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diff --git a/old/63536-8.txt b/old/63536-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 7ef6ab5..0000000 --- a/old/63536-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6651 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Advisory Ben, by Edward Verrall (E. V.) Lucas - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world 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. If you are not -located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this ebook. - - -Title: Advisory Ben - A Story - -Author: Edward Verrall (E. V.) Lucas - -Release Date: October 24, 2020 [EBook #63536] -[Last updated: November 5, 2020] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADVISORY BEN *** - - - - -Produced by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - -ADVISORY BEN - -E. V. LUCAS - - - - -_Other Books of_ E. V. LUCAS - - -ENTERTAINMENTS - -GENEVRA'S MONEY -ROSE AND ROSE -VERENA IN THE MIDST -THE VERMILION BOX -LANDMARKS -LISTENER'S LURE -MR. INGLESIDE -OVER BEMERTON'S29 -LONDON LAVENDER - - -ESSAYS - -LUCK OF THE YEAR -GIVING AND RECEIVING -ROVING EAST AND ROVING WEST -ADVENTURES AND ENTHUSIASMS -CLOUD AND SILVER -A BOSWELL OF BAGHDAD -TWIX EAGLE AND DOVE -THE PHANTOM JOURNAL -LOITERER'S HARVEST -ONE DAY AND ANOTHER -FIRESIDE AND SUNSHINE -CHARACTER AND COMEDY -OLD LAMPS FOR NEW - - -TRAVEL - -A WANDERER IN VENICE -A WANDERER IN PARIS -A WANDERER IN LONDON -A WANDERER IN HOLLAND -A WANDERER IN FLORENCE -MORE WANDERINGS IN LONDON -HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS IN SUSSEX - - -EDITED WORKS - -THE WORKS OF CHARLES AND MARY LAMB -THE HAUSFRAU RAMPANT - - -ANTHOLOGIES - -THE OPEN ROAD -THE FRIENDLY TOWN -HER INFINITE VARIETY -GOOD COMPANY -THE GENTLEST ART -THE SECOND POST -THE BEST OF LAMB -REMEMBER LOUVAIN - - -BOOKS FOR CHILDREN - -THE SLOWCOACH -ANNE'S TERRIBLE GOOD NATURE -A BOOK OF VERSES FOR CHILDREN -ANOTHER BOOK OF VERSES FOR CHILDREN -RUNAWAYS AND CASTAWAYS -FORGOTTEN STORIES OF LONG AGO -MORE FORGOTTEN STORIES -THE "ORIGINAL VERSES" OF ANN AND JANE TAYLOR - - -BIOGRAPHY - -THE LIFE OF CHARLES LAMB -A SWAN AND HER FRIENDS -THE BRITISH SCHOOL -THE HAMBLEDON MEN - - -SELECTED WRITINGS - -A LITTLE OF EVERYTHING -HARVEST HOME -VARIETY LANE -MIXED VINTAGES - - - - -ADVISORY BEN - -_A Story_ - -BY -E. V. LUCAS - -[Illustration: Logo] - -NEW YORK -GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY - - - - -COPYRIGHT, 1924, -BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY - -[Illustration: Logo] - - -ADVISORY BEN ---A-- -PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - - - - -ADVISORY BEN - - - - -I - - -In the lives of all, even the least enterprising or adventurous, -moments now and then arrive when a decision has to be made; and our -demeanour at such times throws a strong light upon our character. Many -of us postpone action, either sheltering behind a natural reluctance to -do anything emphatic, or feeling that the Fates ought to arrange our -affairs for us. After all, it is their _métier_. - -But my Ben was not like that. My Ben (to give her her full name, Benita -Staveley) was instantly practical, and her disapproval of the pastoral -process known as letting the grass grow under your feet was intense. -All her actions were prompt, without, however, coming within the zone -of impulse. Even at twenty-two she envisaged a situation with perfect -clearness, and knew her mind; but why I should mention twenty-two as -though it were a tender age, I can't explain, except as the result of -pure want of thought. To say of a man that he is twenty-two is often -merely to accuse him of callowness; but in a woman twenty-two can be -maturity in everything but actual physique; and this is especially -the case with those who, like Ben, even from young girlhood have been -relied upon by father, mother, brothers and sisters to solve their -difficulties and make things smooth for them. - -Ever since I have known Ben--and her mother and I were playfellows half -a century and more ago--she has been a mixture of factotum and oracle, -yet without ever for a moment declining into a drudge or losing gaiety. -A Cinderella perhaps; but a Cinderella who went to the ball without -any supernatural assistance; a Cinderella with a laugh and a retort; -a Cinderella who won respect and as much chocolate as she wanted, -both from those within the home and out of it. Not a few boxes, for -instance, from my own hand. - -But there had, as yet, been no glass slipper and no Prince, unless, of -course, you count poor Tommy Clinton as one: Tommy, who has been coming -home every summer from his billet in Madeira for the past six years -with two mastering motives to impel him--one being the wish to carry -off something, either in singles or doubles, at Wimbledon, and the -other to propose again to Ben--and so far has had no success in either -enterprise. - -Personally I am glad that she didn't marry Tommy, for he takes his -defeats too sweetly, almost indeed as though he preferred them to -victories. Such plastic and easy-going youths, although they may be -agreeable enough during the time of courtship, and as dancing partners, -or even as husbands for a little while, never grow into the sterner -stuff that our Bens require, desire and deserve. But girls who have the -Atlas habit run, of course, great risks of attracting the men who want -to be treated as though they were the world. - -Under the circumstances it is a little odd that Ben, save for the -punctual, if casual, annual attack of Tommy Clinton, was unpursued; but -one has to remember that Colonel Staveley did not like young men about -the house. Not that that makes any difference when passion rules, for -we know how Love treats locksmiths; but at the time this story opens -Ben was heart-free. She might appear indeed to strangers to look like -becoming one of those attractive girls who somehow or other seem to be -insufficiently attractive ever to marry. But I never thought so. She -had, however, no doubt, missed the first matrimonial train, the one -that conveys to the altar carriage-loads of immature, high-spirited -couples on the edge of the twenties. Other trains come along later, but -the service is not so good. - - - - -II - - -When a girl has been keeping house for her father for three or four -years and her father then (although sixty-three) marries again, her -position is not easy, nor does it demand a blind belief in all the -malignant tradition that surrounds stepmothers to admit this. As a -matter of fact, Colonel Staveley's new wife would probably have been -happier if her stepdaughter had remained in the house. Indeed, I am -sure of it, for she is neither a jealous woman nor a meddlesome; and -Ben's knowledge of her home and of its master's ways would have made -life more simple, while the girl herself would have been a companion -when that master was playing bridge at his club or informing such of -his fellow-members as would still listen to him what the Government--if -it had a grain of sense--would do. - -For some time--we are now in the year 1921--Ben and her father had had -the house to themselves, for her mother was dead. This lady, I ought to -say, had displayed something like genius in the ordered way in which -at definite intervals, and with discreet alternations of sex, she had -put her children into the world; first a girl and then a boy, and then -a girl and then a boy, and so on--beginning with Alicia as long ago as -1883, and then Cecil in 1887, and then Merrill in 1890, and then Guy in -1894, until her youngest daughter's turn to arrive came in 1899, and -Toby's, her youngest son's in 1902, and the tale was complete. - -Of these six, when Colonel Staveley married again, only Ben was at -home. Alicia had become Mrs. Bertrand Lyle and the mother of two boys -and was now a widow; Cecil, who was a soldier in India, had married -a French girl and was childless; Merrill had married a Hampshire -vicar and was childless; Guy, also a soldier in India, was engaged to -Melanie Ames, a friend of Ben's; and as for Toby, he was nominally -imbibing learning at Oxford, but, like so many undergraduates of my -acquaintance, seemed more often to be imbibing other things in London. -I don't mean to excess, but dancing is a thirsty form of industry, and -late hours have been known to lead to early restoratives. - -Ever since Mrs. Staveley's death, the Colonel had counted on Ben, who -was then eighteen, for everything that would promote his comfort. He -knew--none better--that the first essential of a selfish man is an -entourage of unselfish people. And of these Ben was the chief. It must -not be thought that the Colonel was a bully; rather, a martinet. He -suffered from a too early retirement, aggravated by his wife's meekness -and complacency, and as he had not thrown himself into any amateur -work, and was, by nature, indolent and conversational, he was left with -far too much leisure in which to detect domestic blemishes. A pedant -for routine, his eye, when it came to any kind of disorder or novelty -of arrangement, was like a gun. There was one place and one only for -every article in the house, beginning with the hat-stand in the hall; -and his first instinct, if not thought, on entering his front door was -to look for something out of position. And so onwards, through whatever -rooms he passed. - -When he descried a fault it was, formerly, his wife, and latterly Ben, -who was court-martialled; and not the actual offender. This probably, -while fortunate for that person, was even more fortunate for the -Colonel, who might otherwise have been without cooks and parlourmaids -most of his life, for servants often put up a better resistance to -martinets than the martinets' own flesh and blood. But whereas Mrs. -Staveley had been reduced too often to tears, Ben bore the assaults -with a courageous or stoical humour. - -"I can't conceive," the Colonel had exclaimed wrathfully, on the very -day before this story begins, "why on earth people can't leave my -umbrella alone." - -"But it's there all right," Ben replied. "I noticed it in the stand a -few minutes ago." - -"Yes," he snapped, "but some idiot has rolled it up. That new girl, I -suppose. I thought she looked an officious fool the moment I saw her." - -"Well, father," said Ben, "if she did roll it up, it was purely through -excess of zeal, that's all; and don't let us be too hard on excess of -zeal in these times, when almost everyone is so slack." - -"But what about her being too hard on my umbrella?" the Colonel -demanded. "That's what I complain of. If I leave it unrolled--which I -did very carefully and on purpose--it's no business of anyone else to -roll it up. And no woman can roll an umbrella, anyway. It's an art." - -"All right, father," said Ben, "it shan't happen again." - -"I hope not," the Colonel barked back, "and it wouldn't have happened -this time if you'd kept Atkinson. I can't think why you let her go." - -"My dear father," said Ben, "I've told you again and again. She left -in order to be married. Surely a girl must be allowed to marry if she -wants." - -"Pooh!" said the Colonel, with infinite scorn. "Marriage!" - -It was on the next day that he announced his own engagement, through -which Ben was driven to come to a decision as to her career. - - - - -III - - -When Belle Lorimer, the wealthy, merry, or at any rate not lachrymose, -widow of Vincent Lorimer (of Lorimer and Lorimer, the stockbrokers), -agreed to the Colonel's suggestion that together they should tie a -second knot, the Colonel was probably assuming that Ben's capable -control and intimate acquaintance with his needs and moods would still -be available. Never an imaginative man, he had probably given no -thought whatever to his daughter's temperament and character; enough -that she was his daughter and he her father, that she was solicitous, -remembering, and, above all, cheerful, and that she rarely provoked -even the semblance of a scene. There had been scenes with her mother -too often: the result less of mismanagement on Mrs. Staveley's part -than on the Colonel's tendency to indulge an exacting nature to the -full coupled with the advantage that the position of husband too -often confers. For husbands are not merely husbands: they are also -contemporaries; and as the predominant partners they have the great -pull of beginning right. Daughters are of another generation, with -fewer obligations, and the power actually to rebel, or, if it comes -to the worst, bolt. Wives have stood at the altar and made promises; -wives have brought money with them, and marriage settlements often -very adroitly drawn up in the widower's interest; wives are too old to -be influenced by detrimental new ideas. But daughters are different: -daughters have made no promises, possess no financial resources, and -are painfully susceptible to revolutionary notions. They are capable -even of asking such upheaving questions as, "Why do I owe any duty to a -father I didn't choose?" - -The Colonel may have lacked imagination, but some self-protective -instinct had worked in him to give Ben an easier time than her -mother, poor woman, had ever had. But sweet as was Ben's nature, she -was modernly conscious of certain duties and loyalties to one's own -individuality, and, even before she came to talk to me about it, had -quite determined that now was her opportunity to strike out a line -for herself. And luckily she could to some extent afford it, for -in addition to a little nest-egg consisting of the accumulation of -interest in her minority, she now had, in common with her sisters -and brothers, an income of two hundred a year from her maternal -grandmother, the terms of that shrewd old lady's last will and -testament being the culmination of a long series of indignities which, -in the Colonel's opinion, she had put upon him. Surely a daughter -(named Mrs. Staveley), he had said, should come before grandchildren? -But the dead hand distributed more wisely. - - - - -IV - - -Alone one cannot do much on two hundred a year, but by pooling expenses -two persons can exist without squalor on four hundred, especially if -there is also a reserve in the bank, and this was Ben's idea. Her first -step would be to join forces with her friend, Melanie Ames, to whom her -brother Guy, now in India, had been engaged for the past three or four -years, and share her rooms on Campden Hill--nice rooms too, right at -the top, near the reservoir tower. - -Melanie, who had also two hundred a year, was working at the moment as -secretary to a Harley Street doctor; made his appointments; answered -the telephone; saw to it (I suppose) that no current numbers of -any illustrated papers ever got into the waiting-room (for someone -must be in charge to maintain this inflexible custom); sent out all -his accounts and as many receipts as were necessary; occasionally -transacted commissions for the doctor's wife, who rarely came to town -but did not like to think of the Sales going on without any of the -doctor's fees to assist them; and now and then, in the summer, spent -Sunday with the family at their house at Weybridge, where there was an -excellent hard court. For this she received a salary of four pounds -a week, which, added to her private income, enabled Miss Ames to add -butter to her bread as a regular habit and, in her own phrase, "On the -top of the stearic matter now and then to superimpose a little jam, old -dear." - -In whatever way Ben was to augment her own private income, it certainly -would not be by acting as any doctor's secretary. She felt herself to -be more restless, more creative, more managing than that. Her nature -demanded the things of the moment and constant activity, and it would -gall her to have to suppress anything that was up to date. But as to -what she was going to do, she had not yet a glimmering. The first thing -was to transfer herself to those nice rooms and Melanie's comforting, -languid society, and it was during the Colonel's protracted and lavish -honeymoon (which the late Vincent Lorimer paid for) in the South of -France that Ben took down the water-colours and photographs in her -sitting-room in the great obsolete house in Hyde Park Gardens, with its -myriad stairs and no lift, and, with such furniture and books as were -hers, moved to Aubrey Walk. - -She then paid a long-promised visit to the country; and it was while -she was staying there--with the Fred Lintots in Devonshire--that her -great idea came to her. Like most of the best ideas, it came not with -concentration and anxiety, but in a flash, and, also like most of the -best ideas, it was the result of chance. I can refer to it with some -authority because I was a fellow-guest and was in, so to speak, at the -birth. - -An American visitor being expected, the laws of hospitality (as well as -those of his own country) decreed that a cocktail-shaker was essential. -But there was none, nor could any shopkeeper within a radius of many -miles produce one. No doubt, civilization having made inroads even -on the desert, such articles might have been found on the sideboard -of more than one Dartmoor mansion; but behind a counter, no; and the -unfortunate New Yorker with his (alleged) vision of England as a -promised land flowing with gin and whisky seemed to be in danger of -heartbreak. - -"What we who live in the depths of the country all need," said Mrs. -Lintot, "is a London agent. Someone to do little jobs like this for -us. I would cheerfully give five pounds a year to have a call on the -services of anyone who would undertake London commissions for me. If I -knew anyone like that, I could telegraph and have that shaker and all -the nasty ingredients for cocktails here by the evening train." - -It was then that a brain wave swept over me. - -"If you will tell me the nearest telephone," I said, "I will arrange it -through the hall porter at the club," and I did so. - -It was in the course of our conversation on the way back from this -telephoning errand, on which Ben had accompanied me, that her -future was practically decided: she would herself become the London -representative of the Mrs. Fred Lintots of the country. Many other -duties in excess of this one came to be hers, as we shall see; but -the germ of her activities in the little business in which I have -the honour to be an obscure partner was the difficulty set up by the -absent shaker. The Apostle James in his Epistle asks us to behold how -great a matter a little fire kindleth, and the minute origins of deeds -that shape our ends have always been a source of interest to me; but -I never thought that the lack of such an article as a cocktail-shaker -in Devonshire would lead either to my speculating in business with my -old playmate's youngest daughter or drive me to become its historian. -And here, although it is outside the scope proper of this narrative, -it may be stated, as yet another example of the caprices of this -illogical world, that when the American arrived he was found to be a -life-abstainer. - - - - -V - - -Things on this planet are always happening at the same time; and it -must follow (since it is only through meetings that the machinery is -assembled which makes the world continue to exist) that, although -parallels or divergences are the rule, now and then persons -simultaneously start out upon lines of action which in due course -arrive at the same point. It is fortunate that those persons are -unaware of what the gods are doing with them. Life is not such fun that -we can afford to dispense with the unexpected. - -It chanced that at the very moment when Ben and I were discussing Mrs. -Lintot's scheme at Dartmoor, Mr. John Harford, in the garden of Laycock -Manor, was informing his startled mother that he had decided to chuck -the law and open a second-hand book shop. - -Mrs. Harford was properly horrified. The Harfords so far had been able -to avoid trade. - -"But this isn't trade," said her son. "This is a lark." - -"Do you call it a lark," his mother inquired, "to be covered with -dust--for there's nothing so dusty as old books, and very likely to -catch horrible diseases--for there are no germ carriers like old books -either? And"--she went on, before he could reply--"do you call it a -lark to have to bargain with customers, because no one ever gives as -much for an old book as it is marked? Even I know that. That's not my -notion of a lark, anyway. And you'll have to start early, and leave -late, and your health will go, and your nice looks, and all the money -spent on your legal career will be wasted, and all the money you are -going to put into this absurd business will be wasted too. By the way, -where is that money coming from?" - -"I