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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1402-0.txt b/1402-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6e8e719 --- /dev/null +++ b/1402-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4244 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1402 *** + +WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS + +by Christopher Morley + + + + TO FELIX and TOTO + + + + “I am not free-- And it may be + Life is too tight around my shins; + For, unlike you, + I can't break through + A truant where the blue begins. + + “Out of the very element + Of bondage, that here holds me pent, + I'll make my furious sonnet: + I'll turn my noose + To tightrope use + And madly dance upon it. + + “So I will take + My leash, and make + A wilder and more subtle fleeing + And I shall be + More escapading and more free + Than you have ever dreamed of being!” + + + + +CHAPTER ONE + +Gissing lived alone (except for his Japanese butler) in a little +house in the country, in that woodland suburb region called the Canine +Estates. He lived comfortably and thoughtfully, as bachelors often do. +He came of a respectable family, who had always conducted themselves +calmly and without too much argument. They had bequeathed him just +enough income to live on cheerfully, without display but without having +to do addition and subtraction at the end of the month and then tear up +the paper lest Fuji (the butler) should see it. + +It was strange, since Gissing was so pleasantly situated in life, that +he got into these curious adventures that I have to relate. I do not +attempt to explain it. + +He had no responsibilities, not even a motor car, for his tastes were +surprisingly simple. If he happened to be spending an evening at the +country club, and a rainstorm came down, he did not worry about getting +home. He would sit by the fire and chuckle to see the married members +creep away one by one. He would get out his pipe and sleep that night +at the club, after telephoning Fuji not to sit up for him. When he felt +like it he used to read in bed, and even smoke in bed. When he went to +town to the theatre, he would spend the night at a hotel to avoid the +fatigue of the long ride on the 11:44 train. He chose a different hotel +each time, so that it was always an Adventure. He had a great deal of +fun. + +But having fun is not quite the same as being happy. Even an income of +1000 bones a year does not answer all questions. That charming little +house among the groves and thickets seemed to him surrounded by strange +whispers and quiet voices. He was uneasy. He was restless, and did not +know why. It was his theory that discipline must be maintained in the +household, so he did not tell Fuji his feelings. Even when he was alone, +he always kept up a certain formality in the domestic routine. Fuji +would lay out his dinner jacket on the bed: he dressed, came down to +the dining room with quiet dignity, and the evening meal was served by +candle-light. As long as Fuji was at work, Gissing sat carefully in +the armchair by the hearth, smoking a cigar and pretending to read +the paper. But as soon as the butler had gone upstairs, Gissing +always kicked off his dinner suit and stiff shirt, and lay down on the +hearth-rug. But he did not sleep. He would watch the wings of flame +gilding the dark throat of the chimney, and his mind seemed drawn upward +on that rush of light, up into the pure chill air where the moon was +riding among sluggish thick floes of cloud. In the darkness he heard +chiming voices, wheedling and tantalizing. One night he was walking on +his little verandah. Between rafts of silver-edged clouds were channels +of ocean-blue sky, inconceivably deep and transparent. The air was +serene, with a faint acid taste. Suddenly there shrilled a soft, sweet, +melancholy whistle, earnestly repeated. It seemed to come from the +little pond in the near-by copses. It struck him strangely. It might +be anything, he thought. He ran furiously through the field, and to +the brim of the pond. He could find nothing, all was silent. Then the +whistlings broke out again, all round him, maddeningly. This kept on, +night after night. The parson, whom he consulted, said it was only +frogs; but Gissing told the constable he thought God had something to do +with it. + +Then willow trees and poplars showed a pallid bronze sheen, forsythias +were as yellow as scrambled eggs, maples grew knobby with red buds. +Among the fresh bright grass came, here and there, exhilarating smells +of last year's buried bones. The little upward slit at the back of +Gissing's nostrils felt prickly. He thought that if he could bury it +deep enough in cold beef broth it would be comforting. Several times he +went out to the pantry intending to try the experiment, but every time +Fuji happened to be around. Fuji was a Japanese pug, and rather correct, +so Gissing was ashamed to do what he wanted to. He pretended he had come +out to see that the icebox pan had been emptied properly. + +“I must get the plumber to put in a pukka drain-pipe to take the place +of the pan,” Gissing said to Fuji; but he knew that he had no intention +of doing so. The ice-box pan was his private test of a good servant. A +cook who forgot to empty it was too careless, he thought, to be a real +success. + +But certainly there was some curious elixir in the air. He went for +walks, and as soon as he was out of sight of the houses he threw down +his hat and stick and ran wildly, with great exultation, over the hills +and fields. “I really ought to turn all this energy into some sort of +constructive work,” he said to himself. No one else, he mused, seemed to +enjoy life as keenly and eagerly as he did. He wondered, too, about the +other sex. Did they feel these violent impulses to run, to shout, to +leap and caper in the sunlight? But he was a little startled, on one of +his expeditions, to see in the distance the curate rushing hotly through +the underbrush, his clerical vestments dishevelled, his tongue hanging +out with excitement. + +“I must go to church more often,” said Gissing. + +In the golden light and pringling air he felt excitable and high-strung. +His tail curled upward until it ached. Finally he asked Mike Terrier, +who lived next door, what was wrong. + +“It's spring,” Mike said. + +“Oh, yes, of course, jolly old spring!” said Gissing, as though this was +something he had known all along, and had just forgotten for the moment. +But he didn't know. This was his first spring, for he was only ten +months old. + +Outwardly he was the brisk, genial figure that the suburb knew and +esteemed. He was something of a mystery among his neighbours of the +Canine Estates, because he did not go daily to business in the city, as +most of them did; nor did he lead a life of brilliant amusement like the +Airedales, the wealthy people whose great house was near by. Mr. Poodle, +the conscientious curate, had called several times but was not able to +learn anything definite. There was a little card-index of parishioners, +which it was Mr. Poodle's duty to fill in with details of each person's +business, charitable inclinations, and what he could do to amuse +a Church Sociable. The card allotted to Gissing was marked, in Mr. +Poodle's neat script, Friendly, but vague as to definite participation +in Xian activities. Has not communicated. + +But in himself, Gissing was increasingly disturbed. Even his seizures of +joy, which came as he strolled in the smooth spring air and sniffed the +wild, vigorous aroma of the woodland earth, were troublesome because +he did not know why he was so glad. Every morning it seemed to him that +life was about to exhibit some delicious crisis in which the meaning and +excellence of all things would plainly appear. He sang in the bathtub. +Daily it became more difficult to maintain that decorum which Fuji +expected. He felt that his life was being wasted. He wondered what ought +to be done about it. + + + +CHAPTER TWO + +It was after dinner, an April evening, and Gissing slipped away from the +house for a stroll. He was afraid to stay in, because he knew that if he +did, Fuji would ask him again to fix the dishcloth rack in the kitchen. +Fuji was very short in stature, and could not reach up to the place +where the rack was screwed over the sink. Like all people whose minds +are very active, Gissing hated to attend to little details like this. It +was a weakness in his character. Fuji had asked him six times to fix the +rack, but Gissing always pretended to forget about it. To appease his +methodical butler he had written on a piece of paper FIX DISHCLOTH RACK +and pinned it on his dressing-table pincushion; but he paid no attention +to the memorandum. + +He went out into a green April dusk. Down by the pond piped those +repeated treble whistlings: they still distressed him with a mysterious +unriddled summons, but Mike Terrier had told him that the secret of +respectability is to ignore whatever you don't understand. Careful +observation of this maxim had somewhat dulled the cry of that shrill +queer music. It now caused only a faint pain in his mind. Still, he +walked that way because the little meadow by the pond was agreeably soft +underfoot. Also, when he walked close beside the water the voices were +silent. That is worth noting, he said to himself. If you go directly at +the heart of a mystery, it ceases to be a mystery, and becomes only a +question of drainage. (Mr. Poodle had told him that if he had the pond +and swamp drained, the frog-song would not annoy him.) But to-night, +when the keen chirruping ceased, there was still another sound that did +not cease--a faint, appealing cry. It caused a prickling on his shoulder +blades, it made him both angry and tender. He pushed through the bushes. +In a little hollow were three small puppies, whining faintly. They were +cold and draggled with mud. Someone had left them there, evidently, +to perish. They were huddled close together; their eyes, a cloudy +unspeculative blue, were only just opened. “This is gruesome,” said +Gissing, pretending to be shocked. “Dear me, innocent pledges of sin, I +dare say. Well, there is only one thing to do.” + +He picked them up carefully and carried them home. + +“Quick, Fuji!” he said. “Warm some milk, some of the Grade A, and put a +little brandy in it. I'll get the spare-room bed ready.” + +He rushed upstairs, wrapped the puppies in a blanket, and turned on the +electric heater to take the chill from the spare-room. The little pads +of their paws were ice-cold, and he filled the hot water bottle and held +it carefully to their twelve feet. Their pink stomachs throbbed, and at +first he feared they were dying. “They must not die!” he said fiercely. +“If they did, it would be a matter for the police, and no end of +trouble.” + +Fuji came up with the milk, and looked very grave when he saw the muddy +footprints on the clean sheet. + +“Now, Fuji,” said Gissing, “do you suppose they can lap, or will we have +to pour it down?” + +In spite of his superior manner, Fuji was a good fellow in an emergency. +It was he who suggested the fountain-pen filler. They washed the ink +out of it, and used it to drip the hot brandy-and-milk down the puppies' +throats. Their noses, which had been icy, suddenly became very hot and +dry. Gissing feared a fever and thought their temperatures should be +taken. + +“The only thermometer we have,” he said, “is the one on the porch, with +the mercury split in two. I don't suppose that would do. Have you a +clinical thermometer, Fuji?” + +Fuji felt that his employer was making too much fuss over the matter. + +“No, sir,” he said firmly. “They are quite all right. A good sleep will +revive them. They will be as fit as possible in the morning.” + +Fuji went out into the garden to brush the mud from his neat white +jacket. His face was inscrutable. Gissing sat by the spare-room bed +until he was sure the puppies were sleeping correctly. He closed the +door so that Fuji would not hear him humming a lullaby. Three Blind Mice +was the only nursery song he could remember, and he sang it over and +over again. + +When he tiptoed downstairs, Fuji had gone to bed. Gissing went into his +study, lit a pipe, and walked up and down, thinking. By and bye he wrote +two letters. One was to a bookseller in the city, asking him to send (at +once) one copy of Dr. Holt's book on the Care and Feeding of Children, +and a well-illustrated edition of Mother Goose. The other was to Mr. +Poodle, asking him to fix a date for the christening of Mr. Gissing's +three small nephews, who had come to live with him. + +“It is lucky they are all boys,” said Gissing. “I would know nothing +about bringing up girls.” + +“I suppose,” he added after a while, “that I shall have to raise Fuji's +wages.” + +Then he went into the kitchen and fixed the dishcloth rack. + +Before going to bed that night he took his usual walk around the house. +The sky was freckled with stars. It was generally his habit to make a +tour of his property toward midnight, to be sure everything was in good +order. He always looked into the ice-box, and admired the cleanliness +of Fuji's arrangements. The milk bottles were properly capped with their +round cardboard tops; the cheese was never put on the same rack with +the butter; the doors of the ice-box were carefully latched. Such +observations, and the slow twinkle of the fire in the range, deep down +under the curfew layer of coals, pleased him. In the cellar he peeped +into the garbage can, for it was always a satisfaction to assure himself +that Fuji did not waste anything that could be used. One of the laundry +tub taps was dripping, with a soft measured tinkle: he said to himself +that he really must have it attended to. All these domestic matters +seemed more significant than ever when he thought of youthful innocence +sleeping upstairs in the spare-room bed. His had been a selfish life +hitherto, he feared. These puppies were just what he needed to take him +out of himself. + +Busy with these thoughts, he did not notice the ironical whistling +coming from the pond. He tasted the night air with cheerful +satisfaction. “At any rate, to-morrow will be a fine day,” he said. + +The next day it rained. But Gissing was too busy to think about the +weather. Every hour or so during the night he had gone into the spare +room to listen attentively to the breathing of the puppies, to pull the +blanket over them, and feel their noses. It seemed to him that they +were perspiring a little, and he was worried lest they catch cold. His +morning sleep (it had always been his comfortable habit to lie abed a +trifle late) was interrupted about seven o'clock by a lively clamour +across the hall. The puppies were awake, perfectly restored, and while +they were too young to make their wants intelligible, they plainly +expected some attention. He gave them a pair of old slippers to play +with, and proceeded to his own toilet. + +As he was bathing them, after breakfast, he tried to enlist Fuji's +enthusiasm. “Did you ever see such fat rascals?” he said. “I wonder if +we ought to trim their tails? How pink their stomachs are, and how pink +and delightful between their toes! You hold these two while I dry +the other. No, not that way! Hold them so you support their spines. A +puppy's back is very delicate: you can't be too careful. We'll have to +do things in a rough-and-ready way until Dr. Holt's book comes. After +that we can be scientific.” + +Fuji did not seem very keen. Presently, in spite of the rain, he was +dispatched to the village department store to choose three small cribs +and a multitude of safety pins. “Plenty of safety pins is the idea,” + said Gissing. “With enough safety pins handy, children are easy to +manage.” + +As soon as the puppies were bestowed on the porch, in the sunshine, for +their morning nap, he telephoned to the local paperhanger. + +“I want you” (he said) “to come up as soon as you can with some nice +samples of nursery wallpaper. A lively Mother Goose pattern would do +very well.” He had already decided to change the spare room into a +nursery. He telephoned the carpenter to make a gate for the top of the +stairs. He was so busy that he did not even have time to think of his +pipe, or the morning paper. At last, just before lunch, he found a +breathing space. He sat down in the study to rest his legs, and looked +for the Times. It was not in its usual place on his reading table. At +that moment the puppies woke up, and he ran out to attend them. He would +have been distressed if he had known that Fuji had the paper in the +kitchen, and was studying the HELP WANTED columns. + +A great deal of interest was aroused in the neighbourhood by the arrival +of Gissing's nephews, as he called them. Several of the ladies, who had +ignored him hitherto, called, in his absence, and left extra cards. This +implied (he supposed, though he was not closely versed in such niceties +of society) that there was a Mrs. Gissing, and he was annoyed, for he +felt certain they knew he was a bachelor. But the children were a source +of nothing but pride to him. They grew with astounding rapidity, ate +their food without coaxing, rarely cried at night, and gave him much +amusement by their naive ways. He was too occupied to be troubled with +introspection. Indeed, his well-ordered home was very different from +before. The trim lawn, in spite of his zealous efforts, was constantly +littered with toys. In sheer mischief the youngsters got into his +wardrobe and chewed off the tails of his evening dress coat. But he +felt a satisfying dignity and happiness in his new status as head of a +family. + +What worried him most was the fear that Fuji would complain of this +sudden addition to his duties. The butler's face was rather an enigma, +particularly at meal times, when Gissing sat at the dinner table +surrounded by the three puppies in their high chairs, with a spindrift +of milk and prune-juice spattering generously as the youngsters plied +their spoons. Fuji had arranged a series of scuppers, made of oilcloth, +underneath the chairs; but in spite of this the dining-room rug, after a +meal, looked much as the desert place must have after the feeding of +the multitude. Fuji, who was pensive, recalled the five loaves and two +fishes that produced twelve baskets of fragments. The vacuum cleaner got +clogged by a surfeit of crumbs. + +Gissing saw that it would be a race between heart and head. If Fuji's +heart should become entangled (that is, if the innocent charms of the +children should engage his affections before his reason convinced him +that the situation was now too arduous), there was some hope. He tried +to ease the problem also by mental suggestion. “It is really remarkable” + (he said to Fuji) “that children should give one so little trouble.” + As he made this remark, he was speeding hotly to and fro between the +bathroom and the nursery, trying to get one tucked in bed and another +undressed, while the third was lashing the tub into soapy foam. Fuji +made his habitual response, “Very good, sir.” But one fears that he +detected some insincerity, for the next day, which was Sunday, he gave +notice. This generally happens on a Sunday, because the papers publish +more Help Wanted advertisements then than on any other day. + +“I'm sorry, sir,” he said. “But when I took this place there was nothing +said about three children.” + +This was unreasonable of Fuji. It is very rare to have everything +explained beforehand. When Adam and Eve were put into the Garden of +Eden, there was nothing said about the serpent. + +However, Gissing did not believe in entreating a servant to stay. He +offered to give Fuji a raise, but the butler was still determined to +leave. + +“My senses are very delicate,” he said. “I really cannot stand +the--well, the aroma exhaled by those three children when they have had +a warm bath.” + +“What nonsense!” cried Gissing. “The smell of wet, healthy puppies? +Nothing is more agreeable. You are cold-blooded: I don't believe you are +fond of puppies. Think of their wobbly black noses. Consider how pink is +the little cleft between their toes and the main cushion of their feet. +Their ears are like silk. Inside their upper jaws are parallel black +ridges, most remarkable. I never realized before how beautifully and +carefully we are made. I am surprised that you should be so indifferent +to these things.” + +There was a moisture in Fuji's eyes, but he left at the end of the week. + + + +CHAPTER THREE + +A solitary little path ran across the fields not far from the house. +It lay deep among tall grasses and the withered brittle stalks of +last autumn's goldenrod, and here Gissing rambled in the green hush of +twilight, after the puppies were in bed. In less responsible days +he would have lain down on his back, with all four legs upward, and +cheerily shrugged and rolled to and fro, as the crisp ground-stubble was +very pleasing to the spine. But now he paced soberly, the smoke from his +pipe eddying just above the top of the grasses. He had much to meditate. + +The dogwood tree by the house was now in flower. The blossoms, with +their four curved petals, seemed to spin like tiny white propellers +in the bright air. When he saw them fluttering Gissing had a happy +sensation of movement. The business of those tremulous petals seemed to +be thrusting his whole world forward and forward, through the viewless +ocean of space. He felt as though he were on a ship--as, indeed, we are. +He had never been down to the open sea, but he had imagined it. There, +he thought, there must be the satisfaction of a real horizon. + +Horizons had been a great disappointment to him. In earlier days he had +often slipped out of the house not long after sunrise, and had marvelled +at the blue that lies upon the skyline. Here, about him, were the clear +familiar colours of the world he knew; but yonder, on the hills, were +trees and spaces of another more heavenly tint. That soft blue light, if +he could reach it, must be the beginning of what his mind required. + +He envied Mr. Poodle, whose cottage was on that very hillslope that rose +so imperceptibly into sky. One morning he ran and ran, in the lifting +day, but always the blue receded. Hot and unbuttoned, he came by the +curate's house, just as the latter emerged to pick up the morning paper. + +“Where does the blue begin?” Gissing panted, trying hard to keep his +tongue from sliding out so wetly. + +The curate looked a trifle disturbed. He feared that something +unpleasant had happened, and that his assistance might be required +before breakfast. + +“It is going to be a warm day,” he said politely, and stooped for the +newspaper, as a delicate hint. + +“Where does--?” began Gissing, quivering; but at that moment, looking +round, he saw that it had hoaxed him again. Far away, on his own hill +the other side of the village, shone the evasive colour. As usual, +he had been too impetuous. He had not watched it while he ran; it had +circled round behind him. He resolved to be more methodical. + +The curate gave him a blank to fill in, relative to baptizing the +children, and was relieved to see him hasten away. + +But all this was some time ago. As he walked the meadow path, Gissing +suddenly realized that lately he had had little opportunity for pursuing +blue horizons. Since Fuji's departure every moment, from dawn to dusk, +was occupied. In three weeks he had had three different servants, but +none of them would stay. The place was too lonely, they said, and with +three puppies the work was too hard. The washing, particularly was a +horrid problem. Inexperienced as a parent, Gissing was probably too +proud: he wanted the children always to look clean and soigne. The last +cook had advertised herself as a General Houseworker, afraid of +nothing; but as soon as she saw the week's wash in the hamper (including +twenty-one grimy rompers), she telephoned to the station for a taxi. +Gissing wondered why it was that the working classes were not willing +to do one-half as much as he, who had been reared to indolent ease. Even +more, he was irritated by a suspicion of the ice-wagon driver. He could +not prove it, but he had an idea that this uncouth fellow obtained a +commission from the Airedales and Collies, who had large mansions in the +neighbourhood, for luring maids from the smaller homes. Of course Mrs. +Airedale and Mrs. Collie could afford to pay any wages at all. So now +the best he could do was to have Mrs. Spaniel, the charwoman, come up +from the village to do the washing and ironing, two days a week. The +rest of the work he undertook himself. On a clear afternoon, when the +neighbours were not looking, he would take his own shirts and things +down to the pond--putting them neatly in the bottom of the red +express-wagon, with the puppies sitting on the linen, so no one would +see. While the puppies played about and hunted for tadpoles, he would +wash his shirts himself. + +His legs ached as he took his evening stroll--keeping within earshot of +the house, so as to hear any possible outcry from the nursery. He +had been on his feet all day. But he reflected that there was a real +satisfaction in his family tasks, however gruelling. Now, at last (he +said to himself), I am really a citizen, not a mere dilettante. Of +course it is arduous. No one who is not a parent realizes, for example, +the extraordinary amount of buttoning and unbuttoning necessary in +rearing children. I calculate that 50,000 buttonings are required for +each one before it reaches the age of even rudimentary independence. +With the energy so expended one might write a great novel or chisel a +statue. Never mind: these urchins must be my Works of Art. If one +were writing a novel, he could not delegate to a hired servant the +composition of laborious chapters. + +So he took his responsibility gravely. This was partly due to the +christening service, perhaps, which had gone off very charmingly. It +had not been without its embarrassments. None of the neighbouring ladies +would stand as godmother, for they were secretly dubious as to the +children's origin; so he had asked good Mrs. Spaniel to act in that +capacity. She, a simple kindly creature, was much flattered, though +certainly she can have understood very little of the symbolical rite. +Gissing, filling out the form that Mr. Poodle had given him, had put +down the names of an entirely imaginary brother and sister-in-law of +his, “deceased,” whom he asserted as the parents. He had been so busy +with preparations that he did not find time, before the ceremony, +to study the text of the service; and when he and Mrs. Spaniel stood +beneath the font with an armful of ribboned infancy, he was frankly +startled by the magnitude of the promises exacted from him. He found +that, on behalf of the children, he must “renounce the devil and all his +work, the vain pomp and glory of the world;” that he must pledge himself +to see that these infants would “crucify the old man and utterly abolish +the whole body of sin.” It was rather doubtful whether they would do so, +he reflected, as he felt them squirming in his arms while Mrs. Spaniel +was busy trying to keep their socks on. When the curate exhorted him “to +follow the innocency” of these little ones, it was disconcerting to have +one of them burst into a piercing yammer, and wriggle so forcibly that +it slipped quite out of its little embroidered shift and flannel band. +But the actual access to the holy basin was more seemly, perhaps due to +the children imagining they were going to find tadpoles there. When Mr. +Poodle held them up they smiled with a vague almost bashful simplicity; +and Mrs. Spaniel could not help murmuring “The darlings!” The curate, +less experienced with children, had insisted on holding all three at +once, and Gissing feared lest one of them might swarm over the surpliced +shoulder and fall splash into the font. But though they panted a little +with excitement, they did nothing to mar the solemn instant. While Mrs. +Spaniel was picking up the small socks with which the floor was strewn, +Gissing was deeply moved by the poetry of the ceremony. He felt that +something had really been accomplished toward “burying the Old Adam.” + And if Mrs. Spaniel ever grew disheartened at the wash-tubs, he was +careful to remind her of the beautiful phrase about the mystical washing +away of sin. + +They had been christened Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers, three traditional +names in his family. + +Indeed, he was reflecting as he walked in the dusk, Mrs. Spaniel was +now his sheet anchor. Fortunately she showed signs of becoming +extraordinarily attached to the puppies. On the two days a week when she +came up from the village, it was even possible for him to get a little +relaxation--to run down to the station for tobacco, or to lie in the +hammock briefly with a book. Looking off from his airy porch, he could +see the same blue distances that had always tempted him, but he felt too +passive to wonder about them. He had given up the idea of trying to get +any other servants. If it had been possible, he would have engaged Mrs. +Spaniel to sleep in the house and be there permanently; but she had +children of her own down in the shantytown quarter of the village, and +had to go back to them at night. But certainly he made every effort to +keep her contented. It was a long steep climb up from the hollow, so +he allowed her to come in a taxi and charge it to his account. Then, on +condition that she would come on Saturdays also, to help him clean up +for Sunday, he allowed her, on that day, to bring her own children too, +and all the puppies played riotously together around the place. But this +he presently discontinued, for the clamour became so deafening that the +neighbours complained. Besides, the young Spaniels, who were a little +older, got Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers into noisy and careless habits of +speech. + +He was anxious that they should grow up refined, and was distressed by +little Shaggy Spaniel having brought up the Comic Section of a Sunday +paper. With childhood's instinctive taste for primitive effects, the +puppies fell in love with the coloured cartoons, and badgered him +continually for “funny papers.” + +There is a great deal more to think about in raising children (he said +to himself) than is intimated in Dr. Holt's book on Care and Feeding. +Even in matters that he had always taken for granted, such as fairy +tales, he found perplexity. After supper--(he now joined the children in +their evening bread and milk, for after cooking them a hearty lunch of +meat and gravy and potatoes and peas and the endless spinach and carrots +that the doctors advise, to say nothing of the prunes, he had no energy +to prepare a special dinner for himself)--after supper it was his habit +to read to them, hoping to give their imaginations a little exercise +before they went to bed. He was startled to find that Grimm and Hans +Andersen, which he had considered as authentic classics for childhood, +were full of very strong stuff--morbid sentiment, bloodshed, horror, and +all manner of painful circumstance. Reading the tales aloud, he edited +as he went along; but he was subject to that curious weakness that +afflicts some people: reading aloud made him helplessly sleepy: after a +page or so he would fall into a doze, from which he would be awakened by +the crash of a lamp or some other furniture. The children, seized with +that furious hilarity that usually begins just about bedtime, would race +madly about the house until some breakage or a burst of tears woke him +from his trance. He would thrash them all and put them to bed howling. +When they were asleep he would be touched with tender compassion, and +steal in to tuck them up, admiring the innocence of each unconscious +muzzle on its pillow. Sometimes, in a crisis of his problems, he thought +of writing to Dr. Holt for advice; but the will-power was lacking. + +It is really astonishing how children can exhaust one, he used to think. +Sometimes, after a long day, he was even too weary to correct their +grammar. “You lay down!” Groups would admonish Yelpers, who was capering +in his crib while Bunks was being lashed in with the largest size of +safety pins. And Gissing, doggedly passing from one to another, was +really too fatigued to reprove the verb, picked up from Mrs. Spaniel. + +Fairy tales proving a disappointment, he had great hopes of encouraging +them in drawing. He bought innumerable coloured crayons and stacks +of scribbling paper. After supper they would all sit down around the +dining-room table and he drew pictures for them. Tongues depending with +concentrated excitement, the children would try to copy these pictures +and colour them. In spite of having three complete sets of crayons, a +full roster of colours could rarely be found at drawing time. Bunks had +the violet when Groups wanted it, and so on. But still, this was often +the happiest hour of the day. Gissing drew amazing trains, elephants, +ships, and rainbows, with the spectrum of colours correctly arranged +and blended. The children specially loved his landscapes, which were +opulently tinted and magnificent in long perspectives. He found himself +always colouring the far horizons a pale and haunting blue. + +He was meditating these things when a shrill yammer recalled him to the +house. + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + +In this warm summer weather Gissing slept on a little outdoor balcony +that opened off the nursery. The world, rolling in her majestic seaway, +heeled her gunwale slowly into the trough of space. Disked upon this +bulwark, the sun rose, and promptly Gissing woke. The poplars flittered +in a cool stir. Beyond the tadpole pond, through a notch in the +landscape, he could see the far darkness of the hills. That fringe of +woods was a railing that kept the sky from flooding over the earth. + +The level sun, warily peering over the edge like a cautious marksman, +fired golden volleys unerringly at him. At once Gissing was aware and +watchful. Brief truce was over: the hopeless war with Time began anew. + +This was his placid hour. Light, so early, lies timidly along the +ground. It steals gently from ridge to ridge; it is soft, unsure. +That blue dimness, receding from bole to bole, is the skirt of Night's +garment, trailing off toward some other star. As easily as it slips from +tree to tree, it glides from earth to Orion. + +Light, which later will riot and revel and strike pitilessly down, still +is tender and tentative. It sweeps in rosy scythe-strokes, parallel to +earth. It gilds, where later it will burn. + +Gissing lay, without stirring. The springs of the old couch were creaky, +and the slightest sound might arouse the children within. Now, until +they woke, was his peace. Purposely he had had the sleeping porch built +on the eastern side of the house. Making the sun his alarm clock, he +prolonged the slug-a-bed luxury. He had procured the darkest and +most opaque of all shades for the nursery windows, to cage as long as +possible in that room Night the silencer. At this time of the year, the +song of the mosquito was his dreaded nightingale. In spite of fine-mesh +screens, always one or two would get in. Mrs. Spaniel, he feared, left +the kitchen door ajar during the day, and these Borgias of the insect +world, patiently invasive, seized their chance. It was a rare night when +a sudden scream did not come from the nursery every hour or so. “Daddy, +a keeto, a keeto!” was the anguish from one of the trio. The other two +were up instantly, erect and yelping in their cribs, small black paws on +the rail, pink stomachs candidly exposed to the winged stilleto. Lights +on, and the room must be explored for the lurking foe. Scratching +themselves vigorously, the fun of the chase assuaged the smart of those +red welts. Gissing, wise by now, knew that after a forager the mosquito +always retires to the ceiling, so he kept a stepladder in the room. +Mounted on this, he would pursue the enemy with a towel, while the +children screamed with merriment. Then stomachs must be anointed with +more citronella; sheets and blankets reassembled, and quiet gradually +restored. Life, as parents know, can be supported on very little sleep. + +But how delicious to lie there, in the morning freshness, to hear the +earth stir with reviving gusto, the merriment of birds, the exuberant +clink of milk-bottles set down by the back-door, the whole complex +machinery of life begin anew! Gissing was amazed now, looking back upon +his previous existence, to see himself so busy, so active. Few +people are really lazy, he thought: what we call laziness is merely +maladjustment. For in any department of life where one is genuinely +interested, he will be zealous beyond belief. Certainly he had not +dreamed, until he became (in a manner of speaking) a parent, that he had +in him such capacity for detail. + +This business of raising a family, though--had he any true aptitude +for it? or was he forcing himself to go through with it? Wasn't he, +moreover, incurring all the labours of parenthood without any of +its proper dignity and social esteem? Mrs. Chow down the street, for +instance, why did she look so sniffingly upon him when she heard the +children, in the harmless uproar of their play, cry him aloud as Daddy? +Uncle, he had intended they should call him; but that is, for beginning +speech, a hard saying, embracing both a palatal and a liquid. Whereas +Da-da--the syllables come almost unconsciously to the infant mouth. +So he had encouraged it, and even felt an irrational pride in the +honourable but unearned title. + +A little word, Daddy, but one of the most potent, he was thinking. +More than a word, perhaps: a great social engine: an anchor which, cast +carelessly overboard, sinks deep and fast into the very bottom. The +vessel rides on her hawser, and where are your blue horizons then? + +But come now, isn't one horizon as good as another? And do they really +remain blue when you reach them? + +Unconsciously he stirred, stretching his legs deeply into the +comfortable nest of his couch. The springs twanged. Simultaneous +clamours! The puppies were awake. + +They yelled to be let out from the cribs. This was the time of the +morning frolic. Gissing had learned that there is only one way to deal +with the almost inexhaustible energy of childhood. That is, not to +attempt to check it, but to encourage and draw it out. To start the day +with a rush, stimulating every possible outlet of zeal; meanwhile taking +things as calmly and quietly as possible himself, sitting often to take +the weight off his legs, and allowing the youngsters to wear themselves +down. This, after all, is Nature's own way with man; it is the wise +parent's tactic with children. Thus, by dusk, the puppies will have run +themselves almost into a stupor; and you, if you have shrewdly husbanded +your strength, may have still a little power in reserve for reading and +smoking. + +The before-breakfast game was conducted on regular routine. Children +show their membership in the species by their love of strict habit. + +Gissing let them yell for a few moments--as long as he thought the +neighbours would endure it--while he gradually gathered strength and +resolution, shook off the cowardice of bed. Then he strode into the +nursery. As soon as they heard him raising the shades there was complete +silence. They hastened to pull the blankets over themselves, and lay +tense, faces on paws, with bright expectant upward eyes. They trembled a +little with impatience. It was all he could do to restrain himself from +patting the sleek heads, which always seemed to shine with extra +polish after a night's rolling to and fro on the flattened pillows. But +sternness was a part of the game at this moment. He solemnly unlatched +and lowered the tall sides of the cribs. + +He stood in the middle of the room, with a gesture of command. “Quiet +now,” he said. “Quiet, until I tell you!” + +Yelpers could not help a small whine of intense emotion, which slipped +out unintended. The eyes of Groups and Bunks swivelled angrily toward +their unlucky brother. It was his failing: in crises he always emitted +haphazard sounds. But this time Gissing, with lenient forgiveness, +pretended not to have heard. + +He returned to the balcony, and reentered his couch, where he lay +feigning sleep. In the nursery was a terrific stillness. + +It was the rule of the game that they should lie thus, in absolute +quiet, until he uttered a huge imitation snore. Once, after a +particularly exhausting night, he had postponed the snore too long: +he fell asleep. He did not wake for an hour, and then found the tragic +three also sprawled in amazing slumber. But their pillows were wet with +tears. He never succumbed again, no matter how deeply tempted. + +He snored. There were three sprawling thumps, a rush of feet, and a +tumbling squeeze through the screen door. Then they were on the couch +and upon him, with panting yelps of glee. Their hot tongues rasped +busily over his face. This was the great tickling game. Remembering his +theory of conserving energy, he lay passive while they rollicked +and scrambled, burrowing in the bedclothes, quivering imps of absurd +pleasure. All that was necessary was to give an occasional squirm, to +tweak their ribs now and then, so that they believed his heart was in +the sport. Really he got quite a little rest while they were scuffling. +No one knew exactly what was the imagined purpose of the lark--whether +he was supposed to be trying to escape from them, or they from him. Like +all the best games, it had not been carefully thought out. + +“Now, children,” said Gissing presently. “Time to get dressed.” + +It was amazing how fast they were growing. Already they were beginning +to take a pride in trying to dress themselves. While Gissing was in +the bathroom, enjoying his cold tub (and under the stimulus of that +icy sluice forming excellent resolutions for the day) the children were +sitting on the nursery floor eagerly studying the intricacies of their +gear. By the time he returned they would have half their garments on +wrong; waist and trousers front side to rear; right shoes on left feet; +buttons hopelessly mismated to buttonholes; shoelacings oddly zigzagged. +It was far more trouble to permit their ambitious bungling, which must +be undone and painstakingly reassembled, than to have clad them all +himself, swiftly revolving and garmenting them like dolls. But in these +early hours of the day, patience still is robust. It was his pedagogy to +encourage their innocent initiatives, so long as endurance might permit. + +Best of all, he enjoyed watching them clean their teeth. It was +delicious to see them, tiptoe on their hind legs at the basin, to which +their noses just reached; mouths gaping wide as they scrubbed with very +small toothbrushes. They were so elated by squeezing out the toothpaste +from the tube that he had not the heart to refuse them this privilege, +though it was wasteful. For they always squeezed out more than +necessary, and after a moment's brushing their mouths became choked and +clotted with the pungent foam. Much of this they swallowed, for he +had not been able to teach them to rinse and gargle. Their only idea +regarding any fluid in the mouth was to swallow it; so they coughed and +strangled and barked. Gissing had a theory that this toothpaste foam +most be an appetizer, for he found that the more of it they swallowed, +the better they ate their breakfast. + +After breakfast he hurried them out into the garden, before the day +became too hot. As he put a new lot of prunes to soak in cold water, he +could not help reflecting how different the kitchen and pantry looked +from the time of Fuji. The ice-box pan seemed to be continually brimming +over. Somehow--due, he feared, to a laxity on Mrs. Spaniel's part--ants +had got in. He was always finding them inside the ice-box, and wondered +where they came from. He was amazed to find how negligent he was growing +about pots and pans: he began cooking a new mess of oatmeal in the +double boiler without bothering to scrape out the too adhesive remnant +of the previous porridge. He had come to the conclusion that children +are tougher and more enduring than Dr. Holt will admit; and that a +little carelessness in matters of hygiene and sterilization does not +necessarily mean instant death. + +Truly his once dainty menage was deteriorating. He had put away his fine +china, put away the linen napery, and laid the table with oil cloth. He +had even improved upon Fuji's invention of scuppers by a little +trough which ran all round the rim of the table, to catch any possible +spillage. He was horrified to observe how inevitably callers came at +the worst possible moment. Mr. and Mrs. Chow, for instance, drew up one +afternoon in their spick-and-span coupe with their intolerably spotless +only child sitting self-consciously beside them. Groups, Bunks, and +Yelpers were just then filling the garden with horrid clamour. They had +been quarrelling, and one had pushed the other two down the back steps. +Gissing, who had attempted to find a quiet moment to scald the ants out +of the ice-box, had just rushed forth and boxed them all. As he stood +there, angry and waving a steaming dishclout, two Chows appeared. The +puppies at once set upon little Sandy Chow, and had thoroughly mauled +his starched sailor suit in the driveway before two minutes were past. +Gissing could not help laughing, for he suspected that there had been a +touch of malice in the Chows coming just at that time. + +He had given up his flower garden, too. It was all he could do to shove +the lawn-mower around, in the dusk, after the puppies were in bed. +Formerly he had found the purr of the twirling blades a soothing +stimulus to thought; but nowadays he could not even think consecutively. +Perhaps, he thought, the residence of the mind is in the legs, not in +the head; for when your legs are thoroughly weary you can't seem to +think. + +So he had decided that he simply must have more help in the cooking and +housework. He had instructed Mrs. Spaniel to send the washing to the +steam-laundry, and spend her three days in the kitchen instead. A +huge bundle had come back from the laundry, and he had paid the driver +$15.98. With dismay he sorted the clean, neatly folded garments. Here +was the worthy Mrs. Spaniel's list, painstakingly written out in her +straggling script:-- + + MR. GISHING FAMILY WOSH + + 8 towls + 6 pymjarm Mr Gishing + 12 rompers + 3 blowses + 6 cribb sheets + 1 Mr. Gishing sheat + 4 wastes + 3 wosh clothes + 2 onion sutes Mr Gishing + 6 smal onion sutes + 4 pillo slipes + 3 sherts + 18 hankerchifs smal + 6 hankerchifs large + 8 colers + 3 overhauls + 10 bibbs + 2 table clothes (coca stane) + 1 table clothe (prun juce and eg) + +After contemplating this list, Gissing went to his desk and began to +study his accounts. A resolve was forming in his mind. + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + +The summer evenings sounded a very different music from that thin +wheedling of April. It was now a soft steady vibration, the incessant +drone and throb of locust and cricket, and sometimes the sudden rasp, +dry and hard, of katydids. Gissing, in spite of his weariness, was all +fidgets. He would walk round and round the house in the dark, unable +to settle down to anything; tired, but incapable of rest. What is this +uneasiness in the mind, he asked himself? The great sonorous drumming of +the summer night was like the bruit of Time passing steadily by. Even +in the soft eddy of the leaves, lifted on a drowsy creeping air, was a +sound of discontent, of troublesome questioning. Through the trees he +could see the lighted oblongs of neighbours' windows, or hear stridulent +jazz records. Why were all others so cheerfully absorbed in the minutiae +of their lives, and he so painfully ill at ease? Sometimes, under the +warm clear darkness, the noises of field and earth swelled to a kind +of soft thunder: his quickened ears heard a thousand small outcries +contributing to the awful energy of the world--faint chimings and +whistlings in the grass, and endless flutter, rustle, and whirr. His own +body, on which hair and nails grew daily like vegetation, startled and +appalled him. Consciousness of self, that miserable ecstasy, was heavy +upon him. + +He envied the children, who lay upstairs sprawled under their mosquito +nettings. Immersed in living, how happily unaware of being alive! He +saw, with tenderness, how naively they looked to him as the answer and +solution of their mimic problems. But where could he find someone to be +to him what he was to them? The truth apparently was that in his inward +mind he was desperately lonely. Reading the poets by fits and starts, +he suddenly realized that in their divine pages moved something of this +loneliness, this exquisite unhappiness. But these great hearts had had +the consolation of setting down their moods in beautiful words, words +that lived and spoke. His own strange fever burned inexpressibly inside +him. Was he the only one who felt the challenge offered by the maddening +fertility and foison of the hot sun-dazzled earth? Life, he realized, +was too amazing to be frittered out in this aimless sickness of heart. +There were truths and wonders to be grasped, if he could only throw off +this wistful vague desire. He felt like a clumsy strummer seated at a +dark shining grand piano, which he knows is capable of every glory of +rolling music, yet he can only elicit a few haphazard chords. + +He had his moments of arrogance, too. Ah, he was very young! This +miracle of blue unblemished sky that had baffled all others since life +began--he, he would unriddle it! He was inclined to sneer at his friends +who took these things for granted, and did not perceive the infamous +insolubility of the whole scheme. Remembering the promises made at +the christening, he took the children to church; but alas, carefully +analyzing his mind, he admitted that his attention had been chiefly +occupied with keeping them orderly, and he had gone through the service +almost automatically. Only in singing hymns did he experience a tingle +of exalted feeling. But Mr. Poodle was proud of his well-trained choir, +and Gissing had a feeling that the congregation was not supposed to do +more than murmur the verses, for fear of spoiling the effect. In his +favourite hymns he had a tendency to forget himself and let go: his +vigorous tenor rang lustily. Then he realized that the backs of people's +heads looked surprised. The children could not be kept quiet unless +they stood up on the pews. Mr. Poodle preached rather a long sermon, and +Yelpers, toward twelve-thirty, remarked in a clear tone of interested +inquiry, “What time does God have dinner?” + +Gissing had a painful feeling that he and Mr. Poodle did not thoroughly +understand each other. The curate, who was kindness itself, called one +evening, and they had a friendly chat. Gissing was pleased to find +that Mr. Poodle enjoyed a cigar, and after some hesitation ventured to +suggest that he still had something in the cellar. Mr. Poodle said that +he didn't care for anything, but his host could not help hearing the +curate's tail quite unconsciously thumping on the chair cushions. So he +excused himself and brought up one of his few remaining bottles of +White Horse. Mr. Poodle crossed his legs and they chatted about golf, +politics, the income tax, and some of the recent books; but when Gissing +turned the talk on religion, Mr. Poodle became diffident.. Gissing, +warmed and cheered by the vital Scotch, was perhaps too direct. + +“What ought I to do to 'crucify the old man'?” he said. + +Mr. Poodle was rather embarrassed. + +“You must mortify the desires of the flesh,” he replied. “You must dig +up the old bone of sin that is buried in all our hearts.” + +There were many more questions Gissing wanted to ask about this, but Mr. +Poodle said he really must be going, as he had a call to pay on Mr. and +Mrs. Chow. + +Gissing walked down the path with him, and the curate did indeed set off +toward the Chows'. But Gissing wondered, for a little later he heard a +cheerful canticle upraised in the open fields. + +He himself was far from gay. He longed to tear out this malady from his +breast. Poor dreamer, he did not know that to do so is to tear out God +Himself. “Mrs. Spaniel,” he said when the laundress next came up from +the village, “you are a widow, aren't you?” + +“Yes, sir,” she said. “Poor Spaniel was killed by a truck, two years ago +April.” Her face was puzzled, but beneath her apron Gissing could see +her tail wagging. + +“Don't misunderstand me,” he said quickly. “I've got to go away on +business. I want you to bring your children and move into this house +while I'm gone. I'll make arrangements at the bank about paying all the +bills. You can give up your outside washing and devote yourself entirely +to looking after this place.” + +Mrs. Spaniel was so much surprised that she could not speak. In her +amazement a bright bubble dripped from the end of her curly tongue. +Hastily she caught it in her apron, and apologized. + +“How long will you be away, sir?” she asked. + +“I don't know. It may be quite a long time.” + +“But all your beautiful things, furniture and everything,” said Mrs. +Spaniel. “I'm afraid my children are a bit rough. They're not used to +living in a house like this--” + +“Well,” said Gissing, “you must do the best you can. There are some +things more important than furniture. It will be good for your children +to get accustomed to refined surroundings, and it'll be good for my +nephews to have someone to play with. Besides, I don't want them to grow +up spoiled mollycoddles. I think I've been fussing over them too much. +If they have good stuff in them, a little roughening won't do any +permanent harm.” + +“Dear me,” cried Mrs. Spaniel, “what will the neighbours think?” + +“They won't,” said Gissing. “I don't doubt they'll talk, but they won't +think. Thinking is very rare. I've got to do some myself, that's one +reason why I'm going. You know, Mrs. Spaniel, God is a horizon, not +someone sitting on a throne.” Mrs. Spaniel didn't understand this--in +fact, she didn't seem to hear it. Her mind was full of the idea that +she would simply have to have a new dress, preferably black silk, for +Sundays. Gissing, very sagacious, had already foreseen this point. +“Let's not have any argument,” he continued. “I have planned everything. +Here is some money for immediate needs. I'll speak to them at the +bank, and they will give you a weekly allowance. I leave you here as +caretaker. Later on I'll send you an address and you can write me how +things are going.” + +Poor Mrs. Spaniel was bewildered. She came of very decent people, but +since Spaniel took to drink, and then left her with a family to support, +she had sunk in the world. She was wondering now how she could face it +out with Mrs. Chow and Mrs. Fox-Terrier and the other neighbours. + +“Oh, dear,” she cried, “I don't know what to say, sir. Why, my boys are +so disreputable-looking, they haven't even a collar between them.” + +“Get them collars and anything else they need,” said Gissing kindly. +“Don't worry, Mrs. Spaniel, it will be a fine thing for you. There will +be a little gossip, I dare say, but we'll have to chance that. Now +you had better go down to the village and make your arrangements. I'm +leaving tonight.” + +Late that evening, after seeing Mrs. Spaniel and her brood safely +installed, Gissing walked to the station with his suitcase. He felt a +pang as he lifted the mosquito nettings and kissed the cool moist noses +of the sleeping trio. But he comforted himself by thinking that this was +no merely vulgar desertion. If he was to raise the family, he must earn +some money. His modest income would not suffice for this sudden increase +in expenses. Besides, he had never known what freedom meant until it +was curtailed. For the past three months he had lived in ceaseless +attendance; had even slept with one ear open for the children's cries. +Now he owed it to himself to make one great strike for peace. Wealth, he +could see, was the answer. With money, everything was attainable: books, +leisure for study, travel, prestige--in short, command over the physical +details of life. He would go in for Big Business. Already he thrilled +with a sense of power and prosperity. + +The little house stood silent in the darkness as he went down the path. +The night was netted with the weaving sparkle of fireflies. He stood +for a moment, looking. Suddenly there came a frightened cry from the +nursery. + +“Daddy, a keeto, a keeto!” + +He nearly turned to run back, but checked himself. No, Mrs. Spaniel was +now in charge. It was up to her. Besides, he had only just enough time +to catch the last train to the city. + +But he sat on the cinder-speckled plush of the smoker in a mood that was +hardly revelry. “By Jove,” he said to himself, “I got away just in time. +Another month and I couldn't have done it.” + +It was midnight when he saw the lights of town, panelled in gold against +a peacock sky. Acres and acres of blue darkness lay close-pressing +upon the gaudy grids of light. Here one might really look at this great +miracle of shadow and see its texture. The dulcet air drifted lazily in +deep, silent crosstown streets. “Ah,” he said, “here is where the blue +begins.” + + + +CHAPTER SIX + + “For students of the troubled heart + Cities are perfect works of art.” + +There is a city so tall that even the sky above her seems to have lifted +in a cautious remove, inconceivably far. There is a city so proud, so +mad, so beautiful and young, that even heaven has retreated, lest her +placid purity be too nearly tempted by that brave tragic spell. In the +city which is maddest of all, Gissing had come to search for sanity. In +the city so strangely beautiful that she has made even poets silent, he +had come to find a voice. In the city of glorious ostent and vanity, he +had come to look for humility and peace. + +All cities are mad: but the madness is gallant. All cities are +beautiful: but the beauty is grim. Who shall tell me the truth about +this one? Tragic? Even so, because wherever ambitions, vanities, and +follies are multiplied by millionfold contact, calamity is there. Noble +and beautiful? Aye, for even folly may have the majesty of magnitude. +Hasty, cruel, shallow? Agreed, but where in this terrene orb will you +find it otherwise? I know all that can be said against her; and yet in +her great library of streets, vast and various as Shakespeare, is beauty +enough for a lifetime. O poets, why have you been so faint? Because she +seems cynical and crass, she cries with trumpet-call to the mind of the +dreamer; because she is riant and mad, she speaks to the grave sanity of +the poet. + +So, in a mood perhaps too consciously lofty, Gissing was meditating. +It was rather impudent of him to accuse the city of being mad, for he +himself, in his glee over freedom regained, was not conspicuously sane. +He scoured the town in high spirits, peering into shop-windows, riding +on top of busses, going to the Zoo, taking the rickety old steamer to +the Statue of Liberty, drinking afternoon tea at the Ritz, and all that +sort of thing. The first three nights in town he slept in one of the +little traffic-towers that perch on stilts up above Fifth Avenue. As +a matter of fact, it was that one near St. Patrick's Cathedral. He had +ridden up the Avenue in a taxi, intending to go to the Plaza (just for +a bit of splurge after his domestic confinement). As the cab went by, he +saw the traffic-tower, dark and empty, and thought what a pleasant place +to sleep. So he asked the driver to let him out at the Cathedral, and +after being sure that he was not observed, walked back to the little +turret, climbed up the ladder, and made himself at home. He liked it +so well that he returned there the two following nights; but he didn't +sleep much, for he could not resist the fun of startling night-hawk +taxis by suddenly flashing the red, green, and yellow lights at them, +and seeing them stop in bewilderment. But after three nights he +thought it best to leave. It would have been awkward if the police had +discovered him. + +It was time to settle down and begin work. He had an uncle who was head +of an important business far down-town; but Gissing, with the quixotry +of youth, was determined to make his own start in the great world of +commerce. He found a room on the top floor of a quiet brownstone house +in the West Seventies. It was not large, and he had to go down a flight +for his bath; the gas burner over the bed whistled; the dust was rather +startling after the clean country; but it was cheap, and his sense of +adventure more than compensated. Mrs. Purp, the landlady, pleased him +greatly. She was very maternal, and urged him not to bolt his meals in +armchair lunches. She put an ashtray in his room. + +Gissing sent Mrs. Spaniel a postcard with a picture of the Pennsylvania +Station. On it he wrote Arrived safely. Hard at work. Love to the +children. Then he went to look for a job. + +His ideas about business were very vague. All he knew was that he wished +to be very wealthy and influential as soon as possible. He could have +had much sound advice from his uncle, who was a member of the Union +Kennel and quite a prominent dog-about-town. But Gissing had the +secretive pride of inexperience. Moreover, he did not quite know what +to say about his establishment in the country. That houseful of children +would need some explaining. + +Those were days of brilliant heat; clear, golden, dry. The society +columns in the papers assured him that everyone was out of town; but the +Avenue seemed plentifully crowded with beautiful, superb creatures. +Far down the gentle slopes of that glimmering roadway he could see +the rolling stream of limousines, dazzles of sunlight caught on their +polished flanks. A faint blue haze of gasoline fumes hung low in the +bright warm air. This is the street where even the most passive are +pricked by the strange lure of carnal dominion. Nothing less than a job +on the Avenue itself would suit his mood, he felt. + +Fortune and audacity united (as they always do) to concede his desire. +He was in the beautiful department store of Beagle and Company, one of +the most splendid of its kind, looking at some sand-coloured spats. +In an aisle near by he heard a commotion--nothing vulgar, but still an +evident stir, with repressed yelps and a genteel, horrified bustle. He +hastened to the spot, and through the crowd saw someone lying on the +floor. An extremely beautiful sales-damsel, charmingly clad in black +crepe de chien, was supporting the victim's head, vainly fanning him. +Wealthy dowagers were whining in distress. Then an ambulance clanged +up to a side door, and a stretcher was brought in. “What is it?” said +Gissing to a female at the silk-stocking counter. + +“One of the floorwalkers--died of heat prostration,” she said, looking +very much upset. + +“Poor fellow,” said Gissing. “You never know what will happen next, do +you?” He walked away, shaking his head. + +He asked the elevator attendant to direct him to the offices of the +firm. On the seventh floor, down a quiet corridor behind the bedroom +suites, a rosewood fence barred his way. A secretary faced him +inquiringly. + +“I wish to see Mr. Beagle.” + +“Mr. Beagle senior or Mr. Beagle junior?” + +Youth cleaves to youth, said Gissing to himself. “Mr. Beagle junior,” he +stated firmly. + +“Have you an appointment?” + +“Yes,” he said. + +She took his ward, disappeared, and returned. “This way, please,” she +said. + +Mr. Beagle senior must be very old indeed, he thought; for junior was +distinctly grizzled. In fact (so rapidly does the mind run), Mr. Beagle +senior must be near the age of retirement. Very likely (he said to +himself) that will soon occur; there will be a general stepping-up among +members of the firm, and that will be my chance. I wonder how much they +pay a junior partner? + +He almost uttered this question, as Mr. Beagle junior looked at him so +inquiringly. But he caught himself in time. + +“I beg your pardon for intruding,” said Gissing, “but I am the new +floorwalker.” + +“You are very kind,” said Mr. Beagle junior, “but we do not need a new +floorwalker.” + +“I beg your pardon again,” said Gissing, “but you are not au courant +with the affairs of the store. One has just died, right by the +silk-stocking counter. Very bad for business.” + +At this moment the telephone rang, and Mr. Beagle seized it. He +listened, sharply examining his caller meanwhile. + +“You are right,” he said, as he put down the receiver. “Well, sir, have +you had any experience?” + +“Not exactly of that sort,” said Gissing; “but I think I understand the +requirements. The tone of the store--” + +“I will ask you to be here at four-thirty this afternoon,” said Mr. +Beagle. “We have a particular routine in regard to candidates for +that position. You will readily perceive that it is a post of some +importance. The floorwalker is our point of social contact with +patrons.” + +Gissing negligently dusted his shoes with a handkerchief. + +“Pray do not apologize,” he said kindly. “I am willing to congratulate +with you on your good fortune. It was mere hazard that I was in the +store. To-day, of course, business will be poor. But to-morrow, I think +you will find--” + +“At four-thirty,” said Mr. Beagle, a little puzzled. + +That day Gissing went without lunch. First he explored the whole +building from top to bottom, until he knew the location of every +department, and had the store directory firmly memorized. With almost +proprietary tenderness he studied the shining goods and trinkets; noted +approvingly the clerks who seemed to him specially prompt and obliging +to customers; scowled a little at any sign of boredom or inattention. +He heard the soft sigh of the pneumatic tubes as they received money +and blew it to some distant coffer: this money, he thought, was already +partly his. That square-cut creature whom he presently discerned +following him was undoubtedly the store detective: he smiled to think +what a pleasant anecdote this would be when he was admitted to junior +partnership. Then he went, finally, to the special Masculine Shop on the +fifth floor, where he bought a silk hat, a cutaway coat and waistcoat, +and trousers of pearly stripe. He did not forget patent leather shoes, +nor white spats. He refused--the little white linen margins which the +clerk wished to affix to the V of his waistcoat. That, he felt, was the +ultra touch which would spoil all. The just less than perfection, how +perfect it is! + +It was getting late. He hurried to Penn Station where he hired one of +those little dressing booths, and put on his regalia. His tweeds, in a +neat package, he checked at the parcel counter. Then he returned to the +store for the important interview. + +He had expected a formal talk with the two Messrs. Beagle, perhaps +touching on such matters as duties, hours, salary, and so on. To his +surprise he was ushered by the secretary into a charming Louis XVI salon +farther down the private corridor. There were several ladies: one was +pouring tea. Mr. Beagle junior came forward. The vice-president (such +was Mr. Beagle junior's rank, Gissing had learned by the sign on his +door) still wore his business garb of the morning. Gissing immediately +felt himself to have the advantage. But what a pleasant idea, he +thought, for the members of the firm to have tea together every +afternoon. He handed his hat, gloves, and stick to the secretary. + +“Very kind of you to come,” said Mr. Beagle. “Let me present you to my +wife.” + +Mrs. Beagle, at the tea-urn, received him graciously. + +“Cream or lemon?” she said. “Two lumps?” + +This is really delightful, Gissing thought. Only on Fifth Avenue could +this kind of thing happen. He looked down the hostess from his superior +height, and smiled charmingly. + +“Do you permit three?” he said. “A little weakness of mine.” As a matter +of fact, he hated tea so sweet; but he felt it was strategic to fix +himself in Mrs. Beagle's mind as a polished eccentric. + +“You must have a meringue,” she said. “Ah, Mrs. Pomeranian has them. +Mrs. Pomeranian, let me present Mr. Gissing.” + +Mrs. Pomeranian, small and plump and tightly corseted, offered the +meringues, while Mrs. Beagle pressed upon him a plate with a small +doily, embroidered with the arms of the store, and its motto je +maintiendrai--referring, no doubt, to its prices. Mr. Beagle then +introduced him to several more ladies in rapid succession. Gissing +passed along the line, bowing slightly but with courteous interest to +each. To each one he raised his eyebrows and permitted himself a small +significant smile, as though to convey that this was a moment he had +long been anticipating. How different, he thought, was this life of +enigmatic gaiety from the suburban drudgery of recent months. If only +Mrs. Spaniel could see him now! He was about to utilize a brief pause by +sipping his tea, when a white-headed patriarch suddenly appeared beside +him. + +“Mr. Gissing,” said the vice-president, “this is my father, Mr. Beagle +senior.” + +Gissing, by quick work, shuffled the teacup into his left paw, and the +meringue plate into the crook of his elbow, so he was ready for the old +gentleman's salutation. Mr. Beagle senior was indeed very old: his white +hair hung over his eyes, he spoke with growling severity. Gissing's +manner to the old merchant was one of respectful reassurance: he +attempted to make an impression that would console: to impart--of course +without saying so--the thought that though the head of the firm could +not last much longer, yet he would leave his great traffic in capable +care. + +“Where will I find an aluminum cooking pot?” growled the elder Beagle +unexpectedly. + +“In the Bargain Basement,” said Gissing promptly. + +“He'll do!” cried the president. + +To his surprise, on looking round, Gissing saw that all the ladies had +vanished. Beagle junior was grinning at him. + +“You have the job, Mr. Gissing,” he said. “You will pardon the harmless +masquerade--we always try out a floorwalker in that way. My father +thinks that if he can handle a teacup and a meringue while being +introduced to ladies, he can manage anything on the main aisle +downstairs. Mrs. Pomeranian, our millinery buyer, said she had never +seen it better done, and she mixes with some of the swellest people in +Paris.” + +“Nine to six, with half an hour off for lunch,” said the senior partner, +and left the room. + +Gissing calmly swallowed his tea, and ate the meringue. He would have +enjoyed another, but the capable secretary had already removed them. He +poured himself a second cup of tea. Mr. Beagle junior showed signs of +eagerness to leave, but Gissing detained him. + +“One moment,” he said suavely. “There is a little matter that we have +not discussed. The question of salary.” + +Mr. Beagle looked thoughtfully out of the window. + +“Thirty dollars a week,” he said. + +After all, Gissing thought, it will only take four weeks to pay for what +I have spent on clothes. + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + +There was some dramatic nerve in Gissing's nature that responded +eloquently to the floorwalking job. Never, in the history of Beagle and +Company, had there been a floorwalker who threw so much passion and zeal +into his task. The very hang of his coattails, even the erect carriage +of his back, the rubbery way in which his feet trod the aisles, showed +his sense of dignity and glamour. There seemed to be a great tradition +which enriched and upheld him. Mr. Beagle senior used to stand on +the little balcony at the rear of the main floor, transfixed with the +pleasure of seeing Gissing move among the crowded passages. +Alert, watchful, urbane, with just the ideal blend of courtesy and +condescension, he raised floorwalking to a social art. Female customers +asked him the way to departments they knew perfectly well, for the +pleasure of hearing him direct them. Business began to improve before he +had been there a week. + +And how he enjoyed himself! The perfection of his bearing on the +floor was no careful pose: it was due to the brimming overplus of his +happiness. Happiness is surely the best teacher of good manners: only +the unhappy are churlish in deportment. He was young, remember; and +this was his first job. His precocious experience as a paterfamilias had +added to his mien just that suggestion of unconscious gravity which is +so appealing to ladies. He looked (they thought) as though he had been +touched--but Oh so lightly!--by poetic sorrow or strange experience: to +ask him the way to the notion counter was as much of an adventure as +to meet a reigning actor at a tea. The faint cloud of melancholy that +shadowed his brow may have been only due to the fact that his new boots +were pinching painfully; but they did not know that. + +So, quite unconsciously, he began to “establish” himself in his role, +just as an actor does. At first he felt his way tentatively and with +tact. Every store has its own tone and atmosphere: in a day or so he +divined the characteristic cachet of the Beagle establishment. He saw +what kind of customers were typical, and what sort of conduct they +expected. And the secret of conquest being always to give people +a little more than they expect, he pursued that course. Since they +expected in a floorwalker the mechanical and servile gentility of a +hired puppet, he exhibited the easy, offhand simplicity of a fellow +club-member. With perfect naturalness he went out of his way to assist +in their shopping concerns: gave advice in the selection of dress +materials, acted as arbiter in the matching of frocks and stockings. His +taste being faultless, it often happened that the things he recommended +were not the most expensive: this again endeared him to customers. +When sales slips were brought to him by ladies who wished to make an +exchange, he affixed his O. K. with a magnificent flourish, and with +such evident pleasure, that patrons felt genuine elation, and plunged +into the tumult with new enthusiasm. It was not long before there were +always people waiting for his counsel; and husbands would appear at +the store to convey (a little irritably) some such message as: “Mrs. +Sealyham says, please choose her a scarf that will go nicely with that +brown moire dress of hers. She says you will remember the dress.”--This +popularity became even a bit perplexing, as for instance when old Mrs. +Dachshund, the store's biggest Charge Account, insisted on his leaving +his beat at a very busy time, to go up to the tenth floor to tell her +which piano he thought had the richer tone. + +Of course all this was very entertaining, and an admirable opportunity +for studying his fellow-creatures; but it did not go very deep into +his mind. He lived for some time in a confused glamour and glitter; +surrounded by the fascinating specious life of the store, but drifting +merely superficially upon it. The great place, with its columns of +artificial marble and white censers of upward-shining electricity, +glimmered like a birch forest by moonlight. Silver and jewels and silks +and slippers flashed all about him. It was a marvellous education, for +he soon learned to estimate these things at their proper value; which is +low, for they have little to do with life itself. His work was tiring in +the extreme--merely having to remain upright on his hind legs for +such long hours WAS an ordeal--but it did not penetrate to the secret +observant self of which he was always aware. This was advantageous. If +you have no intellect, or only just enough to get along with, it does +not much matter what you do. But if you really have a mind--by which +is meant that rare and curious power of reason, of imagination, and +of emotion; very different from a mere fertility of conversation and +intelligent curiosity--it is better not to weary and wear it out over +trifles. + +So, when he left the store in the evening, no matter how his legs ached, +his head was clear and untarnished. He did not hurry away at closing +time. Places where people work are particularly fascinating after +the bustle is over. He loved to linger in the long aisles, to see the +tumbled counters being swiftly brought to order, to hear the pungent +cynicisms of the weary shopgirls. To these, by the way, he was a bit of +a mystery. The punctilio of his manner, the extreme courtliness of his +remarks, embarrassed them a little. Behind his back they spoke of him as +“The Duke” and admired him hugely; little Miss Whippet, at the stocking +counter, said that he was an English noble of long pedigree, who had +been unjustly deprived of his estates. + +Down in the basement of this palatial store was a little dressing +room and lavatory for the floorwalkers, where they doffed their formal +raiment and resumed street attire. His colleagues grumbled and hastened +to depart, but Gissing made himself entirely comfortable. In his locker +he kept a baby's bathtub, which he leisurely filled with hot water at +one of the basins. Then he sat serenely and bathed his feet; although it +was against the rules he often managed to smoke a pipe while doing so. +Then he hung up his store clothes neatly, and went off refreshed into +the summer evening. + +A warm rosy light floods the city at that hour. At the foot of every +crosstown street is a bonfire of sunset. What a mood of secret smiling +beset him as he viewed the great territory of his enjoyment. “The +freedom of the city”--a phrase he had somewhere heard--echoed in his +mind. The freedom of the city! A magnificent saying, Electric signs, +first burning wanly in the pink air, then brightened and grew strong. +“Not light, but rather darkness visible,” in that magic hour that just +holds the balance between paling day and the spendthrift jewellery +of evening. Or, if it rained, to sit blithely on the roof of a bus, +revelling in the gust and whipping of the shower. Why had no one told +him of the glory of the city? She was pride, she was exultation, she +was madness. She was what he had obscurely craved. In every line of +her gallant profile he saw conquest, triumph, victory! Empty conquest, +futile triumph, doomed victory--but that was the essence of the drama. +In thunderclaps of dumb ecstasy he saw her whole gigantic fabric, +leaning and clamouring upward with terrible yearning. Burnt with +pitiless sunlight, drenched with purple explosions of summer storm, he +saw her cleansed and pure. Where were her recreant poets that they had +never made these things plain? + +And then, after the senseless day, after its happy but meaningless +triviality, the throng and mixed perfumery and silly courteous gestures, +his blessed solitude! Oh solitude, that noble peace of the mind! +He loved the throng and multitude of the day: he loved people: but +sometimes he suspected that he loved them as God does--at a judicious +distance. From his rather haphazard religious training, strange words +came back to him. “For God so loved the world...” So loved the world +that--that what? That He sent someone else... Some day he must think +this out. But you can't think things out. They think themselves, +suddenly, amazingly. The city itself is God, he cried. Was not God's +ultimate promise something about a city--The City of God? Well, but that +was only symbolic language. The city--of course that was only a symbol +for the race--for all his kind. The entire species, the whole aspiration +and passion and struggle, that was God. + +On the ferries, at night, after supper, was his favourite place for +meditation. Some undeniable instinct drew him ever and again out of +the deep and shut ravines of stone, to places where he could feed on +distance. That is one of the subtleties of this straight and narrow +city, that though her ways are cliffed in, they are a long thoroughfare +for the eye: there is always a far perspective. But best of all to go +down to her environing water, where spaces are wide: the openness that +keeps her sound and free. Ships had words for him: they had crossed many +horizons: fragments of that broken blue still shone on their cutting +bows. Ferries, the most poetical things in the city, were nearly empty +at night: he stood by the rail, saw the black outline of the town slide +by, saw the lower sky gilded with her merriment, and was busy thinking. + +Now about a God (he said to himself)--instinct tells me that there is +one, for when I think about Him I find that I unconsciously wag my tail +a little. But I must not reason on that basis, which is too puppyish. I +like to think that there is, somewhere in this universe, an inscrutable +Being of infinite wisdom, harmony, and charity, by Whom all my desires +and needs would be understood; in association with Whom I would find +peace, satisfaction, a lightness of heart that exceed my present +understanding. Such a Being is to me quite inconceivable; yet I feel +that if I met Him, I would instantly understand. I do not mean that I +would understand Him: but I would understand my relationship to Him, +which would be perfect. Nor do I mean that it would be always +happy; merely that it would transcend anything in the way of social +significance that I now experience. But I must not conclude that there +is such a God, merely because it would be so pleasant if there were. + +Then (he continued) is it necessary to conceive that this deity is +super-canine in essence? What I am getting at is this: in everyone +I have ever known--Fuji, Mr. Poodle, Mrs. Spaniel, those maddening +delightful puppies, Mrs. Purp, Mr. Beagle, even Mrs. Chow and Mrs. +Sealyham and little Miss Whippet--I have always been aware that there +was some mysterious point of union at which our minds could converge and +entirely understand one another. No matter what our difference of breed, +of training, of experience and education, provided we could meet and +exchange ideas honestly there would be some satisfying point of mental +fusion where we would feel our solidarity in the common mystery of life. +People complain that wars are caused by and fought over trivial things. +Why, of course! For it is only in trivial matters that people differ: +in the deep realities they must necessarily be at one. Now I have a +suspicion that in this secret sense of unity God may lurk. Is that what +we mean by God, the sum total of all these instinctive understandings? +But what is the origin of this sense of kinship? Is it not the +realization of our common subjection to laws and forces greater than +ourselves? Then, since nothing can be greater than God, He must BE these +superior mysteries. Yet He cannot be greater than our minds, for our +minds have imagined Him. + +My mathematics is very rusty, he said to himself, but I seem to remember +something about a locus, which was a curve or a surface every point +on which satisfied some particular equation of relation among the +coordinates. It begins to look to me as though life might be a kind of +locus, whose commanding equation we call God. The points on that locus +cannot conceive of the equation, yet they are subject to it. They cannot +conceive of that equation, because of course it has no existence save +as a law of their being. It exists only for them; they, only by it. But +there it is--a perfect, potent, divine abstraction. + +This carried him into a realm of disembodied thinking which his mind was +not sufficiently disciplined to summarize. It is quite plain, he said to +himself, that I must rub up my vanished mathematics. For certainly the +mathematician comes closer to God than any other, since his mind is +trained to conceive and formulate the magnificent phantoms of legality. +He smiled to think that any one should presume to become a parson +without having at least mastered analytical geometry. + +The ferry had crossed and recrossed the river several times, but Gissing +had found no conclusion for these thoughts. As the boat drew toward +her slip, she passed astern of a great liner. Gissing saw the four tall +funnels loom up above the shed of the pier where she lay berthed. +What was it that made his heart so stir? The perfect rake of the +funnels--just that satisfying angle of slant--that, absurdly enough, was +the nobility of the sight. Why, then? Let's get at the heart of this, he +said. Just that little trick of the architect, useless in itself--what +was it but the touch of swagger, of bravado, of defiance--going out +into the vast, meaningless, unpitying sea with that dainty arrogance +of build; taking the trouble to mock the senseless elements, hurricane, +ice, and fog, with a 15-degree slope of masts and funnels: damn, what +was the analogy? + +It was pride, it was pride! It was the same lusty impudence that he saw +in his perfect city, the city that cried out to the hearts of youth, +jutted her mocking pinnacles toward sky, her clumsy turrets verticalled +on gold! And God, the God of gales and gravity, loved His children to +dare and contradict Him, to rally Him with equations of their own. + +“God, I defy you!” he cried. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + +Time is a flowing river. Happy those who allow themselves to be carried, +unresisting, with the current. They float through easy days. They live, +unquestioning, in the moment. + +But Gissing was acutely conscious of Time. Though not subtle enough to +analyze the matter acutely, he had a troublesome feeling about it. He +kept checking off a series of Nows. “Now I am having my bath,” he would +say to himself in the morning. “Now I am dressing. Now I am on the +way to the store. Now I am in the jewellery aisle, being polite to +customers. Now I am having lunch.” After a period in which time ran by +unnoticed, he would suddenly realize a fresh Now, and feel uneasy at +the knowledge that it would shortly dissolve into another one. He tried, +vainly, to swim up-stream against the smooth impalpable fatal current. +He tried to dam up Time, to deepen the stream so that he could bathe in +it carelessly. Time, he said, is life; and life is God; time, then, is +little bits of God. Those who waste their time in vulgarity or folly are +the true atheists. + +One of the things that struck him about the city was its heedlessness of +Time. On every side he saw people spending it without adequate return. +Perhaps he was young and doctrinaire: but he devised this theory for +himself--all time is wasted that does not give you some awareness of +beauty or wonder. In other words, “the days that make us happy make us +wise,” he said to himself, quoting Masefield's line. On that principle, +he asked, how much time is wasted in this city? Well, here are some six +million people. To simplify the problem (which is permitted to every +philosopher) let us (he said) assume that 2,350,000 of those people have +spent a day that could be called, on the whole, happy: a day in +which they have had glimpses of reality; a day in which they feel +satisfaction. (That was, he felt, a generous allowance. ) Very well, +then, that leaves 3,650,000 people whose day has been unfruitful: spent +in uncongenial work, or in sorrow, suffering, and talking nonsense. This +city, then, in one day, has wasted 10,000 years, or 100 centuries. One +hundred centuries squandered in a day! It made him feel quite ill, and +he tore up the scrap of paper on which he had been figuring. + +This was a new, disconcerting way to think of the subject. We are +accustomed to consider Time only as it applies to ourselves, forgetting +that it is working upon everyone else simultaneously. Why, he thought +with a sudden shock, if only 36,500 people in this city have had a +thoroughly spendthrift and useless day, that means a net loss of a +century! If the War, he said to himself, lasted over 1,500 days and +involved more than 10,000,000 men, how many aeons--He used to think +about these things during quiet evenings in the top-floor room at Mrs. +Purp's. Occasionally he went home at night still wearing his store +clothes, because it pleased good Mrs. Purp so much. She felt that it +added glamour to her house to have him do so, and always called her +husband, a frightened silent creature with no collar and a humble air, +up from the basement to admire. Mr. Purp's time, Gissing suspected, +was irretrievably wasted--a good deal of it, to judge by his dusty +appearance, in rolling around in ashcans or in the company of the +neighbourhood bootlegger; but then, he reflected, in a charitable +seizure, you must not judge other people's time-spendings by a calculus +of your own. + +Perhaps he himself was growing a little miserly in this matter. +Indulging in the rare, the sovereign luxury of thinking, he had suddenly +become aware of time's precious fluency, and wondered why everyone else +didn't think about it as passionately as he did. In the privacy of +his room, weary after the day afoot, he took off his cutaway coat and +trousers and enjoyed his old habit of stretching out on the floor for +a good rest. There he would lie, not asleep, but in a bliss of passive +meditation. He even grudged Mrs. Purp the little chats she loved--she +made a point of coming up with clean towels when she knew he was in his +room, because she cherished hearing him talk. When he heard her knock, +he had to scramble hastily to his feet, get on his clothes, and pretend +he had been sitting calmly in the rocking chair. It would never do +to let her find him sprawled on the floor. She had an almost painful +respect for him. Once, when prospective lodgers were bargaining for +rooms, and he happened to be wearing his Beagle and Company attire, she +had asked him to do her the favour of walking down the stairs, so that +the visitors might be impressed by the gentility of the establishment. + +Of course he loved to waste time--but in his own way. He gloated on the +irresponsible vacancy of those evening hours, when there was nothing to +be done. He lay very still, hardly even thinking, just feeling life go +by. Through the open window came the lights and noises of the street. +Already his domestic life seemed dim and far away. The shrill appeals +of the puppies, their appalling innocent comments on existence, came +but faintly to memory. Here, where life beat so much more thickly and +closely, was the place to be. Though he had solved nothing, yet he +seemed closer to the heart of the mystery. Entranced, he felt time +flowing on toward him, endless in sweep and fulness. There is only one +success, he said to himself--to be able to spend your life in your own +way, and not to give others absurd maddening claims upon it. Youth, +youth is the only wealth, for youth has Time in its purse! + +In the store, however, philosophy was laid aside. A kind of intoxication +possessed him. Never before had old Mr. Beagle (watching delightedly +from the mezzanine balcony) seen such a floorwalker. Gissing moved to +and fro exulting in the great tide of shopping. He knew all the best +customers by name and had learned their peculiarities. If a shower came +up and Mrs. Mastiff was just leaving, he hastened to give her his arm as +far as her limousine, boosting her in so expeditiously that not a drop +of wetness fell upon her. He took care to find out the special plat du +jour of the store's lunch room, and seized occasion to whisper to Mrs. +Dachshund, whose weakness was food, that the filet of sole was very nice +to-day. Mrs. Pomeranian learned that giving Gissing a hint about some +new Parisian importations was more effective than a half page ad. in the +Sunday papers. Within a few hours, by a judicious word here and there, +he would have a score of ladies hastening to the millinery salon. +A pearl necklace of great value, which Mr. Beagle had rebuked the +jewellery buyer for getting, because it seemed more appropriate for a +dealer in precious stones than for a department store, was disposed of +almost at once. Gissing casually told Mrs. Mastiff that he had heard +Mrs. Sealyham intended to buy it. As for Mrs. Dachshund, who had had a +habit of lunching at Delmonico's, she now was to be seen taking tiffin +at Beagle's almost daily. There were many husbands who would have been +glad to shoot him at sight on the first of the month, had they known who +was the real cause of their woe. + +Indeed, Gissing had raised floorwalking to a new level. He was more +prime minister than a mere patroller of aisles. With sparkling eye, +with unending curiosity, tact, and attention, he moved quietly among the +throng. He realized that shopping is the female paradise; that spending +money she has not earned is the only real fun an elderly and wealthy +lady can have; and if to this primitive shopping passion can be added +the delights of social amenity--flattery, courtesy, good-humoured +flirtation--the snare is complete. + +But all this is not accomplished without rousing the jealousy of +rivals. Among the other floorwalkers, and particularly in the gorgeously +uniformed attendant at the front door (who was outraged by Gissing's +habit of escorting special customers to their motors) moved anger, envy, +and sneers. Gissing, completely absorbed in the fascination of his work, +was unaware of this hostility, as he was equally unaware of the amazed +satisfaction of his employer. He went his way with naive and unconscious +pleasure. It did not take long for his enemies to find a fulcrum for +their chagrin. One evening, after closing, when he sat in the dressing +room, with his feet in the usual tub of hot water, placidly reviewing +the day's excitements and smoking his pipe, the superintendent burst in. + +“Hey!” he exclaimed. “Don't you know smoking's forbidden? What do you +want to do, get our fire insurance cancelled? Get out of here! You're +fired!” + +It did not occur to Gissing to question or protest. He had known +perfectly well that smoking was not allowed. But he was like the +stage hand behind the scenes who concluded it was all right to light +a cigarette because the sign only said SMOKING FORBIDDEN, instead of +SMOKING STRICTLY FORBIDDEN. He had not troubled his mind about it, one +way or about it, one way or another. + +He had drawn his salary that evening, and his first thought was, Well, +at any rate I've earned enough to pay for the clothes. He had been there +exactly four weeks. Quite calmly, he lifted his feet out of the tub and +began to towel them daintily. The meticulous way he dried between his +toes was infuriating to the superintendent. + +“Have you any children?” Gissing asked, mildly. + +“What's that to you?” snapped the other. + +“I'll sell you this bathtub for a quarter. Take it home to them. They +probably need it.” + +“You get out of here!” cried the angry official. + +“You'd be surprised,” said Gissing, “how children thrive when they're +bathed regularly. Believe me, I know.” + +He packed his formal clothes in a neat bundle, left the bathtub behind, +surrendered his locker key, and walked toward the employees' door, +escorted by his bristling superior. As they passed through the empty +aisles, scene of his brief triumph, he could not help gazing a little +sadly. True merchant to the last, a thought struck him. He scribbled a +note on the back of a sales slip and left it at Miss Whippet's post by +the stocking counter. It said:-- + +MISS WHIPPET: Show Mrs. Sealyham some of the bisque sports hose, Scotch +wool, size 9. She's coming to-morrow. Don't let her get size 8 1/2. They +shrink. + + MR. GISSING. + +At the door he paused, relit his pipe leisurely, raised his hat to the +superintendent, and strolled away. + +In spite of this nonchalance, the situation was serious. His money was +at a low ebb. All his regular income was diverted to the support of +the large household in the country. He was too proud to appeal to his +wealthy uncle. He hated also to think of Mrs. Purp's mortification if +she learned that her star boarder was out of work. By a curious irony, +when he got home he found a letter from Mrs. Spaniel:-- + +MR. GISHING, dere friend, the pupeys are well, no insecks, and eat with +nives and forx Groups is the fattest but Yelpers is the lowdest they +send wags and lix and glad to here Daddy is doing so well in buisness +with respects from + + MRS. SPANIEL. + +He did not let Mrs. Purp know of the change in his condition, and every +morning left his lodging at the usual time. By some curious attraction +he felt drawn to that downtown region where his kinsman's office was. +This part of the city he had not properly explored. + +It was a world wholly different from Fifth Avenue. There was none of +that sense of space and luxury he had known on the wide slopes of Murray +Hill. He wandered under terrific buildings, in a breezy shadow where +javelins of colourless sunlight pierced through thin slits, hot +brilliance fell in fans and cascades over the uneven terrace of roofs. +Here was where husbands worked to keep Fifth Avenue going: he wondered +vaguely whether Mrs. Sealyham had bought those stockings? One day he +saw his uncle hurrying along Wall Street with an intent face. Gissing +skipped into a doorway, fearing to be recognized. He knew that the old +fellow would insist on taking him to lunch at the Pedigree Club, would +talk endlessly, and ask family questions. But he was on the scent of +matters that talk could not pursue. + +He perceived a sense of pressure, of prodigious poetry and beauty and +amazement. This was a strange jungle of life. Tall coasts of windows +stood up into the pure brilliant sky: against their feet beat a dark +surf of slums. In one foreign street, too deeply trenched for sunlight, +oranges were the only gold. The water, reaching round in two arms, came +close: there was a note of husky summons in the whistles of passing +craft. Almost everywhere, sharp above many smells of oils and spices, +the whiff of coffee tingled his busy nose. Above one huge precipice +stood a gilded statue--a boy with wings, burning in the noon. Brilliance +flamed between the vanes of his pinions: the intangible thrust of that +pouring light seemed about to hover him off into blue air. + +The world of working husbands was more tender than that of shopping +wives: even in all their business, they had left space and quietness for +the dead. Sunken among the crags he found two graveyards. They were cups +of placid brightness. Here, looking upward, it was like being drowned +on the floor of an ocean of light. Husbands had built their offices +half-way to the sky rather than disturb these. Perhaps they appreciate +rest all the more, Gissing thought, because they get so little of it? +Somehow he could not quite imagine a graveyard left at peace in the +shopping district. It would be bad for trade, perhaps? Even the churches +on the Avenue, he had noticed, were huddled up and hemmed in so tightly +by the other buildings that they had scarcely room to kneel. If I ever +become a parson, he said (this was a fantastic dream of his), I will +insist that all churches must have a girdle of green about them, to set +them apart from the world. + +The two little brown churches among the cliffs had been gifted with a +dignity far beyond the dream of their builders. Their pointing spires +were relieved against the enormous facades of business. What other +altars ever had such a reredos? Above the strepitant racket of the +streets, he heard the harsh chimes of Trinity at noonday--strong jags of +clangour hurled against the great sounding-boards of buildings; drifting +and dying away down side alleys. There was no soft music of appeal in +the bronze volleying: it was the hoarse monitory voice of rebuke. So +spoke the church of old, he thought: not asking, not appealing, but +imperatively, sternly, as one born to command. He thought with new +respect of Mr. Sealyham, Mr. Mastiff, Mr. Dachshund, all the others +who were powers in these fantastic flumes of stone. They were more than +merely husbands of charge accounts--they were poets. They sat at lunch +on the tops of their amazing edifices, and looked off at the blue. + +Day after day went by, but with a serene fatalism Gissing did nothing +about hunting a job. He was willing to wait until the last dollar was +broken: in the meantime he was content. You never know the soul of a +city, he said, until you are down on your luck. Now, he felt, he had +been here long enough to understand her. She did not give her secrets to +the world of Fifth Avenue. Down here, where the deep crevice of Broadway +opened out into greenness, what was the first thing he saw? Out across +the harbour, turned toward open sea--Liberty! Liberty Enlightening the +World, he had heard, was her full name. Some had mocked her, he had also +heard. Well, what was the gist of her enlightenment? Why this, surely: +that Liberty could never be more than a statue: never a reality. Only a +fool would expect complete liberty. He himself, with all his latitude, +was not free. If he were, he would cook his meals in his room, and save +money--but Mrs. Purp was strict on that point. She had spoken scathingly +of two young females she ejected for just that reason. Nor was Mrs. Purp +free--she was ridden by the Gas Company. So it went. + +It struck him, now he was down to about three dollars, that a generous +gesture toward Fortune might be valuable. When you are nearly out of +money, he reasoned, to toss coins to the gods--i. e., to buy something +quite unnecessary--may be propitiatory. It may start something moving +in your direction. It is the touch of bravado that God relishes. In a +sudden mood of tenderness, he bought two dollars' worth of toys and had +them sent to the children. He smiled to think how they would frolic over +the jumping rabbit. He sent Mrs. Spaniel a postcard of the Aquarium. + +There is a good deal more to this business than I had realized, he said, +as he walked uptown through the East Side slums that hot night. The +audacity, the vitality, the magnificence, are plain enough. But I seem +to see squalor too, horror and pitiful dearth. I believe God is farther +off than I thought. Look here: if the more you know, the less you know +about God, doesn't that mean that God is really enjoyed only by the +completely simple--by faith, never by reason? + +He gave twenty-five cents to a beggar, and said angrily: “I am not +interested in a God who is known only by faith.” + +When he got uptown he was very tired and hungry. In spite of all Mrs. +Purp's rules, he smuggled in an egg, a box of biscuits, a small packet +of tea and sugar, and a tin of condensed milk. He emptied the milk into +his shaving mug, and used the tin to boil water in, holding it over the +gas jet. He was getting on finely when a sudden knock on the door made +him jump. He spilled the hot water on his leg, and uttered a wild yell. + +Mrs. Purp burst in, but she was so excited that she did not notice the +egg seeping into the clean counterpane. + +“Oh, Mr. Gissing,” she exclaimed, “I've been waiting all evening for +you to come in. Purp and I wondered if you'd seen this in the paper +to-night? Purp noticed it in the ads., but we couldn't understand what +it meant.” + +She held out a page of classified advertising, in which he read with +amazement: + + +PERSONAL + +If MR. GISSING, late floorwalker at Beagle and Company, will communicate +with Mr. Beagle Senior, he will hear matters greatly to his advantage. + + + +CHAPTER NINE + +There had been great excitement in the private offices of Beagle +and Company after Gissing's sudden disappearance. Old Mr. Beagle was +furious, and hotly scolded his son. In spite of his advanced age, Beagle +senior was still an autocrat and insisted on regulating the details +of the great business he had built up. “You numbskull!” he shouted to +Beagle junior, “that fellow was worth any dozen others in the place, and +you let him be fired by a mongrel superintendent.” + +“But, Papa,” protested the vice-president, “the superintendent had to +obey the rules. You know how strict the underwriters are about smoking. +Of course he should have warned Gissing, instead of discharging him.” + +“Rules!” interrupted old Beagle fiercely--“Rules don't apply in a case +like this. I tell you that fellow has a genius for storekeeping. Haven't +I watched him on the floor? I've never seen one like him. What's the +good of your newfangled methods, your card indexes and overhead charts, +when you haven't even got a record of his address?” + +Growling and showing his teeth, the head of the firm plodded stiffly +downstairs and discharged the superintendent himself. Already he saw +signs of disorganization in the main aisle. Miss Whippet was tearful: +customers were waiting impatiently to have exchange slips O. K.'d: Mrs. +Dachshund was turning over some jewelled lorgnettes, but it was plain +that she was only “looking,” and had no intention to purchase. + +So when, after many vain inquiries, the advertisement reached its +target, the old gentleman welcomed Gissing with genuine emotion. He +received him into his private office, locked the door, and produced a +decanter. Evidently beneath his irritable moods he had sensibilities of +his own. + +“I have given my life to trade,” he said, “and I have grown weary of +watching the half-hearted simpletons who imagine they can rise to the +top by thinking more about themselves than they do about the business. +You, Mr. Gissing, have won my heart. You see storekeeping as I do--a +fine art, an absorbing passion, a beautiful, thrilling sport. It is an +art as lovely and subtle as the theatre, with the same skill in wooing +and charming the public.” + +Gissing bowed, and drank Mr. Beagle's health, to cover his astonishment. +The aged merchant fixed him with a glittering eye. + +“I can see that storekeeping is your genius in life. I can see that you +are naturally consecrated to it. My son is a good steady fellow, but he +lacks the divine gift. I am getting old. We need new fire, new brains, +in the conduct of this business. I ask you to forgive the unlucky +blunder we made lately, and devote yourself to us.” + +Gissing was very much embarrassed. He wanted to say that if he was +going to consecrate himself to floorwalking, he would relish a raise +in salary; but old Beagle was so tremulous and kept blowing his nose so +loudly that Gissing doubted if he could make himself heard. + +“I want you to take a position as General Manager,” said Mr. Beagle, +“with a salary of ten thousand a year.” + +He rose and threw open a mahogany door that led out of his own sanctum. +“Here is your office,” he said. + +The bewildered Gissing looked about the room--the mahogany flat-topped +desk with a great sheet of plate glass shining greenly at its thick +edges; an inkwell, pens and pencils, a little glass bowl full of bright +paper-clips; one of those rocking blotters that are so tempting; a water +cooler which just then uttered a seductive gulping bubble; an electric +fan, gently humming; wooden trays for letters and memoranda; on one +wall a great chart of names, lettered Organization of Personnel; a nice +domestic-looking hat-and-coat stand; a soft green rug--Ah, how alluring +it all was! + +Mr. Beagle pointed to the outer door of the room, which had a frosted +pane. Through the glass the astounded floorwalker could read the words + +REGANAM LARENEG GNISSIG.RM + +What a delightful little room to meditate in. From the broad windows he +could see the whole shining tideway of Fifth Avenue, passing lazily in +the warm sunlight. He turned to Mr. Beagle, greatly moved. + +The next day an advertisement appeared in the leading papers, to this +effect:-- + + ________________________ + BEAGLE AND COMPANY + take pleasure in announcing to + their patrons and friends that + MR. GISSING + has been admitted to the firm in + the status of General Manager + Je Maintiendrai + __________________________ + +Mrs. Purp's excitement at this is easier imagined than described. Her +only fear was that now she would lose her best lodger. She made Purp +go out and buy a new shirt and a collar; she told Gissing, rather +pathetically, that she intended to have the whole house repapered in the +fall. The big double suite downstairs, which could be used as bedroom +and sitting-room, she suggested as a comfortable change. But Gissing +preferred to remain where he was. He had grown fond of the top floor. + +Certainly there was an exhilaration in his new importance and +prosperity. The store buzzed with the news. At his request, Miss Whippet +was promoted to the seventh floor to be his secretary. It was delightful +to make his morning tour of inspection through the vast building. Mr. +Hound, the store detective, loved to tell his cronies how suspiciously +he had followed “The Duke” that first day. As Gissing moved through the +busy departments he saw eyes following him, tails wagging. Customers +were more flattered than ever by his courteous attentions. One day +he even held a little luncheon party in the restaurant, at which Mrs. +Dachshund, Mrs. Mastiff, and Mrs. Sealyham were his guests. He invited +their husbands, but the latter were too busy to come. It would have been +more prudent of them to attend. That afternoon Mrs. Dachshund, carried +away by enthusiasm, bought a platinum wrist-watch. Mrs. Mastiff bought +a diamond dog-collar. Mrs. Sealyham, whose husband was temporarily +embarrassed in Wall Street, contented herself with a Sheraton +chifforobe. + +But it began to be evident that his delightful little office was not +going to be a shrine for quiet meditation. His vanity had been pleased +by the large advertisement about him, but he suddenly realized the +poison that lies in printer's ink. Almost overnight, it seemed, he had +been added to ten thousand mailing lists. Little Miss Whippet, although +she was fast at typewriting, was hard put to it to keep up with his +correspondence. She quivered eagerly over her machine, her small +paws flying. New pink ribbons gleamed through her translucent summery +georgette blouse. They were her flag of exultation at her surprising +rise in life. She felt it was immensely important to get all these +letters answered promptly. + +And so did Gissing. In his new zeal, and in his innocent satisfaction +at having entered the inner circle of Big Business, he insisted on +answering everything. He did not realize that dictating letters is the +quaint diversion of business men, and that most of them mean nothing. It +is simply the easiest way of assuring yourself that you are busy. + +This job was no sinecure. Old Mr. Beagle had so much affectionate +confidence in Gissing that he referred almost everything to him +for decision. Mr. Beagle junior, perhaps a little annoyed at the +floorwalker's meteoric translation, spent the summer afternoons at +golf. The infinite details of a great business crowded upon him. +Inexperienced, he had not learned the ways in which seasoned +“executives” protect themselves against useless intrusion. His telephone +buzzed like a hornet. Not five minutes went by without callers or +interruptions of some sort. + +Most amazing of all, he found, was the miscellaneous passion for +palaver displayed by Big Business. Immediately he was invited to join +innumerable clubs, societies, merchants' associations. Every day would +arrive letters, on heavily embossed paper--“The Sales Managers Club will +hold a round-table discussion on Friday at one o'clock. We would greatly +appreciate it if you would be with us and say a few words.”--“Will you +be our guest at the monthly dinner of the Fifth Avenue Guild, and give +us any preachment that is on your mind?”--“The Merchandising Uplift +Group of Murray Hill will meet at the Commodore for an informal +lunch. It has been suggested that you contribute to the discussion on +Underwriting Overhead.”--“The Executives Association plans a clambake +and barbecue at the Barking Rock Country Club. Around the bonfire a few +impromptu remarks on Business Cycles will be called for. May we count on +you?”--“Will you address the Convention of Knitted Bodygarment Buyers, +on whatever topic is nearest your heart?”--“Will you write for Bunion +and Callous, the trade organ of the Floorwalkers' Union, a thousand-word +review of your career?”--“Will you broadcast a twenty-minute talk on +Department Store Ethics, at the radio station in Newark? 250,000 radio +fans will be listening in.” New to the strange and high-spirited world +of “executives,” it was natural that Gissing did not realize that the +net importance of this kind of thing was absolute zero. It did strike +him as odd, perhaps, that merchants did not dare to go on a junket or +plan a congenial dinner without pretending to themselves that it had +some business significance. But, having been so amazingly lifted into +this atmosphere of great affairs, he felt it was his duty to the store +to play the game according to the established rules. He was borne +along on a roaring spate of conferences, telephone calls, appointments, +Rotarian lunches, Chamber of Commerce dinners, picnics to talk tariff, +house-parties to discuss demurrage, tennis tournaments to settle the +sales-tax, golf foursomes to regulate price-maintenance. Of all these +matters he knew nothing whatever; and he also saw that as far as the +business of Beagle and Company was concerned it would be better not +to waste his time on such side-issues. The way he could really be of +service was in the store itself, tactfully lubricating that complicated +engine of goods and personalities. But he learned to utter, when called +upon, a few suave generalities, barbed with a rollicking story. This +made him always welcome. He was of a studious disposition, and liked +to examine this queer territory of life with an unprejudiced eye. After +all, his inward secret purpose had nothing to do with the success or +failure of retail trade. He was still seeking a horizon that would stay +blue when he reached it. + +More and more he was interested to perceive how transparent the mummery +of business was. He was interested to note how persistently men fled +from success, how carefully most of them avoided the obvious principles +of utility, honesty, prudence, and courtesy, which are inevitably +rewarded. These sagacious, humorous fellows who were amusing themselves +with twaddling trade apothegms and ridiculous banqueteering solemnities, +surely they were aware that this had no bearing upon their own jobs? +He suspected that it was all a feverish anodyne to still some inward +unease. Since they must (not being fools) be aware that these antics +were mere subtraction of time from their business, the obvious +conclusion was, they were not happy with business. There was some +strange wistfulness in the conduct of Big Business Dogs, he thought. +Under the pretence of transacting affairs, they were really trying to +discover something that had eluded them. + +The same thing, strangely enough, seemed to be going on in a sphere of +which he knew nothing, the world of art. He gathered from the papers +that writers, painters, musicians, were holding shindies almost every +night, at which delightful rebels, too busy to occupy themselves with +actual creation, talked charmingly about their plans. Poets were reading +poems incessantly, forgetting to write any. Much of the newspaper +comment on literature made him shudder, for though this was a province +quite strange to him, he had sound instincts. He discerned fatal +ignorance and absurdity between the pompous lines. Yet, in its own way, +it seemed a bold and honest ignorance. Were these, too, like the wistful +executives, seeking where the blue begins? + +But what was this strange agitation that forbade his fellow-creatures +from enjoying the one thing that makes achievement possible--Solitude? +He himself, so happy to be left alone--was no one else like that? And +yet this very solitude that he craved and revelled in was, by a sublime +paradox, haunted by mysterious loneliness. He felt sometimes as though +his heart had been broken off from some great whole, to which it yearned +to be reunited. It felt like a bone that had been buried, which God +would some day dig up. Sometimes, in his caninomorphic conception +of deity, he felt near him the thunder of those mighty paws. In rare +moments of silence he gazed from his office window upon the sun-gilded, +tempting city. Her madness was upon him--her splendid craze of haste, +ambition, pride. Yet he wondered. This God he needed, this liberating +horizon, was it after all in the cleverest of hiding-places--in himself? +Was it in his own undeluded heart? + +Miss Whippet came scurrying in to say that the Display Manager begged +him to attend a conference. The question of apportioning window space +to the various departments was to be reconsidered. Also, the book +department had protested having rental charged against them for books +exhibited merely to add a finishing touch to a furniture display. Other +agenda: the Personnel Director wished an appointment to discuss +the ruling against salesbitches bobbing their hair. The Commissary +Department wished to present revised figures as to the economy that +would be effected by putting the employees' cafeteria on the same floor +as the store's restaurant. He must decide whether early closing on +Saturdays would continue until Labor Day. + +As he went about these and a hundred other fascinating trivialities, he +had a painful sense of treachery to Mr. Beagle senior. The old gentleman +was so touchingly certain that he had found in him the ideal shoulders +on which to unload his honourable and crushing burden. With more than +paternal pride old Beagle saw Gissing, evidently urbane and competent, +cheerfully circulating here and there. The shy angel of doubt that lay +deep in Gissing's cider-coloured eye, the proprietor did not come near +enough to observe. + +If there is tragedy in our story, alas here it is. Gissing, incorrigible +seceder from responsibilities that did not touch his soul, did not dare +tell his benefactor the horrid truth. But the worm was in his heart. +Late one night, in his room at Mrs. Purp's, he wrote a letter to Mr. +Poodle. After mailing it at a street-box, he had a sudden pang. To the +dreamer, decisions are fearful. Then he shook himself and ran lightly to +a little lunchroom on Amsterdam Avenue, where he enjoyed doughnuts and +iced tea. His mind was resolved. The doughnuts, by a simple symbolism, +made him think of Rotary Clubs, also of millstones. No, he must be +fugitive from honour, from wealth, from Chambers of Commerce. Fugitive +from all save his own instinct. Those who have bound themselves are only +too eager to see the chains on others. There was no use attempting to +explain to Mr. Beagle--the dear old creature would not understand. + +The next day, after happily and busily discharging his duties, and +staying late to clean up his desk, Gissing left Beagle and Company +for good. The only thing that worried him, as he looked round his +comfortable office for the last time, was the thought of little Miss +Whippet's chagrin when she found her new promotion at an end. She had +taken such delight in their mutual dignity. On the filing cabinet beside +her typewriter desk was a pink geranium in a pot, which she watered +every morning. He could not resist pulling out a drawer of her desk, and +smiled gently to see the careful neatness of its compartments, with +all her odds and ends usefully arranged. The ink-eraser, with an absurd +little whisk attached to it for brushing away fragments of rubbed paper; +the fascicle of sharpened pencils held together by an elastic band; the +tiny phial of typewriter oil; a small box of peppermints; a crumpled +handkerchief; the stenographic notebook with a pencil inserted at the +blank page, so as to be ready for instant service the next day; the long +paper-cutter for slitting envelopes; her memorandum pad, on which was +written Remind Mr. G. of Window Display Luncheon--it seemed cruel to +deprive her of all these innocent amusements in which she delighted so +much. And yet he could not go on as a General Manager simply for the +happiness of Miss Whippet. + +In the foliage of the geranium, where he knew she would find it the +first thing in the morning, he left a note:-- + +MISS WHIPPET: I am leaving the store to-night and will not be back. +Please notify Mr. Beagle. Explain to him that I shall never take a +position with one of his competitors; I am leaving not because I didn't +enjoy the job, but because if I stayed longer I might enjoy it too much. +Tell Mr. Beagle that I specially urge him to retain you as assistant +to the new Manager, whoever that may be. You are entirely competent to +attend to the routine, and the new Manager can spend all his time at +business lunches. + +Please inform the Display Managers' Club that I can't speak at their +meeting to-morrow. + +I wish you all possible good-fortune. + + MR. GISSING. + +As he passed through the dim and silent aisles of the store, he surveyed +them again with mixed emotions. Here he might, apparently, have been +king. But he had no very poignant regret. Another of his numerous +selves, he reflected, had committed suicide. That was the right idea: +to keep sloughing them off, throwing overboard the unreal and factitious +Gissings, paring them down until he discovered the genuine and +inalienable creature. + +And so, for the second time, he made a stealthy exit from the employees' +door. + +Four days later he read in the paper of old Mr. Beagle's death. There +can be no doubt about it. The merchant died of a broken heart. + + + +CHAPTER TEN + +Mr. Poodle's reply was disappointing. He said:-- + +St. Bernard's Rectory, September 1st. + +MY DEAR MR. GISSING: + +I regret that I cannot conscientiously see my way to writing to the +Bishop in your behalf. Any testimonial I could compose would be doubtful +at best, for I cannot agree with you that the Church is your true +vocation. I do not believe that one who has deserted his family, as +you have, and whose record (even on the most charitable interpretation) +cannot be described as other than eccentric, would be useful in Holy +Orders. You say that your life in the city has been a great purgation. +If so, I suggest that you return and take up the burdens laid upon you. +It has meant great mortification to me that one of my own parish has +been the cause of these painful rumours that have afflicted our quiet +community. Notwithstanding, I wish you well, and hope that chastening +experience may bring you peace. + +Very truly yours, + +J. ROVER POODLE. + +Gissing meditated this letter in the silence of along evening in +his room. He brought to the problem his favourite aid to clear +thinking--strong coffee mixed with condensed milk. Mrs. Purp had made +concession to his peculiarities when he had risen so high in the world: +better to break any rules, she thought, than lose so notable a tenant. +She had even installed a small gas-plate for him, so that he could brew +his morning and evening coffee. + +So he took counsel with his percolator, whose bubbling was a sound he +found both soothing and stimulating. He regarded it as a kind of private +oracle, with a calm voice of its own. He listened attentively as +he waited for the liquid to darken. Appeal--to--the--Bishop, +Appeal--to-the--Bishop, seemed to be the speech of the jetting +gurgitation under the glass lid. + +He determined to act upon this, and lay his case before Bishop Borzoi +even without the introduction he had hoped for. Fortunately he still had +some sheets of Beagle and Company notepaper, with the engraved lettering +and Office of the General Manager embossed thereon. He was in some doubt +as to the proper formality and style of address in communicating with a +Bishop: was it “Very Reverend,” or “Right Reverend”? and which of these +indicated a superior grade of reverendability? But he decided that a +masculine frankness would not be amiss. He wrote:-- + +VERY RIGHT REVEREND BISHOP BORZOI, + +Dear Bishop:-- + +May one of the least of your admirers solicit an interview with your +very right reverence, to discuss matters pertaining to religion, +theology, and a possible vacancy in the Church? If there are any sees +outstanding, it would be a favour. This is very urgent. I enclose a +stamped addressed envelope. + + Respectfully yours, + + MR. GISSING. + +A prompt reply from the Bishop's secretary granted him an appointment. + +Scrupulously attired in his tail-coat and silk hat, Gissing proceeded +toward the rendezvous. To tell the truth, he was nervous: his mind +flitted uneasily among possible embarrassments. Suppose Mr. Poodle had +written to the Bishop to prejudice his application? Another, but more +absurd, idea troubled him. One of the problems in visiting the houses +of the Great (he had learned in his brief career in Big Business) is +to find the door-bell. It is usually mysteriously concealed. Suppose he +should have to peer hopelessly about the vestibule, in a shameful and +suspicious manner, until some flunky came out to chide? In the sunny +park below the Cathedral he saw nurses sitting by their puppy-carriages; +for an instant he almost envied their gross tranquillity. THEY have not +got (he said to himself) to call on a Bishop! + +He was early, so he strolled for a few minutes in the park that lies +underneath that rocky scarp. On the summit, clear-surging against the +blue, the great church rode like a ship on a long ridge of sea. The +angel with a trumpet on the jut of the roof was like a valiant seaman in +the crow's nest. His agitation was calmed by this noble sight. Yes, he +said, the Church is a ship behind whose bulwarks I will find rest. She +sails an unworldly sea: her crew are exempt from earthly ambition and +fallacy. + +He ran nimbly up the long steps that scale the cliff, and approached +the episcopal residence. The bell was plainly visible. He rang, and +presently came a tidy little housemaid. He had meditated a form of +words. It would be absurd to say “Is the Bishop in?” for he knew the +Bishop WAS in. So he said “This is Mr. Gissing. I think the Bishop is +expecting me.” + +Bishop Borzoi was an impressive figure--immensely tall and slender, +with long, narrow ascetic face and curly white hair. He was surprisingly +cordial. + +“Ah, Mr. Gissing?” he said. “Sit down, sir. I know Beagle and Company +very well. Too well, in fact-Mrs. Borzoi has an account there.” + +Gissing, feeling rather aghast and tentative, had no comment ready. He +was still worrying a little as to the proper mode of address. + +“It is very pleasant to find you Influential Merchants interested in the +Church,” continued the Bishop. “I often thought of approaching the late +Mr. Beagle on the subject of a small contribution to the cathedral. +Indeed, I have spent so much in your store that it would be only a fair +return. Mr. Collie, of Greyhound, Collie and Company, has been very +handsome with us: he has just provided for repaving the choir.” + +Gissing began to fear that the object of his visit had perhaps been +misunderstood, but the prelate's eyes were bright with benignant +enthusiasm and he dared not interrupt. + +“You inquired most kindly in your letter as to a possible vacancy in the +Church. Indeed there is a niche in the transept that I should be happy +to see filled. It is intended for some kind of memorial statue, and +perhaps, in honour of the late Mr. Beagle--” + +“I must explain, Sir Bishop,” said Gissing, very much disturbed, “that +I have left Beagle and Company. The contribution I wish to make to the +Church is not a decorative one, I fear. It is myself.” + +“Yourself?” queried the Bishop, politely puzzled. + +“Yes,” stammered Gissing, “I--in fact, I am hoping to--to enter the +ministry.” + +The Bishop was plainly amazed, and his long, aristocratic nose seemed +longer than ever as he gazed keenly at his caller. + +“But have you had any formal training in theology?” + +“None, right reverend Bishop,” said Gissing, “But it's this way,” and, +incoherently at first, but with increasing energy and copious eloquence, +he poured out the story of his mental struggles. + +“This is singularly interesting,” said the Bishop at length. “I can +see that you are wholly lacking in the rudiments of divinity. Of modern +exegesis and criticism you are quite innocent. But you evidently have +something which is much rarer--what the Quakers call a CONCERN. Of +course you should really go to the theological seminary and establish +this naif intuitive mysticism upon a disciplined basis. You will realize +that we churchmen can only meet modern rationalism by a rationalism of +our own--by a philosophical scholarship which is unshakable. I do not +suppose that you can even harmonize the Gospels?” + +Gissing ruefully admitted his ignorance. + +“Well, at least I must make sure of a few fundamentals,” said the +Bishop. “Of course a symbological latitude is permissible, but there are +some essentials of dogma and creed that may not be foregone.” + +He subjected the candidate to a rapid catechism. Gissing, in a state of +mind curiously mingled of excitement and awe, found himself assenting to +much that, in a calmer moment, he would hardly have admitted; but +having plunged so deep into the affair he felt it would be the height of +discourtesy to give negative answers to any of the Bishop's queries. +By dint of hasty mental adjustments and symbolic interpretations, he +satisfied his conscience. + +“It is very irregular,” the Bishop admitted, “but I must confess +that your case interests me greatly. Of course I cannot admit you +to ordination until you have passed through the regular theological +curriculum. Yet I find you singularly apt for one without proper +training.” + +He brooded a while, fixing the candidate with a clear darkly burning +eye. + +“It struck me that you were a trifle vague upon some of the Articles of +Religion, and the Table of Kindred and Affinity. You must remember that +these articles are not to be subjected to your own sense or comment, but +must be taken in the literal and grammatical meaning. However, you +show outward and visible signs of an inward and spiritual grace. It so +happens that I know of a small chapel, in the country, that has been +closed for lack of a minister. I can put you in charge there as lay +reader.” + +Gissing's face showed his elation. + +“And wear a cassock?” he cried. + +“Certainly not,” said the Bishop sternly. “Not even a surplice. You must +remember you have not been ordained. If you are serious in your zeal, +you must work your way up gradually, beginning at the bottom.” + +“I have seen some of your cloth with a little purple dickey which looks +very well in the aperture of the waistcoat,” said Gissing humbly. “How +long would it take me to work up to that?” + +Bishop Borzoi, who had a sense of humour, laughed genially. + +“Look here,” he said. “It's a fine afternoon: I'll order my car and +we'll drive out to Dalmatian Heights. I'll show you your chapel, and +tell you exactly what your duties will be.” + +Gissing was startled. Dalmatian Heights was only a few miles from the +Canine Estates. If the news should reach Mr. Poodle... + +“Sir Bishop,” he said nervously, “I begin to fear that perhaps after all +I am unworthy. Now about those Articles of Religion: I may perhaps have +given some of them a conjectural and commentating assent. Possibly I +have presumed too far--” + +The Bishop was already looking forward to a ride into the country with +his unusual novice. + +“Not at all, not at all,” he said cheerily. “In a mere lay reader, a +slight laxity is allowable. You understand, of course, that you are +expressly restricted from the pulpit. You will have to read the lessons, +conduct the service, and may address the congregation upon matters not +homiletic nor doctrinal; preaching and actual entry into the pulpit are +defended. But I see excellent possibility in you. Perform the duties +punctually in this very lowly office, and high ranks of service in the +church militant will be open.” + +He put on a very fine shovel-hat, and led the way to his large touring +car. + +It was a very uncomfortable ride for Gissing. A silk hat is the least +stable apparel for swift motoring, and the chauffeur drove at high +speed. The Bishop, leaning back in the open tonneau, crossed one +delicately slender shank over another, gazed in a kind of ecstasy at the +countryside, and talked gaily about his days as a young curate. Gissing +sat holding his hat on. He saw only too well that, by the humiliating +oddity of chance, they were going to take the road that led exactly +past his own house. He could only hope that Mrs. Spaniel and the +various children would not be visible, for explanations would be too +complicated. Desperately he praised the view to be obtained on another +road, but Bishop Borzoi was too interested in his own topic to pay much +attention. + +“By the way,” said the latter, as they drew near the familiar region, “I +must introduce you to Miss Airedale. She lives in the big place on the +hill over there. Her family always used to attend what I will now call +YOUR chapel; she is a very ardent churchgoer, and it was a sincere grief +to her when the place had to be closed. You will find her a great aid +and comfort; not only that, she is--what one does not always find in the +devouter members of her sex--young and beautiful. I think I understood +you to say you are a bachelor?” + +They were approaching the last turning at which it was still possible to +avoid the fatal road, and Gissing's attention was divided. + +“Yes, after a fashion,” he replied. “Bishop, do you know that road down +into the valley? The view is really superb--Yes, that road--Oh, no, I am +a bachelor--” + +It was too late. The chauffeur, unconscious of this private crisis, was +spinning along the homeward way. With a tender emotion Gissing saw +the spires of the poplar trees, the hemlocks down beyond the pond, the +fringe of woods that concealed the house until you were quite upon it-- + +The car swerved suddenly and the driver only saved it by a quick and +canny manoeuvre from going down the bank. He came to a stop, and almost +from underneath the rear wheels appeared a scuffling dusty group of +youngsters who had been playing in the road. There they were--Bunks, +Groups, and Yelpers (inordinately grown!) and two of the Spaniels. Their +clothes were deplorable, their faces grimed, their legs covered with +burrs, their whole demeanour was ragamuffin and wild: yet Gissing felt +a pang of pride to see his godchildren's keen, independent bearing +contrasted with the rowdier, disreputable look of the young Spaniels. +Quickly he averted his head to escape recognition. But the urchins were +all gaping at the Bishop's shovel hat. + +“Hot dog!” cried Yelpers “Some hat!” + +To his horror, Gissing now saw Mrs. Spaniel, hastening in alarm +down from the house, spilling potatoes from her apron as she ran. He +hurriedly urged the driver to proceed. + +“What terrible looking children,” observed the Bishop, who seemed +fascinated by their stare. “Really, my good sister,” he said to Mrs. +Spaniel, who was now panting by the running board; “you must keep them +off the road or someone will get hurt.” + +Gissing was looking for an imaginary object on the floor of the car. To +his great relief he heard the roar of the motor as they started again. +But he sat up a little too soon. A simultaneous roar of “Daddy!” burst +from the trio. + +“What was that they were shouting at us?” inquired the Bishop, looking +back. + +Gissing shook his head. He was too overcome to speak. + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN + +The little chapel at Dalmatian Heights sat upon a hill, among a grove +of pines, the most romantic of all trees. Life, a powerful but clumsy +dramatist, does not reject the most claptrap “situations,” which a +sophisticated playwright would discard as too obvious. For this sandy +plateau, strewn with satiny pine-needles, was the very horizon that had +looked so blue and beckoning from the little house by the pond. Not far +away was the great Airedale estate, which Gissing had known only at an +admiring distance--and now he was living there as an honoured guest. + +The Bishop had taken him to call upon the Airedales; and they, delighted +that the chapel was to be re-opened, had insisted upon his staying with +them. The chapel, in fact, was a special interest with Mr. Airedale, who +had been a leading contributor toward its erection. Gissing was finding +that life seemed to be continually putting him into false positions; +and now he discovered, somewhat to his chagrin, that the lovely little +shrine of St. Spitz, whose stained windows glowed like rubies in its +cloister of dark trees, was rather a fashionable hobby among the wealthy +landowners of Dalmatian Hills. It had been closed all summer, and they +had missed it. The Bishop, in his airy and indefinite way, had not made +it quite plain that Gissing was only a lay reader; and in spite of his +embarrassed disclaimers, he found himself introduced by Mr. Airedale to +the country-house clique as the new “vicar.” + +But at any rate it was lucky that the Airedales had insisted on taking +him in as a guest; for he had learned from the Bishop (just as the +latter was leaving) that there was no stipend attached to the office of +lay reader. Fortunately he still had much of the money he had saved from +his salary as General Manager. And whatever sense of anomaly he felt +was quickly assuaged by the extraordinary comfort and novelty of his +environment. In the great Airedale mansion he experienced for the first +time that ultimate triumph of civilization--a cup of tea served in bed +before breakfast, with slices of bread-and-butter of tenuous and amazing +fragile thinness. He was pleased, too, with the deference paid him as a +representative of the cloth, even though it compelled him to a +solemnity he did not inwardly feel. But most of all, undoubtedly, he was +captivated by the loveliness and warmth of Miss Airedale. + +The Bishop had not erred. Admiring the aristocratic Roman trend of +her brow and nose; the proud, inquisitive carriage of her somewhat +rectangular head, her admirable, vigorous figure and clear topaz +eyes, Gissing was aware of something he had not experienced before--a +disturbance both urgent and agreeable, in which the intellect seemed to +play little part. He was startled by the strength of her attractiveness, +amazed to learn how pleasing it was to be in her company. She was very +young and brisk: wore clothes of a smart sporting cut, and was +(he thought) quite divine in her riding breeches. But she was also +completely devoted to the chapel, where she played the music on Sundays. +She was a volatile creature, full of mischievous surprise: at their +first music practice, after playing over some hymns on the pipe-organ, +she burst into jazz, filling the quiet grove with the clamorous syncope +of Paddy-Paws, a favourite song that summer. + +So into the brilliant social life of the Airedales and their friends +he found himself suddenly pitchforked. In spite of the oddity of the +situation, and of occasional anxiety when he considered the possibility +of Mr. Poodle finding him out, he was very happy. This was not quite +what he had expected, but he was always adaptable. Miss Airedale was an +enchanting companion. In the privacy of his bedroom he measured himself +for a pair of riding breeches and wrote to his tailor in town to have +them made as soon as possible. He served the little chapel assiduously, +though he felt it better to conceal from the Airedales the fact that he +went there every day. He suspected they would think him slightly mad if +they knew, so he used to pretend that he had business in town. Then he +would slip away to the balsam-scented hilltop and be perfectly happy +sweeping the chapel floor, dusting the pews, polishing the brasswork, +rearranging the hymnals in the racks. He arranged with the milkman to +leave a bottle of milk and some cinnamon buns at the chapel gate +every morning, so he had a cheerful and stealthy little lunch in +the vestry-room, though always a trifle nervous lest some of his +parishioners should discover him. + +He practiced reading the lessons aloud at the brass lectern, and +discovered how easy is dramatic elocution when you are alone. He wished +it were possible to hold a service daily. For the first time he was able +to sing hymns as loud as he liked. Miss Airedale played the organ with +emphatic fervour, and the congregation, after a little hesitation, +enjoyed the lusty sincerity of a hymn well trolled. Some of his flock, +who had previously relished taking part in the general routine of the +service, were disappointed by his zeal, for Gissing insisted on doing +everything himself. He rang the bell, ushered the congregation to their +seats, read the service, recited the Quadrupeds' Creed, led the +choir, gave out as many announcements as he could devise, took up the +collection, and at the close skipped out through the vestry and was +ready and beaming in the porch before the nimblest worshipper had +reached the door. On his first Sunday, indeed, he carried enthusiasm +rather too far: in an innocent eagerness to prolong the service as much +as possible, and being too excited to realize quite what he was doing, +he went through the complete list of supplications for all possible +occasions. The congregation were startled to find themselves praying +simultaneously both for rain and for fair weather. + +In a cupboard in the vestry-room he had found an old surplice hanging; +he took it down, tried it on before the mirror, and wistfully put it +back. To this symbolic vestment his mind returned as he sat solitary +under the pine-trees, looking down upon the valley of home. It was the +season of goldenrod and aster on the hillsides: a hot swooning silence +lay upon the late afternoon. The weight and closeness of the air had +struck even the insects dumb. Under the pines, generally so murmurous, +there was something almost gruesome in the blank stillness: a suspension +so absolute that the ears felt dull and sealed. He tried, involuntarily, +to listen more clearly, to know if this uncanny hush were really so. +There was a sense of being imprisoned, but only most delicately, in a +spell, which some sudden cracking might disrupt. + +The surplice tempted him strongly, for it suggested the sermon he felt +impelled to deliver, against the Bishop's orders. For the beautiful +chapel in the piny glade was, somehow, false: or, at any rate, false for +him. The architect had made it a dainty poem in stone and polished wood, +but somehow God had evaded the neat little trap. Moreover, the God +his well-bred congregation worshipped, the old traditionally imagined +snow-white St. Bernard with radiant jowls of tenderness, shining dewlaps +of love; paternal, omnipotent, calm--this deity, though sublime in its +way, was too plainly an extension of their own desires. His prominent +parishioners--Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher, Mrs. Griffon, Mrs. Retriever; +even the delightful Mr. Airedale himself--was it not likely that they +esteemed a deity everlastingly forgiving because they themselves felt +need of forgiveness? He had been deeply shocked by the docility with +which they followed the codes of the service: even when he had committed +his blunder of the contradictory prayers, they had murmured the words +automatically, without protest. To the terrific solemnities of the +Litany they had made the responses with prompt gabbling precision, and +with a rapidity that frankly implied impatience to take the strain off +their knees. + +Somehow he felt that to account for a world of unutterable strangeness +they had invented a God far too cheaply simple. His mood was certainly +not one of ribald easy scoff. It was they (he assured himself) whose +theology was essentially cynical; not he. He was a little weary of +this just, charitable, consoling, hebdomadal God; this God who might be +sufficiently honoured by a decorously memorized ritual. Yet was he +too shallow? Was it not seemly that his fellows, bound on this dark, +desperate venture of living, should console themselves with decent +self-hypnosis? + +No, he thought. No, it was not entirely seemly. If they pretended that +their God was the highest thing knowable, then they must bring to +His worship the highest possible powers of the mind. He had a strange +yearning for a God less lazily conceived: a God perhaps inclement, +awful, master of inscrutable principles. Yet was it desirable to shake +his congregation's belief in their traditional divinity? He thought of +them--so amiable, amusing, spirited and generous, but utterly untrained +for abstract imaginative thought on any subject whatever. His own +strange surmisings about deity would only shock and horrify them And +after all, was it not exactly their simplicity that made them lovable? +The great laws of truth would work their own destinies without +assistance from him! Even if these pleasant creatures did not genuinely +believe the rites they so politely observed (he knew they did not, for +BELIEF is an intellectual process of extraordinary range and depth), was +it not socially useful that they should pretend to do so? + +And yet--with another painful swing of the mind--was it necessary +that Truth should be worshipped with the aid of such astonishingly +transparent formalisms, hoaxes, and mummeries? Alas, it seemed that this +was an old, old struggle that must be troublesomely fought out, again +and again down the generations. Prophets were twice stoned--first in +anger; then, after their death, with a handsome slab in the graveyard. +But words uttered in sincerity (he thought) never fail of some response. +Though he saw his fellows leashed with a heavy chain of ignorance, +stupidity, passion, and weakness, yet he divined in life some +inscrutable principle of honour and justice; some unreckonable essence +of virtue too intimate to understand; some fumbling aspiration toward +decency, some brave generosity of spirit, some cheerful fidelity to +Beauty. He could not see how, in a world so obviously vast and uncouth +beyond computation, they could find a puny, tidy, assumptive, scheduled +worship so satisfying. But perhaps, since all Beauty was so staggering, +it was better they should cherish it in small formal minims. Perhaps +in this whole matter there was some lovely symbolism that he did not +understand. + +The soft brightness was already lifting into upper air, a mingled tissue +of shadows lay along the valley. In the magical clarity of the evening +light he suddenly felt (as one often does, by unaccountable planetary +instinct) that there was a new moon. Turning, he saw it, a silver +snipping daintily afloat; and not far away, an early star. He had found +no creed in the prayer-book that accounted for the stars. Here at +the bottom of an ocean of sky, we look aloft and see them +thick-speckled--mere barnacles, perhaps, on the keel of some greater +ship of space. He remembered how at home there had been a certain +burning twinkle that peeped through the screen of the dogwood tree. +As he moved on his porch, it seemed to flit to and fro, appearing and +vanishing. He was often uncertain whether it was a firefly a few yards +away, or a star the other side of Time. Possibly Truth was like that. + +There was a light swift rustle behind him, and Miss Airedale appeared. + +“Hullo!” she said. “I wondered where you were. Is this how you spend +your afternoons, all alone?” + +Stars, creeds, cosmologies, promptly receded into remote perspective +and had to shift for themselves. It was true that Gissing had somewhat +avoided her lately, for he feared her fascination. He wished nothing +else to interfere with his search for what he had not yet found. +Postpone the female problem to the last, was his theory: not because +it was insoluble, but because the solution might prove to be less +interesting than the problem itself. But side by side with her, she was +irresistible. A skittish brightness shone in her eyes. + +“Great news!” she exclaimed. “I've persuaded Papa to take us all down to +Atlantic City for a couple of days.” + +“Wonderful!” cried Gissing. “Do you know, I've never been to the +seashore.” + +“Don't worry,” she replied. “I won't let you see much of the ocean. +We'll go to the Traymore, and spend the whole time dancing in the +Submarine Grill.” + +“But I must be back in time for the service on Sunday,” he said. + +“We're going to leave first thing in the morning. We'll go in the car, +and I'll drive. Will you sit with me in the front seat?” + +“Watch me!” replied Gissing gallantly. + +“Come on then, or you'll be late for dinner. I'll race you home!” And +she was off like a flash. + +But in spite of Miss Airedale's threat, at Atlantic City they both fell +into a kind of dreamy reverie. The wine-like tingle of that salty air +was a quiet drug. The apparently inexhaustible sunshine was sharpened +with a faint sting of coming autumn. Gissing suddenly remembered that it +was ages since he had simply let his mind run slack and allowed life to +go by unstudied. Mr. and Mrs. Airedale occupied a suite high up in the +terraced mass of the huge hotel; they wrapped themselves in rugs and +basked on their private balcony. Gissing and the daughter were left +to their own amusements. They bathed in the warm September surf; they +strolled the Boardwalk up beyond the old Absecon light, where the green +glimmer of water runs in under the promenade. They sat on the deck +of the hotel--or rather Miss Airedale sat, while Gissing, courteously +attentive, leaned over her steamer-chair. He stood so for hours, +apparently in devoted chat; but in fact he was half in dream. The smooth +flow of the little rolling shays just below had a soothing hypnotic +erect. But it was the glorious polished blue of the sea-horizon that +bounded all his thoughts. Even while Miss Airedale gazed archly up at +him, and he was busy with cheerful conversation, he was conscious of +that broad band of perfect colour, monotonous, comforting, thrilling. +For the first time he realized the great rondure of the world. His mind +went back to the section of the prayer-book that had always touched him +most pointedly--the “Forms of Prayer to be Used at Sea.” In them he had +found a note of sincere terror and humility. And now he viewed the sea +for the first time in this setting of notable irony. The open dazzle of +placid elements, obedient only to some cosmic calculus, lay as a serene +curtain against which the quaint flamboyance of the Boardwalk was all +the more amusing. The clear rim of sea curving off into space drew him +with painful curiosity. Here at last was what he had needed. The proud +waters went over his soul. Here indeed the blue began. + +He looked down at Miss Airedale, who had gone to sleep while waiting for +him to say something. He tiptoed away and went to his room to write down +some ideas. Against the wide challenge of that blue hemisphere, where +half the world lay open and free to the eye, the Bishop's prohibition +lost weight. He was resolved to preach a sermon. + +At dusk he met Miss Airedale on the high balcony that runs around the +reading-room of the hotel. They were quite alone up there. Along the +Boardwalk, in the pale sentimental twilight, the translucent electric +globes shone like a long string of pearls. She was very tempting in +a gay evening frock, and reproached him for having neglected her. She +shivered a little in the cool wind coming off the darkening water. The +weakness of the hour was upon him. He put his arm tenderly round her as +they leaned over the parapet. + +“See those darling children down on the sand,” she said. “I do adore +puppies, don't you?” + +He remembered Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers. Nothing is so potent as the +love of children when you are away from them. She gazed languishing +at him; he responded with a generous pressure. But his alarmed soul +thrilled with panic. + +“You must excuse me a moment, while I dress for dinner,” he said. He was +strangely terrified by the look of secret understanding in her beautiful +eyes. It seemed to imply some subtle, inexpressible pact. As a matter of +truth, she was unconscious of it: it was only the old demiurge speaking +in her; the old demiurge which was pursuing him just as ardently as he +was trailing the dissolving blue of his dream. But he was much agitated +as he went down in the elevator. + +“Heavens,” he said to himself; “are we all only toys in the power of +these terrific instincts?” + +For the first time he was informed of the infinite feminine capacity for +being wooed. + +That night they danced in the Submarine Grill. She floated in his +embrace with triumphant lightness. Her eyes, utilized as temporary lamps +by a lighting-circuit of which she was quite unaware, beamed with happy +lustre. The lay reader, always docile to the necessities of occasion, +murmured delightful trifles. But his private thoughts were as aloof +and shining and evasive as the goldfish that twinkled in the glass pool +overhead. He picked up her scarf and her handkerchief when she dropped +them. He smiled vaguely when she suggested that she thought she could +persuade Mr. Airedale to stay in Atlantic City over the week-end, and +why worry about the service on Sunday? But when she and the yawning Mrs. +Airedale had retired, he hastened to his chamber and packed his bag. +Stealthily he went to the desk and explained that he was leaving +unexpectedly on business, and that the bill should go to Mr. Airedale, +whose guest he had been. He slipped away out of the side door, and +caught the late train. Mrs. Airedale chafed her daughter that night for +whining in her sleep. + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE + +The chapel of St. Spitz was crowded that fine Sunday morning, and the +clang and thud of its bells came merrily through the thin quick air to +worshippers arriving in their luxurious motors. The amiable oddity of +the lay reader's demeanour as priest had added a zest to churchgoing. +The congregation were particularly pleased, on this occasion, to see +Gissing appear in surplice and stole. They had felt that his attire on +the previous Sundays had been a little too informal. And when, at the +time usually allotted to the sermon, Gissing climbed the pulpit steps, +unfurled a sheaf of manuscript, and gazed solemnly about, they settled +back into the pew cushions in a comfortable, receptive mood. They had a +subconscious feeling that if their souls were to be saved, it was better +to have it done with all the proper formalities. They did not notice +that he was rather pale, and that his nose twitched nervously. + +“My friends,” he said, “in this beautiful little chapel, on this airy +hilltop, one might, if anywhere, speak with complete honesty. For you +who gather here for worship are, in the main, people of great +affairs; accustomed to looking at life with high spirit and with quick +imagination. I will ask you then to be patient with me while I exhort +you to carry into your religion the same enterprising and ambitious +gusto that has made your worldly careers a success. You are accustomed +to deal with great affairs. Let me talk to you about the Great Affairs +of God.” + +Gissing had been far too agitated to be able to recognize any particular +members of his audience. All the faces were fused into a common blur. +Miss Airedale, he knew, was in the organ loft, but he had not seen +her since his flight from Atlantic City, for he had removed from the +Airedale mansion before her return, and had made himself a bed in the +corner of the vestry-room. He feared she was angry: there had been a +vigorous growling note in some of the bass pipes of the organ as she +played the opening hymn. He had not seen a tall white-haired figure who +came into the chapel rather late, after the service had begun, and took +a seat at the back. Bishop Borzoi had seized the opportunity to drive +out to Dalmatian Heights this morning to see how his protege was getting +on. When the Bishop saw his lay reader appear in surplice and scarlet +hood, he was startled. But when the amateur parson actually ascended the +pulpit, the Bishop's face was a study. The hair on the back of his neck +bristled slightly. + +“It is so easy,” Gissing continued, “to let life go by us in its swift +amusing course, that sometimes it hardly seems worth while to attempt +any bold strokes for truth. Truth, of course, does not need our +assistance; it can afford to ignore our errors. But in this quiet place, +among the whisper of the trees, I seem to have heard a disconcerting +sound. I have heard laughter, and I think it is the laughter of God.” + +The congregation stirred a little, with polite uneasiness. This was not +quite the sort of thing to which they were accustomed. + +“Why should God laugh? I think it is because He sees that very often, +when we pretend to be worshipping Him, we are really worshipping and +gratifying ourselves. I used the phrase 'Great Affairs.' The point I +want to make is that God deals with far greater affairs than we have +realized. We have imagined Him on too petty a scale. If God is so great, +we must approach Him in a spirit of greatness. He is not interested in +trivialities--trivialities of ritual, of creed, of ceremony. We have +imagined a vain thing--a God of our own species; merely adding to the +conception, to gild and consecrate, a futile fuzbuz of supernaturalism. +My friends, the God I imagine is something more than a formula on +Sundays and an oath during the week.” + +Those sitting in the rear of the Chapel were startled to hear a low +rumbling sound proceeding from the diaphragm of the Bishop, who half +rose from his seat and then, by a great effort of will, contained +himself. But Gissing, rapt in his honourable speculations, continued +with growing happiness. + +“I ask you, though probably in vain, to lay aside for the moment your +inherited timidities and conventions. I ask you to lay aside pride, +which is the devil itself and the cause of most unhappiness. I ask +you to rise to the height of a great conception. To 'magnify' God is +a common phrase in our observances. Then let us truly magnify Him--not +minify, as the theologians do. If God is anything more than a social +fetich, then He must be so much more that He includes and explains +everything. It may sound inconceivable to you, it may sound +sacrilegious, but I suggest to you that it is even possible God may be a +biped--” + +The Bishop could restrain himself no longer. He rose with flaming +eyes and stood in the aisle. Mr. Airedale, Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher, and +several other prominent members of the Church burst into threatening +growls. A wild bark and clamour broke from Mr. Towser, the Sunday School +superintendent, and his pupils, who sat in the little gallery over the +door. And then, to Gissing's horror and amazement, Mr. Poodle appeared +from behind a pillar where he had been chafing unseen. In a fierce tenor +voice shaken with indignation he cried: + +“Heretic and hypocrite! Pay no attention to his abominable nonsense! He +deserted his family to lead a life of pleasure!” + +“Seize him!” cried the Bishop in a voice of thunder. + +The church was now in an uproar. A shrill yapping sounded among the +choir. Mrs. Airedale swooned; the Bishop's progress up the aisle was +impeded by a number of ladies hastening for an exit. Old Mr. Dingo, the +sexton, seized the bell-rope in the porch and set up a furious pealing. +Cries of rage mingled with hysterical howls from the ladies. Gissing, +trembling with horror, surveyed the atrocious hubbub. But it was +high time to move, or his retreat would be cut off. He abandoned his +manuscript and bounded down the pulpit stairs. + +“Unfrock him!” yelled Mr. Poodle. + +“He's never been frocked!” roared the Bishop. + +“Impostor!” cried Mr. Airedale. + +“Excommunicate him!” screamed Mr. Towser. + +“Take him before the consistory!” shouted Mr. Poodle. + +Gissing started toward the vestry door, but was delayed by the mass of +scuffling choir-puppies who had seized this uncomprehended diversion as +a chance to settle some scores of their own. The clamour was maddening. +The Bishop leapt the chancel rail and was about to seize him when Miss +Airedale, loyal to the last, interposed. She flung herself upon the +Bishop. + +“Run, run!” she cried. “They'll kill you!” + +Gissing profited by this assistance. He pushed over the lectern upon Mr. +Poodle, who was clutching at his surplice. He checked Mr. Airedale by +hurling little Tommy Bull, one of the choir, bodily at him. Tommy's +teeth fastened automatically upon Mr. Airedale's ear. The surplice, +which Mr. Poodle was still holding, parted with a rip, and Gissing +was free. With a yell of defiance he tore through the vestry and round +behind the chapel. + +He could not help pausing a moment to scan the amazing scene, which had +been all Sabbath calm a few moments before. From the long line of motor +cars parked outside the chapel incredible chauffeurs were leaping, +hurrying to see what had happened. The shady grove shook with the +hideous clamour of the bell, still wildly tolled by the frantic sexton. +The sudden excitement had liberated private quarrels long decently +repressed: in the porch Mrs. Retriever and Mrs. Dobermann-Pinscher were +locked in combat. With a splintering crash one of the choir-pups +came sailing through a stained-glass window, evidently thrown by some +infuriated adult. He recognized the voice of Mr. Towser, raised in +vigorous lamentation. To judge by the sound, Mr. Towser's pupils had +turned upon him and were giving him a bad time. Above all he could +hear the clear war-cry of Miss Airedale and the embittered yells of Mr. +Poodle. Then from the quaking edifice burst Bishop Borzoi, foaming +with wrath, his clothes much tattered, and followed by Mr. Poodle, Mr. +Airedale, and several others. They cast about for a moment, and then the +Bishop saw him. With a joint halloo they launched toward him. + +There was no time to lose. He fled down the shady path between the +trees, but with a hopeless horror in his heart. He could not long +outdistance such a runner as the Bishop, whose tremendous strides would +surely overhaul him in the end. If only he had known how to drive a car, +he might have commandeered one of the long row waiting by the gate. But +he was no motorist. Miss Airedale could have saved him, in her racing +roadster, but she had not emerged from the melee in the chapel. Perhaps +the Bishop had bitten her. His blood warmed with anger. + +It happened that they had been mending the county highways, and a large +steam roller stood a few hundred feet down the road, drawn up beside the +ditch. Gissing knew that it was customary to leave these engines with +the fire banked and a gentle pressure of steam simmering in the boiler. +It was his only chance, and he seized it. But to his dismay, when he +reached the machine, which lay just round a bend in the road, he found +it shrouded with a huge tarpaulin. However, this suggested a desperate +chance. He whipped nimbly inside the covering and hid in the coal-box. +Lying there, he heard the chase go panting by. + +As soon as he dared, he climbed out, stripped off the canvas, and +gazed at the bulky engine. It was one of those very tall and impressive +rollers with a canopy over the top. The machinery was not complicated, +and the ingenuity of desperation spurred him on. Hurriedly he opened the +draughts in the fire-box, shook up the coals, and saw the needle begin +to quiver on the pressure-gauge. He experimented with one or two levers +and handles. The first one he touched let off a loud scream from the +whistle. Then he discovered the throttle. He opened it a few notches, +cautiously. The ponderous machine, with a horrible clanking and +grinding, began to move forward. + +A steam roller may seem the least helpful of all vehicles in which to +conduct an urgent flight; but Gissing's reasoning was sound. In the +first place, no one would expect to find a hunted fugitive in this +lumbering, sluggish behemoth of the road. Secondly, sitting perched high +up in the driving saddle, right under the canopy, he was not easily +seen by the casual passer-by. And thirdly, if the pursuit came to +close grips, he was still in a strategic position. For this, the most +versatile of all land-machines except the military tank, can move across +fields, crash through underbrush, and travel in a hundred places +that would stall a motor car. He rumbled off down the road somewhat +exhilarated. He found the scarlet stole twisted round his neck, and tied +it to one of the stanchions of the canopy as a flag of defiance. It was +not long before he saw the posse of pursuit returning along the road, +very hot and angry. He crunched along solemnly, busying himself to get +up a strong head of steam. There they were, the Bishop, Mr. Poodle, Mr. +Airedale, Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher, and Mr. Towser. Mr. Poodle was talking +excitedly: the Bishop's tongue ran in and out over his gleaming teeth. +He was not saying much, but his manner was full of deadly wrath. They +paid no attention to the roller, and were about to pass it without even +looking up, when Gissing, in a sudden fit of indignation, gave the wheel +a quick twirl and turned his clumsy engine upon them. They escaped +only by a hair's breadth from being flattened out like pastry. Then the +Bishop, looking up, recognized the renegade. With a cry of anger they +all leaped at the roller. + +But he was so high above them, they had no chance. He seized the +coal-scoop and whanged Mr. Poodle across the skull. The Bishop came +dangerously near reaching him, but Gissing released a jet of scalding +steam from an exhaust-cock, which gave the impetuous prelate much cause +for grief. A lump of coal, accurately thrown, discouraged Mr. Airedale. +Mr. Towser, attacking on the other side of the engine, managed to +scramble up so high that he carried away the embroidered stole, but +otherwise the fugitive had all the best of it. Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher +burned his feet trying to climb up the side of the boiler. From the +summit of his uncouth vehicle Gissing looked down undismayed. + +“Miserable freethinker!” said Borzoi. “You shall be tried by the +assembly of bishops.” + +“In a mere lay reader,” quoted Gissing, “a slight laxity is allowable. +You had better go back and calm down the congregation, or they'll tear +the chapel to bits. This kind of thing will have a very bad influence on +church discipline.” + +They shouted additional menace, but Gissing had already started his +deafening machinery and could not hear what was said. He left them +bickering by the roadside. + +For fear of further pursuit, he turned off the highway a little beyond, +and rumbled noisily down a rustic lane between high banks and hedges +where sumac was turning red. Strangely enough, there was something very +comforting about his enormous crawling contraption. It was docile and +reliable, like an elephant. The crashing clangour of its movement was +soon forgotten--became, in fact, an actual stimulus to thought. For the +mere pleasure of novelty, he steered through a copse, and took joy in +seeing the monster thrash its way through thickets and brambles, and +then across a field of crackling stubble. Steering toward the lonelier +regions of that farming country, presently he halted in a dingle of +birches beside a small pond. He spent some time very happily, carefully +studying the machinery. He found some waste and an oilcan in the +tool-chest, and polished until the metal shone. The water looked rather +low in the gauge, and he replenished it from the pool. + +It was while grooming the roller that it struck him his own appearance +was unusual for a highway mechanic. He was still wearing the famous +floorwalker suit, which he had punctiliously donned every Sunday for +chapel. But he had had to flee without a hat--even without his luggage, +which was neatly packed in a bag in the vestry. That, he felt sure, Mr. +Poodle had already burst open for evidences of heresy and schism. The +pearly trousers were stained with oil and coal-dust; the neat cutaway +coat bore smears of engine-grease. As long as he stuck to the roller +and the telltale garments, pursuit and identification would of course be +easy enough. But he had taken a fancy to the machine: he decided not to +abandon it yet. + +Obviously it was better to keep to the roads, where the engine would at +any rate be less surprisingly conspicuous, and where it would leave no +trail. So he made a long circuit across meadows and pastures, carrying +a devilish clamour into the quiet Sunday afternoon. Regaining a macadam +surface, he set oil at random, causing considerable annoyance to +the motoring public. Finding that his cutaway coat caused jeers and +merriment, he removed it; and when any one showed a disposition to +inquire, he explained that he was doing penance for an ill-judged wager. +His oscillating perch above the boiler was extraordinarily warm, and he +bought a gallon jug of cider from a farmer by the way. Cheering himself +with this, and reviewing in his mind the queer experiences of the past +months, he went thundering mildly on. + +At first he had feared a furious pursuit on the part of the Bishop, or +even a whole college of bishops, quickly mobilized for the event. He +had imagined them speeding after him in a huge motor-bus, and himself +keeping them at bay with lumps of coal. But gradually he realized that +the Bishop would not further jeopardize his dignity, or run the risk of +making himself ridiculous. Mr. Poodle would undoubtedly set the township +road commissioner on his trail, and he would be liable to seizure for +the theft of a steam roller. But that could hardly happen so quickly. In +the meantime, a plan had been forming in his mind, but it would require +darkness for its execution. + +Darkness did not delay in coming. As he jolted cheerfully from road +to road, holding up long strings of motors at every corner while he +jovially held out his arm as a sign that he was going to turn, dark +purple clouds were massing and piling up. Foreseeing a storm, he bought +some provisions at a roadhouse, and turned into a field, where he +camped in the lee of a forest of birches. He cooked himself an excellent +supper, toasting bread and frankfurters in the firebox of the roller. +With boiling water from a steam-cock he brewed a panikin of tea; and sat +placidly admiring the fawn-pink light on wide pampas of bronze grasses, +tawny as a panther's hide. A strong wind began to draw from the +southeast. He lit the lantern at the rear of the machine and by the time +the rain came hissing upon the hot boiler, he was ready. Luckily he had +saved the tarpaulin. He spread this on the ground underneath the roller, +and curled up in it. The glow from the firebox kept him warm and dry. + +“Summer is over,” he said to himself, as he heard the clash and spouting +of rain all about him. He lay for some time, not sleepy, thinking +theology, and enjoying the close tumult of wind and weather. + +People who have had an arm or a leg amputated, he reflected, say they +can still feel pains in the absent member. Well, there's an analogy in +that. Modern skepticism has amputated God from the heart; but there is +still a twinge where the arteries were sewn up. + +He slept peacefully until about two in the morning, except when a +red-hot coal, slipping through the grate-bars, burned a lamentable hole +in his trousers. When he woke, the night still dripped, but was clear +aloft. He started the engine and drove cautiously, along black slippery +roads, to Mr. Poodle's house. In spite of the unavoidable racket, no one +stirred: he surmised that the curate slept soundly after the crises +of the day. He left the engine by the doorstep, pinning a note to the +steering-wheel. It said: + + TO REV. J. ROVER POODLE + this useful steam-roller + as a symbol of the theological mind + + MR. GISSING + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + +The steamship Pomerania, which had sailed at noon, was a few hours out +of port on a calm gray sea. The passengers, after the bustle of lunch +and arranging their staterooms; had settled into their deck chairs and +were telling each other how much they loved the ocean. Captain Scottie +had taken his afternoon constitutional on his private strip of starboard +deck just aft the bridge, and was sitting in his comfortable cabin +expecting a cup of tea. He was a fine old sea-dog: squat, grizzled, +severe, with wiry eyebrows, a short coarse beard, and watchful quick +eyes. A characteristic Scot, beneath his reticent conscientious dignity +there was abundant humour and affection. He would have been recognized +anywhere as a sailor: those short solid legs were perfectly adapted for +balancing on a rolling deck. He stood by habit as though he were leaning +into a stiff gale. His mouth always held a pipe, which he smoked in +short, brisk whiffs, as though expecting to be interrupted at any moment +by an iceberg. + +The steward brought in the tea-tray, and Captain Scottie settled into +his large armchair to enjoy it. His eye glanced automatically at the +barometer. + +“A little wind to-night,” he said, his nose wrinkling unconsciously as +the cover was lifted from the dish of hot anchovy toast. + +“Yes, sir,” said the steward, but lingered, apparently anxious to speak +further. + +“Well, Shepherd?” + +“Beg pardon, sir, but the Chief Steward wanted me to say they've found +someone stowed away in the linen locker, sir. Queer kind of fellow, +sir, talks a bit like a padre. 