake.' + +'Oh no, sir; they're gratis.' + +The number of motor manufacturers who give away complete sets of +treble-ribbed Irresilient tyres is so limited that I believe I asked +Leggatt for an explanation. + +'I don't know that I could very well explain, sir,' was the answer. 'It +'ud come better from Mr. Pyecroft. He's on leaf at Portsmouth--staying +with his uncle. His uncle 'ad the body all night. I'd defy you to find a +scratch on her even with a microscope.' + +'Then we will go home by the Portsmouth road,' I said. + +And we went at those speeds which are allowed before the working-day +begins or the police are thawed out. We were blocked near Portsmouth by +a battalion of Regulars on the move. + +'Whitsuntide manoeuvres just ending,' said Leggatt. 'They've had a +fortnight in the Downs.' + +He said no more until we were in a narrow street somewhere behind +Portsmouth Town Railway Station, where he slowed at a green-grocery +shop. The door was open, and a small old man sat on three potato-baskets +swinging his feet over a stooping blue back. + +'You call that shinin' 'em?' he piped. 'Can you see your face in 'em +yet? No! Then shine 'em, or I'll give you a beltin' you'll remember!' + +'If you stop kickin' me in the mouth perhaps I'd do better,' said +Pyecroft's voice meekly. + +We blew the horn. + +Pyecroft arose, put away the brushes, and received us not otherwise than +as a king in his own country. + +'Are you going to leave me up here all day?' said the old man. + +Pyecroft lifted him down and he hobbled into the back room. + +'It's his corns,' Pyecroft explained. 'You can't shine corny feet--and +he hasn't had his breakfast.' + +'I haven't had mine either,' I said. + +'Breakfast for two more, uncle,' Pyecroft sang out. + +'Go out an' buy it then,' was the answer, 'or else it's half-rations.' + +Pyecroft turned to Leggatt, gave him his marketing orders, and +despatched him with the coppers. + +'I have got four new tyres on my car,' I began impressively. + +'Yes,' said Mr. Pyecroft. 'You have, and I _will_ say'--he patted my +car's bonnet--'you earned 'em.' + +'I want to know why--,' I went on. + +'Quite justifiable. You haven't noticed anything in the papers, have +you?' + +'I've only just landed. I haven't seen a paper for weeks.' + +'Then you can lend me a virgin ear. There's been a scandal in the +Junior Service--the Army, I believe they call 'em.' + +A bag of coffee-beans pitched on the counter. 'Roast that,' said the +uncle from within. + +Pyecroft rigged a small coffee-roaster, while I took down the shutters, +and sold a young lady in curl-papers two bunches of mixed greens and one +soft orange. + +'Sickly stuff to handle on an empty stomach, ain't it?' said Pyecroft. + +'What about my new tyres?' I insisted. + +'Oh, any amount. But the question is'--he looked at me steadily--'is +this what you might call a court-martial or a post-mortem inquiry?' + +'Strictly a post-mortem,' said I. + +'That being so,' said Pyecroft, 'we can rapidly arrive at facts. Last +Thursday--the shutters go behind those baskets--last Thursday at five +bells in the forenoon watch, otherwise ten-thirty A.M., your Mr. Leggatt +was discovered on Westminster Bridge laying his course for the Old +Kent Road.' + +'But that doesn't lead to Southampton,' I interrupted. + +'Then perhaps he was swinging the car for compasses. Be that as it may, +we found him in that latitude, simultaneous as Jules and me was _ong +route_ for Waterloo to rejoin our respective ships--or Navies I should +say. Jules was a _permissionaire_, which meant being on leaf, same as +me, from a French cassowary-cruiser at Portsmouth. A party of her trusty +and well-beloved petty officers 'ad been seeing London, chaperoned by +the R.C. Chaplain. Jules 'ad detached himself from the squadron and was +cruisin' on his own when I joined him, in company of copious +lady-friends. _But_, mark you, your Mr. Leggatt drew the line at the +girls. Loud and long he drew it.' + +'I'm glad of that,' I said. + +'You may be. He adopted the puristical formation from the first. "Yes," +he said, when we was annealing him at--but you wouldn't know the pub--"I +_am_ going to Southampton," he says, "and I'll stretch a point to go +_via_ Portsmouth; _but_," says he, "seeing what sort of one hell of a +time invariably trarnspires when we cruise together, Mr. Pyecroft, I do +_not_ feel myself justified towards my generous and long-suffering +employer in takin' on that kind of ballast as well." I assure you he +considered your interests.' + +'And the girls?' I asked. + +'Oh, I left that to Jules. I'm a monogomite by nature. So we embarked +strictly _ong garçong_. But I should tell you, in case he didn't, that +your Mr. Leggatt's care for your interests 'ad extended to sheathing the +car in matting and gunny-bags to preserve her paint-work. She was all +swathed up like an I-talian baby.' + +'He _is_ careful about his paint-work,' I said. + +'For a man with no Service experience I should say he was fair homicidal +on the subject. If we'd been Marines he couldn't have been more pointed +in his allusions to our hob-nailed socks. However, we reduced him to a +malleable condition, and embarked for Portsmouth. I'd seldom rejoined +my _vaisseau ong automobile, avec_ a fur coat and goggles. Nor +'ad Jules.' + +'Did Jules say much?' I asked, helplessly turning the handle of the +coffee-roaster. + +'That's where I pitied the pore beggar. He 'adn't the language, so to +speak. He was confined to heavings and shruggin's and copious _Mong +Jews_! The French are very badly fitted with relief-valves. And then our +Mr. Leggatt drove. He drove.' + +'Was he in a very malleable condition?' + +'Not him! We recognised the value of his cargo from the outset. He +hadn't a chance to get more than moist at the edges. After which we went +to sleep; and now we'll go to breakfast.' + +We entered the back room where everything was in order, and a screeching +canary made us welcome. The uncle had added sausages and piles of +buttered toast to the kippers. The coffee, cleared with a piece of +fish-skin, was a revelation. + +Leggatt, who seemed to know the premises, had run the car into the tiny +backyard where her mirror-like back almost blocked up the windows. He +minded shop while we ate. Pyecroft passed him his rations through a flap +in the door. The uncle ordered him in, after breakfast, to wash up, and +he jumped in his gaiters at the old man's commands as he has never +jumped to mine. + +'To resoom the post-mortem,' said Pyecroft, lighting his pipe. 'My +slumbers were broken by the propeller ceasing to revolve, and by vile +language from your Mr. Leggatt.' + +'I--I--' Leggatt began, a blue-checked duster in one hand and a cup in +the other. + +'When you're wanted aft you'll be sent for, Mr. Leggatt,' said Pyecroft +amiably. 'It's clean mess decks for you now. Resooming once more, we was +on a lonely and desolate ocean near Portsdown, surrounded by gorse +bushes, and a Boy Scout was stirring my stomach with his little +copper-stick.' + +'"You count ten," he says. + +'"Very good, Boy Jones," I says, "count 'em," and I hauled him in over +the gunnel, and ten I gave him with my large flat hand. The remarks he +passed, lying face down tryin' to bite my leg, would have reflected +credit on any Service. Having finished I dropped him overboard again, +which was my gross political error. I ought to 'ave killed him; because +he began signalling--rapid and accurate--in a sou'westerly direction. +Few equatorial calms are to be apprehended when B.P.'s little pets take +to signallin'. Make a note o' that! Three minutes later we were stopped +and boarded by Scouts--up our backs, down our necks, and in our boots! +The last I heard from your Mr. Leggatt as he went under, brushin' 'em +off his cap, was thanking Heaven he'd covered up the new paint-work with +mats. An 'eroic soul!' + +'Not a scratch on her body,' said Leggatt, pouring out the +coffee-grounds. + +'And Jules?' said I. + +'Oh, Jules thought the much advertised Social Revolution had begun, but +his mackintosh hampered him. + +'You told me to bring the mackintosh,' Leggatt whispered to me. + +'And when I 'ad 'em half convinced he was a French vicomte coming down +to visit the Commander-in-Chief at Portsmouth, he tried to take it off. +Seeing his uniform underneath, some sucking Sherlock Holmes of the Pink +Eye Patrol (they called him Eddy) deduced that I wasn't speaking +the truth. Eddy said I was tryin' to sneak into Portsmouth +unobserved--unobserved mark you!--and join hands with the enemy. It +trarnspired that the Scouts was conducting a field-day against opposin' +forces, ably assisted by all branches of the Service, and they was so +afraid the car wouldn't count ten points to them in the fray, that +they'd have scalped us, but for the intervention of an umpire--also in +short under-drawers. A fleshy sight!' + +Here Mr. Pyecroft shut his eyes and nodded. 'That umpire,' he said +suddenly, 'was our Mr. Morshed--a gentleman whose acquaintance you have +already made _and_ profited by, if I mistake not[7].' + +[Footnote 7: 'Their Lawful Occasions,' _Traffics and Discoveries_.] + +'Oh, was the Navy in it too?' I said; for I had read of wild doings +occasionally among the Boy Scouts on the Portsmouth Road, in which Navy, +Army, and the world at large seemed to have taken part. + +'The Navy _was_ in it. I was the only one out of it--for several +seconds. Our Mr. Morshed failed to recognise me in my fur boa, and my +appealin' winks at 'im behind your goggles didn't arrive. But when Eddy +darling had told his story, I saluted, which is difficult in furs, and I +stated I was bringin' him dispatches from the North. My Mr. Morshed +cohered on the instant. I've never known his ethergram installations out +of order yet. "Go and guard your blessed road," he says to the Fratton +Orphan Asylum standing at attention all round him, and, when they was +removed--"Pyecroft," he says, still _sotte voce_, "what in Hong-Kong are +you doing with this dun-coloured _sampan_?" + +'It was your Mr. Leggatt's paint-protective matting which caught his +eye. She _did_ resemble a _sampan_, especially about the stern-works. At +these remarks I naturally threw myself on 'is bosom, so far as Service +conditions permitted, and revealed him all, mentioning that the car was +yours. You know his way of working his lips like a rabbit? Yes, he was +quite pleased. "_His_ car!" he kept murmuring, working his lips like a +rabbit. "I owe 'im more than a trifle for things he wrote about me. I'll +keep the car." + +'Your Mr. Leggatt now injected some semi-mutinous remarks to the effect +that he was your chauffeur in charge of your car, and, as such, capable +of so acting. Mr. Morshed threw him a glarnce. It sufficed. Didn't it +suffice, Mr. Leggatt?' + +'I knew if something didn't happen, something worse would,' said +Leggatt. 'It never fails when you're aboard.' + +'And Jules?' I demanded. + +'Jules was, so to speak, panicking in a water-tight flat through his +unfortunate lack of language. I had to introduce him as part of the +_entente cordiale_, and he was put under arrest, too. Then we sat on the +grass and smoked, while Eddy and Co. violently annoyed the traffic on +the Portsmouth Road, till the umpires, all in short panties, conferred +on the valuable lessons of the field-day and added up points, same as at +target-practice. I didn't hear their conclusions, but our Mr. Morshed +delivered a farewell address to Eddy and Co., tellin' 'em they ought to +have deduced from a hundred signs about me, that I was a friendly +bringin' in dispatches from the North. We left 'em tryin' to find those +signs in the Scout book, and we reached Mr. Morshed's hotel at +Portsmouth at 6.27 P.M. _ong automobile_. Here endeth the +first chapter.' + +'Begin the second,' I said. + +The uncle and Leggatt had finished washing up and were seated, smoking, +while the damp duster dried at the fire. + +'About what time was it,' said Pyecroft to Leggatt, 'when our Mr. +Morshed began to talk about uncles?' + +'When he came back to the bar, after he'd changed into those rat-catcher +clothes,' said Leggatt. + +'That's right. "Pye," said he, "have you an uncle?" "I have," I says. +"Here's santy to him," and I finished my sherry and bitters to +_you_, uncle.' + +'That's right,' said Pyecroft's uncle sternly. 'If you hadn't I'd have +belted you worth rememberin', Emmanuel. I had the body all night.' + +Pyecroft smiled affectionately. 'So you 'ad, uncle, an' beautifully you +looked after her. But as I was saying, "I have an uncle, too," says Mr. +Morshed, dark and lowering. "Yet somehow I can't love him. I want to +mortify the beggar. Volunteers to mortify my uncle, one pace to +the front." + +'I took Jules with me the regulation distance. Jules was getting +interested. Your Mr. Leggatt preserved a strictly nootral attitude. + +'"You're a pressed man," says our Mr. Morshed. "I owe your late employer +much, so to say. The car will manoeuvre all night, as requisite." + +'Mr. Leggatt come out noble as your employee, and, by 'Eaven's divine +grace, instead of arguing, he pleaded his new paint and varnish which +was Mr. Morshed's one vital spot (he's lootenant on one of the new +catch-'em-alive-o's now). "True," says he, "paint's an 'oly thing. I'll +give you one hour to arrange a _modus vivendi_. Full bunkers and steam +ready by 9 P.M. to-night, _if_ you please." + +'Even so, Mr. Leggatt was far from content. _I_ 'ad to arrange the +details. We run her into the yard here.' Pyecroft nodded through the +window at my car's glossy back-panels. 'We took off the body with its +mats and put it in the stable, substitooting (and that yard's a tight +fit for extensive repairs) the body of uncle's blue delivery cart. It +overhung a trifle, but after I'd lashed it I knew it wouldn't fetch +loose. Thus, in our composite cruiser, we repaired once more to the +hotel, and was immediately dispatched to the toy-shop in the High Street +where we took aboard one rocking-horse which was waiting for us.' + +'Took aboard _what_?' I cried. + +'One fourteen-hand dapple-grey rocking-horse, with pure green rockers +and detachable tail, pair gashly glass eyes, complete set 'orrible +grinnin' teeth, and two bloody-red nostrils which, protruding from the +brown papers, produced the _tout ensemble_ of a Ju-ju sacrifice in the +Benin campaign. Do I make myself comprehensible?' + +'Perfectly. Did you say anything?' I asked. + +'Only to Jules. To him, I says, wishing to try him. "_Allez à votre +bateau. Je say mon Lootenong. Eel voo donneray porkwor_." To me, says +he, "_Vous ong ate hurroo! Jamay de la vee_!" and I saw by his eye he'd +taken on for the full term of the war. Jules was a blue-eyed, +brindle-haired beggar of a useful make and inquirin' habits. Your Mr. +Leggatt he only groaned.' + +Leggatt nodded. 'It was like nightmares,' he said. 'It was like +nightmares.' + +'Once more, then,' Pyecroft swept on, 'we returned to the hotel and +partook of a sumptuous repast, under the able and genial chairmanship of +our Mr. Morshed, who laid his projecks unreservedly before us. "In the +first place," he says, opening out bicycle-maps, "my uncle, who, I +regret to say, is a brigadier-general, has sold his alleged soul to +Dicky Bridoon for a feathery hat and a pair o' gilt spurs. Jules, +_conspuez l'oncle_!" So Jules, you'll be glad to hear--' + +'One minute, Pye,' I said. 'Who is Dicky Bridoon?' + +'I don't usually mingle myself up with the bickerings of the Junior +Service, but it trarnspired that he was Secretary o' State for Civil +War, an' he'd been issuing mechanical leather-belly gee-gees which +doctors recommend for tumour--to the British cavalry in loo of real meat +horses, to learn to ride on. Don't you remember there was quite a stir +in the papers owing to the cavalry not appreciatin' 'em? But that's a +minor item. The main point was that our uncle, in his capacity of +brigadier-general, mark you, had wrote to the papers highly approvin' o' +Dicky Bridoon's mechanical substitutes an 'ad thus obtained +promotion--all same as a agnosticle stoker psalm-singin' 'imself up the +Service under a pious captain. At that point of the narrative we caught +a phosphorescent glimmer why the rocking-horse might have been issued; +but none the less the navigation was intricate. Omitting the fact it was +dark and cloudy, our brigadier-uncle lay somewhere in the South Downs +with his brigade, which was manoeuvrin' at Whitsum manoeuvres on a large +scale--Red Army _versus_ Blue, et cetera; an' all we 'ad to go by was +those flapping bicycle-maps and your Mr. Leggatt's groans.' + +'I was thinking what the Downs mean after dark,' said Leggatt angrily. + +'They was worth thinkin' of,' said Pyecroft. 'When we had studied the +map till it fair spun, we decided to sally forth and creep for uncle by +hand in the dark, dark night, an' present 'im with the rocking-horse. So +we embarked at 8.57 P.M.' + +'One minute again, please. How much did Jules understand by that time?' +I asked. + +'Sufficient unto the day--or night, perhaps I should say. He told our +Mr. Morshed he'd follow him _more sang frays_, which is French for dead, +drunk, or damned. Barrin' 'is paucity o' language, there wasn't a +blemish on Jules. But what I wished to imply was, when we climbed into +the back parts of the car, our Lootenant Morshed says to me, "I doubt if +I'd flick my cigar-ends about too lavish, Mr. Pyecroft. We ought to be +sitting on five pounds' worth of selected fireworks, and I think the +rockets are your end." Not being able to smoke with my 'ead over the +side I threw it away; and then your Mr. Leggatt, 'aving been as nearly +mutinous as it pays to be with my Mr. Morshed, arched his back +and drove.' + +'Where did he drive to, please?' said I. + +'Primerrily, in search of any or either or both armies; seconderrily, of +course, in search of our brigadier-uncle. Not finding him on the road, +we ran about the grass looking for him. This took us to a great many +places in a short time. Ow 'eavenly that lilac did smell on top of that +first Down--stinkin' its blossomin' little heart out!' + +'I 'adn't leesure to notice,' said Mr. Leggatt. 'The Downs were full o' +chalk-pits, and we'd no lights.' + +'We 'ad the bicycle-lamp to look at the map by. Didn't you notice the +old lady at the window where we saw the man in the night-gown? I thought +night-gowns as sleepin' rig was extinck, so to speak.' + +'I tell you I 'adn't leesure to notice,' Leggatt repeated. + +'That's odd. Then what might 'ave made you tell the sentry at the first +camp we found that you was the _Daily Express_ delivery-waggon?' + +'You can't touch pitch without being defiled,' Leggatt answered. ''Oo +told the officer in the bath we were umpires?' + +'Well, he asked us. That was when we found the Territorial battalion +undressin' in slow time. It lay on the left flank o' the Blue Army, and +it cackled as it lay, too. But it gave us our position as regards the +respective armies. We wandered a little more, and at 11.7 P.M., not +having had a road under us for twenty minutes, we scaled the heights of +something or other--which are about six hundred feet high. Here we +'alted to tighten the lashings of the superstructure, and we smelt +leather and horses three counties deep all round. We was, as you might +say, in the thick of it.' + +'"Ah!" says my Mr. Morshed. "My 'orizon has indeed broadened. What a +little thing is an uncle, Mr. Pyecroft, in the presence o' these +glitterin' constellations! Simply ludicrous!" he says, "to waste a +rocking-horse on an individual. We must socialise it. But we must get +their 'eads up first. Touch off one rocket, if you please." + +'I touched off a green three-pounder which rose several thousand metres, +and burst into gorgeous stars. "Reproduce the manoeuvre," he says, "at +the other end o' this ridge--if it don't end in another cliff." So we +steamed down the ridge a mile and a half east, and then I let Jules +touch off a pink rocket, or he'd ha' kissed me. That was his only way to +express his emotions, so to speak. Their heads come up then all around +us to the extent o' thousands. We hears bugles like cocks crowing below, +and on the top of it a most impressive sound which I'd never enjoyed +before because 'itherto I'd always been an inteegral part of it, so to +say--the noise of 'ole armies gettin' under arms. They must 'ave +anticipated a night attack, I imagine. Most impressive. Then we 'eard a +threshin'-machine. "Tutt! Tutt! This is childish!" says Lootenant +Morshed. "We can't wait till they've finished cutting chaff for their +horses. We must make 'em understand we're not to be trifled with. +Expedite 'em with another rocket, Mr. Pyecroft." + +'"It's barely possible, sir," I remarks, "that that's a searchlight +churnin' up," and by the time we backed into a providential chalk +cutting (which was where our first tyre went pungo) she broke out to the +northward, and began searching the ridge. A smart bit o' work.' + +''Twasn't a puncture. The inner tube had nipped because we skidded so,' +Leggatt interrupted. + +'While your Mr. Leggatt was effectin' repairs, another searchlight broke +out to the southward, and the two of 'em swept our ridge on both sides. +Right at the west end of it they showed us the ground rising into a +hill, so to speak, crowned with what looked like a little fort. Morshed +saw it before the beams shut off. "That's the key of the position!" he +says. "Occupy it at all hazards." + +'"I haven't half got occupation for the next twenty minutes," says your +Mr. Leggatt, rootin' and blasphemin' in the dark. Mark, now, 'ow +Morshed changed his tactics to suit 'is environment. "Right!" says he. +"I'll stand by the ship. Mr. Pyecroft and Jules, oblige me by doubling +along the ridge to the east with all the maroons and crackers you can +carry without spilling. Read the directions careful for the maroons, Mr. +Pyecroft, and touch them off at half-minute intervals. Jules represents +musketry an' maxim fire under your command. Remember, it's death or +Salisbury Gaol! Prob'ly both!" + +'By these means and some moderately 'ard runnin', we distracted 'em to +the eastward. Maroons, you may not be aware, are same as bombs, with the +anarchism left out. In confined spots like chalk-pits, they knock a +four-point-seven silly. But you should read the directions before'and. +In the intervals of the slow but well-directed fire of my cow-guns, +Jules, who had found a sheep-pond in the dark a little lower down, gave +what you might call a cinematograph reproduction o' sporadic musketry. +They was large size crackers, and he concluded with the dull, sickenin' +thud o' blind shells burstin' on soft ground.' + +'How did he manage that?' I said. + +'You throw a lighted squib into water and you'll see,' said Pyecroft. +'Thus, then, we improvised till supplies was exhausted and the +surrounding landscapes fair 'owled and 'ummed at us. The Jun or Service +might 'ave 'ad their doubts about the rockets but they couldn't overlook +our gunfire. Both sides tumbled out full of initiative. I told Jules no +two flat-feet 'ad any right to be as happy as us, and we went back +along the ridge to the derelict, and there was our Mr. Morshed +apostrophin' his 'andiwork over fifty square mile o' country with +"Attend, all ye who list to hear!" out of the Fifth Reader. He'd got as +far as "And roused the shepherds o' Stonehenge, the rangers o' Beaulieu" +when we come up, and he drew our attention to its truth as well as its +beauty. That's rare in poetry, I'm told. He went right on to--"The red +glare on Skiddaw roused those beggars at Carlisle"--which he pointed out +was poetic license for Leith Hill. This allowed your Mr. Leggatt time to +finish pumpin' up his tyres. I 'eard the sweat 'op off his nose.' + +'You know what it is, sir,' said poor Leggatt to me. + +'It warfted across my mind, as I listened to what was trarnspirin', that +it might be easier to make the mess than to wipe