was thinking of you, darling," said her son. - -"Of me! Is the boy mad?" she inquired of the flowerbeds, the trees and -the universe at large. "Do you seriously think that, feeling as I do -about this offensive shop, I am going to help you to open it?" - -"Yes, darling," said Jack. "And it won't be quite so costly as you -think," he added, "because I'm not going into it alone. I've got a -partner. Who do you think is joining me?" - -"I haven't the faintest notion," Mrs. Harford replied. "But I hope it's -an honest man or you'll be robbed. You're as much fitted to run an old -book shop alone as I am to--to--well, these are the kind of sentences -no one ought ever to begin. One used to say 'to fly' once, but everyone -flies now, so there's nothing in it. But you know what I mean. Who is -this partner, anyhow?" - -"Patrick," said Jack. - -"Patrick! Do you mean Mr. St. Quentin?" - -"Of course. He's mad about it. And he's got some capital too." - -"Well," said Mrs. Harford, "if Mr. St. Quentin thinks it's a good -scheme, that's another matter. But only for himself. What is right for -him, in his crippled condition, is one thing; what is right for you, -is another. Let him run the shop alone, and you go on learning to be a -distinguished K.C., there's a dear. Don't be changeable, my boy." - -"I'm not really changeable, mother," said Jack. "This is my first -departure. And it isn't as if I need slave my way up to success in -a profession I don't really care very much for. I've come to the -conclusion that I'd far rather be poor in a book shop than rich by -pumping up excitement and rage in the interests of clients you can't -bear the sight of and probably don't believe in. And I'm fond of books, -and, as you know, I adore old Pat and in a way I feel pledged to him -too after all our times together in the War; and with his one leg what -else could he do? I was with him when he lost it and I feel bound to -help." - -"I can't agree," said Mrs. Harford, "that for a one-legged man -second-hand book selling is the only possible employment, but I'll go -so far as to say that I like you to feel like that about him. All the -same, I don't see why he should need a partner. An assistant, yes, but -why my son as a partner? And also, can there be enough profit in a -second-hand book shop to keep two young men?" - -"We shan't roll, of course," said Jack, "but we oughtn't to starve, -and there's always the chance of picking up a first folio for a few -shillings and selling it at its real value. So you will put up a little -money, darling, won't you? You wouldn't like me to touch my capital, I -know." - -"No," said his mother. "I should hate it. All I can say now is that if -Mr. Tredegar approves I'll see what I can do. And of course he must be -consulted as to the premises you take, the lease, and all that kind of -thing. You promise that?" - -"Well, darling," said Jack, "I would promise it if I could. But I -can't, because, you see, we've burnt our boats. We took the place a -fortnight ago." - -"How naughty of you!" said his mother. "Then nothing I can say now is -of any use?" - -"Nothing," he replied tragically. "Too late! Too late!" - -"Where is this loathsome shop to be?" Mrs. Harford asked. - -"In Motcombe Street," said Jack. - -"But that isn't a popular part at all," his mother objected. "Very few -strangers pass along there." - -"Pat says we don't want them," said Jack. "We shall send out -catalogues, and gradually get to be known. Of course we don't mind if -someone comes in by chance and buys the first folio; but there'll be no -fourpenny box or anything like that at the door. It's a good address, -and the rent is low." - -"And you've actually taken it?" his mother asked. - -"Actually," he replied. - -"You will break my heart yet," said Mrs. Harford. - -"Never," said her son, lifting her into the air. - -"Don't be so absurd; let me down!" the little lady cried. - -"Not till you've withdrawn that abominable remark about breaking your -heart." - -"Very well then--but only under pressure." - -"And not till you've kissed me like a loving and thoroughly approving -mother." - -"I can't do that." - -"Well, kiss me anyway," said Jack, holding her still higher. - -And she did. Mothers (bless them) can be very weak. - - - - -VI - - -It was on the following Sunday that I found myself in Aubrey Walk, -discussing Ben's future with her, with Melanie Ames, and with two -or three of the young men who were in the habit of dwelling within -Melanie's aura. In Guy's absence in Meerut she did not deny herself -certain detached male followers. More and more do English girls seem to -be acquiring similar treasure. - -The two girls made a pretty contrast: Ben so quick and alert, and -Melanie so casual and apparently uninterested, although with an instant -comment for every situation. Already, I observed, her tardiness had -begun to draw out Ben's practicality. In appearance they were a -contrast too, for Ben was fresh-complexioned, with rich brown hair -which had maintained its steady natural shade ever since I had known -her, whereas Melanie was pale and had changed the colour of her tresses -three times at least and was now meditating a return from dark to fair. - -Ben was not exactly clever or witty, but her brain was nimble enough -and clear enough, and her laugh of such seductive clarity and readiness -as to put men on their mettle. Women who make men talk better than -they are accustomed to are always popular, even when they are plain; -and Ben was by no means plain. Indeed, she had such pleasant looks as -to cause constant surprise that she was still single and unattached; -but only among those people who do not know how foolishly young men -can choose their partners for life. Ben was probably too sane, too -brightly normal. The feet of the young men of her acquaintance were -either turned away from marriage altogether, or were dancing attendance -upon creatures more capricious, more artificial, more suggestive even -of decadence. Melanie, for example with her pallor and her exotic -_coiffure_, was clearly more attractive to Tubby Toller and Eric Keene, -who were plying her with cigarettes and other necessaries of life when -I entered. Both these youths, who had been too young for the War, were -now engaged in such walks of life as products of public schools and -universities take to: Tubby having a clerkship in the Treasury, and -Eric having one eye on the Bar, wherever the other may have been. - -"Tell them about your scheme, Ben," said Melanie, when we were all at -our ease. - -"Well," said Ben, "there seems to be a vacancy for a kind of agent who -will do all kinds of things for those who are too lazy or too busy or -too helpless to do them for themselves and would pay to be relieved. -Finding a house or flat, for example. There are heaps of people who -would cheerfully give ten pounds to have these found for them. There -are people all over the country, and in Scotland and Ireland, who would -like their shopping done for them, particularly when the Sales come on. -There are heaps of English people abroad--on the Continent, in India, -in the Colonies--who want things done for them in London and have no -one to apply to and trust. There is a constant demand for servants -of every kind, not only housemaids and nurses, but chauffeurs and -secretaries and private tutors. People want to know where they can have -bridge lessons and golf lessons and billiard lessons. It's all very -vague in my mind at present, but I'm sure there's something practical -in it." - -"It's not vague to me at all," said Tubby; "it's concrete. I've been -thinking like a black while you've been talking, and I believe I've got -a title. You must be original and alluring: a signboard, jolly colours, -nice assistants." - -"I should call it 'Ben Trovato,'" said Eric. - -"Oh, don't!" Ben groaned. "No more puns on my unfortunate name, please." - -"Or 'Ben's Balm for Harassed Housewives,'" Eric continued. - -"Or just a notice like this," said Melanie: - - - DOMESTIC DIFFICULTIES - FORWARD SOLUTIONS WITHIN - - -"Be serious," said Tubby. "I've got a real title for you. What do you -think of 'The Beck and Call'?" - -"Very good," I said. - -"I think you should have a signboard hanging out," said Tubby, "Like -an old inn, and on the sign, which would be very gay, something like -this:-- - - - THE BECK AND CALL - DOMESTIC PROBLEM BUREAU - - BRING YOUR NEEDS TO US - FEES MODERATE - - -"I don't know about 'moderate,'" said Melanie. "It's what the most -expensive hotels always say." - -"Yes, and 'Domestic Problems'?" said Eric. "Don't they usually mean -rows between husband and wife? Admiralty, Probate and Divorce stuff?" - -"I suppose so," said Tubby. "But it would be impossible to put up -anything that could not be misunderstood by someone. In connection -with 'Beck and Call' I think 'Domestic Problems' might stand. And, -after all, if a wife did come to complain of her husband there would -be no great harm done; she would simply be told that that kind of -business was not transacted and sent off to the nearest police court or -solicitor." - -"But you could charge her for it just the same," said Eric. "After all, -knowing who is the nearest or best divorce solicitor is very special -knowledge and ought to be well paid for." - -"Yes," said Tubby, "I've lived in the same house for two years, but -I'll be hanged if I know where the nearest police station is, or the -nearest fire station, or the nearest pawnbroker. Those are the valuable -facts of life, and I am ignorant of all of them. I know where my own -doctor lives, and my own dentist, but I haven't a notion where there is -a strange one handy. And of course dentists never work at night. The -address of a good dentist who would answer a night call would be worth -a tenner to anyone. You ought to specialize in that, Ben." - -"I will," said Ben. "You are being very useful to me. Go on." - -"The best of everything," said Eric, hastily cutting in, "is a good -thing to know. It takes a lot of finding out oneself. I've got a -haberdashery chap, for instance, who is absolutely useless with -socks. His vests are good, his shirts, his collars; but his socks are -disgraceful. Very dear, and no wear in them at all. 'Advice as to the -best shops for everything' would be a great line for you." - -"I saw a shop the other day," Tubby said, "where there were Chinese -birds' nests in the window. For soup. I'll give you the address, Ben. -That will be something to start on." - -"Yes," said Melanie, "and I know the best place for rings and bracelets -made of elephants' hair. For luck, you know. You'd better make a note -of that." - -"And China tea," said I. - -"And Waterford glass," said Melanie. - -"And Japanese artichokes," said Tubby. "They're delicious and they're -practically weeds, but how many greengrocers have them? Hardly any." - -"And salad oil," said Melanie. "The awful cart-grease most people give -you!" - -"I'll tell you another thing worth knowing in your business," said -Eric. "Places--seaside resorts--where the water isn't hard. My old -father had a horror of hard water and all our summer holidays were -regulated by that. But it was the most difficult thing to find out." - -"I hope you're writing all these things down," said Ben. "I must -have one of those big alphabetical books. I'd no idea how clever you -are--you're well worth a guinea a box." - -"That reminds me," said Eric. "The best chemists. Where to get the best -soap." - -"And the best lavender water," said I. - -"And the best cold-cure," said Tubby. "Nothing so important as that." - -"What price indigestion?" asked Melanie. - -"Yes, of course," said Tubby. "I know of some ripping stuff." - -"But you're going much too far," said Ben. - -"Never mind," said Tubby, "you'll find it'll all help. You can't know -too much." - -"There's that wonderful place for jam in Paris," said Melanie. "I -forgot the name. It's in the Rue de Sèze: oh yes, Tandrade. You see -them making it in the shop. Nothing like it. I'm sure that anyone who -could act as an intermediary between English people and the best French -shops would make a fortune." - -"Or the other way round," said Tubby. "I'll bet you France is full of -people who would like to get things from London but don't know how. -Think of the awful things they have to put up with now," he went on. -"Have you ever been in a small French chemist's? No one but a peasant -in a smock to look after you. And their shoe leather; I mean for men. -And their umbrellas. I can see an International Shopping Bureau going -very strong." - -"Please stop," said Ben, in mock despair. "You're too resourceful. And -what do you think," she asked, turning to me, "shall we call it 'The -Beck and Call'?" - -"I think that's admirable," I said. "I wish I'd thought of it." - - - - -VII - - -When Colonel Staveley, with his buxom Belle, returned from Cap d'Ail -and found no daughter to receive him, he was bewildered and shocked. - -Still, as everything was comfortable and the servants were welcoming -and kind, and even more because it is not so simple or desirable to -lose one's temper in the presence of second wives as first, the Colonel -controlled himself; but when Ben called, he relaxed. - -"I can't conceive why you aren't satisfied to go on here," he began. -"Your mo--I mean Belle--would be delighted to have you. She likes you, -I know. She's said so, often. She said so again only last night. And -you like her, don't you?" - -"Yes," said Ben. "I do. But I don't think this is the place for me any -longer. So long as you were alone I was glad to do what I could; but -you've got Belle now. It's her house. It wouldn't be right--apart from -anything else--for me to live here now. I can't think why you don't see -that." - -"She doesn't understand the servants as you did," said the Colonel. -"She--she doesn't understand me. Those sandwiches you used to cut me at -eleven--no one gets me those any more. I mean, not as they ought to be: -thin and soft and without crust." - -"I'm sorry," said Ben. - -"Sorry!" exclaimed the Colonel. "Sorry is as sorry does. If you really -were sorry you'd come back. Where are you pigging it, may I ask?" - -"I'm sharing Melanie Ames's flat in Aubrey Walk," said Ben. "It comes -far cheaper and there's plenty of room. And as soon as I can"--here she -produced the bombshell--"I'm going to open a business." - -For an old warrior the Colonel took the blow badly. He had no words at -all at first. "Business!" he then gasped; "what business?" - -To his growing exasperation Ben told him our plans. - -"Oh! he's in it," said her father, referring to my own modest financial -share, and adding, if I know anything about him, "I never cared for the -man, as you are probably aware." - -He stamped up and down the room for a while and then began again. - -"I'm not narrow-minded, thank God!" he declared. "Whatever else I may -be, I'm not narrow-minded; but I'm bound to say I don't think it's -quite fair to me to open an office of this sort. If you were taking -up the secretaryship of a ladies' golf club I shouldn't mind. I'm all -for women playing golf, so long as they have links of their own. Or a -secretaryship to an M.P., say, as long as it wasn't a damned Labour -member. But an office with a brass plate and your name--my name--on it, -no! I draw the line there." - -"It won't have our name," said Ben. "It's to be called 'The Beck and -Call.'" - -"Oh, is it?" he cried. "Is it? I like that! Colonel Staveley's daughter -advertising herself at anyone's beck and call. A nice pill for an old -soldier to swallow, a nice thing to explain away to one's friends." - -Ben was silent for a while. Then, "I think you're taking it too -seriously," she said. "Many changes have come about since you were -young. The world has given up a lot of its sillinesses, and one of them -is the prejudice against people going into business. I am convinced -that no girl of twenty-two ought to be just a drone." - -"I can't think why you never married," said the Colonel, peevishly. - -"I suppose because it takes two to make a marriage," said Ben. - -"You must have played your cards devilish badly," her father retorted. -"There's Alicia, she's married, even though her husband is dead. And -Merrill's married. And most of your cousins are married. I can't -understand what you've been doing." - -"Some girls must be single," said Ben. "Why, there are millions more -women than men in this country alone. I read the figures only the other -day." - -"It is the duty of every woman of spirit," said the Colonel, -oracularly, "not to be one of them. And what," he continued, "will you -do when all the money's gone?" - -"I don't see why it shouldn't succeed," said Ben. - -"Succeed!" the Colonel snorted. - -"Well, some things succeed," said Ben. "Everything doesn't fail. Look -at the people round you: they're not all bankrupt." - -"Very nearly," said the Colonel. - -"They seem to have money for a good many frivolities and luxuries -still," said Ben. "Anyway, I mean to do my best to make it succeed. And -I hope," she added, "that if you're in any difficulty here you'll come -to 'The Beck and Call.' I must send Belle some cards when we're ready." - -"You needn't trouble," said the Colonel. "If you ever see Belle or -myself on your premises or catch us recognizing this nonsense of yours, -I'll"--well, you know how that kind of man always finishes that kind -of sentence--"I'll eat my hat." - -"Don't do that, father," said Ben. "Promise me a new one instead." - -"With the greatest pleasure in the world," said the Colonel. - - - - -VIII - - -The Colonel was not alone in his hostility to Ben's decision. Most of -the family, indeed, expressed disapproval, which is a word that was, I -suspect, originally coined for no other purpose than to describe the -attitude of people to any novel or independent action on the part of -any of their relations, the younger ones in particular. - -Ben's eldest sister, Alicia, who had settled with her two children, -Paul and Timothy, at Hove, after her husband, Bertrand, was killed in -the war, came hurrying up to add her voice to the attacking chorus; but -she was not as wholehearted as her father, because, never in favour of -his second marriage, she was glad that Ben had left Hyde Park Gardens. -That now, she agreed, was Belle's domain, and beyond keeping an eye on -certain pieces of furniture and a picture or so which she had marked -down as some day to be her children's, she intended to have no more -interest in it. But it was not in the least her idea that Ben should -live with Melanie Ames and start out on a career of her own. Alicia's -idea was that Ben should join her at Hove and help with the boys; and -she put her case strongly. - -"Of course it's what you ought to do," she said. "They would be good -for you and you would be good for them. They ought to see somebody else -besides me, now that their poor father has passed over, and the more -you have to do with children now, the better you will understand them -when you have some of your own. For I suppose you intend to marry," she -added sharply. "You haven't got all this absurd modern girl's dislike -of men as anything but tennis and dancing partners?" - -Ben said that at the moment she was thinking not of men but of her -livelihood. - -"Nonsense," said Alicia. "You know perfectly well you are doing it -purely from selfishness. You are excited about going into business just -as other girls would be excited about their coming out. It's sheer -self-indulgence. And you don't need the money," she went on; "you have -grandmamma's two hundred, or whatever it is, and if you lived sensibly -with me and put it into the common stock you would have no anxieties -whatever. I am sure Bertrand would have wished it. In fact, I happen to -know that he does wish it. I asked him last night." - -Ben opened her eyes. "What can you mean?" she asked, "by saying that -you know he wishes it, and that you asked him last night--when he's -dead?" - -"I don't think of Bertrand as dead," said Alicia. "There is no death. -He has merely passed over. I am in constant communication with him. I -am very psychic; strangely so, considering what a matter-of-fact family -we are. A throwback, I suppose." She closed her eyes. "Would you go -against Bertrand's express desire?" she asked earnestly. - -"I don't know," said Ben, "but in any case I should rather have it -expressed to me direct." - -"And so you shall if you will come to Hove," Alicia replied eagerly. -"There is a Circle there which you shall join. Not that I have to call -in any medium myself; I am too psychic. And Bertrand and I are one, as -we always have been. But it would be necessary for you." - -"No," said Ben. "I should be