'E must've come aboard by the engine-room +gangway, sir, and climbed into that locker near the barber shop.” + +The problem of stowaways is familiar enough to shipmasters. “Send him up +to me,” said the Captain. + +A few minutes later Gissing appeared, escorted by a burly quartermaster. +Even the experienced Captain admitted to himself that this was something +new in the category of stowaways. Never before had he seen one in a +braided cutaway coat and wedding trousers. It was true that the +garments were in grievous condition, but they were worn with an air. +The stowaway's face showed some embarrassment, but not at all the usual +hangdog mien of such wastrels. Involuntarily his tongue moistened when +he saw the tray of tea (for he had not eaten since his supper on the +steam roller the night before), but he kept his eyes politely averted +from the food. They rose to a white-painted girder that ran athwart the +cabin ceiling. CERTIFIED TO ACCOMMODATE THE MASTER he read there, in +letters deeply incised into the thick paint. “A good Christian ship,” + he said to himself. “It sounds like the Y. M. C. A.” He was pleased +to think that his suspicion was already confirmed: ships were more +religious than anything on land. + +The Captain dismissed the quartermaster, and addressed himself sternly +to the culprit. + +“Well, what have you to say for yourself?” + +“Please, Captain,” said Gissing politely, “do not allow your tea to get +cold. I can talk while you eat.” Behind his grim demeanour the Captain +was very near to smiling at this naivete. No Briton is wholly implacable +at tea-time, and he felt a genuine curiosity about this unusual +offender. + +“What was your idea in coming aboard?” he said. “Do you know that I can +put you in irons until we get across, and then have you sent home for +punishment? I suppose it's the old story: you want to go sight-seeing on +the other side?” + +“No, Captain,” said Gissing. “I have come to sea to study theology.” + +In spite of himself the Captain was touched by this amazing statement. +He was a Scot, as we have said. He poured a cup of tea to conceal his +astonishment. + +“Theology!” he exclaimed. “The theology of hard work is what you will +find most of aboard ship. Carry on and do your duty; keep a sharp +lookout, all gear shipshape, salute the bridge when going on watch, +that is the whole duty of a good officer. That's plenty theology for a +seaman.” But the skipper's eye turned brightly toward his bookshelves, +where he had several volumes of sermons, mostly of a Calvinist sort. + +“I am not afraid of work,” said Gissing. “But I'm looking for horizons. +In my work ashore I never could find any.” + +“Your horizon is likely to be peeling potatoes in the galley,” remarked +the Captain. “I understand they are short-handed there. Or sweeping out +bunks in the steerage. Ethics of the dust! What would you say to that?” + +“Sir,” replied Gissing, “I shall be grateful for any task, however +menial, that permits me to meditate. I understand your point of view. By +coming aboard your ship I have broken the law, I have committed a +crime; but not a sin. Crime and sin, every theologian admits, are not +coextensive.” + +The Captain sailed head-on into argument. + +“What?” he cried. “Are you aware of the doctrine of Moral Inability in a +Fallen State? Sit down, sit down, and have a cup of tea. We must discuss +this.” + +He rang for the steward and ordered an extra cup and a fresh supply of +toast. At that moment Gissing heard two quick strokes of a bell, rung +somewhere forward, a clear, musical, melancholy tone, echoed promptly +in other parts of the ship. “What is that, Captain?” he asked anxiously. +“An accident?” + +“Two bells in the first dog-watch,” said the Captain. “I fear you are as +much a lubber at sea as you are in theology.” + +The next two hours passed like a flash. Gissing found the skipper, in +spite of his occasional moods of austerity, a delicious companion. They +discussed Theosophy, Spiritualism, and Christian Science, all of which +the Captain, with sturdy but rather troubled vehemence, linked with +Primitive Magic. Gissing, seeing that his only hope of establishing +himself in the sailor's regard was to disagree and keep the argument +going, plunged into psycho-analysis and the philosophy of the +unconscious. Rather unwarily he ventured to introduce a nautical +illustration into the talk. + +“Your compass needle,” he said, “points to the North Pole, and although +it has never been to the Pole, and cannot even conceive of it, yet it +testifies irresistibly to the existence of such a place.” + +“I trust you navigate your soul more skilfully than you would navigate +this vessel,” retorted the Captain. “In the first place, the needle +does not point to the North Pole at all, but to the magnetic pole. +Furthermore, it has to be adjusted by magnets to counteract deviation. +Mr. Gissing, you may be a sincere student of theology, but you have not +allowed for your own temperamental deviation. Why, even the gyro compass +has to be adjusted for latitude error. You landsmen think that a ship is +simply a floating hotel. I should like to have the Bishop you spoke of +study a little navigation. That would put into him a healthy respect for +the marvels of science. On board ship, sir, the binnacle is kept locked +and the key is on the watch-chain of the master. It should be so in all +intellectual matters. Confide them to those capable of understanding.” + +Gissing saw that the Captain greatly relished his sense of superiority, +so he made a remark of intentional simplicity. + +“The binnacle?” he said. “I thought that was the little shellfish that +clings to the bottom of the boat?” + +“Don't you dare call my ship a BOAT!” said the Captain. “At sea, a boat +means only a lifeboat or some other small vagabond craft. Come out on +the bridge and I'll show you a thing or two.” + +The evening had closed in hazy, and the Pomerania swung steadily in a +long plunging roll. At the weather wing of the bridge, gazing sharply +over the canvas dodger, was Mr. Pointer, the vigilant Chief Officer, +peering off rigidly, as though mesmerized, but saying nothing. He gave +the Captain a courteous salute, but kept silence. At the large mahogany +wheel, gently steadying it to the quarterly roll of the sea, stood Dane, +a tall, solemn quartermaster. In spite of a little uneasiness, due to +the unfamiliar motion, Gissing was greatly elated by the wheelhouse, +which seemed even more thrillingly romantic than any pulpit. +Uncomprehendingly, but with admiration, he examined the binnacle, the +engine-room telegraphs, the telephones, the rack of signal-flags, the +buttons for closing the bulkheads, and the rotating clear-view screen +for lookout in thick weather. Aloft he could see the masthead light, +gently soaring in slow arcs. + +“I'll show you my particular pride,” said the Captain, evidently pleased +by his visitor's delighted enthusiasm. + +Gissing wondered what ingenious device of science this might be. + +Captain Scottie stepped to the weather gunwale of the bridge. He pointed +to the smoke, which was rolling rapidly from the funnels. + +“You see,” he said, “there's quite a strong breeze blowing. But look +here.” + +He lit a match and held it unshielded above the canvas screen which was +lashed along the front of the bridge. To Gissing's surprise it burned +steadily, without blowing out. + +“I've invented a convex wind-shield which splits the air just forward +of the bridge. I can stand here and light my pipe in the stiffest gale, +without any trouble.” + +On the decks below Gissing heard a bugle blowing gaily, a bright, +persuasive sound. + +“Six bells,” the Captain said. “I must dress for dinner. Before I start +you potato-peeling, I should like to clear up that little discussion of +ours about Free Will. One or two things you said interested me.” + +He paced the bridge for a minute, thinking hard. + +“I'll test your sincerity,” he said. “To-night you can bunk in the +chart-room. I'll have some dinner sent up to you. I wish you would write +me an essay of, say, two thousand words on the subject of Necessity.” + +For a moment Gissing pondered whether it would not be better to be put +in irons and rationed with bread and water. The wind was freshening, and +the Pomerania's sharp bow slid heavily into broad hills of sea, crashing +them into crumbling rollers of suds which fell outward and hissed +along her steep sides. The silent Mr. Pointer escorted him into +the chart-room, a bare, businesslike place with a large table, a +map-cabinet, and a settee. Here, presently, a steward appeared with +excellent viands, and a pen, ink, and notepaper. After a cautious meal, +Gissing felt more comfortable. There is something about a wet, windy +evening at sea that turns the mind naturally toward metaphysics. He +pushed away the dishes and began to write. + +Later in the evening the Captain reappeared. He looked pleased when he +saw a number of sheets already covered with script. + +“Rum lot of passengers this trip,” he said. “I don't seem to see any who +look interesting. All Big Business and that sort of thing. I must say +it's nice to have someone who can talk about books, and so on, once in a +while.” + +Gissing realized that sometimes a shipmaster's life must be a lonely +one. The weight of responsibility is always upon him; etiquette prevents +his becoming familiar with his officers; small wonder if he pines +occasionally for a little congenial talk to relieve his mind. + +“Big Business, did you say?” Gissing remarked. “Ah, I could write you +quite an essay about that. I used to be General Manager of Beagle and +Company.” + +“Come into my cabin and have a liqueur,” said the skipper. “Let the +essay go until to-morrow.” + +The Captain turned on the electric stove in his cabin, for the night +was cold. It was a snug sanctum: at the portholes were little chintz +curtains; over the bunk was a convenient reading lamp. On the wall a +brass pendulum swung slowly, registering the roll of the ship. The ruddy +shine of the stove lit up the orderly desk and the photographs of the +Captain's family. + +“Yours?” said Gissing, looking at a group of three puppies with droll +Scottish faces. “Aye,” said the Captain. + +“I've three of my own,” said Gissing, with a private pang of +homesickness. The skipper's cosy quarters were the most truly domestic +he had seen since the evening he first fled from responsibility. + +Captain Scottie was surprised. Certainly this eccentric stranger in the +badly damaged wedding garments had not given the impression of a family +head. Just then the steward entered with a decanter of Benedictine and +small glasses. + +“Brew days and bonny!” said the Captain, raising his crystal. + +“Secure amidst perils!” replied Gissing courteously. It was the phrase +engraved upon the ship's notepaper, on which he had been writing, and it +had impressed itself on his mind. + +“You said you had been a General Manager.” + +Gissing told, with some vivacity, of his experiences in the world of +trade. The Captain poured another small liqueur. + +“They're fine halesome liquor,” he said. + +“Sincerely yours,” said Gissing, nodding over the glass. He was +beginning to feel quite at home in the navigating quarters of the ship, +and hoped the potato-peeling might be postponed as long as possible. + +“How far had you got in your essay?” asked the Captain. + +“Not very far, I fear. I was beginning by laying down a few +psychological fundamentals.” + +“Excellent! Will you read it to me?” + +Gissing went to get his manuscript, and read it aloud. The Captain +listened attentively, puffing clouds of smoke. + +“I am sorry this is such a short voyage,” he said when Gissing finished. +“You have approached the matter from an entirely naif and instinctive +standpoint, and it will take some time to show you your errors. Before +I demolish your arguments I should like to turn them over in my mind. I +will reduce my ideas to writing and then read them to you.” + +“I should like nothing better,” said Gissing. “And I can think over the +subject more carefully while I peel the potatoes.” + +“Nonsense,” said the Captain. “I do not often get a chance to discuss +theology. I will tell you my idea. You spoke of your experience as +General Manager, when you had charge of a thousand employees. One of +the things we need on this ship is a staff-captain, to take over +the management of the personnel. That would permit me to concentrate +entirely on navigation. In a vessel of this size it is wrong that the +master should have to carry the entire responsibility.” + +He rang for the steward. + +“My compliments to Mr. Pointer, and tell him to come here.” + +Mr. Pointer appeared shortly in oilskins, saluted, and gazed fixedly at +his superior, with one foot raised upon the brass door-sill. + +“Mr. Pointer,” said Captain Scottie, “I have appointed Captain Gissing +staff-captain. Take orders from him as you would from me. He will have +complete charge of the ship's discipline.” + +“Aye, aye, sir,” said Mr. Pointer, stood a moment intently to see if +there were further orders, saluted again, and withdrew. + +“Now you had better turn in,” said the skipper. “Of course you must wear +uniform. I'll send the tailor up to you at once. He can remodel one of +my suits overnight. The trousers will have to be lengthened.” + +On the chart-room sofa, Gissing dozed and waked and dozed again. On the +bridge near by he heard the steady tread of feet, the mysterious words +of the officer on watch passing the course to his relief. Bells rang +with sharp double clang. Through the open port he could hear the +alternate boom and hiss of the sea under the bows. With the stately lift +and lean of the ship there mingled a faint driving vibration. + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + +The first morning in any new environment is always the most exciting. +Gissing was already awake, and watching the novel sight of a patch of +sunshine sliding to and fro on the deck of the chart-room, when there +was a gentle tap at the door. The Captain's steward entered, carrying a +handsome uniform. + +“Six bells, sir,” he said. “Your bath is laid on.” + +Gissing was not very sure just what time it was, but the steward +held out a dressing gown for him to slip on, so he took the hint, and +followed him to the Captain's private bathroom where he plunged gaily +into warm salt water. He was hardly dressed before breakfast was +laid for him in the chart-room. It was a breakfast greatly to his +liking--porridge, scrambled eggs, grilled kidneys and bacon, coffee, +toast, and marmalade. Evidently the hardships of sea life had been +greatly exaggerated by fiction writers. + +He was a trifle bashful about appearing on the bridge in his blue and +brass formality, and waited a while thinking Captain Scottie might come. +But no one disturbed him, so by and bye he went out. It was a brisk +morning with a fresh breeze and plenty of whitecaps. Dancing rainbows +hovered about the bow when an occasional explosion of spray burst up +into sunlight. Mr. Pointer was on the bridge, still gazing steadily into +the distance. He saluted Gissing, but said nothing. The quartermaster at +the wheel also saluted in silence. A seaman wiping down the paintwork +on the deckhouse saluted. Gissing returned these gestures punctiliously, +and began to pace the bridge from side to side. He soon grew accustomed +to the varying slant of the deck, and felt that his footing showed a +nautical assurance. + +Now for the first time he enjoyed an untrammelled horizon on all sides. +The sea, he observed, was not really blue--not at any rate the blue he +had supposed. Where it seethed flatly along the hull, laced with swirls +of milky foam, it was almost black. Farther away, it was green, or +darkly violet. A ladder led to the top of the charthouse, and from this +commanding height the whole body of the ship lay below him. How alive +she seemed, how full of personality! The strong funnels, the tall masts +that moved so delicately against the pale open sky, the distant stern +that now dipped low in a comfortable hollow, and now soared and threshed +onward with a swimming thrust, the whole vital organism spoke to the eye +and the imagination. In the centre of this vast circle she moved, royal +and serene. She was more beautiful than the element she rode on, for +perhaps there was something meaningless in that pure vacant round of +sea and sky. Once its immense azure was grasped and noted, it brought +nothing to the mind. Reason was indignant to conceive it, sloping +endlessly away. + +The placid, beautifully planned routine of shipboard passed on its +accustomed course, and he began to suspect that his staff-captaincy was +a sinecure. Down below he could see the passengers briskly promenading, +or drowsing under their rugs. On the hurricane deck, aft, a sailor was +chalking a shuffleboard court. It occurred to him that all this might +become monotonous unless he found some actual part in it. Just then +Captain Scottie appeared on the bridge, took a quick look round, and +joined him on top of the charthouse. + +“Good morning!” he said. “You won't think me rude if you don't see much +of me? Thinking about those ideas of yours, I have come upon some rather +puzzling stuff. I must work the whole thing out more clearly. Your +suggestion that Conscience points the way to an integration of +personality into a higher type of divinity, seems to me off the track; +but I haven't quite downed it yet. I'm going to shut myself up to-day +and consider the matter. I leave you in charge.” + +“I shall be perfectly happy,” said Gissing. “Please don't worry about +me.” + +“You suggest that all the conditions of life at sea, our mastery of the +forces of Nature, and so on, seem to show that we have perfect freedom +of will, and adapt everything to our desires. I believe just the +contrary. The forces of Nature compel us to approach them in their own +way, otherwise we are shipwrecked. It is in the conditions of Nature +that this ship should reach port in eight days, otherwise we should get +nowhere. We do it because it is our destiny.” + +“I am not so sure of that,” said Gissing. But the Captain had already +departed with a clouded brow. + +On the chart-room roof Gissing had discovered an alluring instrument, +the exact use of which he did not know. It seemed to be some kind of +steering control. The dial was lettered, from left to right, as follows +HARD A PORT, PORT, STEADY, COURSE, STEADY, STARBD, HARD A STARBD. At +present the handle stood upon the section marked COURSE. After a careful +study of the whole seascape, it seemed to Gissing that off to the south +the ocean looked more blue and more interesting. After some hesitation +he moved the handle to the PORT mark, and waited to see what would +happen. To his delight he saw the bow swing slowly round, and the +Pomerania's gleaming wake spread behind her in a whitened curve. He +descended to the bridge, a little nervous as to what Mr. Pointer might +say, but he found the Mate gazing across the water with the same fierce +and unwearying attention. + +“I have changed the course,” he said. + +Mr. Pointer saluted, but said nothing. + +Having succeeded so far, Gissing ventured upon another innovation. +He had been greatly tempted by the wheel, and envied the stolid +quartermaster who was steering. So, assuming an air of calm certainty, +he entered the wheelhouse. + +“I'll take her for a while,” he said. + +“Aye, aye, sir,” said the quartermaster, and surrendered the wheel to +him. + +“You might string out a few flags,” Gissing said. He had been noticing +the bright signal buntings in the rack, and thought it a pity not to use +them. + +“I like to see a ship well dressed,” he added. + +“Aye, aye, sir,” said Dane. “Any choice, sir?” + +Gissing picked out a string of flags which were particularly lively in +colour-scheme, and had them hoisted. Then he gave his attention to the +wheel. He found it quite an art, and was surprised to learn that a big +ship requires so much helm. But it was very pleasant. He took care to +steer toward patches of sea that looked interesting, and to cut into any +particular waves that took his fancy. After an hour or so, he sighted a +fishing schooner, and gave chase. He found it so much fun to run close +beside her (taking care to pass to leeward, so as not to cut off her +wind) that a mile farther on he turned and steered a neat circle +about the bewildered craft. The Pomerania's passengers were greatly +interested, and lined the rails trying to make out what the fishermen +were shouting. The captain of the schooner seemed particularly agitated, +kept waving at the signal flags and barking through a megaphone. During +these manoeuvres Mr. Pointer gazed so hard at the horizon that Gissing +felt a bit embarrassed. + +“I thought it wise to find out exactly what our turning-circle is,” he +said. + +Mr. Pointer saluted. He was a well-trained officer. + +Late in the afternoon the Captain reappeared, looking more cheerful. +Gissing was still at the helm, which he found so fascinating he would +not relinquish it. He had ordered his tea served on a little stand +beside the wheel so that he could drink it while he steered. “Hullo!” + said the Captain. “I see you've changed the course.” + +“It seemed best to do so,” said Gissing firmly. He felt that to show any +weakness at this point would be fatal. + +“Oh, well, probably it doesn't matter. I'm coming round to some of your +ideas.” + +Gissing saw that this would never do. Unless he could keep the master +disturbed by philosophic doubts, Scottie would expect to resume command +of the ship. + +“Well,” he said, “I've been thinking about it, too. I believe I went +a bit too far. But what do you think about this? Do you believe that +Conscience is inherited or acquired? You sea how important that is. If +Conscience is a kind of automatic oracle, infallible and perfect, what +becomes of free will? And if, on the other hand, Conscience is only a +laboriously trained perception of moral and social utilities, where does +your deity come in?” + +Gissing was aware that this dilemma would not hold water very long, and +was painfully impromptu; but it hit the Captain amidships. + +“By Jove,” he said, “that's terrible, isn't it? It's no use trying to +carry on until I've got that under the hatch. Look here, would you +mind, just as a favour, keep things going while I wrestle with that +question?--I know it's asking a lot, but perhaps--” + +“It's quite all right,” Gissing replied. “Naturally you want to work +these things out.” + +The Captain started to leave the bridge, but by old seafaring habit he +cast a keen glance at the sky. He saw the bright string of code flags +fluttering. He seemed startled. + +“Are you signalling any one?” he asked. + +“No one in particular. I thought it looked better to have a few flags +about.” + +“I daresay you're right. But better take them down if you speak a ship. +They're rather confusing.” + +“Confusing? I thought they were just to brighten things up.” + +“You have two different signals up. They read, Bubonic plague, give me a +wide berth. Am coming to your assistance.” + +Toward dinner time, when Gissing had left the wheel and was humming a +tune as he walked the bridge, the steward came to him. + +“The Captain's compliments, sir, and would you take his place in the +saloon to-night? He says he's very busy writing, sir, and would take it +as a favour.” + +Gissing was always obliging. There was just a hint of conscious +sternness in his manner as he entered the Pomerania's beautiful dining +saloon, for he wished the passengers to realize that their lives +depended upon his prudence and sea-lore. Twice during the meal he +instructed the steward to bring him the latest barometer reading; and +after the dessert he scribbled a note on the back of a menu-card and had +it sent to the Chief Engineer. It said:-- + +Dear Chief: Please keep up a good head of steam to-night. I am expecting +dirty weather. + +MR. GISSING, + +(Staff-Captain) + +What the Chief said when he received the message is not included in the +story. + +But the same social aplomb that had made Gissing successful as a +floorwalker now came to his rescue as mariner. The passengers at the +Captain's table were amazed at his genial charm. His anecdotes of sea +life were heartily applauded. After dinner he circulated gracefully in +the ladies' lounge, and took coffee there surrounded by a chattering +bevy. He organized a little impromptu concert in the music room, and +when that was well started, slipped away to the smoke-room. Here he +found a pool being organized as to the exact day and hour when the +Pomerania would reach port. Appealed to for his opinion, he advised +caution. On all sides he was in demand, for dancing, for bridge, for +a recitation. At length he slipped away, pleading that he must keep +himself fit in case of fog. The passengers were loud in his praise, +asserting that they had never met so agreeable a sea-captain. One +elderly lady said she remembered crossing with him in the old Caninia, +years ago, and that he was just the same then. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN + +And so the voyage went on. Gissing was quite content to do a two-hour +trick at the wheel both morning and afternoon, and worked out some new +principles of steering which gave him pleasure. In the first place, he +noticed that the shuffle-board and quoit players, on the boat deck aft, +were occasionally annoyed by cinders from the stacks, so he made it +a general plan to steer so that the smoke blew at right angles to the +ship's course. As the wind was prevailingly west, this meant that his +general trend was southerly. Whenever he saw another vessel, a mass of +floating sea-weed, a porpoise, or even a sea-gull, he steered directly +for it, and passed as close as possible, to have a good look at it. Even +Mr. Pointer admitted (in the mates' mess) that he had never experienced +so eventful a voyage. To keep the quartermasters from being idle, +Gissing had them knit him a rope hammock to be slung in the chart-room. +He felt that this would be more nautical than a plush settee. + +There was a marvellous sense of power in standing at the wheel and +feeling the great hull reply to his touch. Occasionally Captain Scottie +would emerge from his cabin, look round with a faint surprise, and +come to the bridge to see what was happening. Mr. Pointer would salute +mutely, and continue to study the skyline with indignant absorption. +The Captain would approach the wheel, where Gissing was deep in thought. +Rubbing his hands, the Captain would say heartily, “Well, I think I've +got it all clear now.” + +Gissing sighed. + +“What is it?” the Captain inquired anxiously. + +“I'm bothered about the subconscious. They tell us nowadays that +it's the subconscious mind that is really important. The more mental +operations we can turn over to the subconscious realm, the happier we +will be, and the more efficient. Morality, theology, and everything +really worth while, as I understand it, spring from the subconscious.” + +The Captain's look of cheer would vanish. + +“Maybe there's something in that.” + +“If so,” Gissing continued, “then perhaps consciousness is entirely +spurious. It seems to me that before we can get anywhere at all, we've +got to draw the line between the conscious and the subconscious. +What bothers me is, am I conscious of having a subconscious, or not? +Sometimes I think I am, and then again I'm doubtful. But if I'm aware +of my subconscious, then it isn't a genuine subconscious, and the whole +thing's just another delusion--” + +The Captain would knit his weather-beaten brow and again retire +anxiously to his quarters, after begging Gissing to be generous and +carry on a while longer. Occasionally, pacing the starboard bridge-deck, +sacred to captains, Gissing would glance through the port and see the +metaphysical commander bent over sheets of foolscap and thickly wreathed +in pipe-smoke. + +He himself had fallen into a kind of tranced felicity, in which these +questions no longer had other than an ingenious interest. His heart was +drowned in the engulfing blue. As they made their southing, wind +and weather seemed to fall astern, the sun poured with a more golden +candour. He stood at the wheel in a tranquil reverie, blithely steering +toward some bright belly of cloud that had caught his fancy. Mr. Pointer +shook his head when he glanced surreptitiously at the steering recorder, +a device that noted graphically every movement of the rudder with a view +to promoting economical helmsmanship. Indeed Gissing's course, as logged +on the chart, surprised even himself, so that he forbade the officers +taking their noon observations. When Mr. Pointer said something about +isobars, the staff-captain replied serenely that he did not expect to +find any polar bears in these latitudes. + +He had hoped privately for an occasional pirate, and scanned the sea-rim +sharply for suspicious topsails. But the ocean, as he remarked, is +not crowded. They proceeded, day after day, in a solitary wideness of +unblemished colour. The ship, travelling always in the centre of this +infinite disk, seemed strangely identified with his own itinerant +spirit, watchful at the gist of things, alert at the point which was +necessarily, for him, the nub of all existence. He wandered about the +Pomerania's sagely ordered passages and found her more and more magical. +She went on and on, with some strange urgent vitality of her own. +Through the fiddleys on the boat deck came a hot oily breath and the +steady drumming of her burning heart. From outer to hawse-hole, from +shaft-tunnel to crow's-nest, he explored and loved her. In the whole of +her proud, faithful, obedient fabric he divined honour and exultation. +Poised upon uncertainty, she was sure. The camber of her white-scrubbed +decks, the long, clean sheer of her hull, the concave flare of her +bows--what was the amazing joy and rightness of these things? And yet +the grotesque passengers regarded her only as a vehicle, to carry them +sedatively to some clamouring dock. Fools! She was more lovely than +anything they would ever see again! He yearned to drive her endlessly +toward that unreachable perimeter of sky. + +On land there had been definite horizons, even if disappointing when +reached and examined; but here there was no horizon at all. Every hour +it slid and slid over the dark orb of sea. He lost count of time. The +tremulous cradling of the Pomerania, steadily climbing the long leagues; +her noble forecastle solemnly lifting against heaven, then descending +with grave beauty into a spread of foaming beryl and snowdrift, seemed +one with the rhythm of his pulse and heart. Perhaps there had been more +than mere ingenuity in his last riddle for the theological skipper. +Truly the subconscious had usurped him. Here he was almost happy, for he +was almost unaware of life. It was all blue vacancy and suspension. The +sea is the great answer and consoler, for it means either nothing or +everything, and so need not tease the brain. + +But the passengers, though unobservant, began to murmur; especially +those who had wagered that the Pomerania would dock on the eighth day. +The world itself, they complained, was created in seven days, and why +should so fine a ship take longer to cross a comparatively small ocean? +Urbanely, over coffee and petite fours, Gissing argued with them. They +were well on their way, he protested; and then, as a hypothetical case, +he asked why one destination was more worth visiting than another? He +even quoted Shakespeare on this point--something about “ports and happy +havens”--and succeeded in turning the tide of conversation for a while. +The mention of Shakespeare suggested to some of the ladies that it +would be pleasant, now they all knew each other so well, to put on some +amateur theatricals. They compromised by playing charades in the saloon. +Another evening Gissing kept them amused by fireworks, which were very +lovely against the dark sky. For this purpose he used the emergency +rockets, star-shells and coloured flares, much to the distress of Dane, +the quartermaster, who had charge of these supplies. + +Little by little, however, the querulous protests of the passengers +began to weary him. Also, he had been receiving terse memoranda from +the Chief Engineer that the coal was getting low in the bunkers and that +something must be queer in the navigating department. This seemed very +unreasonable. The fixed gaze of Mr. Pointer, perpetually examining the +horizon as though he wanted to make sure he would recognize it if they +met again, was trying. Even Captain Scottie complained one day that +the supply of fresh meat had given out and that the steward had been +bringing him tinned beef. Gissing determined upon resolute measures. + +He had notice served that on account of possible danger from pirates +there would be a general boat drill on the following day--not merely for +the crew, but for everyone. He gave a little talk about it in the saloon +after dinner, and worked his audience up to quite a pitch of enthusiasm. +This would be better than any amateur theatricals, he insisted. Everyone +was to act exactly as though in a sudden calamity. They might make +up the boat-parties on the basis of congeniality if they wished; five +minutes would be given for reaching the stations, without panic or +disorder. They should prepare themselves as though they were actually +going to leave a sinking ship. + +The passengers were delighted with the idea of this novel entertainment. +Every soul on board--with the exception of Captain Scottie, who had +locked himself in and refused to be disturbed--was properly advertised +of the event. + +The following day, fortunately, was clear and calm. At noon Gissing +blew the syren, fired a rocket from the bridge, and swung the engine +telegraph to STOP. The ship's orchestra, by his orders, struck up a +rollicking air. Quickly and without confusion, amid cries of Women and +children first! the passengers filed to their allotted places. The crew +and officers were all at their stations. + +Gissing knocked at Captain Scottie's cabin. + +“We are taking to the boats,” he said. + +“Goad!” cried the skipper. “Wull it be a colleesion?” + +“All's clear and the davits are outboard,” said Gissing. He had been +studying the manual of boat handling in one of the nautical volumes in +the chart-room. + +“Auld Hornie!” ejaculated the skipper. “We'll no can salve the specie! +Make note of her poseetion, Mr. Gissing!” He hastened to gather his +papers, the log, a chronometer, and a large canister of tobacco. + +“The Deil's intil't,” he said as he hastened to his boat. “I had yon +pragmateesm of yours on a lee shore. Two-three hours, I'd have careened +ye.” + +Gissing was ready with his megaphone. From the wing of the bridge he +gave the orders. + +“Lower away!” and the boats dropped to the passenger rail. + +“Avast lowering!” Each boat took in her roster of passengers, who were +in high spirits at this unusual excitement. + +“Mind your painters! Lower handsomely!” + +The boats took the water in orderly fashion, and were cast off. +Remaining members of the crew swarmed down the falls. The bandsmen had a +boat to themselves, and resumed their tune as soon as they were settled. + +Gissing, left alone on the ship, waved for silence. + +“Look sharp, man!” cried Captain Scottie. “Honour's satisfied! Take your +place in the boat!” + +The passengers applauded, and there was quite a clatter of camera +shutters as they snapped the Pomerania looming grandly above them. + +“Boats are all provisioned and equipped,” shouted Gissing. “I've +broadcasted your position by radio. The barometer's at Fixed Fair. Pull +off now, and 'ware the screw.” + +He moved the telegraph handle to DEAD SLOW, and the Pomerania began to +slip forward gently. The boats dropped aft amid a loud miscellaneous +outcry. Mr. Pointer was already examining the horizon. Captain Scottie, +awakened to the situation, was uttering the language of theology but not +the purport. + +“Don't stand up in the boats,” megaphoned Gissing. “You're quite all +right, there's a ship on the way already. I wirelessed last night.” + +He slid the telegraph to slow, half, and then full. Once more the ship +creamed through the lifting purple swells. The little flock of boats was +soon out of sight. + +Alone at the wheel, he realized that a great weight was off his mind. +The responsibility of his position had burdened him more than he knew. +Now a strange eagerness and joy possessed him. His bubbling wake cut +straight and milky across the glittering afternoon. In a ruddy sunset +glow, the sea darkened through all tints of violet, amethyst, indigo. +The horizon line sharpened so clearly that he could distinguish the +tossing profile of waves wetting the sky. “A red sky at night is the +sailor's delight,” he said to himself. He switched on the port and +starboard lights and the masthead lanterns, then lashed the wheel while +he went below for supper. He did not know exactly where he was, for he +seemed to have steamed clean off the chart; but as he conned the helm +that evening, and leaned over the lighted binnacle, he had a feeling +that he was not far from some destiny. With cheerful assurance he lashed +the wheel again, and turned in. He woke once in the night, and leaped +from the hammock with a start. He thought he had heard a sound of +barking. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN + +The next morning he sighted land. Coming out on the bridge, the whole +face of things was changed. The sea-colour had lightened to a tawny +green; gulls dipped and hovered; away on the horizon lay a soft blue +contour. “Land Ho!” he shouted superbly, and wondered what new country +he had discovered. He ran up a hoist of red and yellow signal flags, and +steered gaily toward the shore. + +It had grown suddenly cold: he had to fetch Captain Scottie's pea-jacket +to wear at the wheel. On the long spilling crests, that crumbled and +spread running layers of froth in their hurry shoreward, the Pomerania +rode home. She knew her landfall and seemed to quicken. Steadily +swinging on the jade-green surges, she buried her nose almost to the +hawse-pipes, then lifted until her streaming forefoot gleamed out of a +frilled ruffle of foam. + +Gissing, too, was eager. A tingling buoyancy and impatience took hold +of him: he fidgeted with sheer eagerness for life. Land, the beloved +stability of our dear and only earth, drew and charmed him. Behind was +the senseless, heartbreaking sea. Now he could discern hills rising in +a gilded opaline light. In the volatile thin air was a quick sense of +strangeness. A new world was close about him: a world that he could see, +and feel, and inhale, and yet knew nothing of. + +Suddenly a great humility possessed him. He had been froward and silly +and vain. He had shouted arrogantly at Beauty, like a noisy tourist in +a canyon; and the only answer, after long waiting, had been the paltry +diminished echo of his own voice. He thought shamefully of his follies. +What matter how you name God or in what words you praise Him? In this +new foreign land he would quietly accept things as he found them. The +laughter of God was too strange to understand. + +No, there was no answer. He was doubly damned, for he had made truth a +mere sport of intellectual riddling. The mind, like a spinning flywheel +of fatigued steel, was gradually racked to bursting by the conflict +of stresses. And yet: every equilibrium was an opposure of forces. +Rotation, if swift enough, creates amazing stability: he had seen how +the gyroscope can balance at apparently impossible angles. Perhaps it +was so of the mind. If it twirls at high speed it can lean right out +over the abyss without collapse. But the stationary mind--he thought +of Bishop Borzoi--must keep away from the edge. Try to force it to +the edge, it raves in panic. Every mind, very likely, knows its own +frailties, and does well to safeguard them. At any rate, that was the +most generous interpretation. Most minds, undoubtedly, were uneasy in +high places. They doubted their ability to refrain from jumping off. +How many bones of fine intellects lay whitening at the foot of the +theological cliff--It seemed to be a lonely coast, and wintry. +Patches of snow lay upon the hills, the woods were bare and brown. A +bottle-necked harbour opened out before him. He reduced the engines to +Dead Slow and glided gaily through the strait. He had been anxious lest +his navigation might not be equal to the occasion: he did not want to +disgrace himself at this final test. But all seemed to arrange itself +with enchanted ease. A steep ledge of ground offered a natural pier, +with tree-stumps for bollards. He let her come gently beyond the spot; +reversed the propellers just at the right time, and backed neatly +alongside. He moved the telegraph handle to FINISHED WITH ENGINES; ran +out the gangplank smartly, and stepped ashore. He moored the vessel fore +and aft, and hung out fenders to prevent chafing. + +The first thing to do, he said to himself, is to get the lie of the +land, and find out whether it is inhabited. + +A hillside rising above the water promised a clear view. The stubble +grass was dry and frosty, after the warm days at sea the chill was +nipping; but what an elixir of air! If this is a desert island, he +thought, it will be a glorious discovery. His heart was jocund with +anticipation. A curious foreign look in the landscape, he thought; quite +unlike anything--Suddenly, where the hill arched against pearly sky, he +saw narrow thread of smoke rising. He halted in alarm. Who might this +be, friend or foe? But eager agitation pushed him on. Burning to know, +he hurried up to the brow of the hill. + +The smoke mounted from a small bonfire of sticks in a sheltered thicket, +where a miraculous being--who was, as a matter of fact, a rather ragged +and dingy vagabond--was cooking a tin of stew over the blaze. + +Gissing stood, quivering with emotion. Joy such as he had never known +darted through all the cords of his body. He ran, shouting, in mirth and +terror. In fear, in a passion of love and knowledge and understanding, +he abased himself and yearned before this marvel. Impossible to have +conceived, yet, once seen, utterly satisfying and the fulfilment of all +needs. He laughed and leaped and worshipped. When the first transport +was over, he laid his head against this being's knee, he nestled there +and was content. This was the inscrutable perfect answer. + +“Cripes!” said the puzzled tramp, as he caressed the nuzzling head. “The +purp's loco. Maybe he's been lost. You might think he'd never seen a man +before.” + +He was right. + +And Gissing sat quietly, his throat resting upon the soiled knee of a +very old and spicy trouser. + +“I have found God,” he said. + +Presently he thought of the ship. It would not do to leave her so +insecurely moored. Reluctantly, with many a backward glance and a heart +full of glory, he left the Presence. He ran to the edge of the hill to +look down upon the harbour. + +The outlook was puzzlingly altered. He gazed in astonishment. What were +those poplars, rising naked into the bright air?--there was something +familiar about them. And that little house beyond... he stared +bewildered. + +The great shining breadth of the ocean had shrunk to the roundness of +a tiny pond. And the Pomerania? He leaned over, shaken with questions. +There, beside the bank, was a little plank of wood, a child's plaything, +roughly fashioned shipshape: two chips for funnels; red and yellow +frosted leaves for flags; a withered dogwood blossom for propeller. He +leaned closer, with whirling mind. In the clear cool surface of the +pond he could see the sky mirrored, deeper than any ocean, pellucid, +infinite, blue. + +He ran up the path to the house. The scuffled ragged garden lay naked +and hard. At the windows, he saw with surprise, were holly wreaths tied +with broad red ribbon. On the porch, some battered toys. He opened the +door. + +A fluttering rosy light filled the room. By the fireplace the +puppies--how big they were!--were sitting with Mrs. Spaniel. Joyous +uproar greeted him: they flung themselves upon him. Shouts of “Daddy! +Daddy!” filled the house, while the young Spaniels stood by more +bashfully. + +Good Mrs. Spaniel was gratefully moved. Her moist eyes shone brightly in +the firelight. + +“I knew you'd be home for Christmas, Mr. Gissing,” she said. “I've been +telling them so all afternoon. Now, children, be still a moment and let +me speak. I've been telling you your Daddy would be home in time for a +Christmas Eve story. I've got to go and fix that plum pudding.” + +In her excitement a clear bubble dripped from the tip of her tongue. She +caught it in her apron, and hurried to the kitchen. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN + +The children insisted on leading him all through the house to show how +nicely they had taken care of things. And in every room Gissing saw +the marks of riot and wreckage. There were tooth-scars on all +furniture-legs; the fringes of rugs were chewed off; there were prints +of mud, ink, paints, and whatnot, on curtains and wallpapers and +coverlets. Poor Mrs. Spaniel kept running anxiously from the kitchen to +renew apologies. + +“I DID try to keep 'em in order,” she said, “but they seem to bash +things when you're not looking.” + +But Gissing was too happy to stew about such trifles. When the +inspection was over, they all sat down by the chimney and he piled on +more logs. + +“Well, chilluns,” he said, “what do you want Santa Claus to bring you +for Christmas?” + +“An aunbile!” exclaimed Groups + +“An elphunt!” exclaimed Bunks + +“A little train with hammers!” exclaimed Yelpers + +“A little train with hammers?” asked Gissing. “What does he mean?” + +“Oh,” said Groups and Bunks, with condescending pity, “he means a +typewriter. He calls it a little train because it moves on a track when +you hit it.” + +A painful apprehension seized him, and he went hastily to his study. He +had not noticed the typewriter, which Mrs. Spaniel had--too late--put +out of reach. Half the keys were sticking upright, jammed together and +tangled in a whirl of ribbon; the carriage was strangely dislocated. And +yet even this mischance, which would once have horrified him, left him +unperturbed. It's my own fault, he thought: I shouldn't have left it +where they could play with it. Perhaps God thinks the same when His +creatures make a mess of the dangerous laws of life. + +“A Christmas story!” the children were clamouring. + +Can it really be Christmas Eve? Gissing thought. Christmas seems to have +come very suddenly this year, I haven't really adjusted my mind to it +yet. + +“All right,” he said. “Now sit still and keep quiet. Bunks, give Yelpers +a little more room. If there's any bickering Santa Claus might hear it.” + +He sat in the big chair by the fire, and the three looked upward +expectantly from the hearthrug. + +“Once upon a time there were three little puppies, who lived in a house +in the country in the Canine Estates. And their names were Groups, +Bunks, and Yelpers.” + +The three tails thumped in turn as the names were mentioned, but the +children were too excitedly absorbed to interrupt. + +“And one year, just before Christmas, they heard a dreadful rumour.” + +“What's a rumour?” cried Yelpers, alarmed. + +This was rather difficult to explain, so Gissing did not attempt it. He +began again. + +“They heard that Santa Claus might not be able to come because he was +so behind with his housework. You see, Santa Claus is a great big +Newfoundland dog with a white beard, and he lives in a frosty kennel at +the North Pole, all shining with icicles round the roof and windows. But +it's so far away from everywhere that poor Santa couldn't get a servant. +All the maids who went there refused to stay because it was so cold +and lonely, and so far from the movies. Santa Claus was busy in his +workshop, making toys; he was busy taking care of the reindeer in their +snow-stables; and he didn't have time to wash his dishes. So all summer +he just let them pile up and pile up in the kitchen. And when Christmas +came near, there was his lovely house in a dreadful state of untidiness. +He couldn't go away and leave it like that. And so, if he didn't get his +dishes washed and the house cleaned up for Christmas, all the puppies +all over the world would have to go without toys. When Groups and Bunks +and Yelpers heard this, they were very much worried.” + +“How did they hear it?” asked Bunks, who was the analytical member of +the trio. + +“A very sensible question,” said Gissing, approvingly. “They heard it +from the chipmunk who lives in the wood behind the house. The chipmunk +heard it underground.” + +“In his chipmonastery?” cried Groups. It was a family joke to call +the chipmunk's burrow by that name, and though the puppies did not +understand the pun they relished the long word. + +“Yes,” continued Gissing. “The reindeer in Santa Claus's stable were +so unhappy about the dishes not being washed, and the chance of missing +their Christmas frolic, that they broadcasted a radio message. Their +horns are very fine for sending radio, and the chipmunk, sitting at his +little wireless outfit, with the receivers over his ears, heard it. And +Chippy told Groups and Bunks and Yelpers. + +“So these puppies decided to help Santa Claus. They didn't know exactly +where to find him, but the chipmunk told them the direction, and off +they went. They travelled and travelled, and when they came to the ocean +they begged a ride from the seagulls, and each one sat on a seagull's +back just as though he was on a little airplane. They flew and flew, +and at last they came to Santa Claus's house. Through the stable-walls, +which were made of clear ice, they could see the reindeer stamping in +their stalls. In the big workshop, where Santa Claus was busy making +toys, they could hear a lively sound of hammering. The big red sleigh +was standing outside the stables, all ready to be hitched up to the +reindeer. + +“They slipped into Santa Claus's house quickly and quietly, so no one +would see or hear them. The house was in a terrible state, but they set +to work to clean up. Groups found the vacuum cleaner and sucked up all +the crumbs from the dining-room rug. Bunks ran upstairs and made Santa +Claus's bed for him and swept the floors and put clean towels in the +bathroom. And Yelpers hurried into the kitchen and washed the dishes, +and scrubbed the pots, and polished the egg-stains off the silver +spoons, and emptied the ice-box pan. All working hard, they got through +very soon, and made Santa Claus's house as clean as any house could be. +They fixed the window-shades so that they would all hang level, not +just anyhow, as poor Santa had them. Then, when everything was spick and +span, they ran outdoors again and beckoned the seagulls. They climbed on +the gulls' backs, and away they flew homeward.” + +“Was Santa Claus pleased?” asked Bunks. + +“Indeed he was, when he came back from his workshop, very tired after +making toys all day.” + +“What kind of toys did he make?” exclaimed Yelpers anxiously. “Did he +make a typewriter?” + +“He made every kind of toy. And when he saw how his house had been +cleaned up, he thought the fairies must have done it. He lit his pipe, +and filled a thermos bottle with hot cocoa to keep him warm on his long +journey. Then he put on his red coat, and his long boots, and his fur +cap, and went out to harness the reindeer. That very night he drove off +with his sleigh packed full of toys for all the puppies in the world. In +fact, he was so pleased that he loaded his big bag with more toys than +he had ever carried before. And that was how a queer thing happened.” + +They waited in eager suspense. + +“You know, Santa Claus always drives into the Canine Estates by the +little back road through the woods, where the chipmunk lives. You know +the gateway, at the bend in the lane: well, it's rather narrow, and +Santa Claus's sleigh is very wide. And this time, because his bag had +so many toys in it, the bag bulged over the edge of the sleigh, and one +corner of the bag caught on the gatepost as he drove by. Three toys fell +out, and what do you suppose they were?” + +“An aunbile!” + +“An elphunt!” + +“A typewriter!” + +“Yes, that's quite right. And it happened that the chipmunk was out +that night, digging up some nuts for his Christmas dinner, a little sad +because he had no presents to give his children; and he found the +three toys. He took them home to the little chipmunks, and they were +tremendously pleased. That was only fair, because if it hadn't been +for the chipmunk and his radio set, no one would have had any toys that +Christmas.” + +“Did Santa Claus have any more typewriters in his bag?” asked Yelpers +gravely. + +“Oh, yes, he had plenty more of everything. And when he got to the house +where Groups and Bunks and Yelpers lived, he slid down the chimney and +took a look round. He didn't see any crumbs on the floor, or any toys +lying about not put away, so he filled the stockings with all kinds of +lovely things, and an aunbile and an elphunt and a typewriter.” + +“What did the puppies say?” they inquired. + +“They were sound asleep upstairs, and didn't know anything about it +until Christmas morning. Come on now, it's time for bed.” + +“We can undress ourselves now,” said Groups. + +“Will you tuck me in?” said Bunks. + +“You're sure he had another typewriter in his bag?” said Yelpers. + +They scrambled upstairs. + +Later, when the house was quiet, Gissing went out to the kitchen to see +Mrs. Spaniel. She was diligently rolling pastry, and her nose was white +with flour. + +“Oh, sir, I'm glad you got home in time for Christmas,” she said. “The +children were counting on it. Did you have a successful trip, sir?” + +“Every trip is successful when you get home again,” said Gissing. “I +suppose the shops will be open late to-night, won't they? I'm going to +run down to the village to get some toys.” + +Before leaving the house, he went down to the cellar to see if the +furnace was all right. He was amazed to see how naturally and cheerfully +he had slipped back into the old sense of responsibility. Where was the +illusory freedom he had dreamed of? Even the epiphany on the hilltop now +seemed a distant miracle. That fearful happiness might never come again. +And yet here, among the familiar difficult minutiae of home, what a +lightness he felt. A great phrase from the prayer-book came to his +mind--“Whose service is perfect freedom.” + +Ah, he said to himself, it is all very well to wear a crown of thorns, +and indeed every sensitive creature carries one in secret. But there are +times when it ought to be worn cocked over one ear. + +He opened the furnace door. A bright glow filled the fire-box: he could +hear a stir and singing in the boiler, and the rustle of warm pipes that +chuckled quietly through winter nights of storm. Over the coals hovered +a magic evasive flicker, the very soul of fire. It was a Pentecostal +flame, perfect and heavenly in tint, the essence of pure colour, a clear +immortal blue. + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Where the Blue Begins, by Christopher Morley + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1402 *** diff --git a/1402-h/1402-h.htm b/1402-h/1402-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..71aac45 --- /dev/null +++ b/1402-h/1402-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4964 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Where the Blue Begins, by Christopher Morley + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1402 ***</div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Christopher Morley + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <b>TO FELIX and TOTO</b> + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I am not free— + And it may be + Life is too tight around my shins; + For, unlike you, + I can't break through + A truant where the blue begins. + + “Out of the very element + Of bondage, that here holds me pent, + I'll make my furious sonnet: + I'll turn my noose + To tightrope use + And madly dance upon it. + + “So I will take + My leash, and make + A wilder and more subtle fleeing + And I shall be + More escapading and more free + Than you have ever dreamed of being!” + </pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER ONE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER TWO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER THREE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER FOUR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER FIVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER SIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER SEVEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER EIGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER NINE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER TEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER ELEVEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER TWELVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER THIRTEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER FOURTEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER FIFTEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER SIXTEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER SEVENTEEN </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER ONE + </h2> + <p> + Gissing lived alone (except for his Japanese butler) in a little house in + the country, in that woodland suburb region called the Canine Estates. He + lived comfortably and thoughtfully, as bachelors often do. He came of a + respectable family, who had always conducted themselves calmly and without + too much argument. They had bequeathed him just enough income to live on + cheerfully, without display but without having to do addition and + subtraction at the end of the month and then tear up the paper lest Fuji + (the butler) should see it. + </p> + <p> + It was strange, since Gissing was so pleasantly situated in life, that he + got into these curious adventures that I have to relate. I do not attempt + to explain it. + </p> + <p> + He had no responsibilities, not even a motor car, for his tastes were + surprisingly simple. If he happened to be spending an evening at the + country club, and a rainstorm came down, he did not worry about getting + home. He would sit by the fire and chuckle to see the married members + creep away one by one. He would get out his pipe and sleep that night at + the club, after telephoning Fuji not to sit up for him. When he felt like + it he used to read in bed, and even smoke in bed. When he went to town to + the theatre, he would spend the night at a hotel to avoid the fatigue of + the long ride on the 11:44 train. He chose a different hotel each time, so + that it was always an Adventure. He had a great deal of fun. + </p> + <p> + But having fun is not quite the same as being happy. Even an income of + 1000 bones a year does not answer all questions. That charming little + house among the groves and thickets seemed to him surrounded by strange + whispers and quiet voices. He was uneasy. He was restless, and did not + know why. It was his theory that discipline must be maintained in the + household, so he did not tell Fuji his feelings. Even when he was alone, + he always kept up a certain formality in the domestic routine. Fuji would + lay out his dinner jacket on the bed: he dressed, came down to the dining + room with quiet dignity, and the evening meal was served by candle-light. + As long as Fuji was at work, Gissing sat carefully in the armchair by the + hearth, smoking a cigar and pretending to read the paper. But as soon as + the butler had gone upstairs, Gissing always kicked off his dinner suit + and stiff shirt, and lay down on the hearth-rug. But he did not sleep. He + would watch the wings of flame gilding the dark throat of the chimney, and + his mind seemed drawn upward on that rush of light, up into the pure chill + air where the moon was riding among sluggish thick floes of cloud. In the + darkness he heard chiming voices, wheedling and tantalizing. One night he + was walking on his little verandah. Between rafts of silver-edged clouds + were channels of ocean-blue sky, inconceivably deep and transparent. The + air was serene, with a faint acid taste. Suddenly there shrilled a soft, + sweet, melancholy whistle, earnestly repeated. It seemed to come from the + little pond in the near-by copses. It struck him strangely. It might be + anything, he thought. He ran furiously through the field, and to the brim + of the pond. He could find nothing, all was silent. Then the whistlings + broke out again, all round him, maddeningly. This kept on, night after + night. The parson, whom he consulted, said it was only frogs; but Gissing + told the constable he thought God had something to do with it. + </p> + <p> + Then willow trees and poplars showed a pallid bronze sheen, forsythias + were as yellow as scrambled eggs, maples grew knobby with red buds. Among + the fresh bright grass came, here and there, exhilarating smells of last + year's buried bones. The little upward slit at the back of Gissing's + nostrils felt prickly. He thought that if he could bury it deep enough in + cold beef broth it would be comforting. Several times he went out to the + pantry intending to try the experiment, but every time Fuji happened to be + around. Fuji was a Japanese pug, and rather correct, so Gissing was + ashamed to do what he wanted to. He pretended he had come out to see that + the icebox pan had been emptied properly. + </p> + <p> + “I must get the plumber to put in a pukka drain-pipe to take the place of + the pan,” Gissing said to Fuji; but he knew that he had no intention of + doing so. The ice-box pan was his private test of a good servant. A cook + who forgot to empty it was too careless, he thought, to be a real success. + </p> + <p> + But certainly there was some curious elixir in the air. He went for walks, + and as soon as he was out of sight of the houses he threw down his hat and + stick and ran wildly, with great exultation, over the hills and fields. “I + really ought to turn all this energy into some sort of constructive work,” + he said to himself. No one else, he mused, seemed to enjoy life as keenly + and eagerly as he did. He wondered, too, about the other sex. Did they + feel these violent impulses to run, to shout, to leap and caper in the + sunlight? But he was a little startled, on one of his expeditions, to see + in the distance the curate rushing hotly through the underbrush, his + clerical vestments dishevelled, his tongue hanging out with excitement. + </p> + <p> + “I must go to church more often,” said Gissing. + </p> + <p> + In the golden light and pringling air he felt excitable and high-strung. + His tail curled upward until it ached. Finally he asked Mike Terrier, who + lived next door, what was wrong. + </p> + <p> + “It's spring,” Mike said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, of course, jolly old spring!” said Gissing, as though this was + something he had known all along, and had just forgotten for the moment. + But he didn't know. This was his first spring, for he was only ten months + old. + </p> + <p> + Outwardly he was the brisk, genial figure that the suburb knew and + esteemed. He was something of a mystery among his neighbours of the Canine + Estates, because he did not go daily to business in the city, as most of + them did; nor did he lead a life of brilliant amusement like the + Airedales, the wealthy people whose great house was near by. Mr. Poodle, + the conscientious curate, had called several times but was not able to + learn anything definite. There was a little card-index of parishioners, + which it was Mr. Poodle's duty to fill in with details of each person's + business, charitable inclinations, and what he could do to amuse a Church + Sociable. The card allotted to Gissing was marked, in Mr. Poodle's neat + script, Friendly, but vague as to definite participation in Xian + activities. Has not communicated. + </p> + <p> + But in himself, Gissing was increasingly disturbed. Even his seizures of + joy, which came as he strolled in the smooth spring air and sniffed the + wild, vigorous aroma of the woodland earth, were troublesome because he + did not know why he was so glad. Every morning it seemed to him that life + was about to exhibit some delicious crisis in which the meaning and + excellence of all things would plainly appear. He sang in the bathtub. + Daily it became more difficult to maintain that decorum which Fuji + expected. He felt that his life was being wasted. He wondered what ought + to be done about it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWO + </h2> + <p> + It was after dinner, an April evening, and Gissing slipped away from the + house for a stroll. He was afraid to stay in, because he knew that if he + did, Fuji would ask him again to fix the dishcloth rack in the kitchen. + Fuji was very short in stature, and could not reach up to the place where + the rack was screwed over the sink. Like all people whose minds are very + active, Gissing hated to attend to little details like this. It was a + weakness in his character. Fuji had asked him six times to fix the rack, + but Gissing always pretended to forget about it. To appease his methodical + butler he had written on a piece of paper FIX DISHCLOTH RACK and pinned it + on his dressing-table pincushion; but he paid no attention to the + memorandum. + </p> + <p> + He went out into a green April dusk. Down by the pond piped those repeated + treble whistlings: they still distressed him with a mysterious unriddled + summons, but Mike Terrier had told him that the secret of respectability + is to ignore whatever you don't understand. Careful observation of this + maxim had somewhat dulled the cry of that shrill queer music. It now + caused only a faint pain in his mind. Still, he walked that way because + the little meadow by the pond was agreeably soft underfoot. Also, when he + walked close beside the water the voices were silent. That is worth + noting, he said to himself. If you go directly at the heart of a mystery, + it ceases to be a mystery, and becomes only a question of drainage. (Mr. + Poodle had told him that if he had the pond and swamp drained, the + frog-song would not annoy him.) But to-night, when the keen chirruping + ceased, there was still another sound that did not cease—a faint, + appealing cry. It caused a prickling on his shoulder blades, it made him + both angry and tender. He pushed through the bushes. In a little hollow + were three small puppies, whining faintly. They were cold and draggled + with mud. Someone had left them there, evidently, to perish. They were + huddled close together; their eyes, a cloudy unspeculative blue, were only + just opened. “This is gruesome,” said Gissing, pretending to be shocked. + “Dear me, innocent pledges of sin, I dare say. Well, there is only one + thing to do.” + </p> + <p> + He picked them up carefully and carried them home. + </p> + <p> + “Quick, Fuji!” he said. “Warm some milk, some of the Grade A, and put a + little brandy in it. I'll get the spare-room bed ready.” + </p> + <p> + He rushed upstairs, wrapped the puppies in a blanket, and turned on the + electric heater to take the chill from the spare-room. The little pads of + their paws were ice-cold, and he filled the hot water bottle and held it + carefully to their twelve feet. Their pink stomachs throbbed, and at first + he feared they were dying. “They must not die!” he said fiercely. “If they + did, it would be a matter for the police, and no end of trouble.” + </p> + <p> + Fuji came up with the milk, and looked very grave when he saw the muddy + footprints on the clean sheet. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Fuji,” said Gissing, “do you suppose they can lap, or will we have + to pour it down?” + </p> + <p> + In spite of his superior manner, Fuji was a good fellow in an emergency. + It was he who suggested the fountain-pen filler. They washed the ink out + of it, and used it to drip the hot brandy-and-milk down the puppies' + throats. Their noses, which had been icy, suddenly became very hot and + dry. Gissing feared a fever and thought their temperatures should be + taken. + </p> + <p> + “The only thermometer we have,” he said, “is the one on the porch, with + the mercury split in two. I don't suppose that would do. Have you a + clinical thermometer, Fuji?” + </p> + <p> + Fuji felt that his employer was making too much fuss over the matter. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” he said firmly. “They are quite all right. A good sleep will + revive them. They will be as fit as possible in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + Fuji went out into the garden to brush the mud from his neat white jacket. + His face was inscrutable. Gissing sat by the spare-room bed until he was + sure the puppies were sleeping correctly. He closed the door so that Fuji + would not hear him humming a lullaby. Three Blind Mice was the only + nursery song he could remember, and he sang it over and over again. + </p> + <p> + When he tiptoed downstairs, Fuji had gone to bed. Gissing went into his + study, lit a pipe, and walked up and down, thinking. By and bye he wrote + two letters. One was to a bookseller in the city, asking him to send (at + once) one copy of Dr. Holt's book on the Care and Feeding of Children, and + a well-illustrated edition of Mother Goose. The other was to Mr. Poodle, + asking him to fix a date for the christening of Mr. Gissing's three small + nephews, who had come to live with him. + </p> + <p> + “It is lucky they are all boys,” said Gissing. “I would know nothing about + bringing up girls.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” he added after a while, “that I shall have to raise Fuji's + wages.” + </p> + <p> + Then he went into the kitchen and fixed the dishcloth rack. + </p> + <p> + Before going to bed that night he took his usual walk around the house. + The sky was freckled with stars. It was generally his habit to make a tour + of his property toward midnight, to be sure everything was in good order. + He always looked into the ice-box, and admired the cleanliness of Fuji's + arrangements. The milk bottles were properly capped with their round + cardboard tops; the cheese was never put on the same rack with the butter; + the doors of the ice-box were carefully latched. Such observations, and + the slow twinkle of the fire in the range, deep down under the curfew + layer of coals, pleased him. In the cellar he peeped into the garbage can, + for it was always a satisfaction to assure himself that Fuji did not waste + anything that could be used. One of the laundry tub taps was dripping, + with a soft measured tinkle: he said to himself that he really must have + it attended to. All these domestic matters seemed more significant than + ever when he thought of youthful innocence sleeping upstairs in the + spare-room bed. His had been a selfish life hitherto, he feared. These + puppies were just what he needed to take him out of himself. + </p> + <p> + Busy with these thoughts, he did not notice the ironical whistling coming + from the pond. He tasted the night air with cheerful satisfaction. “At any + rate, to-morrow will be a fine day,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The next day it rained. But Gissing was too busy to think about the + weather. Every hour or so during the night he had gone into the spare room + to listen attentively to the breathing of the puppies, to pull the blanket + over them, and feel their noses. It seemed to him that they were + perspiring a little, and he was worried lest they catch cold. His morning + sleep (it had always been his comfortable habit to lie abed a trifle late) + was interrupted about seven o'clock by a lively clamour across the hall. + The puppies were awake, perfectly restored, and while they were too young + to make their wants intelligible, they plainly expected some attention. He + gave them a pair of old slippers to play with, and proceeded to his own + toilet. + </p> + <p> + As he was bathing them, after breakfast, he tried to enlist Fuji's + enthusiasm. “Did you ever see such fat rascals?” he said. “I wonder if we + ought to trim their tails? How pink their stomachs are, and how pink and + delightful between their toes! You hold these two while I dry the other. + No, not that way! Hold them so you support their spines. A puppy's back is + very delicate: you can't be too careful. We'll have to do things in a + rough-and-ready way until Dr. Holt's book comes. After that we can be + scientific.” + </p> + <p> + Fuji did not seem very keen. Presently, in spite of the rain, he was + dispatched to the village department store to choose three small cribs and + a multitude of safety pins. “Plenty of safety pins is the idea,” said + Gissing. “With enough safety pins handy, children are easy to manage.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as the puppies were bestowed on the porch, in the sunshine, for + their morning nap, he telephoned to the local paperhanger. + </p> + <p> + “I want you” (he said) “to come up as soon as you can with some nice + samples of nursery wallpaper. A lively Mother Goose pattern would do very + well.” He had already decided to change the spare room into a nursery. He + telephoned the carpenter to make a gate for the top of the stairs. He was + so busy that he did not even have time to think of his pipe, or the + morning paper. At last, just before lunch, he found a breathing space. He + sat down in the study to rest his legs, and looked for the Times. It was + not in its usual place on his reading table. At that moment the puppies + woke up, and he ran out to attend them. He would have been distressed if + he had known that Fuji had the paper in the kitchen, and was studying the + HELP WANTED columns. + </p> + <p> + A great deal of interest was aroused in the neighbourhood by the arrival + of Gissing's nephews, as he called them. Several of the ladies, who had + ignored him hitherto, called, in his absence, and left extra cards. This + implied (he supposed, though he was not closely versed in such niceties of + society) that there was a Mrs. Gissing, and he was annoyed, for he felt + certain they knew he was a bachelor. But the children were a source of + nothing but pride to him. They grew with astounding rapidity, ate their + food without coaxing, rarely cried at night, and gave him much amusement + by their naive ways. He was too occupied to be troubled with + introspection. Indeed, his well-ordered home was very different from + before. The trim lawn, in spite of his zealous efforts, was constantly + littered with toys. In sheer mischief the youngsters got into his wardrobe + and chewed off the tails of his evening dress coat. But he felt a + satisfying dignity and happiness in his new status as head of a family. + </p> + <p> + What worried him most was the fear that Fuji would complain of this sudden + addition to his duties. The butler's face was rather an enigma, + particularly at meal times, when Gissing sat at the dinner table + surrounded by the three puppies in their high chairs, with a spindrift of + milk and prune-juice spattering generously as the youngsters plied their + spoons. Fuji had arranged a series of scuppers, made of oilcloth, + underneath the chairs; but in spite of this the dining-room rug, after a + meal, looked much as the desert place must have after the feeding of the + multitude. Fuji, who was pensive, recalled the five loaves and two fishes + that produced twelve baskets of fragments. The vacuum cleaner got clogged + by a surfeit of crumbs. + </p> + <p> + Gissing saw that it would be a race between heart and head. If Fuji's + heart should become entangled (that is, if the innocent charms of the + children should engage his affections before his reason convinced him that + the situation was now too arduous), there was some hope. He tried to ease + the problem also by mental suggestion. “It is really remarkable” (he said + to Fuji) “that children should give one so little trouble.” As he made + this remark, he was speeding hotly to and fro between the bathroom and the + nursery, trying to get one tucked in bed and another undressed, while the + third was lashing the tub into soapy foam. Fuji made his habitual + response, “Very good, sir.” But one fears that he detected some + insincerity, for the next day, which was Sunday, he gave notice. This + generally happens on a Sunday, because the papers publish more Help Wanted + advertisements then than on any other day. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry, sir,” he said. “But when I took this place there was nothing + said about three children.” + </p> + <p> + This was unreasonable of Fuji. It is very rare to have everything + explained beforehand. When Adam and Eve were put into the Garden of Eden, + there was nothing said about the serpent. + </p> + <p> + However, Gissing did not believe in entreating a servant to stay. He + offered to give Fuji a raise, but the butler was still determined to + leave. + </p> + <p> + “My senses are very delicate,” he said. “I really cannot stand the—well, + the aroma exhaled by those three children when they have had a warm bath.” + </p> + <p> + “What nonsense!” cried Gissing. “The smell of wet, healthy puppies? + Nothing is more agreeable. You are cold-blooded: I don't believe you are + fond of puppies. Think of their wobbly black noses. Consider how pink is + the little cleft between their toes and the main cushion of their feet. + Their ears are like silk. Inside their upper jaws are parallel black + ridges, most remarkable. I never realized before how beautifully and + carefully we are made. I am surprised that you should be so indifferent to + these things.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moisture in Fuji's eyes, but he left at the end of the week. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THREE + </h2> + <p> + A solitary little path ran across the fields not far from the house. It + lay deep among tall grasses and the withered brittle stalks of last + autumn's goldenrod, and here Gissing rambled in the green hush of + twilight, after the puppies were in bed. In less responsible days he would + have lain down on his back, with all four legs upward, and cheerily + shrugged and rolled to and fro, as the crisp ground-stubble was very + pleasing to the spine. But now he paced soberly, the smoke from his pipe + eddying just above the top of the grasses. He had much to meditate. + </p> + <p> + The dogwood tree by the house was now in flower. The blossoms, with their + four curved petals, seemed to spin like tiny white propellers in the + bright air. When he saw them fluttering Gissing had a happy sensation of + movement. The business of those tremulous petals seemed to be thrusting + his whole world forward and forward, through the viewless ocean of space. + He felt as though he were on a ship—as, indeed, we are. He had never + been down to the open sea, but he had imagined it. There, he thought, + there must be the satisfaction of a real horizon. + </p> + <p> + Horizons had been a great disappointment to him. In earlier days he had + often slipped out of the house not long after sunrise, and had marvelled + at the blue that lies upon the skyline. Here, about him, were the clear + familiar colours of the world he knew; but yonder, on the hills, were + trees and spaces of another more heavenly tint. That soft blue light, if + he could reach it, must be the beginning of what his mind required. + </p> + <p> + He envied Mr. Poodle, whose cottage was on that very hillslope that rose + so imperceptibly into sky. One morning he ran and ran, in the lifting day, + but always the blue receded. Hot and unbuttoned, he came by the curate's + house, just as the latter emerged to pick up the morning paper. + </p> + <p> + “Where does the blue begin?” Gissing panted, trying hard to keep his + tongue from sliding out so wetly. + </p> + <p> + The curate looked a trifle disturbed. He feared that something unpleasant + had happened, and that his assistance might be required before breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “It is going to be a warm day,” he said politely, and stooped for the + newspaper, as a delicate hint. + </p> + <p> + “Where does—?” began Gissing, quivering; but at that moment, looking + round, he saw that it had hoaxed him again. Far away, on his own hill the + other side of the village, shone the evasive colour. As usual, he had been + too impetuous. He had not watched it while he ran; it had circled round + behind him. He resolved to be more methodical. + </p> + <p> + The curate gave him a blank to fill in, relative to baptizing the + children, and was relieved to see him hasten away. + </p> + <p> + But all this was some time ago. As he walked the meadow path, Gissing + suddenly realized that lately he had had little opportunity for pursuing + blue horizons. Since Fuji's departure every moment, from dawn to dusk, was + occupied. In three weeks he had had three different servants, but none of + them would stay. The place was too lonely, they said, and with three + puppies the work was too hard. The washing, particularly was a horrid + problem. Inexperienced as a parent, Gissing was probably too proud: he + wanted the children always to look clean and soigne. The last cook had + advertised herself as a General Houseworker, afraid of nothing; but as + soon as she saw the week's wash in the hamper (including twenty-one grimy + rompers), she telephoned to the station for a taxi. Gissing wondered why + it was that the working classes were not willing to do one-half as much as + he, who had been reared to indolent ease. Even more, he was irritated by a + suspicion of the ice-wagon driver. He could not prove it, but he had an + idea that this uncouth fellow obtained a commission from the Airedales and + Collies, who had large mansions in the neighbourhood, for luring maids + from the smaller homes. Of course Mrs. Airedale and Mrs. Collie could + afford to pay any wages at all. So now the best he could do was to have + Mrs. Spaniel, the charwoman, come up from the village to do the washing + and ironing, two days a week. The rest of the work he undertook himself. + On a clear afternoon, when the neighbours were not looking, he would take + his own shirts and things down to the pond—putting them neatly in + the bottom of the red express-wagon, with the puppies sitting on the + linen, so no one would see. While the puppies played about and hunted for + tadpoles, he would wash his shirts himself. + </p> + <p> + His legs ached as he took his evening stroll—keeping within earshot + of the house, so as to hear any possible outcry from the nursery. He had + been on his feet all day. But he reflected that there was a real + satisfaction in his family tasks, however gruelling. Now, at last (he said + to himself), I am really a citizen, not a mere dilettante. Of course it is + arduous. No one who is not a parent realizes, for example, the + extraordinary amount of buttoning and unbuttoning necessary in rearing + children. I calculate that 50,000 buttonings are required for each one + before it reaches the age of even rudimentary independence. With the + energy so expended one might write a great novel or chisel a statue. Never + mind: these urchins must be my Works of Art. If one were writing a novel, + he could not delegate to a hired servant the composition of laborious + chapters. + </p> + <p> + So he took his responsibility gravely. This was partly due to the + christening service, perhaps, which had gone off very charmingly. It had + not been without its embarrassments. None of the neighbouring ladies would + stand as godmother, for they were secretly dubious as to the children's + origin; so he had asked good Mrs. Spaniel to act in that capacity. She, a + simple kindly creature, was much flattered, though certainly she can have + understood very little of the symbolical rite. Gissing, filling out the + form that Mr. Poodle had given him, had put down the names of an entirely + imaginary brother and sister-in-law of his, “deceased,” whom he asserted + as the parents. He had been so busy with preparations that he did not find + time, before the ceremony, to study the text of the service; and when he + and Mrs. Spaniel stood beneath the font with an armful of ribboned + infancy, he was frankly startled by the magnitude of the promises exacted + from him. He found that, on behalf of the children, he must “renounce the + devil and all his work, the vain pomp and glory of the world;” that he + must pledge himself to see that these infants would “crucify the old man + and utterly abolish the whole body of sin.” It was rather doubtful whether + they would do so, he reflected, as he felt them squirming in his arms + while Mrs. Spaniel was busy trying to keep their socks on. When the curate + exhorted him “to follow the innocency” of these little ones, it was + disconcerting to have one of them burst into a piercing yammer, and + wriggle so forcibly that it slipped quite out of its little embroidered + shift and flannel band. But the actual access to the holy basin was more + seemly, perhaps due to the children imagining they were going to find + tadpoles there. When Mr. Poodle held them up they smiled with a vague + almost bashful simplicity; and Mrs. Spaniel could not help murmuring “The + darlings!” The curate, less experienced with children, had insisted on + holding all three at once, and Gissing feared lest one of them might swarm + over the surpliced shoulder and fall splash into the font. But though they + panted a little with excitement, they did nothing to mar the solemn + instant. While Mrs. Spaniel was picking up the small socks with which the + floor was strewn, Gissing was deeply moved by the poetry of the ceremony. + He felt that something had really been accomplished toward “burying the + Old Adam.” And if Mrs. Spaniel ever grew disheartened at the wash-tubs, he + was careful to remind her of the beautiful phrase about the mystical + washing away of sin. + </p> + <p> + They had been christened Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers, three traditional + names in his family. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, he was reflecting as he walked in the dusk, Mrs. Spaniel was now + his sheet anchor. Fortunately she showed signs of becoming extraordinarily + attached to the puppies. On the two days a week when she came up from the + village, it was even possible for him to get a little relaxation—to + run down to the station for tobacco, or to lie in the hammock briefly with + a book. Looking off from his airy porch, he could see the same blue + distances that had always tempted him, but he felt too passive to wonder + about them. He had given up the idea of trying to get any other servants. + If it had been possible, he would have engaged Mrs. Spaniel to sleep in + the house and be there permanently; but she had children of her own down + in the shantytown quarter of the village, and had to go back to them at + night. But certainly he made every effort to keep her contented. It was a + long steep climb up from the hollow, so he allowed her to come in a taxi + and charge it to his account. Then, on condition that she would come on + Saturdays also, to help him clean up for Sunday, he allowed her, on that + day, to bring her own children too, and all the puppies played riotously + together around the place. But this he presently discontinued, for the + clamour became so deafening that the neighbours complained. Besides, the + young Spaniels, who were a little older, got Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers + into noisy and careless habits of speech. + </p> + <p> + He was anxious that they should grow up refined, and was distressed by + little Shaggy Spaniel having brought up the Comic Section of a Sunday + paper. With childhood's instinctive taste for primitive effects, the + puppies fell in love with the coloured cartoons, and badgered him + continually for “funny papers.” + </p> + <p> + There is a great deal more to think about in raising children (he said to + himself) than is intimated in Dr. Holt's book on Care and Feeding. Even in + matters that he had always taken for granted, such as fairy tales, he + found perplexity. After supper—(he now joined the children in their + evening bread and milk, for after cooking them a hearty lunch of meat and + gravy and potatoes and peas and the endless spinach and carrots that the + doctors advise, to say nothing of the prunes, he had no energy to prepare + a special dinner for himself)—after supper it was his habit to read + to them, hoping to give their imaginations a little exercise before they + went to bed. He was startled to find that Grimm and Hans Andersen, which + he had considered as authentic classics for childhood, were full of very + strong stuff—morbid sentiment, bloodshed, horror, and all manner of + painful circumstance. Reading the tales aloud, he edited as he went along; + but he was subject to that curious weakness that afflicts some people: + reading aloud made him helplessly sleepy: after a page or so he would fall + into a doze, from which he would be awakened by the crash of a lamp or + some other furniture. The children, seized with that furious hilarity that + usually begins just about bedtime, would race madly about the house until + some breakage or a burst of tears woke him from his trance. He would + thrash them all and put them to bed howling. When they were asleep he + would be touched with tender compassion, and steal in to tuck them up, + admiring the innocence of each unconscious muzzle on its pillow. + Sometimes, in a crisis of his problems, he thought of writing to Dr. Holt + for advice; but the will-power was lacking. + </p> + <p> + It is really astonishing how children can exhaust one, he used to think. + Sometimes, after a long day, he was even too weary to correct their + grammar. “You lay down!” Groups would admonish Yelpers, who was capering + in his crib while Bunks was being lashed in with the largest size of + safety pins. And Gissing, doggedly passing from one to another, was really + too fatigued to reprove the verb, picked up from Mrs. Spaniel. + </p> + <p> + Fairy tales proving a disappointment, he had great hopes of encouraging + them in drawing. He bought innumerable coloured crayons and stacks of + scribbling paper. After supper they would all sit down around the + dining-room table and he drew pictures for them. Tongues depending with + concentrated excitement, the children would try to copy these pictures and + colour them. In spite of having three complete sets of crayons, a full + roster of colours could rarely be found at drawing time. Bunks had the + violet when Groups wanted it, and so on. But still, this was often the + happiest hour of the day. Gissing drew amazing trains, elephants, ships, + and rainbows, with the spectrum of colours correctly arranged and blended. + The children specially loved his landscapes, which were opulently tinted + and magnificent in long perspectives. He found himself always colouring + the far horizons a pale and haunting blue. + </p> + <p> + He was meditating these things when a shrill yammer recalled him to the + house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOUR + </h2> + <p> + In this warm summer weather Gissing slept on a little outdoor balcony that + opened off the nursery. The world, rolling in her majestic seaway, heeled + her gunwale slowly into the trough of space. Disked upon this bulwark, the + sun rose, and promptly Gissing woke. The poplars flittered in a cool stir. + Beyond the tadpole pond, through a notch in the landscape, he could see + the far darkness of the hills. That fringe of woods was a railing that + kept the sky from flooding over the earth. + </p> + <p> + The level sun, warily peering over the edge like a cautious marksman, + fired golden volleys unerringly at him. At once Gissing was aware and + watchful. Brief truce was over: the hopeless war with Time began anew. + </p> + <p> + This was his placid hour. Light, so early, lies timidly along the ground. + It steals gently from ridge to ridge; it is soft, unsure. That blue + dimness, receding from bole to bole, is the skirt of Night's garment, + trailing off toward some other star. As easily as it slips from tree to + tree, it glides from earth to Orion. + </p> + <p> + Light, which later will riot and revel and strike pitilessly down, still + is tender and tentative. It sweeps in rosy scythe-strokes, parallel to + earth. It gilds, where later it will burn. + </p> + <p> + Gissing lay, without stirring. The springs of the old couch were creaky, + and the slightest sound might arouse the children within. Now, until they + woke, was his peace. Purposely he had had the sleeping porch built on the + eastern side of the house. Making the sun his alarm clock, he prolonged + the slug-a-bed luxury. He had procured the darkest and most opaque of all + shades for the nursery windows, to cage as long as possible in that room + Night the silencer. At this time of the year, the song of the mosquito was + his dreaded nightingale. In spite of fine-mesh screens, always one or two + would get in. Mrs. Spaniel, he feared, left the kitchen door ajar during + the day, and these Borgias of the insect world, patiently invasive, seized + their chance. It was a rare night when a sudden scream did not come from + the nursery every hour or so. “Daddy, a keeto, a keeto!” was the anguish + from one of the trio. The other two were up instantly, erect and yelping + in their cribs, small black paws on the rail, pink stomachs candidly + exposed to the winged stilleto. Lights on, and the room must be explored + for the lurking foe. Scratching themselves vigorously, the fun of the + chase assuaged the smart of those red welts. Gissing, wise by now, knew + that after a forager the mosquito always retires to the ceiling, so he + kept a stepladder in the room. Mounted on this, he would pursue the enemy + with a towel, while the children screamed with merriment. Then stomachs + must be anointed with more citronella; sheets and blankets reassembled, + and quiet gradually restored. Life, as parents know, can be supported on + very little sleep. + </p> + <p> + But how delicious to lie there, in the morning freshness, to hear the + earth stir with reviving gusto, the merriment of birds, the exuberant + clink of milk-bottles set down by the back-door, the whole complex + machinery of life begin anew! Gissing was amazed now, looking back upon + his previous existence, to see himself so busy, so active. Few people are + really lazy, he thought: what we call laziness is merely maladjustment. + For in any department of life where one is genuinely interested, he will + be zealous beyond belief. Certainly he had not dreamed, until he became + (in a manner of speaking) a parent, that he had in him such capacity for + detail. + </p> + <p> + This business of raising a family, though—had he any true aptitude + for it? or was he forcing himself to go through with it? Wasn't he, + moreover, incurring all the labours of parenthood without any of its + proper dignity and social esteem? Mrs. Chow down the street, for instance, + why did she look so sniffingly upon him when she heard the children, in + the harmless uproar of their play, cry him aloud as Daddy? Uncle, he had + intended they should call him; but that is, for beginning speech, a hard + saying, embracing both a palatal and a liquid. Whereas Da-da—the + syllables come almost unconsciously to the infant mouth. So he had + encouraged it, and even felt an irrational pride in the honourable but + unearned title. + </p> + <p> + A little word, Daddy, but one of the most potent, he was thinking. More + than a word, perhaps: a great social engine: an anchor which, cast + carelessly overboard, sinks deep and fast into the very bottom. The vessel + rides on her hawser, and where are your blue horizons then? + </p> + <p> + But come now, isn't one horizon as good as another? And do they really + remain blue when you reach them? + </p> + <p> + Unconsciously he stirred, stretching his legs deeply into the comfortable + nest of his couch. The springs twanged. Simultaneous clamours! The puppies + were awake. + </p> + <p> + They yelled to be let out from the cribs. This was the time of the morning + frolic. Gissing had learned that there is only one way to deal with the + almost inexhaustible energy of childhood. That is, not to attempt to check + it, but to encourage and draw it out. To start the day with a rush, + stimulating every possible outlet of zeal; meanwhile taking things as + calmly and quietly as possible himself, sitting often to take the weight + off his legs, and allowing the youngsters to wear themselves down. This, + after all, is Nature's own way with man; it is the wise parent's tactic + with children. Thus, by dusk, the puppies will have run themselves almost + into a stupor; and you, if you have shrewdly husbanded your strength, may + have still a little power in reserve for reading and smoking. + </p> + <p> + The before-breakfast game was conducted on regular routine. Children show + their membership in the species by their love of strict habit. + </p> + <p> + Gissing let them yell for a few moments—as long as he thought the + neighbours would endure it—while he gradually gathered strength and + resolution, shook off the cowardice of bed. Then he strode into the + nursery. As soon as they heard him raising the shades there was complete + silence. They hastened to pull the blankets over themselves, and lay + tense, faces on paws, with bright expectant upward eyes. They trembled a + little with impatience. It was all he could do to restrain himself from + patting the sleek heads, which always seemed to shine with extra polish + after a night's rolling to and fro on the flattened pillows. But sternness + was a part of the game at this moment. He solemnly unlatched and lowered + the tall sides of the cribs. + </p> + <p> + He stood in the middle of the room, with a gesture of command. “Quiet + now,” he said. “Quiet, until I tell you!” + </p> + <p> + Yelpers could not help a small whine of intense emotion, which slipped out + unintended. The eyes of Groups and Bunks swivelled angrily toward their + unlucky brother. It was his failing: in crises he always emitted haphazard + sounds. But this time Gissing, with lenient forgiveness, pretended not to + have heard. + </p> + <p> + He returned to the balcony, and reentered his couch, where he lay feigning + sleep. In the nursery was a terrific stillness. + </p> + <p> + It was the rule of the game that they should lie thus, in absolute quiet, + until he uttered a huge imitation snore. Once, after a particularly + exhausting night, he had postponed the snore too long: he fell asleep. He + did not wake for an hour, and then found the tragic three also sprawled in + amazing slumber. But their pillows were wet with tears. He never succumbed + again, no matter how deeply tempted. + </p> + <p> + He snored. There were three sprawling thumps, a rush of feet, and a + tumbling squeeze through the screen door. Then they were on the couch and + upon him, with panting yelps of glee. Their hot tongues rasped busily over + his face. This was the great tickling game. Remembering his theory of + conserving energy, he lay passive while they rollicked and scrambled, + burrowing in the bedclothes, quivering imps of absurd pleasure. All that + was necessary was to give an occasional squirm, to tweak their ribs now + and then, so that they believed his heart was in the sport. Really he got + quite a little rest while they were scuffling. No one knew exactly what + was the imagined purpose of the lark—whether he was supposed to be + trying to escape from them, or they from him. Like all the best games, it + had not been carefully thought out. + </p> + <p> + “Now, children,” said Gissing presently. “Time to get dressed.” + </p> + <p> + It was amazing how fast they were growing. Already they were beginning to + take a pride in trying to dress themselves. While Gissing was in the + bathroom, enjoying his cold tub (and under the stimulus of that icy sluice + forming excellent resolutions for the day) the children were sitting on + the nursery floor eagerly studying the intricacies of their gear. By the + time he returned they would have half their garments on wrong; waist and + trousers front side to rear; right shoes on left feet; buttons hopelessly + mismated to buttonholes; shoelacings oddly zigzagged. It was far more + trouble to permit their ambitious bungling, which must be undone and + painstakingly reassembled, than to have clad them all himself, swiftly + revolving and garmenting them like dolls. But in these early hours of the + day, patience still is robust. It was his pedagogy to encourage their + innocent initiatives, so long as endurance might permit. + </p> + <p> + Best of all, he enjoyed watching them clean their teeth. It was delicious + to see them, tiptoe on their hind legs at the basin, to which their noses + just reached; mouths gaping wide as they scrubbed with very small + toothbrushes. They were so elated by squeezing out the toothpaste from the + tube that he had not the heart to refuse them this privilege, though it + was wasteful. For they always squeezed out more than necessary, and after + a moment's brushing their mouths became choked and clotted with the + pungent foam. Much of this they swallowed, for he had not been able to + teach them to rinse and gargle. Their only idea regarding any fluid in the + mouth was to swallow it; so they coughed and strangled and barked. Gissing + had a theory that this toothpaste foam most be an appetizer, for he found + that the more of it they swallowed, the better they ate their breakfast. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast he hurried them out into the garden, before the day became + too hot. As he put a new lot of prunes to soak in cold water, he could not + help reflecting how different the kitchen and pantry looked from the time + of Fuji. The ice-box pan seemed to be continually brimming over. Somehow—due, + he feared, to a laxity on Mrs. Spaniel's part—ants had got in. He + was always finding them inside the ice-box, and wondered where they came + from. He was amazed to find how negligent he was growing about pots and + pans: he began cooking a new mess of oatmeal in the double boiler without + bothering to scrape out the too adhesive remnant of the previous porridge. + He had come to the conclusion that children are tougher and more enduring + than Dr. Holt will admit; and that a little carelessness in matters of + hygiene and sterilization does not necessarily mean instant death. + </p> + <p> + Truly his once dainty menage was deteriorating. He had put away his fine + china, put away the linen napery, and laid the table with oil cloth. He + had even improved upon Fuji's invention of scuppers by a little trough + which ran all round the rim of the table, to catch any possible spillage. + He was horrified to observe how inevitably callers came at the worst + possible moment. Mr. and Mrs. Chow, for instance, drew up one afternoon in + their spick-and-span coupe with their intolerably spotless only child + sitting self-consciously beside them. Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers were just + then filling the garden with horrid clamour. They had been quarrelling, + and one had pushed the other two down the back steps. Gissing, who had + attempted to find a quiet moment to scald the ants out of the ice-box, had + just rushed forth and boxed them all. As he stood there, angry and waving + a steaming dishclout, two Chows appeared. The puppies at once set upon + little Sandy Chow, and had thoroughly mauled his starched sailor suit in + the driveway before two minutes were past. Gissing could not help + laughing, for he suspected that there had been a touch of malice in the + Chows coming just at that time. + </p> + <p> + He had given up his flower garden, too. It was all he could do to shove + the lawn-mower around, in the dusk, after the puppies were in bed. + Formerly he had found the purr of the twirling blades a soothing stimulus + to thought; but nowadays he could not even think consecutively. Perhaps, + he thought, the residence of the mind is in the legs, not in the head; for + when your legs are thoroughly weary you can't seem to think. + </p> + <p> + So he had decided that he simply must have more help in the cooking and + housework. He had instructed Mrs. Spaniel to send the washing to the + steam-laundry, and spend her three days in the kitchen instead. A huge + bundle had come back from the laundry, and he had paid the driver $15.98. + With dismay he sorted the clean, neatly folded garments. Here was the + worthy Mrs. Spaniel's list, painstakingly written out in her straggling + script:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MR. GISHING FAMILY WOSH + + 8 towls + 6 pymjarm Mr Gishing + 12 rompers + 3 blowses + 6 cribb sheets + 1 Mr. Gishing sheat + 4 wastes + 3 wosh clothes + 2 onion sutes Mr Gishing + 6 smal onion sutes + 4 pillo slipes + 3 sherts + 18 hankerchifs smal + 6 hankerchifs large + 8 colers + 3 overhauls + 10 bibbs + 2 table clothes (coca stane) + 1 table clothe (prun juce and eg) +</pre> + <p> + After contemplating this list, Gissing went to his desk and began to study + his accounts. A resolve was forming in his mind. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FIVE + </h2> + <p> + The summer evenings sounded a very different music from that thin + wheedling of April. It was now a soft steady vibration, the incessant + drone and throb of locust and cricket, and sometimes the sudden rasp, dry + and hard, of katydids. Gissing, in spite of his weariness, was all + fidgets. He would walk round and round the house in the dark, unable to + settle down to anything; tired, but incapable of rest. What is this + uneasiness in the mind, he asked himself? The great sonorous drumming of + the summer night was like the bruit of Time passing steadily by. Even in + the soft eddy of the leaves, lifted on a drowsy creeping air, was a sound + of discontent, of troublesome questioning. Through the trees he could see + the lighted oblongs of neighbours' windows, or hear stridulent jazz + records. Why were all others so cheerfully absorbed in the minutiae of + their lives, and he so painfully ill at ease? Sometimes, under the warm + clear darkness, the noises of field and earth swelled to a kind of soft + thunder: his quickened ears heard a thousand small outcries contributing + to the awful energy of the world—faint chimings and whistlings in + the grass, and endless flutter, rustle, and whirr. His own body, on which + hair and nails grew daily like vegetation, startled and appalled him. + Consciousness of self, that miserable ecstasy, was heavy upon him. + </p> + <p> + He envied the children, who lay upstairs sprawled under their mosquito + nettings. Immersed in living, how happily unaware of being alive! He saw, + with tenderness, how naively they looked to him as the answer and solution + of their mimic problems. But where could he find someone to be to him what + he was to them? The truth apparently was that in his inward mind he was + desperately lonely. Reading the poets by fits and starts, he suddenly + realized that in their divine pages moved something of this loneliness, + this exquisite unhappiness. But these great hearts had had the consolation + of setting down their moods in beautiful words, words that lived and + spoke. His own strange fever burned inexpressibly inside him. Was he the + only one who felt the challenge offered by the maddening fertility and + foison of the hot sun-dazzled earth? Life, he realized, was too amazing to + be frittered out in this aimless sickness of heart. There were truths and + wonders to be grasped, if he could only throw off this wistful vague + desire. He felt like a clumsy strummer seated at a dark shining grand + piano, which he knows is capable of every glory of rolling music, yet he + can only elicit a few haphazard chords. + </p> + <p> + He had his moments of arrogance, too. Ah, he was very young! This miracle + of blue unblemished sky that had baffled all others since life began—he, + he would unriddle it! He was inclined to sneer at his friends who took + these things for granted, and did not perceive the infamous insolubility + of the whole scheme. Remembering the promises made at the christening, he + took the children to church; but alas, carefully analyzing his mind, he + admitted that his attention had been chiefly occupied with keeping them + orderly, and he had gone through the service almost automatically. Only in + singing hymns did he experience a tingle of exalted feeling. But Mr. + Poodle was proud of his well-trained choir, and Gissing had a feeling that + the congregation was not supposed to do more than murmur the verses, for + fear of spoiling the effect. In his favourite hymns he had a tendency to + forget himself and let go: his vigorous tenor rang lustily. Then he + realized that the backs of people's heads looked surprised. The children + could not be kept quiet unless they stood up on the pews. Mr. Poodle + preached rather a long sermon, and Yelpers, toward twelve-thirty, remarked + in a clear tone of interested inquiry, “What time does God have dinner?” + </p> + <p> + Gissing had a painful feeling that he and Mr. Poodle did not thoroughly + understand each other. The curate, who was kindness itself, called one + evening, and they had a friendly chat. Gissing was pleased to find that + Mr. Poodle enjoyed a cigar, and after some hesitation ventured to suggest + that he still had something in the cellar. Mr. Poodle said that he didn't + care for anything, but his host could not help hearing the curate's tail + quite unconsciously thumping on the chair cushions. So he excused himself + and brought up one of his few remaining bottles of White Horse. Mr. Poodle + crossed his legs and they chatted about golf, politics, the income tax, + and some of the recent books; but when Gissing turned the talk on + religion, Mr. Poodle became diffident.. Gissing, warmed and cheered by the + vital Scotch, was perhaps too direct. + </p> + <p> + “What ought I to do to 'crucify the old man'?” he said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Poodle was rather embarrassed. + </p> + <p> + “You must mortify the desires of the flesh,” he replied. “You must dig up + the old bone of sin that is buried in all our hearts.” + </p> + <p> + There were many more questions Gissing wanted to ask about this, but Mr. + Poodle said he really must be going, as he had a call to pay on Mr. and + Mrs. Chow. + </p> + <p> + Gissing walked down the path with him, and the curate did indeed set off + toward the Chows'. But Gissing wondered, for a little later he heard a + cheerful canticle upraised in the open fields. + </p> + <p> + He himself was far from gay. He longed to tear out this malady from his + breast. Poor dreamer, he did not know that to do so is to tear out God + Himself. “Mrs. Spaniel,” he said when the laundress next came up from the + village, “you are a widow, aren't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” she said. “Poor Spaniel was killed by a truck, two years ago + April.” Her face was puzzled, but beneath her apron Gissing could see her + tail wagging. + </p> + <p> + “Don't misunderstand me,” he said quickly. “I've got to go away on + business. I want you to bring your children and move into this house while + I'm gone. I'll make arrangements at the bank about paying all the bills. + You can give up your outside washing and devote yourself entirely to + looking after this place.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Spaniel was so much surprised that she could not speak. In her + amazement a bright bubble dripped from the end of her curly tongue. + Hastily she caught it in her apron, and apologized. + </p> + <p> + “How long will you be away, sir?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. It may be quite a long time.” + </p> + <p> + “But all your beautiful things, furniture and everything,” said Mrs. + Spaniel. “I'm afraid my children are a bit rough. They're not used to + living in a house like this—” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Gissing, “you must do the best you can. There are some things + more important than furniture. It will be good for your children to get + accustomed to refined surroundings, and it'll be good for my nephews to + have someone to play with. Besides, I don't want them to grow up spoiled + mollycoddles. I think I've been fussing over them too much. If they have + good stuff in them, a little roughening won't do any permanent harm.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me,” cried Mrs. Spaniel, “what will the neighbours think?” + </p> + <p> + “They won't,” said Gissing. “I don't doubt they'll talk, but they won't + think. Thinking is very rare. I've got to do some myself, that's one + reason why I'm going. You know, Mrs. Spaniel, God is a horizon, not + someone sitting on a throne.” Mrs. Spaniel didn't understand this—in + fact, she didn't seem to hear it. Her mind was full of the idea that she + would simply have to have a new dress, preferably black silk, for Sundays. + Gissing, very sagacious, had already foreseen this point. “Let's not have + any argument,” he continued. “I have planned everything. Here is some + money for immediate needs. I'll speak to them at the bank, and they will + give you a weekly allowance. I leave you here as caretaker. Later on I'll + send you an address and you can write me how things are going.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Mrs. Spaniel was bewildered. She came of very decent people, but + since Spaniel took to drink, and then left her with a family to support, + she had sunk in the world. She was wondering now how she could face it out + with Mrs. Chow and Mrs. Fox-Terrier and the other neighbours. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear,” she cried, “I don't know what to say, sir. Why, my boys are so + disreputable-looking, they haven't even a collar between them.” + </p> + <p> + “Get them collars and anything else they need,” said Gissing kindly. + “Don't worry, Mrs. Spaniel, it will be a fine thing for you. There will be + a little gossip, I dare say, but we'll have to chance that. Now you had + better go down to the village and make your arrangements. I'm leaving + tonight.” + </p> + <p> + Late that evening, after seeing Mrs. Spaniel and her brood safely + installed, Gissing walked to the station with his suitcase. He felt a pang + as he lifted the mosquito nettings and kissed the cool moist noses of the + sleeping trio. But he comforted himself by thinking that this was no + merely vulgar desertion. If he was to raise the family, he must earn some + money. His modest income would not suffice for this sudden increase in + expenses. Besides, he had never known what freedom meant until it was + curtailed. For the past three months he had lived in ceaseless attendance; + had even slept with one ear open for the children's cries. Now he owed it + to himself to make one great strike for peace. Wealth, he could see, was + the answer. With money, everything was attainable: books, leisure for + study, travel, prestige—in short, command over the physical details + of life. He would go in for Big Business. Already he thrilled with a sense + of power and prosperity. + </p> + <p> + The little house stood silent in the darkness as he went down the path. + The night was netted with the weaving sparkle of fireflies. He stood for a + moment, looking. Suddenly there came a frightened cry from the nursery. + </p> + <p> + “Daddy, a keeto, a keeto!” + </p> + <p> + He nearly turned to run back, but checked himself. No, Mrs. Spaniel was + now in charge. It was up to her. Besides, he had only just enough time to + catch the last train to the city. + </p> + <p> + But he sat on the cinder-speckled plush of the smoker in a mood that was + hardly revelry. “By Jove,” he said to himself, “I got away just in time. + Another month and I couldn't have done it.” + </p> + <p> + It was midnight when he saw the lights of town, panelled in gold against a + peacock sky. Acres and acres of blue darkness lay close-pressing upon the + gaudy grids of light. Here one might really look at this great miracle of + shadow and see its texture. The dulcet air drifted lazily in deep, silent + crosstown streets. “Ah,” he said, “here is where the blue begins.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SIX + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “For students of the troubled heart + Cities are perfect works of art.” + </pre> + <p> + There is a city so tall that even the sky above her seems to have lifted + in a cautious remove, inconceivably far. There is a city so proud, so mad, + so beautiful and young, that even heaven has retreated, lest her placid + purity be too nearly tempted by that brave tragic spell. In the city which + is maddest of all, Gissing had come to search for sanity. In the city so + strangely beautiful that she has made even poets silent, he had come to + find a voice. In the city of glorious ostent and vanity, he had come to + look for humility and peace. + </p> + <p> + All cities are mad: but the madness is gallant. All cities are beautiful: + but the beauty is grim. Who shall tell me the truth about this one? + Tragic? Even so, because wherever ambitions, vanities, and follies are + multiplied by millionfold contact, calamity is there. Noble and beautiful? + Aye, for even folly may have the majesty of magnitude. Hasty, cruel, + shallow? Agreed, but where in this terrene orb will you find it otherwise? + I know all that can be said against her; and yet in her great library of + streets, vast and various as Shakespeare, is beauty enough for a lifetime. + O poets, why have you been so faint? Because she seems cynical and crass, + she cries with trumpet-call to the mind of the dreamer; because she is + riant and mad, she speaks to the grave sanity of the poet. + </p> + <p> + So, in a mood perhaps too consciously lofty, Gissing was meditating. It + was rather impudent of him to accuse the city of being mad, for he + himself, in his glee over freedom regained, was not conspicuously sane. He + scoured the town in high spirits, peering into shop-windows, riding on top + of busses, going to the Zoo, taking the rickety old steamer to the Statue + of Liberty, drinking afternoon tea at the Ritz, and all that sort of + thing. The first three nights in town he slept in one of the little + traffic-towers that perch on stilts up above Fifth Avenue. As a matter of + fact, it was that one near St. Patrick's Cathedral. He had ridden up the + Avenue in a taxi, intending to go to the Plaza (just for a bit of splurge + after his domestic confinement). As the cab went by, he saw the + traffic-tower, dark and empty, and thought what a pleasant place to sleep. + So he asked the driver to let him out at the Cathedral, and after being + sure that he was not observed, walked back to the little turret, climbed + up the ladder, and made himself at home. He liked it so well that he + returned there the two following nights; but he didn't sleep much, for he + could not resist the fun of startling night-hawk taxis by suddenly + flashing the red, green, and yellow lights at them, and seeing them stop + in bewilderment. But after three nights he thought it best to leave. It + would have been awkward if the police had discovered him. + </p> + <p> + It was time to settle down and begin work. He had an uncle who was head of + an important business far down-town; but Gissing, with the quixotry of + youth, was determined to make his own start in the great world of + commerce. He found a room on the top floor of a quiet brownstone house in + the West Seventies. It was not large, and he had to go down a flight for + his bath; the gas burner over the bed whistled; the dust was rather + startling after the clean country; but it was cheap, and his sense of + adventure more than compensated. Mrs. Purp, the landlady, pleased him + greatly. She was very maternal, and urged him not to bolt his meals in + armchair lunches. She put an ashtray in his room. + </p> + <p> + Gissing sent Mrs. Spaniel a postcard with a picture of the Pennsylvania + Station. On it he wrote Arrived safely. Hard at work. Love to the + children. Then he went to look for a job. + </p> + <p> + His ideas about business were very vague. All he knew was that he wished + to be very wealthy and influential as soon as possible. He could have had + much sound advice from his uncle, who was a member of the Union Kennel and + quite a prominent dog-about-town. But Gissing had the secretive pride of + inexperience. Moreover, he did not quite know what to say about his + establishment in the country. That houseful of children would need some + explaining. + </p> + <p> + Those were days of brilliant heat; clear, golden, dry. The society columns + in the papers assured him that everyone was out of town; but the Avenue + seemed plentifully crowded with beautiful, superb creatures. Far down the + gentle slopes of that glimmering roadway he could see the rolling stream + of limousines, dazzles of sunlight caught on their polished flanks. A + faint blue haze of gasoline fumes hung low in the bright warm air. This is + the street where even the most passive are pricked by the strange lure of + carnal dominion. Nothing less than a job on the Avenue itself would suit + his mood, he felt. + </p> + <p> + Fortune and audacity united (as they always do) to concede his desire. He + was in the beautiful department store of Beagle and Company, one of the + most splendid of its kind, looking at some sand-coloured spats. In an + aisle near by he heard a commotion—nothing vulgar, but still an + evident stir, with repressed yelps and a genteel, horrified bustle. He + hastened to the spot, and through the crowd saw someone lying on the + floor. An extremely beautiful sales-damsel, charmingly clad in black crepe + de chien, was supporting the victim's head, vainly fanning him. Wealthy + dowagers were whining in distress. Then an ambulance clanged up to a side + door, and a stretcher was brought in. “What is it?” said Gissing to a + female at the silk-stocking counter. + </p> + <p> + “One of the floorwalkers—died of heat prostration,” she said, + looking very much upset. + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow,” said Gissing. “You never know what will happen next, do + you?” He walked away, shaking his head. + </p> + <p> + He asked the elevator attendant to direct him to the offices of the firm. + On the seventh floor, down a quiet corridor behind the bedroom suites, a + rosewood fence barred his way. A secretary faced him inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to see Mr. Beagle.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Beagle senior or Mr. Beagle junior?” + </p> + <p> + Youth cleaves to youth, said Gissing to himself. “Mr. Beagle junior,” he + stated firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Have you an appointment?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She took his ward, disappeared, and returned. “This way, please,” she + said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Beagle senior must be very old indeed, he thought; for junior was + distinctly grizzled. In fact (so rapidly does the mind run), Mr. Beagle + senior must be near the age of retirement. Very likely (he said to + himself) that will soon occur; there will be a general stepping-up among + members of the firm, and that will be my chance. I wonder how much they + pay a junior partner? + </p> + <p> + He almost uttered this question, as Mr. Beagle junior looked at him so + inquiringly. But he caught himself in time. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon for intruding,” said Gissing, “but I am the new + floorwalker.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind,” said Mr. Beagle junior, “but we do not need a new + floorwalker.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon again,” said Gissing, “but you are not au courant with + the affairs of the store. One has just died, right by the silk-stocking + counter. Very bad for business.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the telephone rang, and Mr. Beagle seized it. He listened, + sharply examining his caller meanwhile. + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” he said, as he put down the receiver. “Well, sir, have + you had any experience?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly of that sort,” said Gissing; “but I think I understand the + requirements. The tone of the store—” + </p> + <p> + “I will ask you to be here at four-thirty this afternoon,” said Mr. + Beagle. “We have a particular routine in regard to candidates for that + position. You will readily perceive that it is a post of some importance. + The floorwalker is our point of social contact with patrons.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing negligently dusted his shoes with a handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “Pray do not apologize,” he said kindly. “I am willing to congratulate + with you on your good fortune. It was mere hazard that I was in the store. + To-day, of course, business will be poor. But to-morrow, I think you will + find—” + </p> + <p> + “At four-thirty,” said Mr. Beagle, a little puzzled. + </p> + <p> + That day Gissing went without lunch. First he explored the whole building + from top to bottom, until he knew the location of every department, and + had the store directory firmly memorized. With almost proprietary + tenderness he studied the shining goods and trinkets; noted approvingly + the clerks who seemed to him specially prompt and obliging to customers; + scowled a little at any sign of boredom or inattention. He heard the soft + sigh of the pneumatic tubes as they received money and blew it to some + distant coffer: this money, he thought, was already partly his. That + square-cut creature whom he presently discerned following him was + undoubtedly the store detective: he smiled to think what a pleasant + anecdote this would be when he was admitted to junior partnership. Then he + went, finally, to the special Masculine Shop on the fifth floor, where he + bought a silk hat, a cutaway coat and waistcoat, and trousers of pearly + stripe. He did not forget patent leather shoes, nor white spats. He + refused—the little white linen margins which the clerk wished to + affix to the V of his waistcoat. That, he felt, was the ultra touch which + would spoil all. The just less than perfection, how perfect it is! + </p> + <p> + It was getting late. He hurried to Penn Station where he hired one of + those little dressing booths, and put on his regalia. His tweeds, in a + neat package, he checked at the parcel counter. Then he returned to the + store for the important interview. + </p> + <p> + He had expected a formal talk with the two Messrs. Beagle, perhaps + touching on such matters as duties, hours, salary, and so on. To his + surprise he was ushered by the secretary into a charming Louis XVI salon + farther down the private corridor. There were several ladies: one was + pouring tea. Mr. Beagle junior came forward. The vice-president (such was + Mr. Beagle junior's rank, Gissing had learned by the sign on his door) + still wore his business garb of the morning. Gissing immediately felt + himself to have the advantage. But what a pleasant idea, he thought, for + the members of the firm to have tea together every afternoon. He handed + his hat, gloves, and stick to the secretary. + </p> + <p> + “Very kind of you to come,” said Mr. Beagle. “Let me present you to my + wife.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Beagle, at the tea-urn, received him graciously. + </p> + <p> + “Cream or lemon?” she said. “Two lumps?” + </p> + <p> + This is really delightful, Gissing thought. Only on Fifth Avenue could + this kind of thing happen. He looked down the hostess from his superior + height, and smiled charmingly. + </p> + <p> + “Do you permit three?” he said. “A little weakness of mine.” As a matter + of fact, he hated tea so sweet; but he felt it was strategic to fix + himself in Mrs. Beagle's mind as a polished eccentric. + </p> + <p> + “You must have a meringue,” she said. “Ah, Mrs. Pomeranian has them. Mrs. + Pomeranian, let me present Mr. Gissing.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pomeranian, small and plump and tightly corseted, offered the + meringues, while Mrs. Beagle pressed upon him a plate with a small doily, + embroidered with the arms of the store, and its motto je maintiendrai—referring, + no doubt, to its prices. Mr. Beagle then introduced him to several more + ladies in rapid succession. Gissing passed along the line, bowing slightly + but with courteous interest to each. To each one he raised his eyebrows + and permitted himself a small significant smile, as though to convey that + this was a moment he had long been anticipating. How different, he + thought, was this life of enigmatic gaiety from the suburban drudgery of + recent months. If only Mrs. Spaniel could see him now! He was about to + utilize a brief pause by sipping his tea, when a white-headed patriarch + suddenly appeared beside him. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gissing,” said the vice-president, “this is my father, Mr. Beagle + senior.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing, by quick work, shuffled the teacup into his left paw, and the + meringue plate into the crook of his elbow, so he was ready for the old + gentleman's salutation. Mr. Beagle senior was indeed very old: his white + hair hung over his eyes, he spoke with growling severity. Gissing's manner + to the old merchant was one of respectful reassurance: he attempted to + make an impression that would console: to impart—of course without + saying so—the thought that though the head of the firm could not + last much longer, yet he would leave his great traffic in capable care. + </p> + <p> + “Where will I find an aluminum cooking pot?” growled the elder Beagle + unexpectedly. + </p> + <p> + “In the Bargain Basement,” said Gissing promptly. + </p> + <p> + “He'll do!” cried the president. + </p> + <p> + To his surprise, on looking round, Gissing saw that all the ladies had + vanished. Beagle junior was grinning at him. + </p> + <p> + “You have the job, Mr. Gissing,” he said. “You will pardon the harmless + masquerade—we always try out a floorwalker in that way. My father + thinks that if he can handle a teacup and a meringue while being + introduced to ladies, he can manage anything on the main aisle downstairs. + Mrs. Pomeranian, our millinery buyer, said she had never seen it better + done, and she mixes with some of the swellest people in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “Nine to six, with half an hour off for lunch,” said the senior partner, + and left the room. + </p> + <p> + Gissing calmly swallowed his tea, and ate the meringue. He would have + enjoyed another, but the capable secretary had already removed them. He + poured himself a second cup of tea. Mr. Beagle junior showed signs of + eagerness to leave, but Gissing detained him. + </p> + <p> + “One moment,” he said suavely. “There is a little matter that we have not + discussed. The question of salary.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Beagle looked thoughtfully out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “Thirty dollars a week,” he said. + </p> + <p> + After all, Gissing thought, it will only take four weeks to pay for what I + have spent on clothes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SEVEN + </h2> + <p> + There was some dramatic nerve in Gissing's nature that responded + eloquently to the floorwalking job. Never, in the history of Beagle and + Company, had there been a floorwalker who threw so much passion and zeal + into his task. The very hang of his coattails, even the erect carriage of + his back, the rubbery way in which his feet trod the aisles, showed his + sense of dignity and glamour. There seemed to be a great tradition which + enriched and upheld him. Mr. Beagle senior used to stand on the little + balcony at the rear of the main floor, transfixed with the pleasure of + seeing Gissing move among the crowded passages. Alert, watchful, urbane, + with just the ideal blend of courtesy and condescension, he raised + floorwalking to a social art. Female customers asked him the way to + departments they knew perfectly well, for the pleasure of hearing him + direct them. Business began to improve before he had been there a week. + </p> + <p> + And how he enjoyed himself! The perfection of his bearing on the floor was + no careful pose: it was due to the brimming overplus of his happiness. + Happiness is surely the best teacher of good manners: only the unhappy are + churlish in deportment. He was young, remember; and this was his first + job. His precocious experience as a paterfamilias had added to his mien + just that suggestion of unconscious gravity which is so appealing to + ladies. He looked (they thought) as though he had been touched—but + Oh so lightly!—by poetic sorrow or strange experience: to ask him + the way to the notion counter was as much of an adventure as to meet a + reigning actor at a tea. The faint cloud of melancholy that shadowed his + brow may have been only due to the fact that his new boots were pinching + painfully; but they did not know that. + </p> + <p> + So, quite unconsciously, he began to “establish” himself in his role, just + as an actor does. At first he felt his way tentatively and with tact. + Every store has its own tone and atmosphere: in a day or so he divined the + characteristic cachet of the Beagle establishment. He saw what kind of + customers were typical, and what sort of conduct they expected. And the + secret of conquest being always to give people a little more than they + expect, he pursued that course. Since they expected in a floorwalker the + mechanical and servile gentility of a hired puppet, he exhibited the easy, + offhand simplicity of a fellow club-member. With perfect naturalness he + went out of his way to assist in their shopping concerns: gave advice in + the selection of dress materials, acted as arbiter in the matching of + frocks and stockings. His taste being faultless, it often happened that + the things he recommended were not the most expensive: this again endeared + him to customers. When sales slips were brought to him by ladies who + wished to make an exchange, he affixed his O. K. with a magnificent + flourish, and with such evident pleasure, that patrons felt genuine + elation, and plunged into the tumult with new enthusiasm. It was not long + before there were always people waiting for his counsel; and husbands + would appear at the store to convey (a little irritably) some such message + as: “Mrs. Sealyham says, please choose her a scarf that will go nicely + with that brown moire dress of hers. She says you will remember the + dress.”—This popularity became even a bit perplexing, as for + instance when old Mrs. Dachshund, the store's biggest Charge Account, + insisted on his leaving his beat at a very busy time, to go up to the + tenth floor to tell her which piano he thought had the richer tone. + </p> + <p> + Of course all this was very entertaining, and an admirable opportunity for + studying his fellow-creatures; but it did not go very deep into his mind. + He lived for some time in a confused glamour and glitter; surrounded by + the fascinating specious life of the store, but drifting merely + superficially upon it. The great place, with its columns of artificial + marble and white censers of upward-shining electricity, glimmered like a + birch forest by moonlight. Silver and jewels and silks and slippers + flashed all about him. It was a marvellous education, for he soon learned + to estimate these things at their proper value; which is low, for they + have little to do with life itself. His work was tiring in the extreme—merely + having to remain upright on his hind legs for such long hours WAS an + ordeal—but it did not penetrate to the secret observant self of + which he was always aware. This was advantageous. If you have no + intellect, or only just enough to get along with, it does not much matter + what you do. But if you really have a mind—by which is meant that + rare and curious power of reason, of imagination, and of emotion; very + different from a mere fertility of conversation and intelligent curiosity—it + is better not to weary and wear it out over trifles. + </p> + <p> + So, when he left the store in the evening, no matter how his legs ached, + his head was clear and untarnished. He did not hurry away at closing time. + Places where people work are particularly fascinating after the bustle is + over. He loved to linger in the long aisles, to see the tumbled counters + being swiftly brought to order, to hear the pungent cynicisms of the weary + shopgirls. To these, by the way, he was a bit of a mystery. The punctilio + of his manner, the extreme courtliness of his remarks, embarrassed them a + little. Behind his back they spoke of him as “The Duke” and admired him + hugely; little Miss Whippet, at the stocking counter, said that he was an + English noble of long pedigree, who had been unjustly deprived of his + estates. + </p> + <p> + Down in the basement of this palatial store was a little dressing room and + lavatory for the floorwalkers, where they doffed their formal raiment and + resumed street attire. His colleagues grumbled and hastened to depart, but + Gissing made himself entirely comfortable. In his locker he kept a baby's + bathtub, which he leisurely filled with hot water at one of the basins. + Then he sat serenely and bathed his feet; although it was against the + rules he often managed to smoke a pipe while doing so. Then he hung up his + store clothes neatly, and went off refreshed into the summer evening. + </p> + <p> + A warm rosy light floods the city at that hour. At the foot of every + crosstown street is a bonfire of sunset. What a mood of secret smiling + beset him as he viewed the great territory of his enjoyment. “The freedom + of the city”—a phrase he had somewhere heard—echoed in his + mind. The freedom of the city! A magnificent saying, Electric signs, first + burning wanly in the pink air, then brightened and grew strong. “Not + light, but rather darkness visible,” in that magic hour that just holds + the balance between paling day and the spendthrift jewellery of evening. + Or, if it rained, to sit blithely on the roof of a bus, revelling in the + gust and whipping of the shower. Why had no one told him of the glory of + the city? She was pride, she was exultation, she was madness. She was what + he had obscurely craved. In every line of her gallant profile he saw + conquest, triumph, victory! Empty conquest, futile triumph, doomed victory—but + that was the essence of the drama. In thunderclaps of dumb ecstasy he saw + her whole gigantic fabric, leaning and clamouring upward with terrible + yearning. Burnt with pitiless sunlight, drenched with purple explosions of + summer storm, he saw her cleansed and pure. Where were her recreant poets + that they had never made these things plain? + </p> + <p> + And then, after the senseless day, after its happy but meaningless + triviality, the throng and mixed perfumery and silly courteous gestures, + his blessed solitude! Oh solitude, that noble peace of the mind! He loved + the throng and multitude of the day: he loved people: but sometimes he + suspected that he loved them as God does—at a judicious distance. + From his rather haphazard religious training, strange words came back to + him. “For God so loved the world...” So loved the world that—that + what? That He sent someone else... Some day he must think this out. But + you can't think things out. They think themselves, suddenly, amazingly. + The city itself is God, he cried. Was not God's ultimate promise something + about a city—The City of God? Well, but that was only symbolic + language. The city—of course that was only a symbol for the race—for + all his kind. The entire species, the whole aspiration and passion and + struggle, that was God. + </p> + <p> + On the ferries, at night, after supper, was his favourite place for + meditation. Some undeniable instinct drew him ever and again out of the + deep and shut ravines of stone, to places where he could feed on distance. + That is one of the subtleties of this straight and narrow city, that + though her ways are cliffed in, they are a long thoroughfare for the eye: + there is always a far perspective. But best of all to go down to her + environing water, where spaces are wide: the openness that keeps her sound + and free. Ships had words for him: they had crossed many horizons: + fragments of that broken blue still shone on their cutting bows. Ferries, + the most poetical things in the city, were nearly empty at night: he stood + by the rail, saw the black outline of the town slide by, saw the lower sky + gilded with her merriment, and was busy thinking. + </p> + <p> + Now about a God (he said to himself)—instinct tells me that there is + one, for when I think about Him I find that I unconsciously wag my tail a + little. But I must not reason on that basis, which is too puppyish. I like + to think that there is, somewhere in this universe, an inscrutable Being + of infinite wisdom, harmony, and charity, by Whom all my desires and needs + would be understood; in association with Whom I would find peace, + satisfaction, a lightness of heart that exceed my present understanding. + Such a Being is to me quite inconceivable; yet I feel that if I met Him, I + would instantly understand. I do not mean that I would understand Him: but + I would understand my relationship to Him, which would be perfect. Nor do + I mean that it would be always happy; merely that it would transcend + anything in the way of social significance that I now experience. But I + must not conclude that there is such a God, merely because it would be so + pleasant if there were. + </p> + <p> + Then (he continued) is it necessary to conceive that this deity is + super-canine in essence? What I am getting at is this: in everyone I have + ever known—Fuji, Mr. Poodle, Mrs. Spaniel, those maddening + delightful puppies, Mrs. Purp, Mr. Beagle, even Mrs. Chow and Mrs. + Sealyham and little Miss Whippet—I have always been aware that there + was some mysterious point of union at which our minds could converge and + entirely understand one another. No matter what our difference of breed, + of training, of experience and education, provided we could meet and + exchange ideas honestly there would be some satisfying point of mental + fusion where we would feel our solidarity in the common mystery of life. + People complain that wars are caused by and fought over trivial things. + Why, of course! For it is only in trivial matters that people differ: in + the deep realities they must necessarily be at one. Now I have a suspicion + that in this secret sense of unity God may lurk. Is that what we mean by + God, the sum total of all these instinctive understandings? But what is + the origin of this sense of kinship? Is it not the realization of our + common subjection to laws and forces greater than ourselves? Then, since + nothing can be greater than God, He must BE these superior mysteries. Yet + He cannot be greater than our minds, for our minds have imagined Him. + </p> + <p> + My mathematics is very rusty, he said to himself, but I seem to remember + something about a locus, which was a curve or a surface every point on + which satisfied some particular equation of relation among the + coordinates. It begins to look to me as though life might be a kind of + locus, whose commanding equation we call God. The points on that locus + cannot conceive of the equation, yet they are subject to it. They cannot + conceive of that equation, because of course it has no existence save as a + law of their being. It exists only for them; they, only by it. But there + it is—a perfect, potent, divine abstraction. + </p> + <p> + This carried him into a realm of disembodied thinking which his mind was + not sufficiently disciplined to summarize. It is quite plain, he said to + himself, that I must rub up my vanished mathematics. For certainly the + mathematician comes closer to God than any other, since his mind is + trained to conceive and formulate the magnificent phantoms of legality. He + smiled to think that any one should presume to become a parson without + having at least mastered analytical geometry. + </p> + <p> + The ferry had crossed and recrossed the river several times, but Gissing + had found no conclusion for these thoughts. As the boat drew toward her + slip, she passed astern of a great liner. Gissing saw the four tall + funnels loom up above the shed of the pier where she lay berthed. What was + it that made his heart so stir? The perfect rake of the funnels—just + that satisfying angle of slant—that, absurdly enough, was the + nobility of the sight. Why, then? Let's get at the heart of this, he said. + Just that little trick of the architect, useless in itself—what was + it but the touch of swagger, of bravado, of defiance—going out into + the vast, meaningless, unpitying sea with that dainty arrogance of build; + taking the trouble to mock the senseless elements, hurricane, ice, and + fog, with a 15-degree slope of masts and funnels: damn, what was the + analogy? + </p> + <p> + It was pride, it was pride! It was the same lusty impudence that he saw in + his perfect city, the city that cried out to the hearts of youth, jutted + her mocking pinnacles toward sky, her clumsy turrets verticalled on gold! + And God, the God of gales and gravity, loved His children to dare and + contradict Him, to rally Him with equations of their own. + </p> + <p> + “God, I defy you!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER EIGHT + </h2> + <p> + Time is a flowing river. Happy those who allow themselves to be carried, + unresisting, with the current. They float through easy days. They live, + unquestioning, in the moment. + </p> + <p> + But Gissing was acutely conscious of Time. Though not subtle enough to + analyze the matter acutely, he had a troublesome feeling about it. He kept + checking off a series of Nows. “Now I am having my bath,” he would say to + himself in the morning. “Now I am dressing. Now I am on the way to the + store. Now I am in the jewellery aisle, being polite to customers. Now I + am having lunch.” After a period in which time ran by unnoticed, he would + suddenly realize a fresh Now, and feel uneasy at the knowledge that it + would shortly dissolve into another one. He tried, vainly, to swim + up-stream against the smooth impalpable fatal current. He tried to dam up + Time, to deepen the stream so that he could bathe in it carelessly. Time, + he said, is life; and life is God; time, then, is little bits of God. + Those who waste their time in vulgarity or folly are the true atheists. + </p> + <p> + One of the things that struck him about the city was its heedlessness of + Time. On every side he saw people spending it without adequate return. + Perhaps he was young and doctrinaire: but he devised this theory for + himself—all time is wasted that does not give you some awareness of + beauty or wonder. In other words, “the days that make us happy make us + wise,” he said to himself, quoting Masefield's line. On that principle, he + asked, how much time is wasted in this city? Well, here are some six + million people. To simplify the problem (which is permitted to every + philosopher) let us (he said) assume that 2,350,000 of those people have + spent a day that could be called, on the whole, happy: a day in which they + have had glimpses of reality; a day in which they feel satisfaction. (That + was, he felt, a generous allowance. ) Very well, then, that leaves + 3,650,000 people whose day has been unfruitful: spent in uncongenial work, + or in sorrow, suffering, and talking nonsense. This city, then, in one + day, has wasted 10,000 years, or 100 centuries. One hundred centuries + squandered in a day! It made him feel quite ill, and he tore up the scrap + of paper on which he had been figuring. + </p> + <p> + This was a new, disconcerting way to think of the subject. We are + accustomed to consider Time only as it applies to ourselves, forgetting + that it is working upon everyone else simultaneously. Why, he thought with + a sudden shock, if only 36,500 people in this city have had a thoroughly + spendthrift and useless day, that means a net loss of a century! If the + War, he said to himself, lasted over 1,500 days and involved more than + 10,000,000 men, how many aeons—He used to think about these things + during quiet evenings in the top-floor room at Mrs. Purp's. Occasionally + he went home at night still wearing his store clothes, because it pleased + good Mrs. Purp so much. She felt that it added glamour to her house to + have him do so, and always called her husband, a frightened silent + creature with no collar and a humble air, up from the basement to admire. + Mr. Purp's time, Gissing suspected, was irretrievably wasted—a good + deal of it, to judge by his dusty appearance, in rolling around in ashcans + or in the company of the neighbourhood bootlegger; but then, he reflected, + in a charitable seizure, you must not judge other people's time-spendings + by a calculus of your own. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps he himself was growing a little miserly in this matter. Indulging + in the rare, the sovereign luxury of thinking, he had suddenly become + aware of time's precious fluency, and wondered why everyone else didn't + think about it as passionately as he did. In the privacy of his room, + weary after the day afoot, he took off his cutaway coat and trousers and + enjoyed his old habit of stretching out on the floor for a good rest. + There he would lie, not asleep, but in a bliss of passive meditation. He + even grudged Mrs. Purp the little chats she loved—she made a point + of coming up with clean towels when she knew he was in his room, because + she cherished hearing him talk. When he heard her knock, he had to + scramble hastily to his feet, get on his clothes, and pretend he had been + sitting calmly in the rocking chair. It would never do to let her find him + sprawled on the floor. She had an almost painful respect for him. Once, + when prospective lodgers were bargaining for rooms, and he happened to be + wearing his Beagle and Company attire, she had asked him to do her the + favour of walking down the stairs, so that the visitors might be impressed + by the gentility of the establishment. + </p> + <p> + Of course he loved to waste time—but in his own way. He gloated on + the irresponsible vacancy of those evening hours, when there was nothing + to be done. He lay very still, hardly even thinking, just feeling life go + by. Through the open window came the lights and noises of the street. + Already his domestic life seemed dim and far away. The shrill appeals of + the puppies, their appalling innocent comments on existence, came but + faintly to memory. Here, where life beat so much more thickly and closely, + was the place to be. Though he had solved nothing, yet he seemed closer to + the heart of the mystery. Entranced, he felt time flowing on toward him, + endless in sweep and fulness. There is only one success, he said to + himself—to be able to spend your life in your own way, and not to + give others absurd maddening claims upon it. Youth, youth is the only + wealth, for youth has Time in its purse! + </p> + <p> + In the store, however, philosophy was laid aside. A kind of intoxication + possessed him. Never before had old Mr. Beagle (watching delightedly from + the mezzanine balcony) seen such a floorwalker. Gissing moved to and fro + exulting in the great tide of shopping. He knew all the best customers by + name and had learned their peculiarities. If a shower came up and Mrs. + Mastiff was just leaving, he hastened to give her his arm as far as her + limousine, boosting her in so expeditiously that not a drop of wetness + fell upon her. He took care to find out the special plat du jour of the + store's lunch room, and seized occasion to whisper to Mrs. Dachshund, + whose weakness was food, that the filet of sole was very nice to-day. Mrs. + Pomeranian learned that giving Gissing a hint about some new Parisian + importations was more effective than a half page ad. in the Sunday papers. + Within a few hours, by a judicious word here and there, he would have a + score of ladies hastening to the millinery salon. A pearl necklace of + great value, which Mr. Beagle had rebuked the jewellery buyer for getting, + because it seemed more appropriate for a dealer in precious stones than + for a department store, was disposed of almost at once. Gissing casually + told Mrs. Mastiff that he had heard Mrs. Sealyham intended to buy it. As + for Mrs. Dachshund, who had had a habit of lunching at Delmonico's, she + now was to be seen taking tiffin at Beagle's almost daily. There were many + husbands who would have been glad to shoot him at sight on the first of + the month, had they known who was the real cause of their woe. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, Gissing had raised floorwalking to a new level. He was more prime + minister than a mere patroller of aisles. With sparkling eye, with + unending curiosity, tact, and attention, he moved quietly among the + throng. He realized that shopping is the female paradise; that spending + money she has not earned is the only real fun an elderly and wealthy lady + can have; and if to this primitive shopping passion can be added the + delights of social amenity—flattery, courtesy, good-humoured + flirtation—the snare is complete. + </p> + <p> + But all this is not accomplished without rousing the jealousy of rivals. + Among the other floorwalkers, and particularly in the gorgeously uniformed + attendant at the front door (who was outraged by Gissing's habit of + escorting special customers to their motors) moved anger, envy, and + sneers. Gissing, completely absorbed in the fascination of his work, was + unaware of this hostility, as he was equally unaware of the amazed + satisfaction of his employer. He went his way with naive and unconscious + pleasure. It did not take long for his enemies to find a fulcrum for their + chagrin. One evening, after closing, when he sat in the dressing room, + with his feet in the usual tub of hot water, placidly reviewing the day's + excitements and smoking his pipe, the superintendent burst in. + </p> + <p> + “Hey!” he exclaimed. “Don't you know smoking's forbidden? What do you want + to do, get our fire insurance cancelled? Get out of here! You're fired!” + </p> + <p> + It did not occur to Gissing to question or protest. He had known perfectly + well that smoking was not allowed. But he was like the stage hand behind + the scenes who concluded it was all right to light a cigarette because the + sign only said SMOKING FORBIDDEN, instead of SMOKING STRICTLY FORBIDDEN. + He had not troubled his mind about it, one way or about it, one way or + another. + </p> + <p> + He had drawn his salary that evening, and his first thought was, Well, at + any rate I've earned enough to pay for the clothes. He had been there + exactly four weeks. Quite calmly, he lifted his feet out of the tub and + began to towel them daintily. The meticulous way he dried between his toes + was infuriating to the superintendent. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any children?” Gissing asked, mildly. + </p> + <p> + “What's that to you?” snapped the other. + </p> + <p> + “I'll sell you this bathtub for a quarter. Take it home to them. They + probably need it.” + </p> + <p> + “You get out of here!” cried the angry official. + </p> + <p> + “You'd be surprised,” said Gissing, “how children thrive when they're + bathed regularly. Believe me, I know.” + </p> + <p> + He packed his formal clothes in a neat bundle, left the bathtub behind, + surrendered his locker key, and walked toward the employees' door, + escorted by his bristling superior. As they passed through the empty + aisles, scene of his brief triumph, he could not help gazing a little + sadly. True merchant to the last, a thought struck him. He scribbled a + note on the back of a sales slip and left it at Miss Whippet's post by the + stocking counter. It said:— + </p> + <p> + MISS WHIPPET: Show Mrs. Sealyham some of the bisque sports hose, Scotch + wool, size 9. She's coming to-morrow. Don't let her get size 8 1/2. They + shrink. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MR. GISSING. +</pre> + <p> + At the door he paused, relit his pipe leisurely, raised his hat to the + superintendent, and strolled away. + </p> + <p> + In spite of this nonchalance, the situation was serious. His money was at + a low ebb. All his regular income was diverted to the support of the large + household in the country. He was too proud to appeal to his wealthy uncle. + He hated also to think of Mrs. Purp's mortification if she learned that + her star boarder was out of work. By a curious irony, when he got home he + found a letter from Mrs. Spaniel:— + </p> + <p> + MR. GISHING, dere friend, the pupeys are well, no insecks, and eat with + nives and forx Groups is the fattest but Yelpers is the lowdest they send + wags and lix and glad to here Daddy is doing so well in buisness with + respects from + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MRS. SPANIEL. +</pre> + <p> + He did not let Mrs. Purp know of the change in his condition, and every + morning left his lodging at the usual time. By some curious attraction he + felt drawn to that downtown region where his kinsman's office was. This + part of the city he had not properly explored. + </p> + <p> + It was a world wholly different from Fifth Avenue. There was none of that + sense of space and luxury he had known on the wide slopes of Murray Hill. + He wandered under terrific buildings, in a breezy shadow where javelins of + colourless sunlight pierced through thin slits, hot brilliance fell in + fans and cascades over the uneven terrace of roofs. Here was where + husbands worked to keep Fifth Avenue going: he wondered vaguely whether + Mrs. Sealyham had bought those stockings? One day he saw his uncle + hurrying along Wall Street with an intent face. Gissing skipped into a + doorway, fearing to be recognized. He knew that the old fellow would + insist on taking him to lunch at the Pedigree Club, would talk endlessly, + and ask family questions. But he was on the scent of matters that talk + could not pursue. + </p> + <p> + He perceived a sense of pressure, of prodigious poetry and beauty and + amazement. This was a strange jungle of life. Tall coasts of windows stood + up into the pure brilliant sky: against their feet beat a dark surf of + slums. In one foreign street, too deeply trenched for sunlight, oranges + were the only gold. The water, reaching round in two arms, came close: + there was a note of husky summons in the whistles of passing craft. Almost + everywhere, sharp above many smells of oils and spices, the whiff of + coffee tingled his busy nose. Above one huge precipice stood a gilded + statue—a boy with wings, burning in the noon. Brilliance flamed + between the vanes of his pinions: the intangible thrust of that pouring + light seemed about to hover him off into blue air. + </p> + <p> + The world of working husbands was more tender than that of shopping wives: + even in all their business, they had left space and quietness for the + dead. Sunken among the crags he found two graveyards. They were cups of + placid brightness. Here, looking upward, it was like being drowned on the + floor of an ocean of light. Husbands had built their offices half-way to + the sky rather than disturb these. Perhaps they appreciate rest all the + more, Gissing thought, because they get so little of it? Somehow he could + not quite imagine a graveyard left at peace in the shopping district. It + would be bad for trade, perhaps? Even the churches on the Avenue, he had + noticed, were huddled up and hemmed in so tightly by the other buildings + that they had scarcely room to kneel. If I ever become a parson, he said + (this was a fantastic dream of his), I will insist that all churches must + have a girdle of green about them, to set them apart from the world. + </p> + <p> + The two little brown churches among the cliffs had been gifted with a + dignity far beyond the dream of their builders. Their pointing spires were + relieved against the enormous facades of business. What other altars ever + had such a reredos? Above the strepitant racket of the streets, he heard + the harsh chimes of Trinity at noonday—strong jags of clangour + hurled against the great sounding-boards of buildings; drifting and dying + away down side alleys. There was no soft music of appeal in the bronze + volleying: it was the hoarse monitory voice of rebuke. So spoke the church + of old, he thought: not asking, not appealing, but imperatively, sternly, + as one born to command. He thought with new respect of Mr. Sealyham, Mr. + Mastiff, Mr. Dachshund, all the others who were powers in these fantastic + flumes of stone. They were more than merely husbands of charge accounts—they + were poets. They sat at lunch on the tops of their amazing edifices, and + looked off at the blue. + </p> + <p> + Day after day went by, but with a serene fatalism Gissing did nothing + about hunting a job. He was willing to wait until the last dollar was + broken: in the meantime he was content. You never know the soul of a city, + he said, until you are down on your luck. Now, he felt, he had been here + long enough to understand her. She did not give her secrets to the world + of Fifth Avenue. Down here, where the deep crevice of Broadway opened out + into greenness, what was the first thing he saw? Out across the harbour, + turned toward open sea—Liberty! Liberty Enlightening the World, he + had heard, was her full name. Some had mocked her, he had also heard. + Well, what was the gist of her enlightenment? Why this, surely: that + Liberty could never be more than a statue: never a reality. Only a fool + would expect complete liberty. He himself, with all his latitude, was not + free. If he were, he would cook his meals in his room, and save money—but + Mrs. Purp was strict on that point. She had spoken scathingly of two young + females she ejected for just that reason. Nor was Mrs. Purp free—she + was ridden by the Gas Company. So it went. + </p> + <p> + It struck him, now he was down to about three dollars, that a generous + gesture toward Fortune might be valuable. When you are nearly out of + money, he reasoned, to toss coins to the gods—i. e., to buy + something quite unnecessary—may be propitiatory. It may start + something moving in your direction. It is the touch of bravado that God + relishes. In a sudden mood of tenderness, he bought two dollars' worth of + toys and had them sent to the children. He smiled to think how they would + frolic over the jumping rabbit. He sent Mrs. Spaniel a postcard of the + Aquarium. + </p> + <p> + There is a good deal more to this business than I had realized, he said, + as he walked uptown through the East Side slums that hot night. The + audacity, the vitality, the magnificence, are plain enough. But I seem to + see squalor too, horror and pitiful dearth. I believe God is farther off + than I thought. Look here: if the more you know, the less you know about + God, doesn't that mean that God is really enjoyed only by the completely + simple—by faith, never by reason? + </p> + <p> + He gave twenty-five cents to a beggar, and said angrily: “I am not + interested in a God who is known only by faith.” + </p> + <p> + When he got uptown he was very tired and hungry. In spite of all Mrs. + Purp's rules, he smuggled in an egg, a box of biscuits, a small packet of + tea and sugar, and a tin of condensed milk. He emptied the milk into his + shaving mug, and used the tin to boil water in, holding it over the gas + jet. He was getting on finely when a sudden knock on the door made him + jump. He spilled the hot water on his leg, and uttered a wild yell. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Purp burst in, but she was so excited that she did not notice the egg + seeping into the clean counterpane. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Gissing,” she exclaimed, “I've been waiting all evening for you + to come in. Purp and I wondered if you'd seen this in the paper to-night? + Purp noticed it in the ads., but we couldn't understand what it meant.” + </p> + <p> + She held out a page of classified advertising, in which he read with + amazement: + </p> + <p> + PERSONAL + </p> + <p> + If MR. GISSING, late floorwalker at Beagle and Company, will communicate + with Mr. Beagle Senior, he will hear matters greatly to his advantage. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER NINE + </h2> + <p> + There had been great excitement in the private offices of Beagle and + Company after Gissing's sudden disappearance. Old Mr. Beagle was furious, + and hotly scolded his son. In spite of his advanced age, Beagle senior was + still an autocrat and insisted on regulating the details of the great + business he had built up. “You numbskull!” he shouted to Beagle junior, + “that fellow was worth any dozen others in the place, and you let him be + fired by a mongrel superintendent.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Papa,” protested the vice-president, “the superintendent had to obey + the rules. You know how strict the underwriters are about smoking. Of + course he should have warned Gissing, instead of discharging him.” + </p> + <p> + “Rules!” interrupted old Beagle fiercely—“Rules don't apply in a + case like this. I tell you that fellow has a genius for storekeeping. + Haven't I watched him on the floor? I've never seen one like him. What's + the good of your newfangled methods, your card indexes and overhead + charts, when you haven't even got a record of his address?” + </p> + <p> + Growling and showing his teeth, the head of the firm plodded stiffly + downstairs and discharged the superintendent himself. Already he saw signs + of disorganization in the main aisle. Miss Whippet was tearful: customers + were waiting impatiently to have exchange slips O. K.'d: Mrs. Dachshund + was turning over some jewelled lorgnettes, but it was plain that she was + only “looking,” and had no intention to purchase. + </p> + <p> + So when, after many vain inquiries, the advertisement reached its target, + the old gentleman welcomed Gissing with genuine emotion. He received him + into his private office, locked the door, and produced a decanter. + Evidently beneath his irritable moods he had sensibilities of his own. + </p> + <p> + “I have given my life to trade,” he said, “and I have grown weary of + watching the half-hearted simpletons who imagine they can rise to the top + by thinking more about themselves than they do about the business. You, + Mr. Gissing, have won my heart. You see storekeeping as I do—a fine + art, an absorbing passion, a beautiful, thrilling sport. It is an art as + lovely and subtle as the theatre, with the same skill in wooing and + charming the public.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing bowed, and drank Mr. Beagle's health, to cover his astonishment. + The aged merchant fixed him with a glittering eye. + </p> + <p> + “I can see that storekeeping is your genius in life. I can see that you + are naturally consecrated to it. My son is a good steady fellow, but he + lacks the divine gift. I am getting old. We need new fire, new brains, in + the conduct of this business. I ask you to forgive the unlucky blunder we + made lately, and devote yourself to us.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing was very much embarrassed. He wanted to say that if he was going + to consecrate himself to floorwalking, he would relish a raise in salary; + but old Beagle was so tremulous and kept blowing his nose so loudly that + Gissing doubted if he could make himself heard. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to take a position as General Manager,” said Mr. Beagle, “with + a salary of ten thousand a year.” + </p> + <p> + He rose and threw open a mahogany door that led out of his own sanctum. + “Here is your office,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The bewildered Gissing looked about the room—the mahogany + flat-topped desk with a great sheet of plate glass shining greenly at its + thick edges; an inkwell, pens and pencils, a little glass bowl full of + bright paper-clips; one of those rocking blotters that are so tempting; a + water cooler which just then uttered a seductive gulping bubble; an + electric fan, gently humming; wooden trays for letters and memoranda; on + one wall a great chart of names, lettered Organization of Personnel; a + nice domestic-looking hat-and-coat stand; a soft green rug—Ah, how + alluring it all was! + </p> + <p> + Mr. Beagle pointed to the outer door of the room, which had a frosted + pane. Through the glass the astounded floorwalker could read the words + </p> + <p> + REGANAM LARENEG GNISSIG.RM + </p> + <p> + What a delightful little room to meditate in. From the broad windows he + could see the whole shining tideway of Fifth Avenue, passing lazily in the + warm sunlight. He turned to Mr. Beagle, greatly moved. + </p> + <p> + The next day an advertisement appeared in the leading papers, to this + effect:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ________________________ + BEAGLE AND COMPANY + take pleasure in announcing to + their patrons and friends that + MR. GISSING + has been admitted to the firm in + the status of General Manager + Je Maintiendrai + __________________________ +</pre> + <p> + Mrs. Purp's excitement at this is easier imagined than described. Her only + fear was that now she would lose her best lodger. She made Purp go out and + buy a new shirt and a collar; she told Gissing, rather pathetically, that + she intended to have the whole house repapered in the fall. The big double + suite downstairs, which could be used as bedroom and sitting-room, she + suggested as a comfortable change. But Gissing preferred to remain where + he was. He had grown fond of the top floor. + </p> + <p> + Certainly there was an exhilaration in his new importance and prosperity. + The store buzzed with the news. At his request, Miss Whippet was promoted + to the seventh floor to be his secretary. It was delightful to make his + morning tour of inspection through the vast building. Mr. Hound, the store + detective, loved to tell his cronies how suspiciously he had followed “The + Duke” that first day. As Gissing moved through the busy departments he saw + eyes following him, tails wagging. Customers were more flattered than ever + by his courteous attentions. One day he even held a little luncheon party + in the restaurant, at which Mrs. Dachshund, Mrs. Mastiff, and Mrs. + Sealyham were his guests. He invited their husbands, but the latter were + too busy to come. It would have been more prudent of them to attend. That + afternoon Mrs. Dachshund, carried away by enthusiasm, bought a platinum + wrist-watch. Mrs. Mastiff bought a diamond dog-collar. Mrs. Sealyham, + whose husband was temporarily embarrassed in Wall Street, contented + herself with a Sheraton chifforobe. + </p> + <p> + But it began to be evident that his delightful little office was not going + to be a shrine for quiet meditation. His vanity had been pleased by the + large advertisement about him, but he suddenly realized the poison that + lies in printer's ink. Almost overnight, it seemed, he had been added to + ten thousand mailing lists. Little Miss Whippet, although she was fast at + typewriting, was hard put to it to keep up with his correspondence. She + quivered eagerly over her machine, her small paws flying. New pink ribbons + gleamed through her translucent summery georgette blouse. They were her + flag of exultation at her surprising rise in life. She felt it was + immensely important to get all these letters answered promptly. + </p> + <p> + And so did Gissing. In his new zeal, and in his innocent satisfaction at + having entered the inner circle of Big Business, he insisted on answering + everything. He did not realize that dictating letters is the quaint + diversion of business men, and that most of them mean nothing. It is + simply the easiest way of assuring yourself that you are busy. + </p> + <p> + This job was no sinecure. Old Mr. Beagle had so much affectionate + confidence in Gissing that he referred almost everything to him for + decision. Mr. Beagle junior, perhaps a little annoyed at the floorwalker's + meteoric translation, spent the summer afternoons at golf. The infinite + details of a great business crowded upon him. Inexperienced, he had not + learned the ways in which seasoned “executives” protect themselves against + useless intrusion. His telephone buzzed like a hornet. Not five minutes + went by without callers or interruptions of some sort. + </p> + <p> + Most amazing of all, he found, was the miscellaneous passion for palaver + displayed by Big Business. Immediately he was invited to join innumerable + clubs, societies, merchants' associations. Every day would arrive letters, + on heavily embossed paper—“The Sales Managers Club will hold a + round-table discussion on Friday at one o'clock. We would greatly + appreciate it if you would be with us and say a few words.”—“Will + you be our guest at the monthly dinner of the Fifth Avenue Guild, and give + us any preachment that is on your mind?”—“The Merchandising Uplift + Group of Murray Hill will meet at the Commodore for an informal lunch. It + has been suggested that you contribute to the discussion on Underwriting + Overhead.”—“The Executives Association plans a clambake and barbecue + at the Barking Rock Country Club. Around the bonfire a few impromptu + remarks on Business Cycles will be called for. May we count on you?”—“Will + you address the Convention of Knitted Bodygarment Buyers, on whatever + topic is nearest your heart?”—“Will you write for Bunion and + Callous, the trade organ of the Floorwalkers' Union, a thousand-word + review of your career?”—“Will you broadcast a twenty-minute talk on + Department Store Ethics, at the radio station in Newark? 