it up, but such +considerations weighed not with our valiant leader. + +'"Mr. Pyecroft," he says, "it can't have escaped your notice that we +'ave one angry and 'ighly intelligent army in front of us, an' another +'ighly angry and equally intelligent army in our rear. What 'ud you +recommend?" + +'Most men would have besought 'im to do a lateral glide while there was +yet time, but all I said was: "The rocking-horse isn't expended +yet, sir." + +'He laid his hand on my shoulder. "Pye," says he, "there's worse men +than you in loftier places. They shall 'ave it. None the less," he +remarks, "the ice is undeniably packing." + +'I may 'ave omitted to point out that at this juncture two large +armies, both deprived of their night's sleep, was awake, as you might +say, and hurryin' into each other's arms. Here endeth the +second chapter.' + +He filled his pipe slowly. The uncle had fallen asleep. Leggatt lit +another cigarette. + +'We then proceeded _ong automobile_ along the ridge in a westerly +direction towards the miniature fort which had been so kindly revealed +by the searchlight, but which on inspection (your Mr. Leggatt bumped +into an outlyin' reef of it) proved to be a wurzel-clump; +_c'est-à-dire_, a parallelogrammatic pile of about three million +mangold-wurzels, brought up there for the sheep, I suppose. On all +sides, excep' the one we'd come by, the ground fell away moderately +quick, and down at the bottom there was a large camp lit up an' full of +harsh words of command. + +'"I said it was the key to the position," Lootenant Morshed remarks. +"Trot out Persimmon!" which we rightly took to read, "Un-wrap the +rocking-horse." + +'"Houp la!" says Jules in a insubordinate tone, an' slaps Persimmon on +the flank. + +'"Silence!" says the Lootenant. "This is the Royal Navy, not Newmarket"; +and we carried Persimmon to the top of the mangel-wurzel clump +as directed. + +'Owing to the inequalities of the terrain (I _do_ think your Mr. Leggatt +might have had a spirit-level in his kit) he wouldn't rock free on the +bed-plate, and while adjustin' him, his detachable tail fetched adrift. +Our Lootenant was quick to seize the advantage. + +'"Remove that transformation," he says. "Substitute one Roman candle. +Gas-power is superior to manual propulsion." + +'So we substituted. He arranged the _pièce de resistarnce_ in the shape +of large drums--not saucers, mark you--drums of coloured fire, with +printed instructions, at proper distances round Persimmon. There was a +brief interregnum while we dug ourselves in among the wurzels by hand. +Then he touched off the fires, _not_ omitting the Roman candle, and, you +may take it from me, all was visible. Persimmon shone out in his naked +splendour, red to port, green to starboard, and one white light at his +bows, as per Board o' Trade regulations. Only he didn't so much rock, +you might say, as shrug himself, in a manner of speaking, every time the +candle went off. One can't have everything. But the rest surpassed our +highest expectations. I think Persimmon was noblest on the starboard or +green side--more like when a man thinks he's seeing mackerel in hell, +don't you know? And yet I'd be the last to deprecate the effect of the +port light on his teeth, or that blood-shot look in his left eye. He +knew there was something going on he didn't approve of. He +looked worried.' + +'Did you laugh?' I said. + +'I'm not much of a wag myself; nor it wasn't as if we 'ad time to allow +the spectacle to sink in. The coloured fires was supposed to burn ten +minutes, whereas it was obvious to the meanest capacity that the Junior +Service would arrive by forced marches in about two and a half. They +grarsped our topical allusion as soon as it was across the foot-lights, +so to speak. They were quite chafed at it. Of course, 'ad we reflected, +we might have known that exposin' illuminated rockin'-horses to an army +that was learnin' to ride on 'em partook of the nature of a _double +entender_, as the French say--same as waggling the tiller lines at a man +who's had a hanging in the family. I knew the cox of the +_Archimandrite's_ galley 'arf killed for a similar _plaisan-teree._ But +we never anticipated lobsters being so sensitive. That was why we +shifted. We could 'ardly tear our commandin' officer away. He put his +head on one side, and kept cooin'. The only thing he 'ad neglected to +provide was a line of retreat; but your Mr. Leggatt--an 'eroic soul in +the last stage of wet prostration--here took command of the van, or, +rather, the rear-guard. We walked downhill beside him, holding on to the +superstructure to prevent her capsizing. These technical details, +'owever, are beyond me.' He waved his pipe towards Leggatt. + +'I saw there was two deepish ruts leadin' down 'ill somewhere,' said +Leggatt. 'That was when the soldiers stopped laughin', and begun to +run uphill.' + +'Stroll, lovey, stroll!' Pyecroft corrected. 'The Dervish rush took +place later.' + +'So I laid her in these ruts. That was where she must 'ave scraped her +silencer a bit. Then they turned sharp right--the ruts did--and then she +stopped bonnet-high in a manure-heap, sir; but I'll swear it was all of +a one in three gradient. I think it was a barnyard. We waited there,' +said Leggatt. + +'But not for long,' said Pyecroft. 'The lights were towering out of the +drums on the position we 'ad so valiantly abandoned; and the Junior +Service was escaladin' it _en masse_. When numerous bodies of 'ighly +trained men arrive simultaneous in the same latitude from opposite +directions, each remarking briskly, "What the 'ell did you do _that_ +for?" detonation, as you might say, is practically assured. They didn't +ask for extraneous aids. If we'd come out with sworn affidavits of what +we'd done they wouldn't 'ave believed us. They wanted each other's +company exclusive. Such was the effect of Persimmon on their clarss +feelings. Idol'try, _I_ call it! Events transpired with the utmost +velocity and rapidly increasing pressures. There was a few remarks about +Dicky Bridoon and mechanical horses, and then some one was smacked--hard +by the sound--in the middle of a remark.' + +'That was the man who kept calling for the Forty-fifth Dragoons,' said +Leggatt. 'He got as far as Drag ...' + +'Was it?' said Pyecroft dreamily. 'Well, he couldn't say they didn't +come. They all came, and they all fell to arguin' whether the Infantry +should 'ave Persimmon for a regimental pet or the Cavalry should keep +him for stud purposes. Hence the issue was soon clouded with +mangold-wurzels. Our commander said we 'ad sowed the good seed, and it +was bearing abundant fruit. (They weigh between four and seven pounds +apiece.) Seein' the children 'ad got over their shyness, and 'ad really +begun to play games, we backed out o' the pit and went down, by steps, +to the camp below, no man, as you might say, making us afraid. Here we +enjoyed a front view of the battle, which rolled with renewed impetus, +owing to both sides receiving strong reinforcements every minute. All +arms were freely represented; Cavalry, on this occasion only, acting in +concert with Artillery. They argued the relative merits of horses +_versus_ feet, so to say, but they didn't neglect Persimmon. The wounded +rolling downhill with the wurzels informed us that he had long ago been +socialised, and the smallest souvenirs were worth a man's life. Speaking +broadly, the Junior Service appeared to be a shade out of 'and, if I may +venture so far. They did _not_ pay prompt and unhesitating obedience to +the "Retires" or the "Cease Fires" or the "For 'Eaven's sake come to +bed, ducky" of their officers, who, I regret to say, were 'otly +embroiled at the heads of their respective units.' + +'How did you find that out?' I asked. + +'On account of Lootenant Morshed going to the Mess tent to call on his +uncle and raise a drink; but all hands had gone to the front. We thought +we 'eard somebody bathing behind the tent, and we found an oldish +gentleman tryin' to drown a boy in knickerbockers in a horse-trough. He +kept him under with a bicycle, so to speak. He 'ad nearly accomplished +his fell design, when we frustrated him. He was in a highly malleable +condition and full o' _juice de spree_. "Arsk not what I am," he says. +"My wife 'll tell me that quite soon enough. Arsk rather what I've +been," he says. "I've been dinin' here," he says. "I commanded 'em in +the Eighties," he says, "and, Gawd forgive me," he says, sobbin' +'eavily, "I've spent this holy evening telling their Colonel they was a +set of educated inefficients. Hark to 'em!" We could, without strainin' +ourselves; but how _he_ picked up the gentle murmur of his own corps in +that on-the-knee party up the hill I don't know. "They've marched and +fought thirty mile to-day," he shouts, "and now they're tearin' the +_intestines_ out of the Cavalry up yonder! They won't stop this side the +gates o' Delhi," he says. "I commanded their ancestors. There's nothing +wrong with the Service," he says, wringing out his trousers on his lap. +"'Eaven pardon me for doubtin' 'em! Same old game--same young beggars." + +'The boy in the knickerbockers, languishing on a chair, puts in a claim +for one drink. "Let him go dry," says our friend in shirt-tails. "He's a +reporter. He run into me on his filthy bicycle and he asked me if I +could furnish 'im with particulars about the mutiny in the Army. You +false-'earted proletarian publicist," he says, shakin' his finger at +'im--for he was reelly annoyed--"I'll teach you to defile what you can't +comprebend! When my regiment's in a state o' mutiny, I'll do myself the +honour of informing you personally. You particularly ignorant and very +narsty little man," he says, "you're no better than a dhobi's donkey! If +there wasn't dirty linen to wash, you'd starve," he says, "and why I +haven't drowned you will be the lastin' regret of my life." + +'Well, we sat with 'em and 'ad drinks for about half-an-hour in front +of the Mess tent. He'd ha' killed the reporter if there hadn't been +witnesses, and the reporter might have taken notes of the battle; so we +acted as two-way buffers, in a sense. I don't hold with the Press +mingling up with Service matters. They draw false conclusions. Now, mark +you, at a moderate estimate, there were seven thousand men in the +fighting line, half of 'em hurt in their professional feelings, an' the +other half rubbin' in the liniment, as you might say. All due to +Persimmon! If you 'adn't seen it you wouldn't 'ave believed it. And yet, +mark you, not one single unit of 'em even resorted to his belt. They +confined themselves to natural producks--hands and the wurzels. I +thought Jules was havin' fits, till it trarnspired the same thought had +impressed him in the French language. He called it _incroyable_, I +believe. Seven thousand men, with seven thousand rifles, belts, and +bayonets, in a violently agitated condition, and not a ungenteel blow +struck from first to last. The old gentleman drew our attention to it as +well. It was quite noticeable. + +'Lack of ammunition was the primerry cause of the battle ceasin'. A +Brigade-Major came in, wipin' his nose on both cuffs, and sayin' he 'ad +'ad snuff. The brigadier-uncle followed. He was, so to speak, sneezin'. +We thought it best to shift our moorings without attractin' attention; +so we shifted. They 'ad called the cows 'ome by then. The Junior Service +was going to bye-bye all round us, as happy as the ship's monkey when +he's been playin' with the paints, and Lootenant Morshed and Jules kept +bowin' to port and starboard of the superstructure, acknowledgin' the +unstinted applause which the multitude would 'ave given 'em if they'd +known the facts. On the other 'and, as your Mr. Leggatt observed, they +might 'ave killed us. + +'That would have been about five bells in the middle watch, say +half-past two. A well-spent evening. There was but little to be gained +by entering Portsmouth at that hour, so we turned off on the grass (this +was after we had found a road under us), and we cast anchors out at the +stern and prayed for the day. + +'But your Mr. Leggatt he had to make and mend tyres all our watch below. +It trarnspired she had been running on the rim o' two or three wheels, +which, very properly, he hadn't reported till the close of the action. +And that's the reason of your four new tyres. Mr. Morshed was of opinion +you'd earned 'em. Do you dissent?' + +I stretched out my hand, which Pyecroft crushed to pulp. 'No, Pye,' I +said, deeply moved, 'I agree entirely. But what happened to Jules?' + +'We returned him to his own Navy after breakfast. He wouldn't have kept +much longer without some one in his own language to tell it to. I don't +know any man I ever took more compassion on than Jules. 'Is sufferings +swelled him up centimetres, and all he could do on the Hard was to kiss +Lootenant Morshed and me, _and_ your Mr. Leggatt. He deserved that much. +A cordial beggar.' + +Pyecroft looked at the washed cups on the table, and the low sunshine +on my car's back in the yard. + +'Too early to drink to him,' he said. 'But I feel it just the same.' + +The uncle, sunk in his chair, snored a little; the canary answered with +a shrill lullaby. Pyecroft picked up the duster, threw it over the cage, +put his finger to his lips, and we tiptoed out into the shop, while +Leggatt brought the car round. + +'I'll look out for the news in the papers,' I said, as I got in. + +'Oh, we short-circuited that! Nothing trarnspired excep' a statement to +the effect that some Territorial battalions had played about with +turnips at the conclusion of the manoeuvres The taxpayer don't know all +he gets for his money. Farewell!' + +We moved off just in time to be blocked by a regiment coming towards the +station to entrain for London. + +'Beg your pardon, sir,' said a sergeant in charge of the baggage, 'but +would you mind backin' a bit till we get the waggons past?' + +'Certainly,' I said. 'You don't happen to have a rocking-horse among +your kit, do you?' + +The rattle of our reverse drowned his answer, but I saw his eyes. One of +them was blackish-green, about four days old. + + + + +THE LEGEND OF MIRTH + + The Four Archangels, so the legends tell, + Raphael, Gabriel, Michael, Azrael, + Being first of those to whom the Power was shown, + Stood first of all the Host before The Throne, + And when the Charges were allotted burst + Tumultuous-winged from out the assembly first. + Zeal was their spur that bade them strictly heed + Their own high judgment on their lightest deed. + Zeal was their spur that, when relief was given, + Urged them unwearied to fresh toil in Heaven; + For Honour's sake perfecting every task + Beyond what e'en Perfection's self could ask.... + And Allah, Who created Zeal and Pride, + Knows how the twain are perilous-near allied. + + It chanced on one of Heaven's long-lighted days, + The Four and all the Host having gone their ways + Each to his Charge, the shining Courts were void + Save for one Seraph whom no charge employed, + With folden wings and slumber-threatened brow. + To whom The Word: 'Beloved, what dost thou?' + 'By the Permission,' came the answer soft, + 'Little I do nor do that little oft. + As is The Will in Heaven so on Earth + Where by The Will I strive to make men mirth.' + He ceased and sped, hearing The Word once more: + 'Beloved, go thy way and greet the Four.' + + Systems and Universes overpast, + The Seraph came upon the Four, at last, + Guiding and guarding with devoted mind + The tedious generations of mankind + Who lent at most unwilling ear and eye + When they could not escape the ministry.... + Yet, patient, faithful, firm, persistent, just + Toward all that gross, indifferent, facile dust, + The Archangels laboured to discharge their trust + By precept and example, prayer and law, + Advice, reproof, and rule, but, labouring, saw + Each in his fellow's countenance confessed, + The Doubt that sickens: 'Have I done my best?' + + Even as they sighed and turned to toil anew, + The Seraph hailed them with observance due; + And after some fit talk of higher things + Touched tentative on mundane happenings. + This they permitting, he, emboldened thus, + Prolused of humankind promiscuous. + And, since the large contention less avails + Than instances observed, he told them tales--Tales + of the shop, the bed, the court, the street, + Intimate, elemental, indiscreet: + Occasions where Confusion smiting swift + Piles jest on jest as snow-slides pile the drift. + + Whence, one by one, beneath derisive skies, + The victims bare, bewildered heads arise: + Tales of the passing of the spirit, graced + With humour blinding as the doom it faced: + Stark tales of ribaldry that broke aside + To tears, by laughter swallowed ere they dried: + Tales to which neither grace nor gain accrue, + But only (Allah be exalted!) true, + And only, as the Seraph showed that night, + Delighting to the limits of delight. + + These he rehearsed with artful pause and halt, + And such pretence of memory at fault, + That soon the Four--so well the bait was thrown-- + Came to his aid with memories of their own-- + Matters dismissed long since as small or vain, + Whereof the high significance had lain + Hid, till the ungirt glosses made it plain. + Then as enlightenment came broad and fast, + Each marvelled at his own oblivious past + Until--the Gates of Laughter opened wide-- + The Four, with that bland Seraph at their side, + While they recalled, compared, and amplified, + In utter mirth forgot both zeal and pride. + + High over Heaven the lamps of midnight burned + Ere, weak with merriment, the Four returned, + Not in that order they were wont to keep-- + Pinion to pinion answering, sweep for sweep, + In awful diapason heard afar, + But shoutingly adrift 'twixt star and star. + Reeling a planet's orbit left or right + As laughter took them in the abysmal Night; + Or, by the point of some remembered jest, + Winged and brought helpless down through gulfs unguessed, + Where the blank worlds that gather to the birth + Leaped in the womb of Darkness at their mirth, + And e'en Gehenna's bondsmen understood. + They were not damned from human brotherhood. + + Not first nor last of Heaven's high Host, the Four + That night took place beneath The Throne once more. + O lovelier than their morning majesty, + The understanding light behind the eye! + O more compelling than their old command, + The new-learned friendly gesture of the hand! + O sweeter than their zealous fellowship, + The wise half-smile that passed from lip to lip! + O well and roundly, when Command was given, + They told their tale against themselves to Heaven, + And in the silence, waiting on The Word, + Received the Peace and Pardon of The Lord! + + + +'My Son's Wife' + +(1913) + +He had suffered from the disease of the century since his early youth, +and before he was thirty he was heavily marked with it. He and a few +friends had rearranged Heaven very comfortably, but the reorganisation +of Earth, which they called Society, was even greater fun. It demanded +Work in the shape of many taxi-rides daily; hours of brilliant talk with +brilliant talkers; some sparkling correspondence; a few silences (but on +the understanding that their own turn should come soon) while other +people expounded philosophies; and a fair number of picture-galleries, +tea-fights, concerts, theatres, music-halls, and cinema shows; the whole +trimmed with love-making to women whose hair smelt of cigarette-smoke. +Such strong days sent Frankwell Midmore back to his flat assured that he +and his friends had helped the World a step nearer the Truth, the Dawn, +and the New Order. + +His temperament, he said, led him more towards concrete data than +abstract ideas. People who investigate detail are apt to be tired at the +day's end. The same temperament, or it may have been a woman, made him +early attach himself to the Immoderate Left of his Cause in the capacity +of an experimenter in Social Relations. And since the Immoderate Left +contains plenty of women anxious to help earnest inquirers with large +independent incomes to arrive at evaluations of essentials, Frankwell +Midmore's lot was far from contemptible. + +At that hour Fate chose to play with him. A widowed aunt, widely +separated by nature, and more widely by marriage, from all that +Midmore's mother had ever been or desired to be, died and left him +possessions. Mrs. Midmore, having that summer embraced a creed which +denied the existence of death, naturally could not stoop to burial; but +Midmore had to leave London for the dank country at a season when Social +Regeneration works best through long, cushioned conferences, two by two, +after tea. There he faced the bracing ritual of the British funeral, and +was wept at across the raw grave by an elderly coffin-shaped female with +a long nose, who called him 'Master Frankie'; and there he was +congratulated behind an echoing top-hat by a man he mistook for a mute, +who turned out to be his aunt's lawyer. He wrote his mother next day, +after a bright account of the funeral: + +'So far as I can understand, she has left me between four and five +hundred a year. It all comes from Ther Land, as they call it down here. +The unspeakable attorney, Sperrit, and a green-eyed daughter, who hums +to herself as she tramps but is silent on all subjects except "huntin'," +insisted on taking me to see it. Ther Land is brown and green in +alternate slabs like chocolate and pistachio cakes, speckled with +occasional peasants who do not utter. In case it should not be wet +enough there is a wet brook in the middle of it. Ther House is by the +brook. I shall look into it later. If there should be any little memento +of Jenny that you care for, let me know. Didn't you tell me that +mid-Victorian furniture is coming into the market again? Jenny's old +maid--it is called Rhoda Dolbie--tells me that Jenny promised it thirty +pounds a year. The will does not. Hence, I suppose, the tears at the +funeral. But that is close on ten per cent of the income. I fancy Jenny +has destroyed all her private papers and records of her _vie intime_, +if, indeed, life be possible in such a place. The Sperrit man told me +that if I had means of my own I might come and live on Ther Land. I +didn't tell him how much I would pay not to! I cannot think it right +that any human being should exercise mastery over others in the +merciless fashion our tom-fool social system permits; so, as it is all +mine, I intend to sell it whenever the unholy Sperrit can find a +purchaser.' + +And he went to Mr. Sperrit with the idea next day, just before returning +to town. + +'Quite so,' said the lawyer. 'I see your point, of course. But the house +itself is rather old-fashioned--hardly the type purchasers demand +nowadays. There's no park, of course, and the bulk of the land is let to +a life-tenant, a Mr. Sidney. As long as he pays his rent, he can't be +turned out, and even if he didn't'--Mr. Sperrit's face relaxed a +shade--'you might have a difficulty.' + +'The property brings four hundred a year, I understand,' said Midmore. + +'Well, hardly--ha-ardly. Deducting land and income tax, tithes, fire +insurance, cost of collection and repairs of course, it returned two +hundred and eighty-four pounds last year. The repairs are rather a large +item--owing to the brook. I call it Liris--out of Horace, you know.' + +Midmore looked at his watch impatiently. + +'I suppose you can find somebody to buy it?' he repeated. + +'We will do our best, of course, if those are your instructions. Then, +that is all except'--here Midmore half rose, but Mr. Sperrit's little +grey eyes held his large brown ones firmly--'except about Rhoda Dolbie, +Mrs. Werf's maid. I may tell you that we did not draw up your aunt's +last will. She grew secretive towards the last--elderly people often +do--and had it done in London. I expect her memory failed her, or she +mislaid her notes. She used to put them in her spectacle-case.... My +motor only takes eight minutes to get to the station, Mr. Midmore ... +but, as I was saying, whenever she made her will with _us_, Mrs. Werf +always left Rhoda thirty pounds per annum. Charlie, the wills!' A clerk +with a baldish head and a long nose dealt documents on to the table like +cards, and breathed heavily behind Midmore. 