afraid. I don't like that kind of thing. -And it's too late anyhow." - -"I think you're horridly selfish," said Alicia. "And speaking as your -elder sister, almost old enough to be your mother, I want you to -know that I don't think you ought to be running a business at all. -It's not nice. The kind of women who run businesses are not nice; -they're hard and they've usually had a past. You will acquit me of -narrow-mindedness, I am sure, but that's how I feel. And I don't -believe it's too late to get out of the agreement, if you've signed -one. Considering the way most house-agents behave, I think it's one's -duty to get out of agreements now and then, just as a lesson to them." - -"My dear Alicia!" Ben exclaimed. - -"Well, I do," Alicia replied petulantly. "And as for poor Bertrand, -he'll be heartbroken. He had built all his hopes on your joining us at -Hove." - -"Is he in Hove too?" Ben asked. - -"Practically," said Alicia. - -"No," said Ben; "I can't come; it's impossible." - -"And then there's your health," said Alicia. "You'll lose your -complexion poring over registers and accounts in London. You'll begin -to look raddled; like all women in business. People will call you -'capable,' and that's the end. No one wants a capable woman, out of her -office." - -Ben only laughed. - -"And Hove's so invigorating," Alicia resumed. "The Sea Wall! And -haven't you any interest in your nephews? You were fond of Bertrand, -weren't you? You always seemed to be. Are you going to neglect his -boys? Ben, dear, I thought better of you." - -Alicia sighed and looked like one against whom the whole world was -arrayed. - -"You're making me feel very guilty," Ben said. "But it's no good. -I can't change now. And I believe--if this is selfishness--that a -certain amount of selfishness is right. I am sure that one ought to -try to be independent; everyone ought. And why shouldn't it be called -'self-help' or 'self-reliance' which are considered virtues, instead -of 'selfishness'? Anyway, I must go on with it now. If it fails, I may -change my views altogether, or, of course, if anything happened to you, -and Paul and Timothy were left stranded, I might think it was my duty -to come to the rescue. But not now." - -Alicia made a noise as of one who would live for ever. - -"Besides," Ben went on, "it would only mean for a short time probably. -You're not so settled as all that. Supposing you were to marry again." - -"Ben!" exclaimed Alicia, "I'm shocked at you." - -"I'm sorry if I hurt you," said Ben. "But people do marry again. -Look--well, look at father." - -"I decline to look at father," said Alicia. "I think it's horrid. At -his age too." - -"Well, then," said Ben, "look at Belle. She's not so very much older -than you." - -"I think that's almost more horrid," said Alicia. "And it's very cruel -of you, I think, to say such a thing to me, knowing as you do how -devoted Bertrand and I always were and still are. And the boys, too! -What man wants to marry a widow with two boys?" - -"I feel convinced that it has been done," said Ben. "But I apologize. -And I am very sorry, but I must repeat that I am going to be -independent; I want to stand absolutely alone. I think it's my duty." - -"I'm tired of the way people use the word 'duty' when they want to -please themselves," said Alicia. - -"My dear Alicia," said Ben, "don't let's start all over again. You said -that before. If you knew what efforts I make not to say things twice in -one conversation!" - -Alicia compressed her lips with grim firmness. "Very well," she said. -"There's no more to be done. But it will be terrible telling Bertrand." - -"Surely," Ben suggested, "he knows already?" - -"Ah, that I cannot say," said Alicia. "All I know is, he counts on me -for everything." - - - - -IX - - -Ben's second sister, Merrill, whose husband was a country vicar, also -had something to say against Ben's project, and said it; but with less -acrimony than Alicia. Merrill had always been easygoing. - -"Of course it was quite right to leave father," she agreed. "You -couldn't have gone on there, with that fat woman. And what we're going -to call her I have no notion. Nothing shall ever make me say 'Mother.' -What do you call her?" - -"I call her Belle," said Ben. "We arranged it." - -"I couldn't do that," said Merrill. "I don't believe in the word as a -name anyway. I think of it as something entirely different; something, -between you and me, of which I'm sick to death, as you would be if you -lived in a vicarage a few inches from a church. Ugh!--bells! But the -name's a problem. 'Mother' is impossible; 'Stepmother' is absurd; 'Mrs. -Staveley' would be absurd too. The wisest thing is not to see her at -all and then one needn't call her anything. But that," she continued, -"is nothing. What I want to ask you to do is to come and live with us; -and if you had a spark of decency you'd do it." - -Ben made a movement of dissent. - -"And it wouldn't be such a sacrifice either," her sister went on, "for -there's lots of things to do. Egbert won't have a car, it's true, but -we can get one in the Village, only a bob a mile. There's a golf links -four miles off and there's plenty of tennis and bridge. There are some -quite decent young men; one, by the way, who's rolling." - -"But there are the bells!" said Ben. - -"Never mind about them," Merrill urged. "One can get used to -anything--except," she added, "Egbert. Be a sport and think of your -sister. I assure you, my dear, I shall go mad if I don't have someone -to talk to and be with. You wouldn't have me in an asylum, would you?" - -"But my dear Merrill," said Ben, "how can it be as bad as that? What is -the matter with Egbert? You used to like him. I can't understand why -everyone seems to get so tired of their husbands or wives. It makes me -glad I'm not married. You liked him once, tremendously." - -"I don't say I hate him now," said Merrill, "but he's become -impossible. He spends his whole life between neglecting the parish -and writing his book. It's not living at all. And no one will read his -book. Who wants books on the Hittites? I tell him he'd far better be -paying some attention to the English in the village, but that makes him -cross. And when he's not writing, he's complaining of being overlooked -and not being made a canon. He's always perfectly sweet and polite to -me, and I could slap him. Not that we quarrel: not a bit of it. Ours -isn't the kind of house you could call a 'Bickerage' for a moment. But -we just stagnate. He doesn't really need me and I'm bored by him. Oh, -how bored! If only he would take one or two backward boys it would be a -relief, a change, but he won't. He says they would interfere with his -work. - -"This isn't," she went on, "the kind of life that I married for. But -then, what is it that one marries for? I know what the Church service -says, of course, only too well. But surely there should be some fun -too? That is what we're brought up to believe and expect; but I assure -you, Ben, I've never been anything in Egbert's life whatever. Not -really. I'm merely in his house; I see that his meals are punctual and -fit to eat; I see that he has clean surplices; I see that his study is -dusted and the fire lit; and I listen to his tales of woe. And that's -the end of it. I'm just his wife. He wanted me badly enough, and he -got me, and that was the end. It has never occurred to him that a wife -could want to be anything more than the punctual inmate of a man's -house. I can't even keep a dog, because dogs get on his nerves. But he -likes you--you could make him a little more human, I believe, if anyone -could. Do give up this 'Beck and Call' stuff and come and help me. I'm -certain it's your duty." - -Ben shook her head. - -"But don't you do anything in the parish?" she asked. "Don't you visit?" - -"Do I not visit?" exclaimed Merrill. "Of course I do. I have to. It all -falls on me. But is that what I was made for? Why, I'm only thirty-one. -Is that any life for a woman of thirty-one? No, Ben dear, be a sport -and come and stay with us and you and I will have some fun and you'll -keep me from thinking too much and regretting too much. Egbert won't -worry you a bit; he'll hardly know you're there." - -"My poor Merrill," said Ben, "I wish I could. But it's too late. I've -got into this business and I must stick to it." - -"Very well, then," said Merrill, "let me be your first client and get -me a nice jolly curate, even if I have to pay for him myself." - - - - -X - - -Uncle Paul, however, approved, and Uncle Paul was a valuable ally. -Uncle Paul was Mrs. Staveley's and Lady Collum's brother: a man of -about sixty who had lived with his parents as long as they lived and -then had taken rooms in Bayswater with a housekeeper. Naturally shy -and unambitious, and made more shy by an unconquerable stammer, he had -never gone into any business but remained home-keeping and retired, -famous in the family for his mechanical skill. If a doll's house were -required, Uncle Paul made it. His jig-saw puzzles had been marvels -of difficulty before the term jig-saw was invented. With his lathe -and other tools he added little improvements to most of the pieces of -mechanism that shops carelessly put forth. - -But his masterpieces were ships, possibly because his father had been -a shipowner and much of Paul's odd time as a boy and youth had been -spent in prowling about the vessels in harbour. The sea itself had no -attraction for him; he was the worst of sailors; but by everything to -do with ships he was fascinated. - -From making models for young friends and testing them, he had come to -sailing them himself, and was one of the most assiduous frequenters of -the Round Pond, with the long wand of office proper to all Round Pond -habitués who have Masters' Certificates. - -That was his principal outdoor recreation. The only other motive that -could take him from his abode was his love of music, instrumental -rather than vocal, and the Queen's Hall knew few figures more -intimately than this tall spare man, with a slight stoop, a pointed -grey beard and highly magnifying gold-rimmed spectacles. - -It has never been satisfactorily determined whether the saying about -the darlings of the gods dying young means young in years or young in -heart. But if it ought to run "Those whom the gods love are still young -no matter when they die," then Uncle Paul was one of the elect. - -"I think," he said, after listening to the outline of "The Beck and -Call" project--and you must understand that whenever Uncle Paul spoke, -it was with great difficulty, the words sometimes keeping distressingly -out of reach for agonizing moments (during which, like so many -sufferers from this impediment, he refused all assistance) or rushing -out pellmell--"I think," he said, "it's a good scheme. Very amusing at -any rate. You will meet such lots of odd people. And you will be doing -something. I don't mean," he added hastily, "that you have not been -busy up to now. We have all admired the way you kept house and devoted -yourself to your father. But that was routine. Now you will be in the -world and having adventures." He sighed. "What fun!" he said. - -Ben amplified, and in the course of the story of the genesis of her -plan mentioned Mrs. Lintot's remark that she would willingly pay an -annual subscription for these vicarious London services. - -"Yes," said Uncle Paul, "that's of the highest importance, a guarantee. -Now what you have got to do is to write to all your friends explaining -your scheme and offering to be at their service for a year at, say, -three guineas each, and asking them to write to all their friends about -it too, like one of these snowballs one reads of, or the American -officer's prayer. Anybody living far out of London ought to find it -well worth three guineas, and three guineas is nothing. Lots of them -may drop off after the first year, but it would give you a start. If -you get only sixty or seventy annual clients to begin with, that would -ensure your rent. Some of these people would probably get their money's -worth over and over again, even if others didn't. At the end of the -year, you might have to raise the subscription, but in the first year -you will be making your name and you can afford to be generous. I shall -put down three guineas myself, but what for, I haven't the vaguest -notion at the moment; and if I get no return I shan't grumble--for the -unusual reason that it will be my own fault." - -"I should hate to take three guineas from you," said Ben. "You couldn't -possibly make so much use of me as that, and I'd rather do it for -nothing." - -"Hush!" said Uncle Paul. "Don't say such things. The dangerous words -'for nothing' must disappear from your vocabulary the moment you go -into business." - -"How horrid!" said Ben. "But I defy you to think of anything you could -want from me. When you've got Mrs. Crosbie eating her head off, how -could you need 'The Beck and Call'?" - -"We'll see," said Uncle Paul. "Here's my cheque anyway. I want to be -your first client." - - - - -XI - - -In the choice of business premises Ben showed not a little sagacity. I -know, for I was with her. - -She began by consulting a firm of house-agents, which, like so many -of those necessary but unsatisfactory organizations, appeared to -consist of twins--Messrs. Charger & Charger. What the evolution of a -house-agent is, no one has ever discovered, but an addiction neither -to industry nor to strict veracity seems to be an essential to their -perfected state. All house-agents have youth and eloquence and make an -attempt at social ease. The effrontery that accompanies the sale of -motor-cars is never quite theirs: they do not actually puff tobacco -smoke at their customers while leaning against the wall with their -hands in their pockets, but they probably would like to. - -Whether we saw either of the principals--either Charger or Charger--we -never knew; but the place was full of glib young men who employed the -first-person-singular in their conversations, each of whom in turn -might have been Charger or Charger, but all of whom probably were not. - -It was by disregarding their suggestions that Ben gradually arrived at -a decision. - -"I am thinking," she said, "of opening an office where advice can be -sought on all kinds of domestic problems, and I want it to be in a -wealthy residential district but not in a main street." - -"Not in Piccadilly?" the young man asked. - -"No, _not_ in a main street," said Ben. - -"I have a very desirable upper part in Lower Regent Street," he said. - -"_Not_ in a main street," Ben replied. - -The young man turned over the pages of a register. - -"How would you like Long Acre?" he inquired. - -"Would you call that a wealthy residential district?" Ben replied. - -"What about the Strand?" he asked. - -"_Not_ in a main street," said Ben. "Besides, surely it must be in a -part where women shop? The Strand is mostly full of men and tourists, -isn't it? I know I personally have never been there except to a -restaurant or a theatre." - -"That's true," said the young man. "A shopping quarter. I understand. -Somewhere off Oxford Street, you mean." - -"Well, what have you got there?" Ben asked. - -"I'm afraid I haven't anything," he said. "Or South Audley Street?" - -"Yes," said Ben, "that's much better." - -He looked through his register again. - -"No," he said, "there's nothing there. But"--brightly--"what about the -upper part of a garage near the Imperial Institute? I can recommend -that most highly." - -It was then that we came out. - -Taking our fate into our own hands, we spent the afternoon in walking -in likely places, and at last came upon an old book shop in Motcombe -Street, which is near Knightsbridge and between the distinguished and -far from poverty-stricken squares of Eaton and of Lowndes. At the side -of the shop was a signboard in white and light green on which were the -agreeable words:-- - - - THE - BOOKLOVERS' - REST - - -In the window were rows on rows of volumes, old and less old, some -opened at the title page and others at delectable coloured plates. - -The shop was evidently new, judging by the paint; and from a window -above it a notice emerged stating that the upper part was to let and -was suitable for offices. - -As we approached, a small and intensely waggish black spaniel dashed -out of the door with all the excitement that such dogs manifest when -their masters are coming too, and a moment later a fresh-looking young -man in a tweed suit, without a hat, sauntered from the shop, crossed -the road and surveyed the premises with a pleased proprietary eye. -After a brief space he called "Patrick!" and there came to the doorway -another young man, who had a more studious air and, we noticed, limped. -The first young man said nothing but slightly extending both hands, -elevated his thumbs to a vertical position. - -"Good," said the lame one, and then all three retired to the recesses -of the shop. - -Meanwhile Ben's mind was working very quickly. Motcombe Street, she -remarked, was only a few yards from the two great Knightsbridge -drapers, and Sloane Street with all its millinery and boots and -dressmakers was close by. If two young men thought it a good enough -spot to establish themselves as second-hand book sellers, might it not -be equally or even more suitable for our purposes? And especially so if -she could induce a Knightsbridge or Sloane Street tradesman, or both, -to allow her to put up a finger-board. At any rate, the rooms must be -looked at. - -In the course of the conversation that followed, Ben said that the -only real drawback was that there was no private door. The upper part -could be reached only through the shop. But neither Mr. Harford, the -young man with the dog (whose name appeared to be "Soul"), nor Mr. -St. Quentin, the young man with the limp, thought this a very serious -objection. - -"If _you_ don't mind," said Mr. Harford, "we shan't. You will probably -have more customers than we, and we shall try and bag some of them." - -"Yes," quoted Mr. St. Quentin, or Patrick, "'and those that came to -scoff remained to pray.' In other words, if they can't get a governess -or a chauffeur from you, they may stop on the way down to buy a cookery -book from us." - -"That's too one-sided," said Ben. "Equally why shouldn't people who -can't find anything they want on your shelves, be sent upstairs to see -what I can do for them?" - -"Of course," said Mr. Harford. "Only yesterday, for example, we had an -old boy from America. Americans, it seems, want either first editions -of Conrad and Masefield, or something to do with Dr. Johnson. This was -a Johnsonian, but he was also in need of a service flat. Now if you -had been here I should have pushed him up and you would have fleeced -him." - -"Yes," said Mr. St. Quentin, "and then there was that rummy old bird -this morning. She wanted a novel. Anything to pass the time, she said. -But when she came to look round, there was nothing that she hadn't read -or that she wanted to read. Dickens was too vulgar and Thackeray was -too cynical. Meredith was too difficult and Hardy too sad. Trollope -was too trivial and George Eliot too bracing. Wells was too clever and -Bennett too detailed. Galsworthy was too long and Kipling too short. -And so on. She ended by offering me a fiver for Jack's spaniel, which -she called a 'doggy.' After I had repulsed the offer she asked me if -I could tell her the best play that had a matinée to-day. The world's -full of these drifters. Now if you had been here, I should have steered -her to you." - -"To waste my time?" Ben asked. - -"Not a bit of it. She was rolling in money; all she needed was a -directing mind, such as I am sure yours is. What she wanted was to get -through the day, and you would have helped her, and business would -result. As a matter of fact, she did buy something; she bought 'Tom -Brown's School Days,' for the curious reason, into which I was far too -wily to enquire further, that her dear father was at Winchester." - -"One little point, Miss Staveley," said Mr. Harford. "You are setting -up an advice bureau. Won't you give us your opinion on our signboard: -do you think it reads all right?" - -"It seems to me most alluring," said Ben; "unless possibly the word -'Rest' might lead people to stay too long." - -"Well," said Mr. St. Quentin, "as a matter of fact we had a tussle over -that and Jack won. I was for just 'Bookbuyers' Corner.'" - -"Very pretty," said Ben. - -"Yes," said Mr. Harford, "but as I very properly and acutely pointed -out, this isn't a corner." - -"Still--" Ben began. - -"No," said Jack, "a corner's a corner." - -"Very well," said his partner, "I give in; but what do you think he -wanted on the