250,000 radio + fans will be listening in.” New to the strange and high-spirited world of + “executives,” it was natural that Gissing did not realize that the net + importance of this kind of thing was absolute zero. It did strike him as + odd, perhaps, that merchants did not dare to go on a junket or plan a + congenial dinner without pretending to themselves that it had some + business significance. But, having been so amazingly lifted into this + atmosphere of great affairs, he felt it was his duty to the store to play + the game according to the established rules. He was borne along on a + roaring spate of conferences, telephone calls, appointments, Rotarian + lunches, Chamber of Commerce dinners, picnics to talk tariff, + house-parties to discuss demurrage, tennis tournaments to settle the + sales-tax, golf foursomes to regulate price-maintenance. Of all these + matters he knew nothing whatever; and he also saw that as far as the + business of Beagle and Company was concerned it would be better not to + waste his time on such side-issues. The way he could really be of service + was in the store itself, tactfully lubricating that complicated engine of + goods and personalities. But he learned to utter, when called upon, a few + suave generalities, barbed with a rollicking story. This made him always + welcome. He was of a studious disposition, and liked to examine this queer + territory of life with an unprejudiced eye. After all, his inward secret + purpose had nothing to do with the success or failure of retail trade. He + was still seeking a horizon that would stay blue when he reached it. + </p> + <p> + More and more he was interested to perceive how transparent the mummery of + business was. He was interested to note how persistently men fled from + success, how carefully most of them avoided the obvious principles of + utility, honesty, prudence, and courtesy, which are inevitably rewarded. + These sagacious, humorous fellows who were amusing themselves with + twaddling trade apothegms and ridiculous banqueteering solemnities, surely + they were aware that this had no bearing upon their own jobs? He suspected + that it was all a feverish anodyne to still some inward unease. Since they + must (not being fools) be aware that these antics were mere subtraction of + time from their business, the obvious conclusion was, they were not happy + with business. There was some strange wistfulness in the conduct of Big + Business Dogs, he thought. Under the pretence of transacting affairs, they + were really trying to discover something that had eluded them. + </p> + <p> + The same thing, strangely enough, seemed to be going on in a sphere of + which he knew nothing, the world of art. He gathered from the papers that + writers, painters, musicians, were holding shindies almost every night, at + which delightful rebels, too busy to occupy themselves with actual + creation, talked charmingly about their plans. Poets were reading poems + incessantly, forgetting to write any. Much of the newspaper comment on + literature made him shudder, for though this was a province quite strange + to him, he had sound instincts. He discerned fatal ignorance and absurdity + between the pompous lines. Yet, in its own way, it seemed a bold and + honest ignorance. Were these, too, like the wistful executives, seeking + where the blue begins? + </p> + <p> + But what was this strange agitation that forbade his fellow-creatures from + enjoying the one thing that makes achievement possible—Solitude? He + himself, so happy to be left alone—was no one else like that? And + yet this very solitude that he craved and revelled in was, by a sublime + paradox, haunted by mysterious loneliness. He felt sometimes as though his + heart had been broken off from some great whole, to which it yearned to be + reunited. It felt like a bone that had been buried, which God would some + day dig up. Sometimes, in his caninomorphic conception of deity, he felt + near him the thunder of those mighty paws. In rare moments of silence he + gazed from his office window upon the sun-gilded, tempting city. Her + madness was upon him—her splendid craze of haste, ambition, pride. + Yet he wondered. This God he needed, this liberating horizon, was it after + all in the cleverest of hiding-places—in himself? Was it in his own + undeluded heart? + </p> + <p> + Miss Whippet came scurrying in to say that the Display Manager begged him + to attend a conference. The question of apportioning window space to the + various departments was to be reconsidered. Also, the book department had + protested having rental charged against them for books exhibited merely to + add a finishing touch to a furniture display. Other agenda: the Personnel + Director wished an appointment to discuss the ruling against salesbitches + bobbing their hair. The Commissary Department wished to present revised + figures as to the economy that would be effected by putting the employees' + cafeteria on the same floor as the store's restaurant. He must decide + whether early closing on Saturdays would continue until Labor Day. + </p> + <p> + As he went about these and a hundred other fascinating trivialities, he + had a painful sense of treachery to Mr. Beagle senior. The old gentleman + was so touchingly certain that he had found in him the ideal shoulders on + which to unload his honourable and crushing burden. With more than + paternal pride old Beagle saw Gissing, evidently urbane and competent, + cheerfully circulating here and there. The shy angel of doubt that lay + deep in Gissing's cider-coloured eye, the proprietor did not come near + enough to observe. + </p> + <p> + If there is tragedy in our story, alas here it is. Gissing, incorrigible + seceder from responsibilities that did not touch his soul, did not dare + tell his benefactor the horrid truth. But the worm was in his heart. Late + one night, in his room at Mrs. Purp's, he wrote a letter to Mr. Poodle. + After mailing it at a street-box, he had a sudden pang. To the dreamer, + decisions are fearful. Then he shook himself and ran lightly to a little + lunchroom on Amsterdam Avenue, where he enjoyed doughnuts and iced tea. + His mind was resolved. The doughnuts, by a simple symbolism, made him + think of Rotary Clubs, also of millstones. No, he must be fugitive from + honour, from wealth, from Chambers of Commerce. Fugitive from all save his + own instinct. Those who have bound themselves are only too eager to see + the chains on others. There was no use attempting to explain to Mr. Beagle—the + dear old creature would not understand. + </p> + <p> + The next day, after happily and busily discharging his duties, and staying + late to clean up his desk, Gissing left Beagle and Company for good. The + only thing that worried him, as he looked round his comfortable office for + the last time, was the thought of little Miss Whippet's chagrin when she + found her new promotion at an end. She had taken such delight in their + mutual dignity. On the filing cabinet beside her typewriter desk was a + pink geranium in a pot, which she watered every morning. He could not + resist pulling out a drawer of her desk, and smiled gently to see the + careful neatness of its compartments, with all her odds and ends usefully + arranged. The ink-eraser, with an absurd little whisk attached to it for + brushing away fragments of rubbed paper; the fascicle of sharpened pencils + held together by an elastic band; the tiny phial of typewriter oil; a + small box of peppermints; a crumpled handkerchief; the stenographic + notebook with a pencil inserted at the blank page, so as to be ready for + instant service the next day; the long paper-cutter for slitting + envelopes; her memorandum pad, on which was written Remind Mr. G. of + Window Display Luncheon—it seemed cruel to deprive her of all these + innocent amusements in which she delighted so much. And yet he could not + go on as a General Manager simply for the happiness of Miss Whippet. + </p> + <p> + In the foliage of the geranium, where he knew she would find it the first + thing in the morning, he left a note:— + </p> + <p> + MISS WHIPPET: I am leaving the store to-night and will not be back. Please + notify Mr. Beagle. Explain to him that I shall never take a position with + one of his competitors; I am leaving not because I didn't enjoy the job, + but because if I stayed longer I might enjoy it too much. Tell Mr. Beagle + that I specially urge him to retain you as assistant to the new Manager, + whoever that may be. You are entirely competent to attend to the routine, + and the new Manager can spend all his time at business lunches. + </p> + <p> + Please inform the Display Managers' Club that I can't speak at their + meeting to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + I wish you all possible good-fortune. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MR. GISSING. +</pre> + <p> + As he passed through the dim and silent aisles of the store, he surveyed + them again with mixed emotions. Here he might, apparently, have been king. + But he had no very poignant regret. Another of his numerous selves, he + reflected, had committed suicide. That was the right idea: to keep + sloughing them off, throwing overboard the unreal and factitious Gissings, + paring them down until he discovered the genuine and inalienable creature. + </p> + <p> + And so, for the second time, he made a stealthy exit from the employees' + door. + </p> + <p> + Four days later he read in the paper of old Mr. Beagle's death. There can + be no doubt about it. The merchant died of a broken heart. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TEN + </h2> + <h3> + Mr. Poodle's reply was disappointing. He said:— + </h3> + <p> + St. Bernard's Rectory, September 1st. + </p> + <p> + MY DEAR MR. GISSING: + </p> + <p> + I regret that I cannot conscientiously see my way to writing to the Bishop + in your behalf. Any testimonial I could compose would be doubtful at best, + for I cannot agree with you that the Church is your true vocation. I do + not believe that one who has deserted his family, as you have, and whose + record (even on the most charitable interpretation) cannot be described as + other than eccentric, would be useful in Holy Orders. You say that your + life in the city has been a great purgation. If so, I suggest that you + return and take up the burdens laid upon you. It has meant great + mortification to me that one of my own parish has been the cause of these + painful rumours that have afflicted our quiet community. Notwithstanding, + I wish you well, and hope that chastening experience may bring you peace. + </p> + <p> + Very truly yours, + </p> + <p> + J. ROVER POODLE. + </p> + <p> + Gissing meditated this letter in the silence of along evening in his room. + He brought to the problem his favourite aid to clear thinking—strong + coffee mixed with condensed milk. Mrs. Purp had made concession to his + peculiarities when he had risen so high in the world: better to break any + rules, she thought, than lose so notable a tenant. She had even installed + a small gas-plate for him, so that he could brew his morning and evening + coffee. + </p> + <p> + So he took counsel with his percolator, whose bubbling was a sound he + found both soothing and stimulating. He regarded it as a kind of private + oracle, with a calm voice of its own. He listened attentively as he waited + for the liquid to darken. Appeal—to—the—Bishop, Appeal—to-the—Bishop, + seemed to be the speech of the jetting gurgitation under the glass lid. + </p> + <p> + He determined to act upon this, and lay his case before Bishop Borzoi even + without the introduction he had hoped for. Fortunately he still had some + sheets of Beagle and Company notepaper, with the engraved lettering and + Office of the General Manager embossed thereon. He was in some doubt as to + the proper formality and style of address in communicating with a Bishop: + was it “Very Reverend,” or “Right Reverend”? and which of these indicated + a superior grade of reverendability? But he decided that a masculine + frankness would not be amiss. He wrote:— + </p> + <p> + VERY RIGHT REVEREND BISHOP BORZOI, + </p> + <p> + Dear Bishop:— + </p> + <p> + May one of the least of your admirers solicit an interview with your very + right reverence, to discuss matters pertaining to religion, theology, and + a possible vacancy in the Church? If there are any sees outstanding, it + would be a favour. This is very urgent. I enclose a stamped addressed + envelope. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Respectfully yours, + + MR. GISSING. +</pre> + <p> + A prompt reply from the Bishop's secretary granted him an appointment. + </p> + <p> + Scrupulously attired in his tail-coat and silk hat, Gissing proceeded + toward the rendezvous. To tell the truth, he was nervous: his mind flitted + uneasily among possible embarrassments. Suppose Mr. Poodle had written to + the Bishop to prejudice his application? Another, but more absurd, idea + troubled him. One of the problems in visiting the houses of the Great (he + had learned in his brief career in Big Business) is to find the door-bell. + It is usually mysteriously concealed. Suppose he should have to peer + hopelessly about the vestibule, in a shameful and suspicious manner, until + some flunky came out to chide? In the sunny park below the Cathedral he + saw nurses sitting by their puppy-carriages; for an instant he almost + envied their gross tranquillity. THEY have not got (he said to himself) to + call on a Bishop! + </p> + <p> + He was early, so he strolled for a few minutes in the park that lies + underneath that rocky scarp. On the summit, clear-surging against the + blue, the great church rode like a ship on a long ridge of sea. The angel + with a trumpet on the jut of the roof was like a valiant seaman in the + crow's nest. His agitation was calmed by this noble sight. Yes, he said, + the Church is a ship behind whose bulwarks I will find rest. She sails an + unworldly sea: her crew are exempt from earthly ambition and fallacy. + </p> + <p> + He ran nimbly up the long steps that scale the cliff, and approached the + episcopal residence. The bell was plainly visible. He rang, and presently + came a tidy little housemaid. He had meditated a form of words. It would + be absurd to say “Is the Bishop in?” for he knew the Bishop WAS in. So he + said “This is Mr. Gissing. I think the Bishop is expecting me.” + </p> + <p> + Bishop Borzoi was an impressive figure—immensely tall and slender, + with long, narrow ascetic face and curly white hair. He was surprisingly + cordial. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Mr. Gissing?” he said. “Sit down, sir. I know Beagle and Company very + well. Too well, in fact-Mrs. Borzoi has an account there.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing, feeling rather aghast and tentative, had no comment ready. He was + still worrying a little as to the proper mode of address. + </p> + <p> + “It is very pleasant to find you Influential Merchants interested in the + Church,” continued the Bishop. “I often thought of approaching the late + Mr. Beagle on the subject of a small contribution to the cathedral. + Indeed, I have spent so much in your store that it would be only a fair + return. Mr. Collie, of Greyhound, Collie and Company, has been very + handsome with us: he has just provided for repaving the choir.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing began to fear that the object of his visit had perhaps been + misunderstood, but the prelate's eyes were bright with benignant + enthusiasm and he dared not interrupt. + </p> + <p> + “You inquired most kindly in your letter as to a possible vacancy in the + Church. Indeed there is a niche in the transept that I should be happy to + see filled. It is intended for some kind of memorial statue, and perhaps, + in honour of the late Mr. Beagle—” + </p> + <p> + “I must explain, Sir Bishop,” said Gissing, very much disturbed, “that I + have left Beagle and Company. The contribution I wish to make to the + Church is not a decorative one, I fear. It is myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yourself?” queried the Bishop, politely puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” stammered Gissing, “I—in fact, I am hoping to—to enter + the ministry.” + </p> + <p> + The Bishop was plainly amazed, and his long, aristocratic nose seemed + longer than ever as he gazed keenly at his caller. + </p> + <p> + “But have you had any formal training in theology?” + </p> + <p> + “None, right reverend Bishop,” said Gissing, “But it's this way,” and, + incoherently at first, but with increasing energy and copious eloquence, + he poured out the story of his mental struggles. + </p> + <p> + “This is singularly interesting,” said the Bishop at length. “I can see + that you are wholly lacking in the rudiments of divinity. Of modern + exegesis and criticism you are quite innocent. But you evidently have + something which is much rarer—what the Quakers call a CONCERN. Of + course you should really go to the theological seminary and establish this + naif intuitive mysticism upon a disciplined basis. You will realize that + we churchmen can only meet modern rationalism by a rationalism of our own—by + a philosophical scholarship which is unshakable. I do not suppose that you + can even harmonize the Gospels?” + </p> + <p> + Gissing ruefully admitted his ignorance. + </p> + <p> + “Well, at least I must make sure of a few fundamentals,” said the Bishop. + “Of course a symbological latitude is permissible, but there are some + essentials of dogma and creed that may not be foregone.” + </p> + <p> + He subjected the candidate to a rapid catechism. Gissing, in a state of + mind curiously mingled of excitement and awe, found himself assenting to + much that, in a calmer moment, he would hardly have admitted; but having + plunged so deep into the affair he felt it would be the height of + discourtesy to give negative answers to any of the Bishop's queries. By + dint of hasty mental adjustments and symbolic interpretations, he + satisfied his conscience. + </p> + <p> + “It is very irregular,” the Bishop admitted, “but I must confess that your + case interests me greatly. Of course I cannot admit you to ordination + until you have passed through the regular theological curriculum. Yet I + find you singularly apt for one without proper training.” + </p> + <p> + He brooded a while, fixing the candidate with a clear darkly burning eye. + </p> + <p> + “It struck me that you were a trifle vague upon some of the Articles of + Religion, and the Table of Kindred and Affinity. You must remember that + these articles are not to be subjected to your own sense or comment, but + must be taken in the literal and grammatical meaning. However, you show + outward and visible signs of an inward and spiritual grace. It so happens + that I know of a small chapel, in the country, that has been closed for + lack of a minister. I can put you in charge there as lay reader.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing's face showed his elation. + </p> + <p> + “And wear a cassock?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” said the Bishop sternly. “Not even a surplice. You must + remember you have not been ordained. If you are serious in your zeal, you + must work your way up gradually, beginning at the bottom.” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen some of your cloth with a little purple dickey which looks + very well in the aperture of the waistcoat,” said Gissing humbly. “How + long would it take me to work up to that?” + </p> + <p> + Bishop Borzoi, who had a sense of humour, laughed genially. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said. “It's a fine afternoon: I'll order my car and we'll + drive out to Dalmatian Heights. I'll show you your chapel, and tell you + exactly what your duties will be.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing was startled. Dalmatian Heights was only a few miles from the + Canine Estates. If the news should reach Mr. Poodle... + </p> + <p> + “Sir Bishop,” he said nervously, “I begin to fear that perhaps after all I + am unworthy. Now about those Articles of Religion: I may perhaps have + given some of them a conjectural and commentating assent. Possibly I have + presumed too far—” + </p> + <p> + The Bishop was already looking forward to a ride into the country with his + unusual novice. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, not at all,” he said cheerily. “In a mere lay reader, a + slight laxity is allowable. You understand, of course, that you are + expressly restricted from the pulpit. You will have to read the lessons, + conduct the service, and may address the congregation upon matters not + homiletic nor doctrinal; preaching and actual entry into the pulpit are + defended. But I see excellent possibility in you. Perform the duties + punctually in this very lowly office, and high ranks of service in the + church militant will be open.” + </p> + <p> + He put on a very fine shovel-hat, and led the way to his large touring + car. + </p> + <p> + It was a very uncomfortable ride for Gissing. A silk hat is the least + stable apparel for swift motoring, and the chauffeur drove at high speed. + The Bishop, leaning back in the open tonneau, crossed one delicately + slender shank over another, gazed in a kind of ecstasy at the countryside, + and talked gaily about his days as a young curate. Gissing sat holding his + hat on. He saw only too well that, by the humiliating oddity of chance, + they were going to take the road that led exactly past his own house. He + could only hope that Mrs. Spaniel and the various children would not be + visible, for explanations would be too complicated. Desperately he praised + the view to be obtained on another road, but Bishop Borzoi was too + interested in his own topic to pay much attention. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” said the latter, as they drew near the familiar region, “I + must introduce you to Miss Airedale. She lives in the big place on the + hill over there. Her family always used to attend what I will now call + YOUR chapel; she is a very ardent churchgoer, and it was a sincere grief + to her when the place had to be closed. You will find her a great aid and + comfort; not only that, she is—what one does not always find in the + devouter members of her sex—young and beautiful. I think I + understood you to say you are a bachelor?” + </p> + <p> + They were approaching the last turning at which it was still possible to + avoid the fatal road, and Gissing's attention was divided. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, after a fashion,” he replied. “Bishop, do you know that road down + into the valley? The view is really superb—Yes, that road—Oh, + no, I am a bachelor—” + </p> + <p> + It was too late. The chauffeur, unconscious of this private crisis, was + spinning along the homeward way. With a tender emotion Gissing saw the + spires of the poplar trees, the hemlocks down beyond the pond, the fringe + of woods that concealed the house until you were quite upon it— + </p> + <p> + The car swerved suddenly and the driver only saved it by a quick and canny + manoeuvre from going down the bank. He came to a stop, and almost from + underneath the rear wheels appeared a scuffling dusty group of youngsters + who had been playing in the road. There they were—Bunks, Groups, and + Yelpers (inordinately grown!) and two of the Spaniels. Their clothes were + deplorable, their faces grimed, their legs covered with burrs, their whole + demeanour was ragamuffin and wild: yet Gissing felt a pang of pride to see + his godchildren's keen, independent bearing contrasted with the rowdier, + disreputable look of the young Spaniels. Quickly he averted his head to + escape recognition. But the urchins were all gaping at the Bishop's shovel + hat. + </p> + <p> + “Hot dog!” cried Yelpers “Some hat!” + </p> + <p> + To his horror, Gissing now saw Mrs. Spaniel, hastening in alarm down from + the house, spilling potatoes from her apron as she ran. He hurriedly urged + the driver to proceed. + </p> + <p> + “What terrible looking children,” observed the Bishop, who seemed + fascinated by their stare. “Really, my good sister,” he said to Mrs. + Spaniel, who was now panting by the running board; “you must keep them off + the road or someone will get hurt.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing was looking for an imaginary object on the floor of the car. To + his great relief he heard the roar of the motor as they started again. But + he sat up a little too soon. A simultaneous roar of “Daddy!” burst from + the trio. + </p> + <p> + “What was that they were shouting at us?” inquired the Bishop, looking + back. + </p> + <p> + Gissing shook his head. He was too overcome to speak. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER ELEVEN + </h2> + <p> + The little chapel at Dalmatian Heights sat upon a hill, among a grove of + pines, the most romantic of all trees. Life, a powerful but clumsy + dramatist, does not reject the most claptrap “situations,” which a + sophisticated playwright would discard as too obvious. For this sandy + plateau, strewn with satiny pine-needles, was the very horizon that had + looked so blue and beckoning from the little house by the pond. Not far + away was the great Airedale estate, which Gissing had known only at an + admiring distance—and now he was living there as an honoured guest. + </p> + <p> + The Bishop had taken him to call upon the Airedales; and they, delighted + that the chapel was to be re-opened, had insisted upon his staying with + them. The chapel, in fact, was a special interest with Mr. Airedale, who + had been a leading contributor toward its erection. Gissing was finding + that life seemed to be continually putting him into false positions; and + now he discovered, somewhat to his chagrin, that the lovely little shrine + of St. Spitz, whose stained windows glowed like rubies in its cloister of + dark trees, was rather a fashionable hobby among the wealthy landowners of + Dalmatian Hills. It had been closed all summer, and they had missed it. + The Bishop, in his airy and indefinite way, had not made it quite plain + that Gissing was only a lay reader; and in spite of his embarrassed + disclaimers, he found himself introduced by Mr. Airedale to the + country-house clique as the new “vicar.” + </p> + <p> + But at any rate it was lucky that the Airedales had insisted on taking him + in as a guest; for he had learned from the Bishop (just as the latter was + leaving) that there was no stipend attached to the office of lay reader. + Fortunately he still had much of the money he had saved from his salary as + General Manager. And whatever sense of anomaly he felt was quickly + assuaged by the extraordinary comfort and novelty of his environment. In + the great Airedale mansion he experienced for the first time that ultimate + triumph of civilization—a cup of tea served in bed before breakfast, + with slices of bread-and-butter of tenuous and amazing fragile thinness. + He was pleased, too, with the deference paid him as a representative of + the cloth, even though it compelled him to a solemnity he did not inwardly + feel. But most of all, undoubtedly, he was captivated by the loveliness + and warmth of Miss Airedale. + </p> + <p> + The Bishop had not erred. Admiring the aristocratic Roman trend of her + brow and nose; the proud, inquisitive carriage of her somewhat rectangular + head, her admirable, vigorous figure and clear topaz eyes, Gissing was + aware of something he had not experienced before—a disturbance both + urgent and agreeable, in which the intellect seemed to play little part. + He was startled by the strength of her attractiveness, amazed to learn how + pleasing it was to be in her company. She was very young and brisk: wore + clothes of a smart sporting cut, and was (he thought) quite divine in her + riding breeches. But she was also completely devoted to the chapel, where + she played the music on Sundays. She was a volatile creature, full of + mischievous surprise: at their first music practice, after playing over + some hymns on the pipe-organ, she burst into jazz, filling the quiet grove + with the clamorous syncope of Paddy-Paws, a favourite song that summer. + </p> + <p> + So into the brilliant social life of the Airedales and their friends he + found himself suddenly pitchforked. In spite of the oddity of the + situation, and of occasional anxiety when he considered the possibility of + Mr. Poodle finding him out, he was very happy. This was not quite what he + had expected, but he was always adaptable. Miss Airedale was an enchanting + companion. In the privacy of his bedroom he measured himself for a pair of + riding breeches and wrote to his tailor in town to have them made as soon + as possible. He served the little chapel assiduously, though he felt it + better to conceal from the Airedales the fact that he went there every + day. He suspected they would think him slightly mad if they knew, so he + used to pretend that he had business in town. Then he would slip away to + the balsam-scented hilltop and be perfectly happy sweeping the chapel + floor, dusting the pews, polishing the brasswork, rearranging the hymnals + in the racks. He arranged with the milkman to leave a bottle of milk and + some cinnamon buns at the chapel gate every morning, so he had a cheerful + and stealthy little lunch in the vestry-room, though always a trifle + nervous lest some of his parishioners should discover him. + </p> + <p> + He practiced reading the lessons aloud at the brass lectern, and + discovered how easy is dramatic elocution when you are alone. He wished it + were possible to hold a service daily. For the first time he was able to + sing hymns as loud as he liked. Miss Airedale played the organ with + emphatic fervour, and the congregation, after a little hesitation, enjoyed + the lusty sincerity of a hymn well trolled. Some of his flock, who had + previously relished taking part in the general routine of the service, + were disappointed by his zeal, for Gissing insisted on doing everything + himself. He rang the bell, ushered the congregation to their seats, read + the service, recited the Quadrupeds' Creed, led the choir, gave out as + many announcements as he could devise, took up the collection, and at the + close skipped out through the vestry and was ready and beaming in the + porch before the nimblest worshipper had reached the door. On his first + Sunday, indeed, he carried enthusiasm rather too far: in an innocent + eagerness to prolong the service as much as possible, and being too + excited to realize quite what he was doing, he went through the complete + list of supplications for all possible occasions. The congregation were + startled to find themselves praying simultaneously both for rain and for + fair weather. + </p> + <p> + In a cupboard in the vestry-room he had found an old surplice hanging; he + took it down, tried it on before the mirror, and wistfully put it back. To + this symbolic vestment his mind returned as he sat solitary under the + pine-trees, looking down upon the valley of home. It was the season of + goldenrod and aster on the hillsides: a hot swooning silence lay upon the + late afternoon. The weight and closeness of the air had struck even the + insects dumb. Under the pines, generally so murmurous, there was something + almost gruesome in the blank stillness: a suspension so absolute that the + ears felt dull and sealed. He tried, involuntarily, to listen more + clearly, to know if this uncanny hush were really so. There was a sense of + being imprisoned, but only most delicately, in a spell, which some sudden + cracking might disrupt. + </p> + <p> + The surplice tempted him strongly, for it suggested the sermon he felt + impelled to deliver, against the Bishop's orders. For the beautiful chapel + in the piny glade was, somehow, false: or, at any rate, false for him. The + architect had made it a dainty poem in stone and polished wood, but + somehow God had evaded the neat little trap. Moreover, the God his + well-bred congregation worshipped, the old traditionally imagined + snow-white St. Bernard with radiant jowls of tenderness, shining dewlaps + of love; paternal, omnipotent, calm—this deity, though sublime in + its way, was too plainly an extension of their own desires. His prominent + parishioners—Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher, Mrs. Griffon, Mrs. Retriever; + even the delightful Mr. Airedale himself—was it not likely that they + esteemed a deity everlastingly forgiving because they themselves felt need + of forgiveness? He had been deeply shocked by the docility with which they + followed the codes of the service: even when he had committed his blunder + of the contradictory prayers, they had murmured the words automatically, + without protest. To the terrific solemnities of the Litany they had made + the responses with prompt gabbling precision, and with a rapidity that + frankly implied impatience to take the strain off their knees. + </p> + <p> + Somehow he felt that to account for a world of unutterable strangeness + they had invented a God far too cheaply simple. His mood was certainly not + one of ribald easy scoff. It was they (he assured himself) whose theology + was essentially cynical; not he. He was a little weary of this just, + charitable, consoling, hebdomadal God; this God who might be sufficiently + honoured by a decorously memorized ritual. Yet was he too shallow? Was it + not seemly that his fellows, bound on this dark, desperate venture of + living, should console themselves with decent self-hypnosis? + </p> + <p> + No, he thought. No, it was not entirely seemly. If they pretended that + their God was the highest thing knowable, then they must bring to His + worship the highest possible powers of the mind. He had a strange yearning + for a God less lazily conceived: a God perhaps inclement, awful, master of + inscrutable principles. Yet was it desirable to shake his congregation's + belief in their traditional divinity? He thought of them—so amiable, + amusing, spirited and generous, but utterly untrained for abstract + imaginative thought on any subject whatever. His own strange surmisings + about deity would only shock and horrify them And after all, was it not + exactly their simplicity that made them lovable? The great laws of truth + would work their own destinies without assistance from him! Even if these + pleasant creatures did not genuinely believe the rites they so politely + observed (he knew they did not, for BELIEF is an intellectual process of + extraordinary range and depth), was it not socially useful that they + should pretend to do so? + </p> + <p> + And yet—with another painful swing of the mind—was it + necessary that Truth should be worshipped with the aid of such + astonishingly transparent formalisms, hoaxes, and mummeries? Alas, it + seemed that this was an old, old struggle that must be troublesomely + fought out, again and again down the generations. Prophets were twice + stoned—first in anger; then, after their death, with a handsome slab + in the graveyard. But words uttered in sincerity (he thought) never fail + of some response. Though he saw his fellows leashed with a heavy chain of + ignorance, stupidity, passion, and weakness, yet he divined in life some + inscrutable principle of honour and justice; some unreckonable essence of + virtue too intimate to understand; some fumbling aspiration toward + decency, some brave generosity of spirit, some cheerful fidelity to + Beauty. He could not see how, in a world so obviously vast and uncouth + beyond computation, they could find a puny, tidy, assumptive, scheduled + worship so satisfying. But perhaps, since all Beauty was so staggering, it + was better they should cherish it in small formal minims. Perhaps in this + whole matter there was some lovely symbolism that he did not understand. + </p> + <p> + The soft brightness was already lifting into upper air, a mingled tissue + of shadows lay along the valley. In the magical clarity of the evening + light he suddenly felt (as one often does, by unaccountable planetary + instinct) that there was a new moon. Turning, he saw it, a silver snipping + daintily afloat; and not far away, an early star. He had found no creed in + the prayer-book that accounted for the stars. Here at the bottom of an + ocean of sky, we look aloft and see them thick-speckled—mere + barnacles, perhaps, on the keel of some greater ship of space. He + remembered how at home there had been a certain burning twinkle that + peeped through the screen of the dogwood tree. As he moved on his porch, + it seemed to flit to and fro, appearing and vanishing. He was often + uncertain whether it was a firefly a few yards away, or a star the other + side of Time. Possibly Truth was like that. + </p> + <p> + There was a light swift rustle behind him, and Miss Airedale appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo!” she said. “I wondered where you were. Is this how you spend your + afternoons, all alone?” + </p> + <p> + Stars, creeds, cosmologies, promptly receded into remote perspective and + had to shift for themselves. It was true that Gissing had somewhat avoided + her lately, for he feared her fascination. He wished nothing else to + interfere with his search for what he had not yet found. Postpone the + female problem to the last, was his theory: not because it was insoluble, + but because the solution might prove to be less interesting than the + problem itself. But side by side with her, she was irresistible. A + skittish brightness shone in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Great news!” she exclaimed. “I've persuaded Papa to take us all down to + Atlantic City for a couple of days.” + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful!” cried Gissing. “Do you know, I've never been to the + seashore.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry,” she replied. “I won't let you see much of the ocean. We'll + go to the Traymore, and spend the whole time dancing in the Submarine + Grill.” + </p> + <p> + “But I must be back in time for the service on Sunday,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “We're going to leave first thing in the morning. We'll go in the car, and + I'll drive. Will you sit with me in the front seat?” + </p> + <p> + “Watch me!” replied Gissing gallantly. + </p> + <p> + “Come on then, or you'll be late for dinner. I'll race you home!” And she + was off like a flash. + </p> + <p> + But in spite of Miss Airedale's threat, at Atlantic City they both fell + into a kind of dreamy reverie. The wine-like tingle of that salty air was + a quiet drug. The apparently inexhaustible sunshine was sharpened with a + faint sting of coming autumn. Gissing suddenly remembered that it was ages + since he had simply let his mind run slack and allowed life to go by + unstudied. Mr. and Mrs. Airedale occupied a suite high up in the terraced + mass of the huge hotel; they wrapped themselves in rugs and basked on + their private balcony. Gissing and the daughter were left to their own + amusements. They bathed in the warm September surf; they strolled the + Boardwalk up beyond the old Absecon light, where the green glimmer of + water runs in under the promenade. They sat on the deck of the hotel—or + rather Miss Airedale sat, while Gissing, courteously attentive, leaned + over her steamer-chair. He stood so for hours, apparently in devoted chat; + but in fact he was half in dream. The smooth flow of the little rolling + shays just below had a soothing hypnotic erect. But it was the glorious + polished blue of the sea-horizon that bounded all his thoughts. Even while + Miss Airedale gazed archly up at him, and he was busy with cheerful + conversation, he was conscious of that broad band of perfect colour, + monotonous, comforting, thrilling. For the first time he realized the + great rondure of the world. His mind went back to the section of the + prayer-book that had always touched him most pointedly—the “Forms of + Prayer to be Used at Sea.” In them he had found a note of sincere terror + and humility. And now he viewed the sea for the first time in this setting + of notable irony. The open dazzle of placid elements, obedient only to + some cosmic calculus, lay as a serene curtain against which the quaint + flamboyance of the Boardwalk was all the more amusing. The clear rim of + sea curving off into space drew him with painful curiosity. Here at last + was what he had needed. The proud waters went over his soul. Here indeed + the blue began. + </p> + <p> + He looked down at Miss Airedale, who had gone to sleep while waiting for + him to say something. He tiptoed away and went to his room to write down + some ideas. Against the wide challenge of that blue hemisphere, where half + the world lay open and free to the eye, the Bishop's prohibition lost + weight. He was resolved to preach a sermon. + </p> + <p> + At dusk he met Miss Airedale on the high balcony that runs around the + reading-room of the hotel. They were quite alone up there. Along the + Boardwalk, in the pale sentimental twilight, the translucent electric + globes shone like a long string of pearls. She was very tempting in a gay + evening frock, and reproached him for having neglected her. She shivered a + little in the cool wind coming off the darkening water. The weakness of + the hour was upon him. He put his arm tenderly round her as they leaned + over the parapet. + </p> + <p> + “See those darling children down on the sand,” she said. “I do adore + puppies, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + He remembered Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers. Nothing is so potent as the love + of children when you are away from them. She gazed languishing at him; he + responded with a generous pressure. But his alarmed soul thrilled with + panic. + </p> + <p> + “You must excuse me a moment, while I dress for dinner,” he said. He was + strangely terrified by the look of secret understanding in her beautiful + eyes. It seemed to imply some subtle, inexpressible pact. As a matter of + truth, she was unconscious of it: it was only the old demiurge speaking in + her; the old demiurge which was pursuing him just as ardently as he was + trailing the dissolving blue of his dream. But he was much agitated as he + went down in the elevator. + </p> + <p> + “Heavens,” he said to himself; “are we all only toys in the power of these + terrific instincts?” + </p> + <p> + For the first time he was informed of the infinite feminine capacity for + being wooed. + </p> + <p> + That night they danced in the Submarine Grill. She floated in his embrace + with triumphant lightness. Her eyes, utilized as temporary lamps by a + lighting-circuit of which she was quite unaware, beamed with happy lustre. + The lay reader, always docile to the necessities of occasion, murmured + delightful trifles. But his private thoughts were as aloof and shining and + evasive as the goldfish that twinkled in the glass pool overhead. He + picked up her scarf and her handkerchief when she dropped them. He smiled + vaguely when she suggested that she thought she could persuade Mr. + Airedale to stay in Atlantic City over the week-end, and why worry about + the service on Sunday? But when she and the yawning Mrs. Airedale had + retired, he hastened to his chamber and packed his bag. Stealthily he went + to the desk and explained that he was leaving unexpectedly on business, + and that the bill should go to Mr. Airedale, whose guest he had been. He + slipped away out of the side door, and caught the late train. Mrs. + Airedale chafed her daughter that night for whining in her sleep. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWELVE + </h2> + <p> + The chapel of St. Spitz was crowded that fine Sunday morning, and the + clang and thud of its bells came merrily through the thin quick air to + worshippers arriving in their luxurious motors. The amiable oddity of the + lay reader's demeanour as priest had added a zest to churchgoing. The + congregation were particularly pleased, on this occasion, to see Gissing + appear in surplice and stole. They had felt that his attire on the + previous Sundays had been a little too informal. And when, at the time + usually allotted to the sermon, Gissing climbed the pulpit steps, unfurled + a sheaf of manuscript, and gazed solemnly about, they settled back into + the pew cushions in a comfortable, receptive mood. They had a subconscious + feeling that if their souls were to be saved, it was better to have it + done with all the proper formalities. They did not notice that he was + rather pale, and that his nose twitched nervously. + </p> + <p> + “My friends,” he said, “in this beautiful little chapel, on this airy + hilltop, one might, if anywhere, speak with complete honesty. For you who + gather here for worship are, in the main, people of great affairs; + accustomed to looking at life with high spirit and with quick imagination. + I will ask you then to be patient with me while I exhort you to carry into + your religion the same enterprising and ambitious gusto that has made your + worldly careers a success. You are accustomed to deal with great affairs. + Let me talk to you about the Great Affairs of God.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing had been far too agitated to be able to recognize any particular + members of his audience. All the faces were fused into a common blur. Miss + Airedale, he knew, was in the organ loft, but he had not seen her since + his flight from Atlantic City, for he had removed from the Airedale + mansion before her return, and had made himself a bed in the corner of the + vestry-room. He feared she was angry: there had been a vigorous growling + note in some of the bass pipes of the organ as she played the opening + hymn. He had not seen a tall white-haired figure who came into the chapel + rather late, after the service had begun, and took a seat at the back. + Bishop Borzoi had seized the opportunity to drive out to Dalmatian Heights + this morning to see how his protege was getting on. When the Bishop saw + his lay reader appear in surplice and scarlet hood, he was startled. But + when the amateur parson actually ascended the pulpit, the Bishop's face + was a study. The hair on the back of his neck bristled slightly. + </p> + <p> + “It is so easy,” Gissing continued, “to let life go by us in its swift + amusing course, that sometimes it hardly seems worth while to attempt any + bold strokes for truth. Truth, of course, does not need our assistance; it + can afford to ignore our errors. But in this quiet place, among the + whisper of the trees, I seem to have heard a disconcerting sound. I have + heard laughter, and I think it is the laughter of God.” + </p> + <p> + The congregation stirred a little, with polite uneasiness. This was not + quite the sort of thing to which they were accustomed. + </p> + <p> + “Why should God laugh? I think it is because He sees that very often, when + we pretend to be worshipping Him, we are really worshipping and gratifying + ourselves. I used the phrase 'Great Affairs.' The point I want to make is + that God deals with far greater affairs than we have realized. We have + imagined Him on too petty a scale. If God is so great, we must approach + Him in a spirit of greatness. He is not interested in trivialities—trivialities + of ritual, of creed, of ceremony. We have imagined a vain thing—a + God of our own species; merely adding to the conception, to gild and + consecrate, a futile fuzbuz of supernaturalism. My friends, the God I + imagine is something more than a formula on Sundays and an oath during the + week.” + </p> + <p> + Those sitting in the rear of the Chapel were startled to hear a low + rumbling sound proceeding from the diaphragm of the Bishop, who half rose + from his seat and then, by a great effort of will, contained himself. But + Gissing, rapt in his honourable speculations, continued with growing + happiness. + </p> + <p> + “I ask you, though probably in vain, to lay aside for the moment your + inherited timidities and conventions. I ask you to lay aside pride, which + is the devil itself and the cause of most unhappiness. I ask you to rise + to the height of a great conception. To 'magnify' God is a common phrase + in our observances. Then let us truly magnify Him—not minify, as the + theologians do. If God is anything more than a social fetich, then He must + be so much more that He includes and explains everything. It may sound + inconceivable to you, it may sound sacrilegious, but I suggest to you that + it is even possible God may be a biped—” + </p> + <p> + The Bishop could restrain himself no longer. He rose with flaming eyes and + stood in the aisle. Mr. Airedale, Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher, and several + other prominent members of the Church burst into threatening growls. A + wild bark and clamour broke from Mr. Towser, the Sunday School + superintendent, and his pupils, who sat in the little gallery over the + door. And then, to Gissing's horror and amazement, Mr. Poodle appeared + from behind a pillar where he had been chafing unseen. In a fierce tenor + voice shaken with indignation he cried: + </p> + <p> + “Heretic and hypocrite! Pay no attention to his abominable nonsense! He + deserted his family to lead a life of pleasure!” + </p> + <p> + “Seize him!” cried the Bishop in a voice of thunder. + </p> + <p> + The church was now in an uproar. A shrill yapping sounded among the choir. + Mrs. Airedale swooned; the Bishop's progress up the aisle was impeded by a + number of ladies hastening for an exit. Old Mr. Dingo, the sexton, seized + the bell-rope in the porch and set up a furious pealing. Cries of rage + mingled with hysterical howls from the ladies. Gissing, trembling with + horror, surveyed the atrocious hubbub. But it was high time to move, or + his retreat would be cut off. He abandoned his manuscript and bounded down + the pulpit stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Unfrock him!” yelled Mr. Poodle. + </p> + <p> + “He's never been frocked!” roared the Bishop. + </p> + <p> + “Impostor!” cried Mr. Airedale. + </p> + <p> + “Excommunicate him!” screamed Mr. Towser. + </p> + <p> + “Take him before the consistory!” shouted Mr. Poodle. + </p> + <p> + Gissing started toward the vestry door, but was delayed by the mass of + scuffling choir-puppies who had seized this uncomprehended diversion as a + chance to settle some scores of their own. The clamour was maddening. The + Bishop leapt the chancel rail and was about to seize him when Miss + Airedale, loyal to the last, interposed. She flung herself upon the + Bishop. + </p> + <p> + “Run, run!” she cried. “They'll kill you!” + </p> + <p> + Gissing profited by this assistance. He pushed over the lectern upon Mr. + Poodle, who was clutching at his surplice. He checked Mr. Airedale by + hurling little Tommy Bull, one of the choir, bodily at him. Tommy's teeth + fastened automatically upon Mr. Airedale's ear. The surplice, which Mr. + Poodle was still holding, parted with a rip, and Gissing was free. With a + yell of defiance he tore through the vestry and round behind the chapel. + </p> + <p> + He could not help pausing a moment to scan the amazing scene, which had + been all Sabbath calm a few moments before. From the long line of motor + cars parked outside the chapel incredible chauffeurs were leaping, + hurrying to see what had happened. The shady grove shook with the hideous + clamour of the bell, still wildly tolled by the frantic sexton. The sudden + excitement had liberated private quarrels long decently repressed: in the + porch Mrs. Retriever and Mrs. Dobermann-Pinscher were locked in combat. + With a splintering crash one of the choir-pups came sailing through a + stained-glass window, evidently thrown by some infuriated adult. He + recognized the voice of Mr. Towser, raised in vigorous lamentation. To + judge by the sound, Mr. Towser's pupils had turned upon him and were + giving him a bad time. Above all he could hear the clear war-cry of Miss + Airedale and the embittered yells of Mr. Poodle. Then from the quaking + edifice burst Bishop Borzoi, foaming with wrath, his clothes much + tattered, and followed by Mr. Poodle, Mr. Airedale, and several others. + They cast about for a moment, and then the Bishop saw him. With a joint + halloo they launched toward him. + </p> + <p> + There was no time to lose. He fled down the shady path between the trees, + but with a hopeless horror in his heart. He could not long outdistance + such a runner as the Bishop, whose tremendous strides would surely + overhaul him in the end. If only he had known how to drive a car, he might + have commandeered one of the long row waiting by the gate. But he was no + motorist. Miss Airedale could have saved him, in her racing roadster, but + she had not emerged from the melee in the chapel. Perhaps the Bishop had + bitten her. His blood warmed with anger. + </p> + <p> + It happened that they had been mending the county highways, and a large + steam roller stood a few hundred feet down the road, drawn up beside the + ditch. Gissing knew that it was customary to leave these engines with the + fire banked and a gentle pressure of steam simmering in the boiler. It was + his only chance, and he seized it. But to his dismay, when he reached the + machine, which lay just round a bend in the road, he found it shrouded + with a huge tarpaulin. However, this suggested a desperate chance. He + whipped nimbly inside the covering and hid in the coal-box. Lying there, + he heard the chase go panting by. + </p> + <p> + As soon as he dared, he climbed out, stripped off the canvas, and gazed at + the bulky engine. It was one of those very tall and impressive rollers + with a canopy over the top. The machinery was not complicated, and the + ingenuity of desperation spurred him on. Hurriedly he opened the draughts + in the fire-box, shook up the coals, and saw the needle begin to quiver on + the pressure-gauge. He experimented with one or two levers and handles. + The first one he touched let off a loud scream from the whistle. Then he + discovered the throttle. He opened it a few notches, cautiously. The + ponderous machine, with a horrible clanking and grinding, began to move + forward. + </p> + <p> + A steam roller may seem the least helpful of all vehicles in which to + conduct an urgent flight; but Gissing's reasoning was sound. In the first + place, no one would expect to find a hunted fugitive in this lumbering, + sluggish behemoth of the road. Secondly, sitting perched high up in the + driving saddle, right under the canopy, he was not easily seen by the + casual passer-by. And thirdly, if the pursuit came to close grips, he was + still in a strategic position. For this, the most versatile of all + land-machines except the military tank, can move across fields, crash + through underbrush, and travel in a hundred places that would stall a + motor car. He rumbled off down the road somewhat exhilarated. He found the + scarlet stole twisted round his neck, and tied it to one of the stanchions + of the canopy as a flag of defiance. It was not long before he saw the + posse of pursuit returning along the road, very hot and angry. He crunched + along solemnly, busying himself to get up a strong head of steam. There + they were, the Bishop, Mr. Poodle, Mr. Airedale, Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher, + and Mr. Towser. Mr. Poodle was talking excitedly: the Bishop's tongue ran + in and out over his gleaming teeth. He was not saying much, but his manner + was full of deadly wrath. They paid no attention to the roller, and were + about to pass it without even looking up, when Gissing, in a sudden fit of + indignation, gave the wheel a quick twirl and turned his clumsy engine + upon them. They escaped only by a hair's breadth from being flattened out + like pastry. Then the Bishop, looking up, recognized the renegade. With a + cry of anger they all leaped at the roller. + </p> + <p> + But he was so high above them, they had no chance. He seized the + coal-scoop and whanged Mr. Poodle across the skull. The Bishop came + dangerously near reaching him, but Gissing released a jet of scalding + steam from an exhaust-cock, which gave the impetuous prelate much cause + for grief. A lump of coal, accurately thrown, discouraged Mr. Airedale. + Mr. Towser, attacking on the other side of the engine, managed to scramble + up so high that he carried away the embroidered stole, but otherwise the + fugitive had all the best of it. Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher burned his feet + trying to climb up the side of the boiler. From the summit of his uncouth + vehicle Gissing looked down undismayed. + </p> + <p> + “Miserable freethinker!” said Borzoi. “You shall be tried by the assembly + of bishops.” + </p> + <p> + “In a mere lay reader,” quoted Gissing, “a slight laxity is allowable. You + had better go back and calm down the congregation, or they'll tear the + chapel to bits. This kind of thing will have a very bad influence on + church discipline.” + </p> + <p> + They shouted additional menace, but Gissing had already started his + deafening machinery and could not hear what was said. He left them + bickering by the roadside. + </p> + <p> + For fear of further pursuit, he turned off the highway a little beyond, + and rumbled noisily down a rustic lane between high banks and hedges where + sumac was turning red. Strangely enough, there was something very + comforting about his enormous crawling contraption. It was docile and + reliable, like an elephant. The crashing clangour of its movement was soon + forgotten—became, in fact, an actual stimulus to thought. For the + mere pleasure of novelty, he steered through a copse, and took joy in + seeing the monster thrash its way through thickets and brambles, and then + across a field of crackling stubble. Steering toward the lonelier regions + of that farming country, presently he halted in a dingle of birches beside + a small pond. He spent some time very happily, carefully studying the + machinery. He found some waste and an oilcan in the tool-chest, and + polished until the metal shone. The water looked rather low in the gauge, + and he replenished it from the pool. + </p> + <p> + It was while grooming the roller that it struck him his own appearance was + unusual for a highway mechanic. He was still wearing the famous + floorwalker suit, which he had punctiliously donned every Sunday for + chapel. But he had had to flee without a hat—even without his + luggage, which was neatly packed in a bag in the vestry. That, he felt + sure, Mr. Poodle had already burst open for evidences of heresy and + schism. The pearly trousers were stained with oil and coal-dust; the neat + cutaway coat bore smears of engine-grease. As long as he stuck to the + roller and the telltale garments, pursuit and identification would of + course be easy enough. But he had taken a fancy to the machine: he decided + not to abandon it yet. + </p> + <p> + Obviously it was better to keep to the roads, where the engine would at + any rate be less surprisingly conspicuous, and where it would leave no + trail. So he made a long circuit across meadows and pastures, carrying a + devilish clamour into the quiet Sunday afternoon. Regaining a macadam + surface, he set oil at random, causing considerable annoyance to the + motoring public. Finding that his cutaway coat caused jeers and merriment, + he removed it; and when any one showed a disposition to inquire, he + explained that he was doing penance for an ill-judged wager. His + oscillating perch above the boiler was extraordinarily warm, and he bought + a gallon jug of cider from a farmer by the way. Cheering himself with + this, and reviewing in his mind the queer experiences of the past months, + he went thundering mildly on. + </p> + <p> + At first he had feared a furious pursuit on the part of the Bishop, or + even a whole college of bishops, quickly mobilized for the event. He had + imagined them speeding after him in a huge motor-bus, and himself keeping + them at bay with lumps of coal. But gradually he realized that the Bishop + would not further jeopardize his dignity, or run the risk of making + himself ridiculous. Mr. Poodle would undoubtedly set the township road + commissioner on his trail, and he would be liable to seizure for the theft + of a steam roller. But that could hardly happen so quickly. In the + meantime, a plan had been forming in his mind, but it would require + darkness for its execution. + </p> + <p> + Darkness did not delay in coming. As he jolted cheerfully from road to + road, holding up long strings of motors at every corner while he jovially + held out his arm as a sign that he was going to turn, dark purple clouds + were massing and piling up. Foreseeing a storm, he bought some provisions + at a roadhouse, and turned into a field, where he camped in the lee of a + forest of birches. He cooked himself an excellent supper, toasting bread + and frankfurters in the firebox of the roller. With boiling water from a + steam-cock he brewed a panikin of tea; and sat placidly admiring the + fawn-pink light on wide pampas of bronze grasses, tawny as a panther's + hide. A strong wind began to draw from the southeast. He lit the lantern + at the rear of the machine and by the time the rain came hissing upon the + hot boiler, he was ready. Luckily he had saved the tarpaulin. He spread + this on the ground underneath the roller, and curled up in it. The glow + from the firebox kept him warm and dry. + </p> + <p> + “Summer is over,” he said to himself, as he heard the clash and spouting + of rain all about him. He lay for some time, not sleepy, thinking + theology, and enjoying the close tumult of wind and weather. + </p> + <p> + People who have had an arm or a leg amputated, he reflected, say they can + still feel pains in the absent member. Well, there's an analogy in that. + Modern skepticism has amputated God from the heart; but there is still a + twinge where the arteries were sewn up. + </p> + <p> + He slept peacefully until about two in the morning, except when a red-hot + coal, slipping through the grate-bars, burned a lamentable hole in his + trousers. When he woke, the night still dripped, but was clear aloft. He + started the engine and drove cautiously, along black slippery roads, to + Mr. Poodle's house. In spite of the unavoidable racket, no one stirred: he + surmised that the curate slept soundly after the crises of the day. He + left the engine by the doorstep, pinning a note to the steering-wheel. It + said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + TO REV. J. ROVER POODLE + this useful steam-roller + as a symbol of the theological mind + + MR. GISSING +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THIRTEEN + </h2> + <p> + The steamship Pomerania, which had sailed at noon, was a few hours out of + port on a calm gray sea. The passengers, after the bustle of lunch and + arranging their staterooms; had settled into their deck chairs and were + telling each other how much they loved the ocean. Captain Scottie had + taken his afternoon constitutional on his private strip of starboard deck + just aft the bridge, and was sitting in his comfortable cabin expecting a + cup of tea. He was a fine old sea-dog: squat, grizzled, severe, with wiry + eyebrows, a short coarse beard, and watchful quick eyes. A characteristic + Scot, beneath his reticent conscientious dignity there was abundant humour + and affection. He would have been recognized anywhere as a sailor: those + short solid legs were perfectly adapted for balancing on a rolling deck. + He stood by habit as though he were leaning into a stiff gale. His mouth + always held a pipe, which he smoked in short, brisk whiffs, as though + expecting to be interrupted at any moment by an iceberg. + </p> + <p> + The steward brought in the tea-tray, and Captain Scottie settled into his + large armchair to enjoy it. His eye glanced automatically at the + barometer. + </p> + <p> + “A little wind to-night,” he said, his nose wrinkling unconsciously as the + cover was lifted from the dish of hot anchovy toast. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said the steward, but lingered, apparently anxious to speak + further. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Shepherd?” + </p> + <p> + “Beg pardon, sir, but the Chief Steward wanted me to say they've found + someone stowed away in the linen locker, sir. Queer kind of fellow, sir, + talks a bit like a padre. 'E must've come aboard by the engine-room + gangway, sir, and climbed into that locker near the barber shop.” + </p> + <p> + The problem of stowaways is familiar enough to shipmasters. “Send him up + to me,” said the Captain. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later Gissing appeared, escorted by a burly quartermaster. + Even the experienced Captain admitted to himself that this was something + new in the category of stowaways. Never before had he seen one in a + braided cutaway coat and wedding trousers. It was true that the garments + were in grievous condition, but they were worn with an air. The stowaway's + face showed some embarrassment, but not at all the usual hangdog mien of + such wastrels. Involuntarily his tongue moistened when he saw the tray of + tea (for he had not eaten since his supper on the steam roller the night + before), but he kept his eyes politely averted from the food. They rose to + a white-painted girder that ran athwart the cabin ceiling. CERTIFIED TO + ACCOMMODATE THE MASTER he read there, in letters deeply incised into the + thick paint. “A good Christian ship,” he said to himself. “It sounds like + the Y. M. C. A.” He was pleased to think that his suspicion was already + confirmed: ships were more religious than anything on land. + </p> + <p> + The Captain dismissed the quartermaster, and addressed himself sternly to + the culprit. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what have you to say for yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Please, Captain,” said Gissing politely, “do not allow your tea to get + cold. I can talk while you eat.” Behind his grim demeanour the Captain was + very near to smiling at this naivete. No Briton is wholly implacable at + tea-time, and he felt a genuine curiosity about this unusual offender. + </p> + <p> + “What was your idea in coming aboard?” he said. “Do you know that I can + put you in irons until we get across, and then have you sent home for + punishment? I suppose it's the old story: you want to go sight-seeing on + the other side?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Captain,” said Gissing. “I have come to sea to study theology.” + </p> + <p> + In spite of himself the Captain was touched by this amazing statement. He + was a Scot, as we have said. He poured a cup of tea to conceal his + astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Theology!” he exclaimed. “The theology of hard work is what you will find + most of aboard ship. Carry on and do your duty; keep a sharp lookout, all + gear shipshape, salute the bridge when going on watch, that is the whole + duty of a good officer. That's plenty theology for a seaman.” But the + skipper's eye turned brightly toward his bookshelves, where he had several + volumes of sermons, mostly of a Calvinist sort. + </p> + <p> + “I am not afraid of work,” said Gissing. “But I'm looking for horizons. In + my work ashore I never could find any.” + </p> + <p> + “Your horizon is likely to be peeling potatoes in the galley,” remarked + the Captain. “I understand they are short-handed there. Or sweeping out + bunks in the steerage. Ethics of the dust! What would you say to that?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” replied Gissing, “I shall be grateful for any task, however menial, + that permits me to meditate. I understand your point of view. By coming + aboard your ship I have broken the law, I have committed a crime; but not + a sin. Crime and sin, every theologian admits, are not coextensive.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain sailed head-on into argument. + </p> + <p> + “What?” he cried. “Are you aware of the doctrine of Moral Inability in a + Fallen State? Sit down, sit down, and have a cup of tea. We must discuss + this.” + </p> + <p> + He rang for the steward and ordered an extra cup and a fresh supply of + toast. At that moment Gissing heard two quick strokes of a bell, rung + somewhere forward, a clear, musical, melancholy tone, echoed promptly in + other parts of the ship. “What is that, Captain?” he asked anxiously. “An + accident?” + </p> + <p> + “Two bells in the first dog-watch,” said the Captain. “I fear you are as + much a lubber at sea as you are in theology.” + </p> + <p> + The next two hours passed like a flash. Gissing found the skipper, in + spite of his occasional moods of austerity, a delicious companion. They + discussed Theosophy, Spiritualism, and Christian Science, all of which the + Captain, with sturdy but rather troubled vehemence, linked with Primitive + Magic. Gissing, seeing that his only hope of establishing himself in the + sailor's regard was to disagree and keep the argument going, plunged into + psycho-analysis and the philosophy of the unconscious. Rather unwarily he + ventured to introduce a nautical illustration into the talk. + </p> + <p> + “Your compass needle,” he said, “points to the North Pole, and although it + has never been to the Pole, and cannot even conceive of it, yet it + testifies irresistibly to the existence of such a place.” + </p> + <p> + “I trust you navigate your soul more skilfully than you would navigate + this vessel,” retorted the Captain. “In the first place, the needle does + not point to the North Pole at all, but to the magnetic pole. Furthermore, + it has to be adjusted by magnets to counteract deviation. Mr. Gissing, you + may be a sincere student of theology, but you have not allowed for your + own temperamental deviation. Why, even the gyro compass has to be adjusted + for latitude error. You landsmen think that a ship is simply a floating + hotel. I should like to have the Bishop you spoke of study a little + navigation. That would put into him a healthy respect for the marvels of + science. On board ship, sir, the binnacle is kept locked and the key is on + the watch-chain of the master. It should be so in all intellectual + matters. Confide them to those capable of understanding.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing saw that the Captain greatly relished his sense of superiority, so + he made a remark of intentional simplicity. + </p> + <p> + “The binnacle?” he said. “I thought that was the little shellfish that + clings to the bottom of the boat?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you dare call my ship a BOAT!” said the Captain. “At sea, a boat + means only a lifeboat or some other small vagabond craft. Come out on the + bridge and I'll show you a thing or two.” + </p> + <p> + The evening had closed in hazy, and the Pomerania swung steadily in a long + plunging roll. At the weather wing of the bridge, gazing sharply over the + canvas dodger, was Mr. Pointer, the vigilant Chief Officer, peering off + rigidly, as though mesmerized, but saying nothing. He gave the Captain a + courteous salute, but kept silence. At the large mahogany wheel, gently + steadying it to the quarterly roll of the sea, stood Dane, a tall, solemn + quartermaster. In spite of a little uneasiness, due to the unfamiliar + motion, Gissing was greatly elated by the wheelhouse, which seemed even + more thrillingly romantic than any pulpit. Uncomprehendingly, but with + admiration, he examined the binnacle, the engine-room telegraphs, the + telephones, the rack of signal-flags, the buttons for closing the + bulkheads, and the rotating clear-view screen for lookout in thick + weather. Aloft he could see the masthead light, gently soaring in slow + arcs. + </p> + <p> + “I'll show you my particular pride,” said the Captain, evidently pleased + by his visitor's delighted enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + Gissing wondered what ingenious device of science this might be. + </p> + <p> + Captain Scottie stepped to the weather gunwale of the bridge. He pointed + to the smoke, which was rolling rapidly from the funnels. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he said, “there's quite a strong breeze blowing. But look + here.” + </p> + <p> + He lit a match and held it unshielded above the canvas screen which was + lashed along the front of the bridge. To Gissing's surprise it burned + steadily, without blowing out. + </p> + <p> + “I've invented a convex wind-shield which splits the air just forward of + the bridge. I can stand here and light my pipe in the stiffest gale, + without any trouble.” + </p> + <p> + On the decks below Gissing heard a bugle blowing gaily, a bright, + persuasive sound. + </p> + <p> + “Six bells,” the Captain said. “I must dress for dinner. Before I start + you potato-peeling, I should like to clear up that little discussion of + ours about Free Will. One or two things you said interested me.” + </p> + <p> + He paced the bridge for a minute, thinking hard. + </p> + <p> + “I'll test your sincerity,” he said. “To-night you can bunk in the + chart-room. I'll have some dinner sent up to you. I wish you would write + me an essay of, say, two thousand words on the subject of Necessity.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Gissing pondered whether it would not be better to be put in + irons and rationed with bread and water. The wind was freshening, and the + Pomerania's sharp bow slid heavily into broad hills of sea, crashing them + into crumbling rollers of suds which fell outward and hissed along her + steep sides. The silent Mr. Pointer escorted him into the chart-room, a + bare, businesslike place with a large table, a map-cabinet, and a settee. + Here, presently, a steward appeared with excellent viands, and a pen, ink, + and notepaper. After a cautious meal, Gissing felt more comfortable. There + is something about a wet, windy evening at sea that turns the mind + naturally toward metaphysics. He pushed away the dishes and began to + write. + </p> + <p> + Later in the evening the Captain reappeared. He looked pleased when he saw + a number of sheets already covered with script. + </p> + <p> + “Rum lot of passengers this trip,” he said. “I don't seem to see any who + look interesting. All Big Business and that sort of thing. I must say it's + nice to have someone who can talk about books, and so on, once in a + while.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing realized that sometimes a shipmaster's life must be a lonely one. + The weight of responsibility is always upon him; etiquette prevents his + becoming familiar with his officers; small wonder if he pines occasionally + for a little congenial talk to relieve his mind. + </p> + <p> + “Big Business, did you say?” Gissing remarked. “Ah, I could write you + quite an essay about that. I used to be General Manager of Beagle and + Company.” + </p> + <p> + “Come into my cabin and have a liqueur,” said the skipper. “Let the essay + go until to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain turned on the electric stove in his cabin, for the night was + cold. It was a snug sanctum: at the portholes were little chintz curtains; + over the bunk was a convenient reading lamp. On the wall a brass pendulum + swung slowly, registering the roll of the ship. The ruddy shine of the + stove lit up the orderly desk and the photographs of the Captain's family. + </p> + <p> + “Yours?” said Gissing, looking at a group of three puppies with droll + Scottish faces. “Aye,” said the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “I've three of my own,” said Gissing, with a private pang of homesickness. + The skipper's cosy quarters were the most truly domestic he had seen since + the evening he first fled from responsibility. + </p> + <p> + Captain Scottie was surprised. Certainly this eccentric stranger in the + badly damaged wedding garments had not given the impression of a family + head. Just then the steward entered with a decanter of Benedictine and + small glasses. + </p> + <p> + “Brew days and bonny!” said the Captain, raising his crystal. + </p> + <p> + “Secure amidst perils!” replied Gissing courteously. It was the phrase + engraved upon the ship's notepaper, on which he had been writing, and it + had impressed itself on his mind. + </p> + <p> + “You said you had been a General Manager.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing told, with some vivacity, of his experiences in the world of + trade. The Captain poured another small liqueur. + </p> + <p> + “They're fine halesome liquor,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Sincerely yours,” said Gissing, nodding over the glass. He was beginning + to feel quite at home in the navigating quarters of the ship, and hoped + the potato-peeling might be postponed as long as possible. + </p> + <p> + “How far had you got in your essay?” asked the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “Not very far, I fear. I was beginning by laying down a few psychological + fundamentals.” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent! Will you read it to me?” + </p> + <p> + Gissing went to get his manuscript, and read it aloud. The Captain + listened attentively, puffing clouds of smoke. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry this is such a short voyage,” he said when Gissing finished. + “You have approached the matter from an entirely naif and instinctive + standpoint, and it will take some time to show you your errors. Before I + demolish your arguments I should like to turn them over in my mind. I will + reduce my ideas to writing and then read them to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like nothing better,” said Gissing. “And I can think over the + subject more carefully while I peel the potatoes.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense,” said the Captain. “I do not often get a chance to discuss + theology. I will tell you my idea. You spoke of your experience as General + Manager, when you had charge of a thousand employees. One of the things we + need on this ship is a staff-captain, to take over the management of the + personnel. That would permit me to concentrate entirely on navigation. In + a vessel of this size it is wrong that the master should have to carry the + entire responsibility.” + </p> + <p> + He rang for the steward. + </p> + <p> + “My compliments to Mr. Pointer, and tell him to come here.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pointer appeared shortly in oilskins, saluted, and gazed fixedly at + his superior, with one foot raised upon the brass door-sill. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pointer,” said Captain Scottie, “I have appointed Captain Gissing + staff-captain. Take orders from him as you would from me. He will have + complete charge of the ship's discipline.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye, sir,” said Mr. Pointer, stood a moment intently to see if there + were further orders, saluted again, and withdrew. + </p> + <p> + “Now you had better turn in,” said the skipper. “Of course you must wear + uniform. I'll send the tailor up to you at once. He can remodel one of my + suits overnight. The trousers will have to be lengthened.” + </p> + <p> + On the chart-room sofa, Gissing dozed and waked and dozed again. On the + bridge near by he heard the steady tread of feet, the mysterious words of + the officer on watch passing the course to his relief. Bells rang with + sharp double clang. Through the open port he could hear the alternate boom + and hiss of the sea under the bows. With the stately lift and lean of the + ship there mingled a faint driving vibration. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOURTEEN + </h2> + <p> + The first morning in any new environment is always the most exciting. + Gissing was already awake, and watching the novel sight of a patch of + sunshine sliding to and fro on the deck of the chart-room, when there was + a gentle tap at the door. The Captain's steward entered, carrying a + handsome uniform. + </p> + <p> + “Six bells, sir,” he said. “Your bath is laid on.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing was not very sure just what time it was, but the steward held out + a dressing gown for him to slip on, so he took the hint, and followed him + to the Captain's private bathroom where he plunged gaily into warm salt + water. He was hardly dressed before breakfast was laid for him in the + chart-room. It was a breakfast greatly to his liking—porridge, + scrambled eggs, grilled kidneys and bacon, coffee, toast, and marmalade. + Evidently the hardships of sea life had been greatly exaggerated by + fiction writers. + </p> + <p> + He was a trifle bashful about appearing on the bridge in his blue and + brass formality, and waited a while thinking Captain Scottie might come. + But no one disturbed him, so by and bye he went out. It was a brisk + morning with a fresh breeze and plenty of whitecaps. Dancing rainbows + hovered about the bow when an occasional explosion of spray burst up into + sunlight. Mr. Pointer was on the bridge, still gazing steadily into the + distance. He saluted Gissing, but said nothing. The quartermaster at the + wheel also saluted in silence. A seaman wiping down the paintwork on the + deckhouse saluted. Gissing returned these gestures punctiliously, and + began to pace the bridge from side to side. He soon grew accustomed to the + varying slant of the deck, and felt that his footing showed a nautical + assurance. + </p> + <p> + Now for the first time he enjoyed an untrammelled horizon on all sides. + The sea, he observed, was not really blue—not at any rate the blue + he had supposed. Where it seethed flatly along the hull, laced with swirls + of milky foam, it was almost black. Farther away, it was green, or darkly + violet. A ladder led to the top of the charthouse, and from this + commanding height the whole body of the ship lay below him. How alive she + seemed, how full of personality! The strong funnels, the tall masts that + moved so delicately against the pale open sky, the distant stern that now + dipped low in a comfortable hollow, and now soared and threshed onward + with a swimming thrust, the whole vital organism spoke to the eye and the + imagination. In the centre of this vast circle she moved, royal and + serene. She was more beautiful than the element she rode on, for perhaps + there was something meaningless in that pure vacant round of sea and sky. + Once its immense azure was grasped and noted, it brought nothing to the + mind. Reason was indignant to conceive it, sloping endlessly away. + </p> + <p> + The placid, beautifully planned routine of shipboard passed on its + accustomed course, and he began to suspect that his staff-captaincy was a + sinecure. Down below he could see the passengers briskly promenading, or + drowsing under their rugs. On the hurricane deck, aft, a sailor was + chalking a shuffleboard court. It occurred to him that all this might + become monotonous unless he found some actual part in it. Just then + Captain Scottie appeared on the bridge, took a quick look round, and + joined him on top of the charthouse. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning!” he said. “You won't think me rude if you don't see much of + me? Thinking about those ideas of yours, I have come upon some rather + puzzling stuff. I must work the whole thing out more clearly. Your + suggestion that Conscience points the way to an integration of personality + into a higher type of divinity, seems to me off the track; but I haven't + quite downed it yet. I'm going to shut myself up to-day and consider the + matter. I leave you in charge.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be perfectly happy,” said Gissing. “Please don't worry about me.” + </p> + <p> + “You suggest that all the conditions of life at sea, our mastery of the + forces of Nature, and so on, seem to show that we have perfect freedom of + will, and adapt everything to our desires. I believe just the contrary. + The forces of Nature compel us to approach them in their own way, + otherwise we are shipwrecked. It is in the conditions of Nature that this + ship should reach port in eight days, otherwise we should get nowhere. We + do it because it is our destiny.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not so sure of that,” said Gissing. But the Captain had already + departed with a clouded brow. + </p> + <p> + On the chart-room roof Gissing had discovered an alluring instrument, the + exact use of which he did not know. It seemed to be some kind of steering + control. The dial was lettered, from left to right, as follows HARD A + PORT, PORT, STEADY, COURSE, STEADY, STARBD, HARD A STARBD. At present the + handle stood upon the section marked COURSE. After a careful study of the + whole seascape, it seemed to Gissing that off to the south the ocean + looked more blue and more interesting. After some hesitation he moved the + handle to the PORT mark, and waited to see what would happen. To his + delight he saw the bow swing slowly round, and the Pomerania's gleaming + wake spread behind her in a whitened curve. He descended to the bridge, a + little nervous as to what Mr. Pointer might say, but he found the Mate + gazing across the water with the same fierce and unwearying attention. + </p> + <p> + “I have changed the course,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pointer saluted, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + Having succeeded so far, Gissing ventured upon another innovation. He had + been greatly tempted by the wheel, and envied the stolid quartermaster who + was steering. So, assuming an air of calm certainty, he entered the + wheelhouse. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take her for a while,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye, sir,” said the quartermaster, and surrendered the wheel to him. + </p> + <p> + “You might string out a few flags,” Gissing said. He had been noticing the + bright signal buntings in the rack, and thought it a pity not to use them. + </p> + <p> + “I like to see a ship well dressed,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye, sir,” said Dane. “Any choice, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Gissing picked out a string of flags which were particularly lively in + colour-scheme, and had them hoisted. Then he gave his attention to the + wheel. He found it quite an art, and was surprised to learn that a big + ship requires so much helm. But it was very pleasant. He took care to + steer toward patches of sea that looked interesting, and to cut into any + particular waves that took his fancy. After an hour or so, he sighted a + fishing schooner, and gave chase. He found it so much fun to run close + beside her (taking care to pass to leeward, so as not to cut off her wind) + that a mile farther on he turned and steered a neat circle about the + bewildered craft. The Pomerania's passengers were greatly interested, and + lined the rails trying to make out what the fishermen were shouting. The + captain of the schooner seemed particularly agitated, kept waving at the + signal flags and barking through a megaphone. During these manoeuvres Mr. + Pointer gazed so hard at the horizon that Gissing felt a bit embarrassed. + </p> + <p> + “I thought it wise to find out exactly what our turning-circle is,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pointer saluted. He was a well-trained officer. + </p> + <p> + Late in the afternoon the Captain reappeared, looking more cheerful. + Gissing was still at the helm, which he found so fascinating he would not + relinquish it. He had ordered his tea served on a little stand beside the + wheel so that he could drink it while he steered. “Hullo!” said the + Captain. “I see you've changed the course.” + </p> + <p> + “It seemed best to do so,” said Gissing firmly. He felt that to show any + weakness at this point would be fatal. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, probably it doesn't matter. I'm coming round to some of your + ideas.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing saw that this would never do. Unless he could keep the master + disturbed by philosophic doubts, Scottie would expect to resume command of + the ship. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “I've been thinking about it, too. I believe I went a bit + too far. But what do you think about this? Do you believe that Conscience + is inherited or acquired? You sea how important that is. If Conscience is + a kind of automatic oracle, infallible and perfect, what becomes of free + will? And if, on the other hand, Conscience is only a laboriously trained + perception of moral and social utilities, where does your deity come in?” + </p> + <p> + Gissing was aware that this dilemma would not hold water very long, and + was painfully impromptu; but it hit the Captain amidships. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove,” he said, “that's terrible, isn't it? It's no use trying to + carry on until I've got that under the hatch. Look here, would you mind, + just as a favour, keep things going while I wrestle with that question?—I + know it's asking a lot, but perhaps—” + </p> + <p> + “It's quite all right,” Gissing replied. “Naturally you want to work these + things out.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain started to leave the bridge, but by old seafaring habit he + cast a keen glance at the sky. He saw the bright string of code flags + fluttering. He seemed startled. + </p> + <p> + “Are you signalling any one?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No one in particular. I thought it looked better to have a few flags + about.” + </p> + <p> + “I daresay you're right. But better take them down if you speak a ship. + They're rather confusing.” + </p> + <p> + “Confusing? I thought they were just to brighten things up.” + </p> + <p> + “You have two different signals up. They read, Bubonic plague, give me a + wide berth. Am coming to your assistance.” + </p> + <p> + Toward dinner time, when Gissing had left the wheel and was humming a tune + as he walked the bridge, the steward came to him. + </p> + <p> + “The Captain's compliments, sir, and would you take his place in the + saloon to-night? He says he's very busy writing, sir, and would take it as + a favour.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing was always obliging. There was just a hint of conscious sternness + in his manner as he entered the Pomerania's beautiful dining saloon, for + he wished the passengers to realize that their lives depended upon his + prudence and sea-lore. Twice during the meal he instructed the steward to + bring him the latest barometer reading; and after the dessert he scribbled + a note on the back of a menu-card and had it sent to the Chief Engineer. + It said:— + </p> + <p> + Dear Chief: Please keep up a good head of steam to-night. I am expecting + dirty weather. + </p> + <p> + MR. GISSING, + </p> + <p> + (Staff-Captain) + </p> + <p> + What the Chief said when he received the message is not included in the + story. + </p> + <p> + But the same social aplomb that had made Gissing successful as a + floorwalker now came to his rescue as mariner. The passengers at the + Captain's table were amazed at his genial charm. His anecdotes of sea life + were heartily applauded. After dinner he circulated gracefully in the + ladies' lounge, and took coffee there surrounded by a chattering bevy. He + organized a little impromptu concert in the music room, and when that was + well started, slipped away to the smoke-room. Here he found a pool being + organized as to the exact day and hour when the Pomerania would reach + port. Appealed to for his opinion, he advised caution. On all sides he was + in demand, for dancing, for bridge, for a recitation. At length he slipped + away, pleading that he must keep himself fit in case of fog. The + passengers were loud in his praise, asserting that they had never met so + agreeable a sea-captain. One elderly lady said she remembered crossing + with him in the old Caninia, years ago, and that he was just the same + then. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FIFTEEN + </h2> + <p> + And so the voyage went on. Gissing was quite content to do a two-hour + trick at the wheel both morning and afternoon, and worked out some new + principles of steering which gave him pleasure. In the first place, he + noticed that the shuffle-board and quoit players, on the boat deck aft, + were occasionally annoyed by cinders from the stacks, so he made it a + general plan to steer so that the smoke blew at right angles to the ship's + course. As the wind was prevailingly west, this meant that his general + trend was southerly. Whenever he saw another vessel, a mass of floating + sea-weed, a porpoise, or even a sea-gull, he steered directly for it, and + passed as close as possible, to have a good look at it. Even Mr. Pointer + admitted (in the mates' mess) that he had never experienced so eventful a + voyage. To keep the quartermasters from being idle, Gissing had them knit + him a rope hammock to be slung in the chart-room. He felt that this would + be more nautical than a plush settee. + </p> + <p> + There was a marvellous sense of power in standing at the wheel and feeling + the great hull reply to his touch. Occasionally Captain Scottie would + emerge from his cabin, look round with a faint surprise, and come to the + bridge to see what was happening. Mr. Pointer would salute mutely, and + continue to study the skyline with indignant absorption. The Captain would + approach the wheel, where Gissing was deep in thought. Rubbing his hands, + the Captain would say heartily, “Well, I think I've got it all clear now.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing sighed. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” the Captain inquired anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “I'm bothered about the subconscious. They tell us nowadays that it's the + subconscious mind that is really important. The more mental operations we + can turn over to the subconscious realm, the happier we will be, and the + more efficient. Morality, theology, and everything really worth while, as + I understand it, spring from the subconscious.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain's look of cheer would vanish. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe there's something in that.” + </p> + <p> + “If so,” Gissing continued, “then perhaps consciousness is entirely + spurious. It seems to me that before we can get anywhere at all, we've got + to draw the line between the conscious and the subconscious. What bothers + me is, am I conscious of having a subconscious, or not? Sometimes I think + I am, and then again I'm doubtful. But if I'm aware of my subconscious, + then it isn't a genuine subconscious, and the whole thing's just another + delusion—” + </p> + <p> + The Captain would knit his weather-beaten brow and again retire anxiously + to his quarters, after begging Gissing to be generous and carry on a while + longer. Occasionally, pacing the starboard bridge-deck, sacred to + captains, Gissing would glance through the port and see the metaphysical + commander bent over sheets of foolscap and thickly wreathed in pipe-smoke. + </p> + <p> + He himself had fallen into a kind of tranced felicity, in which these + questions no longer had other than an ingenious interest. His heart was + drowned in the engulfing blue. As they made their southing, wind and + weather seemed to fall astern, the sun poured with a more golden candour. + He stood at the wheel in a tranquil reverie, blithely steering toward some + bright belly of cloud that had caught his fancy. Mr. Pointer shook his + head when he glanced surreptitiously at the steering recorder, a device + that noted graphically every movement of the rudder with a view to + promoting economical helmsmanship. Indeed Gissing's course, as logged on + the chart, surprised even himself, so that he forbade the officers taking + their noon observations. When Mr. Pointer said something about isobars, + the staff-captain replied serenely that he did not expect to find any + polar bears in these latitudes. + </p> + <p> + He had hoped privately for an occasional pirate, and scanned the sea-rim + sharply for suspicious topsails. But the ocean, as he remarked, is not + crowded. They proceeded, day after day, in a solitary wideness of + unblemished colour. The ship, travelling always in the centre of this + infinite disk, seemed strangely identified with his own itinerant spirit, + watchful at the gist of things, alert at the point which was necessarily, + for him, the nub of all existence. He wandered about the Pomerania's + sagely ordered passages and found her more and more magical. She went on + and on, with some strange urgent vitality of her own. Through the fiddleys + on the boat deck came a hot oily breath and the steady drumming of her + burning heart. From outer to hawse-hole, from shaft-tunnel to crow's-nest, + he explored and loved her. In the whole of her proud, faithful, obedient + fabric he divined honour and exultation. Poised upon uncertainty, she was + sure. The camber of her white-scrubbed decks, the long, clean sheer of her + hull, the concave flare of her bows—what was the amazing joy and + rightness of these things? And yet the grotesque passengers regarded her + only as a vehicle, to carry them sedatively to some clamouring dock. + Fools! She was more lovely than anything they would ever see again! He + yearned to drive her endlessly toward that unreachable perimeter of sky. + </p> + <p> + On land there had been definite horizons, even if disappointing when + reached and examined; but here there was no horizon at all. Every hour it + slid and slid over the dark orb of sea. He lost count of time. The + tremulous cradling of the Pomerania, steadily climbing the long leagues; + her noble forecastle solemnly lifting against heaven, then descending with + grave beauty into a spread of foaming beryl and snowdrift, seemed one with + the rhythm of his pulse and heart. Perhaps there had been more than mere + ingenuity in his last riddle for the theological skipper. Truly the + subconscious had usurped him. Here he was almost happy, for he was almost + unaware of life. It was all blue vacancy and suspension. The sea is the + great answer and consoler, for it means either nothing or everything, and + so need not tease the brain. + </p> + <p> + But the passengers, though unobservant, began to murmur; especially those + who had wagered that the Pomerania would dock on the eighth day. The world + itself, they complained, was created in seven days, and why should so fine + a ship take longer to cross a comparatively small ocean? Urbanely, over + coffee and petite fours, Gissing argued with them. They were well on their + way, he protested; and then, as a hypothetical case, he asked why one + destination was more worth visiting than another? He even quoted + Shakespeare on this point—something about “ports and happy havens”—and + succeeded in turning the tide of conversation for a while. The mention of + Shakespeare suggested to some of the ladies that it would be pleasant, now + they all knew each other so well, to put on some amateur theatricals. They + compromised by playing charades in the saloon. Another evening Gissing + kept them amused by fireworks, which were very lovely against the dark + sky. For this purpose he used the emergency rockets, star-shells and + coloured flares, much to the distress of Dane, the quartermaster, who had + charge of these supplies. + </p> + <p> + Little by little, however, the querulous protests of the passengers began + to weary him. Also, he had been receiving terse memoranda from the Chief + Engineer that the coal was getting low in the bunkers and that something + must be queer in the navigating department. This seemed very unreasonable. + The fixed gaze of Mr. Pointer, perpetually examining the horizon as though + he wanted to make sure he would recognize it if they met again, was + trying. Even Captain Scottie complained one day that the supply of fresh + meat had given out and that the steward had been bringing him tinned beef. + Gissing determined upon resolute measures. + </p> + <p> + He had notice served that on account of possible danger from pirates there + would be a general boat drill on the following day—not merely for + the crew, but for everyone. He gave a little talk about it in the saloon + after dinner, and worked his audience up to quite a pitch of enthusiasm. + This would be better than any amateur theatricals, he insisted. Everyone + was to act exactly as though in a sudden calamity. They might make up the + boat-parties on the basis of congeniality if they wished; five minutes + would be given for reaching the stations, without panic or disorder. They + should prepare themselves as though they were actually going to leave a + sinking ship. + </p> + <p> + The passengers were delighted with the idea of this novel entertainment. + Every soul on board—with the exception of Captain Scottie, who had + locked himself in and refused to be disturbed—was properly + advertised of the event. + </p> + <p> + The following day, fortunately, was clear and calm. At noon Gissing blew + the syren, fired a rocket from the bridge, and swung the engine telegraph + to STOP. The ship's orchestra, by his orders, struck up a rollicking air. + Quickly and without confusion, amid cries of Women and children first! the + passengers filed to their allotted places. The crew and officers were all + at their stations. + </p> + <p> + Gissing knocked at Captain Scottie's cabin. + </p> + <p> + “We are taking to the boats,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Goad!” cried the skipper. “Wull it be a colleesion?” + </p> + <p> + “All's clear and the davits are outboard,” said Gissing. He had been + studying the manual of boat handling in one of the nautical volumes in the + chart-room. + </p> + <p> + “Auld Hornie!” ejaculated the skipper. “We'll no can salve the specie! + Make note of her poseetion, Mr. Gissing!” He hastened to gather his + papers, the log, a chronometer, and a large canister of tobacco. + </p> + <p> + “The Deil's intil't,” he said as he hastened to his boat. “I had yon + pragmateesm of yours on a lee shore. Two-three hours, I'd have careened + ye.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing was ready with his megaphone. From the wing of the bridge he gave + the orders. + </p> + <p> + “Lower away!” and the boats dropped to the passenger rail. + </p> + <p> + “Avast lowering!” Each boat took in her roster of passengers, who were in + high spirits at this unusual excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Mind your painters! Lower handsomely!” + </p> + <p> + The boats took the water in orderly fashion, and were cast off. Remaining + members of the crew swarmed down the falls. The bandsmen had a boat to + themselves, and resumed their tune as soon as they were settled. + </p> + <p> + Gissing, left alone on the ship, waved for silence. + </p> + <p> + “Look sharp, man!” cried Captain Scottie. “Honour's satisfied! Take your + place in the boat!” + </p> + <p> + The passengers applauded, and there was quite a clatter of camera shutters + as they snapped the Pomerania looming grandly above them. + </p> + <p> + “Boats are all provisioned and equipped,” shouted Gissing. “I've + broadcasted your position by radio. The barometer's at Fixed Fair. Pull + off now, and 'ware the screw.” + </p> + <p> + He moved the telegraph handle to DEAD SLOW, and the Pomerania began to + slip forward gently. The boats dropped aft amid a loud miscellaneous + outcry. Mr. Pointer was already examining the horizon. Captain Scottie, + awakened to the situation, was uttering the language of theology but not + the purport. + </p> + <p> + “Don't stand up in the boats,” megaphoned Gissing. “You're quite all + right, there's a ship on the way already. I wirelessed last night.” + </p> + <p> + He slid the telegraph to slow, half, and then full. Once more the ship + creamed through the lifting purple swells. The little flock of boats was + soon out of sight. + </p> + <p> + Alone at the wheel, he realized that a great weight was off his mind. The + responsibility of his position had burdened him more than he knew. Now a + strange eagerness and joy possessed him. His bubbling wake cut straight + and milky across the glittering afternoon. In a ruddy sunset glow, the sea + darkened through all tints of violet, amethyst, indigo. The horizon line + sharpened so clearly that he could distinguish the tossing profile of + waves wetting the sky. “A red sky at night is the sailor's delight,” he + said to himself. He switched on the port and starboard lights and the + masthead lanterns, then lashed the wheel while he went below for supper. + He did not know exactly where he was, for he seemed to have steamed clean + off the chart; but as he conned the helm that evening, and leaned over the + lighted binnacle, he had a feeling that he was not far from some destiny. + With cheerful assurance he lashed the wheel again, and turned in. He woke + once in the night, and leaped from the hammock with a start. He thought he + had heard a sound of barking. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SIXTEEN + </h2> + <p> + The next morning he sighted land. Coming out on the bridge, the whole face + of things was changed. The sea-colour had lightened to a tawny green; + gulls dipped and hovered; away on the horizon lay a soft blue contour. + “Land Ho!” he shouted superbly, and wondered what new country he had + discovered. He ran up a hoist of red and yellow signal flags, and steered + gaily toward the shore. + </p> + <p> + It had grown suddenly cold: he had to fetch Captain Scottie's pea-jacket + to wear at the wheel. On the long spilling crests, that crumbled and + spread running layers of froth in their hurry shoreward, the Pomerania + rode home. She knew her landfall and seemed to quicken. Steadily swinging + on the jade-green surges, she buried her nose almost to the hawse-pipes, + then lifted until her streaming forefoot gleamed out of a frilled ruffle + of foam. + </p> + <p> + Gissing, too, was eager. A tingling buoyancy and impatience took hold of + him: he fidgeted with sheer eagerness for life. Land, the beloved + stability of our dear and only earth, drew and charmed him. Behind was the + senseless, heartbreaking sea. Now he could discern hills rising in a + gilded opaline light. In the volatile thin air was a quick sense of + strangeness. A new world was close about him: a world that he could see, + and feel, and inhale, and yet knew nothing of. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a great humility possessed him. He had been froward and silly and + vain. He had shouted arrogantly at Beauty, like a noisy tourist in a + canyon; and the only answer, after long waiting, had been the paltry + diminished echo of his own voice. He thought shamefully of his follies. + What matter how you name God or in what words you praise Him? In this new + foreign land he would quietly accept things as he found them. The laughter + of God was too strange to understand. + </p> + <p> + No, there was no answer. He was doubly damned, for he had made truth a + mere sport of intellectual riddling. The mind, like a spinning flywheel of + fatigued steel, was gradually racked to bursting by the conflict of + stresses. And yet: every equilibrium was an opposure of forces. Rotation, + if swift enough, creates amazing stability: he had seen how the gyroscope + can balance at apparently impossible angles. Perhaps it was so of the + mind. If it twirls at high speed it can lean right out over the abyss + without collapse. But the stationary mind—he thought of Bishop + Borzoi—must keep away from the edge. Try to force it to the edge, it + raves in panic. Every mind, very likely, knows its own frailties, and does + well to safeguard them. At any rate, that was the most generous + interpretation. Most minds, undoubtedly, were uneasy in high places. They + doubted their ability to refrain from jumping off. How many bones of fine + intellects lay whitening at the foot of the theological cliff—It + seemed to be a lonely coast, and wintry. Patches of snow lay upon the + hills, the woods were bare and brown. A bottle-necked harbour opened out + before him. He reduced the engines to Dead Slow and glided gaily through + the strait. He had been anxious lest his navigation might not be equal to + the occasion: he did not want to disgrace himself at this final test. But + all seemed to arrange itself with enchanted ease. A steep ledge of ground + offered a natural pier, with tree-stumps for bollards. He let her come + gently beyond the spot; reversed the propellers just at the right time, + and backed neatly alongside. He moved the telegraph handle to FINISHED + WITH ENGINES; ran out the gangplank smartly, and stepped ashore. He moored + the vessel fore and aft, and hung out fenders to prevent chafing. + </p> + <p> + The first thing to do, he said to himself, is to get the lie of the land, + and find out whether it is inhabited. + </p> + <p> + A hillside rising above the water promised a clear view. The stubble grass + was dry and frosty, after the warm days at sea the chill was nipping; but + what an elixir of air! If this is a desert island, he thought, it will be + a glorious discovery. His heart was jocund with anticipation. A curious + foreign look in the landscape, he thought; quite unlike anything—Suddenly, + where the hill arched against pearly sky, he saw narrow thread of smoke + rising. He halted in alarm. Who might this be, friend or foe? But eager + agitation pushed him on. Burning to know, he hurried up to the brow of the + hill. + </p> + <p> + The smoke mounted from a small bonfire of sticks in a sheltered thicket, + where a miraculous being—who was, as a matter of fact, a rather + ragged and dingy vagabond—was cooking a tin of stew over the blaze. + </p> + <p> + Gissing stood, quivering with emotion. Joy such as he had never known + darted through all the cords of his body. He ran, shouting, in mirth and + terror. In fear, in a passion of love and knowledge and understanding, he + abased himself and yearned before this marvel. Impossible to have + conceived, yet, once seen, utterly satisfying and the fulfilment of all + needs. He laughed and leaped and worshipped. When the first transport was + over, he laid his head against this being's knee, he nestled there and was + content. This was the inscrutable perfect answer. + </p> + <p> + “Cripes!” said the puzzled tramp, as he caressed the nuzzling head. “The + purp's loco. Maybe he's been lost. You might think he'd never seen a man + before.” + </p> + <p> + He was right. + </p> + <p> + And Gissing sat quietly, his throat resting upon the soiled knee of a very + old and spicy trouser. + </p> + <p> + “I have found God,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Presently he thought of the ship. It would not do to leave her so + insecurely moored. Reluctantly, with many a backward glance and a heart + full of glory, he left the Presence. He ran to the edge of the hill to + look down upon the harbour. + </p> + <p> + The outlook was puzzlingly altered. He gazed in astonishment. What were + those poplars, rising naked into the bright air?—there was something + familiar about them. And that little house beyond... he stared bewildered. + </p> + <p> + The great shining breadth of the ocean had shrunk to the roundness of a + tiny pond. And the Pomerania? He leaned over, shaken with questions. + There, beside the bank, was a little plank of wood, a child's plaything, + roughly fashioned shipshape: two chips for funnels; red and yellow frosted + leaves for flags; a withered dogwood blossom for propeller. He leaned + closer, with whirling mind. In the clear cool surface of the pond he could + see the sky mirrored, deeper than any ocean, pellucid, infinite, blue. + </p> + <p> + He ran up the path to the house. The scuffled ragged garden lay naked and + hard. At the windows, he saw with surprise, were holly wreaths tied with + broad red ribbon. On the porch, some battered toys. He opened the door. + </p> + <p> + A fluttering rosy light filled the room. By the fireplace the puppies—how + big they were!—were sitting with Mrs. Spaniel. Joyous uproar greeted + him: they flung themselves upon him. Shouts of “Daddy! Daddy!” filled the + house, while the young Spaniels stood by more bashfully. + </p> + <p> + Good Mrs. Spaniel was gratefully moved. Her moist eyes shone brightly in + the firelight. + </p> + <p> + “I knew you'd be home for Christmas, Mr. Gissing,” she said. “I've been + telling them so all afternoon. Now, children, be still a moment and let me + speak. I've been telling you your Daddy would be home in time for a + Christmas Eve story. I've got to go and fix that plum pudding.” + </p> + <p> + In her excitement a clear bubble dripped from the tip of her tongue. She + caught it in her apron, and hurried to the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SEVENTEEN + </h2> + <p> + The children insisted on leading him all through the house to show how + nicely they had taken care of things. And in every room Gissing saw the + marks of riot and wreckage. There were tooth-scars on all furniture-legs; + the fringes of rugs were chewed off; there were prints of mud, ink, + paints, and whatnot, on curtains and wallpapers and coverlets. Poor Mrs. + Spaniel kept running anxiously from the kitchen to renew apologies. + </p> + <p> + “I DID try to keep 'em in order,” she said, “but they seem to bash things + when you're not looking.” + </p> + <p> + But Gissing was too happy to stew about such trifles. When the inspection + was over, they all sat down by the chimney and he piled on more logs. + </p> + <p> + “Well, chilluns,” he said, “what do you want Santa Claus to bring you for + Christmas?” + </p> + <p> + “An aunbile!” exclaimed Groups + </p> + <p> + “An elphunt!” exclaimed Bunks + </p> + <p> + “A little train with hammers!” exclaimed Yelpers + </p> + <p> + “A little train with hammers?” asked Gissing. “What does he mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Groups and Bunks, with condescending pity, “he means a + typewriter. He calls it a little train because it moves on a track when + you hit it.” + </p> + <p> + A painful apprehension seized him, and he went hastily to his study. He + had not noticed the typewriter, which Mrs. Spaniel had—too late—put + out of reach. Half the keys were sticking upright, jammed together and + tangled in a whirl of ribbon; the carriage was strangely dislocated. And + yet even this mischance, which would once have horrified him, left him + unperturbed. It's my own fault, he thought: I shouldn't have left it where + they could play with it. Perhaps God thinks the same when His creatures + make a mess of the dangerous laws of life. + </p> + <p> + “A Christmas story!” the children were clamouring. + </p> + <p> + Can it really be Christmas Eve? Gissing thought. Christmas seems to have + come very suddenly this year, I haven't really adjusted my mind to it yet. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” he said. “Now sit still and keep quiet. Bunks, give Yelpers a + little more room. If there's any bickering Santa Claus might hear it.” + </p> + <p> + He sat in the big chair by the fire, and the three looked upward + expectantly from the hearthrug. + </p> + <p> + “Once upon a time there were three little puppies, who lived in a house in + the country in the Canine Estates. And their names were Groups, Bunks, and + Yelpers.” + </p> + <p> + The three tails thumped in turn as the names were mentioned, but the + children were too excitedly absorbed to interrupt. + </p> + <p> + “And one year, just before Christmas, they heard a dreadful rumour.” + </p> + <p> + “What's a rumour?” cried Yelpers, alarmed. + </p> + <p> + This was rather difficult to explain, so Gissing did not attempt it. He + began again. + </p> + <p> + “They heard that Santa Claus might not be able to come because he was so + behind with his housework. You see, Santa Claus is a great big + Newfoundland dog with a white beard, and he lives in a frosty kennel at + the North Pole, all shining with icicles round the roof and windows. But + it's so far away from everywhere that poor Santa couldn't get a servant. + All the maids who went there refused to stay because it was so cold and + lonely, and so far from the movies. Santa Claus was busy in his workshop, + making toys; he was busy taking care of the reindeer in their + snow-stables; and he didn't have time to wash his dishes. So all summer he + just let them pile up and pile up in the kitchen. And when Christmas came + near, there was his lovely house in a dreadful state of untidiness. He + couldn't go away and leave it like that. And so, if he didn't get his + dishes washed and the house cleaned up for Christmas, all the puppies all + over the world would have to go without toys. When Groups and Bunks and + Yelpers heard this, they were very much worried.” + </p> + <p> + “How did they hear it?” asked Bunks, who was the analytical member of the + trio. + </p> + <p> + “A very sensible question,” said Gissing, approvingly. “They heard it from + the chipmunk who lives in the wood behind the house. The chipmunk heard it + underground.” + </p> + <p> + “In his chipmonastery?” cried Groups. It was a family joke to call the + chipmunk's burrow by that name, and though the puppies did not understand + the pun they relished the long word. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” continued Gissing. “The reindeer in Santa Claus's stable were so + unhappy about the dishes not being washed, and the chance of missing their + Christmas frolic, that they broadcasted a radio message. Their horns are + very fine for sending radio, and the chipmunk, sitting at his little + wireless outfit, with the receivers over his ears, heard it. And Chippy + told Groups and Bunks and Yelpers. + </p> + <p> + “So these puppies decided to help Santa Claus. They didn't know exactly + where to find him, but the chipmunk told them the direction, and off they + went. They travelled and travelled, and when they came to the ocean they + begged a ride from the seagulls, and each one sat on a seagull's back just + as though he was on a little airplane. They flew and flew, and at last + they came to Santa Claus's house. Through the stable-walls, which were + made of clear ice, they could see the reindeer stamping in their stalls. + In the big workshop, where Santa Claus was busy making toys, they could + hear a lively sound of hammering. The big red sleigh was standing outside + the stables, all ready to be hitched up to the reindeer. + </p> + <p> + “They slipped into Santa Claus's house quickly and quietly, so no one + would see or hear them. The house was in a terrible state, but they set to + work to clean up. Groups found the vacuum cleaner and sucked up all the + crumbs from the dining-room rug. Bunks ran upstairs and made Santa Claus's + bed for him and swept the floors and put clean towels in the bathroom. And + Yelpers hurried into the kitchen and washed the dishes, and scrubbed the + pots, and polished the egg-stains off the silver spoons, and emptied the + ice-box pan. All working hard, they got through very soon, and made Santa + Claus's house as clean as any house could be. They fixed the window-shades + so that they would all hang level, not just anyhow, as poor Santa had + them. Then, when everything was spick and span, they ran outdoors again + and beckoned the seagulls. They climbed on the gulls' backs, and away they + flew homeward.” + </p> + <p> + “Was Santa Claus pleased?” asked Bunks. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed he was, when he came back from his workshop, very tired after + making toys all day.” + </p> + <p> + “What kind of toys did he make?” exclaimed Yelpers anxiously. “Did he make + a typewriter?” + </p> + <p> + “He made every kind of toy. And when he saw how his house had been cleaned + up, he thought the fairies must have done it. He lit his pipe, and filled + a thermos bottle with hot cocoa to keep him warm on his long journey. Then + he put on his red coat, and his long boots, and his fur cap, and went out + to harness the reindeer. That very night he drove off with his sleigh + packed full of toys for all the puppies in the world. In fact, he was so + pleased that he loaded his big bag with more toys than he had ever carried + before. And that was how a queer thing happened.” + </p> + <p> + They waited in eager suspense. + </p> + <p> + “You know, Santa Claus always drives into the Canine Estates by the little + back road through the woods, where the chipmunk lives. You know the + gateway, at the bend in the lane: well, it's rather narrow, and Santa + Claus's sleigh is very wide. And this time, because his bag had so many + toys in it, the bag bulged over the edge of the sleigh, and one corner of + the bag caught on the gatepost as he drove by. Three toys fell out, and + what do you suppose they were?” + </p> + <p> + “An aunbile!” + </p> + <p> + “An elphunt!” + </p> + <p> + “A typewriter!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's quite right. And it happened that the chipmunk was out that + night, digging up some nuts for his Christmas dinner, a little sad because + he had no presents to give his children; and he found the three toys. He + took them home to the little chipmunks, and they were tremendously + pleased. That was only fair, because if it hadn't been for the chipmunk + and his radio set, no one would have had any toys that Christmas.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Santa Claus have any more typewriters in his bag?” asked Yelpers + gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, he had plenty more of everything. And when he got to the house + where Groups and Bunks and Yelpers lived, he slid down the chimney and + took a look round. He didn't see any crumbs on the floor, or any toys + lying about not put away, so he filled the stockings with all kinds of + lovely things, and an aunbile and an elphunt and a typewriter.” + </p> + <p> + “What did the puppies say?” they inquired. + </p> + <p> + “They were sound asleep upstairs, and didn't know anything about it until + Christmas morning. Come on now, it's time for bed.” + </p> + <p> + “We can undress ourselves now,” said Groups. + </p> + <p> + “Will you tuck me in?” said Bunks. + </p> + <p> + “You're sure he had another typewriter in his bag?” said Yelpers. + </p> + <p> + They scrambled upstairs. + </p> + <p> + Later, when the house was quiet, Gissing went out to the kitchen to see + Mrs. Spaniel. She was diligently rolling pastry, and her nose was white + with flour. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, I'm glad you got home in time for Christmas,” she said. “The + children were counting on it. Did you have a successful trip, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Every trip is successful when you get home again,” said Gissing. “I + suppose the shops will be open late to-night, won't they? I'm going to run + down to the village to get some toys.” + </p> + <p> + Before leaving the house, he went down to the cellar to see if the furnace + was all right. He was amazed to see how naturally and cheerfully he had + slipped back into the old sense of responsibility. Where was the illusory + freedom he had dreamed of? Even the epiphany on the hilltop now seemed a + distant miracle. That fearful happiness might never come again. And yet + here, among the familiar difficult minutiae of home, what a lightness he + felt. A great phrase from the prayer-book came to his mind—“Whose + service is perfect freedom.” + </p> + <p> + Ah, he said to himself, it is all very well to wear a crown of thorns, and + indeed every sensitive creature carries one in secret. But there are times + when it ought to be worn cocked over one ear. + </p> + <p> + He opened the furnace door. A bright glow filled the fire-box: he could + hear a stir and singing in the boiler, and the rustle of warm pipes that + chuckled quietly through winter nights of storm. Over the coals hovered a + magic evasive flicker, the very soul of fire. It was a Pentecostal flame, + perfect and heavenly in tint, the essence of pure colour, a clear immortal + blue. + </p> + <p> + THE END <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1402 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cc4294a --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #1402 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1402) diff --git a/old/1402-0.txt b/old/1402-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..36d46aa --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1402-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4631 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Where the Blue Begins, by Christopher Morley + +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: Where the Blue Begins + +Author: Christopher Morley + +Posting Date: September 17, 2008 [EBook #1402] +Release Date: July, 1998 +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS *** + + + + +Produced by Dianne Bean + + + + + +WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS + +by Christopher Morley + + + + TO FELIX and TOTO + + + + “I am not free-- And it may be + Life is too tight around my shins; + For, unlike you, + I can't break through + A truant where the blue begins. + + “Out of the very element + Of bondage, that here holds me pent, + I'll make my furious sonnet: + I'll turn my noose + To tightrope use + And madly dance upon it. + + “So I will take + My leash, and make + A wilder and more subtle fleeing + And I shall be + More escapading and more free + Than you have ever dreamed of being!” + + + + +CHAPTER ONE + +Gissing lived alone (except for his Japanese butler) in a little +house in the country, in that woodland suburb region called the Canine +Estates. He lived comfortably and thoughtfully, as bachelors often do. +He came of a respectable family, who had always conducted themselves +calmly and without too much argument. They had bequeathed him just +enough income to live on cheerfully, without display but without having +to do addition and subtraction at the end of the month and then tear up +the paper lest Fuji (the butler) should see it. + +It was strange, since Gissing was so pleasantly situated in life, that +he got into these curious adventures that I have to relate. I do not +attempt to explain it. + +He had no responsibilities, not even a motor car, for his tastes were +surprisingly simple. If he happened to be spending an evening at the +country club, and a rainstorm came down, he did not worry about getting +home. He would sit by the fire and chuckle to see the married members +creep away one by one. He would get out his pipe and sleep that night +at the club, after telephoning Fuji not to sit up for him. When he felt +like it he used to read in bed, and even smoke in bed. When he went to +town to the theatre, he would spend the night at a hotel to avoid the +fatigue of the long ride on the 11:44 train. He chose a different hotel +each time, so that it was always an Adventure. He had a great deal of +fun. + +But having fun is not quite the same as being happy. Even an income of +1000 bones a year does not answer all questions. That charming little +house among the groves and thickets seemed to him surrounded by strange +whispers and quiet voices. He was uneasy. He was restless, and did not +know why. It was his theory that discipline must be maintained in the +household, so he did not tell Fuji his feelings. Even when he was alone, +he always kept up a certain formality in the domestic routine. Fuji +would lay out his dinner jacket on the bed: he dressed, came down to +the dining room with quiet dignity, and the evening meal was served by +candle-light. As long as Fuji was at work, Gissing sat carefully in +the armchair by the hearth, smoking a cigar and pretending to read +the paper. But as soon as the butler had gone upstairs, Gissing +always kicked off his dinner suit and stiff shirt, and lay down on the +hearth-rug. But he did not sleep. He would watch the wings of flame +gilding the dark throat of the chimney, and his mind seemed drawn upward +on that rush of light, up into the pure chill air where the moon was +riding among sluggish thick floes of cloud. In the darkness he heard +chiming voices, wheedling and tantalizing. One night he was walking on +his little verandah. Between rafts of silver-edged clouds were channels +of ocean-blue sky, inconceivably deep and transparent. The air was +serene, with a faint acid taste. Suddenly there shrilled a soft, sweet, +melancholy whistle, earnestly repeated. It seemed to come from the +little pond in the near-by copses. It struck him strangely. It might +be anything, he thought. He ran furiously through the field, and to +the brim of the pond. He could find nothing, all was silent. Then the +whistlings broke out again, all round him, maddeningly. This kept on, +night after night. The parson, whom he consulted, said it was only +frogs; but Gissing told the constable he thought God had something to do +with it. + +Then willow trees and poplars showed a pallid bronze sheen, forsythias +were as yellow as scrambled eggs, maples grew knobby with red buds. +Among the fresh bright grass came, here and there, exhilarating smells +of last year's buried bones. The little upward slit at the back of +Gissing's nostrils felt prickly. He thought that if he could bury it +deep enough in cold beef broth it would be comforting. Several times he +went out to the pantry intending to try the experiment, but every time +Fuji happened to be around. Fuji was a Japanese pug, and rather correct, +so Gissing was ashamed to do what he wanted to. He pretended he had come +out to see that the icebox pan had been emptied properly. + +“I must get the plumber to put in a pukka drain-pipe to take the place +of the pan,” Gissing said to Fuji; but he knew that he had no intention +of doing so. The ice-box pan was his private test of a good servant. A +cook who forgot to empty it was too careless, he thought, to be a real +success. + +But certainly there was some curious elixir in the air. He went for +walks, and as soon as he was out of sight of the houses he threw down +his hat and stick and ran wildly, with great exultation, over the hills +and fields. “I really ought to turn all this energy into some sort of +constructive work,” he said to himself. No one else, he mused, seemed to +enjoy life as keenly and eagerly as he did. He wondered, too, about the +other sex. Did they feel these violent impulses to run, to shout, to +leap and caper in the sunlight? But he was a little startled, on one of +his expeditions, to see in the distance the curate rushing hotly through +the underbrush, his clerical vestments dishevelled, his tongue hanging +out with excitement. + +“I must go to church more often,” said Gissing. + +In the golden light and pringling air he felt excitable and high-strung. +His tail curled upward until it ached. Finally he asked Mike Terrier, +who lived next door, what was wrong. + +“It's spring,” Mike said. + +“Oh, yes, of course, jolly old spring!” said Gissing, as though this was +something he had known all along, and had just forgotten for the moment. +But he didn't know. This was his first spring, for he was only ten +months old. + +Outwardly he was the brisk, genial figure that the suburb knew and +esteemed. He was something of a mystery among his neighbours of the +Canine Estates, because he did not go daily to business in the city, as +most of them did; nor did he lead a life of brilliant amusement like the +Airedales, the wealthy people whose great house was near by. Mr. Poodle, +the conscientious curate, had called several times but was not able to +learn anything definite. There was a little card-index of parishioners, +which it was Mr. Poodle's duty to fill in with details of each person's +business, charitable inclinations, and what he could do to amuse +a Church Sociable. The card allotted to Gissing was marked, in Mr. +Poodle's neat script, Friendly, but vague as to definite participation +in Xian activities. Has not communicated. + +But in himself, Gissing was increasingly disturbed. Even his seizures of +joy, which came as he strolled in the smooth spring air and sniffed the +wild, vigorous aroma of the woodland earth, were troublesome because +he did not know why he was so glad. Every morning it seemed to him that +life was about to exhibit some delicious crisis in which the meaning and +excellence of all things would plainly appear. He sang in the bathtub. +Daily it became more difficult to maintain that decorum which Fuji +expected. He felt that his life was being wasted. He wondered what ought +to be done about it. + + + +CHAPTER TWO + +It was after dinner, an April evening, and Gissing slipped away from the +house for a stroll. He was afraid to stay in, because he knew that if he +did, Fuji would ask him again to fix the dishcloth rack in the kitchen. +Fuji was very short in stature, and could not reach up to the place +where the rack was screwed over the sink. Like all people whose minds +are very active, Gissing hated to attend to little details like this. It +was a weakness in his character. Fuji had asked him six times to fix the +rack, but Gissing always pretended to forget about it. To appease his +methodical butler he had written on a piece of paper FIX DISHCLOTH RACK +and pinned it on his dressing-table pincushion; but he paid no attention +to the memorandum. + +He went out into a green April dusk. Down by the pond piped those +repeated treble whistlings: they still distressed him with a mysterious +unriddled summons, but Mike Terrier had told him that the secret of +respectability is to ignore whatever you don't understand. Careful +observation of this maxim had somewhat dulled the cry of that shrill +queer music. It now caused only a faint pain in his mind. Still, he +walked that way because the little meadow by the pond was agreeably soft +underfoot. Also, when he walked close beside the water the voices were +silent. That is worth noting, he said to himself. If you go directly at +the heart of a mystery, it ceases to be a mystery, and becomes only a +question of drainage. (Mr. Poodle had told him that if he had the pond +and swamp drained, the frog-song would not annoy him.) But to-night, +when the keen chirruping ceased, there was still another sound that did +not cease--a faint, appealing cry. It caused a prickling on his shoulder +blades, it made him both angry and tender. He pushed through the bushes. +In a little hollow were three small puppies, whining faintly. They were +cold and draggled with mud. Someone had left them there, evidently, +to perish. They were huddled close together; their eyes, a cloudy +unspeculative blue, were only just opened. “This is gruesome,” said +Gissing, pretending to be shocked. “Dear me, innocent pledges of sin, I +dare say. Well, there is only one thing to do.” + +He picked them up carefully and carried them home. + +“Quick, Fuji!” he said. “Warm some milk, some of the Grade A, and put a +little brandy in it. I'll get the spare-room bed ready.” + +He rushed upstairs, wrapped the puppies in a blanket, and turned on the +electric heater to take the chill from the spare-room. The little pads +of their paws were ice-cold, and he filled the hot water bottle and held +it carefully to their twelve feet. Their pink stomachs throbbed, and at +first he feared they were dying. “They must not die!” he said fiercely. +“If they did, it would be a matter for the police, and no end of +trouble.” + +Fuji came up with the milk, and looked very grave when he saw the muddy +footprints on the clean sheet. + +“Now, Fuji,” said Gissing, “do you suppose they can lap, or will we have +to pour it down?” + +In spite of his superior manner, Fuji was a good fellow in an emergency. +It was he who suggested the fountain-pen filler. They washed the ink +out of it, and used it to drip the hot brandy-and-milk down the puppies' +throats. Their noses, which had been icy, suddenly became very hot and +dry. Gissing feared a fever and thought their temperatures should be +taken. + +“The only thermometer we have,” he said, “is the one on the porch, with +the mercury split in two. I don't suppose that would do. Have you a +clinical thermometer, Fuji?” + +Fuji felt that his employer was making too much fuss over the matter. + +“No, sir,” he said firmly. “They are quite all right. A good sleep will +revive them. They will be as fit as possible in the morning.” + +Fuji went out into the garden to brush the mud from his neat white +jacket. His face was inscrutable. Gissing sat by the spare-room bed +until he was sure the puppies were sleeping correctly. He closed the +door so that Fuji would not hear him humming a lullaby. Three Blind Mice +was the only nursery song he could remember, and he sang it over and +over again. + +When he tiptoed downstairs, Fuji had gone to bed. Gissing went into his +study, lit a pipe, and walked up and down, thinking. By and bye he wrote +two letters. One was to a bookseller in the city, asking him to send (at +once) one copy of Dr. Holt's book on the Care and Feeding of Children, +and a well-illustrated edition of Mother Goose. The other was to Mr. +Poodle, asking him to fix a date for the christening of Mr. Gissing's +three small nephews, who had come to live with him. + +“It is lucky they are all boys,” said Gissing. “I would know nothing +about bringing up girls.” + +“I suppose,” he added after a while, “that I shall have to raise Fuji's +wages.” + +Then he went into the kitchen and fixed the dishcloth rack. + +Before going to bed that night he took his usual walk around the house. +The sky was freckled with stars. It was generally his habit to make a +tour of his property toward midnight, to be sure everything was in good +order. He always looked into the ice-box, and admired the cleanliness +of Fuji's arrangements. The milk bottles were properly capped with their +round cardboard tops; the cheese was never put on the same rack with +the butter; the doors of the ice-box were carefully latched. Such +observations, and the slow twinkle of the fire in the range, deep down +under the curfew layer of coals, pleased him. In the cellar he peeped +into the garbage can, for it was always a satisfaction to assure himself +that Fuji did not waste anything that could be used. One of the laundry +tub taps was dripping, with a soft measured tinkle: he said to himself +that he really must have it attended to. All these domestic matters +seemed more significant than ever when he thought of youthful innocence +sleeping upstairs in the spare-room bed. His had been a selfish life +hitherto, he feared. These puppies were just what he needed to take him +out of himself. + +Busy with these thoughts, he did not notice the ironical whistling +coming from the pond. He tasted the night air with cheerful +satisfaction. “At any rate, to-morrow will be a fine day,” he said. + +The next day it rained. But Gissing was too busy to think about the +weather. Every hour or so during the night he had gone into the spare +room to listen attentively to the breathing of the puppies, to pull the +blanket over them, and feel their noses. It seemed to him that they +were perspiring a little, and he was worried lest they catch cold. His +morning sleep (it had always been his comfortable habit to lie abed a +trifle late) was interrupted about seven o'clock by a lively clamour +across the hall. The puppies were awake, perfectly restored, and while +they were too young to make their wants intelligible, they plainly +expected some attention. He gave them a pair of old slippers to play +with, and proceeded to his own toilet. + +As he was bathing them, after breakfast, he tried to enlist Fuji's +enthusiasm. “Did you ever see such fat rascals?” he said. “I wonder if +we ought to trim their tails? How pink their stomachs are, and how pink +and delightful between their toes! You hold these two while I dry +the other. No, not that way! Hold them so you support their spines. A +puppy's back is very delicate: you can't be too careful. We'll have to +do things in a rough-and-ready way until Dr. Holt's book comes. After +that we can be scientific.” + +Fuji did not seem very keen. Presently, in spite of the rain, he was +dispatched to the village department store to choose three small cribs +and a multitude of safety pins. “Plenty of safety pins is the idea,” + said Gissing. “With enough safety pins handy, children are easy to +manage.” + +As soon as the puppies were bestowed on the porch, in the sunshine, for +their morning nap, he telephoned to the local paperhanger. + +“I want you” (he said) “to come up as soon as you can with some nice +samples of nursery wallpaper. A lively Mother Goose pattern would do +very well.” He had already decided to change the spare room into a +nursery. He telephoned the carpenter to make a gate for the top of the +stairs. He was so busy that he did not even have time to think of his +pipe, or the morning paper. At last, just before lunch, he found a +breathing space. He sat down in the study to rest his legs, and looked +for the Times. It was not in its usual place on his reading table. At +that moment the puppies woke up, and he ran out to attend them. He would +have been distressed if he had known that Fuji had the paper in the +kitchen, and was studying the HELP WANTED columns. + +A great deal of interest was aroused in the neighbourhood by the arrival +of Gissing's nephews, as he called them. Several of the ladies, who had +ignored him hitherto, called, in his absence, and left extra cards. This +implied (he supposed, though he was not closely versed in such niceties +of society) that there was a Mrs. Gissing, and he was annoyed, for he +felt certain they knew he was a bachelor. But the children were a source +of nothing but pride to him. They grew with astounding rapidity, ate +their food without coaxing, rarely cried at night, and gave him much +amusement by their naive ways. He was too occupied to be troubled with +introspection. Indeed, his well-ordered home was very different from +before. The trim lawn, in spite of his zealous efforts, was constantly +littered with toys. In sheer mischief the youngsters got into his +wardrobe and chewed off the tails of his evening dress coat. But he +felt a satisfying dignity and happiness in his new status as head of a +family. + +What worried him most was the fear that Fuji would complain of this +sudden addition to his duties. The butler's face was rather an enigma, +particularly at meal times, when Gissing sat at the dinner table +surrounded by the three puppies in their high chairs, with a spindrift +of milk and prune-juice spattering generously as the youngsters plied +their spoons. Fuji had arranged a series of scuppers, made of oilcloth, +underneath the chairs; but in spite of this the dining-room rug, after a +meal, looked much as the desert place must have after the feeding of +the multitude. Fuji, who was pensive, recalled the five loaves and two +fishes that produced twelve baskets of fragments. The vacuum cleaner got +clogged by a surfeit of crumbs. + +Gissing saw that it would be a race between heart and head. If Fuji's +heart should become entangled (that is, if the innocent charms of the +children should engage his affections before his reason convinced him +that the situation was now too arduous), there was some hope. He tried +to ease the problem also by mental suggestion. “It is really remarkable” + (he said to Fuji) “that children should give one so little trouble.” + As he made this remark, he was speeding hotly to and fro between the +bathroom and the nursery, trying to get one tucked in bed and another +undressed, while the third was lashing the tub into soapy foam. Fuji +made his habitual response, “Very good, sir.” But one fears that he +detected some insincerity, for the next day, which was Sunday, he gave +notice. This generally happens on a Sunday, because the papers publish +more Help Wanted advertisements then than on any other day. + +“I'm sorry, sir,” he said. “But when I took this place there was nothing +said about three children.” + +This was unreasonable of Fuji. It is very rare to have everything +explained beforehand. When Adam and Eve were put into the Garden of +Eden, there was nothing said about the serpent. + +However, Gissing did not believe in entreating a servant to stay. He +offered to give Fuji a raise, but the butler was still determined to +leave. + +“My senses are very delicate,” he said. “I really cannot stand +the--well, the aroma exhaled by those three children when they have had +a warm bath.” + +“What nonsense!” cried Gissing. “The smell of wet, healthy puppies? +Nothing is more agreeable. You are cold-blooded: I don't believe you are +fond of puppies. Think of their wobbly black noses. Consider how pink is +the little cleft between their toes and the main cushion of their feet. +Their ears are like silk. Inside their upper jaws are parallel black +ridges, most remarkable. I never realized before how beautifully and +carefully we are made. I am surprised that you should be so indifferent +to these things.” + +There was a moisture in Fuji's eyes, but he left at the end of the week. + + + +CHAPTER THREE + +A solitary little path ran across the fields not far from the house. +It lay deep among tall grasses and the withered brittle stalks of +last autumn's goldenrod, and here Gissing rambled in the green hush of +twilight, after the puppies were in bed. In less responsible days +he would have lain down on his back, with all four legs upward, and +cheerily shrugged and rolled to and fro, as the crisp ground-stubble was +very pleasing to the spine. But now he paced soberly, the smoke from his +pipe eddying just above the top of the grasses. He had much to meditate. + +The dogwood tree by the house was now in flower. The blossoms, with +their four curved petals, seemed to spin like tiny white propellers +in the bright air. When he saw them fluttering Gissing had a happy +sensation of movement. The business of those tremulous petals seemed to +be thrusting his whole world forward and forward, through the viewless +ocean of space. He felt as though he were on a ship--as, indeed, we are. +He had never been down to the open sea, but he had imagined it. There, +he thought, there must be the satisfaction of a real horizon. + +Horizons had been a great disappointment to him. In earlier days he had +often slipped out of the house not long after sunrise, and had marvelled +at the blue that lies upon the skyline. Here, about him, were the clear +familiar colours of the world he knew; but yonder, on the hills, were +trees and spaces of another more heavenly tint. That soft blue light, if +he could reach it, must be the beginning of what his mind required. + +He envied Mr. Poodle, whose cottage was on that very hillslope that rose +so imperceptibly into sky. One morning he ran and ran, in the lifting +day, but always the blue receded. Hot and unbuttoned, he came by the +curate's house, just as the latter emerged to pick up the morning paper. + +“Where does the blue begin?” Gissing panted, trying hard to keep his +tongue from sliding out so wetly. + +The curate looked a trifle disturbed. He feared that something +unpleasant had happened, and that his assistance might be required +before breakfast. + +“It is going to be a warm day,” he said politely, and stooped for the +newspaper, as a delicate hint. + +“Where does--?” began Gissing, quivering; but at that moment, looking +round, he saw that it had hoaxed him again. Far away, on his own hill +the other side of the village, shone the evasive colour. As usual, +he had been too impetuous. He had not watched it while he ran; it had +circled round behind him. He resolved to be more methodical. + +The curate gave him a blank to fill in, relative to baptizing the +children, and was relieved to see him hasten away. + +But all this was some time ago. As he walked the meadow path, Gissing +suddenly realized that lately he had had little opportunity for pursuing +blue horizons. Since Fuji's departure every moment, from dawn to dusk, +was occupied. In three weeks he had had three different servants, but +none of them would stay. The place was too lonely, they said, and with +three puppies the work was too hard. The washing, particularly was a +horrid problem. Inexperienced as a parent, Gissing was probably too +proud: he wanted the children always to look clean and soigne. The last +cook had advertised herself as a General Houseworker, afraid of +nothing; but as soon as she saw the week's wash in the hamper (including +twenty-one grimy rompers), she telephoned to the station for a taxi. +Gissing wondered why it was that the working classes were not willing +to do one-half as much as he, who had been reared to indolent ease. Even +more, he was irritated by a suspicion of the ice-wagon driver. He could +not prove it, but he had an idea that this uncouth fellow obtained a +commission from the Airedales and Collies, who had large mansions in the +neighbourhood, for luring maids from the smaller homes. Of course Mrs. +Airedale and Mrs. Collie could afford to pay any wages at all. So now +the best he could do was to have Mrs. Spaniel, the charwoman, come up +from the village to do the washing and ironing, two days a week. The +rest of the work he undertook himself. On a clear afternoon, when the +neighbours were not looking, he would take his own shirts and things +down to the pond--putting them neatly in the bottom of the red +express-wagon, with the puppies sitting on the linen, so no one would +see. While the puppies played about and hunted for tadpoles, he would +wash his shirts himself. + +His legs ached as he took his evening stroll--keeping within earshot of +the house, so as to hear any possible outcry from the nursery. He +had been on his feet all day. But he reflected that there was a real +satisfaction in his family tasks, however gruelling. Now, at last (he +said to himself), I am really a citizen, not a mere dilettante. Of +course it is arduous. No one who is not a parent realizes, for example, +the extraordinary amount of buttoning and unbuttoning necessary in +rearing children. I calculate that 50,000 buttonings are required for +each one before it reaches the age of even rudimentary independence. +With the energy so expended one might write a great novel or chisel a +statue. Never mind: these urchins must be my Works of Art. If one +were writing a novel, he could not delegate to a hired servant the +composition of laborious chapters. + +So he took his responsibility gravely. This was partly due to the +christening service, perhaps, which had gone off very charmingly. It +had not been without its embarrassments. None of the neighbouring ladies +would stand as godmother, for they were secretly dubious as to the +children's origin; so he had asked good Mrs. Spaniel to act in that +capacity. She, a simple kindly creature, was much flattered, though +certainly she can have understood very little of the symbolical rite. +Gissing, filling out the form that Mr. Poodle had given him, had put +down the names of an entirely imaginary brother and sister-in-law of +his, “deceased,” whom he asserted as the parents. He had been so busy +with preparations that he did not find time, before the ceremony, +to study the text of the service; and when he and Mrs. Spaniel stood +beneath the font with an armful of ribboned infancy, he was frankly +startled by the magnitude of the promises exacted from him. He found +that, on behalf of the children, he must “renounce the devil and all his +work, the vain pomp and glory of the world;” that he must pledge himself +to see that these infants would “crucify the old man and utterly abolish +the whole body of sin.” It was rather doubtful whether they would do so, +he reflected, as he felt them squirming in his arms while Mrs. Spaniel +was busy trying to keep their socks on. When the curate exhorted him “to +follow the innocency” of these little ones, it was disconcerting to have +one of them burst into a piercing yammer, and wriggle so forcibly that +it slipped quite out of its little embroidered shift and flannel band. +But the actual access to the holy basin was more seemly, perhaps due to +the children imagining they were going to find tadpoles there. When Mr. +Poodle held them up they smiled with a vague almost bashful simplicity; +and Mrs. Spaniel could not help murmuring “The darlings!” The curate, +less experienced with children, had insisted on holding all three at +once, and Gissing feared lest one of them might swarm over the surpliced +shoulder and fall splash into the font. But though they panted a little +with excitement, they did nothing to mar the solemn instant. While Mrs. +Spaniel was picking up the small socks with which the floor was strewn, +Gissing was deeply moved by the poetry of the ceremony. He felt that +something had really been accomplished toward “burying the Old Adam.” + And if Mrs. Spaniel ever grew disheartened at the wash-tubs, he was +careful to remind her of the beautiful phrase about the mystical washing +away of sin. + +They had been christened Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers, three traditional +names in his family. + +Indeed, he was reflecting as he walked in the dusk, Mrs. Spaniel was +now his sheet anchor. Fortunately she showed signs of becoming +extraordinarily attached to the puppies. On the two days a week when she +came up from the village, it was even possible for him to get a little +relaxation--to run down to the station for tobacco, or to lie in the +hammock briefly with a book. Looking off from his airy porch, he could +see the same blue distances that had always tempted him, but he felt too +passive to wonder about them. He had given up the idea of trying to get +any other servants. If it had been possible, he would have engaged Mrs. +Spaniel to sleep in the house and be there permanently; but she had +children of her own down in the shantytown quarter of the village, and +had to go back to them at night. But certainly he made every effort to +keep her contented. It was a long steep climb up from the hollow, so +he allowed her to come in a taxi and charge it to his account. Then, on +condition that she would come on Saturdays also, to help him clean up +for Sunday, he allowed her, on that day, to bring her own children too, +and all the puppies played riotously together around the place. But this +he presently discontinued, for the clamour became so deafening that the +neighbours complained. Besides, the young Spaniels, who were a little +older, got Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers into noisy and careless habits of +speech. + +He was anxious that they should grow up refined, and was distressed by +little Shaggy Spaniel having brought up the Comic Section of a Sunday +paper. With childhood's instinctive taste for primitive effects, the +puppies fell in love with the coloured cartoons, and badgered him +continually for “funny papers.” + +There is a great deal more to think about in raising children (he said +to himself) than is intimated in Dr. Holt's book on Care and Feeding. +Even in matters that he had always taken for granted, such as fairy +tales, he found perplexity. After supper--(he now joined the children in +their evening bread and milk, for after cooking them a hearty lunch of +meat and gravy and potatoes and peas and the endless spinach and carrots +that the doctors advise, to say nothing of the prunes, he had no energy +to prepare a special dinner for himself)--after supper it was his habit +to read to them, hoping to give their imaginations a little exercise +before they went to bed. He was startled to find that Grimm and Hans +Andersen, which he had considered as authentic classics for childhood, +were full of very strong stuff--morbid sentiment, bloodshed, horror, and +all manner of painful circumstance. Reading the tales aloud, he edited +as he went along; but he was subject to that curious weakness that +afflicts some people: reading aloud made him helplessly sleepy: after a +page or so he would fall into a doze, from which he would be awakened by +the crash of a lamp or some other furniture. The children, seized with +that furious hilarity that usually begins just about bedtime, would race +madly about the house until some breakage or a burst of tears woke him +from his trance. He would thrash them all and put them to bed howling. +When they were asleep he would be touched with tender compassion, and +steal in to tuck them up, admiring the innocence of each unconscious +muzzle on its pillow. Sometimes, in a crisis of his problems, he thought +of writing to Dr. Holt for advice; but the will-power was lacking. + +It is really astonishing how children can exhaust one, he used to think. +Sometimes, after a long day, he was even too weary to correct their +grammar. “You lay down!” Groups would admonish Yelpers, who was capering +in his crib while Bunks was being lashed in with the largest size of +safety pins. And Gissing, doggedly passing from one to another, was +really too fatigued to reprove the verb, picked up from Mrs. Spaniel. + +Fairy tales proving a disappointment, he had great hopes of encouraging +them in drawing. He bought innumerable coloured crayons and stacks +of scribbling paper. After supper they would all sit down around the +dining-room table and he drew pictures for them. Tongues depending with +concentrated excitement, the children would try to copy these pictures +and colour them. In spite of having three complete sets of crayons, a +full roster of colours could rarely be found at drawing time. Bunks had +the violet when Groups wanted it, and so on. But still, this was often +the happiest hour of the day. Gissing drew amazing trains, elephants, +ships, and rainbows, with the spectrum of colours correctly arranged +and blended. The children specially loved his landscapes, which were +opulently tinted and magnificent in long perspectives. He found himself +always colouring the far horizons a pale and haunting blue. + +He was meditating these things when a shrill yammer recalled him to the +house. + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + +In this warm summer weather Gissing slept on a little outdoor balcony +that opened off the nursery. The world, rolling in her majestic seaway, +heeled her gunwale slowly into the trough of space. Disked upon this +bulwark, the sun rose, and promptly Gissing woke. The poplars flittered +in a cool stir. Beyond the tadpole pond, through a notch in the +landscape, he could see the far darkness of the hills. That fringe of +woods was a railing that kept the sky from flooding over the earth. + +The level sun, warily peering over the edge like a cautious marksman, +fired golden volleys unerringly at him. At once Gissing was aware and +watchful. Brief truce was over: the hopeless war with Time began anew. + +This was his placid hour. Light, so early, lies timidly along the +ground. It steals gently from ridge to ridge; it is soft, unsure. +That blue dimness, receding from bole to bole, is the skirt of Night's +garment, trailing off toward some other star. As easily as it slips from +tree to tree, it glides from earth to Orion. + +Light, which later will riot and revel and strike pitilessly down, still +is tender and tentative. It sweeps in rosy scythe-strokes, parallel to +earth. It gilds, where later it will burn. + +Gissing lay, without stirring. The springs of the old couch were creaky, +and the slightest sound might arouse the children within. Now, until +they woke, was his peace. Purposely he had had the sleeping porch built +on the eastern side of the house. Making the sun his alarm clock, he +prolonged the slug-a-bed luxury. He had procured the darkest and +most opaque of all shades for the nursery windows, to cage as long as +possible in that room Night the silencer. At this time of the year, the +song of the mosquito was his dreaded nightingale. In spite of fine-mesh +screens, always one or two would get in. Mrs. Spaniel, he feared, left +the kitchen door ajar during the day, and these Borgias of the insect +world, patiently invasive, seized their chance. It was a rare night when +a sudden scream did not come from the nursery every hour or so. “Daddy, +a keeto, a keeto!” was the anguish from one of the trio. The other two +were up instantly, erect and yelping in their cribs, small black paws on +the rail, pink stomachs candidly exposed to the winged stilleto. Lights +on, and the room must be explored for the lurking foe. Scratching +themselves vigorously, the fun of the chase assuaged the smart of those +red welts. Gissing, wise by now, knew that after a forager the mosquito +always retires to the ceiling, so he kept a stepladder in the room. +Mounted on this, he would pursue the enemy with a towel, while the +children screamed with merriment. Then stomachs must be anointed with +more citronella; sheets and blankets reassembled, and quiet gradually +restored. Life, as parents know, can be supported on very little sleep. + +But how delicious to lie there, in the morning freshness, to hear the +earth stir with reviving gusto, the merriment of birds, the exuberant +clink of milk-bottles set down by the back-door, the whole complex +machinery of life begin anew! Gissing was amazed now, looking back upon +his previous existence, to see himself so busy, so active. Few +people are really lazy, he thought: what we call laziness is merely +maladjustment. For in any department of life where one is genuinely +interested, he will be zealous beyond belief. Certainly he had not +dreamed, until he became (in a manner of speaking) a parent, that he had +in him such capacity for detail. + +This business of raising a family, though--had he any true aptitude +for it? or was he forcing himself to go through with it? Wasn't he, +moreover, incurring all the labours of parenthood without any of +its proper dignity and social esteem? Mrs. Chow down the street, for +instance, why did she look so sniffingly upon him when she heard the +children, in the harmless uproar of their play, cry him aloud as Daddy? +Uncle, he had intended they should call him; but that is, for beginning +speech, a hard saying, embracing both a palatal and a liquid. Whereas +Da-da--the syllables come almost unconsciously to the infant mouth. +So he had encouraged it, and even felt an irrational pride in the +honourable but unearned title. + +A little word, Daddy, but one of the most potent, he was thinking. +More than a word, perhaps: a great social engine: an anchor which, cast +carelessly overboard, sinks deep and fast into the very bottom. The +vessel rides on her hawser, and where are your blue horizons then? + +But come now, isn't one horizon as good as another? And do they really +remain blue when you reach them? + +Unconsciously he stirred, stretching his legs deeply into the +comfortable nest of his couch. The springs twanged. Simultaneous +clamours! The puppies were awake. + +They yelled to be let out from the cribs. This was the time of the +morning frolic. Gissing had learned that there is only one way to deal +with the almost inexhaustible energy of childhood. That is, not to +attempt to check it, but to encourage and draw it out. To start the day +with a rush, stimulating every possible outlet of zeal; meanwhile taking +things as calmly and quietly as possible himself, sitting often to take +the weight off his legs, and allowing the youngsters to wear themselves +down. This, after all, is Nature's own way with man; it is the wise +parent's tactic with children. Thus, by dusk, the puppies will have run +themselves almost into a stupor; and you, if you have shrewdly husbanded +your strength, may have still a little power in reserve for reading and +smoking. + +The before-breakfast game was conducted on regular routine. Children +show their membership in the species by their love of strict habit. + +Gissing let them yell for a few moments--as long as he thought the +neighbours would endure it--while he gradually gathered strength and +resolution, shook off the cowardice of bed. Then he strode into the +nursery. As soon as they heard him raising the shades there was complete +silence. They hastened to pull the blankets over themselves, and lay +tense, faces on paws, with bright expectant upward eyes. They trembled a +little with impatience. It was all he could do to restrain himself from +patting the sleek heads, which always seemed to shine with extra +polish after a night's rolling to and fro on the flattened pillows. But +sternness was a part of the game at this moment. He solemnly unlatched +and lowered the tall sides of the cribs. + +He stood in the middle of the room, with a gesture of command. “Quiet +now,” he said. “Quiet, until I tell you!” + +Yelpers could not help a small whine of intense emotion, which slipped +out unintended. The eyes of Groups and Bunks swivelled angrily toward +their unlucky brother. It was his failing: in crises he always emitted +haphazard sounds. But this time Gissing, with lenient forgiveness, +pretended not to have heard. + +He returned to the balcony, and reentered his couch, where he lay +feigning sleep. In the nursery was a terrific stillness. + +It was the rule of the game that they should lie thus, in absolute +quiet, until he uttered a huge imitation snore. Once, after a +particularly exhausting night, he had postponed the snore too long: +he fell asleep. He did not wake for an hour, and then found the tragic +three also sprawled in amazing slumber. But their pillows were wet with +tears. He never succumbed again, no matter how deeply tempted. + +He snored. There were three sprawling thumps, a rush of feet, and a +tumbling squeeze through the screen door. Then they were on the couch +and upon him, with panting yelps of glee. Their hot tongues rasped +busily over his face. This was the great tickling game. Remembering his +theory of conserving energy, he lay passive while they rollicked +and scrambled, burrowing in the bedclothes, quivering imps of absurd +pleasure. All that was necessary was to give an occasional squirm, to +tweak their ribs now and then, so that they believed his heart was in +the sport. Really he got quite a little rest while they were scuffling. +No one knew exactly what was the imagined purpose of the lark--whether +he was supposed to be trying to escape from them, or they from him. Like +all the best games, it had not been carefully thought out. + +“Now, children,” said Gissing presently. “Time to get dressed.” + +It was amazing how fast they were growing. Already they were beginning +to take a pride in trying to dress themselves. While Gissing was in +the bathroom, enjoying his cold tub (and under the stimulus of that +icy sluice forming excellent resolutions for the day) the children were +sitting on the nursery floor eagerly studying the intricacies of their +gear. By the time he returned they would have half their garments on +wrong; waist and trousers front side to rear; right shoes on left feet; +buttons hopelessly mismated to buttonholes; shoelacings oddly zigzagged. +It was far more trouble to permit their ambitious bungling, which must +be undone and painstakingly reassembled, than to have clad them all +himself, swiftly revolving and garmenting them like dolls. But in these +early hours of the day, patience still is robust. It was his pedagogy to +encourage their innocent initiatives, so long as endurance might permit. + +Best of all, he enjoyed watching them clean their teeth. It was +delicious to see them, tiptoe on their hind legs at the basin, to which +their noses just reached; mouths gaping wide as they scrubbed with very +small toothbrushes. They were so elated by squeezing out the toothpaste +from the tube that he had not the heart to refuse them this privilege, +though it was wasteful. For they always squeezed out more than +necessary, and after a moment's brushing their mouths became choked and +clotted with the pungent foam. Much of this they swallowed, for he +had not been able to teach them to rinse and gargle. Their only idea +regarding any fluid in the mouth was to swallow it; so they coughed and +strangled and barked. Gissing had a theory that this toothpaste foam +most be an appetizer, for he found that the more of it they swallowed, +the better they ate their breakfast. + +After breakfast he hurried them out into the garden, before the day +became too hot. As he put a new lot of prunes to soak in cold water, he +could not help reflecting how different the kitchen and pantry looked +from the time of Fuji. The ice-box pan seemed to be continually brimming +over. Somehow--due, he feared, to a laxity on Mrs. Spaniel's part--ants +had got in. He was always finding them inside the ice-box, and wondered +where they came from. He was amazed to find how negligent he was growing +about pots and pans: he began cooking a new mess of oatmeal in the +double boiler without bothering to scrape out the too adhesive remnant +of the previous porridge. He had come to the conclusion that children +are tougher and more enduring than Dr. Holt will admit; and that a +little carelessness in matters of hygiene and sterilization does not +necessarily mean instant death. + +Truly his once dainty menage was deteriorating. He had put away his fine +china, put away the linen napery, and laid the table with oil cloth. He +had even improved upon Fuji's invention of scuppers by a little +trough which ran all round the rim of the table, to catch any possible +spillage. He was horrified to observe how inevitably callers came at +the worst possible moment. Mr. and Mrs. Chow, for instance, drew up one +afternoon in their spick-and-span coupe with their intolerably spotless +only child sitting self-consciously beside them. Groups, Bunks, and +Yelpers were just then filling the garden with horrid clamour. They had +been quarrelling, and one had pushed the other two down the back steps. +Gissing, who had attempted to find a quiet moment to scald the ants out +of the ice-box, had just rushed forth and boxed them all. As he stood +there, angry and waving a steaming dishclout, two Chows appeared. The +puppies at once set upon little Sandy Chow, and had thoroughly mauled +his starched sailor suit in the driveway before two minutes were past. +Gissing could not help laughing, for he suspected that there had been a +touch of malice in the Chows coming just at that time. + +He had given up his flower garden, too. It was all he could do to shove +the lawn-mower around, in the dusk, after the puppies were in bed. +Formerly he had found the purr of the twirling blades a soothing +stimulus to thought; but nowadays he could not even think consecutively. +Perhaps, he thought, the residence of the mind is in the legs, not in +the head; for when your legs are thoroughly weary you can't seem to +think. + +So he had decided that he simply must have more help in the cooking and +housework. He had instructed Mrs. Spaniel to send the washing to the +steam-laundry, and spend her three days in the kitchen instead. A +huge bundle had come back from the laundry, and he had paid the driver +$15.98. With dismay he sorted the clean, neatly folded garments. Here +was the worthy Mrs. Spaniel's list, painstakingly written out in her +straggling script:-- + + MR. GISHING FAMILY WOSH + + 8 towls + 6 pymjarm Mr Gishing + 12 rompers + 3 blowses + 6 cribb sheets + 1 Mr. Gishing sheat + 4 wastes + 3 wosh clothes + 2 onion sutes Mr Gishing + 6 smal onion sutes + 4 pillo slipes + 3 sherts + 18 hankerchifs smal + 6 hankerchifs large + 8 colers + 3 overhauls + 10 bibbs + 2 table clothes (coca stane) + 1 table clothe (prun juce and eg) + +After contemplating this list, Gissing went to his desk and began to +study his accounts. A resolve was forming in his mind. + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + +The summer evenings sounded a very different music from that thin +wheedling of April. It was now a soft steady vibration, the incessant +drone and throb of locust and cricket, and sometimes the sudden rasp, +dry and hard, of katydids. Gissing, in spite of his weariness, was all +fidgets. He would walk round and round the house in the dark, unable +to settle down to anything; tired, but incapable of rest. What is this +uneasiness in the mind, he asked himself? The great sonorous drumming of +the summer night was like the bruit of Time passing steadily by. Even +in the soft eddy of the leaves, lifted on a drowsy creeping air, was a +sound of discontent, of troublesome questioning. Through the trees he +could see the lighted oblongs of neighbours' windows, or hear stridulent +jazz records. Why were all others so cheerfully absorbed in the minutiae +of their lives, and he so painfully ill at ease? Sometimes, under the +warm clear darkness, the noises of field and earth swelled to a kind +of soft thunder: his quickened ears heard a thousand small outcries +contributing to the awful energy of the world--faint chimings and +whistlings in the grass, and endless flutter, rustle, and whirr. His own +body, on which hair and nails grew daily like vegetation, startled and +appalled him. Consciousness of self, that miserable ecstasy, was heavy +upon him. + +He envied the children, who lay upstairs sprawled under their mosquito +nettings. Immersed in living, how happily unaware of being alive! He +saw, with tenderness, how naively they looked to him as the answer and +solution of their mimic problems. But where could he find someone to be +to him what he was to them? The truth apparently was that in his inward +mind he was desperately lonely. Reading the poets by fits and starts, +he suddenly realized that in their divine pages moved something of this +loneliness, this exquisite unhappiness. But these great hearts had had +the consolation of setting down their moods in beautiful words, words +that lived and spoke. His own strange fever burned inexpressibly inside +him. Was he the only one who felt the challenge offered by the maddening +fertility and foison of the hot sun-dazzled earth? Life, he realized, +was too amazing to be frittered out in this aimless sickness of heart. +There were truths and wonders to be grasped, if he could only throw off +this wistful vague desire. He felt like a clumsy strummer seated at a +dark shining grand piano, which he knows is capable of every glory of +rolling music, yet he can only elicit a few haphazard chords. + +He had his moments of arrogance, too. Ah, he was very young! This +miracle of blue unblemished sky that had baffled all others since life +began--he, he would unriddle it! He was inclined to sneer at his friends +who took these things for granted, and did not perceive the infamous +insolubility of the whole scheme. Remembering the promises made at +the christening, he took the children to church; but alas, carefully +analyzing his mind, he admitted that his attention had been chiefly +occupied with keeping them orderly, and he had gone through the service +almost automatically. Only in singing hymns did he experience a tingle +of exalted feeling. But Mr. Poodle was proud of his well-trained choir, +and Gissing had a feeling that the congregation was not supposed to do +more than murmur the verses, for fear of spoiling the effect. In his +favourite hymns he had a tendency to forget himself and let go: his +vigorous tenor rang lustily. Then he realized that the backs of people's +heads looked surprised. The children could not be kept quiet unless +they stood up on the pews. Mr. Poodle preached rather a long sermon, and +Yelpers, toward twelve-thirty, remarked in a clear tone of interested +inquiry, “What time does God have dinner?” + +Gissing had a painful feeling that he and Mr. Poodle did not thoroughly +understand each other. The curate, who was kindness itself, called one +evening, and they had a friendly chat. Gissing was pleased to find +that Mr. Poodle enjoyed a cigar, and after some hesitation ventured to +suggest that he still had something in the cellar. Mr. Poodle said that +he didn't care for anything, but his host could not help hearing the +curate's tail quite unconsciously thumping on the chair cushions. So he +excused himself and brought up one of his few remaining bottles of +White Horse. Mr. Poodle crossed his legs and they chatted about golf, +politics, the income tax, and some of the recent books; but when Gissing +turned the talk on religion, Mr. Poodle became diffident.. Gissing, +warmed and cheered by the vital Scotch, was perhaps too direct. + +“What ought I to do to 'crucify the old man'?” he said. + +Mr. Poodle was rather embarrassed. + +“You must mortify the desires of the flesh,” he replied. “You must dig +up the old bone of sin that is buried in all our hearts.” + +There were many more questions Gissing wanted to ask about this, but Mr. +Poodle said he really must be going, as he had a call to pay on Mr. and +Mrs. Chow. + +Gissing walked down the path with him, and the curate did indeed set off +toward the Chows'. But Gissing wondered, for a little later he heard a +cheerful canticle upraised in the open fields. + +He himself was far from gay. He longed to tear out this malady from his +breast. Poor dreamer, he did not know that to do so is to tear out God +Himself. “Mrs. Spaniel,” he said when the laundress next came up from +the village, “you are a widow, aren't you?” + +“Yes, sir,” she said. “Poor Spaniel was killed by a truck, two years ago +April.” Her face was puzzled, but beneath her apron Gissing could see +her tail wagging. + +“Don't misunderstand me,” he said quickly. “I've got to go away on +business. I want you to bring your children and move into this house +while I'm gone. I'll make arrangements at the bank about paying all the +bills. You can give up your outside washing and devote yourself entirely +to looking after this place.” + +Mrs. Spaniel was so much surprised that she could not speak. In her +amazement a bright bubble dripped from the end of her curly tongue. +Hastily she caught it in her apron, and apologized. + +“How long will you be away, sir?” she asked. + +“I don't know. It may be quite a long time.” + +“But all your beautiful things, furniture and everything,” said Mrs. +Spaniel. “I'm afraid my children are a bit rough. They're not used to +living in a house like this--” + +“Well,” said Gissing, “you must do the best you can. There are some +things more important than furniture. It will be good for your children +to get accustomed to refined surroundings, and it'll be good for my +nephews to have someone to play with. Besides, I don't want them to grow +up spoiled mollycoddles. I think I've been fussing over them too much. +If they have good stuff in them, a little roughening won't do any +permanent harm.” + +“Dear me,” cried Mrs. Spaniel, “what will the neighbours think?” + +“They won't,” said Gissing. “I don't doubt they'll talk, but they won't +think. Thinking is very rare. I've got to do some myself, that's one +reason why I'm going. You know, Mrs. Spaniel, God is a horizon, not +someone sitting on a throne.” Mrs. Spaniel didn't understand this--in +fact, she didn't seem to hear it. Her mind was full of the idea that +she would simply have to have a new dress, preferably black silk, for +Sundays. Gissing, very sagacious, had already foreseen this point. +“Let's not have any argument,” he continued. “I have planned everything. +Here is some money for immediate needs. I'll speak to them at the +bank, and they will give you a weekly allowance. I leave you here as +caretaker. Later on I'll send you an address and you can write me how +things are going.” + +Poor Mrs. Spaniel was bewildered. She came of very decent people, but +since Spaniel took to drink, and then left her with a family to support, +she had sunk in the world. She was wondering now how she could face it +out with Mrs. Chow and Mrs. Fox-Terrier and the other neighbours. + +“Oh, dear,” she cried, “I don't know what to say, sir. Why, my boys are +so disreputable-looking, they haven't even a collar between them.” + +“Get them collars and anything else they need,” said Gissing kindly. +“Don't worry, Mrs. Spaniel, it will be a fine thing for you. There will +be a little gossip, I dare say, but we'll have to chance that. Now +you had better go down to the village and make your arrangements. I'm +leaving tonight.” + +Late that evening, after seeing Mrs. Spaniel and her brood safely +installed, Gissing walked to the station with his suitcase. He felt a +pang as he lifted the mosquito nettings and kissed the cool moist noses +of the sleeping trio. But he comforted himself by thinking that this was +no merely vulgar desertion. If he was to raise the family, he must earn +some money. His modest income would not suffice for this sudden increase +in expenses. Besides, he had never known what freedom meant until it +was curtailed. For the past three months he had lived in ceaseless +attendance; had even slept with one ear open for the children's cries. +Now he owed it to himself to make one great strike for peace. Wealth, he +could see, was the answer. With money, everything was attainable: books, +leisure for study, travel, prestige--in short, command over the physical +details of life. He would go in for Big Business. Already he thrilled +with a sense of power and prosperity. + +The little house stood silent in the darkness as he went down the path. +The night was netted with the weaving sparkle of fireflies. He stood +for a moment, looking. Suddenly there came a frightened cry from the +nursery. + +“Daddy, a keeto, a keeto!” + +He nearly turned to run back, but checked himself. No, Mrs. Spaniel was +now in charge. It was up to her. Besides, he had only just enough time +to catch the last train to the city. + +But he sat on the cinder-speckled plush of the smoker in a mood that was +hardly revelry. “By Jove,” he said to himself, “I got away just in time. +Another month and I couldn't have done it.” + +It was midnight when he saw the lights of town, panelled in gold against +a peacock sky. Acres and acres of blue darkness lay close-pressing +upon the gaudy grids of light. Here one might really look at this great +miracle of shadow and see its texture. The dulcet air drifted lazily in +deep, silent crosstown streets. “Ah,” he said, “here is where the blue +begins.” + + + +CHAPTER SIX + + “For students of the troubled heart + Cities are perfect works of art.” + +There is a city so tall that even the sky above her seems to have lifted +in a cautious remove, inconceivably far. There is a city so proud, so +mad, so beautiful and young, that even heaven has retreated, lest her +placid purity be too nearly tempted by that brave tragic spell. In the +city which is maddest of all, Gissing had come to search for sanity. In +the city so strangely beautiful that she has made even poets silent, he +had come to find a voice. In the city of glorious ostent and vanity, he +had come to look for humility and peace. + +All cities are mad: but the madness is gallant. All cities are +beautiful: but the beauty is grim. Who shall tell me the truth about +this one? Tragic? Even so, because wherever ambitions, vanities, and +follies are multiplied by millionfold contact, calamity is there. Noble +and beautiful? Aye, for even folly may have the majesty of magnitude. +Hasty, cruel, shallow? Agreed, but where in this terrene orb will you +find it otherwise? I know all that can be said against her; and yet in +her great library of streets, vast and various as Shakespeare, is beauty +enough for a lifetime. O poets, why have you been so faint? Because she +seems cynical and crass, she cries with trumpet-call to the mind of the +dreamer; because she is riant and mad, she speaks to the grave sanity of +the poet. + +So, in a mood perhaps too consciously lofty, Gissing was meditating. +It was rather impudent of him to accuse the city of being mad, for he +himself, in his glee over freedom regained, was not conspicuously sane. +He scoured the town in high spirits, peering into shop-windows, riding +on top of busses, going to the Zoo, taking the rickety old steamer to +the Statue of Liberty, drinking afternoon tea at the Ritz, and all that +sort of thing. The first three nights in town he slept in one of the +little traffic-towers that perch on stilts up above Fifth Avenue. As +a matter of fact, it was that one near St. Patrick's Cathedral. He had +ridden up the Avenue in a taxi, intending to go to the Plaza (just for +a bit of splurge after his domestic confinement). As the cab went by, he +saw the traffic-tower, dark and empty, and thought what a pleasant place +to sleep. So he asked the driver to let him out at the Cathedral, and +after being sure that he was not observed, walked back to the little +turret, climbed up the ladder, and made himself at home. He liked it +so well that he returned there the two following nights; but he didn't +sleep much, for he could not resist the fun of startling night-hawk +taxis by suddenly flashing the red, green, and yellow lights at them, +and seeing them stop in bewilderment. But after three nights he +thought it best to leave. It would have been awkward if the police had +discovered him. + +It was time to settle down and begin work. He had an uncle who was head +of an important business far down-town; but Gissing, with the quixotry +of youth, was determined to make his own start in the great world of +commerce. He found a room on the top floor of a quiet brownstone house +in the West Seventies. It was not large, and he had to go down a flight +for his bath; the gas burner over the bed whistled; the dust was rather +startling after the clean country; but it was cheap, and his sense of +adventure more than compensated. Mrs. Purp, the landlady, pleased him +greatly. She was very maternal, and urged him not to bolt his meals in +armchair lunches. She put an ashtray in his room. + +Gissing sent Mrs. Spaniel a postcard with a picture of the Pennsylvania +Station. On it he wrote Arrived safely. Hard at work. Love to the +children. Then he went to look for a job. + +His ideas about business were very vague. All he knew was that he wished +to be very wealthy and influential as soon as possible. He could have +had much sound advice from his uncle, who was a member of the Union +Kennel and quite a prominent dog-about-town. But Gissing had the +secretive pride of inexperience. Moreover, he did not quite know what +to say about his establishment in the country. That houseful of children +would need some explaining. + +Those were days of brilliant heat; clear, golden, dry. The society +columns in the papers assured him that everyone was out of town; but the +Avenue seemed plentifully crowded with beautiful, superb creatures. +Far down the gentle slopes of that glimmering roadway he could see +the rolling stream of limousines, dazzles of sunlight caught on their +polished flanks. A faint blue haze of gasoline fumes hung low in the +bright warm air. This is the street where even the most passive are +pricked by the strange lure of carnal dominion. Nothing less than a job +on the Avenue itself would suit his mood, he felt. + +Fortune and audacity united (as they always do) to concede his desire. +He was in the beautiful department store of Beagle and Company, one of +the most splendid of its kind, looking at some sand-coloured spats. +In an aisle near by he heard a commotion--nothing vulgar, but still an +evident stir, with repressed yelps and a genteel, horrified bustle. He +hastened to the spot, and through the crowd saw someone lying on the +floor. An extremely beautiful sales-damsel, charmingly clad in black +crepe de chien, was supporting the victim's head, vainly fanning him. +Wealthy dowagers were whining in distress. Then an ambulance clanged +up to a side door, and a stretcher was brought in. “What is it?” said +Gissing to a female at the silk-stocking counter. + +“One of the floorwalkers--died of heat prostration,” she said, looking +very much upset. + +“Poor fellow,” said Gissing. “You never know what will happen next, do +you?” He walked away, shaking his head. + +He asked the elevator attendant to direct him to the offices of the +firm. On the seventh floor, down a quiet corridor behind the bedroom +suites, a rosewood fence barred his way. A secretary faced him +inquiringly. + +“I wish to see Mr. Beagle.” + +“Mr. Beagle senior or Mr. Beagle junior?” + +Youth cleaves to youth, said Gissing to himself. “Mr. Beagle junior,” he +stated firmly. + +“Have you an appointment?” + +“Yes,” he said. + +She took his ward, disappeared, and returned. “This way, please,” she +said. + +Mr. Beagle senior must be very old indeed, he thought; for junior was +distinctly grizzled. In fact (so rapidly does the mind run), Mr. Beagle +senior must be near the age of retirement. Very likely (he said to +himself) that will soon occur; there will be a general stepping-up among +members of the firm, and that will be my chance. I wonder how much they +pay a junior partner? + +He almost uttered this question, as Mr. Beagle junior looked at him so +inquiringly. But he caught himself in time. + +“I beg your pardon for intruding,” said Gissing, “but I am the new +floorwalker.” + +“You are very kind,” said Mr. Beagle junior, “but we do not need a new +floorwalker.” + +“I beg your pardon again,” said Gissing, “but you are not au courant +with the affairs of the store. One has just died, right by the +silk-stocking counter. Very bad for business.” + +At this moment the telephone rang, and Mr. Beagle seized it. He +listened, sharply examining his caller meanwhile. + +“You are right,” he said, as he put down the receiver. “Well, sir, have +you had any experience?” + +“Not exactly of that sort,” said Gissing; “but I think I understand the +requirements. The tone of the store--” + +“I will ask you to be here at four-thirty this afternoon,” said Mr. +Beagle. “We have a particular routine in regard to candidates for +that position. You will readily perceive that it is a post of some +importance. The floorwalker is our point of social contact with +patrons.” + +Gissing negligently dusted his shoes with a handkerchief. + +“Pray do not apologize,” he said kindly. “I am willing to congratulate +with you on your good fortune. It was mere hazard that I was in the +store. To-day, of course, business will be poor. But to-morrow, I think +you will find--” + +“At four-thirty,” said Mr. Beagle, a little puzzled. + +That day Gissing went without lunch. First he explored the whole +building from top to bottom, until he knew the location of every +department, and had the store directory firmly memorized. With almost +proprietary tenderness he studied the shining goods and trinkets; noted +approvingly the clerks who seemed to him specially prompt and obliging +to customers; scowled a little at any sign of boredom or inattention. +He heard the soft sigh of the pneumatic tubes as they received money +and blew it to some distant coffer: this money, he thought, was already +partly his. That square-cut creature whom he presently discerned +following him was undoubtedly the store detective: he smiled to think +what a pleasant anecdote this would be when he was admitted to junior +partnership. Then he went, finally, to the special Masculine Shop on the +fifth floor, where he bought a silk hat, a cutaway coat and waistcoat, +and trousers of pearly stripe. He did not forget patent leather shoes, +nor white spats. He refused--the little white linen margins which the +clerk wished to affix to the V of his waistcoat. That, he felt, was the +ultra touch which would spoil all. The just less than perfection, how +perfect it is! + +It was getting late. He hurried to Penn Station where he hired one of +those little dressing booths, and put on his regalia. His tweeds, in a +neat package, he checked at the parcel counter. Then he returned to the +store for the important interview. + +He had expected a formal talk with the two Messrs. Beagle, perhaps +touching on such matters as duties, hours, salary, and so on. To his +surprise he was ushered by the secretary into a charming Louis XVI salon +farther down the private corridor. There were several ladies: one was +pouring tea. Mr. Beagle junior came forward. The vice-president (such +was Mr. Beagle junior's rank, Gissing had learned by the sign on his +door) still wore his business garb of the morning. Gissing immediately +felt himself to have the advantage. But what a pleasant idea, he +thought, for the members of the firm to have tea together every +afternoon. He handed his hat, gloves, and stick to the secretary. + +“Very kind of you to come,” said Mr. Beagle. “Let me present you to my +wife.” + +Mrs. Beagle, at the tea-urn, received him graciously. + +“Cream or lemon?” she said. “Two lumps?” + +This is really delightful, Gissing thought. Only on Fifth Avenue could +this kind of thing happen. He looked down the hostess from his superior +height, and smiled charmingly. + +“Do you permit three?” he said. “A little weakness of mine.” As a matter +of fact, he hated tea so sweet; but he felt it was strategic to fix +himself in Mrs. Beagle's mind as a polished eccentric. + +“You must have a meringue,” she said. “Ah, Mrs. Pomeranian has them. +Mrs. Pomeranian, let me present Mr. Gissing.” + +Mrs. Pomeranian, small and plump and tightly corseted, offered the +meringues, while Mrs. Beagle pressed upon him a plate with a small +doily, embroidered with the arms of the store, and its motto je +maintiendrai--referring, no doubt, to its prices. Mr. Beagle then +introduced him to several more ladies in rapid succession. Gissing +passed along the line, bowing slightly but with courteous interest to +each. To each one he raised his eyebrows and permitted himself a small +significant smile, as though to convey that this was a moment he had +long been anticipating. How different, he thought, was this life of +enigmatic gaiety from the suburban drudgery of recent months. If only +Mrs. Spaniel could see him now! He was about to utilize a brief pause by +sipping his tea, when a white-headed patriarch suddenly appeared beside +him. + +“Mr. Gissing,” said the vice-president, “this is my father, Mr. Beagle +senior.” + +Gissing, by quick work, shuffled the teacup into his left paw, and the +meringue plate into the crook of his elbow, so he was ready for the old +gentleman's salutation. Mr. Beagle senior was indeed very old: his white +hair hung over his eyes, he spoke with growling severity. Gissing's +manner to the old merchant was one of respectful reassurance: he +attempted to make an impression that would console: to impart--of course +without saying so--the thought that though the head of the firm could +not last much longer, yet he would leave his great traffic in capable +care. + +“Where will I find an aluminum cooking pot?” growled the elder Beagle +unexpectedly. + +“In the Bargain Basement,” said Gissing promptly. + +“He'll do!” cried the president. + +To his surprise, on looking round, Gissing saw that all the ladies had +vanished. Beagle junior was grinning at him. + +“You have the job, Mr. Gissing,” he said. “You will pardon the harmless +masquerade--we always try out a floorwalker in that way. My father +thinks that if he can handle a teacup and a meringue while being +introduced to ladies, he can manage anything on the main aisle +downstairs. Mrs. Pomeranian, our millinery buyer, said she had never +seen it better done, and she mixes with some of the swellest people in +Paris.” + +“Nine to six, with half an hour off for lunch,” said the senior partner, +and left the room. + +Gissing calmly swallowed his tea, and ate the meringue. He would have +enjoyed another, but the capable secretary had already removed them. He +poured himself a second cup of tea. Mr. Beagle junior showed signs of +eagerness to leave, but Gissing detained him. + +“One moment,” he said suavely. “There is a little matter that we have +not discussed. The question of salary.” + +Mr. Beagle looked thoughtfully out of the window. + +“Thirty dollars a week,” he said. + +After all, Gissing thought, it will only take four weeks to pay for what +I have spent on clothes. + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + +There was some dramatic nerve in Gissing's nature that responded +eloquently to the floorwalking job. Never, in the history of Beagle and +Company, had there been a floorwalker who threw so much passion and zeal +into his task. The very hang of his coattails, even the erect carriage +of his back, the rubbery way in which his feet trod the aisles, showed +his sense of dignity and glamour. There seemed to be a great tradition +which enriched and upheld him. Mr. Beagle senior used to stand on +the little balcony at the rear of the main floor, transfixed with the +pleasure of seeing Gissing move among the crowded passages. +Alert, watchful, urbane, with just the ideal blend of courtesy and +condescension, he raised floorwalking to a social art. Female customers +asked him the way to departments they knew perfectly well, for the +pleasure of hearing him direct them. Business began to improve before he +had been there a week. + +And how he enjoyed himself! The perfection of his bearing on the +floor was no careful pose: it was due to the brimming overplus of his +happiness. Happiness is surely the best teacher of good manners: only +the unhappy are churlish in deportment. He was young, remember; and +this was his first job. His precocious experience as a paterfamilias had +added to his mien just that suggestion of unconscious gravity which is +so appealing to ladies. He looked (they thought) as though he had been +touched--but Oh so lightly!