'It's in no sense a legal +obligation, of course,' said Mr. Sperrit. 'Ah, that one is dated January +the 11th, eighteen eighty-nine.' + +Midmore looked at his watch again and found himself saying with no good +grace: 'Well, I suppose she'd better have it--for the present at +any rate.' + +He escaped with an uneasy feeling that two hundred and fifty-four pounds +a year was not exactly four hundred, and that Charlie's long nose +annoyed him. Then he returned, first-class, to his own affairs. + +Of the two, perhaps three, experiments in Social Relations which he had +then in hand, one interested him acutely. It had run for some months and +promised most variegated and interesting developments, on which he dwelt +luxuriously all the way to town. When he reached his flat he was not +well prepared for a twelve-page letter explaining, in the diction of the +Immoderate Left which rubricates its I's and illuminates its T's, that +the lady had realised greater attractions in another Soul. She +re-stated, rather than pleaded, the gospel of the Immoderate Left as her +justification, and ended in an impassioned demand for her right to +express herself in and on her own life, through which, she pointed out, +she could pass but once. She added that if, later, she should discover +Midmore was 'essentially complementary to her needs,' she would tell him +so. That Midmore had himself written much the same sort of +epistle--barring the hint of return--to a woman of whom his needs for +self-expression had caused him to weary three years before, did not +assist him in the least. He expressed himself to the gas-fire in terms +essential but not complimentary. Then he reflected on the detached +criticism of his best friends and her best friends, male and female, +with whom he and she and others had talked so openly while their gay +adventure was in flower. He recalled, too--this must have been about +midnight--her analysis from every angle, remote and most intimate, of +the mate to whom she had been adjudged under the base convention which +is styled marriage. Later, at that bad hour when the cattle wake for a +little, he remembered her in other aspects and went down into the hell +appointed; desolate, desiring, with no God to call upon. About eleven +o'clock next morning Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite, and +Zophar the Naamathite called upon him 'for they had made appointment +together' to see how he took it; but the janitor told them that Job had +gone--into the country, he believed. + +Midmore's relief when he found his story was not written across his +aching temples for Mr. Sperrit to read--the defeated lover, like the +successful one, believes all earth privy to his soul--was put down by +Mr. Sperrit to quite different causes. He led him into a morning-room. +The rest of the house seemed to be full of people, singing to a loud +piano idiotic songs about cows, and the hall smelt of damp cloaks. + +'It's our evening to take the winter cantata,' Mr. Sperrit explained. +'It's "High Tide on the Coast of Lincolnshire." I hoped you'd come back. +There are scores of little things to settle. As for the house, of +course, it stands ready for you at any time. I couldn't get Rhoda out of +it--nor could Charlie for that matter. She's the sister, isn't she, of +the nurse who brought you down here when you were four, she says, to +recover from measles?' + +'Is she? Was I?' said Midmore through the bad tastes in his mouth. +'D'you suppose I could stay there the night?' + +Thirty joyous young voices shouted appeal to some one to leave their +'pipes of parsley 'ollow--'ollow--'ollow!' Mr. Sperrit had to raise his +voice above the din. + +'Well, if I asked you to stay _here_, I should never hear the last of it +from Rhoda. She's a little cracked, of course, but the soul of devotion +and capable of anything. _Ne sit ancillae_, you know.' + +'Thank you. Then I'll go. I'll walk.' He stumbled out dazed and sick +into the winter twilight, and sought the square house by the brook. + +It was not a dignified entry, because when the door was unchained and +Rhoda exclaimed, he took two valiant steps into the hall and then +fainted--as men sometimes will after twenty-two hours of strong emotion +and little food. + +'I'm sorry,' he said when he could speak. He was lying at the foot of +the stairs, his head on Rhoda's lap. + +'Your 'ome is your castle, sir,' was the reply in his hair. 'I smelt it +wasn't drink. You lay on the sofa till I get your supper.' + +She settled him in a drawing-room hung with yellow silk, heavy with the +smell of dead leaves and oil lamp. Something murmured soothingly in the +background and overcame the noises in his head. He thought he heard +horses' feet on wet gravel and a voice singing about ships and flocks +and grass. It passed close to the shuttered bay-window. + + But each will mourn his own, she saith, + And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath + Than my son's wife, Elizabeth ... + Cusha--cusha--cusha--calling. + +The hoofs broke into a canter as Rhoda entered with the tray. 'And then +I'll put you to bed,' she said. 'Sidney's coming in the morning.' +Midmore asked no questions. He dragged his poor bruised soul to bed and +would have pitied it all over again, but the food and warm sherry and +water drugged him to instant sleep. + +Rhoda's voice wakened him, asking whether he would have ''ip, foot, or +sitz,' which he understood were the baths of the establishment. 'Suppose +you try all three,' she suggested. 'They're all yours, you know, sir.' + +He would have renewed his sorrows with the daylight, but her words +struck him pleasantly. Everything his eyes opened upon was his very own +to keep for ever. The carved four-post Chippendale bed, obviously worth +hundreds; the wavy walnut William and Mary chairs--he had seen worse +ones labelled twenty guineas apiece; the oval medallion mirror; the +delicate eighteenth-century wire fireguard; the heavy brocaded curtains +were his--all his. So, too, a great garden full of birds that faced him +when he shaved; a mulberry tree, a sun-dial, and a dull, steel-coloured +brook that murmured level with the edge of a lawn a hundred yards away. +Peculiarly and privately his own was the smell of sausages and coffee +that he sniffed at the head of the wide square landing, all set round +with mysterious doors and Bartolozzi prints. He spent two hours after +breakfast in exploring his new possessions. His heart leaped up at such +things as sewing-machines, a rubber-tyred bath-chair in a tiled passage, +a malachite-headed Malacca cane, boxes and boxes of unopened stationery, +seal-rings, bunches of keys, and at the bottom of a steel-net reticule a +little leather purse with seven pounds ten shillings in gold and eleven +shillings in silver. + +'You used to play with that when my sister brought you down here after +your measles,' said Rhoda as he slipped the money into his pocket. 'Now, +this was your pore dear auntie's business-room.' She opened a low door. +'Oh, I forgot about Mr. Sidney! There he is.' An enormous old man with +rheumy red eyes that blinked under downy white eyebrows sat in an Empire +chair, his cap in his hands. Rhoda withdrew sniffing. The man looked +Midmore over in silence, then jerked a thumb towards the door. 'I reckon +she told you who I be,' he began. 'I'm the only farmer you've got. +Nothin' goes off my place 'thout it walks on its own feet. What about my +pig-pound?' + +'Well, what about it?' said Midmore. + +'That's just what I be come about. The County Councils are getting more +particular. Did ye know there was swine fever at Pashell's? There _be_. +It'll 'ave to be in brick.' + +'Yes,' said Midmore politely. + +'I've bin at your aunt that was, plenty times about it. I don't say she +wasn't a just woman, but she didn't read the lease same way I did. I be +used to bein' put upon, but there's no doing any longer 'thout that +pig-pound.' + +'When would you like it?' Midmore asked. It seemed the easiest road to +take. + +'Any time or other suits me, I reckon. He ain't thrivin' where he is, +an' I paid eighteen shillin' for him.' He crossed his hands on his stick +and gave no further sign of life. + +'Is that all?' Midmore stammered. + +'All now--excep''--he glanced fretfully at the table beside him--'excep' +my usuals. Where's that Rhoda?' + +Midmore rang the bell. Rhoda came in with a bottle and a glass. The old +man helped himself to four stiff fingers, rose in one piece, and stumped +out. At the door he cried ferociously: 'Don't suppose it's any odds to +you whether I'm drowned or not, but them floodgates want a wheel and +winch, they do. I be too old for liftin' 'em with the bar--my time +o' life.' + +'Good riddance if 'e was drowned,' said Rhoda. 'But don't you mind him. +He's only amusin' himself. Your pore dear auntie used to give 'im 'is +usual--'tisn't the whisky _you_ drink--an' send 'im about 'is business.' + +'I see. Now, is a pig-pound the same thing as a pig-sty?' + +Rhoda nodded. ''E needs one, too, but 'e ain't entitled to it. You look +at 'is lease--third drawer on the left in that Bombay cab'net--an' next +time 'e comes you ask 'im to read it. That'll choke 'im off, because +'e can't!' + +There was nothing in Midmore's past to teach him the message and +significance of a hand-written lease of the late 'eighties, but Rhoda +interpreted. + +'It don't mean anything reelly,' was her cheerful conclusion, 'excep' +you mustn't get rid of him anyhow, an' 'e can do what 'e likes always. +Lucky for us 'e _do_ farm; and if it wasn't for 'is woman--' + +'Oh, there's a Mrs. Sidney, is there?' + +'Lor, _no_!' The Sidneys don't marry. They keep. That's his fourth +since--to my knowledge. He was a takin' man from the first.' + +'Any families?' + +'They'd be grown up by now if there was, wouldn't they? But you can't +spend all your days considerin' 'is interests. That's what gave your +pore aunt 'er indigestion. 'Ave you seen the gun-room?' + +Midmore held strong views on the immorality of taking life for pleasure. +But there was no denying that the late Colonel Werf's seventy-guinea +breechloaders were good at their filthy job. He loaded one, took it out +and pointed--merely pointed--it at a cock-pheasant which rose out of a +shrubbery behind the kitchen, and the flaming bird came down in a long +slant on the lawn, stone dead. Rhoda from the scullery said it was a +lovely shot, and told him lunch was ready. + +He spent the afternoon gun in one hand, a map in the other, beating the +bounds of his lands. They lay altogether in a shallow, uninteresting +valley, flanked with woods and bisected by a brook. Up stream was his +own house; down stream, less than half a mile, a low red farm-house +squatted in an old orchard, beside what looked like small lock-gates on +the Thames. There was no doubt as to ownership. Mr. Sidney saw him while +yet far off, and bellowed at him about pig-pounds and floodgates. These +last were two great sliding shutters of weedy oak across the brook, +which were prised up inch by inch with a crowbar along a notched strip +of iron, and when Sidney opened them they at once let out half the +water. Midmore watched it shrink between its aldered banks like some +conjuring trick. This, too, was his very own. + +'I see,' he said. 'How interesting! Now, what's that bell for?' he went +on, pointing to an old ship's bell in a rude belfry at the end of an +outhouse. 'Was that a chapel once?' The red-eyed giant seemed to have +difficulty in expressing himself for the moment and blinked savagely. + +'Yes,' he said at last. 'My chapel. When you 'ear that bell ring you'll +'ear something. Nobody but me 'ud put up with it--but I reckon it don't +make any odds to you.' He slammed the gates down again, and the brook +rose behind them with a suck and a grunt. + +Midmore moved off, conscious that he might be safer with Rhoda to hold +his conversational hand. As he passed the front of the farm-house a +smooth fat woman, with neatly parted grey hair under a widow's cap, +curtsied to him deferentially through the window. By every teaching of +the Immoderate Left she had a perfect right to express herself in any +way she pleased, but the curtsey revolted him. And on his way home he +was hailed from behind a hedge by a manifest idiot with no roof to his +mouth, who hallooed and danced round him. + +'What did that beast want?' he demanded of Rhoda at tea. + +'Jimmy? He only wanted to know if you 'ad any telegrams to send. 'E'll +go anywhere so long as 'tisn't across running water. That gives 'im 'is +seizures. Even talkin' about it for fun like makes 'im shake.' + +'But why isn't he where he can be properly looked after?' + +'What 'arm's 'e doing? E's a love-child, but 'is family can pay for 'im. +If 'e was locked up 'e'd die all off at once, like a wild rabbit. Won't +you, please, look at the drive, sir?' + +Midmore looked in the fading light. The neat gravel was pitted with +large roundish holes, and there was a punch or two of the same sort +on the lawn. + +'That's the 'unt comin' 'ome,' Rhoda explained. 'Your pore dear auntie +always let 'em use our drive for a short cut after the Colonel died. The +Colonel wouldn't so much because he preserved; but your auntie was +always an 'orsewoman till 'er sciatica.' + +'Isn't there some one who can rake it over or--or something?' said +Midmore vaguely. + +'Oh yes. You'll never see it in the morning, but--you was out when they +came 'ome an' Mister Fisher--he's the Master--told me to tell you with +'is compliments that if you wasn't preservin' and cared to 'old to the +old understanding', is gravel-pit is at your service same as before. 'E +thought, perhaps, you mightn't know, and it 'ad slipped my mind to tell +you. It's good gravel, Mister Fisher's, and it binds beautiful on the +drive. We 'ave to draw it, o' course, from the pit, but--' + +Midmore looked at her helplessly. + +'Rhoda,' said he, 'what am I supposed to do?' + +'Oh, let 'em come through,' she replied. 'You never know. You may want +to 'unt yourself some day.' + +That evening it rained and his misery returned on him, the worse for +having been diverted. At last he was driven to paw over a few score +books in a panelled room called the library, and realised with horror +what the late Colonel Werf's mind must have been in its prime. The +volumes smelt of a dead world as strongly as they did of mildew. He +opened and thrust them back, one after another, till crude coloured +illustrations of men on horses held his eye. He began at random and read +a little, moved into the drawing-room with the volume, and settled down +by the fire still reading. It was a foul world into which he peeped for +the first time--a heavy-eating, hard-drinking hell of horse-copers, +swindlers, matchmaking mothers, economically dependent virgins selling +themselves blushingly for cash and lands: Jews, tradesmen, and an +ill-considered spawn of Dickens-and-horsedung characters (I give +Midmore's own criticism), but he read on, fascinated, and behold, from +the pages leaped, as it were, the brother to the red-eyed man of the +brook, bellowing at a landlord (here Midmore realised that _he_ was that +very animal) for new barns; and another man who, like himself again, +objected to hoof-marks on gravel. Outrageous as thought and conception +were, the stuff seemed to have the rudiments of observation. He dug out +other volumes by the same author, till Rhoda came in with a silver +candlestick. + +'Rhoda,' said he, 'did you ever hear about a character called James +Pigg--and Batsey?' + +'Why, o' course,' said she. 'The Colonel used to come into the kitchen +in 'is dressin'-gown an' read us all those Jorrockses.' + +'Oh, Lord!' said Midmore, and went to bed with a book called _Handley +Cross_ under his arm, and a lonelier Columbus into a stranger world the +wet-ringed moon never looked upon. + + * * * * * + +Here we omit much. But Midmore never denied that for the epicure in +sensation the urgent needs of an ancient house, as interpreted by Rhoda +pointing to daylight through attic-tiles held in place by moss, gives an +edge to the pleasure of Social Research elsewhere. Equally he found that +the reaction following prolonged research loses much of its grey terror +if one knows one can at will bathe the soul in the society of plumbers +(all the water-pipes had chronic appendicitis), village idiots (Jimmy +had taken Midmore under his weak wing and camped daily at the +drive-gates), and a giant with red eyelids whose every action is an +unpredictable outrage. + +Towards spring Midmore filled his house with a few friends of the +Immoderate Left. It happened to be the day when, all things and Rhoda +working together, a cartload of bricks, another of sand, and some bags +of lime had been despatched to build Sidney his almost daily-demanded +pig-pound. Midmore took his friends across the flat fields with some +idea of showing them Sidney as a type of 'the peasantry.' They hit the +minute when Sidney, hoarse with rage, was ordering bricklayer, mate, +carts and all off his premises. The visitors disposed themselves +to listen. + +'You never give me no notice about changin' the pig,' Sidney shouted. +The pig--at least eighteen inches long--reared on end in the old sty and +smiled at the company. + +'But, my good man--' Midmore opened. + +'I ain't! For aught you know I be a dam' sight worse than you be. You +can't come and be'ave arbit'ry with me. You _are_ be'avin' arbit'ry! All +you men go clean away an' don't set foot on my land till I bid ye.' + +'But you asked'--Midmore felt his voice jump up--'to have the pig-pound +built.' + +''Spose I did. That's no reason you shouldn't send me notice to change +the pig. 'Comin' down on me like this 'thout warnin'! That pig's got to +be got into the cowshed an' all.' + +'Then open the door and let him run in,' said Midmore. + +'Don't you be'ave arbit'ry with _me_! Take all your dam' men 'ome off my +land. I won't be treated arbit'ry.' + +The carts moved off without a word, and Sidney went into the house and +slammed the door. + +'Now, I hold that is enormously significant,' said a visitor. 'Here you +have the logical outcome of centuries of feudal oppression--the frenzy +of fear.' The company looked at Midmore with grave pain. + +'But he _did_ worry my life out about his pig-sty,' was all Midmore +found to say. + +Others took up the parable and proved to him if he only held true to the +gospels of the Immoderate Left the earth would soon be covered with +'jolly little' pig-sties, built in the intervals of morris-dancing by +'the peasant' himself. + +Midmore felt grateful when the door opened again and Mr. Sidney invited +them all to retire to the road which, he pointed out, was public. As +they turned the corner of the house, a smooth-faced woman in a widow's +cap curtsied to each of them through the window. + +Instantly they drew pictures of that woman's lot, deprived of all +vehicle for self-expression--'the set grey life and apathetic end,' one +quoted--and they discussed the tremendous significance of village +theatricals. Even a month ago Midmore would have told them all that he +knew and Rhoda had dropped about Sidney's forms of self-expression. Now, +for some strange reason, he was content to let the talk run on from +village to metropolitan and world drama. + +Rhoda advised him after the visitors left that 'if he wanted to do that +again' he had better go up to town. + +'But we only sat on cushions on the floor,' said her master. + +'They're too old for romps,' she retorted, 'an' it's only the beginning +of things. I've seen what _I've_ seen. Besides, they talked and laughed +in the passage going to their baths--such as took 'em.' + +'Don't be a fool, Rhoda,' said Midmore. No man--unless he has loved +her--will casually dismiss a woman on whose lap he has laid his head. + +'Very good,' she snorted, 'but that cuts both ways. An' now, you go down +to Sidney's this evenin' and put him where he ought to be. He was in his +right about you givin' 'im notice about changin' the pig, but he 'adn't +any right to turn it up before your company. No manners, no pig-pound. +He'll understand.' + +Midmore did his best to make him. He found himself reviling the old man +in speech and with a joy quite new in all his experience. He wound +up--it was a plagiarism from a plumber--by telling Mr. Sidney that he +looked like a turkey-cock, had the morals of a parish bull, and need +never hope for a new pig-pound as long as he or Midmore lived. + +'Very good,' said the giant. 'I reckon you thought you 'ad something +against me, and now you've come down an' told it me like man to man. +Quite right. I don't bear malice. Now, you send along those bricks an' +sand, an' I'll make a do to build the pig-pound myself. If you look at +my lease you'll find out you're bound to provide me materials for the +repairs. Only--only I thought there'd be no 'arm in my askin' you to do +it throughout like.' + +Midmore fairly gasped. 