sign as we now more or less have it? You won't credit it, -Miss Staveley. Catch hold of something while I tell you." - -"Ah, shut up," said Jack. - -"He wanted 'Ye' instead of 'The.'" - -"No!" said Ben, in horror. - -"He did," said Patrick: "he actually and infernally did. Like a tea -shop. He's not altogether a bad-looking man; he would have taken quite -a decent degree but for the War; he has played cricket for his county; -he induced me to become his partner; and yet he wanted 'Ye' instead of -'The.'" - -"Can this be true?" Ben asked. - -"Well, I stick to it," said Jack. "We are out to make a living and I -know what people are. You might lose a few highbrows by saying 'Ye' but -you'd get a bigger following generally. Still, Patrick here wouldn't -give way. Well," he made an exaggerated gesture of fatalism, "we know -what the reason will be if we're bankrupt, don't we, old Soul?" and he -patted the waggish spaniel. - -"And," said the lame one, "I haven't told you the worst. He came down -one day with a design lettered by one of his architect friends, - - - 'YE OLD BOOKE SHOPPE' - - -in which 'shop' had two _P_'s and an _E_. I haven't fully recovered -yet----" - -"It would have meant great business," said Jack, defiantly. "There's a -fascination about that double P and that final E that lots of people -find irresistible. No matter, the die is cast. By the way," he added to -Ben, "I suppose you're calling yourself something?" - -"I was thinking of 'The Beck and Call,'" said Ben. "I wanted a -signboard rather like yours." - -"Make it 'Ye,'" said Mr. Harford, "and you'll be a millionaire." - -"No," said Ben. "I couldn't face my friends. It's bad enough as it is." - -"And you'll take our upper part?" Mr. St. Quentin asked. - -"I can't say at the moment," said Ben. "I must consider. But if I don't -it will probably only be because I don't think either of you is serious -enough to be my landlord." - -But after the lawyers had done their worst with it, Ben signed an -agreement. - - - - -XII - - -In assembling her staff Ben experienced a certain amount of luck in -stumbling upon Miss Peterson. - -Miss Peterson was one of those plain, capable but not originative women -whose destiny it is to work loyally for others. And Ben was just the -kind of other for whom they work with the most zeal and fidelity. From -Miss Peterson's position as keeper of the outer office and the door, -she came to be known as Jan, which was short for janitress, and but for -her "The Beck and Call" would probably not have lasted a month. With -her untiring devotion to buttress it, it turned the corner. - -Jan arrived early and left late, and, what is more, refused to go out -for lunch, but ate it furtively at her desk. Whether men eat too much -lunch or women too little is a question that has never been settled; -and as they are totally different creatures there is probably no need -for any comparisons. Suffice it to say that Jan could not be induced to -improve her scanty and hasty repast, and seemed to be fairly healthy -on it. A certain element of self-sacrifice or even mortification was -necessary to her happiness; she was a mixture of watchdog and nun. -If ever she permitted herself a luxury or accepted an invitation to -a party of pleasure, she did it as though performing a penance. Such -was her own humility and her innate conviction that this is a vale of -tears, and ought to be, that every happiness or delight was a cause of -suspicion and surprise. Praise-God-Barebones and his companions planted -the English soil deeper than they knew. - -The only other member of the staff, at first, was a precocious London -boy, certainly no Puritan, who was known by his own wish as Dolly. His -real name was Arthur, which his friends, all as Cockney as himself, -soon converted to Arfur, not only because that was their general -tendency but because his surname Crowne set up an additional allurement -to do so. Arfur Crowne in course of time was reduced, on the lines -often followed in the evolution of nicknames, to 'arf a dollar, and -from this it had been an easy gradation to Dolly. - -Dolly's age was sixteen, and he was small for it. He was also old for -it, in so far as dress and knowledge of the world, or at any rate of -London, were concerned. He always wore a bowler hat and carried a -cane, and in his possession, on view but never known to be worn, was -a pair of smart tan gloves. In addition to an exhaustive acquaintance -with London's houses of variety, even in the outlying districts, -football heroes, cricket heroes, cinema stars and probably winners on -the flat, Dolly could give you in a moment the number of the bus you -needed for any route. - -Where he got the money to visit so many places of entertainment, no one -at first knew; for his wages could not well be large and there was no -reason to suspect him of dishonesty. But he was so regularly in funds -as to lead to the suspicion that he had private means and was working -at "The Beck and Call" for a wager. So Tubby Toller maintained. And, -as he said, it would be very dull to find out where the money came -from, for one of the compensations in this dreary life of ours is the -opportunity we get for wondering how other people can afford it. - -But later the secret came out, for Mr. Harford gave it away. Mr. -Harford's range of interests on the pleasant planet on which he found -himself was, I ought to say, sufficiently wide to include the too often -pathetic efforts to come in first on the part of those untrustworthy -but beautiful animals with noble heads, glossy coats, and four slender -legs on which most English men, and many English women, "have -something" every day. It was Dolly's special privilege to meet in his -lunch hour mysterious acquaintances with special information about -the "three-thirty," and this information Mr. Harford was delighted to -receive. Now and then, of course, the horse "went down," but in the -main the two confederates did very well. - -Dolly's post was by the telephone in the outer office, which, on -occasions, could be connected with another instrument on Ben's desk; -but his dominating desire and ambition was, by his own knowledge -and discretion, to render any such connexion unnecessary. So far -from sharing Jan's willingness to lunch in, Dolly was off, with his -gloves and cane, immediately the clock struck one--to the Ritz or -Savoy, according to Jack Harford. He was never late in returning, but -sometimes stood on the step finishing a cigarette until the hands -pointed to two. - -Mr. Harford and Dolly may have been almost on an equality, but it -was one of the jokes at "The Booklovers' Rest" that Dolly was too -aristocratic to have any friendly relations with the boy--Ernie -Bones--who opened and shut that abode of culture, and carried to the -post such parcels as were dispatched, and once a month stuck stamps -on myriad catalogues. But there are grades, right through the social -scale, and Dolly stood on a plane far above Ernie's. - -Ernie had never worn or carried gloves in his life. They would have -looked as strange on him as a monocle in the eye of a London roadmender. - - - - -XIII - - -Aunt Agatha had of course to be told. Aunt Agatha was the widow of Sir -Davenport Collum and Ben's mother's sister. Her opinion on any subjects -whatever doesn't really matter, but Ben would not have been happy to -have left her in ignorance. - -"You mustn't think me narrow-minded," Aunt Agatha said, "because I'm -not. Whatever else I may be, I'm not narrow-minded. But I really -do think you might have chosen something better to do than to be a -maid-of-all-work or a Jack-of-all-trades at the command of anyone with -the money to pay your fee. You--you demean yourself. We should have -dignity." - -"Yes, aunt," said Ben, "but one must maintain oneself first. There is -no dignity without independence." - -"But surely--don't you remember Landseer's picture?" inquired Lady -Collum. - -"No, aunt. That was 'Dignity and Impudence,'" Ben replied. - -"Yes, so it was. I had forgotten. And, after all, the words are very -much alike. I can see it now. We had an engraving in the hall at home. -Two dogs. Well, dear, as you were saying?" - -"I was saying, aunt," Ben resumed, "that dignity without independence -is only a shadow. What I want is to make my own living and 'The Beck -and Call' seems to be a way. At any rate, it is worth trying." - -"A horrid phrase," said Lady Collum. "'Beck and Call.' Why, it suggests -dependence and nothing else. Servility even. You belong to every one -but yourself; you will be London's errand girl." - -"But if I don't mind that, what then?" Ben asked. "And besides, I shall -reserve the right to select my jobs." - -"Beggars," said Aunt Agatha, "cannot be choosers. There's a proverb to -that effect and I am a great believer in proverbs. An apple a day--ah! -how true!" - -"Yes, aunt, but how miserable you would be if anything kept your own -darling doctor away! And I believe it's really an onion, as a matter of -fact." - -"Onions undoubtedly are very healthy," said Lady Collum. "But what were -we saying? Oh, yes. This office of yours. 'The To and Fro.' Where is it -to be?" - -"'The Beck and Call,' aunt," Ben corrected. "I have taken two rooms -over an old book-shop in Motcombe Street." - -"Taken them!" exclaimed Lady Collum, in horror. "I had no idea it had -gone so far as that. What is the use of my giving you any advice if the -deed is done? It's like locking the garage door after the car has been -stolen." - -"But I don't think I was asking you to advise me," said Ben. "I was -merely telling you about it, because I thought you would like to know, -and in case you knew of anyone who might want to make use of me." - -"Oh dear! Oh dear!" exclaimed Lady Collum. "To think that it's all -settled! You're plighted to it now." - -"Yes, aunt," said Ben. "The die is cast. There is no looking back. We -begin next Monday." - -"Plighted!" murmured Lady Collum, dreamily. "What a beautiful word it -might be! Can be. Why, my dear, don't you marry some nice man instead -of opening offices?" - -"Well, aunt, for one reason, no one that I cared for sufficiently has -asked me," said Ben smiling. - -"Then you have had a proposal or two?" said Lady Collum, eagerly. "I'm -glad." - -"Not very serious ones," Ben told her. "Only from Tommy Clinton." - -"Oh, him!" said Aunt Agatha. "And yet you're very pretty," she went on. -"What's the matter with the other young men? Let's see, how old are -you?" - -"Twenty-two," said Ben. - -"That's a little late for the young ones," said Lady Collum, "or much -too early. Hasn't any nice older man asked you?" - -"No, aunt," said Ben, "and I don't know that I want one either. -Marriage isn't everything. I can imagine an amusing business being far -more entertaining than a husband. But surely you see," she went on more -seriously, "that now that father's married again I must be independent. -I can't possibly go on living at home." - -"Ah, yes," said Lady Collum. "Of course. Poor child, yes. The cruel and -ugly stepmother, my heart bleeds for you." - -"But dear Aunt Agatha, she isn't cruel, and she isn't ugly," said Ben. -"And I like her." - -"That's your sweet nature," Lady Collum replied, "or her artfulness. -And what about poor little Toby?" she resumed. "His home closed to him. -I can't think what your father was about. Surely at sixty-three he -might have continued to face life alone and then everything would be -happy still, and poor little Toby not at the mercy of this heartless -woman and you not driven out into the world to start 'The Hide and -Seek.'" - -"'Beck and Call,' aunt," Ben corrected. "And I haven't been driven out; -I was glad to go." - -"So you say," said Lady Collum. "But it's your kind heart. Anyway, it's -that motherless child I'm thinking most about--poor Toby." - -"But, aunt, dear," said Ben, "Toby is hardly ever at home. He's at -Oxford until the vacation, and then he stays with friends. And he's six -feet tall. It's far too long since you saw him. I assure you he's in no -need of such sympathy." - -"Poor child, poor child!" Lady Collum murmured. "It is dreadful when -the cuckoo displaces the young meadow-pipits. I saw it on a film. -Dreadful! My poor little Toby!" - -"Well," said Ben, rising to go, and abandoning the struggle with -preconceived ideas (always a stubborn one), "you'll send to me if you -want any shopping done while you're down in the country, won't you?" - -"Of course I will," said Aunt Agatha. "I'll do all I can for you. Let's -see, what is the place called?--'Mind the Step'?" - -"'Beck and Call,' aunt," said Ben. - -"Of course. How funny I should have said 'Mind the Step.' And yet how -natural!" she added, sighing deeply, "for I am always thinking about -her. The step! What a tragedy for all of you! How could your father -have done it! Well, you _will_ mind her, won't you? They're all hard -and all cunning. I know. I've read about them. And deceitful. And they -are always saving and stealing, and stealing and saving, for their own -children." - -"But, dear aunt, you are so wrong about this," said Ben. "Belle is the -kindest thing. And she hasn't got any children of her own." - -"So she says," was Lady Collum's last dark utterance. - - - - -XIV - - -Whether or no Ben's landlords made a special point of being on the -premises at the hour of her arrival I can't say, but certain it is -that they were always there to wish her good morning, and an element -of rivalry as to which would wish it first was not absent. It is also -certain that they esteemed highly the privilege of having such an -agreeable tenant. - -Every one has a favorite snatch of song, which can be sung -unconsciously and bears no relation whatever to the mental status of -the singer. This was Jack's, droned to an Irish melody:-- - - - Good morning, O'Reilly, - You are looking well. - Are you the O'Reilly - Who keeps this hotel? - Are you the O'Reilly - They speak of so highly? - Good morning, O'Reilly, - You _are_ looking well. - - -At quiet intervals all day this ditty reached Ben's ears from the -ground floor, until it became the _motif_ of her employment, and she -caught herself at all kinds of odd moments murmuring it too. In fact, -"Good morning, O'Reilly, you _are_ looking well," was the password -between Mr. Harford and herself. Mr. St. Quentin was less frivolous: -his humour was of the sardonic variety; but he too had snatches of -song, which also passed into Ben's repertory, chief of which was that -sweet but mournful Scottish lullaby:-- - - - My Bonnie lies over the ocean, - My Bonnie lies over the sea, - My Bonnie lies over the ocean, - Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me. - - -As book sellers the two friends seemed to Ben to lack method and even -knowledge, but she hesitated to judge them because she knew so little -herself, and she could not but be conscious that her own business was -an unprofessional affair. In fact, they were all amateurs. - -Her suspicions as to her neighbours were first aroused by a visit from -Mr. Harford one morning. He was carrying a volume, and his normally -careless countenance registered perplexity if not despair. - -"Please help me, Miss Staveley," he said. "Patrick's out and I've no -notion what this book is worth. It isn't marked. There's a blighter -after it downstairs, and he looks as if he might be a dealer himself, -in which case it's probably valuable." - -"It's no use asking me," said Ben. "You might as well ask your dog." - -"But you're so clever," said Mr. Harford. "Tell me how it strikes you -as a stranger. Hold it in your hand." - -"No," said Ben. "I shan't even guess. Why don't you tell him it was on -the shelves by mistake and isn't for sale?" - -Mr. Harford looked at her with admiration. - -"By Jingo!" he said, "that's brilliant! - - - You _are_ the O'Reilly - They speak of so highly - - -and I don't wonder." - -On another occasion Mr. St. Quentin was heard laboriously ascending the -stairs, impeded by his poor wooden leg. He had begun with a wonderful -artificial limb, fitted with springs and other contrivances, but, like -so many other mutilated men, had given that up for a simple stump. - -"Look here, Miss Staveley," he said, "I'm in a deuce of a fix. There's -a poor devil downstairs who's brought in a bundle of books worth ten -pounds, and he asks if I'll give ten shillings for them. What am I to -do?" - -"Behave like a gentleman," said Ben. "I should say, behave like -yourself." - -"Yes," said Patrick, "I want to. But I'm a book seller as well. I hope -I'm not the sort of man to take advantage of ignorance, especially when -it's mixed up with destitution; but, after all, business is business -and one can't be buyer and seller too." - -"I think that's rubbish," said Ben. "Of course you can. Every dealer -is, but that's always the excuse. It makes me blush." - -Patrick looked at her as though in the hope that he might miss none of -the heightened colour when it came. - -"All the same," he said, "the other day when I wasn't in, Jack gave a -fellow a fiver for a book which was only worth sixpence, owing to some -missing pages which he didn't detect." - -"I don't see that that has anything to do with the present matter," -said Ben. "Surely each transaction is separate." - -"Yes," said Patrick, resignedly. "You're right. I'm a swine. How I -hate business! None the less," he went on, "this business is only half -mine; half is Jack's. I've got to do the best I can for both of us. Of -course, I shan't give only a measly ten bob; but the point is, how much -more ought I to give?" - -"What could you get for the books?" Ben asked. - -"They ought to fetch fifteen pounds," said Patrick. - -"How soon can you sell them?" Ben asked. - -"One never knows," said Patrick. "It might be to-morrow, it might be -next year." - -"That's rather important," said Ben, automatically using words that she -didn't know she possessed; "because it might mean locking up capital. I -think you ought to give him something between their value to you if you -could sell at once and their value if you have to keep them in stock -for a year. Say seven pounds ten." - -"Good heavens!" exclaimed Patrick. "You're the Queen of Sheba." And he -plodded down again. - -"I don't pretend to be able to advise you, Miss Staveley," said Patrick -that evening. "I'm not clever enough. But whenever you're in any -difficulty, come into the shop and we'll try the 'Sortes Virgilianæ.' -It can be very comforting, and it always succeeds." - -"Sortes Virgi----" Ben asked. "I suppose that's Latin, and I don't know -any. I've had a rotten education." - -"Oh, no," said Patrick, "I don't suppose you have. I expect you know -lots of things that good classical scholars are utterly ignorant of. -You can read and play music at sight, I'm sure?" - -Ben admitted it. - -"I knew you could. I call that the most miraculous thing in the -world--putting one's fingers down on the notes accurately without -any practice whatever. I'm sure Porson couldn't do that, even if -he did drink ink. Jack can do it too, confound him! It's the one -accomplishment I have always longed for, and I could never even -whistle. But the 'Sortes Virgilianæ'--that was a game of chance and an -appeal for guidance--every copy of Virgil an oracle, you know. It was -like this. You were in a hole. Very well, you opened your Virgil at -random and you took the first words that caught your eye as an inspired -message. But nowadays people don't confine themselves to Virgil: they -take any book. Let's try it. What is your perplexity at the moment?" - -"Well," said Ben, "I suppose it would have something to do with getting -clients, being able to be of any use to them when I did get them, and -being able to pay you your rent." - -"We'll try," said Patrick, taking a book at random from the shelf -behind him, without turning round, and opening it. He looked at the -page and laughed. "There you are," he said, pointing to the passage. - -The book was "The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám" and the page was that on -which was the quatrain containing the line:-- - - - So take the cash and let the credit go. - - -"But there isn't any cash to take," said Ben. - -"No," said Patrick, "but how does it go on? - - - Nor heed the rumble of a distant drum. - - -That is the answer of the oracle. In other words, don't worry, take -long views and if anyone has to suffer, let it be us and not you." - -"But what is the drum?" she asked. - -"The drum is Jack and me," said Patrick. "Your horrible, avaricious -landlords." - - - - -XV - - -"Someone to see you, Miss Staveley," said Jan, with a flustered face, -suddenly opening Ben's door. "I'm sorry," she added quickly and in a -lower tone, "but I couldn't do