--by poetic sorrow or strange experience: to +ask him the way to the notion counter was as much of an adventure as +to meet a reigning actor at a tea. The faint cloud of melancholy that +shadowed his brow may have been only due to the fact that his new boots +were pinching painfully; but they did not know that. + +So, quite unconsciously, he began to “establish” himself in his role, +just as an actor does. At first he felt his way tentatively and with +tact. Every store has its own tone and atmosphere: in a day or so he +divined the characteristic cachet of the Beagle establishment. He saw +what kind of customers were typical, and what sort of conduct they +expected. And the secret of conquest being always to give people +a little more than they expect, he pursued that course. Since they +expected in a floorwalker the mechanical and servile gentility of a +hired puppet, he exhibited the easy, offhand simplicity of a fellow +club-member. With perfect naturalness he went out of his way to assist +in their shopping concerns: gave advice in the selection of dress +materials, acted as arbiter in the matching of frocks and stockings. His +taste being faultless, it often happened that the things he recommended +were not the most expensive: this again endeared him to customers. +When sales slips were brought to him by ladies who wished to make an +exchange, he affixed his O. K. with a magnificent flourish, and with +such evident pleasure, that patrons felt genuine elation, and plunged +into the tumult with new enthusiasm. It was not long before there were +always people waiting for his counsel; and husbands would appear at +the store to convey (a little irritably) some such message as: “Mrs. +Sealyham says, please choose her a scarf that will go nicely with that +brown moire dress of hers. She says you will remember the dress.”--This +popularity became even a bit perplexing, as for instance when old Mrs. +Dachshund, the store's biggest Charge Account, insisted on his leaving +his beat at a very busy time, to go up to the tenth floor to tell her +which piano he thought had the richer tone. + +Of course all this was very entertaining, and an admirable opportunity +for studying his fellow-creatures; but it did not go very deep into +his mind. He lived for some time in a confused glamour and glitter; +surrounded by the fascinating specious life of the store, but drifting +merely superficially upon it. The great place, with its columns of +artificial marble and white censers of upward-shining electricity, +glimmered like a birch forest by moonlight. Silver and jewels and silks +and slippers flashed all about him. It was a marvellous education, for +he soon learned to estimate these things at their proper value; which is +low, for they have little to do with life itself. His work was tiring in +the extreme--merely having to remain upright on his hind legs for +such long hours WAS an ordeal--but it did not penetrate to the secret +observant self of which he was always aware. This was advantageous. If +you have no intellect, or only just enough to get along with, it does +not much matter what you do. But if you really have a mind--by which +is meant that rare and curious power of reason, of imagination, and +of emotion; very different from a mere fertility of conversation and +intelligent curiosity--it is better not to weary and wear it out over +trifles. + +So, when he left the store in the evening, no matter how his legs ached, +his head was clear and untarnished. He did not hurry away at closing +time. Places where people work are particularly fascinating after +the bustle is over. He loved to linger in the long aisles, to see the +tumbled counters being swiftly brought to order, to hear the pungent +cynicisms of the weary shopgirls. To these, by the way, he was a bit of +a mystery. The punctilio of his manner, the extreme courtliness of his +remarks, embarrassed them a little. Behind his back they spoke of him as +“The Duke” and admired him hugely; little Miss Whippet, at the stocking +counter, said that he was an English noble of long pedigree, who had +been unjustly deprived of his estates. + +Down in the basement of this palatial store was a little dressing +room and lavatory for the floorwalkers, where they doffed their formal +raiment and resumed street attire. His colleagues grumbled and hastened +to depart, but Gissing made himself entirely comfortable. In his locker +he kept a baby's bathtub, which he leisurely filled with hot water at +one of the basins. Then he sat serenely and bathed his feet; although it +was against the rules he often managed to smoke a pipe while doing so. +Then he hung up his store clothes neatly, and went off refreshed into +the summer evening. + +A warm rosy light floods the city at that hour. At the foot of every +crosstown street is a bonfire of sunset. What a mood of secret smiling +beset him as he viewed the great territory of his enjoyment. “The +freedom of the city”--a phrase he had somewhere heard--echoed in his +mind. The freedom of the city! A magnificent saying, Electric signs, +first burning wanly in the pink air, then brightened and grew strong. +“Not light, but rather darkness visible,” in that magic hour that just +holds the balance between paling day and the spendthrift jewellery +of evening. Or, if it rained, to sit blithely on the roof of a bus, +revelling in the gust and whipping of the shower. Why had no one told +him of the glory of the city? She was pride, she was exultation, she +was madness. She was what he had obscurely craved. In every line of +her gallant profile he saw conquest, triumph, victory! Empty conquest, +futile triumph, doomed victory--but that was the essence of the drama. +In thunderclaps of dumb ecstasy he saw her whole gigantic fabric, +leaning and clamouring upward with terrible yearning. Burnt with +pitiless sunlight, drenched with purple explosions of summer storm, he +saw her cleansed and pure. Where were her recreant poets that they had +never made these things plain? + +And then, after the senseless day, after its happy but meaningless +triviality, the throng and mixed perfumery and silly courteous gestures, +his blessed solitude! Oh solitude, that noble peace of the mind! +He loved the throng and multitude of the day: he loved people: but +sometimes he suspected that he loved them as God does--at a judicious +distance. From his rather haphazard religious training, strange words +came back to him. “For God so loved the world...” So loved the world +that--that what? That He sent someone else... Some day he must think +this out. But you can't think things out. They think themselves, +suddenly, amazingly. The city itself is God, he cried. Was not God's +ultimate promise something about a city--The City of God? Well, but that +was only symbolic language. The city--of course that was only a symbol +for the race--for all his kind. The entire species, the whole aspiration +and passion and struggle, that was God. + +On the ferries, at night, after supper, was his favourite place for +meditation. Some undeniable instinct drew him ever and again out of +the deep and shut ravines of stone, to places where he could feed on +distance. That is one of the subtleties of this straight and narrow +city, that though her ways are cliffed in, they are a long thoroughfare +for the eye: there is always a far perspective. But best of all to go +down to her environing water, where spaces are wide: the openness that +keeps her sound and free. Ships had words for him: they had crossed many +horizons: fragments of that broken blue still shone on their cutting +bows. Ferries, the most poetical things in the city, were nearly empty +at night: he stood by the rail, saw the black outline of the town slide +by, saw the lower sky gilded with her merriment, and was busy thinking. + +Now about a God (he said to himself)--instinct tells me that there is +one, for when I think about Him I find that I unconsciously wag my tail +a little. But I must not reason on that basis, which is too puppyish. I +like to think that there is, somewhere in this universe, an inscrutable +Being of infinite wisdom, harmony, and charity, by Whom all my desires +and needs would be understood; in association with Whom I would find +peace, satisfaction, a lightness of heart that exceed my present +understanding. Such a Being is to me quite inconceivable; yet I feel +that if I met Him, I would instantly understand. I do not mean that I +would understand Him: but I would understand my relationship to Him, +which would be perfect. Nor do I mean that it would be always +happy; merely that it would transcend anything in the way of social +significance that I now experience. But I must not conclude that there +is such a God, merely because it would be so pleasant if there were. + +Then (he continued) is it necessary to conceive that this deity is +super-canine in essence? What I am getting at is this: in everyone +I have ever known--Fuji, Mr. Poodle, Mrs. Spaniel, those maddening +delightful puppies, Mrs. Purp, Mr. Beagle, even Mrs. Chow and Mrs. +Sealyham and little Miss Whippet--I have always been aware that there +was some mysterious point of union at which our minds could converge and +entirely understand one another. No matter what our difference of breed, +of training, of experience and education, provided we could meet and +exchange ideas honestly there would be some satisfying point of mental +fusion where we would feel our solidarity in the common mystery of life. +People complain that wars are caused by and fought over trivial things. +Why, of course! For it is only in trivial matters that people differ: +in the deep realities they must necessarily be at one. Now I have a +suspicion that in this secret sense of unity God may lurk. Is that what +we mean by God, the sum total of all these instinctive understandings? +But what is the origin of this sense of kinship? Is it not the +realization of our common subjection to laws and forces greater than +ourselves? Then, since nothing can be greater than God, He must BE these +superior mysteries. Yet He cannot be greater than our minds, for our +minds have imagined Him. + +My mathematics is very rusty, he said to himself, but I seem to remember +something about a locus, which was a curve or a surface every point +on which satisfied some particular equation of relation among the +coordinates. It begins to look to me as though life might be a kind of +locus, whose commanding equation we call God. The points on that locus +cannot conceive of the equation, yet they are subject to it. They cannot +conceive of that equation, because of course it has no existence save +as a law of their being. It exists only for them; they, only by it. But +there it is--a perfect, potent, divine abstraction. + +This carried him into a realm of disembodied thinking which his mind was +not sufficiently disciplined to summarize. It is quite plain, he said to +himself, that I must rub up my vanished mathematics. For certainly the +mathematician comes closer to God than any other, since his mind is +trained to conceive and formulate the magnificent phantoms of legality. +He smiled to think that any one should presume to become a parson +without having at least mastered analytical geometry. + +The ferry had crossed and recrossed the river several times, but Gissing +had found no conclusion for these thoughts. As the boat drew toward +her slip, she passed astern of a great liner. Gissing saw the four tall +funnels loom up above the shed of the pier where she lay berthed. +What was it that made his heart so stir? The perfect rake of the +funnels--just that satisfying angle of slant--that, absurdly enough, was +the nobility of the sight. Why, then? Let's get at the heart of this, he +said. Just that little trick of the architect, useless in itself--what +was it but the touch of swagger, of bravado, of defiance--going out +into the vast, meaningless, unpitying sea with that dainty arrogance +of build; taking the trouble to mock the senseless elements, hurricane, +ice, and fog, with a 15-degree slope of masts and funnels: damn, what +was the analogy? + +It was pride, it was pride! It was the same lusty impudence that he saw +in his perfect city, the city that cried out to the hearts of youth, +jutted her mocking pinnacles toward sky, her clumsy turrets verticalled +on gold! And God, the God of gales and gravity, loved His children to +dare and contradict Him, to rally Him with equations of their own. + +“God, I defy you!” he cried. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + +Time is a flowing river. Happy those who allow themselves to be carried, +unresisting, with the current. They float through easy days. They live, +unquestioning, in the moment. + +But Gissing was acutely conscious of Time. Though not subtle enough to +analyze the matter acutely, he had a troublesome feeling about it. He +kept checking off a series of Nows. “Now I am having my bath,” he would +say to himself in the morning. “Now I am dressing. Now I am on the +way to the store. Now I am in the jewellery aisle, being polite to +customers. Now I am having lunch.” After a period in which time ran by +unnoticed, he would suddenly realize a fresh Now, and feel uneasy at +the knowledge that it would shortly dissolve into another one. He tried, +vainly, to swim up-stream against the smooth impalpable fatal current. +He tried to dam up Time, to deepen the stream so that he could bathe in +it carelessly. Time, he said, is life; and life is God; time, then, is +little bits of God. Those who waste their time in vulgarity or folly are +the true atheists. + +One of the things that struck him about the city was its heedlessness of +Time. On every side he saw people spending it without adequate return. +Perhaps he was young and doctrinaire: but he devised this theory for +himself--all time is wasted that does not give you some awareness of +beauty or wonder. In other words, “the days that make us happy make us +wise,” he said to himself, quoting Masefield's line. On that principle, +he asked, how much time is wasted in this city? Well, here are some six +million people. To simplify the problem (which is permitted to every +philosopher) let us (he said) assume that 2,350,000 of those people have +spent a day that could be called, on the whole, happy: a day in +which they have had glimpses of reality; a day in which they feel +satisfaction. (That was, he felt, a generous allowance. ) Very well, +then, that leaves 3,650,000 people whose day has been unfruitful: spent +in uncongenial work, or in sorrow, suffering, and talking nonsense. This +city, then, in one day, has wasted 10,000 years, or 100 centuries. One +hundred centuries squandered in a day! It made him feel quite ill, and +he tore up the scrap of paper on which he had been figuring. + +This was a new, disconcerting way to think of the subject. We are +accustomed to consider Time only as it applies to ourselves, forgetting +that it is working upon everyone else simultaneously. Why, he thought +with a sudden shock, if only 36,500 people in this city have had a +thoroughly spendthrift and useless day, that means a net loss of a +century! If the War, he said to himself, lasted over 1,500 days and +involved more than 10,000,000 men, how many aeons--He used to think +about these things during quiet evenings in the top-floor room at Mrs. +Purp's. Occasionally he went home at night still wearing his store +clothes, because it pleased good Mrs. Purp so much. She felt that it +added glamour to her house to have him do so, and always called her +husband, a frightened silent creature with no collar and a humble air, +up from the basement to admire. Mr. Purp's time, Gissing suspected, +was irretrievably wasted--a good deal of it, to judge by his dusty +appearance, in rolling around in ashcans or in the company of the +neighbourhood bootlegger; but then, he reflected, in a charitable +seizure, you must not judge other people's time-spendings by a calculus +of your own. + +Perhaps he himself was growing a little miserly in this matter. +Indulging in the rare, the sovereign luxury of thinking, he had suddenly +become aware of time's precious fluency, and wondered why everyone else +didn't think about it as passionately as he did. In the privacy of +his room, weary after the day afoot, he took off his cutaway coat and +trousers and enjoyed his old habit of stretching out on the floor for +a good rest. There he would lie, not asleep, but in a bliss of passive +meditation. He even grudged Mrs. Purp the little chats she loved--she +made a point of coming up with clean towels when she knew he was in his +room, because she cherished hearing him talk. When he heard her knock, +he had to scramble hastily to his feet, get on his clothes, and pretend +he had been sitting calmly in the rocking chair. It would never do +to let her find him sprawled on the floor. She had an almost painful +respect for him. Once, when prospective lodgers were bargaining for +rooms, and he happened to be wearing his Beagle and Company attire, she +had asked him to do her the favour of walking down the stairs, so that +the visitors might be impressed by the gentility of the establishment. + +Of course he loved to waste time--but in his own way. He gloated on the +irresponsible vacancy of those evening hours, when there was nothing to +be done. He lay very still, hardly even thinking, just feeling life go +by. Through the open window came the lights and noises of the street. +Already his domestic life seemed dim and far away. The shrill appeals +of the puppies, their appalling innocent comments on existence, came +but faintly to memory. Here, where life beat so much more thickly and +closely, was the place to be. Though he had solved nothing, yet he +seemed closer to the heart of the mystery. Entranced, he felt time +flowing on toward him, endless in sweep and fulness. There is only one +success, he said to himself--to be able to spend your life in your own +way, and not to give others absurd maddening claims upon it. Youth, +youth is the only wealth, for youth has Time in its purse! + +In the store, however, philosophy was laid aside. A kind of intoxication +possessed him. Never before had old Mr. Beagle (watching delightedly +from the mezzanine balcony) seen such a floorwalker. Gissing moved to +and fro exulting in the great tide of shopping. He knew all the best +customers by name and had learned their peculiarities. If a shower came +up and Mrs. Mastiff was just leaving, he hastened to give her his arm as +far as her limousine, boosting her in so expeditiously that not a drop +of wetness fell upon her. He took care to find out the special plat du +jour of the store's lunch room, and seized occasion to whisper to Mrs. +Dachshund, whose weakness was food, that the filet of sole was very nice +to-day. Mrs. Pomeranian learned that giving Gissing a hint about some +new Parisian importations was more effective than a half page ad. in the +Sunday papers. Within a few hours, by a judicious word here and there, +he would have a score of ladies hastening to the millinery salon. +A pearl necklace of great value, which Mr. Beagle had rebuked the +jewellery buyer for getting, because it seemed more appropriate for a +dealer in precious stones than for a department store, was disposed of +almost at once. Gissing casually told Mrs. Mastiff that he had heard +Mrs. Sealyham intended to buy it. As for Mrs. Dachshund, who had had a +habit of lunching at Delmonico's, she now was to be seen taking tiffin +at Beagle's almost daily. There were many husbands who would have been +glad to shoot him at sight on the first of the month, had they known who +was the real cause of their woe. + +Indeed, Gissing had raised floorwalking to a new level. He was more +prime minister than a mere patroller of aisles. With sparkling eye, +with unending curiosity, tact, and attention, he moved quietly among the +throng. He realized that shopping is the female paradise; that spending +money she has not earned is the only real fun an elderly and wealthy +lady can have; and if to this primitive shopping passion can be added +the delights of social amenity--flattery, courtesy, good-humoured +flirtation--the snare is complete. + +But all this is not accomplished without rousing the jealousy of +rivals. Among the other floorwalkers, and particularly in the gorgeously +uniformed attendant at the front door (who was outraged by Gissing's +habit of escorting special customers to their motors) moved anger, envy, +and sneers. Gissing, completely absorbed in the fascination of his work, +was unaware of this hostility, as he was equally unaware of the amazed +satisfaction of his employer. He went his way with naive and unconscious +pleasure. It did not take long for his enemies to find a fulcrum for +their chagrin. One evening, after closing, when he sat in the dressing +room, with his feet in the usual tub of hot water, placidly reviewing +the day's excitements and smoking his pipe, the superintendent burst in. + +“Hey!” he exclaimed. “Don't you know smoking's forbidden? What do you +want to do, get our fire insurance cancelled? Get out of here! You're +fired!” + +It did not occur to Gissing to question or protest. He had known +perfectly well that smoking was not allowed. But he was like the +stage hand behind the scenes who concluded it was all right to light +a cigarette because the sign only said SMOKING FORBIDDEN, instead of +SMOKING STRICTLY FORBIDDEN. He had not troubled his mind about it, one +way or about it, one way or another. + +He had drawn his salary that evening, and his first thought was, Well, +at any rate I've earned enough to pay for the clothes. He had been there +exactly four weeks. Quite calmly, he lifted his feet out of the tub and +began to towel them daintily. The meticulous way he dried between his +toes was infuriating to the superintendent. + +“Have you any children?” Gissing asked, mildly. + +“What's that to you?” snapped the other. + +“I'll sell you this bathtub for a quarter. Take it home to them. They +probably need it.” + +“You get out of here!” cried the angry official. + +“You'd be surprised,” said Gissing, “how children thrive when they're +bathed regularly. Believe me, I know.” + +He packed his formal clothes in a neat bundle, left the bathtub behind, +surrendered his locker key, and walked toward the employees' door, +escorted by his bristling superior. As they passed through the empty +aisles, scene of his brief triumph, he could not help gazing a little +sadly. True merchant to the last, a thought struck him. He scribbled a +note on the back of a sales slip and left it at Miss Whippet's post by +the stocking counter. It said:-- + +MISS WHIPPET: Show Mrs. Sealyham some of the bisque sports hose, Scotch +wool, size 9. She's coming to-morrow. Don't let her get size 8 1/2. They +shrink. + + MR. GISSING. + +At the door he paused, relit his pipe leisurely, raised his hat to the +superintendent, and strolled away. + +In spite of this nonchalance, the situation was serious. His money was +at a low ebb. All his regular income was diverted to the support of +the large household in the country. He was too proud to appeal to his +wealthy uncle. He hated also to think of Mrs. Purp's mortification if +she learned that her star boarder was out of work. By a curious irony, +when he got home he found a letter from Mrs. Spaniel:-- + +MR. GISHING, dere friend, the pupeys are well, no insecks, and eat with +nives and forx Groups is the fattest but Yelpers is the lowdest they +send wags and lix and glad to here Daddy is doing so well in buisness +with respects from + + MRS. SPANIEL. + +He did not let Mrs. Purp know of the change in his condition, and every +morning left his lodging at the usual time. By some curious attraction +he felt drawn to that downtown region where his kinsman's office was. +This part of the city he had not properly explored. + +It was a world wholly different from Fifth Avenue. There was none of +that sense of space and luxury he had known on the wide slopes of Murray +Hill. He wandered under terrific buildings, in a breezy shadow where +javelins of colourless sunlight pierced through thin slits, hot +brilliance fell in fans and cascades over the uneven terrace of roofs. +Here was where husbands worked to keep Fifth Avenue going: he wondered +vaguely whether Mrs. Sealyham had bought those stockings? One day he +saw his uncle hurrying along Wall Street with an intent face. Gissing +skipped into a doorway, fearing to be recognized. He knew that the old +fellow would insist on taking him to lunch at the Pedigree Club, would +talk endlessly, and ask family questions. But he was on the scent of +matters that talk could not pursue. + +He perceived a sense of pressure, of prodigious poetry and beauty and +amazement. This was a strange jungle of life. Tall coasts of windows +stood up into the pure brilliant sky: against their feet beat a dark +surf of slums. In one foreign street, too deeply trenched for sunlight, +oranges were the only gold. The water, reaching round in two arms, came +close: there was a note of husky summons in the whistles of passing +craft. Almost everywhere, sharp above many smells of oils and spices, +the whiff of coffee tingled his busy nose. Above one huge precipice +stood a gilded statue--a boy with wings, burning in the noon. Brilliance +flamed between the vanes of his pinions: the intangible thrust of that +pouring light seemed about to hover him off into blue air. + +The world of working husbands was more tender than that of shopping +wives: even in all their business, they had left space and quietness for +the dead. Sunken among the crags he found two graveyards. They were cups +of placid brightness. Here, looking upward, it was like being drowned +on the floor of an ocean of light. Husbands had built their offices +half-way to the sky rather than disturb these. Perhaps they appreciate +rest all the more, Gissing thought, because they get so little of it? +Somehow he could not quite imagine a graveyard left at peace in the +shopping district. It would be bad for trade, perhaps? Even the churches +on the Avenue, he had noticed, were huddled up and hemmed in so tightly +by the other buildings that they had scarcely room to kneel. If I ever +become a parson, he said (this was a fantastic dream of his), I will +insist that all churches must have a girdle of green about them, to set +them apart from the world. + +The two little brown churches among the cliffs had been gifted with a +dignity far beyond the dream of their builders. Their pointing spires +were relieved against the enormous facades of business. What other +altars ever had such a reredos? Above the strepitant racket of the +streets, he heard the harsh chimes of Trinity at noonday--strong jags of +clangour hurled against the great sounding-boards of buildings; drifting +and dying away down side alleys. There was no soft music of appeal in +the bronze volleying: it was the hoarse monitory voice of rebuke. So +spoke the church of old, he thought: not asking, not appealing, but +imperatively, sternly, as one born to command. He thought with new +respect of Mr. Sealyham, Mr. Mastiff, Mr. Dachshund, all the others +who were powers in these fantastic flumes of stone. They were more than +merely husbands of charge accounts--they were poets. They sat at lunch +on the tops of their amazing edifices, and looked off at the blue. + +Day after day went by, but with a serene fatalism Gissing did nothing +about hunting a job. He was willing to wait until the last dollar was +broken: in the meantime he was content. You never know the soul of a +city, he said, until you are down on your luck. Now, he felt, he had +been here long enough to understand her. She did not give her secrets to +the world of Fifth Avenue. Down here, where the deep crevice of Broadway +opened out into greenness, what was the first thing he saw? Out across +the harbour, turned toward open sea--Liberty! Liberty Enlightening the +World, he had heard, was her full name. Some had mocked her, he had also +heard. Well, what was the gist of her enlightenment? Why this, surely: +that Liberty could never be more than a statue: never a reality. Only a +fool would expect complete liberty. He himself, with all his latitude, +was not free. If he were, he would cook his meals in his room, and save +money--but Mrs. Purp was strict on that point. She had spoken scathingly +of two young females she ejected for just that reason. Nor was Mrs. Purp +free--she was ridden by the Gas Company. So it went. + +It struck him, now he was down to about three dollars, that a generous +gesture toward Fortune might be valuable. When you are nearly out of +money, he reasoned, to toss coins to the gods--i. e., to buy something +quite unnecessary--may be propitiatory. It may start something moving +in your direction. It is the touch of bravado that God relishes. In a +sudden mood of tenderness, he bought two dollars' worth of toys and had +them sent to the children. He smiled to think how they would frolic over +the jumping rabbit. He sent Mrs. Spaniel a postcard of the Aquarium. + +There is a good deal more to this business than I had realized, he said, +as he walked uptown through the East Side slums that hot night. The +audacity, the vitality, the magnificence, are plain enough. But I seem +to see squalor too, horror and pitiful dearth. I believe God is farther +off than I thought. Look here: if the more you know, the less you know +about God, doesn't that mean that God is really enjoyed only by the +completely simple--by faith, never by reason? + +He gave twenty-five cents to a beggar, and said angrily: “I am not +interested in a God who is known only by faith.” + +When he got uptown he was very tired and hungry. In spite of all Mrs. +Purp's rules, he smuggled in an egg, a box of biscuits, a small packet +of tea and sugar, and a tin of condensed milk. He emptied the milk into +his shaving mug, and used the tin to boil water in, holding it over the +gas jet. He was getting on finely when a sudden knock on the door made +him jump. He spilled the hot water on his leg, and uttered a wild yell. + +Mrs. Purp burst in, but she was so excited that she did not notice the +egg seeping into the clean counterpane. + +“Oh, Mr. Gissing,” she exclaimed, “I've been waiting all evening for +you to come in. Purp and I wondered if you'd seen this in the paper +to-night? Purp noticed it in the ads., but we couldn't understand what +it meant.” + +She held out a page of classified advertising, in which he read with +amazement: + + +PERSONAL + +If MR. GISSING, late floorwalker at Beagle and Company, will communicate +with Mr. Beagle Senior, he will hear matters greatly to his advantage. + + + +CHAPTER NINE + +There had been great excitement in the private offices of Beagle +and Company after Gissing's sudden disappearance. Old Mr. Beagle was +furious, and hotly scolded his son. In spite of his advanced age, Beagle +senior was still an autocrat and insisted on regulating the details +of the great business he had built up. “You numbskull!” he shouted to +Beagle junior, “that fellow was worth any dozen others in the place, and +you let him be fired by a mongrel superintendent.” + +“But, Papa,” protested the vice-president, “the superintendent had to +obey the rules. You know how strict the underwriters are about smoking. +Of course he should have warned Gissing, instead of discharging him.” + +“Rules!” interrupted old Beagle fiercely--“Rules don't apply in a case +like this. I tell you that fellow has a genius for storekeeping. Haven't +I watched him on the floor? I've never seen one like him. What's the +good of your newfangled methods, your card indexes and overhead charts, +when you haven't even got a record of his address?” + +Growling and showing his teeth, the head of the firm plodded stiffly +downstairs and discharged the superintendent himself. Already he saw +signs of disorganization in the main aisle. Miss Whippet was tearful: +customers were waiting impatiently to have exchange slips O. K.'d: Mrs. +Dachshund was turning over some jewelled lorgnettes, but it was plain +that she was only “looking,” and had no intention to purchase. + +So when, after many vain inquiries, the advertisement reached its +target, the old gentleman welcomed Gissing with genuine emotion. He +received him into his private office, locked the door, and produced a +decanter. Evidently beneath his irritable moods he had sensibilities of +his own. + +“I have given my life to trade,” he said, “and I have grown weary of +watching the half-hearted simpletons who imagine they can rise to the +top by thinking more about themselves than they do about the business. +You, Mr. Gissing, have won my heart. You see storekeeping as I do--a +fine art, an absorbing passion, a beautiful, thrilling sport. It is an +art as lovely and subtle as the theatre, with the same skill in wooing +and charming the public.” + +Gissing bowed, and drank Mr. Beagle's health, to cover his astonishment. +The aged merchant fixed him with a glittering eye. + +“I can see that storekeeping is your genius in life. I can see that you +are naturally consecrated to it. My son is a good steady fellow, but he +lacks the divine gift. I am getting old. We need new fire, new brains, +in the conduct of this business. I ask you to forgive the unlucky +blunder we made lately, and devote yourself to us.” + +Gissing was very much embarrassed. He wanted to say that if he was +going to consecrate himself to floorwalking, he would relish a raise +in salary; but old Beagle was so tremulous and kept blowing his nose so +loudly that Gissing doubted if he could make himself heard. + +“I want you to take a position as General Manager,” said Mr. Beagle, +“with a salary of ten thousand a year.” + +He rose and threw open a mahogany door that led out of his own sanctum. +“Here is your office,” he said. + +The bewildered Gissing looked about the room--the mahogany flat-topped +desk with a great sheet of plate glass shining greenly at its thick +edges; an inkwell, pens and pencils, a little glass bowl full of bright +paper-clips; one of those rocking blotters that are so tempting; a water +cooler which just then uttered a seductive gulping bubble; an electric +fan, gently humming; wooden trays for letters and memoranda; on one +wall a great chart of names, lettered Organization of Personnel; a nice +domestic-looking hat-and-coat stand; a soft green rug--Ah, how alluring +it all was! + +Mr. Beagle pointed to the outer door of the room, which had a frosted +pane. Through the glass the astounded floorwalker could read the words + +REGANAM LARENEG GNISSIG.RM + +What a delightful little room to meditate in. From the broad windows he +could see the whole shining tideway of Fifth Avenue, passing lazily in +the warm sunlight. He turned to Mr. Beagle, greatly moved. + +The next day an advertisement appeared in the leading papers, to this +effect:-- + + ________________________ + BEAGLE AND COMPANY + take pleasure in announcing to + their patrons and friends that + MR. GISSING + has been admitted to the firm in + the status of General Manager + Je Maintiendrai + __________________________ + +Mrs. Purp's excitement at this is easier imagined than described. Her +only fear was that now she would lose her best lodger. She made Purp +go out and buy a new shirt and a collar; she told Gissing, rather +pathetically, that she intended to have the whole house repapered in the +fall. The big double suite downstairs, which could be used as bedroom +and sitting-room, she suggested as a comfortable change. But Gissing +preferred to remain where he was. He had grown fond of the top floor. + +Certainly there was an exhilaration in his new importance and +prosperity. The store buzzed with the news. At his request, Miss Whippet +was promoted to the seventh floor to be his secretary. It was delightful +to make his morning tour of inspection through the vast building. Mr. +Hound, the store detective, loved to tell his cronies how suspiciously +he had followed “The Duke” that first day. As Gissing moved through the +busy departments he saw eyes following him, tails wagging. Customers +were more flattered than ever by his courteous attentions. One day +he even held a little luncheon party in the restaurant, at which Mrs. +Dachshund, Mrs. Mastiff, and Mrs. Sealyham were his guests. He invited +their husbands, but the latter were too busy to come. It would have been +more prudent of them to attend. That afternoon Mrs. Dachshund, carried +away by enthusiasm, bought a platinum wrist-watch. Mrs. Mastiff bought +a diamond dog-collar. Mrs. Sealyham, whose husband was temporarily +embarrassed in Wall Street, contented herself with a Sheraton +chifforobe. + +But it began to be evident that his delightful little office was not +going to be a shrine for quiet meditation. His vanity had been pleased +by the large advertisement about him, but he suddenly realized the +poison that lies in printer's ink. Almost overnight, it seemed, he had +been added to ten thousand mailing lists. Little Miss Whippet, although +she was fast at typewriting, was hard put to it to keep up with his +correspondence. She quivered eagerly over her machine, her small +paws flying. New pink ribbons gleamed through her translucent summery +georgette blouse. They were her flag of exultation at her surprising +rise in life. She felt it was immensely important to get all these +letters answered promptly. + +And so did Gissing. In his new zeal, and in his innocent satisfaction +at having entered the inner circle of Big Business, he insisted on +answering everything. He did not realize that dictating letters is the +quaint diversion of business men, and that most of them mean nothing. It +is simply the easiest way of assuring yourself that you are busy. + +This job was no sinecure. Old Mr. Beagle had so much affectionate +confidence in Gissing that he referred almost everything to him +for decision. Mr. Beagle junior, perhaps a little annoyed at the +floorwalker's meteoric translation, spent the summer afternoons at +golf. The infinite details of a great business crowded upon him. +Inexperienced, he had not learned the ways in which seasoned +“executives” protect themselves against useless intrusion. His telephone +buzzed like a hornet. Not five minutes went by without callers or +interruptions of some sort. + +Most amazing of all, he found, was the miscellaneous passion for +palaver displayed by Big Business. Immediately he was invited to join +innumerable clubs, societies, merchants' associations. Every day would +arrive letters, on heavily embossed paper--“The Sales Managers Club will +hold a round-table discussion on Friday at one o'clock. We would greatly +appreciate it if you would be with us and say a few words.”--“Will you +be our guest at the monthly dinner of the Fifth Avenue Guild, and give +us any preachment that is on your mind?”--“The Merchandising Uplift +Group of Murray Hill will meet at the Commodore for an informal +lunch. It has been suggested that you contribute to the discussion on +Underwriting Overhead.”--“The Executives Association plans a clambake +and barbecue at the Barking Rock Country Club. Around the bonfire a few +impromptu remarks on Business Cycles will be called for. May we count on +you?”--“Will you address the Convention of Knitted Bodygarment Buyers, +on whatever topic is nearest your heart?”--“Will you write for Bunion +and Callous, the trade organ of the Floorwalkers' Union, a thousand-word +review of your career?”--“Will you broadcast a twenty-minute talk on +Department Store Ethics, at the radio station in Newark? 250,000 radio +fans will be listening in.” New to the strange and high-spirited world +of “executives,” it was natural that Gissing did not realize that the +net importance of this kind of thing was absolute zero. It did strike +him as odd, perhaps, that merchants did not dare to go on a junket or +plan a congenial dinner without pretending to themselves that it had +some business significance. But, having been so amazingly lifted into +this atmosphere of great affairs, he felt it was his duty to the store +to play the game according to the established rules. He was borne +along on a roaring spate of conferences, telephone calls, appointments, +Rotarian lunches, Chamber of Commerce dinners, picnics to talk tariff, +house-parties to discuss demurrage, tennis tournaments to settle the +sales-tax, golf foursomes to regulate price-maintenance. Of all these +matters he knew nothing whatever; and he also saw that as far as the +business of Beagle and Company was concerned it would be better not +to waste his time on such side-issues. The way he could really be of +service was in the store itself, tactfully lubricating that complicated +engine of goods and personalities. But he learned to utter, when called +upon, a few suave generalities, barbed with a rollicking story. This +made him always welcome. He was of a studious disposition, and liked +to examine this queer territory of life with an unprejudiced eye. After +all, his inward secret purpose had nothing to do with the success or +failure of retail trade. He was still seeking a horizon that would stay +blue when he reached it. + +More and more he was interested to perceive how transparent the mummery +of business was. He was interested to note how persistently men fled +from success, how carefully most of them avoided the obvious principles +of utility, honesty, prudence, and courtesy, which are inevitably +rewarded. These sagacious, humorous fellows who were amusing themselves +with twaddling trade apothegms and ridiculous banqueteering solemnities, +surely they were aware that this had no bearing upon their own jobs? +He suspected that it was all a feverish anodyne to still some inward +unease. Since they must (not being fools) be aware that these antics +were mere subtraction of time from their business, the obvious +conclusion was, they were not happy with business. There was some +strange wistfulness in the conduct of Big Business Dogs, he thought. +Under the pretence of transacting affairs, they were really trying to +discover something that had eluded them. + +The same thing, strangely enough, seemed to be going on in a sphere of +which he knew nothing, the world of art. He gathered from the papers +that writers, painters, musicians, were holding shindies almost every +night, at which delightful rebels, too busy to occupy themselves with +actual creation, talked charmingly about their plans. Poets were reading +poems incessantly, forgetting to write any. Much of the newspaper +comment on literature made him shudder, for though this was a province +quite strange to him, he had sound instincts. He discerned fatal +ignorance and absurdity between the pompous lines. Yet, in its own way, +it seemed a bold and honest ignorance. Were these, too, like the wistful +executives, seeking where the blue begins? + +But what was this strange agitation that forbade his fellow-creatures +from enjoying the one thing that makes achievement possible--Solitude? +He himself, so happy to be left alone--was no one else like that? And +yet this very solitude that he craved and revelled in was, by a sublime +paradox, haunted by mysterious loneliness. He felt sometimes as though +his heart had been broken off from some great whole, to which it yearned +to be reunited. It felt like a bone that had been buried, which God +would some day dig up. Sometimes, in his caninomorphic conception +of deity, he felt near him the thunder of those mighty paws. In rare +moments of silence he gazed from his office window upon the sun-gilded, +tempting city. Her madness was upon him--her splendid craze of haste, +ambition, pride. Yet he wondered. This God he needed, this liberating +horizon, was it after all in the cleverest of hiding-places--in himself? +Was it in his own undeluded heart? + +Miss Whippet came scurrying in to say that the Display Manager begged +him to attend a conference. The question of apportioning window space +to the various departments was to be reconsidered. Also, the book +department had protested having rental charged against them for books +exhibited merely to add a finishing touch to a furniture display. Other +agenda: the Personnel Director wished an appointment to discuss +the ruling against salesbitches bobbing their hair. The Commissary +Department wished to present revised figures as to the economy that +would be effected by putting the employees' cafeteria on the same floor +as the store's restaurant. He must decide whether early closing on +Saturdays would continue until Labor Day. + +As he went about these and a hundred other fascinating trivialities, he +had a painful sense of treachery to Mr. Beagle senior. The old gentleman +was so touchingly certain that he had found in him the ideal shoulders +on which to unload his honourable and crushing burden. With more than +paternal pride old Beagle saw Gissing, evidently urbane and competent, +cheerfully circulating here and there. The shy angel of doubt that lay +deep in Gissing's cider-coloured eye, the proprietor did not come near +enough to observe. + +If there is tragedy in our story, alas here it is. Gissing, incorrigible +seceder from responsibilities that did not touch his soul, did not dare +tell his benefactor the horrid truth. But the worm was in his heart. +Late one night, in his room at Mrs. Purp's, he wrote a letter to Mr. +Poodle. After mailing it at a street-box, he had a sudden pang. To the +dreamer, decisions are fearful. Then he shook himself and ran lightly to +a little lunchroom on Amsterdam Avenue, where he enjoyed doughnuts and +iced tea. His mind was resolved. The doughnuts, by a simple symbolism, +made him think of Rotary Clubs, also of millstones. No, he must be +fugitive from honour, from wealth, from Chambers of Commerce. Fugitive +from all save his own instinct. Those who have bound themselves are only +too eager to see the chains on others. There was no use attempting to +explain to Mr. Beagle--the dear old creature would not understand. + +The next day, after happily and busily discharging his duties, and +staying late to clean up his desk, Gissing left Beagle and Company +for good. The only thing that worried him, as he looked round his +comfortable office for the last time, was the thought of little Miss +Whippet's chagrin when she found her new promotion at an end. She had +taken such delight in their mutual dignity. On the filing cabinet beside +her typewriter desk was a pink geranium in a pot, which she watered +every morning. He could not resist pulling out a drawer of her desk, and +smiled gently to see the careful neatness of its compartments, with +all her odds and ends usefully arranged. The ink-eraser, with an absurd +little whisk attached to it for brushing away fragments of rubbed paper; +the fascicle of sharpened pencils held together by an elastic band; the +tiny phial of typewriter oil; a small box of peppermints; a crumpled +handkerchief; the stenographic notebook with a pencil inserted at the +blank page, so as to be ready for instant service the next day; the long +paper-cutter for slitting envelopes; her memorandum pad, on which was +written Remind Mr. G. of Window Display Luncheon--it seemed cruel to +deprive her of all these innocent amusements in which she delighted so +much. And yet he could not go on as a General Manager simply for the +happiness of Miss Whippet. + +In the foliage of the geranium, where he knew she would find it the +first thing in the morning, he left a note:-- + +MISS WHIPPET: I am leaving the store to-night and will not be back. +Please notify Mr. Beagle. Explain to him that I shall never take a +position with one of his competitors; I am leaving not because I didn't +enjoy the job, but because if I stayed longer I might enjoy it too much. +Tell Mr. Beagle that I specially urge him to retain you as assistant +to the new Manager, whoever that may be. You are entirely competent to +attend to the routine, and the new Manager can spend all his time at +business lunches. + +Please inform the Display Managers' Club that I can't speak at their +meeting to-morrow. + +I wish you all possible good-fortune. + + MR. GISSING. + +As he passed through the dim and silent aisles of the store, he surveyed +them again with mixed emotions. Here he might, apparently, have been +king. But he had no very poignant regret. Another of his numerous +selves, he reflected, had committed suicide. That was the right idea: +to keep sloughing them off, throwing overboard the unreal and factitious +Gissings, paring them down until he discovered the genuine and +inalienable creature. + +And so, for the second time, he made a stealthy exit from the employees' +door. + +Four days later he read in the paper of old Mr. Beagle's death. There +can be no doubt about it. The merchant died of a broken heart. + + + +CHAPTER TEN + +Mr. Poodle's reply was disappointing. He said:-- + +St. Bernard's Rectory, September 1st. + +MY DEAR MR. GISSING: + +I regret that I cannot conscientiously see my way to writing to the +Bishop in your behalf. Any testimonial I could compose would be doubtful +at best, for I cannot agree with you that the Church is your true +vocation. I do not believe that one who has deserted his family, as +you have, and whose record (even on the most charitable interpretation) +cannot be described as other than eccentric, would be useful in Holy +Orders. You say that your life in the city has been a great purgation. +If so, I suggest that you return and take up the burdens laid upon you. +It has meant great mortification to me that one of my own parish has +been the cause of these painful rumours that have afflicted our quiet +community. Notwithstanding, I wish you well, and hope that chastening +experience may bring you peace. + +Very truly yours, + +J. ROVER POODLE. + +Gissing meditated this letter in the silence of along evening in +his room. He brought to the problem his favourite aid to clear +thinking--strong coffee mixed with condensed milk. Mrs. Purp had made +concession to his peculiarities when he had risen so high in the world: +better to break any rules, she thought, than lose so notable a tenant. +She had even installed a small gas-plate for him, so that he could brew +his morning and evening coffee. + +So he took counsel with his percolator, whose bubbling was a sound he +found both soothing and stimulating. He regarded it as a kind of private +oracle, with a calm voice of its own. He listened attentively as +he waited for the liquid to darken. Appeal--to--the--Bishop, +Appeal--to-the--Bishop, seemed to be the speech of the jetting +gurgitation under the glass lid. + +He determined to act upon this, and lay his case before Bishop Borzoi +even without the introduction he had hoped for. Fortunately he still had +some sheets of Beagle and Company notepaper, with the engraved lettering +and Office of the General Manager embossed thereon. He was in some doubt +as to the proper formality and style of address in communicating with a +Bishop: was it “Very Reverend,” or “Right Reverend”? and which of these +indicated a superior grade of reverendability? But he decided that a +masculine frankness would not be amiss. He wrote:-- + +VERY RIGHT REVEREND BISHOP BORZOI, + +Dear Bishop:-- + +May one of the least of your admirers solicit an interview with your +very right reverence, to discuss matters pertaining to religion, +theology, and a possible vacancy in the Church? If there are any sees +outstanding, it would be a favour. This is very urgent. I enclose a +stamped addressed envelope. + + Respectfully yours, + + MR. GISSING. + +A prompt reply from the Bishop's secretary granted him an appointment. + +Scrupulously attired in his tail-coat and silk hat, Gissing proceeded +toward the rendezvous. To tell the truth, he was nervous: his mind +flitted uneasily among possible embarrassments. Suppose Mr. Poodle had +written to the Bishop to prejudice his application? Another, but more +absurd, idea troubled him. One of the problems in visiting the houses +of the Great (he had learned in his brief career in Big Business) is +to find the door-bell. It is usually mysteriously concealed. Suppose he +should have to peer hopelessly about the vestibule, in a shameful and +suspicious manner, until some flunky came out to chide? In the sunny +park below the Cathedral he saw nurses sitting by their puppy-carriages; +for an instant he almost envied their gross tranquillity. THEY have not +got (he said to himself) to call on a Bishop! + +He was early, so he strolled for a few minutes in the park that lies +underneath that rocky scarp. On the summit, clear-surging against the +blue, the great church rode like a ship on a long ridge of sea. The +angel with a trumpet on the jut of the roof was like a valiant seaman in +the crow's nest. His agitation was calmed by this noble sight. Yes, he +said, the Church is a ship behind whose bulwarks I will find rest. She +sails an unworldly sea: her crew are exempt from earthly ambition and +fallacy. + +He ran nimbly up the long steps that scale the cliff, and approached +the episcopal residence. The bell was plainly visible. He rang, and +presently came a tidy little housemaid. He had meditated a form of +words. It would be absurd to say “Is the Bishop in?” for he knew the +Bishop WAS in. So he said “This is Mr. Gissing. I think the Bishop is +expecting me.” + +Bishop Borzoi was an impressive figure--immensely tall and slender, +with long, narrow ascetic face and curly white hair. He was surprisingly +cordial. + +“Ah, Mr. Gissing?” he said. “Sit down, sir. I know Beagle and Company +very well. Too well, in fact-Mrs. Borzoi has an account there.” + +Gissing, feeling rather aghast and tentative, had no comment ready. He +was still worrying a little as to the proper mode of address. + +“It is very pleasant to find you Influential Merchants interested in the +Church,” continued the Bishop. “I often thought of approaching the late +Mr. Beagle on the subject of a small contribution to the cathedral. +Indeed, I have spent so much in your store that it would be only a fair +return. Mr. Collie, of Greyhound, Collie and Company, has been very +handsome with us: he has just provided for repaving the choir.” + +Gissing began to fear that the object of his visit had perhaps been +misunderstood, but the prelate's eyes were bright with benignant +enthusiasm and he dared not interrupt. + +“You inquired most kindly in your letter as to a possible vacancy in the +Church. Indeed there is a niche in the transept that I should be happy +to see filled. It is intended for some kind of memorial statue, and +perhaps, in honour of the late Mr. Beagle--” + +“I must explain, Sir Bishop,” said Gissing, very much disturbed, “that +I have left Beagle and Company. The contribution I wish to make to the +Church is not a decorative one, I fear. It is myself.” + +“Yourself?” queried the Bishop, politely puzzled. + +“Yes,” stammered Gissing, “I--in fact, I am hoping to--to enter the +ministry.” + +The Bishop was plainly amazed, and his long, aristocratic nose seemed +longer than ever as he gazed keenly at his caller. + +“But have you had any formal training in theology?” + +“None, right reverend Bishop,” said Gissing, “But it's this way,” and, +incoherently at first, but with increasing energy and copious eloquence, +he poured out the story of his mental struggles. + +“This is singularly interesting,” said the Bishop at length. “I can +see that you are wholly lacking in the rudiments of divinity. Of modern +exegesis and criticism you are quite innocent. But you evidently have +something which is much rarer--what the Quakers call a CONCERN. Of +course you should really go to the theological seminary and establish +this naif intuitive mysticism upon a disciplined basis. You will realize +that we churchmen can only meet modern rationalism by a rationalism of +our own--by a philosophical scholarship which is unshakable. I do not +suppose that you can even harmonize the Gospels?” + +Gissing ruefully admitted his ignorance. + +“Well, at least I must make sure of a few fundamentals,” said the +Bishop. “Of course a symbological latitude is permissible, but there are +some essentials of dogma and creed that may not be foregone.” + +He subjected the candidate to a rapid catechism. Gissing, in a state of +mind curiously mingled of excitement and awe, found himself assenting to +much that, in a calmer moment, he would hardly have admitted; but +having plunged so deep into the affair he felt it would be the height of +discourtesy to give negative answers to any of the Bishop's queries. +By dint of hasty mental adjustments and symbolic interpretations, he +satisfied his conscience. + +“It is very irregular,” the Bishop admitted, “but I must confess +that your case interests me greatly. Of course I cannot admit you +to ordination until you have passed through the regular theological +curriculum. Yet I find you singularly apt for one without proper +training.” + +He brooded a while, fixing the candidate with a clear darkly burning +eye. + +“It struck me that you were a trifle vague upon some of the Articles of +Religion, and the Table of Kindred and Affinity. You must remember that +these articles are not to be subjected to your own sense or comment, but +must be taken in the literal and grammatical meaning. However, you +show outward and visible signs of an inward and spiritual grace. It so +happens that I know of a small chapel, in the country, that has been +closed for lack of a minister. I can put you in charge there as lay +reader.” + +Gissing's face showed his elation. + +“And wear a cassock?” he cried. + +“Certainly not,” said the Bishop sternly. “Not even a surplice. You must +remember you have not been ordained. If you are serious in your zeal, +you must work your way up gradually, beginning at the bottom.” + +“I have seen some of your cloth with a little purple dickey which looks +very well in the aperture of the waistcoat,” said Gissing humbly. “How +long would it take me to work up to that?” + +Bishop Borzoi, who had a sense of humour, laughed genially. + +“Look here,” he said. “It's a fine afternoon: I'll order my car and +we'll drive out to Dalmatian Heights. I'll show you your chapel, and +tell you exactly what your duties will be.” + +Gissing was startled. Dalmatian Heights was only a few miles from the +Canine Estates. If the news should reach Mr. Poodle... + +“Sir Bishop,” he said nervously, “I begin to fear that perhaps after all +I am unworthy. Now about those Articles of Religion: I may perhaps have +given some of them a conjectural and commentating assent. Possibly I +have presumed too far--” + +The Bishop was already looking forward to a ride into the country with +his unusual novice. + +“Not at all, not at all,” he said cheerily. “In a mere lay reader, a +slight laxity is allowable. You understand, of course, that you are +expressly restricted from the pulpit. You will have to read the lessons, +conduct the service, and may address the congregation upon matters not +homiletic nor doctrinal; preaching and actual entry into the pulpit are +defended. But I see excellent possibility in you. Perform the duties +punctually in this very lowly office, and high ranks of service in the +church militant will be open.” + +He put on a very fine shovel-hat, and led the way to his large touring +car. + +It was a very uncomfortable ride for Gissing. A silk hat is the least +stable apparel for swift motoring, and the chauffeur drove at high +speed. The Bishop, leaning back in the open tonneau, crossed one +delicately slender shank over another, gazed in a kind of ecstasy at the +countryside, and talked gaily about his days as a young curate. Gissing +sat holding his hat on. He saw only too well that, by the humiliating +oddity of chance, they were going to take the road that led exactly +past his own house. He could only hope that Mrs. Spaniel and the +various children would not be visible, for explanations would be too +complicated. Desperately he praised the view to be obtained on another +road, but Bishop Borzoi was too interested in his own topic to pay much +attention. + +“By the way,” said the latter, as they drew near the familiar region, “I +must introduce you to Miss Airedale. She lives in the big place on the +hill over there. Her family always used to attend what I will now call +YOUR chapel; she is a very ardent churchgoer, and it was a sincere grief +to her when the place had to be closed. You will find her a great aid +and comfort; not only that, she is--what one does not always find in the +devouter members of her sex--young and beautiful. I think I understood +you to say you are a bachelor?” + +They were approaching the last turning at which it was still possible to +avoid the fatal road, and Gissing's attention was divided. + +“Yes, after a fashion,” he replied. “Bishop, do you know that road down +into the valley? The view is really superb--Yes, that road--Oh, no, I am +a bachelor--” + +It was too late. The chauffeur, unconscious of this private crisis, was +spinning along the homeward way. With a tender emotion Gissing saw +the spires of the poplar trees, the hemlocks down beyond the pond, the +fringe of woods that concealed the house until you were quite upon it-- + +The car swerved suddenly and the driver only saved it by a quick and +canny manoeuvre from going down the bank. He came to a stop, and almost +from underneath the rear wheels appeared a scuffling dusty group of +youngsters who had been playing in the road. There they were--Bunks, +Groups, and Yelpers (inordinately grown!) and two of the Spaniels. Their +clothes were deplorable, their faces grimed, their legs covered with +burrs, their whole demeanour was ragamuffin and wild: yet Gissing felt +a pang of pride to see his godchildren's keen, independent bearing +contrasted with the rowdier, disreputable look of the young Spaniels. +Quickly he averted his head to escape recognition. But the urchins were +all gaping at the Bishop's shovel hat. + +“Hot dog!” cried Yelpers “Some hat!” + +To his horror, Gissing now saw Mrs. Spaniel, hastening in alarm +down from the house, spilling potatoes from her apron as she ran. He +hurriedly urged the driver to proceed. + +“What terrible looking children,” observed the Bishop, who seemed +fascinated by their stare. “Really, my good sister,” he said to Mrs. +Spaniel, who was now panting by the running board; “you must keep them +off the road or someone will get hurt.” + +Gissing was looking for an imaginary object on the floor of the car. To +his great relief he heard the roar of the motor as they started again. +But he sat up a little too soon. A simultaneous roar of “Daddy!” burst +from the trio. + +“What was that they were shouting at us?” inquired the Bishop, looking +back. + +Gissing shook his head. He was too overcome to speak. + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN + +The little chapel at Dalmatian Heights sat upon a hill, among a grove +of pines, the most romantic of all trees. Life, a powerful but clumsy +dramatist, does not reject the most claptrap “situations,” which a +sophisticated playwright would discard as too obvious. For this sandy +plateau, strewn with satiny pine-needles, was the very horizon that had +looked so blue and beckoning from the little house by the pond. Not far +away was the great Airedale estate, which Gissing had known only at an +admiring distance--and now he was living there as an honoured guest. + +The Bishop had taken him to call upon the Airedales; and they, delighted +that the chapel was to be re-opened, had insisted upon his staying with +them. The chapel, in fact, was a special interest with Mr. Airedale, who +had been a leading contributor toward its erection. Gissing was finding +that life seemed to be continually putting him into false positions; +and now he discovered, somewhat to his chagrin, that the lovely little +shrine of St. Spitz, whose stained windows glowed like rubies in its +cloister of dark trees, was rather a fashionable hobby among the wealthy +landowners of Dalmatian Hills. It had been closed all summer, and they +had missed it. The Bishop, in his airy and indefinite way, had not made +it quite plain that Gissing was only a lay reader; and in spite of his +embarrassed disclaimers, he found himself introduced by Mr. Airedale to +the country-house clique as the new “vicar.” + +But at any rate it was lucky that the Airedales had insisted on taking +him in as a guest; for he had learned from the Bishop (just as the +latter was leaving) that there was no stipend attached to the office of +lay reader. Fortunately he still had much of the money he had saved from +his salary as General Manager. And whatever sense of anomaly he felt +was quickly assuaged by the extraordinary comfort and novelty of his +environment. In the great Airedale mansion he experienced for the first +time that ultimate triumph of civilization--a cup of tea served in bed +before breakfast, with slices of bread-and-butter of tenuous and amazing +fragile thinness. He was pleased, too, with the deference paid him as a +representative of the cloth, even though it compelled him to a +solemnity he did not inwardly feel. But most of all, undoubtedly, he was +captivated by the loveliness and warmth of Miss Airedale. + +The Bishop had not erred. Admiring the aristocratic Roman trend of +her brow and nose; the proud, inquisitive carriage of her somewhat +rectangular head, her admirable, vigorous figure and clear topaz +eyes, Gissing was aware of something he had not experienced before--a +disturbance both urgent and agreeable, in which the intellect seemed to +play little part. He was startled by the strength of her attractiveness, +amazed to learn how pleasing it was to be in her company. She was very +young and brisk: wore clothes of a smart sporting cut, and was +(he thought) quite divine in her riding breeches. But she was also +completely devoted to the chapel, where she played the music on Sundays. +She was a volatile creature, full of mischievous surprise: at their +first music practice, after playing over some hymns on the pipe-organ, +she burst into jazz, filling the quiet grove with the clamorous syncope +of Paddy-Paws, a favourite song that summer. + +So into the brilliant social life of the Airedales and their friends +he found himself suddenly pitchforked. In spite of the oddity of the +situation, and of occasional anxiety when he considered the possibility +of Mr. Poodle finding him out, he was very happy. This was not quite +what he had expected, but he was always adaptable. Miss Airedale was an +enchanting companion. In the privacy of his bedroom he measured himself +for a pair of riding breeches and wrote to his tailor in town to have +them made as soon as possible. He served the little chapel assiduously, +though he felt it better to conceal from the Airedales the fact that he +went there every day. He suspected they would think him slightly mad if +they knew, so he used to pretend that he had business in town. Then he +would slip away to the balsam-scented hilltop and be perfectly happy +sweeping the chapel floor, dusting the pews, polishing the brasswork, +rearranging the hymnals in the racks. He arranged with the milkman to +leave a bottle of milk and some cinnamon buns at the chapel gate +every morning, so he had a cheerful and stealthy little lunch in +the vestry-room, though always a trifle nervous lest some of his +parishioners should discover him. + +He practiced reading the lessons aloud at the brass lectern, and +discovered how easy is dramatic elocution when you are alone. He wished +it were possible to hold a service daily. For the first time he was able +to sing hymns as loud as he liked. Miss Airedale played the organ with +emphatic fervour, and the congregation, after a little hesitation, +enjoyed the lusty sincerity of a hymn well trolled. Some of his flock, +who had previously relished taking part in the general routine of the +service, were disappointed by his zeal, for Gissing insisted on doing +everything himself. He rang the bell, ushered the congregation to their +seats, read the service, recited the Quadrupeds' Creed, led the +choir, gave out as many announcements as he could devise, took up the +collection, and at the close skipped out through the vestry and was +ready and beaming in the porch before the nimblest worshipper had +reached the door. On his first Sunday, indeed, he carried enthusiasm +rather too far: in an innocent eagerness to prolong the service as much +as possible, and being too excited to realize quite what he was doing, +he went through the complete list of supplications for all possible +occasions. The congregation were startled to find themselves praying +simultaneously both for rain and for fair weather. + +In a cupboard in the vestry-room he had found an old surplice hanging; +he took it down, tried it on before the mirror, and wistfully put it +back. To this symbolic vestment his mind returned as he sat solitary +under the pine-trees, looking down upon the valley of home. It was the +season of goldenrod and aster on the hillsides: a hot swooning silence +lay upon the late afternoon. The weight and closeness of the air had +struck even the insects dumb. Under the pines, generally so murmurous, +there was something almost gruesome in the blank stillness: a suspension +so absolute that the ears felt dull and sealed. He tried, involuntarily, +to listen more clearly, to know if this uncanny hush were really so. +There was a sense of being imprisoned, but only most delicately, in a +spell, which some sudden cracking might disrupt. + +The surplice tempted him strongly, for it suggested the sermon he felt +impelled to deliver, against the Bishop's orders. For the beautiful +chapel in the piny glade was, somehow, false: or, at any rate, false for +him. The architect had made it a dainty poem in stone and polished wood, +but somehow God had evaded the neat little trap. Moreover, the God +his well-bred congregation worshipped, the old traditionally imagined +snow-white St. Bernard with radiant jowls of tenderness, shining dewlaps +of love; paternal, omnipotent, calm--this deity, though sublime in its +way, was too plainly an extension of their own desires. His prominent +parishioners--Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher, Mrs. Griffon, Mrs. Retriever; +even the delightful Mr. Airedale himself--was it not likely that they +esteemed a deity everlastingly forgiving because they themselves felt +need of forgiveness? He had been deeply shocked by the docility with +which they followed the codes of the service: even when he had committed +his blunder of the contradictory prayers, they had murmured the words +automatically, without protest. To the terrific solemnities of the +Litany they had made the responses with prompt gabbling precision, and +with a rapidity that frankly implied impatience to take the strain off +their knees. + +Somehow he felt that to account for a world of unutterable strangeness +they had invented a God far too cheaply simple. His mood was certainly +not one of ribald easy scoff. It was they (he assured himself) whose +theology was essentially cynical; not he. He was a little weary of +this just, charitable, consoling, hebdomadal God; this God who might be +sufficiently honoured by a decorously memorized ritual. Yet was he +too shallow? Was it not seemly that his fellows, bound on this dark, +desperate venture of living, should console themselves with decent +self-hypnosis? + +No, he thought. No, it was not entirely seemly. If they pretended that +their God was the highest thing knowable, then they must bring to +His worship the highest possible powers of the mind. He had a strange +yearning for a God less lazily conceived: a God perhaps inclement, +awful, master of inscrutable principles. Yet was it desirable to shake +his congregation's belief in their traditional divinity? He thought of +them--so amiable, amusing, spirited and generous, but utterly untrained +for abstract imaginative thought on any subject whatever. His own +strange surmisings about deity would only shock and horrify them And +after all, was it not exactly their simplicity that made them lovable? +The great laws of truth would work their own destinies without +assistance from him! Even if these pleasant creatures did not genuinely +believe the rites they so politely observed (he knew they did not, for +BELIEF is an intellectual process of extraordinary range and depth), was +it not socially useful that they should pretend to do so? + +And yet--with another painful swing of the mind--was it necessary +that Truth should be worshipped with the aid of such astonishingly +transparent formalisms, hoaxes, and mummeries? Alas, it seemed that this +was an old, old struggle that must be troublesomely fought out, again +and again down the generations. Prophets were twice stoned--first in +anger; then, after their death, with a handsome slab in the graveyard. +But words uttered in sincerity (he thought) never fail of some response. +Though he saw his fellows leashed with a heavy chain of ignorance, +stupidity, passion, and weakness, yet he divined in life some +inscrutable principle of honour and justice; some unreckonable essence +of virtue too intimate to understand; some fumbling aspiration toward +decency, some brave generosity of spirit, some cheerful fidelity to +Beauty. He could not see how, in a world so obviously vast and uncouth +beyond computation, they could find a puny, tidy, assumptive, scheduled +worship so satisfying. But perhaps, since all Beauty was so staggering, +it was better they should cherish it in small formal minims. Perhaps +in this whole matter there was some lovely symbolism that he did not +understand. + +The soft brightness was already lifting into upper air, a mingled tissue +of shadows lay along the valley. In the magical clarity of the evening +light he suddenly felt (as one often does, by unaccountable planetary +instinct) that there was a new moon. Turning, he saw it, a silver +snipping daintily afloat; and not far away, an early star. He had found +no creed in the prayer-book that accounted for the stars. Here at +the bottom of an ocean of sky, we look aloft and see them +thick-speckled--mere barnacles, perhaps, on the keel of some greater +ship of space. He remembered how at home there had been a certain +burning twinkle that peeped through the screen of the dogwood tree. +As he moved on his porch, it seemed to flit to and fro, appearing and +vanishing. He was often uncertain whether it was a firefly a few yards +away, or a star the other side of Time. Possibly Truth was like that. + +There was a light swift rustle behind him, and Miss Airedale appeared. + +“Hullo!” she said. “I wondered where you were. Is this how you spend +your afternoons, all alone?” + +Stars, creeds, cosmologies, promptly receded into remote perspective +and had to shift for themselves. It was true that Gissing had somewhat +avoided her lately, for he feared her fascination. He wished nothing +else to interfere with his search for what he had not yet found. +Postpone the female problem to the last, was his theory: not because +it was insoluble, but because the solution might prove to be less +interesting than the problem itself. But side by side with her, she was +irresistible. A skittish brightness shone in her eyes. + +“Great news!” she exclaimed. “I've persuaded Papa to take us all down to +Atlantic City for a couple of days.” + +“Wonderful!” cried Gissing. “Do you know, I've never been to the +seashore.” + +“Don't worry,” she replied. “I won't let you see much of the ocean. +We'll go to the Traymore, and spend the whole time dancing in the +Submarine Grill.” + +“But I must be back in time for the service on Sunday,” he said. + +“We're going to leave first thing in the morning. We'll go in the car, +and I'll drive. Will you sit with me in the front seat?” + +“Watch me!” replied Gissing gallantly. + +“Come on then, or you'll be late for dinner. I'll race you home!” And +she was off like a flash. + +But in spite of Miss Airedale's threat, at Atlantic City they both fell +into a kind of dreamy reverie. The wine-like tingle of that salty air +was a quiet drug. The apparently inexhaustible sunshine was sharpened +with a faint sting of coming autumn. Gissing suddenly remembered that it +was ages since he had simply let his mind run slack and allowed life to +go by unstudied. Mr. and Mrs. Airedale occupied a suite high up in the +terraced mass of the huge hotel; they wrapped themselves in rugs and +basked on their private balcony. Gissing and the daughter were left +to their own amusements. They bathed in the warm September surf; they +strolled the Boardwalk up beyond the old Absecon light, where the green +glimmer of water runs in under the promenade. They sat on the deck +of the hotel--or rather Miss Airedale sat, while Gissing, courteously +attentive, leaned over her steamer-chair. He stood so for hours, +apparently in devoted chat; but in fact he was half in dream. The smooth +flow of the little rolling shays just below had a soothing hypnotic +erect. But it was the glorious polished blue of the sea-horizon that +bounded all his thoughts. Even while Miss Airedale gazed archly up at +him, and he was busy with cheerful conversation, he was conscious of +that broad band of perfect colour, monotonous, comforting, thrilling. +For the first time he realized the great rondure of the world. His mind +went back to the section of the prayer-book that had always touched him +most pointedly--the “Forms of Prayer to be Used at Sea.” In them he had +found a note of sincere terror and humility. And now he viewed the sea +for the first time in this setting of notable irony. The open dazzle of +placid elements, obedient only to some cosmic calculus, lay as a serene +curtain against which the quaint flamboyance of the Boardwalk was all +the more amusing. The clear rim of sea curving off into space drew him +with painful curiosity. Here at last was what he had needed. The proud +waters went over his soul. Here indeed the blue began. + +He looked down at Miss Airedale, who had gone to sleep while waiting for +him to say something. He tiptoed away and went to his room to write down +some ideas. Against the wide challenge of that blue hemisphere, where +half the world lay open and free to the eye, the Bishop's prohibition +lost weight. He was resolved to preach a sermon. + +At dusk he met Miss Airedale on the high balcony that runs around the +reading-room of the hotel. They were quite alone up there. Along the +Boardwalk, in the pale sentimental twilight, the translucent electric +globes shone like a long string of pearls. She was very tempting in +a gay evening frock, and reproached him for having neglected her. She +shivered a little in the cool wind coming off the darkening water. The +weakness of the hour was upon him. He put his arm tenderly round her as +they leaned over the parapet. + +“See those darling children down on the sand,” she said. “I do adore +puppies, don't you?” + +He remembered Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers. Nothing is so potent as the +love of children when you are away from them. She gazed languishing +at him; he responded with a generous pressure. But his alarmed soul +thrilled with panic. + +“You must excuse me a moment, while I dress for dinner,” he said. He was +strangely terrified by the look of secret understanding in her beautiful +eyes. It seemed to imply some subtle, inexpressible pact. As a matter of +truth, she was unconscious of it: it was only the old demiurge speaking +in her; the old demiurge which was pursuing him just as ardently as he +was trailing the dissolving blue of his dream. But he was much agitated +as he went down in the elevator. + +“Heavens,” he said to himself; “are we all only toys in the power of +these terrific instincts?” + +For the first time he was informed of the infinite feminine capacity for +being wooed. + +That night they danced in the Submarine Grill. She floated in his +embrace with triumphant lightness. Her eyes, utilized as temporary lamps +by a lighting-circuit of which she was quite unaware, beamed with happy +lustre. The lay reader, always docile to the necessities of occasion, +murmured delightful trifles. But his private thoughts were as aloof +and shining and evasive as the goldfish that twinkled in the glass pool +overhead. He picked up her scarf and her handkerchief when she dropped +them. He smiled vaguely when she suggested that she thought she could +persuade Mr. Airedale to stay in Atlantic City over the week-end, and +why worry about the service on Sunday? But when she and the yawning Mrs. +Airedale had retired, he hastened to his chamber and packed his bag. +Stealthily he went to the desk and explained that he was leaving +unexpectedly on business, and that the bill should go to Mr. Airedale, +whose guest he had been. He slipped away out of the side door, and +caught the late train. Mrs. Airedale chafed her daughter that night for +whining in her sleep. + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE + +The chapel of St. Spitz was crowded that fine Sunday morning, and the +clang and thud of its bells came merrily through the thin quick air to +worshippers arriving in their luxurious motors. The amiable oddity of +the lay reader's demeanour as priest had added a zest to churchgoing. +The congregation were particularly pleased, on this occasion, to see +Gissing appear in surplice and stole. They had felt that his attire on +the previous Sundays had been a little too informal. And when, at the +time usually allotted to the sermon, Gissing climbed the pulpit steps, +unfurled a sheaf of manuscript, and gazed solemnly about, they settled +back into the pew cushions in a comfortable, receptive mood. They had a +subconscious feeling that if their souls were to be saved, it was better +to have it done with all the proper formalities. They did not notice +that he was rather pale, and that his nose twitched nervously. + +“My friends,” he said, “in this beautiful little chapel, on this airy +hilltop, one might, if anywhere, speak with complete honesty. For you +who gather here for worship are, in the main, people of great +affairs; accustomed to looking at life with high spirit and with quick +imagination. I will ask you then to be patient with me while I exhort +you to carry into your religion the same enterprising and ambitious +gusto that has made your worldly careers a success. You are accustomed +to deal with great affairs. Let me talk to you about the Great Affairs +of God.” + +Gissing had been far too agitated to be able to recognize any particular +members of his audience. All the faces were fused into a common blur. +Miss Airedale, he knew, was in the organ loft, but he had not seen +her since his flight from Atlantic City, for he had removed from the +Airedale mansion before her return, and had made himself a bed in the +corner of the vestry-room. He feared she was angry: there had been a +vigorous growling note in some of the bass pipes of the organ as she +played the opening hymn. He had not seen a tall white-haired figure who +came into the chapel rather late, after the service had begun, and took +a seat at the back. Bishop Borzoi had seized the opportunity to drive +out to Dalmatian Heights this morning to see how his protege was getting +on. When the Bishop saw his lay reader appear in surplice and scarlet +hood, he was startled. But when the amateur parson actually ascended the +pulpit, the Bishop's face was a study. The hair on the back of his neck +bristled slightly. + +“It is so easy,” Gissing continued, “to let life go by us in its swift +amusing course, that sometimes it hardly seems worth while to attempt +any bold strokes for truth. Truth, of course, does not need our +assistance; it can afford to ignore our errors. But in this quiet place, +among the whisper of the trees, I seem to have heard a disconcerting +sound. I have heard laughter, and I think it is the laughter of God.” + +The congregation stirred a little, with polite uneasiness. This was not +quite the sort of thing to which they were accustomed. + +“Why should God laugh? I think it is because He sees that very often, +when we pretend to be worshipping Him, we are really worshipping and +gratifying ourselves. I used the phrase 'Great Affairs.' The point I +want to make is that God deals with far greater affairs than we have +realized. We have imagined Him on too petty a scale. If God is so great, +we must approach Him in a spirit of greatness. He is not interested in +trivialities--trivialities of ritual, of creed, of ceremony. We have +imagined a vain thing--a God of our own species; merely adding to the +conception, to gild and consecrate, a futile fuzbuz of supernaturalism. +My friends, the God I imagine is something more than a formula on +Sundays and an oath during the week.” + +Those sitting in the rear of the Chapel were startled to hear a low +rumbling sound proceeding from the diaphragm of the Bishop, who half +rose from his seat and then, by a great effort of will, contained +himself. But Gissing, rapt in his honourable speculations, continued +with growing happiness. + +“I ask you, though probably in vain, to lay aside for the moment your +inherited timidities and conventions. I ask you to lay aside pride, +which is the devil itself and the cause of most unhappiness. I ask +you to rise to the height of a great conception. To 'magnify' God is +a common phrase in our observances. Then let us truly magnify Him--not +minify, as the theologians do. If God is anything more than a social +fetich, then He must be so much more that He includes and explains +everything. It may sound inconceivable to you, it may sound +sacrilegious, but I suggest to you that it is even possible God may be a +biped--” + +The Bishop could restrain himself no longer. He rose with flaming +eyes and stood in the aisle. Mr. Airedale, Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher, and +several other prominent members of the Church burst into threatening +growls. A wild bark and clamour broke from Mr. Towser, the Sunday School +superintendent, and his pupils, who sat in the little gallery over the +door. And then, to Gissing's horror and amazement, Mr. Poodle appeared +from behind a pillar where he had been chafing unseen. In a fierce tenor +voice shaken with indignation he cried: + +“Heretic and hypocrite! Pay no attention to his abominable nonsense! He +deserted his family to lead a life of pleasure!” + +“Seize him!” cried the Bishop in a voice of thunder. + +The church was now in an uproar. A shrill yapping sounded among the +choir. Mrs. Airedale swooned; the Bishop's progress up the aisle was +impeded by a number of ladies hastening for an exit. Old Mr. Dingo, the +sexton, seized the bell-rope in the porch and set up a furious pealing. +Cries of rage mingled with hysterical howls from the ladies. Gissing, +trembling with horror, surveyed the atrocious hubbub. But it was +high time to move, or his retreat would be cut off. He abandoned his +manuscript and bounded down the pulpit stairs. + +“Unfrock him!” yelled Mr. Poodle. + +“He's never been frocked!” roared the Bishop. + +“Impostor!” cried Mr. Airedale. + +“Excommunicate him!” screamed Mr. Towser. + +“Take him before the consistory!” shouted Mr. Poodle. + +Gissing started toward the vestry door, but was delayed by the mass of +scuffling choir-puppies who had seized this uncomprehended diversion as +a chance to settle some scores of their own. The clamour was maddening. +The Bishop leapt the chancel rail and was about to seize him when Miss +Airedale, loyal to the last, interposed. She flung herself upon the +Bishop. + +“Run, run!” she cried. “They'll kill you!” + +Gissing profited by this assistance. He pushed over the lectern upon Mr. +Poodle, who was clutching at his surplice. He checked Mr. Airedale by +hurling little Tommy Bull, one of the choir, bodily at him. Tommy's +teeth fastened automatically upon Mr. Airedale's ear. The surplice, +which Mr. Poodle was still holding, parted with a rip, and Gissing +was free. With a yell of defiance he tore through the vestry and round +behind the chapel. + +He could not help pausing a moment to scan the amazing scene, which had +been all Sabbath calm a few moments before. From the long line of motor +cars parked outside the chapel incredible chauffeurs were leaping, +hurrying to see what had happened. The shady grove shook with the +hideous clamour of the bell, still wildly tolled by the frantic sexton. +The sudden excitement had liberated private quarrels long decently +repressed: in the porch Mrs. Retriever and Mrs. Dobermann-Pinscher were +locked in combat. With a splintering crash one of the choir-pups +came sailing through a stained-glass window, evidently thrown by some +infuriated adult. He recognized the voice of Mr. Towser, raised in +vigorous lamentation. To judge by the sound, Mr. Towser's pupils had +turned upon him and were giving him a bad time. Above all he could +hear the clear war-cry of Miss Airedale and the embittered yells of Mr. +Poodle. Then from the quaking edifice burst Bishop Borzoi, foaming +with wrath, his clothes much tattered, and followed by Mr. Poodle, Mr. +Airedale, and several others. They cast about for a moment, and then the +Bishop saw him. With a joint halloo they launched toward him. + +There was no time to lose. He fled down the shady path between the +trees, but with a hopeless horror in his heart. He could not long +outdistance such a runner as the Bishop, whose tremendous strides would +surely overhaul him in the end. If only he had known how to drive a car, +he might have commandeered one of the long row waiting by the gate. But +he was no motorist. Miss Airedale could have saved him, in her racing +roadster, but she had not emerged from the melee in the chapel. Perhaps +the Bishop had bitten her. His blood warmed with anger. + +It happened that they had been mending the county highways, and a large +steam roller stood a few hundred feet down the road, drawn up beside the +ditch. Gissing knew that it was customary to leave these engines with +the fire banked and a gentle pressure of steam simmering in the boiler. +It was his only chance, and he seized it. But to his dismay, when he +reached the machine, which lay just round a bend in the road, he found +it shrouded with a huge tarpaulin. However, this suggested a desperate +chance. He whipped nimbly inside the covering and hid in the coal-box. +Lying there, he heard the chase go panting by. + +As soon as he dared, he climbed out, stripped off the canvas, and +gazed at the bulky engine. It was one of those very tall and impressive +rollers with a canopy over the top. The machinery was not complicated, +and the ingenuity of desperation spurred him on. Hurriedly he opened the +draughts in the fire-box, shook up the coals, and saw the needle begin +to quiver on the pressure-gauge. He experimented with one or two levers +and handles. The first one he touched let off a loud scream from the +whistle. Then he discovered the throttle. He opened it a few notches, +cautiously. The ponderous machine, with a horrible clanking and +grinding, began to move forward. + +A steam roller may seem the least helpful of all vehicles in which to +conduct an urgent flight; but Gissing's reasoning was sound. In the +first place, no one would expect to find a hunted fugitive in this +lumbering, sluggish behemoth of the road. Secondly, sitting perched high +up in the driving saddle, right under the canopy, he was not easily +seen by the casual passer-by. And thirdly, if the pursuit came to +close grips, he was still in a strategic position. For this, the most +versatile of all land-machines except the military tank, can move across +fields, crash through underbrush, and travel in a hundred places +that would stall a motor car. He rumbled off down the road somewhat +exhilarated. He found the scarlet stole twisted round his neck, and tied +it to one of the stanchions of the canopy as a flag of defiance. It was +not long before he saw the posse of pursuit returning along the road, +very hot and angry. He crunched along solemnly, busying himself to get +up a strong head of steam. There they were, the Bishop, Mr. Poodle, Mr. +Airedale, Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher, and Mr. Towser. Mr. Poodle was talking +excitedly: the Bishop's tongue ran in and out over his gleaming teeth. +He was not saying much, but his manner was full of deadly wrath. They +paid no attention to the roller, and were about to pass it without even +looking up, when Gissing, in a sudden fit of indignation, gave the wheel +a quick twirl and turned his clumsy engine upon them. They escaped +only by a hair's breadth from being flattened out like pastry. Then the +Bishop, looking up, recognized the renegade. With a cry of anger they +all leaped at the roller. + +But he was so high above them, they had no chance. He seized the +coal-scoop and whanged Mr. Poodle across the skull. The Bishop came +dangerously near reaching him, but Gissing released a jet of scalding +steam from an exhaust-cock, which gave the impetuous prelate much cause +for grief. A lump of coal, accurately thrown, discouraged Mr. Airedale. +Mr. Towser, attacking on the other side of the engine, managed to +scramble up so high that he carried away the embroidered stole, but +otherwise the fugitive had all the best of it. Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher +burned his feet trying to climb up the side of the boiler. From the +summit of his uncouth vehicle Gissing looked down undismayed. + +“Miserable freethinker!” said Borzoi. “You shall be tried by the +assembly of bishops.” + +“In a mere lay reader,” quoted Gissing, “a slight laxity is allowable. +You had better go back and calm down the congregation, or they'll tear +the chapel to bits. This kind of thing will have a very bad influence on +church discipline.” + +They shouted additional menace, but Gissing had already started his +deafening machinery and could not hear what was said. He left them +bickering by the roadside. + +For fear of further pursuit, he turned off the highway a little beyond, +and rumbled noisily down a rustic lane between high banks and hedges +where sumac was turning red. Strangely enough, there was something very +comforting about his enormous crawling contraption. It was docile and +reliable, like an elephant. The crashing clangour of its movement was +soon forgotten--became, in fact, an actual stimulus to thought. For the +mere pleasure of novelty, he steered through a copse, and took joy in +seeing the monster thrash its way through thickets and brambles, and +then across a field of crackling stubble. Steering toward the lonelier +regions of that farming country, presently he halted in a dingle of +birches beside a small pond. He spent some time very happily, carefully +studying the machinery. He found some waste and an oilcan in the +tool-chest, and polished until the metal shone. The water looked rather +low in the gauge, and he replenished it from the pool. + +It was while grooming the roller that it struck him his own appearance +was unusual for a highway mechanic. He was still wearing the famous +floorwalker suit, which he had punctiliously donned every Sunday for +chapel. But he had had to flee without a hat--even without his luggage, +which was neatly packed in a bag in the vestry. That, he felt sure, Mr. +Poodle had already burst open for evidences of heresy and schism. The +pearly trousers were stained with oil and coal-dust; the neat cutaway +coat bore smears of engine-grease. As long as he stuck to the roller +and the telltale garments, pursuit and identification would of course be +easy enough. But he had taken a fancy to the machine: he decided not to +abandon it yet. + +Obviously it was better to keep to the roads, where the engine would at +any rate be less surprisingly conspicuous, and where it would leave no +trail. So he made a long circuit across meadows and pastures, carrying +a devilish clamour into the quiet Sunday afternoon. Regaining a macadam +surface, he set oil at random, causing considerable annoyance to +the motoring public. Finding that his cutaway coat caused jeers and +merriment, he removed it; and when any one showed a disposition to +inquire, he explained that he was doing penance for an ill-judged wager. +His oscillating perch above the boiler was extraordinarily warm, and he +bought a gallon jug of cider from a farmer by the way. Cheering himself +with this, and reviewing in his mind the queer experiences of the past +months, he went thundering mildly on. + +At first he had feared a furious pursuit on the part of the Bishop, or +even a whole college of bishops, quickly mobilized for the event. He +had imagined them speeding after him in a huge motor-bus, and himself +keeping them at bay with lumps of coal. But gradually he realized that +the Bishop would not further jeopardize his dignity, or run the risk of +making himself ridiculous. Mr. Poodle would undoubtedly set the township +road commissioner on his trail, and he would be liable to seizure for +the theft of a steam roller. But that could hardly happen so quickly. In +the meantime, a plan had been forming in his mind, but it would require +darkness for its execution. + +Darkness did not delay in coming. As he jolted cheerfully from road +to road, holding up long strings of motors at every corner while he +jovially held out his arm as a sign that he was going to turn, dark +purple clouds were massing and piling up. Foreseeing a storm, he bought +some provisions at a roadhouse, and turned into a field, where he +camped in the lee of a forest of birches. He cooked himself an excellent +supper, toasting bread and frankfurters in the firebox of the roller. +With boiling water from a steam-cock he brewed a panikin of tea; and sat +placidly admiring the fawn-pink light on wide pampas of bronze grasses, +tawny as a panther's hide. A strong wind began to draw from the +southeast. He lit the lantern at the rear of the machine and by the time +the rain came hissing upon the hot boiler, he was ready. Luckily he had +saved the tarpaulin. He spread this on the ground underneath the roller, +and curled up in it. The glow from the firebox kept him warm and dry. + +“Summer is over,” he said to himself, as he heard the clash and spouting +of rain all about him. He lay for some time, not sleepy, thinking +theology, and enjoying the close tumult of wind and weather. + +People who have had an arm or a leg amputated, he reflected, say they +can still feel pains in the absent member. Well, there's an analogy in +that. Modern skepticism has amputated God from the heart; but there is +still a twinge where the arteries were sewn up. + +He slept peacefully until about two in the morning, except when a +red-hot coal, slipping through the grate-bars, burned a lamentable hole +in his trousers. When he woke, the night still dripped, but was clear +aloft. He started the engine and drove cautiously, along black slippery +roads, to Mr. Poodle's house. In spite of the unavoidable racket, no one +stirred: he surmised that the curate slept soundly after the crises +of the day. He left the engine by the doorstep, pinning a note to the +steering-wheel. It said: + + TO REV. J. ROVER POODLE + this useful steam-roller + as a symbol of the theological mind + + MR. GISSING + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + +The steamship Pomerania, which had sailed at noon, was a few hours out +of port on a calm gray sea. The passengers, after the bustle of lunch +and arranging their staterooms; had settled into their deck chairs and +were telling each other how much they loved the ocean. Captain Scottie +had taken his afternoon constitutional on his private strip of starboard +deck just aft the bridge, and was sitting in his comfortable cabin +expecting a cup of tea. He was a fine old sea-dog: squat, grizzled, +severe, with wiry eyebrows, a short coarse beard, and watchful quick +eyes. A characteristic Scot, beneath his reticent conscientious dignity +there was abundant humour and affection. He would have been recognized +anywhere as a sailor: those short solid legs were perfectly adapted for +balancing on a rolling deck. He stood by habit as though he were leaning +into a stiff gale. His mouth always held a pipe, which he smoked in +short, brisk whiffs, as though expecting to be interrupted at any moment +by an iceberg. + +The steward brought in the tea-tray, and Captain Scottie settled into +his large armchair to enjoy it. His eye glanced automatically at the +barometer. + +“A little wind to-night,” he said, his nose wrinkling unconsciously as +the cover was lifted from the dish of hot anchovy toast. + +“Yes, sir,” said the steward, but lingered, apparently anxious to speak +further. + +“Well, Shepherd?” + +“Beg pardon, sir, but the Chief Steward wanted me to say they've found +someone stowed away in the linen locker, sir. Queer kind of fellow, +sir, talks a bit like a padre. 'E must've come aboard by the engine-room +gangway, sir, and climbed into that locker near the barber shop.” + +The problem of stowaways is familiar enough to shipmasters. “Send him up +to me,” said the Captain. + +A few minutes later Gissing appeared, escorted by a burly quartermaster. +Even the experienced Captain admitted to himself that this was something +new in the category of stowaways. Never before had he seen one in a +braided cutaway coat and wedding trousers. It was true that the +garments were in grievous condition, but they were worn with an air. +The stowaway's face showed some embarrassment, but not at all the usual +hangdog mien of such wastrels. Involuntarily his tongue moistened when +he saw the tray of tea (for he had not eaten since his supper on the +steam roller the night before), but he kept his eyes politely averted +from the food. They rose to a white-painted girder that ran athwart the +cabin ceiling. CERTIFIED TO ACCOMMODATE THE MASTER he read there, in +letters deeply incised into the thick paint. “A good Christian ship,” + he said to himself. “It sounds like the Y. M. C. A.” He was pleased +to think that his suspicion was already confirmed: ships were more +religious than anything on land. + +The Captain dismissed the quartermaster, and addressed himself sternly +to the culprit. + +“Well, what have you to say for yourself?” + +“Please, Captain,” said Gissing politely, “do not allow your tea to get +cold. I can talk while you eat.” Behind his grim demeanour the Captain +was very near to smiling at this naivete. No Briton is wholly implacable +at tea-time, and he felt a genuine curiosity about this unusual +offender. + +“What was your idea in coming aboard?” he said. “Do you know that I can +put you in irons until we get across, and then have you sent home for +punishment? I suppose it's the old story: you want to go sight-seeing on +the other side?” + +“No, Captain,” said Gissing. “I have come to sea to study theology.” + +In spite of himself the Captain was touched by this amazing statement. +He was a Scot, as we have said. He poured a cup of tea to conceal his +astonishment. + +“Theology!” he exclaimed. “The theology of hard work is what you will +find most of aboard ship. Carry on and do your duty; keep a sharp +lookout, all gear shipshape, salute the bridge when going on watch, +that is the whole duty of a good officer. That's plenty theology for a +seaman.” But the skipper's eye turned brightly toward his bookshelves, +where he had several volumes of sermons, mostly of a Calvinist sort. + +“I am not afraid of work,” said Gissing. “But I'm looking for horizons. +In my work ashore I never could find any.” + +“Your horizon is likely to be peeling potatoes in the galley,” remarked +the Captain. “I understand they are short-handed there. Or sweeping out +bunks in the steerage. Ethics of the dust! What would you say to that?” + +“Sir,” replied Gissing, “I shall be grateful for any task, however +menial, that permits me to meditate. I understand your point of view. By +coming aboard your ship I have broken the law, I have committed a +crime; but not a sin. Crime and sin, every theologian admits, are not +coextensive.” + +The Captain sailed head-on into argument. + +“What?” he cried. “Are you aware of the doctrine of Moral Inability in a +Fallen State? Sit down, sit down, and have a cup of tea. We must discuss +this.” + +He rang for the steward and ordered an extra cup and a fresh supply of +toast. At that moment Gissing heard two quick strokes of a bell, rung +somewhere forward, a clear, musical, melancholy tone, echoed promptly +in other parts of the ship. “What is that, Captain?” he asked anxiously. +“An accident?” + +“Two bells in the first dog-watch,” said the Captain. “I fear you are as +much a lubber at sea as you are in theology.” + +The next two hours passed like a flash. Gissing found the skipper, in +spite of his occasional moods of austerity, a delicious companion. They +discussed Theosophy, Spiritualism, and Christian Science, all of which +the Captain, with sturdy but rather troubled vehemence, linked with +Primitive Magic. Gissing, seeing that his only hope of establishing +himself in the sailor's regard was to disagree and keep the argument +going, plunged into psycho-analysis and the philosophy of the +unconscious. Rather unwarily he ventured to introduce a nautical +illustration into the talk. + +“Your compass needle,” he said, “points to the North Pole, and although +it has never been to the Pole, and cannot even conceive of it, yet it +testifies irresistibly to the existence of such a place.” + +“I trust you navigate your soul more skilfully than you would navigate +this vessel,” retorted the Captain. “In the first place, the needle +does not point to the North Pole at all, but to the magnetic pole. +Furthermore, it has to be adjusted by magnets to counteract deviation. +Mr. Gissing, you may be a sincere student of theology, but you have not +allowed for your own temperamental deviation. Why, even the gyro compass +has to be adjusted for latitude error. You landsmen think that a ship is +simply a floating hotel. I should like to have the Bishop you spoke of +study a little navigation. That would put into him a healthy respect for +the marvels of science. On board ship, sir, the binnacle is kept locked +and the key is on the watch-chain of the master. It should be so in all +intellectual matters. Confide them to those capable of understanding.” + +Gissing saw that the Captain greatly relished his sense of superiority, +so he made a remark of intentional simplicity. + +“The binnacle?” he said. “I thought that was the little shellfish that +clings to the bottom of the boat?” + +“Don't you dare call my ship a BOAT!” said the Captain. “At sea, a boat +means only a lifeboat or some other small vagabond craft. Come out on +the bridge and I'll show you a thing or two.” + +The evening had closed in hazy, and the Pomerania swung steadily in a +long plunging roll. At the weather wing of the bridge, gazing sharply +over the canvas dodger, was Mr. Pointer, the vigilant Chief Officer, +peering off rigidly, as though mesmerized, but saying nothing. He gave +the Captain a courteous salute, but kept silence. At the large mahogany +wheel, gently steadying it to the quarterly roll of the sea, stood Dane, +a tall, solemn quartermaster. In spite of a little uneasiness, due to +the unfamiliar motion, Gissing was greatly elated by the wheelhouse, +which seemed even more thrillingly romantic than any pulpit. +Uncomprehendingly, but with admiration, he examined the binnacle, the +engine-room telegraphs, the telephones, the rack of signal-flags, the +buttons for closing the bulkheads, and the rotating clear-view screen +for lookout in thick weather. Aloft he could see the masthead light, +gently soaring in slow arcs. + +“I'll show you my particular pride,” said the Captain, evidently pleased +by his visitor's delighted enthusiasm. + +Gissing wondered what ingenious device of science this might be. + +Captain Scottie stepped to the weather gunwale of the bridge. He pointed +to the smoke, which was rolling rapidly from the funnels. + +“You see,” he said, “there's quite a strong breeze blowing. But look +here.” + +He lit a match and held it unshielded above the canvas screen which was +lashed along the front of the bridge. To Gissing's surprise it burned +steadily, without blowing out. + +“I've invented a convex wind-shield which splits the air just forward +of the bridge. I can stand here and light my pipe in the stiffest gale, +without any trouble.” + +On the decks below Gissing heard a bugle blowing gaily, a bright, +persuasive sound. + +“Six bells,” the Captain said. “I must dress for dinner. Before I start +you potato-peeling, I should like to clear up that little discussion of +ours about Free Will. One or two things you said interested me.” + +He paced the bridge for a minute, thinking hard. + +“I'll test your sincerity,” he said. “To-night you can bunk in the +chart-room. I'll have some dinner sent up to you. I wish you would write +me an essay of, say, two thousand words on the subject of Necessity.” + +For a moment Gissing pondered whether it would not be better to be put +in irons and rationed with bread and water. The wind was freshening, and +the Pomerania's sharp bow slid heavily into broad hills of sea, crashing +them into crumbling rollers of suds which fell outward and hissed +along her steep sides. The silent Mr. Pointer escorted him into +the chart-room, a bare, businesslike place with a large table, a +map-cabinet, and a settee. Here, presently, a steward appeared with +excellent viands, and a pen, ink, and notepaper. After a cautious meal, +Gissing felt more comfortable. There is something about a wet, windy +evening at sea that turns the mind naturally toward metaphysics. He +pushed away the dishes and began to write. + +Later in the evening the Captain reappeared. He looked pleased when he +saw a number of sheets already covered with script. + +“Rum lot of passengers this trip,” he said. “I don't seem to see any who +look interesting. All Big Business and that sort of thing. I must say +it's nice to have someone who can talk about books, and so on, once in a +while.” + +Gissing realized that sometimes a shipmaster's life must be a lonely +one. The weight of responsibility is always upon him; etiquette prevents +his becoming familiar with his officers; small wonder if he pines +occasionally for a little congenial talk to relieve his mind. + +“Big Business, did you say?” Gissing remarked. “Ah, I could write you +quite an essay about that. I used to be General Manager of Beagle and +Company.” + +“Come into my cabin and have a liqueur,” said the skipper. “Let the +essay go until to-morrow.” + +The Captain turned on the electric stove in his cabin, for the night +was cold. It was a snug sanctum: at the portholes were little chintz +curtains; over the bunk was a convenient reading lamp. On the wall a +brass pendulum swung slowly, registering the roll of the ship. The ruddy +shine of the stove lit up the orderly desk and the photographs of the +Captain's family. + +“Yours?” said Gissing, looking at a group of three puppies with droll +Scottish faces. “Aye,” said the Captain. + +“I've three of my own,” said Gissing, with a private pang of +homesickness. The skipper's cosy quarters were the most truly domestic +he had seen since the evening he first fled from responsibility. + +Captain Scottie was surprised. Certainly this eccentric stranger in the +badly damaged wedding garments had not given the impression of a family +head. Just then the steward entered with a decanter of Benedictine and +small glasses. + +“Brew days and bonny!” said the Captain, raising his crystal. + +“Secure amidst perils!” replied Gissing courteously. It was the phrase +engraved upon the ship's notepaper, on which he had been writing, and it +had impressed itself on his mind. + +“You said you had been a General Manager.” + +Gissing told, with some vivacity, of his experiences in the world of +trade. The Captain poured another small liqueur. + +“They're fine halesome liquor,” he said. + +“Sincerely yours,” said Gissing, nodding over the glass. He was +beginning to feel quite at home in the navigating quarters of the ship, +and hoped the potato-peeling might be postponed as long as possible. + +“How far had you got in your essay?” asked the Captain. + +“Not very far, I fear. I was beginning by laying down a few +psychological fundamentals.” + +“Excellent! Will you read it to me?” + +Gissing went to get his manuscript, and read it aloud. The Captain +listened attentively, puffing clouds of smoke. + +“I am sorry this is such a short voyage,” he said when Gissing finished. +“You have approached the matter from an entirely naif and instinctive +standpoint, and it will take some time to show you your errors. Before +I demolish your arguments I should like to turn them over in my mind. I +will reduce my ideas to writing and then read them to you.” + +“I should like nothing better,” said Gissing. “And I can think over the +subject more carefully while I peel the potatoes.” + +“Nonsense,” said the Captain. “I do not often get a chance to discuss +theology. I will tell you my idea. You spoke of your experience as +General Manager, when you had charge of a thousand employees. One of +the things we need on this ship is a staff-captain, to take over +the management of the personnel. That would permit me to concentrate +entirely on navigation. In a vessel of this size it is wrong that the +master should have to carry the entire responsibility.” + +He rang for the steward. + +“My compliments to Mr. Pointer, and tell him to come here.” + +Mr. Pointer appeared shortly in oilskins, saluted, and gazed fixedly at +his superior, with one foot raised upon the brass door-sill. + +“Mr. Pointer,” said Captain Scottie, “I have appointed Captain Gissing +staff-captain. Take orders from him as you would from me. He will have +complete charge of the ship's discipline.” + +“Aye, aye, sir,” said Mr. Pointer, stood a moment intently to see if +there were further orders, saluted again, and withdrew. + +“Now you had better turn in,” said the skipper. “Of course you must wear +uniform. I'll send the tailor up to you at once. He can remodel one of +my suits overnight. The trousers will have to be lengthened.” + +On the chart-room sofa, Gissing dozed and waked and dozed again. On the +bridge near by he heard the steady tread of feet, the mysterious words +of the officer on watch passing the course to his relief. Bells rang +with sharp double clang. Through the open port he could hear the +alternate boom and hiss of the sea under the bows. With the stately lift +and lean of the ship there mingled a faint driving vibration. + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + +The first morning in any new environment is always the most exciting. +Gissing was already awake, and watching the novel sight of a patch of +sunshine sliding to and fro on the deck of the chart-room, when there +was a gentle tap at the door. The Captain's steward entered, carrying a +handsome uniform. + +“Six bells, sir,” he said. “Your bath is laid on.” + +Gissing was not very sure just what time it was, but the steward +held out a dressing gown for him to slip on, so he took the hint, and +followed him to the Captain's private bathroom where he plunged gaily +into warm salt water. He was hardly dressed before breakfast was +laid for him in the chart-room. It was a breakfast greatly to his +liking--porridge, scrambled eggs, grilled kidneys and bacon, coffee, +toast, and marmalade. Evidently the hardships of sea life had been +greatly exaggerated by fiction writers. + +He was a trifle bashful about appearing on the bridge in his blue and +brass formality, and waited a while thinking Captain Scottie might come. +But no one disturbed him, so by and bye he went out. It was a brisk +morning with a fresh breeze and plenty of whitecaps. Dancing rainbows +hovered about the bow when an occasional explosion of spray burst up +into sunlight. Mr. Pointer was on the bridge, still gazing steadily into +the distance. He saluted Gissing, but said nothing. The quartermaster at +the wheel also saluted in silence. A seaman wiping down the paintwork +on the deckhouse saluted. Gissing returned these gestures punctiliously, +and began to pace the bridge from side to side. He soon grew accustomed +to the varying slant of the deck, and felt that his footing showed a +nautical assurance. + +Now for the first time he enjoyed an untrammelled horizon on all sides. +The sea, he observed, was not really blue--not at any rate the blue he +had supposed. Where it seethed flatly along the hull, laced with swirls +of milky foam, it was almost black. Farther away, it was green, or +darkly violet. A ladder led to the top of the charthouse, and from this +commanding height the whole body of the ship lay below him. How alive +she seemed, how full of personality! The strong funnels, the tall masts +that moved so delicately against the pale open sky, the distant stern +that now dipped low in a comfortable hollow, and now soared and threshed +onward with a swimming thrust, the whole vital organism spoke to the eye +and the imagination. In the centre of this vast circle she moved, royal +and serene. She was more beautiful than the element she rode on, for +perhaps there was something meaningless in that pure vacant round of +sea and sky. Once its immense azure was grasped and noted, it brought +nothing to the mind. Reason was indignant to conceive it, sloping +endlessly away. + +The placid, beautifully planned routine of shipboard passed on its +accustomed course, and he began to suspect that his staff-captaincy was +a sinecure. Down below he could see the passengers briskly promenading, +or drowsing under their rugs. On the hurricane deck, aft, a sailor was +chalking a shuffleboard court. It occurred to him that all this might +become monotonous unless he found some actual part in it. Just then +Captain Scottie appeared on the bridge, took a quick look round, and +joined him on top of the charthouse. + +“Good morning!” he said. “You won't think me rude if you don't see much +of me? Thinking about those ideas of yours, I have come upon some rather +puzzling stuff. I must work the whole thing out more clearly. Your +suggestion that Conscience points the way to an integration of +personality into a higher type of divinity, seems to me off the track; +but I haven't quite downed it yet. I'm going to shut myself up to-day +and consider the matter. I leave you in charge.” + +“I shall be perfectly happy,” said Gissing. “Please don't worry about +me.” + +“You suggest that all the conditions of life at sea, our mastery of the +forces of Nature, and so on, seem to show that we have perfect freedom +of will, and adapt everything to our desires. I believe just the +contrary. The forces of Nature compel us to approach them in their own +way, otherwise we are shipwrecked. It is in the conditions of Nature +that this ship should reach port in eight days, otherwise we should get +nowhere. We do it because it is our destiny.” + +“I am not so sure of that,” said Gissing. But the Captain had already +departed with a clouded brow. + +On the chart-room roof Gissing had discovered an alluring instrument, +the exact use of which he did not know. It seemed to be some kind of +steering control. The dial was lettered, from left to right, as follows +HARD A PORT, PORT, STEADY, COURSE, STEADY, STARBD, HARD A STARBD. At +present the handle stood upon the section marked COURSE. After a careful +study of the whole seascape, it seemed to Gissing that off to the south +the ocean looked more blue and more interesting. After some hesitation +he moved the handle to the PORT mark, and waited to see what would +happen. To his delight he saw the bow swing slowly round, and the +Pomerania's gleaming wake spread behind her in a whitened curve. He +descended to the bridge, a little nervous as to what Mr. Pointer might +say, but he found the Mate gazing across the water with the same fierce +and unwearying attention. + +“I have changed the course,” he said. + +Mr. Pointer saluted, but said nothing. + +Having succeeded so far, Gissing ventured upon another innovation. +He had been greatly tempted by the wheel, and envied the stolid +quartermaster who was steering. So, assuming an air of calm certainty, +he entered the wheelhouse. + +“I'll take her for a while,” he said. + +“Aye, aye, sir,” said the quartermaster, and surrendered the wheel to +him. + +“You might string out a few flags,” Gissing said. He had been noticing +the bright signal buntings in the rack, and thought it a pity not to use +them. + +“I like to see a ship well dressed,” he added. + +“Aye, aye, sir,” said Dane. “Any choice, sir?” + +Gissing picked out a string of flags which were particularly lively in +colour-scheme, and had them hoisted. Then he gave his attention to the +wheel. He found it quite an art, and was surprised to learn that a big +ship requires so much helm. But it was very pleasant. He took care to +steer toward patches of sea that looked interesting, and to cut into any +particular waves that took his fancy. After an hour or so, he sighted a +fishing schooner, and gave chase. He found it so much fun to run close +beside her (taking care to pass to leeward, so as not to cut off her +wind) that a mile farther on he turned and steered a neat circle +about the bewildered craft. The Pomerania's passengers were greatly +interested, and lined the rails trying to make out what the fishermen +were shouting. The captain of the schooner seemed particularly agitated, +kept waving at the signal flags and barking through a megaphone. During +these manoeuvres Mr. Pointer gazed so hard at the horizon that Gissing +felt a bit embarrassed. + +“I thought it wise to find out exactly what our turning-circle is,” he +said. + +Mr. Pointer saluted. He was a well-trained officer. + +Late in the afternoon the Captain reappeared, looking more cheerful. +Gissing was still at the helm, which he found so fascinating he would +not relinquish it. He had ordered his tea served on a little stand +beside the wheel so that he could drink it while he steered. “Hullo!” + said the Captain. “I see you've changed the course.” + +“It seemed best to do so,” said Gissing firmly. He felt that to show any +weakness at this point would be fatal. + +“Oh, well, probably it doesn't matter. I'm coming round to some of your +ideas.” + +Gissing saw that this would never do. Unless he could keep the master +disturbed by philosophic doubts, Scottie would expect to resume command +of the ship. + +“Well,” he said, “I've been thinking about it, too. I believe I went +a bit too far. But what do you think about this? Do you believe that +Conscience is inherited or acquired? You sea how important that is. If +Conscience is a kind of automatic oracle, infallible and perfect, what +becomes of free will? And if, on the other hand, Conscience is only a +laboriously trained perception of moral and social utilities, where does +your deity come in?” + +Gissing was aware that this dilemma would not hold water very long, and +was painfully impromptu; but it hit the Captain amidships. + +“By Jove,” he said, “that's terrible, isn't it? It's no use trying to +carry on until I've got that under the hatch. Look here, would you +mind, just as a favour, keep things going while I wrestle with that +question?--I know it's asking a lot, but perhaps--” + +“It's quite all right,” Gissing replied. “Naturally you want to work +these things out.” + +The Captain started to leave the bridge, but by old seafaring habit he +cast a keen glance at the sky. He saw the bright string of code flags +fluttering. He seemed startled. + +“Are you signalling any one?” he asked. + +“No one in particular. I thought it looked better to have a few flags +about.” + +“I daresay you're right. But better take them down if you speak a ship. +They're rather confusing.” + +“Confusing? I thought they were just to brighten things up.” + +“You have two different signals up. They read, Bubonic plague, give me a +wide berth. Am coming to your assistance.” + +Toward dinner time, when Gissing had left the wheel and was humming a +tune as he walked the bridge, the steward came to him. + +“The Captain's compliments, sir, and would you take his place in the +saloon to-night? He says he's very busy writing, sir, and would take it +as a favour.” + +Gissing was always obliging. There was just a hint of conscious +sternness in his manner as he entered the Pomerania's beautiful dining +saloon, for he wished the passengers to realize that their lives +depended upon his prudence and sea-lore. Twice during the meal he +instructed the steward to bring him the latest barometer reading; and +after the dessert he scribbled a note on the back of a menu-card and had +it sent to the Chief Engineer. It said:-- + +Dear Chief: Please keep up a good head of steam to-night. I am expecting +dirty weather. + +MR. GISSING, + +(Staff-Captain) + +What the Chief said when he received the message is not included in the +story. + +But the same social aplomb that had made Gissing successful as a +floorwalker now came to his rescue as mariner. The passengers at the +Captain's table were amazed at his genial charm. His anecdotes of sea +life were heartily applauded. After dinner he circulated gracefully in +the ladies' lounge, and took coffee there surrounded by a chattering +bevy. He organized a little impromptu concert in the music room, and +when that was well started, slipped away to the smoke-room. Here he +found a pool being organized as to the exact day and hour when the +Pomerania would reach port. Appealed to for his opinion, he advised +caution. On all sides he was in demand, for dancing, for bridge, for +a recitation. At length he slipped away, pleading that he must keep +himself fit in case of fog. The passengers were loud in his praise, +asserting that they had never met so agreeable a sea-captain. One +elderly lady said she remembered crossing with him in the old Caninia, +years ago, and that he was just the same then. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN + +And so the voyage went on. Gissing was quite content to do a two-hour +trick at the wheel both morning and afternoon, and worked out some new +principles of steering which gave him pleasure. In the first place, he +noticed that the shuffle-board and quoit players, on the boat deck aft, +were occasionally annoyed by cinders from the stacks, so he made it +a general plan to steer so that the smoke blew at right angles to the +ship's course. As the wind was prevailingly west, this meant that his +general trend was southerly. Whenever he saw another vessel, a mass of +floating sea-weed, a porpoise, or even a sea-gull, he steered directly +for it, and passed as close as possible, to have a good look at it. Even +Mr. Pointer admitted (in the mates' mess) that he had never experienced +so eventful a voyage. To keep the quartermasters from being idle, +Gissing had them knit him a rope hammock to be slung in the chart-room. +He felt that this would be more nautical than a plush settee. + +There was a marvellous sense of power in standing at the wheel and +feeling the great hull reply to his touch. Occasionally Captain Scottie +would emerge from his cabin, look round with a faint surprise, and +come to the bridge to see what was happening. Mr. Pointer would salute +mutely, and continue to study the skyline with indignant absorption. +The Captain would approach the wheel, where Gissing was deep in thought. +Rubbing his hands, the Captain would say heartily, “Well, I think I've +got it all clear now.” + +Gissing sighed. + +“What is it?” the Captain inquired anxiously. + +“I'm bothered about the subconscious. They tell us nowadays that +it's the subconscious mind that is really important. The more mental +operations we can turn over to the subconscious realm, the happier we +will be, and the more efficient. Morality, theology, and everything +really worth while, as I understand it, spring from the subconscious.” + +The Captain's look of cheer would vanish. + +“Maybe there's something in that.” + +“If so,” Gissing continued, “then perhaps consciousness is entirely +spurious. It seems to me that before we can get anywhere at all, we've +got to draw the line between the conscious and the subconscious. +What bothers me is, am I conscious of having a subconscious, or not? +Sometimes I think I am, and then again I'm doubtful. But if I'm aware +of my subconscious, then it isn't a genuine subconscious, and the whole +thing's just another delusion--” + +The Captain would knit his weather-beaten brow and again retire +anxiously to his quarters, after begging Gissing to be generous and +carry on a while longer. Occasionally, pacing the starboard bridge-deck, +sacred to captains, Gissing would glance through the port and see the +metaphysical commander bent over sheets of foolscap and thickly wreathed +in pipe-smoke. + +He himself had fallen into a kind of tranced felicity, in which these +questions no longer had other than an ingenious interest. His heart was +drowned in the engulfing blue. As they made their southing, wind +and weather seemed to fall astern, the sun poured with a more golden +candour. He stood at the wheel in a tranquil reverie, blithely steering +toward some bright belly of cloud that had caught his fancy. Mr. Pointer +shook his head when he glanced surreptitiously at the steering recorder, +a device that noted graphically every movement of the rudder with a view +to promoting economical helmsmanship. Indeed Gissing's course, as logged +on the chart, surprised even himself, so that he forbade the officers +taking their noon observations. When Mr. Pointer said something about +isobars, the staff-captain replied serenely that he did not expect to +find any polar bears in these latitudes. + +He had hoped privately for an occasional pirate, and scanned the sea-rim +sharply for suspicious topsails. But the ocean, as he remarked, is +not crowded. They proceeded, day after day, in a solitary wideness of +unblemished colour. The ship, travelling always in the centre of this +infinite disk, seemed strangely identified with his own itinerant +spirit, watchful at the gist of things, alert at the point which was +necessarily, for him, the nub of all existence. He wandered about the +Pomerania's sagely ordered passages and found her more and more magical. +She went on and on, with some strange urgent vitality of her own. +Through the fiddleys on the boat deck came a hot oily breath and the +steady drumming of her burning heart. From outer to hawse-hole, from +shaft-tunnel to crow's-nest, he explored and loved her. In the whole of +her proud, faithful, obedient fabric he divined honour and exultation. +Poised upon uncertainty, she was sure. The camber of her white-scrubbed +decks, the long, clean sheer of her hull, the concave flare of her +bows--what was the amazing joy and rightness of these things? And yet +the grotesque passengers regarded her only as a vehicle, to carry them +sedatively to some clamouring dock. Fools! She was more lovely than +anything they would ever see again! He yearned to drive her endlessly +toward that unreachable perimeter of sky. + +On land there had been definite horizons, even if disappointing when +reached and examined; but here there was no horizon at all. Every hour +it slid and slid over the dark orb of sea. He lost count of time. The +tremulous cradling of the Pomerania, steadily climbing the long leagues; +her noble forecastle solemnly lifting against heaven, then descending +with grave beauty into a spread of foaming beryl and snowdrift, seemed +one with the rhythm of his pulse and heart. Perhaps there had been more +than mere ingenuity in his last riddle for the theological skipper. +Truly the subconscious had usurped him. Here he was almost happy, for he +was almost unaware of life. It was all blue vacancy and suspension. The +sea is the great answer and consoler, for it means either nothing or +everything, and so need not tease the brain. + +But the passengers, though unobservant, began to murmur; especially +those who had wagered that the Pomerania would dock on the eighth day. +The world itself, they complained, was created in seven days, and why +should so fine a ship take longer to cross a comparatively small ocean? +Urbanely, over coffee and petite fours, Gissing argued with them. They +were well on their way, he protested; and then, as a hypothetical case, +he asked why one destination was more worth visiting than another? He +even quoted Shakespeare on this point--something about “ports and happy +havens”--and succeeded in turning the tide of conversation for a while. +The mention of Shakespeare suggested to some of the ladies that it +would be pleasant, now they all knew each other so well, to put on some +amateur theatricals. They compromised by playing charades in the saloon. +Another evening Gissing kept them amused by fireworks, which were very +lovely against the dark sky. For this purpose he used the emergency +rockets, star-shells and coloured flares, much to the distress of Dane, +the quartermaster, who had charge of these supplies. + +Little by little, however, the querulous protests of the passengers +began to weary him. Also, he had been receiving terse memoranda from +the Chief Engineer that the coal was getting low in the bunkers and that +something must be queer in the navigating department. This seemed very +unreasonable. The fixed gaze of Mr. Pointer, perpetually examining the +horizon as though he wanted to make sure he would recognize it if they +met again, was trying. Even Captain Scottie complained one day that +the supply of fresh meat had given out and that the steward had been +bringing him tinned beef. Gissing determined upon resolute measures. + +He had notice served that on account of possible danger from pirates +there would be a general boat drill on the following day--not merely for +the crew, but for everyone. He gave a little talk about it in the saloon +after dinner, and worked his audience up to quite a pitch of enthusiasm. +This would be better than any amateur theatricals, he insisted. Everyone +was to act exactly as though in a sudden calamity. They might make +up the boat-parties on the basis of congeniality if they wished; five +minutes would be given for reaching the stations, without panic or +disorder. They should prepare themselves as though they were actually +going to leave a sinking ship. + +The passengers were delighted with the idea of this novel entertainment. +Every soul on board--with the exception of Captain Scottie, who had +locked himself in and refused to be disturbed--was properly advertised +of the event. + +The following day, fortunately, was clear and calm. At noon Gissing +blew the syren, fired a rocket from the bridge, and swung the engine +telegraph to STOP. The ship's orchestra, by his orders, struck up a +rollicking air. Quickly and without confusion, amid cries of Women and +children first! the passengers filed to their allotted places. The crew +and officers were all at their stations. + +Gissing knocked at Captain Scottie's cabin. + +“We are taking to the boats,” he said. + +“Goad!” cried the skipper. “Wull it be a colleesion?” + +“All's clear and the davits are outboard,” said Gissing. He had been +studying the manual of boat handling in one of the nautical volumes in +the chart-room. + +“Auld Hornie!” ejaculated the skipper. “We'll no can salve the specie! +Make note of her poseetion, Mr. Gissing!” He hastened to gather his +papers, the log, a chronometer, and a large canister of tobacco. + +“The Deil's intil't,” he said as he hastened to his boat. “I had yon +pragmateesm of yours on a lee shore. Two-three hours, I'd have careened +ye.” + +Gissing was ready with his megaphone. From the wing of the bridge he +gave the orders. + +“Lower away!” and the boats dropped to the passenger rail. + +“Avast lowering!” Each boat took in her roster of passengers, who were +in high spirits at this unusual excitement. + +“Mind your painters! Lower handsomely!” + +The boats took the water in orderly fashion, and were cast off. +Remaining members of the crew swarmed down the falls. The bandsmen had a +boat to themselves, and resumed their tune as soon as they were settled. + +Gissing, left alone on the ship, waved for silence. + +“Look sharp, man!” cried Captain Scottie. “Honour's satisfied! Take your +place in the boat!” + +The passengers applauded, and there was quite a clatter of camera +shutters as they snapped the Pomerania looming grandly above them. + +“Boats are all provisioned and equipped,” shouted Gissing. “I've +broadcasted your position by radio. The barometer's at Fixed Fair. Pull +off now, and 'ware the screw.” + +He moved the telegraph handle to DEAD SLOW, and the Pomerania began to +slip forward gently. The boats dropped aft amid a loud miscellaneous +outcry. Mr. Pointer was already examining the horizon. Captain Scottie, +awakened to the situation, was uttering the language of theology but not +the purport. + +“Don't stand up in the boats,” megaphoned Gissing. “You're quite all +right, there's a ship on the way already. I wirelessed last night.” + +He slid the telegraph to slow, half, and then full. Once more the ship +creamed through the lifting purple swells. The little flock of boats was +soon out of sight. + +Alone at the wheel, he realized that a great weight was off his mind. +The responsibility of his position had burdened him more than he knew. +Now a strange eagerness and joy possessed him. His bubbling wake cut +straight and milky across the glittering afternoon. In a ruddy sunset +glow, the sea darkened through all tints of violet, amethyst, indigo. +The horizon line sharpened so clearly that he could distinguish the +tossing profile of waves wetting the sky. “A red sky at night is the +sailor's delight,” he said to himself. He switched on the port and +starboard lights and the masthead lanterns, then lashed the wheel while +he went below for supper. He did not know exactly where he was, for he +seemed to have steamed clean off the chart; but as he conned the helm +that evening, and leaned over the lighted binnacle, he had a feeling +that he was not far from some destiny. With cheerful assurance he lashed +the wheel again, and turned in. He woke once in the night, and leaped +from the hammock with a start. He thought he had heard a sound of +barking. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN + +The next morning he sighted land. Coming out on the bridge, the whole +face of things was changed. The sea-colour had lightened to a tawny +green; gulls dipped and hovered; away on the horizon lay a soft blue +contour. “Land Ho!” he shouted superbly, and wondered what new country +he had discovered. He ran up a hoist of red and yellow signal flags, and +steered gaily toward the shore. + +It had grown suddenly cold: he had to fetch Captain Scottie's pea-jacket +to wear at the wheel. On the long spilling crests, that crumbled and +spread running layers of froth in their hurry shoreward, the Pomerania +rode home. She knew her landfall and seemed to quicken. Steadily +swinging on the jade-green surges, she buried her nose almost to the +hawse-pipes, then lifted until her streaming forefoot gleamed out of a +frilled ruffle of foam. + +Gissing, too, was eager. A tingling buoyancy and impatience took hold +of him: he fidgeted with sheer eagerness for life. Land, the beloved +stability of our dear and only earth, drew and charmed him. Behind was +the senseless, heartbreaking sea. Now he could discern hills rising in +a gilded opaline light. In the volatile thin air was a quick sense of +strangeness. A new world was close about him: a world that he could see, +and feel, and inhale, and yet knew nothing of. + +Suddenly a great humility possessed him. He had been froward and silly +and vain. He had shouted arrogantly at Beauty, like a noisy tourist in +a canyon; and the only answer, after long waiting, had been the paltry +diminished echo of his own voice. He thought shamefully of his follies. +What matter how you name God or in what words you praise Him? In this +new foreign land he would quietly accept things as he found them. The +laughter of God was too strange to understand. + +No, there was no answer. He was doubly damned, for he had made truth a +mere sport of intellectual riddling. The mind, like a spinning flywheel +of fatigued steel, was gradually racked to bursting by the conflict +of stresses. And yet: every equilibrium was an opposure of forces. +Rotation, if swift enough, creates amazing stability: he had seen how +the gyroscope can balance at apparently impossible angles. Perhaps it +was so of the mind. If it twirls at high speed it can lean right out +over the abyss without collapse. But the stationary mind--he thought +of Bishop Borzoi--must keep away from the edge. Try to force it to +the edge, it raves in panic. Every mind, very likely, knows its own +frailties, and does well to safeguard them. At any rate, that was the +most generous interpretation. Most minds, undoubtedly, were uneasy in +high places. They doubted their ability to refrain from jumping off. +How many bones of fine intellects lay whitening at the foot of the +theological cliff--It seemed to be a lonely coast, and wintry. +Patches of snow lay upon the hills, the woods were bare and brown. A +bottle-necked harbour opened out before him. He reduced the engines to +Dead Slow and glided gaily through the strait. He had been anxious lest +his navigation might not be equal to the occasion: he did not want to +disgrace himself at this final test. But all seemed to arrange itself +with enchanted ease. A steep ledge of ground offered a natural pier, +with tree-stumps for bollards. He let her come gently beyond the spot; +reversed the propellers just at the right time, and backed neatly +alongside. He moved the telegraph handle to FINISHED WITH ENGINES; ran +out the gangplank smartly, and stepped ashore. He moored the vessel fore +and aft, and hung out fenders to prevent chafing. + +The first thing to do, he said to himself, is to get the lie of the +land, and find out whether it is inhabited. + +A hillside rising above the water promised a clear view. The stubble +grass was dry and frosty, after the warm days at sea the chill was +nipping; but what an elixir of air! If this is a desert island, he +thought, it will be a glorious discovery. His heart was jocund with +anticipation. A curious foreign look in the landscape, he thought; quite +unlike anything--Suddenly, where the hill arched against pearly sky, he +saw narrow thread of smoke rising. He halted in alarm. Who might this +be, friend or foe? But eager agitation pushed him on. Burning to know, +he hurried up to the brow of the hill. + +The smoke mounted from a small bonfire of sticks in a sheltered thicket, +where a miraculous being--who was, as a matter of fact, a rather ragged +and dingy vagabond--was cooking a tin of stew over the blaze. + +Gissing stood, quivering with emotion. Joy such as he had never known +darted through all the cords of his body. He ran, shouting, in mirth and +terror. In fear, in a passion of love and knowledge and understanding, +he abased himself and yearned before this marvel. Impossible to have +conceived, yet, once seen, utterly satisfying and the fulfilment of all +needs. He laughed and leaped and worshipped. When the first transport +was over, he laid his head against this being's knee, he nestled there +and was content. This was the inscrutable perfect answer. + +“Cripes!” said the puzzled tramp, as he caressed the nuzzling head. “The +purp's loco. Maybe he's been lost. You might think he'd never seen a man +before.” + +He was right. + +And Gissing sat quietly, his throat resting upon the soiled knee of a +very old and spicy trouser. + +“I have found God,” he said. + +Presently he thought of the ship. It would not do to leave her so +insecurely moored. Reluctantly, with many a backward glance and a heart +full of glory, he left the Presence. He ran to the edge of the hill to +look down upon the harbour. + +The outlook was puzzlingly altered. He gazed in astonishment. What were +those poplars, rising naked into the bright air?--there was something +familiar about them. And that little house beyond... he stared +bewildered. + +The great shining breadth of the ocean had shrunk to the roundness of +a tiny pond. And the Pomerania? He leaned over, shaken with questions. +There, beside the bank, was a little plank of wood, a child's plaything, +roughly fashioned shipshape: two chips for funnels; red and yellow +frosted leaves for flags; a withered dogwood blossom for propeller. He +leaned closer, with whirling mind. In the clear cool surface of the +pond he could see the sky mirrored, deeper than any ocean, pellucid, +infinite, blue. + +He ran up the path to the house. The scuffled ragged garden lay naked +and hard. At the windows, he saw with surprise, were holly wreaths tied +with broad red ribbon. On the porch, some battered toys. He opened the +door. + +A fluttering rosy light filled the room. By the fireplace the +puppies--how big they were!--were sitting with Mrs. Spaniel. Joyous +uproar greeted him: they flung themselves upon him. Shouts of “Daddy! +Daddy!” filled the house, while the young Spaniels stood by more +bashfully. + +Good Mrs. Spaniel was gratefully moved. Her moist eyes shone brightly in +the firelight. + +“I knew you'd be home for Christmas, Mr. Gissing,” she said. “I've been +telling them so all afternoon. Now, children, be still a moment and let +me speak. I've been telling you your Daddy would be home in time for a +Christmas Eve story. I've got to go and fix that plum pudding.” + +In her excitement a clear bubble dripped from the tip of her tongue. She +caught it in her apron, and hurried to the kitchen. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN + +The children insisted on leading him all through the house to show how +nicely they had taken care of things. And in every room Gissing saw +the marks of riot and wreckage. There were tooth-scars on all +furniture-legs; the fringes of rugs were chewed off; there were prints +of mud, ink, paints, and whatnot, on curtains and wallpapers and +coverlets. Poor Mrs. Spaniel kept running anxiously from the kitchen to +renew apologies. + +“I DID try to keep 'em in order,” she said, “but they seem to bash +things when you're not looking.” + +But Gissing was too happy to stew about such trifles. When the +inspection was over, they all sat down by the chimney and he piled on +more logs. + +“Well, chilluns,” he said, “what do you want Santa Claus to bring you +for Christmas?” + +“An aunbile!” exclaimed Groups + +“An elphunt!” exclaimed Bunks + +“A little train with hammers!” exclaimed Yelpers + +“A little train with hammers?” asked Gissing. “What does he mean?” + +“Oh,” said Groups and Bunks, with condescending pity, “he means a +typewriter. He calls it a little train because it moves on a track when +you hit it.” + +A painful apprehension seized him, and he went hastily to his study. He +had not noticed the typewriter, which Mrs. Spaniel had--too late--put +out of reach. Half the keys were sticking upright, jammed together and +tangled in a whirl of ribbon; the carriage was strangely dislocated. And +yet even this mischance, which would once have horrified him, left him +unperturbed. It's my own fault, he thought: I shouldn't have left it +where they could play with it. Perhaps God thinks the same when His +creatures make a mess of the dangerous laws of life. + +“A Christmas story!” the children were clamouring. + +Can it really be Christmas Eve? Gissing thought. Christmas seems to have +come very suddenly this year, I haven't really adjusted my mind to it +yet. + +“All right,” he said. “Now sit still and keep quiet. Bunks, give Yelpers +a little more room. If there's any bickering Santa Claus might hear it.” + +He sat in the big chair by the fire, and the three looked upward +expectantly from the hearthrug. + +“Once upon a time there were three little puppies, who lived in a house +in the country in the Canine Estates. And their names were Groups, +Bunks, and Yelpers.” + +The three tails thumped in turn as the names were mentioned, but the +children were too excitedly absorbed to interrupt. + +“And one year, just before Christmas, they heard a dreadful rumour.” + +“What's a rumour?” cried Yelpers, alarmed. + +This was rather difficult to explain, so Gissing did not attempt it. He +began again. + +“They heard that Santa Claus might not be able to come because he was +so behind with his housework. You see, Santa Claus is a great big +Newfoundland dog with a white beard, and he lives in a frosty kennel at +the North Pole, all shining with icicles round the roof and windows. But +it's so far away from everywhere that poor Santa couldn't get a servant. +All the maids who went there refused to stay because it was so cold +and lonely, and so far from the movies. Santa Claus was busy in his +workshop, making toys; he was busy taking care of the reindeer in their +snow-stables; and he didn't have time to wash his dishes. So all summer +he just let them pile up and pile up in the kitchen. And when Christmas +came near, there was his lovely house in a dreadful state of untidiness. +He couldn't go away and leave it like that. And so, if he didn't get his +dishes washed and the house cleaned up for Christmas, all the puppies +all over the world would have to go without toys. When Groups and Bunks +and Yelpers heard this, they were very much worried.” + +“How did they hear it?” asked Bunks, who was the analytical member of +the trio. + +“A very sensible question,” said Gissing, approvingly. “They heard it +from the chipmunk who lives in the wood behind the house. The chipmunk +heard it underground.” + +“In his chipmonastery?” cried Groups. It was a family joke to call +the chipmunk's burrow by that name, and though the puppies did not +understand the pun they relished the long word. + +“Yes,” continued Gissing. “The reindeer in Santa Claus's stable were +so unhappy about the dishes not being washed, and the chance of missing +their Christmas frolic, that they broadcasted a radio message. Their +horns are very fine for sending radio, and the chipmunk, sitting at his +little wireless outfit, with the receivers over his ears, heard it. And +Chippy told Groups and Bunks and Yelpers. + +“So these puppies decided to help Santa Claus. They didn't know exactly +where to find him, but the chipmunk told them the direction, and off +they went. They travelled and travelled, and when they came to the ocean +they begged a ride from the seagulls, and each one sat on a seagull's +back just as though he was on a little airplane. They flew and flew, +and at last they came to Santa Claus's house. Through the stable-walls, +which were made of clear ice, they could see the reindeer stamping in +their stalls. In the big workshop, where Santa Claus was busy making +toys, they could hear a lively sound of hammering. The big red sleigh +was standing outside the stables, all ready to be hitched up to the +reindeer. + +“They slipped into Santa Claus's house quickly and quietly, so no one +would see or hear them. The house was in a terrible state, but they set +to work to clean up. Groups found the vacuum cleaner and sucked up all +the crumbs from the dining-room rug. Bunks ran upstairs and made Santa +Claus's bed for him and swept the floors and put clean towels in the +bathroom. And Yelpers hurried into the kitchen and washed the dishes, +and scrubbed the pots, and polished the egg-stains off the silver +spoons, and emptied the ice-box pan. All working hard, they got through +very soon, and made Santa Claus's house as clean as any house could be. +They fixed the window-shades so that they would all hang level, not +just anyhow, as poor Santa had them. Then, when everything was spick and +span, they ran outdoors again and beckoned the seagulls. They climbed on +the gulls' backs, and away they flew homeward.” + +“Was Santa Claus pleased?” asked Bunks. + +“Indeed he was, when he came back from his workshop, very tired after +making toys all day.” + +“What kind of toys did he make?” exclaimed Yelpers anxiously. “Did he +make a typewriter?” + +“He made every kind of toy. And when he saw how his house had been +cleaned up, he thought the fairies must have done it. He lit his pipe, +and filled a thermos bottle with hot cocoa to keep him warm on his long +journey. Then he put on his red coat, and his long boots, and his fur +cap, and went out to harness the reindeer. That very night he drove off +with his sleigh packed full of toys for all the puppies in the world. In +fact, he was so pleased that he loaded his big bag with more toys than +he had ever carried before. And that was how a queer thing happened.” + +They waited in eager suspense. + +“You know, Santa Claus always drives into the Canine Estates by the +little back road through the woods, where the chipmunk lives. You know +the gateway, at the bend in the lane: well, it's rather narrow, and +Santa Claus's sleigh is very wide. And this time, because his bag had +so many toys in it, the bag bulged over the edge of the sleigh, and one +corner of the bag caught on the gatepost as he drove by. Three toys fell +out, and what do you suppose they were?” + +“An aunbile!” + +“An elphunt!” + +“A typewriter!” + +“Yes, that's quite right. And it happened that the chipmunk was out +that night, digging up some nuts for his Christmas dinner, a little sad +because he had no presents to give his children; and he found the +three toys. He took them home to the little chipmunks, and they were +tremendously pleased. That was only fair, because if it hadn't been +for the chipmunk and his radio set, no one would have had any toys that +Christmas.” + +“Did Santa Claus have any more typewriters in his bag?” asked Yelpers +gravely. + +“Oh, yes, he had plenty more of everything. And when he got to the house +where Groups and Bunks and Yelpers lived, he slid down the chimney and +took a look round. He didn't see any crumbs on the floor, or any toys +lying about not put away, so he filled the stockings with all kinds of +lovely things, and an aunbile and an elphunt and a typewriter.” + +“What did the puppies say?” they inquired. + +“They were sound asleep upstairs, and didn't know anything about it +until Christmas morning. Come on now, it's time for bed.” + +“We can undress ourselves now,” said Groups. + +“Will you tuck me in?” said Bunks. + +“You're sure he had another typewriter in his bag?” said Yelpers. + +They scrambled upstairs. + +Later, when the house was quiet, Gissing went out to the kitchen to see +Mrs. Spaniel. She was diligently rolling pastry, and her nose was white +with flour. + +“Oh, sir, I'm glad you got home in time for Christmas,” she said. “The +children were counting on it. Did you have a successful trip, sir?” + +“Every trip is successful when you get home again,” said Gissing. “I +suppose the shops will be open late to-night, won't they? I'm going to +run down to the village to get some toys.” + +Before leaving the house, he went down to the cellar to see if the +furnace was all right. He was amazed to see how naturally and cheerfully +he had slipped back into the old sense of responsibility. Where was the +illusory freedom he had dreamed of? Even the epiphany on the hilltop now +seemed a distant miracle. That fearful happiness might never come again. +And yet here, among the familiar difficult minutiae of home, what a +lightness he felt. A great phrase from the prayer-book came to his +mind--“Whose service is perfect freedom.” + +Ah, he said to himself, it is all very well to wear a crown of thorns, +and indeed every sensitive creature carries one in secret. But there are +times when it ought to be worn cocked over one ear. + +He opened the furnace door. A bright glow filled the fire-box: he could +hear a stir and singing in the boiler, and the rustle of warm pipes that +chuckled quietly through winter nights of storm. Over the coals hovered +a magic evasive flicker, the very soul of fire. It was a Pentecostal +flame, perfect and heavenly in tint, the essence of pure colour, a clear +immortal blue. + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Where the Blue Begins, by Christopher Morley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS *** + +***** This file should be named 1402-0.txt or 1402-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/0/1402/ + +Produced by Dianne Bean + +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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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/1402-0.zip b/old/1402-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..64b7343 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1402-0.zip diff --git a/old/1402-h.zip b/old/1402-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bcba0a5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1402-h.zip diff --git a/old/1402-h/1402-h.htm b/old/1402-h/1402-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..77781d1 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1402-h/1402-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5365 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Where the Blue Begins, by Christopher Morley + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Where the Blue Begins, by Christopher Morley + +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: Where the Blue Begins + +Author: Christopher Morley + +Release Date: September 17, 2008 [EBook #1402] +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS *** + + + + +Produced by Dianne Bean, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Christopher Morley + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <b>TO FELIX and TOTO</b> + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I am not free— + And it may be + Life is too tight around my shins; + For, unlike you, + I can't break through + A truant where the blue begins. + + “Out of the very element + Of bondage, that here holds me pent, + I'll make my furious sonnet: + I'll turn my noose + To tightrope use + And madly dance upon it. + + “So I will take + My leash, and make + A wilder and more subtle fleeing + And I shall be + More escapading and more free + Than you have ever dreamed of being!” + </pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER ONE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER TWO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER THREE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER FOUR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER FIVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER SIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER SEVEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER EIGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER NINE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER TEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER ELEVEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER TWELVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER THIRTEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER FOURTEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER FIFTEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER SIXTEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER SEVENTEEN </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER ONE + </h2> + <p> + Gissing lived alone (except for his Japanese butler) in a little house in + the country, in that woodland suburb region called the Canine Estates. He + lived comfortably and thoughtfully, as bachelors often do. He came of a + respectable family, who had always conducted themselves calmly and without + too much argument. They had bequeathed him just enough income to live on + cheerfully, without display but without having to do addition and + subtraction at the end of the month and then tear up the paper lest Fuji + (the butler) should see it. + </p> + <p> + It was strange, since Gissing was so pleasantly situated in life, that he + got into these curious adventures that I have to relate. I do not attempt + to explain it. + </p> + <p> + He had no responsibilities, not even a motor car, for his tastes were + surprisingly simple. If he happened to be spending an evening at the + country club, and a rainstorm came down, he did not worry about getting + home. He would sit by the fire and chuckle to see the married members + creep away one by one. He would get out his pipe and sleep that night at + the club, after telephoning Fuji not to sit up for him. When he felt like + it he used to read in bed, and even smoke in bed. When he went to town to + the theatre, he would spend the night at a hotel to avoid the fatigue of + the long ride on the 11:44 train. He chose a different hotel each time, so + that it was always an Adventure. He had a great deal of fun. + </p> + <p> + But having fun is not quite the same as being happy. Even an income of + 1000 bones a year does not answer all questions. That charming little + house among the groves and thickets seemed to him surrounded by strange + whispers and quiet voices. He was uneasy. He was restless, and did not + know why. It was his theory that discipline must be maintained in the + household, so he did not tell Fuji his feelings. Even when he was alone, + he always kept up a certain formality in the domestic routine. Fuji would + lay out his dinner jacket on the bed: he dressed, came down to the dining + room with quiet dignity, and the evening meal was served by candle-light. + As long as Fuji was at work, Gissing sat carefully in the armchair by the + hearth, smoking a cigar and pretending to read the paper. But as soon as + the butler had gone upstairs, Gissing always kicked off his dinner suit + and stiff shirt, and lay down on the hearth-rug. But he did not sleep. He + would watch the wings of flame gilding the dark throat of the chimney, and + his mind seemed drawn upward on that rush of light, up into the pure chill + air where the moon was riding among sluggish thick floes of cloud. In the + darkness he heard chiming voices, wheedling and tantalizing. One night he + was walking on his little verandah. Between rafts of silver-edged clouds + were channels of ocean-blue sky, inconceivably deep and transparent. The + air was serene, with a faint acid taste. Suddenly there shrilled a soft, + sweet, melancholy whistle, earnestly repeated. It seemed to come from the + little pond in the near-by copses. It struck him strangely. It might be + anything, he thought. He ran furiously through the field, and to the brim + of the pond. He could find nothing, all was silent. Then the whistlings + broke out again, all round him, maddeningly. This kept on, night after + night. The parson, whom he consulted, said it was only frogs; but Gissing + told the constable he thought God had something to do with it. + </p> + <p> + Then willow trees and poplars showed a pallid bronze sheen, forsythias + were as yellow as scrambled eggs, maples grew knobby with red buds. Among + the fresh bright grass came, here and there, exhilarating smells of last + year's buried bones. The little upward slit at the back of Gissing's + nostrils felt prickly. He thought that if he could bury it deep enough in + cold beef broth it would be comforting. Several times he went out to the + pantry intending to try the experiment, but every time Fuji happened to be + around. Fuji was a Japanese pug, and rather correct, so Gissing was + ashamed to do what he wanted to. He pretended he had come out to see that + the icebox pan had been emptied properly. + </p> + <p> + “I must get the plumber to put in a pukka drain-pipe to take the place of + the pan,” Gissing said to Fuji; but he knew that he had no intention of + doing so. The ice-box pan was his private test of a good servant. A cook + who forgot to empty it was too careless, he thought, to be a real success. + </p> + <p> + But certainly there was some curious elixir in the air. He went for walks, + and as soon as he was out of sight of the houses he threw down his hat and + stick and ran wildly, with great exultation, over the hills and fields. “I + really ought to turn all this energy into some sort of constructive work,” + he said to himself. No one else, he mused, seemed to enjoy life as keenly + and eagerly as he did. He wondered, too, about the other sex. Did they + feel these violent impulses to run, to shout, to leap and caper in the + sunlight? But he was a little startled, on one of his expeditions, to see + in the distance the curate rushing hotly through the underbrush, his + clerical vestments dishevelled, his tongue hanging out with excitement. + </p> + <p> + “I must go to church more often,” said Gissing. + </p> + <p> + In the golden light and pringling air he felt excitable and high-strung. + His tail curled upward until it ached. Finally he asked Mike Terrier, who + lived next door, what was wrong. + </p> + <p> + “It's spring,” Mike said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, of course, jolly old spring!” said Gissing, as though this was + something he had known all along, and had just forgotten for the moment. + But he didn't know. This was his first spring, for he was only ten months + old. + </p> + <p> + Outwardly he was the brisk, genial figure that the suburb knew and + esteemed. He was something of a mystery among his neighbours of the Canine + Estates, because he did not go daily to business in the city, as most of + them did; nor did he lead a life of brilliant amusement like the + Airedales, the wealthy people whose great house was near by. Mr. Poodle, + the conscientious curate, had called several times but was not able to + learn anything definite. There was a little card-index of parishioners, + which it was Mr. Poodle's duty to fill in with details of each person's + business, charitable inclinations, and what he could do to amuse a Church + Sociable. The card allotted to Gissing was marked, in Mr. Poodle's neat + script, Friendly, but vague as to definite participation in Xian + activities. Has not communicated. + </p> + <p> + But in himself, Gissing was increasingly disturbed. Even his seizures of + joy, which came as he strolled in the smooth spring air and sniffed the + wild, vigorous aroma of the woodland earth, were troublesome because he + did not know why he was so glad. Every morning it seemed to him that life + was about to exhibit some delicious crisis in which the meaning and + excellence of all things would plainly appear. He sang in the bathtub. + Daily it became more difficult to maintain that decorum which Fuji + expected. He felt that his life was being wasted. He wondered what ought + to be done about it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWO + </h2> + <p> + It was after dinner, an April evening, and Gissing slipped away from the + house for a stroll. He was afraid to stay in, because he knew that if he + did, Fuji would ask him again to fix the dishcloth rack in the kitchen. + Fuji was very short in stature, and could not reach up to the place where + the rack was screwed over the sink. Like all people whose minds are very + active, Gissing hated to attend to little details like this. It was a + weakness in his character. Fuji had asked him six times to fix the rack, + but Gissing always pretended to forget about it. To appease his methodical + butler he had written on a piece of paper FIX DISHCLOTH RACK and pinned it + on his dressing-table pincushion; but he paid no attention to the + memorandum. + </p> + <p> + He went out into a green April dusk. Down by the pond piped those repeated + treble whistlings: they still distressed him with a mysterious unriddled + summons, but Mike Terrier had told him that the secret of respectability + is to ignore whatever you don't understand. Careful observation of this + maxim had somewhat dulled the cry of that shrill queer music. It now + caused only a faint pain in his mind. Still, he walked that way because + the little meadow by the pond was agreeably soft underfoot. Also, when he + walked close beside the water the voices were silent. That is worth + noting, he said to himself. If you go directly at the heart of a mystery, + it ceases to be a mystery, and becomes only a question of drainage. (Mr. + Poodle had told him that if he had the pond and swamp drained, the + frog-song would not annoy him.) But to-night, when the keen chirruping + ceased, there was still another sound that did not cease—a faint, + appealing cry. It caused a prickling on his shoulder blades, it made him + both angry and tender. He pushed through the bushes. In a little hollow + were three small puppies, whining faintly. They were cold and draggled + with mud. Someone had left them there, evidently, to perish. They were + huddled close together; their eyes, a cloudy unspeculative blue, were only + just opened. “This is gruesome,” said Gissing, pretending to be shocked. + “Dear me, innocent pledges of sin, I dare say. Well, there is only one + thing to do.” + </p> + <p> + He picked them up carefully and carried them home. + </p> + <p> + “Quick, Fuji!” he said. “Warm some milk, some of the Grade A, and put a + little brandy in it. I'll get the spare-room bed ready.” + </p> + <p> + He rushed upstairs, wrapped the puppies in a blanket, and turned on the + electric heater to take the chill from the spare-room. The little pads of + their paws were ice-cold, and he filled the hot water bottle and held it + carefully to their twelve feet. Their pink stomachs throbbed, and at first + he feared they were dying. “They must not die!” he said fiercely. “If they + did, it would be a matter for the police, and no end of trouble.” + </p> + <p> + Fuji came up with the milk, and looked very grave when he saw the muddy + footprints on the clean sheet. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Fuji,” said Gissing, “do you suppose they can lap, or will we have + to pour it down?” + </p> + <p> + In spite of his superior manner, Fuji was a good fellow in an emergency. + It was he who suggested the fountain-pen filler. They washed the ink out + of it, and used it to drip the hot brandy-and-milk down the puppies' + throats. Their noses, which had been icy, suddenly became very hot and + dry. Gissing feared a fever and thought their temperatures should be + taken. + </p> + <p> + “The only thermometer we have,” he said, “is the one on the porch, with + the mercury split in two. I don't suppose that would do. Have you a + clinical thermometer, Fuji?” + </p> + <p> + Fuji felt that his employer was making too much fuss over the matter. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” he said firmly. “They are quite all right. A good sleep will + revive them. They will be as fit as possible in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + Fuji went out into the garden to brush the mud from his neat white jacket. + His face was inscrutable. Gissing sat by the spare-room bed until he was + sure the puppies were sleeping correctly. He closed the door so that Fuji + would not hear him humming a lullaby. Three Blind Mice was the only + nursery song he could remember, and he sang it over and over again. + </p> + <p> + When he tiptoed downstairs, Fuji had gone to bed. Gissing went into his + study, lit a pipe, and walked up and down, thinking. By and bye he wrote + two letters. One was to a bookseller in the city, asking him to send (at + once) one copy of Dr. Holt's book on the Care and Feeding of Children, and + a well-illustrated edition of Mother Goose. The other was to Mr. Poodle, + asking him to fix a date for the christening of Mr. Gissing's three small + nephews, who had come to live with him. + </p> + <p> + “It is lucky they are all boys,” said Gissing. “I would know nothing about + bringing up girls.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” he added after a while, “that I shall have to raise Fuji's + wages.” + </p> + <p> + Then he went into the kitchen and fixed the dishcloth rack. + </p> + <p> + Before going to bed that night he took his usual walk around the house. + The sky was freckled with stars. It was generally his habit to make a tour + of his property toward midnight, to be sure everything was in good order. + He always looked into the ice-box, and admired the cleanliness of Fuji's + arrangements. The milk bottles were properly capped with their round + cardboard tops; the cheese was never put on the same rack with the butter; + the doors of the ice-box were carefully latched. Such observations, and + the slow twinkle of the fire in the range, deep down under the curfew + layer of coals, pleased him. In the cellar he peeped into the garbage can, + for it was always a satisfaction to assure himself that Fuji did not waste + anything that could be used. One of the laundry tub taps was dripping, + with a soft measured tinkle: he said to himself that he really must have + it attended to. All these domestic matters seemed more significant than + ever when he thought of youthful innocence sleeping upstairs in the + spare-room bed. His had been a selfish life hitherto, he feared. These + puppies were just what he needed to take him out of himself. + </p> + <p> + Busy with these thoughts, he did not notice the ironical whistling coming + from the pond. He tasted the night air with cheerful satisfaction. “At any + rate, to-morrow will be a fine day,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The next day it rained. But Gissing was too busy to think about the + weather. Every hour or so during the night he had gone into the spare room + to listen attentively to the breathing of the puppies, to pull the blanket + over them, and feel their noses. It seemed to him that they were + perspiring a little, and he was worried lest they catch cold. His morning + sleep (it had always been his comfortable habit to lie abed a trifle late) + was interrupted about seven o'clock by a lively clamour across the hall. + The puppies were awake, perfectly restored, and while they were too young + to make their wants intelligible, they plainly expected some attention. He + gave them a pair of old slippers to play with, and proceeded to his own + toilet. + </p> + <p> + As he was bathing them, after breakfast, he tried to enlist Fuji's + enthusiasm. “Did you ever see such fat rascals?” he said. “I wonder if we + ought to trim their tails? How pink their stomachs are, and how pink and + delightful between their toes! You hold these two while I dry the other. + No, not that way! Hold them so you support their spines. A puppy's back is + very delicate: you can't be too careful. We'll have to do things in a + rough-and-ready way until Dr. Holt's book comes. After that we can be + scientific.” + </p> + <p> + Fuji did not seem very keen. Presently, in spite of the rain, he was + dispatched to the village department store to choose three small cribs and + a multitude of safety pins. “Plenty of safety pins is the idea,” said + Gissing. “With enough safety pins handy, children are easy to manage.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as the puppies were bestowed on the porch, in the sunshine, for + their morning nap, he telephoned to the local paperhanger. + </p> + <p> + “I want you” (he said) “to come up as soon as you can with some nice + samples of nursery wallpaper. A lively Mother Goose pattern would do very + well.” He had already decided to change the spare room into a nursery. He + telephoned the carpenter to make a gate for the top of the stairs. He was + so busy that he did not even have time to think of his pipe, or the + morning paper. At last, just before lunch, he found a breathing space. He + sat down in the study to rest his legs, and looked for the Times. It was + not in its usual place on his reading table. At that moment the puppies + woke up, and he ran out to attend them. He would have been distressed if + he had known that Fuji had the paper in the kitchen, and was studying the + HELP WANTED columns. + </p> + <p> + A great deal of interest was aroused in the neighbourhood by the arrival + of Gissing's nephews, as he called them. Several of the ladies, who had + ignored him hitherto, called, in his absence, and left extra cards. This + implied (he supposed, though he was not closely versed in such niceties of + society) that there was a Mrs. Gissing, and he was annoyed, for he felt + certain they knew he was a bachelor. But the children were a source of + nothing but pride to him. They grew with astounding rapidity, ate their + food without coaxing, rarely cried at night, and gave him much amusement + by their naive ways. He was too occupied to be troubled with + introspection. Indeed, his well-ordered home was very different from + before. The trim lawn, in spite of his zealous efforts, was constantly + littered with toys. In sheer mischief the youngsters got into his wardrobe + and chewed off the tails of his evening dress coat. But he felt a + satisfying dignity and happiness in his new status as head of a family. + </p> + <p> + What worried him most was the fear that Fuji would complain of this sudden + addition to his duties. The butler's face was rather an enigma, + particularly at meal times, when Gissing sat at the dinner table + surrounded by the three puppies in their high chairs, with a spindrift of + milk and prune-juice spattering generously as the youngsters plied their + spoons. Fuji had arranged a series of scuppers, made of oilcloth, + underneath the chairs; but in spite of this the dining-room rug, after a + meal, looked much as the desert place must have after the feeding of the + multitude. Fuji, who was pensive, recalled the five loaves and two fishes + that produced twelve baskets of fragments. The vacuum cleaner got clogged + by a surfeit of crumbs. + </p> + <p> + Gissing saw that it would be a race between heart and head. If Fuji's + heart should become entangled (that is, if the innocent charms of the + children should engage his affections before his reason convinced him that + the situation was now too arduous), there was some hope. He tried to ease + the problem also by mental suggestion. “It is really remarkable” (he said + to Fuji) “that children should give one so little trouble.” As he made + this remark, he was speeding hotly to and fro between the bathroom and the + nursery, trying to get one tucked in bed and another undressed, while the + third was lashing the tub into soapy foam. Fuji made his habitual + response, “Very good, sir.” But one fears that he detected some + insincerity, for the next day, which was Sunday, he gave notice. This + generally happens on a Sunday, because the papers publish more Help Wanted + advertisements then than on any other day. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry, sir,” he said. “But when I took this place there was nothing + said about three children.” + </p> + <p> + This was unreasonable of Fuji. It is very rare to have everything + explained beforehand. When Adam and Eve were put into the Garden of Eden, + there was nothing said about the serpent. + </p> + <p> + However, Gissing did not believe in entreating a servant to stay. He + offered to give Fuji a raise, but the butler was still determined to + leave. + </p> + <p> + “My senses are very delicate,” he said. “I really cannot stand the—well, + the aroma exhaled by those three children when they have had a warm bath.” + </p> + <p> + “What nonsense!” cried Gissing. “The smell of wet, healthy puppies? + Nothing is more agreeable. You are cold-blooded: I don't believe you are + fond of puppies. Think of their wobbly black noses. Consider how pink is + the little cleft between their toes and the main cushion of their feet. + Their ears are like silk. Inside their upper jaws are parallel black + ridges, most remarkable. I never realized before how beautifully and + carefully we are made. I am surprised that you should be so indifferent to + these things.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moisture in Fuji's eyes, but he left at the end of the week. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THREE + </h2> + <p> + A solitary little path ran across the fields not far from the house. It + lay deep among tall grasses and the withered brittle stalks of last + autumn's goldenrod, and here Gissing rambled in the green hush of + twilight, after the puppies were in bed. In less responsible days he would + have lain down on his back, with all four legs upward, and cheerily + shrugged and rolled to and fro, as the crisp ground-stubble was very + pleasing to the spine. But now he paced soberly, the smoke from his pipe + eddying just above the top of the grasses. He had much to meditate. + </p> + <p> + The dogwood tree by the house was now in flower. The blossoms, with their + four curved petals, seemed to spin like tiny white propellers in the + bright air. When he saw them fluttering Gissing had a happy sensation of + movement. The business of those tremulous petals seemed to be thrusting + his whole world forward and forward, through the viewless ocean of space. + He felt as though he were on a ship—as, indeed, we are. He had never + been down to the open sea, but he had imagined it. There, he thought, + there must be the satisfaction of a real horizon. + </p> + <p> + Horizons had been a great disappointment to him. In earlier days he had + often slipped out of the house not long after sunrise, and had marvelled + at the blue that lies upon the skyline. Here, about him, were the clear + familiar colours of the world he knew; but yonder, on the hills, were + trees and spaces of another more heavenly tint. That soft blue light, if + he could reach it, must be the beginning of what his mind required. + </p> + <p> + He envied Mr. Poodle, whose cottage was on that very hillslope that rose + so imperceptibly into sky. One morning he ran and ran, in the lifting day, + but always the blue receded. Hot and unbuttoned, he came by the curate's + house, just as the latter emerged to pick up the morning paper. + </p> + <p> + “Where does the blue begin?” Gissing panted, trying hard to keep his + tongue from sliding out so wetly. + </p> + <p> + The curate looked a trifle disturbed. He feared that something unpleasant + had happened, and that his assistance might be required before breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “It is going to be a warm day,” he said politely, and stooped for the + newspaper, as a delicate hint. + </p> + <p> + “Where does—?” began Gissing, quivering; but at that moment, looking + round, he saw that it had hoaxed him again. Far away, on his own hill the + other side of the village, shone the evasive colour. As usual, he had been + too impetuous. He had not watched it while he ran; it had circled round + behind him. He resolved to be more methodical. + </p> + <p> + The curate gave him a blank to fill in, relative to baptizing the + children, and was relieved to see him hasten away. + </p> + <p> + But all this was some time ago. As he walked the meadow path, Gissing + suddenly realized that lately he had had little opportunity for pursuing + blue horizons. Since Fuji's departure every moment, from dawn to dusk, was + occupied. In three weeks he had had three different servants, but none of + them would stay. The place was too lonely, they said, and with three + puppies the work was too hard. The washing, particularly was a horrid + problem. Inexperienced as a parent, Gissing was probably too proud: he + wanted the children always to look clean and soigne. The last cook had + advertised herself as a General Houseworker, afraid of nothing; but as + soon as she saw the week's wash in the hamper (including twenty-one grimy + rompers), she telephoned to the station for a taxi. Gissing wondered why + it was that the working classes were not willing to do one-half as much as + he, who had been reared to indolent ease. Even more, he was irritated by a + suspicion of the ice-wagon driver. He could not prove it, but he had an + idea that this uncouth fellow obtained a commission from the Airedales and + Collies, who had large mansions in the neighbourhood, for luring maids + from the smaller homes. Of course Mrs. Airedale and Mrs. Collie could + afford to pay any wages at all. So now the best he could do was to have + Mrs. Spaniel, the charwoman, come up from the village to do the washing + and ironing, two days a week. The rest of the work he undertook himself. + On a clear afternoon, when the neighbours were not looking, he would take + his own shirts and things down to the pond—putting them neatly in + the bottom of the red express-wagon, with the puppies sitting on the + linen, so no one would see. While the puppies played about and hunted for + tadpoles, he would wash his shirts himself. + </p> + <p> + His legs ached as he took his evening stroll—keeping within earshot + of the house, so as to hear any possible outcry from the nursery. He had + been on his feet all day. But he reflected that there was a real + satisfaction in his family tasks, however gruelling. Now, at last (he said + to himself), I am really a citizen, not a mere dilettante. Of course it is + arduous. No one who is not a parent realizes, for example, the + extraordinary amount of buttoning and unbuttoning necessary in rearing + children. I calculate that 50,000 buttonings are required for each one + before it reaches the age of even rudimentary independence. With the + energy so expended one might write a great novel or chisel a statue. Never + mind: these urchins must be my Works of Art. If one were writing a novel, + he could not delegate to a hired servant the composition of laborious + chapters. + </p> + <p> + So he took his responsibility gravely. This was partly due to the + christening service, perhaps, which had gone off very charmingly. It had + not been without its embarrassments. None of the neighbouring ladies would + stand as godmother, for they were secretly dubious as to the children's + origin; so he had asked good Mrs. Spaniel to act in that capacity. She, a + simple kindly creature, was much flattered, though certainly she can have + understood very little of the symbolical rite. Gissing, filling out the + form that Mr. Poodle had given him, had put down the names of an entirely + imaginary brother and sister-in-law of his, “deceased,” whom he asserted + as the parents. He had been so busy with preparations that he did not find + time, before the ceremony, to study the text of the service; and when he + and Mrs. Spaniel stood beneath the font with an armful of ribboned + infancy, he was frankly startled by the magnitude of the promises exacted + from him. He found that, on behalf of the children, he must “renounce the + devil and all his work, the vain pomp and glory of the world;” that he + must pledge himself to see that these infants would “crucify the old man + and utterly abolish the whole body of sin.” It was rather doubtful whether + they would do so, he reflected, as he felt them squirming in his arms + while Mrs. Spaniel was busy trying to keep their socks on. When the curate + exhorted him “to follow the innocency” of these little ones, it was + disconcerting to have one of them burst into a piercing yammer, and + wriggle so forcibly that it slipped quite out of its little embroidered + shift and flannel band. But the actual access to the holy basin was more + seemly, perhaps due to the children imagining they were going to find + tadpoles there. When Mr. Poodle held them up they smiled with a vague + almost bashful simplicity; and Mrs. Spaniel could not help murmuring “The + darlings!” The curate, less experienced with children, had insisted on + holding all three at once, and Gissing feared lest one of them might swarm + over the surpliced shoulder and fall splash into the font. But though they + panted a little with excitement, they did nothing to mar the solemn + instant. While Mrs. Spaniel was picking up the small socks with which the + floor was strewn, Gissing was deeply moved by the poetry of the ceremony. + He felt that something had really been accomplished toward “burying the + Old Adam.” And if Mrs. Spaniel ever grew disheartened at the wash-tubs, he + was careful to remind her of the beautiful phrase about the mystical + washing away of sin. + </p> + <p> + They had been christened Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers, three traditional + names in his family. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, he was reflecting as he walked in the dusk, Mrs. Spaniel was now + his sheet anchor. Fortunately she showed signs of becoming extraordinarily + attached to the puppies. On the two days a week when she came up from the + village, it was even possible for him to get a little relaxation—to + run down to the station for tobacco, or to lie in the hammock briefly with + a book. Looking off from his airy porch, he could see the same blue + distances that had always tempted him, but he felt too passive to wonder + about them. He had given up the idea of trying to get any other servants. + If it had been possible, he would have engaged Mrs. Spaniel to sleep in + the house and be there permanently; but she had children of her own down + in the shantytown quarter of the village, and had to go back to them at + night. But certainly he made every effort to keep her contented. It was a + long steep climb up from the hollow, so he allowed her to come in a taxi + and charge it to his account. Then, on condition that she would come on + Saturdays also, to help him clean up for Sunday, he allowed her, on that + day, to bring her own children too, and all the puppies played riotously + together around the place. But this he presently discontinued, for the + clamour became so deafening that the neighbours complained. Besides, the + young Spaniels, who were a little older, got Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers + into noisy and careless habits of speech. + </p> + <p> + He was anxious that they should grow up refined, and was distressed by + little Shaggy Spaniel having brought up the Comic Section of a Sunday + paper. With childhood's instinctive taste for primitive effects, the + puppies fell in love with the coloured cartoons, and badgered him + continually for “funny papers.” + </p> + <p> + There is a great deal more to think about in raising children (he said to + himself) than is intimated in Dr. Holt's book on Care and Feeding. Even in + matters that he had always taken for granted, such as fairy tales, he + found perplexity. After supper—(he now joined the children in their + evening bread and milk, for after cooking them a hearty lunch of meat and + gravy and potatoes and peas and the endless spinach and carrots that the + doctors advise, to say nothing of the prunes, he had no energy to prepare + a special dinner for himself)—after supper it was his habit to read + to them, hoping to give their imaginations a little exercise before they + went to bed. He was startled to find that Grimm and Hans Andersen, which + he had considered as authentic classics for childhood, were full of very + strong stuff—morbid sentiment, bloodshed, horror, and all manner of + painful circumstance. Reading the tales aloud, he edited as he went along; + but he was subject to that curious weakness that afflicts some people: + reading aloud made him helplessly sleepy: after a page or so he would fall + into a doze, from which he would be awakened by the crash of a lamp or + some other furniture. The children, seized with that furious hilarity that + usually begins just about bedtime, would race madly about the house until + some breakage or a burst of tears woke him from his trance. He would + thrash them all and put them to bed howling. When they were asleep he + would be touched with tender compassion, and steal in to tuck them up, + admiring the innocence of each unconscious muzzle on its pillow. + Sometimes, in a crisis of his problems, he thought of writing to Dr. Holt + for advice; but the will-power was lacking. + </p> + <p> + It is really astonishing how children can exhaust one, he used to think. + Sometimes, after a long day, he was even too weary to correct their + grammar. “You lay down!” Groups would admonish Yelpers, who was capering + in his crib while Bunks was being lashed in with the largest size of + safety pins. And Gissing, doggedly passing from one to another, was really + too fatigued to reprove the verb, picked up from Mrs. Spaniel. + </p> + <p> + Fairy tales proving a disappointment, he had great hopes of encouraging + them in drawing. He bought innumerable coloured crayons and stacks of + scribbling paper. After supper they would all sit down around the + dining-room table and he drew pictures for them. Tongues depending with + concentrated excitement, the children would try to copy these pictures and + colour them. In spite of having three complete sets of crayons, a full + roster of colours could rarely be found at drawing time. Bunks had the + violet when Groups wanted it, and so on. But still, this was often the + happiest hour of the day. Gissing drew amazing trains, elephants, ships, + and rainbows, with the spectrum of colours correctly arranged and blended. + The children specially loved his landscapes, which were opulently tinted + and magnificent in long perspectives. He found himself always colouring + the far horizons a pale and haunting blue. + </p> + <p> + He was meditating these things when a shrill yammer recalled him to the + house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOUR + </h2> + <p> + In this warm summer weather Gissing slept on a little outdoor balcony that + opened off the nursery. The world, rolling in her majestic seaway, heeled + her gunwale slowly into the trough of space. Disked upon this bulwark, the + sun rose, and promptly Gissing woke. The poplars flittered in a cool stir. + Beyond the tadpole pond, through a notch in the landscape, he could see + the far darkness of the hills. That fringe of woods was a railing that + kept the sky from flooding over the earth. + </p> + <p> + The level sun, warily peering over the edge like a cautious marksman, + fired golden volleys unerringly at him. At once Gissing was aware and + watchful. Brief truce was over: the hopeless war with Time began anew. + </p> + <p> + This was his placid hour. Light, so early, lies timidly along the ground. + It steals gently from ridge to ridge; it is soft, unsure. That blue + dimness, receding from bole to bole, is the skirt of Night's garment, + trailing off toward some other star. As easily as it slips from tree to + tree, it glides from earth to Orion. + </p> + <p> + Light, which later will riot and revel and strike pitilessly down, still + is tender and tentative. It sweeps in rosy scythe-strokes, parallel to + earth. It gilds, where later it will burn. + </p> + <p> + Gissing lay, without stirring. The springs of the old couch were creaky, + and the slightest sound might arouse the children within. Now, until they + woke, was his peace. Purposely he had had the sleeping porch built on the + eastern side of the house. Making the sun his alarm clock, he prolonged + the slug-a-bed luxury. He had procured the darkest and most opaque of all + shades for the nursery windows, to cage as long as possible in that room + Night the silencer. At this time of the year, the song of the mosquito was + his dreaded nightingale. In spite of fine-mesh screens, always one or two + would get in. Mrs. Spaniel, he feared, left the kitchen door ajar during + the day, and these Borgias of the insect world, patiently invasive, seized + their chance. It was a rare night when a sudden scream did not come from + the nursery every hour or so. “Daddy, a keeto, a keeto!” was the anguish + from one of the trio. The other two were up instantly, erect and yelping + in their cribs, small black paws on the rail, pink stomachs candidly + exposed to the winged stilleto. Lights on, and the room must be explored + for the lurking foe. Scratching themselves vigorously, the fun of the + chase assuaged the smart of those red welts. Gissing, wise by now, knew + that after a forager the mosquito always retires to the ceiling, so he + kept a stepladder in the room. Mounted on this, he would pursue the enemy + with a towel, while the children screamed with merriment. Then stomachs + must be anointed with more citronella; sheets and blankets reassembled, + and quiet gradually restored. Life, as parents know, can be supported on + very little sleep. + </p> + <p> + But how delicious to lie there, in the morning freshness, to hear the + earth stir with reviving gusto, the merriment of birds, the exuberant + clink of milk-bottles set down by the back-door, the whole complex + machinery of life begin anew! Gissing was amazed now, looking back upon + his previous existence, to see himself so busy, so active. Few people are + really lazy, he thought: what we call laziness is merely maladjustment. + For in any department of life where one is genuinely interested, he will + be zealous beyond belief. Certainly he had not dreamed, until he became + (in a manner of speaking) a parent, that he had in him such capacity for + detail. + </p> + <p> + This business of raising a family, though—had he any true aptitude + for it? or was he forcing himself to go through with it? Wasn't he, + moreover, incurring all the labours of parenthood without any of its + proper dignity and social esteem? Mrs. Chow down the street, for instance, + why did she look so sniffingly upon him when she heard the children, in + the harmless uproar of their play, cry him aloud as Daddy? Uncle, he had + intended they should call him; but that is, for beginning speech, a hard + saying, embracing both a palatal and a liquid. Whereas Da-da—the + syllables come almost unconsciously to the infant mouth. So he had + encouraged it, and even felt an irrational pride in the honourable but + unearned title. + </p> + <p> + A little word, Daddy, but one of the most potent, he was thinking. More + than a word, perhaps: a great social engine: an anchor which, cast + carelessly overboard, sinks deep and fast into the very bottom. The vessel + rides on her hawser, and where are your blue horizons then? + </p> + <p> + But come now, isn't one horizon as good as another? And do they really + remain blue when you reach them? + </p> + <p> + Unconsciously he stirred, stretching his legs deeply into the comfortable + nest of his couch. The springs twanged. Simultaneous clamours! The puppies + were awake. + </p> + <p> + They yelled to be let out from the cribs. This was the time of the morning + frolic. Gissing had learned that there is only one way to deal with the + almost inexhaustible energy of childhood. That is, not to attempt to check + it, but to encourage and draw it out. To start the day with a rush, + stimulating every possible outlet of zeal; meanwhile taking things as + calmly and quietly as possible himself, sitting often to take the weight + off his legs, and allowing the youngsters to wear themselves down. This, + after all, is Nature's own way with man; it is the wise parent's tactic + with children. Thus, by dusk, the puppies will have run themselves almost + into a stupor; and you, if you have shrewdly husbanded your strength, may + have still a little power in reserve for reading and smoking. + </p> + <p> + The before-breakfast game was conducted on regular routine. Children show + their membership in the species by their love of strict habit. + </p> + <p> + Gissing let them yell for a few moments—as long as he thought the + neighbours would endure it—while he gradually gathered strength and + resolution, shook off the cowardice of bed. Then he strode into the + nursery. As soon as they heard him raising the shades there was complete + silence. They hastened to pull the blankets over themselves, and lay + tense, faces on paws, with bright expectant upward eyes. They trembled a + little with impatience. It was all he could do to restrain himself from + patting the sleek heads, which always seemed to shine with extra polish + after a night's rolling to and fro on the flattened pillows. But sternness + was a part of the game at this moment. He solemnly unlatched and lowered + the tall sides of the cribs. + </p> + <p> + He stood in the middle of the room, with a gesture of command. “Quiet + now,” he said. “Quiet, until I tell you!” + </p> + <p> + Yelpers could not help a small whine of intense emotion, which slipped out + unintended. The eyes of Groups and Bunks swivelled angrily toward their + unlucky brother. It was his failing: in crises he always emitted haphazard + sounds. But this time Gissing, with lenient forgiveness, pretended not to + have heard. + </p> + <p> + He returned to the balcony, and reentered his couch, where he lay feigning + sleep. In the nursery was a terrific stillness. + </p> + <p> + It was the rule of the game that they should lie thus, in absolute quiet, + until he uttered a huge imitation snore. Once, after a particularly + exhausting night, he had postponed the snore too long: he fell asleep. He + did not wake for an hour, and then found the tragic three also sprawled in + amazing slumber. But their pillows were wet with tears. He never succumbed + again, no matter how deeply tempted. + </p> + <p> + He snored. There were three sprawling thumps, a rush of feet, and a + tumbling squeeze through the screen door. Then they were on the couch and + upon him, with panting yelps of glee. Their hot tongues rasped busily over + his face. This was the great tickling game. Remembering his theory of + conserving energy, he lay passive while they rollicked and scrambled, + burrowing in the bedclothes, quivering imps of absurd pleasure. All that + was necessary was to give an occasional squirm, to tweak their ribs now + and then, so that they believed his heart was in the sport. Really he got + quite a little rest while they were scuffling. No one knew exactly what + was the imagined purpose of the lark—whether he was supposed to be + trying to escape from them, or they from him. Like all the best games, it + had not been carefully thought out. + </p> + <p> + “Now, children,” said Gissing presently. “Time to get dressed.” + </p> + <p> + It was amazing how fast they were growing. Already they were beginning to + take a pride in trying to dress themselves. While Gissing was in the + bathroom, enjoying his cold tub (and under the stimulus of that icy sluice + forming excellent resolutions for the day) the children were sitting on + the nursery floor eagerly studying the intricacies of their gear. By the + time he returned they would have half their garments on wrong; waist and + trousers front side to rear; right shoes on left feet; buttons hopelessly + mismated to buttonholes; shoelacings oddly zigzagged. It was far more + trouble to permit their ambitious bungling, which must be undone and + painstakingly reassembled, than to have clad them all himself, swiftly + revolving and garmenting them like dolls. But in these early hours of the + day, patience still is robust. It was his pedagogy to encourage their + innocent initiatives, so long as endurance might permit. + </p> + <p> + Best of all, he enjoyed watching them clean their teeth. It was delicious + to see them, tiptoe on their hind legs at the basin, to which their noses + just reached; mouths gaping wide as they scrubbed with very small + toothbrushes. They were so elated by squeezing out the toothpaste from the + tube that he had not the heart to refuse them this privilege, though it + was wasteful. For they always squeezed out more than necessary, and after + a moment's brushing their mouths became choked and clotted with the + pungent foam. Much of this they swallowed, for he had not been able to + teach them to rinse and gargle. Their only idea regarding any fluid in the + mouth was to swallow it; so they coughed and strangled and barked. Gissing + had a theory that this toothpaste foam most be an appetizer, for he found + that the more of it they swallowed, the better they ate their breakfast. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast he hurried them out into the garden, before the day became + too hot. As he put a new lot of prunes to soak in cold water, he could not + help reflecting how different the kitchen and pantry looked from the time + of Fuji. The ice-box pan seemed to be continually brimming over. Somehow—due, + he feared, to a laxity on Mrs. Spaniel's part—ants had got in. He + was always finding them inside the ice-box, and wondered where they came + from. He was amazed to find how negligent he was growing about pots and + pans: he began cooking a new mess of oatmeal in the double boiler without + bothering to scrape out the too adhesive remnant of the previous porridge. + He had come to the conclusion that children are tougher and more enduring + than Dr. Holt will admit; and that a little carelessness in matters of + hygiene and sterilization does not necessarily mean instant death. + </p> + <p> + Truly his once dainty menage was deteriorating. He had put away his fine + china, put away the linen napery, and laid the table with oil cloth. He + had even improved upon Fuji's invention of scuppers by a little trough + which ran all round the rim of the table, to catch any possible spillage. + He was horrified to observe how inevitably callers came at the worst + possible moment. Mr. and Mrs. Chow, for instance, drew up one afternoon in + their spick-and-span coupe with their intolerably spotless only child + sitting self-consciously beside them. Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers were just + then filling the garden with horrid clamour. They had been quarrelling, + and one had pushed the other two down the back steps. Gissing, who had + attempted to find a quiet moment to scald the ants out of the ice-box, had + just rushed forth and boxed them all. As he stood there, angry and waving + a steaming dishclout, two Chows appeared. The puppies at once set upon + little Sandy Chow, and had thoroughly mauled his starched sailor suit in + the driveway before two minutes were past. Gissing could not help + laughing, for he suspected that there had been a touch of malice in the + Chows coming just at that time. + </p> + <p> + He had given up his flower garden, too. It was all he could do to shove + the lawn-mower around, in the dusk, after the puppies were in bed. + Formerly he had found the purr of the twirling blades a soothing stimulus + to thought; but nowadays he could not even think consecutively. Perhaps, + he thought, the residence of the mind is in the legs, not in the head; for + when your legs are thoroughly weary you can't seem to think. + </p> + <p> + So he had decided that he simply must have more help in the cooking and + housework. He had instructed Mrs. Spaniel to send the washing to the + steam-laundry, and spend her three days in the kitchen instead. A huge + bundle had come back from the laundry, and he had paid the driver $15.98. + With dismay he sorted the clean, neatly folded garments. Here was the + worthy Mrs. Spaniel's list, painstakingly written out in her straggling + script:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MR. GISHING FAMILY WOSH + + 8 towls + 6 pymjarm Mr Gishing + 12 rompers + 3 blowses + 6 cribb sheets + 1 Mr. Gishing sheat + 4 wastes + 3 wosh clothes + 2 onion sutes Mr Gishing + 6 smal onion sutes + 4 pillo slipes + 3 sherts + 18 hankerchifs smal + 6 hankerchifs large + 8 colers + 3 overhauls + 10 bibbs + 2 table clothes (coca stane) + 1 table clothe (prun juce and eg) +</pre> + <p> + After contemplating this list, Gissing went to his desk and began to study + his accounts. A resolve was forming in his mind. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FIVE + </h2> + <p> + The summer evenings sounded a very different music from that thin + wheedling of April. It was now a soft steady vibration, the incessant + drone and throb of locust and cricket, and sometimes the sudden rasp, dry + and hard, of katydids. Gissing, in spite of his weariness, was all + fidgets. He would walk round and round the house in the dark, unable to + settle down to anything; tired, but incapable of rest. What is this + uneasiness in the mind, he asked himself? The great sonorous drumming of + the summer night was like the bruit of Time passing steadily by. Even in + the soft eddy of the leaves, lifted on a drowsy creeping air, was a sound + of discontent, of troublesome questioning. Through the trees he could see + the lighted oblongs of neighbours' windows, or hear stridulent jazz + records. Why were all others so cheerfully absorbed in the minutiae of + their lives, and he so painfully ill at ease? Sometimes, under the warm + clear darkness, the noises of field and earth swelled to a kind of soft + thunder: his quickened ears heard a thousand small outcries contributing + to the awful energy of the world—faint chimings and whistlings in + the grass, and endless flutter, rustle, and whirr. His own body, on which + hair and nails grew daily like vegetation, startled and appalled him. + Consciousness of self, that miserable ecstasy, was heavy upon him. + </p> + <p> + He envied the children, who lay upstairs sprawled under their mosquito + nettings. Immersed in living, how happily unaware of being alive! He saw, + with tenderness, how naively they looked to him as the answer and solution + of their mimic problems. But where could he find someone to be to him what + he was to them? The truth apparently was that in his inward mind he was + desperately lonely. Reading the poets by fits and starts, he suddenly + realized that in their divine pages moved something of this loneliness, + this exquisite unhappiness. But these great hearts had had the consolation + of setting down their moods in beautiful words, words that lived and + spoke. His own strange fever burned inexpressibly inside him. Was he the + only one who felt the challenge offered by the maddening fertility and + foison of the hot sun-dazzled earth? Life, he realized, was too amazing to + be frittered out in this aimless sickness of heart. There were truths and + wonders to be grasped, if he could only throw off this wistful vague + desire. He felt like a clumsy strummer seated at a dark shining grand + piano, which he knows is capable of every glory of rolling music, yet he + can only elicit a few haphazard chords. + </p> + <p> + He had his moments of arrogance, too. Ah, he was very young! This miracle + of blue unblemished sky that had baffled all others since life began—he, + he would unriddle it! He was inclined to sneer at his friends who took + these things for granted, and did not perceive the infamous insolubility + of the whole scheme. Remembering the promises made at the christening, he + took the children to church; but alas, carefully analyzing his mind, he + admitted that his attention had been chiefly occupied with keeping them + orderly, and he had gone through the service almost automatically. Only in + singing hymns did he experience a tingle of exalted feeling. But Mr. + Poodle was proud of his well-trained choir, and Gissing had a feeling that + the congregation was not supposed to do more than murmur the verses, for + fear of spoiling the effect. In his favourite hymns he had a tendency to + forget himself and let go: his vigorous tenor rang lustily. Then he + realized that the backs of people's heads looked surprised. The children + could not be kept quiet unless they stood up on the pews. Mr. Poodle + preached rather a long sermon, and Yelpers, toward twelve-thirty, remarked + in a clear tone of interested inquiry, “What time does God have dinner?” + </p> + <p> + Gissing had a painful feeling that he and Mr. Poodle did not thoroughly + understand each other. The curate, who was kindness itself, called one + evening, and they had a friendly chat. Gissing was pleased to find that + Mr. Poodle enjoyed a cigar, and after some hesitation ventured to suggest + that he still had something in the cellar. Mr. Poodle said that he didn't + care for anything, but his host could not help hearing the curate's tail + quite unconsciously thumping on the chair cushions. So he excused himself + and brought up one of his few remaining bottles of White Horse. Mr. Poodle + crossed his legs and they chatted about golf, politics, the income tax, + and some of the recent books; but when Gissing turned the talk on + religion, Mr. Poodle became diffident.. Gissing, warmed and cheered by the + vital Scotch, was perhaps too direct. + </p> + <p> + “What ought I to do to 'crucify the old man'?” he said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Poodle was rather embarrassed. + </p> + <p> + “You must mortify the desires of the flesh,” he replied. “You must dig up + the old bone of sin that is buried in all our hearts.” + </p> + <p> + There were many more questions Gissing wanted to ask about this, but Mr. + Poodle said he really must be going, as he had a call to pay on Mr. and + Mrs. Chow. + </p> + <p> + Gissing walked down the path with him, and the curate did indeed set off + toward the Chows'. But Gissing wondered, for a little later he heard a + cheerful canticle upraised in the open fields. + </p> + <p> + He himself was far from gay. He longed to tear out this malady from his + breast. Poor dreamer, he did not know that to do so is to tear out God + Himself. “Mrs. Spaniel,” he said when the laundress next came up from the + village, “you are a widow, aren't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” she said. “Poor Spaniel was killed by a truck, two years ago + April.” Her face was puzzled, but beneath her apron Gissing could see her + tail wagging. + </p> + <p> + “Don't misunderstand me,” he said quickly. “I've got to go away on + business. I want you to bring your children and move into this house while + I'm gone. I'll make arrangements at the bank about paying all the bills. + You can give up your outside washing and devote yourself entirely to + looking after this place.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Spaniel was so much surprised that she could not speak. In her + amazement a bright bubble dripped from the end of her curly tongue. + Hastily she caught it in her apron, and apologized. + </p> + <p> + “How long will you be away, sir?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. It may be quite a long time.” + </p> + <p> + “But all your beautiful things, furniture and everything,” said Mrs. + Spaniel. “I'm afraid my children are a bit rough. They're not used to + living in a house like this—” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Gissing, “you must do the best you can. There are some things + more important than furniture. It will be good for your children to get + accustomed to refined surroundings, and it'll be good for my nephews to + have someone to play with. Besides, I don't want them to grow up spoiled + mollycoddles. I think I've been fussing over them too much. If they have + good stuff in them, a little roughening won't do any permanent harm.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me,” cried Mrs. Spaniel, “what will the neighbours think?” + </p> + <p> + “They won't,” said Gissing. “I don't doubt they'll talk, but they won't + think. Thinking is very rare. I've got to do some myself, that's one + reason why I'm going. You know, Mrs. Spaniel, God is a horizon, not + someone sitting on a throne.” Mrs. Spaniel didn't understand this—in + fact, she didn't seem to hear it. Her mind was full of the idea that she + would simply have to have a new dress, preferably black silk, for Sundays. + Gissing, very sagacious, had already foreseen this point. “Let's not have + any argument,” he continued. “I have planned everything. Here is some + money for immediate needs. I'll speak to them at the bank, and they will + give you a weekly allowance. I leave you here as caretaker. Later on I'll + send you an address and you can write me how things are going.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Mrs. Spaniel was bewildered. She came of very decent people, but + since Spaniel took to drink, and then left her with a family to support, + she had sunk in the world. She was wondering now how she could face it out + with Mrs. Chow and Mrs. Fox-Terrier and the other neighbours. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear,” she cried, “I don't know what to say, sir. Why, my boys are so + disreputable-looking, they haven't even a collar between them.” + </p> + <p> + “Get them collars and anything else they need,” said Gissing kindly. + “Don't worry, Mrs. Spaniel, it will be a fine thing for you. There will be + a little gossip, I dare say, but we'll have to chance that. Now you had + better go down to the village and make your arrangements. I'm leaving + tonight.” + </p> + <p> + Late that evening, after seeing Mrs. Spaniel and her brood safely + installed, Gissing walked to the station with his suitcase. He felt a pang + as he lifted the mosquito nettings and kissed the cool moist noses of the + sleeping trio. But he comforted himself by thinking that this was no + merely vulgar desertion. If he was to raise the family, he must earn some + money. His modest income would not suffice for this sudden increase in + expenses. Besides, he had never known what freedom meant until it was + curtailed. For the past three months he had lived in ceaseless attendance; + had even slept with one ear open for the children's cries. Now he owed it + to himself to make one great strike for peace. Wealth, he could see, was + the answer. With money, everything was attainable: books, leisure for + study, travel, prestige—in short, command over the physical details + of life. He would go in for Big Business. Already he thrilled with a sense + of power and prosperity. + </p> + <p> + The little house stood silent in the darkness as he went down the path. + The night was netted with the weaving sparkle of fireflies. He stood for a + moment, looking. Suddenly there came a frightened cry from the nursery. + </p> + <p> + “Daddy, a keeto, a keeto!” + </p> + <p> + He nearly turned to run back, but checked himself. No, Mrs. Spaniel was + now in charge. It was up to her. Besides, he had only just enough time to + catch the last train to the city. + </p> + <p> + But he sat on the cinder-speckled plush of the smoker in a mood that was + hardly revelry. “By Jove,” he said to himself, “I got away just in time. + Another month and I couldn't have done it.” + </p> + <p> + It was midnight when he saw the lights of town, panelled in gold against a + peacock sky. Acres and acres of blue darkness lay close-pressing upon the + gaudy grids of light. Here one might really look at this great miracle of + shadow and see its texture. The dulcet air drifted lazily in deep, silent + crosstown streets. “Ah,” he said, “here is where the blue begins.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SIX + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “For students of the troubled heart + Cities are perfect works of art.” + </pre> + <p> + There is a city so tall that even the sky above her seems to have lifted + in a cautious remove, inconceivably far. There is a city so proud, so mad, + so beautiful and young, that even heaven has retreated, lest her placid + purity be too nearly tempted by that brave tragic spell. In the city which + is maddest of all, Gissing had come to search for sanity. In the city so + strangely beautiful that she has made even poets silent, he had come to + find a voice. In the city of glorious ostent and vanity, he had come to + look for humility and peace. + </p> + <p> + All cities are mad: but the madness is gallant. All cities are beautiful: + but the beauty is grim. Who shall tell me the truth about this one? + Tragic? Even so, because wherever ambitions, vanities, and follies are + multiplied by millionfold contact, calamity is there. Noble and beautiful? + Aye, for even folly may have the majesty of magnitude. Hasty, cruel, + shallow? Agreed, but where in this terrene orb will you find it otherwise? + I know all that can be said against her; and yet in her great library of + streets, vast and various as Shakespeare, is beauty enough for a lifetime. + O poets, why have you been so faint? Because she seems cynical and crass, + she cries with trumpet-call to the mind of the dreamer; because she is + riant and mad, she speaks to the grave sanity of the poet. + </p> + <p> + So, in a mood perhaps too consciously lofty, Gissing was meditating. It + was rather impudent of him to accuse the city of being mad, for he + himself, in his glee over freedom regained, was not conspicuously sane. He + scoured the town in high spirits, peering into shop-windows, riding on top + of busses, going to the Zoo, taking the rickety old steamer to the Statue + of Liberty, drinking afternoon tea at the Ritz, and all that sort of + thing. The first three nights in town he slept in one of the little + traffic-towers that perch on stilts up above Fifth Avenue. As a matter of + fact, it was that one near St. Patrick's Cathedral. He had ridden up the + Avenue in a taxi, intending to go to the Plaza (just for a bit of splurge + after his domestic confinement). As the cab went by, he saw the + traffic-tower, dark and empty, and thought what a pleasant place to sleep. + So he asked the driver to let him out at the Cathedral, and after being + sure that he was not observed, walked back to the little turret, climbed + up the ladder, and made himself at home. He liked it so well that he + returned there the two following nights; but he didn't sleep much, for he + could not resist the fun of startling night-hawk taxis by suddenly + flashing the red, green, and yellow lights at them, and seeing them stop + in bewilderment. But after three nights he thought it best to leave. It + would have been awkward if the police had discovered him. + </p> + <p> + It was time to settle down and begin work. He had an uncle who was head of + an important business far down-town; but Gissing, with the quixotry of + youth, was determined to make his own start in the great world of + commerce. He found a room on the top floor of a quiet brownstone house in + the West Seventies. It was not large, and he had to go down a flight for + his bath; the gas burner over the bed whistled; the dust was rather + startling after the clean country; but it was cheap, and his sense of + adventure more than compensated. Mrs. Purp, the landlady, pleased him + greatly. She was very maternal, and urged him not to bolt his meals in + armchair lunches. She put an ashtray in his room. + </p> + <p> + Gissing sent Mrs. Spaniel a postcard with a picture of the Pennsylvania + Station. On it he wrote Arrived safely. Hard at work. Love to the + children. Then he went to look for a job. + </p> + <p> + His ideas about business were very vague. All he knew was that he wished + to be very wealthy and influential as soon as possible. He could have had + much sound advice from his uncle, who was a member of the Union Kennel and + quite a prominent dog-about-town. But Gissing had the secretive pride of + inexperience. Moreover, he did not quite know what to say about his + establishment in the country. That houseful of children would need some + explaining. + </p> + <p> + Those were days of brilliant heat; clear, golden, dry. The society columns + in the papers assured him that everyone was out of town; but the Avenue + seemed plentifully crowded with beautiful, superb creatures. Far down the + gentle slopes of that glimmering roadway he could see the rolling stream + of limousines, dazzles of sunlight caught on their polished flanks. A + faint blue haze of gasoline fumes hung low in the bright warm air. This is + the street where even the most passive are pricked by the strange lure of + carnal dominion. Nothing less than a job on the Avenue itself would suit + his mood, he felt. + </p> + <p> + Fortune and audacity united (as they always do) to concede his desire. He + was in the beautiful department store of Beagle and Company, one of the + most splendid of its kind, looking at some sand-coloured spats. In an + aisle near by he heard a commotion—nothing vulgar, but still an + evident stir, with repressed yelps and a genteel, horrified bustle. He + hastened to the spot, and through the crowd saw someone lying on the + floor. An extremely beautiful sales-damsel, charmingly clad in black crepe + de chien, was supporting the victim's head, vainly fanning him. Wealthy + dowagers were whining in distress. Then an ambulance clanged up to a side + door, and a stretcher was brought in. “What is it?” said Gissing to a + female at the silk-stocking counter. + </p> + <p> + “One of the floorwalkers—died of heat prostration,” she said, + looking very much upset. + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow,” said Gissing. “You never know what will happen next, do + you?” He walked away, shaking his head. + </p> + <p> + He asked the elevator attendant to direct him to the offices of the firm. + On the seventh floor, down a quiet corridor behind the bedroom suites, a + rosewood fence barred his way. A secretary faced him inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to see Mr. Beagle.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Beagle senior or Mr. Beagle junior?” + </p> + <p> + Youth cleaves to youth, said Gissing to himself. “Mr. Beagle junior,” he + stated firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Have you an appointment?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She took his ward, disappeared, and returned. “This way, please,” she + said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Beagle senior must be very old indeed, he thought; for junior was + distinctly grizzled. In fact (so rapidly does the mind run), Mr. Beagle + senior must be near the age of retirement. Very likely (he said to + himself) that will soon occur; there will be a general stepping-up among + members of the firm, and that will be my chance. I wonder how much they + pay a junior partner? + </p> + <p> + He almost uttered this question, as Mr. Beagle junior looked at him so + inquiringly. But he caught himself in time. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon for intruding,” said Gissing, “but I am the new + floorwalker.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind,” said Mr. Beagle junior, “but we do not need a new + floorwalker.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon again,” said Gissing, “but you are not au courant with + the affairs of the store. One has just died, right by the silk-stocking + counter. Very bad for business.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the telephone rang, and Mr. Beagle seized it. He listened, + sharply examining his caller meanwhile. + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” he said, as he put down the receiver. “Well, sir, have + you had any experience?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly of that sort,” said Gissing; “but I think I understand the + requirements. The tone of the store—” + </p> + <p> + “I will ask you to be here at four-thirty this afternoon,” said Mr. + Beagle. “We have a particular routine in regard to candidates for that + position. You will readily perceive that it is a post of some importance. + The floorwalker is our point of social contact with patrons.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing negligently dusted his shoes with a handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “Pray do not apologize,” he said kindly. “I am willing to congratulate + with you on your good fortune. It was mere hazard that I was in the store. + To-day, of course, business will be poor. But to-morrow, I think you will + find—” + </p> + <p> + “At four-thirty,” said Mr. Beagle, a little puzzled. + </p> + <p> + That day Gissing went without lunch. First he explored the whole building + from top to bottom, until he knew the location of every department, and + had the store directory firmly memorized. With almost proprietary + tenderness he studied the shining goods and trinkets; noted approvingly + the clerks who seemed to him specially prompt and obliging to customers; + scowled a little at any sign of boredom or inattention. He heard the soft + sigh of the pneumatic tubes as they received money and blew it to some + distant coffer: this money, he thought, was already partly his. That + square-cut creature whom he presently discerned following him was + undoubtedly the store detective: he smiled to think what a pleasant + anecdote this would be when he was admitted to junior partnership. Then he + went, finally, to the special Masculine Shop on the fifth floor, where he + bought a silk hat, a cutaway coat and waistcoat, and trousers of pearly + stripe. He did not forget patent leather shoes, nor white spats. He + refused—the little white linen margins which the clerk wished to + affix to the V of his waistcoat. That, he felt, was the ultra touch which + would spoil all. The just less than perfection, how perfect it is! + </p> + <p> + It was getting late. He hurried to Penn Station where he hired one of + those little dressing booths, and put on his regalia. His tweeds, in a + neat package, he checked at the parcel counter. Then he returned to the + store for the important interview. + </p> + <p> + He had expected a formal talk with the two Messrs. Beagle, perhaps + touching on such matters as duties, hours, salary, and so on. To his + surprise he was ushered by the secretary into a charming Louis XVI salon + farther down the private corridor. There were several ladies: one was + pouring tea. Mr. Beagle junior came forward. The vice-president (such was + Mr. Beagle junior's rank, Gissing had learned by the sign on his door) + still wore his business garb of the morning. Gissing immediately felt + himself to have the advantage. But what a pleasant idea, he thought, for + the members of the firm to have tea together every afternoon. He handed + his hat, gloves, and stick to the secretary. + </p> + <p> + “Very kind of you to come,” said Mr. Beagle. “Let me present you to my + wife.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Beagle, at the tea-urn, received him graciously. + </p> + <p> + “Cream or lemon?” she said. “Two lumps?” + </p> + <p> + This is really delightful, Gissing thought. Only on Fifth Avenue could + this kind of thing happen. He looked down the hostess from his superior + height, and smiled charmingly. + </p> + <p> + “Do you permit three?” he said. “A little weakness of mine.” As a matter + of fact, he hated tea so sweet; but he felt it was strategic to fix + himself in Mrs. Beagle's mind as a polished eccentric. + </p> + <p> + “You must have a meringue,” she said. “Ah, Mrs. Pomeranian has them. Mrs. + Pomeranian, let me present Mr. Gissing.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pomeranian, small and plump and tightly corseted, offered the + meringues, while Mrs. Beagle pressed upon him a plate with a small doily, + embroidered with the arms of the store, and its motto je maintiendrai—referring, + no doubt, to its prices. Mr. Beagle then introduced him to several more + ladies in rapid succession. Gissing passed along the line, bowing slightly + but with courteous interest to each. To each one he raised his eyebrows + and permitted himself a small significant smile, as though to convey that + this was a moment he had long been anticipating. How different, he + thought, was this life of enigmatic gaiety from the suburban drudgery of + recent months. If only Mrs. Spaniel could see him now! He was about to + utilize a brief pause by sipping his tea, when a white-headed patriarch + suddenly appeared beside him. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gissing,” said the vice-president, “this is my father, Mr. Beagle + senior.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing, by quick work, shuffled the teacup into his left paw, and the + meringue plate into the crook of his elbow, so he was ready for the old + gentleman's salutation. Mr. Beagle senior was indeed very old: his white + hair hung over his eyes, he spoke with growling severity. Gissing's manner + to the old merchant was one of respectful reassurance: he attempted to + make an impression that would console: to impart—of course without + saying so—the thought that though the head of the firm could not + last much longer, yet he would leave his great traffic in capable care. + </p> + <p> + “Where will I find an aluminum cooking pot?” growled the elder Beagle + unexpectedly. + </p> + <p> + “In the Bargain Basement,” said Gissing promptly. + </p> + <p> + “He'll do!” cried the president. + </p> + <p> + To his surprise, on looking round, Gissing saw that all the ladies had + vanished. Beagle junior was grinning at him. + </p> + <p> + “You have the job, Mr. Gissing,” he said. “You will pardon the harmless + masquerade—we always try out a floorwalker in that way. My father + thinks that if he can handle a teacup and a meringue while being + introduced to ladies, he can manage anything on the main aisle downstairs. + Mrs. Pomeranian, our millinery buyer, said she had never seen it better + done, and she mixes with some of the swellest people in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “Nine to six, with half an hour off for lunch,” said the senior partner, + and left the room. + </p> + <p> + Gissing calmly swallowed his tea, and ate the meringue. He would have + enjoyed another, but the capable secretary had already removed them. He + poured himself a second cup of tea. Mr. Beagle junior showed signs of + eagerness to leave, but Gissing detained him. + </p> + <p> + “One moment,” he said suavely. “There is a little matter that we have not + discussed. The question of salary.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Beagle looked thoughtfully out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “Thirty dollars a week,” he said. + </p> + <p> + After all, Gissing thought, it will only take four weeks to pay for what I + have spent on clothes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SEVEN + </h2> + <p> + There was some dramatic nerve in Gissing's nature that responded + eloquently to the floorwalking job. Never, in the history of Beagle and + Company, had there been a floorwalker who threw so much passion and zeal + into his task. The very hang of his coattails, even the erect carriage of + his back, the rubbery way in which his feet trod the aisles, showed his + sense of dignity and glamour. There seemed to be a great tradition which + enriched and upheld him. Mr. Beagle senior used to stand on the little + balcony at the rear of the main floor, transfixed with the pleasure of + seeing Gissing move among the crowded passages. Alert, watchful, urbane, + with just the ideal blend of courtesy and condescension, he raised + floorwalking to a social art. Female customers asked him the way to + departments they knew perfectly well, for the pleasure of hearing him + direct them. Business began to improve before he had been there a week. + </p> + <p> + And how he enjoyed himself! The perfection of his bearing on the floor was + no careful pose: it was due to the brimming overplus of his happiness. + Happiness is surely the best teacher of good manners: only the unhappy are + churlish in deportment. He was young, remember; and this was his first + job. His precocious experience as a paterfamilias had added to his mien + just that suggestion of unconscious gravity which is so appealing to + ladies. He looked (they thought) as though he had been touched—but + Oh so lightly!—by poetic sorrow or strange experience: to ask him + the way to the notion counter was as much of an adventure as to meet a + reigning actor at a tea. The faint cloud of melancholy that shadowed his + brow may have been only due to the fact that his new boots were pinching + painfully; but they did not know that. + </p> + <p> + So, quite unconsciously, he began to “establish” himself in his role, just + as an actor does. At first he felt his way tentatively and with tact. + Every store has its own tone and atmosphere: in a day or so he divined the + characteristic cachet of the Beagle establishment. He saw what kind of + customers were typical, and what sort of conduct they expected. And the + secret of conquest being always to give people a little more than they + expect, he pursued that course. Since they expected in a floorwalker the + mechanical and servile gentility of a hired puppet, he exhibited the easy, + offhand simplicity of a fellow club-member. With perfect naturalness he + went out of his way to assist in their shopping concerns: gave advice in + the selection of dress materials, acted as arbiter in the matching of + frocks and stockings. His taste being faultless, it often happened that + the things he recommended were not the most expensive: this again endeared + him to customers. When sales slips were brought to him by ladies who + wished to make an exchange, he affixed his O. K. with a magnificent + flourish, and with such evident pleasure, that patrons felt genuine + elation, and plunged into the tumult with new enthusiasm. It was not long + before there were always people waiting for his counsel; and husbands + would appear at the store to convey (a little irritably) some such message + as: “Mrs. Sealyham says, please choose her a scarf that will go nicely + with that brown moire dress of hers. She says you will remember the + dress.”—This popularity became even a bit perplexing, as for + instance when old Mrs. Dachshund, the store's biggest Charge Account, + insisted on his leaving his beat at a very busy time, to go up to the + tenth floor to tell her which piano he thought had the richer tone. + </p> + <p> + Of course all this was very entertaining, and an admirable opportunity for + studying his fellow-creatures; but it did not go very deep into his mind. + He lived for some time in a confused glamour and glitter; surrounded by + the fascinating specious life of the store, but drifting merely + superficially upon it. The great place, with its columns of artificial + marble and white censers of upward-shining electricity, glimmered like a + birch forest by moonlight. Silver and jewels and silks and slippers + flashed all about him. It was a marvellous education, for he soon learned + to estimate these things at their proper value; which is low, for they + have little to do with life itself. His work was tiring in the extreme—merely + having to remain upright on his hind legs for such long hours WAS an + ordeal—but it did not penetrate to the secret observant self of + which he was always aware. This was advantageous. If you have no + intellect, or only just enough to get along with, it does not much matter + what you do. But if you really have a mind—by which is meant that + rare and curious power of reason, of imagination, and of emotion; very + different from a mere fertility of conversation and intelligent curiosity—it + is better not to weary and wear it out over trifles. + </p> + <p> + So, when he left the store in the evening, no matter how his legs ached, + his head was clear and untarnished. He did not hurry away at closing time. + Places where people work are particularly fascinating after the bustle is + over. He loved to linger in the long aisles, to see the tumbled counters + being swiftly brought to order, to hear the pungent cynicisms of the weary + shopgirls. To these, by the way, he was a bit of a mystery. The punctilio + of his manner, the extreme courtliness of his remarks, embarrassed them a + little. Behind his back they spoke of him as “The Duke” and admired him + hugely; little Miss Whippet, at the stocking counter, said that he was an + English noble of long pedigree, who had been unjustly deprived of his + estates. + </p> + <p> + Down in the basement of this palatial store was a little dressing room and + lavatory for the floorwalkers, where they doffed their formal raiment and + resumed street attire. His colleagues grumbled and hastened to depart, but + Gissing made himself entirely comfortable. In his locker he kept a baby's + bathtub, which he leisurely filled with hot water at one of the basins. + Then he sat serenely and bathed his feet; although it was against the + rules he often managed to smoke a pipe while doing so. Then he hung up his + store clothes neatly, and went off refreshed into the summer evening. + </p> + <p> + A warm rosy light floods the city at that hour. At the foot of every + crosstown street is a bonfire of sunset. What a mood of secret smiling + beset him as he viewed the great territory of his enjoyment. “The freedom + of the city”—a phrase he had somewhere heard—echoed in his + mind. The freedom of the city! A magnificent saying, Electric signs, first + burning wanly in the pink air, then brightened and grew strong. “Not + light, but rather darkness visible,” in that magic hour that just holds + the balance between paling day and the spendthrift jewellery of evening. + Or, if it rained, to sit blithely on the roof of a bus, revelling in the + gust and whipping of the shower. Why had no one told him of the glory of + the city? She was pride, she was exultation, she was madness. She was what + he had obscurely craved. In every line of her gallant profile he saw + conquest, triumph, victory! Empty conquest, futile triumph, doomed victory—but + that was the essence of the drama. In thunderclaps of dumb ecstasy he saw + her whole gigantic fabric, leaning and clamouring upward with terrible + yearning. Burnt with pitiless sunlight, drenched with purple explosions of + summer storm, he saw her cleansed and pure. Where were her recreant poets + that they had never made these things plain? + </p> + <p> + And then, after the senseless day, after its happy but meaningless + triviality, the throng and mixed perfumery and silly courteous gestures, + his blessed solitude! Oh solitude, that noble peace of the mind! He loved + the throng and multitude of the day: he loved people: but sometimes he + suspected that he loved them as God does—at a judicious distance. + From his rather haphazard religious training, strange words came back to + him. “For God so loved the world...” So loved the world that—that + what? That He sent someone else... Some day he must think this out. But + you can't think things out. They think themselves, suddenly, amazingly. + The city itself is God, he cried. Was not God's ultimate promise something + about a city—The City of God? Well, but that was only symbolic + language. The city—of course that was only a symbol for the race—for + all his kind. The entire species, the whole aspiration and passion and + struggle, that was God. + </p> + <p> + On the ferries, at night, after supper, was his favourite place for + meditation. Some undeniable instinct drew him ever and again out of the + deep and shut ravines of stone, to places where he could feed on distance. + That is one of the subtleties of this straight and narrow city, that + though her ways are cliffed in, they are a long thoroughfare for the eye: + there is always a far perspective. But best of all to go down to her + environing water, where spaces are wide: the openness that keeps her sound + and free. Ships had words for him: they had crossed many horizons: + fragments of that broken blue still shone on their cutting bows. Ferries, + the most poetical things in the city, were nearly empty at night: he stood + by the rail, saw the black outline of the town slide by, saw the lower sky + gilded with her merriment, and was busy thinking. + </p> + <p> + Now about a God (he said to himself)—instinct tells me that there is + one, for when I think about Him I find that I unconsciously wag my tail a + little. But I must not reason on that basis, which is too puppyish. I like + to think that there is, somewhere in this universe, an inscrutable Being + of infinite wisdom, harmony, and charity, by Whom all my desires and needs + would be understood; in association with Whom I would find peace, + satisfaction, a lightness of heart that exceed my present understanding. + Such a Being is to me quite inconceivable; yet I feel that if I met Him, I + would instantly understand. I do not mean that I would understand Him: but + I would understand my relationship to Him, which would be perfect. Nor do + I mean that it would be always happy; merely that it would transcend + anything in the way of social significance that I now experience. But I + must not conclude that there is such a God, merely because it would be so + pleasant if there were. + </p> + <p> + Then (he continued) is it necessary to conceive that this deity is + super-canine in essence? What I am getting at is this: in everyone I have + ever known—Fuji, Mr. Poodle, Mrs. Spaniel, those maddening + delightful puppies, Mrs. Purp, Mr. Beagle, even Mrs. Chow and Mrs. + Sealyham and little Miss Whippet—I have always been aware that there + was some mysterious point of union at which our minds could converge and + entirely understand one another. No matter what our difference of breed, + of training, of experience and education, provided we could meet and + exchange ideas honestly there would be some satisfying point of mental + fusion where we would feel our solidarity in the common mystery of life. + People complain that wars are caused by and fought over trivial things. + Why, of course! For it is only in trivial matters that people differ: in + the deep realities they must necessarily be at one. Now I have a suspicion + that in this secret sense of unity God may lurk. Is that what we mean by + God, the sum total of all these instinctive understandings? But what is + the origin of this sense of kinship? Is it not the realization of our + common subjection to laws and forces greater than ourselves? Then, since + nothing can be greater than God, He must BE these superior mysteries. Yet + He cannot be greater than our minds, for our minds have imagined Him. + </p> + <p> + My mathematics is very rusty, he said to himself, but I seem to remember + something about a locus, which was a curve or a surface every point on + which satisfied some particular equation of relation among the + coordinates. It begins to look to me as though life might be a kind of + locus, whose commanding equation we call God. The points on that locus + cannot conceive of the equation, yet they are subject to it. They cannot + conceive of that equation, because of course it has no existence save as a + law of their being. It exists only for them; they, only by it. But there + it is—a perfect, potent, divine abstraction. + </p> + <p> + This carried him into a realm of disembodied thinking which his mind was + not sufficiently disciplined to summarize. It is quite plain, he said to + himself, that I must rub up my vanished mathematics. For certainly the + mathematician comes closer to God than any other, since his mind is + trained to conceive and formulate the magnificent phantoms of legality. He + smiled to think that any one should presume to become a parson without + having at least mastered analytical geometry. + </p> + <p> + The ferry had crossed and recrossed the river several times, but Gissing + had found no conclusion for these thoughts. As the boat drew toward her + slip, she passed astern of a great liner. Gissing saw the four tall + funnels loom up above the shed of the pier where she lay berthed. What was + it that made his heart so stir? The perfect rake of the funnels—just + that satisfying angle of slant—that, absurdly enough, was the + nobility of the sight. Why, then? Let's get at the heart of this, he said. + Just that little trick of the architect, useless in itself—what was + it but the touch of swagger, of bravado, of defiance—going out into + the vast, meaningless, unpitying sea with that dainty arrogance of build; + taking the trouble to mock the senseless elements, hurricane, ice, and + fog, with a 15-degree slope of masts and funnels: damn, what was the + analogy? + </p> + <p> + It was pride, it was pride! It was the same lusty impudence that he saw in + his perfect city, the city that cried out to the hearts of youth, jutted + her mocking pinnacles toward sky, her clumsy turrets verticalled on gold! + And God, the God of gales and gravity, loved His children to dare and + contradict Him, to rally Him with equations of their own. + </p> + <p> + “God, I defy you!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER EIGHT + </h2> + <p> + Time is a flowing river. Happy those who allow themselves to be carried, + unresisting, with the current. They float through easy days. They live, + unquestioning, in the moment. + </p> + <p> + But Gissing was acutely conscious of Time. Though not subtle enough to + analyze the matter acutely, he had a troublesome feeling about it. He kept + checking off a series of Nows. “Now I am having my bath,” he would say to + himself in the morning. “Now I am dressing. Now I am on the way to the + store. Now I am in the jewellery aisle, being polite to customers. Now I + am having lunch.” After a period in which time ran by unnoticed, he would + suddenly realize a fresh Now, and feel uneasy at the knowledge that it + would shortly dissolve into another one. He tried, vainly, to swim + up-stream against the smooth impalpable fatal current. He tried to dam up + Time, to deepen the stream so that he could bathe in it carelessly. Time, + he said, is life; and life is God; time, then, is little bits of God. + Those who waste their time in vulgarity or folly are the true atheists. + </p> + <p> + One of the things that struck him about the city was its heedlessness of + Time. On every side he saw people spending it without adequate return. + Perhaps he was young and doctrinaire: but he devised this theory for + himself—all time is wasted that does not give you some awareness of + beauty or wonder. In other words, “the days that make us happy make us + wise,” he said to himself, quoting Masefield's line. On that principle, he + asked, how much time is wasted in this city? Well, here are some six + million people. To simplify the problem (which is permitted to every + philosopher) let us (he said) assume that 2,350,000 of those people have + spent a day that could be called, on the whole, happy: a day in which they + have had glimpses of reality; a day in which they feel satisfaction. (That + was, he felt, a generous allowance. ) Very well, then, that leaves + 3,650,000 people whose day has been unfruitful: spent in uncongenial work, + or in sorrow, suffering, and talking nonsense. This city, then, in one + day, has wasted 10,000 years, or 100 centuries. One hundred centuries + squandered in a day! It made him feel quite ill, and he tore up the scrap + of paper on which he had been figuring. + </p> + <p> + This was a new, disconcerting way to think of the subject. We are + accustomed to consider Time only as it applies to ourselves, forgetting + that it is working upon everyone else simultaneously. Why, he thought with + a sudden shock, if only 36,500 people in this city have had a thoroughly + spendthrift and useless day, that means a net loss of a century! If the + War, he said to himself, lasted over 1,500 days and involved more than + 10,000,000 men, how many aeons—He used to think about these things + during quiet evenings in the top-floor room at Mrs. Purp's. Occasionally + he went home at night still wearing his store clothes, because it pleased + good Mrs. Purp so much. She felt that it added glamour to her house to + have him do so, and always called her husband, a frightened silent + creature with no collar and a humble air, up from the basement to admire. + Mr. Purp's time, Gissing suspected, was irretrievably wasted—a good + deal of it, to judge by his dusty appearance, in rolling around in ashcans + or in the company of the neighbourhood bootlegger; but then, he reflected, + in a charitable seizure, you must not judge other people's time-spendings + by a calculus of your own. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps he himself was growing a little miserly in this matter. Indulging + in the rare, the sovereign luxury of thinking, he had suddenly become + aware of time's precious fluency, and wondered why everyone else didn't + think about it as passionately as he did. In the privacy of his room, + weary after the day afoot, he took off his cutaway coat and trousers and + enjoyed his old habit of stretching out on the floor for a good rest. + There he would lie, not asleep, but in a bliss of passive meditation. He + even grudged Mrs. Purp the little chats she loved—she made a point + of coming up with clean towels when she knew he was in his room, because + she cherished hearing him talk. When he heard her knock, he had to + scramble hastily to his feet, get on his clothes, and pretend he had been + sitting calmly in the rocking chair. It would never do to let her find him + sprawled on the floor. She had an almost painful respect for him. Once, + when prospective lodgers were bargaining for rooms, and he happened to be + wearing his Beagle and Company attire, she had asked him to do her the + favour of walking down the stairs, so that the visitors might be impressed + by the gentility of the establishment. + </p> + <p> + Of course he loved to waste time—but in his own way. He gloated on + the irresponsible vacancy of those evening hours, when there was nothing + to be done. He lay very still, hardly even thinking, just feeling life go + by. Through the open window came the lights and noises of the street. + Already his domestic life seemed dim and far away. The shrill appeals of + the puppies, their appalling innocent comments on existence, came but + faintly to memory. Here, where life beat so much more thickly and closely, + was the place to be. Though he had solved nothing, yet he seemed closer to + the heart of the mystery. Entranced, he felt time flowing on toward him, + endless in sweep and fulness. There is only one success, he said to + himself—to be able to spend your life in your own way, and not to + give others absurd maddening claims upon it. Youth, youth is the only + wealth, for youth has Time in its purse! + </p> + <p> + In the store, however, philosophy was laid aside. A kind of intoxication + possessed him. Never before had old Mr. Beagle (watching delightedly from + the mezzanine balcony) seen such a floorwalker. Gissing moved to and fro + exulting in the great tide of shopping. He knew all the best customers by + name and had learned their peculiarities. If a shower came up and Mrs. + Mastiff was just leaving, he hastened to give her his arm as far as her + limousine, boosting her in so expeditiously that not a drop of wetness + fell upon her. He took care to find out the special plat du jour of the + store's lunch room, and seized occasion to whisper to Mrs. Dachshund, + whose weakness was food, that the filet of sole was very nice to-day. Mrs. + Pomeranian learned that giving Gissing a hint about some new Parisian + importations was more effective than a half page ad. in the Sunday papers. + Within a few hours, by a judicious word here and there, he would have a + score of ladies hastening to the millinery salon. A pearl necklace of + great value, which Mr. Beagle had rebuked the jewellery buyer for getting, + because it seemed more appropriate for a dealer in precious stones than + for a department store, was disposed of almost at once. Gissing casually + told Mrs. Mastiff that he had heard Mrs. Sealyham intended to buy it. As + for Mrs. Dachshund, who had had a habit of lunching at Delmonico's, she + now was to be seen taking tiffin at Beagle's almost daily. There were many + husbands who would have been glad to shoot him at sight on the first of + the month, had they known who was the real cause of their woe. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, Gissing had raised floorwalking to a new level. He was more prime + minister than a mere patroller of aisles. With sparkling eye, with + unending curiosity, tact, and attention, he moved quietly among the + throng. He realized that shopping is the female paradise; that spending + money she has not earned is the only real fun an elderly and wealthy lady + can have; and if to this primitive shopping passion can be added the + delights of social amenity—flattery, courtesy, good-humoured + flirtation—the snare is complete. + </p> + <p> + But all this is not accomplished without rousing the jealousy of rivals. + Among the other floorwalkers, and particularly in the gorgeously uniformed + attendant at the front door (who was outraged by Gissing's habit of + escorting special customers to their motors) moved anger, envy, and + sneers. Gissing, completely absorbed in the fascination of his work, was + unaware of this hostility, as he was equally unaware of the amazed + satisfaction of his employer. He went his way with naive and unconscious + pleasure. It did not take long for his enemies to find a fulcrum for their + chagrin. One evening, after closing, when he sat in the dressing room, + with his feet in the usual tub of hot water, placidly reviewing the day's + excitements and smoking his pipe, the superintendent burst in. + </p> + <p> + “Hey!” he exclaimed. “Don't you know smoking's forbidden? What do you want + to do, get our fire insurance cancelled? Get out of here! You're fired!” + </p> + <p> + It did not occur to Gissing to question or protest. He had known perfectly + well that smoking was not allowed. But he was like the stage hand behind + the scenes who concluded it was all right to light a cigarette because the + sign only said SMOKING FORBIDDEN, instead of SMOKING STRICTLY FORBIDDEN. + He had not troubled his mind about it, one way or about it, one way or + another. + </p> + <p> + He had drawn his salary that evening, and his first thought was, Well, at + any rate I've earned enough to pay for the clothes. He had been there + exactly four weeks. Quite calmly, he lifted his feet out of the tub and + began to towel them daintily. The meticulous way he dried between his toes + was infuriating to the superintendent. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any children?” Gissing asked, mildly. + </p> + <p> + “What's that to you?” snapped the other. + </p> + <p> + “I'll sell you this bathtub for a quarter. Take it home to them. They + probably need it.” + </p> + <p> + “You get out of here!” cried the angry official. + </p> + <p> + “You'd be surprised,” said Gissing, “how children thrive when they're + bathed regularly. Believe me, I know.” + </p> + <p> + He packed his formal clothes in a neat bundle, left the bathtub behind, + surrendered his locker key, and walked toward the employees' door, + escorted by his bristling superior. As they passed through the empty + aisles, scene of his brief triumph, he could not help gazing a little + sadly. True merchant to the last, a thought struck him. He scribbled a + note on the back of a sales slip and left it at Miss Whippet's post by the + stocking counter. It said:— + </p> + <p> + MISS WHIPPET: Show Mrs. Sealyham some of the bisque sports hose, Scotch + wool, size 9. She's coming to-morrow. Don't let her get size 8 1/2. They + shrink. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MR. GISSING. +</pre> + <p> + At the door he paused, relit his pipe leisurely, raised his hat to the + superintendent, and strolled away. + </p> + <p> + In spite of this nonchalance, the situation was serious. His money was at + a low ebb. All his regular income was diverted to the support of the large + household in the country. He was too proud to appeal to his wealthy uncle. + He hated also to think of Mrs. Purp's mortification if she learned that + her star boarder was out of work. By a curious irony, when he got home he + found a letter from Mrs. Spaniel:— + </p> + <p> + MR. GISHING, dere friend, the pupeys are well, no insecks, and eat with + nives and forx Groups is the fattest but Yelpers is the lowdest they send + wags and lix and glad to here Daddy is doing so well in buisness with + respects from + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MRS. SPANIEL. +</pre> + <p> + He did not let Mrs. Purp know of the change in his condition, and every + morning left his lodging at the usual time. By some curious attraction he + felt drawn to that downtown region where his kinsman's office was. This + part of the city he had not properly explored. + </p> + <p> + It was a world wholly different from Fifth Avenue. There was none of that + sense of space and luxury he had known on the wide slopes of Murray Hill. + He wandered under terrific buildings, in a breezy shadow where javelins of + colourless sunlight pierced through thin slits, hot brilliance fell in + fans and cascades over the uneven terrace of roofs. Here was where + husbands worked to keep Fifth Avenue going: he wondered vaguely whether + Mrs. Sealyham had bought those stockings? One day he saw his uncle + hurrying along Wall Street with an intent face. Gissing skipped into a + doorway, fearing to be recognized. He knew that the old fellow would + insist on taking him to lunch at the Pedigree Club, would talk endlessly, + and ask family questions. But he was on the scent of matters that talk + could not pursue. + </p> + <p> + He perceived a sense of pressure, of prodigious poetry and beauty and + amazement. This was a strange jungle of life. Tall coasts of windows stood + up into the pure brilliant sky: against their feet beat a dark surf of + slums. In one foreign street, too deeply trenched for sunlight, oranges + were the only gold. The water, reaching round in two arms, came close: + there was a note of husky summons in the whistles of passing craft. Almost + everywhere, sharp above many smells of oils and spices, the whiff of + coffee tingled his busy nose. Above one huge precipice stood a gilded + statue—a boy with wings, burning in the noon. Brilliance flamed + between the vanes of his pinions: the intangible thrust of that pouring + light seemed about to hover him off into blue air. + </p> + <p> + The world of working husbands was more tender than that of shopping wives: + even in all their business, they had left space and quietness for the + dead. Sunken among the crags he found two graveyards. They were cups of + placid brightness. Here, looking upward, it was like being drowned on the + floor of an ocean of light. Husbands had built their offices half-way to + the sky rather than disturb these. Perhaps they appreciate rest all the + more, Gissing thought, because they get so little of it? Somehow he could + not quite imagine a graveyard left at peace in the shopping district. It + would be bad for trade, perhaps? Even the churches on the Avenue, he had + noticed, were huddled up and hemmed in so tightly by the other buildings + that they had scarcely room to kneel. If I ever become a parson, he said + (this was a fantastic dream of his), I will insist that all churches must + have a girdle of green about them, to set them apart from the world. + </p> + <p> + The two little brown churches among the cliffs had been gifted with a + dignity far beyond the dream of their builders. Their pointing spires were + relieved against the enormous facades of business. What other altars ever + had such a reredos? Above the strepitant racket of the streets, he heard + the harsh chimes of Trinity at noonday—strong jags of clangour + hurled against the great sounding-boards of buildings; drifting and dying + away down side alleys. There was no soft music of appeal in the bronze + volleying: it was the hoarse monitory voice of rebuke. So spoke the church + of old, he thought: not asking, not appealing, but imperatively, sternly, + as one born to command. He thought with new respect of Mr. Sealyham, Mr. + Mastiff, Mr. Dachshund, all the others who were powers in these fantastic + flumes of stone. They were more than merely husbands of charge accounts—they + were poets. They sat at lunch on the tops of their amazing edifices, and + looked off at the blue. + </p> + <p> + Day after day went by, but with a serene fatalism Gissing did nothing + about hunting a job. He was willing to wait until the last dollar was + broken: in the meantime he was content. You never know the soul of a city, + he said, until you are down on your luck. Now, he felt, he had been here + long enough to understand her. She did not give her secrets to the world + of Fifth Avenue. Down here, where the deep crevice of Broadway opened out + into greenness, what was the first thing he saw? Out across the harbour, + turned toward open sea—Liberty! Liberty Enlightening the World, he + had heard, was her full name. Some had mocked her, he had also heard. + Well, what was the gist of her enlightenment? Why this, surely: that + Liberty could never be more than a statue: never a reality. Only a fool + would expect complete liberty. He himself, with all his latitude, was not + free. If he were, he would cook his meals in his room, and save money—but + Mrs. Purp was strict on that point. She had spoken scathingly of two young + females she ejected for just that reason. Nor was Mrs. Purp free—she + was ridden by the Gas Company. So it went. + </p> + <p> + It struck him, now he was down to about three dollars, that a generous + gesture toward Fortune might be valuable. When you are nearly out of + money, he reasoned, to toss coins to the gods—i. e., to buy + something quite unnecessary—may be propitiatory. It may start + something moving in your direction. It is the touch of bravado that God + relishes. In a sudden mood of tenderness, he bought two dollars' worth of + toys and had them sent to the children. He smiled to think how they would + frolic over the jumping rabbit. He sent Mrs. Spaniel a postcard of the + Aquarium. + </p> + <p> + There is a good deal more to this business than I had realized, he said, + as he walked uptown through the East Side slums that hot night. The + audacity, the vitality, the magnificence, are plain enough. But I seem to + see squalor too, horror and pitiful dearth. I believe God is farther off + than I thought. Look here: if the more you know, the less you know about + God, doesn't that mean that God is really enjoyed only by the completely + simple—by faith, never by reason? + </p> + <p> + He gave twenty-five cents to a beggar, and said angrily: “I am not + interested in a God who is known only by faith.” + </p> + <p> + When he got uptown he was very tired and hungry. In spite of all Mrs. + Purp's rules, he smuggled in an egg, a box of biscuits, a small packet of + tea and sugar, and a tin of condensed milk. He emptied the milk into his + shaving mug, and used the tin to boil water in, holding it over the gas + jet. He was getting on finely when a sudden knock on the door made him + jump. He spilled the hot water on his leg, and uttered a wild yell. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Purp burst in, but she was so excited that she did not notice the egg + seeping into the clean counterpane. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Gissing,” she exclaimed, “I've been waiting all evening for you + to come in. Purp and I wondered if you'd seen this in the paper to-night? + Purp noticed it in the ads., but we couldn't understand what it meant.” + </p> + <p> + She held out a page of classified advertising, in which he read with + amazement: + </p> + <p> + PERSONAL + </p> + <p> + If MR. GISSING, late floorwalker at Beagle and Company, will communicate + with Mr. Beagle Senior, he will hear matters greatly to his advantage. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER NINE + </h2> + <p> + There had been great excitement in the private offices of Beagle and + Company after Gissing's sudden disappearance. Old Mr. Beagle was furious, + and hotly scolded his son. In spite of his advanced age, Beagle senior was + still an autocrat and insisted on regulating the details of the great + business he had built up. “You numbskull!” he shouted to Beagle junior, + “that fellow was worth any dozen others in the place, and you let him be + fired by a mongrel superintendent.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Papa,” protested the vice-president, “the superintendent had to obey + the rules. You know how strict the underwriters are about smoking. Of + course he should have warned Gissing, instead of discharging him.” + </p> + <p> + “Rules!” interrupted old Beagle fiercely—“Rules don't apply in a + case like this. I tell you that fellow has a genius for storekeeping. + Haven't I watched him on the floor? I've never seen one like him. What's + the good of your newfangled methods, your card indexes and overhead + charts, when you haven't even got a record of his address?” + </p> + <p> + Growling and showing his teeth, the head of the firm plodded stiffly + downstairs and discharged the superintendent himself. Already he saw signs + of disorganization in the main aisle. Miss Whippet was tearful: customers + were waiting impatiently to have exchange slips O. K.'d: Mrs. Dachshund + was turning over some jewelled lorgnettes, but it was plain that she was + only “looking,” and had no intention to purchase. + </p> + <p> + So when, after many vain inquiries, the advertisement reached its target, + the old gentleman welcomed Gissing with genuine emotion. He received him + into his private office, locked the door, and produced a decanter. + Evidently beneath his irritable moods he had sensibilities of his own. + </p> + <p> + “I have given my life to trade,” he said, “and I have grown weary of + watching the half-hearted simpletons who imagine they can rise to the top + by thinking more about themselves than they do about the business. You, + Mr. Gissing, have won my heart. You see storekeeping as I do—a fine + art, an absorbing passion, a beautiful, thrilling sport. It is an art as + lovely and subtle as the theatre, with the same skill in wooing and + charming the public.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing bowed, and drank Mr. Beagle's health, to cover his astonishment. + The aged merchant fixed him with a glittering eye. + </p> + <p> + “I can see that storekeeping is your genius in life. I can see that you + are naturally consecrated to it. My son is a good steady fellow, but he + lacks the divine gift. I am getting old. We need new fire, new brains, in + the conduct of this business. I ask you to forgive the unlucky blunder we + made lately, and devote yourself to us.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing was very much embarrassed. He wanted to say that if he was going + to consecrate himself to floorwalking, he would relish a raise in salary; + but old Beagle was so tremulous and kept blowing his nose so loudly that + Gissing doubted if he could make himself heard. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to take a position as General Manager,” said Mr. Beagle, “with + a salary of ten thousand a year.” + </p> + <p> + He rose and threw open a mahogany door that led out of his own sanctum. + “Here is your office,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The bewildered Gissing looked about the room—the mahogany + flat-topped desk with a great sheet of plate glass shining greenly at its + thick edges; an inkwell, pens and pencils, a little glass bowl full of + bright paper-clips; one of those rocking blotters that are so tempting; a + water cooler which just then uttered a seductive gulping bubble; an + electric fan, gently humming; wooden trays for letters and memoranda; on + one wall a great chart of names, lettered Organization of Personnel; a + nice domestic-looking hat-and-coat stand; a soft green rug—Ah, how + alluring it all was! + </p> + <p> + Mr. Beagle pointed to the outer door of the room, which had a frosted + pane. Through the glass the astounded floorwalker could read the words + </p> + <p> + REGANAM LARENEG GNISSIG.RM + </p> + <p> + What a delightful little room to meditate in. From the broad windows he + could see the whole shining tideway of Fifth Avenue, passing lazily in the + warm sunlight. He turned to Mr. Beagle, greatly moved. + </p> + <p> + The next day an advertisement appeared in the leading papers, to this + effect:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ________________________ + BEAGLE AND COMPANY + take pleasure in announcing to + their patrons and friends that + MR. GISSING + has been admitted to the firm in + the status of General Manager + Je Maintiendrai + __________________________ +</pre> + <p> + Mrs. Purp's excitement at this is easier imagined than described. Her only + fear was that now she would lose her best lodger. She made Purp go out and + buy a new shirt and a collar; she told Gissing, rather pathetically, that + she intended to have the whole house repapered in the fall. The big double + suite downstairs, which could be used as bedroom and sitting-room, she + suggested as a comfortable change. But Gissing preferred to remain where + he was. He had grown fond of the top floor. + </p> + <p> + Certainly there was an exhilaration in his new importance and prosperity. + The store buzzed with the news. At his request, Miss Whippet was promoted + to the seventh floor to be his secretary. It was delightful to make his + morning tour of inspection through the vast building. Mr. Hound, the store + detective, loved to tell his cronies how suspiciously he had followed “The + Duke” that first day. As Gissing moved through the busy departments he saw + eyes following him, tails wagging. Customers were more flattered than ever + by his courteous attentions. One day he even held a little luncheon party + in the restaurant, at which Mrs. Dachshund, Mrs. Mastiff, and Mrs. + Sealyham were his guests. He invited their husbands, but the latter were + too busy to come. It would have been more prudent of them to attend. That + afternoon Mrs. Dachshund, carried away by enthusiasm, bought a platinum + wrist-watch. Mrs. Mastiff bought a diamond dog-collar. Mrs. Sealyham, + whose husband was temporarily embarrassed in Wall Street, contented + herself with a Sheraton chifforobe. + </p> + <p> + But it began to be evident that his delightful little office was not going + to be a shrine for quiet meditation. His vanity had been pleased by the + large advertisement about him, but he suddenly realized the poison that + lies in printer's ink. Almost overnight, it seemed, he had been added to + ten thousand mailing lists. Little Miss Whippet, although she was fast at + typewriting, was hard put to it to keep up with his correspondence. She + quivered eagerly over her machine, her small paws flying. New pink ribbons + gleamed through her translucent summery georgette blouse. They were her + flag of exultation at her surprising rise in life. She felt it was + immensely important to get all these letters answered promptly. + </p> + <p> + And so did Gissing. In his new zeal, and in his innocent satisfaction at + having entered the inner circle of Big Business, he insisted on answering + everything. He did not realize that dictating letters is the quaint + diversion of business men, and that most of them mean nothing. It is + simply the easiest way of assuring yourself that you are busy. + </p> + <p> + This job was no sinecure. Old Mr. Beagle had so much affectionate + confidence in Gissing that he referred almost everything to him for + decision. Mr. Beagle junior, perhaps a little annoyed at the floorwalker's + meteoric translation, spent the summer afternoons at golf. The infinite + details of a great business crowded upon him. Inexperienced, he had not + learned the ways in which seasoned “executives” protect themselves against + useless intrusion. His telephone buzzed like a hornet. Not five minutes + went by without callers or interruptions of some sort. + </p> + <p> + Most amazing of all, he found, was the miscellaneous passion for palaver + displayed by Big Business. Immediately he was invited to join innumerable + clubs, societies, merchants' associations. Every day would arrive letters, + on heavily embossed paper—“The Sales Managers Club will hold a + round-table discussion on Friday at one o'clock. We would greatly + appreciate it if you would be with us and say a few words.”—“Will + you be our guest at the monthly dinner of the Fifth Avenue Guild, and give + us any preachment that is on your mind?”—“The Merchandising Uplift + Group of Murray Hill will meet at the Commodore for an informal lunch. It + has been suggested that you contribute to the discussion on Underwriting + Overhead.”—“The Executives Association plans a clambake and barbecue + at the Barking Rock Country Club. Around the bonfire a few impromptu + remarks on Business Cycles will be called for. May we count on you?”—“Will + you address the Convention of Knitted Bodygarment Buyers, on whatever + topic is nearest your heart?”—“Will you write for Bunion and + Callous, the trade organ of the Floorwalkers' Union, a thousand-word + review of your career?”—“Will you broadcast a twenty-minute talk on + Department Store Ethics, at the radio station in Newark? 250,000 radio + fans will be listening in.” New to the strange and high-spirited world of + “executives,” it was natural that Gissing did not realize that the net + importance of this kind of thing was absolute zero. It did strike him as + odd, perhaps, that merchants did not dare to go on a junket or plan a + congenial dinner without pretending to themselves that it had some + business significance. But, having been so amazingly lifted into this + atmosphere of great affairs, he felt it was his duty to the store to play + the game according to the established rules. He was borne along on a + roaring spate of conferences, telephone calls, appointments, Rotarian + lunches, Chamber of Commerce dinners, picnics to talk tariff, + house-parties to discuss demurrage, tennis tournaments to settle the + sales-tax, golf foursomes to regulate price-maintenance. Of all these + matters he knew nothing whatever; and he also saw that as far as the + business of Beagle and Company was concerned it would be better not to + waste his time on such side-issues. The way he could really be of service + was in the store itself, tactfully lubricating that complicated engine of + goods and personalities. But he learned to utter, when called upon, a few + suave generalities, barbed with a rollicking story. This made him always + welcome. He was of a studious disposition, and liked to examine this queer + territory of life with an unprejudiced eye. After all, his inward secret + purpose had nothing to do with the success or failure of retail trade. He + was still seeking a horizon that would stay blue when he reached it. + </p> + <p> + More and more he was interested to perceive how transparent the mummery of + business was. He was interested to note how persistently men fled from + success, how carefully most of them avoided the obvious principles of + utility, honesty, prudence, and courtesy, which are inevitably rewarded. + These sagacious, humorous fellows who were amusing themselves with + twaddling trade apothegms and ridiculous banqueteering solemnities, surely + they were aware that this had no bearing upon their own jobs? He suspected + that it was all a feverish anodyne to still some inward unease. Since they + must (not being fools) be aware that these antics were mere subtraction of + time from their business, the obvious conclusion was, they were not happy + with business. There was some strange wistfulness in the conduct of Big + Business Dogs, he thought. Under the pretence of transacting affairs, they + were really trying to discover something that had eluded them. + </p> + <p> + The same thing, strangely enough, seemed to be going on in a sphere of + which he knew nothing, the world of art. He gathered from the papers that + writers, painters, musicians, were holding shindies almost every night, at + which delightful rebels, too busy to occupy themselves with actual + creation, talked charmingly about their plans. Poets were reading poems + incessantly, forgetting to write any. Much of the newspaper comment on + literature made him shudder, for though this was a province quite strange + to him, he had sound instincts. He discerned fatal ignorance and absurdity + between the pompous lines. Yet, in its own way, it seemed a bold and + honest ignorance. Were these, too, like the wistful executives, seeking + where the blue begins? + </p> + <p> + But what was this strange agitation that forbade his fellow-creatures from + enjoying the one thing that makes achievement possible—Solitude? He + himself, so happy to be left alone—was no one else like that? And + yet this very solitude that he craved and revelled in was, by a sublime + paradox, haunted by mysterious loneliness. He felt sometimes as though his + heart had been broken off from some great whole, to which it yearned to be + reunited. It felt like a bone that had been buried, which God would some + day dig up. Sometimes, in his caninomorphic conception of deity, he felt + near him the thunder of those mighty paws. In rare moments of silence he + gazed from his office window upon the sun-gilded, tempting city. Her + madness was upon him—her splendid craze of haste, ambition, pride. + Yet he wondered. This God he needed, this liberating horizon, was it after + all in the cleverest of hiding-places—in himself? Was it in his own + undeluded heart? + </p> + <p> + Miss Whippet came scurrying in to say that the Display Manager begged him + to attend a conference. The question of apportioning window space to the + various departments was to be reconsidered. Also, the book department had + protested having rental charged against them for books exhibited merely to + add a finishing touch to a furniture display. Other agenda: the Personnel + Director wished an appointment to discuss the ruling against salesbitches + bobbing their hair. The Commissary Department wished to present revised + figures as to the economy that would be effected by putting the employees' + cafeteria on the same floor as the store's restaurant. He must decide + whether early closing on Saturdays would continue until Labor Day. + </p> + <p> + As he went about these and a hundred other fascinating trivialities, he + had a painful sense of treachery to Mr. Beagle senior. The old gentleman + was so touchingly certain that he had found in him the ideal shoulders on + which to unload his honourable and crushing burden. With more than + paternal pride old Beagle saw Gissing, evidently urbane and competent, + cheerfully circulating here and there. The shy angel of doubt that lay + deep in Gissing's cider-coloured eye, the proprietor did not come near + enough to observe. + </p> + <p> + If there is tragedy in our story, alas here it is. Gissing, incorrigible + seceder from responsibilities that did not touch his soul, did not dare + tell his benefactor the horrid truth. But the worm was in his heart. Late + one night, in his room at Mrs. Purp's, he wrote a letter to Mr. Poodle. + After mailing it at a street-box, he had a sudden pang. To the dreamer, + decisions are fearful. Then he shook himself and ran lightly to a little + lunchroom on Amsterdam Avenue, where he enjoyed doughnuts and iced tea. + His mind was resolved. The doughnuts, by a simple symbolism, made him + think of Rotary Clubs, also of millstones. No, he must be fugitive from + honour, from wealth, from Chambers of Commerce. Fugitive from all save his + own instinct. Those who have bound themselves are only too eager to see + the chains on others. There was no use attempting to explain to Mr. Beagle—the + dear old creature would not understand. + </p> + <p> + The next day, after happily and busily discharging his duties, and staying + late to clean up his desk, Gissing left Beagle and Company for good. The + only thing that worried him, as he looked round his comfortable office for + the last time, was the thought of little Miss Whippet's chagrin when she + found her new promotion at an end. She had taken such delight in their + mutual dignity. On the filing cabinet beside her typewriter desk was a + pink geranium in a pot, which she watered every morning. He could not + resist pulling out a drawer of her desk, and smiled gently to see the + careful neatness of its compartments, with all her odds and ends usefully + arranged. The ink-eraser, with an absurd little whisk attached to it for + brushing away fragments of rubbed paper; the fascicle of sharpened pencils + held together by an elastic band; the tiny phial of typewriter oil; a + small box of peppermints; a crumpled handkerchief; the stenographic + notebook with a pencil inserted at the blank page, so as to be ready for + instant service the next day; the long paper-cutter for slitting + envelopes; her memorandum pad, on which was written Remind Mr. G. of + Window Display Luncheon—it seemed cruel to deprive her of all these + innocent amusements in which she delighted so much. And yet he could not + go on as a General Manager simply for the happiness of Miss Whippet. + </p> + <p> + In the foliage of the geranium, where he knew she would find it the first + thing in the morning, he left a note:— + </p> + <p> + MISS WHIPPET: I am leaving the store to-night and will not be back. Please + notify Mr. Beagle. Explain to him that I shall never take a position with + one of his competitors; I am leaving not because I didn't enjoy the job, + but because if I stayed longer I might enjoy it too much. Tell Mr. Beagle + that I specially urge him to retain you as assistant to the new Manager, + whoever that may be. You are entirely competent to attend to the routine, + and the new Manager can spend all his time at business lunches. + </p> + <p> + Please inform the Display Managers' Club that I can't speak at their + meeting to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + I wish you all possible good-fortune. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MR. GISSING. +</pre> + <p> + As he passed through the dim and silent aisles of the store, he surveyed + them again with mixed emotions. Here he might, apparently, have been king. + But he had no very poignant regret. Another of his numerous selves, he + reflected, had committed suicide. That was the right idea: to keep + sloughing them off, throwing overboard the unreal and factitious Gissings, + paring them down until he discovered the genuine and inalienable creature. + </p> + <p> + And so, for the second time, he made a stealthy exit from the employees' + door. + </p> + <p> + Four days later he read in the paper of old Mr. Beagle's death. There can + be no doubt about it. The merchant died of a broken heart. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TEN + </h2> + <h3> + Mr. Poodle's reply was disappointing. He said:— + </h3> + <p> + St. Bernard's Rectory, September 1st. + </p> + <p> + MY DEAR MR. GISSING: + </p> + <p> + I regret that I cannot conscientiously see my way to writing to the Bishop + in your behalf. Any testimonial I could compose would be doubtful at best, + for I cannot agree with you that the Church is your true vocation. I do + not believe that one who has deserted his family, as you have, and whose + record (even on the most charitable interpretation) cannot be described as + other than eccentric, would be useful in Holy Orders. You say that your + life in the city has been a great purgation. If so, I suggest that you + return and take up the burdens laid upon you. It has meant great + mortification to me that one of my own parish has been the cause of these + painful rumours that have afflicted our quiet community. Notwithstanding, + I wish you well, and hope that chastening experience may bring you peace. + </p> + <p> + Very truly yours, + </p> + <p> + J. ROVER POODLE. + </p> + <p> + Gissing meditated this letter in the silence of along evening in his room. + He brought to the problem his favourite aid to clear thinking—strong + coffee mixed with condensed milk. Mrs. Purp had made concession to his + peculiarities when he had risen so high in the world: better to break any + rules, she thought, than lose so notable a tenant. She had even installed + a small gas-plate for him, so that he could brew his morning and evening + coffee. + </p> + <p> + So he took counsel with his percolator, whose bubbling was a sound he + found both soothing and stimulating. He regarded it as a kind of private + oracle, with a calm voice of its own. He listened attentively as he waited + for the liquid to darken. Appeal—to—the—Bishop, Appeal—to-the—Bishop, + seemed to be the speech of the jetting gurgitation under the glass lid. + </p> + <p> + He determined to act upon this, and lay his case before Bishop Borzoi even + without the introduction he had hoped for. Fortunately he still had some + sheets of Beagle and Company notepaper, with the engraved lettering and + Office of the General Manager embossed thereon. He was in some doubt as to + the proper formality and style of address in communicating with a Bishop: + was it “Very Reverend,” or “Right Reverend”? and which of these indicated + a superior grade of reverendability? But he decided that a masculine + frankness would not be amiss. He wrote:— + </p> + <p> + VERY RIGHT REVEREND BISHOP BORZOI, + </p> + <p> + Dear Bishop:— + </p> + <p> + May one of the least of your admirers solicit an interview with your very + right reverence, to discuss matters pertaining to religion, theology, and + a possible vacancy in the Church? If there are any sees outstanding, it + would be a favour. This is very urgent. I enclose a stamped addressed + envelope. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Respectfully yours, + + MR. GISSING. +</pre> + <p> + A prompt reply from the Bishop's secretary granted him an appointment. + </p> + <p> + Scrupulously attired in his tail-coat and silk hat, Gissing proceeded + toward the rendezvous. To tell the truth, he was nervous: his mind flitted + uneasily among possible embarrassments. Suppose Mr. Poodle had written to + the Bishop to prejudice his application? Another, but more absurd, idea + troubled him. One of the problems in visiting the houses of the Great (he + had learned in his brief career in Big Business) is to find the door-bell. + It is usually mysteriously concealed. Suppose he should have to peer + hopelessly about the vestibule, in a shameful and suspicious manner, until + some flunky came out to chide? In the sunny park below the Cathedral he + saw nurses sitting by their puppy-carriages; for an instant he almost + envied their gross tranquillity. THEY have not got (he said to himself) to + call on a Bishop! + </p> + <p> + He was early, so he strolled for a few minutes in the park that lies + underneath that rocky scarp. On the summit, clear-surging against the + blue, the great church rode like a ship on a long ridge of sea. The angel + with a trumpet on the jut of the roof was like a valiant seaman in the + crow's nest. His agitation was calmed by this noble sight. Yes, he said, + the Church is a ship behind whose bulwarks I will find rest. She sails an + unworldly sea: her crew are exempt from earthly ambition and fallacy. + </p> + <p> + He ran nimbly up the long steps that scale the cliff, and approached the + episcopal residence. The bell was plainly visible. He rang, and presently + came a tidy little housemaid. He had meditated a form of words. It would + be absurd to say “Is the Bishop in?” for he knew the Bishop WAS in. So he + said “This is Mr. Gissing. I think the Bishop is expecting me.” + </p> + <p> + Bishop Borzoi was an impressive figure—immensely tall and slender, + with long, narrow ascetic face and curly white hair. He was surprisingly + cordial. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Mr. Gissing?” he said. “Sit down, sir. I know Beagle and Company very + well. Too well, in fact-Mrs. Borzoi has an account there.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing, feeling rather aghast and tentative, had no comment ready. He was + still worrying a little as to the proper mode of address. + </p> + <p> + “It is very pleasant to find you Influential Merchants interested in the + Church,” continued the Bishop. “I often thought of approaching the late + Mr. Beagle on the subject of a small contribution to the cathedral. + Indeed, I have spent so much in your store that it would be only a fair + return. Mr. Collie, of Greyhound, Collie and Company, has been very + handsome with us: he has just provided for repaving the choir.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing began to fear that the object of his visit had perhaps been + misunderstood, but the prelate's eyes were bright with benignant + enthusiasm and he dared not interrupt. + </p> + <p> + “You inquired most kindly in your letter as to a possible vacancy in the + Church. Indeed there is a niche in the transept that I should be happy to + see filled. It is intended for some kind of memorial statue, and perhaps, + in honour of the late Mr. Beagle—” + </p> + <p> + “I must explain, Sir Bishop,” said Gissing, very much disturbed, “that I + have left Beagle and Company. The contribution I wish to make to the + Church is not a decorative one, I fear. It is myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yourself?” queried the Bishop, politely puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” stammered Gissing, “I—in fact, I am hoping to—to enter + the ministry.” + </p> + <p> + The Bishop was plainly amazed, and his long, aristocratic nose seemed + longer than ever as he gazed keenly at his caller. + </p> + <p> + “But have you had any formal training in theology?” + </p> + <p> + “None, right reverend Bishop,” said Gissing, “But it's this way,” and, + incoherently at first, but with increasing energy and copious eloquence, + he poured out the story of his mental struggles. + </p> + <p> + “This is singularly interesting,” said the Bishop at length. “I can see + that you are wholly lacking in the rudiments of divinity. Of modern + exegesis and criticism you are quite innocent. But you evidently have + something which is much rarer—what the Quakers call a CONCERN. Of + course you should really go to the theological seminary and establish this + naif intuitive mysticism upon a disciplined basis. You will realize that + we churchmen can only meet modern rationalism by a rationalism of our own—by + a philosophical scholarship which is unshakable. I do not suppose that you + can even harmonize the Gospels?” + </p> + <p> + Gissing ruefully admitted his ignorance. + </p> + <p> + “Well, at least I must make sure of a few fundamentals,” said the Bishop. + “Of course a symbological latitude is permissible, but there are some + essentials of dogma and creed that may not be foregone.” + </p> + <p> + He subjected the candidate to a rapid catechism. Gissing, in a state of + mind curiously mingled of excitement and awe, found himself assenting to + much that, in a calmer moment, he would hardly have admitted; but having + plunged so deep into the affair he felt it would be the height of + discourtesy to give negative answers to any of the Bishop's queries. By + dint of hasty mental adjustments and symbolic interpretations, he + satisfied his conscience. + </p> + <p> + “It is very irregular,” the Bishop admitted, “but I must confess that your + case interests me greatly. Of course I cannot admit you to ordination + until you have passed through the regular theological curriculum. Yet I + find you singularly apt for one without proper training.” + </p> + <p> + He brooded a while, fixing the candidate with a clear darkly burning eye. + </p> + <p> + “It struck me that you were a trifle vague upon some of the Articles of + Religion, and the Table of Kindred and Affinity. You must remember that + these articles are not to be subjected to your own sense or comment, but + must be taken in the literal and grammatical meaning. However, you show + outward and visible signs of an inward and spiritual grace. It so happens + that I know of a small chapel, in the country, that has been closed for + lack of a minister. I can put you in charge there as lay reader.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing's face showed his elation. + </p> + <p> + “And wear a cassock?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” said the Bishop sternly. “Not even a surplice. You must + remember you have not been ordained. If you are serious in your zeal, you + must work your way up gradually, beginning at the bottom.” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen some of your cloth with a little purple dickey which looks + very well in the aperture of the waistcoat,” said Gissing humbly. “How + long would it take me to work up to that?” + </p> + <p> + Bishop Borzoi, who had a sense of humour, laughed genially. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said. “It's a fine afternoon: I'll order my car and we'll + drive out to Dalmatian Heights. I'll show you your chapel, and tell you + exactly what your duties will be.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing was startled. Dalmatian Heights was only a few miles from the + Canine Estates. If the news should reach Mr. Poodle... + </p> + <p> + “Sir Bishop,” he said nervously, “I begin to fear that perhaps after all I + am unworthy. Now about those Articles of Religion: I may perhaps have + given some of them a conjectural and commentating assent. Possibly I have + presumed too far—” + </p> + <p> + The Bishop was already looking forward to a ride into the country with his + unusual novice. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, not at all,” he said cheerily. “In a mere lay reader, a + slight laxity is allowable. You understand, of course, that you are + expressly restricted from the pulpit. You will have to read the lessons, + conduct the service, and may address the congregation upon matters not + homiletic nor doctrinal; preaching and actual entry into the pulpit are + defended. But I see excellent possibility in you. Perform the duties + punctually in this very lowly office, and high ranks of service in the + church militant will be open.” + </p> + <p> + He put on a very fine shovel-hat, and led the way to his large touring + car. + </p> + <p> + It was a very uncomfortable ride for Gissing. A silk hat is the least + stable apparel for swift motoring, and the chauffeur drove at high speed. + The Bishop, leaning back in the open tonneau, crossed one delicately + slender shank over another, gazed in a kind of ecstasy at the countryside, + and talked gaily about his days as a young curate. Gissing sat holding his + hat on. He saw only too well that, by the humiliating oddity of chance, + they were going to take the road that led exactly past his own house. He + could only hope that Mrs. Spaniel and the various children would not be + visible, for explanations would be too complicated. Desperately he praised + the view to be obtained on another road, but Bishop Borzoi was too + interested in his own topic to pay much attention. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” said the latter, as they drew near the familiar region, “I + must introduce you to Miss Airedale. She lives in the big place on the + hill over there. Her family always used to attend what I will now call + YOUR chapel; she is a very ardent churchgoer, and it was a sincere grief + to her when the place had to be closed. You will find her a great aid and + comfort; not only that, she is—what one does not always find in the + devouter members of her sex—young and beautiful. I think I + understood you to say you are a bachelor?” + </p> + <p> + They were approaching the last turning at which it was still possible to + avoid the fatal road, and Gissing's attention was divided. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, after a fashion,” he replied. “Bishop, do you know that road down + into the valley? The view is really superb—Yes, that road—Oh, + no, I am a bachelor—” + </p> + <p> + It was too late. The chauffeur, unconscious of this private crisis, was + spinning along the homeward way. With a tender emotion Gissing saw the + spires of the poplar trees, the hemlocks down beyond the pond, the fringe + of woods that concealed the house until you were quite upon it— + </p> + <p> + The car swerved suddenly and the driver only saved it by a quick and canny + manoeuvre from going down the bank. He came to a stop, and almost from + underneath the rear wheels appeared a scuffling dusty group of youngsters + who had been playing in the road. There they were—Bunks, Groups, and + Yelpers (inordinately grown!) and two of the Spaniels. Their clothes were + deplorable, their faces grimed, their legs covered with burrs, their whole + demeanour was ragamuffin and wild: yet Gissing felt a pang of pride to see + his godchildren's keen, independent bearing contrasted with the rowdier, + disreputable look of the young Spaniels. Quickly he averted his head to + escape recognition. But the urchins were all gaping at the Bishop's shovel + hat. + </p> + <p> + “Hot dog!” cried Yelpers “Some hat!” + </p> + <p> + To his horror, Gissing now saw Mrs. Spaniel, hastening in alarm down from + the house, spilling potatoes from her apron as she ran. He hurriedly urged + the driver to proceed. + </p> + <p> + “What terrible looking children,” observed the Bishop, who seemed + fascinated by their stare. “Really, my good sister,” he said to Mrs. + Spaniel, who was now panting by the running board; “you must keep them off + the road or someone will get hurt.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing was looking for an imaginary object on the floor of the car. To + his great relief he heard the roar of the motor as they started again. But + he sat up a little too soon. A simultaneous roar of “Daddy!” burst from + the trio. + </p> + <p> + “What was that they were shouting at us?” inquired the Bishop, looking + back. + </p> + <p> + Gissing shook his head. He was too overcome to speak. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER ELEVEN + </h2> + <p> + The little chapel at Dalmatian Heights sat upon a hill, among a grove of + pines, the most romantic of all trees. Life, a powerful but clumsy + dramatist, does not reject the most claptrap “situations,” which a + sophisticated playwright would discard as too obvious. For this sandy + plateau, strewn with satiny pine-needles, was the very horizon that had + looked so blue and beckoning from the little house by the pond. Not far + away was the great Airedale estate, which Gissing had known only at an + admiring distance—and now he was living there as an honoured guest. + </p> + <p> + The Bishop had taken him to call upon the Airedales; and they, delighted + that the chapel was to be re-opened, had insisted upon his staying with + them. The chapel, in fact, was a special interest with Mr. Airedale, who + had been a leading contributor toward its erection. Gissing was finding + that life seemed to be continually putting him into false positions; and + now he discovered, somewhat to his chagrin, that the lovely little shrine + of St. Spitz, whose stained windows glowed like rubies in its cloister of + dark trees, was rather a fashionable hobby among the wealthy landowners of + Dalmatian Hills. It had been closed all summer, and they had missed it. + The Bishop, in his airy and indefinite way, had not made it quite plain + that Gissing was only a lay reader; and in spite of his embarrassed + disclaimers, he found himself introduced by Mr. Airedale to the + country-house clique as the new “vicar.” + </p> + <p> + But at any rate it was lucky that the Airedales had insisted on taking him + in as a guest; for he had learned from the Bishop (just as the latter was + leaving) that there was no stipend attached to the office of lay reader. + Fortunately he still had much of the money he had saved from his salary as + General Manager. And whatever sense of anomaly he felt was quickly + assuaged by the extraordinary comfort and novelty of his environment. In + the great Airedale mansion he experienced for the first time that ultimate + triumph of civilization—a cup of tea served in bed before breakfast, + with slices of bread-and-butter of tenuous and amazing fragile thinness. + He was pleased, too, with the deference paid him as a representative of + the cloth, even though it compelled him to a solemnity he did not inwardly + feel. But most of all, undoubtedly, he was captivated by the loveliness + and warmth of Miss Airedale. + </p> + <p> + The Bishop had not erred. Admiring the aristocratic Roman trend of her + brow and nose; the proud, inquisitive carriage of her somewhat rectangular + head, her admirable, vigorous figure and clear topaz eyes, Gissing was + aware of something he had not experienced before—a disturbance both + urgent and agreeable, in which the intellect seemed to play little part. + He was startled by the strength of her attractiveness, amazed to learn how + pleasing it was to be in her company. She was very young and brisk: wore + clothes of a smart sporting cut, and was (he thought) quite divine in her + riding breeches. But she was also completely devoted to the chapel, where + she played the music on Sundays. She was a volatile creature, full of + mischievous surprise: at their first music practice, after playing over + some hymns on the pipe-organ, she burst into jazz, filling the quiet grove + with the clamorous syncope of Paddy-Paws, a favourite song that summer. + </p> + <p> + So into the brilliant social life of the Airedales and their friends he + found himself suddenly pitchforked. In spite of the oddity of the + situation, and of occasional anxiety when he considered the possibility of + Mr. Poodle finding him out, he was very happy. This was not quite what he + had expected, but he was always adaptable. Miss Airedale was an enchanting + companion. In the privacy of his bedroom he measured himself for a pair of + riding breeches and wrote to his tailor in town to have them made as soon + as possible. He served the little chapel assiduously, though he felt it + better to conceal from the Airedales the fact that he went there every + day. He suspected they would think him slightly mad if they knew, so he + used to pretend that he had business in town. Then he would slip away to + the balsam-scented hilltop and be perfectly happy sweeping the chapel + floor, dusting the pews, polishing the brasswork, rearranging the hymnals + in the racks. He arranged with the milkman to leave a bottle of milk and + some cinnamon buns at the chapel gate every morning, so he had a cheerful + and stealthy little lunch in the vestry-room, though always a trifle + nervous lest some of his parishioners should discover him. + </p> + <p> + He practiced reading the lessons aloud at the brass lectern, and + discovered how easy is dramatic elocution when you are alone. He wished it + were possible to hold a service daily. For the first time he was able to + sing hymns as loud as he liked. Miss Airedale played the organ with + emphatic fervour, and the congregation, after a little hesitation, enjoyed + the lusty sincerity of a hymn well trolled. Some of his flock, who had + previously relished taking part in the general routine of the service, + were disappointed by his zeal, for Gissing insisted on doing everything + himself. He rang the bell, ushered the congregation to their seats, read + the service, recited the Quadrupeds' Creed, led the choir, gave out as + many announcements as he could devise, took up the collection, and at the + close skipped out through the vestry and was ready and beaming in the + porch before the nimblest worshipper had reached the door. On his first + Sunday, indeed, he carried enthusiasm rather too far: in an innocent + eagerness to prolong the service as much as possible, and being too + excited to realize quite what he was doing, he went through the complete + list of supplications for all possible occasions. The congregation were + startled to find themselves praying simultaneously both for rain and for + fair weather. + </p> + <p> + In a cupboard in the vestry-room he had found an old surplice hanging; he + took it down, tried it on before the mirror, and wistfully put it back. To + this symbolic vestment his mind returned as he sat solitary under the + pine-trees, looking down upon the valley of home. It was the season of + goldenrod and aster on the hillsides: a hot swooning silence lay upon the + late afternoon. The weight and closeness of the air had struck even the + insects dumb. Under the pines, generally so murmurous, there was something + almost gruesome in the blank stillness: a suspension so absolute that the + ears felt dull and sealed. He tried, involuntarily, to listen more + clearly, to know if this uncanny hush were really so. There was a sense of + being imprisoned, but only most delicately, in a spell, which some sudden + cracking might disrupt. + </p> + <p> + The surplice tempted him strongly, for it suggested the sermon he felt + impelled to deliver, against the Bishop's orders. For the beautiful chapel + in the piny glade was, somehow, false: or, at any rate, false for him. The + architect had made it a dainty poem in stone and polished wood, but + somehow God had evaded the neat little trap. Moreover, the God his + well-bred congregation worshipped, the old traditionally imagined + snow-white St. Bernard with radiant jowls of tenderness, shining dewlaps + of love; paternal, omnipotent, calm—this deity, though sublime in + its way, was too plainly an extension of their own desires. His prominent + parishioners—Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher, Mrs. Griffon, Mrs. Retriever; + even the delightful Mr. Airedale himself—was it not likely that they + esteemed a deity everlastingly forgiving because they themselves felt need + of forgiveness? He had been deeply shocked by the docility with which they + followed the codes of the service: even when he had committed his blunder + of the contradictory prayers, they had murmured the words automatically, + without protest. To the terrific solemnities of the Litany they had made + the responses with prompt gabbling precision, and with a rapidity that + frankly implied impatience to take the strain off their knees. + </p> + <p> + Somehow he felt that to account for a world of unutterable strangeness + they had invented a God far too cheaply simple. His mood was certainly not + one of ribald easy scoff. It was they (he assured himself) whose theology + was essentially cynical; not he. He was a little weary of this just, + charitable, consoling, hebdomadal God; this God who might be sufficiently + honoured by a decorously memorized ritual. Yet was he too shallow? Was it + not seemly that his fellows, bound on this dark, desperate venture of + living, should console themselves with decent self-hypnosis? + </p> + <p> + No, he thought. No, it was not entirely seemly. If they pretended that + their God was the highest thing knowable, then they must bring to His + worship the highest possible powers of the mind. He had a strange yearning + for a God less lazily conceived: a God perhaps inclement, awful, master of + inscrutable principles. Yet was it desirable to shake his congregation's + belief in their traditional divinity? He thought of them—so amiable, + amusing, spirited and generous, but utterly untrained for abstract + imaginative thought on any subject whatever. His own strange surmisings + about deity would only shock and horrify them And after all, was it not + exactly their simplicity that made them lovable? The great laws of truth + would work their own destinies without assistance from him! Even if these + pleasant creatures did not genuinely believe the rites they so politely + observed (he knew they did not, for BELIEF is an intellectual process of + extraordinary range and depth), was it not socially useful that they + should pretend to do so? + </p> + <p> + And yet—with another painful swing of the mind—was it + necessary that Truth should be worshipped with the aid of such + astonishingly transparent formalisms, hoaxes, and mummeries? Alas, it + seemed that this was an old, old struggle that must be troublesomely + fought out, again and again down the generations. Prophets were twice + stoned—first in anger; then, after their death, with a handsome slab + in the graveyard. But words uttered in sincerity (he thought) never fail + of some response. Though he saw his fellows leashed with a heavy chain of + ignorance, stupidity, passion, and weakness, yet he divined in life some + inscrutable principle of honour and justice; some unreckonable essence of + virtue too intimate to understand; some fumbling aspiration toward + decency, some brave generosity of spirit, some cheerful fidelity to + Beauty. He could not see how, in a world so obviously vast and uncouth + beyond computation, they could find a puny, tidy, assumptive, scheduled + worship so satisfying. But perhaps, since all Beauty was so staggering, it + was better they should cherish it in small formal minims. Perhaps in this + whole matter there was some lovely symbolism that he did not understand. + </p> + <p> + The soft brightness was already lifting into upper air, a mingled tissue + of shadows lay along the valley. In the magical clarity of the evening + light he suddenly felt (as one often does, by unaccountable planetary + instinct) that there was a new moon. Turning, he saw it, a silver snipping + daintily afloat; and not far away, an early star. He had found no creed in + the prayer-book that accounted for the stars. Here at the bottom of an + ocean of sky, we look aloft and see them thick-speckled—mere + barnacles, perhaps, on the keel of some greater ship of space. He + remembered how at home there had been a certain burning twinkle that + peeped through the screen of the dogwood tree. As he moved on his porch, + it seemed to flit to and fro, appearing and vanishing. He was often + uncertain whether it was a firefly a few yards away, or a star the other + side of Time. Possibly Truth was like that. + </p> + <p> + There was a light swift rustle behind him, and Miss Airedale appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo!” she said. “I wondered where you were. Is this how you spend your + afternoons, all alone?” + </p> + <p> + Stars, creeds, cosmologies, promptly receded into remote perspective and + had to shift for themselves. It was true that Gissing had somewhat avoided + her lately, for he feared her fascination. He wished nothing else to + interfere with his search for what he had not yet found. Postpone the + female problem to the last, was his theory: not because it was insoluble, + but because the solution might prove to be less interesting than the + problem itself. But side by side with her, she was irresistible. A + skittish brightness shone in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Great news!” she exclaimed. “I've persuaded Papa to take us all down to + Atlantic City for a couple of days.” + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful!” cried Gissing. “Do you know, I've never been to the + seashore.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry,” she replied. “I won't let you see much of the ocean. We'll + go to the Traymore, and spend the whole time dancing in the Submarine + Grill.” + </p> + <p> + “But I must be back in time for the service on Sunday,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “We're going to leave first thing in the morning. We'll go in the car, and + I'll drive. Will you sit with me in the front seat?” + </p> + <p> + “Watch me!” replied Gissing gallantly. + </p> + <p> + “Come on then, or you'll be late for dinner. I'll race you home!” And she + was off like a flash. + </p> + <p> + But in spite of Miss Airedale's threat, at Atlantic City they both fell + into a kind of dreamy reverie. The wine-like tingle of that salty air was + a quiet drug. The apparently inexhaustible sunshine was sharpened with a + faint sting of coming autumn. Gissing suddenly remembered that it was ages + since he had simply let his mind run slack and allowed life to go by + unstudied. Mr. and Mrs. Airedale occupied a suite high up in the terraced + mass of the huge hotel; they wrapped themselves in rugs and basked on + their private balcony. Gissing and the daughter were left to their own + amusements. They bathed in the warm September surf; they strolled the + Boardwalk up beyond the old Absecon light, where the green glimmer of + water runs in under the promenade. They sat on the deck of the hotel—or + rather Miss Airedale sat, while Gissing, courteously attentive, leaned + over her steamer-chair. He stood so for hours, apparently in devoted chat; + but in fact he was half in dream. The smooth flow of the little rolling + shays just below had a soothing hypnotic erect. But it was the glorious + polished blue of the sea-horizon that bounded all his thoughts. Even while + Miss Airedale gazed archly up at him, and he was busy with cheerful + conversation, he was conscious of that broad band of perfect colour, + monotonous, comforting, thrilling. For the first time he realized the + great rondure of the world. His mind went back to the section of the + prayer-book that had always touched him most pointedly—the “Forms of + Prayer to be Used at Sea.” In them he had found a note of sincere terror + and humility. And now he viewed the sea for the first time in this setting + of notable irony. The open dazzle of placid elements, obedient only to + some cosmic calculus, lay as a serene curtain against which the quaint + flamboyance of the Boardwalk was all the more amusing. The clear rim of + sea curving off into space drew him with painful curiosity. Here at last + was what he had needed. The proud waters went over his soul. Here indeed + the blue began. + </p> + <p> + He looked down at Miss Airedale, who had gone to sleep while waiting for + him to say something. He tiptoed away and went to his room to write down + some ideas. Against the wide challenge of that blue hemisphere, where half + the world lay open and free to the eye, the Bishop's prohibition lost + weight. He was resolved to preach a sermon. + </p> + <p> + At dusk he met Miss Airedale on the high balcony that runs around the + reading-room of the hotel. They were quite alone up there. Along the + Boardwalk, in the pale sentimental twilight, the translucent electric + globes shone like a long string of pearls. She was very tempting in a gay + evening frock, and reproached him for having neglected her. She shivered a + little in the cool wind coming off the darkening water. The weakness of + the hour was upon him. He put his arm tenderly round her as they leaned + over the parapet. + </p> + <p> + “See those darling children down on the sand,” she said. “I do adore + puppies, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + He remembered Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers. Nothing is so potent as the love + of children when you are away from them. She gazed languishing at him; he + responded with a generous pressure. But his alarmed soul thrilled with + panic. + </p> + <p> + “You must excuse me a moment, while I dress for dinner,” he said. He was + strangely terrified by the look of secret understanding in her beautiful + eyes. It seemed to imply some subtle, inexpressible pact. As a matter of + truth, she was unconscious of it: it was only the old demiurge speaking in + her; the old demiurge which was pursuing him just as ardently as he was + trailing the dissolving blue of his dream. But he was much agitated as he + went down in the elevator. + </p> + <p> + “Heavens,” he said to himself; “are we all only toys in the power of these + terrific instincts?” + </p> + <p> + For the first time he was informed of the infinite feminine capacity for + being wooed. + </p> + <p> + That night they danced in the Submarine Grill. She floated in his embrace + with triumphant lightness. Her eyes, utilized as temporary lamps by a + lighting-circuit of which she was quite unaware, beamed with happy lustre. + The lay reader, always docile to the necessities of occasion, murmured + delightful trifles. But his private thoughts were as aloof and shining and + evasive as the goldfish that twinkled in the glass pool overhead. He + picked up her scarf and her handkerchief when she dropped them. He smiled + vaguely when she suggested that she thought she could persuade Mr. + Airedale to stay in Atlantic City over the week-end, and why worry about + the service on Sunday? But when she and the yawning Mrs. Airedale had + retired, he hastened to his chamber and packed his bag. Stealthily he went + to the desk and explained that he was leaving unexpectedly on business, + and that the bill should go to Mr. Airedale, whose guest he had been. He + slipped away out of the side door, and caught the late train. Mrs. + Airedale chafed her daughter that night for whining in her sleep. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWELVE + </h2> + <p> + The chapel of St. Spitz was crowded that fine Sunday morning, and the + clang and thud of its bells came merrily through the thin quick air to + worshippers arriving in their luxurious motors. The amiable oddity of the + lay reader's demeanour as priest had added a zest to churchgoing. The + congregation were particularly pleased, on this occasion, to see Gissing + appear in surplice and stole. They had felt that his attire on the + previous Sundays had been a little too informal. And when, at the time + usually allotted to the sermon, Gissing climbed the pulpit steps, unfurled + a sheaf of manuscript, and gazed solemnly about, they settled back into + the pew cushions in a comfortable, receptive mood. They had a subconscious + feeling that if their souls were to be saved, it was better to have it + done with all the proper formalities. They did not notice that he was + rather pale, and that his nose twitched nervously. + </p> + <p> + “My friends,” he said, “in this beautiful little chapel, on this airy + hilltop, one might, if anywhere, speak with complete honesty. For you who + gather here for worship are, in the main, people of great affairs; + accustomed to looking at life with high spirit and with quick imagination. + I will ask you then to be patient with me while I exhort you to carry into + your religion the same enterprising and ambitious gusto that has made your + worldly careers a success. You are accustomed to deal with great affairs. + Let me talk to you about the Great Affairs of God.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing had been far too agitated to be able to recognize any particular + members of his audience. All the faces were fused into a common blur. Miss + Airedale, he knew, was in the organ loft, but he had not seen her since + his flight from Atlantic City, for he had removed from the Airedale + mansion before her return, and had made himself a bed in the corner of the + vestry-room. He feared she was angry: there had been a vigorous growling + note in some of the bass pipes of the organ as she played the opening + hymn. He had not seen a tall white-haired figure who came into the chapel + rather late, after the service had begun, and took a seat at the back. + Bishop Borzoi had seized the opportunity to drive out to Dalmatian Heights + this morning to see how his protege was getting on. When the Bishop saw + his lay reader appear in surplice and scarlet hood, he was startled. But + when the amateur parson actually ascended the pulpit, the Bishop's face + was a study. The hair on the back of his neck bristled slightly. + </p> + <p> + “It is so easy,” Gissing continued, “to let life go by us in its swift + amusing course, that sometimes it hardly seems worth while to attempt any + bold strokes for truth. Truth, of course, does not need our assistance; it + can afford to ignore our errors. But in this quiet place, among the + whisper of the trees, I seem to have heard a disconcerting sound. I have + heard laughter, and I think it is the laughter of God.” + </p> + <p> + The congregation stirred a little, with polite uneasiness. This was not + quite the sort of thing to which they were accustomed. + </p> + <p> + “Why should God laugh? I think it is because He sees that very often, when + we pretend to be worshipping Him, we are really worshipping and gratifying + ourselves. I used the phrase 'Great Affairs.' The point I want to make is + that God deals with far greater affairs than we have realized. We have + imagined Him on too petty a scale. If God is so great, we must approach + Him in a spirit of greatness. He is not interested in trivialities—trivialities + of ritual, of creed, of ceremony. We have imagined a vain thing—a + God of our own species; merely adding to the conception, to gild and + consecrate, a futile fuzbuz of supernaturalism. My friends, the God I + imagine is something more than a formula on Sundays and an oath during the + week.” + </p> + <p> + Those sitting in the rear of the Chapel were startled to hear a low + rumbling sound proceeding from the diaphragm of the Bishop, who half rose + from his seat and then, by a great effort of will, contained himself. But + Gissing, rapt in his honourable speculations, continued with growing + happiness. + </p> + <p> + “I ask you, though probably in vain, to lay aside for the moment your + inherited timidities and conventions. I ask you to lay aside pride, which + is the devil itself and the cause of most unhappiness. I ask you to rise + to the height of a great conception. To 'magnify' God is a common phrase + in our observances. Then let us truly magnify Him—not minify, as the + theologians do. If God is anything more than a social fetich, then He must + be so much more that He includes and explains everything. It may sound + inconceivable to you, it may sound sacrilegious, but I suggest to you that + it is even possible God may be a biped—” + </p> + <p> + The Bishop could restrain himself no longer. He rose with flaming eyes and + stood in the aisle. Mr. Airedale, Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher, and several + other prominent members of the Church burst into threatening growls. A + wild bark and clamour broke from Mr. Towser, the Sunday School + superintendent, and his pupils, who sat in the little gallery over the + door. And then, to Gissing's horror and amazement, Mr. Poodle appeared + from behind a pillar where he had been chafing unseen. In a fierce tenor + voice shaken with indignation he cried: + </p> + <p> + “Heretic and hypocrite! Pay no attention to his abominable nonsense! He + deserted his family to lead a life of pleasure!” + </p> + <p> + “Seize him!” cried the Bishop in a voice of thunder. + </p> + <p> + The church was now in an uproar. A shrill yapping sounded among the choir. + Mrs. Airedale swooned; the Bishop's progress up the aisle was impeded by a + number of ladies hastening for an exit. Old Mr. Dingo, the sexton, seized + the bell-rope in the porch and set up a furious pealing. Cries of rage + mingled with hysterical howls from the ladies. Gissing, trembling with + horror, surveyed the atrocious hubbub. But it was high time to move, or + his retreat would be cut off. He abandoned his manuscript and bounded down + the pulpit stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Unfrock him!” yelled Mr. Poodle. + </p> + <p> + “He's never been frocked!” roared the Bishop. + </p> + <p> + “Impostor!” cried Mr. Airedale. + </p> + <p> + “Excommunicate him!” screamed Mr. Towser. + </p> + <p> + “Take him before the consistory!” shouted Mr. Poodle. + </p> + <p> + Gissing started toward the vestry door, but was delayed by the mass of + scuffling choir-puppies who had seized this uncomprehended diversion as a + chance to settle some scores of their own. The clamour was maddening. The + Bishop leapt the chancel rail and was about to seize him when Miss + Airedale, loyal to the last, interposed. She flung herself upon the + Bishop. + </p> + <p> + “Run, run!” she cried. “They'll kill you!” + </p> + <p> + Gissing profited by this assistance. He pushed over the lectern upon Mr. + Poodle, who was clutching at his surplice. He checked Mr. Airedale by + hurling little Tommy Bull, one of the choir, bodily at him. Tommy's teeth + fastened automatically upon Mr. Airedale's ear. The surplice, which Mr. + Poodle was still holding, parted with a rip, and Gissing was free. With a + yell of defiance he tore through the vestry and round behind the chapel. + </p> + <p> + He could not help pausing a moment to scan the amazing scene, which had + been all Sabbath calm a few moments before. From the long line of motor + cars parked outside the chapel incredible chauffeurs were leaping, + hurrying to see what had happened. The shady grove shook with the hideous + clamour of the bell, still wildly tolled by the frantic sexton. The sudden + excitement had liberated private quarrels long decently repressed: in the + porch Mrs. Retriever and Mrs. Dobermann-Pinscher were locked in combat. + With a splintering crash one of the choir-pups came sailing through a + stained-glass window, evidently thrown by some infuriated adult. He + recognized the voice of Mr. Towser, raised in vigorous lamentation. To + judge by the sound, Mr. Towser's pupils had turned upon him and were + giving him a bad time. Above all he could hear the clear war-cry of Miss + Airedale and the embittered yells of Mr. Poodle. Then from the quaking + edifice burst Bishop Borzoi, foaming with wrath, his clothes much + tattered, and followed by Mr. Poodle, Mr. Airedale, and several others. + They cast about for a moment, and then the Bishop saw him. With a joint + halloo they launched toward him. + </p> + <p> + There was no time to lose. He fled down the shady path between the trees, + but with a hopeless horror in his heart. He could not long outdistance + such a runner as the Bishop, whose tremendous strides would surely + overhaul him in the end. If only he had known how to drive a car, he might + have commandeered one of the long row waiting by the gate. But he was no + motorist. Miss Airedale could have saved him, in her racing roadster, but + she had not emerged from the melee in the chapel. Perhaps the Bishop had + bitten her. His blood warmed with anger. + </p> + <p> + It happened that they had been mending the county highways, and a large + steam roller stood a few hundred feet down the road, drawn up beside the + ditch. Gissing knew that it was customary to leave these engines with the + fire banked and a gentle pressure of steam simmering in the boiler. It was + his only chance, and he seized it. But to his dismay, when he reached the + machine, which lay just round a bend in the road, he found it shrouded + with a huge tarpaulin. However, this suggested a desperate chance. He + whipped nimbly inside the covering and hid in the coal-box. Lying there, + he heard the chase go panting by. + </p> + <p> + As soon as he dared, he climbed out, stripped off the canvas, and gazed at + the bulky engine. It was one of those very tall and impressive rollers + with a canopy over the top. The machinery was not complicated, and the + ingenuity of desperation spurred him on. Hurriedly he opened the draughts + in the fire-box, shook up the coals, and saw the needle begin to quiver on + the pressure-gauge. He experimented with one or two levers and handles. + The first one he touched let off a loud scream from the whistle. Then he + discovered the throttle. He opened it a few notches, cautiously. The + ponderous machine, with a horrible clanking and grinding, began to move + forward. + </p> + <p> + A steam roller may seem the least helpful of all vehicles in which to + conduct an urgent flight; but Gissing's reasoning was sound. In the first + place, no one would expect to find a hunted fugitive in this lumbering, + sluggish behemoth of the road. Secondly, sitting perched high up in the + driving saddle, right under the canopy, he was not easily seen by the + casual passer-by. And thirdly, if the pursuit came to close grips, he was + still in a strategic position. For this, the most versatile of all + land-machines except the military tank, can move across fields, crash + through underbrush, and travel in a hundred places that would stall a + motor car. He rumbled off down the road somewhat exhilarated. He found the + scarlet stole twisted round his neck, and tied it to one of the stanchions + of the canopy as a flag of defiance. It was not long before he saw the + posse of pursuit returning along the road, very hot and angry. He crunched + along solemnly, busying himself to get up a strong head of steam. There + they were, the Bishop, Mr. Poodle, Mr. Airedale, Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher, + and Mr. Towser. Mr. Poodle was talking excitedly: the Bishop's tongue ran + in and out over his gleaming teeth. He was not saying much, but his manner + was full of deadly wrath. They paid no attention to the roller, and were + about to pass it without even looking up, when Gissing, in a sudden fit of + indignation, gave the wheel a quick twirl and turned his clumsy engine + upon them. They escaped only by a hair's breadth from being flattened out + like pastry. Then the Bishop, looking up, recognized the renegade. With a + cry of anger they all leaped at the roller. + </p> + <p> + But he was so high above them, they had no chance. He seized the + coal-scoop and whanged Mr. Poodle across the skull. The Bishop came + dangerously near reaching him, but Gissing released a jet of scalding + steam from an exhaust-cock, which gave the impetuous prelate much cause + for grief. A lump of coal, accurately thrown, discouraged Mr. Airedale. + Mr. Towser, attacking on the other side of the engine, managed to scramble + up so high that he carried away the embroidered stole, but otherwise the + fugitive had all the best of it. Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher burned his feet + trying to climb up the side of the boiler. From the summit of his uncouth + vehicle Gissing looked down undismayed. + </p> + <p> + “Miserable freethinker!” said Borzoi. “You shall be tried by the assembly + of bishops.” + </p> + <p> + “In a mere lay reader,” quoted Gissing, “a slight laxity is allowable. You + had better go back and calm down the congregation, or they'll tear the + chapel to bits. This kind of thing will have a very bad influence on + church discipline.” + </p> + <p> + They shouted additional menace, but Gissing had already started his + deafening machinery and could not hear what was said. He left them + bickering by the roadside. + </p> + <p> + For fear of further pursuit, he turned off the highway a little beyond, + and rumbled noisily down a rustic lane between high banks and hedges where + sumac was turning red. Strangely enough, there was something very + comforting about his enormous crawling contraption. It was docile and + reliable, like an elephant. The crashing clangour of its movement was soon + forgotten—became, in fact, an actual stimulus to thought. For the + mere pleasure of novelty, he steered through a copse, and took joy in + seeing the monster thrash its way through thickets and brambles, and then + across a field of crackling stubble. Steering toward the lonelier regions + of that farming country, presently he halted in a dingle of birches beside + a small pond. He spent some time very happily, carefully studying the + machinery. He found some waste and an oilcan in the tool-chest, and + polished until the metal shone. The water looked rather low in the gauge, + and he replenished it from the pool. + </p> + <p> + It was while grooming the roller that it struck him his own appearance was + unusual for a highway mechanic. He was still wearing the famous + floorwalker suit, which he had punctiliously donned every Sunday for + chapel. But he had had to flee without a hat—even without his + luggage, which was neatly packed in a bag in the vestry. That, he felt + sure, Mr. Poodle had already burst open for evidences of heresy and + schism. The pearly trousers were stained with oil and coal-dust; the neat + cutaway coat bore smears of engine-grease. As long as he stuck to the + roller and the telltale garments, pursuit and identification would of + course be easy enough. But he had taken a fancy to the machine: he decided + not to abandon it yet. + </p> + <p> + Obviously it was better to keep to the roads, where the engine would at + any rate be less surprisingly conspicuous, and where it would leave no + trail. So he made a long circuit across meadows and pastures, carrying a + devilish clamour into the quiet Sunday afternoon. Regaining a macadam + surface, he set oil at random, causing considerable annoyance to the + motoring public. Finding that his cutaway coat caused jeers and merriment, + he removed it; and when any one showed a disposition to inquire, he + explained that he was doing penance for an ill-judged wager. His + oscillating perch above the boiler was extraordinarily warm, and he bought + a gallon jug of cider from a farmer by the way. Cheering himself with + this, and reviewing in his mind the queer experiences of the past months, + he went thundering mildly on. + </p> + <p> + At first he had feared a furious pursuit on the part of the Bishop, or + even a whole college of bishops, quickly mobilized for the event. He had + imagined them speeding after him in a huge motor-bus, and himself keeping + them at bay with lumps of coal. But gradually he realized that the Bishop + would not further jeopardize his dignity, or run the risk of making + himself ridiculous. Mr. Poodle would undoubtedly set the township road + commissioner on his trail, and he would be liable to seizure for the theft + of a steam roller. But that could hardly happen so quickly. In the + meantime, a plan had been forming in his mind, but it would require + darkness for its execution. + </p> + <p> + Darkness did not delay in coming. As he jolted cheerfully from road to + road, holding up long strings of motors at every corner while he jovially + held out his arm as a sign that he was going to turn, dark purple clouds + were massing and piling up. Foreseeing a storm, he bought some provisions + at a roadhouse, and turned into a field, where he camped in the lee of a + forest of birches. He cooked himself an excellent supper, toasting bread + and frankfurters in the firebox of the roller. With boiling water from a + steam-cock he brewed a panikin of tea; and sat placidly admiring the + fawn-pink light on wide pampas of bronze grasses, tawny as a panther's + hide. A strong wind began to draw from the southeast. He lit the lantern + at the rear of the machine and by the time the rain came hissing upon the + hot boiler, he was ready. Luckily he had saved the tarpaulin. He spread + this on the ground underneath the roller, and curled up in it. The glow + from the firebox kept him warm and dry. + </p> + <p> + “Summer is over,” he said to himself, as he heard the clash and spouting + of rain all about him. He lay for some time, not sleepy, thinking + theology, and enjoying the close tumult of wind and weather. + </p> + <p> + People who have had an arm or a leg amputated, he reflected, say they can + still feel pains in the absent member. Well, there's an analogy in that. + Modern skepticism has amputated God from the heart; but there is still a + twinge where the arteries were sewn up. + </p> + <p> + He slept peacefully until about two in the morning, except when a red-hot + coal, slipping through the grate-bars, burned a lamentable hole in his + trousers. When he woke, the night still dripped, but was clear aloft. He + started the engine and drove cautiously, along black slippery roads, to + Mr. Poodle's house. In spite of the unavoidable racket, no one stirred: he + surmised that the curate slept soundly after the crises of the day. He + left the engine by the doorstep, pinning a note to the steering-wheel. It + said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + TO REV. J. ROVER POODLE + this useful steam-roller + as a symbol of the theological mind + + MR. GISSING +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THIRTEEN + </h2> + <p> + The steamship Pomerania, which had sailed at noon, was a few hours out of + port on a calm gray sea. The passengers, after the bustle of lunch and + arranging their staterooms; had settled into their deck chairs and were + telling each other how much they loved the ocean. Captain Scottie had + taken his afternoon constitutional on his private strip of starboard deck + just aft the bridge, and was sitting in his comfortable cabin expecting a + cup of tea. He was a fine old sea-dog: squat, grizzled, severe, with wiry + eyebrows, a short coarse beard, and watchful quick eyes. A characteristic + Scot, beneath his reticent conscientious dignity there was abundant humour + and affection. He would have been recognized anywhere as a sailor: those + short solid legs were perfectly adapted for balancing on a rolling deck. + He stood by habit as though he were leaning into a stiff gale. His mouth + always held a pipe, which he smoked in short, brisk whiffs, as though + expecting to be interrupted at any moment by an iceberg. + </p> + <p> + The steward brought in the tea-tray, and Captain Scottie settled into his + large armchair to enjoy it. His eye glanced automatically at the + barometer. + </p> + <p> + “A little wind to-night,” he said, his nose wrinkling unconsciously as the + cover was lifted from the dish of hot anchovy toast. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said the steward, but lingered, apparently anxious to speak + further. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Shepherd?” + </p> + <p> + “Beg pardon, sir, but the Chief Steward wanted me to say they've found + someone stowed away in the linen locker, sir. Queer kind of fellow, sir, + talks a bit like a padre. 'E must've come aboard by the engine-room + gangway, sir, and climbed into that locker near the barber shop.” + </p> + <p> + The problem of stowaways is familiar enough to shipmasters. “Send him up + to me,” said the Captain. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later Gissing appeared, escorted by a burly quartermaster. + Even the experienced Captain admitted to himself that this was something + new in the category of stowaways. Never before had he seen one in a + braided cutaway coat and wedding trousers. It was true that the garments + were in grievous condition, but they were worn with an air. The stowaway's + face showed some embarrassment, but not at all the usual hangdog mien of + such wastrels. Involuntarily his tongue moistened when he saw the tray of + tea (for he had not eaten since his supper on the steam roller the night + before), but he kept his eyes politely averted from the food. They rose to + a white-painted girder that ran athwart the cabin ceiling. CERTIFIED TO + ACCOMMODATE THE MASTER he read there, in letters deeply incised into the + thick paint. “A good Christian ship,” he said to himself. “It sounds like + the Y. M. C. A.” He was pleased to think that his suspicion was already + confirmed: ships were more religious than anything on land. + </p> + <p> + The Captain dismissed the quartermaster, and addressed himself sternly to + the culprit. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what have you to say for yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Please, Captain,” said Gissing politely, “do not allow your tea to get + cold. I can talk while you eat.” Behind his grim demeanour the Captain was + very near to smiling at this naivete. No Briton is wholly implacable at + tea-time, and he felt a genuine curiosity about this unusual offender. + </p> + <p> + “What was your idea in coming aboard?” he said. “Do you know that I can + put you in irons until we get across, and then have you sent home for + punishment? I suppose it's the old story: you want to go sight-seeing on + the other side?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Captain,” said Gissing. “I have come to sea to study theology.” + </p> + <p> + In spite of himself the Captain was touched by this amazing statement. He + was a Scot, as we have said. He poured a cup of tea to conceal his + astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Theology!” he exclaimed. “The theology of hard work is what you will find + most of aboard ship. Carry on and do your duty; keep a sharp lookout, all + gear shipshape, salute the bridge when going on watch, that is the whole + duty of a good officer. That's plenty theology for a seaman.” But the + skipper's eye turned brightly toward his bookshelves, where he had several + volumes of sermons, mostly of a Calvinist sort. + </p> + <p> + “I am not afraid of work,” said Gissing. “But I'm looking for horizons. In + my work ashore I never could find any.” + </p> + <p> + “Your horizon is likely to be peeling potatoes in the galley,” remarked + the Captain. “I understand they are short-handed there. Or sweeping out + bunks in the steerage. Ethics of the dust! What would you say to that?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” replied Gissing, “I shall be grateful for any task, however menial, + that permits me to meditate. I understand your point of view. By coming + aboard your ship I have broken the law, I have committed a crime; but not + a sin. Crime and sin, every theologian admits, are not coextensive.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain sailed head-on into argument. + </p> + <p> + “What?” he cried. “Are you aware of the doctrine of Moral Inability in a + Fallen State? Sit down, sit down, and have a cup of tea. We must discuss + this.” + </p> + <p> + He rang for the steward and ordered an extra cup and a fresh supply of + toast. At that moment Gissing heard two quick strokes of a bell, rung + somewhere forward, a clear, musical, melancholy tone, echoed promptly in + other parts of the ship. “What is that, Captain?” he asked anxiously. “An + accident?” + </p> + <p> + “Two bells in the first dog-watch,” said the Captain. “I fear you are as + much a lubber at sea as you are in theology.” + </p> + <p> + The next two hours passed like a flash. Gissing found the skipper, in + spite of his occasional moods of austerity, a delicious companion. They + discussed Theosophy, Spiritualism, and Christian Science, all of which the + Captain, with sturdy but rather troubled vehemence, linked with Primitive + Magic. Gissing, seeing that his only hope of establishing himself in the + sailor's regard was to disagree and keep the argument going, plunged into + psycho-analysis and the philosophy of the unconscious. Rather unwarily he + ventured to introduce a nautical illustration into the talk. + </p> + <p> + “Your compass needle,” he said, “points to the North Pole, and although it + has never been to the Pole, and cannot even conceive of it, yet it + testifies irresistibly to the existence of such a place.” + </p> + <p> + “I trust you navigate your soul more skilfully than you would navigate + this vessel,” retorted the Captain. “In the first place, the needle does + not point to the North Pole at all, but to the magnetic pole. Furthermore, + it has to be adjusted by magnets to counteract deviation. Mr. Gissing, you + may be a sincere student of theology, but you have not allowed for your + own temperamental deviation. Why, even the gyro compass has to be adjusted + for latitude error. You landsmen think that a ship is simply a floating + hotel. I should like to have the Bishop you spoke of study a little + navigation. That would put into him a healthy respect for the marvels of + science. On board ship, sir, the binnacle is kept locked and the key is on + the watch-chain of the master. It should be so in all intellectual + matters. Confide them to those capable of understanding.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing saw that the Captain greatly relished his sense of superiority, so + he made a remark of intentional simplicity. + </p> + <p> + “The binnacle?” he said. “I thought that was the little shellfish that + clings to the bottom of the boat?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you dare call my ship a BOAT!” said the Captain. “At sea, a boat + means only a lifeboat or some other small vagabond craft. Come out on the + bridge and I'll show you a thing or two.” + </p> + <p> + The evening had closed in hazy, and the Pomerania swung steadily in a long + plunging roll. At the weather wing of the bridge, gazing sharply over the + canvas dodger, was Mr. Pointer, the vigilant Chief Officer, peering off + rigidly, as though mesmerized, but saying nothing. He gave the Captain a + courteous salute, but kept silence. At the large mahogany wheel, gently + steadying it to the quarterly roll of the sea, stood Dane, a tall, solemn + quartermaster. In spite of a little uneasiness, due to the unfamiliar + motion, Gissing was greatly elated by the wheelhouse, which seemed even + more thrillingly romantic than any pulpit. Uncomprehendingly, but with + admiration, he examined the binnacle, the engine-room telegraphs, the + telephones, the rack of signal-flags, the buttons for closing the + bulkheads, and the rotating clear-view screen for lookout in thick + weather. Aloft he could see the masthead light, gently soaring in slow + arcs. + </p> + <p> + “I'll show you my particular pride,” said the Captain, evidently pleased + by his visitor's delighted enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + Gissing wondered what ingenious device of science this might be. + </p> + <p> + Captain Scottie stepped to the weather gunwale of the bridge. He pointed + to the smoke, which was rolling rapidly from the funnels. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he said, “there's quite a strong breeze blowing. But look + here.” + </p> + <p> + He lit a match and held it unshielded above the canvas screen which was + lashed along the front of the bridge. To Gissing's surprise it burned + steadily, without blowing out. + </p> + <p> + “I've invented a convex wind-shield which splits the air just forward of + the bridge. I can stand here and light my pipe in the stiffest gale, + without any trouble.” + </p> + <p> + On the decks below Gissing heard a bugle blowing gaily, a bright, + persuasive sound. + </p> + <p> + “Six bells,” the Captain said. “I must dress for dinner. Before I start + you potato-peeling, I should like to clear up that little discussion of + ours about Free Will. One or two things you said interested me.” + </p> + <p> + He paced the bridge for a minute, thinking hard. + </p> + <p> + “I'll test your sincerity,” he said. “To-night you can bunk in the + chart-room. I'll have some dinner sent up to you. I wish you would write + me an essay of, say, two thousand words on the subject of Necessity.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Gissing pondered whether it would not be better to be put in + irons and rationed with bread and water. The wind was freshening, and the + Pomerania's sharp bow slid heavily into broad hills of sea, crashing them + into crumbling rollers of suds which fell outward and hissed along her + steep sides. The silent Mr. Pointer escorted him into the chart-room, a + bare, businesslike place with a large table, a map-cabinet, and a settee. + Here, presently, a steward appeared with excellent viands, and a pen, ink, + and notepaper. After a cautious meal, Gissing felt more comfortable. There + is something about a wet, windy evening at sea that turns the mind + naturally toward metaphysics. He pushed away the dishes and began to + write. + </p> + <p> + Later in the evening the Captain reappeared. He looked pleased when he saw + a number of sheets already covered with script. + </p> + <p> + “Rum lot of passengers this trip,” he said. “I don't seem to see any who + look interesting. All Big Business and that sort of thing. I must say it's + nice to have someone who can talk about books, and so on, once in a + while.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing realized that sometimes a shipmaster's life must be a lonely one. + The weight of responsibility is always upon him; etiquette prevents his + becoming familiar with his officers; small wonder if he pines occasionally + for a little congenial talk to relieve his mind. + </p> + <p> + “Big Business, did you say?” Gissing remarked. “Ah, I could write you + quite an essay about that. I used to be General Manager of Beagle and + Company.” + </p> + <p> + “Come into my cabin and have a liqueur,” said the skipper. “Let the essay + go until to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain turned on the electric stove in his cabin, for the night was + cold. It was a snug sanctum: at the portholes were little chintz curtains; + over the bunk was a convenient reading lamp. On the wall a brass pendulum + swung slowly, registering the roll of the ship. The ruddy shine of the + stove lit up the orderly desk and the photographs of the Captain's family. + </p> + <p> + “Yours?” said Gissing, looking at a group of three puppies with droll + Scottish faces. “Aye,” said the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “I've three of my own,” said Gissing, with a private pang of homesickness. + The skipper's cosy quarters were the most truly domestic he had seen since + the evening he first fled from responsibility. + </p> + <p> + Captain Scottie was surprised. Certainly this eccentric stranger in the + badly damaged wedding garments had not given the impression of a family + head. Just then the steward entered with a decanter of Benedictine and + small glasses. + </p> + <p> + “Brew days and bonny!” said the Captain, raising his crystal. + </p> + <p> + “Secure amidst perils!” replied Gissing courteously. It was the phrase + engraved upon the ship's notepaper, on which he had been writing, and it + had impressed itself on his mind. + </p> + <p> + “You said you had been a General Manager.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing told, with some vivacity, of his experiences in the world of + trade. The Captain poured another small liqueur. + </p> + <p> + “They're fine halesome liquor,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Sincerely yours,” said Gissing, nodding over the glass. He was beginning + to feel quite at home in the navigating quarters of the ship, and hoped + the potato-peeling might be postponed as long as possible. + </p> + <p> + “How far had you got in your essay?” asked the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “Not very far, I fear. I was beginning by laying down a few psychological + fundamentals.” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent! Will you read it to me?” + </p> + <p> + Gissing went to get his manuscript, and read it aloud. The Captain + listened attentively, puffing clouds of smoke. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry this is such a short voyage,” he said when Gissing finished. + “You have approached the matter from an entirely naif and instinctive + standpoint, and it will take some time to show you your errors. Before I + demolish your arguments I should like to turn them over in my mind. I will + reduce my ideas to writing and then read them to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like nothing better,” said Gissing. “And I can think over the + subject more carefully while I peel the potatoes.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense,” said the Captain. “I do not often get a chance to discuss + theology. I will tell you my idea. You spoke of your experience as General + Manager, when you had charge of a thousand employees. One of the things we + need on this ship is a staff-captain, to take over the management of the + personnel. That would permit me to concentrate entirely on navigation. In + a vessel of this size it is wrong that the master should have to carry the + entire responsibility.” + </p> + <p> + He rang for the steward. + </p> + <p> + “My compliments to Mr. Pointer, and tell him to come here.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pointer appeared shortly in oilskins, saluted, and gazed fixedly at + his superior, with one foot raised upon the brass door-sill. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pointer,” said Captain Scottie, “I have appointed Captain Gissing + staff-captain. Take orders from him as you would from me. He will have + complete charge of the ship's discipline.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye, sir,” said Mr. Pointer, stood a moment intently to see if there + were further orders, saluted again, and withdrew. + </p> + <p> + “Now you had better turn in,” said the skipper. “Of course you must wear + uniform. I'll send the tailor up to you at once. He can remodel one of my + suits overnight. The trousers will have to be lengthened.” + </p> + <p> + On the chart-room sofa, Gissing dozed and waked and dozed again. On the + bridge near by he heard the steady tread of feet, the mysterious words of + the officer on watch passing the course to his relief. Bells rang with + sharp double clang. Through the open port he could hear the alternate boom + and hiss of the sea under the bows. With the stately lift and lean of the + ship there mingled a faint driving vibration. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOURTEEN + </h2> + <p> + The first morning in any new environment is always the most exciting. + Gissing was already awake, and watching the novel sight of a patch of + sunshine sliding to and fro on the deck of the chart-room, when there was + a gentle tap at the door. The Captain's steward entered, carrying a + handsome uniform. + </p> + <p> + “Six bells, sir,” he said. “Your bath is laid on.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing was not very sure just what time it was, but the steward held out + a dressing gown for him to slip on, so he took the hint, and followed him + to the Captain's private bathroom where he plunged gaily into warm salt + water. He was hardly dressed before breakfast was laid for him in the + chart-room. It was a breakfast greatly to his liking—porridge, + scrambled eggs, grilled kidneys and bacon, coffee, toast, and marmalade. + Evidently the hardships of sea life had been greatly exaggerated by + fiction writers. + </p> + <p> + He was a trifle bashful about appearing on the bridge in his blue and + brass formality, and waited a while thinking Captain Scottie might come. + But no one disturbed him, so by and bye he went out. It was a brisk + morning with a fresh breeze and plenty of whitecaps. Dancing rainbows + hovered about the bow when an occasional explosion of spray burst up into + sunlight. Mr. Pointer was on the bridge, still gazing steadily into the + distance. He saluted Gissing, but said nothing. The quartermaster at the + wheel also saluted in silence. A seaman wiping down the paintwork on the + deckhouse saluted. Gissing returned these gestures punctiliously, and + began to pace the bridge from side to side. He soon grew accustomed to the + varying slant of the deck, and felt that his footing showed a nautical + assurance. + </p> + <p> + Now for the first time he enjoyed an untrammelled horizon on all sides. + The sea, he observed, was not really blue—not at any rate the blue + he had supposed. Where it seethed flatly along the hull, laced with swirls + of milky foam, it was almost black. Farther away, it was green, or darkly + violet. A ladder led to the top of the charthouse, and from this + commanding height the whole body of the ship lay below him. How alive she + seemed, how full of personality! The strong funnels, the tall masts that + moved so delicately against the pale open sky, the distant stern that now + dipped low in a comfortable hollow, and now soared and threshed onward + with a swimming thrust, the whole vital organism spoke to the eye and the + imagination. In the centre of this vast circle she moved, royal and + serene. She was more beautiful than the element she rode on, for perhaps + there was something meaningless in that pure vacant round of sea and sky. + Once its immense azure was grasped and noted, it brought nothing to the + mind. Reason was indignant to conceive it, sloping endlessly away. + </p> + <p> + The placid, beautifully planned routine of shipboard passed on its + accustomed course, and he began to suspect that his staff-captaincy was a + sinecure. Down below he could see the passengers briskly promenading, or + drowsing under their rugs. On the hurricane deck, aft, a sailor was + chalking a shuffleboard court. It occurred to him that all this might + become monotonous unless he found some actual part in it. Just then + Captain Scottie appeared on the bridge, took a quick look round, and + joined him on top of the charthouse. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning!” he said. “You won't think me rude if you don't see much of + me? Thinking about those ideas of yours, I have come upon some rather + puzzling stuff. I must work the whole thing out more clearly. Your + suggestion that Conscience points the way to an integration of personality + into a higher type of divinity, seems to me off the track; but I haven't + quite downed it yet. I'm going to shut myself up to-day and consider the + matter. I leave you in charge.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be perfectly happy,” said Gissing. “Please don't worry about me.” + </p> + <p> + “You suggest that all the conditions of life at sea, our mastery of the + forces of Nature, and so on, seem to show that we have perfect freedom of + will, and adapt everything to our desires. I believe just the contrary. + The forces of Nature compel us to approach them in their own way, + otherwise we are shipwrecked. It is in the conditions of Nature that this + ship should reach port in eight days, otherwise we should get nowhere. We + do it because it is our destiny.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not so sure of that,” said Gissing. But the Captain had already + departed with a clouded brow. + </p> + <p> + On the chart-room roof Gissing had discovered an alluring instrument, the + exact use of which he did not know. It seemed to be some kind of steering + control. The dial was lettered, from left to right, as follows HARD A + PORT, PORT, STEADY, COURSE, STEADY, STARBD, HARD A STARBD. At present the + handle stood upon the section marked COURSE. After a careful study of the + whole seascape, it seemed to Gissing that off to the south the ocean + looked more blue and more interesting. After some hesitation he moved the + handle to the PORT mark, and waited to see what would happen. To his + delight he saw the bow swing slowly round, and the Pomerania's gleaming + wake spread behind her in a whitened curve. He descended to the bridge, a + little nervous as to what Mr. Pointer might say, but he found the Mate + gazing across the water with the same fierce and unwearying attention. + </p> + <p> + “I have changed the course,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pointer saluted, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + Having succeeded so far, Gissing ventured upon another innovation. He had + been greatly tempted by the wheel, and envied the stolid quartermaster who + was steering. So, assuming an air of calm certainty, he entered the + wheelhouse. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take her for a while,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye, sir,” said the quartermaster, and surrendered the wheel to him. + </p> + <p> + “You might string out a few flags,” Gissing said. He had been noticing the + bright signal buntings in the rack, and thought it a pity not to use them. + </p> + <p> + “I like to see a ship well dressed,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye, sir,” said Dane. “Any choice, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Gissing picked out a string of flags which were particularly lively in + colour-scheme, and had them hoisted. Then he gave his attention to the + wheel. He found it quite an art, and was surprised to learn that a big + ship requires so much helm. But it was very pleasant. He took care to + steer toward patches of sea that looked interesting, and to cut into any + particular waves that took his fancy. After an hour or so, he sighted a + fishing schooner, and gave chase. He found it so much fun to run close + beside her (taking care to pass to leeward, so as not to cut off her wind) + that a mile farther on he turned and steered a neat circle about the + bewildered craft. The Pomerania's passengers were greatly interested, and + lined the rails trying to make out what the fishermen were shouting. The + captain of the schooner seemed particularly agitated, kept waving at the + signal flags and barking through a megaphone. During these manoeuvres Mr. + Pointer gazed so hard at the horizon that Gissing felt a bit embarrassed. + </p> + <p> + “I thought it wise to find out exactly what our turning-circle is,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pointer saluted. He was a well-trained officer. + </p> + <p> + Late in the afternoon the Captain reappeared, looking more cheerful. + Gissing was still at the helm, which he found so fascinating he would not + relinquish it. He had ordered his tea served on a little stand beside the + wheel so that he could drink it while he steered. “Hullo!” said the + Captain. “I see you've changed the course.” + </p> + <p> + “It seemed best to do so,” said Gissing firmly. He felt that to show any + weakness at this point would be fatal. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, probably it doesn't matter. I'm coming round to some of your + ideas.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing saw that this would never do. Unless he could keep the master + disturbed by philosophic doubts, Scottie would expect to resume command of + the ship. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “I've been thinking about it, too. I believe I went a bit + too far. But what do you think about this? Do you believe that Conscience + is inherited or acquired? You sea how important that is. If Conscience is + a kind of automatic oracle, infallible and perfect, what becomes of free + will? And if, on the other hand, Conscience is only a laboriously trained + perception of moral and social utilities, where does your deity come in?” + </p> + <p> + Gissing was aware that this dilemma would not hold water very long, and + was painfully impromptu; but it hit the Captain amidships. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove,” he said, “that's terrible, isn't it? It's no use trying to + carry on until I've got that under the hatch. Look here, would you mind, + just as a favour, keep things going while I wrestle with that question?—I + know it's asking a lot, but perhaps—” + </p> + <p> + “It's quite all right,” Gissing replied. “Naturally you want to work these + things out.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain started to leave the bridge, but by old seafaring habit he + cast a keen glance at the sky. He saw the bright string of code flags + fluttering. He seemed startled. + </p> + <p> + “Are you signalling any one?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No one in particular. I thought it looked better to have a few flags + about.” + </p> + <p> + “I daresay you're right. But better take them down if you speak a ship. + They're rather confusing.” + </p> + <p> + “Confusing? I thought they were just to brighten things up.” + </p> + <p> + “You have two different signals up. They read, Bubonic plague, give me a + wide berth. Am coming to your assistance.” + </p> + <p> + Toward dinner time, when Gissing had left the wheel and was humming a tune + as he walked the bridge, the steward came to him. + </p> + <p> + “The Captain's compliments, sir, and would you take his place in the + saloon to-night? He says he's very busy writing, sir, and would take it as + a favour.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing was always obliging. There was just a hint of conscious sternness + in his manner as he entered the Pomerania's beautiful dining saloon, for + he wished the passengers to realize that their lives depended upon his + prudence and sea-lore. Twice during the meal he instructed the steward to + bring him the latest barometer reading; and after the dessert he scribbled + a note on the back of a menu-card and had it sent to the Chief Engineer. + It said:— + </p> + <p> + Dear Chief: Please keep up a good head of steam to-night. I am expecting + dirty weather. + </p> + <p> + MR. GISSING, + </p> + <p> + (Staff-Captain) + </p> + <p> + What the Chief said when he received the message is not included in the + story. + </p> + <p> + But the same social aplomb that had made Gissing successful as a + floorwalker now came to his rescue as mariner. The passengers at the + Captain's table were amazed at his genial charm. His anecdotes of sea life + were heartily applauded. After dinner he circulated gracefully in the + ladies' lounge, and took coffee there surrounded by a chattering bevy. He + organized a little impromptu concert in the music room, and when that was + well started, slipped away to the smoke-room. Here he found a pool being + organized as to the exact day and hour when the Pomerania would reach + port. Appealed to for his opinion, he advised caution. On all sides he was + in demand, for dancing, for bridge, for a recitation. At length he slipped + away, pleading that he must keep himself fit in case of fog. The + passengers were loud in his praise, asserting that they had never met so + agreeable a sea-captain. One elderly lady said she remembered crossing + with him in the old Caninia, years ago, and that he was just the same + then. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FIFTEEN + </h2> + <p> + And so the voyage went on. Gissing was quite content to do a two-hour + trick at the wheel both morning and afternoon, and worked out some new + principles of steering which gave him pleasure. In the first place, he + noticed that the shuffle-board and quoit players, on the boat deck aft, + were occasionally annoyed by cinders from the stacks, so he made it a + general plan to steer so that the smoke blew at right angles to the ship's + course. As the wind was prevailingly west, this meant that his general + trend was southerly. Whenever he saw another vessel, a mass of floating + sea-weed, a porpoise, or even a sea-gull, he steered directly for it, and + passed as close as possible, to have a good look at it. Even Mr. Pointer + admitted (in the mates' mess) that he had never experienced so eventful a + voyage. To keep the quartermasters from being idle, Gissing had them knit + him a rope hammock to be slung in the chart-room. He felt that this would + be more nautical than a plush settee. + </p> + <p> + There was a marvellous sense of power in standing at the wheel and feeling + the great hull reply to his touch. Occasionally Captain Scottie would + emerge from his cabin, look round with a faint surprise, and come to the + bridge to see what was happening. Mr. Pointer would salute mutely, and + continue to study the skyline with indignant absorption. The Captain would + approach the wheel, where Gissing was deep in thought. Rubbing his hands, + the Captain would say heartily, “Well, I think I've got it all clear now.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing sighed. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” the Captain inquired anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “I'm bothered about the subconscious. They tell us nowadays that it's the + subconscious mind that is really important. The more mental operations we + can turn over to the subconscious realm, the happier we will be, and the + more efficient. Morality, theology, and everything really worth while, as + I understand it, spring from the subconscious.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain's look of cheer would vanish. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe there's something in that.” + </p> + <p> + “If so,” Gissing continued, “then perhaps consciousness is entirely + spurious. It seems to me that before we can get anywhere at all, we've got + to draw the line between the conscious and the subconscious. What bothers + me is, am I conscious of having a subconscious, or not? Sometimes I think + I am, and then again I'm doubtful. But if I'm aware of my subconscious, + then it isn't a genuine subconscious, and the whole thing's just another + delusion—” + </p> + <p> + The Captain would knit his weather-beaten brow and again retire anxiously + to his quarters, after begging Gissing to be generous and carry on a while + longer. Occasionally, pacing the starboard bridge-deck, sacred to + captains, Gissing would glance through the port and see the metaphysical + commander bent over sheets of foolscap and thickly wreathed in pipe-smoke. + </p> + <p> + He himself had fallen into a kind of tranced felicity, in which these + questions no longer had other than an ingenious interest. His heart was + drowned in the engulfing blue. As they made their southing, wind and + weather seemed to fall astern, the sun poured with a more golden candour. + He stood at the wheel in a tranquil reverie, blithely steering toward some + bright belly of cloud that had caught his fancy. Mr. Pointer shook his + head when he glanced surreptitiously at the steering recorder, a device + that noted graphically every movement of the rudder with a view to + promoting economical helmsmanship. Indeed Gissing's course, as logged on + the chart, surprised even himself, so that he forbade the officers taking + their noon observations. When Mr. Pointer said something about isobars, + the staff-captain replied serenely that he did not expect to find any + polar bears in these latitudes. + </p> + <p> + He had hoped privately for an occasional pirate, and scanned the sea-rim + sharply for suspicious topsails. But the ocean, as he remarked, is not + crowded. They proceeded, day after day, in a solitary wideness of + unblemished colour. The ship, travelling always in the centre of this + infinite disk, seemed strangely identified with his own itinerant spirit, + watchful at the gist of things, alert at the point which was necessarily, + for him, the nub of all existence. He wandered about the Pomerania's + sagely ordered passages and found her more and more magical. She went on + and on, with some strange urgent vitality of her own. Through the fiddleys + on the boat deck came a hot oily breath and the steady drumming of her + burning heart. From outer to hawse-hole, from shaft-tunnel to crow's-nest, + he explored and loved her. In the whole of her proud, faithful, obedient + fabric he divined honour and exultation. Poised upon uncertainty, she was + sure. The camber of her white-scrubbed decks, the long, clean sheer of her + hull, the concave flare of her bows—what was the amazing joy and + rightness of these things? And yet the grotesque passengers regarded her + only as a vehicle, to carry them sedatively to some clamouring dock. + Fools! She was more lovely than anything they would ever see again! He + yearned to drive her endlessly toward that unreachable perimeter of sky. + </p> + <p> + On land there had been definite horizons, even if disappointing when + reached and examined; but here there was no horizon at all. Every hour it + slid and slid over the dark orb of sea. He lost count of time. The + tremulous cradling of the Pomerania, steadily climbing the long leagues; + her noble forecastle solemnly lifting against heaven, then descending with + grave beauty into a spread of foaming beryl and snowdrift, seemed one with + the rhythm of his pulse and heart. Perhaps there had been more than mere + ingenuity in his last riddle for the theological skipper. Truly the + subconscious had usurped him. Here he was almost happy, for he was almost + unaware of life. It was all blue vacancy and suspension. The sea is the + great answer and consoler, for it means either nothing or everything, and + so need not tease the brain. + </p> + <p> + But the passengers, though unobservant, began to murmur; especially those + who had wagered that the Pomerania would dock on the eighth day. The world + itself, they complained, was created in seven days, and why should so fine + a ship take longer to cross a comparatively small ocean? Urbanely, over + coffee and petite fours, Gissing argued with them. They were well on their + way, he protested; and then, as a hypothetical case, he asked why one + destination was more worth visiting than another? He even quoted + Shakespeare on this point—something about “ports and happy havens”—and + succeeded in turning the tide of conversation for a while. The mention of + Shakespeare suggested to some of the ladies that it would be pleasant, now + they all knew each other so well, to put on some amateur theatricals. They + compromised by playing charades in the saloon. Another evening Gissing + kept them amused by fireworks, which were very lovely against the dark + sky. For this purpose he used the emergency rockets, star-shells and + coloured flares, much to the distress of Dane, the quartermaster, who had + charge of these supplies. + </p> + <p> + Little by little, however, the querulous protests of the passengers began + to weary him. Also, he had been receiving terse memoranda from the Chief + Engineer that the coal was getting low in the bunkers and that something + must be queer in the navigating department. This seemed very unreasonable. + The fixed gaze of Mr. Pointer, perpetually examining the horizon as though + he wanted to make sure he would recognize it if they met again, was + trying. Even Captain Scottie complained one day that the supply of fresh + meat had given out and that the steward had been bringing him tinned beef. + Gissing determined upon resolute measures. + </p> + <p> + He had notice served that on account of possible danger from pirates there + would be a general boat drill on the following day—not merely for + the crew, but for everyone. He gave a little talk about it in the saloon + after dinner, and worked his audience up to quite a pitch of enthusiasm. + This would be better than any amateur theatricals, he insisted. Everyone + was to act exactly as though in a sudden calamity. They might make up the + boat-parties on the basis of congeniality if they wished; five minutes + would be given for reaching the stations, without panic or disorder. They + should prepare themselves as though they were actually going to leave a + sinking ship. + </p> + <p> + The passengers were delighted with the idea of this novel entertainment. + Every soul on board—with the exception of Captain Scottie, who had + locked himself in and refused to be disturbed—was properly + advertised of the event. + </p> + <p> + The following day, fortunately, was clear and calm. At noon Gissing blew + the syren, fired a rocket from the bridge, and swung the engine telegraph + to STOP. The ship's orchestra, by his orders, struck up a rollicking air. + Quickly and without confusion, amid cries of Women and children first! the + passengers filed to their allotted places. The crew and officers were all + at their stations. + </p> + <p> + Gissing knocked at Captain Scottie's cabin. + </p> + <p> + “We are taking to the boats,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Goad!” cried the skipper. “Wull it be a colleesion?” + </p> + <p> + “All's clear and the davits are outboard,” said Gissing. He had been + studying the manual of boat handling in one of the nautical volumes in the + chart-room. + </p> + <p> + “Auld Hornie!” ejaculated the skipper. “We'll no can salve the specie! + Make note of her poseetion, Mr. Gissing!” He hastened to gather his + papers, the log, a chronometer, and a large canister of tobacco. + </p> + <p> + “The Deil's intil't,” he said as he hastened to his boat. “I had yon + pragmateesm of yours on a lee shore. Two-three hours, I'd have careened + ye.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing was ready with his megaphone. From the wing of the bridge he gave + the orders. + </p> + <p> + “Lower away!” and the boats dropped to the passenger rail. + </p> + <p> + “Avast lowering!” Each boat took in her roster of passengers, who were in + high spirits at this unusual excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Mind your painters! Lower handsomely!” + </p> + <p> + The boats took the water in orderly fashion, and were cast off. Remaining + members of the crew swarmed down the falls. The bandsmen had a boat to + themselves, and resumed their tune as soon as they were settled. + </p> + <p> + Gissing, left alone on the ship, waved for silence. + </p> + <p> + “Look sharp, man!” cried Captain Scottie. “Honour's satisfied! Take your + place in the boat!” + </p> + <p> + The passengers applauded, and there was quite a clatter of camera shutters + as they snapped the Pomerania looming grandly above them. + </p> + <p> + “Boats are all provisioned and equipped,” shouted Gissing. “I've + broadcasted your position by radio. The barometer's at Fixed Fair. Pull + off now, and 'ware the screw.” + </p> + <p> + He moved the telegraph handle to DEAD SLOW, and the Pomerania began to + slip forward gently. The boats dropped aft amid a loud miscellaneous + outcry. Mr. Pointer was already examining the horizon. Captain Scottie, + awakened to the situation, was uttering the language of theology but not + the purport. + </p> + <p> + “Don't stand up in the boats,” megaphoned Gissing. “You're quite all + right, there's a ship on the way already. I wirelessed last night.” + </p> + <p> + He slid the telegraph to slow, half, and then full. Once more the ship + creamed through the lifting purple swells. The little flock of boats was + soon out of sight. + </p> + <p> + Alone at the wheel, he realized that a great weight was off his mind. The + responsibility of his position had burdened him more than he knew. Now a + strange eagerness and joy possessed him. His bubbling wake cut straight + and milky across the glittering afternoon. In a ruddy sunset glow, the sea + darkened through all tints of violet, amethyst, indigo. The horizon line + sharpened so clearly that he could distinguish the tossing profile of + waves wetting the sky. “A red sky at night is the sailor's delight,” he + said to himself. He switched on the port and starboard lights and the + masthead lanterns, then lashed the wheel while he went below for supper. + He did not know exactly where he was, for he seemed to have steamed clean + off the chart; but as he conned the helm that evening, and leaned over the + lighted binnacle, he had a feeling that he was not far from some destiny. + With cheerful assurance he lashed the wheel again, and turned in. He woke + once in the night, and leaped from the hammock with a start. He thought he + had heard a sound of barking. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SIXTEEN + </h2> + <p> + The next morning he sighted land. Coming out on the bridge, the whole face + of things was changed. The sea-colour had lightened to a tawny green; + gulls dipped and hovered; away on the horizon lay a soft blue contour. + “Land Ho!” he shouted superbly, and wondered what new country he had + discovered. He ran up a hoist of red and yellow signal flags, and steered + gaily toward the shore. + </p> + <p> + It had grown suddenly cold: he had to fetch Captain Scottie's pea-jacket + to wear at the wheel. On the long spilling crests, that crumbled and + spread running layers of froth in their hurry shoreward, the Pomerania + rode home. She knew her landfall and seemed to quicken. Steadily swinging + on the jade-green surges, she buried her nose almost to the hawse-pipes, + then lifted until her streaming forefoot gleamed out of a frilled ruffle + of foam. + </p> + <p> + Gissing, too, was eager. A tingling buoyancy and impatience took hold of + him: he fidgeted with sheer eagerness for life. Land, the beloved + stability of our dear and only earth, drew and charmed him. Behind was the + senseless, heartbreaking sea. Now he could discern hills rising in a + gilded opaline light. In the volatile thin air was a quick sense of + strangeness. A new world was close about him: a world that he could see, + and feel, and inhale, and yet knew nothing of. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a great humility possessed him. He had been froward and silly and + vain. He had shouted arrogantly at Beauty, like a noisy tourist in a + canyon; and the only answer, after long waiting, had been the paltry + diminished echo of his own voice. He thought shamefully of his follies. + What matter how you name God or in what words you praise Him? In this new + foreign land he would quietly accept things as he found them. The laughter + of God was too strange to understand. + </p> + <p> + No, there was no answer. He was doubly damned, for he had made truth a + mere sport of intellectual riddling. The mind, like a spinning flywheel of + fatigued steel, was gradually racked to bursting by the conflict of + stresses. And yet: every equilibrium was an opposure of forces. Rotation, + if swift enough, creates amazing stability: he had seen how the gyroscope + can balance at apparently impossible angles. Perhaps it was so of the + mind. If it twirls at high speed it can lean right out over the abyss + without collapse. But the stationary mind—he thought of Bishop + Borzoi—must keep away from the edge. Try to force it to the edge, it + raves in panic. Every mind, very likely, knows its own frailties, and does + well to safeguard them. At any rate, that was the most generous + interpretation. Most minds, undoubtedly, were uneasy in high places. They + doubted their ability to refrain from jumping off. How many bones of fine + intellects lay whitening at the foot of the theological cliff—It + seemed to be a lonely coast, and wintry. Patches of snow lay upon the + hills, the woods were bare and brown. A bottle-necked harbour opened out + before him. He reduced the engines to Dead Slow and glided gaily through + the strait. He had been anxious lest his navigation might not be equal to + the occasion: he did not want to disgrace himself at this final test. But + all seemed to arrange itself with enchanted ease. A steep ledge of ground + offered a natural pier, with tree-stumps for bollards. He let her come + gently beyond the spot; reversed the propellers just at the right time, + and backed neatly alongside. He moved the telegraph handle to FINISHED + WITH ENGINES; ran out the gangplank smartly, and stepped ashore. He moored + the vessel fore and aft, and hung out fenders to prevent chafing. + </p> + <p> + The first thing to do, he said to himself, is to get the lie of the land, + and find out whether it is inhabited. + </p> + <p> + A hillside rising above the water promised a clear view. The stubble grass + was dry and frosty, after the warm days at sea the chill was nipping; but + what an elixir of air! If this is a desert island, he thought, it will be + a glorious discovery. His heart was jocund with anticipation. A curious + foreign look in the landscape, he thought; quite unlike anything—Suddenly, + where the hill arched against pearly sky, he saw narrow thread of smoke + rising. He halted in alarm. Who might this be, friend or foe? But eager + agitation pushed him on. Burning to know, he hurried up to the brow of the + hill. + </p> + <p> + The smoke mounted from a small bonfire of sticks in a sheltered thicket, + where a miraculous being—who was, as a matter of fact, a rather + ragged and dingy vagabond—was cooking a tin of stew over the blaze. + </p> + <p> + Gissing stood, quivering with emotion. Joy such as he had never known + darted through all the cords of his body. He ran, shouting, in mirth and + terror. In fear, in a passion of love and knowledge and understanding, he + abased himself and yearned before this marvel. Impossible to have + conceived, yet, once seen, utterly satisfying and the fulfilment of all + needs. He laughed and leaped and worshipped. When the first transport was + over, he laid his head against this being's knee, he nestled there and was + content. This was the inscrutable perfect answer. + </p> + <p> + “Cripes!” said the puzzled tramp, as he caressed the nuzzling head. “The + purp's loco. Maybe he's been lost. You might think he'd never seen a man + before.” + </p> + <p> + He was right. + </p> + <p> + And Gissing sat quietly, his throat resting upon the soiled knee of a very + old and spicy trouser. + </p> + <p> + “I have found God,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Presently he thought of the ship. It would not do to leave her so + insecurely moored. Reluctantly, with many a backward glance and a heart + full of glory, he left the Presence. He ran to the edge of the hill to + look down upon the harbour. + </p> + <p> + The outlook was puzzlingly altered. He gazed in astonishment. What were + those poplars, rising naked into the bright air?—there was something + familiar about them. And that little house beyond... he stared bewildered. + </p> + <p> + The great shining breadth of the ocean had shrunk to the roundness of a + tiny pond. And the Pomerania? He leaned over, shaken with questions. + There, beside the bank, was a little plank of wood, a child's plaything, + roughly fashioned shipshape: two chips for funnels; red and yellow frosted + leaves for flags; a withered dogwood blossom for propeller. He leaned + closer, with whirling mind. In the clear cool surface of the pond he could + see the sky mirrored, deeper than any ocean, pellucid, infinite, blue. + </p> + <p> + He ran up the path to the house. The scuffled ragged garden lay naked and + hard. At the windows, he saw with surprise, were holly wreaths tied with + broad red ribbon. On the porch, some battered toys. He opened the door. + </p> + <p> + A fluttering rosy light filled the room. By the fireplace the puppies—how + big they were!—were sitting with Mrs. Spaniel. Joyous uproar greeted + him: they flung themselves upon him. Shouts of “Daddy! Daddy!” filled the + house, while the young Spaniels stood by more bashfully. + </p> + <p> + Good Mrs. Spaniel was gratefully moved. Her moist eyes shone brightly in + the firelight. + </p> + <p> + “I knew you'd be home for Christmas, Mr. Gissing,” she said. “I've been + telling them so all afternoon. Now, children, be still a moment and let me + speak. I've been telling you your Daddy would be home in time for a + Christmas Eve story. I've got to go and fix that plum pudding.” + </p> + <p> + In her excitement a clear bubble dripped from the tip of her tongue. She + caught it in her apron, and hurried to the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SEVENTEEN + </h2> + <p> + The children insisted on leading him all through the house to show how + nicely they had taken care of things. And in every room Gissing saw the + marks of riot and wreckage. There were tooth-scars on all furniture-legs; + the fringes of rugs were chewed off; there were prints of mud, ink, + paints, and whatnot, on curtains and wallpapers and coverlets. Poor Mrs. + Spaniel kept running anxiously from the kitchen to renew apologies. + </p> + <p> + “I DID try to keep 'em in order,” she said, “but they seem to bash things + when you're not looking.” + </p> + <p> + But Gissing was too happy to stew about such trifles. When the inspection + was over, they all sat down by the chimney and he piled on more logs. + </p> + <p> + “Well, chilluns,” he said, “what do you want Santa Claus to bring you for + Christmas?” + </p> + <p> + “An aunbile!” exclaimed Groups + </p> + <p> + “An elphunt!” exclaimed Bunks + </p> + <p> + “A little train with hammers!” exclaimed Yelpers + </p> + <p> + “A little train with hammers?” asked Gissing. “What does he mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Groups and Bunks, with condescending pity, “he means a + typewriter. He calls it a little train because it moves on a track when + you hit it.” + </p> + <p> + A painful apprehension seized him, and he went hastily to his study. He + had not noticed the typewriter, which Mrs. Spaniel had—too late—put + out of reach. Half the keys were sticking upright, jammed together and + tangled in a whirl of ribbon; the carriage was strangely dislocated. And + yet even this mischance, which would once have horrified him, left him + unperturbed. It's my own fault, he thought: I shouldn't have left it where + they could play with it. Perhaps God thinks the same when His creatures + make a mess of the dangerous laws of life. + </p> + <p> + “A Christmas story!” the children were clamouring. + </p> + <p> + Can it really be Christmas Eve? Gissing thought. Christmas seems to have + come very suddenly this year, I haven't really adjusted my mind to it yet. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” he said. “Now sit still and keep quiet. Bunks, give Yelpers a + little more room. If there's any bickering Santa Claus might hear it.” + </p> + <p> + He sat in the big chair by the fire, and the three looked upward + expectantly from the hearthrug. + </p> + <p> + “Once upon a time there were three little puppies, who lived in a house in + the country in the Canine Estates. And their names were Groups, Bunks, and + Yelpers.” + </p> + <p> + The three tails thumped in turn as the names were mentioned, but the + children were too excitedly absorbed to interrupt. + </p> + <p> + “And one year, just before Christmas, they heard a dreadful rumour.” + </p> + <p> + “What's a rumour?” cried Yelpers, alarmed. + </p> + <p> + This was rather difficult to explain, so Gissing did not attempt it. He + began again. + </p> + <p> + “They heard that Santa Claus might not be able to come because he was so + behind with his housework. You see, Santa Claus is a great big + Newfoundland dog with a white beard, and he lives in a frosty kennel at + the North Pole, all shining with icicles round the roof and windows. But + it's so far away from everywhere that poor Santa couldn't get a servant. + All the maids who went there refused to stay because it was so cold and + lonely, and so far from the movies. Santa Claus was busy in his workshop, + making toys; he was busy taking care of the reindeer in their + snow-stables; and he didn't have time to wash his dishes. So all summer he + just let them pile up and pile up in the kitchen. And when Christmas came + near, there was his lovely house in a dreadful state of untidiness. He + couldn't go away and leave it like that. And so, if he didn't get his + dishes washed and the house cleaned up for Christmas, all the puppies all + over the world would have to go without toys. When Groups and Bunks and + Yelpers heard this, they were very much worried.” + </p> + <p> + “How did they hear it?” asked Bunks, who was the analytical member of the + trio. + </p> + <p> + “A very sensible question,” said Gissing, approvingly. “They heard it from + the chipmunk who lives in the wood behind the house. The chipmunk heard it + underground.” + </p> + <p> + “In his chipmonastery?” cried Groups. It was a family joke to call the + chipmunk's burrow by that name, and though the puppies did not understand + the pun they relished the long word. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” continued Gissing. “The reindeer in Santa Claus's stable were so + unhappy about the dishes not being washed, and the chance of missing their + Christmas frolic, that they broadcasted a radio message. Their horns are + very fine for sending radio, and the chipmunk, sitting at his little + wireless outfit, with the receivers over his ears, heard it. And Chippy + told Groups and Bunks and Yelpers. + </p> + <p> + “So these puppies decided to help Santa Claus. They didn't know exactly + where to find him, but the chipmunk told them the direction, and off they + went. They travelled and travelled, and when they came to the ocean they + begged a ride from the seagulls, and each one sat on a seagull's back just + as though he was on a little airplane. They flew and flew, and at last + they came to Santa Claus's house. Through the stable-walls, which were + made of clear ice, they could see the reindeer stamping in their stalls. + In the big workshop, where Santa Claus was busy making toys, they could + hear a lively sound of hammering. The big red sleigh was standing outside + the stables, all ready to be hitched up to the reindeer. + </p> + <p> + “They slipped into Santa Claus's house quickly and quietly, so no one + would see or hear them. The house was in a terrible state, but they set to + work to clean up. Groups found the vacuum cleaner and sucked up all the + crumbs from the dining-room rug. Bunks ran upstairs and made Santa Claus's + bed for him and swept the floors and put clean towels in the bathroom. And + Yelpers hurried into the kitchen and washed the dishes, and scrubbed the + pots, and polished the egg-stains off the silver spoons, and emptied the + ice-box pan. All working hard, they got through very soon, and made Santa + Claus's house as clean as any house could be. They fixed the window-shades + so that they would all hang level, not just anyhow, as poor Santa had + them. Then, when everything was spick and span, they ran outdoors again + and beckoned the seagulls. They climbed on the gulls' backs, and away they + flew homeward.” + </p> + <p> + “Was Santa Claus pleased?” asked Bunks. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed he was, when he came back from his workshop, very tired after + making toys all day.” + </p> + <p> + “What kind of toys did he make?” exclaimed Yelpers anxiously. “Did he make + a typewriter?” + </p> + <p> + “He made every kind of toy. And when he saw how his house had been cleaned + up, he thought the fairies must have done it. He lit his pipe, and filled + a thermos bottle with hot cocoa to keep him warm on his long journey. Then + he put on his red coat, and his long boots, and his fur cap, and went out + to harness the reindeer. That very night he drove off with his sleigh + packed full of toys for all the puppies in the world. In fact, he was so + pleased that he loaded his big bag with more toys than he had ever carried + before. And that was how a queer thing happened.” + </p> + <p> + They waited in eager suspense. + </p> + <p> + “You know, Santa Claus always drives into the Canine Estates by the little + back road through the woods, where the chipmunk lives. You know the + gateway, at the bend in the lane: well, it's rather narrow, and Santa + Claus's sleigh is very wide. And this time, because his bag had so many + toys in it, the bag bulged over the edge of the sleigh, and one corner of + the bag caught on the gatepost as he drove by. Three toys fell out, and + what do you suppose they were?” + </p> + <p> + “An aunbile!” + </p> + <p> + “An elphunt!” + </p> + <p> + “A typewriter!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's quite right. And it happened that the chipmunk was out that + night, digging up some nuts for his Christmas dinner, a little sad because + he had no presents to give his children; and he found the three toys. He + took them home to the little chipmunks, and they were tremendously + pleased. That was only fair, because if it hadn't been for the chipmunk + and his radio set, no one would have had any toys that Christmas.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Santa Claus have any more typewriters in his bag?” asked Yelpers + gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, he had plenty more of everything. And when he got to the house + where Groups and Bunks and Yelpers lived, he slid down the chimney and + took a look round. He didn't see any crumbs on the floor, or any toys + lying about not put away, so he filled the stockings with all kinds of + lovely things, and an aunbile and an elphunt and a typewriter.” + </p> + <p> + “What did the puppies say?” they inquired. + </p> + <p> + “They were sound asleep upstairs, and didn't know anything about it until + Christmas morning. Come on now, it's time for bed.” + </p> + <p> + “We can undress ourselves now,” said Groups. + </p> + <p> + “Will you tuck me in?” said Bunks. + </p> + <p> + “You're sure he had another typewriter in his bag?” said Yelpers. + </p> + <p> + They scrambled upstairs. + </p> + <p> + Later, when the house was quiet, Gissing went out to the kitchen to see + Mrs. Spaniel. She was diligently rolling pastry, and her nose was white + with flour. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, I'm glad you got home in time for Christmas,” she said. “The + children were counting on it. Did you have a successful trip, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Every trip is successful when you get home again,” said Gissing. “I + suppose the shops will be open late to-night, won't they? I'm going to run + down to the village to get some toys.” + </p> + <p> + Before leaving the house, he went down to the cellar to see if the furnace + was all right. He was amazed to see how naturally and cheerfully he had + slipped back into the old sense of responsibility. Where was the illusory + freedom he had dreamed of? Even the epiphany on the hilltop now seemed a + distant miracle. That fearful happiness might never come again. And yet + here, among the familiar difficult minutiae of home, what a lightness he + felt. A great phrase from the prayer-book came to his mind—“Whose + service is perfect freedom.” + </p> + <p> + Ah, he said to himself, it is all very well to wear a crown of thorns, and + indeed every sensitive creature carries one in secret. But there are times + when it ought to be worn cocked over one ear. + </p> + <p> + He opened the furnace door. A bright glow filled the fire-box: he could + hear a stir and singing in the boiler, and the rustle of warm pipes that + chuckled quietly through winter nights of storm. Over the coals hovered a + magic evasive flicker, the very soul of fire. It was a Pentecostal flame, + perfect and heavenly in tint, the essence of pure colour, a clear immortal + blue. + </p> + <p> + THE END <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Where the Blue Begins, by Christopher Morley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS *** + +***** This file should be named 1402-h.htm or 1402-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/0/1402/ + +Produced by Dianne Bean, and David Widger + +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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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: Where the Blue Begins + +Author: Christopher Morley + +Posting Date: September 17, 2008 [EBook #1402] +Release Date: July, 1998 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS *** + + + + +Produced by Dianne Bean + + + + + +WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS + +by Christopher Morley + + + + TO FELIX and TOTO + + + + "I am not free-- And it may be + Life is too tight around my shins; + For, unlike you, + I can't break through + A truant where the blue begins. + + "Out of the very element + Of bondage, that here holds me pent, + I'll make my furious sonnet: + I'll turn my noose + To tightrope use + And madly dance upon it. + + "So I will take + My leash, and make + A wilder and more subtle fleeing + And I shall be + More escapading and more free + Than you have ever dreamed of being!" + + + + +CHAPTER ONE + +Gissing lived alone (except for his Japanese butler) in a little +house in the country, in that woodland suburb region called the Canine +Estates. He lived comfortably and thoughtfully, as bachelors often do. +He came of a respectable family, who had always conducted themselves +calmly and without too much argument. They had bequeathed him just +enough income to live on cheerfully, without display but without having +to do addition and subtraction at the end of the month and then tear up +the paper lest Fuji (the butler) should see it. + +It was strange, since Gissing was so pleasantly situated in life, that +he got into these curious adventures that I have to relate. I do not +attempt to explain it. + +He had no responsibilities, not even a motor car, for his tastes were +surprisingly simple. If he happened to be spending an evening at the +country club, and a rainstorm came down, he did not worry about getting +home. He would sit by the fire and chuckle to see the married members +creep away one by one. He would get out his pipe and sleep that night +at the club, after telephoning Fuji not to sit up for him. When he felt +like it he used to read in bed, and even smoke in bed. When he went to +town to the theatre, he would spend the night at a hotel to avoid the +fatigue of the long ride on the 11:44 train. He chose a different hotel +each time, so that it was always an Adventure. He had a great deal of +fun. + +But having fun is not quite the same as being happy. Even an income of +1000 bones a year does not answer all questions. That charming little +house among the groves and thickets seemed to him surrounded by strange +whispers and quiet voices. He was uneasy. He was restless, and did not +know why. It was his theory that discipline must be maintained in the +household, so he did not tell Fuji his feelings. Even when he was alone, +he always kept up a certain formality in the domestic routine. Fuji +would lay out his dinner jacket on the bed: he dressed, came down to +the dining room with quiet dignity, and the evening meal was served by +candle-light. As long as Fuji was at work, Gissing sat carefully in +the armchair by the hearth, smoking a cigar and pretending to read +the paper. But as soon as the butler had gone upstairs, Gissing +always kicked off his dinner suit and stiff shirt, and lay down on the +hearth-rug. But he did not sleep. He would watch the wings of flame +gilding the dark throat of the chimney, and his mind seemed drawn upward +on that rush of light, up into the pure chill air where the moon was +riding among sluggish thick floes of cloud. In the darkness he heard +chiming voices, wheedling and tantalizing. One night he was walking on +his little verandah. Between rafts of silver-edged clouds were channels +of ocean-blue sky, inconceivably deep and transparent. The air was +serene, with a faint acid taste. Suddenly there shrilled a soft, sweet, +melancholy whistle, earnestly repeated. It seemed to come from the +little pond in the near-by copses. It struck him strangely. It might +be anything, he thought. He ran furiously through the field, and to +the brim of the pond. He could find nothing, all was silent. Then the +whistlings broke out again, all round him, maddeningly. This kept on, +night after night. The parson, whom he consulted, said it was only +frogs; but Gissing told the constable he thought God had something to do +with it. + +Then willow trees and poplars showed a pallid bronze sheen, forsythias +were as yellow as scrambled eggs, maples grew knobby with red buds. +Among the fresh bright grass came, here and there, exhilarating smells +of last year's buried bones. The little upward slit at the back of +Gissing's nostrils felt prickly. He thought that if he could bury it +deep enough in cold beef broth it would be comforting. Several times he +went out to the pantry intending to try the experiment, but every time +Fuji happened to be around. Fuji was a Japanese pug, and rather correct, +so Gissing was ashamed to do what he wanted to. He pretended he had come +out to see that the icebox pan had been emptied properly. + +"I must get the plumber to put in a pukka drain-pipe to take the place +of the pan," Gissing said to Fuji; but he knew that he had no intention +of doing so. The ice-box pan was his private test of a good servant. A +cook who forgot to empty it was too careless, he thought, to be a real +success. + +But certainly there was some curious elixir in the air. He went for +walks, and as soon as he was out of sight of the houses he threw down +his hat and stick and ran wildly, with great exultation, over the hills +and fields. "I really ought to turn all this energy into some sort of +constructive work," he said to himself. No one else, he mused, seemed to +enjoy life as keenly and eagerly as he did. He wondered, too, about the +other sex. Did they feel these violent impulses to run, to shout, to +leap and caper in the sunlight? But he was a little startled, on one of +his expeditions, to see in the distance the curate rushing hotly through +the underbrush, his clerical vestments dishevelled, his tongue hanging +out with excitement. + +"I must go to church more often," said Gissing. + +In the golden light and pringling air he felt excitable and high-strung. +His tail curled upward until it ached. Finally he asked Mike Terrier, +who lived next door, what was wrong. + +"It's spring," Mike said. + +"Oh, yes, of course, jolly old spring!" said Gissing, as though this was +something he had known all along, and had just forgotten for the moment. +But he didn't know. This was his first spring, for he was only ten +months old. + +Outwardly he was the brisk, genial figure that the suburb knew and +esteemed. He was something of a mystery among his neighbours of the +Canine Estates, because he did not go daily to business in the city, as +most of them did; nor did he lead a life of brilliant amusement like the +Airedales, the wealthy people whose great house was near by. Mr. Poodle, +the conscientious curate, had called several times but was not able to +learn anything definite. There was a little card-index of parishioners, +which it was Mr. Poodle's duty to fill in with details of each person's +business, charitable inclinations, and what he could do to amuse +a Church Sociable. The card allotted to Gissing was marked, in Mr. +Poodle's neat script, Friendly, but vague as to definite participation +in Xian activities. Has not communicated. + +But in himself, Gissing was increasingly disturbed. Even his seizures of +joy, which came as he strolled in the smooth spring air and sniffed the +wild, vigorous aroma of the woodland earth, were troublesome because +he did not know why he was so glad. Every morning it seemed to him that +life was about to exhibit some delicious crisis in which the meaning and +excellence of all things would plainly appear. He sang in the bathtub. +Daily it became more difficult to maintain that decorum which Fuji +expected. He felt that his life was being wasted. He wondered what ought +to be done about it. + + + +CHAPTER TWO + +It was after dinner, an April evening, and Gissing slipped away from the +house for a stroll. He was afraid to stay in, because he knew that if he +did, Fuji would ask him again to fix the dishcloth rack in the kitchen. +Fuji was very short in stature, and could not reach up to the place +where the rack was screwed over the sink. Like all people whose minds +are very active, Gissing hated to attend to little details like this. It +was a weakness in his character. Fuji had asked him six times to fix the +rack, but Gissing always pretended to forget about it. To appease his +methodical butler he had written on a piece of paper FIX DISHCLOTH RACK +and pinned it on his dressing-table pincushion; but he paid no attention +to the memorandum. + +He went out into a green April dusk. Down by the pond piped those +repeated treble whistlings: they still distressed him with a mysterious +unriddled summons, but Mike Terrier had told him that the secret of +respectability is to ignore whatever you don't understand. Careful +observation of this maxim had somewhat dulled the cry of that shrill +queer music. It now caused only a faint pain in his mind. Still, he +walked that way because the little meadow by the pond was agreeably soft +underfoot. Also, when he walked close beside the water the voices were +silent. That is worth noting, he said to himself. If you go directly at +the heart of a mystery, it ceases to be a mystery, and becomes only a +question of drainage. (Mr. Poodle had told him that if he had the pond +and swamp drained, the frog-song would not annoy him.) But to-night, +when the keen chirruping ceased, there was still another sound that did +not cease--a faint, appealing cry. It caused a prickling on his shoulder +blades, it made him both angry and tender. He pushed through the bushes. +In a little hollow were three small puppies, whining faintly. They were +cold and draggled with mud. Someone had left them there, evidently, +to perish. They were huddled close together; their eyes, a cloudy +unspeculative blue, were only just opened. "This is gruesome," said +Gissing, pretending to be shocked. "Dear me, innocent pledges of sin, I +dare say. Well, there is only one thing to do." + +He picked them up carefully and carried them home. + +"Quick, Fuji!" he said. "Warm some milk, some of the Grade A, and put a +little brandy in it. I'll get the spare-room bed ready." + +He rushed upstairs, wrapped the puppies in a blanket, and turned on the +electric heater to take the chill from the spare-room. The little pads +of their paws were ice-cold, and he filled the hot water bottle and held +it carefully to their twelve feet. Their pink stomachs throbbed, and at +first he feared they were dying. "They must not die!" he said fiercely. +"If they did, it would be a matter for the police, and no end of +trouble." + +Fuji came up with the milk, and looked very grave when he saw the muddy +footprints on the clean sheet. + +"Now, Fuji," said Gissing, "do you suppose they can lap, or will we have +to pour it down?" + +In spite of his superior manner, Fuji was a good fellow in an emergency. +It was he who suggested the fountain-pen filler. They washed the ink +out of it, and used it to drip the hot brandy-and-milk down the puppies' +throats. Their noses, which had been icy, suddenly became very hot and +dry. Gissing feared a fever and thought their temperatures should be +taken. + +"The only thermometer we have," he said, "is the one on the porch, with +the mercury split in two. I don't suppose that would do. Have you a +clinical thermometer, Fuji?" + +Fuji felt that his employer was making too much fuss over the matter. + +"No, sir," he said firmly. "They are quite all right. A good sleep will +revive them. They will be as fit as possible in the morning." + +Fuji went out into the garden to brush the mud from his neat white +jacket. His face was inscrutable. Gissing sat by the spare-room bed +until he was sure the puppies were sleeping correctly. He closed the +door so that Fuji would not hear him humming a lullaby. Three Blind Mice +was the only nursery song he could remember, and he sang it over and +over again. + +When he tiptoed downstairs, Fuji had gone to bed. Gissing went into his +study, lit a pipe, and walked up and down, thinking. By and bye he wrote +two letters. One was to a bookseller in the city, asking him to send (at +once) one copy of Dr. Holt's book on the Care and Feeding of Children, +and a well-illustrated edition of Mother Goose. The other was to Mr. +Poodle, asking him to fix a date for the christening of Mr. Gissing's +three small nephews, who had come to live with him. + +"It is lucky they are all boys," said Gissing. "I would know nothing +about bringing up girls." + +"I suppose," he added after a while, "that I shall have to raise Fuji's +wages." + +Then he went into the kitchen and fixed the dishcloth rack. + +Before going to bed that night he took his usual walk around the house. +The sky was freckled with stars. It was generally his habit to make a +tour of his property toward midnight, to be sure everything was in good +order. He always looked into the ice-box, and admired the cleanliness +of Fuji's arrangements. The milk bottles were properly capped with their +round cardboard tops; the cheese was never put on the same rack with +the butter; the doors of the ice-box were carefully latched. Such +observations, and the slow twinkle of the fire in the range, deep down +under the curfew layer of coals, pleased him. In the cellar he peeped +into the garbage can, for it was always a satisfaction to assure himself +that Fuji did not waste anything that could be used. One of the laundry +tub taps was dripping, with a soft measured tinkle: he said to himself +that he really must have it attended to. All these domestic matters +seemed more significant than ever when he thought of youthful innocence +sleeping upstairs in the spare-room bed. His had been a selfish life +hitherto, he feared. These puppies were just what he needed to take him +out of himself. + +Busy with these thoughts, he did not notice the ironical whistling +coming from the pond. He tasted the night air with cheerful +satisfaction. "At any rate, to-morrow will be a fine day," he said. + +The next day it rained. But Gissing was too busy to think about the +weather. Every hour or so during the night he had gone into the spare +room to listen attentively to the breathing of the puppies, to pull the +blanket over them, and feel their noses. It seemed to him that they +were perspiring a little, and he was worried lest they catch cold. His +morning sleep (it had always been his comfortable habit to lie abed a +trifle late) was interrupted about seven o'clock by a lively clamour +across the hall. The puppies were awake, perfectly restored, and while +they were too young to make their wants intelligible, they plainly +expected some attention. He gave them a pair of old slippers to play +with, and proceeded to his own toilet. + +As he was bathing them, after breakfast, he tried to enlist Fuji's +enthusiasm. "Did you ever see such fat rascals?" he said. "I wonder if +we ought to trim their tails? How pink their stomachs are, and how pink +and delightful between their toes! You hold these two while I dry +the other. No, not that way! Hold them so you support their spines. A +puppy's back is very delicate: you can't be too careful. We'll have to +do things in a rough-and-ready way until Dr. Holt's book comes. After +that we can be scientific." + +Fuji did not seem very keen. Presently, in spite of the rain, he was +dispatched to the village department store to choose three small cribs +and a multitude of safety pins. "Plenty of safety pins is the idea," +said Gissing. "With enough safety pins handy, children are easy to +manage." + +As soon as the puppies were bestowed on the porch, in the sunshine, for +their morning nap, he telephoned to the local paperhanger. + +"I want you" (he said) "to come up as soon as you can with some nice +samples of nursery wallpaper. A lively Mother Goose pattern would do +very well." He had already decided to change the spare room into a +nursery. He telephoned the carpenter to make a gate for the top of the +stairs. He was so busy that he did not even have time to think of his +pipe, or the morning paper. At last, just before lunch, he found a +breathing space. He sat down in the study to rest his legs, and looked +for the Times. It was not in its usual place on his reading table. At +that moment the puppies woke up, and he ran out to attend them. He would +have been distressed if he had known that Fuji had the paper in the +kitchen, and was studying the HELP WANTED columns. + +A great deal of interest was aroused in the neighbourhood by the arrival +of Gissing's nephews, as he called them. Several of the ladies, who had +ignored him hitherto, called, in his absence, and left extra cards. This +implied (he supposed, though he was not closely versed in such niceties +of society) that there was a Mrs. Gissing, and he was annoyed, for he +felt certain they knew he was a bachelor. But the children were a source +of nothing but pride to him. They grew with astounding rapidity, ate +their food without coaxing, rarely cried at night, and gave him much +amusement by their naive ways. He was too occupied to be troubled with +introspection. Indeed, his well-ordered home was very different from +before. The trim lawn, in spite of his zealous efforts, was constantly +littered with toys. In sheer mischief the youngsters got into his +wardrobe and chewed off the tails of his evening dress coat. But he +felt a satisfying dignity and happiness in his new status as head of a +family. + +What worried him most was the fear that Fuji would complain of this +sudden addition to his duties. The butler's face was rather an enigma, +particularly at meal times, when Gissing sat at the dinner table +surrounded by the three puppies in their high chairs, with a spindrift +of milk and prune-juice spattering generously as the youngsters plied +their spoons. Fuji had arranged a series of scuppers, made of oilcloth, +underneath the chairs; but in spite of this the dining-room rug, after a +meal, looked much as the desert place must have after the feeding of +the multitude. Fuji, who was pensive, recalled the five loaves and two +fishes that produced twelve baskets of fragments. The vacuum cleaner got +clogged by a surfeit of crumbs. + +Gissing saw that it would be a race between heart and head. If Fuji's +heart should become entangled (that is, if the innocent charms of the +children should engage his affections before his reason convinced him +that the situation was now too arduous), there was some hope. He tried +to ease the problem also by mental suggestion. "It is really remarkable" +(he said to Fuji) "that children should give one so little trouble." +As he made this remark, he was speeding hotly to and fro between the +bathroom and the nursery, trying to get one tucked in bed and another +undressed, while the third was lashing the tub into soapy foam. Fuji +made his habitual response, "Very good, sir." But one fears that he +detected some insincerity, for the next day, which was Sunday, he gave +notice. This generally happens on a Sunday, because the papers publish +more Help Wanted advertisements then than on any other day. + +"I'm sorry, sir," he said. "But when I took this place there was nothing +said about three children." + +This was unreasonable of Fuji. It is very rare to have everything +explained beforehand. When Adam and Eve were put into the Garden of +Eden, there was nothing said about the serpent. + +However, Gissing did not believe in entreating a servant to stay. He +offered to give Fuji a raise, but the butler was still determined to +leave. + +"My senses are very delicate," he said. "I really cannot stand +the--well, the aroma exhaled by those three children when they have had +a warm bath." + +"What nonsense!" cried Gissing. "The smell of wet, healthy puppies? +Nothing is more agreeable. You are cold-blooded: I don't believe you are +fond of puppies. Think of their wobbly black noses. Consider how pink is +the little cleft between their toes and the main cushion of their feet. +Their ears are like silk. Inside their upper jaws are parallel black +ridges, most remarkable. I never realized before how beautifully and +carefully we are made. I am surprised that you should be so indifferent +to these things." + +There was a moisture in Fuji's eyes, but he left at the end of the week. + + + +CHAPTER THREE + +A solitary little path ran across the fields not far from the house. +It lay deep among tall grasses and the withered brittle stalks of +last autumn's goldenrod, and here Gissing rambled in the green hush of +twilight, after the puppies were in bed. In less responsible days +he would have lain down on his back, with all four legs upward, and +cheerily shrugged and rolled to and fro, as the crisp ground-stubble was +very pleasing to the spine. But now he paced soberly, the smoke from his +pipe eddying just above the top of the grasses. He had much to meditate. + +The dogwood tree by the house was now in flower. The blossoms, with +their four curved petals, seemed to spin like tiny white propellers +in the bright air. When he saw them fluttering Gissing had a happy +sensation of movement. The business of those tremulous petals seemed to +be thrusting his whole world forward and forward, through the viewless +ocean of space. He felt as though he were on a ship--as, indeed, we are. +He had never been down to the open sea, but he had imagined it. There, +he thought, there must be the satisfaction of a real horizon. + +Horizons had been a great disappointment to him. In earlier days he had +often slipped out of the house not long after sunrise, and had marvelled +at the blue that lies upon the skyline. Here, about him, were the clear +familiar colours of the world he knew; but yonder, on the hills, were +trees and spaces of another more heavenly tint. That soft blue light, if +he could reach it, must be the beginning of what his mind required. + +He envied Mr. Poodle, whose cottage was on that very hillslope that rose +so imperceptibly into sky. One morning he ran and ran, in the lifting +day, but always the blue receded. Hot and unbuttoned, he came by the +curate's house, just as the latter emerged to pick up the morning paper. + +"Where does the blue begin?" Gissing panted, trying hard to keep his +tongue from sliding out so wetly. + +The curate looked a trifle disturbed. He feared that something +unpleasant had happened, and that his assistance might be required +before breakfast. + +"It is going to be a warm day," he said politely, and stooped for the +newspaper, as a delicate hint. + +"Where does--?" began Gissing, quivering; but at that moment, looking +round, he saw that it had hoaxed him again. Far away, on his own hill +the other side of the village, shone the evasive colour. As usual, +he had been too impetuous. He had not watched it while he ran; it had +circled round behind him. He resolved to be more methodical. + +The curate gave him a blank to fill in, relative to baptizing the +children, and was relieved to see him hasten away. + +But all this was some time ago. As he walked the meadow path, Gissing +suddenly realized that lately he had had little opportunity for pursuing +blue horizons. Since Fuji's departure every moment, from dawn to dusk, +was occupied. In three weeks he had had three different servants, but +none of them would stay. The place was too lonely, they said, and with +three puppies the work was too hard. The washing, particularly was a +horrid problem. Inexperienced as a parent, Gissing was probably too +proud: he wanted the children always to look clean and soigne. The last +cook had advertised herself as a General Houseworker, afraid of +nothing; but as soon as she saw the week's wash in the hamper (including +twenty-one grimy rompers), she telephoned to the station for a taxi. +Gissing wondered why it was that the working classes were not willing +to do one-half as much as he, who had been reared to indolent ease. Even +more, he was irritated by a suspicion of the ice-wagon driver. He could +not prove it, but he had an idea that this uncouth fellow obtained a +commission from the Airedales and Collies, who had large mansions in the +neighbourhood, for luring maids from the smaller homes. Of course Mrs. +Airedale and Mrs. Collie could afford to pay any wages at all. So now +the best he could do was to have Mrs. Spaniel, the charwoman, come up +from the village to do the washing and ironing, two days a week. The +rest of the work he undertook himself. On a clear afternoon, when the +neighbours were not looking, he would take his own shirts and things +down to the pond--putting them neatly in the bottom of the red +express-wagon, with the puppies sitting on the linen, so no one would +see. While the puppies played about and hunted for tadpoles, he would +wash his shirts himself. + +His legs ached as he took his evening stroll--keeping within earshot of +the house, so as to hear any possible outcry from the nursery. He +had been on his feet all day. But he reflected that there was a real +satisfaction in his family tasks, however gruelling. Now, at last (he +said to himself), I am really a citizen, not a mere dilettante. Of +course it is arduous. No one who is not a parent realizes, for example, +the extraordinary amount of buttoning and unbuttoning necessary in +rearing children. I calculate that 50,000 buttonings are required for +each one before it reaches the age of even rudimentary independence. +With the energy so expended one might write a great novel or chisel a +statue. Never mind: these urchins must be my Works of Art. If one +were writing a novel, he could not delegate to a hired servant the +composition of laborious chapters. + +So he took his responsibility gravely. This was partly due to the +christening service, perhaps, which had gone off very charmingly. It +had not been without its embarrassments. None of the neighbouring ladies +would stand as godmother, for they were secretly dubious as to the +children's origin; so he had asked good Mrs. Spaniel to act in that +capacity. She, a simple kindly creature, was much flattered, though +certainly she can have understood very little of the symbolical rite. +Gissing, filling out the form that Mr. Poodle had given him, had put +down the names of an entirely imaginary brother and sister-in-law of +his, "deceased," whom he asserted as the parents. He had been so busy +with preparations that he did not find time, before the ceremony, +to study the text of the service; and when he and Mrs. Spaniel stood +beneath the font with an armful of ribboned infancy, he was frankly +startled by the magnitude of the promises exacted from him. He found +that, on behalf of the children, he must "renounce the devil and all his +work, the vain pomp and glory of the world;" that he must pledge himself +to see that these infants would "crucify the old man and utterly abolish +the whole body of sin." It was rather doubtful whether they would do so, +he reflected, as he felt them squirming in his arms while Mrs. Spaniel +was busy trying to keep their socks on. When the curate exhorted him "to +follow the innocency" of these little ones, it was disconcerting to have +one of them burst into a piercing yammer, and wriggle so forcibly that +it slipped quite out of its little embroidered shift and flannel band. +But the actual access to the holy basin was more seemly, perhaps due to +the children imagining they were going to find tadpoles there. When Mr. +Poodle held them up they smiled with a vague almost bashful simplicity; +and Mrs. Spaniel could not help murmuring "The darlings!" The curate, +less experienced with children, had insisted on holding all three at +once, and Gissing feared lest one of them might swarm over the surpliced +shoulder and fall splash into the font. But though they panted a little +with excitement, they did nothing to mar the solemn instant. While Mrs. +Spaniel was picking up the small socks with which the floor was strewn, +Gissing was deeply moved by the poetry of the ceremony. He felt that +something had really been accomplished toward "burying the Old Adam." +And if Mrs. Spaniel ever grew disheartened at the wash-tubs, he was +careful to remind her of the beautiful phrase about the mystical washing +away of sin. + +They had been christened Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers, three traditional +names in his family. + +Indeed, he was reflecting as he walked in the dusk, Mrs. Spaniel was +now his sheet anchor. Fortunately she showed signs of becoming +extraordinarily attached to the puppies. On the two days a week when she +came up from the village, it was even possible for him to get a little +relaxation--to run down to the station for tobacco, or to lie in the +hammock briefly with a book. Looking off from his airy porch, he could +see the same blue distances that had always tempted him, but he felt too +passive to wonder about them. He had given up the idea of trying to get +any other servants. If it had been possible, he would have engaged Mrs. +Spaniel to sleep in the house and be there permanently; but she had +children of her own down in the shantytown quarter of the village, and +had to go back to them at night. But certainly he made every effort to +keep her contented. It was a long steep climb up from the hollow, so +he allowed her to come in a taxi and charge it to his account. Then, on +condition that she would come on Saturdays also, to help him clean up +for Sunday, he allowed her, on that day, to bring her own children too, +and all the puppies played riotously together around the place. But this +he presently discontinued, for the clamour became so deafening that the +neighbours complained. Besides, the young Spaniels, who were a little +older, got Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers into noisy and careless habits of +speech. + +He was anxious that they should grow up refined, and was distressed by +little Shaggy Spaniel having brought up the Comic Section of a Sunday +paper. With childhood's instinctive taste for primitive effects, the +puppies fell in love with the coloured cartoons, and badgered him +continually for "funny papers." + +There is a great deal more to think about in raising children (he said +to himself) than is intimated in Dr. Holt's book on Care and Feeding. +Even in matters that he had always taken for granted, such as fairy +tales, he found perplexity. After supper--(he now joined the children in +their evening bread and milk, for after cooking them a hearty lunch of +meat and gravy and potatoes and peas and the endless spinach and carrots +that the doctors advise, to say nothing of the prunes, he had no energy +to prepare a special dinner for himself)--after supper it was his habit +to read to them, hoping to give their imaginations a little exercise +before they went to bed. He was startled to find that Grimm and Hans +Andersen, which he had considered as authentic classics for childhood, +were full of very strong stuff--morbid sentiment, bloodshed, horror, and +all manner of painful circumstance. Reading the tales aloud, he edited +as he went along; but he was subject to that curious weakness that +afflicts some people: reading aloud made him helplessly sleepy: after a +page or so he would fall into a doze, from which he would be awakened by +the crash of a lamp or some other furniture. The children, seized with +that furious hilarity that usually begins just about bedtime, would race +madly about the house until some breakage or a burst of tears woke him +from his trance. He would thrash them all and put them to bed howling. +When they were asleep he would be touched with tender compassion, and +steal in to tuck them up, admiring the innocence of each unconscious +muzzle on its pillow. Sometimes, in a crisis of his problems, he thought +of writing to Dr. Holt for advice; but the will-power was lacking. + +It is really astonishing how children can exhaust one, he used to think. +Sometimes, after a long day, he was even too weary to correct their +grammar. "You lay down!" Groups would admonish Yelpers, who was capering +in his crib while Bunks was being lashed in with the largest size of +safety pins. And Gissing, doggedly passing from one to another, was +really too fatigued to reprove the verb, picked up from Mrs. Spaniel. + +Fairy tales proving a disappointment, he had great hopes of encouraging +them in drawing. He bought innumerable coloured crayons and stacks +of scribbling paper. After supper they would all sit down around the +dining-room table and he drew pictures for them. Tongues depending with +concentrated excitement, the children would try to copy these pictures +and colour them. In spite of having three complete sets of crayons, a +full roster of colours could rarely be found at drawing time. Bunks had +the violet when Groups wanted it, and so on. But still, this was often +the happiest hour of the day. Gissing drew amazing trains, elephants, +ships, and rainbows, with the spectrum of colours correctly arranged +and blended. The children specially loved his landscapes, which were +opulently tinted and magnificent in long perspectives. He found himself +always colouring the far horizons a pale and haunting blue. + +He was meditating these things when a shrill yammer recalled him to the +house. + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + +In this warm summer weather Gissing slept on a little outdoor balcony +that opened off the nursery. The world, rolling in her majestic seaway, +heeled her gunwale slowly into the trough of space. Disked upon this +bulwark, the sun rose, and promptly Gissing woke. The poplars flittered +in a cool stir. Beyond the tadpole pond, through a notch in the +landscape, he could see the far darkness of the hills. That fringe of +woods was a railing that kept the sky from flooding over the earth. + +The level sun, warily peering over the edge like a cautious marksman, +fired golden volleys unerringly at him. At once Gissing was aware and +watchful. Brief truce was over: the hopeless war with Time began anew. + +This was his placid hour. Light, so early, lies timidly along the +ground. It steals gently from ridge to ridge; it is soft, unsure. +That blue dimness, receding from bole to bole, is the skirt of Night's +garment, trailing off toward some other star. As easily as it slips from +tree to tree, it glides from earth to Orion. + +Light, which later will riot and revel and strike pitilessly down, still +is tender and tentative. It sweeps in rosy scythe-strokes, parallel to +earth. It gilds, where later it will burn. + +Gissing lay, without stirring. The springs of the old couch were creaky, +and the slightest sound might arouse the children within. Now, until +they woke, was his peace. Purposely he had had the sleeping porch built +on the eastern side of the house. Making the sun his alarm clock, he +prolonged the slug-a-bed luxury. He had procured the darkest and +most opaque of all shades for the nursery windows, to cage as long as +possible in that room Night the silencer. At this time of the year, the +song of the mosquito was his dreaded nightingale. In spite of fine-mesh +screens, always one or two would get in. Mrs. Spaniel, he feared, left +the kitchen door ajar during the day, and these Borgias of the insect +world, patiently invasive, seized their chance. It was a rare night when +a sudden scream did not come from the nursery every hour or so. "Daddy, +a keeto, a keeto!" was the anguish from one of the trio. The other two +were up instantly, erect and yelping in their cribs, small black paws on +the rail, pink stomachs candidly exposed to the winged stilleto. Lights +on, and the room must be explored for the lurking foe. Scratching +themselves vigorously, the fun of the chase assuaged the smart of those +red welts. Gissing, wise by now, knew that after a forager the mosquito +always retires to the ceiling, so he kept a stepladder in the room. +Mounted on this, he would pursue the enemy with a towel, while the +children screamed with merriment. Then stomachs must be anointed with +more citronella; sheets and blankets reassembled, and quiet gradually +restored. Life, as parents know, can be supported on very little sleep. + +But how delicious to lie there, in the morning freshness, to hear the +earth stir with reviving gusto, the merriment of birds, the exuberant +clink of milk-bottles set down by the back-door, the whole complex +machinery of life begin anew! Gissing was amazed now, looking back upon +his previous existence, to see himself so busy, so active. Few +people are really lazy, he thought: what we call laziness is merely +maladjustment. For in any department of life where one is genuinely +interested, he will be zealous beyond belief. Certainly he had not +dreamed, until he became (in a manner of speaking) a parent, that he had +in him such capacity for detail. + +This business of raising a family, though--had he any true aptitude +for it? or was he forcing himself to go through with it? Wasn't he, +moreover, incurring all the labours of parenthood without any of +its proper dignity and social esteem? Mrs. Chow down the street, for +instance, why did she look so sniffingly upon him when she heard the +children, in the harmless uproar of their play, cry him aloud as Daddy? +Uncle, he had intended they should call him; but that is, for beginning +speech, a hard saying, embracing both a palatal and a liquid. Whereas +Da-da--the syllables come almost unconsciously to the infant mouth. +So he had encouraged it, and even felt an irrational pride in the +honourable but unearned title. + +A little word, Daddy, but one of the most potent, he was thinking. +More than a word, perhaps: a great social engine: an anchor which, cast +carelessly overboard, sinks deep and fast into the very bottom. The +vessel rides on her hawser, and where are your blue horizons then? + +But come now, isn't one horizon as good as another? And do they really +remain blue when you reach them? + +Unconsciously he stirred, stretching his legs deeply into the +comfortable nest of his couch. The springs twanged. Simultaneous +clamours! The puppies were awake. + +They yelled to be let out from the cribs. This was the time of the +morning frolic. Gissing had learned that there is only one way to deal +with the almost inexhaustible energy of childhood. That is, not to +attempt to check it, but to encourage and draw it out. To start the day +with a rush, stimulating every possible outlet of zeal; meanwhile taking +things as calmly and quietly as possible himself, sitting often to take +the weight off his legs, and allowing the youngsters to wear themselves +down. This, after all, is Nature's own way with man; it is the wise +parent's tactic with children. Thus, by dusk, the puppies will have run +themselves almost into a stupor; and you, if you have shrewdly husbanded +your strength, may have still a little power in reserve for reading and +smoking. + +The before-breakfast game was conducted on regular routine. Children +show their membership in the species by their love of strict habit. + +Gissing let them yell for a few moments--as long as he thought the +neighbours would endure it--while he gradually gathered strength and +resolution, shook off the cowardice of bed. Then he strode into the +nursery. As soon as they heard him raising the shades there was complete +silence. They hastened to pull the blankets over themselves, and lay +tense, faces on paws, with bright expectant upward eyes. They trembled a +little with impatience. It was all he could do to restrain himself from +patting the sleek heads, which always seemed to shine with extra +polish after a night's rolling to and fro on the flattened pillows. But +sternness was a part of the game at this moment. He solemnly unlatched +and lowered the tall sides of the cribs. + +He stood in the middle of the room, with a gesture of command. "Quiet +now," he said. "Quiet, until I tell you!" + +Yelpers could not help a small whine of intense emotion, which slipped +out unintended. The eyes of Groups and Bunks swivelled angrily toward +their unlucky brother. It was his failing: in crises he always emitted +haphazard sounds. But this time Gissing, with lenient forgiveness, +pretended not to have heard. + +He returned to the balcony, and reentered his couch, where he lay +feigning sleep. In the nursery was a terrific stillness. + +It was the rule of the game that they should lie thus, in absolute +quiet, until he uttered a huge imitation snore. Once, after a +particularly exhausting night, he had postponed the snore too long: +he fell asleep. He did not wake for an hour, and then found the tragic +three also sprawled in amazing slumber. But their pillows were wet with +tears. He never succumbed again, no matter how deeply tempted. + +He snored. There were three sprawling thumps, a rush of feet, and a +tumbling squeeze through the screen door. Then they were on the couch +and upon him, with panting yelps of glee. Their hot tongues rasped +busily over his face. This was the great tickling game. Remembering his +theory of conserving energy, he lay passive while they rollicked +and scrambled, burrowing in the bedclothes, quivering imps of absurd +pleasure. All that was necessary was to give an occasional squirm, to +tweak their ribs now and then, so that they believed his heart was in +the sport. Really he got quite a little rest while they were scuffling. +No one knew exactly what was the imagined purpose of the lark--whether +he was supposed to be trying to escape from them, or they from him. Like +all the best games, it had not been carefully thought out. + +"Now, children," said Gissing presently. "Time to get dressed." + +It was amazing how fast they were growing. Already they were beginning +to take a pride in trying to dress themselves. While Gissing was in +the bathroom, enjoying his cold tub (and under the stimulus of that +icy sluice forming excellent resolutions for the day) the children were +sitting on the nursery floor eagerly studying the intricacies of their +gear. By the time he returned they would have half their garments on +wrong; waist and trousers front side to rear; right shoes on left feet; +buttons hopelessly mismated to buttonholes; shoelacings oddly zigzagged. +It was far more trouble to permit their ambitious bungling, which must +be undone and painstakingly reassembled, than to have clad them all +himself, swiftly revolving and garmenting them like dolls. But in these +early hours of the day, patience still is robust. It was his pedagogy to +encourage their innocent initiatives, so long as endurance might permit. + +Best of all, he enjoyed watching them clean their teeth. It was +delicious to see them, tiptoe on their hind legs at the basin, to which +their noses just reached; mouths gaping wide as they scrubbed with very +small toothbrushes. They were so elated by squeezing out the toothpaste +from the tube that he had not the heart to refuse them this privilege, +though it was wasteful. For they always squeezed out more than +necessary, and after a moment's brushing their mouths became choked and +clotted with the pungent foam. Much of this they swallowed, for he +had not been able to teach them to rinse and gargle. Their only idea +regarding any fluid in the mouth was to swallow it; so they coughed and +strangled and barked. Gissing had a theory that this toothpaste foam +most be an appetizer, for he found that the more of it they swallowed, +the better they ate their breakfast. + +After breakfast he hurried them out into the garden, before the day +became too hot. As he put a new lot of prunes to soak in cold water, he +could not help reflecting how different the kitchen and pantry looked +from the time of Fuji. The ice-box pan seemed to be continually brimming +over. Somehow--due, he feared, to a laxity on Mrs. Spaniel's part--ants +had got in. He was always finding them inside the ice-box, and wondered +where they came from. He was amazed to find how negligent he was growing +about pots and pans: he began cooking a new mess of oatmeal in the +double boiler without bothering to scrape out the too adhesive remnant +of the previous porridge. He had come to the conclusion that children +are tougher and more enduring than Dr. Holt will admit; and that a +little carelessness in matters of hygiene and sterilization does not +necessarily mean instant death. + +Truly his once dainty menage was deteriorating. He had put away his fine +china, put away the linen napery, and laid the table with oil cloth. He +had even improved upon Fuji's invention of scuppers by a little +trough which ran all round the rim of the table, to catch any possible +spillage. He was horrified to observe how inevitably callers came at +the worst possible moment. Mr. and Mrs. Chow, for instance, drew up one +afternoon in their spick-and-span coupe with their intolerably spotless +only child sitting self-consciously beside them. Groups, Bunks, and +Yelpers were just then filling the garden with horrid clamour. They had +been quarrelling, and one had pushed the other two down the back steps. +Gissing, who had attempted to find a quiet moment to scald the ants out +of the ice-box, had just rushed forth and boxed them all. As he stood +there, angry and waving a steaming dishclout, two Chows appeared. The +puppies at once set upon little Sandy Chow, and had thoroughly mauled +his starched sailor suit in the driveway before two minutes were past. +Gissing could not help laughing, for he suspected that there had been a +touch of malice in the Chows coming just at that time. + +He had given up his flower garden, too. It was all he could do to shove +the lawn-mower around, in the dusk, after the puppies were in bed. +Formerly he had found the purr of the twirling blades a soothing +stimulus to thought; but nowadays he could not even think consecutively. +Perhaps, he thought, the residence of the mind is in the legs, not in +the head; for when your legs are thoroughly weary you can't seem to +think. + +So he had decided that he simply must have more help in the cooking and +housework. He had instructed Mrs. Spaniel to send the washing to the +steam-laundry, and spend her three days in the kitchen instead. A +huge bundle had come back from the laundry, and he had paid the driver +$15.98. With dismay he sorted the clean, neatly folded garments. Here +was the worthy Mrs. Spaniel's list, painstakingly written out in her +straggling script:-- + + MR. GISHING FAMILY WOSH + + 8 towls + 6 pymjarm Mr Gishing + 12 rompers + 3 blowses + 6 cribb sheets + 1 Mr. Gishing sheat + 4 wastes + 3 wosh clothes + 2 onion sutes Mr Gishing + 6 smal onion sutes + 4 pillo slipes + 3 sherts + 18 hankerchifs smal + 6 hankerchifs large + 8 colers + 3 overhauls + 10 bibbs + 2 table clothes (coca stane) + 1 table clothe (prun juce and eg) + +After contemplating this list, Gissing went to his desk and began to +study his accounts. A resolve was forming in his mind. + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + +The summer evenings sounded a very different music from that thin +wheedling of April. It was now a soft steady vibration, the incessant +drone and throb of locust and cricket, and sometimes the sudden rasp, +dry and hard, of katydids. Gissing, in spite of his weariness, was all +fidgets. He would walk round and round the house in the dark, unable +to settle down to anything; tired, but incapable of rest. What is this +uneasiness in the mind, he asked himself? The great sonorous drumming of +the summer night was like the bruit of Time passing steadily by. Even +in the soft eddy of the leaves, lifted on a drowsy creeping air, was a +sound of discontent, of troublesome questioning. Through the trees he +could see the lighted oblongs of neighbours' windows, or hear stridulent +jazz records. Why were all others so cheerfully absorbed in the minutiae +of their lives, and he so painfully ill at ease? Sometimes, under the +warm clear darkness, the noises of field and earth swelled to a kind +of soft thunder: his quickened ears heard a thousand small outcries +contributing to the awful energy of the world--faint chimings and +whistlings in the grass, and endless flutter, rustle, and whirr. His own +body, on which hair and nails grew daily like vegetation, startled and +appalled him. Consciousness of self, that miserable ecstasy, was heavy +upon him. + +He envied the children, who lay upstairs sprawled under their mosquito +nettings. Immersed in living, how happily unaware of being alive! He +saw, with tenderness, how naively they looked to him as the answer and +solution of their mimic problems. But where could he find someone to be +to him what he was to them? The truth apparently was that in his inward +mind he was desperately lonely. Reading the poets by fits and starts, +he suddenly realized that in their divine pages moved something of this +loneliness, this exquisite unhappiness. But these great hearts had had +the consolation of setting down their moods in beautiful words, words +that lived and spoke. His own strange fever burned inexpressibly inside +him. Was he the only one who felt the challenge offered by the maddening +fertility and foison of the hot sun-dazzled earth? Life, he realized, +was too amazing to be frittered out in this aimless sickness of heart. +There were truths and wonders to be grasped, if he could only throw off +this wistful vague desire. He felt like a clumsy strummer seated at a +dark shining grand piano, which he knows is capable of every glory of +rolling music, yet he can only elicit a few haphazard chords. + +He had his moments of arrogance, too. Ah, he was very young! This +miracle of blue unblemished sky that had baffled all others since life +began--he, he would unriddle it! He was inclined to sneer at his friends +who took these things for granted, and did not perceive the infamous +insolubility of the whole scheme. Remembering the promises made at +the christening, he took the children to church; but alas, carefully +analyzing his mind, he admitted that his attention had been chiefly +occupied with keeping them orderly, and he had gone through the service +almost automatically. Only in singing hymns did he experience a tingle +of exalted feeling. But Mr. Poodle was proud of his well-trained choir, +and Gissing had a feeling that the congregation was not supposed to do +more than murmur the verses, for fear of spoiling the effect. In his +favourite hymns he had a tendency to forget himself and let go: his +vigorous tenor rang lustily. Then he realized that the backs of people's +heads looked surprised. The children could not be kept quiet unless +they stood up on the pews. Mr. Poodle preached rather a long sermon, and +Yelpers, toward twelve-thirty, remarked in a clear tone of interested +inquiry, "What time does God have dinner?" + +Gissing had a painful feeling that he and Mr. Poodle did not thoroughly +understand each other. The curate, who was kindness itself, called one +evening, and they had a friendly chat. Gissing was pleased to find +that Mr. Poodle enjoyed a cigar, and after some hesitation ventured to +suggest that he still had something in the cellar. Mr. Poodle said that +he didn't care for anything, but his host could not help hearing the +curate's tail quite unconsciously thumping on the chair cushions. So he +excused himself and brought up one of his few remaining bottles of +White Horse. Mr. Poodle crossed his legs and they chatted about golf, +politics, the income tax, and some of the recent books; but when Gissing +turned the talk on religion, Mr. Poodle became diffident.. Gissing, +warmed and cheered by the vital Scotch, was perhaps too direct. + +"What ought I to do to 'crucify the old man'?" he said. + +Mr. Poodle was rather embarrassed. + +"You must mortify the desires of the flesh," he replied. "You must dig +up the old bone of sin that is buried in all our hearts." + +There were many more questions Gissing wanted to ask about this, but Mr. +Poodle said he really must be going, as he had a call to pay on Mr. and +Mrs. Chow. + +Gissing walked down the path with him, and the curate did indeed set off +toward the Chows'. But Gissing wondered, for a little later he heard a +cheerful canticle upraised in the open fields. + +He himself was far from gay. He longed to tear out this malady from his +breast. Poor dreamer, he did not know that to do so is to tear out God +Himself. "Mrs. Spaniel," he said when the laundress next came up from +the village, "you are a widow, aren't you?" + +"Yes, sir," she said. "Poor Spaniel was killed by a truck, two years ago +April." Her face was puzzled, but beneath her apron Gissing could see +her tail wagging. + +"Don't misunderstand me," he said quickly. "I've got to go away on +business. I want you to bring your children and move into this house +while I'm gone. I'll make arrangements at the bank about paying all the +bills. You can give up your outside washing and devote yourself entirely +to looking after this place." + +Mrs. Spaniel was so much surprised that she could not speak. In her +amazement a bright bubble dripped from the end of her curly tongue. +Hastily she caught it in her apron, and apologized. + +"How long will you be away, sir?" she asked. + +"I don't know. It may be quite a long time." + +"But all your beautiful things, furniture and everything," said Mrs. +Spaniel. "I'm afraid my children are a bit rough. They're not used to +living in a house like this--" + +"Well," said Gissing, "you must do the best you can. There are some +things more important than furniture. It will be good for your children +to get accustomed to refined surroundings, and it'll be good for my +nephews to have someone to play with. Besides, I don't want them to grow +up spoiled mollycoddles. I think I've been fussing over them too much. +If they have good stuff in them, a little roughening won't do any +permanent harm." + +"Dear me," cried Mrs. Spaniel, "what will the neighbours think?" + +"They won't," said Gissing. "I don't doubt they'll talk, but they won't +think. Thinking is very rare. I've got to do some myself, that's one +reason why I'm going. You know, Mrs. Spaniel, God is a horizon, not +someone sitting on a throne." Mrs. Spaniel didn't understand this--in +fact, she didn't seem to hear it. Her mind was full of the idea that +she would simply have to have a new dress, preferably black silk, for +Sundays. Gissing, very sagacious, had already foreseen this point. +"Let's not have any argument," he continued. "I have planned everything. +Here is some money for immediate needs. I'll speak to them at the +bank, and they will give you a weekly allowance. I leave you here as +caretaker. Later on I'll send you an address and you can write me how +things are going." + +Poor Mrs. Spaniel was bewildered. She came of very decent people, but +since Spaniel took to drink, and then left her with a family to support, +she had sunk in the world. She was wondering now how she could face it +out with Mrs. Chow and Mrs. Fox-Terrier and the other neighbours. + +"Oh, dear," she cried, "I don't know what to say, sir. Why, my boys are +so disreputable-looking, they haven't even a collar between them." + +"Get them collars and anything else they need," said Gissing kindly. +"Don't worry, Mrs. Spaniel, it will be a fine thing for you. There will +be a little gossip, I dare say, but we'll have to chance that. Now +you had better go down to the village and make your arrangements. I'm +leaving tonight." + +Late that evening, after seeing Mrs. Spaniel and her brood safely +installed, Gissing walked to the station with his suitcase. He felt a +pang as he lifted the mosquito nettings and kissed the cool moist noses +of the sleeping trio. But he comforted himself by thinking that this was +no merely vulgar desertion. If he was to raise the family, he must earn +some money. His modest income would not suffice for this sudden increase +in expenses. Besides, he had never known what freedom meant until it +was curtailed. For the past three months he had lived in ceaseless +attendance; had even slept with one ear open for the children's cries. +Now he owed it to himself to make one great strike for peace. Wealth, he +could see, was the answer. With money, everything was attainable: books, +leisure for study, travel, prestige--in short, command over the physical +details of life. He would go in for Big Business. Already he thrilled +with a sense of power and prosperity. + +The little house stood silent in the darkness as he went down the path. +The night was netted with the weaving sparkle of fireflies. He stood +for a moment, looking. Suddenly there came a frightened cry from the +nursery. + +"Daddy, a keeto, a keeto!" + +He nearly turned to run back, but checked himself. No, Mrs. Spaniel was +now in charge. It was up to her. Besides, he had only just enough time +to catch the last train to the city. + +But he sat on the cinder-speckled plush of the smoker in a mood that was +hardly revelry. "By Jove," he said to himself, "I got away just in time. +Another month and I couldn't have done it." + +It was midnight when he saw the lights of town, panelled in gold against +a peacock sky. Acres and acres of blue darkness lay close-pressing +upon the gaudy grids of light. Here one might really look at this great +miracle of shadow and see its texture. The dulcet air drifted lazily in +deep, silent crosstown streets. "Ah," he said, "here is where the blue +begins." + + + +CHAPTER SIX + + "For students of the troubled heart + Cities are perfect works of art." + +There is a city so tall that even the sky above her seems to have lifted +in a cautious remove, inconceivably far. There is a city so proud, so +mad, so beautiful and young, that even heaven has retreated, lest her +placid purity be too nearly tempted by that brave tragic spell. In the +city which is maddest of all, Gissing had come to search for sanity. In +the city so strangely beautiful that she has made even poets silent, he +had come to find a voice. In the city of glorious ostent and vanity, he +had come to look for humility and peace. + +All cities are mad: but the madness is gallant. All cities are +beautiful: but the beauty is grim. Who shall tell me the truth about +this one? Tragic? Even so, because wherever ambitions, vanities, and +follies are multiplied by millionfold contact, calamity is there. Noble +and beautiful? Aye, for even folly may have the majesty of magnitude. +Hasty, cruel, shallow? Agreed, but where in this terrene orb will you +find it otherwise? I know all that can be said against her; and yet in +her great library of streets, vast and various as Shakespeare, is beauty +enough for a lifetime. O poets, why have you been so faint? Because she +seems cynical and crass, she cries with trumpet-call to the mind of the +dreamer; because she is riant and mad, she speaks to the grave sanity of +the poet. + +So, in a mood perhaps too consciously lofty, Gissing was meditating. +It was rather impudent of him to accuse the city of being mad, for he +himself, in his glee over freedom regained, was not conspicuously sane. +He scoured the town in high spirits, peering into shop-windows, riding +on top of busses, going to the Zoo, taking the rickety old steamer to +the Statue of Liberty, drinking afternoon tea at the Ritz, and all that +sort of thing. The first three nights in town he slept in one of the +little traffic-towers that perch on stilts up above Fifth Avenue. As +a matter of fact, it was that one near St. Patrick's Cathedral. He had +ridden up the Avenue in a taxi, intending to go to the Plaza (just for +a bit of splurge after his domestic confinement). As the cab went by, he +saw the traffic-tower, dark and empty, and thought what a pleasant place +to sleep. So he asked the driver to let him out at the Cathedral, and +after being sure that he was not observed, walked back to the little +turret, climbed up the ladder, and made himself at home. He liked it +so well that he returned there the two following nights; but he didn't +sleep much, for he could not resist the fun of startling night-hawk +taxis by suddenly flashing the red, green, and yellow lights at them, +and seeing them stop in bewilderment. But after three nights he +thought it best to leave. It would have been awkward if the police had +discovered him. + +It was time to settle down and begin work. He had an uncle who was head +of an important business far down-town; but Gissing, with the quixotry +of youth, was determined to make his own start in the great world of +commerce. He found a room on the top floor of a quiet brownstone house +in the West Seventies. It was not large, and he had to go down a flight +for his bath; the gas burner over the bed whistled; the dust was rather +startling after the clean country; but it was cheap, and his sense of +adventure more than compensated. Mrs. Purp, the landlady, pleased him +greatly. She was very maternal, and urged him not to bolt his meals in +armchair lunches. She put an ashtray in his room. + +Gissing sent Mrs. Spaniel a postcard with a picture of the Pennsylvania +Station. On it he wrote Arrived safely. Hard at work. Love to the +children. Then he went to look for a job. + +His ideas about business were very vague. All he knew was that he wished +to be very wealthy and influential as soon as possible. He could have +had much sound advice from his uncle, who was a member of the Union +Kennel and quite a prominent dog-about-town. But Gissing had the +secretive pride of inexperience. Moreover, he did not quite know what +to say about his establishment in the country. That houseful of children +would need some explaining. + +Those were days of brilliant heat; clear, golden, dry. The society +columns in the papers assured him that everyone was out of town; but the +Avenue seemed plentifully crowded with beautiful, superb creatures. +Far down the gentle slopes of that glimmering roadway he could see +the rolling stream of limousines, dazzles of sunlight caught on their +polished flanks. A faint blue haze of gasoline fumes hung low in the +bright warm air. This is the street where even the most passive are +pricked by the strange lure of carnal dominion. Nothing less than a job +on the Avenue itself would suit his mood, he felt. + +Fortune and audacity united (as they always do) to concede his desire. +He was in the beautiful department store of Beagle and Company, one of +the most splendid of its kind, looking at some sand-coloured spats. +In an aisle near by he heard a commotion--nothing vulgar, but still an +evident stir, with repressed yelps and a genteel, horrified bustle. He +hastened to the spot, and through the crowd saw someone lying on the +floor. An extremely beautiful sales-damsel, charmingly clad in black +crepe de chien, was supporting the victim's head, vainly fanning him. +Wealthy dowagers were whining in distress. Then an ambulance clanged +up to a side door, and a stretcher was brought in. "What is it?" said +Gissing to a female at the silk-stocking counter. + +"One of the floorwalkers--died of heat prostration," she said, looking +very much upset. + +"Poor fellow," said Gissing. "You never know what will happen next, do +you?" He walked away, shaking his head. + +He asked the elevator attendant to direct him to the offices of the +firm. On the seventh floor, down a quiet corridor behind the bedroom +suites, a rosewood fence barred his way. A secretary faced him +inquiringly. + +"I wish to see Mr. Beagle." + +"Mr. Beagle senior or Mr. Beagle junior?" + +Youth cleaves to youth, said Gissing to himself. "Mr. Beagle junior," he +stated firmly. + +"Have you an appointment?" + +"Yes," he said. + +She took his ward, disappeared, and returned. "This way, please," she +said. + +Mr. Beagle senior must be very old indeed, he thought; for junior was +distinctly grizzled. In fact (so rapidly does the mind run), Mr. Beagle +senior must be near the age of retirement. Very likely (he said to +himself) that will soon occur; there will be a general stepping-up among +members of the firm, and that will be my chance. I wonder how much they +pay a junior partner? + +He almost uttered this question, as Mr. Beagle junior looked at him so +inquiringly. But he caught himself in time. + +"I beg your pardon for intruding," said Gissing, "but I am the new +floorwalker." + +"You are very kind," said Mr. Beagle junior, "but we do not need a new +floorwalker." + +"I beg your pardon again," said Gissing, "but you are not au courant +with the affairs of the store. One has just died, right by the +silk-stocking counter. Very bad for business." + +At this moment the telephone rang, and Mr. Beagle seized it. He +listened, sharply examining his caller meanwhile. + +"You are right," he said, as he put down the receiver. "Well, sir, have +you had any experience?" + +"Not exactly of that sort," said Gissing; "but I think I understand the +requirements. The tone of the store--" + +"I will ask you to be here at four-thirty this afternoon," said Mr. +Beagle. "We have a particular routine in regard to candidates for +that position. You will readily perceive that it is a post of some +importance. The floorwalker is our point of social contact with +patrons." + +Gissing negligently dusted his shoes with a handkerchief. + +"Pray do not apologize," he said kindly. "I am willing to congratulate +with you on your good fortune. It was mere hazard that I was in the +store. To-day, of course, business will be poor. But to-morrow, I think +you will find--" + +"At four-thirty," said Mr. Beagle, a little puzzled. + +That day Gissing went without lunch. First he explored the whole +building from top to bottom, until he knew the location of every +department, and had the store directory firmly memorized. With almost +proprietary tenderness he studied the shining goods and trinkets; noted +approvingly the clerks who seemed to him specially prompt and obliging +to customers; scowled a little at any sign of boredom or inattention. +He heard the soft sigh of the pneumatic tubes as they received money +and blew it to some distant coffer: this money, he thought, was already +partly his. That square-cut creature whom he presently discerned +following him was undoubtedly the store detective: he smiled to think +what a pleasant anecdote this would be when he was admitted to junior +partnership. Then he went, finally, to the special Masculine Shop on the +fifth floor, where he bought a silk hat, a cutaway coat and waistcoat, +and trousers of pearly stripe. He did not forget patent leather shoes, +nor white spats. He refused--the little white linen margins which the +clerk wished to affix to the V of his waistcoat. That, he felt, was the +ultra touch which would spoil all. The just less than perfection, how +perfect it is! + +It was getting late. He hurried to Penn Station where he hired one of +those little dressing booths, and put on his regalia. His tweeds, in a +neat package, he checked at the parcel counter. Then he returned to the +store for the important interview. + +He had expected a formal talk with the two Messrs. Beagle, perhaps +touching on such matters as duties, hours, salary, and so on. To his +surprise he was ushered by the secretary into a charming Louis XVI salon +farther down the private corridor. There were several ladies: one was +pouring tea. Mr. Beagle junior came forward. The vice-president (such +was Mr. Beagle junior's rank, Gissing had learned by the sign on his +door) still wore his business garb of the morning. Gissing immediately +felt himself to have the advantage. But what a pleasant idea, he +thought, for the members of the firm to have tea together every +afternoon. He handed his hat, gloves, and stick to the secretary. + +"Very kind of you to come," said Mr. Beagle. "Let me present you to my +wife." + +Mrs. Beagle, at the tea-urn, received him graciously. + +"Cream or lemon?" she said. "Two lumps?" + +This is really delightful, Gissing thought. Only on Fifth Avenue could +this kind of thing happen. He looked down the hostess from his superior +height, and smiled charmingly. + +"Do you permit three?" he said. "A little weakness of mine." As a matter +of fact, he hated tea so sweet; but he felt it was strategic to fix +himself in Mrs. Beagle's mind as a polished eccentric. + +"You must have a meringue," she said. "Ah, Mrs. Pomeranian has them. +Mrs. Pomeranian, let me present Mr. Gissing." + +Mrs. Pomeranian, small and plump and tightly corseted, offered the +meringues, while Mrs. Beagle pressed upon him a plate with a small +doily, embroidered with the arms of the store, and its motto je +maintiendrai--referring, no doubt, to its prices. Mr. Beagle then +introduced him to several more ladies in rapid succession. Gissing +passed along the line, bowing slightly but with courteous interest to +each. To each one he raised his eyebrows and permitted himself a small +significant smile, as though to convey that this was a moment he had +long been anticipating. How different, he thought, was this life of +enigmatic gaiety from the suburban drudgery of recent months. If only +Mrs. Spaniel could see him now! He was about to utilize a brief pause by +sipping his tea, when a white-headed patriarch suddenly appeared beside +him. + +"Mr. Gissing," said the vice-president, "this is my father, Mr. Beagle +senior." + +Gissing, by quick work, shuffled the teacup into his left paw, and the +meringue plate into the crook of his elbow, so he was ready for the old +gentleman's salutation. Mr. Beagle senior was indeed very old: his white +hair hung over his eyes, he spoke with growling severity. Gissing's +manner to the old merchant was one of respectful reassurance: he +attempted to make an impression that would console: to impart--of course +without saying so--the thought that though the head of the firm could +not last much longer, yet he would leave his great traffic in capable +care. + +"Where will I find an aluminum cooking pot?" growled the elder Beagle +unexpectedly. + +"In the Bargain Basement," said Gissing promptly. + +"He'll do!" cried the president. + +To his surprise, on looking round, Gissing saw that all the ladies had +vanished. Beagle junior was grinning at him. + +"You have the job, Mr. Gissing," he said. "You will pardon the harmless +masquerade--we always try out a floorwalker in that way. My father +thinks that if he can handle a teacup and a meringue while being +introduced to ladies, he can manage anything on the main aisle +downstairs. Mrs. Pomeranian, our millinery buyer, said she had never +seen it better done, and she mixes with some of the swellest people in +Paris." + +"Nine to six, with half an hour off for lunch," said the senior partner, +and left the room. + +Gissing calmly swallowed his tea, and ate the meringue. He would have +enjoyed another, but the capable secretary had already removed them. He +poured himself a second cup of tea. Mr. Beagle junior showed signs of +eagerness to leave, but Gissing detained him. + +"One moment," he said suavely. "There is a little matter that we have +not discussed. The question of salary." + +Mr. Beagle looked thoughtfully out of the window. + +"Thirty dollars a week," he said. + +After all, Gissing thought, it will only take four weeks to pay for what +I have spent on clothes. + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + +There was some dramatic nerve in Gissing's nature that responded +eloquently to the floorwalking job. Never, in the history of Beagle and +Company, had there been a floorwalker who threw so much passion and zeal +into his task. The very hang of his coattails, even the erect carriage +of his back, the rubbery way in which his feet trod the aisles, showed +his sense of dignity and glamour. There seemed to be a great tradition +which enriched and upheld him. Mr. Beagle senior used to stand on +the little balcony at the rear of the main floor, transfixed with the +pleasure of seeing Gissing move among the crowded passages. +Alert, watchful, urbane, with just the ideal blend of courtesy and +condescension, he raised floorwalking to a social art. Female customers +asked him the way to departments they knew perfectly well, for the +pleasure of hearing him direct them. Business began to improve before he +had been there a week. + +And how he enjoyed himself! The perfection of his bearing on the +floor was no careful pose: it was due to the brimming overplus of his +happiness. Happiness is surely the best teacher of good manners: only +the unhappy are churlish in deportment. He was young, remember; and +this was his first job. His precocious experience as a paterfamilias had +added to his mien just that suggestion of unconscious gravity which is +so appealing to ladies. He looked (they thought) as though he had been +touched--but Oh so lightly!--by poetic sorrow or strange experience: to +ask him the way to the notion counter was as much of an adventure as +to meet a reigning actor at a tea. The faint cloud of melancholy that +shadowed his brow may have been only due to the fact that his new boots +were pinching painfully; but they did not know that. + +So, quite unconsciously, he began to "establish" himself in his role, +just as an actor does. At first he felt his way tentatively and with +tact. Every store has its own tone and atmosphere: in a day or so he +divined the characteristic cachet of the Beagle establishment. He saw +what kind of customers were typical, and what sort of conduct they +expected. And the secret of conquest being always to give people +a little more than they expect, he pursued that course. Since they +expected in a floorwalker the mechanical and servile gentility of a +hired puppet, he exhibited the easy, offhand simplicity of a fellow +club-member. With perfect naturalness he went out of his way to assist +in their shopping concerns: gave advice in the selection of dress +materials, acted as arbiter in the matching of frocks and stockings. His +taste being faultless, it often happened that the things he recommended +were not the most expensive: this again endeared him to customers. +When sales slips were brought to him by ladies who wished to make an +exchange, he affixed his O. K. with a magnificent flourish, and with +such evident pleasure, that patrons felt genuine elation, and plunged +into the tumult with new enthusiasm. It was not long before there were +always people waiting for his counsel; and husbands would appear at +the store to convey (a little irritably) some such message as: "Mrs. +Sealyham says, please choose her a scarf that will go nicely with that +brown moire dress of hers. She says you will remember the dress."--This +popularity became even a bit perplexing, as for instance when old Mrs. +Dachshund, the store's biggest Charge Account, insisted on his leaving +his beat at a very busy time, to go up to the tenth floor to tell her +which piano he thought had the richer tone. + +Of course all this was very entertaining, and an admirable opportunity +for studying his fellow-creatures; but it did not go very deep into +his mind. He lived for some time in a confused glamour and glitter; +surrounded by the fascinating specious life of the store, but drifting +merely superficially upon it. The great place, with its columns of +artificial marble and white censers of upward-shining electricity, +glimmered like a birch forest by moonlight. Silver and jewels and silks +and slippers flashed all about him. It was a marvellous education, for +he soon learned to estimate these things at their proper value; which is +low, for they have little to do with life itself. His work was tiring in +the extreme--merely having to remain upright on his hind legs for +such long hours WAS an ordeal--but it did not penetrate to the secret +observant self of which he was always aware. This was advantageous. If +you have no intellect, or only just enough to get along with, it does +not much matter what you do. But if you really have a mind--by which +is meant that rare and curious power of reason, of imagination, and +of emotion; very different from a mere fertility of conversation and +intelligent curiosity--it is better not to weary and wear it out over +trifles. + +So, when he left the store in the evening, no matter how his legs ached, +his head was clear and untarnished. He did not hurry away at closing +time. Places where people work are particularly fascinating after +the bustle is over. He loved to linger in the long aisles, to see the +tumbled counters being swiftly brought to order, to hear the pungent +cynicisms of the weary shopgirls. To these, by the way, he was a bit of +a mystery. The punctilio of his manner, the extreme courtliness of his +remarks, embarrassed them a little. Behind his back they spoke of him as +"The Duke" and admired him hugely; little Miss Whippet, at the stocking +counter, said that he was an English noble of long pedigree, who had +been unjustly deprived of his estates. + +Down in the basement of this palatial store was a little dressing +room and lavatory for the floorwalkers, where they doffed their formal +raiment and resumed street attire. His colleagues grumbled and hastened +to depart, but Gissing made himself entirely comfortable. In his locker +he kept a baby's bathtub, which he leisurely filled with hot water at +one of the basins. Then he sat serenely and bathed his feet; although it +was against the rules he often managed to smoke a pipe while doing so. +Then he hung up his store clothes neatly, and went off refreshed into +the summer evening. + +A warm rosy light floods the city at that hour. At the foot of every +crosstown street is a bonfire of sunset. What a mood of secret smiling +beset him as he viewed the great territory of his enjoyment. "The +freedom of the city"--a phrase he had somewhere heard--echoed in his +mind. The freedom of the city! A magnificent saying, Electric signs, +first burning wanly in the pink air, then brightened and grew strong. +"Not light, but rather darkness visible," in that magic hour that just +holds the balance between paling day and the spendthrift jewellery +of evening. Or, if it rained, to sit blithely on the roof of a bus, +revelling in the gust and whipping of the shower. Why had no one told +him of the glory of the city? She was pride, she was exultation, she +was madness. She was what he had obscurely craved. In every line of +her gallant profile he saw conquest, triumph, victory! Empty conquest, +futile triumph, doomed victory--but that was the essence of the drama. +In thunderclaps of dumb ecstasy he saw her whole gigantic fabric, +leaning and clamouring upward with terrible yearning. Burnt with +pitiless sunlight, drenched with purple explosions of summer storm, he +saw her cleansed and pure. Where were her recreant poets that they had +never made these things plain? + +And then, after the senseless day, after its happy but meaningless +triviality, the throng and mixed perfumery and silly courteous gestures, +his blessed solitude! Oh solitude, that noble peace of the mind! +He loved the throng and multitude of the day: he loved people: but +sometimes he suspected that he loved them as God does--at a judicious +distance. From his rather haphazard religious training, strange words +came back to him. "For God so loved the world..." So loved the world +that--that what? That He sent someone else... Some day he must think +this out. But you can't think things out. They think themselves, +suddenly, amazingly. The city itself is God, he cried. Was not God's +ultimate promise something about a city--The City of God? Well, but that +was only symbolic language. The city--of course that was only a symbol +for the race--for all his kind. The entire species, the whole aspiration +and passion and struggle, that was God. + +On the ferries, at night, after supper, was his favourite place for +meditation. Some undeniable instinct drew him ever and again out of +the deep and shut ravines of stone, to places where he could feed on +distance. That is one of the subtleties of this straight and narrow +city, that though her ways are cliffed in, they are a long thoroughfare +for the eye: there is always a far perspective. But best of all to go +down to her environing water, where spaces are wide: the openness that +keeps her sound and free. Ships had words for him: they had crossed many +horizons: fragments of that broken blue still shone on their cutting +bows. Ferries, the most poetical things in the city, were nearly empty +at night: he stood by the rail, saw the black outline of the town slide +by, saw the lower sky gilded with her merriment, and was busy thinking. + +Now about a God (he said to himself)--instinct tells me that there is +one, for when I think about Him I find that I unconsciously wag my tail +a little. But I must not reason on that basis, which is too puppyish. I +like to think that there is, somewhere in this universe, an inscrutable +Being of infinite wisdom, harmony, and charity, by Whom all my desires +and needs would be understood; in association with Whom I would find +peace, satisfaction, a lightness of heart that exceed my present +understanding. Such a Being is to me quite inconceivable; yet I feel +that if I met Him, I would instantly understand. I do not mean that I +would understand Him: but I would understand my relationship to Him, +which would be perfect. Nor do I mean that it would be always +happy; merely that it would transcend anything in the way of social +significance that I now experience. But I must not conclude that there +is such a God, merely because it would be so pleasant if there were. + +Then (he continued) is it necessary to conceive that this deity is +super-canine in essence? What I am getting at is this: in everyone +I have ever known--Fuji, Mr. Poodle, Mrs. Spaniel, those maddening +delightful puppies, Mrs. Purp, Mr. Beagle, even Mrs. Chow and Mrs. +Sealyham and little Miss Whippet--I have always been aware that there +was some mysterious point of union at which our minds could converge and +entirely understand one another. No matter what our difference of breed, +of training, of experience and education, provided we could meet and +exchange ideas honestly there would be some satisfying point of mental +fusion where we would feel our solidarity in the common mystery of life. +People complain that wars are caused by and fought over trivial things. +Why, of course! For it is only in trivial matters that people differ: +in the deep realities they must necessarily be at one. Now I have a +suspicion that in this secret sense of unity God may lurk. Is that what +we mean by God, the sum total of all these instinctive understandings? +But what is the origin of this sense of kinship? Is it not the +realization of our common subjection to laws and forces greater than +ourselves? Then, since nothing can be greater than God, He must BE these +superior mysteries. Yet He cannot be greater than our minds, for our +minds have imagined Him. + +My mathematics is very rusty, he said to himself, but I seem to remember +something about a locus, which was a curve or a surface every point +on which satisfied some particular equation of relation among the +coordinates. It begins to look to me as though life might be a kind of +locus, whose commanding equation we call God. The points on that locus +cannot conceive of the equation, yet they are subject to it. They cannot +conceive of that equation, because of course it has no existence save +as a law of their being. It exists only for them; they, only by it. But +there it is--a perfect, potent, divine abstraction. + +This carried him into a realm of disembodied thinking which his mind was +not sufficiently disciplined to summarize. It is quite plain, he said to +himself, that I must rub up my vanished mathematics. For certainly the +mathematician comes closer to God than any other, since his mind is +trained to conceive and formulate the magnificent phantoms of legality. +He smiled to think that any one should presume to become a parson +without having at least mastered analytical geometry. + +The ferry had crossed and recrossed the river several times, but Gissing +had found no conclusion for these thoughts. As the boat drew toward +her slip, she passed astern of a great liner. Gissing saw the four tall +funnels loom up above the shed of the pier where she lay berthed. +What was it that made his heart so stir? The perfect rake of the +funnels--just that satisfying angle of slant--that, absurdly enough, was +the nobility of the sight. Why, then? Let's get at the heart of this, he +said. Just that little trick of the architect, useless in itself--what +was it but the touch of swagger, of bravado, of defiance--going out +into the vast, meaningless, unpitying sea with that dainty arrogance +of build; taking the trouble to mock the senseless elements, hurricane, +ice, and fog, with a 15-degree slope of masts and funnels: damn, what +was the analogy? + +It was pride, it was pride! It was the same lusty impudence that he saw +in his perfect city, the city that cried out to the hearts of youth, +jutted her mocking pinnacles toward sky, her clumsy turrets verticalled +on gold! And God, the God of gales and gravity, loved His children to +dare and contradict Him, to rally Him with equations of their own. + +"God, I defy you!" he cried. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + +Time is a flowing river. Happy those who allow themselves to be carried, +unresisting, with the current. They float through easy days. They live, +unquestioning, in the moment. + +But Gissing was acutely conscious of Time. Though not subtle enough to +analyze the matter acutely, he had a troublesome feeling about it. He +kept checking off a series of Nows. "Now I am having my bath," he would +say to himself in the morning. "Now I am dressing. Now I am on the +way to the store. Now I am in the jewellery aisle, being polite to +customers. Now I am having lunch." After a period in which time ran by +unnoticed, he would suddenly realize a fresh Now, and feel uneasy at +the knowledge that it would shortly dissolve into another one. He tried, +vainly, to swim up-stream against the smooth impalpable fatal current. +He tried to dam up Time, to deepen the stream so that he could bathe in +it carelessly. Time, he said, is life; and life is God; time, then, is +little bits of God. Those who waste their time in vulgarity or folly are +the true atheists. + +One of the things that struck him about the city was its heedlessness of +Time. On every side he saw people spending it without adequate return. +Perhaps he was young and doctrinaire: but he devised this theory for +himself--all time is wasted that does not give you some awareness of +beauty or wonder. In other words, "the days that make us happy make us +wise," he said to himself, quoting Masefield's line. On that principle, +he asked, how much time is wasted in this city? Well, here are some six +million people. To simplify the problem (which is permitted to every +philosopher) let us (he said) assume that 2,350,000 of those people have +spent a day that could be called, on the whole, happy: a day in +which they have had glimpses of reality; a day in which they feel +satisfaction. (That was, he felt, a generous allowance. ) Very well, +then, that leaves 3,650,000 people whose day has been unfruitful: spent +in uncongenial work, or in sorrow, suffering, and talking nonsense. This +city, then, in one day, has wasted 10,000 years, or 100 centuries. One +hundred centuries squandered in a day! It made him feel quite ill, and +he tore up the scrap of paper on which he had been figuring. + +This was a new, disconcerting way to think of the subject. We are +accustomed to consider Time only as it applies to ourselves, forgetting +that it is working upon everyone else simultaneously. Why, he thought +with a sudden shock, if only 36,500 people in this city have had a +thoroughly spendthrift and useless day, that means a net loss of a +century! If the War, he said to himself, lasted over 1,500 days and +involved more than 10,000,000 men, how many aeons--He used to think +about these things during quiet evenings in the top-floor room at Mrs. +Purp's. Occasionally he went home at night still wearing his store +clothes, because it pleased good Mrs. Purp so much. She felt that it +added glamour to her house to have him do so, and always called her +husband, a frightened silent creature with no collar and a humble air, +up from the basement to admire. Mr. Purp's time, Gissing suspected, +was irretrievably wasted--a good deal of it, to judge by his dusty +appearance, in rolling around in ashcans or in the company of the +neighbourhood bootlegger; but then, he reflected, in a charitable +seizure, you must not judge other people's time-spendings by a calculus +of your own. + +Perhaps he himself was growing a little miserly in this matter. +Indulging in the rare, the sovereign luxury of thinking, he had suddenly +become aware of time's precious fluency, and wondered why everyone else +didn't think about it as passionately as he did. In the privacy of +his room, weary after the day afoot, he took off his cutaway coat and +trousers and enjoyed his old habit of stretching out on the floor for +a good rest. There he would lie, not asleep, but in a bliss of passive +meditation. He even grudged Mrs. Purp the little chats she loved--she +made a point of coming up with clean towels when she knew he was in his +room, because she cherished hearing him talk. When he heard her knock, +he had to scramble hastily to his feet, get on his clothes, and pretend +he had been sitting calmly in the rocking chair. It would never do +to let her find him sprawled on the floor. She had an almost painful +respect for him. Once, when prospective lodgers were bargaining for +rooms, and he happened to be wearing his Beagle and Company attire, she +had asked him to do her the favour of walking down the stairs, so that +the visitors might be impressed by the gentility of the establishment. + +Of course he loved to waste time--but in his own way. He gloated on the +irresponsible vacancy of those evening hours, when there was nothing to +be done. He lay very still, hardly even thinking, just feeling life go +by. Through the open window came the lights and noises of the street. +Already his domestic life seemed dim and far away. The shrill appeals +of the puppies, their appalling innocent comments on existence, came +but faintly to memory. Here, where life beat so much more thickly and +closely, was the place to be. Though he had solved nothing, yet he +seemed closer to the heart of the mystery. Entranced, he felt time +flowing on toward him, endless in sweep and fulness. There is only one +success, he said to himself--to be able to spend your life in your own +way, and not to give others absurd maddening claims upon it. Youth, +youth is the only wealth, for youth has Time in its purse! + +In the store, however, philosophy was laid aside. A kind of intoxication +possessed him. Never before had old Mr. Beagle (watching delightedly +from the mezzanine balcony) seen such a floorwalker. Gissing moved to +and fro exulting in the great tide of shopping. He knew all the best +customers by name and had learned their peculiarities. If a shower came +up and Mrs. Mastiff was just leaving, he hastened to give her his arm as +far as her limousine, boosting her in so expeditiously that not a drop +of wetness fell upon her. He took care to find out the special plat du +jour of the store's lunch room, and seized occasion to whisper to Mrs. +Dachshund, whose weakness was food, that the filet of sole was very nice +to-day. Mrs. Pomeranian learned that giving Gissing a hint about some +new Parisian importations was more effective than a half page ad. in the +Sunday papers. Within a few hours, by a judicious word here and there, +he would have a score of ladies hastening to the millinery salon. +A pearl necklace of great value, which Mr. Beagle had rebuked the +jewellery buyer for getting, because it seemed more appropriate for a +dealer in precious stones than for a department store, was disposed of +almost at once. Gissing casually told Mrs. Mastiff that he had heard +Mrs. Sealyham intended to buy it. As for Mrs. Dachshund, who had had a +habit of lunching at Delmonico's, she now was to be seen taking tiffin +at Beagle's almost daily. There were many husbands who would have been +glad to shoot him at sight on the first of the month, had they known who +was the real cause of their woe. + +Indeed, Gissing had raised floorwalking to a new level. He was more +prime minister than a mere patroller of aisles. With sparkling eye, +with unending curiosity, tact, and attention, he moved quietly among the +throng. He realized that shopping is the female paradise; that spending +money she has not earned is the only real fun an elderly and wealthy +lady can have; and if to this primitive shopping passion can be added +the delights of social amenity--flattery, courtesy, good-humoured +flirtation--the snare is complete. + +But all this is not accomplished without rousing the jealousy of +rivals. Among the other floorwalkers, and particularly in the gorgeously +uniformed attendant at the front door (who was outraged by Gissing's +habit of escorting special customers to their motors) moved anger, envy, +and sneers. Gissing, completely absorbed in the fascination of his work, +was unaware of this hostility, as he was equally unaware of the amazed +satisfaction of his employer. He went his way with naive and unconscious +pleasure. It did not take long for his enemies to find a fulcrum for +their chagrin. One evening, after closing, when he sat in the dressing +room, with his feet in the usual tub of hot water, placidly reviewing +the day's excitements and smoking his pipe, the superintendent burst in. + +"Hey!" he exclaimed. "Don't you know smoking's forbidden? What do you +want to do, get our fire insurance cancelled? Get out of here! You're +fired!" + +It did not occur to Gissing to question or protest. He had known +perfectly well that smoking was not allowed. But he was like the +stage hand behind the scenes who concluded it was all right to light +a cigarette because the sign only said SMOKING FORBIDDEN, instead of +SMOKING STRICTLY FORBIDDEN. He had not troubled his mind about it, one +way or about it, one way or another. + +He had drawn his salary that evening, and his first thought was, Well, +at any rate I've earned enough to pay for the clothes. He had been there +exactly four weeks. Quite calmly, he lifted his feet out of the tub and +began to towel them daintily. The meticulous way he dried between his +toes was infuriating to the superintendent. + +"Have you any children?" Gissing asked, mildly. + +"What's that to you?" snapped the other. + +"I'll sell you this bathtub for a quarter. Take it home to them. They +probably need it." + +"You get out of here!" cried the angry official. + +"You'd be surprised," said Gissing, "how children thrive when they're +bathed regularly. Believe me, I know." + +He packed his formal clothes in a neat bundle, left the bathtub behind, +surrendered his locker key, and walked toward the employees' door, +escorted by his bristling superior. As they passed through the empty +aisles, scene of his brief triumph, he could not help gazing a little +sadly. True merchant to the last, a thought struck him. He scribbled a +note on the back of a sales slip and left it at Miss Whippet's post by +the stocking counter. It said:-- + +MISS WHIPPET: Show Mrs. Sealyham some of the bisque sports hose, Scotch +wool, size 9. She's coming to-morrow. Don't let her get size 8 1/2. They +shrink. + + MR. GISSING. + +At the door he paused, relit his pipe leisurely, raised his hat to the +superintendent, and strolled away. + +In spite of this nonchalance, the situation was serious. His money was +at a low ebb. All his regular income was diverted to the support of +the large household in the country. He was too proud to appeal to his +wealthy uncle. He hated also to think of Mrs. Purp's mortification if +she learned that her star boarder was out of work. By a curious irony, +when he got home he found a letter from Mrs. Spaniel:-- + +MR. GISHING, dere friend, the pupeys are well, no insecks, and eat with +nives and forx Groups is the fattest but Yelpers is the lowdest they +send wags and lix and glad to here Daddy is doing so well in buisness +with respects from + + MRS. SPANIEL. + +He did not let Mrs. Purp know of the change in his condition, and every +morning left his lodging at the usual time. By some curious attraction +he felt drawn to that downtown region where his kinsman's office was. +This part of the city he had not properly explored. + +It was a world wholly different from Fifth Avenue. There was none of +that sense of space and luxury he had known on the wide slopes of Murray +Hill. He wandered under terrific buildings, in a breezy shadow where +javelins of colourless sunlight pierced through thin slits, hot +brilliance fell in fans and cascades over the uneven terrace of roofs. +Here was where husbands worked to keep Fifth Avenue going: he wondered +vaguely whether Mrs. Sealyham had bought those stockings? One day he +saw his uncle hurrying along Wall Street with an intent face. Gissing +skipped into a doorway, fearing to be recognized. He knew that the old +fellow would insist on taking him to lunch at the Pedigree Club, would +talk endlessly, and ask family questions. But he was on the scent of +matters that talk could not pursue. + +He perceived a sense of pressure, of prodigious poetry and beauty and +amazement. This was a strange jungle of life. Tall coasts of windows +stood up into the pure brilliant sky: against their feet beat a dark +surf of slums. In one foreign street, too deeply trenched for sunlight, +oranges were the only gold. The water, reaching round in two arms, came +close: there was a note of husky summons in the whistles of passing +craft. Almost everywhere, sharp above many smells of oils and spices, +the whiff of coffee tingled his busy nose. Above one huge precipice +stood a gilded statue--a boy with wings, burning in the noon. Brilliance +flamed between the vanes of his pinions: the intangible thrust of that +pouring light seemed about to hover him off into blue air. + +The world of working husbands was more tender than that of shopping +wives: even in all their business, they had left space and quietness for +the dead. Sunken among the crags he found two graveyards. They were cups +of placid brightness. Here, looking upward, it was like being drowned +on the floor of an ocean of light. Husbands had built their offices +half-way to the sky rather than disturb these. Perhaps they appreciate +rest all the more, Gissing thought, because they get so little of it? +Somehow he could not quite imagine a graveyard left at peace in the +shopping district. It would be bad for trade, perhaps? Even the churches +on the Avenue, he had noticed, were huddled up and hemmed in so tightly +by the other buildings that they had scarcely room to kneel. If I ever +become a parson, he said (this was a fantastic dream of his), I will +insist that all churches must have a girdle of green about them, to set +them apart from the world. + +The two little brown churches among the cliffs had been gifted with a +dignity far beyond the dream of their builders. Their pointing spires +were relieved against the enormous facades of business. What other +altars ever had such a reredos? Above the strepitant racket of the +streets, he heard the harsh chimes of Trinity at noonday--strong jags of +clangour hurled against the great sounding-boards of buildings; drifting +and dying away down side alleys. There was no soft music of appeal in +the bronze volleying: it was the hoarse monitory voice of rebuke. So +spoke the church of old, he thought: not asking, not appealing, but +imperatively, sternly, as one born to command. He thought with new +respect of Mr. Sealyham, Mr. Mastiff, Mr. Dachshund, all the others +who were powers in these fantastic flumes of stone. They were more than +merely husbands of charge accounts--they were poets. They sat at lunch +on the tops of their amazing edifices, and looked off at the blue. + +Day after day went by, but with a serene fatalism Gissing did nothing +about hunting a job. He was willing to wait until the last dollar was +broken: in the meantime he was content. You never know the soul of a +city, he said, until you are down on your luck. Now, he felt, he had +been here long enough to understand her. She did not give her secrets to +the world of Fifth Avenue. Down here, where the deep crevice of Broadway +opened out into greenness, what was the first thing he saw? Out across +the harbour, turned toward open sea--Liberty! Liberty Enlightening the +World, he had heard, was her full name. Some had mocked her, he had also +heard. Well, what was the gist of her enlightenment? Why this, surely: +that Liberty could never be more than a statue: never a reality. Only a +fool would expect complete liberty. He himself, with all his latitude, +was not free. If he were, he would cook his meals in his room, and save +money--but Mrs. Purp was strict on that point. She had spoken scathingly +of two young females she ejected for just that reason. Nor was Mrs. Purp +free--she was ridden by the Gas Company. So it went. + +It struck him, now he was down to about three dollars, that a generous +gesture toward Fortune might be valuable. When you are nearly out of +money, he reasoned, to toss coins to the gods--i. e., to buy something +quite unnecessary--may be propitiatory. It may start something moving +in your direction. It is the touch of bravado that God relishes. In a +sudden mood of tenderness, he bought two dollars' worth of toys and had +them sent to the children. He smiled to think how they would frolic over +the jumping rabbit. He sent Mrs. Spaniel a postcard of the Aquarium. + +There is a good deal more to this business than I had realized, he said, +as he walked uptown through the East Side slums that hot night. The +audacity, the vitality, the magnificence, are plain enough. But I seem +to see squalor too, horror and pitiful dearth. I believe God is farther +off than I thought. Look here: if the more you know, the less you know +about God, doesn't that mean that God is really enjoyed only by the +completely simple--by faith, never by reason? + +He gave twenty-five cents to a beggar, and said angrily: "I am not +interested in a God who is known only by faith." + +When he got uptown he was very tired and hungry. In spite of all Mrs. +Purp's rules, he smuggled in an egg, a box of biscuits, a small packet +of tea and sugar, and a tin of condensed milk. He emptied the milk into +his shaving mug, and used the tin to boil water in, holding it over the +gas jet. He was getting on finely when a sudden knock on the door made +him jump. He spilled the hot water on his leg, and uttered a wild yell. + +Mrs. Purp burst in, but she was so excited that she did not notice the +egg seeping into the clean counterpane. + +"Oh, Mr. Gissing," she exclaimed, "I've been waiting all evening for +you to come in. Purp and I wondered if you'd seen this in the paper +to-night? Purp noticed it in the ads., but we couldn't understand what +it meant." + +She held out a page of classified advertising, in which he read with +amazement: + + +PERSONAL + +If MR. GISSING, late floorwalker at Beagle and Company, will communicate +with Mr. Beagle Senior, he will hear matters greatly to his advantage. + + + +CHAPTER NINE + +There had been great excitement in the private offices of Beagle +and Company after Gissing's sudden disappearance. Old Mr. Beagle was +furious, and hotly scolded his son. In spite of his advanced age, Beagle +senior was still an autocrat and insisted on regulating the details +of the great business he had built up. "You numbskull!" he shouted to +Beagle junior, "that fellow was worth any dozen others in the place, and +you let him be fired by a mongrel superintendent." + +"But, Papa," protested the vice-president, "the superintendent had to +obey the rules. You know how strict the underwriters are about smoking. +Of course he should have warned Gissing, instead of discharging him." + +"Rules!" interrupted old Beagle fiercely--"Rules don't apply in a case +like this. I tell you that fellow has a genius for storekeeping. Haven't +I watched him on the floor? I've never seen one like him. What's the +good of your newfangled methods, your card indexes and overhead charts, +when you haven't even got a record of his address?" + +Growling and showing his teeth, the head of the firm plodded stiffly +downstairs and discharged the superintendent himself. Already he saw +signs of disorganization in the main aisle. Miss Whippet was tearful: +customers were waiting impatiently to have exchange slips O. K.'d: Mrs. +Dachshund was turning over some jewelled lorgnettes, but it was plain +that she was only "looking," and had no intention to purchase. + +So when, after many vain inquiries, the advertisement reached its +target, the old gentleman welcomed Gissing with genuine emotion. He +received him into his private office, locked the door, and produced a +decanter. Evidently beneath his irritable moods he had sensibilities of +his own. + +"I have given my life to trade," he said, "and I have grown weary of +watching the half-hearted simpletons who imagine they can rise to the +top by thinking more about themselves than they do about the business. +You, Mr. Gissing, have won my heart. You see storekeeping as I do--a +fine art, an absorbing passion, a beautiful, thrilling sport. It is an +art as lovely and subtle as the theatre, with the same skill in wooing +and charming the public." + +Gissing bowed, and drank Mr. Beagle's health, to cover his astonishment. +The aged merchant fixed him with a glittering eye. + +"I can see that storekeeping is your genius in life. I can see that you +are naturally consecrated to it. My son is a good steady fellow, but he +lacks the divine gift. I am getting old. We need new fire, new brains, +in the conduct of this business. I ask you to forgive the unlucky +blunder we made lately, and devote yourself to us." + +Gissing was very much embarrassed. He wanted to say that if he was +going to consecrate himself to floorwalking, he would relish a raise +in salary; but old Beagle was so tremulous and kept blowing his nose so +loudly that Gissing doubted if he could make himself heard. + +"I want you to take a position as General Manager," said Mr. Beagle, +"with a salary of ten thousand a year." + +He rose and threw open a mahogany door that led out of his own sanctum. +"Here is your office," he said. + +The bewildered Gissing looked about the room--the mahogany flat-topped +desk with a great sheet of plate glass shining greenly at its thick +edges; an inkwell, pens and pencils, a little glass bowl full of bright +paper-clips; one of those rocking blotters that are so tempting; a water +cooler which just then uttered a seductive gulping bubble; an electric +fan, gently humming; wooden trays for letters and memoranda; on one +wall a great chart of names, lettered Organization of Personnel; a nice +domestic-looking hat-and-coat stand; a soft green rug--Ah, how alluring +it all was! + +Mr. Beagle pointed to the outer door of the room, which had a frosted +pane. Through the glass the astounded floorwalker could read the words + +REGANAM LARENEG GNISSIG.RM + +What a delightful little room to meditate in. From the broad windows he +could see the whole shining tideway of Fifth Avenue, passing lazily in +the warm sunlight. He turned to Mr. Beagle, greatly moved. + +The next day an advertisement appeared in the leading papers, to this +effect:-- + + ________________________ + BEAGLE AND COMPANY + take pleasure in announcing to + their patrons and friends that + MR. GISSING + has been admitted to the firm in + the status of General Manager + Je Maintiendrai + __________________________ + +Mrs. Purp's excitement at this is easier imagined than described. Her +only fear was that now she would lose her best lodger. She made Purp +go out and buy a new shirt and a collar; she told Gissing, rather +pathetically, that she intended to have the whole house repapered in the +fall. The big double suite downstairs, which could be used as bedroom +and sitting-room, she suggested as a comfortable change. But Gissing +preferred to remain where he was. He had grown fond of the top floor. + +Certainly there was an exhilaration in his new importance and +prosperity. The store buzzed with the news. At his request, Miss Whippet +was promoted to the seventh floor to be his secretary. It was delightful +to make his morning tour of inspection through the vast building. Mr. +Hound, the store detective, loved to tell his cronies how suspiciously +he had followed "The Duke" that first day. As Gissing moved through the +busy departments he saw eyes following him, tails wagging. Customers +were more flattered than ever by his courteous attentions. One day +he even held a little luncheon party in the restaurant, at which Mrs. +Dachshund, Mrs. Mastiff, and Mrs. Sealyham were his guests. He invited +their husbands, but the latter were too busy to come. It would have been +more prudent of them to attend. That afternoon Mrs. Dachshund, carried +away by enthusiasm, bought a platinum wrist-watch. Mrs. Mastiff bought +a diamond dog-collar. Mrs. Sealyham, whose husband was temporarily +embarrassed in Wall Street, contented herself with a Sheraton +chifforobe. + +But it began to be evident that his delightful little office was not +going to be a shrine for quiet meditation. His vanity had been pleased +by the large advertisement about him, but he suddenly realized the +poison that lies in printer's ink. Almost overnight, it seemed, he had +been added to ten thousand mailing lists. Little Miss Whippet, although +she was fast at typewriting, was hard put to it to keep up with his +correspondence. She quivered eagerly over her machine, her small +paws flying. New pink ribbons gleamed through her translucent summery +georgette blouse. They were her flag of exultation at her surprising +rise in life. She felt it was immensely important to get all these +letters answered promptly. + +And so did Gissing. In his new zeal, and in his innocent satisfaction +at having entered the inner circle of Big Business, he insisted on +answering everything. He did not realize that dictating letters is the +quaint diversion of business men, and that most of them mean nothing. It +is simply the easiest way of assuring yourself that you are busy. + +This job was no sinecure. Old Mr. Beagle had so much affectionate +confidence in Gissing that he referred almost everything to him +for decision. Mr. Beagle junior, perhaps a little annoyed at the +floorwalker's meteoric translation, spent the summer afternoons at +golf. The infinite details of a great business crowded upon him. +Inexperienced, he had not learned the ways in which seasoned +"executives" protect themselves against useless intrusion. His telephone +buzzed like a hornet. Not five minutes went by without callers or +interruptions of some sort. + +Most amazing of all, he found, was the miscellaneous passion for +palaver displayed by Big Business. Immediately he was invited to join +innumerable clubs, societies, merchants' associations. Every day would +arrive letters, on heavily embossed paper--"The Sales Managers Club will +hold a round-table discussion on Friday at one o'clock. We would greatly +appreciate it if you would be with us and say a few words."