'Then, why the devil did you turn my carts back +when--when I sent them up here to do it throughout for you?' + +Mr. Sidney sat down on the floodgates, his eyebrows knitted in thought. + +'I'll tell you,' he said slowly. ''Twas too dam' like cheatin' a suckin' +baby. My woman, she said so too.' + +For a few seconds the teachings of the Immoderate Left, whose humour is +all their own, wrestled with those of Mother Earth, who has her own +humours. Then Midmore laughed till he could scarcely stand. In due time +Mr. Sidney laughed too--crowing and wheezing crescendo till it broke +from him in roars. They shook hands, and Midmore went home grateful that +he had held his tongue among his companions. + +When he reached his house he met three or four men and women on +horse-back, very muddy indeed, coming down the drive. Feeling hungry +himself, he asked them if they were hungry. They said they were, and he +bade them enter. Jimmy took their horses, who seemed to know him. Rhoda +took their battered hats, led the women upstairs for hairpins, and +presently fed them all with tea-cakes, poached eggs, anchovy toast, and +drinks from a coromandel-wood liqueur case which Midmore had never known +that he possessed. + +'And I _will_ say,' said Miss Connie Sperrit, her spurred foot on the +fender and a smoking muffin in her whip hand, 'Rhoda does one top-hole. +She always did since I was eight.' + +'Seven, Miss, was when you began to 'unt,' said Rhoda, setting down more +buttered toast. + +'And so,' the M.F.H. was saying to Midmore, 'when he got to your brute +Sidney's land, we had to whip 'em off. It's a regular Alsatia for 'em. +They know it. Why'--he dropped his voice--'I don't want to say anything +against Sidney as your tenant, of course, but I do believe the old +scoundrel's perfectly capable of putting down poison.' + +'Sidney's capable of anything,' said Midmore with immense feeling; but +once again he held his tongue. They were a queer community; yet when +they had stamped and jingled out to their horses again, the house felt +hugely big and disconcerting. + +This may be reckoned the conscious beginning of his double life. It ran +in odd channels that summer--a riding school, for instance, near Hayes +Common and a shooting ground near Wormwood Scrubs. A man who has been +saddle-galled or shoulder-bruised for half the day is not at his London +best of evenings; and when the bills for his amusements come in he +curtails his expenses in other directions. So a cloud settled on +Midmore's name. His London world talked of a hardening of heart and a +tightening of purse-strings which signified disloyalty to the Cause. One +man, a confidant of the old expressive days, attacked him robustiously +and demanded account of his soul's progress. It was not furnished, for +Midmore was calculating how much it would cost to repave stables so +dilapidated that even the village idiot apologised for putting visitors' +horses into them. The man went away, and served up what he had heard of +the pig-pound episode as a little newspaper sketch, calculated to annoy. +Midmore read it with an eye as practical as a woman's, and since most of +his experiences had been among women, at once sought out a woman to whom +he might tell his sorrow at the disloyalty of his own familiar friend. +She was so sympathetic that he went on to confide how his bruised +heart--she knew all about it--had found so-lace, with a long O, in +another quarter which he indicated rather carefully in case it might be +betrayed to other loyal friends. As his hints pointed directly towards +facile Hampstead, and as his urgent business was the purchase of a horse +from a dealer, Beckenham way, he felt he had done good work. Later, when +his friend, the scribe, talked to him alluringly of 'secret gardens' and +those so-laces to which every man who follows the Wider Morality is +entitled, Midmore lent him a five-pound note which he had got back on +the price of a ninety-guinea bay gelding. So true it is, as he read in +one of the late Colonel Werf's books, that 'the young man of the present +day would sooner lie under an imputation against his morals than against +his knowledge of horse-flesh.' + +Midmore desired more than he desired anything else at that moment to +ride and, above all, to jump on a ninety-guinea bay gelding with black +points and a slovenly habit of hitting his fences. He did not wish many +people except Mr. Sidney, who very kindly lent his soft meadow behind +the floodgates, to be privy to the matter, which he rightly foresaw +would take him to the autumn. So he told such friends as hinted at +country week-end visits that he had practically let his newly inherited +house. The rent, he said, was an object to him, for he had lately lost +large sums through ill-considered benevolences. He would name no names, +but they could guess. And they guessed loyally all round the circle of +his acquaintance as they spread the news that explained so much. + +There remained only one couple of his once intimate associates to +pacify. They were deeply sympathetic and utterly loyal, of course, but +as curious as any of the apes whose diet they had adopted. Midmore met +them in a suburban train, coming up to town, not twenty minutes after he +had come off two hours' advanced tuition (one guinea an hour) over +hurdles in a hall. He had, of course, changed his kit, but his too heavy +bridle-hand shook a little among the newspapers. On the inspiration of +the moment, which is your natural liar's best hold, he told them that he +was condemned to a rest-cure. He would lie in semi-darkness drinking +milk, for weeks and weeks, cut off even from letters. He was astonished +and delighted at the ease with which the usual lie confounds the unusual +intellect. They swallowed it as swiftly as they recommended him to live +on nuts and fruit; but he saw in the woman's eyes the exact reason she +would set forth for his retirement. After all, she had as much right to +express herself as he purposed to take for himself; and Midmore believed +strongly in the fullest equality of the sexes. + +That retirement made one small ripple in the strenuous world. The lady +who had written the twelve-page letter ten months before sent him +another of eight pages, analysing all the motives that were leading her +back to him--should she come?--now that he was ill and alone. Much might +yet be retrieved, she said, out of the waste of jarring lives and +piteous misunderstandings. It needed only a hand. + +But Midmore needed two, next morning very early, for a devil's +diversion, among wet coppices, called 'cubbing.' + +'You haven't a bad seat,' said Miss Sperrit through the morning-mists. +'But you're worrying him.' + +'He pulls so,' Midmore grunted. + +'Let him alone, then. Look out for the branches,' she shouted, as they +whirled up a splashy ride. Cubs were plentiful. Most of the hounds +attached themselves to a straight-necked youngster of education who +scuttled out of the woods into the open fields below. + +'Hold on!' some one shouted. 'Turn 'em, Midmore. That's your brute +Sidney's land. It's all wire.' + +'Oh, Connie, stop!' Mrs. Sperrit shrieked as her daughter charged at a +boundary-hedge. + +'Wire be damned! I had it all out a fortnight ago. Come on!' This was +Midmore, buffeting into it a little lower down. + +'_I_ knew that!' Connie cried over her shoulder, and she flitted across +the open pasture, humming to herself. + +'Oh, of course! If some people have private information, they can afford +to thrust.' This was a snuff-coloured habit into which Miss Sperrit had +cannoned down the ride. + +'What! 'Midmore got Sidney to heel? _You_ never did that, Sperrit.' This +was Mr. Fisher, M.F.H., enlarging the breach Midmore had made. + +'No, confound him!' said the father testily. 'Go on, sir! _Injecto ter +pulvere_--you've kicked half the ditch into my eye already.' + +They killed that cub a little short of the haven his mother had told him +to make for--a two-acre Alsatia of a gorse-patch to which the M.F.H. had +been denied access for the last fifteen seasons. He expressed his +gratitude before all the field and Mr. Sidney, at Mr. Sidney's +farm-house door. + +'And if there should be any poultry claims--' he went on. + +'There won't be,' said Midmore. 'It's too like cheating a sucking child, +isn't it, Mr. Sidney?' + +'You've got me!' was all the reply. 'I be used to bein' put upon, but +you've got me, Mus' Midmore.' + +Midmore pointed to a new brick pig-pound built in strict disregard of +the terms of the life-tenant's lease. The gesture told the tale to the +few who did not know, and they shouted. + +Such pagan delights as these were followed by pagan sloth of evenings +when men and women elsewhere are at their brightest. But Midmore +preferred to lie out on a yellow silk couch, reading works of a debasing +vulgarity; or, by invitation, to dine with the Sperrits and savages of +their kidney. These did not expect flights of fancy or phrasing. They +lied, except about horses, grudgingly and of necessity, not for art's +sake; and, men and women alike, they expressed themselves along their +chosen lines with the serene indifference of the larger animals. Then +Midmore would go home and identify them, one by one, out of the +natural-history books by Mr. Surtees, on the table beside the sofa. At +first they looked upon him coolly, but when the tale of the removed wire +and the recaptured gorse had gone the rounds, they accepted him for a +person willing to play their games. True, a faction suspended judgment +for a while, because they shot, and hoped that Midmore would serve the +glorious mammon of pheasant-raising rather than the unkempt god of +fox-hunting. But after he had shown his choice, they did not ask by what +intellectual process he had arrived at it. He hunted three, sometimes +four, times a week, which necessitated not only one bay gelding (£94: +10s.), but a mannerly white-stockinged chestnut (£114), and a black +mare, rather long in the back but with a mouth of silk (£150), who so +evidently preferred to carry a lady that it would have been cruel to +have baulked her. Besides, with that handling she could be sold at a +profit. And besides, the hunt was a quiet, intimate, kindly little hunt, +not anxious for strangers, of good report in the _Field_, the servant of +one M.F.H., given to hospitality, riding well its own horses, and, with +the exception of Midmore, not novices. But as Miss Sperrit observed, +after the M.F.H. had said some things to him at a gate: 'It _is_ a pity +you don't know as much as your horse, but you will in time. It takes +years and yee-ars. I've been at it for fifteen and I'm only just +learning. But you've made a decent kick-off.' + +So he kicked off in wind and wet and mud, wondering quite sincerely why +the bubbling ditches and sucking pastures held him from day to day, or +what so-lace he could find on off days in chasing grooms and +brick-layers round outhouses. + +To make sure he up-rooted himself one week-end of heavy mid-winter rain, +and re-entered his lost world in the character of Galahad fresh from a +rest-cure. They all agreed, with an eye over his shoulder for the next +comer, that he was a different man; but when they asked him for the +symptoms of nervous strain, and led him all through their own, he +realised he had lost much of his old skill in lying. His three months' +absence, too, had put him hopelessly behind the London field. The +movements, the allusions, the slang of the game had changed. The couples +had rearranged themselves or were re-crystallizing in fresh triangles, +whereby he put his foot in it badly. Only one great soul (he who had +written the account of the pig-pound episode) stood untouched by the +vast flux of time, and Midmore lent him another fiver for his integrity. +A woman took him, in the wet forenoon, to a pronouncement on the Oneness +of Impulse in Humanity, which struck him as a polysyllabic _résumé_ of +Mr. Sidney's domestic arrangements, plus a clarion call to 'shock +civilisation into common-sense.' + +'And you'll come to tea with me to-morrow?' she asked, after lunch, +nibbling cashew nuts from a saucer. Midmore replied that there were +great arrears of work to overtake when a man had been put away for +so long. + +'But you've come back like a giant refreshed.... I hope that +Daphne'--this was the lady of the twelve and the eight-page +letter--'will be with us too. She has misunderstood herself, like so +many of us,' the woman murmured, 'but I think eventually ...' she flung +out her thin little hands. 'However, these are things that each lonely +soul must adjust for itself.' + +'Indeed, yes,' said Midmore with a deep sigh. The old tricks were +sprouting in the old atmosphere like mushrooms in a dung-pit. He passed +into an abrupt reverie, shook his head, as though stung by tumultuous +memories, and departed without any ceremony of farewell to--catch a +mid-afternoon express where a man meets associates who talk horse, and +weather as it affects the horse, all the way down. What worried him most +was that he had missed a day with the hounds. + +He met Rhoda's keen old eyes without flinching; and the drawing-room +looked very comfortable that wet evening at tea. After all, his visit to +town had not been wholly a failure. He had burned quite a bushel of +letters at his flat. A flat--here he reached mechanically towards the +worn volumes near the sofa--a flat was a consuming animal. As for +Daphne ... he opened at random on the words: 'His lordship then did as +desired and disclosed a _tableau_ of considerable strength and variety.' +Midmore reflected: 'And I used to think.... But she wasn't.... We were +all babblers and skirters together.... I didn't babble much--thank +goodness--but I skirted.' He turned the pages backward for more _Sortes +Surteesianae_, and read: 'When at length they rose to go to bed it +struck each man as he followed his neighbour upstairs, that the man +before him walked very crookedly.' He laughed aloud at the fire. + +'What about to-morrow?' Rhoda asked, entering with garments over her +shoulder. 'It's never stopped raining since you left. You'll be +plastered out of sight an' all in five minutes. You'd better wear your +next best, 'adn't you? I'm afraid they've shrank. 'Adn't you best +try 'em on?' + +'Here?' said Midmore. + +''Suit yourself. I bathed you when you wasn't larger than a leg o' +lamb,' said the ex-ladies'-maid. + +'Rhoda, one of these days I shall get a valet, and a married butler.' + +'There's many a true word spoke in jest. But nobody's huntin' +to-morrow.' + +'Why? Have they cancelled the meet?' + +'They say it only means slipping and over-reaching in the mud, and they +all 'ad enough of that to-day. Charlie told me so just now.' + +'Oh!' It seemed that the word of Mr. Sperrit's confidential clerk had +weight. + +'Charlie came down to help Mr. Sidney lift the gates,' Rhoda continued. + +'The floodgates? They are perfectly easy to handle now. I've put in a +wheel and a winch.' + +'When the brook's really up they must be took clean out on account of +the rubbish blockin' 'em. That's why Charlie came down.' + +Midmore grunted impatiently. 'Everybody has talked to me about that +brook ever since I came here. It's never done anything yet.' + +'This 'as been a dry summer. If you care to look now, sir, I'll get you +a lantern.' + +She paddled out with him into a large wet night. Half-way down the lawn +her light was reflected on shallow brown water, pricked through with +grass blades at the edges. Beyond that light, the brook was strangling +and kicking among hedges and tree-trunks. + +'What on earth will happen to the big rose-bed?' was Midmore's first +word. + +'It generally 'as to be restocked after a flood. Ah!' she raised her +lantern. 'There's two garden-seats knockin' against the sun-dial. Now, +that won't do the roses any good.' + +'This is too absurd. There ought to be some decently thought-out +system--for--for dealing with this sort of thing.' He peered into the +rushing gloom. There seemed to be no end to the moisture and the racket. +In town he had noticed nothing. + +'It can't be 'elped,' said Rhoda. 'It's just what it does do once in +just so often. We'd better go back.' + +All earth under foot was sliding in a thousand liquid noises towards +the hoarse brook. Somebody wailed from the house: ''Fraid o' the water! +Come 'ere! 'Fraid o' the water!' + +'That's Jimmy. Wet always takes 'im that way,' she explained. The idiot +charged into them, shaking with terror. + +'Brave Jimmy! How brave of Jimmy! Come into the hall. What Jimmy got +now?' she crooned. It was a sodden note which ran: 'Dear Rhoda--Mr. +Lotten, with whom I rode home this afternoon, told me that if this wet +keeps up, he's afraid the fish-pond he built last year, where Coxen's +old mill-dam was, will go, as the dam did once before, he says. If it +does it's bound to come down the brook. It may be all right, but perhaps +you had better look out. C.S.' + +'If Coxen's dam goes, that means.... I'll 'ave the drawing-room carpet +up at once to be on the safe side. The claw-'ammer is in the libery.' + +'Wait a minute. Sidney's gates are out, you said?' + +'Both. He'll need it if Coxen's pond goes.... I've seen it once.' + +'I'll just slip down and have a look at Sidney. Light the lantern again, +please, Rhoda.' + +'You won't get _him_ to stir. He's been there since he was born. But +_she_ don't know anything. I'll fetch your waterproof and some +top-boots.' + +''Fraid o' the water! 'Fraid o' the water!' Jimmy sobbed, pressed +against a corner of the hall, his hands to his eyes. + +'All right, Jimmy. Jimmy can help play with the carpet,' Rhoda +answered, as Midmore went forth into the darkness and the roarings all +round. He had never seen such an utterly unregulated state of affairs. +There was another lantern reflected on the streaming drive. + +'Hi! Rhoda! Did you get my note? I came down to make sure. I thought, +afterwards, Jimmy might funk the water!' + +'It's me--Miss Sperrit,' Midmore cried. 'Yes, we got it, thanks.' + +'You're back, then. Oh, good!... Is it bad down with you?' + +'I'm going to Sidney's to have a look.' + +'You won't get _him_ out. 'Lucky I met Bob Lotten. I told him he hadn't +any business impounding water for his idiotic trout without +rebuilding the dam.' + +'How far up is it? I've only been there once.' + +'Not more than four miles as the water will come. He says he's opened +all the sluices.' + +She had turned and fallen into step beside him, her hooded head bowed +against the thinning rain. As usual she was humming to herself. + +'Why on earth did you come out in this weather?' Midmore asked. + +'It was worse when you were in town. The rain's taking off now. If it +wasn't for that pond, I wouldn't worry so much. There's Sidney's bell. +Come on!' She broke into a run. A cracked bell was jangling feebly down +the valley. + +'Keep on the road!' Midmore shouted. The ditches were snorting +bank-full on either side, and towards the brook-side the fields were +afloat and beginning to move in the darkness. + +'Catch me going off it! There's his light burning all right.' She halted +undistressed at a little rise. 'But the flood's in the orchard. Look!' +She swung her lantern to show a front rank of old apple-trees reflected +in still, out-lying waters beyond the half-drowned hedge. They could +hear above the thud-thud of the gorged floodgates, shrieks in two keys +as monotonous as a steam-organ. + +'The high one's the pig.' Miss Sperrit laughed. + +'All right! I'll get _her_ out. You stay where you are, and I'll see you +home afterwards.' + +'But the water's only just over the road,' she objected. + +'Never mind. Don't you move. Promise?' + +'All right. You take my stick, then, and feel for holes in case +anything's washed out anywhere. This _is_ a lark!' + +Midmore took it, and stepped into the water that moved sluggishly as yet +across the farm road which ran to Sidney's front door from the raised +and metalled public road. It was half way up to his knees when he +knocked. As he looked back Miss Sperrit's lantern seemed to float in +mid-ocean. + +'You can't come in or the water'll come with you. I've bunged up all the +cracks,' Mr. Sidney shouted from within. 'Who be ye?' + +'Take me out! Take me out!' the woman shrieked, and the pig from his +sty behind the house urgently seconded the motion. + +'I'm Midmore! Coxen's old mill-dam is likely to go, they say. Come out!' + +'I told 'em it would when they made a fish-pond of it. 'Twasn't ever +puddled proper. But it's a middlin' wide valley. She's got room to +spread.... Keep still, or I'll take and duck you in the cellar!... You +go 'ome, Mus' Midmore, an' take the law o' Mus' Lotten soon's you've +changed your socks.' + +'Confound you, aren't you coming out?' + +'To catch my death o' cold? I'm all right where I be. I've seen it +before. But you can take _her_. She's no sort o' use or sense.... Climb +out through the window. Didn't I tell you I'd plugged the door-cracks, +you fool's daughter?' The parlour window opened, and the woman flung +herself into Midmore's arms, nearly knocking him down. Mr. Sidney leaned +out of the window, pipe in mouth. + +'Take her 'ome,' he said, and added oracularly: + + 'Two women in one house, + Two cats an' one mouse, + Two dogs an' one bone-- + Which I will leave alone. + +I've seen it before.' Then he shut and fastened the window. + +'A trap! A trap! You had ought to have brought a trap for me. I'll be +drowned in this wet,' the woman cried. + +'Hold up! You can't be any wetter than you are. Come along!' Midmore +did not at all like the feel of the water over his boot-tops. + +'Hooray! Come along!' Miss Sperrit's lantern, not fifty yards away, +waved cheerily. + +The woman threshed towards it like a panic-stricken goose, fell on her +knees, was jerked up again by Midmore, and pushed on till she collapsed +at Miss Sperrit's feet. + +'But you won't get bronchitis if you go straight to Mr. Midmore's +house,' said the unsympathetic maiden. + +'O Gawd! O Gawd! I wish our 'eavenly Father 'ud forgive me my sins an' +call me 'ome,' the woman sobbed. 'But I won't go to _'is_ 'ouse! +I won't.' + +'All right, then. Stay here. Now, if we run,' Miss Sperrit whispered to +Midmore, 'she'll follow us. Not too fast!' + +They set off at a considerable trot, and the woman lumbered behind them, +bellowing, till they met a third lantern--Rhoda holding Jimmy's hand. +She had got the carpet up, she said, and was escorting Jimmy past the +water that he dreaded. + +'That's all right,' Miss Sperrit pronounced. 'Take Mrs. Sidney back with +you, Rhoda, and put her to bed. I'll take Jimmy with me. You aren't +afraid of the water now, are you, Jimmy?' + +'Not afraid of anything now.' Jimmy reached for her hand. 'But get away +from the water quick.' + +'I'm coming with you,' Midmore interrupted. + +'You most certainly are not. You're drenched. She threw you twice. Go +home and change. You may have to be out again all night. It's only +half-past seven now. I'm perfectly safe.' She flung herself lightly over +a stile, and hurried uphill by the foot-path, out of reach of all but +the boasts of the flood below. + +Rhoda, dead silent, herded Mrs. Sidney to the house. + +'You'll find your things laid out on the bed,' she said to Midmore as he +came up. I'll attend to--to this. _She's_ got nothing to cry for.' + +Midmore raced into dry kit, and raced uphill to be rewarded by the sight +of the lantern just turning into the Sperrits' gate. He came back by way +of Sidney's farm, where he saw the light twinkling across three acres of +shining water, for the rain had ceased and the clouds were stripping +overhead, though the brook was noisier than ever. Now there was only +that doubtful mill-pond to look after--that and his swirling world +abandoned to himself alone. + +'We shall have to sit up for it,' said Rhoda after dinner. And as the +drawing-room commanded the best view of the rising flood, they watched +it from there for a long time, while all the clocks of the house bore +them company. + +''Tisn't the water, it's the mud on the skirting-board after it goes +down that I mind,' Rhoda whispered. 'The last time Coxen's mill broke, I +remember it came up to the second--no, third--step o' Mr. +Sidney's stairs.' + +'What did Sidney do about it?' + +'He made a notch on the step. 'E said it was a record. Just like 'im.' + +'It's up to the drive now,' said Midmore after another long wait. 'And +the rain stopped before eight, you know.' + +'Then Coxen's dam _'as_ broke, and that's the first of the flood-water.' +She stared out beside him. The water was rising in sudden pulses--an +inch or two at a time, with great sweeps and lagoons and a sudden +increase of the brook's proper thunder. + +'You can't stand all the time. Take a chair,' Midmore said presently. + +Rhoda looked back into the bare room. 'The carpet bein' up _does_ make a +difference. Thank you, sir, I _will_ 'ave a set-down.' + +''Right over the drive now,' said Midmore. He opened the window and +leaned out. 'Is that wind up the valley, Rhoda?' + +'No, that's _it_! But I've seen it before.' + +There was not so much a roar as the purposeful drive of a tide across a +jagged reef, which put down every other sound for twenty minutes. A wide +sheet of water hurried up to the little terrace on which the house +stood, pushed round either corner, rose again and stretched, as it were, +yawning beneath the moonlight, joined other sheets waiting for them in +unsuspected hollows, and lay out all in one. A puff of wind followed. + +'It's right up to the wall now. I can touch it with my finger.' Midmore +bent over the window-sill. + +'I can 'ear it in the cellars,' said Rhoda dolefully. 'Well, we've done +what we can! I think I'll 'ave a look.' She left the room and was absent +half an hour or more, during which time he saw a full-grown tree +hauling itself across the lawn by its naked roots. Then a hurdle knocked +against the wall, caught on an iron foot-scraper just outside, and made +a square-headed ripple. The cascade through the cellar-windows +diminished. + +'It's dropping,' Rhoda cried, as she returned. 'It's only tricklin' into +my cellars now.' + +'Wait a minute. I believe--I believe I can see the scraper on the edge +of the drive just showing!' + +In another ten minutes the drive itself roughened and became gravel +again, tilting all its water towards the shrubbery. + +'The pond's gone past,' Rhoda announced. 'We shall only 'ave the common +flood to contend with now. You'd better go to bed.' + +'I ought to go down and have another look at Sidney before daylight.' + +'No need. You can see 'is light burnin' from all the upstairs windows.' + +'By the way. I forgot about _her_. Where've you put her?' + +'In my bed.' Rhoda's tone was ice. 