anything else." - -"This way, sir," she went on, to someone in the outer office, behind -her, and in a moment who should be in the room but Colonel Staveley. - -"Father!" exclaimed Ben. - -"Well, why not?" replied the Colonel, but he looked anything but at -ease. "Mayn't a father visit his daughter?" - -"Of course, father, and I'm very pleased to see you. But it's so -unexpected. I hope nothing's wrong. Please go on smoking." - -"Thank you," said the Colonel, who had been careful not to throw his -cigar away, although he had been holding it in such a manner as to -suggest that he had done with it, but absent-mindedly had forgotten to -drop it. He put it back to his lips with a sigh of relief, sat down -and, with a searching eye, looked round at the files of letters and the -folios and other signs of business. - -"How are you doing?" he asked. - -"Not so well," said Ben, "and not so badly. We are making both ends -meet so far. But it's very hard work. There's so much to do, seeing -people all day, that I never have an evening free. It's then that -the real task begins--writing letters, making up the books and all -the rest of it. Still I like it more than not, and it's interesting -too. One never knows what the next minute may bring. Always something -unexpected. You, for example." - -"I'm sorry," said her father, bluntly. "I was hoping you might be tired -of it and be willing to come back." - -"Please don't think of that," said Ben. "I shouldn't do that, whatever -happened. There are lots of other things to do if this fails or gets -too difficult. But it won't." - -"All right," said the Colonel. "Then perhaps you'll look on me not as a -father but as a client. Do you say client or customer?" - -"Whichever you like," said Ben. - -"Client, then," replied the Colonel. "What I want is a cook. Not an -ordinary cook, but a damned good cook. You know. A cook who sees -that beef is underdone and mutton well done. A cook who sends any -meat but the very best back to the butcher. A cook who doesn't stuff -apple tarts with cloves and slices of lemon. A cook who keeps time. -Belle--Belle is fine, she's splendid, but she doesn't understand." - -Ben laughed. "I wonder how bad your cook is," she said. "You know, -father, you're not the easiest creature to cater for. And--and does -Belle know you're here?" - -"Yes," said the Colonel, "I told her." - -"All right," said Ben. "I'll do what I can. But, remember, you'll have -to pay. Everything's dearer than it used to be. What does the present -cook get?" - -"I think it's fifty," said her father. - -"Well, you'll have to go higher than that, for a good one. Very likely -to eighty." - -The Colonel groaned. "If I must, I must," he said. "Life isn't worth -living as it is." - -"I'll send one along," said Ben. - -"You're a good girl," said the Colonel. "I'm proud of you." - -"Wait just a moment, father," said Ben, as he rose to go. "You haven't -given me the address of a milliner yet." - -"A milliner? What milliner?" the Colonel inquired. - -"Where I am to get a hat," said Ben. - -"You are talking in riddles," said the Colonel. "I know nothing of any -hat. With a business blooming like this I should say you could get -your hats wherever you wished. In Paris even." - -"I thought perhaps you had a special shop in mind," said Ben. - -"I haven't an idea what you're referring to," said her father. - -"Don't you remember?" Ben replied. "You said that if ever you entered -my office you would give me a hat." - -"Did I? I had forgotten. Of course if I said so, it shall be done. I'll -ask Belle about a shop and let you know. What an infernal memory you -have!" - -Ben was as good as her word, and a new cook arrived at Hyde Park -Gardens and gave satisfaction. - -It is sometimes amusing to watch disapproval dissolving into esteem, -mortification being transformed to pride. Not long after the new -kitchen régime was in full swing the Staveleys gave a dinner party, at -which the Colonel had on his right hand old Lady Philligree (widow of -the famous magnate who had the big place at Moreton-in-the-Marsh). Lady -Philligree is known to like her food as much as most people, and, in -default of anything else to say to her host, or possibly because the -topic came nearest her heart, she commented with intense appreciation -on the entrée they were consuming. - -"I'm glad you like it," said the Colonel. "The fact is, we have a new -cook and she's a treasure. It doesn't do to extol one's own family, -but I don't think I am breaking any social law very seriously when I -say that I got her through my daughter. Ben, you know. Well, Ben, like -so many of these headstrong, foolhardy girls to-day--since the War -you know--insisted on breaking away from home and starting a domestic -agency. 'The Beck and Call' she calls it. In Motcombe Street; quite -close to Knightsbridge. Well, although it is not the best form for -fathers to boast, I must say she's wonderful. No sooner did I ask her -for a cook than she got me this one. She ought to make a fortune, she's -so capable. Clearheaded, cool, with a charming manner, though again -I say it as shouldn't. 'The Beck and Call' she calls it. In Motcombe -Street, close to Knightsbridge. Over a book shop." - -And when, during the latter part of the feast, after half-time, Mrs. -Carruthers, on his left, paid a compliment to the savoury (an _entente -cordiale_ of chicken's liver and mushroom) the Colonel made practically -the same reply to her. - -When we are deploring the inconsistency of human nature and the speed -with which friend can become foe, let us not forget that, under other -circumstances, the transition from adversary to advertising agent can -be equally swift and complete. - - - - -XVI - - -Ben brought me occasional reports of her progress and whatever other -news there might be; and I looked forward to these visits. - -"We've been having the oddest applications," she said. "You have no -idea how helpless people can be. They want advice on everything." - -"The astonishing thing," I replied, "is that you can give it on such a -variety of subjects." - -"I don't know that I can," she said, "but I try to. And if one is -fairly emphatic, it seems to satisfy them. I suppose decisiveness is -very comforting. I see them positively adding an inch or two to their -stature when I just say 'Yes' or 'No,' without any qualifications to -dilute those excellent words. It's extraordinary how few people seem to -have any initiative. And if one can't answer a question oneself," she -went on, "one probably knows someone who can. I am requisitioning all -my friends. Some day I shall put an awkward client on to you." - -"I hope you will," I said. - -"It isn't only that they ask ridiculous things," Ben confirmed, "but -they so often want something more, for nothing. 'Now that I _am_ here, -they say, 'perhaps you could tell me this.' Only to-day a woman who -had come about Spanish lessons for her daughter asked me, as she was -leaving and had paid, what to do with a cook who stole. I asked her if -she could cook well, and when she said 'Yes,' I told her to keep her, -even if she stole diamonds and pearls. But it was nothing but odds and -ends. 'Odds and ends are replaceable,' I said, 'but a cook isn't. The -whole world wants cooks at this moment. Besides,' I said, 'to take odds -and ends isn't stealing at all--to a cook. We all have our code, and a -cook's code permits her to take odds and ends and smuggle them out of -the house, where she would be a pillar of honesty in the midst, say, -of money or jewellery.' Every one is dishonest somewhere. My father, -I'm sure, is scrupulous in most ways, but he boasts that he always does -railway companies if he can. The best parlourmaids take cigarettes. The -nicest people pocket matches. If you want to know something about petty -purloinings by what are supposed to be the elect, ask the secretary -of any women's club. And I'm told that in quite crack men's clubs the -nailbrushes have to be chained. - -"We have every kind of question and from every nationality," she -went on. "A little Japanese woman came in the other day to know how -to get lessons in English--at least, not exactly lessons. What she -wanted was someone to read English books aloud with her. Not _to_ her; -_with_ her. They were to sit side by side so that she could follow -the pronunciation. She knew English perfectly, but had some of the -words most comically wrong. But how natural! Indeed I don't know how -foreigners ever get our words right. This little Japanese pet was -completely puzzled by 'July,' for instance. She used the word as if -it rhymed with 'truly.' And why not? We say 'duly' and 'unduly' and -'unruly' and 'Julius' and 'Juliet.' And then we say, 'July.' It's too -absurd." - -"And could you help her?" I asked. - -"As it happened, I could. I remembered an old friend of ours who was -only too glad to do it, and she has been writing since to thank me for -giving her the opportunity of meeting anyone so charming." - -"What I want to know," I said, "is how the dickens do you know what to -charge?" - -"There are several ways," said Ben. "There's a fixed tariff for certain -things, and there's so much a quarter of an hour for interviews. For -shopping I charge a fee. A time-chart is kept and they pay so much an -hour and for cabs. But I don't do that for strangers, or, at any rate, -not for anyone without an introduction. - -"Most people," she continued, "want either servants or rooms; and -I send them on to registry offices or house-agents, and share the -commission. I couldn't as a regular thing go into either of those -businesses myself. There would be no time left. - -"Let me think of some of our recent applications," she said. "Oh, -yes! A South African woman came in yesterday to know something about -London churches. She was to be here for six months and wanted to take -sittings somewhere; could I tell her the best preachers? They must be -evangelical or, at any rate, low. Anything in the nature of ritualism -she couldn't endure. - -"And then," she went on, "there was a widow from Cheltenham who -wanted advice about dogs. What was the best kind of dog for a lady -living alone? She had noticed that the dogs of most ladies of her own -age--that is to say, elderly--were very disobedient; but that would be -no use to her. She did not want a dog that had to be led. I said that -the most popular dog with elderly ladies at the moment was a Sealyham -or West Highland. White, in any case. But I doubted if they were very -obedient. - -"She asked whether I thought a lady dog or a gentleman dog the more -suitable. Really, people are marvellous." - -"And how did you charge her?" I asked. - -"I didn't. I said that the matter was off my beat, and gave her the -address of a dog-fancier. - -"She thanked me and went away, and ten minutes later left a box of -chocolates and a bunch of flowers. - -"Then they want to know the best musical comedy; the name of a play -that it would be all right to take auntie to; the place to buy the best -linen sheets; whether or not one has to dress in certain restaurants; -what time the National Gallery opens; how long a car takes to Hampton -Court; how to get Sunday tickets for the Zoo; and where one has the -best chance of seeing the Prince of Wales. - -"But what most of them want," said Ben, "is what they call a -_pied-à-terre_. You've no idea what hosts of people there are who -would be happy if they only had a foot to the earth!--in other words, -a week-end cottage. The simplest place in the world, where they can -rough it, you know; return to nature, shake the horrible city off! -But when we come to particulars there must always be a tennis lawn, -hot water laid on, bathroom and so forth. Sometimes they insist on -a telephone. I could let twenty of these places a week; and there's -nothing so difficult to find! As it is, most of the real country folk, -the cottagers proper, have been dispossessed in order that their homes -may be converted for week-end purposes. - -"Another thing we are always being asked for is a man and his wife. But -they are difficult to get, too, because if the man's any good, the wife -isn't, and if the wife is capable, the man drinks. - -"But most of them," she added, "I don't see at all. Jan or Dolly -disposes of them; and of course they don't pay. But we can't be rude to -them. And after all, if you call your office, 'The Beck and Call,' you -are rather, as Dolly says, 'arstin' for it.' In fact, Dolly wants us to -make a charge for everything. He produced some placards the other day, -which he had spent all Sunday on, to be hung up. One was for his own -desk with:-- - - - LONDON QUESTIONS - ANSWERED TO THE - BEST OF OUR ABILITY - 2/6 EACH - - -on it. - -"And one was for Jan:-- - - - GENERAL INFORMATION - GIVEN - 2/6 EACH REPLY - - -"And for my door:-- - - - MISS STAVELEY - INTERVIEWS - AT THE RATE OF 10/6 - FOR QUARTER OF AN HOUR - OR LESS - - -"But I wouldn't let him put them up. 'No,' I said. 'Save them for when -you set up in business for yourself.'" - -"'Me?' he said. 'Not 'arf. I'm going to be a bookie.' And I expect he -is. 'I'd be one now,' he said, 'if I had any capital. That's all you -want--a little capital to begin with. The rest is like shelling peas.'" - -"'But in that case why are you here?' I asked him. 'Oughtn't you to be -in a bookmaker's office?'" - -"'I dare say I ought,' he said. 'But I prefer this job at the time.'" - -"'Why?' I asked." - -"'Because, to tell you the brutal truth, miss,' he replied, 'I like -you.'" - - - - -XVII - - -"No," said the girl. "I don't think anyone would do but Miss Staveley -herself." - -She was a pretty girl, somewhere in the last teens, but at the moment -she was flushed and nervous and looked tired out. - -"Do you know her personally?" asked the loyal and wary Jan. - -"I could hardly say 'know,'" replied the girl, "but we met at a -dinner-party once. At Lady Toulmin's. Perhaps you would tell her?" - -"You are quite sure it is nothing that I could do?" Jan inquired. - -"Quite," said the girl. - -"But Miss Staveley is very busy," Jan persisted. "We haven't got -through the letters yet. Indeed, we're not really open. You must let me -know what you want to see her about." - -"I'm sorry," said the girl, "but that's impossible. Do please give her -this card"; and Jan succumbed. - -Ben, in her fortress, examined the card. "Miss Viola Marquand," she -read. "What is she like?" she asked. - -"Very young," said Jan. "And very pretty. Says she met you at dinner -once at Lady Toulmin's. Her furs cost a hundred if they cost a penny. -One of those gold mesh bags. No rouge, though. She seems excited and -worried." - -"And she won't say what she wants?" - -"No," said Jan. "Not to me. Not to underlings. The boss or nothing." - -"Well," said Ben, "show her in; but keep an eye on the time. She -oughtn't to be here more than ten minutes. Interrupt us then." - -Miss Marquand entered shyly. "It's very kind of you to see me," she -said, "and I have no right to bother you like this; but I'm in great -trouble and I remembered how much I liked you the only time we met. Do -you remember?" - -"Yes," said Ben. "I remember now." - -"And I was hearing that you had opened an advice bureau, and so I have -made so bold as to come to you, because no one wants advice--help, -rather--more than I do." - -"Well," said Ben, "tell me." - -"It's very simple," said the girl. "I have got to pay two hundred -pounds and I haven't a penny." - -"Bridge?" Ben asked. - -"Poker," said the girl. "I can hold my own fairly well at bridge, but -poker is too much for me. I've done with it. Can you tell me what to -do? I'm at my wits' end, Miss Staveley. It's terrible." - -"You poor thing," said Ben. "But, you know, this isn't my line at all. -I'm here for ordinary cases, such as finding houses and chauffeurs and -all that kind of thing. This isn't my line at all. Have you no one at -home to confide in?" - -"Oh, no," said the girl quickly. "No one. That would be impossible." - -"Your father?" - -"My father!" the girl exclaimed, with dilating eyes. Then she laughed. -"You don't know my father." - -"But surely you must have friends?" - -"I don't seem to have any friends quite of that sort," said the girl. -"There are plenty of people I know, but some I wouldn't ask a favour -of for the world, and the others either wouldn't have any money or -wouldn't lend it. I've been going over their names again and again and -they all seem wrong." - -"Isn't there the family lawyer?" Ben asked. "He wouldn't give you away, -even if he wasn't too sympathetic. And it's part of his business to -raise money." - -"The family lawyer!" the girl exclaimed, almost angrily. "You don't -suppose I should bother you if I could go to him? Oh, forgive me if I -sounded sharp," she said. "But I'm all out. I never slept a wink last -night. But of course I couldn't go to him--he and father are much too -thick. And if father knew of this, I don't know what would happen. You -see it happened once before. Not so badly, but badly enough." - -"Ah!" said Ben. "And you gave a promise?" - -"Yes," the girl admitted. "And I meant to keep it. But this time I -swear I will. What I want you to do," she went on, "is to be so kind as -to tell me how money is raised. Couldn't I borrow it?" - -"I'm sure you could," said Ben. "But the rate of interest would be very -high, and how about paying it back?" - -"Yes," said the girl, ruefully. "That's just it. I thought of that." - -"And you'd have to give some security," said Ben. - -"Yes," said the girl. "I thought of that too. Everything's against me." - -"What about selling some jewellery? Or better still," Ben asked, "that -mesh bag?" - -"It would be noticed at once," said the girl. "No, I've thought of all -those obvious things. And if I were to pawn, I should still have to -find the money to redeem. No, it was because I had come to the end of -thinking that I came to you. If you can't help me I--well, I don't know -what." - -She looked utterly broken. - -"Well, I must think about it," said Ben, at last. "Give me till -to-morrow morning and come then. But, remember, as I said, this isn't -my real work, and if I am useless you mustn't grumble. Some things are -too difficult." - -"How kind you are!" said the girl. "I oughtn't to have worried you -about it. I can see that now. But I was in such a mess. Good-bye till -to-morrow, and if you can't do anything, you can't, and I must---- -Well, I don't know what I must do." - - - - -XVIII - - -Ben, left alone, thought, she tells me (to my great pride) first of me. -But I was abroad and without an address. It was a matter, she felt, -that must be discussed with a third person. And it was complicated by -the girl having already given a promise. - -By lunch-time she seemed no nearer any course of action, but on her way -through the shop suddenly remembered Patrick's oracle. - -"What was that way of getting guidance called?" she asked him. "When -you told me not to bother about ever paying my rent?" - -"Was it as definite as that?" he asked. "I'd forgotten." He laughed. -"The 'Sortes Virgilianæ,'" he went on. "Every one his own diviner. If -you're in a difficulty, try it again. Take any book at random and read -where it opens." - -Ben put out her hand and found that it had alighted upon "Coleridge's -Poems." - -"Now open it and glance quickly," said Patrick. - -Opening it, Ben's eyes came instantly upon "The Ancient Mariner." - -"Do I have to read the whole page?" she asked. - -"No," said Patrick. "The title is enough. Isn't it helpful?" - -"I don't see how," said Ben, and she left the shop. - -"It's never failed yet," he called after her. "Either up or down, it's -bound to work." - -At intervals during the rest of the day Ben repeated the words "ancient -mariner," "ancient mariner," "venerable salt," "antique navigator," -"senile sailor." Nothing suggested anything. Perhaps, she thought, -it means the sea. But what could the sea do for Miss Marquand? She -couldn't--no, impossible--have meant to suggest committing suicide; and -certainly she was not going to run away: that was not a solution to -this kind of problem. Facing the music here. - -Ancient mariner, ancient mariner.... Ben racked her brains to think -of any elderly naval men that she might know. There was her father's -friend, the Admiral, old Sir Albert Ross; but he was dead. Nor had he -possessed a very sympathetic or understanding mind. The quarter-deck -manner. "Damn it," he would have said, "you've got to take your -punishment. People who play cards for stakes they can't afford get no -pity from me." Well, the Admiral was dead, anyway. - -Ancient mariner, ancient mariner. What was the next thing to a real -mariner? Why, a longshoreman, a boatman on the river. And the