--"Will you +be our guest at the monthly dinner of the Fifth Avenue Guild, and give +us any preachment that is on your mind?"--"The Merchandising Uplift +Group of Murray Hill will meet at the Commodore for an informal +lunch. It has been suggested that you contribute to the discussion on +Underwriting Overhead."--"The Executives Association plans a clambake +and barbecue at the Barking Rock Country Club. Around the bonfire a few +impromptu remarks on Business Cycles will be called for. May we count on +you?"--"Will you address the Convention of Knitted Bodygarment Buyers, +on whatever topic is nearest your heart?"--"Will you write for Bunion +and Callous, the trade organ of the Floorwalkers' Union, a thousand-word +review of your career?"--"Will you broadcast a twenty-minute talk on +Department Store Ethics, at the radio station in Newark? 250,000 radio +fans will be listening in." New to the strange and high-spirited world +of "executives," it was natural that Gissing did not realize that the +net importance of this kind of thing was absolute zero. It did strike +him as odd, perhaps, that merchants did not dare to go on a junket or +plan a congenial dinner without pretending to themselves that it had +some business significance. But, having been so amazingly lifted into +this atmosphere of great affairs, he felt it was his duty to the store +to play the game according to the established rules. He was borne +along on a roaring spate of conferences, telephone calls, appointments, +Rotarian lunches, Chamber of Commerce dinners, picnics to talk tariff, +house-parties to discuss demurrage, tennis tournaments to settle the +sales-tax, golf foursomes to regulate price-maintenance. Of all these +matters he knew nothing whatever; and he also saw that as far as the +business of Beagle and Company was concerned it would be better not +to waste his time on such side-issues. The way he could really be of +service was in the store itself, tactfully lubricating that complicated +engine of goods and personalities. But he learned to utter, when called +upon, a few suave generalities, barbed with a rollicking story. This +made him always welcome. He was of a studious disposition, and liked +to examine this queer territory of life with an unprejudiced eye. After +all, his inward secret purpose had nothing to do with the success or +failure of retail trade. He was still seeking a horizon that would stay +blue when he reached it. + +More and more he was interested to perceive how transparent the mummery +of business was. He was interested to note how persistently men fled +from success, how carefully most of them avoided the obvious principles +of utility, honesty, prudence, and courtesy, which are inevitably +rewarded. These sagacious, humorous fellows who were amusing themselves +with twaddling trade apothegms and ridiculous banqueteering solemnities, +surely they were aware that this had no bearing upon their own jobs? +He suspected that it was all a feverish anodyne to still some inward +unease. Since they must (not being fools) be aware that these antics +were mere subtraction of time from their business, the obvious +conclusion was, they were not happy with business. There was some +strange wistfulness in the conduct of Big Business Dogs, he thought. +Under the pretence of transacting affairs, they were really trying to +discover something that had eluded them. + +The same thing, strangely enough, seemed to be going on in a sphere of +which he knew nothing, the world of art. He gathered from the papers +that writers, painters, musicians, were holding shindies almost every +night, at which delightful rebels, too busy to occupy themselves with +actual creation, talked charmingly about their plans. Poets were reading +poems incessantly, forgetting to write any. Much of the newspaper +comment on literature made him shudder, for though this was a province +quite strange to him, he had sound instincts. He discerned fatal +ignorance and absurdity between the pompous lines. Yet, in its own way, +it seemed a bold and honest ignorance. Were these, too, like the wistful +executives, seeking where the blue begins? + +But what was this strange agitation that forbade his fellow-creatures +from enjoying the one thing that makes achievement possible--Solitude? +He himself, so happy to be left alone--was no one else like that? And +yet this very solitude that he craved and revelled in was, by a sublime +paradox, haunted by mysterious loneliness. He felt sometimes as though +his heart had been broken off from some great whole, to which it yearned +to be reunited. It felt like a bone that had been buried, which God +would some day dig up. Sometimes, in his caninomorphic conception +of deity, he felt near him the thunder of those mighty paws. In rare +moments of silence he gazed from his office window upon the sun-gilded, +tempting city. Her madness was upon him--her splendid craze of haste, +ambition, pride. Yet he wondered. This God he needed, this liberating +horizon, was it after all in the cleverest of hiding-places--in himself? +Was it in his own undeluded heart? + +Miss Whippet came scurrying in to say that the Display Manager begged +him to attend a conference. The question of apportioning window space +to the various departments was to be reconsidered. Also, the book +department had protested having rental charged against them for books +exhibited merely to add a finishing touch to a furniture display. Other +agenda: the Personnel Director wished an appointment to discuss +the ruling against salesbitches bobbing their hair. The Commissary +Department wished to present revised figures as to the economy that +would be effected by putting the employees' cafeteria on the same floor +as the store's restaurant. He must decide whether early closing on +Saturdays would continue until Labor Day. + +As he went about these and a hundred other fascinating trivialities, he +had a painful sense of treachery to Mr. Beagle senior. The old gentleman +was so touchingly certain that he had found in him the ideal shoulders +on which to unload his honourable and crushing burden. With more than +paternal pride old Beagle saw Gissing, evidently urbane and competent, +cheerfully circulating here and there. The shy angel of doubt that lay +deep in Gissing's cider-coloured eye, the proprietor did not come near +enough to observe. + +If there is tragedy in our story, alas here it is. Gissing, incorrigible +seceder from responsibilities that did not touch his soul, did not dare +tell his benefactor the horrid truth. But the worm was in his heart. +Late one night, in his room at Mrs. Purp's, he wrote a letter to Mr. +Poodle. After mailing it at a street-box, he had a sudden pang. To the +dreamer, decisions are fearful. Then he shook himself and ran lightly to +a little lunchroom on Amsterdam Avenue, where he enjoyed doughnuts and +iced tea. His mind was resolved. The doughnuts, by a simple symbolism, +made him think of Rotary Clubs, also of millstones. No, he must be +fugitive from honour, from wealth, from Chambers of Commerce. Fugitive +from all save his own instinct. Those who have bound themselves are only +too eager to see the chains on others. There was no use attempting to +explain to Mr. Beagle--the dear old creature would not understand. + +The next day, after happily and busily discharging his duties, and +staying late to clean up his desk, Gissing left Beagle and Company +for good. The only thing that worried him, as he looked round his +comfortable office for the last time, was the thought of little Miss +Whippet's chagrin when she found her new promotion at an end. She had +taken such delight in their mutual dignity. On the filing cabinet beside +her typewriter desk was a pink geranium in a pot, which she watered +every morning. He could not resist pulling out a drawer of her desk, and +smiled gently to see the careful neatness of its compartments, with +all her odds and ends usefully arranged. The ink-eraser, with an absurd +little whisk attached to it for brushing away fragments of rubbed paper; +the fascicle of sharpened pencils held together by an elastic band; the +tiny phial of typewriter oil; a small box of peppermints; a crumpled +handkerchief; the stenographic notebook with a pencil inserted at the +blank page, so as to be ready for instant service the next day; the long +paper-cutter for slitting envelopes; her memorandum pad, on which was +written Remind Mr. G. of Window Display Luncheon--it seemed cruel to +deprive her of all these innocent amusements in which she delighted so +much. And yet he could not go on as a General Manager simply for the +happiness of Miss Whippet. + +In the foliage of the geranium, where he knew she would find it the +first thing in the morning, he left a note:-- + +MISS WHIPPET: I am leaving the store to-night and will not be back. +Please notify Mr. Beagle. Explain to him that I shall never take a +position with one of his competitors; I am leaving not because I didn't +enjoy the job, but because if I stayed longer I might enjoy it too much. +Tell Mr. Beagle that I specially urge him to retain you as assistant +to the new Manager, whoever that may be. You are entirely competent to +attend to the routine, and the new Manager can spend all his time at +business lunches. + +Please inform the Display Managers' Club that I can't speak at their +meeting to-morrow. + +I wish you all possible good-fortune. + + MR. GISSING. + +As he passed through the dim and silent aisles of the store, he surveyed +them again with mixed emotions. Here he might, apparently, have been +king. But he had no very poignant regret. Another of his numerous +selves, he reflected, had committed suicide. That was the right idea: +to keep sloughing them off, throwing overboard the unreal and factitious +Gissings, paring them down until he discovered the genuine and +inalienable creature. + +And so, for the second time, he made a stealthy exit from the employees' +door. + +Four days later he read in the paper of old Mr. Beagle's death. There +can be no doubt about it. The merchant died of a broken heart. + + + +CHAPTER TEN + +Mr. Poodle's reply was disappointing. He said:-- + +St. Bernard's Rectory, September 1st. + +MY DEAR MR. GISSING: + +I regret that I cannot conscientiously see my way to writing to the +Bishop in your behalf. Any testimonial I could compose would be doubtful +at best, for I cannot agree with you that the Church is your true +vocation. I do not believe that one who has deserted his family, as +you have, and whose record (even on the most charitable interpretation) +cannot be described as other than eccentric, would be useful in Holy +Orders. You say that your life in the city has been a great purgation. +If so, I suggest that you return and take up the burdens laid upon you. +It has meant great mortification to me that one of my own parish has +been the cause of these painful rumours that have afflicted our quiet +community. Notwithstanding, I wish you well, and hope that chastening +experience may bring you peace. + +Very truly yours, + +J. ROVER POODLE. + +Gissing meditated this letter in the silence of along evening in +his room. He brought to the problem his favourite aid to clear +thinking--strong coffee mixed with condensed milk. Mrs. Purp had made +concession to his peculiarities when he had risen so high in the world: +better to break any rules, she thought, than lose so notable a tenant. +She had even installed a small gas-plate for him, so that he could brew +his morning and evening coffee. + +So he took counsel with his percolator, whose bubbling was a sound he +found both soothing and stimulating. He regarded it as a kind of private +oracle, with a calm voice of its own. He listened attentively as +he waited for the liquid to darken. Appeal--to--the--Bishop, +Appeal--to-the--Bishop, seemed to be the speech of the jetting +gurgitation under the glass lid. + +He determined to act upon this, and lay his case before Bishop Borzoi +even without the introduction he had hoped for. Fortunately he still had +some sheets of Beagle and Company notepaper, with the engraved lettering +and Office of the General Manager embossed thereon. He was in some doubt +as to the proper formality and style of address in communicating with a +Bishop: was it "Very Reverend," or "Right Reverend"? and which of these +indicated a superior grade of reverendability? But he decided that a +masculine frankness would not be amiss. He wrote:-- + +VERY RIGHT REVEREND BISHOP BORZOI, + +Dear Bishop:-- + +May one of the least of your admirers solicit an interview with your +very right reverence, to discuss matters pertaining to religion, +theology, and a possible vacancy in the Church? If there are any sees +outstanding, it would be a favour. This is very urgent. I enclose a +stamped addressed envelope. + + Respectfully yours, + + MR. GISSING. + +A prompt reply from the Bishop's secretary granted him an appointment. + +Scrupulously attired in his tail-coat and silk hat, Gissing proceeded +toward the rendezvous. To tell the truth, he was nervous: his mind +flitted uneasily among possible embarrassments. Suppose Mr. Poodle had +written to the Bishop to prejudice his application? Another, but more +absurd, idea troubled him. One of the problems in visiting the houses +of the Great (he had learned in his brief career in Big Business) is +to find the door-bell. It is usually mysteriously concealed. Suppose he +should have to peer hopelessly about the vestibule, in a shameful and +suspicious manner, until some flunky came out to chide? In the sunny +park below the Cathedral he saw nurses sitting by their puppy-carriages; +for an instant he almost envied their gross tranquillity. THEY have not +got (he said to himself) to call on a Bishop! + +He was early, so he strolled for a few minutes in the park that lies +underneath that rocky scarp. On the summit, clear-surging against the +blue, the great church rode like a ship on a long ridge of sea. The +angel with a trumpet on the jut of the roof was like a valiant seaman in +the crow's nest. His agitation was calmed by this noble sight. Yes, he +said, the Church is a ship behind whose bulwarks I will find rest. She +sails an unworldly sea: her crew are exempt from earthly ambition and +fallacy. + +He ran nimbly up the long steps that scale the cliff, and approached +the episcopal residence. The bell was plainly visible. He rang, and +presently came a tidy little housemaid. He had meditated a form of +words. It would be absurd to say "Is the Bishop in?" for he knew the +Bishop WAS in. So he said "This is Mr. Gissing. I think the Bishop is +expecting me." + +Bishop Borzoi was an impressive figure--immensely tall and slender, +with long, narrow ascetic face and curly white hair. He was surprisingly +cordial. + +"Ah, Mr. Gissing?" he said. "Sit down, sir. I know Beagle and Company +very well. Too well, in fact-Mrs. Borzoi has an account there." + +Gissing, feeling rather aghast and tentative, had no comment ready. He +was still worrying a little as to the proper mode of address. + +"It is very pleasant to find you Influential Merchants interested in the +Church," continued the Bishop. "I often thought of approaching the late +Mr. Beagle on the subject of a small contribution to the cathedral. +Indeed, I have spent so much in your store that it would be only a fair +return. Mr. Collie, of Greyhound, Collie and Company, has been very +handsome with us: he has just provided for repaving the choir." + +Gissing began to fear that the object of his visit had perhaps been +misunderstood, but the prelate's eyes were bright with benignant +enthusiasm and he dared not interrupt. + +"You inquired most kindly in your letter as to a possible vacancy in the +Church. Indeed there is a niche in the transept that I should be happy +to see filled. It is intended for some kind of memorial statue, and +perhaps, in honour of the late Mr. Beagle--" + +"I must explain, Sir Bishop," said Gissing, very much disturbed, "that +I have left Beagle and Company. The contribution I wish to make to the +Church is not a decorative one, I fear. It is myself." + +"Yourself?" queried the Bishop, politely puzzled. + +"Yes," stammered Gissing, "I--in fact, I am hoping to--to enter the +ministry." + +The Bishop was plainly amazed, and his long, aristocratic nose seemed +longer than ever as he gazed keenly at his caller. + +"But have you had any formal training in theology?" + +"None, right reverend Bishop," said Gissing, "But it's this way," and, +incoherently at first, but with increasing energy and copious eloquence, +he poured out the story of his mental struggles. + +"This is singularly interesting," said the Bishop at length. "I can +see that you are wholly lacking in the rudiments of divinity. Of modern +exegesis and criticism you are quite innocent. But you evidently have +something which is much rarer--what the Quakers call a CONCERN. Of +course you should really go to the theological seminary and establish +this naif intuitive mysticism upon a disciplined basis. You will realize +that we churchmen can only meet modern rationalism by a rationalism of +our own--by a philosophical scholarship which is unshakable. I do not +suppose that you can even harmonize the Gospels?" + +Gissing ruefully admitted his ignorance. + +"Well, at least I must make sure of a few fundamentals," said the +Bishop. "Of course a symbological latitude is permissible, but there are +some essentials of dogma and creed that may not be foregone." + +He subjected the candidate to a rapid catechism. Gissing, in a state of +mind curiously mingled of excitement and awe, found himself assenting to +much that, in a calmer moment, he would hardly have admitted; but +having plunged so deep into the affair he felt it would be the height of +discourtesy to give negative answers to any of the Bishop's queries. +By dint of hasty mental adjustments and symbolic interpretations, he +satisfied his conscience. + +"It is very irregular," the Bishop admitted, "but I must confess +that your case interests me greatly. Of course I cannot admit you +to ordination until you have passed through the regular theological +curriculum. Yet I find you singularly apt for one without proper +training." + +He brooded a while, fixing the candidate with a clear darkly burning +eye. + +"It struck me that you were a trifle vague upon some of the Articles of +Religion, and the Table of Kindred and Affinity. You must remember that +these articles are not to be subjected to your own sense or comment, but +must be taken in the literal and grammatical meaning. However, you +show outward and visible signs of an inward and spiritual grace. It so +happens that I know of a small chapel, in the country, that has been +closed for lack of a minister. I can put you in charge there as lay +reader." + +Gissing's face showed his elation. + +"And wear a cassock?" he cried. + +"Certainly not," said the Bishop sternly. "Not even a surplice. You must +remember you have not been ordained. If you are serious in your zeal, +you must work your way up gradually, beginning at the bottom." + +"I have seen some of your cloth with a little purple dickey which looks +very well in the aperture of the waistcoat," said Gissing humbly. "How +long would it take me to work up to that?" + +Bishop Borzoi, who had a sense of humour, laughed genially. + +"Look here," he said. "It's a fine afternoon: I'll order my car and +we'll drive out to Dalmatian Heights. I'll show you your chapel, and +tell you exactly what your duties will be." + +Gissing was startled. Dalmatian Heights was only a few miles from the +Canine Estates. If the news should reach Mr. Poodle... + +"Sir Bishop," he said nervously, "I begin to fear that perhaps after all +I am unworthy. Now about those Articles of Religion: I may perhaps have +given some of them a conjectural and commentating assent. Possibly I +have presumed too far--" + +The Bishop was already looking forward to a ride into the country with +his unusual novice. + +"Not at all, not at all," he said cheerily. "In a mere lay reader, a +slight laxity is allowable. You understand, of course, that you are +expressly restricted from the pulpit. You will have to read the lessons, +conduct the service, and may address the congregation upon matters not +homiletic nor doctrinal; preaching and actual entry into the pulpit are +defended. But I see excellent possibility in you. Perform the duties +punctually in this very lowly office, and high ranks of service in the +church militant will be open." + +He put on a very fine shovel-hat, and led the way to his large touring +car. + +It was a very uncomfortable ride for Gissing. A silk hat is the least +stable apparel for swift motoring, and the chauffeur drove at high +speed. The Bishop, leaning back in the open tonneau, crossed one +delicately slender shank over another, gazed in a kind of ecstasy at the +countryside, and talked gaily about his days as a young curate. Gissing +sat holding his hat on. He saw only too well that, by the humiliating +oddity of chance, they were going to take the road that led exactly +past his own house. He could only hope that Mrs. Spaniel and the +various children would not be visible, for explanations would be too +complicated. Desperately he praised the view to be obtained on another +road, but Bishop Borzoi was too interested in his own topic to pay much +attention. + +"By the way," said the latter, as they drew near the familiar region, "I +must introduce you to Miss Airedale. She lives in the big place on the +hill over there. Her family always used to attend what I will now call +YOUR chapel; she is a very ardent churchgoer, and it was a sincere grief +to her when the place had to be closed. You will find her a great aid +and comfort; not only that, she is--what one does not always find in the +devouter members of her sex--young and beautiful. I think I understood +you to say you are a bachelor?" + +They were approaching the last turning at which it was still possible to +avoid the fatal road, and Gissing's attention was divided. + +"Yes, after a fashion," he replied. "Bishop, do you know that road down +into the valley? The view is really superb--Yes, that road--Oh, no, I am +a bachelor--" + +It was too late. The chauffeur, unconscious of this private crisis, was +spinning along the homeward way. With a tender emotion Gissing saw +the spires of the poplar trees, the hemlocks down beyond the pond, the +fringe of woods that concealed the house until you were quite upon it-- + +The car swerved suddenly and the driver only saved it by a quick and +canny manoeuvre from going down the bank. He came to a stop, and almost +from underneath the rear wheels appeared a scuffling dusty group of +youngsters who had been playing in the road. There they were--Bunks, +Groups, and Yelpers (inordinately grown!) and two of the Spaniels. Their +clothes were deplorable, their faces grimed, their legs covered with +burrs, their whole demeanour was ragamuffin and wild: yet Gissing felt +a pang of pride to see his godchildren's keen, independent bearing +contrasted with the rowdier, disreputable look of the young Spaniels. +Quickly he averted his head to escape recognition. But the urchins were +all gaping at the Bishop's shovel hat. + +"Hot dog!" cried Yelpers "Some hat!" + +To his horror, Gissing now saw Mrs. Spaniel, hastening in alarm +down from the house, spilling potatoes from her apron as she ran. He +hurriedly urged the driver to proceed. + +"What terrible looking children," observed the Bishop, who seemed +fascinated by their stare. "Really, my good sister," he said to Mrs. +Spaniel, who was now panting by the running board; "you must keep them +off the road or someone will get hurt." + +Gissing was looking for an imaginary object on the floor of the car. To +his great relief he heard the roar of the motor as they started again. +But he sat up a little too soon. A simultaneous roar of "Daddy!" burst +from the trio. + +"What was that they were shouting at us?" inquired the Bishop, looking +back. + +Gissing shook his head. He was too overcome to speak. + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN + +The little chapel at Dalmatian Heights sat upon a hill, among a grove +of pines, the most romantic of all trees. Life, a powerful but clumsy +dramatist, does not reject the most claptrap "situations," which a +sophisticated playwright would discard as too obvious. For this sandy +plateau, strewn with satiny pine-needles, was the very horizon that had +looked so blue and beckoning from the little house by the pond. Not far +away was the great Airedale estate, which Gissing had known only at an +admiring distance--and now he was living there as an honoured guest. + +The Bishop had taken him to call upon the Airedales; and they, delighted +that the chapel was to be re-opened, had insisted upon his staying with +them. The chapel, in fact, was a special interest with Mr. Airedale, who +had been a leading contributor toward its erection. Gissing was finding +that life seemed to be continually putting him into false positions; +and now he discovered, somewhat to his chagrin, that the lovely little +shrine of St. Spitz, whose stained windows glowed like rubies in its +cloister of dark trees, was rather a fashionable hobby among the wealthy +landowners of Dalmatian Hills. It had been closed all summer, and they +had missed it. The Bishop, in his airy and indefinite way, had not made +it quite plain that Gissing was only a lay reader; and in spite of his +embarrassed disclaimers, he found himself introduced by Mr. Airedale to +the country-house clique as the new "vicar." + +But at any rate it was lucky that the Airedales had insisted on taking +him in as a guest; for he had learned from the Bishop (just as the +latter was leaving) that there was no stipend attached to the office of +lay reader. Fortunately he still had much of the money he had saved from +his salary as General Manager. And whatever sense of anomaly he felt +was quickly assuaged by the extraordinary comfort and novelty of his +environment. In the great Airedale mansion he experienced for the first +time that ultimate triumph of civilization--a cup of tea served in bed +before breakfast, with slices of bread-and-butter of tenuous and amazing +fragile thinness. He was pleased, too, with the deference paid him as a +representative of the cloth, even though it compelled him to a +solemnity he did not inwardly feel. But most of all, undoubtedly, he was +captivated by the loveliness and warmth of Miss Airedale. + +The Bishop had not erred. Admiring the aristocratic Roman trend of +her brow and nose; the proud, inquisitive carriage of her somewhat +rectangular head, her admirable, vigorous figure and clear topaz +eyes, Gissing was aware of something he had not experienced before--a +disturbance both urgent and agreeable, in which the intellect seemed to +play little part. He was startled by the strength of her attractiveness, +amazed to learn how pleasing it was to be in her company. She was very +young and brisk: wore clothes of a smart sporting cut, and was +(he thought) quite divine in her riding breeches. But she was also +completely devoted to the chapel, where she played the music on Sundays. +She was a volatile creature, full of mischievous surprise: at their +first music practice, after playing over some hymns on the pipe-organ, +she burst into jazz, filling the quiet grove with the clamorous syncope +of Paddy-Paws, a favourite song that summer. + +So into the brilliant social life of the Airedales and their friends +he found himself suddenly pitchforked. In spite of the oddity of the +situation, and of occasional anxiety when he considered the possibility +of Mr. Poodle finding him out, he was very happy. This was not quite +what he had expected, but he was always adaptable. Miss Airedale was an +enchanting companion. In the privacy of his bedroom he measured himself +for a pair of riding breeches and wrote to his tailor in town to have +them made as soon as possible. He served the little chapel assiduously, +though he felt it better to conceal from the Airedales the fact that he +went there every day. He suspected they would think him slightly mad if +they knew, so he used to pretend that he had business in town. Then he +would slip away to the balsam-scented hilltop and be perfectly happy +sweeping the chapel floor, dusting the pews, polishing the brasswork, +rearranging the hymnals in the racks. He arranged with the milkman to +leave a bottle of milk and some cinnamon buns at the chapel gate +every morning, so he had a cheerful and stealthy little lunch in +the vestry-room, though always a trifle nervous lest some of his +parishioners should discover him. + +He practiced reading the lessons aloud at the brass lectern, and +discovered how easy is dramatic elocution when you are alone. He wished +it were possible to hold a service daily. For the first time he was able +to sing hymns as loud as he liked. Miss Airedale played the organ with +emphatic fervour, and the congregation, after a little hesitation, +enjoyed the lusty sincerity of a hymn well trolled. Some of his flock, +who had previously relished taking part in the general routine of the +service, were disappointed by his zeal, for Gissing insisted on doing +everything himself. He rang the bell, ushered the congregation to their +seats, read the service, recited the Quadrupeds' Creed, led the +choir, gave out as many announcements as he could devise, took up the +collection, and at the close skipped out through the vestry and was +ready and beaming in the porch before the nimblest worshipper had +reached the door. On his first Sunday, indeed, he carried enthusiasm +rather too far: in an innocent eagerness to prolong the service as much +as possible, and being too excited to realize quite what he was doing, +he went through the complete list of supplications for all possible +occasions. The congregation were startled to find themselves praying +simultaneously both for rain and for fair weather. + +In a cupboard in the vestry-room he had found an old surplice hanging; +he took it down, tried it on before the mirror, and wistfully put it +back. To this symbolic vestment his mind returned as he sat solitary +under the pine-trees, looking down upon the valley of home. It was the +season of goldenrod and aster on the hillsides: a hot swooning silence +lay upon the late afternoon. The weight and closeness of the air had +struck even the insects dumb. Under the pines, generally so murmurous, +there was something almost gruesome in the blank stillness: a suspension +so absolute that the ears felt dull and sealed. He tried, involuntarily, +to listen more clearly, to know if this uncanny hush were really so. +There was a sense of being imprisoned, but only most delicately, in a +spell, which some sudden cracking might disrupt. + +The surplice tempted him strongly, for it suggested the sermon he felt +impelled to deliver, against the Bishop's orders. For the beautiful +chapel in the piny glade was, somehow, false: or, at any rate, false for +him. The architect had made it a dainty poem in stone and polished wood, +but somehow God had evaded the neat little trap. Moreover, the God +his well-bred congregation worshipped, the old traditionally imagined +snow-white St. Bernard with radiant jowls of tenderness, shining dewlaps +of love; paternal, omnipotent, calm--this deity, though sublime in its +way, was too plainly an extension of their own desires. His prominent +parishioners--Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher, Mrs. Griffon, Mrs. Retriever; +even the delightful Mr. Airedale himself--was it not likely that they +esteemed a deity everlastingly forgiving because they themselves felt +need of forgiveness? He had been deeply shocked by the docility with +which they followed the codes of the service: even when he had committed +his blunder of the contradictory prayers, they had murmured the words +automatically, without protest. To the terrific solemnities of the +Litany they had made the responses with prompt gabbling precision, and +with a rapidity that frankly implied impatience to take the strain off +their knees. + +Somehow he felt that to account for a world of unutterable strangeness +they had invented a God far too cheaply simple. His mood was certainly +not one of ribald easy scoff. It was they (he assured himself) whose +theology was essentially cynical; not he. He was a little weary of +this just, charitable, consoling, hebdomadal God; this God who might be +sufficiently honoured by a decorously memorized ritual. Yet was he +too shallow? Was it not seemly that his fellows, bound on this dark, +desperate venture of living, should console themselves with decent +self-hypnosis? + +No, he thought. No, it was not entirely seemly. If they pretended that +their God was the highest thing knowable, then they must bring to +His worship the highest possible powers of the mind. He had a strange +yearning for a God less lazily conceived: a God perhaps inclement, +awful, master of inscrutable principles. Yet was it desirable to shake +his congregation's belief in their traditional divinity? He thought of +them--so amiable, amusing, spirited and generous, but utterly untrained +for abstract imaginative thought on any subject whatever. His own +strange surmisings about deity would only shock and horrify them And +after all, was it not exactly their simplicity that made them lovable? +The great laws of truth would work their own destinies without +assistance from him! Even if these pleasant creatures did not genuinely +believe the rites they so politely observed (he knew they did not, for +BELIEF is an intellectual process of extraordinary range and depth), was +it not socially useful that they should pretend to do so? + +And yet--with another painful swing of the mind--was it necessary +that Truth should be worshipped with the aid of such astonishingly +transparent formalisms, hoaxes, and mummeries? Alas, it seemed that this +was an old, old struggle that must be troublesomely fought out, again +and again down the generations. Prophets were twice stoned--first in +anger; then, after their death, with a handsome slab in the graveyard. +But words uttered in sincerity (he thought) never fail of some response. +Though he saw his fellows leashed with a heavy chain of ignorance, +stupidity, passion, and weakness, yet he divined in life some +inscrutable principle of honour and justice; some unreckonable essence +of virtue too intimate to understand; some fumbling aspiration toward +decency, some brave generosity of spirit, some cheerful fidelity to +Beauty. He could not see how, in a world so obviously vast and uncouth +beyond computation, they could find a puny, tidy, assumptive, scheduled +worship so satisfying. But perhaps, since all Beauty was so staggering, +it was better they should cherish it in small formal minims. Perhaps +in this whole matter there was some lovely symbolism that he did not +understand. + +The soft brightness was already lifting into upper air, a mingled tissue +of shadows lay along the valley. In the magical clarity of the evening +light he suddenly felt (as one often does, by unaccountable planetary +instinct) that there was a new moon. Turning, he saw it, a silver +snipping daintily afloat; and not far away, an early star. He had found +no creed in the prayer-book that accounted for the stars. Here at +the bottom of an ocean of sky, we look aloft and see them +thick-speckled--mere barnacles, perhaps, on the keel of some greater +ship of space. He remembered how at home there had been a certain +burning twinkle that peeped through the screen of the dogwood tree. +As he moved on his porch, it seemed to flit to and fro, appearing and +vanishing. He was often uncertain whether it was a firefly a few yards +away, or a star the other side of Time. Possibly Truth was like that. + +There was a light swift rustle behind him, and Miss Airedale appeared. + +"Hullo!" she said. "I wondered where you were. Is this how you spend +your afternoons, all alone?" + +Stars, creeds, cosmologies, promptly receded into remote perspective +and had to shift for themselves. It was true that Gissing had somewhat +avoided her lately, for he feared her fascination. He wished nothing +else to interfere with his search for what he had not yet found. +Postpone the female problem to the last, was his theory: not because +it was insoluble, but because the solution might prove to be less +interesting than the problem itself. But side by side with her, she was +irresistible. A skittish brightness shone in her eyes. + +"Great news!" she exclaimed. "I've persuaded Papa to take us all down to +Atlantic City for a couple of days." + +"Wonderful!" cried Gissing. "Do you know, I've never been to the +seashore." + +"Don't worry," she replied. "I won't let you see much of the ocean. +We'll go to the Traymore, and spend the whole time dancing in the +Submarine Grill." + +"But I must be back in time for the service on Sunday," he said. + +"We're going to leave first thing in the morning. We'll go in the car, +and I'll drive. Will you sit with me in the front seat?" + +"Watch me!" replied Gissing gallantly. + +"Come on then, or you'll be late for dinner. I'll race you home!" And +she was off like a flash. + +But in spite of Miss Airedale's threat, at Atlantic City they both fell +into a kind of dreamy reverie. The wine-like tingle of that salty air +was a quiet drug. The apparently inexhaustible sunshine was sharpened +with a faint sting of coming autumn. Gissing suddenly remembered that it +was ages since he had simply let his mind run slack and allowed life to +go by unstudied. Mr. and Mrs. Airedale occupied a suite high up in the +terraced mass of the huge hotel; they wrapped themselves in rugs and +basked on their private balcony. Gissing and the daughter were left +to their own amusements. They bathed in the warm September surf; they +strolled the Boardwalk up beyond the old Absecon light, where the green +glimmer of water runs in under the promenade. They sat on the deck +of the hotel--or rather Miss Airedale sat, while Gissing, courteously +attentive, leaned over her steamer-chair. He stood so for hours, +apparently in devoted chat; but in fact he was half in dream. The smooth +flow of the little rolling shays just below had a soothing hypnotic +erect. But it was the glorious polished blue of the sea-horizon that +bounded all his thoughts. Even while Miss Airedale gazed archly up at +him, and he was busy with cheerful conversation, he was conscious of +that broad band of perfect colour, monotonous, comforting, thrilling. +For the first time he realized the great rondure of the world. His mind +went back to the section of the prayer-book that had always touched him +most pointedly--the "Forms of Prayer to be Used at Sea." In them he had +found a note of sincere terror and humility. And now he viewed the sea +for the first time in this setting of notable irony. The open dazzle of +placid elements, obedient only to some cosmic calculus, lay as a serene +curtain against which the quaint flamboyance of the Boardwalk was all +the more amusing. The clear rim of sea curving off into space drew him +with painful curiosity. Here at last was what he had needed. The proud +waters went over his soul. Here indeed the blue began. + +He looked down at Miss Airedale, who had gone to sleep while waiting for +him to say something. He tiptoed away and went to his room to write down +some ideas. Against the wide challenge of that blue hemisphere, where +half the world lay open and free to the eye, the Bishop's prohibition +lost weight. He was resolved to preach a sermon. + +At dusk he met Miss Airedale on the high balcony that runs around the +reading-room of the hotel. They were quite alone up there. Along the +Boardwalk, in the pale sentimental twilight, the translucent electric +globes shone like a long string of pearls. She was very tempting in +a gay evening frock, and reproached him for having neglected her. She +shivered a little in the cool wind coming off the darkening water. The +weakness of the hour was upon him. He put his arm tenderly round her as +they leaned over the parapet. + +"See those darling children down on the sand," she said. "I do adore +puppies, don't you?" + +He remembered Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers. Nothing is so potent as the +love of children when you are away from them. She gazed languishing +at him; he responded with a generous pressure. But his alarmed soul +thrilled with panic. + +"You must excuse me a moment, while I dress for dinner," he said. He was +strangely terrified by the look of secret understanding in her beautiful +eyes. It seemed to imply some subtle, inexpressible pact. As a matter of +truth, she was unconscious of it: it was only the old demiurge speaking +in her; the old demiurge which was pursuing him just as ardently as he +was trailing the dissolving blue of his dream. But he was much agitated +as he went down in the elevator. + +"Heavens," he said to himself; "are we all only toys in the power of +these terrific instincts?" + +For the first time he was informed of the infinite feminine capacity for +being wooed. + +That night they danced in the Submarine Grill. She floated in his +embrace with triumphant lightness. Her eyes, utilized as temporary lamps +by a lighting-circuit of which she was quite unaware, beamed with happy +lustre. The lay reader, always docile to the necessities of occasion, +murmured delightful trifles. But his private thoughts were as aloof +and shining and evasive as the goldfish that twinkled in the glass pool +overhead. He picked up her scarf and her handkerchief when she dropped +them. He smiled vaguely when she suggested that she thought she could +persuade Mr. Airedale to stay in Atlantic City over the week-end, and +why worry about the service on Sunday? But when she and the yawning Mrs. +Airedale had retired, he hastened to his chamber and packed his bag. +Stealthily he went to the desk and explained that he was leaving +unexpectedly on business, and that the bill should go to Mr. Airedale, +whose guest he had been. He slipped away out of the side door, and +caught the late train. Mrs. Airedale chafed her daughter that night for +whining in her sleep. + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE + +The chapel of St. Spitz was crowded that fine Sunday morning, and the +clang and thud of its bells came merrily through the thin quick air to +worshippers arriving in their luxurious motors. The amiable oddity of +the lay reader's demeanour as priest had added a zest to churchgoing. +The congregation were particularly pleased, on this occasion, to see +Gissing appear in surplice and stole. They had felt that his attire on +the previous Sundays had been a little too informal. And when, at the +time usually allotted to the sermon, Gissing climbed the pulpit steps, +unfurled a sheaf of manuscript, and gazed solemnly about, they settled +back into the pew cushions in a comfortable, receptive mood. They had a +subconscious feeling that if their souls were to be saved, it was better +to have it done with all the proper formalities. They did not notice +that he was rather pale, and that his nose twitched nervously. + +"My friends," he said, "in this beautiful little chapel, on this airy +hilltop, one might, if anywhere, speak with complete honesty. For you +who gather here for worship are, in the main, people of great +affairs; accustomed to looking at life with high spirit and with quick +imagination. I will ask you then to be patient with me while I exhort +you to carry into your religion the same enterprising and ambitious +gusto that has made your worldly careers a success. You are accustomed +to deal with great affairs. Let me talk to you about the Great Affairs +of God." + +Gissing had been far too agitated to be able to recognize any particular +members of his audience. All the faces were fused into a common blur. +Miss Airedale, he knew, was in the organ loft, but he had not seen +her since his flight from Atlantic City, for he had removed from the +Airedale mansion before her return, and had made himself a bed in the +corner of the vestry-room. He feared she was angry: there had been a +vigorous growling note in some of the bass pipes of the organ as she +played the opening hymn. He had not seen a tall white-haired figure who +came into the chapel rather late, after the service had begun, and took +a seat at the back. Bishop Borzoi had seized the opportunity to drive +out to Dalmatian Heights this morning to see how his protege was getting +on. When the Bishop saw his lay reader appear in surplice and scarlet +hood, he was startled. But when the amateur parson actually ascended the +pulpit, the Bishop's face was a study. The hair on the back of his neck +bristled slightly. + +"It is so easy," Gissing continued, "to let life go by us in its swift +amusing course, that sometimes it hardly seems worth while to attempt +any bold strokes for truth. Truth, of course, does not need our +assistance; it can afford to ignore our errors. But in this quiet place, +among the whisper of the trees, I seem to have heard a disconcerting +sound. I have heard laughter, and I think it is the laughter of God." + +The congregation stirred a little, with polite uneasiness. This was not +quite the sort of thing to which they were accustomed. + +"Why should God laugh? I think it is because He sees that very often, +when we pretend to be worshipping Him, we are really worshipping and +gratifying ourselves. I used the phrase 'Great Affairs.' The point I +want to make is that God deals with far greater affairs than we have +realized. We have imagined Him on too petty a scale. If God is so great, +we must approach Him in a spirit of greatness. He is not interested in +trivialities--trivialities of ritual, of creed, of ceremony. We have +imagined a vain thing--a God of our own species; merely adding to the +conception, to gild and consecrate, a futile fuzbuz of supernaturalism. +My friends, the God I imagine is something more than a formula on +Sundays and an oath during the week." + +Those sitting in the rear of the Chapel were startled to hear a low +rumbling sound proceeding from the diaphragm of the Bishop, who half +rose from his seat and then, by a great effort of will, contained +himself. But Gissing, rapt in his honourable speculations, continued +with growing happiness. + +"I ask you, though probably in vain, to lay aside for the moment your +inherited timidities and conventions. I ask you to lay aside pride, +which is the devil itself and the cause of most unhappiness. I ask +you to rise to the height of a great conception. To 'magnify' God is +a common phrase in our observances. Then let us truly magnify Him--not +minify, as the theologians do. If God is anything more than a social +fetich, then He must be so much more that He includes and explains +everything. It may sound inconceivable to you, it may sound +sacrilegious, but I suggest to you that it is even possible God may be a +biped--" + +The Bishop could restrain himself no longer. He rose with flaming +eyes and stood in the aisle. Mr. Airedale, Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher, and +several other prominent members of the Church burst into threatening +growls. A wild bark and clamour broke from Mr. Towser, the Sunday School +superintendent, and his pupils, who sat in the little gallery over the +door. And then, to Gissing's horror and amazement, Mr. Poodle appeared +from behind a pillar where he had been chafing unseen. In a fierce tenor +voice shaken with indignation he cried: + +"Heretic and hypocrite! Pay no attention to his abominable nonsense! He +deserted his family to lead a life of pleasure!" + +"Seize him!" cried the Bishop in a voice of thunder. + +The church was now in an uproar. A shrill yapping sounded among the +choir. Mrs. Airedale swooned; the Bishop's progress up the aisle was +impeded by a number of ladies hastening for an exit. Old Mr. Dingo, the +sexton, seized the bell-rope in the porch and set up a furious pealing. +Cries of rage mingled with hysterical howls from the ladies. Gissing, +trembling with horror, surveyed the atrocious hubbub. But it was +high time to move, or his retreat would be cut off. He abandoned his +manuscript and bounded down the pulpit stairs. + +"Unfrock him!" yelled Mr. Poodle. + +"He's never been frocked!" roared the Bishop. + +"Impostor!" cried Mr. Airedale. + +"Excommunicate him!" screamed Mr. Towser. + +"Take him before the consistory!" shouted Mr. Poodle. + +Gissing started toward the vestry door, but was delayed by the mass of +scuffling choir-puppies who had seized this uncomprehended diversion as +a chance to settle some scores of their own. The clamour was maddening. +The Bishop leapt the chancel rail and was about to seize him when Miss +Airedale, loyal to the last, interposed. She flung herself upon the +Bishop. + +"Run, run!" she cried. "They'll kill you!" + +Gissing profited by this assistance. He pushed over the lectern upon Mr. +Poodle, who was clutching at his surplice. He checked Mr. Airedale by +hurling little Tommy Bull, one of the choir, bodily at him. Tommy's +teeth fastened automatically upon Mr. Airedale's ear. The surplice, +which Mr. Poodle was still holding, parted with a rip, and Gissing +was free. With a yell of defiance he tore through the vestry and round +behind the chapel. + +He could not help pausing a moment to scan the amazing scene, which had +been all Sabbath calm a few moments before. From the long line of motor +cars parked outside the chapel incredible chauffeurs were leaping, +hurrying to see what had happened. The shady grove shook with the +hideous clamour of the bell, still wildly tolled by the frantic sexton. +The sudden excitement had liberated private quarrels long decently +repressed: in the porch Mrs. Retriever and Mrs. Dobermann-Pinscher were +locked in combat. With a splintering crash one of the choir-pups +came sailing through a stained-glass window, evidently thrown by some +infuriated adult. He recognized the voice of Mr. Towser, raised in +vigorous lamentation. To judge by the sound, Mr. Towser's pupils had +turned upon him and were giving him a bad time. Above all he could +hear the clear war-cry of Miss Airedale and the embittered yells of Mr. +Poodle. Then from the quaking edifice burst Bishop Borzoi, foaming +with wrath, his clothes much tattered, and followed by Mr. Poodle, Mr. +Airedale, and several others. They cast about for a moment, and then the +Bishop saw him. With a joint halloo they launched toward him. + +There was no time to lose. He fled down the shady path between the +trees, but with a hopeless horror in his heart. He could not long +outdistance such a runner as the Bishop, whose tremendous strides would +surely overhaul him in the end. If only he had known how to drive a car, +he might have commandeered one of the long row waiting by the gate. But +he was no motorist. Miss Airedale could have saved him, in her racing +roadster, but she had not emerged from the melee in the chapel. Perhaps +the Bishop had bitten her. His blood warmed with anger. + +It happened that they had been mending the county highways, and a large +steam roller stood a few hundred feet down the road, drawn up beside the +ditch. Gissing knew that it was customary to leave these engines with +the fire banked and a gentle pressure of steam simmering in the boiler. +It was his only chance, and he seized it. But to his dismay, when he +reached the machine, which lay just round a bend in the road, he found +it shrouded with a huge tarpaulin. However, this suggested a desperate +chance. He whipped nimbly inside the covering and hid in the coal-box. +Lying there, he heard the chase go panting by. + +As soon as he dared, he climbed out, stripped off the canvas, and +gazed at the bulky engine. It was one of those very tall and impressive +rollers with a canopy over the top. The machinery was not complicated, +and the ingenuity of desperation spurred him on. Hurriedly he opened the +draughts in the fire-box, shook up the coals, and saw the needle begin +to quiver on the pressure-gauge. He experimented with one or two levers +and handles. The first one he touched let off a loud scream from the +whistle. Then he discovered the throttle. He opened it a few notches, +cautiously. The ponderous machine, with a horrible clanking and +grinding, began to move forward. + +A steam roller may seem the least helpful of all vehicles in which to +conduct an urgent flight; but Gissing's reasoning was sound. In the +first place, no one would expect to find a hunted fugitive in this +lumbering, sluggish behemoth of the road. Secondly, sitting perched high +up in the driving saddle, right under the canopy, he was not easily +seen by the casual passer-by. And thirdly, if the pursuit came to +close grips, he was still in a strategic position. For this, the most +versatile of all land-machines except the military tank, can move across +fields, crash through underbrush, and travel in a hundred places +that would stall a motor car. He rumbled off down the road somewhat +exhilarated. He found the scarlet stole twisted round his neck, and tied +it to one of the stanchions of the canopy as a flag of defiance. It was +not long before he saw the posse of pursuit returning along the road, +very hot and angry. He crunched along solemnly, busying himself to get +up a strong head of steam. There they were, the Bishop, Mr. Poodle, Mr. +Airedale, Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher, and Mr. Towser. Mr. Poodle was talking +excitedly: the Bishop's tongue ran in and out over his gleaming teeth. +He was not saying much, but his manner was full of deadly wrath. They +paid no attention to the roller, and were about to pass it without even +looking up, when Gissing, in a sudden fit of indignation, gave the wheel +a quick twirl and turned his clumsy engine upon them. They escaped +only by a hair's breadth from being flattened out like pastry. Then the +Bishop, looking up, recognized the renegade. With a cry of anger they +all leaped at the roller. + +But he was so high above them, they had no chance. He seized the +coal-scoop and whanged Mr. Poodle across the skull. The Bishop came +dangerously near reaching him, but Gissing released a jet of scalding +steam from an exhaust-cock, which gave the impetuous prelate much cause +for grief. A lump of coal, accurately thrown, discouraged Mr. Airedale. +Mr. Towser, attacking on the other side of the engine, managed to +scramble up so high that he carried away the embroidered stole, but +otherwise the fugitive had all the best of it. Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher +burned his feet trying to climb up the side of the boiler. From the +summit of his uncouth vehicle Gissing looked down undismayed. + +"Miserable freethinker!" said Borzoi. "You shall be tried by the +assembly of bishops." + +"In a mere lay reader," quoted Gissing, "a slight laxity is allowable. +You had better go back and calm down the congregation, or they'll tear +the chapel to bits. This kind of thing will have a very bad influence on +church discipline." + +They shouted additional menace, but Gissing had already started his +deafening machinery and could not hear what was said. He left them +bickering by the roadside. + +For fear of further pursuit, he turned off the highway a little beyond, +and rumbled noisily down a rustic lane between high banks and hedges +where sumac was turning red. Strangely enough, there was something very +comforting about his enormous crawling contraption. It was docile and +reliable, like an elephant. The crashing clangour of its movement was +soon forgotten--became, in fact, an actual stimulus to thought. For the +mere pleasure of novelty, he steered through a copse, and took joy in +seeing the monster thrash its way through thickets and brambles, and +then across a field of crackling stubble. Steering toward the lonelier +regions of that farming country, presently he halted in a dingle of +birches beside a small pond. He spent some time very happily, carefully +studying the machinery. He found some waste and an oilcan in the +tool-chest, and polished until the metal shone. The water looked rather +low in the gauge, and he replenished it from the pool. + +It was while grooming the roller that it struck him his own appearance +was unusual for a highway mechanic. He was still wearing the famous +floorwalker suit, which he had punctiliously donned every Sunday for +chapel. But he had had to flee without a hat--even without his luggage, +which was neatly packed in a bag in the vestry. That, he felt sure, Mr. +Poodle had already burst open for evidences of heresy and schism. The +pearly trousers were stained with oil and coal-dust; the neat cutaway +coat bore smears of engine-grease. As long as he stuck to the roller +and the telltale garments, pursuit and identification would of course be +easy enough. But he had taken a fancy to the machine: he decided not to +abandon it yet. + +Obviously it was better to keep to the roads, where the engine would at +any rate be less surprisingly conspicuous, and where it would leave no +trail. So he made a long circuit across meadows and pastures, carrying +a devilish clamour into the quiet Sunday afternoon. Regaining a macadam +surface, he set oil at random, causing considerable annoyance to +the motoring public. Finding that his cutaway coat caused jeers and +merriment, he removed it; and when any one showed a disposition to +inquire, he explained that he was doing penance for an ill-judged wager. +His oscillating perch above the boiler was extraordinarily warm, and he +bought a gallon jug of cider from a farmer by the way. Cheering himself +with this, and reviewing in his mind the queer experiences of the past +months, he went thundering mildly on. + +At first he had feared a furious pursuit on the part of the Bishop, or +even a whole college of bishops, quickly mobilized for the event. He +had imagined them speeding after him in a huge motor-bus, and himself +keeping them at bay with lumps of coal. But gradually he realized that +the Bishop would not further jeopardize his dignity, or run the risk of +making himself ridiculous. Mr. Poodle would undoubtedly set the township +road commissioner on his trail, and he would be liable to seizure for +the theft of a steam roller. But that could hardly happen so quickly. In +the meantime, a plan had been forming in his mind, but it would require +darkness for its execution. + +Darkness did not delay in coming. As he jolted cheerfully from road +to road, holding up long strings of motors at every corner while he +jovially held out his arm as a sign that he was going to turn, dark +purple clouds were massing and piling up. Foreseeing a storm, he bought +some provisions at a roadhouse, and turned into a field, where he +camped in the lee of a forest of birches. He cooked himself an excellent +supper, toasting bread and frankfurters in the firebox of the roller. +With boiling water from a steam-cock he brewed a panikin of tea; and sat +placidly admiring the fawn-pink light on wide pampas of bronze grasses, +tawny as a panther's hide. A strong wind began to draw from the +southeast. He lit the lantern at the rear of the machine and by the time +the rain came hissing upon the hot boiler, he was ready. Luckily he had +saved the tarpaulin. He spread this on the ground underneath the roller, +and curled up in it. The glow from the firebox kept him warm and dry. + +"Summer is over," he said to himself, as he heard the clash and spouting +of rain all about him. He lay for some time, not sleepy, thinking +theology, and enjoying the close tumult of wind and weather. + +People who have had an arm or a leg amputated, he reflected, say they +can still feel pains in the absent member. Well, there's an analogy in +that. Modern skepticism has amputated God from the heart; but there is +still a twinge where the arteries were sewn up. + +He slept peacefully until about two in the morning, except when a +red-hot coal, slipping through the grate-bars, burned a lamentable hole +in his trousers. When he woke, the night still dripped, but was clear +aloft. He started the engine and drove cautiously, along black slippery +roads, to Mr. Poodle's house. In spite of the unavoidable racket, no one +stirred: he surmised that the curate slept soundly after the crises +of the day. He left the engine by the doorstep, pinning a note to the +steering-wheel. It said: + + TO REV. J. ROVER POODLE + this useful steam-roller + as a symbol of the theological mind + + MR. GISSING + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + +The steamship Pomerania, which had sailed at noon, was a few hours out +of port on a calm gray sea. The passengers, after the bustle of lunch +and arranging their staterooms; had settled into their deck chairs and +were telling each other how much they loved the ocean. Captain Scottie +had taken his afternoon constitutional on his private strip of starboard +deck just aft the bridge, and was sitting in his comfortable cabin +expecting a cup of tea. He was a fine old sea-dog: squat, grizzled, +severe, with wiry eyebrows, a short coarse beard, and watchful quick +eyes. A characteristic Scot, beneath his reticent conscientious dignity +there was abundant humour and affection. He would have been recognized +anywhere as a sailor: those short solid legs were perfectly adapted for +balancing on a rolling deck. He stood by habit as though he were leaning +into a stiff gale. His mouth always held a pipe, which he smoked in +short, brisk whiffs, as though expecting to be interrupted at any moment +by an iceberg. + +The steward brought in the tea-tray, and Captain Scottie settled into +his large armchair to enjoy it. His eye glanced automatically at the +barometer. + +"A little wind to-night," he said, his nose wrinkling unconsciously as +the cover was lifted from the dish of hot anchovy toast. + +"Yes, sir," said the steward, but lingered, apparently anxious to speak +further. + +"Well, Shepherd?" + +"Beg pardon, sir, but the Chief Steward wanted me to say they've found +someone stowed away in the linen locker, sir. Queer kind of fellow, +sir, talks a bit like a padre. 'E must've come aboard by the engine-room +gangway, sir, and climbed into that locker near the barber shop." + +The problem of stowaways is familiar enough to shipmasters. "Send him up +to me," said the Captain. + +A few minutes later Gissing appeared, escorted by a burly quartermaster. +Even the experienced Captain admitted to himself that this was something +new in the category of stowaways. Never before had he seen one in a +braided cutaway coat and wedding trousers. It was true that the +garments were in grievous condition, but they were worn with an air. +The stowaway's face showed some embarrassment, but not at all the usual +hangdog mien of such wastrels. Involuntarily his tongue moistened when +he saw the tray of tea (for he had not eaten since his supper on the +steam roller the night before), but he kept his eyes politely averted +from the food. They rose to a white-painted girder that ran athwart the +cabin ceiling. CERTIFIED TO ACCOMMODATE THE MASTER he read there, in +letters deeply incised into the thick paint. "A good Christian ship," +he said to himself. "It sounds like the Y. M. C. A." He was pleased +to think that his suspicion was already confirmed: ships were more +religious than anything on land. + +The Captain dismissed the quartermaster, and addressed himself sternly +to the culprit. + +"Well, what have you to say for yourself?" + +"Please, Captain," said Gissing politely, "do not allow your tea to get +cold. I can talk while you eat." Behind his grim demeanour the Captain +was very near to smiling at this naivete. No Briton is wholly implacable +at tea-time, and he felt a genuine curiosity about this unusual +offender. + +"What was your idea in coming aboard?" he said. "Do you know that I can +put you in irons until we get across, and then have you sent home for +punishment? I suppose it's the old story: you want to go sight-seeing on +the other side?" + +"No, Captain," said Gissing. "I have come to sea to study theology." + +In spite of himself the Captain was touched by this amazing statement. +He was a Scot, as we have said. He poured a cup of tea to conceal his +astonishment. + +"Theology!" he exclaimed. "The theology of hard work is what you will +find most of aboard ship. Carry on and do your duty; keep a sharp +lookout, all gear shipshape, salute the bridge when going on watch, +that is the whole duty of a good officer. That's plenty theology for a +seaman." But the skipper's eye turned brightly toward his bookshelves, +where he had several volumes of sermons, mostly of a Calvinist sort. + +"I am not afraid of work," said Gissing. "But I'm looking for horizons. +In my work ashore I never could find any." + +"Your horizon is likely to be peeling potatoes in the galley," remarked +the Captain. "I understand they are short-handed there. Or sweeping out +bunks in the steerage. Ethics of the dust! What would you say to that?" + +"Sir," replied Gissing, "I shall be grateful for any task, however +menial, that permits me to meditate. I understand your point of view. By +coming aboard your ship I have broken the law, I have committed a +crime; but not a sin. Crime and sin, every theologian admits, are not +coextensive." + +The Captain sailed head-on into argument. + +"What?" he cried. "Are you aware of the doctrine of Moral Inability in a +Fallen State? Sit down, sit down, and have a cup of tea. We must discuss +this." + +He rang for the steward and ordered an extra cup and a fresh supply of +toast. At that moment Gissing heard two quick strokes of a bell, rung +somewhere forward, a clear, musical, melancholy tone, echoed promptly +in other parts of the ship. "What is that, Captain?" he asked anxiously. +"An accident?" + +"Two bells in the first dog-watch," said the Captain. "I fear you are as +much a lubber at sea as you are in theology." + +The next two hours passed like a flash. Gissing found the skipper, in +spite of his occasional moods of austerity, a delicious companion. They +discussed Theosophy, Spiritualism, and Christian Science, all of which +the Captain, with sturdy but rather troubled vehemence, linked with +Primitive Magic. Gissing, seeing that his only hope of establishing +himself in the sailor's regard was to disagree and keep the argument +going, plunged into psycho-analysis and the philosophy of the +unconscious. Rather unwarily he ventured to introduce a nautical +illustration into the talk. + +"Your compass needle," he said, "points to the North Pole, and although +it has never been to the Pole, and cannot even conceive of it, yet it +testifies irresistibly to the existence of such a place." + +"I trust you navigate your soul more skilfully than you would navigate +this vessel," retorted the Captain. "In the first place, the needle +does not point to the North Pole at all, but to the magnetic pole. +Furthermore, it has to be adjusted by magnets to counteract deviation. +Mr. Gissing, you may be a sincere student of theology, but you have not +allowed for your own temperamental deviation. Why, even the gyro compass +has to be adjusted for latitude error. You landsmen think that a ship is +simply a floating hotel. I should like to have the Bishop you spoke of +study a little navigation. That would put into him a healthy respect for +the marvels of science. On board ship, sir, the binnacle is kept locked +and the key is on the watch-chain of the master. It should be so in all +intellectual matters. Confide them to those capable of understanding." + +Gissing saw that the Captain greatly relished his sense of superiority, +so he made a remark of intentional simplicity. + +"The binnacle?" he said. "I thought that was the little shellfish that +clings to the bottom of the boat?" + +"Don't you dare call my ship a BOAT!" said the Captain. "At sea, a boat +means only a lifeboat or some other small vagabond craft. Come out on +the bridge and I'll show you a thing or two." + +The evening had closed in hazy, and the Pomerania swung steadily in a +long plunging roll. At the weather wing of the bridge, gazing sharply +over the canvas dodger, was Mr. Pointer, the vigilant Chief Officer, +peering off rigidly, as though mesmerized, but saying nothing. He gave +the Captain a courteous salute, but kept silence. At the large mahogany +wheel, gently steadying it to the quarterly roll of the sea, stood Dane, +a tall, solemn quartermaster. In spite of a little uneasiness, due to +the unfamiliar motion, Gissing was greatly elated by the wheelhouse, +which seemed even more thrillingly romantic than any pulpit. +Uncomprehendingly, but with admiration, he examined the binnacle, the +engine-room telegraphs, the telephones, the rack of signal-flags, the +buttons for closing the bulkheads, and the rotating clear-view screen +for lookout in thick weather. Aloft he could see the masthead light, +gently soaring in slow arcs. + +"I'll show you my particular pride," said the Captain, evidently pleased +by his visitor's delighted enthusiasm. + +Gissing wondered what ingenious device of science this might be. + +Captain Scottie stepped to the weather gunwale of the bridge. He pointed +to the smoke, which was rolling rapidly from the funnels. + +"You see," he said, "there's quite a strong breeze blowing. But look +here." + +He lit a match and held it unshielded above the canvas screen which was +lashed along the front of the bridge. To Gissing's surprise it burned +steadily, without blowing out. + +"I've invented a convex wind-shield which splits the air just forward +of the bridge. I can stand here and light my pipe in the stiffest gale, +without any trouble." + +On the decks below Gissing heard a bugle blowing gaily, a bright, +persuasive sound. + +"Six bells," the Captain said. "I must dress for dinner. Before I start +you potato-peeling, I should like to clear up that little discussion of +ours about Free Will. One or two things you said interested me." + +He paced the bridge for a minute, thinking hard. + +"I'll test your sincerity," he said. "To-night you can bunk in the +chart-room. I'll have some dinner sent up to you. I wish you would write +me an essay of, say, two thousand words on the subject of Necessity." + +For a moment Gissing pondered whether it would not be better to be put +in irons and rationed with bread and water. The wind was freshening, and +the Pomerania's sharp bow slid heavily into broad hills of sea, crashing +them into crumbling rollers of suds which fell outward and hissed +along her steep sides. The silent Mr. Pointer escorted him into +the chart-room, a bare, businesslike place with a large table, a +map-cabinet, and a settee. Here, presently, a steward appeared with +excellent viands, and a pen, ink, and notepaper. After a cautious meal, +Gissing felt more comfortable. There is something about a wet, windy +evening at sea that turns the mind naturally toward metaphysics. He +pushed away the dishes and began to write. + +Later in the evening the Captain reappeared. He looked pleased when he +saw a number of sheets already covered with script. + +"Rum lot of passengers this trip," he said. "I don't seem to see any who +look interesting. All Big Business and that sort of thing. I must say +it's nice to have someone who can talk about books, and so on, once in a +while." + +Gissing realized that sometimes a shipmaster's life must be a lonely +one. The weight of responsibility is always upon him; etiquette prevents +his becoming familiar with his officers; small wonder if he pines +occasionally for a little congenial talk to relieve his mind. + +"Big Business, did you say?" Gissing remarked. "Ah, I could write you +quite an essay about that. I used to be General Manager of Beagle and +Company." + +"Come into my cabin and have a liqueur," said the skipper. "Let the +essay go until to-morrow." + +The Captain turned on the electric stove in his cabin, for the night +was cold. It was a snug sanctum: at the portholes were little chintz +curtains; over the bunk was a convenient reading lamp. On the wall a +brass pendulum swung slowly, registering the roll of the ship. The ruddy +shine of the stove lit up the orderly desk and the photographs of the +Captain's family. + +"Yours?" said Gissing, looking at a group of three puppies with droll +Scottish faces. "Aye," said the Captain. + +"I've three of my own," said Gissing, with a private pang of +homesickness. The skipper's cosy quarters were the most truly domestic +he had seen since the evening he first fled from responsibility. + +Captain Scottie was surprised. Certainly this eccentric stranger in the +badly damaged wedding garments had not given the impression of a family +head. Just then the steward entered with a decanter of Benedictine and +small glasses. + +"Brew days and bonny!" said the Captain, raising his crystal. + +"Secure amidst perils!" replied Gissing courteously. It was the phrase +engraved upon the ship's notepaper, on which he had been writing, and it +had impressed itself on his mind. + +"You said you had been a General Manager." + +Gissing told, with some vivacity, of his experiences in the world of +trade. The Captain poured another small liqueur. + +"They're fine halesome liquor," he said. + +"Sincerely yours," said Gissing, nodding over the glass. He was +beginning to feel quite at home in the navigating quarters of the ship, +and hoped the potato-peeling might be postponed as long as possible. + +"How far had you got in your essay?" asked the Captain. + +"Not very far, I fear. I was beginning by laying down a few +psychological fundamentals." + +"Excellent! Will you read it to me?" + +Gissing went to get his manuscript, and read it aloud. The Captain +listened attentively, puffing clouds of smoke. + +"I am sorry this is such a short voyage," he said when Gissing finished. +"You have approached the matter from an entirely naif and instinctive +standpoint, and it will take some time to show you your errors. Before +I demolish your arguments I should like to turn them over in my mind. I +will reduce my ideas to writing and then read them to you." + +"I should like nothing better," said Gissing. "And I can think over the +subject more carefully while I peel the potatoes." + +"Nonsense," said the Captain. "I do not often get a chance to discuss +theology. I will tell you my idea. You spoke of your experience as +General Manager, when you had charge of a thousand employees. One of +the things we need on this ship is a staff-captain, to take over +the management of the personnel. That would permit me to concentrate +entirely on navigation. In a vessel of this size it is wrong that the +master should have to carry the entire responsibility." + +He rang for the steward. + +"My compliments to Mr. Pointer, and tell him to come here." + +Mr. Pointer appeared shortly in oilskins, saluted, and gazed fixedly at +his superior, with one foot raised upon the brass door-sill. + +"Mr. Pointer," said Captain Scottie, "I have appointed Captain Gissing +staff-captain. Take orders from him as you would from me. He will have +complete charge of the ship's discipline." + +"Aye, aye, sir," said Mr. Pointer, stood a moment intently to see if +there were further orders, saluted again, and withdrew. + +"Now you had better turn in," said the skipper. "Of course you must wear +uniform. I'll send the tailor up to you at once. He can remodel one of +my suits overnight. The trousers will have to be lengthened." + +On the chart-room sofa, Gissing dozed and waked and dozed again. On the +bridge near by he heard the steady tread of feet, the mysterious words +of the officer on watch passing the course to his relief. Bells rang +with sharp double clang. Through the open port he could hear the +alternate boom and hiss of the sea under the bows. With the stately lift +and lean of the ship there mingled a faint driving vibration. + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + +The first morning in any new environment is always the most exciting. +Gissing was already awake, and watching the novel sight of a patch of +sunshine sliding to and fro on the deck of the chart-room, when there +was a gentle tap at the door. The Captain's steward entered, carrying a +handsome uniform. + +"Six bells, sir," he said. "Your bath is laid on." + +Gissing was not very sure just what time it was, but the steward +held out a dressing gown for him to slip on, so he took the hint, and +followed him to the Captain's private bathroom where he plunged gaily +into warm salt water. He was hardly dressed before breakfast was +laid for him in the chart-room. It was a breakfast greatly to his +liking--porridge, scrambled eggs, grilled kidneys and bacon, coffee, +toast, and marmalade. Evidently the hardships of sea life had been +greatly exaggerated by fiction writers. + +He was a trifle bashful about appearing on the bridge in his blue and +brass formality, and waited a while thinking Captain Scottie might come. +But no one disturbed him, so by and bye he went out. It was a brisk +morning with a fresh breeze and plenty of whitecaps. Dancing rainbows +hovered about the bow when an occasional explosion of spray burst up +into sunlight. Mr. Pointer was on the bridge, still gazing steadily into +the distance. He saluted Gissing, but said nothing. The quartermaster at +the wheel also saluted in silence. A seaman wiping down the paintwork +on the deckhouse saluted. Gissing returned these gestures punctiliously, +and began to pace the bridge from side to side. He soon grew accustomed +to the varying slant of the deck, and felt that his footing showed a +nautical assurance. + +Now for the first time he enjoyed an untrammelled horizon on all sides. +The sea, he observed, was not really blue--not at any rate the blue he +had supposed. Where it seethed flatly along the hull, laced with swirls +of milky foam, it was almost black. Farther away, it was green, or +darkly violet. A ladder led to the top of the charthouse, and from this +commanding height the whole body of the ship lay below him. How alive +she seemed, how full of personality! The strong funnels, the tall masts +that moved so delicately against the pale open sky, the distant stern +that now dipped low in a comfortable hollow, and now soared and threshed +onward with a swimming thrust, the whole vital organism spoke to the eye +and the imagination. In the centre of this vast circle she moved, royal +and serene. She was more beautiful than the element she rode on, for +perhaps there was something meaningless in that pure vacant round of +sea and sky. Once its immense azure was grasped and noted, it brought +nothing to the mind. Reason was indignant to conceive it, sloping +endlessly away. + +The placid, beautifully planned routine of shipboard passed on its +accustomed course, and he began to suspect that his staff-captaincy was +a sinecure. Down below he could see the passengers briskly promenading, +or drowsing under their rugs. On the hurricane deck, aft, a sailor was +chalking a shuffleboard court. It occurred to him that all this might +become monotonous unless he found some actual part in it. Just then +Captain Scottie appeared on the bridge, took a quick look round, and +joined him on top of the charthouse. + +"Good morning!" he said. "You won't think me rude if you don't see much +of me? Thinking about those ideas of yours, I have come upon some rather +puzzling stuff. I must work the whole thing out more clearly. Your +suggestion that Conscience points the way to an integration of +personality into a higher type of divinity, seems to me off the track; +but I haven't quite downed it yet. I'm going to shut myself up to-day +and consider the matter. I leave you in charge." + +"I shall be perfectly happy," said Gissing. "Please don't worry about +me." + +"You suggest that all the conditions of life at sea, our mastery of the +forces of Nature, and so on, seem to show that we have perfect freedom +of will, and adapt everything to our desires. I believe just the +contrary. The forces of Nature compel us to approach them in their own +way, otherwise we are shipwrecked. It is in the conditions of Nature +that this ship should reach port in eight days, otherwise we should get +nowhere. We do it because it is our destiny." + +"I am not so sure of that," said Gissing. But the Captain had already +departed with a clouded brow. + +On the chart-room roof Gissing had discovered an alluring instrument, +the exact use of which he did not know. It seemed to be some kind of +steering control. The dial was lettered, from left to right, as follows +HARD A PORT, PORT, STEADY, COURSE, STEADY, STARBD, HARD A STARBD. At +present the handle stood upon the section marked COURSE. After a careful +study of the whole seascape, it seemed to Gissing that off to the south +the ocean looked more blue and more interesting. After some hesitation +he moved the handle to the PORT mark, and waited to see what would +happen. To his delight he saw the bow swing slowly round, and the +Pomerania's gleaming wake spread behind her in a whitened curve. He +descended to the bridge, a little nervous as to what Mr. Pointer might +say, but he found the Mate gazing across the water with the same fierce +and unwearying attention. + +"I have changed the course," he said. + +Mr. Pointer saluted, but said nothing. + +Having succeeded so far, Gissing ventured upon another innovation. +He had been greatly tempted by the wheel, and envied the stolid +quartermaster who was steering. So, assuming an air of calm certainty, +he entered the wheelhouse. + +"I'll take her for a while," he said. + +"Aye, aye, sir," said the quartermaster, and surrendered the wheel to +him. + +"You might string out a few flags," Gissing said. He had been noticing +the bright signal buntings in the rack, and thought it a pity not to use +them. + +"I like to see a ship well dressed," he added. + +"Aye, aye, sir," said Dane. "Any choice, sir?" + +Gissing picked out a string of flags which were particularly lively in +colour-scheme, and had them hoisted. Then he gave his attention to the +wheel. He found it quite an art, and was surprised to learn that a big +ship requires so much helm. But it was very pleasant. He took care to +steer toward patches of sea that looked interesting, and to cut into any +particular waves that took his fancy. After an hour or so, he sighted a +fishing schooner, and gave chase. He found it so much fun to run close +beside her (taking care to pass to leeward, so as not to cut off her +wind) that a mile farther on he turned and steered a neat circle +about the bewildered craft. The Pomerania's passengers were greatly +interested, and lined the rails trying to make out what the fishermen +were shouting. The captain of the schooner seemed particularly agitated, +kept waving at the signal flags and barking through a megaphone. During +these manoeuvres Mr. Pointer gazed so hard at the horizon that Gissing +felt a bit embarrassed. + +"I thought it wise to find out exactly what our turning-circle is," he +said. + +Mr. Pointer saluted. He was a well-trained officer. + +Late in the afternoon the Captain reappeared, looking more cheerful. +Gissing was still at the helm, which he found so fascinating he would +not relinquish it. He had ordered his tea served on a little stand +beside the wheel so that he could drink it while he steered. "Hullo!" +said the Captain. "I see you've changed the course." + +"It seemed best to do so," said Gissing firmly. He felt that to show any +weakness at this point would be fatal. + +"Oh, well, probably it doesn't matter. I'm coming round to some of your +ideas." + +Gissing saw that this would never do. Unless he could keep the master +disturbed by philosophic doubts, Scottie would expect to resume command +of the ship. + +"Well," he said, "I've been thinking about it, too. I believe I went +a bit too far. But what do you think about this? Do you believe that +Conscience is inherited or acquired? You sea how important that is. If +Conscience is a kind of automatic oracle, infallible and perfect, what +becomes of free will? And if, on the other hand, Conscience is only a +laboriously trained perception of moral and social utilities, where does +your deity come in?" + +Gissing was aware that this dilemma would not hold water very long, and +was painfully impromptu; but it hit the Captain amidships. + +"By Jove," he said, "that's terrible, isn't it? It's no use trying to +carry on until I've got that under the hatch. Look here, would you +mind, just as a favour, keep things going while I wrestle with that +question?--I know it's asking a lot, but perhaps--" + +"It's quite all right," Gissing replied. "Naturally you want to work +these things out." + +The Captain started to leave the bridge, but by old seafaring habit he +cast a keen glance at the sky. He saw the bright string of code flags +fluttering. He seemed startled. + +"Are you signalling any one?" he asked. + +"No one in particular. I thought it looked better to have a few flags +about." + +"I daresay you're right. But better take them down if you speak a ship. +They're rather confusing." + +"Confusing? I thought they were just to brighten things up." + +"You have two different signals up. They read, Bubonic plague, give me a +wide berth. Am coming to your assistance." + +Toward dinner time, when Gissing had left the wheel and was humming a +tune as he walked the bridge, the steward came to him. + +"The Captain's compliments, sir, and would you take his place in the +saloon to-night? He says he's very busy writing, sir, and would take it +as a favour." + +Gissing was always obliging. There was just a hint of conscious +sternness in his manner as he entered the Pomerania's beautiful dining +saloon, for he wished the passengers to realize that their lives +depended upon his prudence and sea-lore. Twice during the meal he +instructed the steward to bring him the latest barometer reading; and +after the dessert he scribbled a note on the back of a menu-card and had +it sent to the Chief Engineer. It said:-- + +Dear Chief: Please keep up a good head of steam to-night. I am expecting +dirty weather. + +MR. GISSING, + +(Staff-Captain) + +What the Chief said when he received the message is not included in the +story. + +But the same social aplomb that had made Gissing successful as a +floorwalker now came to his rescue as mariner. The passengers at the +Captain's table were amazed at his genial charm. His anecdotes of sea +life were heartily applauded. After dinner he circulated gracefully in +the ladies' lounge, and took coffee there surrounded by a chattering +bevy. He organized a little impromptu concert in the music room, and +when that was well started, slipped away to the smoke-room. Here he +found a pool being organized as to the exact day and hour when the +Pomerania would reach port. Appealed to for his opinion, he advised +caution. On all sides he was in demand, for dancing, for bridge, for +a recitation. At length he slipped away, pleading that he must keep +himself fit in case of fog. The passengers were loud in his praise, +asserting that they had never met so agreeable a sea-captain. One +elderly lady said she remembered crossing with him in the old Caninia, +years ago, and that he was just the same then. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN + +And so the voyage went on. Gissing was quite content to do a two-hour +trick at the wheel both morning and afternoon, and worked out some new +principles of steering which gave him pleasure. In the first place, he +noticed that the shuffle-board and quoit players, on the boat deck aft, +were occasionally annoyed by cinders from the stacks, so he made it +a general plan to steer so that the smoke blew at right angles to the +ship's course. As the wind was prevailingly west, this meant that his +general trend was southerly. Whenever he saw another vessel, a mass of +floating sea-weed, a porpoise, or even a sea-gull, he steered directly +for it, and passed as close as possible, to have a good look at it. Even +Mr. Pointer admitted (in the mates' mess) that he had never experienced +so eventful a voyage. To keep the quartermasters from being idle, +Gissing had them knit him a rope hammock to be slung in the chart-room. +He felt that this would be more nautical than a plush settee. + +There was a marvellous sense of power in standing at the wheel and +feeling the great hull reply to his touch. Occasionally Captain Scottie +would emerge from his cabin, look round with a faint surprise, and +come to the bridge to see what was happening. Mr. Pointer would salute +mutely, and continue to study the skyline with indignant absorption. +The Captain would approach the wheel, where Gissing was deep in thought. +Rubbing his hands, the Captain would say heartily, "Well, I think I've +got it all clear now." + +Gissing sighed. + +"What is it?" the Captain inquired anxiously. + +"I'm bothered about the subconscious. They tell us nowadays that +it's the subconscious mind that is really important. The more mental +operations we can turn over to the subconscious realm, the happier we +will be, and the more efficient. Morality, theology, and everything +really worth while, as I understand it, spring from the subconscious." + +The Captain's look of cheer would vanish. + +"Maybe there's something in that." + +"If so," Gissing continued, "then perhaps consciousness is entirely +spurious. It seems to me that before we can get anywhere at all, we've +got to draw the line between the conscious and the subconscious. +What bothers me is, am I conscious of having a subconscious, or not? +Sometimes I think I am, and then again I'm doubtful. But if I'm aware +of my subconscious, then it isn't a genuine subconscious, and the whole +thing's just another delusion--" + +The Captain would knit his weather-beaten brow and again retire +anxiously to his quarters, after begging Gissing to be generous and +carry on a while longer. Occasionally, pacing the starboard bridge-deck, +sacred to captains, Gissing would glance through the port and see the +metaphysical commander bent over sheets of foolscap and thickly wreathed +in pipe-smoke. + +He himself had fallen into a kind of tranced felicity, in which these +questions no longer had other than an ingenious interest. His heart was +drowned in the engulfing blue. As they made their southing, wind +and weather seemed to fall astern, the sun poured with a more golden +candour. He stood at the wheel in a tranquil reverie, blithely steering +toward some bright belly of cloud that had caught his fancy. Mr. Pointer +shook his head when he glanced surreptitiously at the steering recorder, +a device that noted graphically every movement of the rudder with a view +to promoting economical helmsmanship. Indeed Gissing's course, as logged +on the chart, surprised even himself, so that he forbade the officers +taking their noon observations. When Mr. Pointer said something about +isobars, the staff-captain replied serenely that he did not expect to +find any polar bears in these latitudes. + +He had hoped privately for an occasional pirate, and scanned the sea-rim +sharply for suspicious topsails. But the ocean, as he remarked, is +not crowded. They proceeded, day after day, in a solitary wideness of +unblemished colour. The ship, travelling always in the centre of this +infinite disk, seemed strangely identified with his own itinerant +spirit, watchful at the gist of things, alert at the point which was +necessarily, for him, the nub of all existence. He wandered about the +Pomerania's sagely ordered passages and found her more and more magical. +She went on and on, with some strange urgent vitality of her own. +Through the fiddleys on the boat deck came a hot oily breath and the +steady drumming of her burning heart. From outer to hawse-hole, from +shaft-tunnel to crow's-nest, he explored and loved her. In the whole of +her proud, faithful, obedient fabric he divined honour and exultation. +Poised upon uncertainty, she was sure. The camber of her white-scrubbed +decks, the long, clean sheer of her hull, the concave flare of her +bows--what was the amazing joy and rightness of these things? And yet +the grotesque passengers regarded her only as a vehicle, to carry them +sedatively to some clamouring dock. Fools! She was more lovely than +anything they would ever see again! He yearned to drive her endlessly +toward that unreachable perimeter of sky. + +On land there had been definite horizons, even if disappointing when +reached and examined; but here there was no horizon at all. Every hour +it slid and slid over the dark orb of sea. He lost count of time. The +tremulous cradling of the Pomerania, steadily climbing the long leagues; +her noble forecastle solemnly lifting against heaven, then descending +with grave beauty into a spread of foaming beryl and snowdrift, seemed +one with the rhythm of his pulse and heart. Perhaps there had been more +than mere ingenuity in his last riddle for the theological skipper. +Truly the subconscious had usurped him. Here he was almost happy, for he +was almost unaware of life. It was all blue vacancy and suspension. The +sea is the great answer and consoler, for it means either nothing or +everything, and so need not tease the brain. + +But the passengers, though unobservant, began to murmur; especially +those who had wagered that the Pomerania would dock on the eighth day. +The world itself, they complained, was created in seven days, and why +should so fine a ship take longer to cross a comparatively small ocean? +Urbanely, over coffee and petite fours, Gissing argued with them. They +were well on their way, he protested; and then, as a hypothetical case, +he asked why one destination was more worth visiting than another? He +even quoted Shakespeare on this point--something about "ports and happy +havens"--and succeeded in turning the tide of conversation for a while. +The mention of Shakespeare suggested to some of the ladies that it +would be pleasant, now they all knew each other so well, to put on some +amateur theatricals. They compromised by playing charades in the saloon. +Another evening Gissing kept them amused by fireworks, which were very +lovely against the dark sky. For this purpose he used the emergency +rockets, star-shells and coloured flares, much to the distress of Dane, +the quartermaster, who had charge of these supplies. + +Little by little, however, the querulous protests of the passengers +began to weary him. Also, he had been receiving terse memoranda from +the Chief Engineer that the coal was getting low in the bunkers and that +something must be queer in the navigating department. This seemed very +unreasonable. The fixed gaze of Mr. Pointer, perpetually examining the +horizon as though he wanted to make sure he would recognize it if they +met again, was trying. Even Captain Scottie complained one day that +the supply of fresh meat had given out and that the steward had been +bringing him tinned beef. Gissing determined upon resolute measures. + +He had notice served that on account of possible danger from pirates +there would be a general boat drill on the following day--not merely for +the crew, but for everyone. He gave a little talk about it in the saloon +after dinner, and worked his audience up to quite a pitch of enthusiasm. +This would be better than any amateur theatricals, he insisted. Everyone +was to act exactly as though in a sudden calamity. They might make +up the boat-parties on the basis of congeniality if they wished; five +minutes would be given for reaching the stations, without panic or +disorder. They should prepare themselves as though they were actually +going to leave a sinking ship. + +The passengers were delighted with the idea of this novel entertainment. +Every soul on board--with the exception of Captain Scottie, who had +locked himself in and refused to be disturbed--was properly advertised +of the event. + +The following day, fortunately, was clear and calm. At noon Gissing +blew the syren, fired a rocket from the bridge, and swung the engine +telegraph to STOP. The ship's orchestra, by his orders, struck up a +rollicking air. Quickly and without confusion, amid cries of Women and +children first! the passengers filed to their allotted places. The crew +and officers were all at their stations. + +Gissing knocked at Captain Scottie's cabin. + +"We are taking to the boats," he said. + +"Goad!" cried the skipper. "Wull it be a colleesion?" + +"All's clear and the davits are outboard," said Gissing. He had been +studying the manual of boat handling in one of the nautical volumes in +the chart-room. + +"Auld Hornie!" ejaculated the skipper. "We'll no can salve the specie! +Make note of her poseetion, Mr. Gissing!" He hastened to gather his +papers, the log, a chronometer, and a large canister of tobacco. + +"The Deil's intil't," he said as he hastened to his boat. "I had yon +pragmateesm of yours on a lee shore. Two-three hours, I'd have careened +ye." + +Gissing was ready with his megaphone. From the wing of the bridge he +gave the orders. + +"Lower away!" and the boats dropped to the passenger rail. + +"Avast lowering!" Each boat took in her roster of passengers, who were +in high spirits at this unusual excitement. + +"Mind your painters! Lower handsomely!" + +The boats took the water in orderly fashion, and were cast off. +Remaining members of the crew swarmed down the falls. The bandsmen had a +boat to themselves, and resumed their tune as soon as they were settled. + +Gissing, left alone on the ship, waved for silence. + +"Look sharp, man!" cried Captain Scottie. "Honour's satisfied! Take your +place in the boat!" + +The passengers applauded, and there was quite a clatter of camera +shutters as they snapped the Pomerania looming grandly above them. + +"Boats are all provisioned and equipped," shouted Gissing. "I've +broadcasted your position by radio. The barometer's at Fixed Fair. Pull +off now, and 'ware the screw." + +He moved the telegraph handle to DEAD SLOW, and the Pomerania began to +slip forward gently. The boats dropped aft amid a loud miscellaneous +outcry. Mr. Pointer was already examining the horizon. Captain Scottie, +awakened to the situation, was uttering the language of theology but not +the purport. + +"Don't stand up in the boats," megaphoned Gissing. "You're quite all +right, there's a ship on the way already. I wirelessed last night." + +He slid the telegraph to slow, half, and then full. Once more the ship +creamed through the lifting purple swells. The little flock of boats was +soon out of sight. + +Alone at the wheel, he realized that a great weight was off his mind. +The responsibility of his position had burdened him more than he knew. +Now a strange eagerness and joy possessed him. His bubbling wake cut +straight and milky across the glittering afternoon. In a ruddy sunset +glow, the sea darkened through all tints of violet, amethyst, indigo. +The horizon line sharpened so clearly that he could distinguish the +tossing profile of waves wetting the sky. "A red sky at night is the +sailor's delight," he said to himself. He switched on the port and +starboard lights and the masthead lanterns, then lashed the wheel while +he went below for supper. He did not know exactly where he was, for he +seemed to have steamed clean off the chart; but as he conned the helm +that evening, and leaned over the lighted binnacle, he had a feeling +that he was not far from some destiny. With cheerful assurance he lashed +the wheel again, and turned in. He woke once in the night, and leaped +from the hammock with a start. He thought he had heard a sound of +barking. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN + +The next morning he sighted land. Coming out on the bridge, the whole +face of things was changed. The sea-colour had lightened to a tawny +green; gulls dipped and hovered; away on the horizon lay a soft blue +contour. "Land Ho!" he shouted superbly, and wondered what new country +he had discovered. He ran up a hoist of red and yellow signal flags, and +steered gaily toward the shore. + +It had grown suddenly cold: he had to fetch Captain Scottie's pea-jacket +to wear at the wheel. On the long spilling crests, that crumbled and +spread running layers of froth in their hurry shoreward, the Pomerania +rode home. She knew her landfall and seemed to quicken. Steadily +swinging on the jade-green surges, she buried her nose almost to the +hawse-pipes, then lifted until her streaming forefoot gleamed out of a +frilled ruffle of foam. + +Gissing, too, was eager. A tingling buoyancy and impatience took hold +of him: he fidgeted with sheer eagerness for life. Land, the beloved +stability of our dear and only earth, drew and charmed him. Behind was +the senseless, heartbreaking sea. Now he could discern hills rising in +a gilded opaline light. In the volatile thin air was a quick sense of +strangeness. A new world was close about him: a world that he could see, +and feel, and inhale, and yet knew nothing of. + +Suddenly a great humility possessed him. He had been froward and silly +and vain. He had shouted arrogantly at Beauty, like a noisy tourist in +a canyon; and the only answer, after long waiting, had been the paltry +diminished echo of his own voice. He thought shamefully of his follies. +What matter how you name God or in what words you praise Him? In this +new foreign land he would quietly accept things as he found them. The +laughter of God was too strange to understand. + +No, there was no answer. He was doubly damned, for he had made truth a +mere sport of intellectual riddling. The mind, like a spinning flywheel +of fatigued steel, was gradually racked to bursting by the conflict +of stresses. And yet: every equilibrium was an opposure of forces. +Rotation, if swift enough, creates amazing stability: he had seen how +the gyroscope can balance at apparently impossible angles. Perhaps it +was so of the mind. If it twirls at high speed it can lean right out +over the abyss without collapse. But the stationary mind--he thought +of Bishop Borzoi--must keep away from the edge. Try to force it to +the edge, it raves in panic. Every mind, very likely, knows its own +frailties, and does well to safeguard them. At any rate, that was the +most generous interpretation. Most minds, undoubtedly, were uneasy in +high places. They doubted their ability to refrain from jumping off. +How many bones of fine intellects lay whitening at the foot of the +theological cliff--It seemed to be a lonely coast, and wintry. +Patches of snow lay upon the hills, the woods were bare and brown. A +bottle-necked harbour opened out before him. He reduced the engines to +Dead Slow and glided gaily through the strait. He had been anxious lest +his navigation might not be equal to the occasion: he did not want to +disgrace himself at this final test. But all seemed to arrange itself +with enchanted ease. A steep ledge of ground offered a natural pier, +with tree-stumps for bollards. He let her come gently beyond the spot; +reversed the propellers just at the right time, and backed neatly +alongside. He moved the telegraph handle to FINISHED WITH ENGINES; ran +out the gangplank smartly, and stepped ashore. He moored the vessel fore +and aft, and hung out fenders to prevent chafing. + +The first thing to do, he said to himself, is to get the lie of the +land, and find out whether it is inhabited. + +A hillside rising above the water promised a clear view. The stubble +grass was dry and frosty, after the warm days at sea the chill was +nipping; but what an elixir of air! If this is a desert island, he +thought, it will be a glorious discovery. His heart was jocund with +anticipation. A curious foreign look in the landscape, he thought; quite +unlike anything--Suddenly, where the hill arched against pearly sky, he +saw narrow thread of smoke rising. He halted in alarm. Who might this +be, friend or foe? But eager agitation pushed him on. Burning to know, +he hurried up to the brow of the hill. + +The smoke mounted from a small bonfire of sticks in a sheltered thicket, +where a miraculous being--who was, as a matter of fact, a rather ragged +and dingy vagabond--was cooking a tin of stew over the blaze. + +Gissing stood, quivering with emotion. Joy such as he had never known +darted through all the cords of his body. He ran, shouting, in mirth and +terror. In fear, in a passion of love and knowledge and understanding, +he abased himself and yearned before this marvel. Impossible to have +conceived, yet, once seen, utterly satisfying and the fulfilment of all +needs. He laughed and leaped and worshipped. When the first transport +was over, he laid his head against this being's knee, he nestled there +and was content. This was the inscrutable perfect answer. + +"Cripes!" said the puzzled tramp, as he caressed the nuzzling head. "The +purp's loco. Maybe he's been lost. You might think he'd never seen a man +before." + +He was right. + +And Gissing sat quietly, his throat resting upon the soiled knee of a +very old and spicy trouser. + +"I have found God," he said. + +Presently he thought of the ship. It would not do to leave her so +insecurely moored. Reluctantly, with many a backward glance and a heart +full of glory, he left the Presence. He ran to the edge of the hill to +look down upon the harbour. + +The outlook was puzzlingly altered. He gazed in astonishment. What were +those poplars, rising naked into the bright air?--there was something +familiar about them. And that little house beyond... he stared +bewildered. + +The great shining breadth of the ocean had shrunk to the roundness of +a tiny pond. And the Pomerania? He leaned over, shaken with questions. +There, beside the bank, was a little plank of wood, a child's plaything, +roughly fashioned shipshape: two chips for funnels; red and yellow +frosted leaves for flags; a withered dogwood blossom for propeller. He +leaned closer, with whirling mind. In the clear cool surface of the +pond he could see the sky mirrored, deeper than any ocean, pellucid, +infinite, blue. + +He ran up the path to the house. The scuffled ragged garden lay naked +and hard. At the windows, he saw with surprise, were holly wreaths tied +with broad red ribbon. On the porch, some battered toys. He opened the +door. + +A fluttering rosy light filled the room. By the fireplace the +puppies--how big they were!--were sitting with Mrs. Spaniel. Joyous +uproar greeted him: they flung themselves upon him. Shouts of "Daddy! +Daddy!" filled the house, while the young Spaniels stood by more +bashfully. + +Good Mrs. Spaniel was gratefully moved. Her moist eyes shone brightly in +the firelight. + +"I knew you'd be home for Christmas, Mr. Gissing," she said. "I've been +telling them so all afternoon. Now, children, be still a moment and let +me speak. I've been telling you your Daddy would be home in time for a +Christmas Eve story. I've got to go and fix that plum pudding." + +In her excitement a clear bubble dripped from the tip of her tongue. She +caught it in her apron, and hurried to the kitchen. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN + +The children insisted on leading him all through the house to show how +nicely they had taken care of things. And in every room Gissing saw +the marks of riot and wreckage. There were tooth-scars on all +furniture-legs; the fringes of rugs were chewed off; there were prints +of mud, ink, paints, and whatnot, on curtains and wallpapers and +coverlets. Poor Mrs. Spaniel kept running anxiously from the kitchen to +renew apologies. + +"I DID try to keep 'em in order," she said, "but they seem to bash +things when you're not looking." + +But Gissing was too happy to stew about such trifles. When the +inspection was over, they all sat down by the chimney and he piled on +more logs. + +"Well, chilluns," he said, "what do you want Santa Claus to bring you +for Christmas?" + +"An aunbile!" exclaimed Groups + +"An elphunt!" exclaimed Bunks + +"A little train with hammers!" exclaimed Yelpers + +"A little train with hammers?" asked Gissing. "What does he mean?" + +"Oh," said Groups and Bunks, with condescending pity, "he means a +typewriter. He calls it a little train because it moves on a track when +you hit it." + +A painful apprehension seized him, and he went hastily to his study. He +had not noticed the typewriter, which Mrs. Spaniel had--too late--put +out of reach. Half the keys were sticking upright, jammed together and +tangled in a whirl of ribbon; the carriage was strangely dislocated. And +yet even this mischance, which would once have horrified him, left him +unperturbed. It's my own fault, he thought: I shouldn't have left it +where they could play with it. Perhaps God thinks the same when His +creatures make a mess of the dangerous laws of life. + +"A Christmas story!" the children were clamouring. + +Can it really be Christmas Eve? Gissing thought. Christmas seems to have +come very suddenly this year, I haven't really adjusted my mind to it +yet. + +"All right," he said. "Now sit still and keep quiet. Bunks, give Yelpers +a little more room. If there's any bickering Santa Claus might hear it." + +He sat in the big chair by the fire, and the three looked upward +expectantly from the hearthrug. + +"Once upon a time there were three little puppies, who lived in a house +in the country in the Canine Estates. And their names were Groups, +Bunks, and Yelpers." + +The three tails thumped in turn as the names were mentioned, but the +children were too excitedly absorbed to interrupt. + +"And one year, just before Christmas, they heard a dreadful rumour." + +"What's a rumour?" cried Yelpers, alarmed. + +This was rather difficult to explain, so Gissing did not attempt it. He +began again. + +"They heard that Santa Claus might not be able to come because he was +so behind with his housework. You see, Santa Claus is a great big +Newfoundland dog with a white beard, and he lives in a frosty kennel at +the North Pole, all shining with icicles round the roof and windows. But +it's so far away from everywhere that poor Santa couldn't get a servant. +All the maids who went there refused to stay because it was so cold +and lonely, and so far from the movies. Santa Claus was busy in his +workshop, making toys; he was busy taking care of the reindeer in their +snow-stables; and he didn't have time to wash his dishes. So all summer +he just let them pile up and pile up in the kitchen. And when Christmas +came near, there was his lovely house in a dreadful state of untidiness. +He couldn't go away and leave it like that. And so, if he didn't get his +dishes washed and the house cleaned up for Christmas, all the puppies +all over the world would have to go without toys. When Groups and Bunks +and Yelpers heard this, they were very much worried." + +"How did they hear it?" asked Bunks, who was the analytical member of +the trio. + +"A very sensible question," said Gissing, approvingly. "They heard it +from the chipmunk who lives in the wood behind the house. The chipmunk +heard it underground." + +"In his chipmonastery?" cried Groups. It was a family joke to call +the chipmunk's burrow by that name, and though the puppies did not +understand the pun they relished the long word. + +"Yes," continued Gissing. "The reindeer in Santa Claus's stable were +so unhappy about the dishes not being washed, and the chance of missing +their Christmas frolic, that they broadcasted a radio message. Their +horns are very fine for sending radio, and the chipmunk, sitting at his +little wireless outfit, with the receivers over his ears, heard it. And +Chippy told Groups and Bunks and Yelpers. + +"So these puppies decided to help Santa Claus. They didn't know exactly +where to find him, but the chipmunk told them the direction, and off +they went. They travelled and travelled, and when they came to the ocean +they begged a ride from the seagulls, and each one sat on a seagull's +back just as though he was on a little airplane. They flew and flew, +and at last they came to Santa Claus's house. Through the stable-walls, +which were made of clear ice, they could see the reindeer stamping in +their stalls. In the big workshop, where Santa Claus was busy making +toys, they could hear a lively sound of hammering. The big red sleigh +was standing outside the stables, all ready to be hitched up to the +reindeer. + +"They slipped into Santa Claus's house quickly and quietly, so no one +would see or hear them. The house was in a terrible state, but they set +to work to clean up. Groups found the vacuum cleaner and sucked up all +the crumbs from the dining-room rug. Bunks ran upstairs and made Santa +Claus's bed for him and swept the floors and put clean towels in the +bathroom. And Yelpers hurried into the kitchen and washed the dishes, +and scrubbed the pots, and polished the egg-stains off the silver +spoons, and emptied the ice-box pan. All working hard, they got through +very soon, and made Santa Claus's house as clean as any house could be. +They fixed the window-shades so that they would all hang level, not +just anyhow, as poor Santa had them. Then, when everything was spick and +span, they ran outdoors again and beckoned the seagulls. They climbed on +the gulls' backs, and away they flew homeward." + +"Was Santa Claus pleased?" asked Bunks. + +"Indeed he was, when he came back from his workshop, very tired after +making toys all day." + +"What kind of toys did he make?" exclaimed Yelpers anxiously. "Did he +make a typewriter?" + +"He made every kind of toy. And when he saw how his house had been +cleaned up, he thought the fairies must have done it. He lit his pipe, +and filled a thermos bottle with hot cocoa to keep him warm on his long +journey. Then he put on his red coat, and his long boots, and his fur +cap, and went out to harness the reindeer. That very night he drove off +with his sleigh packed full of toys for all the puppies in the world. In +fact, he was so pleased that he loaded his big bag with more toys than +he had ever carried before. And that was how a queer thing happened." + +They waited in eager suspense. + +"You know, Santa Claus always drives into the Canine Estates by the +little back road through the woods, where the chipmunk lives. You know +the gateway, at the bend in the lane: well, it's rather narrow, and +Santa Claus's sleigh is very wide. And this time, because his bag had +so many toys in it, the bag bulged over the edge of the sleigh, and one +corner of the bag caught on the gatepost as he drove by. Three toys fell +out, and what do you suppose they were?" + +"An aunbile!" + +"An elphunt!" + +"A typewriter!" + +"Yes, that's quite right. And it happened that the chipmunk was out +that night, digging up some nuts for his Christmas dinner, a little sad +because he had no presents to give his children; and he found the +three toys. He took them home to the little chipmunks, and they were +tremendously pleased. That was only fair, because if it hadn't been +for the chipmunk and his radio set, no one would have had any toys that +Christmas." + +"Did Santa Claus have any more typewriters in his bag?" asked Yelpers +gravely. + +"Oh, yes, he had plenty more of everything. And when he got to the house +where Groups and Bunks and Yelpers lived, he slid down the chimney and +took a look round. He didn't see any crumbs on the floor, or any toys +lying about not put away, so he filled the stockings with all kinds of +lovely things, and an aunbile and an elphunt and a typewriter." + +"What did the puppies say?" they inquired. + +"They were sound asleep upstairs, and didn't know anything about it +until Christmas morning. Come on now, it's time for bed." + +"We can undress ourselves now," said Groups. + +"Will you tuck me in?" said Bunks. + +"You're sure he had another typewriter in his bag?" said Yelpers. + +They scrambled upstairs. + +Later, when the house was quiet, Gissing went out to the kitchen to see +Mrs. Spaniel. She was diligently rolling pastry, and her nose was white +with flour. + +"Oh, sir, I'm glad you got home in time for Christmas," she said. "The +children were counting on it. Did you have a successful trip, sir?" + +"Every trip is successful when you get home again," said Gissing. "I +suppose the shops will be open late to-night, won't they? I'm going to +run down to the village to get some toys." + +Before leaving the house, he went down to the cellar to see if the +furnace was all right. He was amazed to see how naturally and cheerfully +he had slipped back into the old sense of responsibility. Where was the +illusory freedom he had dreamed of? Even the epiphany on the hilltop now +seemed a distant miracle. That fearful happiness might never come again. +And yet here, among the familiar difficult minutiae of home, what a +lightness he felt. A great phrase from the prayer-book came to his +mind--"Whose service is perfect freedom." + +Ah, he said to himself, it is all very well to wear a crown of thorns, +and indeed every sensitive creature carries one in secret. But there are +times when it ought to be worn cocked over one ear. + +He opened the furnace door. A bright glow filled the fire-box: he could +hear a stir and singing in the boiler, and the rustle of warm pipes that +chuckled quietly through winter nights of storm. Over the coals hovered +a magic evasive flicker, the very soul of fire. It was a Pentecostal +flame, perfect and heavenly in tint, the essence of pure colour, a clear +immortal blue. + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Where the Blue Begins, by Christopher Morley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS *** + +***** This file should be named 1402.txt or 1402.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/0/1402/ + +Produced by Dianne Bean + +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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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +This etext was scanned by Dianne Bean of Phoenix, AZ, using +OmniPage Pro software donated by Caere. + + + + + +WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS + +by Christopher Morley + + + +TO FELIX and TOTO + + + + "I am not free-- + And it may be +Life is too tight around my shins; + For, unlike you, + I can't break through +A truant where the blue begins. + + "Out of the very element + Of bondage, that here holds me pent, +I'll make my furious sonnet: + I'll turn my noose + To tightrope use +And madly dance upon it. + + "So I will take + My leash, and make +A wilder and more subtle fleeing + And I shall be + More escapading and more free +Than you have ever dreamed of being!" + + + +CHAPTER ONE + +Gissing lived alone (except for his Japanese butler) in a little +house in the country, in that woodland suburb region called the +Canine Estates. He lived comfortably and thoughtfully, as +bachelors often do. He came of a respectable family, who had +always conducted themselves calmly and without too much argument. +They had bequeathed him just enough income to live on cheerfully, +without display but without having to do addition and subtraction +at the end of the month and then tear up the paper lest Fuji (the +butler) should see it. + +It was strange, since Gissing was so pleasantly situated in life, +that he got into these curious adventures that I have to relate. +I do not attempt to explain it. + +He had no responsibilities, not even a motor car, for his tastes +were surprisingly simple. If he happened to be spending an +evening at the country club, and a rainstorm came down, he did +not worry about getting home. He would sit by the fire and +chuckle to see the married members creep away one by one. He +would get out his pipe and sleep that night at the club, after +telephoning Fuji not to sit up for him. When he felt like it he +used to read in bed, and even smoke in bed. When he went to town +to the theatre, he would spend the night at a hotel to avoid the +fatigue of the long ride on the 11:44 train. He chose a different +hotel each time, so that it was always an Adventure. He had a +great deal of fun. + +But having fun is not quite the same as being happy. Even an +income of 1000 bones a year does not answer all questions. That +charming little house among the groves and thickets seemed to him +surrounded by strange whispers and quiet voices. He was uneasy. +He was restless, and did not know why. It was his theory that +discipline must be maintained in the household, so he did not +tell Fuji his feelings. Even when he was alone, he always kept up +a certain formality in the domestic routine. Fuji would lay out +his dinner jacket on the bed: he dressed, came down to the dining +room with quiet dignity, and the evening meal was served by +candle-light. As long as Fuji was at work, Gissing sat carefully +in the armchair by the hearth, smoking a cigar and pretending to +read the paper. But as soon as the butler had gone upstairs, +Gissing always kicked off his dinner suit and stiff shirt, and +lay down on the hearth-rug. But he did not sleep. He would watch +the wings of flame gilding the dark throat of the chimney, and +his mind seemed drawn upward on that rush of light, up into the +pure chill air where the moon was riding among sluggish thick +floes of cloud. In the darkness he heard chiming voices, +wheedling and tantalizing. One night he was walking on his little +verandah. Between rafts of silver-edged clouds were channels of +ocean-blue sky, inconceivably deep and transparent. The air was +serene, with a faint acid taste. Suddenly there shrilled a soft, +sweet, melancholy whistle, earnestly repeated. It seemed to come +from the little pond in the near-by copses. It struck him +strangely. It might be anything, he thought. He ran furiously +through the field, and to the brim of the pond. He could find +nothing, all was silent. Then the whistlings broke out again, all +round him, maddeningly. This kept on, night after night. The +parson, whom he consulted, said it was only frogs; but Gissing +told the constable he thought God had something to do with it. + +Then willow trees and poplars showed a pallid bronze sheen, +forsythias were as yellow as scrambled eggs, maples grew knobby +with red buds. Among the fresh bright grass came, here and there, +exhilarating smells of last year's buried bones. The little +upward slit at the back of Gissing's nostrils felt prickly. He +thought that if he could bury it deep enough in cold beef broth +it would be comforting. Several times he went out to the pantry +intending to try the experiment, but every time Fuji happened to +be around. Fuji was a Japanese pug, and rather correct, so +Gissing was ashamed to do what he wanted to. He pretended he had +come out to see that the icebox pan had been emptied properly. + +"I must get the plumber to put in a pukka drain-pipe to take the +place of the pan," Gissing said to Fuji; but he knew that he had +no intention of doing so. The ice-box pan was his private test of +a good servant. A cook who forgot to empty it was too careless, +he thought, to be a real success. + +But certainly there was some curious elixir in the air. He went +for walks, and as soon as he was out of sight of the houses he +threw down his hat and stick and ran wildly, with great +exultation, over the hills and fields. "I really ought to turn +all this energy into some sort of constructive work," he said to +himself. No one else, he mused, seemed to enjoy life as keenly +and eagerly as he did. He wondered, too, about the other sex. Did +they feel these violent impulses to run, to shout, to leap and +caper in the sunlight? But he was a little startled, on one of +his expeditions, to see in the distance the curate rushing hotly +through the underbrush, his clerical vestments dishevelled, his +tongue hanging out with excitement. + +"I must go to church more often," said Gissing. + +In the golden light and pringling air he felt excitable and +high-strung. His tail curled upward until it ached. Finally he +asked Mike Terrier, who lived next door, what was wrong. + +"It's spring," Mike said. + +"Oh, yes, of course, jolly old spring!" said Gissing, as though +this was something he had known all along, and had just forgotten +for the moment. But he didn't know. This was his first spring, +for he was only ten months old. + +Outwardly he was the brisk, genial figure that the suburb knew +and esteemed. He was something of a mystery among his neighbours +of the Canine Estates, because he did not go daily to business in +the city, as most of them did; nor did he lead a life of +brilliant amusement like the Airedales, the wealthy people whose +great house was near by. Mr. Poodle, the conscientious curate, +had called several times but was not able to learn anything +definite. There was a little card-index of parishioners, which it +was Mr. Poodle's duty to fill in with details of each person's +business, charitable inclinations, and what he could do to amuse +a Church Sociable. The card allotted to Gissing was marked, in +Mr. Poodle's neat script, Friendly, but vague as to definite +participation in Xian activities. Has not communicated. + +But in himself, Gissing was increasingly disturbed. Even his +seizures of joy, which came as he strolled in the smooth spring +air and sniffed the wild, vigorous aroma of the woodland earth, +were troublesome because he did not know why he was so glad. +Every morning it seemed to him that life was about to exhibit +some delicious crisis in which the meaning and excellence of all +things would plainly appear. He sang in the bathtub. Daily it +became more difficult to maintain that decorum which Fuji +expected. He felt that his life was being wasted. He wondered +what ought to be done about it. + + + +CHAPTER TWO + +It was after dinner, an April evening, and Gissing slipped away +from the house for a stroll. He was afraid to stay in, because +he knew that if he did, Fuji would ask him again to fix the +dishcloth rack in the kitchen. Fuji was very short in stature, +and could not reach up to the place where the rack was screwed +over the sink. Like all people whose minds are very active, +Gissing hated to attend to little details like this. It was a +weakness in his character. Fuji had asked him six times to fix +the rack, but Gissing always pretended to forget about it. To +appease his methodical butler he had written on a piece of paper +FIX DISHCLOTH RACK and pinned it on his dressing-table +pincushion; but he paid no attention to the memorandum. + +He went out into a green April dusk. Down by the pond piped those +repeated treble whistlings: they still distressed him with a +mysterious unriddled summons, but Mike Terrier had told him that +the secret of respectability is to ignore whatever you don't +understand. Careful observation of this maxim had somewhat dulled +the cry of that shrill queer music. It now caused only a faint +pain in his mind. Still, he walked that way because the little +meadow by the pond was agreeably soft underfoot. Also, when he +walked close beside the water the voices were silent. That is +worth noting, he said to himself. If you go directly at the heart +of a mystery, it ceases to be a mystery, and becomes only a +question of drainage. (Mr. Poodle had told him that if he had the +pond and swamp drained, the frog-song would not annoy him.) But +to-night, when the keen chirruping ceased, there was still +another sound that did not cease--a faint, appealing cry. It +caused a prickling on his shoulder blades, it made him both angry +and tender. He pushed through the bushes. In a little hollow were +three small puppies, whining faintly. They were cold and draggled +with mud. Someone had left them there, evidently, to perish. They +were huddled close together; their eyes, a cloudy unspeculative +blue, were only just opened. "This is gruesome," said Gissing, +pretending to be shocked. "Dear me, innocent pledges of sin, I +dare say. Well, there is only one thing to do." + +He picked them up carefully and carried them home. + +"Quick, Fuji!" he said. "Warm some milk, some of the Grade A, and +put a little brandy in it. I'll get the spare-room bed ready." + +He rushed upstairs, wrapped the puppies in a blanket, and turned +on the electric heater to take the chill from the spare-room. The +little pads of their paws were ice-cold, and he filled the hot +water bottle and held it carefully to their twelve feet. Their +pink stomachs throbbed, and at first he feared they were dying. +"They must not die!" he said fiercely. "If they did, it would be +a matter for the police, and no end of trouble." + +Fuji came up with the milk, and looked very grave when he saw the +muddy footprints on the clean sheet. + +"Now, Fuji," said Gissing, "do you suppose they can lap, or will +we have to pour it down?" + +In spite of his superior manner, Fuji was a good fellow in an +emergency. It was he who suggested the fountain-pen filler. They +washed the ink out of it, and used it to drip the hot +brandy-and-milk down the puppies' throats. Their noses, which had +been icy, suddenly became very hot and dry. Gissing feared a +fever and thought their temperatures should be taken. + +"The only thermometer we have," he said, "is the one on the +porch, with the mercury split in two. I don't suppose that would +do. Have you a clinical thermometer, Fuji?" + +Fuji felt that his employer was making too much fuss over the +matter. + +"No, sir," he said firmly. "They are quite all right. A good +sleep will revive them. They will be as fit as possible in the +morning." + +Fuji went out into the garden to brush the mud from his neat +white jacket. His face was inscrutable. Gissing sat by the +spare-room bed until he was sure the puppies were sleeping +correctly. He closed the door so that Fuji would not hear him +humming a lullaby. Three Blind Mice was the only nursery song he +could remember, and he sang it over and over again. + +When he tiptoed downstairs, Fuji had gone to bed. Gissing went +into his study, lit a pipe, and walked up and down, thinking. By +and bye he wrote two letters. One was to a bookseller in the +city, asking him to send (at once) one copy of Dr. Holt's book on +the Care and Feeding of Children, and a well-illustrated edition +of Mother Goose. The other was to Mr. Poodle, asking him to fix a +date for the christening of Mr. Gissing's three small nephews, +who had come to live with him. + +"It is lucky they are all boys," said Gissing. "I would know +nothing about bringing up girls." + +"I suppose," he added after a while, "that I shall have to raise +Fuji's wages." + +Then he went into the kitchen and fixed the dishcloth rack. + +Before going to bed that night he took his usual walk around the +house. The sky was freckled with stars. It was generally his +habit to make a tour of his property toward midnight, to be sure +everything was in good order. He always looked into the ice-box, +and admired the cleanliness of Fuji's arrangements. The milk +bottles were properly capped with their round cardboard tops; the +cheese was never put on the same rack with the butter; the doors +of the ice-box were carefully latched. Such observations, and the +slow twinkle of the fire in the range, deep down under the curfew +layer of coals, pleased him. In the cellar he peeped into the +garbage can, for it was always a satisfaction to assure himself +that Fuji did not waste anything that could be used. One of the +laundry tub taps was dripping, with a soft measured tinkle: he +said to himself that he really must have it attended to. All +these domestic matters seemed more significant than ever when he +thought of youthful innocence sleeping upstairs in the spare-room +bed. His had been a selfish life hitherto, he feared. These +puppies were just what he needed to take him out of himself. + +Busy with these thoughts, he did not notice the ironical +whistling coming from the pond. He tasted the night air with +cheerful satisfaction. "At any rate, to-morrow will be a fine +day," he said. + +The next day it rained. But Gissing was too busy to think about +the weather. Every hour or so during the night he had gone into +the spare room to listen attentively to the breathing of the +puppies, to pull the blanket over them, and feel their noses. It +seemed to him that they were perspiring a little, and he was +worried lest they catch cold. His morning sleep (it had always +been his comfortable habit to lie abed a trifle late) was +interrupted about seven o'clock by a lively clamour across the +hall. The puppies were awake, perfectly restored, and while they +were too young to make their wants intelligible, they plainly +expected some attention. He gave them a pair of old slippers to +play with, and proceeded to his own toilet. + +As he was bathing them, after breakfast, he tried to enlist +Fuji's enthusiasm. "Did you ever see such fat rascals?" he said. +"I wonder if we ought to trim their tails? How pink their +stomachs are, and how pink and delightful between their toes! You +hold these two while I dry the other. No, not that way! Hold them +so you support their spines. A puppy's back is very delicate: you +can't be too careful. We'll have to do things in a +rough-and-ready way until Dr. Holt's book comes. After that we +can be scientific." + +Fuji did not seem very keen. Presently, in spite of the rain, he +was dispatched to the village department store to choose three +small cribs and a multitude of safety pins. "Plenty of safety +pins is the idea," said Gissing. "With enough safety pins handy, +children are easy to manage." + +As soon as the puppies were bestowed on the porch, in the +sunshine, for their morning nap, he telephoned to the local +paperhanger. + +"I want you" (he said) "to come up as soon as you can with some +nice samples of nursery wallpaper. A lively Mother Goose pattern +would do very well." He had already decided to change the spare +room into a nursery. He telephoned the carpenter to make a gate +for the top of the stairs. He was so busy that he did not even +have time to think of his pipe, or the morning paper. At last, +just before lunch, he found a breathing space. He sat down in the +study to rest his legs, and looked for the Times. It was not in +its usual place on his reading table. At that moment the puppies +woke up, and he ran out to attend them. He would have been +distressed if he had known that Fuji had the paper in the +kitchen, and was studying the HELP WANTED columns. + +A great deal of interest was aroused in the neighbourhood by the +arrival of Gissing's nephews, as he called them. Several of the +ladies, who had ignored him hitherto, called, in his absence, and +left extra cards. This implied (he supposed, though he was not +closely versed in such niceties of society) that there was a Mrs. +Gissing, and he was annoyed, for he felt certain they knew he was +a bachelor. But the children were a source of nothing but pride +to him. They grew with astounding rapidity, ate their food +without coaxing, rarely cried at night, and gave him much +amusement by their naive ways. He was too occupied to be troubled +with introspection. Indeed, his well-ordered home was very +different from before. The trim lawn, in spite of his zealous +efforts, was constantly littered with toys. In sheer mischief the +youngsters got into his wardrobe and chewed off the tails of his +evening dress coat. But he felt a satisfying dignity and +happiness in his new status as head of a family. + +What worried him most was the fear that Fuji would complain of +this sudden addition to his duties. The butler's face was rather +an enigma, particularly at meal times, when Gissing sat at the +dinner table surrounded by the three puppies in their high +chairs, with a spindrift of milk and prune-juice spattering +generously as the youngsters plied their spoons. Fuji had +arranged a series of scuppers, made of oilcloth, underneath the +chairs; but in spite of this the dining-room rug, after a meal, +looked much as the desert place must have after the feeding of +the multitude. Fuji, who was pensive, recalled the five loaves +and two fishes that produced twelve baskets of fragments. The +vacuum cleaner got clogged by a surfeit of crumbs. + +Gissing saw that it would be a race between heart and head. If +Fuji's heart should become entangled (that is, if the innocent +charms of the children should engage his affections before his +reason convinced him that the situation was now too arduous), +there was some hope. He tried to ease the problem also by mental +suggestion. "It is really remarkable" (he said to Fuji) "that +children should give one so little trouble." As he made this +remark, he was speeding hotly to and fro between the bathroom and +the nursery, trying to get one tucked in bed and another +undressed, while the third was lashing the tub into soapy foam. +Fuji made his habitual response, "Very good, sir." But one fears +that he detected some insincerity, for the next day, which was +Sunday, he gave notice. This generally happens on a Sunday, +because the papers publish more Help Wanted advertisements then +than on any other day. + +"I'm sorry, sir," he said. "But when I took this place there was +nothing said about three children." + +This was unreasonable of Fuji. It is very rare to have everything +explained beforehand. When Adam and Eve were put into the Garden +of Eden, there was nothing said about the serpent. + +However, Gissing did not believe in entreating a servant to stay. +He offered to give Fuji a raise, but the butler was still +determined to leave. + +"My senses are very delicate," he said. "I really cannot stand +the--well, the aroma exhaled by those three children when they +have had a warm bath." + +"What nonsense!" cried Gissing. "The smell of wet, healthy +puppies? Nothing is more agreeable. You are cold-blooded: I don't +believe you are fond of puppies. Think of their wobbly black +noses. Consider how pink is the little cleft between their toes +and the main cushion of their feet. Their ears are like silk. +Inside their upper jaws are parallel black ridges, most +remarkable. I never realized before how beautifully and carefully +we are made. I am surprised that you should be so indifferent to +these things." + +There was a moisture in Fuji's eyes, but he left at the end of +the week. + + + +CHAPTER THREE + +A solitary little path ran across the fields not far from the +house. It lay deep among tall grasses and the withered brittle +stalks of last autumn's goldenrod, and here Gissing rambled in +the green hush of twilight, after the puppies were in bed. In +less responsible days he would have lain down on his back, with +all four legs upward, and cheerily shrugged and rolled to and +fro, as the crisp ground-stubble was very pleasing to the spine. +But now he paced soberly, the smoke from his pipe eddying just +above the top of the grasses. He had much to meditate. + +The dogwood tree by the house was now in flower. The blossoms, +with their four curved petals, seemed to spin like tiny white +propellers in the bright air. When he saw them fluttering Gissing +had a happy sensation of movement. The business of those +tremulous petals seemed to be thrusting his whole world forward +and forward, through the viewless ocean of space. He felt as +though he were on a ship--as, indeed, we are. He had never been +down to the open sea, but he had imagined it. There, he thought, +there must be the satisfaction of a real horizon. + +Horizons had been a great disappointment to him. In earlier days +he had often slipped out of the house not long after sunrise, and +had marvelled at the blue that lies upon the skyline. Here, about +him, were the clear familiar colours of the world he knew; but +yonder, on the hills, were trees and spaces of another more +heavenly tint. That soft blue light, if he could reach it, must +be the beginning of what his mind required. + +He envied Mr. Poodle, whose cottage was on that very hillslope +that rose so imperceptibly into sky. One morning he ran and ran, +in the lifting day, but always the blue receded. Hot and +unbuttoned, he came by the curate's house, just as the latter +emerged to pick up the morning paper. + +"Where does the blue begin?" Gissing panted, trying hard to keep +his tongue from sliding out so wetly. + +The curate looked a trifle disturbed. He feared that something +unpleasant had happened, and that his assistance might be +required before breakfast. + +"It is going to be a warm day," he said politely, and stooped for +the newspaper, as a delicate hint. + +"Where does--?" began Gissing, quivering; but at that moment, +looking round, he saw that it had hoaxed him again. Far away, on +his own hill the other side of the village, shone the evasive +colour. As usual, he had been too impetuous. He had not watched +it while he ran; it had circled round behind him. He resolved to +be more methodical. + +The curate gave him a blank to fill in, relative to baptizing the +children, and was relieved to see him hasten away. + +But all this was some time ago. As he walked the meadow path, +Gissing suddenly realized that lately he had had little +opportunity for pursuing blue horizons. Since Fuji's departure +every moment, from dawn to dusk, was occupied. In three weeks he +had had three different servants, but none of them would stay. +The place was too lonely, they said, and with three puppies the +work was too hard. The washing, particularly was a horrid +problem. Inexperienced as a parent, Gissing was probably too +proud: he wanted the children always to look clean and soigne. +The last cook had advertised herself as a General Houseworker, +afraid of nothing; but as soon as she saw the week's wash in the +hamper (including twenty-one grimy rompers), she telephoned to +the station for a taxi. Gissing wondered why it was that the +working classes were not willing to do one-half as much as he, +who had been reared to indolent ease. Even more, he was irritated +by a suspicion of the ice-wagon driver. He could not prove it, +but he had an idea that this uncouth fellow obtained a commission +from the Airedales and Collies, who had large mansions in the +neighbourhood, for luring maids from the smaller homes. Of course +Mrs. Airedale and Mrs. Collie could afford to pay any wages at +all. So now the best he could do was to have Mrs. Spaniel, the +charwoman, come up from the village to do the washing and +ironing, two days a week. The rest of the work he undertook +himself. On a clear afternoon, when the neighbours were not +looking, he would take his own shirts and things down to the +pond--putting them neatly in the bottom of the red express-wagon, +with the puppies sitting on the linen, so no one would see. While +the puppies played about and hunted for tadpoles, he would wash +his shirts himself. + +His legs ached as he took his evening stroll--keeping within +earshot of the house, so as to hear any possible outcry from the +nursery. He had been on his feet all day. But he reflected that +there was a real satisfaction in his family tasks, however +gruelling. Now, at last (he said to himself), I am really a +citizen, not a mere dilettante. Of course it is arduous. No one +who is not a parent realizes, for example, the extraordinary +amount of buttoning and unbuttoning necessary in rearing +children. I calculate that 50,000 buttonings are required for +each one before it reaches the age of even rudimentary +independence. With the energy so expended one might write a great +novel or chisel a statue. Never mind: these urchins must be my +Works of Art. If one were writing a novel, he could not delegate +to a hired servant the composition of laborious chapters. + +So he took his responsibility gravely. This was partly due to +the christening service, perhaps, which had gone off very +charmingly. It had not been without its embarrassments. None of +the neighbouring ladies would stand as godmother, for they were +secretly dubious as to the children's origin; so he had asked +good Mrs. Spaniel to act in that capacity. She, a simple kindly +creature, was much flattered, though certainly she can have +understood very little of the symbolical rite. Gissing, filling +out the form that Mr. Poodle had given him, had put down the +names of an entirely imaginary brother and sister-in-law of his, +"deceased," whom he asserted as the parents. He had been so busy +with preparations that he did not find time, before the +ceremony, to study the text of the service; and when he and Mrs. +Spaniel stood beneath the font with an armful of ribboned +infancy, he was frankly startled by the magnitude of the +promises exacted from him. He found that, on behalf of the +children, he must "renounce the devil and all his work, the vain +pomp and glory of the world;" that he must pledge himself to see +that these infants would "crucify the old man and utterly +abolish the whole body of sin." It was rather doubtful whether +they would do so, he reflected, as he felt them squirming in his +arms while Mrs. Spaniel was busy trying to keep their socks on. +When the curate exhorted him "to follow the innocency" of these +little ones, it was disconcerting to have one of them burst into +a piercing yammer, and wriggle so forcibly that it slipped quite +out of its little embroidered shift and flannel band. But the +actual access to the holy basin was more seemly, perhaps due to +the children imagining they were going to find tadpoles there. +When Mr. Poodle held them up they smiled with a vague almost +bashful simplicity; and Mrs. Spaniel could not help murmuring +"The darlings!" The curate, less experienced with children, had +insisted on holding all three at once, and Gissing feared lest +one of them might swarm over the surpliced shoulder and fall +splash into the font. But though they panted a little with +excitement, they did nothing to mar the solemn instant. While +Mrs. Spaniel was picking up the small socks with which the floor +was strewn, Gissing was deeply moved by the poetry of the +ceremony. He felt that something had really been accomplished +toward "burying the Old Adam." And if Mrs. Spaniel ever grew +disheartened at the wash-tubs, he was careful to remind her of +the beautiful phrase about the mystical washing away of sin. + +They had been christened Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers, three +traditional names in his family. + +Indeed, he was reflecting as he walked in the dusk, Mrs. Spaniel +was now his sheet anchor. Fortunately she showed signs of +becoming extraordinarily attached to the puppies. On the two days +a week when she came up from the village, it was even possible +for him to get a little relaxation--to run down to the station +for tobacco, or to lie in the hammock briefly with a book. +Looking off from his airy porch, he could see the same blue +distances that had always tempted him, but he felt too passive to +wonder about them. He had given up the idea of trying to get any +other servants. If it had been possible, he would have engaged +Mrs. Spaniel to sleep in the house and be there permanently; but +she had children of her own down in the shantytown quarter of the +village, and had to go back to them at night. But certainly he +made every effort to keep her contented. It was a long steep +climb up from the hollow, so he allowed her to come in a taxi and +charge it to his account. Then, on condition that she would come +on Saturdays also, to help him clean up for Sunday, he allowed +her, on that day, to bring her own children too, and all the +puppies played riotously together around the place. But this he +presently discontinued, for the clamour became so deafening that +the neighbours complained. Besides, the young Spaniels, who were +a little older, got Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers into noisy and +careless habits of speech. + +He was anxious that they should grow up refined, and was +distressed by little Shaggy Spaniel having brought up the Comic +Section of a Sunday paper. With childhood's instinctive taste for +primitive effects, the puppies fell in love with the coloured +cartoons, and badgered him continually for "funny papers." + +There is a great deal more to think about in raising children (he +said to himself) than is intimated in Dr. Holt's book on Care and +Feeding. Even in matters that he had always taken for granted, +such as fairy tales, he found perplexity. After supper--(he now +joined the children in their evening bread and milk, for after +cooking them a hearty lunch of meat and gravy and potatoes and +peas and the endless spinach and carrots that the doctors advise, +to say nothing of the prunes, he had no energy to prepare a +special dinner for himself)--after supper it was his habit to +read to them, hoping to give their imaginations a little exercise +before they went to bed. He was startled to find that Grimm and +Hans Andersen, which he had considered as authentic classics for +childhood, were full of very strong stuff--morbid sentiment, +bloodshed, horror, and all manner of painful circumstance. +Reading the tales aloud, he edited as he went along; but he was +subject to that curious weakness that afflicts some people: +reading aloud made him helplessly sleepy: after a page or so he +would fall into a doze, from which he would be awakened by the +crash of a lamp or some other furniture. The children, seized +with that furious hilarity that usually begins just about +bedtime, would race madly about the house until some breakage or +a burst of tears woke him from his trance. He would thrash them +all and put them to bed howling. When they were asleep he would +be touched with tender compassion, and steal in to tuck them up, +admiring the innocence of each unconscious muzzle on its pillow. +Sometimes, in a crisis of his problems, he thought of writing to +Dr. Holt for advice; but the will-power was lacking. + +It is really astonishing how children can exhaust one, he used to +think. Sometimes, after a long day, he was even too weary to +correct their grammar. "You lay down!" Groups would admonish +Yelpers, who was capering in his crib while Bunks was being +lashed in with the largest size of safety pins. And Gissing, +doggedly passing from one to another, was really too fatigued to +reprove the verb, picked up from Mrs. Spaniel. + +Fairy tales proving a disappointment, he had great hopes of +encouraging them in drawing. He bought innumerable coloured +crayons and stacks of scribbling paper. After supper they would +all sit down around the dining-room table and he drew pictures +for them. Tongues depending with concentrated excitement, the +children would try to copy these pictures and colour them. In +spite of having three complete sets of crayons, a full roster of +colours could rarely be found at drawing time. Bunks had the +violet when Groups wanted it, and so on. But still, this was +often the happiest hour of the day. Gissing drew amazing trains, +elephants, ships, and rainbows, with the spectrum of colours +correctly arranged and blended. The children specially loved his +landscapes, which were opulently tinted and magnificent in long +perspectives. He found himself always colouring the far horizons +a pale and haunting blue. + +He was meditating these things when a shrill yammer recalled him +to the house. + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + +In this warm summer weather Gissing slept on a little outdoor +balcony that opened off the nursery. The world, rolling in her +majestic seaway, heeled her gunwale slowly into the trough of +space. Disked upon this bulwark, the sun rose, and promptly +Gissing woke. The poplars flittered in a cool stir. Beyond the +tadpole pond, through a notch in the landscape, he could see the +far darkness of the hills. That fringe of woods was a railing +that kept the sky from flooding over the earth. + +The level sun, warily peering over the edge like a cautious +marksman, fired golden volleys unerringly at him. At once Gissing +was aware and watchful. Brief truce was over: the hopeless war +with Time began anew. + +This was his placid hour. Light, so early, lies timidly along the +ground. It steals gently from ridge to ridge; it is soft, unsure. +That blue dimness, receding from bole to bole, is the skirt of +Night's garment, trailing off toward some other star. As easily +as it slips from tree to tree, it glides from earth to Orion. + +Light, which later will riot and revel and strike pitilessly +down, still is tender and tentative. It sweeps in rosy +scythe-strokes, parallel to earth. It gilds, where later it will +burn. + +Gissing lay, without stirring. The springs of the old couch were +creaky, and the slightest sound might arouse the children within. +Now, until they woke, was his peace. Purposely he had had the +sleeping porch built on the eastern side of the house. Making the +sun his alarm clock, he prolonged the slug-a-bed luxury. He had +procured the darkest and most opaque of all shades for the +nursery windows, to cage as long as possible in that room Night +the silencer. At this time of the year, the song of the mosquito +was his dreaded nightingale. In spite of fine-mesh screens, +always one or two would get in. Mrs. Spaniel, he feared, left the +kitchen door ajar during the day, and these Borgias of the insect +world, patiently invasive, seized their chance. It was a rare +night when a sudden scream did not come from the nursery every +hour or so. "Daddy, a keeto, a keeto!" was the anguish from one +of the trio. The other two were up instantly, erect and yelping +in their cribs, small black paws on the rail, pink stomachs +candidly exposed to the winged stilleto. Lights on, and the room +must be explored for the lurking foe. Scratching themselves +vigorously, the fun of the chase assuaged the smart of those red +welts. Gissing, wise by now, knew that after a forager the +mosquito always retires to the ceiling, so he kept a stepladder +in the room. Mounted on this, he would pursue the enemy with a +towel, while the children screamed with merriment. Then stomachs +must be anointed with more citronella; sheets and blankets +reassembled, and quiet gradually restored. Life, as parents know, +can be supported on very little sleep. + +But how delicious to lie there, in the morning freshness, to hear +the earth stir with reviving gusto, the merriment of birds, the +exuberant clink of milk-bottles set down by the back-door, the +whole complex machinery of life begin anew! Gissing was amazed +now, looking back upon his previous existence, to see himself so +busy, so active. Few people are really lazy, he thought: what we +call laziness is merely maladjustment. For in any department of +life where one is genuinely interested, he will be zealous beyond +belief. Certainly he had not dreamed, until he became (in a +manner of speaking) a parent, that he had in him such capacity +for detail. + +This business of raising a family, though--had he any true +aptitude for it? or was he forcing himself to go through with it? +Wasn't he, moreover, incurring all the labours of parenthood +without any of its proper dignity and social esteem? Mrs. Chow +down the street, for instance, why did she look so sniffingly +upon him when she heard the children, in the harmless uproar of +their play, cry him aloud as Daddy? Uncle, he had intended they +should call him; but that is, for beginning speech, a hard +saying, embracing both a palatal and a liquid. Whereas Da-da--the +syllables come almost unconsciously to the infant mouth. So he +had encouraged it, and even felt an irrational pride in the +honourable but unearned title. + +A little word, Daddy, but one of the most potent, he was +thinking. More than a word, perhaps: a great social engine: an +anchor which, cast carelessly overboard, sinks deep and fast into +the very bottom. The vessel rides on her hawser, and where are +your blue horizons then? + +But come now, isn't one horizon as good as another? And do they +really remain blue when you reach them? + +Unconsciously he stirred, stretching his legs deeply into the +comfortable nest of his couch. The springs twanged. Simultaneous +clamours! The puppies were awake. + +They yelled to be let out from the cribs. This was the time of +the morning frolic. Gissing had learned that there is only one +way to deal with the almost inexhaustible energy of childhood. +That is, not to attempt to check it, but to encourage and draw it +out. To start the day with a rush, stimulating every possible +outlet of zeal; meanwhile taking things as calmly and quietly as +possible himself, sitting often to take the weight off his legs, +and allowing the youngsters to wear themselves down. This, after +all, is Nature's own way with man; it is the wise parent's tactic +with children. Thus, by dusk, the puppies will have run +themselves almost into a stupor; and you, if you have shrewdly +husbanded your strength, may have still a little power in reserve +for reading and smoking. + +The before-breakfast game was conducted on regular routine. +Children show their membership in the species by their love of +strict habit. + +Gissing let them yell for a few moments--as long as he thought +the neighbours would endure it--while he gradually gathered +strength and resolution, shook off the cowardice of bed. Then he +strode into the nursery. As soon as they heard him raising the +shades there was complete silence. They hastened to pull the +blankets over themselves, and lay tense, faces on paws, with +bright expectant upward eyes. They trembled a little with +impatience. It was all he could do to restrain himself from +patting the sleek heads, which always seemed to shine with extra +polish after a night's rolling to and fro on the flattened +pillows. But sternness was a part of the game at this moment. He +solemnly unlatched and lowered the tall sides of the cribs. + +He stood in the middle of the room, with a gesture of command. +"Quiet now," he said. "Quiet, until I tell you!" + +Yelpers could not help a small whine of intense emotion, which +slipped out unintended. The eyes of Groups and Bunks swivelled +angrily toward their unlucky brother. It was his failing: in +crises he always emitted haphazard sounds. But this time Gissing, +with lenient forgiveness, pretended not to have heard. + +He returned to the balcony, and reentered his couch, where he lay +feigning sleep. In the nursery was a terrific stillness. + +It was the rule of the game that they should lie thus, in +absolute quiet, until he uttered a huge imitation snore. Once, +after a particularly exhausting night, he had postponed the snore +too long: he fell asleep. He did not wake for an hour, and then +found the tragic three also sprawled in amazing slumber. But +their pillows were wet with tears. He never succumbed again, no +matter how deeply tempted. + +He snored. There were three sprawling thumps, a rush of feet, and +a tumbling squeeze through the screen door. Then they were on the +couch and upon him, with panting yelps of glee. Their hot tongues +rasped busily over his face. This was the great tickling game. +Remembering his theory of conserving energy, he lay passive while +they rollicked and scrambled, burrowing in the bedclothes, +quivering imps of absurd pleasure. All that was necessary was to +give an occasional squirm, to tweak their ribs now and then, so +that they believed his heart was in the sport. Really he got +quite a little rest while they were scuffling. No one knew +exactly what was the imagined purpose of the lark--whether he was +supposed to be trying to escape from them, or they from him. Like +all the best games, it had not been carefully thought out. + +"Now, children," said Gissing presently. "Time to get dressed." + +It was amazing how fast they were growing. Already they were +beginning to take a pride in trying to dress themselves. While +Gissing was in the bathroom, enjoying his cold tub (and under the +stimulus of that icy sluice forming excellent resolutions for the +day) the children were sitting on the nursery floor eagerly +studying the intricacies of their gear. By the time he returned +they would have half their garments on wrong; waist and trousers +front side to rear; right shoes on left feet; buttons hopelessly +mismated to buttonholes; shoelacings oddly zigzagged. It was far +more trouble to permit their ambitious bungling, which must be +undone and painstakingly reassembled, than to have clad them all +himself, swiftly revolving and garmenting them like dolls. But in +these early hours of the day, patience still is robust. It was +his pedagogy to encourage their innocent initiatives, so long as +endurance might permit. + +Best of all, he enjoyed watching them clean their teeth. It was +delicious to see them, tiptoe on their hind legs at the basin, to +which their noses just reached; mouths gaping wide as they +scrubbed with very small toothbrushes. They were so elated by +squeezing out the toothpaste from the tube that he had not the +heart to refuse them this privilege, though it was wasteful. For +they always squeezed out more than necessary, and after a +moment's brushing their mouths became choked and clotted with the +pungent foam. Much of this they swallowed, for he had not been +able to teach them to rinse and gargle. Their only idea regarding +any fluid in the mouth was to swallow it; so they coughed and +strangled and barked. Gissing had a theory that this toothpaste +foam most be an appetizer, for he found that the more of it they +swallowed, the better they ate their breakfast. + +After breakfast he hurried them out into the garden, before the +day became too hot. As he put a new lot of prunes to soak in cold +water, he could not help reflecting how different the kitchen and +pantry looked from the time of Fuji. The ice-box pan seemed to be +continually brimming over. Somehow--due, he feared, to a laxity +on Mrs. Spaniel's part--ants had got in. He was always finding +them inside the ice-box, and wondered where they came from. He +was amazed to find how negligent he was growing about pots and +pans: he began cooking a new mess of oatmeal in the double boiler +without bothering to scrape out the too adhesive remnant of the +previous porridge. He had come to the conclusion that children +are tougher and more enduring than Dr. Holt will admit; and that +a little carelessness in matters of hygiene and sterilization +does not necessarily mean instant death. + +Truly his once dainty menage was deteriorating. He had put away +his fine china, put away the linen napery, and laid the table +with oil cloth. He had even improved upon Fuji's invention of +scuppers by a little trough which ran all round the rim of the +table, to catch any possible spillage. He was horrified to +observe how inevitably callers came at the worst possible moment. +Mr. and Mrs. Chow, for instance, drew up one afternoon in their +spick-and-span coupe with their intolerably spotless only child +sitting self-consciously beside them. Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers +were just then filling the garden with horrid clamour. They had +been quarrelling, and one had pushed the other two down the back +steps. Gissing, who had attempted to find a quiet moment to scald +the ants out of the ice-box, had just rushed forth and boxed them +all. As he stood there, angry and waving a steaming dishclout, two +Chows appeared. The puppies at once set upon little Sandy Chow, +and had thoroughly mauled his starched sailor suit in the +driveway before two minutes were past. Gissing could not help +laughing, for he suspected that there had been a touch of malice +in the Chows coming just at that time. + +He had given up his flower garden, too. It was all he could do to +shove the lawn-mower around, in the dusk, after the puppies were +in bed. Formerly he had found the purr of the twirling blades a +soothing stimulus to thought; but nowadays he could not even +think consecutively. Perhaps, he thought, the residence of the +mind is in the legs, not in the head; for when your legs are +thoroughly weary you can't seem to think. + +So he had decided that he simply must have more help in the +cooking and housework. He had instructed Mrs. Spaniel to send the +washing to the steam-laundry, and spend her three days in the +kitchen instead. A huge bundle had come back from the laundry, +and he had paid the driver $15.98. With dismay he sorted the +clean, neatly folded garments. Here was the worthy Mrs. Spaniel's +list, painstakingly written out in her straggling script:-- + +MR. GISHING FAMILY WOSH + +8 towls +6 pymjarm Mr Gishing +12 rompers +3 blowses +6 cribb sheets +1 Mr. Gishing sheat +4 wastes +3 wosh clothes +2 onion sutes Mr Gishing +6 smal onion sutes +4 pillo slipes +3 sherts +18 hankerchifs smal +6 hankerchifs large +8 colers +3 overhauls +10 bibbs +2 table clothes (coca stane) +1 table clothe (prun juce and eg) + +After contemplating this list, Gissing went to his desk and began +to study his accounts. A resolve was forming in his mind. + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + +The summer evenings sounded a very different music from that thin +wheedling of April. It was now a soft steady vibration, the +incessant drone and throb of locust and cricket, and sometimes +the sudden rasp, dry and hard, of katydids. Gissing, in spite of +his weariness, was all fidgets. He would walk round and round the +house in the dark, unable to settle down to anything; tired, but +incapable of rest. What is this uneasiness in the mind, he asked +himself? The great sonorous drumming of the summer night was like +the bruit of Time passing steadily by. Even in the soft eddy of +the leaves, lifted on a drowsy creeping air, was a sound of +discontent, of troublesome questioning. Through the trees he +could see the lighted oblongs of neighbours' windows, or hear +stridulent jazz records. Why were all others so cheerfully +absorbed in the minutiae of their lives, and he so painfully ill +at ease? Sometimes, under the warm clear darkness, the noises of +field and earth swelled to a kind of soft thunder: his quickened +ears heard a thousand small outcries contributing to the awful +energy of the world--faint chimings and whistlings in the grass, +and endless flutter, rustle, and whirr. His own body, on which +hair and nails grew daily like vegetation, startled and appalled +him. Consciousness of self, that miserable ecstasy, was heavy +upon him. + +He envied the children, who lay upstairs sprawled under their +mosquito nettings. Immersed in living, how happily unaware of +being alive! He saw, with tenderness, how naively they looked to +him as the answer and solution of their mimic problems. But where +could he find someone to be to him what he was to them? The truth +apparently was that in his inward mind he was desperately lonely. +Reading the poets by fits and starts, he suddenly realized that +in their divine pages moved something of this loneliness, this +exquisite unhappiness. But these great hearts had had the +consolation of setting down their moods in beautiful words, words +that lived and spoke. His own strange fever burned inexpressibly +inside him. Was he the only one who felt the challenge offered by +the maddening fertility and foison of the hot sun-dazzled earth? +Life, he realized, was too amazing to be frittered out in this +aimless sickness of heart. There were truths and wonders to be +grasped, if he could only throw off this wistful vague desire. He +felt like a clumsy strummer seated at a dark shining grand piano, +which he knows is capable of every glory of rolling music, yet he +can only elicit a few haphazard chords. + +He had his moments of arrogance, too. Ah, he was very young! This +miracle of blue unblemished sky that had baffled all others since +life began--he, he would unriddle it! He was inclined to sneer at +his friends who took these things for granted, and did not +perceive the infamous insolubility of the whole scheme. +Remembering the promises made at the christening, he took the +children to church; but alas, carefully analyzing his mind, he +admitted that his attention had been chiefly occupied with +keeping them orderly, and he had gone through the service almost +automatically. Only in singing hymns did he experience a tingle +of exalted feeling. But Mr. Poodle was proud of his well-trained +choir, and Gissing had a feeling that the congregation was not +supposed to do more than murmur the verses, for fear of spoiling +the effect. In his favourite hymns he had a tendency to forget +himself and let go: his vigorous tenor rang lustily. Then he +realized that the backs of people's heads looked surprised. The +children could not be kept quiet unless they stood up on the +pews. Mr. Poodle preached rather a long sermon, and Yelpers, +toward twelve-thirty, remarked in a clear tone of interested +inquiry, "What time does God have dinner?" + +Gissing had a painful feeling that he and Mr. Poodle did not +thoroughly understand each other. The curate, who was kindness +itself, called one evening, and they had a friendly chat. Gissing +was pleased to find that Mr. Poodle enjoyed a cigar, and after +some hesitation ventured to suggest that he still had something +in the cellar. Mr. Poodle said that he didn't care for anything, +but his host could not help hearing the curate's tail quite +unconsciously thumping on the chair cushions. So he excused +himself and brought up one of his few remaining bottles of White +Horse. Mr. Poodle crossed his legs and they chatted about golf, +politics, the income tax, and some of the recent books; but when +Gissing turned the talk on religion, Mr. Poodle became +diffident.. Gissing, warmed and cheered by the vital Scotch, was +perhaps too direct. + +"What ought I to do to 'crucify the old man'?" he said. + +Mr. Poodle was rather embarrassed. + +"You must mortify the desires of the flesh," he replied. "You +must dig up the old bone of sin that is buried in all our +hearts." + +There were many more questions Gissing wanted to ask about this, +but Mr. Poodle said he really must be going, as he had a call to +pay on Mr. and Mrs. Chow. + +Gissing walked down the path with him, and the curate did indeed +set off toward the Chows'. But Gissing wondered, for a little +later he heard a cheerful canticle upraised in the open fields. + +He himself was far from gay. He longed to tear out this malady +from his breast. Poor dreamer, he did not know that to do so is +to tear out God Himself. "Mrs. Spaniel," he said when the +laundress next came up from the village, "you are a widow, aren't +you?" + +"Yes, sir," she said. "Poor Spaniel was killed by a truck, two +years ago April." Her face was puzzled, but beneath her apron +Gissing could see her tail wagging. + +"Don't misunderstand me," he said quickly. "I've got to go away +on business. I want you to bring your children and move into this +house while I'm gone. I'll make arrangements at the bank about +paying all the bills. You can give up your outside washing and +devote yourself entirely to looking after this place." + +Mrs. Spaniel was so much surprised that she could not speak. In +her amazement a bright bubble dripped from the end of her curly +tongue. Hastily she caught it in her apron, and apologized. + +"How long will you be away, sir?" she asked. + +"I don't know. It may be quite a long time." + +"But all your beautiful things, furniture and everything," said +Mrs. Spaniel. "I'm afraid my children are a bit rough. They're +not used to living in a house like this--" + +"Well," said Gissing, "you must do the best you can. There are +some things more important than furniture. It will be good for +your children to get accustomed to refined surroundings, and +it'll be good for my nephews to have someone to play with. +Besides, I don't want them to grow up spoiled mollycoddles. I +think I've been fussing over them too much. If they have good +stuff in them, a little roughening won't do any permanent harm." + +"Dear me," cried Mrs. Spaniel, "what will the neighbours think?" + +"They won't," said Gissing. "I don't doubt they'll talk, but they +won't think. Thinking is very rare. I've got to do some myself, +that's one reason why I'm going. You know, Mrs. Spaniel, God is a +horizon, not someone sitting on a throne." Mrs. Spaniel didn't +understand this--in fact, she didn't seem to hear it. Her mind +was full of the idea that she would simply have to have a new +dress, preferably black silk, for Sundays. Gissing, very +sagacious, had already foreseen this point. "Let's not have any +argument," he continued. "I have planned everything. Here is +some money for immediate needs. I'll speak to them at the bank, +and they will give you a weekly allowance. I leave you here as +caretaker. Later on I'll send you an address and you can write me +how things are going." + +Poor Mrs. Spaniel was bewildered. She came of very decent people, +but since Spaniel took to drink, and then left her with a family +to support, she had sunk in the world. She was wondering now how +she could face it out with Mrs. Chow and Mrs. Fox-Terrier and the +other neighbours. + +"Oh, dear," she cried, "I don't know what to say, sir. Why, my +boys are so disreputable-looking, they haven't even a collar +between them." + +"Get them collars and anything else they need," said Gissing +kindly. "Don't worry, Mrs. Spaniel, it will be a fine thing for +you. There will be a little gossip, I dare say, but we'll have to +chance that. Now you had better go down to the village and make +your arrangements. I'm leaving tonight." + +Late that evening, after seeing Mrs. Spaniel and her brood safely +installed, Gissing walked to the station with his suitcase. He +felt a pang as he lifted the mosquito nettings and kissed the +cool moist noses of the sleeping trio. But he comforted himself +by thinking that this was no merely vulgar desertion. If he was +to raise the family, he must earn some money. His modest income +would not suffice for this sudden increase in expenses. Besides, +he had never known what freedom meant until it was curtailed. For +the past three months he had lived in ceaseless attendance; had +even slept with one ear open for the children's cries. Now he +owed it to himself to make one great strike for peace. Wealth, he +could see, was the answer. With money, everything was attainable: +books, leisure for study, travel, prestige--in short, command +over the physical details of life. He would go in for Big +Business. Already he thrilled with a sense of power and +prosperity. + +The little house stood silent in the darkness as he went down the +path. The night was netted with the weaving sparkle of fireflies. +He stood for a moment, looking. Suddenly there came a frightened +cry from the nursery. + +"Daddy, a keeto, a keeto!" + +He nearly turned to run back, but checked himself. No, Mrs. +Spaniel was now in charge. It was up to her. Besides, he had only +just enough time to catch the last train to the city. + +But he sat on the cinder-speckled plush of the smoker in a mood +that was hardly revelry. "By Jove," he said to himself, "I got +away just in time. Another month and I couldn't have done it." + +It was midnight when he saw the lights of town, panelled in gold +against a peacock sky. Acres and acres of blue darkness lay +close-pressing upon the gaudy grids of light. Here one might +really look at this great miracle of shadow and see its texture. +The dulcet air drifted lazily in deep, silent crosstown streets. +"Ah," he said, "here is where the blue begins." + + + +CHAPTER SIX + +"For students of the troubled heart +Cities are perfect works of art." + +There is a city so tall that even the sky above her seems to have +lifted in a cautious remove, inconceivably far. There is a city +so proud, so mad, so beautiful and young, that even heaven has +retreated, lest her placid purity be too nearly tempted by that +brave tragic spell. In the city which is maddest of all, Gissing +had come to search for sanity. In the city so strangely beautiful +that she has made even poets silent, he had come to find a voice. +In the city of glorious ostent and vanity, he had come to look +for humility and peace. + +All cities are mad: but the madness is gallant. All cities are +beautiful: but the beauty is grim. Who shall tell me the truth +about this one? Tragic? Even so, because wherever ambitions, +vanities, and follies are multiplied by millionfold contact, +calamity is there. Noble and beautiful? Aye, for even folly may +have the majesty of magnitude. Hasty, cruel, shallow? Agreed, but +where in this terrene orb will you find it otherwise? I know all +that can be said against her; and yet in her great library of +streets, vast and various as Shakespeare, is beauty enough for a +lifetime. O poets, why have you been so faint? Because she seems +cynical and crass, she cries with trumpet-call to the mind of the +dreamer; because she is riant and mad, she speaks to the grave +sanity of the poet. + +So, in a mood perhaps too consciously lofty, Gissing was +meditating. It was rather impudent of him to accuse the city of +being mad, for he himself, in his glee over freedom regained, was +not conspicuously sane. He scoured the town in high spirits, +peering into shop-windows, riding on top of busses, going to the +Zoo, taking the rickety old steamer to the Statue of Liberty, +drinking afternoon tea at the Ritz, and all that sort of thing. +The first three nights in town he slept in one of the little +traffic-towers that perch on stilts up above Fifth Avenue. As a +matter of fact, it was that one near St. Patrick's Cathedral. He +had ridden up the Avenue in a taxi, intending to go to the Plaza +(just for a bit of splurge after his domestic confinement). As +the cab went by, he saw the traffic-tower, dark and empty, and +thought what a pleasant place to sleep. So he asked the driver to +let him out at the Cathedral, and after being sure that he was +not observed, walked back to the little turret, climbed up the +ladder, and made himself at home. He liked it so well that he +returned there the two following nights; but he didn't sleep +much, for he could not resist the fun of startling night-hawk +taxis by suddenly flashing the red, green, and yellow lights at +them, and seeing them stop in bewilderment. But after three +nights he thought it best to leave. It would have been awkward if +the police had discovered him. + +It was time to settle down and begin work. He had an uncle who +was head of an important business far down-town; but Gissing, +with the quixotry of youth, was determined to make his own start +in the great world of commerce. He found a room on the top floor +of a quiet brownstone house in the West Seventies. It was not +large, and he had to go down a flight for his bath; the gas +burner over the bed whistled; the dust was rather startling after +the clean country; but it was cheap, and his sense of adventure +more than compensated. Mrs. Purp, the landlady, pleased him +greatly. She was very maternal, and urged him not to bolt his +meals in armchair lunches. She put an ashtray in his room. + +Gissing sent Mrs. Spaniel a postcard with a picture of the +Pennsylvania Station. On it he wrote Arrived safely. Hard at +work. Love to the children. Then he went to look for a job. + +His ideas about business were very vague. All he knew was that he +wished to be very wealthy and influential as soon as possible. He +could have had much sound advice from his uncle, who was a member +of the Union Kennel and quite a prominent dog-about-town. But +Gissing had the secretive pride of inexperience. Moreover, he did +not quite know what to say about his establishment in the +country. That houseful of children would need some explaining. + +Those were days of brilliant heat; clear, golden, dry. The +society columns in the papers assured him that everyone was out +of town; but the Avenue seemed plentifully crowded with +beautiful, superb creatures. Far down the gentle slopes of that +glimmering roadway he could see the rolling stream of limousines, +dazzles of sunlight caught on their polished flanks. A faint blue +haze of gasoline fumes hung low in the bright warm air. This is +the street where even the most passive are pricked by the strange +lure of carnal dominion. Nothing less than a job on the Avenue +itself would suit his mood, he felt. + +Fortune and audacity united (as they always do) to concede his +desire. He was in the beautiful department store of Beagle and +Company, one of the most splendid of its kind, looking at some +sand-coloured spats. In an aisle near by he heard a commotion-- +nothing vulgar, but still an evident stir, with repressed yelps +and a genteel, horrified bustle. He hastened to the spot, and +through the crowd saw someone lying on the floor. An extremely +beautiful sales-damsel, charmingly clad in black crepe de chien, +was supporting the victim's head, vainly fanning him. Wealthy +dowagers were whining in distress. Then an ambulance clanged up +to a side door, and a stretcher was brought in. "What is it?" +said Gissing to a female at the silk-stocking counter. + +"One of the floorwalkers--died of heat prostration," she said, +looking very much upset. + +"Poor fellow," said Gissing. "You never know what will happen +next, do you?" He walked away, shaking his head. + +He asked the elevator attendant to direct him to the offices of +the firm. On the seventh floor, down a quiet corridor behind the +bedroom suites, a rosewood fence barred his way. A secretary +faced him inquiringly. + +"I wish to see Mr. Beagle." + +"Mr. Beagle senior or Mr. Beagle junior?" + +Youth cleaves to youth, said Gissing to himself. "Mr. Beagle +junior," he stated firmly. + +"Have you an appointment?" + +"Yes," he said. + +She took his ward, disappeared, and returned. "This way, please," +she said. + +Mr. Beagle senior must be very old indeed, he thought; for junior +was distinctly grizzled. In fact (so rapidly does the mind run), +Mr. Beagle senior must be near the age of retirement. Very likely +(he said to himself) that will soon occur; there will be a +general stepping-up among members of the firm, and that will be +my chance. I wonder how much they pay a junior partner? + +He almost uttered this question, as Mr. Beagle junior looked at +him so inquiringly. But he caught himself in time. + +"I beg your pardon for intruding," said Gissing, "but I am the +new floorwalker." + +"You are very kind," said Mr. Beagle junior, "but we do not need +a new floorwalker." + +"I beg your pardon again," said Gissing, "but you are not au +courant with the affairs of the store. One has just died, right +by the silk-stocking counter. Very bad for business." + +At this moment the telephone rang, and Mr. Beagle seized it. He +listened, sharply examining his caller meanwhile. + +"You are right," he said, as he put down the receiver. "Well, +sir, have you had any experience?" + +"Not exactly of that sort," said Gissing; "but I think I +understand the requirements. The tone of the store--" + +"I will ask you to be here at four-thirty this afternoon," said +Mr. Beagle. "We have a particular routine in regard to candidates +for that position. You will readily perceive that it is a post of +some importance. The floorwalker is our point of social contact +with patrons." + +Gissing negligently dusted his shoes with a handkerchief. + +"Pray do not apologize," he said kindly. "I am willing to +congratulate with you on your good fortune. It was mere hazard +that I was in the store. To-day, of course, business will be +poor. But to-morrow, I think you will find--" + +"At four-thirty," said Mr. Beagle, a little puzzled. + +That day Gissing went without lunch. First he explored the whole +building from top to bottom, until he knew the location of every +department, and had the store directory firmly memorized. With +almost proprietary tenderness he studied the shining goods and +trinkets; noted approvingly the clerks who seemed to him +specially prompt and obliging to customers; scowled a little at +any sign of boredom or inattention. He heard the soft sigh of the +pneumatic tubes as they received money and blew it to some +distant coffer: this money, he thought, was already partly his. +That square-cut creature whom he presently discerned following +him was undoubtedly the store detective: he smiled to think what +a pleasant anecdote this would be when he was admitted to junior +partnership. Then he went, finally, to the special Masculine Shop +on the fifth floor, where he bought a silk hat, a cutaway coat +and waistcoat, and trousers of pearly stripe. He did not forget +patent leather shoes, nor white spats. He refused--the little +white linen margins which the clerk wished to affix to the V of +his waistcoat. That, he felt, was the ultra touch which would +spoil all. The just less than perfection, how perfect it is! + +It was getting late. He hurried to Penn Station where he hired +one of those little dressing booths, and put on his regalia. His +tweeds, in a neat package, he checked at the parcel counter. Then +he returned to the store for the important interview. + +He had expected a formal talk with the two Messrs. Beagle, +perhaps touching on such matters as duties, hours, salary, and so +on. To his surprise he was ushered by the secretary into a +charming Louis XVI salon farther down the private corridor. There +were several ladies: one was pouring tea. Mr. Beagle junior came +forward. The vice-president (such was Mr. Beagle junior's rank, +Gissing had learned by the sign on his door) still wore his +business garb of the morning. Gissing immediately felt himself to +have the advantage. But what a pleasant idea, he thought, for the +members of the firm to have tea together every afternoon. He +handed his hat, gloves, and stick to the secretary. + +"Very kind of you to come," said Mr. Beagle. "Let me present you +to my wife." + +Mrs. Beagle, at the tea-urn, received him graciously. + +"Cream or lemon?" she said. "Two lumps?" + +This is really delightful, Gissing thought. Only on Fifth Avenue +could this kind of thing happen. He looked down the hostess from +his superior height, and smiled charmingly. + +"Do you permit three?" he said. "A little weakness of mine." As a +matter of fact, he hated tea so sweet; but he felt it was +strategic to fix himself in Mrs. Beagle's mind as a polished +eccentric. + +"You must have a meringue," she said. "Ah, Mrs. Pomeranian has +them. Mrs. Pomeranian, let me present Mr. Gissing." + +Mrs. Pomeranian, small and plump and tightly corseted, offered +the meringues, while Mrs. Beagle pressed upon him a plate with a +small doily, embroidered with the arms of the store, and its +motto je maintiendrai--referring, no doubt, to its prices. Mr. +Beagle then introduced him to several more ladies in rapid +succession. Gissing passed along the line, bowing slightly but +with courteous interest to each. To each one he raised his +eyebrows and permitted himself a small significant smile, as +though to convey that this was a moment he had long been +anticipating. How different, he thought, was this life of +enigmatic gaiety from the suburban drudgery of recent months. If +only Mrs. Spaniel could see him now! He was about to utilize a +brief pause by sipping his tea, when a white-headed patriarch +suddenly appeared beside him. + +"Mr. Gissing," said the vice-president, "this is my father, Mr. +Beagle senior." + +Gissing, by quick work, shuffled the teacup into his left paw, +and the meringue plate into the crook of his elbow, so he was +ready for the old gentleman's salutation. Mr. Beagle senior was +indeed very old: his white hair hung over his eyes, he spoke with +growling severity. Gissing's manner to the old merchant was one +of respectful reassurance: he attempted to make an impression +that would console: to impart--of course without saying so--the +thought that though the head of the firm could not last much +longer, yet he would leave his great traffic in capable care. + +"Where will I find an aluminum cooking pot?" growled the elder +Beagle unexpectedly. + +"In the Bargain Basement," said Gissing promptly. + +"He'll do!" cried the president. + +To his surprise, on looking round, Gissing saw that all the +ladies had vanished. Beagle junior was grinning at him. + +"You have the job, Mr. Gissing," he said. "You will pardon the +harmless masquerade--we always try out a floorwalker in that way. +My father thinks that if he can handle a teacup and a meringue +while being introduced to ladies, he can manage anything on the +main aisle downstairs. Mrs. Pomeranian, our millinery buyer, said +she had never seen it better done, and she mixes with some of the +swellest people in Paris." + +"Nine to six, with half an hour off for lunch," said the senior +partner, and left the room. + +Gissing calmly swallowed his tea, and ate the meringue. He would +have enjoyed another, but the capable secretary had already +removed them. He poured himself a second cup of tea. Mr. Beagle +junior showed signs of eagerness to leave, but Gissing detained +him. + +"One moment," he said suavely. "There is a little matter that we +have not discussed. The question of salary." + +Mr. Beagle looked thoughtfully out of the window. + +"Thirty dollars a week," he said. + +After all, Gissing thought, it will only take four weeks to pay +for what I have spent on clothes. + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + +There was some dramatic nerve in Gissing's nature that responded +eloquently to the floorwalking job. Never, in the history of +Beagle and Company, had there been a floorwalker who threw so +much passion and zeal into his task. The very hang of his +coattails, even the erect carriage of his back, the rubbery way +in which his feet trod the aisles, showed his sense of dignity +and glamour. There seemed to be a great tradition which enriched +and upheld him. Mr. Beagle senior used to stand on the little +balcony at the rear of the main floor, transfixed with the +pleasure of seeing Gissing move among the crowded passages. +Alert, watchful, urbane, with just the ideal blend of courtesy +and condescension, he raised floorwalking to a social art. Female +customers asked him the way to departments they knew perfectly +well, for the pleasure of hearing him direct them. Business began +to improve before he had been there a week. + +And how he enjoyed himself! The perfection of his bearing on the +floor was no careful pose: it was due to the brimming overplus of +his happiness. Happiness is surely the best teacher of good +manners: only the unhappy are churlish in deportment. He was +young, remember; and this was his first job. His precocious +experience as a paterfamilias had added to his mien just that +suggestion of unconscious gravity which is so appealing to +ladies. He looked (they thought) as though he had been touched-- +but Oh so lightly!--by poetic sorrow or strange experience: to +ask him the way to the notion counter was as much of an adventure +as to meet a reigning actor at a tea. The faint cloud of +melancholy that shadowed his brow may have been only due to the +fact that his new boots were pinching painfully; but they did not +know that. + +So, quite unconsciously, he began to "establish" himself in his +role, just as an actor does. At first he felt his way tentatively +and with tact. Every store has its own tone and atmosphere: in a +day or so he divined the characteristic cachet of the Beagle +establishment. He saw what kind of customers were typical, and +what sort of conduct they expected. And the secret of conquest +being always to give people a little more than they expect, he +pursued that course. Since they expected in a floorwalker the +mechanical and servile gentility of a hired puppet, he exhibited +the easy, offhand simplicity of a fellow club-member. With +perfect naturalness he went out of his way to assist in their +shopping concerns: gave advice in the selection of dress +materials, acted as arbiter in the matching of frocks and +stockings. His taste being faultless, it often happened that the +things he recommended were not the most expensive: this again +endeared him to customers. When sales slips were brought to him +by ladies who wished to make an exchange, he affixed his O. K. +with a magnificent flourish, and with such evident pleasure, that +patrons felt genuine elation, and plunged into the tumult with +new enthusiasm. It was not long before there were always people +waiting for his counsel; and husbands would appear at the store +to convey (a little irritably) some such message as: "Mrs. +Sealyham says, please choose her a scarf that will go nicely with +that brown moire dress of hers. She says you will remember the +dress."--This popularity became even a bit perplexing, as for +instance when old Mrs. Dachshund, the store's biggest Charge +Account, insisted on his leaving his beat at a very busy time, to +go up to the tenth floor to tell her which piano he thought had +the richer tone. + +Of course all this was very entertaining, and an admirable +opportunity for studying his fellow-creatures; but it did not go +very deep into his mind. He lived for some time in a confused +glamour and glitter; surrounded by the fascinating specious life +of the store, but drifting merely superficially upon it. The +great place, with its columns of artificial marble and white +censers of upward-shining electricity, glimmered like a birch +forest by moonlight. Silver and jewels and silks and slippers +flashed all about him. It was a marvellous education, for he soon +learned to estimate these things at their proper value; which is +low, for they have little to do with life itself. His work was +tiring in the extreme--merely having to remain upright on his +hind legs for such long hours WAS an ordeal--but it did not +penetrate to the secret observant self of which he was always +aware. This was advantageous. If you have no intellect, or only +just enough to get along with, it does not much matter what you +do. But if you really have a mind--by which is meant that rare +and curious power of reason, of imagination, and of emotion; very +different from a mere fertility of conversation and intelligent +curiosity--it is better not to weary and wear it out over +trifles. + +So, when he left the store in the evening, no matter how his legs +ached, his head was clear and untarnished. He did not hurry away +at closing time. Places where people work are particularly +fascinating after the bustle is over. He loved to linger in the +long aisles, to see the tumbled counters being swiftly brought to +order, to hear the pungent cynicisms of the weary shopgirls. To +these, by the way, he was a bit of a mystery. The punctilio of +his manner, the extreme courtliness of his remarks, embarrassed +them a little. Behind his back they spoke of him as "The Duke" +and admired him hugely; little Miss Whippet, at the stocking +counter, said that he was an English noble of long pedigree, who +had been unjustly deprived of his estates. + +Down in the basement of this palatial store was a little dressing +room and lavatory for the floorwalkers, where they doffed their +formal raiment and resumed street attire. His colleagues grumbled +and hastened to depart, but Gissing made himself entirely +comfortable. In his locker he kept a baby's bathtub, which he +leisurely filled with hot water at one of the basins. Then he sat +serenely and bathed his feet; although it was against the rules +he often managed to smoke a pipe while doing so. Then he hung up +his store clothes neatly, and went off refreshed into the summer +evening. + +A warm rosy light floods the city at that hour. At the foot of +every crosstown street is a bonfire of sunset. What a mood of +secret smiling beset him as he viewed the great territory of his +enjoyment. "The freedom of the city"--a phrase he had somewhere +heard--echoed in his mind. The freedom of the city! A magnificent +saying, Electric signs, first burning wanly in the pink air, then +brightened and grew strong. "Not light, but rather darkness +visible," in that magic hour that just holds the balance between +paling day and the spendthrift jewellery of evening. Or, if it +rained, to sit blithely on the roof of a bus, revelling in the +gust and whipping of the shower. Why had no one told him of the +glory of the city? She was pride, she was exultation, she was +madness. She was what he had obscurely craved. In every line of +her gallant profile he saw conquest, triumph, victory! Empty +conquest, futile triumph, doomed victory--but that was the +essence of the drama. In thunderclaps of dumb ecstasy he saw her +whole gigantic fabric, leaning and clamouring upward with +terrible yearning. Burnt with pitiless sunlight, drenched with +purple explosions of summer storm, he saw her cleansed and pure. +Where were her recreant poets that they had never made these +things plain? + +And then, after the senseless day, after its happy but +meaningless triviality, the throng and mixed perfumery and silly +courteous gestures, his blessed solitude! Oh solitude, that noble +peace of the mind! He loved the throng and multitude of the day: +he loved people: but sometimes he suspected that he loved them as +God does--at a judicious distance. From his rather haphazard +religious training, strange words came back to him. "For God so +loved the world . . ." So loved the world that--that what? That +He sent someone else . . . Some day he must think this out. But +you can't think things out. They think themselves, suddenly, +amazingly. The city itself is God, he cried. Was not God's +ultimate promise something about a city--The City of God? Well, +but that was only symbolic language. The city--of course that was +only a symbol for the race--for all his kind. The entire species, +the whole aspiration and passion and struggle, that was God. + +On the ferries, at night, after supper, was his favourite place +for meditation. Some undeniable instinct drew him ever and again +out of the deep and shut ravines of stone, to places where he +could feed on distance. That is one of the subtleties of this +straight and narrow city, that though her ways are cliffed in, +they are a long thoroughfare for the eye: there is always a far +perspective. But best of all to go down to her environing water, +where spaces are wide: the openness that keeps her sound and +free. Ships had words for him: they had crossed many horizons: +fragments of that broken blue still shone on their cutting bows. +Ferries, the most poetical things in the city, were nearly empty +at night: he stood by the rail, saw the black outline of the town +slide by, saw the lower sky gilded with her merriment, and was +busy thinking. + +Now about a God (he said to himself)--instinct tells me that +there is one, for when I think about Him I find that I +unconsciously wag my tail a little. But I must not reason on that +basis, which is too puppyish. I like to think that there is, +somewhere in this universe, an inscrutable Being of infinite +wisdom, harmony, and charity, by Whom all my desires and needs +would be understood; in association with Whom I would find peace, +satisfaction, a lightness of heart that exceed my present +understanding. Such a Being is to me quite inconceivable; yet I +feel that if I met Him, I would instantly understand. I do not +mean that I would understand Him: but I would understand my +relationship to Him, which would be perfect. Nor do I mean that +it would be always happy; merely that it would transcend anything +in the way of social significance that I now experience. But I +must not conclude that there is such a God, merely because it +would be so pleasant if there were. + +Then (he continued) is it necessary to conceive that this deity +is super-canine in essence? What I am getting at is this: in +everyone I have ever known--Fuji, Mr. Poodle, Mrs. Spaniel, those +maddening delightful puppies, Mrs. Purp, Mr. Beagle, even Mrs. +Chow and Mrs. Sealyham and little Miss Whippet--I have always +been aware that there was some mysterious point of union at which +our minds could converge and entirely understand one another. No +matter what our difference of breed, of training, of experience +and education, provided we could meet and exchange ideas honestly +there would be some satisfying point of mental fusion where we +would feel our solidarity in the common mystery of life. People +complain that wars are caused by and fought over trivial things. +Why, of course! For it is only in trivial matters that people +differ: in the deep realities they must necessarily be at one. +Now I have a suspicion that in this secret sense of unity God may +lurk. Is that what we mean by God, the sum total of all these +instinctive understandings? But what is the origin of this sense +of kinship? Is it not the realization of our common subjection to +laws and forces greater than ourselves? Then, since nothing can +be greater than God, He must BE these superior mysteries. Yet He +cannot be greater than our minds, for our minds have imagined +Him. + +My mathematics is very rusty, he said to himself, but I seem to +remember something about a locus, which was a curve or a surface +every point on which satisfied some particular equation of +relation among the coordinates. It begins to look to me as though +life might be a kind of locus, whose commanding equation we call +God. The points on that locus cannot conceive of the equation, +yet they are subject to it. They cannot conceive of that +equation, because of course it has no existence save as a law of +their being. It exists only for them; they, only by it. But there +it is--a perfect, potent, divine abstraction. + +This carried him into a realm of disembodied thinking which his +mind was not sufficiently disciplined to summarize. It is quite +plain, he said to himself, that I must rub up my vanished +mathematics. For certainly the mathematician comes closer to God +than any other, since his mind is trained to conceive and +formulate the magnificent phantoms of legality. He smiled to +think that any one should presume to become a parson without +having at least mastered analytical geometry. + +The ferry had crossed and recrossed the river several times, but +Gissing had found no conclusion for these thoughts. As the boat +drew toward her slip, she passed astern of a great liner. Gissing +saw the four tall funnels loom up above the shed of the pier +where she lay berthed. What was it that made his heart so stir? +The perfect rake of the funnels--just that satisfying angle of +slant--that, absurdly enough, was the nobility of the sight. Why, +then? Let's get at the heart of this, he said. Just that little +trick of the architect, useless in itself--what was it but the +touch of swagger, of bravado, of defiance--going out into the +vast, meaningless, unpitying sea with that dainty arrogance of +build; taking the trouble to mock the senseless elements, +hurricane, ice, and fog, with a 15-degree slope of masts and +funnels: damn, what was the analogy? + +It was pride, it was pride! It was the same lusty impudence that +he saw in his perfect city, the city that cried out to the hearts +of youth, jutted her mocking pinnacles toward sky, her clumsy +turrets verticalled on gold! And God, the God of gales and +gravity, loved His children to dare and contradict Him, to rally +Him with equations of their own. + +"God, I defy you!" he cried. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + +Time is a flowing river. Happy those who allow themselves to be +carried, unresisting, with the current. They float through easy +days. They live, unquestioning, in the moment. + +But Gissing was acutely conscious of Time. Though not subtle +enough to analyze the matter acutely, he had a troublesome +feeling about it. He kept checking off a series of Nows. "Now I +am having my bath," he would say to himself in the morning. "Now +I am dressing. Now I am on the way to the store. Now I am in the +jewellery aisle, being polite to customers. Now I am having +lunch." After a period in which time ran by unnoticed, he would +suddenly realize a fresh Now, and feel uneasy at the knowledge +that it would shortly dissolve into another one. He tried, +vainly, to swim up-stream against the smooth impalpable fatal +current. He tried to dam up Time, to deepen the stream so that +he could bathe in it carelessly. Time, he said, is life; and life +is God; time, then, is little bits of God. Those who waste their +time in vulgarity or folly are the true atheists. + +One of the things that struck him about the city was its +heedlessness of Time. On every side he saw people spending it +without adequate return. Perhaps he was young and doctrinaire: +but he devised this theory for himself--all time is wasted that +does not give you some awareness of beauty or wonder. In other +words, "the days that make us happy make us wise," he said to +himself, quoting Masefield's line. On that principle, he asked, +how much time is wasted in this city? Well, here are some six +million people. To simplify the problem (which is permitted to +every philosopher) let us (he said) assume that 2,350,000 of +those people have spent a day that could be called, on the whole, +happy: a day in which they have had glimpses of reality; a day in +which they feel satisfaction. (That was, he felt, a generous +allowance. ) Very well, then, that leaves 3,650,000 people whose +day has been unfruitful: spent in uncongenial work, or in sorrow, +suffering, and talking nonsense. This city, then, in one day, has +wasted 10,000 years, or 100 centuries. One hundred centuries +squandered in a day! It made him feel quite ill, and he tore up +the scrap of paper on which he had been figuring. + +This was a new, disconcerting way to think of the subject. We are +accustomed to consider Time only as it applies to ourselves, +forgetting that it is working upon everyone else simultaneously. +Why, he thought with a sudden shock, if only 36,500 people in +this city have had a thoroughly spendthrift and useless day, that +means a net loss of a century! If the War, he said to himself, +lasted over 1,500 days and involved more than 10,000,000 men, how +many aeons--He used to think about these things during quiet +evenings in the top-floor room at Mrs. Purp's. Occasionally he +went home at night still wearing his store clothes, because it +pleased good Mrs. Purp so much. She felt that it added glamour to +her house to have him do so, and always called her husband, a +frightened silent creature with no collar and a humble air, up +from the basement to admire. Mr. Purp's time, Gissing suspected, +was irretrievably wasted--a good deal of it, to judge by his +dusty appearance, in rolling around in ashcans or in the company +of the neighbourhood bootlegger; but then, he reflected, in a +charitable seizure, you must not judge other people's +time-spendings by a calculus of your own. + +Perhaps he himself was growing a little miserly in this matter. +Indulging in the rare, the sovereign luxury of thinking, he had +suddenly become aware of time's precious fluency, and wondered +why everyone else didn't think about it as passionately as he +did. In the privacy of his room, weary after the day afoot, he +took off his cutaway coat and trousers and enjoyed his old habit +of stretching out on the floor for a good rest. There he would +lie, not asleep, but in a bliss of passive meditation. He even +grudged Mrs. Purp the little chats she loved--she made a point of +coming up with clean towels when she knew he was in his room, +because she cherished hearing him talk. When he heard her knock, +he had to scramble hastily to his feet, get on his clothes, and +pretend he had been sitting calmly in the rocking chair. It would +never do to let her find him sprawled on the floor. She had an +almost painful respect for him. Once, when prospective lodgers +were bargaining for rooms, and he happened to be wearing his +Beagle and Company attire, she had asked him to do her the favour +of walking down the stairs, so that the visitors might be +impressed by the gentility of the establishment. + +Of course he loved to waste time--but in his own way. He gloated +on the irresponsible vacancy of those evening hours, when there +was nothing to be done. He lay very still, hardly even thinking, +just feeling life go by. Through the open window came the lights +and noises of the street. Already his domestic life seemed dim +and far away. The shrill appeals of the puppies, their appalling +innocent comments on existence, came but faintly to memory. Here, +where life beat so much more thickly and closely, was the place +to be. Though he had solved nothing, yet he seemed closer to the +heart of the mystery. Entranced, he felt time flowing on toward +him, endless in sweep and fulness. There is only one success, he +said to himself--to be able to spend your life in your own way, +and not to give others absurd maddening claims upon it. Youth, +youth is the only wealth, for youth has Time in its purse! + +In the store, however, philosophy was laid aside. A kind of +intoxication possessed him. Never before had old Mr. Beagle +(watching delightedly from the mezzanine balcony) seen such a +floorwalker. Gissing moved to and fro exulting in the great tide +of shopping. He knew all the best customers by name and had +learned their peculiarities. If a shower came up and Mrs. Mastiff +was just leaving, he hastened to give her his arm as far as her +limousine, boosting her in so expeditiously that not a drop of +wetness fell upon her. He took care to find out the special plat +du jour of the store's lunch room, and seized occasion to whisper +to Mrs. Dachshund, whose weakness was food, that the filet of +sole was very nice to-day. Mrs. Pomeranian learned that giving +Gissing a hint about some new Parisian importations was more +effective than a half page ad. in the Sunday papers. Within a few +hours, by a judicious word here and there, he would have a score +of ladies hastening to the millinery salon. A pearl necklace of +great value, which Mr. Beagle had rebuked the jewellery buyer for +getting, because it seemed more appropriate for a dealer in +precious stones than for a department store, was disposed of +almost at once. Gissing casually told Mrs. Mastiff that he had +heard Mrs. Sealyham intended to buy it. As for Mrs. Dachshund, +who had had a habit of lunching at Delmonico's, she now was to be +seen taking tiffin at Beagle's almost daily. There were many +husbands who would have been glad to shoot him at sight on the +first of the month, had they known who was the real cause of +their woe. + +Indeed, Gissing had raised floorwalking to a new level. He was +more prime minister than a mere patroller of aisles. With +sparkling eye, with unending curiosity, tact, and attention, he +moved quietly among the throng. He realized that shopping is the +female paradise; that spending money she has not earned is the +only real fun an elderly and wealthy lady can have; and if to +this primitive shopping passion can be added the delights of +social amenity--flattery, courtesy, good-humoured flirtation--the +snare is complete. + +But all this is not accomplished without rousing the jealousy of +rivals. Among the other floorwalkers, and particularly in the +gorgeously uniformed attendant at the front door (who was +outraged by Gissing's habit of escorting special customers to +their motors) moved anger, envy, and sneers. Gissing, completely +absorbed in the fascination of his work, was unaware of this +hostility, as he was equally unaware of the amazed satisfaction +of his employer. He went his way with naive and unconscious +pleasure. It did not take long for his enemies to find a fulcrum +for their chagrin. One evening, after closing, when he sat in the +dressing room, with his feet in the usual tub of hot water, +placidly reviewing the day's excitements and smoking his pipe, +the superintendent burst in. + +"Hey!" he exclaimed. "Don't you know smoking's forbidden? What do +you want to do, get our fire insurance cancelled? Get out of +here! You're fired!" + +It did not occur to Gissing to question or protest. He had known +perfectly well that smoking was not allowed. But he was like the +stage hand behind the scenes who concluded it was all right to +light a cigarette because the sign only said SMOKING FORBIDDEN, +instead of SMOKING STRICTLY FORBIDDEN. He had not troubled his +mind about it, one way or about it, one way or another. + +He had drawn his salary that evening, and his first thought was, +Well, at any rate I've earned enough to pay for the clothes. He +had been there exactly four weeks. Quite calmly, he lifted his +feet out of the tub and began to towel them daintily. The +meticulous way he dried between his toes was infuriating to the +superintendent. + +"Have you any children?" Gissing asked, mildly. + +"What's that to you?" snapped the other. + +"I'll sell you this bathtub for a quarter. Take it home to them. +They probably need it." + +"You get out of here!" cried the angry official. + +"You'd be surprised," said Gissing, "how children thrive when +they're bathed regularly. Believe me, I know." + +He packed his formal clothes in a neat bundle, left the bathtub +behind, surrendered his locker key, and walked toward the +employees' door, escorted by his bristling superior. As they +passed through the empty aisles, scene of his brief triumph, he +could not help gazing a little sadly. True merchant to the last, +a thought struck him. He scribbled a note on the back of a sales +slip and left it at Miss Whippet's post by the stocking counter. +It said:-- + +MISS WHIPPET: Show Mrs. Sealyham some of the bisque sports hose, +Scotch wool, size 9. She's coming to-morrow. Don't let her get +size 8 1/2. They shrink. + MR. GISSING. + +At the door he paused, relit his pipe leisurely, raised his hat +to the superintendent, and strolled away. + +In spite of this nonchalance, the situation was serious. His +money was at a low ebb. All his regular income was diverted to +the support of the large household in the country. He was too +proud to appeal to his wealthy uncle. He hated also to think of +Mrs. Purp's mortification if she learned that her star boarder +was out of work. By a curious irony, when he got home he found a +letter from Mrs. Spaniel:-- + +MR. GISHING, dere friend, the pupeys are well, no insecks, and +eat with nives and forx Groups is the fattest but Yelpers is the +lowdest they send wags and lix and glad to here Daddy is doing so +well in buisness with respects from + MRS. SPANIEL. + +He did not let Mrs. Purp know of the change in his condition, and +every morning left his lodging at the usual time. By some curious +attraction he felt drawn to that downtown region where his +kinsman's office was. This part of the city he had not properly +explored. + +It was a world wholly different from Fifth Avenue. There was none +of that sense of space and luxury he had known on the wide slopes +of Murray Hill. He wandered under terrific buildings, in a breezy +shadow where javelins of colourless sunlight pierced through thin +slits, hot brilliance fell in fans and cascades over the uneven +terrace of roofs. Here was where husbands worked to keep Fifth +Avenue going: he wondered vaguely whether Mrs. Sealyham had +bought those stockings? One day he saw his uncle hurrying along +Wall Street with an intent face. Gissing skipped into a doorway, +fearing to be recognized. He knew that the old fellow would +insist on taking him to lunch at the Pedigree Club, would talk +endlessly, and ask family questions. But he was on the scent of +matters that talk could not pursue. + +He perceived a sense of pressure, of prodigious poetry and beauty +and amazement. This was a strange jungle of life. Tall coasts of +windows stood up into the pure brilliant sky: against their feet +beat a dark surf of slums. In one foreign street, too deeply +trenched for sunlight, oranges were the only gold. The water, +reaching round in two arms, came close: there was a note of husky +summons in the whistles of passing craft. Almost everywhere, +sharp above many smells of oils and spices, the whiff of coffee +tingled his busy nose. Above one huge precipice stood a gilded +statue--a boy with wings, burning in the noon. Brilliance flamed +between the vanes of his pinions: the intangible thrust of that +pouring light seemed about to hover him off into blue air. + +The world of working husbands was more tender than that of +shopping wives: even in all their business, they had left space +and quietness for the dead. Sunken among the crags he found two +graveyards. They were cups of placid brightness. Here, looking +upward, it was like being drowned on the floor of an ocean of +light. Husbands had built their offices half-way to the sky +rather than disturb these. Perhaps they appreciate rest all the +more, Gissing thought, because they get so little of it? Somehow +he could not quite imagine a graveyard left at peace in the +shopping district. It would be bad for trade, perhaps? Even the +churches on the Avenue, he had noticed, were huddled up and +hemmed in so tightly by the other buildings that they had +scarcely room to kneel. If I ever become a parson, he said (this +was a fantastic dream of his), I will insist that all churches +must have a girdle of green about them, to set them apart from +the world. + +The two little brown churches among the cliffs had been gifted +with a dignity far beyond the dream of their builders. Their +pointing spires were relieved against the enormous facades of +business. What other altars ever had such a reredos? Above the +strepitant racket of the streets, he heard the harsh chimes of +Trinity at noonday--strong jags of clangour hurled against the +great sounding-boards of buildings; drifting and dying away down +side alleys. There was no soft music of appeal in the bronze +volleying: it was the hoarse monitory voice of rebuke. So spoke +the church of old, he thought: not asking, not appealing, but +imperatively, sternly, as one born to command. He thought with +new respect of Mr. Sealyham, Mr. Mastiff, Mr. Dachshund, all the +others who were powers in these fantastic flumes of stone. They +were more than merely husbands of charge accounts--they were +poets. They sat at lunch on the tops of their amazing edifices, +and looked off at the blue. + +Day after day went by, but with a serene fatalism Gissing did +nothing about hunting a job. He was willing to wait until the +last dollar was broken: in the meantime he was content. You never +know the soul of a city, he said, until you are down on your +luck. Now, he felt, he had been here long enough to understand +her. She did not give her secrets to the world of Fifth Avenue. +Down here, where the deep crevice of Broadway opened out into +greenness, what was the first thing he saw? Out across the +harbour, turned toward open sea--Liberty! Liberty Enlightening +the World, he had heard, was her full name. Some had mocked her, +he had also heard. Well, what was the gist of her enlightenment? +Why this, surely: that Liberty could never be more than a statue: +never a reality. Only a fool would expect complete liberty. He +himself, with all his latitude, was not free. If he were, he +would cook his meals in his room, and save money--but Mrs. Purp +was strict on that point. She had spoken scathingly of two young +females she ejected for just that reason. Nor was Mrs. Purp +free--she was ridden by the Gas Company. So it went. + +It struck him, now he was down to about three dollars, that a +generous gesture toward Fortune might be valuable. When you are +nearly out of money, he reasoned, to toss coins to the gods--i. +e., to buy something quite unnecessary--may be propitiatory. It +may start something moving in your direction. It is the touch of +bravado that God relishes. In a sudden mood of tenderness, he +bought two dollars' worth of toys and had them sent to the +children. He smiled to think how they would frolic over the +jumping rabbit. He sent Mrs. Spaniel a postcard of the Aquarium. + +There is a good deal more to this business than I had realized, +he said, as he walked uptown through the East Side slums that hot +night. The audacity, the vitality, the magnificence, are plain +enough. But I seem to see squalor too, horror and pitiful dearth. +I believe God is farther off than I thought. Look here: if the +more you know, the less you know about God, doesn't that mean +that God is really enjoyed only by the completely simple--by +faith, never by reason? + +He gave twenty-five cents to a beggar, and said angrily: "I am +not interested in a God who is known only by faith." + +When he got uptown he was very tired and hungry. In spite of all +Mrs. Purp's rules, he smuggled in an egg, a box of biscuits, a +small packet of tea and sugar, and a tin of condensed milk. He +emptied the milk into his shaving mug, and used the tin to boil +water in, holding it over the gas jet. He was getting on finely +when a sudden knock on the door made him jump. He spilled the hot +water on his leg, and uttered a wild yell. + +Mrs. Purp burst in, but she was so excited that she did not +notice the egg seeping into the clean counterpane. + +"Oh, Mr. Gissing," she exclaimed, "I've been waiting all evening +for you to come in. Purp and I wondered if you'd seen this in the +paper to-night? Purp noticed it in the ads., but we couldn't +understand what it meant." + +She held out a page of classified advertising, in which he read +with amazement: + +PERSONAL + +If MR. GISSING, late floorwalker at Beagle and Company, will +communicate with Mr. Beagle Senior, he will hear matters greatly +to his advantage. + + + +CHAPTER NINE + +There had been great excitement in the private offices of Beagle +and Company after Gissing's sudden disappearance. Old Mr. Beagle +was furious, and hotly scolded his son. In spite of his advanced +age, Beagle senior was still an autocrat and insisted on +regulating the details of the great business he had built up. +"You numbskull!" he shouted to Beagle junior, "that fellow was +worth any dozen others in the place, and you let him be fired by +a mongrel superintendent." + +"But, Papa," protested the vice-president, "the superintendent +had to obey the rules. You know how strict the underwriters are +about smoking. Of course he should have warned Gissing, instead +of discharging him." + +"Rules!" interrupted old Beagle fiercely--"Rules don't apply in a +case like this. I tell you that fellow has a genius for +storekeeping. Haven't I watched him on the floor? I've never seen +one like him. What's the good of your newfangled methods, your +card indexes and overhead charts, when you haven't even got a +record of his address?" + +Growling and showing his teeth, the head of the firm plodded +stiffly downstairs and discharged the superintendent himself. +Already he saw signs of disorganization in the main aisle. Miss +Whippet was tearful: customers were waiting impatiently to have +exchange slips O. K.'d: Mrs. Dachshund was turning over some +jewelled lorgnettes, but it was plain that she was only +"looking," and had no intention to purchase. + +So when, after many vain inquiries, the advertisement reached its +target, the old gentleman welcomed Gissing with genuine emotion. +He received him into his private office, locked the door, and +produced a decanter. Evidently beneath his irritable moods he had +sensibilities of his own. + +"I have given my life to trade," he said, "and I have grown weary +of watching the half-hearted simpletons who imagine they can rise +to the top by thinking more about themselves than they do about +the business. You, Mr. Gissing, have won my heart. You see +storekeeping as I do--a fine art, an absorbing passion, a +beautiful, thrilling sport. It is an art as lovely and subtle as +the theatre, with the same skill in wooing and charming the +public." + +Gissing bowed, and drank Mr. Beagle's health, to cover his +astonishment. The aged merchant fixed him with a glittering eye. + +"I can see that storekeeping is your genius in life. I can see +that you are naturally consecrated to it. My son is a good steady +fellow, but he lacks the divine gift. I am getting old. We need +new fire, new brains, in the conduct of this business. I ask you +to forgive the unlucky blunder we made lately, and devote +yourself to us." + +Gissing was very much embarrassed. He wanted to say that if he +was going to consecrate himself to floorwalking, he would relish +a raise in salary; but old Beagle was so tremulous and kept +blowing his nose so loudly that Gissing doubted if he could make +himself heard. + +"I want you to take a position as General Manager," said Mr. +Beagle, "with a salary of ten thousand a year." + +He rose and threw open a mahogany door that led out of his own +sanctum. "Here is your office," he said. + +The bewildered Gissing looked about the room--the mahogany +flat-topped desk with a great sheet of plate glass shining +greenly at its thick edges; an inkwell, pens and pencils, a +little glass bowl full of bright paper-clips; one of those +rocking blotters that are so tempting; a water cooler which just +then uttered a seductive gulping bubble; an electric fan, gently +humming; wooden trays for letters and memoranda; on one wall a +great chart of names, lettered Organization of Personnel; a nice +domestic-looking hat-and-coat stand; a soft green rug--Ah, how +alluring it all was! + +Mr. Beagle pointed to the outer door of the room, which had a +frosted pane. Through the glass the astounded floorwalker could +read the words + +REGANAM LARENEG +GNISSIG .RM + +What a delightful little room to meditate in. From the broad +windows he could see the whole shining tideway of Fifth Avenue, +passing lazily in the warm sunlight. He turned to Mr. Beagle, +greatly moved. + +The next day an advertisement appeared in the leading papers, to +this effect:-- + +________________________ +BEAGLE AND COMPANY +take pleasure in announcing to +their patrons and friends that +MR. GISSING + has been admitted to the firm in +the status of General Manager +Je Maintiendrai +__________________________ + +Mrs. Purp's excitement at this is easier imagined than described. +Her only fear was that now she would lose her best lodger. She +made Purp go out and buy a new shirt and a collar; she told +Gissing, rather pathetically, that she intended to have the whole +house repapered in the fall. The big double suite downstairs, +which could be used as bedroom and sitting-room, she suggested as +a comfortable change. But Gissing preferred to remain where he +was. He had grown fond of the top floor. + +Certainly there was an exhilaration in his new importance and +prosperity. The store buzzed with the news. At his request, Miss +Whippet was promoted to the seventh floor to be his secretary. It +was delightful to make his morning tour of inspection through the +vast building. Mr. Hound, the store detective, loved to tell his +cronies how suspiciously he had followed "The Duke" that first +day. As Gissing moved through the busy departments he saw eyes +following him, tails wagging. Customers were more flattered than +ever by his courteous attentions. One day he even held a little +luncheon party in the restaurant, at which Mrs. Dachshund, Mrs. +Mastiff, and Mrs. Sealyham were his guests. He invited their +husbands, but the latter were too busy to come. It would have +been more prudent of them to attend. That afternoon Mrs. +Dachshund, carried away by enthusiasm, bought a platinum +wrist-watch. Mrs. Mastiff bought a diamond dog-collar. Mrs. +Sealyham, whose husband was temporarily embarrassed in Wall +Street, contented herself with a Sheraton chifforobe. + +But it began to be evident that his delightful little office was +not going to be a shrine for quiet meditation. His vanity had +been pleased by the large advertisement about him, but he +suddenly realized the poison that lies in printer's ink. Almost +overnight, it seemed, he had been added to ten thousand mailing +lists. Little Miss Whippet, although she was fast at typewriting, +was hard put to it to keep up with his correspondence. She +quivered eagerly over her machine, her small paws flying. New +pink ribbons gleamed through her translucent summery georgette +blouse. They were her flag of exultation at her surprising rise +in life. She felt it was immensely important to get all these +letters answered promptly. + +And so did Gissing. In his new zeal, and in his innocent +satisfaction at having entered the inner circle of Big Business, +he insisted on answering everything. He did not realize that +dictating letters is the quaint diversion of business men, and +that most of them mean nothing. It is simply the easiest way of +assuring yourself that you are busy. + +This job was no sinecure. Old Mr. Beagle had so much affectionate +confidence in Gissing that he referred almost everything to him +for decision. Mr. Beagle junior, perhaps a little annoyed at the +floorwalker's meteoric translation, spent the summer afternoons +at golf. The infinite details of a great business crowded upon +him. Inexperienced, he had not learned the ways in which seasoned +"executives" protect themselves against useless intrusion. His +telephone buzzed like a hornet. Not five minutes went by without +callers or interruptions of some sort. + +Most amazing of all, he found, was the miscellaneous passion for +palaver displayed by Big Business. Immediately he was invited to +join innumerable clubs, societies, merchants' associations. Every +day would arrive letters, on heavily embossed paper--"The Sales +Managers Club will hold a round-table discussion on Friday at one +o'clock. We would greatly appreciate it if you would be with us +and say a few words."--"Will you be our guest at the monthly +dinner of the Fifth Avenue Guild, and give us any preachment that +is on your mind?"--"The Merchandising Uplift Group of Murray Hill +will meet at the Commodore for an informal lunch. It has been +suggested that you contribute to the discussion on Underwriting +Overhead."--"The Executives Association plans a clambake and +barbecue at the Barking Rock Country Club. Around the bonfire a +few impromptu remarks on Business Cycles will be called for. May +we count on you?"--"Will you address the Convention of Knitted +Bodygarment Buyers, on whatever topic is nearest your heart?"-- +"Will you write for Bunion and Callous, the trade organ of the +Floorwalkers' Union, a thousand-word review of your career?"-- +"Will you broadcast a twenty-minute talk on Department Store +Ethics, at the radio station in Newark? 250,000 radio fans will +be listening in." New to the strange and high-spirited world of +"executives," it was natural that Gissing did not realize that +the net importance of this kind of thing was absolute zero. It +did strike him as odd, perhaps, that merchants did not dare to go +on a junket or plan a congenial dinner without pretending to +themselves that it had some business significance. But, having +been so amazingly lifted into this atmosphere of great affairs, +he felt it was his duty to the store to play the game according +to the established rules. He was borne along on a roaring spate +of conferences, telephone calls, appointments, Rotarian lunches, +Chamber of Commerce dinners, picnics to talk tariff, +house-parties to discuss demurrage, tennis tournaments to settle +the sales-tax, golf foursomes to regulate price-maintenance. Of +all these matters he knew nothing whatever; and he also saw that +as far as the business of Beagle and Company was concerned it +would be better not to waste his time on such side-issues. The +way he could really be of service was in the store itself, +tactfully lubricating that complicated engine of goods and +personalities. But he learned to utter, when called upon, a few +suave generalities, barbed with a rollicking story. This made him +always welcome. He was of a studious disposition, and liked to +examine this queer territory of life with an unprejudiced eye. +After all, his inward secret purpose had nothing to do with the +success or failure of retail trade. He was still seeking a +horizon that would stay blue when he reached it. + +More and more he was interested to perceive how transparent the +mummery of business was. He was interested to note how +persistently men fled from success, how carefully most of them +avoided the obvious principles of utility, honesty, prudence, and +courtesy, which are inevitably rewarded. These sagacious, +humorous fellows who were amusing themselves with twaddling trade +apothegms and ridiculous banqueteering solemnities, surely they +were aware that this had no bearing upon their own jobs? He +suspected that it was all a feverish anodyne to still some inward +unease. Since they must (not being fools) be aware that these +antics were mere subtraction of time from their business, the +obvious conclusion was, they were not happy with business. There +was some strange wistfulness in the conduct of Big Business Dogs, +he thought. Under the pretence of transacting affairs, they were +really trying to discover something that had eluded them. + +The same thing, strangely enough, seemed to be going on in a +sphere of which he knew nothing, the world of art. He gathered +from the papers that writers, painters, musicians, were holding +shindies almost every night, at which delightful rebels, too busy +to occupy themselves with actual creation, talked charmingly +about their plans. Poets were reading poems incessantly, +forgetting to write any. Much of the newspaper comment on +literature made him shudder, for though this was a province quite +strange to him, he had sound instincts. He discerned fatal +ignorance and absurdity between the pompous lines. Yet, in its +own way, it seemed a bold and honest ignorance. Were these, too, +like the wistful executives, seeking where the blue begins? + +But what was this strange agitation that forbade his +fellow-creatures from enjoying the one thing that makes +achievement possible--Solitude? He himself, so happy to be left +alone--was no one else like that? And yet this very solitude that +he craved and revelled in was, by a sublime paradox, haunted by +mysterious loneliness. He felt sometimes as though his heart had +been broken off from some great whole, to which it yearned to be +reunited. It felt like a bone that had been buried, which God +would some day dig up. Sometimes, in his caninomorphic conception +of deity, he felt near him the thunder of those mighty paws. In +rare moments of silence he gazed from his office window upon the +sun-gilded, tempting city. Her madness was upon him--her splendid +craze of haste, ambition, pride. Yet he wondered. This God he +needed, this liberating horizon, was it after all in the +cleverest of hiding-places--in himself? Was it in his own +undeluded heart? + +Miss Whippet came scurrying in to say that the Display Manager +begged him to attend a conference. The question of apportioning +window space to the various departments was to be reconsidered. +Also, the book department had protested having rental charged +against them for books exhibited merely to add a finishing touch +to a furniture display. Other agenda: the Personnel Director +wished an appointment to discuss the ruling against salesbitches +bobbing their hair. The Commissary Department wished to present +revised figures as to the economy that would be effected by +putting the employees' cafeteria on the same floor as the store's +restaurant. He must decide whether early closing on Saturdays +would continue until Labor Day. + +As he went about these and a hundred other fascinating +trivialities, he had a painful sense of treachery to Mr. Beagle +senior. The old gentleman was so touchingly certain that he had +found in him the ideal shoulders on which to unload his +honourable and crushing burden. With more than paternal pride old +Beagle saw Gissing, evidently urbane and competent, cheerfully +circulating here and there. The shy angel of doubt that lay deep +in Gissing's cider-coloured eye, the proprietor did not come near +enough to observe. + +If there is tragedy in our story, alas here it is. Gissing, +incorrigible seceder from responsibilities that did not touch his +soul, did not dare tell his benefactor the horrid truth. But the +worm was in his heart. Late one night, in his room at Mrs. +Purp's, he wrote a letter to Mr. Poodle. After mailing it at a +street-box, he had a sudden pang. To the dreamer, decisions are +fearful. Then he shook himself and ran lightly to a little +lunchroom on Amsterdam Avenue, where he enjoyed doughnuts and +iced tea. His mind was resolved. The doughnuts, by a simple +symbolism, made him think of Rotary Clubs, also of millstones. +No, he must be fugitive from honour, from wealth, from Chambers +of Commerce. Fugitive from all save his own instinct. Those who +have bound themselves are only too eager to see the chains on +others. There was no use attempting to explain to Mr. Beagle--the +dear old creature would not understand. + +The next day, after happily and busily discharging his duties, +and staying late to clean up his desk, Gissing left Beagle and +Company for good. The only thing that worried him, as he looked +round his comfortable office for the last time, was the thought +of little Miss Whippet's chagrin when she found her new promotion +at an end. She had taken such delight in their mutual dignity. On +the filing cabinet beside her typewriter desk was a pink geranium +in a pot, which she watered every morning. He could not resist +pulling out a drawer of her desk, and smiled gently to see the +careful neatness of its compartments, with all her odds and ends +usefully arranged. The ink-eraser, with an absurd little whisk +attached to it for brushing away fragments of rubbed paper; the +fascicle of sharpened pencils held together by an elastic band; +the tiny phial of typewriter oil; a small box of peppermints; a +crumpled handkerchief; the stenographic notebook with a pencil +inserted at the blank page, so as to be ready for instant service +the next day; the long paper-cutter for slitting envelopes; her +memorandum pad, on which was written Remind Mr. G. of Window +Display Luncheon--it seemed cruel to deprive her of all these +innocent amusements in which she delighted so much. And yet he +could not go on as a General Manager simply for the happiness of +Miss Whippet. + +In the foliage of the geranium, where he knew she would find it +the first thing in the morning, he left a note:-- + +MISS WHIPPET: +I am leaving the store to-night and will not be back. Please +notify Mr. Beagle. Explain to him that I shall never take a +position with one of his competitors; I am leaving not because I +didn't enjoy the job, but because if I stayed longer I might +enjoy it too much. Tell Mr. Beagle that I specially urge him to +retain you as assistant to the new Manager, whoever that may be. +You are entirely competent to attend to the routine, and the new +Manager can spend all his time at business lunches. + +Please inform the Display Managers' Club that I can't speak at +their meeting to-morrow. + +I wish you all possible good-fortune. + MR. GISSING. + +As he passed through the dim and silent aisles of the store, he +surveyed them again with mixed emotions. Here he might, +apparently, have been king. But he had no very poignant regret. +Another of his numerous selves, he reflected, had committed +suicide. That was the right idea: to keep sloughing them off, +throwing overboard the unreal and factitious Gissings, paring +them down until he discovered the genuine and inalienable +creature. + +And so, for the second time, he made a stealthy exit from the +employees' door. + +Four days later he read in the paper of old Mr. Beagle's death. +There can be no doubt about it. The merchant died of a broken +heart. + + + +CHAPTER TEN + +Mr. Poodle's reply was disappointing. He said:-- + +St. Bernard's Rectory, +September 1st. + +MY DEAR MR. GISSING: + +I regret that I cannot conscientiously see my way to writing to +the Bishop in your behalf. Any testimonial I could compose would +be doubtful at best, for I cannot agree with you that the Church +is your true vocation. I do not believe that one who has deserted +his family, as you have, and whose record (even on the most +charitable interpretation) cannot be described as other than +eccentric, would be useful in Holy Orders. You say that your life +in the city has been a great purgation. If so, I suggest that you +return and take up the burdens laid upon you. It has meant great +mortification to me that one of my own parish has been the cause +of these painful rumours that have afflicted our quiet community. +Notwithstanding, I wish you well, and hope that chastening +experience may bring you peace. + +Very truly yours, + +J. ROVER POODLE. + +Gissing meditated this letter in the silence of along evening in +his room. He brought to the problem his favourite aid to clear +thinking--strong coffee mixed with condensed milk. Mrs. Purp had +made concession to his peculiarities when he had risen so high in +the world: better to break any rules, she thought, than lose so +notable a tenant. She had even installed a small gas-plate for +him, so that he could brew his morning and evening coffee. + +So he took counsel with his percolator, whose bubbling was a +sound he found both soothing and stimulating. He regarded it as a +kind of private oracle, with a calm voice of its own. He listened +attentively as he waited for the liquid to darken. +Appeal--to--the--Bishop, Appeal--to-the--Bishop, seemed to be the +speech of the jetting gurgitation under the glass lid. + +He determined to act upon this, and lay his case before Bishop +Borzoi even without the introduction he had hoped for. +Fortunately he still had some sheets of Beagle and Company +notepaper, with the engraved lettering and Office of the General +Manager embossed thereon. He was in some doubt as to the proper +formality and style of address in communicating with a Bishop: +was it "Very Reverend," or "Right Reverend"? and which of these +indicated a superior grade of reverendability? But he decided +that a masculine frankness would not be amiss. He wrote:-- + +VERY RIGHT REVEREND BISHOP BORZOI, + +Dear Bishop:-- + +May one of the least of your admirers solicit an interview with +your very right reverence, to discuss matters pertaining to +religion, theology, and a possible vacancy in the Church? If +there are any sees outstanding, it would be a favour. This is +very urgent. I enclose a stamped addressed envelope. + + Respectfully yours, + MR. GISSING. + +A prompt reply from the Bishop's secretary granted him an +appointment. + +Scrupulously attired in his tail-coat and silk hat, Gissing +proceeded toward the rendezvous. To tell the truth, he was +nervous: his mind flitted uneasily among possible embarrassments. +Suppose Mr. Poodle had written to the Bishop to prejudice his +application? Another, but more absurd, idea troubled him. One of +the problems in visiting the houses of the Great (he had learned +in his brief career in Big Business) is to find the door-bell. It +is usually mysteriously concealed. Suppose he should have to peer +hopelessly about the vestibule, in a shameful and suspicious +manner, until some flunky came out to chide? In the sunny park +below the Cathedral he saw nurses sitting by their +puppy-carriages; for an instant he almost envied their gross +tranquillity. THEY have not got (he said to himself) to call on a +Bishop! + +He was early, so he strolled for a few minutes in the park that +lies underneath that rocky scarp. On the summit, clear-surging +against the blue, the great church rode like a ship on a long +ridge of sea. The angel with a trumpet on the jut of the roof was +like a valiant seaman in the crow's nest. His agitation was +calmed by this noble sight. Yes, he said, the Church is a ship +behind whose bulwarks I will find rest. She sails an unworldly +sea: her crew are exempt from earthly ambition and fallacy. + +He ran nimbly up the long steps that scale the cliff, and +approached the episcopal residence. The bell was plainly visible. +He rang, and presently came a tidy little housemaid. He had +meditated a form of words. It would be absurd to say "Is the +Bishop in?" for he knew the Bishop WAS in. So he said "This is +Mr. Gissing. I think the Bishop is expecting me." + +Bishop Borzoi was an impressive figure--immensely tall and +slender, with long, narrow ascetic face and curly white hair. He +was surprisingly cordial. + +"Ah, Mr. Gissing?" he said. "Sit down, sir. I know Beagle and +Company very well. Too well, in fact-Mrs. Borzoi has an account +there." + +Gissing, feeling rather aghast and tentative, had no comment +ready. He was still worrying a little as to the proper mode of +address. + +"It is very pleasant to find you Influential Merchants interested +in the Church," continued the Bishop. "I often thought of +approaching the late Mr. Beagle on the subject of a small +contribution to the cathedral. Indeed, I have spent so much in +your store that it would be only a fair return. Mr. Collie, of +Greyhound, Collie and Company, has been very handsome with us: he +has just provided for repaving the choir." + +Gissing began to fear that the object of his visit had perhaps +been misunderstood, but the prelate's eyes were bright with +benignant enthusiasm and he dared not interrupt. + +"You inquired most kindly in your letter as to a possible vacancy +in the Church. Indeed there is a niche in the transept that I +should be happy to see filled. It is intended for some kind of +memorial statue, and perhaps, in honour of the late Mr. Beagle--" + +"I must explain, Sir Bishop," said Gissing, very much disturbed, +"that I have left Beagle and Company. The contribution I wish to +make to the Church is not a decorative one, I fear. It is +myself." + +"Yourself?" queried the Bishop, politely puzzled. + +"Yes," stammered Gissing, "I--in fact, I am hoping to--to enter +the ministry." + +The Bishop was plainly amazed, and his long, aristocratic nose +seemed longer than ever as he gazed keenly at his caller. + +"But have you had any formal training in theology?" + +"None, right reverend Bishop," said Gissing, "But it's this way," +and, incoherently at first, but with increasing energy and +copious eloquence, he poured out the story of his mental +struggles. + +"This is singularly interesting," said the Bishop at length. "I +can see that you are wholly lacking in the rudiments of divinity. +Of modern exegesis and criticism you are quite innocent. But you +evidently have something which is much rarer--what the Quakers +call a CONCERN. Of course you should really go to the theological +seminary and establish this naif intuitive mysticism upon a +disciplined basis. You will realize that we churchmen can only +meet modern rationalism by a rationalism of our own--by a +philosophical scholarship which is unshakable. I do not suppose +that you can even harmonize the Gospels?" + +Gissing ruefully admitted his ignorance. + +"Well, at least I must make sure of a few fundamentals," said the +Bishop. "Of course a symbological latitude is permissible, but +there are some essentials of dogma and creed that may not be +foregone." + +He subjected the candidate to a rapid catechism. Gissing, in a +state of mind curiously mingled of excitement and awe, found +himself assenting to much that, in a calmer moment, he would +hardly have admitted; but having plunged so deep into the affair +he felt it would be the height of discourtesy to give negative +answers to any of the Bishop's queries. By dint of hasty mental +adjustments and symbolic interpretations, he satisfied his +conscience. + +"It is very irregular," the Bishop admitted, "but I must confess +that your case interests me greatly. Of course I cannot admit you +to ordination until you have passed through the regular +theological curriculum. Yet I find you singularly apt for one +without proper training." + +He brooded a while, fixing the candidate with a clear darkly +burning eye. + +"It struck me that you were a trifle vague upon some of the +Articles of Religion, and the Table of Kindred and Affinity. You +must remember that these articles are not to be subjected to your +own sense or comment, but must be taken in the literal and +grammatical meaning. However, you show outward and visible signs +of an inward and spiritual grace. It so happens that I know of a +small chapel, in the country, that has been closed for lack of a +minister. I can put you in charge there as lay reader." + +Gissing's face showed his elation. + +"And wear a cassock?" he cried. + +"Certainly not," said the Bishop sternly. "Not even a surplice. +You must remember you have not been ordained. If you are serious +in your zeal, you must work your way up gradually, beginning at +the bottom." + +"I have seen some of your cloth with a little purple dickey which +looks very well in the aperture of the waistcoat," said Gissing +humbly. "How long would it take me to work up to that?" + +Bishop Borzoi, who had a sense of humour, laughed genially. + +"Look here," he said. "It's a fine afternoon: I'll order my car +and we'll drive out to Dalmatian Heights. I'll show you your +chapel, and tell you exactly what your duties will be." + +Gissing was startled. Dalmatian Heights was only a few miles from +the Canine Estates. If the news should reach Mr. Poodle... + +"Sir Bishop," he said nervously, "I begin to fear that perhaps +after all I am unworthy. Now about those Articles of Religion: I +may perhaps have given some of them a conjectural and +commentating assent. Possibly I have presumed too far--" + +The Bishop was already looking forward to a ride into the country +with his unusual novice. + +"Not at all, not at all," he said cheerily. "In a mere lay +reader, a slight laxity is allowable. You understand, of course, +that you are expressly restricted from the pulpit. You will have +to read the lessons, conduct the service, and may address the +congregation upon matters not homiletic nor doctrinal; preaching +and actual entry into the pulpit are defended. But I see +excellent possibility in you. Perform the duties punctually in +this very lowly office, and high ranks of service in the church +militant will be open." + +He put on a very fine shovel-hat, and led the way to his large +touring car. + +It was a very uncomfortable ride for Gissing. A silk hat is the +least stable apparel for swift motoring, and the chauffeur drove +at high speed. The Bishop, leaning back in the open tonneau, +crossed one delicately slender shank over another, gazed in a +kind of ecstasy at the countryside, and talked gaily about his +days as a young curate. Gissing sat holding his hat on. He saw +only too well that, by the humiliating oddity of chance, they +were going to take the road that led exactly past his own house. +He could only hope that Mrs. Spaniel and the various children +would not be visible, for explanations would be too complicated. +Desperately he praised the view to be obtained on another road, +but Bishop Borzoi was too interested in his own topic to pay much +attention. + +"By the way," said the latter, as they drew near the familiar +region, "I must introduce you to Miss Airedale. She lives in the +big place on the hill over there. Her family always used to +attend what I will now call YOUR chapel; she is a very ardent +churchgoer, and it was a sincere grief to her when the place had +to be closed. You will find her a great aid and comfort; not only +that, she is--what one does not always find in the devouter +members of her sex--young and beautiful. I think I understood you +to say you are a bachelor?" + +They were approaching the last turning at which it was still +possible to avoid the fatal road, and Gissing's attention was +divided. + +"Yes, after a fashion," he replied. "Bishop, do you know that +road down into the valley? The view is really superb--Yes, that +road--Oh, no, I am a bachelor--" + +It was too late. The chauffeur, unconscious of this private +crisis, was spinning along the homeward way. With a tender +emotion Gissing saw the spires of the poplar trees, the hemlocks +down beyond the pond, the fringe of woods that concealed the +house until you were quite upon it-- + +The car swerved suddenly and the driver only saved it by a quick +and canny manoeuvre from going down the bank. He came to a stop, +and almost from underneath the rear wheels appeared a scuffling +dusty group of youngsters who had been playing in the road. There +they were--Bunks, Groups, and Yelpers (inordinately grown!) and +two of the Spaniels. Their clothes were deplorable, their faces +grimed, their legs covered with burrs, their whole demeanour was +ragamuffin and wild: yet Gissing felt a pang of pride to see his +godchildren's keen, independent bearing contrasted with the +rowdier, disreputable look of the young Spaniels. Quickly he +averted his head to escape recognition. But the urchins were all +gaping at the Bishop's shovel hat. + +"Hot dog!" cried Yelpers "Some hat!" + +To his horror, Gissing now saw Mrs. Spaniel, hastening in alarm +down from the house, spilling potatoes from her apron as she ran. +He hurriedly urged the driver to proceed. + +"What terrible looking children," observed the Bishop, who +seemed fascinated by their stare. "Really, my good sister," he +said to Mrs. Spaniel, who was now panting by the running board; +"you must keep them off the road or someone will get hurt." + +Gissing was looking for an imaginary object on the floor of the +car. To his great relief he heard the roar of the motor as they +started again. But he sat up a little too soon. A simultaneous +roar of "Daddy!" burst from the trio. + +"What was that they were shouting at us?" inquired the Bishop, +looking back. + +Gissing shook his head. He was too overcome to speak. + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN + +The little chapel at Dalmatian Heights sat upon a hill, among a +grove of pines, the most romantic of all trees. Life, a powerful +but clumsy dramatist, does not reject the most claptrap +"situations," which a sophisticated playwright would discard as +too obvious. For this sandy plateau, strewn with satiny +pine-needles, was the very horizon that had looked so blue and +beckoning from the little house by the pond. Not far away was the +great Airedale estate, which Gissing had known only at an +admiring distance--and now he was living there as an honoured +guest. + +The Bishop had taken him to call upon the Airedales; and they, +delighted that the chapel was to be re-opened, had insisted upon +his staying with them. The chapel, in fact, was a special +interest with Mr. Airedale, who had been a leading contributor +toward its erection. Gissing was finding that life seemed to be +continually putting him into false positions; and now he +discovered, somewhat to his chagrin, that the lovely little +shrine of St. Spitz, whose stained windows glowed like rubies in +its cloister of dark trees, was rather a fashionable hobby among +the wealthy landowners of Dalmatian Hills. It had been closed all +summer, and they had missed it. The Bishop, in his airy and +indefinite way, had not made it quite plain that Gissing was only +a lay reader; and in spite of his embarrassed disclaimers, he +found himself introduced by Mr. Airedale to the country-house +clique as the new "vicar." + +But at any rate it was lucky that the Airedales had insisted on +taking him in as a guest; for he had learned from the Bishop +(just as the latter was leaving) that there was no stipend +attached to the office of lay reader. Fortunately he still had +much of the money he had saved from his salary as General +Manager. And whatever sense of anomaly he felt was quickly +assuaged by the extraordinary comfort and novelty of his +environment. In the great Airedale mansion he experienced for the +first time that ultimate triumph of civilization--a cup of tea +served in bed before breakfast, with slices of bread-and-butter +of tenuous and amazing fragile thinness. He was pleased, too, +with the deference paid him as a representative of the cloth, +even though it compelled him to a solemnity he did not inwardly +feel. But most of all, undoubtedly, he was captivated by the +loveliness and warmth of Miss Airedale. + +The Bishop had not erred. Admiring the aristocratic Roman trend +of her brow and nose; the proud, inquisitive carriage of her +somewhat rectangular head, her admirable, vigorous figure and +clear topaz eyes, Gissing was aware of something he had not +experienced before--a disturbance both urgent and agreeable, in +which the intellect seemed to play little part. He was startled +by the strength of her attractiveness, amazed to learn how +pleasing it was to be in her company. She was very young and +brisk: wore clothes of a smart sporting cut, and was (he thought) +quite divine in her riding breeches. But she was also completely +devoted to the chapel, where she played the music on Sundays. She +was a volatile creature, full of mischievous surprise: at their +first music practice, after playing over some hymns on the +pipe-organ, she burst into jazz, filling the quiet grove with the +clamorous syncope of Paddy-Paws, a favourite song that summer. + +So into the brilliant social life of the Airedales and their +friends he found himself suddenly pitchforked. In spite of the +oddity of the situation, and of occasional anxiety when he +considered the possibility of Mr. Poodle finding him out, he was +very happy. This was not quite what he had expected, but he was +always adaptable. Miss Airedale was an enchanting companion. In +the privacy of his bedroom he measured himself for a pair of +riding breeches and wrote to his tailor in town to have them made +as soon as possible. He served the little chapel assiduously, +though he felt it better to conceal from the Airedales the fact +that he went there every day. He suspected they would think him +slightly mad if they knew, so he used to pretend that he had +business in town. Then he would slip away to the balsam-scented +hilltop and be perfectly happy sweeping the chapel floor, dusting +the pews, polishing the brasswork, rearranging the hymnals in the +racks. He arranged with the milkman to leave a bottle of milk and +some cinnamon buns at the chapel gate every morning, so he had a +cheerful and stealthy little lunch in the vestry-room, though +always a trifle nervous lest some of his parishioners should +discover him. + +He practiced reading the lessons aloud at the brass lectern, and +discovered how easy is dramatic elocution when you are alone. He +wished it were possible to hold a service daily. For the first +time he was able to sing hymns as loud as he liked. Miss Airedale +played the organ with emphatic fervour, and the congregation, +after a little hesitation, enjoyed the lusty sincerity of a hymn +well trolled. Some of his flock, who had previously relished +taking part in the general routine of the service, were +disappointed by his zeal, for Gissing insisted on doing +everything himself. He rang the bell, ushered the congregation to +their seats, read the service, recited the Quadrupeds' Creed, led +the choir, gave out as many announcements as he could devise, +took up the collection, and at the close skipped out through the +vestry and was ready and beaming in the porch before the nimblest +worshipper had reached the door. On his first Sunday, indeed, he +carried enthusiasm rather too far: in an innocent eagerness to +prolong the service as much as possible, and being too excited to +realize quite what he was doing, he went through the complete +list of supplications for all possible occasions. The +congregation were startled to find themselves praying +simultaneously both for rain and for fair weather. + +In a cupboard in the vestry-room he had found an old surplice +hanging; he took it down, tried it on before the mirror, and +wistfully put it back. To this symbolic vestment his mind +returned as he sat solitary under the pine-trees, looking down +upon the valley of home. It was the season of goldenrod and aster +on the hillsides: a hot swooning silence lay upon the late +afternoon. The weight and closeness of the air had struck even +the insects dumb. Under the pines, generally so murmurous, there +was something almost gruesome in the blank stillness: a +suspension so absolute that the ears felt dull and sealed. He +tried, involuntarily, to listen more clearly, to know if this +uncanny hush were really so. There was a sense of being +imprisoned, but only most delicately, in a spell, which some +sudden cracking might disrupt. + +The surplice tempted him strongly, for it suggested the sermon he +felt impelled to deliver, against the Bishop's orders. For the +beautiful chapel in the piny glade was, somehow, false: or, at +any rate, false for him. The architect had made it a dainty poem +in stone and polished wood, but somehow God had evaded the neat +little trap. Moreover, the God his well-bred congregation +worshipped, the old traditionally imagined snow-white St. Bernard +with radiant jowls of tenderness, shining dewlaps of love; +paternal, omnipotent, calm--this deity, though sublime in its +way, was too plainly an extension of their own desires. His +prominent parishioners--Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher, Mrs. Griffon, +Mrs. Retriever; even the delightful Mr. Airedale himself--was it +not likely that they esteemed a deity everlastingly forgiving +because they themselves felt need of forgiveness? He had been +deeply shocked by the docility with which they followed the codes +of the service: even when he had committed his blunder of the +contradictory prayers, they had murmured the words automatically, +without protest. To the terrific solemnities of the Litany they +had made the responses with prompt gabbling precision, and with a +rapidity that frankly implied impatience to take the strain off +their knees. + +Somehow he felt that to account for a world of unutterable +strangeness they had invented a God far too cheaply simple. His +mood was certainly not one of ribald easy scoff. It was they (he +assured himself) whose theology was essentially cynical; not he. +He was a little weary of this just, charitable, consoling, +hebdomadal God; this God who might be sufficiently honoured by a +decorously memorized ritual. Yet was he too shallow? Was it not +seemly that his fellows, bound on this dark, desperate venture of +living, should console themselves with decent self-hypnosis? + +No, he thought. No, it was not entirely seemly. If they pretended +that their God was the highest thing knowable, then they must +bring to His worship the highest possible powers of the mind. He +had a strange yearning for a God less lazily conceived: a God +perhaps inclement, awful, master of inscrutable principles. Yet +was it desirable to shake his congregation's belief in their +traditional divinity? He thought of them--so amiable, amusing, +spirited and generous, but utterly untrained for abstract +imaginative thought on any subject whatever. His own strange +surmisings about deity would only shock and horrify them And +after all, was it not exactly their simplicity that made them +lovable? The great laws of truth would work their own destinies +without assistance from him! Even if these pleasant creatures did +not genuinely believe the rites they so politely observed (he +knew they did not, for BELIEF is an intellectual process of +extraordinary range and depth), was it not socially useful that +they should pretend to do so? + +And yet--with another painful swing of the mind--was it necessary +that Truth should be worshipped with the aid of such +astonishingly transparent formalisms, hoaxes, and mummeries? +Alas, it seemed that this was an old, old struggle that must be +troublesomely fought out, again and again down the generations. +Prophets were twice stoned--first in anger; then, after their +death, with a handsome slab in the graveyard. But words uttered +in sincerity (he thought) never fail of some response. Though he +saw his fellows leashed with a heavy chain of ignorance, +stupidity, passion, and weakness, yet he divined in life some +inscrutable principle of honour and justice; some unreckonable +essence of virtue too intimate to understand; some fumbling +aspiration toward decency, some brave generosity of spirit, some +cheerful fidelity to Beauty. He could not see how, in a world so +obviously vast and uncouth beyond computation, they could find a +puny, tidy, assumptive, scheduled worship so satisfying. But +perhaps, since all Beauty was so staggering, it was better they +should cherish it in small formal minims. Perhaps in this whole +matter there was some lovely symbolism that he did not +understand. + +The soft brightness was already lifting into upper air, a mingled +tissue of shadows lay along the valley. In the magical clarity of +the evening light he suddenly felt (as one often does, by +unaccountable planetary instinct) that there was a new moon. +Turning, he saw it, a silver snipping daintily afloat; and not +far away, an early star. He had found no creed in the prayer-book +that accounted for the stars. Here at the bottom of an ocean of +sky, we look aloft and see them thick-speckled--mere barnacles, +perhaps, on the keel of some greater ship of space. He remembered +how at home there had been a certain burning twinkle that peeped +through the screen of the dogwood tree. As he moved on his porch, +it seemed to flit to and fro, appearing and vanishing. He was +often uncertain whether it was a firefly a few yards away, or a +star the other side of Time. Possibly Truth was like that. + +There was a light swift rustle behind him, and Miss Airedale +appeared. + +"Hullo!" she said. "I wondered where you were. Is this how you +spend your afternoons, all alone?" + +Stars, creeds, cosmologies, promptly receded into remote +perspective and had to shift for themselves. It was true that +Gissing had somewhat avoided her lately, for he feared her +fascination. He wished nothing else to interfere with his search +for what he had not yet found. Postpone the female problem to the +last, was his theory: not because it was insoluble, but because +the solution might prove to be less interesting than the problem +itself. But side by side with her, she was irresistible. A +skittish brightness shone in her eyes. + +"Great news!" she exclaimed. "I've persuaded Papa to take us all +down to Atlantic City for a couple of days." + +"Wonderful!" cried Gissing. "Do you know, I've never been to the +seashore." + +"Don't worry," she replied. "I won't let you see much of the +ocean. We'll go to the Traymore, and spend the whole time dancing +in the Submarine Grill." + +"But I must be back in time for the service on Sunday," he said. + +"We're going to leave first thing in the morning. We'll go in the +car, and I'll drive. Will you sit with me in the front seat?" + +"Watch me!" replied Gissing gallantly. + +"Come on then, or you'll be late for dinner. I'll race you home!" +And she was off like a flash. + +But in spite of Miss Airedale's threat, at Atlantic City they +both fell into a kind of dreamy reverie. The wine-like tingle of +that salty air was a quiet drug. The apparently inexhaustible +sunshine was sharpened with a faint sting of coming autumn. +Gissing suddenly remembered that it was ages since he had simply +let his mind run slack and allowed life to go by unstudied. Mr. +and Mrs. Airedale occupied a suite high up in the terraced mass +of the huge hotel; they wrapped themselves in rugs and basked on +their private balcony. Gissing and the daughter were left to +their own amusements. They bathed in the warm September surf; +they strolled the Boardwalk up beyond the old Absecon light, +where the green glimmer of water runs in under the promenade. +They sat on the deck of the hotel--or rather Miss Airedale sat, +while Gissing, courteously attentive, leaned over her +steamer-chair. He stood so for hours, apparently in devoted chat; +but in fact he was half in dream. The smooth flow of the little +rolling shays just below had a soothing hypnotic erect. But it +was the glorious polished blue of the sea-horizon that bounded +all his thoughts. Even while Miss Airedale gazed archly up at +him, and he was busy with cheerful conversation, he was conscious +of that broad band of perfect colour, monotonous, comforting, +thrilling. For the first time he realized the great rondure of +the world. His mind went back to the section of the prayer-book +that had always touched him most pointedly--the "Forms of Prayer +to be Used at Sea." In them he had found a note of sincere terror +and humility. And now he viewed the sea for the first time in +this setting of notable irony. The open dazzle of placid +elements, obedient only to some cosmic calculus, lay as a serene +curtain against which the quaint flamboyance of the Boardwalk was +all the more amusing. The clear rim of sea curving off into space +drew him with painful curiosity. Here at last was what he had +needed. The proud waters went over his soul. Here indeed the blue +began. + +He looked down at Miss Airedale, who had gone to sleep while +waiting for him to say something. He tiptoed away and went to his +room to write down some ideas. Against the wide challenge of that +blue hemisphere, where half the world lay open and free to the +eye, the Bishop's prohibition lost weight. He was resolved to +preach a sermon. + +At dusk he met Miss Airedale on the high balcony that runs around +the reading-room of the hotel. They were quite alone up there. +Along the Boardwalk, in the pale sentimental twilight, the +translucent electric globes shone like a long string of pearls. +She was very tempting in a gay evening frock, and reproached him +for having neglected her. She shivered a little in the cool wind +coming off the darkening water. The weakness of the hour was upon +him. He put his arm tenderly round her as they leaned over the +parapet. + +"See those darling children down on the sand," she said. "I do +adore puppies, don't you?" + +He remembered Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers. Nothing is so potent as +the love of children when you are away from them. She gazed +languishing at him; he responded with a generous pressure. But +his alarmed soul thrilled with panic. + +"You must excuse me a moment, while I dress for dinner," he said. +He was strangely terrified by the look of secret understanding in +her beautiful eyes. It seemed to imply some subtle, inexpressible +pact. As a matter of truth, she was unconscious of it: it was +only the old demiurge speaking in her; the old demiurge which was +pursuing him just as ardently as he was trailing the dissolving +blue of his dream. But he was much agitated as he went down in +the elevator. + +"Heavens," he said to himself; "are we all only toys in the power +of these terrific instincts?" + +For the first time he was informed of the infinite feminine +capacity for being wooed. + +That night they danced in the Submarine Grill. She floated in his +embrace with triumphant lightness. Her eyes, utilized as +temporary lamps by a lighting-circuit of which she was quite +unaware, beamed with happy lustre. The lay reader, always docile +to the necessities of occasion, murmured delightful trifles. But +his private thoughts were as aloof and shining and evasive as the +goldfish that twinkled in the glass pool overhead. He picked up +her scarf and her handkerchief when she dropped them. He smiled +vaguely when she suggested that she thought she could persuade +Mr. Airedale to stay in Atlantic City over the week-end, and why +worry about the service on Sunday? But when she and the yawning +Mrs. Airedale had retired, he hastened to his chamber and packed +his bag. Stealthily he went to the desk and explained that he was +leaving unexpectedly on business, and that the bill should go to +Mr. Airedale, whose guest he had been. He slipped away out of the +side door, and caught the late train. Mrs. Airedale chafed her +daughter that night for whining in her sleep. + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE + +The chapel of St. Spitz was crowded that fine Sunday morning, and +the clang and thud of its bells came merrily through the thin +quick air to worshippers arriving in their luxurious motors. The +amiable oddity of the lay reader's demeanour as priest had added +a zest to churchgoing. The congregation were particularly +pleased, on this occasion, to see Gissing appear in surplice and +stole. They had felt that his attire on the previous Sundays had +been a little too informal. And when, at the time usually +allotted to the sermon, Gissing climbed the pulpit steps, +unfurled a sheaf of manuscript, and gazed solemnly about, they +settled back into the pew cushions in a comfortable, receptive +mood. They had a subconscious feeling that if their souls were to +be saved, it was better to have it done with all the proper +formalities. They did not notice that he was rather pale, and +that his nose twitched nervously. + +"My friends," he said, "in this beautiful little chapel, on this +airy hilltop, one might, if anywhere, speak with complete +honesty. For you who gather here for worship are, in the main, +people of great affairs; accustomed to looking at life with high +spirit and with quick imagination. I will ask you then to be +patient with me while I exhort you to carry into your religion +the same enterprising and ambitious gusto that has made your +worldly careers a success. You are accustomed to deal with great +affairs. Let me talk to you about the Great Affairs of God." + +Gissing had been far too agitated to be able to recognize any +particular members of his audience. All the faces were fused into +a common blur. Miss Airedale, he knew, was in the organ loft, but +he had not seen her since his flight from Atlantic City, for he +had removed from the Airedale mansion before her return, and had +made himself a bed in the corner of the vestry-room. He feared +she was angry: there had been a vigorous growling note in some of +the bass pipes of the organ as she played the opening hymn. He +had not seen a tall white-haired figure who came into the chapel +rather late, after the service had begun, and took a seat at the +back. Bishop Borzoi had seized the opportunity to drive out to +Dalmatian Heights this morning to see how his protege was getting +on. When the Bishop saw his lay reader appear in surplice and +scarlet hood, he was startled. But when the amateur parson +actually ascended the pulpit, the Bishop's face was a study. The +hair on the back of his neck bristled slightly. + +"It is so easy," Gissing continued, "to let life go by us in its +swift amusing course, that sometimes it hardly seems worth while +to attempt any bold strokes for truth. Truth, of course, does not +need our assistance; it can afford to ignore our errors. But in +this quiet place, among the whisper of the trees, I seem to have +heard a disconcerting sound. I have heard laughter, and I think +it is the laughter of God." + +The congregation stirred a little, with polite uneasiness. This +was not quite the sort of thing to which they were accustomed. + +"Why should God laugh? I think it is because He sees that very +often, when we pretend to be worshipping Him, we are really +worshipping and gratifying ourselves. I used the phrase 'Great +Affairs.' The point I want to make is that God deals with far +greater affairs than we have realized. We have imagined Him on +too petty a scale. If God is so great, we must approach Him in a +spirit of greatness. He is not interested in trivialities-- +trivialities of ritual, of creed, of ceremony. We have imagined a +vain thing--a God of our own species; merely adding to the +conception, to gild and consecrate, a futile fuzbuz of +supernaturalism. My friends, the God I imagine is something more +than a formula on Sundays and an oath during the week." + +Those sitting in the rear of the Chapel were startled to hear a +low rumbling sound proceeding from the diaphragm of the Bishop, +who half rose from his seat and then, by a great effort of will, +contained himself. But Gissing, rapt in his honourable +speculations, continued with growing happiness. + +"I ask you, though probably in vain, to lay aside for the moment +your inherited timidities and conventions. I ask you to lay aside +pride, which is the devil itself and the cause of most +unhappiness. I ask you to rise to the height of a great +conception. To 'magnify' God is a common phrase in our +observances. Then let us truly magnify Him--not minify, as the +theologians do. If God is anything more than a social fetich, +then He must be so much more that He includes and explains +everything. It may sound inconceivable to you, it may sound +sacrilegious, but I suggest to you that it is even possible God +may be a biped--" + +The Bishop could restrain himself no longer. He rose with flaming +eyes and stood in the aisle. Mr. Airedale, Mr. +Dobermann-Pinscher, and several other prominent members of the +Church burst into threatening growls. A wild bark and clamour +broke from Mr. Towser, the Sunday School superintendent, and his +pupils, who sat in the little gallery over the door. And then, to +Gissing's horror and amazement, Mr. Poodle appeared from behind a +pillar where he had been chafing unseen. In a fierce tenor voice +shaken with indignation he cried: + +"Heretic and hypocrite! Pay no attention to his abominable +nonsense! He deserted his family to lead a life of pleasure!" + +"Seize him!" cried the Bishop in a voice of thunder. + +The church was now in an uproar. A shrill yapping sounded among +the choir. Mrs. Airedale swooned; the Bishop's progress up the +aisle was impeded by a number of ladies hastening for an exit. +Old Mr. Dingo, the sexton, seized the bell-rope in the porch and +set up a furious pealing. Cries of rage mingled with hysterical +howls from the ladies. Gissing, trembling with horror, surveyed +the atrocious hubbub. But it was high time to move, or his +retreat would be cut off. He abandoned his manuscript and bounded +down the pulpit stairs. + +"Unfrock him!" yelled Mr. Poodle. + +"He's never been frocked!" roared the Bishop. + +"Impostor!" cried Mr. Airedale. + +"Excommunicate him!" screamed Mr. Towser. + +"Take him before the consistory!" shouted Mr. Poodle. + +Gissing started toward the vestry door, but was delayed by the +mass of scuffling choir-puppies who had seized this +uncomprehended diversion as a chance to settle some scores of +their own. The clamour was maddening. The Bishop leapt the +chancel rail and was about to seize him when Miss Airedale, loyal +to the last, interposed. She flung herself upon the Bishop. + +"Run, run!" she cried. "They'll kill you!" + +Gissing profited by this assistance. He pushed over the lectern +upon Mr. Poodle, who was clutching at his surplice. He checked +Mr. Airedale by hurling little Tommy Bull, one of the choir, +bodily at him. Tommy's teeth fastened automatically upon Mr. +Airedale's ear. The surplice, which Mr. Poodle was still holding, +parted with a rip, and Gissing was free. With a yell of defiance +he tore through the vestry and round behind the chapel. + +He could not help pausing a moment to scan the amazing scene, +which had been all Sabbath calm a few moments before. From the +long line of motor cars parked outside the chapel incredible +chauffeurs were leaping, hurrying to see what had happened. The +shady grove shook with the hideous clamour of the bell, still +wildly tolled by the frantic sexton. The sudden excitement had +liberated private quarrels long decently repressed: in the porch +Mrs. Retriever and Mrs. Dobermann-Pinscher were locked in combat. +With a splintering crash one of the choir-pups came sailing +through a stained-glass window, evidently thrown by some +infuriated adult. He recognized the voice of Mr. Towser, raised +in vigorous lamentation. To judge by the sound, Mr. Towser's +pupils had turned upon him and were giving him a bad time. Above +all he could hear the clear war-cry of Miss Airedale and the +embittered yells of Mr. Poodle. Then from the quaking edifice +burst Bishop Borzoi, foaming with wrath, his clothes much +tattered, and followed by Mr. Poodle, Mr. Airedale, and several +others. They cast about for a moment, and then the Bishop saw +him. With a joint halloo they launched toward him. + +There was no time to lose. He fled down the shady path between +the trees, but with a hopeless horror in his heart. He could not +long outdistance such a runner as the Bishop, whose tremendous +strides would surely overhaul him in the end. If only he had +known how to drive a car, he might have commandeered one of the +long row waiting by the gate. But he was no motorist. Miss +Airedale could have saved him, in her racing roadster, but she +had not emerged from the melee in the chapel. Perhaps the Bishop +had bitten her. His blood warmed with anger. + +It happened that they had been mending the county highways, and a +large steam roller stood a few hundred feet down the road, drawn +up beside the ditch. Gissing knew that it was customary to leave +these engines with the fire banked and a gentle pressure of steam +simmering in the boiler. It was his only chance, and he seized +it. But to his dismay, when he reached the machine, which lay +just round a bend in the road, he found it shrouded with a huge +tarpaulin. However, this suggested a desperate chance. He whipped +nimbly inside the covering and hid in the coal-box. Lying there, +he heard the chase go panting by. + +As soon as he dared, he climbed out, stripped off the canvas, and +gazed at the bulky engine. It was one of those very tall and +impressive rollers with a canopy over the top. The machinery was +not complicated, and the ingenuity of desperation spurred him on. +Hurriedly he opened the draughts in the fire-box, shook up the +coals, and saw the needle begin to quiver on the pressure-gauge. +He experimented with one or two levers and handles. The first one +he touched let off a loud scream from the whistle. Then he +discovered the throttle. He opened it a few notches, cautiously. +The ponderous machine, with a horrible clanking and grinding, +began to move forward. + +A steam roller may seem the least helpful of all vehicles in +which to conduct an urgent flight; but Gissing's reasoning was +sound. In the first place, no one would expect to find a hunted +fugitive in this lumbering, sluggish behemoth of the road. +Secondly, sitting perched high up in the driving saddle, right +under the canopy, he was not easily seen by the casual passer-by. +And thirdly, if the pursuit came to close grips, he was still in +a strategic position. For this, the most versatile of all +land-machines except the military tank, can move across fields, +crash through underbrush, and travel in a hundred places that +would stall a motor car. He rumbled off down the road somewhat +exhilarated. He found the scarlet stole twisted round his neck, +and tied it to one of the stanchions of the canopy as a flag of +defiance. It was not long before he saw the posse of pursuit +returning along the road, very hot and angry. He crunched along +solemnly, busying himself to get up a strong head of steam. There +they were, the Bishop, Mr. Poodle, Mr. Airedale, Mr. +Dobermann-Pinscher, and Mr. Towser. Mr. Poodle was talking +excitedly: the Bishop's tongue ran in and out over his gleaming +teeth. He was not saying much, but his manner was full of deadly +wrath. They paid no attention to the roller, and were about to +pass it without even looking up, when Gissing, in a sudden fit of +indignation, gave the wheel a quick twirl and turned his clumsy +engine upon them. They escaped only by a hair's breadth from +being flattened out like pastry. Then the Bishop, looking up, +recognized the renegade. With a cry of anger they all leaped at +the roller. + +But he was so high above them, they had no chance. He seized the +coal-scoop and whanged Mr. Poodle across the skull. The Bishop +came dangerously near reaching him, but Gissing released a jet of +scalding steam from an exhaust-cock, which gave the impetuous +prelate much cause for grief. A lump of coal, accurately thrown, +discouraged Mr. Airedale. Mr. Towser, attacking on the other side +of the engine, managed to scramble up so high that he carried +away the embroidered stole, but otherwise the fugitive had all +the best of it. Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher burned his feet trying to +climb up the side of the boiler. From the summit of his uncouth +vehicle Gissing looked down undismayed. + +"Miserable freethinker!" said Borzoi. "You shall be tried by the +assembly of bishops." + +"In a mere lay reader," quoted Gissing, "a slight laxity is +allowable. You had better go back and calm down the congregation, +or they'll tear the chapel to bits. This kind of thing will have +a very bad influence on church discipline." + +They shouted additional menace, but Gissing had already started +his deafening machinery and could not hear what was said. He left +them bickering by the roadside. + +For fear of further pursuit, he turned off the highway a little +beyond, and rumbled noisily down a rustic lane between high banks +and hedges where sumac was turning red. Strangely enough, there +was something very comforting about his enormous crawling +contraption. It was docile and reliable, like an elephant. The +crashing clangour of its movement was soon forgotten--became, in +fact, an actual stimulus to thought. For the mere pleasure of +novelty, he steered through a copse, and took joy in seeing the +monster thrash its way through thickets and brambles, and then +across a field of crackling stubble. Steering toward the lonelier +regions of that farming country, presently he halted in a dingle +of birches beside a small pond. He spent some time very happily, +carefully studying the machinery. He found some waste and an +oilcan in the tool-chest, and polished until the metal shone. The +water looked rather low in the gauge, and he replenished it from +the pool. + +It was while grooming the roller that it struck him his own +appearance was unusual for a highway mechanic. He was still +wearing the famous floorwalker suit, which he had punctiliously +donned every Sunday for chapel. But he had had to flee without a +hat--even without his luggage, which was neatly packed in a bag +in the vestry. That, he felt sure, Mr. Poodle had already burst +open for evidences of heresy and schism. The pearly trousers were +stained with oil and coal-dust; the neat cutaway coat bore smears +of engine-grease. As long as he stuck to the roller and the +telltale garments, pursuit and identification would of course be +easy enough. But he had taken a fancy to the machine: he decided +not to abandon it yet. + +Obviously it was better to keep to the roads, where the engine +would at any rate be less surprisingly conspicuous, and where it +would leave no trail. So he made a long circuit across meadows +and pastures, carrying a devilish clamour into the quiet Sunday +afternoon. Regaining a macadam surface, he set oil at random, +causing considerable annoyance to the motoring public. Finding +that his cutaway coat caused jeers and merriment, he removed it; +and when any one showed a disposition to inquire, he explained +that he was doing penance for an ill-judged wager. His +oscillating perch above the boiler was extraordinarily warm, and +he bought a gallon jug of cider from a farmer by the way. +Cheering himself with this, and reviewing in his mind the queer +experiences of the past months, he went thundering mildly on. + +At first he had feared a furious pursuit on the part of the +Bishop, or even a whole college of bishops, quickly mobilized for +the event. He had imagined them speeding after him in a huge +motor-bus, and himself keeping them at bay with lumps of coal. +But gradually he realized that the Bishop would not further +jeopardize his dignity, or run the risk of making himself +ridiculous. Mr. Poodle would undoubtedly set the township road +commissioner on his trail, and he would be liable to seizure for +the theft of a steam roller. But that could hardly happen so +quickly. In the meantime, a plan had been forming in his mind, +but it would require darkness for its execution. + +Darkness did not delay in coming. As he jolted cheerfully from +road to road, holding up long strings of motors at every corner +while he jovially held out his arm as a sign that he was going to +turn, dark purple clouds were massing and piling up. Foreseeing a +storm, he bought some provisions at a roadhouse, and turned into +a field, where he camped in the lee of a forest of birches. He +cooked himself an excellent supper, toasting bread and +frankfurters in the firebox of the roller. With boiling water +from a steam-cock he brewed a panikin of tea; and sat placidly +admiring the fawn-pink light on wide pampas of bronze grasses, +tawny as a panther's hide. A strong wind began to draw from the +southeast. He lit the lantern at the rear of the machine and by +the time the rain came hissing upon the hot boiler, he was ready. +Luckily he had saved the tarpaulin. He spread this on the ground +underneath the roller, and curled up in it. The glow from the +firebox kept him warm and dry. + +"Summer is over," he said to himself, as he heard the clash and +spouting of rain all about him. He lay for some time, not sleepy, +thinking theology, and enjoying the close tumult of wind and +weather. + +People who have had an arm or a leg amputated, he reflected, say +they can still feel pains in the absent member. Well, there's an +analogy in that. Modern skepticism has amputated God from the +heart; but there is still a twinge where the arteries were sewn +up. + +He slept peacefully until about two in the morning, except when a +red-hot coal, slipping through the grate-bars, burned a +lamentable hole in his trousers. When he woke, the night still +dripped, but was clear aloft. He started the engine and drove +cautiously, along black slippery roads, to Mr. Poodle's house. In +spite of the unavoidable racket, no one stirred: he surmised that +the curate slept soundly after the crises of the day. He left the +engine by the doorstep, pinning a note to the steering-wheel. It +said: + + TO REV. J. ROVER POODLE + this useful steam-roller + as a symbol of the theological mind + + MR. GISSING + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + +The steamship Pomerania, which had sailed at noon, was a few +hours out of port on a calm gray sea. The passengers, after the +bustle of lunch and arranging their staterooms; had settled into +their deck chairs and were telling each other how much they loved +the ocean. Captain Scottie had taken his afternoon constitutional +on his private strip of starboard deck just aft the bridge, and +was sitting in his comfortable cabin expecting a cup of tea. He +was a fine old sea-dog: squat, grizzled, severe, with wiry +eyebrows, a short coarse beard, and watchful quick eyes. A +characteristic Scot, beneath his reticent conscientious dignity +there was abundant humour and affection. He would have been +recognized anywhere as a sailor: those short solid legs were +perfectly adapted for balancing on a rolling deck. He stood by +habit as though he were leaning into a stiff gale. His mouth +always held a pipe, which he smoked in short, brisk whiffs, as +though expecting to be interrupted at any moment by an iceberg. + +The steward brought in the tea-tray, and Captain Scottie settled +into his large armchair to enjoy it. His eye glanced +automatically at the barometer. + +"A little wind to-night," he said, his nose wrinkling +unconsciously as the cover was lifted from the dish of hot +anchovy toast. + +"Yes, sir," said the steward, but lingered, apparently anxious to +speak further. + +"Well, Shepherd?" + +"Beg pardon, sir, but the Chief Steward wanted me to say they've +found someone stowed away in the linen locker, sir. Queer kind of +fellow, sir, talks a bit like a padre. 'E must've come aboard by +the engine-room gangway, sir, and climbed into that locker near +the barber shop." + +The problem of stowaways is familiar enough to shipmasters. "Send +him up to me," said the Captain. + +A few minutes later Gissing appeared, escorted by a burly +quartermaster. Even the experienced Captain admitted to himself +that this was something new in the category of stowaways. Never +before had he seen one in a braided cutaway coat and wedding +trousers. It was true that the garments were in grievous +condition, but they were worn with an air. The stowaway's face +showed some embarrassment, but not at all the usual hangdog mien +of such wastrels. Involuntarily his tongue moistened when he saw +the tray of tea (for he had not eaten since his supper on the +steam roller the night before), but he kept his eyes politely +averted from the food. They rose to a white-painted girder that +ran athwart the cabin ceiling. CERTIFIED TO ACCOMMODATE THE +MASTER he read there, in letters deeply incised into the thick +paint. "A good Christian ship," he said to himself. "It sounds +like the Y. M. C. A." He was pleased to think that his suspicion +was already confirmed: ships were more religious than anything on +land. + +The Captain dismissed the quartermaster, and addressed himself +sternly to the culprit. + +"Well, what have you to say for yourself?" + +"Please, Captain," said Gissing politely, "do not allow your tea +to get cold. I can talk while you eat." Behind his grim demeanour +the Captain was very near to smiling at this naivete. No Briton +is wholly implacable at tea-time, and he felt a genuine curiosity +about this unusual offender. + +"What was your idea in coming aboard?" he said. "Do you know that +I can put you in irons until we get across, and then have you +sent home for punishment? I suppose it's the old story: you want +to go sight-seeing on the other side?" + +"No, Captain," said Gissing. "I have come to sea to study +theology." + +In spite of himself the Captain was touched by this amazing +statement. He was a Scot, as we have said. He poured a cup of tea +to conceal his astonishment. + +"Theology!" he exclaimed. "The theology of hard work is what you +will find most of aboard ship. Carry on and do your duty; keep a +sharp lookout, all gear shipshape, salute the bridge when going +on watch, that is the whole duty of a good officer. That's plenty +theology for a seaman." But the skipper's eye turned brightly +toward his bookshelves, where he had several volumes of sermons, +mostly of a Calvinist sort. + +"I am not afraid of work," said Gissing. "But I'm looking for +horizons. In my work ashore I never could find any." + +"Your horizon is likely to be peeling potatoes in the galley," +remarked the Captain. "I understand they are short-handed there. +Or sweeping out bunks in the steerage. Ethics of the dust! What +would you say to that?" + +"Sir," replied Gissing, "I shall be grateful for any task, +however menial, that permits me to meditate. I understand your +point of view. By coming aboard your ship I have broken the law, +I have committed a crime; but not a sin. Crime and sin, every +theologian admits, are not coextensive." + +The Captain sailed head-on into argument. + +"What?" he cried. "Are you aware of the doctrine of Moral +Inability in a Fallen State? Sit down, sit down, and have a cup +of tea. We must discuss this." + +He rang for the steward and ordered an extra cup and a fresh +supply of toast. At that moment Gissing heard two quick strokes +of a bell, rung somewhere forward, a clear, musical, melancholy +tone, echoed promptly in other parts of the ship. "What is that, +Captain?" he asked anxiously. "An accident?" + +"Two bells in the first dog-watch," said the Captain. "I fear you +are as much a lubber at sea as you are in theology." + +The next two hours passed like a flash. Gissing found the +skipper, in spite of his occasional moods of austerity, a +delicious companion. They discussed Theosophy, Spiritualism, and +Christian Science, all of which the Captain, with sturdy but +rather troubled vehemence, linked with Primitive Magic. Gissing, +seeing that his only hope of establishing himself in the sailor's +regard was to disagree and keep the argument going, plunged into +psycho-analysis and the philosophy of the unconscious. Rather +unwarily he ventured to introduce a nautical illustration into +the talk. + +"Your compass needle," he said, "points to the North Pole, and +although it has never been to the Pole, and cannot even conceive +of it, yet it testifies irresistibly to the existence of such a +place." + +"I trust you navigate your soul more skilfully than you would +navigate this vessel," retorted the Captain. "In the first place, +the needle does not point to the North Pole at all, but to the +magnetic pole. Furthermore, it has to be adjusted by magnets to +counteract deviation. Mr. Gissing, you may be a sincere student +of theology, but you have not allowed for your own temperamental +deviation. Why, even the gyro compass has to be adjusted for +latitude error. You landsmen think that a ship is simply a +floating hotel. I should like to have the Bishop you spoke of +study a little navigation. That would put into him a healthy +respect for the marvels of science. On board ship, sir, the +binnacle is kept locked and the key is on the watch-chain of the +master. It should be so in all intellectual matters. Confide them +to those capable of understanding." + +Gissing saw that the Captain greatly relished his sense of +superiority, so he made a remark of intentional simplicity. + +"The binnacle?" he said. "I thought that was the little shellfish +that clings to the bottom of the boat?" + +"Don't you dare call my ship a BOAT!" said the Captain. "At sea, +a boat means only a lifeboat or some other small vagabond craft. +Come out on the bridge and I'll show you a thing or two." + +The evening had closed in hazy, and the Pomerania swung steadily +in a long plunging roll. At the weather wing of the bridge, +gazing sharply over the canvas dodger, was Mr. Pointer, the +vigilant Chief Officer, peering off rigidly, as though +mesmerized, but saying nothing. He gave the Captain a courteous +salute, but kept silence. At the large mahogany wheel, gently +steadying it to the quarterly roll of the sea, stood Dane, a +tall, solemn quartermaster. In spite of a little uneasiness, due +to the unfamiliar motion, Gissing was greatly elated by the +wheelhouse, which seemed even more thrillingly romantic than any +pulpit. Uncomprehendingly, but with admiration, he examined the +binnacle, the engine-room telegraphs, the telephones, the rack of +signal-flags, the buttons for closing the bulkheads, and the +rotating clear-view screen for lookout in thick weather. Aloft he +could see the masthead light, gently soaring in slow arcs. + +"I'll show you my particular pride," said the Captain, evidently +pleased by his visitor's delighted enthusiasm. + +Gissing wondered what ingenious device of science this might be. + +Captain Scottie stepped to the weather gunwale of the bridge. He +pointed to the smoke, which was rolling rapidly from the funnels. + +"You see," he said, "there's quite a strong breeze blowing. But +look here." + +He lit a match and held it unshielded above the canvas screen +which was lashed along the front of the bridge. To Gissing's +surprise it burned steadily, without blowing out. + +"I've invented a convex wind-shield which splits the air just +forward of the bridge. I can stand here and light my pipe in the +stiffest gale, without any trouble." + +On the decks below Gissing heard a bugle blowing gaily, a bright, +persuasive sound. + +"Six bells," the Captain said. "I must dress for dinner. Before I +start you potato-peeling, I should like to clear up that little +discussion of ours about Free Will. One or two things you said +interested me." + +He paced the bridge for a minute, thinking hard. + +"I'll test your sincerity," he said. "To-night you can bunk in +the chart-room. I'll have some dinner sent up to you. I wish you +would write me an essay of, say, two thousand words on the +subject of Necessity." + +For a moment Gissing pondered whether it would not be better to +be put in irons and rationed with bread and water. The wind was +freshening, and the Pomerania's sharp bow slid heavily into broad +hills of sea, crashing them into crumbling rollers of suds which +fell outward and hissed along her steep sides. The silent Mr. +Pointer escorted him into the chart-room, a bare, businesslike +place with a large table, a map-cabinet, and a settee. Here, +presently, a steward appeared with excellent viands, and a pen, +ink, and notepaper. After a cautious meal, Gissing felt more +comfortable. There is something about a wet, windy evening at sea +that turns the mind naturally toward metaphysics. He pushed away +the dishes and began to write. + +Later in the evening the Captain reappeared. He looked pleased +when he saw a number of sheets already covered with script. + +"Rum lot of passengers this trip," he said. "I don't seem to see +any who look interesting. All Big Business and that sort of +thing. I must say it's nice to have someone who can talk about +books, and so on, once in a while." + +Gissing realized that sometimes a shipmaster's life must be a +lonely one. The weight of responsibility is always upon him; +etiquette prevents his becoming familiar with his officers; small +wonder if he pines occasionally for a little congenial talk to +relieve his mind. + +"Big Business, did you say?" Gissing remarked. "Ah, I could write +you quite an essay about that. I used to be General Manager of +Beagle and Company." + +"Come into my cabin and have a liqueur," said the skipper. "Let +the essay go until to-morrow." + +The Captain turned on the electric stove in his cabin, for the +night was cold. It was a snug sanctum: at the portholes were +little chintz curtains; over the bunk was a convenient reading +lamp. On the wall a brass pendulum swung slowly, registering the +roll of the ship. The ruddy shine of the stove lit up the orderly +desk and the photographs of the Captain's family. + +"Yours?" said Gissing, looking at a group of three puppies with +droll Scottish faces. "Aye," said the Captain. + +"I've three of my own," said Gissing, with a private pang of +homesickness. The skipper's cosy quarters were the most truly +domestic he had seen since the evening he first fled from +responsibility. + +Captain Scottie was surprised. Certainly this eccentric stranger +in the badly damaged wedding garments had not given the +impression of a family head. Just then the steward entered with a +decanter of Benedictine and small glasses. + +"Brew days and bonny!" said the Captain, raising his crystal. + +"Secure amidst perils!" replied Gissing courteously. It was the +phrase engraved upon the ship's notepaper, on which he had been +writing, and it had impressed itself on his mind. + +"You said you had been a General Manager." + +Gissing told, with some vivacity, of his experiences in the world +of trade. The Captain poured another small liqueur. + +"They're fine halesome liquor," he said. + +"Sincerely yours," said Gissing, nodding over the glass. He was +beginning to feel quite at home in the navigating quarters of the +ship, and hoped the potato-peeling might be postponed as long as +possible. + +"How far had you got in your essay?" asked the Captain. + +"Not very far, I fear. I was beginning by laying down a few +psychological fundamentals." + +"Excellent! Will you read it to me?" + +Gissing went to get his manuscript, and read it aloud. The +Captain listened attentively, puffing clouds of smoke. + +"I am sorry this is such a short voyage," he said when Gissing +finished. "You have approached the matter from an entirely naif +and instinctive standpoint, and it will take some time to show +you your errors. Before I demolish your arguments I should like +to turn them over in my mind. I will reduce my ideas to writing +and then read them to you." + +"I should like nothing better," said Gissing. "And I can think +over the subject more carefully while I peel the potatoes." + +"Nonsense," said the Captain. "I do not often get a chance to +discuss theology. I will tell you my idea. You spoke of your +experience as General Manager, when you had charge of a thousand +employees. One of the things we need on this ship is a +staff-captain, to take over the management of the personnel. That +would permit me to concentrate entirely on navigation. In a +vessel of this size it is wrong that the master should have to +carry the entire responsibility." + +He rang for the steward. + +"My compliments to Mr. Pointer, and tell him to come here." + +Mr. Pointer appeared shortly in oilskins, saluted, and gazed +fixedly at his superior, with one foot raised upon the brass +door-sill. + +"Mr. Pointer," said Captain Scottie, "I have appointed Captain +Gissing staff-captain. Take orders from him as you would from me. +He will have complete charge of the ship's discipline." + +"Aye, aye, sir," said Mr. Pointer, stood a moment intently to see +if there were further orders, saluted again, and withdrew. + +"Now you had better turn in," said the skipper. "Of course you +must wear uniform. I'll send the tailor up to you at once. He can +remodel one of my suits overnight. The trousers will have to be +lengthened." + +On the chart-room sofa, Gissing dozed and waked and dozed again. +On the bridge near by he heard the steady tread of feet, the +mysterious words of the officer on watch passing the course to +his relief. Bells rang with sharp double clang. Through the open +port he could hear the alternate boom and hiss of the sea under +the bows. With the stately lift and lean of the ship there +mingled a faint driving vibration. + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + +The first morning in any new environment is always the most +exciting. Gissing was already awake, and watching the novel +sight of a patch of sunshine sliding to and fro on the deck of +the chart-room, when there was a gentle tap at the door. The +Captain's steward entered, carrying a handsome uniform. + +"Six bells, sir," he said. "Your bath is laid on." + +Gissing was not very sure just what time it was, but the steward +held out a dressing gown for him to slip on, so he took the hint, +and followed him to the Captain's private bathroom where he +plunged gaily into warm salt water. He was hardly dressed before +breakfast was laid for him in the chart-room. It was a breakfast +greatly to his liking--porridge, scrambled eggs, grilled kidneys +and bacon, coffee, toast, and marmalade. Evidently the hardships +of sea life had been greatly exaggerated by fiction writers. + +He was a trifle bashful about appearing on the bridge in his blue +and brass formality, and waited a while thinking Captain Scottie +might come. But no one disturbed him, so by and bye he went out. +It was a brisk morning with a fresh breeze and plenty of +whitecaps. Dancing rainbows hovered about the bow when an +occasional explosion of spray burst up into sunlight. Mr. Pointer +was on the bridge, still gazing steadily into the distance. He +saluted Gissing, but said nothing. The quartermaster at the wheel +also saluted in silence. A seaman wiping down the paintwork on +the deckhouse saluted. Gissing returned these gestures +punctiliously, and began to pace the bridge from side to side. He +soon grew accustomed to the varying slant of the deck, and felt +that his footing showed a nautical assurance. + +Now for the first time he enjoyed an untrammelled horizon on all +sides. The sea, he observed, was not really blue--not at any rate +the blue he had supposed. Where it seethed flatly along the hull, +laced with swirls of milky foam, it was almost black. Farther +away, it was green, or darkly violet. A ladder led to the top of +the charthouse, and from this commanding height the whole body of +the ship lay below him. How alive she seemed, how full of +personality! The strong funnels, the tall masts that moved so +delicately against the pale open sky, the distant stern that now +dipped low in a comfortable hollow, and now soared and threshed +onward with a swimming thrust, the whole vital organism spoke to +the eye and the imagination. In the centre of this vast circle +she moved, royal and serene. She was more beautiful than the +element she rode on, for perhaps there was something meaningless +in that pure vacant round of sea and sky. Once its immense azure +was grasped and noted, it brought nothing to the mind. Reason was +indignant to conceive it, sloping endlessly away. + +The placid, beautifully planned routine of shipboard passed on +its accustomed course, and he began to suspect that his +staff-captaincy was a sinecure. Down below he could see the +passengers briskly promenading, or drowsing under their rugs. On +the hurricane deck, aft, a sailor was chalking a shuffleboard +court. It occurred to him that all this might become monotonous +unless he found some actual part in it. Just then Captain Scottie +appeared on the bridge, took a quick look round, and joined him +on top of the charthouse. + +"Good morning!" he said. "You won't think me rude if you don't +see much of me? Thinking about those ideas of yours, I have come +upon some rather puzzling stuff. I must work the whole thing out +more clearly. Your suggestion that Conscience points the way to +an integration of personality into a higher type of divinity, +seems to me off the track; but I haven't quite downed it yet. I'm +going to shut myself up to-day and consider the matter. I leave +you in charge." + +"I shall be perfectly happy," said Gissing. "Please don't worry +about me." + +"You suggest that all the conditions of life at sea, our mastery +of the forces of Nature, and so on, seem to show that we have +perfect freedom of will, and adapt everything to our desires. I +believe just the contrary. The forces of Nature compel us to +approach them in their own way, otherwise we are shipwrecked. It +is in the conditions of Nature that this ship should reach port +in eight days, otherwise we should get nowhere. We do it because +it is our destiny." + +"I am not so sure of that," said Gissing. But the Captain had +already departed with a clouded brow. + +On the chart-room roof Gissing had discovered an alluring +instrument, the exact use of which he did not know. It seemed to +be some kind of steering control. The dial was lettered, from +left to right, as follows HARD A PORT, PORT, STEADY, COURSE, +STEADY, STARBD, HARD A STARBD. At present the handle stood upon +the section marked COURSE. After a careful study of the whole +seascape, it seemed to Gissing that off to the south the ocean +looked more blue and more interesting. After some hesitation he +moved the handle to the PORT mark, and waited to see what would +happen. To his delight he saw the bow swing slowly round, and the +Pomerania's gleaming wake spread behind her in a whitened curve. +He descended to the bridge, a little nervous as to what Mr. +Pointer might say, but he found the Mate gazing across the water +with the same fierce and unwearying attention. + +"I have changed the course," he said. + +Mr. Pointer saluted, but said nothing. + +Having succeeded so far, Gissing ventured upon another +innovation. He had been greatly tempted by the wheel, and envied +the stolid quartermaster who was steering. So, assuming an air of +calm certainty, he entered the wheelhouse. + +"I'll take her for a while," he said. + +"Aye, aye, sir," said the quartermaster, and surrendered the +wheel to him. + +"You might string out a few flags," Gissing said. He had been +noticing the bright signal buntings in the rack, and thought it a +pity not to use them. + +"I like to see a ship well dressed," he added. + +"Aye, aye, sir," said Dane. "Any choice, sir?" + +Gissing picked out a string of flags which were particularly +lively in colour-scheme, and had them hoisted. Then he gave his +attention to the wheel. He found it quite an art, and was +surprised to learn that a big ship requires so much helm. But it +was very pleasant. He took care to steer toward patches of sea +that looked interesting, and to cut into any particular waves +that took his fancy. After an hour or so, he sighted a fishing +schooner, and gave chase. He found it so much fun to run close +beside her (taking care to pass to leeward, so as not to cut off +her wind) that a mile farther on he turned and steered a neat +circle about the bewildered craft. The Pomerania's passengers +were greatly interested, and lined the rails trying to make out +what the fishermen were shouting. The captain of the schooner +seemed particularly agitated, kept waving at the signal flags and +barking through a megaphone. During these manoeuvres Mr. Pointer +gazed so hard at the horizon that Gissing felt a bit embarrassed. + +"I thought it wise to find out exactly what our turning-circle +is," he said. + +Mr. Pointer saluted. He was a well-trained officer. + +Late in the afternoon the Captain reappeared, looking more +cheerful. Gissing was still at the helm, which he found so +fascinating he would not relinquish it. He had ordered his tea +served on a little stand beside the wheel so that he could drink +it while he steered. "Hullo!" said the Captain. "I see you've +changed the course." + +"It seemed best to do so," said Gissing firmly. He felt that to +show any weakness at this point would be fatal. + +"Oh, well, probably it doesn't matter. I'm coming round to some +of your ideas." + +Gissing saw that this would never do. Unless he could keep the +master disturbed by philosophic doubts, Scottie would expect to +resume command of the ship. + +"Well," he said, "I've been thinking about it, too. I believe I +went a bit too far. But what do you think about this? Do you +believe that Conscience is inherited or acquired? You sea how +important that is. If Conscience is a kind of automatic oracle, +infallible and perfect, what becomes of free will? And if, on the +other hand, Conscience is only a laboriously trained perception +of moral and social utilities, where does your deity come in?" + +Gissing was aware that this dilemma would not hold water very +long, and was painfully impromptu; but it hit the Captain +amidships. + +"By Jove," he said, "that's terrible, isn't it? It's no use +trying to carry on until I've got that under the hatch. Look +here, would you mind, just as a favour, keep things going while I +wrestle with that question?--I know it's asking a lot, but +perhaps--" + +"It's quite all right," Gissing replied. "Naturally you want to +work these things out." + +The Captain started to leave the bridge, but by old seafaring +habit he cast a keen glance at the sky. He saw the bright string +of code flags fluttering. He seemed startled. + +"Are you signalling any one?" he asked. + +"No one in particular. I thought it looked better to have a few +flags about." + +"I daresay you're right. But better take them down if you speak a +ship. They're rather confusing." + +"Confusing? I thought they were just to brighten things up." + +"You have two different signals up. They read, Bubonic plague, +give me a wide berth. Am coming to your assistance." + +Toward dinner time, when Gissing had left the wheel and was +humming a tune as he walked the bridge, the steward came to him. + +"The Captain's compliments, sir, and would you take his place in +the saloon to-night? He says he's very busy writing, sir, and +would take it as a favour." + +Gissing was always obliging. There was just a hint of conscious +sternness in his manner as he entered the Pomerania's beautiful +dining saloon, for he wished the passengers to realize that their +lives depended upon his prudence and sea-lore. Twice during the +meal he instructed the steward to bring him the latest barometer +reading; and after the dessert he scribbled a note on the back of +a menu-card and had it sent to the Chief Engineer. It said:-- + +Dear Chief: Please keep up a good head of steam to-night. I am +expecting dirty weather. + +MR. GISSING, +(Staff-Captain) + +What the Chief said when he received the message is not included +in the story. + +But the same social aplomb that had made Gissing successful as a +floorwalker now came to his rescue as mariner. The passengers at +the Captain's table were amazed at his genial charm. His +anecdotes of sea life were heartily applauded. After dinner he +circulated gracefully in the ladies' lounge, and took coffee +there surrounded by a chattering bevy. He organized a little +impromptu concert in the music room, and when that was well +started, slipped away to the smoke-room. Here he found a pool +being organized as to the exact day and hour when the Pomerania +would reach port. Appealed to for his opinion, he advised +caution. On all sides he was in demand, for dancing, for bridge, +for a recitation. At length he slipped away, pleading that he +must keep himself fit in case of fog. The passengers were loud in +his praise, asserting that they had never met so agreeable a +sea-captain. One elderly lady said she remembered crossing with +him in the old Caninia, years ago, and that he was just the same +then. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN + +And so the voyage went on. Gissing was quite content to do a +two-hour trick at the wheel both morning and afternoon, and +worked out some new principles of steering which gave him +pleasure. In the first place, he noticed that the shuffle-board +and quoit players, on the boat deck aft, were occasionally +annoyed by cinders from the stacks, so he made it a general plan +to steer so that the smoke blew at right angles to the ship's +course. As the wind was prevailingly west, this meant that his +general trend was southerly. Whenever he saw another vessel, a +mass of floating sea-weed, a porpoise, or even a sea-gull, he +steered directly for it, and passed as close as possible, to have +a good look at it. Even Mr. Pointer admitted (in the mates' mess) +that he had never experienced so eventful a voyage. To keep the +quartermasters from being idle, Gissing had them knit him a rope +hammock to be slung in the chart-room. He felt that this would be +more nautical than a plush settee. + +There was a marvellous sense of power in standing at the wheel +and feeling the great hull reply to his touch. Occasionally +Captain Scottie would emerge from his cabin, look round with a +faint surprise, and come to the bridge to see what was happening. +Mr. Pointer would salute mutely, and continue to study the +skyline with indignant absorption. The Captain would approach the +wheel, where Gissing was deep in thought. Rubbing his hands, the +Captain would say heartily, "Well, I think I've got it all clear +now." + +Gissing sighed. + +"What is it?" the Captain inquired anxiously. + +"I'm bothered about the subconscious. They tell us nowadays that +it's the subconscious mind that is really important. The more +mental operations we can turn over to the subconscious realm, the +happier we will be, and the more efficient. Morality, theology, +and everything really worth while, as I understand it, spring +from the subconscious." + +The Captain's look of cheer would vanish. + +"Maybe there's something in that." + +"If so," Gissing continued, "then perhaps consciousness is +entirely spurious. It seems to me that before we can get anywhere +at all, we've got to draw the line between the conscious and the +subconscious. What bothers me is, am I conscious of having a +subconscious, or not? Sometimes I think I am, and then again I'm +doubtful. But if I'm aware of my subconscious, then it isn't a +genuine subconscious, and the whole thing's just another +delusion--" + +The Captain would knit his weather-beaten brow and again retire +anxiously to his quarters, after begging Gissing to be generous +and carry on a while longer. Occasionally, pacing the starboard +bridge-deck, sacred to captains, Gissing would glance through the +port and see the metaphysical commander bent over sheets of +foolscap and thickly wreathed in pipe-smoke. + +He himself had fallen into a kind of tranced felicity, in which +these questions no longer had other than an ingenious interest. +His heart was drowned in the engulfing blue. As they made their +southing, wind and weather seemed to fall astern, the sun poured +with a more golden candour. He stood at the wheel in a tranquil +reverie, blithely steering toward some bright belly of cloud that +had caught his fancy. Mr. Pointer shook his head when he glanced +surreptitiously at the steering recorder, a device that noted +graphically every movement of the rudder with a view to promoting +economical helmsmanship. Indeed Gissing's course, as logged on +the chart, surprised even himself, so that he forbade the +officers taking their noon observations. When Mr. Pointer said +something about isobars, the staff-captain replied serenely that +he did not expect to find any polar bears in these latitudes. + +He had hoped privately for an occasional pirate, and scanned the +sea-rim sharply for suspicious topsails. But the ocean, as he +remarked, is not crowded. They proceeded, day after day, in a +solitary wideness of unblemished colour. The ship, travelling +always in the centre of this infinite disk, seemed strangely +identified with his own itinerant spirit, watchful at the gist of +things, alert at the point which was necessarily, for him, the +nub of all existence. He wandered about the Pomerania's sagely +ordered passages and found her more and more magical. She went on +and on, with some strange urgent vitality of her own. Through the +fiddleys on the boat deck came a hot oily breath and the steady +drumming of her burning heart. From outer to hawse-hole, from +shaft-tunnel to crow's-nest, he explored and loved her. In the +whole of her proud, faithful, obedient fabric he divined honour +and exultation. Poised upon uncertainty, she was sure. The camber +of her white-scrubbed decks, the long, clean sheer of her hull, +the concave flare of her bows--what was the amazing joy and +rightness of these things? And yet the grotesque passengers +regarded her only as a vehicle, to carry them sedatively to some +clamouring dock. Fools! She was more lovely than anything they +would ever see again! He yearned to drive her endlessly toward +that unreachable perimeter of sky. + +On land there had been definite horizons, even if disappointing +when reached and examined; but here there was no horizon at all. +Every hour it slid and slid over the dark orb of sea. He lost +count of time. The tremulous cradling of the Pomerania, steadily +climbing the long leagues; her noble forecastle solemnly lifting +against heaven, then descending with grave beauty into a spread +of foaming beryl and snowdrift, seemed one with the rhythm of his +pulse and heart. Perhaps there had been more than mere ingenuity +in his last riddle for the theological skipper. Truly the +subconscious had usurped him. Here he was almost happy, for he +was almost unaware of life. It was all blue vacancy and +suspension. The sea is the great answer and consoler, for it +means either nothing or everything, and so need not tease the +brain. + +But the passengers, though unobservant, began to murmur; +especially those who had wagered that the Pomerania would dock on +the eighth day. The world itself, they complained, was created in +seven days, and why should so fine a ship take longer to cross a +comparatively small ocean? Urbanely, over coffee and petite +fours, Gissing argued with them. They were well on their way, he +protested; and then, as a hypothetical case, he asked why one +destination was more worth visiting than another? He even quoted +Shakespeare on this point--something about "ports and happy +havens"--and succeeded in turning the tide of conversation for a +while. The mention of Shakespeare suggested to some of the ladies +that it would be pleasant, now they all knew each other so well, +to put on some amateur theatricals. They compromised by playing +charades in the saloon. Another evening Gissing kept them amused +by fireworks, which were very lovely against the dark sky. For +this purpose he used the emergency rockets, star-shells and +coloured flares, much to the distress of Dane, the quartermaster, +who had charge of these supplies. + +Little by little, however, the querulous protests of the +passengers began to weary him. Also, he had been receiving terse +memoranda from the Chief Engineer that the coal was getting low +in the bunkers and that something must be queer in the navigating +department. This seemed very unreasonable. The fixed gaze of Mr. +Pointer, perpetually examining the horizon as though he wanted to +make sure he would recognize it if they met again, was trying. +Even Captain Scottie complained one day that the supply of fresh +meat had given out and that the steward had been bringing him +tinned beef. Gissing determined upon resolute measures. + +He had notice served that on account of possible danger from +pirates there would be a general boat drill on the following day- +-not merely for the crew, but for everyone. He gave a little talk +about it in the saloon after dinner, and worked his audience up +to quite a pitch of enthusiasm. This would be better than any +amateur theatricals, he insisted. Everyone was to act exactly as +though in a sudden calamity. They might make up the boat-parties +on the basis of congeniality if they wished; five minutes would +be given for reaching the stations, without panic or disorder. +They should prepare themselves as though they were actually going +to leave a sinking ship. + +The passengers were delighted with the idea of this novel +entertainment. Every soul on board--with the exception of +Captain Scottie, who had locked himself in and refused to be +disturbed--was properly advertised of the event. + +The following day, fortunately, was clear and calm. At noon +Gissing blew the syren, fired a rocket from the bridge, and swung +the engine telegraph to STOP. The ship's orchestra, by his +orders, struck up a rollicking air. Quickly and without +confusion, amid cries of Women and children first! the passengers +filed to their allotted places. The crew and officers were all at +their stations. + +Gissing knocked at Captain Scottie's cabin. + +"We are taking to the boats," he said. + +"Goad!" cried the skipper. "Wull it be a colleesion?" + +"All's clear and the davits are outboard," said Gissing. He had +been studying the manual of boat handling in one of the nautical +volumes in the chart-room. + +"Auld Hornie!" ejaculated the skipper. "We'll no can salve the +specie! Make note of her poseetion, Mr. Gissing!" He hastened to +gather his papers, the log, a chronometer, and a large canister +of tobacco. + +"The Deil's intil't," he said as he hastened to his boat. "I had +yon pragmateesm of yours on a lee shore. Two-three hours, I'd +have careened ye." + +Gissing was ready with his megaphone. From the wing of the bridge +he gave the orders. + +"Lower away!" and the boats dropped to the passenger rail. + +"Avast lowering!" Each boat took in her roster of passengers, who +were in high spirits at this unusual excitement. + +"Mind your painters! Lower handsomely!" + +The boats took the water in orderly fashion, and were cast off. +Remaining members of the crew swarmed down the falls. The +bandsmen had a boat to themselves, and resumed their tune as soon +as they were settled. + +Gissing, left alone on the ship, waved for silence. + +"Look sharp, man!" cried Captain Scottie. "Honour's satisfied! +Take your place in the boat!" + +The passengers applauded, and there was quite a clatter of camera +shutters as they snapped the Pomerania looming grandly above +them. + +"Boats are all provisioned and equipped," shouted Gissing. "I've +broadcasted your position by radio. The barometer's at Fixed +Fair. Pull off now, and 'ware the screw." + +He moved the telegraph handle to DEAD SLOW, and the Pomerania +began to slip forward gently. The boats dropped aft amid a loud +miscellaneous outcry. Mr. Pointer was already examining the +horizon. Captain Scottie, awakened to the situation, was uttering +the language of theology but not the purport. + +"Don't stand up in the boats," megaphoned Gissing. "You're quite +all right, there's a ship on the way already. I wirelessed last +night." + +He slid the telegraph to slow, half, and then full. Once more the +ship creamed through the lifting purple swells. The little flock +of boats was soon out of sight. + +Alone at the wheel, he realized that a great weight was off his +mind. The responsibility of his position had burdened him more +than he knew. Now a strange eagerness and joy possessed him. His +bubbling wake cut straight and milky across the glittering +afternoon. In a ruddy sunset glow, the sea darkened through all +tints of violet, amethyst, indigo. The horizon line sharpened so +clearly that he could distinguish the tossing profile of waves +wetting the sky. "A red sky at night is the sailor's delight," he +said to himself. He switched on the port and starboard lights and +the masthead lanterns, then lashed the wheel while he went below +for supper. He did not know exactly where he was, for he seemed +to have steamed clean off the chart; but as he conned the helm +that evening, and leaned over the lighted binnacle, he had a +feeling that he was not far from some destiny. With cheerful +assurance he lashed the wheel again, and turned in. He woke once +in the night, and leaped from the hammock with a start. He +thought he had heard a sound of barking. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN + +The next morning he sighted land. Coming out on the bridge, the +whole face of things was changed. The sea-colour had lightened to +a tawny green; gulls dipped and hovered; away on the horizon lay +a soft blue contour. "Land Ho!" he shouted superbly, and wondered +what new country he had discovered. He ran up a hoist of red and +yellow signal flags, and steered gaily toward the shore. + +It had grown suddenly cold: he had to fetch Captain Scottie's +pea-jacket to wear at the wheel. On the long spilling crests, +that crumbled and spread running layers of froth in their hurry +shoreward, the Pomerania rode home. She knew her landfall and +seemed to quicken. Steadily swinging on the jade-green surges, +she buried her nose almost to the hawse-pipes, then lifted until +her streaming forefoot gleamed out of a frilled ruffle of foam. + +Gissing, too, was eager. A tingling buoyancy and impatience took +hold of him: he fidgeted with sheer eagerness for life. Land, the +beloved stability of our dear and only earth, drew and charmed +him. Behind was the senseless, heartbreaking sea. Now he could +discern hills rising in a gilded opaline light. In the volatile +thin air was a quick sense of strangeness. A new world was close +about him: a world that he could see, and feel, and inhale, and +yet knew nothing of. + +Suddenly a great humility possessed him. He had been froward and +silly and vain. He had shouted arrogantly at Beauty, like a noisy +tourist in a canyon; and the only answer, after long waiting, had +been the paltry diminished echo of his own voice. He thought +shamefully of his follies. What matter how you name God or in +what words you praise Him? In this new foreign land he would +quietly accept things as he found them. The laughter of God was +too strange to understand. + +No, there was no answer. He was doubly damned, for he had made +truth a mere sport of intellectual riddling. The mind, like a +spinning flywheel of fatigued steel, was gradually racked to +bursting by the conflict of stresses. And yet: every equilibrium +was an opposure of forces. Rotation, if swift enough, creates +amazing stability: he had seen how the gyroscope can balance at +apparently impossible angles. Perhaps it was so of the mind. If +it twirls at high speed it can lean right out over the abyss +without collapse. But the stationary mind--he thought of Bishop +Borzoi--must keep away from the edge. Try to force it to the +edge, it raves in panic. Every mind, very likely, knows its own +frailties, and does well to safeguard them. At any rate, that was +the most generous interpretation. Most minds, undoubtedly, were +uneasy in high places. They doubted their ability to refrain from +jumping off. How many bones of fine intellects lay whitening at +the foot of the theological cliff--It seemed to be a lonely +coast, and wintry. Patches of snow lay upon the hills, the woods +were bare and brown. A bottle-necked harbour opened out before +him. He reduced the engines to Dead Slow and glided gaily through +the strait. He had been anxious lest his navigation might not be +equal to the occasion: he did not want to disgrace himself at +this final test. But all seemed to arrange itself with enchanted +ease. A steep ledge of ground offered a natural pier, with +tree-stumps for bollards. He let her come gently beyond the spot; +reversed the propellers just at the right time, and backed neatly +alongside. He moved the telegraph handle to FINISHED WITH +ENGINES; ran out the gangplank smartly, and stepped ashore. He +moored the vessel fore and aft, and hung out fenders to prevent +chafing. + +The first thing to do, he said to himself, is to get the lie of +the land, and find out whether it is inhabited. + +A hillside rising above the water promised a clear view. The +stubble grass was dry and frosty, after the warm days at sea the +chill was nipping; but what an elixir of air! If this is a desert +island, he thought, it will be a glorious discovery. His heart +was jocund with anticipation. A curious foreign look in the +landscape, he thought; quite unlike anything--Suddenly, where +the hill arched against pearly sky, he saw narrow thread of smoke +rising. He halted in alarm. Who might this be, friend or foe? But +eager agitation pushed him on. Burning to know, he hurried up to +the brow of the hill. + +The smoke mounted from a small bonfire of sticks in a sheltered +thicket, where a miraculous being--who was, as a matter of fact, +a rather ragged and dingy vagabond--was cooking a tin of stew +over the blaze. + +Gissing stood, quivering with emotion. Joy such as he had never +known darted through all the cords of his body. He ran, shouting, +in mirth and terror. In fear, in a passion of love and knowledge +and understanding, he abased himself and yearned before this +marvel. Impossible to have conceived, yet, once seen, utterly +satisfying and the fulfilment of all needs. He laughed and leaped +and worshipped. When the first transport was over, he laid his +head against this being's knee, he nestled there and was content. +This was the inscrutable perfect answer. + +"Cripes!" said the puzzled tramp, as he caressed the nuzzling +head. "The purp's loco. Maybe he's been lost. You might think +he'd never seen a man before." + +He was right. + +And Gissing sat quietly, his throat resting upon the soiled knee +of a very old and spicy trouser. + +"I have found God," he said. + +Presently he thought of the ship. It would not do to leave her so +insecurely moored. Reluctantly, with many a backward glance and a +heart full of glory, he left the Presence. He ran to the edge of +the hill to look down upon the harbour. + +The outlook was puzzlingly altered. He gazed in astonishment. +What were those poplars, rising naked into the bright air?--there +was something familiar about them. And that little house +beyond . . . he stared bewildered. + +The great shining breadth of the ocean had shrunk to the +roundness of a tiny pond. And the Pomerania? He leaned over, +shaken with questions. There, beside the bank, was a little plank +of wood, a child's plaything, roughly fashioned shipshape: two +chips for funnels; red and yellow frosted leaves for flags; a +withered dogwood blossom for propeller. He leaned closer, with +whirling mind. In the clear cool surface of the pond he could see +the sky mirrored, deeper than any ocean, pellucid, infinite, +blue. + +He ran up the path to the house. The scuffled ragged garden lay +naked and hard. At the windows, he saw with surprise, were holly +wreaths tied with broad red ribbon. On the porch, some battered +toys. He opened the door. + +A fluttering rosy light filled the room. By the fireplace the +puppies--how big they were!--were sitting with Mrs. Spaniel. +Joyous uproar greeted him: they flung themselves upon him. Shouts +of "Daddy! Daddy!" filled the house, while the young Spaniels +stood by more bashfully. + +Good Mrs. Spaniel was gratefully moved. Her moist eyes shone +brightly in the firelight. + +"I knew you'd be home for Christmas, Mr. Gissing," she said. +"I've been telling them so all afternoon. Now, children, be still +a moment and let me speak. I've been telling you your Daddy would +be home in time for a Christmas Eve story. I've got to go and fix +that plum pudding." + +In her excitement a clear bubble dripped from the tip of her +tongue. She caught it in her apron, and hurried to the kitchen. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN + +The children insisted on leading him all through the house to +show how nicely they had taken care of things. And in every room +Gissing saw the marks of riot and wreckage. There were +tooth-scars on all furniture-legs; the fringes of rugs were +chewed off; there were prints of mud, ink, paints, and whatnot, +on curtains and wallpapers and coverlets. Poor Mrs. Spaniel kept +running anxiously from the kitchen to renew apologies. + +"I DID try to keep 'em in order," she said, "but they seem to +bash things when you're not looking." + +But Gissing was too happy to stew about such trifles. When the +inspection was over, they all sat down by the chimney and he +piled on more logs. + +"Well, chilluns," he said, "what do you want Santa Claus to bring +you for Christmas?" + +"An aunbile!" exclaimed Groups + +"An elphunt!" exclaimed Bunks + +"A little train with hammers!" exclaimed Yelpers + +"A little train with hammers?" asked Gissing. "What does he +mean?" + +"Oh," said Groups and Bunks, with condescending pity, "he means a +typewriter. He calls it a little train because it moves on a +track when you hit it." + +A painful apprehension seized him, and he went hastily to his +study. He had not noticed the typewriter, which Mrs. Spaniel had- +-too late--put out of reach. Half the keys were sticking upright, +jammed together and tangled in a whirl of ribbon; the carriage +was strangely dislocated. And yet even this mischance, which +would once have horrified him, left him unperturbed. It's my own +fault, he thought: I shouldn't have left it where they could play +with it. Perhaps God thinks the same when His creatures make a +mess of the dangerous laws of life. + +"A Christmas story!" the children were clamouring. + +Can it really be Christmas Eve? Gissing thought. Christmas seems +to have come very suddenly this year, I haven't really adjusted +my mind to it yet. + +"All right," he said. "Now sit still and keep quiet. Bunks, give +Yelpers a little more room. If there's any bickering Santa Claus +might hear it." + +He sat in the big chair by the fire, and the three looked upward +expectantly from the hearthrug. + +"Once upon a time there were three little puppies, who lived in a +house in the country in the Canine Estates. And their names were +Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers." + +The three tails thumped in turn as the names were mentioned, but +the children were too excitedly absorbed to interrupt. + +"And one year, just before Christmas, they heard a dreadful +rumour." + +"What's a rumour?" cried Yelpers, alarmed. + +This was rather difficult to explain, so Gissing did not attempt +it. He began again. + +"They heard that Santa Claus might not be able to come because he +was so behind with his housework. You see, Santa Claus is a great +big Newfoundland dog with a white beard, and he lives in a frosty +kennel at the North Pole, all shining with icicles round the roof +and windows. But it's so far away from everywhere that poor Santa +couldn't get a servant. All the maids who went there refused to +stay because it was so cold and lonely, and so far from the +movies. Santa Claus was busy in his workshop, making toys; he was +busy taking care of the reindeer in their snow-stables; and he +didn't have time to wash his dishes. So all summer he just let +them pile up and pile up in the kitchen. And when Christmas came +near, there was his lovely house in a dreadful state of +untidiness. He couldn't go away and leave it like that. And so, +if he didn't get his dishes washed and the house cleaned up for +Christmas, all the puppies all over the world would have to go +without toys. When Groups and Bunks and Yelpers heard this, they +were very much worried." + +"How did they hear it?" asked Bunks, who was the analytical +member of the trio. + +"A very sensible question," said Gissing, approvingly. "They +heard it from the chipmunk who lives in the wood behind the +house. The chipmunk heard it underground." + +"In his chipmonastery?" cried Groups. It was a family joke to +call the chipmunk's burrow by that name, and though the puppies +did not understand the pun they relished the long word. + +"Yes," continued Gissing. "The reindeer in Santa Claus's stable +were so unhappy about the dishes not being washed, and the chance +of missing their Christmas frolic, that they broadcasted a radio +message. Their horns are very fine for sending radio, and the +chipmunk, sitting at his little wireless outfit, with the +receivers over his ears, heard it. And Chippy told Groups and +Bunks and Yelpers. + +"So these puppies decided to help Santa Claus. They didn't know +exactly where to find him, but the chipmunk told them the +direction, and off they went. They travelled and travelled, and +when they came to the ocean they begged a ride from the seagulls, +and each one sat on a seagull's back just as though he was on a +little airplane. They flew and flew, and at last they came to +Santa Claus's house. Through the stable-walls, which were made of +clear ice, they could see the reindeer stamping in their stalls. +In the big workshop, where Santa Claus was busy making toys, they +could hear a lively sound of hammering. The big red sleigh was +standing outside the stables, all ready to be hitched up to the +reindeer. + +"They slipped into Santa Claus's house quickly and quietly, so no +one would see or hear them. The house was in a terrible state, +but they set to work to clean up. Groups found the vacuum cleaner +and sucked up all the crumbs from the dining-room rug. Bunks ran +upstairs and made Santa Claus's bed for him and swept the floors +and put clean towels in the bathroom. And Yelpers hurried into +the kitchen and washed the dishes, and scrubbed the pots, and +polished the egg-stains off the silver spoons, and emptied the +ice-box pan. All working hard, they got through very soon, and +made Santa Claus's house as clean as any house could be. They +fixed the window-shades so that they would all hang level, not +just anyhow, as poor Santa had them. Then, when everything was +spick and span, they ran outdoors again and beckoned the +seagulls. They climbed on the gulls' backs, and away they flew +homeward." + +"Was Santa Claus pleased?" asked Bunks. + +"Indeed he was, when he came back from his workshop, very tired +after making toys all day." + +"What kind of toys did he make?" exclaimed Yelpers anxiously. +"Did he make a typewriter?" + +"He made every kind of toy. And when he saw how his house had +been cleaned up, he thought the fairies must have done it. He lit +his pipe, and filled a thermos bottle with hot cocoa to keep him +warm on his long journey. Then he put on his red coat, and his +long boots, and his fur cap, and went out to harness the +reindeer. That very night he drove off with his sleigh packed +full of toys for all the puppies in the world. In fact, he was so +pleased that he loaded his big bag with more toys than he had +ever carried before. And that was how a queer thing happened." + +They waited in eager suspense. + +"You know, Santa Claus always drives into the Canine Estates by +the little back road through the woods, where the chipmunk lives. +You know the gateway, at the bend in the lane: well, it's rather +narrow, and Santa Claus's sleigh is very wide. And this time, +because his bag had so many toys in it, the bag bulged over the +edge of the sleigh, and one corner of the bag caught on the +gatepost as he drove by. Three toys fell out, and what do you +suppose they were?" + +"An aunbile!" + +"An elphunt!" + +"A typewriter!" + +"Yes, that's quite right. And it happened that the chipmunk was +out that night, digging up some nuts for his Christmas dinner, a +little sad because he had no presents to give his children; and +he found the three toys. He took them home to the little +chipmunks, and they were tremendously pleased. That was only +fair, because if it hadn't been for the chipmunk and his radio +set, no one would have had any toys that Christmas." + +"Did Santa Claus have any more typewriters in his bag?" asked +Yelpers gravely. + +"Oh, yes, he had plenty more of everything. And when he got to +the house where Groups and Bunks and Yelpers lived, he slid down +the chimney and took a look round. He didn't see any crumbs on +the floor, or any toys lying about not put away, so he filled the +stockings with all kinds of lovely things, and an aunbile and an +elphunt and a typewriter." + +"What did the puppies say?" they inquired. + +"They were sound asleep upstairs, and didn't know anything about +it until Christmas morning. Come on now, it's time for bed." + +"We can undress ourselves now," said Groups. + +"Will you tuck me in?" said Bunks. + +"You're sure he had another typewriter in his bag?" said Yelpers. + +They scrambled upstairs. + +Later, when the house was quiet, Gissing went out to the kitchen +to see Mrs. Spaniel. She was diligently rolling pastry, and her +nose was white with flour. + +"Oh, sir, I'm glad you got home in time for Christmas," she said. +"The children were counting on it. Did you have a successful +trip, sir?" + +"Every trip is successful when you get home again," said Gissing. +"I suppose the shops will be open late to-night, won't they? I'm +going to run down to the village to get some toys." + +Before leaving the house, he went down to the cellar to see if +the furnace was all right. He was amazed to see how naturally and +cheerfully he had slipped back into the old sense of +responsibility. Where was the illusory freedom he had dreamed of? +Even the epiphany on the hilltop now seemed a distant miracle. +That fearful happiness might never come again. And yet here, +among the familiar difficult minutiae of home, what a lightness +he felt. A great phrase from the prayer-book came to his mind-- +"Whose service is perfect freedom." + +Ah, he said to himself, it is all very well to wear a crown of +thorns, and indeed every sensitive creature carries one in +secret. But there are times when it ought to be worn cocked over +one ear. + +He opened the furnace door. A bright glow filled the fire-box: he +could hear a stir and singing in the boiler, and the rustle of +warm pipes that chuckled quietly through winter nights of storm. +Over the coals hovered a magic evasive flicker, the very soul of +fire. It was a Pentecostal flame, perfect and heavenly in tint, +the essence of pure colour, a clear immortal blue. + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of Where the Blue Begins. diff --git a/old/old/wtbbg10.zip b/old/old/wtbbg10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..70a90ce --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/wtbbg10.zip |