'I wasn't going to undo a room for +_that_ stuff.' + +'But it--it couldn't be helped,' said Midmore. 'She was half drowned. +One mustn't be narrow-minded, Rhoda, even if her position isn't +quite--er--regular.' + +'Pfff! I wasn't worryin' about that.' She leaned forward to the window. +'There's the edge of the lawn showin' now. It falls as fast as it rises. +Dearie'--the change of tone made Midmore jump--'didn't you know that I +was 'is first? _That's_ what makes it so hard to bear.' Midmore looked +at the long lizard-like back and had no words. + +She went on, still talking through the black window-pane: + +'Your pore dear auntie was very kind about it. She said she'd make all +allowances for one, but no more. Never any more.... Then, you didn't +know 'oo Charlie was all this time?' + +'Your nephew, I always thought.' + +'Well, well,' she spoke pityingly. 'Everybody's business being nobody's +business, I suppose no one thought to tell you. But Charlie made 'is own +way for 'imself from the beginnin'!... But _her_ upstairs, she never +produced anything. Just an 'ousekeeper, as you might say. 'Turned over +an' went to sleep straight off. She 'ad the impudence to ask me for 'ot +sherry-gruel.' + +'Did you give it to her,' said Midmore. + +'Me? Your sherry? No!' + +The memory of Sidney's outrageous rhyme at the window, and Charlie's +long nose (he thought it looked interested at the time) as he passed the +copies of Mrs. Werf's last four wills, overcame Midmore without warning. + +'This damp is givin' you a cold,' said Rhoda, rising. 'There you go +again! Sneezin's a sure sign of it. Better go to bed. You can't do any +thin' excep''--she stood rigid, with crossed arms--'about me.' + +'Well. What about you?' Midmore stuffed the handkerchief into his +pocket. + +'Now you know about it, what are you goin' to do--sir?' + +She had the answer on her lean cheek before the sentence was finished. + +'Go and see if you can get us something to eat, Rhoda. And beer.' + +'I expec' the larder'll be in a swim,' she replied, 'but old bottled +stuff don't take any harm from wet.' She returned with a tray, all in +order, and they ate and drank together, and took observations of the +falling flood till dawn opened its bleared eyes on the wreck of what had +been a fair garden. Midmore, cold and annoyed, found himself humming: + + 'That flood strewed wrecks upon the grass, + That ebb swept out the flocks to sea. + +There isn't a rose left, Rhoda! + + An awesome ebb and flow it was + To many more than mine and me. + But each will mourn his ... + +It'll cost me a hundred.' + +'Now we know the worst,' said Rhoda, 'we can go to bed. I'll lay on the +kitchen sofa. His light's burnin' still.' + +'And _she_?' + +'Dirty old cat! You ought to 'ear 'er snore!' + +At ten o'clock in the morning, after a maddening hour in his own garden +on the edge of the retreating brook, Midmore went off to confront more +damage at Sidney's. The first thing that met him was the pig, snowy +white, for the water had washed him out of his new sty, calling on high +heaven for breakfast. The front door had been forced open, and the flood +had registered its own height in a brown dado on the walls. Midmore +chased the pig out and called up the stairs. + +'I be abed o' course. Which step 'as she rose to?' Sidney cried from +above. 'The fourth? Then it's beat all records. Come up.' + +'Are you ill?' Midmore asked as he entered the room. The red eyelids +blinked cheerfully. Mr. Sidney, beneath a sumptuous patch-work quilt, +was smoking. + +'Nah! I'm only thankin' God I ain't my own landlord. Take that cheer. +What's she done?' + +'It hasn't gone down enough for me to make sure.' + +'Them floodgates o' yourn'll be middlin' far down the brook by now; an' +your rose-garden have gone after 'em. I saved my chickens, though. You'd +better get Mus' Sperrit to take the law o' Lotten an' 'is fish-pond.' + +'No, thanks. I've trouble enough without that.' + +'Hev ye?' Mr. Sidney grinned. 'How did ye make out with those two women +o' mine last night? I lay they fought.' + +'You infernal old scoundrel!' Midmore laughed. + +'I be--an' then again I bain't,' was the placid answer. 'But, Rhoda, +_she_ wouldn't ha' left me last night. Fire or flood, she wouldn't.' + +'Why didn't you ever marry her?' Midmore asked. + +'Waste of good money. She was willin' without.' + +There was a step on the gritty mud below, and a voice humming. Midmore +rose quickly saying: 'Well, I suppose you're all right now.' + +'I be. I ain't a landlord, nor I ain't young--nor anxious. Oh, Mus' +Midmore! Would it make any odds about her thirty pounds comin' regular +if I married her? Charlie said maybe 'twould.' + +'Did he?' Midmore turned at the door. 'And what did Jimmy say about it?' + +'Jimmy?' Mr. Sidney chuckled as the joke took him. 'Oh, _he's_ none o' +mine. He's Charlie's look-out.' + +Midmore slammed the door and ran downstairs. + +'Well, this is a--sweet--mess,' said Miss Sperrit in shortest skirts and +heaviest riding-boots. 'I had to come down and have a look at it. "The +old mayor climbed the belfry tower." 'Been up all night nursing +your family?' + +'Nearly that! Isn't it cheerful?' He pointed through the door to the +stairs with small twig-drift on the last three treads. + +'It's a record, though,' said she, and hummed to herself: + + 'That flood strewed wrecks upon the grass, + That ebb swept out the flocks to sea.' + +'You're always singing that, aren't you?' Midmore said suddenly as she +passed into the parlour where slimy chairs had been stranded at +all angles. + +'Am I? Now I come to think of it I believe I do. They say I always hum +when I ride. Have you noticed it?' + +'Of course I have. I notice every--' + +'Oh,' she went on hurriedly. 'We had it for the village cantata last +winter--"The Brides of Enderby."' + +'No! "High Tide on the Coast of Lincolnshire."' For some reason Midmore +spoke sharply. + +'Just like that.' She pointed to the befouled walls. 'I say.... Let's +get this furniture a little straight.... You know it too?' + +'Every word, since you sang it of course.' + +'When?' + +'The first night I ever came down. You rode past the drawing-room window +in the dark singing it--"And sweeter woman--"' + +'I thought the house was empty then. Your aunt always let us use that +short cut. Ha-hadn't we better get this out into the passage? It'll all +have to come out anyhow. You take the other side.' They began to lift a +heavyish table. Their words came jerkily between gasps and their faces +were as white as--a newly washed and very hungry pig. + +'Look out!' Midmore shouted. His legs were whirled from under him, as +the table, grunting madly, careened and knocked the girl out of sight. + +The wild boar of Asia could not have cut down a couple more +scientifically, but this little pig lacked his ancestor's nerve and fled +shrieking over their bodies. + +'Are you hurt, darling?' was Midmore's first word, and 'No--I'm only +winded--dear,' was Miss Sperrit's, as he lifted her out of her corner, +her hat over one eye and her right cheek a smear of mud. + +They fed him a little later on some chicken-feed that they found in +Sidney's quiet barn, a pail of buttermilk out of the dairy, and a +quantity of onions from a shelf in the back-kitchen. + +'Seed-onions, most likely,' said Connie. 'You'll hear about this.' + +'What does it matter? They ought to have been gilded. We must buy him.' + +'And keep him as long as he lives,' she agreed. 'But I think I ought to +go home now. You see, when I came out I didn't expect ... Did you?' + +'No! Yes.... It had to come.... But if any one had told me an hour +ago!... Sidney's unspeakable parlour--and the mud on the carpet.' + +'Oh, I say! Is my cheek clean now?' + +'Not quite. Lend me your hanky again a minute, darling.... What a purler +you came!' + +'You can't talk. 'Remember when your chin hit that table and you said +"blast"! I was just going to laugh.' + +'You didn't laugh when I picked you up. You were going "oo-oo-oo" like a +little owl.' + +'My dear child--' + +'Say that again!' + +'My dear child. (Do you really like it? I keep it for my best friends.) +My _dee-ar_ child, I thought I was going to be sick there and then. He +knocked every ounce of wind out of me--the angel! But I must really go.' + +They set off together, very careful not to join hands or take arms. + +'Not across the fields,' said Midmore at the stile. 'Come round by--by +your own place.' + +She flushed indignantly. + +'It will be yours in a little time,' he went on, shaken with his own +audacity. + +'Not so much of your little times, if you please!' She shied like a colt +across the road; then instantly, like a colt, her eyes lit with new +curiosity as she came in sight of the drive-gates. + +'And not quite so much of your airs and graces, Madam,' Midmore +returned, 'or I won't let you use our drive as a short cut any more.' + +'Oh, I'll be good. I'll be good.' Her voice changed suddenly. 'I swear +I'll try to be good, dear. I'm not much of a thing at the best. What +made _you_....' + +'I'm worse--worse! Miles and oceans worse. But what does it matter now?' + +They halted beside the gate-pillars. + +'I see!' she said, looking up the sodden carriage sweep to the front +door porch where Rhoda was slapping a wet mat to and fro. '_I_ see.... +Now, I really must go home. No! Don't you come. I must speak to Mother +first all by myself.' + +He watched her up the hill till she was out of sight. + + + + + THE FLOODS + + The rain it rains without a stay + In the hills above us, in the hills; + And presently the floods break way + Whose strength is in the hills. + The trees they suck from every cloud, + The valley brooks they roar aloud-- + Bank-high for the lowlands, lowlands, + Lowlands under the hills! + + The first wood down is sere and small, + From the hills, the brishings off the hills; + And then come by the bats and all + We cut last year in the hills; + And then the roots we tried to cleave + But found too tough and had to leave-- + Polting through the lowlands, lowlands, + Lowlands under the hills! + + The eye shall look, the ear shall hark + To the hills, the doings in the hills, + And rivers mating in the dark + With tokens from the hills. + Now what is weak will surely go, + And what is strong must prove it so. + Stand fast in the lowlands, lowlands, + Lowlands under the hills! + + The floods they shall not be afraid-- + Nor the hills above 'em, nor the hills-- + Of any fence which man has made + Betwixt him and the hills. + The waters shall not reckon twice + For any work of man's device, + But bid it down to the lowlands, lowlands, + Lowlands under the hills! + + The floods shall sweep corruption clean-- + By the hills, the blessing of the hills-- + That more the meadows may be green + New-amended from the hills. + The crops and cattle shall increase, + Nor little children shall not cease-- + Go--plough the lowlands, lowlands, + Lowlands under the hills! + + + + + THE FABULISTS + + When all the world would have a matter hid, + Since Truth is seldom friend to any crowd, + Men write in fable, as old Æsop did, + Jesting at that which none will name aloud. + And this they needs must do, or it will fall + Unless they please they are not heard at all. + + When desperate Folly daily laboureth + To work confusion upon all we have, + When diligent Sloth demandeth Freedom's death, + And banded Fear commandeth Honour's grave-- + Even in that certain hour before the fall + Unless men please they are not heard at all. + + Needs must all please, yet some not all for need + Needs must all toil, yet some not all for gain, + But that men taking pleasure may take heed, + Whom present toil shall snatch from later pain. + Thus some have toiled but their reward was small + Since, though they pleased, they were not heard at all. + + This was the lock that lay upon our lips, + This was the yoke that we have undergone, + Denying us all pleasant fellowships + As in our time and generation. + Our pleasures unpursued age past recall. + And for our pains--we are not heard at all. + + What man hears aught except the groaning guns? + What man heeds aught save what each instant brings? + When each man's life all imaged life outruns, + What man shall pleasure in imaginings? + So it hath fallen, as it was bound to fall, + We are not, nor we were not, heard at all. + + + +The Vortex + +(August 1914) + + 'Thy Lord spoke by inspiration to the Bee.' + + AL KORAN. + +I have, to my grief and loss, suppressed several notable stories of my +friend, the Hon. A.M. Penfentenyou[8], once Minister of Woods and +Waysides in De Thouar's first administration; later, Premier in all but +name of one of Our great and growing Dominions; and now, as always, the +idol of his own Province, which is two and one-half the size of England. + +[Footnote 8: See 'The Puzzler,' _Actions and Reactions_.] + +For this reason I hold myself at liberty to deal with some portion of +the truth concerning Penfentenyou's latest visit to Our shores. He +arrived at my house by car, on a hot summer day, in a white waistcoat +and spats, sweeping black frock-coat and glistening top-hat--a little +rounded, perhaps, at the edges, but agile as ever in mind and body. + +'What is the trouble now?' I asked, for the last time we had met, +Penfentenyou was floating a three-million pound loan for his beloved but +unscrupulous Province, and I did not wish to entertain any more of his +financial friends. + +'We,' Penfentenyou replied ambassadorially, 'have come to have a Voice +in Your Councils. By the way, the Voice is coming down on the evening +train with my Agent-General. I thought you wouldn't mind if I invited +'em. You know We're going to share Your burdens henceforward. You'd +better get into training.' + +'Certainly,' I replied. 'What's the Voice like?' + +'He's in earnest,' said Penfentenyou. 'He's got It, and he's got It bad. +He'll give It to you,' he said. + +'What's his name?' + +'We call him all sorts of names, but I think you'd better call him Mr. +Lingnam. You won't have to do it more than once.' + +'What's he suffering from?' + +'The Empire. He's pretty nearly cured us all of Imperialism at home. +P'raps he'll cure you.' + +'Very good. What am I to do with him?' + +'Don't you worry,' said Penfentenyou. 'He'll do it.' + +And when Mr. Lingnam appeared half-an-hour later with the Agent-General +for Penfentenyou's Dominion, he did just that. + +He advanced across the lawn eloquent as all the tides. He said he had +been observing to the Agent-General that it was both politically immoral +and strategically unsound that forty-four million people should bear the +entire weight of the defences of Our mighty Empire, but, as he had +observed (here the Agent-General evaporated), we stood now upon the +threshold of a new era in which the self-governing _and_ self-respecting +(bis) Dominions would rightly and righteously, as co-partners in Empery, +shoulder their share of any burden which the Pan-Imperial Council of +the Future should allot. The Agent-General was already arranging for +drinks with Penfentenyou at the other end of the garden. Mr. Lingnam +swept me on to the most remote bench and settled to his theme. + +We dined at eight. At nine Mr. Lingnam was only drawing abreast of +things Imperial. At ten the Agent-General, who earns his salary, was +shamelessly dozing on the sofa. At eleven he and Penfentenyou went to +bed. At midnight Mr. Lingnam brought down his big-bellied despatch box +with the newspaper clippings and set to federating the Empire in +earnest. I remember that he had three alternative plans. As a dealer in +words, I plumped for the resonant third--'Reciprocally co-ordinated +Senatorial Hegemony'--which he then elaborated in detail for +three-quarters of an hour. At half-past one he urged me to have faith +and to remember that nothing mattered except the Idea. Then he retired +to his room, accompanied by one glass of cold water, and I went into the +dawn-lit garden and prayed to any Power that might be off duty for the +blood of Mr. Lingnam, Penfentenyou, and the Agent-General. + +To me, as I have often observed elsewhere, the hour of earliest dawn is +fortunate, and the wind that runs before it has ever been my most +comfortable counsellor. + +'Wait!' it said, all among the night's expectant rosebuds. 'To-morrow is +also a day. Wait upon the Event!' + +I went to bed so at peace with God and Man and Guest that when I waked I +visited Mr. Lingnam in pyjamas, and he talked to me Pan-Imperially for +half-an-hour before his bath. Later, the Agent-General said he had +letters to write, and Penfentenyou invented a Cabinet crisis in his +adored Dominion which would keep him busy with codes and cables all the +forenoon. But I said firmly, 'Mr. Lingnam wishes to see a little of the +country round here. You are coming with us in your own car.' + +'It's a hired one,' Penfentenyou objected. + +'Yes. Paid for by me as a taxpayer,' I replied. + +'And yours has a top, and the weather looks thundery,' said the +Agent-General. 'Ours hasn't a wind-screen. Even our goggles were hired.' + +'I'll lend you goggles,' I said. 'My car is under repairs.' + +The hireling who had looked to be returned to London spat and growled on +the drive. She was an open car, capable of some eighteen miles on the +flat, with tetanic gears and a perpetual palsy. + +'It won't make the least difference,' sighed the Agent-General. 'He'll +only raise his voice. He did it all the way coming down.' + +'I say,' said Penfentenyou suspiciously, 'what are you doing all this +_for_?' + +'Love of the Empire,' I answered, as Mr. Lingnam tripped up in dust-coat +and binoculars. 'Now, Mr. Lingnam will tell us exactly what he wants to +see. He probably knows more about England than the rest of us put +together.' + +'I read it up yesterday,' said Mr. Lingnam simply. While we stowed the +lunch-basket (one can never make too sure with a hired car) he outlined +a very pretty and instructive little day's run. + +'You'll drive, of course?' said Penfentenyou to him. 'It's the only +thing you know anything about.' + +This astonished me, for your greater Federationists are rarely +mechanicians, but Mr. Lingnam said he would prefer to be inside for the +present and enjoy our conversation. + +Well settled on the back seat, he did not once lift his eyes to the +mellow landscape around him, or throw a word at the life of the English +road which to me is one renewed and unreasoned orgy of delight. The +mustard-coloured scouts of the Automobile Association; their natural +enemies, the unjust police; our natural enemies, the deliberate +market-day cattle, broadside-on at all corners, the bicycling +butcher-boy a furlong behind; road-engines that pulled giddy-go-rounds, +rifle galleries, and swings, and sucked snortingly from wayside ponds in +defiance of the notice-board; traction-engines, their trailers piled +high with road metal; uniformed village nurses, one per seven statute +miles, flitting by on their wheels; governess-carts full of pink +children jogging unconcernedly past roaring, brazen touring-cars; the +wayside rector with virgins in attendance, their faces screwed up +against our dust; motor-bicycles of every shape charging down at every +angle; red flags of rifle-ranges; detachments of dusty-putteed +Territorials; coveys of flagrant children playing in mid-street, and the +wise, educated English dog safe and quite silent on the pavement if his +fool-mistress would but cease from trying to save him, passed and +repassed us in sunlit or shaded settings. But Mr. Lingnam only talked. +He talked--we all sat together behind so that we could not escape +him--and he talked above the worn gears and a certain maddening swish of +one badly patched tire--_and_ he talked of the Federation of the Empire +against all conceivable dangers except himself. Yet I was neither +brutally rude like Penfentenyou, nor swooningly bored like the +Agent-General. I remembered a certain Joseph Finsbury who delighted the +Tregonwell Arms on the borders of the New Forest with nine'--it should +have been ten--'versions of a single income of two hundred pounds' +placing the imaginary person in--but I could not recall the list of +towns further than 'London, Paris, Bagdad, and Spitsbergen.' This last I +must have murmured aloud, for the Agent-General suddenly became human +and went on: 'Bussorah, Heligoland, and the Scilly Islands--' + +'What?' growled Penfentenyou. + +'Nothing,' said the Agent-General, squeezing my hand affectionately. +'Only we have just found out that we are brothers.' + +'Exactly,' said Mr. Lingnam. 'That's what I've been trying to lead up +to. We're _all_ brothers. D'you realise that fifteen years ago such a +conversation as we're having would have been unthinkable? The Empire +wouldn't have been ripe for it. To go back, even ten years--' + +'I've got it,' cried the Agent-General. '"Brighton, Cincinnati, and +Nijni-Novgorod!" God bless R.L.S.! Go on, Uncle Joseph. I can endure +much now.' + +Mr. Lingnam went on like our shandrydan, slowly and loudly. He admitted +that a man obsessed with a Central Idea--and, after all, the only thing +that mattered was the Idea--might become a bore, but the World's Work, +he pointed out, had been done by bores. So he laid his bones down to +that work till we abandoned ourselves to the passage of time and the +Mercy of Allah, Who Alone closes the Mouths of His Prophets. And we +wasted more than fifty miles of summer's vivid own England upon him +the while. + +About two o'clock we topped Sumtner Rising and looked down on the +village of Sumtner Barton, which lies just across a single railway line, +spanned by a red brick bridge. The thick, thunderous June airs brought +us gusts of melody from a giddy-go-round steam-organ in full blast near +the pond on the village green. Drums, too, thumped and banners waved and +regalia flashed at the far end of the broad village street. Mr. Lingnam +asked why. + +'Nothing Imperial, I'm afraid. It looks like a Foresters' Fête--one of +our big Mutual Benefit Societies,' I explained. + +'The Idea only needs to be co-ordinated to Imperial scale--' he began. + +'But it means that the pub. will be crowded,' I went on. + +'What's the matter with lunching by the roadside here?' said +Penfentenyou. 'We've got the lunch-basket.' + +'Haven't you ever heard of Sumtner Barton ales?' I demanded, and be +became the administrator at once, saying, '_I_ see! Lingnam can drive us +in and we'll get some, while Holford'--this was the hireling chauffeur, +whose views on beer we knew not--'lays out lunch here. That'll be better +than eating at the pub. We can take in the Foresters' Fête as well, and +perhaps I can buy some newspapers at the station.' + +'True,' I answered. 'The railway station is just under that bridge, and +we'll come back and lunch here.' + +I indicated a terrace of cool clean shade beneath kindly beeches at the +head of Sumtner Rise. As Holford got out the lunch-basket, a detachment +of Regular troops on manoeuvres swung down the baking road. + +'Ah!' said Mr. Lingnam, the monthly-magazine roll in his voice. 'All +Europe is an armed camp, groaning, as I remember I once wrote, under the +weight of its accoutrements.' + +'Oh, hop in and drive,' cried Penfentenyou. 'We want that beer!' + +It made no difference. Mr. Lingnam could have federated the Empire from +a tight rope. He continued his oration at the wheel as we trundled. + +'The danger to the Younger Nations is of being drawn into this vortex of +Militarism,' he went on, dodging the rear of the soldiery. + +'Slow past troops,' I hinted. 'It saves 'em dust. And we overtake on the +right as a rule in England.' + +'Thanks!' Mr. Lingnam slued over. 