next -thing to the real sea? The Thames. Ought she to go down to the docks -and see what happened there? But why the Thames? Why not a lake? There -were boats on the Serpentine, close by, and this was a lovely evening -and the attendants would certainly be there and one of them might be -old. In fact they were sure to be old. And in conversation something -useful might occur. - -Ben was on her way to the Serpentine when she thought of the Round -Pond, and in a second Coleridge's meaning flashed upon her. Of course. -Why hadn't she thought of it at once? Uncle Paul. Uncle Paul was the -only ancient mariner in her acquaintance: Uncle Paul with his toy -boats, and, even more, Uncle Paul with his kind old heart and wise if -simple old head. She would go to see him directly after dinner. Of -course! - -Uncle Paul, if he had known of Ben's approach, could not have been -employed more suitably, both for her and for Coleridge, for he was -rigging a ship. A three-masted schooner. And he looked quite old enough -to be called ancient. - -"Well, my dear," he said. "How nice of you to call!" - -He moved away from the model and fetched the cigarettes. - -"Please don't stop, Uncle Paul," said Ben. "I shall be much happier if -you go on with your work. In fact, you must. And it isn't nice of me to -call, really. Because I've come for advice. To bother you." - -"Don't apologize for that," he said. "People like to be asked for -advice. It's flattering." - -Ben told him the whole story--without names--while his busy fingers -were deftly binding spars and threading cordage through tiny blocks. - -"And she struck you as being all right?" he asked at the end. "You felt -the thing to be genuine? She really seemed to mean it when she said -that this time it really was the end of her gambling?" - -"Absolutely," said Ben. - -"She must be helped," said Uncle Paul, and he went to his desk and -wrote a cheque for two hundred pounds made out to his niece. "Give her -this. But see that she pays it back to you, no matter in how small -instalments, beginning with her next allowance. I'm afraid she must -deny herself a lot of little luxuries; but that will be good for her. -Yes," he said, "she ought to go without all kinds of things she's used -to. But you'll talk to her like a mother and tell her so, of course." - -"A mother!" Ben exclaimed. "Why, I'm not more than three years older." - -"Age has nothing to do with it," said Uncle Paul. - -"You are the sweetest thing," said Ben, as she folded the cheque and -put it in her bag. And she hurried home. - -"Well," said Patrick, putting his head in at Ben's door the next -afternoon, "did it work?" - -"To perfection," said Ben. - -"It's a wonderful method," said Patrick. - -"I prefer it to all others," said Ben. "And, by the way, I've got a new -assistant. A Miss Marquand. We're getting on, you see." - - - - -XIX - - -Miss Marquand had only been working at "The Beck and Call" for a week -or so when Toby, Ben's youngest brother, paid his sister a visit. - -"How nice to see you," said Ben, "but I hope you haven't come, like all -the others, to reproach me for opening the place." - -"Not me," said Toby. "I'm all for it. I want you to be in business and -make money, because then I can borrow from you." - -"My dear," said Ben, "are you broke again?" - -"Absolutely," said her brother. "But have they really been pitching -into you?" - -"All of them but Uncle Paul," said Ben. "Even Aunt Agatha, but of -course she doesn't count." - -"Alicia, I suppose, wanted you to join her in Hove?" Toby inquired. - -"Yes," said Ben, with surprise. "But how could you know?" - -"I guessed it," said Toby. "I'm not such a fool as I look." - -"I didn't know you were so clever," said Ben. "Did you also guess that -poor Bertrand is alive?" - -"Alive? What on earth do you mean?" Toby asked. - -"I don't mean anything on earth," said Ben. "That's just it. Alicia's -taken to spiritualism and she communicates with him every day." - -Toby whistled. "That's topping," he said. "They ought to know -everything up there: I wonder if I could get her to ask him for a -winner." - -"My dear boy," said Ben, "are you betting again?" - -"Only now and then," he said. "And I have such rotten luck. It would -pay owners to make me an allowance to keep off their horses. But -what I came about," he went on, "is what is called my future. I wish -you'd talk to the governor about it. He's dead set on my going into -Uncle Arthur's office when I come down; but that means all kinds of -restrictions. And how am I to keep up my cricket? I want to play -seriously for a few seasons; they've got me down for Middlesex. I -can see now that I've been rather an ass not working harder. I might -have got a job then as a Sports Master at some big school, but even a -Sports Master, it seems, must know something. There's always a catch -somewhere. So far as the winter goes, I'm not so hopeless, because -you can get jobs now as Master of Ceremonies at the Swiss hotels--to -arrange dancing and ice competitions. I know two or three men who do -that and have a topping time." - -It was at this moment that the door of Ben's room opened and Miss -Marquand's head appeared round it. - -What else may be the answer to the poet's question, "Who ever loved -that loved not at first sight?" it is not Toby. For that had always -been his only way, and it happened again at that moment. - -"Good Heavens!" he exclaimed when the door had closed again. "Who's -that?" - -"That's one of my assistants," said Ben; "and you will oblige me by not -taking her out to lunch more than you can help, because we're busy. -Also, you can't afford it. Also, she may be already engaged." - -"But she's beautiful," said Toby. "She's terrific. What's her name?" - -"Her name is Viola Marquand," said Ben. - -"Viola Marquand! Great Scott! Why, I know her brother. He's at New. She -isn't engaged, or if she is, he doesn't know it." - -"Why should he?" Ben asked. "_You_ don't know all that _I_ do." - -"He's told me about her," said Toby. "He said I should fall for her and -I have. Do ask her to come in again about something." - -"Not unless you make a promise," said Ben. - -"Well?" Toby asked. - -"And keep it?" Ben said. - -"Naturally," Toby replied. "If it isn't too difficult." - -"Not to have another bet this year," said Ben. - -"Oh, I say!" said Toby. "That's a bit thick." - -"I mean it," said Ben. - -Toby knitted his fresh and candid brows. - -"I may go in for a Derby sweep or two?" he asked. - -"Yes," said Ben. "I'll allow that. But no betting. Promise?" - -Toby promised and Ben rang her bell twice. - -The door opened again and Miss Marquand's piquant little face again -appeared. - -"Oh, Miss Marquand," said Ben, "please come in. This is my brother -Toby, and if you have a minute will you let him see the morning paper. -He is interested in racing and wants to look at to-day's runners." - -"My hat!" Toby gasped. "Ben, you're the limit." But his eyes were on -Miss Marquand, and if ever a second sight corroborated the judgment of -the first, it was then. - -The introductions being completed, Ben relented. "Never mind about the -paper," she said. "I was only joking." Toby groaned. - -"But," she went on, "what my brother really wants is to consult the -'Scholastic Register.' Will you let him see it?" - -And the young people left together. - - - - -XX - - -Tommy Clinton arriving as usual from Madeira in May, paid an early -visit to "The Beck and Call," dallying awhile at the book shop, to -whose allurements had now been added a few water-colours; and for -water-colours Tommy had ever had a weakness. Indeed, he played a little -with a paint-box himself. - -"What on earth made you start this kind of thing?" he asked Ben, when -their first greetings were over. - -"Why not?" she countered. "I couldn't be idle. It's rather fun too." - -"I suppose you've got some kind of a lease?" Tommy asked. "You're bound -to let the experiment run a certain time?" - -"Of course," said Ben. "I shouldn't drop it unless I had to." - -Tommy was silent. These hostages to fortune did not suit him in the -least. - -"Is the fellow downstairs your landlord?" he asked. - -"I take this floor from the book shop, if that's what you mean," said -Ben, smiling at Tommy's transparency. "Did you go in there?" - -"I just looked round," he said. "I didn't speak to anyone. -Conceited-looking chap, I thought, and singing too; something about -O'Reilly. I can't stand shopkeepers who don't look like it, and sing. -Shopkeepers should wear black, and rub their hands. This fellow's in -tweeds with a blue collar." - -"That's Mr. Harford," said Ben. "His partner, Mr. St. Quentin, would -have pleased you more: he's only got one leg. They were at Oxford -together and then in the War." - -"You seem to know all about them," said Tommy, with some bitterness. -"Are they married?" - -"Oh, no," said Ben. - -"Are they engaged?" Tommy pursued. - -"If you mean, Are they engaged to me? No," said Ben. - -"Neither of them?" he asked. - -"Neither or both," she replied. "You seem to have missed your -vocation," she added, laughing. "You ought to have been a -cross-examiner. In fact, I believe you are--very cross." - -"I'm frightfully sorry," said Tommy; "but it's awfully disappointing -coming back and finding you locked up in an office. I was counting on -seeing such a lot of you, and now you say you've only got Saturday -afternoons." - -"We must make the most of those," she said. - -It was on their way back from a country walk that Tommy took Ben's hand -and repeated his annual question. - -"What about it?" he said. - -"About what?" Ben asked, with an affectation of ignorance which was not -really intended to deceive him. - -"'You 'eard,'" he quoted. - -She disengaged her hand and laughed her soft laugh. - -"I can't think why you're so horrid to me," he said. "What's the matter -with me?" - -"Nothing, Tommy," she said. "I like you very much. I always have liked -you. But I don't want to marry you." - -"Don't you want to marry anyone?" he asked. - -"No one that I've yet seen," she replied. - -"Not either of those book-selling fellows?" he asked. - -"Certainly not," she said. - -"But you must marry," said Tommy, very earnestly. "Of course you must. -It isn't right not to. What's the matter with me, anyway? We've always -been good friends; I'm not too poor; I hope I've got something better -than the kind of face that only a mother can love. I've got _two_ -legs. Why are you so down on me?" - -"My dear boy, I'm not," said Ben. "I have always liked you and I always -shall like you, but marriage is so different. Please don't ask me any -more, there's a dear, Tommy." - -She had said "Certainly not" with some firmness to Tommy's question -about her landlords; but was it true? She pondered on the matter -that night as she lay awake. Was she so insensitive to them? Would -she absolutely turn down a proposal from either? And if she had a -preference for one, which was it? Mr. Harford, so quick and gay and -handsome and clean cut and impulsive, or Mr. St. Quentin, so quiet and -amusing and lonely and in need of care? But whosoever she married, if -she married at all--and why should she, for her life was very full of -interest; this "Beck and Call" affair was very absorbing and it had got -to be made a success; and marriage seemed so often to be the end of -girls; look at poor Enid Stuart, what a wreck of a life that used to be -such a lark; look at poor Daisy Forsiter, all her jolliness gone since -she married that selfish young Greg--time enough to think of marriage -two or three years hence when she was tired of being so busy. - -So her thoughts ran. - -Poor Tommy! Whosoever she married, if she married at all, would have to -have more variety than that, be more of a companion. If she married at -all. Someone who did everything with an air, with a natural commanding -address, like, well, Jack Harford was rather like that--"Good morning, -O'Reilly, you are looking well"--someone who had humour and sagacity -and was in need of mothering a little like--well, Pat St. Quentin was -not unlike that--"My bonnie lies over the sea." But there were plenty -of other men, too, if she really wanted one, and it was ridiculous to -allow such a trifling business accident as renting an upper floor from -two young men to make these two young men the inevitable two from which -she had to choose a partner for life. What rubbish! - - - - -XXI - - -Ben chanced to be in the front office one morning when two children -came in: a boy and a girl. They looked about twelve and ten. - -"Well?" she asked. - -"We came in," said the boy, "because we've got a domestic problem and -we thought you would help. We saw the sign." - -"Of course I will," said Ben. "If I can. Is it very difficult?" - -"It is rather," said the little girl. "It's Dad's and Mum's birthday -to-morrow and we don't know what to give them." - -"But surely," said Ben, "they don't both have their birthday on the -same day?" - -"Yes, they do," said the boy. "It's extraordinary, but they do." - -"I think it's perhaps why they married each other," said the little -girl. - -"It's the most amazing coincidence I ever heard of," said Ben. "Are you -sure they're not pretending?" - -"Quite sure," said the boy. "Dad and Mum never pretend. And I don't -think anybody would pretend a thing like that, because it doesn't -really do them any good. You see it--it puts such a strain on our -pocket-money--Eva's and mine--to have their birthdays come both -together like this." - -"The worst thing of all," said Eva, "is to have a birthday on Christmas -day. Every one knows that." - -"When is your birthday?" Ben asked. - -"On Christmas Day," said Eva. - -"What a marvellous family!" exclaimed Ben. "And when is yours?" she -asked the boy. "On February 29th, I suppose?" - -"Yes," he said, "on February 29th. I only have a birthday once in four -years. I mean a real one. Of course, as a matter of fact, people are -very lenient." - -"More and more remarkable!" exclaimed Ben. "I never heard anything like -it. And are you the only children?" - -"Yes," said Eva. - -"Before I can help you," said Ben, "I must know how much money you've -got." - -"We've got five shillings each," said the boy. "But of course we can't -spend all that on the present because we must give some to you. Mustn't -we?" - -"Why?" Ben asked. - -"It says so on the signboard," said the boy. "'Terms moderate.' Terms -mean we must pay, don't they?" - -"Not in every case," said Ben. "Not in this case. Any advice I can give -to you is free, because I'm so sorry about your birthdays. But I can't -advise until I know everything, so you must tell me. First about your -mother. Tell me all about her tastes. Is she fond of reading?" - -"Yes," said Eva. - -"New books or old?" - -"New books," said Eva. "They come from the library. French books too." - -"Is she fond of flowers?" - -"Yes," said Eva, "she likes tulips." - -"And has she any favourite colours?" - -"A kind of purply pink," said Eva, after consideration. - -"No," said Eric, firmly; "yellow. All the French books are yellow, and -that proves it." - -"Does she write a lot of letters?" Ben asked. - -"Not many," Eva thought. - -"Does she play and sing?" - -"Oh, yes, she loves music," said Eva. - -"And now for your father," said Ben. "Is he old?" - -"Yes, very old," said Eva. - -"How old?" - -"Well, quite twenty-eight," said Eva. - -"He's much older than that," said Eric; "he's going to be thirty-five; -he said so this morning." - -"And what is he fond of?" asked Ben. "Is he fond of golf?" - -"He plays golf," said the boy, "but he's chiefly fond of fishing. He's -always going off to fish at a place called Stockbridge." - -"What is his favourite food?" Ben asked. - -After a good deal of difference of opinion and some heat, it was -decided that their father was most addicted to eggs, of which he ate -two every morning boiled for four minutes. - -"And do you want to join in these presents?" Ben asked, "and give -each of them one that costs five shillings, or do you want to be -independent?" - -This led to more debate and more heat, and it was at last settled -that they would rather not unite but would deal separately with their -parents. - -"Very well," said Ben, "this is what I suggest. That one of you -should give your father a little old book on fishing which we will -get downstairs, and the other should give him two very pretty china -egg-cups. And one should give your mother a box of purple sealing-wax -for her letters (which is a good kind of present because very likely -she'll let you help with the sealing), and the other should give her a -little bottle of the best lavender water. And I'm very glad you called -to ask me. Where do you live?" - -"Close by, in Eaton Square," said the boy. "We pass here every day and -we've always wanted to come in, but we've never had a real domestic -problem before." - -"And what do you collect?" Ben asked. "Because every boy collects -something, doesn't he?" - -"Motor-cars," said Eric. - -"Motor-cars!" Ben exclaimed. - -"He doesn't mean the cars themselves," said Eva. "Really, Eric, you are -so silly! What he means is, he writes down in a book the numbers of all -the cars he sees and the names of the makers of all he knows. I wish he -wouldn't," she added, sadly; "it makes our walks so dreary for me." - -"It's the only thing that makes walks possible," said Eric. - -They started to go out. At the door the boy stopped. "Are you sure we -oughtn't to pay you something?" he asked. - -"Quite," said Ben. - -"I think you're a wonderful adviser," said Eva. - - - - -XXII - - -"You must pardon me for intruding without any real business reason," -said the pretty woman, "but I want to apologize for my children -worrying you the other day. About birthday presents." - -"Oh, yes," said Ben. "They were yours, then?" - -"Yes," said her visitor, "but they had no right to take up your time -like that." - -"I was delighted that they did," said Ben. "Children are very rare -in this business. It's a very pleasant change after the usual run of -clients. And I thought it very clever of them to think of coming to me -at all. Very few children would be so original." - -"My name is Hill-Owen, and we live just round the corner in Eaton -Square," said the visitor. "And since I _am_ here, I wonder if you -would give me advice as to my cook. She's young and very pretty, and -she cooks very well, but she's terribly attractive to Guardsmen. I -suppose good cooks are as difficult to find as ever?" - -"More so," said Ben. "It's not part of my business. This isn't a -registry office. But from the inquiries I get, I should say that the -world's greatest need at this moment is cooks." - -"Then you agree with my husband," said Mrs. Hill-Owen, "who says, -'Never mind about the Guardsmen so long as dinner is all right'?" - -"I should take some precautions," said Ben. "I don't think Guardsmen -ought to be there after ten, say." - -"Guardsmen are very difficult to dislodge," said Mrs. Hill-Owen, "and -I'm afraid to go down and interfere, she's so touchy. She might give -notice. It's the worst of this Knightsbridge district. I thought of a -wonderful plan the other day, and that was to make her bring the key of -the basement door up at ten every night; but as my husband said, 'How -can you tell she's locked it?' It's really a terrible responsibility. -And we're away so much too. What would you do?" - -"I?" said Ben. "I should do my best to forget." - -"Would you? How clever of you! Thank you so much. I'll try to." - -This was one of Ben's odd days. - -Mrs. Hill-Owen (she told me) had not been gone more than a few minutes -when a Rolls Royce purred up to the door of "The Booklovers' Rest," and -a richly dressed young woman emerged and made her way upwards to "The -Beck and Call." - -Ben, chancing to be in the front office, received her in person, and -asked her requirements. - -"I want," said the girl, "an engagement as parlour-maid." - -"_You_ want?" Ben exclaimed. "But for someone else, of course." - -"Oh, no," said the girl. "For myself. I want to go into service." - -"Come inside," said Ben. "I must get this clear. You want," she said, -when they were seated, "a situation as a parlour-maid?" - -"Yes," said the girl. "But it must be in a really good house--a -nobleman's for choice." - -Ben's surprise led the girl to be confidential. - -"I ought to explain," she said, "especially as I've had no experience -of anything but helping mother at home. The fact is dad has suddenly -become rich--enormously rich--and everything has changed. We used to -live in a little house in Ealing, but now dad's bought one of those -great places on Kingston Hill. He's happy enough, pottering about the -garden, but it's very lonely for mother