'That's another detail which needs to +be co-ordinated throughout the Empire. But to go back to what I was +saying. My idea has always been that the component parts of the Empire +should take counsel among themselves on the approach of war, so that, +after we have decided on the merits of the _casus belli_, we can +co-ordinate what part each Dominion shall play whenever war is, +unfortunately, a possibility.' + +We neared the hog-back railway bridge, and the hireling knocked +piteously at the grade. Mr. Lingnam changed gears, and she hoisted +herself up to a joyous _Youp-i-addy-i-ay!_ from the steam-organ. As we +topped the arch we saw a Foresters' band with banners marching down +the street. + +'That's all very fine,' said the Agent-General, 'but in real life things +have a knack of happening without approaching--' + + * * * * * + +(Some schools of Thought hold that Time is not; and that when we attain +complete enlightenment we shall behold past, present, and future as One +Awful Whole. I myself have nearly achieved this.) + + * * * * * + +We dipped over the bridge into the village. A boy on a bicycle, loaded +with four paper bonnet-boxes, pedalled towards us, out of an alley on +our right. He bowed his head the better to overcome the ascent, and +naturally took his left. Mr. Lingnam swerved frantically to the right. +Penfentenyou shouted. The boy looked up, saw the car was like to squeeze +him against the bridge wall, flung himself off his machine and across +the narrow pavement into the nearest house. He slammed the door at the +precise moment when the car, all brakes set, bunted the abandoned +bicycle, shattering three of the bonnet-boxes and jerking the fourth +over the unscreened dashboard into Mr. Lingnam's arms. + +There was a dead stillness, then a hiss like that of escaping steam, and +a man who had been running towards us ran the other way. + +'Why! I think that those must be bees,' said Mr. Lingnam. + +They were--four full swarms--and the first living objects which he had +remarked upon all day. + +Some one said, 'Oh, God!' The Agent-General went out over the back of +the car, crying resolutely: 'Stop the traffic! Stop the traffic, there!' +Penfentenyou was already on the pavement ringing a door-bell, so I had +both their rugs, which--for I am an apiarist--I threw over my head. +While I was tucking my trousers into my socks--for I am an apiarist of +experience--Mr. Lingnam picked up the unexploded bonnet-box and with a +single magnificent gesture (he told us afterwards he thought there was a +river beneath) hurled it over the parapet of the bridge, ere he ran +across the road towards the village green. Now, the station platform +immediately below was crowded with Foresters and their friends waiting +to welcome a delegation from a sister Court. I saw the box burst on the +flint edging of the station garden and the contents sweep forward +cone-wise like shrapnel. But the result was stimulating rather than +sedative. All those well-dressed people below shouted like Sodom and +Gomorrah. Then they moved as a unit into the booking-office, the +waiting-rooms, and other places, shut doors and windows and declaimed +aloud, while the incoming train whistled far down the line. + +I pivoted round cross-legged on the back seat, like a Circassian beauty +beneath her veil, and saw Penfentenyou, his coat-collar over his ears, +dancing before a shut door and holding up handfuls of currency to a +silver-haired woman at an upper window, who only mouthed and shook her +head. A little child, carrying a kitten, came smiling round a corner. +Suddenly (but these things moved me no more than so many yards of +three-penny cinematograph-film) the kitten leaped spitting from her +arms, the child burst into tears, Penfentenyou, still dancing, snatched +her up and tucked her under his coat, the woman's countenance blanched, +the front door opened, Penfentenyou and the child pressed through, and I +was alone in an inhospitable world where every one was shutting windows +and calling children home. + +A voice cried: 'You've frowtened 'em! You've frowtened 'em! Throw dust +on 'em and they'll settle!' + +I did not desire to throw dust on any created thing. I needed both hands +for my draperies and two more for my stockings. Besides, the bees were +doing me no hurt. They recognised me as a member of the County +Bee-keepers' Association who had paid his annual subscription and was +entitled to a free seat at all apicultural exhibitions. The quiver and +the churn of the hireling car, or it might have been the lurching +banners and the arrogant big drum, inclined many of them to go up +street, and pay court to the advancing Foresters' band. So they went, +such as had not followed Mr. Lingnam in his flight toward the green, and +I looked out of two goggled eyes instead of half a one at the +approaching musicians, while I listened with both ears to the delayed +train's second whistle down the line beneath me. + +The Forester's band no more knew what was coming than do troops under +sudden fire. Indeed, there were the same extravagant gestures and +contortions as attend wounds and deaths in war; the very same uncanny +cessations of speech--for the trombone was cut off at midslide, even as +a man drops with a syllable on his tongue. They clawed, they slapped, +they fled, leaving behind them a trophy of banners and brasses crudely +arranged round the big drum. Then that end of the street also shut its +windows, and the village, stripped of life, lay round me like a reef at +low tide. Though I am, as I have said, an apiarist in good standing, I +never realised that there were so many bees in the world. When they had +woven a flashing haze from one end of the desert street to the other, +there remained reserves enough to form knops and pendules on all +window-sills and gutter-ends, without diminishing the multitudes in the +three oozing bonnet-boxes, or drawing on the Fourth (Railway) Battalion +in charge of the station below. The prisoners in the waiting-rooms and +other places there cried out a great deal (I argued that they were dying +of the heat), and at regular intervals the stationmaster called and +called to a signalman who was not on duty, and the train whistled as it +drew nearer. + +Then Penfentenyou, venal and adaptable politician of the type that +survives at the price of all the higher emotions, appeared at the window +of the house on my right, broken and congested with mirth, the woman +beside him, and the child in his arms. I saw his mouth open and shut, he +hollowed his hands round it, but the churr of the motor and the bees +drowned his words. He pointed dramatically across the street many times +and fell back, tears running down his face. I turned like a hooded +barbette in a heavy seaway (not knowing when my trousers would come out +of my socks again) through one hundred and eighty degrees, and in due +time bore on the village green. There was a salmon in the pond, rising +short at a cloud of midges to the tune of _Yip-i-addy_; but there was +none to gaff him. The swing-boats were empty, cocoa-nuts sat still on +their red sticks before white screens, and the gay-painted horses of the +giddy-go-rounds revolved riderless. All was melody, green turf, bright +water, and this greedy gambolling fish. When I had identified it by its +grey gills and binoculars as Lingnam, I prostrated myself before Allah +in that mirth which is more truly labour than any prayer. Then I turned +to the purple Penfentenyou at the window, and wiped my eyes on the +rug edge. + +He raised the window half one cautious inch and bellowed through the +crack: 'Did you see _him_? Have they got _you_? I can see lots of +things from here. It's like a three-ring circus!' + +'Can you see the station?' I replied, nodding toward the right rear +mudguard. + +He twisted and craned sideways, but could not command that beautiful +view. + +'No! What's it like?' he cried. + +'Hell!' I shouted. The silver-haired woman frowned; so did Penfentenyou, +and, I think, apologised to her for my language. + +'You're always so extreme,' he fluted reproachfully. 'You forget that +nothing matters except the Idea. Besides, they are this lady's bees.' + +He closed the window, and introduced us through it in dumb show; but he +contrived to give the impression that _I_ was the specimen under glass. + +A spurt of damp steam saved me from apoplexy. The train had lost +patience at last, and was coming into the station directly beneath me to +see what was the matter. Happy voices sang and heads were thrust out all +along the compartments, but none answered their songs or greetings. She +halted, and the people began to get out. Then they began to get in +again, as their friends in the waiting-rooms advised. All did not catch +the warning, so there was congestion at the doors, but those whom the +bees caught got in first. + +Still the bees, more bent on their own business than wanton torture, +kept to the south end of the platform by the bookstall, and that was why +the completely exposed engine-driver at the north end of the train did +not at first understand the hermetically sealed stationmaster when the +latter shouted to him many times to 'get on out o' this.' + +'Where are you?' was the reply. 'And what for?' + +'It don't matter where I am, an' you'll get what-for in a minute if you +don't shift,' said the stationmaster. 'Drop 'em at Parson's Meadow and +they can walk up over the fields.' + +That bare-armed, thin-shirted idiot, leaning out of the cab, took the +stationmaster's orders as an insult to his dignity, and roared at the +shut offices: 'You'll give me what-for, will you? Look 'ere, I'm not in +the 'abit of--' His outstretched hand flew to his neck.... Do you know +that if you sting an engine-driver it is the same as stinging his train? +She starts with a jerk that nearly smashes the couplings, and runs, +barking like a dog, till she is out of sight. Nor does she think about +spilled people and parted families on the platform behind her. I had to +do all that. There was a man called Fred, and his wife Harriet--a +cheery, full-blooded couple--who interested me immensely before they +battered their way into a small detached building, already densely +occupied. There was also a nameless bachelor who sat under a half-opened +umbrella and twirled it dizzily, which was so new a game that I +applauded aloud. + +When they had thoroughly cleared the ground, the bees set about making +comb for publication at the bookstall counter. Presently some bold +hearts tiptoed out of the waiting-rooms over the loud gravel with the +consciously modest air of men leaving church, climbed the wooden +staircase to the bridge, and so reached my level, where the +inexhaustible bonnet-boxes were still vomiting squadrons and platoons. +There was little need to bid them descend. They had wrapped their heads +in handkerchiefs, so that they looked like the disappointed dead +scuttling back to Purgatory. Only one old gentleman, pontifically draped +in a banner embroidered 'Temperance and Fortitude,' ran the gauntlet +up-street, shouting as he passed me, 'It's night or Blücher, Mister.' +They let him in at the White Hart, the pub. where I should have +bought the beer. + +After this the day sagged. I fell to reckoning how long a man in a +Turkish bath, weakened by excessive laughter, could live without food, +and specially drink; and how long a disenfranchised bee could hold out +under the same conditions. + +Obviously, since her one practical joke costs her her life, the bee can +have but small sense of humour; but her fundamentally dismal and +ungracious outlook on life impressed me beyond words. She had paralysed +locomotion, wiped out trade, social intercourse, mutual trust, love, +friendship, sport, music (the lonely steam-organ had run down at last), +all that gives substance, colour or savour to life, and yet, in the +barren desert she had created, was not one whit more near to the +evolution of a saner order of things. The Heavens were darkened with the +swarms' divided counsels; the street shimmered with their purposeless +sallies. They clotted on tiles and gutter-pipes, and began frenziedly to +build a cell or two of comb ere they discovered that their queen was +not with them; then flung off to seek her, or whirled, dishevelled and +insane, into another hissing nebula on the false rumour that she was +there. I scowled upon them with disfavour, and a massy, blue +thunder-head rose majestically from behind the elm-trees of Sumtner +Barton Rectory, arched over and scowled with me. Then I realised that it +was not bees nor locusts that had darkened the skies, but the on-coming +of the malignant English thunderstorm--the one thing before which even +Deborah the bee cannot express her silly little self. + +'Aha! _Now_ you'll catch it,' I said, as the herald gusts set the big +drum rolling down the street like a box-kite. Up and up yearned the dark +cloud, till the first lightning quivered and cut. Deborah cowered. Where +she flew, there she fled; where she was, there she sat still; and the +solid rain closed in on her as a book that is closed when the chapter is +finished. By the time it had soaked to my second rug, Penfentenyou +appeared at the window, wiping his false mouth on a napkin. + +'Are you all right?' he inquired. 'Then _that's_ all right! Mrs. Bellamy +says that her bees don't sting in the wet. You'd better fetch Lingnam +over. He's got to pay for them and the bicycle.' + +I had no words which the silver-haired lady could listen to, but paddled +across the flooded street between flashes to the pond on the green. Mr. +Lingnam, scarcely visible through the sheeting downpour, trotted round +the edge. He bore himself nobly, and lied at the mere sight of me. + +'Isn't this wet?' he cried. 'It has drenched me to the skin. I shall +need a change.' + +'Come along,' I said. 'I don't know what you'll get, but you deserve +more.' + +Penfentenyou, dry, fed, and in command, let us in. 'You,' he whispered +to me, 'are to wait in the scullery. Mrs. Bellamy didn't like the way +you talked about her bees. Hsh! Hsh! She's a kind-hearted lady. She's a +widow, Lingnam, but she's kept _his_ clothes, and as soon as you've paid +for the damage she'll rent you a suit. I've arranged it all!' + +'Then tell him he mustn't undress in my hall,' said a voice from the +stair-head. + +'Tell _her_--' Lingnam began. + +'Come and look at the pretty suit I've chosen,' Penfentenyou cooed, as +one cajoling a maniac. + +I staggered out-of-doors again, and fell into the car, whose +ever-running machinery masked my yelps and hiccups. When I raised my +forehead from the wheel, I saw that traffic through the village had been +resumed, after, as my watch showed, one and one-half hour's suspension. +There were two limousines, one landau, one doctor's car, three +touring-cars, one patent steam-laundry van, three tricars, one +traction-engine, some motor-cycles, one with a side-car, and one brewery +lorry. It was the allegory of my own imperturbable country, delayed for +a short time by unforeseen external events but now going about her +business, and I blessed Her with tears in my eyes, even though I knew +She looked upon me as drunk and incapable. + +Then troops came over the bridge behind me--a company of dripping wet +Regulars without any expression. In their rear, carrying the +lunch-basket, marched the Agent-General and Holford the hired chauffeur. + +'I say,' said the Agent-General, nodding at the darkened khaki backs. +'If _that's_ what we've got to depend on in event of war they're a +broken reed. They ran like hares--ran like hares, I tell you.' + +'And you?' I asked. + +'Oh, I just sauntered back over the bridge and stopped the traffic that +end. Then I had lunch. 'Pity about the beer, though. I say--these +cushions are sopping wet!' + +'I'm sorry,' I said. 'I haven't had time to turn 'em.' + +'Nor there wasn't any need to 'ave kept the engine runnin' all this +time,' said Holford sternly. 'I'll 'ave to account for the expenditure +of petrol. It exceeds the mileage indicated, you see.' + +'I'm sorry,' I repeated. After all, that is the way that taxpayers +regard most crises. + +The house-door opened and Penfentenyou and another came out into the now +thinning rain. + +'Ah! There you both are! Here's Lingnam,' he cried. 'He's got a little +wet. He's had to change.' + +'We saw that. I was too sore and weak to begin another laugh, but the +Agent-General crumpled up where he stood. The late Mr. Bellamy must have +been a man of tremendous personality, which he had impressed on every +angle of his garments. I was told later that he had died in delirium +tremens, which at once explained the pattern, and the reason why Mr. +Lingnam, writhing inside it, swore so inspiredly. Of the deliberate and +diffuse Federationist there remained no trace, save the binoculars and +two damp whiskers. We stood on the pavement, before Elemental Man +calling on Elemental Powers to condemn and incinerate Creation. + +'Well, hadn't we better be getting back?' said the Agent-General. + +'Look out!' I remarked casually. 'Those bonnet-boxes are full of bees +still!' + +'Are they?' said the livid Mr. Lingnam, and tilted them over with the +late Mr. Bellamy's large boots. Deborah rolled out in drenched lumps +into the swilling gutter. There was a muffled shriek at the window where +Mrs. Bellamy gesticulated. + +'It's all right. I've paid for them,' said Mr. Lingnam. He dumped out +the last dregs like mould from a pot-bound flower-pot. + +'What? Are you going to take 'em home with you?' said the Agent-General. + +'No!' He passed a wet hand over his streaky forehead. 'Wasn't there a +bicycle that was the beginning of this trouble?' said he. + +'It's under the fore-axle, sir,' said Holford promptly. 'I can fish it +out from 'ere.' + +'Not till I've done with it, please.' Before we could stop him, he had +jumped into the car and taken charge. The hireling leaped into her +collar, surged, shrieked (less loudly than Mrs. Bellamy at the window), +and swept on. That which came out behind her was, as Holford truly +observed, no joy-wheel. Mr. Lingnam swung round the big drum in the +market-place and thundered back, shouting: 'Leave it alone. It's +my meat!' + +'Mince-meat, 'e means,' said Holford after this second trituration. 'You +couldn't say now it 'ad ever _been_ one, could you?' + +Mrs. Bellamy opened the window and spoke. It appears she had only +charged for damage to the bicycle, not for the entire machine which Mr. +Lingnam was ruthlessly gleaning, spoke by spoke, from the highway and +cramming into the slack of the hood. At last he answered, and I have +never seen a man foam at the mouth before. 'If you don't stop, I shall +come into your house--in this car--and drive upstairs and--kill you!' + +She stopped; he stopped. Holford took the wheel, and we got away. It was +time, for the sun shone after the storm, and Deborah beneath the tiles +and the eaves already felt its reviving influence compel her to her +interrupted labours of federation. We warned the village policeman at +the far end of the street that he might have to suspend traffic again. +The proprietor of the giddy-go-round, swings, and cocoanut-shies wanted +to know from whom, in this world or another, he could recover damages. +Mr. Lingnam referred him most directly to Mrs. Bellamy.... Then we +went home. + +After dinner that evening Mr. Lingnam rose stiffly in his place to make +a few remarks on the Federation of the Empire on the lines of +Co-ordinated, Offensive Operations, backed by the Entire Effective +Forces, Moral, Military, and Fiscal, of Permanently Mobilised +Communities, the whole brought to bear, without any respect to the +merits of any _casus belli_, instantaneously, automatically, and +remorselessly at the first faint buzz of war. + +'The trouble with Us,' said he, 'is that We take such an infernally long +time making sure that We are right that We don't go ahead when things +happen. For instance, I ought to have gone ahead instead of pulling up +when I hit that bicycle.' + +'But you were in the wrong, Lingnam, when you turned to the right,' I +put in. + +'I don't want to hear any more of your damned, detached, mugwumping +excuses for the other fellow,' he snapped. + +'Now you're beginning to see things,' said Penfentenyou. 'I hope you +won't backslide when the swellings go down.' + + + +THE SONG OF SEVEN CITIES + + I was Lord of Cities very sumptuously builded. + Seven roaring Cities paid me tribute from afar. + Ivory their outposts were--the guardrooms of them + gilded, + And garrisoned with Amazons invincible in war. + + All the world went softly when it walked before my + Cities-- + Neither King nor Army vexed my peoples at their toil. + Never horse nor chariot irked or overbore my Cities, + Never Mob nor Ruler questioned whence they drew + their spoil. + + Banded, mailed and arrogant from sunrise unto sunset, + Singing while they sacked it, they possessed the land + at large. + Yet when men would rob them, they resisted, they + made onset + And pierced the smoke of battle with a thousand-sabred + charge! + + So they warred and trafficked only yesterday, my Cities. + To-day there is no mark or mound of where my Cities + stood. + For the River rose at midnight and it washed away my + Cities. + They are evened with Atlantis and the towns before the + Flood. + + Rain on rain-gorged channels raised the water-levels + round them, + Freshet backed on freshet swelled and swept their + world from sight, + Till the emboldened floods linked arms and flashing forward + drowned them-- + Drowned my Seven Cities and their peoples in one + night! + + Low among the alders lie their derelict foundations, + The beams wherein they trusted and the plinths whereon + they built-- + My rulers and their treasure and their unborn populations, + Dead, destroyed, aborted, and defiled with mud and + silt! + + The Daughters of the Palace whom they cherished in + my Cities, + My silver-tongued Princesses, and the promise of their + May-- + Their bridegrooms of the June-tide--all have perished + in my Cities, + With the harsh envenomed virgins that can neither + love nor play. + + I was Lord of Cities--I will build anew my Cities, + Seven, set on rocks, above the wrath of any flood. + Nor will I rest from search till I have filled anew my Cities + With peoples undefeated of the dark, enduring blood. + + To the sound of trumpets shall their seed restore my Cities. + Wealthy and well-weaponed, that once more may I behold + All the world go softly when it walks before my Cities, + And the horses and the chariots fleeing from them as of old! + + + +'Swept and Garnished' + +(January 1915) + +When the first waves of feverish cold stole over Frau Ebermann she very +wisely telephoned for the doctor and went to bed. He diagnosed the +attack as mild influenza, prescribed the appropriate remedies, and left +her to the care of her one servant in her comfortable Berlin flat. Frau +Ebermann, beneath the thick coverlet, curled up with what patience she +could until the aspirin should begin to act, and Anna should come back +from the chemist with the formamint, the ammoniated quinine, the +eucalyptus, and the little tin steam-inhaler. Meantime, every bone in +her body ached; her head throbbed; her hot, dry hands would not stay the +same size for a minute together; and her body, tucked into the smallest +possible compass, shrank from the chill of the well-warmed sheets. + +Of a sudden she noticed that an imitation-lace cover which should have +lain mathematically square with the imitation-marble top of the radiator +behind the green plush sofa had slipped away so that one corner hung +over the bronze-painted steam pipes. She recalled that she must have +rested her poor head against the radiator-top while she was taking off +her boots. She tried to get up and set the thing straight, but the +radiator at once receded toward the horizon, which, unlike true +horizons, slanted diagonally, exactly parallel with the dropped lace +edge of the cover. Frau Ebermann groaned through sticky lips and +lay still. + +'Certainly, I have a temperature,' she said. 'Certainly, I have a grave +temperature. I should have been warned by that chill after dinner.' + +She resolved to shut her hot-lidded eyes, but opened them in a little +while to torture herself with the knowledge of that ungeometrical thing +against the far wall. Then she saw a child--an untidy, thin-faced little +girl of about ten, who must have strayed in from the adjoining flat. +This proved--Frau Ebermann groaned again at the way the world falls to +bits when one is sick--proved that Anna had forgotten to shut the outer +door of the flat when she went to the chemist. Frau Ebermann had had +children of her own, but they were all grown up now, and she had never +been a child-lover in any sense. Yet the intruder might be made to serve +her scheme of things. + +'Make--put,' she muttered thickly, 'that white thing straight on the top +of that yellow thing.' + +The child paid no attention, but moved about the room, investigating +everything that came in her way--the yellow cut-glass handles of the +chest of drawers, the stamped bronze hook to hold back the heavy puce +curtains, and the mauve enamel, New Art finger-plates on the door. Frau +Ebermann watched indignantly. + +'Aie! That is bad and rude. Go away!' she cried, though it hurt her to +raise her voice. 'Go away by the road you came!' The child passed +behind the bed-foot, where she could not see her. 'Shut the door as you +go. I will speak to Anna, but--first, put that white thing straight.' + +She closed her eyes in misery of body and soul. The outer door clicked, +and Anna entered, very penitent that she had stayed so long at the +chemist's. But it had been difficult to find the proper type of +inhaler, and-- + +'Where did the child go?' moaned Frau Ebermann--'the child that was +here?' + +'There was no child,' said startled Anna. 'How should any child come in +when I shut the door behind me after I go out? All the keys of the flats +are different.' + +'No, no! You forgot this time. But my back is aching, and up my legs +also. Besides, who knows what it may have fingered and upset? Look +and see.' + +'Nothing is fingered, nothing is upset,' Anna replied, as she took the +inhaler from its paper box. + +'Yes, there is. Now I remember all about it. Put--put that white thing, +with the open edge--the lace, I mean--quite straight on that--' she +pointed. Anna, accustomed to her ways, understood and went to it. + +'Now, is it quite straight?' Frau Ebermann demanded. + +'Perfectly,' said Anna. 'In fact, in the very centre of the radiator.' +Anna measured the equal margins with her knuckle, as she had been told +to do when she first took service. + +'And my tortoise-shell hair brushes?' Frau Ebermann could not command +her dressing-table from where she lay. + +'Perfectly straight, side by side in the big tray, and the comb laid +across them. Your watch also in the coralline watch-holder. +Everything'--she moved round the room to make sure--'everything is as +you have it when you are well.' Frau Ebermann sighed with relief. It +seemed to her that the room and her head had suddenly grown cooler. + +'Good!' said she. 'Now warm my night-gown in the kitchen, so it will be +ready when I have perspired. And the towels also. Make the inhaler +steam, and put in the eucalyptus; that is good for the larynx. Then sit +you in the kitchen, and come when I ring. But, first, my +hot-water bottle.' + +It was brought and scientifically tucked in. + +'What news?' said Frau Ebermann drowsily. She had not been out that day. + +'Another victory,' said Anna. 'Many more prisoners and guns.' + +Frau Ebermann purred, one might almost say grunted, contentedly. + +'That is good too,' she said; and Anna, after lighting the inhaler-lamp, +went out. + +Frau Ebermann reflected that in an hour or so the aspirin would begin to +work, and all would be well. To-morrow--no, the day after--she would +take up life with something to talk over with her friends at coffee. It +was rare--every one knew it--that she should be overcome by any +ailment. Yet in all her distresses she had not allowed the minutest +deviation from daily routine and ritual. She would tell her friends--she +ran over their names one by one--exactly what measures she had taken +against the lace cover on the radiator-top and in regard to her two +tortoise-shell hair brushes and the comb at right angles. How she had +set everything in order--everything in order. She roved further afield +as she wriggled her toes luxuriously on the hot-water bottle. If it +pleased our dear God to take her to Himself, and she was not so young as +she had been--there was that plate of the four lower ones in the blue +tooth-glass, for instance--He should find all her belongings fit to meet +His eye. 'Swept and garnished' were the words that shaped themselves in +her intent brain. 'Swept and garnished for--' + +No, it was certainly not for the dear Lord that she had swept; she would +have her room swept out to-morrow or the day after, and garnished. Her +hands began to swell again into huge pillows of nothingness. Then they +shrank, and so did her head, to minute dots. It occurred to her that she +was waiting for some event, some tremendously important event, to come +to pass. She lay with shut eyes for a long time till her head and hands +should return to their proper size. + +She opened her eyes with a jerk. + +'How stupid of me,' she said aloud, 'to set the room in order for a +parcel of dirty little children!' + +They were there--five of them, two little boys and three girls--headed +by the anxious-eyed ten-year-old whom she had seen before. They must +have entered by the outer door, which Anna had neglected to shut behind +her when she returned with the inhaler. She counted them backward and +forward as one counts scales--one, two, three, four, five. + +They took no notice of her, but hung about, first on one foot then on +the other, like strayed chickens, the smaller ones holding by the +larger. They had the air of utterly wearied passengers in a railway +waiting-room, and their clothes were disgracefully dirty. + +'Go away!' cried Frau Ebermann at last, after she had struggled, it +seemed to her, for years to shape the words. + +'You called?' said Anna at the living-room door. + +'No,' said her mistress. 'Did you shut the flat door when you came in?' + +'Assuredly,' said Anna. 'Besides, it is made to catch shut of itself.' + +'Then go away,' said she, very little above a whisper. If Anna pretended +not to see the children, she would speak to Anna later on. + +'And now,' she said, turning toward them as soon as the door closed. The +smallest of the crowd smiled at her, and shook his head before he buried +it in his sister's skirts. + +'Why--don't--you--go--away?' she whispered earnestly. + +Again they took no notice, but, guided by the elder girl, set themselves +to climb, boots and all, on to the green plush sofa in front of the +radiator. The little boys had to be pushed, as they could not compass +the stretch unaided. They settled themselves in a row, with small gasps +of relief, and pawed the plush approvingly. + +'I ask you--I ask you why do you not go away--why do you not go away?' +Frau Ebermann found herself repeating the question twenty times. It +seemed to her that everything in the world hung on the answer. 'You know +you should not come into houses and rooms unless you are invited. Not +houses and bedrooms, you know.' + +'No,' a solemn little six-year-old repeated, 'not houses nor bedrooms, +nor dining-rooms, nor churches, nor all those places. Shouldn't come in. +It's rude.' + +'Yes, he said so,' the younger girl put in proudly. 'He said it. He told +them only pigs would do that.' The line nodded and dimpled one to +another with little explosive giggles, such as children use when they +tell deeds of great daring against their elders. + +'If you know it is wrong, that makes it much worse,' said Frau Ebermann. + +'Oh yes; much worse,' they assented cheerfully, till the smallest boy +changed his smile to a baby wail of weariness. + +'When will they come for us?' he asked, and the girl at the head of the +row hauled him bodily into her square little capable lap. + +'He's tired,' she explained. 'He is only four. He only had his first +breeches this spring.' They came almost under his armpits, and were held +up by broad linen braces, which, his sorrow diverted for the moment, he +patted proudly. + +'Yes, beautiful, dear,' said both girls. + +'Go away!' said Frau Ebermann. 'Go home to your father and mother!' + +Their faces grew grave at once. + +'H'sh! We _can't_,' whispered the eldest. 'There isn't anything left.' + +'All gone,' a boy echoed, and he puffed through pursed lips. 'Like +_that_, uncle told me. Both cows too.' + +'And my own three ducks,' the boy on the girl's lap said sleepily. + +'So, you see, we came here.' The elder girl leaned forward a little, +caressing the child she rocked. + +'I--I don't understand,' said Frau Ebermann 'Are you lost, then? You +must tell our police.' + +'Oh no; we are only waiting.' + +'But what are you waiting _for?_' + +'We are waiting for our people to come for us. They told us to come here +and wait for them. So we are waiting till they come,' the eldest +girl replied. + +'Yes. We are waiting till our people come for us,' said all the others +in chorus. + +'But,' said Frau Ebermann very patiently--'but now tell me, for I tell +you that I am not in the least angry, where do you come from? Where do +you come from?' + +The five gave the names of two villages of which she had read in the +papers, + +'That is silly,' said Frau Ebermann. 'The people fired on us, and they +were punished. Those places are wiped out, stamped flat.' + +'Yes, yes, wiped out, stamped flat. That is why and--I have lost the +ribbon off my pigtail,' said the younger girl. She looked behind her +over the sofa-back. + +'It is not here,' said the elder. 'It was lost before. Don't you +remember?' + +'Now, if you are lost, you must go and tell our police. They will take +care of you and give you food,' said Frau Ebermann. 'Anna will show you +the way there.' + +'No,'--this was the six-year-old with the smile,--'we must wait here +till our people come for us. Mustn't we, sister?' + +'Of course. We wait here till our people come for us. All the world +knows that,' said the eldest girl. + +'Yes.' The boy in her lap had waked again. 'Little children, too--as +little as Henri, and _he_ doesn't wear trousers yet. As little as +all that.' + +'I don't understand,' said Frau Ebermann, shivering. In spite of the +heat of the room and the damp breath of the steam-inhaler, the aspirin +was not doing its duty. + +The girl raised her blue eyes and looked at the woman for an instant. + +'You see,' she said, emphasising her statements with her ringers, +'_they_ told _us_ to wait _here_ till _our_ people came for us. So we +came. We wait till our people come for us.' + +'That is silly again,' said Frau Ebermann. 'It is no good for you to +wait here. Do you know what this place is? You have been to school? It +is Berlin, the capital of Germany.' + +'Yes, yes,' they all cried; 'Berlin, capital of Germany. We know that. +That is why we came.' + +'So, you see, it is no good,' she said triumphantly, 'because your +people can never come for you here.' + +'They told us to come here and wait till our people came for us.' They +delivered this as if it were a lesson in school. Then they sat still, +their hands orderly folded on their laps, smiling as sweetly as ever. + +'Go away! Go away!' Frau Ebermann shrieked. + +'You called?' said Anna, entering. + +'No. Go away! Go away!' + +'Very good, old cat,' said the maid under her breath. 'Next time you +_may_ call,' and she returned to her friend in the kitchen. + +'I ask you--ask you, _please_ to go away,' Frau Ebermann pleaded. 'Go to +my Anna through that door, and she will give you cakes and sweeties. It +is not kind of you to come into my room and behave so badly.' + +'Where else shall we go now?' the elder girl demanded, turning to her +little company. They fell into discussion. One preferred the broad +street with trees, another the railway station; but when she suggested +an Emperor's palace, they agreed with her. + +'We will go then,' she said, and added half apologetically to Frau +Ebermann, 'You see, they are so little they like to meet all +the others.' + +'What others?' said Frau Ebermann. + +'The others--hundreds and hundreds and thousands and thousands of the +others.' + +'That is a lie. There cannot be a hundred even, much less a thousand,' +cried Frau Ebermann. + +'So?' said the girl politely. + +'Yes. _I_ tell you; and I have very good information. I know how it +happened. You should have been more careful. You should not have run out +to see the horses and guns passing. That is how it is done when our +troops pass through. My son has written me so.' + +They had clambered down from the sofa, and gathered round the bed with +eager, interested eyes. + +'Horses and guns going by--how fine!' some one whispered. + +'Yes, yes; believe me, _that_ is how the accidents to the children +happen. You must know yourself that it is true. One runs out to look--' + +'But I never saw any at all,' a boy cried sorrowfully. 'Only one noise I +heard. That was when Aunt Emmeline's house fell down.' + +'But listen to me. _I_ am telling you! One runs out to look, because one +is little and cannot see well. So one peeps between the man's legs, and +then--you know how close those big horses and guns turn the +corners--then one's foot slips and one gets run over. That's how it +happens. Several times it had happened, but not many times; certainly +not a hundred, perhaps not twenty. So, you see, you _must_ be all. Tell +me now that you are all that there are, and Anna shall give you +the cakes.' + +'Thousands,' a boy repeated monotonously. 'Then we all come here to +wait till our people come for us.' + +'But now we will go away from here. The poor lady is tired,' said the +elder girl, plucking his sleeve. + +'Oh, you hurt, you hurt!' he cried, and burst into tears. + +'What is that for?' said Frau Ebermann. 'To cry in a room where a poor +lady is sick is very inconsiderate.' + +'Oh, but look, lady!' said the elder girl. + +Frau Ebermann looked and saw. + +'_Au revoir_, lady.' They made their little smiling bows and curtseys +undisturbed by her loud cries. '_Au revoir,_ lady. We will wait till our +people come for us.' + +When Anna at last ran in, she found her mistress on her knees, busily +cleaning the floor with the lace cover from the radiator, because, she +explained, it was all spotted with the blood of five children--she was +perfectly certain there could not be more than five in the whole +world--who had gone away for the moment, but were now waiting round the +corner, and Anna was to find them and give them cakes to stop the +bleeding, while her mistress swept and garnished that Our dear Lord when +He came might find everything as it should be. + + + +Mary Postgate + +(1915) + +Of Miss Mary Postgate, Lady McCausland wrote that she was 'thoroughly +conscientious, tidy, companionable, and ladylike. I am very sorry to +part with her, and shall always be interested in her welfare.' + +Miss Fowler engaged her on this recommendation, and to her surprise, for +she had had experience of companions, found that it was true. Miss +Fowler was nearer sixty than fifty at the time, but though she needed +care she did not exhaust her attendant's vitality. On the contrary, she +gave out, stimulatingly and with reminiscences. Her father had been a +minor Court official in the days when the Great Exhibition of 1851 had +just set its seal on Civilisation made perfect. Some of Miss Fowler's +tales, none the less, were not always for the young. Mary was not young, +and though her speech was as colourless as her eyes or her hair, she was +never shocked. She listened unflinchingly to every one; said at the end, +'How interesting!' or 'How shocking!' as the case might be, and never +again referred to it, for she prided herself on a trained mind, which +'did not dwell on these things.' She was, too, a treasure at domestic +accounts, for which the village tradesmen, with their weekly books, +loved her not. Otherwise she had no enemies; provoked no jealousy even +among the plainest; neither gossip nor slander had ever been traced to +her; she supplied the odd place at the Rector's or the Doctor's table at +half an hour's notice; she was a sort of public aunt to very many small +children of the village street, whose parents, while accepting +everything, would have been swift to resent what they called +'patronage'; she served on the Village Nursing Committee as Miss +Fowler's nominee when Miss Fowler was crippled by rheumatoid arthritis, +and came out of six months' fortnightly meetings equally respected by +all the cliques. + +And when Fate threw Miss Fowler's nephew, an unlovely orphan of eleven, +on Miss Fowler's hands, Mary Postgate stood to her share of the business +of education as practised in private and public schools. She checked +printed clothes-lists, and unitemised bills of extras; wrote to Head and +House masters, matrons, nurses and doctors, and grieved or rejoiced over +half-term reports. Young Wyndham Fowler repaid her in his holidays by +calling her 'Gatepost,' 'Postey,' or 'Packthread,' by thumping her +between her narrow shoulders, or by chasing her bleating, round the +garden, her large mouth open, her large nose high in air, at a +stiff-necked shamble very like a camel's. Later on he filled the house +with clamour, argument, and harangues as to his personal needs, likes +and dislikes, and the limitations of 'you women,' reducing Mary to tears +of physical fatigue, or, when he chose to be humorous, of helpless +laughter. At crises, which multiplied as he grew older, she was his +ambassadress and his interpretress to Miss Fowler, who had no large +sympathy with the young; a vote in his interest at the councils on his +future; his sewing-woman, strictly accountable for mislaid boots and +garments; always his butt and his slave. + +And when he decided to become a solicitor, and had entered an office in +London; when his greeting had changed from 'Hullo, Postey, you old +beast,' to Mornin', Packthread,' there came a war which, unlike all wars +that Mary could remember, did not stay decently outside England and in +the newspapers, but intruded on the lives of people whom she knew. As +she said to Miss Fowler, it was 'most vexatious.' It took the Rector's +son who was going into business with his elder brother; it took the +Colonel's nephew on the eve of fruit-farming in Canada; it took Mrs. +Grant's son who, his mother said, was devoted to the ministry; and, very +early indeed, it took Wynn Fowler, who announced on a postcard that he +had joined the Flying Corps and wanted a cardigan waistcoat. + +'He must go, and he must have the waistcoat,' said Miss Fowler. So Mary +got the proper-sized needles and wool, while Miss Fowler told the men of +her establishment--two gardeners and an odd man, aged sixty--that those +who could join the Army had better do so. The gardeners left. Cheape, +the odd man, stayed on, and was promoted to the gardener's cottage. The +cook, scorning to be limited in luxuries, also left, after a spirited +scene with Miss Fowler, and took the housemaid with her. Miss Fowler +gazetted Nellie, Cheape's seventeen-year-old daughter, to the vacant +post; Mrs. Cheape to the rank of cook, with occasional cleaning bouts; +and the reduced establishment moved forward smoothly. + +Wynn demanded an increase in his allowance. Miss Fowler, who always +looked facts in the face, said, 'He must have it. The chances are he +won't live long to draw it, and if three hundred makes him happy--' + +Wynn was grateful, and came over, in his tight-buttoned uniform, to say +so. His training centre was not thirty miles away, and his talk was so +technical that it had to be explained by charts of the various types of +machines. He gave Mary such a chart. + +'And you'd better study it, Postey,' he said. 'You'll be seeing a lot of +'em soon.' So Mary studied the chart, but when Wynn next arrived to +swell and exalt himself before his womenfolk, she failed badly in +cross-examination, and he rated her as in the old days. + +'You _look_ more or less like a human being,' he said in his new Service +voice. 'You _must_ have had a brain at some time in your past. What have +you done with it? Where d'you keep it? A sheep would know more than you +do, Postey. You're lamentable. You are less use than an empty tin can, +you dowey old cassowary.' + +'I suppose that's how your superior officer talks to _you_?' said Miss +Fowler from her chair. + +'But Postey doesn't mind,' Wynn replied. 'Do you, Packthread?' + +'Why? Was Wynn saying anything? I shall get this right next time you +come,' she muttered, and knitted her pale brows again over the diagrams +of Taubes, Farmans, and Zeppelins. + +In a few weeks the mere land and sea battles which she read to Miss +Fowler after breakfast passed her like idle breath. Her heart and her +interest were high in the air with Wynn, who had finished 'rolling' +(whatever that might be) and had gone on from a 'taxi' to a machine more +or less his own. One morning it circled over their very chimneys, +alighted on Vegg's Heath, almost outside the garden gate, and Wynn came +in, blue with cold, shouting for food. He and she drew Miss Fowler's +bath-chair, as they had often done, along the Heath foot-path to look at +the bi-plane. Mary observed that 'it smelt very badly.' + +'Postey, I believe you think with your nose,' said Wynn. 'I know you +don't with your mind. Now, what type's that?' + +'I'll go and get the chart,' said Mary. + +'You're hopeless! You haven't the mental capacity of a white mouse,' he +cried, and explained the dials and the sockets for bomb-dropping till it +was time to mount and ride the wet clouds once more. + +'Ah!' said Mary, as the stinking thing flared upward. 'Wait till our +Flying Corps gets to work! Wynn says it's much safer than in the +trenches.' + +'I wonder,' said Miss Fowler. 'Tell Cheape to come and tow me home +again.' + +'It's all downhill. I can do it,' said Mary, 'if you put the brake on.' +She laid her lean self against the pushing-bar and home they trundled. + +'Now, be careful you aren't heated and catch a chill,' said overdressed +Miss Fowler. + +'Nothing makes me perspire,' said Mary. As she bumped the chair under +the porch she straightened her long back. The exertion had given her a +colour, and the wind had loosened a wisp of hair across her forehead. +Miss Fowler glanced at her. + +'What do you ever think of, Mary?' she demanded suddenly. + +'Oh, Wynn says he wants another three pairs of stockings--as thick as we +can make them.' + +'Yes. But I mean the things that women think about. Here you are, more +than forty--' + +'Forty-four,' said truthful Mary. + +'Well?' + +'Well?' Mary offered Miss Fowler her shoulder as usual. + +'And you've been with me ten years now.' + +'Let's see,' said Mary. 'Wynn was eleven when he came. He's twenty now, +and I came two years before that. It must be eleven.' + +'Eleven! And you've never told me anything that matters in all that +while. Looking back, it seems to me that _I_'ve done all the talking.' + +'I'm afraid I'm not much of a conversationalist. As Wynn says, I haven't +the mind. Let me take your hat.' + +Miss Fowler, moving stiffly from the hip, stamped her rubber-tipped +stick on the tiled hall floor. 'Mary, aren't you _anything_ except a +companion? Would you _ever_ have been anything except a companion?' + +Mary hung up the garden hat on its proper peg. 'No,' she said after +consideration. 