and me, because many of our -old friends have disappeared--frightened, I suppose--and we can't make -new ones of the new kind because--well, we're not easy with them. We -don't know how to behave or what to say. They've called, you see. So -I thought it would be a wonderful thing if I took service in a good -family and kept my eyes open. I'm very quick; I should soon pick it up; -and someone was saying that 'The Beck and Call' was the best place to -come to with any inquiry, so I came. What do you think, miss?" - -"You would have to keep your secret," said Ben. - -"Oh, yes, of course," the girl replied. - -"You'd have to leave that car behind." - -"I shall love to," said the girl. "It's largely because of the -chauffeur that I want to learn. He's so superior. Mother and dad, of -course, will never be able to deal with servants, but I feel that after -a little while I shall know enough to keep them in their place. And of -course when I'm through we shall have new ones, and so start fair." - -"Well," said Ben, "I think it's a most original plan. The principal -difficulty is the noblemen. They're all so poor now that they probably -do their own parlour-maiding. I know one personally who describes -himself as the 'Gentleman with a duster,' and one of the most famous -of our dukes boasts that he cleans the windows. You would take the -lowest wages, of course?" - -"Oh, yes," said the girl; "or none at all." - -"No," said Ben, "that would be very foolish. Never do that. You would -be suspected at once; and if the other servants found out they would be -impossible to you. By the way, had you thought of the other servants?" - -"Oh, yes." - -"The footman?" - -"Yes. But I've got to go through with it, and I'm very quick. You don't -think it's unfair to the people who engage me to use them in this way?" - -"No, I don't think so. All life is a lesson, and this is quite funny. -But the real joke will come when you meet them later on, on level -terms." - -"Oh," said the girl, "how terrible! I never thought of that. I must--I -must think a little more about it," she added, "and talk to mother." - -She went off, and Ben watched the chauffeur's face as she got into the -car. It certainly had an expression that needed very drastic treatment. - - - - -XXIII - - -"I don't want to be inquisitive or interfering," said Ben to Viola -Marquand, "but I think we ought to be frank with each other about Toby. -I'm afraid that that engagement ring is his?" - -Viola looked a little confused, but admitted it. - -"And what are your plans?" Ben asked. "How long are you prepared to -wait for him, and what do you propose to live on? Don't mind those -questions, but I feel rather responsible for both of you. I'm all the -mother that Toby's got, and to some extent I am in charge of you as -well, aren't I? Besides, I suppose I might be said to have thrown you -together." - -"Of course I don't mind," said Viola. "You've been far too kind. I like -Toby tremendously. I don't say I was anxious to be engaged, but he was -miserable till I said yes." - -"I'm sure he was," said Ben. "He specializes in misery over delays. But -what do you think he can do? And what will your people say?" - -Viola became very grave. "Yes," she said, "what, indeed? They are -sufficiently cross that I am here doing work; but that I don't mind. -Girls have to expect that. I dare say you had some trouble yourself?" - -Ben smiled. "Just at first," she said. "But fathers soon forget. -They've got other things to think about." - -"Mine doesn't seem to have," said Viola. "He's bent on my marrying -someone rich, and he's afraid that working here may prejudice rich men -against me." - -"That's absurd," said Ben. "Men who want to marry pretty girls can't -be prejudiced against them by anything; that is if they really want to -marry them. People do what they want. Don't you agree?" - -"Yes," said Viola, "I think I do. But it wouldn't convince father. -Father hasn't much imagination, I'm afraid, and when he gets an idea he -sticks to it." - -"And your mother?" Ben asked. - -"Mother does what she's told," said Viola. "Poor mother! We shan't all -grow like that, I hope." - -"Not if you marry Toby," said Ben. "Toby may be capricious and rather -tiresome, but he'll never dictate. Toby's idea of marriage is to be -deliciously, luxuriously enslaved. But if I were you I shouldn't wear -that ring. He's too young. If you take my advice--and I don't think -you are so deeply in love as to refuse to--you will give it back to -him and say that you will wait a year before you ask for it again, if -then." - -"But it will break the poor child's heart," said Viola. - -"Not more than is good for him--and for both of you," said Ben. "Think -it over, anyway. If you made it a condition that he was earning enough -money for both of you--or was in the way to do so--it would be all -to the good. His whole tendency is to take things too easily, which -wouldn't matter so much if he wasn't engaged. But, being engaged, he -must work." - -"It sounds frightfully sensible," said Viola. "And not at all like me." - -"Well, your father would say the same," said Ben, "and very definitely -too. It's inevitable if you admit the engagement. How much better for -you to suggest it amicably!" - -"I'll try," said Viola. "But it's rather rough luck." - -She drew the ring slowly off her finger and looked wistfully at the -mark it had left. - -"You really are fond of him?" Ben asked. - -"I think so," said Viola. - -"It's so difficult," said Ben, in one of the worst sentences ever -constructed, "for sisters to understand anyone losing their heads over -their brothers." - - - - -XXIV - - -It was early in June that I had an urgent call from Ben asking if I -would help her. A Canadian woman had been in to say that her husband, -who was an invalid, had one mastering wish, and that was to hear the -nightingale again before he returned home, probably for ever. Ben knew -nothing of nightingales; but she wanted to oblige, and would I take -the affair in hand?--my acquaintance with those birds being (I assume) -notorious. - -I agreed. - -Mr. Measure was rather a tragic figure. A wealthy Canadian of cultured -tastes, he had been stricken when only in the fifties, and this was a -last visit to Europe to see once again the beautiful things that he -knew so well and would regret so keenly. For "Dying," as he said to me, -"would be nothing if were it not for what we leave behind." - -They had been to Florence, to Siena, to Perugia, to Venice, to Rome, to -little quiet places among the Italian hills that had old associations, -to Chamounix again, to Avignon and Arles, to Puy-de-Dôme. In a day or -so they were to sail for Quebec, where his home was and where his grave -would be. - -He had but one wish left as regarded his English visit, and that was to -hear the nightingale. It had suddenly come to him as he read in a paper -some reference to their season of song--he had had the idea that it was -earlier and now finished--and his wife had chanced upon Ben's signboard -and had asked for information there: as it happened, very fortunately. - -I called at their hotel to discuss our plan of action. Mr. Measure, -poor fellow, was clearly very ill; he was thin and weak, but his eye -was bright and he was full of enthusiasm for the adventure. He did not -want to sleep in a country inn, but did not mind how late he returned -to London. Would I mind driving in a motor ambulance with himself and -his wife? - -Not at all. - -His idea was that we should leave London after a very early dinner and -go straight to a likely spot, hear the nightingale, and drive back. If -we heard one sooner, so much the better. - -"I know of a practically certain place," I said, "but it is a little -late. A fortnight ago would have been better. Remember, I can't -promise." - -It was a favourable evening on which we slid away from Mr. Measure's -hotel. I had my mind on a particular meadow in Sussex, just north of -the Downs, skirted by a lane. This meadow is surrounded by a high, -untrimmed hedge with oaks at intervals, and there is a tinkling stream -close by. A few cottages here and there in the neighbourhood complete -the nightingales' requirements, for they are fond of human sounds. In -this meadow, which has never disappointed me yet--at any rate in late -April and all May--nightingales have the enchanting habit of singing in -threes, one against the other at the points of the triangle. - -Knowing by bitter experience how useless it is to squander minute -directions on such insensitive, non-receptive, unobservant, and -unremembering creatures as chauffeurs, I sat on the box; not sorry -either, for it was warm, and talking in a car is fatiguing. - -We left London by way of Battersea Bridge and kept on the Brighton -road as far as Hand Cross--over Walton Heath and down Reigate Hill -and through Crawley. At Hand Cross we branched to the right, leaving -Cuckfield on our left, and came through Bolney to Albourne and due -south as far as Muddles Wood cross-roads. At intervals I had fancied I -heard the magic notes and had slackened the car--you know how easy it -is to imagine this sound--but always it was a false alarm, or the song -had been only of momentary duration. - -At Muddles Wood we turned to the right. The air was warm and there -was no wind, only a sighing of the earth. The moon was now bright and -the great bulk of the South Downs, sweetly undulating, rose against -the quiet sky. We crept slowly along for a quarter of a mile and then -dipped sharp to the left for fifty yards and stopped. This was the spot. - -For a while there was not a sound, save now and then a rustle in the -undergrowth, the whistle of a far-distant train, a car on the Henfield -road, an owl's hoot, or a dog barking. - -I had begun to be assured of the worst when there came a liquid note. -Then silence again; and then suddenly a burst of song. It was very -brief, and there was again a disconcerting silence; but then another -singer replied, and gradually their songs grew more steady. They -behaved like angels; they went through everything in the repertory, and -although their voices were not in the perfection of mid-May, they were -beautiful enough, and one of them repeated that plaintive single cry -seventeen times. - -Even the chauffeur was impressed. He had heard about nightingales all -his life, but this was his first experience of them. Like a canary, -wasn't it? - -I did not intrude upon the sick man until the time came to go. He was -in an ecstasy and I wished that Ben could see him. It would have been a -triumph for "The Beck and Call." - -"But I should call that song a happy one," he said. "Certainly not -melancholy, except very rarely. Its charm is its volume and exultation, -and the careless ease of it." - -I agreed. "I am against Matthew Arnold here," I said. "To me the truest -line about the bird in our poetry is in William Cory:-- - - - Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake. - - -That's what they are: pleasant voices, triumphantly 'telling the -world.'" - -"Even Keats," he said, "makes the song a little too voluptuous and -passionate, although how true to say that the nightingale 'among the -leaves' has never known - - - The weariness, the fever, and the fret!" - - -He paused, and then repeated, almost in a whisper, the lines:-- - - - Now more than ever it seems rich to die, - To cease upon the midnight with no pain, - While thou art pouring forth thy soul aloud - In such an ecstasy! - - -To me, though he was but a stranger, these lines, as he murmured them, -were, since I knew his secret, infinitely pathetic; to his poor wife -they must have meant anguish. - -The next morning I called at the hotel to see how Mr. Measure was and -to bid him good-bye. He re-expressed his gratitude for the night's -entertainment, and said he should die with that music in his ears. I -reproved him for talking of dying soon with such certainty. - -"Dying men," he said, "can prepare for death with more courage, -composure, and acceptance than those who watch them, and I have no -doubt that you are sorrier for me than I am for myself. Not that I want -to die, but I know I must. I won't be insincere about it. I know I am -going to die very shortly after reaching home, because I have the means -of death always with me. I know that my trouble is incurable and that -it is getting worse. Would you have me a burden on those around me? My -mind, as I grow weaker, will be less clear, less trustworthy; would you -cherish decay?" - -I had no rebutting argument to set up. - -"I have always," he went on, "dreaded this disease, and when I was hale -and strong I prepared accordingly. I have no fears; any postponement -is due to the fact that I want to see my lawyer again and be at home. -Otherwise I should take a dose to-day. - -"The greatest drawback to suicide," he continued, with a whimsical -smile, "is not want of decision, but a dislike of giving trouble. If -I were to commit suicide now, it would have to be done in a hotel, -and that isn't fair to the hotel. Nor should I care to be found lying -in a field: that would mean a shock to someone and too much newspaper -squalor after. Also a public mortuary. In any well-organized State -there would, of course, be a great pool of quicklime into which, after -taking poison, we could roll; but lacking that we must behave ourselves -as best we can. By waiting till I get to Canada, I can complete my -will, fold my arms, and die like a gentleman in bed." - -"While admiring," I replied, "your determination and nice taste, I -would remind you that next spring the nightingales will be singing -again. You might still be alive and well enough to hear them." - -"I refuse," he said, "to linger on, a wreck." - -And so passed Mr. Adrian Measure from my life. - - - - -XXV - - -"Dear Miss Staveley," ran the note which Ben found on her desk, "will -you do me the divine favour of coming to the theatre with me this -evening? If so, name your play, and I will fetch you at your rooms at -7.5, and we will dine first. I do so hope you are free and that the -notion likes you." - -"Yours sincerely, -"JOHN HARFORD" - - -Ben accepted. - -It was a very smart Mr. Harford who drove up to Aubrey Walk that -evening and carried her off to dinner. The tweeds had given place to -superlative dress clothes and a white waistcoat; and there was no dog. - -He went upstairs for a moment to be introduced to Melanie, who had -insisted on this ceremony. "And later," she had said, "I want to see -the other one too." - -"Why?" Ben asked. - -"Just curiosity," said Melanie. "It is always interesting to see the -men who fall in love with one's friends. And these two seem to be so -different that it is more interesting than ever. Why don't you marry -both?" - -"Have I ever given you any reason to suppose I should marry either?" -Ben asked. - -"Plenty," said Melanie. - -"How ridiculous you are!" said Ben. She was really rather annoyed. "I -am so tired of this notion that men and women who are friendly must be -going to marry." - -"It is doubtful, however," said Melanie, "if any weariness on your part -will lessen the popularity of union between the sexes." - -"Oh, Melanie, shut up!" said Ben. "How tired I am also of that word -'sexes'!" - -"None the less, old dear," said Melanie, "there it is, and it's come to -stay. And to a large extent that's why I've got to eat my dinner alone -this evening." - -"Again I say, shut up!" said Ben. - -"How extraordinarily different you and Miss Ames are!" said Jack, as -the cab started. "And yet she's very nice too. But she's so detached, -so cool, so ironical." - -"She's a very close observer under it all," said Ben. - -"I'm rather scared of her," said Jack. - -"What becomes of Soul when you go out in the evening?" Ben asked. - -"He mopes," said Jack. "I've got an excellent landlady, who does -her best to keep him happy, but he has no life away from me really. -Sometimes when I walk and go to the pit, I take him to the theatre -and leave him with friendly commissionaires; but it isn't a kindness -because, as I can't give him any notion of how long I shall be, he -spends the time in searching the appearance of every passer-by. -Considering how near the ground his eyes are, this must be a very -tiring and anxious occupation." - -"But when you do arrive, his joy makes up for everything," Ben -suggested. - -"Yes," said Jack. "Dogs have wonderful compensations. Still, I doubt if -the Fates were quite kind to them to make them at once so understanding -and so dumb, or to us to make them so short-lived. You like them, don't -you?" - -"I adore them," said Ben. - -"Would you care to have Soul?" Jack asked. It was a terrible wrench, -but he asked it. ("Love my dog, love me.") - -"Oh, no," said Ben. "Never! If ever a dog belonged to one person, -and one only, it is Soul. And even if I accepted him, he would still -be yours. He would be too loyal to transfer any but superficial -affections. But you are very generous to make the offer at all," she -added, "and I shall never forget it." - -Melanie was sitting up when Ben returned. She was one of those girls -who prefer the small hours. - -"How do you find Mr. Harford?" she asked. - -"He's very jolly," said Ben. - -"Yes, but has he got anything to say?" - -"Not very much," said Ben. "He isn't quite grown up. Such lots of young -Englishmen aren't. I suppose it's this domination of the ball which -keeps them boys. French youths, who don't play games, always look so -old. But he's very nice and kind." - -"I'll bet he didn't try to kiss you in the cab," said Melanie. - -"Certainly not," said Ben. "Why should he?" - -"So many of them want to," said Melanie. "But the older ones chiefly. -All the same," she added, "if you're not careful you'll very shortly -have the chance of offering to be a sister to him." - -"I wish you wouldn't be so absurd," said Ben. "Your suspicious nature -smirches everything. Mr. Harford likes me, I know, but that's all." - -"Was he always as smart as that?" Melanie inquired. - -"I don't know," said Ben. "I've never seen him in evening clothes -before." - -"And he made no overtures to-night? Will you swear?" - -"Of course," said Ben. - -"He didn't offer you his spaniel or anything like that?" - -"Oh, Melanie, how horrid you are!" Ben exclaimed as she banged the door. - -Melanie chuckled. - - - - -XXVI - - -The Wimbledon tournament now being over, in which Tommy Clinton had -survived but two rounds, that young gentleman was only too free to -devote his time to Ben, and it was therefore the more galling to him -to find her so busy. He called so frequently that Mr. Harford was -constrained to mention the fact. - -"You will excuse me, Miss Staveley," he said one afternoon after Tommy -had left, "but would you mind if we put a ladder against the wall for -your friend to come and leave by?" - -"Which friend?" Ben asked. - -"The affable gent in the Panama hat," said Mr. Harford, "who is here -most days and walks through our modest but well-conducted premises as -if they were a pig-sty. We don't mind a man despising the treasures of -literature; reading is, after all, a matter of taste; but we do bar -the way he scowls at us. Even Pat, mild and tolerant as he is, almost -squared up to him to-day. My own idea is to exchange this poor little -creature here--who shares the besetting sin of all spaniels in being -too ready to make indiscriminate friends--for a man-eating mastiff. -What's his quarrel with us, anyway? Does he dislike us personally or -did a book seller once try to do him in?" - -Ben laughed. "Poor Tommy!" she said. "Be a little patient, he's going -back to Madeira next week." - -"An excellent place for him," said Mr. Harford. - -Ben herself found Tommy rather a trial, for he not only looked at her -with such hungry hopelessness, but he took up a great deal of valuable -time. - -His next visit was a veritable ordeal. - -"Look here, Ben," he said, "I've been working for you since I was here -last and I think you'll agree that I've been rather useful. Of course -I hate your being in this business--the very phrase 'Beck and Call' -makes me sick, for a girl like you too!