'I don't imagine I ever should. But I've no imagination, +I'm afraid.' + +She fetched Miss Fowler her eleven-o'clock glass of Contrexéville. + +That was the wet December when it rained six inches to the month, and +the women went abroad as little as might be. Wynn's flying chariot +visited them several times, and for two mornings (he had warned her by +postcard) Mary heard the thresh of his propellers at dawn. The second +time she ran to the window, and stared at the whitening sky. A little +blur passed overhead. She lifted her lean arms towards it. + +That evening at six o'clock there came an announcement in an official +envelope that Second Lieutenant W. Fowler had been killed during a trial +flight. Death was instantaneous. She read it and carried it to +Miss Fowler. + +'I never expected anything else,' said Miss Fowler; 'but I'm sorry it +happened before he had done anything.' + +The room was whirling round Mary Postgate, but she found herself quite +steady in the midst of it. + +'Yes,' she said. 'It's a great pity he didn't die in action after he had +killed somebody.' + +'He was killed instantly. That's one comfort,' Miss Fowler went on. + +'But Wynn says the shock of a fall kills a man at once--whatever happens +to the tanks,' quoted Mary. + +The room was coming to rest now. She heard Miss Fowler say impatiently, +'But why can't we cry, Mary?' and herself replying, 'There's nothing to +cry for. He has done his duty as much as Mrs. Grant's son did.' + +'And when he died, _she_ came and cried all the morning,' said Miss +Fowler. 'This only makes me feel tired--terribly tired. Will you help me +to bed, please, Mary?--And I think I'd like the hot-water bottle.' + +So Mary helped her and sat beside, talking of Wynn in his riotous youth. + +'I believe,' said Miss Fowler suddenly, 'that old people and young +people slip from under a stroke like this. The middle-aged feel +it most.' + +'I expect that's true,' said Mary, rising. 'I'm going to put away the +things in his room now. Shall we wear mourning?' + +'Certainly not,' said Miss Fowler. 'Except, of course, at the funeral. I +can't go. You will. I want you to arrange about his being buried here. +What a blessing it didn't happen at Salisbury!' + +Every one, from the Authorities of the Flying Corps to the Rector, was +most kind and sympathetic. Mary found herself for the moment in a world +where bodies were in the habit of being despatched by all sorts of +conveyances to all sorts of places. And at the funeral two young men in +buttoned-up uniforms stood beside the grave and spoke to her afterwards. + +'You're Miss Postgate, aren't you?' said one. 'Fowler told me about you. +He was a good chap--a first-class fellow--a great loss.' + +'Great loss!' growled his companion. 'We're all awfully sorry.' + +'How high did he fall from?' Mary whispered. + +'Pretty nearly four thousand feet, I should think, didn't he? You were +up that day, Monkey?' + +'All of that,' the other child replied. 'My bar made three thousand, and +I wasn't as high as him by a lot.' + +'Then _that's_ all right,' said Mary. 'Thank you very much.' + +They moved away as Mrs. Grant flung herself weeping on Mary's flat +chest, under the lych-gate, and cried, '_I_ know how it feels! _I_ know +how it feels!' + +'But both his parents are dead,' Mary returned, as she fended her off. +'Perhaps they've all met by now,' she added vaguely as she escaped +towards the coach. + +'I've thought of that too,' wailed Mrs. Grant; 'but then he'll be +practically a stranger to them. Quite embarrassing!' + +Mary faithfully reported every detail of the ceremony to Miss Fowler, +who, when she described Mrs. Grant's outburst, laughed aloud. + +'Oh, how Wynn would have enjoyed it! He was always utterly unreliable at +funerals. D'you remember--' And they talked of him again, each piecing +out the other's gaps. 'And now,' said Miss Fowler, 'we'll pull up the +blinds and we'll have a general tidy. That always does us good. Have you +seen to Wynn's things?' + +'Everything--since he first came,' said Mary. 'He was never +destructive--even with his toys.' + +They faced that neat room. + +'It can't be natural not to cry,' Mary said at last. 'I'm _so_ afraid +you'll have a reaction.' + +'As I told you, we old people slip from under the stroke. It's you I'm +afraid for. Have you cried yet?' + +'I can't. It only makes me angry with the Germans.' + +'That's sheer waste of vitality,' said Miss Fowler. 'We must live till +the war's finished.' She opened a full wardrobe. 'Now, I've been +thinking things over. This is my plan. All his civilian clothes can be +given away--Belgian refugees, and so on.' + +Mary nodded. 'Boots, collars, and gloves?' + +'Yes. We don't need to keep anything except his cap and belt.' + +'They came back yesterday with his Flying Corps clothes'--Mary pointed +to a roll on the little iron bed. + +'Ah, but keep his Service things. Some one may be glad of them later. Do +you remember his sizes?' + +'Five feet eight and a half; thirty-six inches round the chest. But he +told me he's just put on an inch and a half. I'll mark it on a label and +tie it on his sleeping-bag.' + +'So that disposes of _that_,' said Miss Fowler, tapping the palm of one +hand with the ringed third finger of the other. 'What waste it all is! +We'll get his old school trunk to-morrow and pack his civilian clothes.' + +'And the rest?' said Mary. 'His books and pictures and the games and the +toys--and--and the rest?' + +'My plan is to burn every single thing,' said Miss Fowler. 'Then we +shall know where they are and no one can handle them afterwards. What do +you think?' + +'I think that would be much the best,' said Mary. 'But there's such a +lot of them.' + +'We'll burn them in the destructor,' said Miss Fowler. + +This was an open-air furnace for the consumption of refuse; a little +circular four-foot tower of pierced brick over an iron grating. Miss +Fowler had noticed the design in a gardening journal years ago, and had +had it built at the bottom of the garden. It suited her tidy soul, for +it saved unsightly rubbish-heaps, and the ashes lightened the stiff +clay soil. + +Mary considered for a moment, saw her way clear, and nodded again. They +spent the evening putting away well-remembered civilian suits, +underclothes that Mary had marked, and the regiments of very gaudy socks +and ties. A second trunk was needed, and, after that, a little +packing-case, and it was late next day when Cheape and the local carrier +lifted them to the cart. The Rector luckily knew of a friend's son, +about five feet eight and a half inches high, to whom a complete Flying +Corps outfit would be most acceptable, and sent his gardener's son down +with a barrow to take delivery of it. The cap was hung up in Miss +Fowler's bedroom, the belt in Miss Postgate's; for, as Miss Fowler said, +they had no desire to make tea-party talk of them. + +'That disposes of _that_,' said Miss Fowler. 'I'll leave the rest to +you, Mary. I can't run up and down the garden. You'd better take the big +clothes-basket and get Nellie to help you.' + +'I shall take the wheel-barrow and do it myself,' said Mary, and for +once in her life closed her mouth. + +Miss Fowler, in moments of irritation, had called Mary deadly +methodical. She put on her oldest waterproof and gardening-hat and her +ever-slipping goloshes, for the weather was on the edge of more rain. +She gathered fire-lighters from the kitchen, a half-scuttle of coals, +and a faggot of brushwood. These she wheeled in the barrow down the +mossed paths to the dank little laurel shrubbery where the destructor +stood under the drip of three oaks. She climbed the wire fence into the +Rector's glebe just behind, and from his tenant's rick pulled two large +armfuls of good hay, which she spread neatly on the fire-bars. Next, +journey by journey, passing Miss Fowler's white face at the morning-room +window each time, she brought down in the towel-covered clothes-basket, +on the wheel-barrow, thumbed and used Hentys, Marryats, Levers, +Stevensons, Baroness Orczys, Garvices, schoolbooks, and atlases, +unrelated piles of the _Motor Cyclist_, the _Light Car_, and catalogues +of Olympia Exhibitions; the remnants of a fleet of sailing-ships from +ninepenny cutters to a three-guinea yacht; a prep.-school dressing-gown; +bats from three-and-sixpence to twenty-four shillings; cricket and +tennis balls; disintegrated steam and clockwork locomotives with their +twisted rails; a grey and red tin model of a submarine; a dumb +gramophone and cracked records; golf-clubs that had to be broken across +the knee, like his walking-sticks, and an assegai; photographs of +private and public school cricket and football elevens, and his O.T.C. +on the line of march; kodaks, and film-rolls; some pewters, and one real +silver cup, for boxing competitions and Junior Hurdles; sheaves of +school photographs; Miss Fowler's photograph; her own which he had borne +off in fun and (good care she took not to ask!) had never returned; a +playbox with a secret drawer; a load of flannels, belts, and jerseys, +and a pair of spiked shoes unearthed in the attic; a packet of all the +letters that Miss Fowler and she had ever written to him, kept for some +absurd reason through all these years; a five-day attempt at a diary; +framed pictures of racing motors in full Brooklands career, and load +upon load of undistinguishable wreckage of tool-boxes, rabbit-hutches, +electric batteries, tin soldiers, fret-saw outfits, and jig-saw puzzles. + +Miss Fowler at the window watched her come and go, and said to herself, +'Mary's an old woman. I never realised it before.' + +After lunch she recommended her to rest. + +'I'm not in the least tired,' said Mary. 'I've got it all arranged. I'm +going to the village at two o'clock for some paraffin. Nellie hasn't +enough, and the walk will do me good.' + +She made one last quest round the house before she started, and found +that she had overlooked nothing. It began to mist as soon as she had +skirted Vegg's Heath, where Wynn used to descend--it seemed to her that +she could almost hear the beat of his propellers overhead, but there was +nothing to see. She hoisted her umbrella and lunged into the blind wet +till she had reached the shelter of the empty village. As she came out +of Mr. Kidd's shop with a bottle full of paraffin in her string +shopping-bag, she met Nurse Eden, the village nurse, and fell into talk +with her, as usual, about the village children. They were just parting +opposite the 'Royal Oak,' when a gun, they fancied, was fired +immediately behind the house. It was followed by a child's shriek dying +into a wail. + +'Accident!' said Nurse Eden promptly, and dashed through the empty bar, +followed by Mary. They found Mrs. Gerritt, the publican's wife, who +could only gasp and point to the yard, where a little cart-lodge was +sliding sideways amid a clatter of tiles. Nurse Eden snatched up a sheet +drying before the fire, ran out, lifted something from the ground, and +flung the sheet round it. The sheet turned scarlet and half her uniform +too, as she bore the load into the kitchen. It was little Edna Gerritt, +aged nine, whom Mary had known since her perambulator days. + +'Am I hurted bad?' Edna asked, and died between Nurse Eden's dripping +hands. The sheet fell aside and for an instant, before she could shut +her eyes, Mary saw the ripped and shredded body. + +'It's a wonder she spoke at all,' said Nurse Eden. 'What in God's name +was it?' + +'A bomb,' said Mary. + +'One o' the Zeppelins?' + +'No. An aeroplane. I thought I heard it on the Heath, but I fancied it +was one of ours. It must have shut off its engines as it came down. +That's why we didn't notice it.' + +'The filthy pigs!' said Nurse Eden, all white and shaken. 'See the +pickle I'm in! Go and tell Dr. Hennis, Miss Postgate.' Nurse looked at +the mother, who had dropped face down on the floor. 'She's only in a +fit. Turn her over.' + +Mary heaved Mrs. Gerritt right side up, and hurried off for the doctor. +When she told her tale, he asked her to sit down in the surgery till he +got her something. + +'But I don't need it, I assure you,' said she. 'I don't think it would +be wise to tell Miss Fowler about it, do you? Her heart is so irritable +in this weather.' + +Dr. Hennis looked at her admiringly as he packed up his bag. + +'No. Don't tell anybody till we're sure,' he said, and hastened to the +'Royal Oak,' while Mary went on with the paraffin. The village behind +her was as quiet as usual, for the news had not yet spread. She frowned +a little to herself, her large nostrils expanded uglily, and from time +to time she muttered a phrase which Wynn, who never restrained himself +before his womenfolk, had applied to the enemy. 'Bloody pagans! They +_are_ bloody pagans. But,' she continued, falling back on the teaching +that had made her what she was, 'one mustn't let one's mind dwell on +these things.' + +Before she reached the house Dr. Hennis, who was also a special +constable, overtook her in his car. + +'Oh, Miss Postgate,' he said, 'I wanted to tell you that that accident +at the "Royal Oak" was due to Gerritt's stable tumbling down. It's been +dangerous for a long time. It ought to have been condemned.' + +'I thought I heard an explosion too,' said Mary. + +'You might have been misled by the beams snapping. I've been looking at +'em. They were dry-rotted through and through. Of course, as they broke, +they would make a noise just like a gun.' + +'Yes?' said Mary politely. + +'Poor little Edna was playing underneath it,' he went on, still holding +her with his eyes, 'and that and the tiles cut her to pieces, you see?' + +'I saw it,' said Mary, shaking her head. 'I heard it too.' + +'Well, we cannot be sure.' Dr. Hennis changed his tone completely. 'I +know both you and Nurse Eden (I've been speaking to her) are perfectly +trustworthy, and I can rely on you not to say anything--yet at least. It +is no good to stir up people unless--' + +'Oh, I never do--anyhow,' said Mary, and Dr. Hennis went on to the +county town. + +After all, she told herself, it might, just possibly, have been the +collapse of the old stable that had done all those things to poor little +Edna. She was sorry she had even hinted at other things, but Nurse Eden +was discretion itself. By the time she reached home the affair seemed +increasingly remote by its very monstrosity. As she came in, Miss Fowler +told her that a couple of aeroplanes had passed half an hour ago. + +'I thought I heard them,' she replied, 'I'm going down to the garden +now. I've got the paraffin.' + +'Yes, but--what _have_ you got on your boots? They're soaking wet. +Change them at once.' + +Not only did Mary obey but she wrapped the boots in a newspaper, and +put them into the string bag with the bottle. So, armed with the longest +kitchen poker, she left. + +'It's raining again,' was Miss Fowler's last word, 'but--I know you +won't be happy till that's disposed of.' + +'It won't take long. I've got everything down there, and I've put the +lid on the destructor to keep the wet out.' + +The shrubbery was filling with twilight by the time she had completed +her arrangements and sprinkled the sacrificial oil. As she lit the match +that would burn her heart to ashes, she heard a groan or a grunt behind +the dense Portugal laurels. + +'Cheape?' she called impatiently, but Cheape, with his ancient lumbago, +in his comfortable cottage would be the last man to profane the +sanctuary. 'Sheep,' she concluded, and threw in the fusee. The pyre went +up in a roar, and the immediate flame hastened night around her. + +'How Wynn would have loved this!' she thought, stepping back from the +blaze. + +By its light she saw, half hidden behind a laurel not five paces away, a +bareheaded man sitting very stiffly at the foot of one of the oaks. A +broken branch lay across his lap--one booted leg protruding from beneath +it. His head moved ceaselessly from side to side, but his body was as +still as the tree's trunk. He was dressed--she moved sideways to look +more closely--in a uniform something like Wynn's, with a flap buttoned +across the chest. For an instant, she had some idea that it might be +one of the young flying men she had met at the funeral. But their heads +were dark and glossy. This man's was as pale as a baby's, and so closely +cropped that she could see the disgusting pinky skin beneath. His +lips moved. + +'What do you say?' Mary moved towards him and stooped. + +'Laty! Laty! Laty!' he muttered, while his hands picked at the dead wet +leaves. There was no doubt as to his nationality. It made her so angry +that she strode back to the destructor, though it was still too hot to +use the poker there. Wynn's books seemed to be catching well. She looked +up at the oak behind the man; several of the light upper and two or +three rotten lower branches had broken and scattered their rubbish on +the shrubbery path. On the lowest fork a helmet with dependent strings, +showed like a bird's-nest in the light of a long-tongued flame. +Evidently this person had fallen through the tree. Wynn had told her +that it was quite possible for people to fall out of aeroplanes. Wynn +told her too, that trees were useful things to break an aviator's fall, +but in this case the aviator must have been broken or he would have +moved from his queer position. He seemed helpless except for his +horrible rolling head. On the other hand, she could see a pistol case at +his belt--and Mary loathed pistols. Months ago, after reading certain +Belgian reports together, she and Miss Fowler had had dealings with +one--a huge revolver with flat-nosed bullets, which latter, Wynn said, +were forbidden by the rules of war to be used against civilised +enemies. 'They're good enough for us,' Miss Fowler had replied. 'Show +Mary how it works.' And Wynn, laughing at the mere possibility of any +such need, had led the craven winking Mary into the Rector's disused +quarry, and had shown her how to fire the terrible machine. It lay now +in the top-left-hand drawer of her toilet-table--a memento not included +in the burning. Wynn would be pleased to see how she was not afraid. + +She slipped up to the house to get it. When she came through the rain, +the eyes in the head were alive with expectation. The mouth even tried +to smile. But at sight of the revolver its corners went down just like +Edna Gerritt's. A tear trickled from one eye, and the head rolled from +shoulder to shoulder as though trying to point out something. + +'Cassée. Tout cassée,' it whimpered. + +'What do you say?' said Mary disgustedly, keeping well to one side, +though only the head moved. + +'Cassée,' it repeated. 'Che me rends. Le médicin! Toctor!' + +'Nein!' said she, bringing all her small German to bear with the big +pistol. 'Ich haben der todt Kinder gesehn.' + +The head was still. Mary's hand dropped. She had been careful to keep +her finger off the trigger for fear of accidents. After a few moments' +waiting, she returned to the destructor, where the flames were falling, +and churned up Wynn's charring books with the poker. Again the head +groaned for the doctor. + +'Stop that!' said Mary, and stamped her foot. 'Stop that, you bloody +pagan!' + +The words came quite smoothly and naturally. They were Wynn's own words, +and Wynn was a gentleman who for no consideration on earth would have +torn little Edna into those vividly coloured strips and strings. But +this thing hunched under the oak-tree had done that thing. It was no +question of reading horrors out of newspapers to Miss Fowler. Mary had +seen it with her own eyes on the 'Royal Oak' kitchen table. She must not +allow her mind to dwell upon it. Now Wynn was dead, and everything +connected with him was lumping and rustling and tinkling under her busy +poker into red black dust and grey leaves of ash. The thing beneath the +oak would die too. Mary had seen death more than once. She came of a +family that had a knack of dying under, as she told Miss Fowler, 'most +distressing circumstances.' She would stay where she was till she was +entirely satisfied that It was dead--dead as dear papa in the late +'eighties; aunt Mary in eighty-nine; mamma in 'ninety-one; cousin Dick +in ninety-five; Lady McCausland's housemaid in 'ninety-nine; Lady +McCausland's sister in nineteen hundred and one; Wynn buried five days +ago; and Edna Gerritt still waiting for decent earth to hide her. As she +thought--her underlip caught up by one faded canine, brows knit and +nostrils wide--she wielded the poker with lunges that jarred the grating +at the bottom, and careful scrapes round the brick-work above. She +looked at her wrist-watch. It was getting on to half-past four, and the +rain was coming down in earnest. Tea would be at five. If It did not die +before that time, she would be soaked and would have to change. +Meantime, and this occupied her, Wynn's things were burning well in +spite of the hissing wet, though now and again a book-back with a quite +distinguishable title would be heaved up out of the mass. The exercise +of stoking had given her a glow which seemed to reach to the marrow of +her bones. She hummed--Mary never had a voice--to herself. She had never +believed in all those advanced views--though Miss Fowler herself leaned +a little that way--of woman's work in the world; but now she saw there +was much to be said for them. This, for instance, was _her_ work--work +which no man, least of all Dr. Hennis, would ever have done. A man, at +such a crisis, would be what Wynn called a 'sportsman'; would leave +everything to fetch help, and would certainly bring It into the house. +Now a woman's business was to make a happy home for--for a husband and +children. Failing these--it was not a thing one should allow one's mind +to dwell upon--but-- + +'Stop it!' Mary cried once more across the shadows. 'Nein, I tell you! +Ich haben der todt Kinder gesehn.' + +_But_ it was a fact. A woman who had missed these things could still be +useful--more useful than a man in certain respects. She thumped like a +pavior through the settling ashes at the secret thrill of it. The rain +was damping the fire, but she could feel--it was too dark to see--that +her work was done. There was a dull red glow at the bottom of the +destructor, not enough to char the wooden lid if she slipped it half +over against the driving wet. This arranged, she leaned on the poker and +waited, while an increasing rapture laid hold on her. She ceased to +think. She gave herself up to feel. Her long pleasure was broken by a +sound that she had waited for in agony several times in her life. She +leaned forward and listened, smiling. There could be no mistake. She +closed her eyes and drank it in. Once it ceased abruptly. + +'Go on,' she murmured, half aloud. 'That isn't the end.' + +Then the end came very distinctly in a lull between two rain-gusts. Mary +Postgate drew her breath short between her teeth and shivered from head +to foot. '_That's_ all right,' said she contentedly, and went up to the +house, where she scandalised the whole routine by taking a luxurious hot +bath before tea, and came down looking, as Miss Fowler said when she saw +her lying all relaxed on the other sofa, 'quite handsome!' + + + + + THE BEGINNINGS + + It was not part of their blood, + It came to them very late + With long arrears to make good, + When the English began to hate. + + They were not easily moved, + They were icy willing to wait + Till every count should be proved, + Ere the English began to hate. + + Their voices were even and low, + Their eyes were level and straight. + There was neither sign nor show, + When the English began to hate. + + It was not preached to the crowd, + It was not taught by the State. + No man spoke it aloud, + When the English began to hate. + + It was not suddenly bred, + It will not swiftly abate, + Through the chill years ahead, + When Time shall count from the date + That the English began to hate. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DIVERSITY OF CREATURES*** + + +******* This file should be named 13085-8.txt or 13085-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/0/8/13085 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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