--and being mixed up with those -two fellows downstairs. By the way, the lame one sings too: something -about his 'Bonnie,' confound him! Well, since you're set on sticking -to business, and since you won't do what I ask, I want to help you to -be more comfortable and more successful. So I've been nosing about -and I've found you some really good premises in a central part, far -removed from this back-alley and those musical shopkeepers downstairs." - -"What ever do you mean?" Ben demanded, her colour rising dangerously. - -"Just what I have said," Tommy replied. "I have found you some really -good premises. In Dover Street. Close to the big hotels, close to -Piccadilly, and approached from the street direct by a staircase. Very -important, that." - -"My dear boy, no doubt you meant it very well," said Ben, with some -temper, "but I can't have my affairs interfered with like this. I have -a lease here, for one thing; for another, it has become well known. -For another, I don't want to move. Dover Street, no doubt, is a good -position; but I can't afford Dover Street. This is cheap and central -enough. I hope you haven't committed yourself at all." - -"I've got an option," said Tommy. - -"Then please oblige me by instantly getting rid of it," said Ben. - -"As to the higher rent," said Tommy, "you'd make that up in a jiffy -when people found you had a separate entrance and didn't have to go -through a shop." - -"Please get rid of it instantly," said Ben. "I shan't have a moment's -peace of mind till you do. I'll come down with you," she said, with a -sudden foreboding of an explosion below. - -"Oh, Ben," said Tommy, miserably, "and I did want to help you! All -right," he added angrily, "I'll go. And I may as well say good-bye now -instead of next week. Good-bye." - -"But I'm coming down with you all the same," said Ben. - - - - -XXVII - - -"Is that Ben?" Toby asked over the telephone at Aubrey Walk, one -evening. - -"Speaking," said Ben. - -"I must see you," said Toby. "At once." - -"But I was just going out," said Ben. "Where are you?" - -"I'm at home," said Toby. "I'll come and go with you to wherever you're -going. It's frightfully important. It's a matter of life and death." - -Ben smiled. She had been expecting this. - -"I was only going to Uncle Paul's," she said. "I'll wait for you." - -"Righto!" said Toby. "I'll come in a taxi." - -He came, looking wild and haggard. - -"This is awful," he said. "Vi says she won't wear my ring for six -months. And she wants me not to see her." - -"For how long?" Ben asked. - -"Six months: an eternity. How can I keep away from her for six months? -It's too dreadful! If I had any poison I'd take it; but I haven't. And -chemists are so jolly careful since those Welsh cases." - -"Six months isn't very long," said Ben; "only twenty-six Sundays. You -can stand that. Didn't Viola say anything else? She is still fond of -you, isn't she?" - -"She said so, but I don't understand. If you're fond of anyone you want -to be with them. At least, I do. I don't get this fondness that gives -you the boot. She said," he went on, "that to be engaged to me was -impossible until I had something to do. Her father would never allow -it. If I could find something to do, with prospects of an income within -six months, she would defy her father and marry me; but she couldn't as -it is. Why she doesn't defy him now, I can't see." - -"Well," said Ben. "I suppose that a father, as a father, has some -rights--at least as long as his daughter is dependent on him." - -"But Vi's earning her own living, isn't she?" Toby asked. "Don't you -pay her a salary?" - -"Not just yet," said Ben. "But we won't go into that. The point is, -that she lives at home and Mr. Marquand is her father." - -"I had a notion that all this father stuff was out of date," said Toby. -"It is, in the novels I've read." - -"Only if the children choose to rebel," said Ben. "And neither Viola -nor you are going to. Besides, I think he's right. He's Viola's father; -he's brought her up. Why should he allow her to become engaged to the -first irresponsible young man who comes along?" - -"Why do you call me irresponsible?" Toby asked. - -"Well, aren't you? Where is your responsibility, anyway? You're only -twenty, to begin with. You've only just left Oxford. What do you know?" - -"I know my way about," said Toby. - -"So does Dolly, my office boy," said Ben, "who's only sixteen. Probably -much better than you, because he knows how many pennies there are in a -shilling, which you certainly don't. But what do you _know_? What have -you learnt?" - -"I know a certain amount of Greek and Latin," said Toby. - -"Yes, but how much? Not enough to be a schoolmaster?" - -"No," said Toby. - -"Do you know any French?" - -"Enough to get through a French novel," said Toby. - -"Yes, but not enough to explain anything to a custom house officer at -Calais?" - -"No," said Toby. "Emphatically not." - -"What else do you know?" - -"I know how to order a dinner." - -"That's better," said Ben. "That's the first useful thing you've -mentioned." - -"And I know a lot of men," said Toby. - -"That's good, too," said Ben. - -"And I've been asked to play for Middlesex," said Toby. "And, by the -way, Vi adores cricket. It's quite the thing now for a man when he's -playing away from home to take his wife with him. Heaps of them do. Vi -knows quite a lot about the game. You'd be surprised." - -"I should forget all that," said Ben. "You can't play for a county and -be worth five hundred a year in a short time. If you really want Vi -while you're both young, you must think about work, and nothing but -work. Do you want her as much as that? As much as to give up cricket?" - -"Of course," said Toby. "Of course I do. I can't live without her." - -"You mean," said Ben, "you dislike the thought of living without her; -but you'll find yourself doing so, all right. And how much does _she_ -want you?" - -"I don't know," said Toby. "I don't see why she should want me at all; -but she seems to. We seem to suit each other down to the ground." - -"And you really and truly believe that you would like to become a -married man and have a small house and go home every evening to dinner -and play cricket only on Saturdays? You would look upon that as the -perfect life?" - -"Absolutely," said Toby. - -"Very well then," said Ben, "you must act accordingly. You must -remember those old fairy-tales we used to read, where the woodcutter's -son, or whoever it was, had to perform all kinds of difficult tasks -before he could win the princess. Your task is, as quickly as possible, -to go into some business and make yourself indispensable. So far as I -can see, all that Oxford has done for you, if you are to make money, is -to give you an agreeable accent and nice cool manners. I fancy it's the -times you've played truant in London or were at home in the vacations -that have really been most useful. You couldn't learn at Oxford to -order dinner." - -"But what am I to do?" Toby asked. "That's the question. The governor -wants me to go into Uncle Arthur's office in the city. But what's the -good of that? He's got three partners as it is, all with sons. It would -be years before I got a footing there." - -"No," said Ben. "I shouldn't vote for that. You'd simply loaf and -gamble. I'll talk to father about it." - -"It's a pity you stopped me betting," said Toby. "If you hadn't, I -should be rich to-day. That priceless boy of yours gave me a tip for a -100 to 8 winner, but I didn't do it. He's a marvel. He knows the whole -thing--trainers, jockeys, pedigrees, courses--and he hears things too. -Your friend Harford follows his advice like a baby." - -"You promised," said Ben. - -"I know," said Toby, "and I'll stick to it; but I think it was a -mistake." - -"No," said Ben, "it wasn't. But, anyway, we'll forget it and -concentrate on the future. I'll go and see father first. After all, -it's his job to see that you are started in something, and meanwhile -don't be depressed. You ought to be proud to be put on your mettle for -a girl like Vi. It makes a knight of you! You'll be happier now, won't -you?" - -And Toby promised. - - - - -XXVIII - - -But Colonel Staveley once again avoided a responsibility, for chance -made me the solver of the problem. - -The very next morning, as it happens, I had a letter from my old friend -Marrable Leigh. - -Marrable Leigh was one of those men who move amiably and quietly about -on Tom Tiddler's ground picking up gold and silver. He was in no -business and he was in all. He was on a Board here and a Board there, -and he had a complimentary pass on every railway in the country: a -privilege that is extended only to those who can afford to pay for it. -To the rich shall be given, and Marrable Leigh was permitted as seldom -as possible to pay for anything. Even his wine merchant implored his -acceptance of a dozen, just to try, and theatrical managers were always -sending him boxes. But he deserved his good luck, for he was a benign -and philanthropic creature, and he had the softest white hair I ever -saw. - -"I wonder," he wrote, "if you know of a nice young man who could -manage a county club. There's a very fine house and estate in Surrey -going for a song, and I think it would be fun to make a residential -place of it, with plenty of lawn-tennis courts and a golf links, -billiard-rooms, and so forth. A young athletic man with brains, and -plenty of friends, but not necessarily experience. The amateur is often -best for this kind of thing. My idea is perhaps to live there myself -and make a hobby of it as well as a home. You may come in on the ground -floor if you like." - -Following the line of least resistance, I took this letter at once to -"The Beck and Call." - -Ben read it and her excitement was intense. I never saw her look so -animated and indeed beautiful: her colour was brilliant. - -"Oh, dear!" she said, with a sigh that was sheer relief and content, -"how amazing! And to come to-day too!" - -She took the telephone and called for a number. - -"Is that you, Price?" she asked. "Miss Ben speaking. Is Mr. Toby -down yet? He's having breakfast. Well, tell him to come instantly to -Motcombe Street. Very important. Call a taxi for him." - -"Oh, dear, how happy I am!" she said. And then she told me about Toby -and his affairs. - -"Of course Toby's exactly what is wanted," she said. "He has heaps of -friends at Oxford, and there are father's club friends, too. He's very -good at games. He's mad to throw himself into something and prove that -he isn't just a dud. And there's this love trouble to incite him to do -more than his best. Don't you agree?" - -"Well," I said, "it wouldn't matter if I didn't. Having come here for -advice I shall take it. But, as it happens, I do agree. I think Toby -ought to be splendid, and it is like Marrable Leigh's instinct to -fasten on that type." - -When Toby came in he took fire at once. "Of course I can do it," he -said. "I'm used to managing. Although no one knew it I deputized for -our bursar lots of times, behind the scenes. And I know of a ripping -butler out of a job at this moment, at the Carterets' at Hurley, you -know," he explained to his sister. "They're giving up their house. He's -a nailer!" - -Ben looked proudly at me. - -"And if the governor was allowed to take a few shares it would be all -to the good," Toby continued. "It would interest him in it." - -Ben looked still more proud. "Not such a fool as you thought him, this -boy," her expression seemed to say. And how true it is that opportunity -so often makes the man! - -"Couldn't we see Mr. Marrable Leigh now?" Toby asked. - -"I think we might ring up," I said; and we did so and made an -appointment. - -Let it suffice to say that we spent a most amusing day motoring to -Fairmile Towers, exploring the house and grounds, and motoring back. - -That evening Toby dined with Marrable Leigh; and the next day Miss -Marquand was again--under the rose--wearing his ring. - - - - -XXIX - - -"Look here, Ben," said Colonel Staveley, "something awful's happened -and I want your help." - -He was unusually smart in appearance, Ben noticed. - -"Tell me quickly," she said. - -"It's in this cable," said the Colonel. "Merrill's husband." - -Ben read the message, which stated that the Rev. Egbert Bourne had died -of pneumonia in Minneapolis a day or so before. - -"Merrill's got to be told," said the Colonel. - -"Of course," said Ben. "You'll go down at once, won't you?" She reached -for the "A.B.C." - -"Well, the fact is," said the Colonel, "I can't. Most unfortunate, but -I've got an old engagement for to-day and I can't get out of it. One -of those postponed things which it's idiotic to put off any more. For -three years now I've promised to go to Ascot and each time something -has occurred." - -"But surely Belle wouldn't mind--considering everything," said Ben. - -"Belle?" replied her father. "Oh, yes! But it isn't Belle. Belle -doesn't care about racing. It's Lady Dunster. I should take Belle too, -of course, if she wanted; feel it my duty to; but she doesn't care -about racing, and it would be too absurd to disappoint Lady Dunster -again. On such a fine day, too. And, after all, it isn't as if he died -here. All those thousands of miles away! So I thought you'd be the -good, kind girl you always are and just nip down to Astingham. I don't -think it will be so very painful. Merrill never seemed to me to care -much for him." - -"I've got a taxi waiting," he went on, "so I'd better not stay any -more. Of all forms of wasting money, letting a taxi tick up while it's -standing still is the silliest." - -And he was gone. - -Ben's lips shaped themselves to whistle, but no sound came. "It's lucky -for us that mother had some nice feelings," she permitted herself to -think. - -She called Jan. - -"I've got to go down to the country," she said, "and I may stay the -night. Tell Miss Marquand to open everything and act as if she were me." - -"No one could do that," said the loyal Jan. - -"Well, as nearly as possible then," said Ben. "This is my address if -you want anything special," and she hurried off. - -At the station she sent a telegram to Merrill to announce her -imminence, and then she settled down in the compartment to consider the -situation. - -Poor old Egbert, she thought. What an arid life! To a large extent -wasted, with the kind of waste that is going on on all sides. What did -he marry for? He thought he was in love, or, at any rate, in need of -Merrill. But he wasn't. He no sooner acquired her than he forgot her; -she became furniture; all he wanted was himself and the opportunity -to get on with his foolish book, which didn't matter to anyone. -Everything was sacrificed to that; his blood turned to ink; he ceased -to be interested in actual present-day life; his sympathy changed to a -pedantic curiosity; he gave what was meant for his fellow-creatures to -a Biblical tribe that had been dead for thousands of years. - -And how many other men were like him? They didn't all write about the -Hittites, but they had their absorbing Hittites all the same, whether -business Hittites or play Hittites, and so their altar promises became -scraps of paper and the precious hours slipped away. What a muddle! -What a muddle! - -And Merrill? Fortunately she was of a more equable nature than so many -a neglected wife; fortunately she had no great depths, or, at any rate, -if she had, no man had discovered them. Egbert had been lucky in his -choice. Many another woman would have taken things into her own hands -and have secretly saved something from the wreck. But Merrill was too -light-hearted, too simple. And now perhaps she would marry again--she -was only a little over thirty--and be happy: marry a plus-four man, -with a taste for dancing and the theatre, who, if he ever thought of -the Hittites at all, thought of them as a Central African race who made -bearers for hunters of big game. - -That was Merrill's right husband, and they would have a large house -in the country, and two or three children, and come to town for the -season, and if he did any work at all it would be purely as a J.P. - -There was nothing to meet Ben at the station, and when she reached the -Vicarage the first thing she saw was her unopened telegram on the hall -table. - -Mrs. Bourne was playing golf, said the maid. - -Poor Merrill, what ought to be done? Ben wondered. Was it fair to spoil -her game? But, on the other hand, was it fair to let her go on and -give a chance to malicious tongues? - -Ben decided to walk to the links, and no sooner did she get there -and observe Merrill and her partner than she realized that in all -probability the plus-four man had already arrived. - -Merrill, under the solicitous tuition of this tall and very -good-looking country gentleman, was about to dig out the ball with a -heavy iron when she caught sight of her younger sister. - -At first she could not believe it, and then, "Ben, you darling!" she -exclaimed, flung away the club and was in her arms. - -"Whoever thought of seeing you here!" she went on. "But how splendid! -Let me introduce Captain Andrews." - -After a few conventional words, the Captain, who had tact as well as -good looks, said that since Ben was there he would ask Mrs. Bourne to -release him from his engagement to lunch with her; nor would he take -any refusal. - -For this Ben was very grateful to him, and it set him high in her -estimation. - -"But I want you to know my sister," said Merrill. - -"And I want to know her," he said; "but to-day, I am sure, you have -much to talk about. I'll order the car and drive you home." - -It was while Merrill was in the club-house that Ben had an opportunity -of speaking to the Captain. - -"That was very thoughtful of you," she said; and she told him the -nature of her errand. - -"Good God!" he exclaimed, but in accents, she fancied, more of -surprise, or even relief, than of sorrow. "Good God! I think," he -added, after a moment, "I'll send my shover with you. Perhaps you will -be so kind as to make my apologies to your sister," and he walked away. - -"Is Captain Andrews married?" Ben asked, as they whirled along. - -"No," said Merrill. - -"Does he live near here?" - -"Yes," said Merrill. "Between Petersfield and Midhurst. He's got a -beautiful place. And now you darling," she said, "tell me truly why you -came down. Much as you love my _beaux yeux_ I know it wasn't for them." - -"It was to fill them with tears," said Ben. - -"What do you mean?" Merrill asked anxiously. "What has happened?" - -"Egbert," said Ben. - -"Egbert? Not dead?" said Merrill. - -"Yes," said Ben. "In America, pneumonia." - -"Merciful heavens!" Merrill exclaimed. - -Grief and joy can inhabit amicably a very small house. But in -Merrill's case grief was rather more like pity, and joy a consciousness -of release. Only a dazed consciousness, though, at the moment. - -"Poor Egbert, poor old Egbert," she murmured. "He didn't have much -fun." And then, "Poor Egbert, what a long way to go to die!" - -She was silent for a long while. - -"I suppose I ought to do things," she said. - -"Of course," said Ben. "There is so much to do. You must write to his -relations. No one knows but you, I believe. You must write to the -Bishop about the living. You will have to get clothes." - -"I suppose so," said Merrill. "Yes, of course, clothes." - -"And you ought to cable to America." - -"What about?" Merrill asked. - -"Well, what do you want done with--with Egbert? Sometimes they -embalm----" - -"Oh, no, he must be buried there," said Merrill. "Not here. Dying so -far away, he must be buried far away. He had no real interest in this -place. Some day, perhaps, I might go over there and see his grave. -Where was it?" - -"Minneapolis," said Ben. - -"Yes, he was to lecture there," said Merrill. - -"Some day--oh," she exclaimed, "I must let Captain Andrews know!" - -"He does know," said Ben. "I told him." - -Merrill looked at her. "That's why he sent the chauffeur," she said. "I -see." Her perplexity gave way for a moment to a smile. - - - - -XXX - - -"Say," said the American, addressing Mr. Jack Harford, and stooping -to pat that casual tradesman's inseparable companion, "is this a dog -fancier's or a book store?" - -"We sell books and water-colours," said Jack; "or, at least, we keep a -stock of books. But this spaniel belongs to me and is not for sale." - -"I'm sorry," said the American. "I was looking for a flea-trap. But -what about this 'Beck and Call' sign. How can I get there? I've got -some questions to ask. Is it a good place?" - -"Very," said Jack. "The office is run by a Miss Staveley, and she seems -to give satisfaction. But it depends rather on what you want. Through -the shop and up the stairs." - -"I'll try," said the American. "These chancey things often pan out -best." - -He ascended the stairs, and after Jan had, in Dolly's phrase, passed -the rule over him, he was admitted to Ben. - -"My name's Barclay Corbet," he began. "I see you solve Domestic -Problems, so perhaps you can solve mine. This is what I'm becking -and calling about: I want to spend a few weeks in real England. Not -the England that most of my countrymen are shown, but something that -you'd call essentially 'old world.' Don't mention a cathedral," he -added hastily; "I've had all the cathedrals I want and all the vergers. -Don't mention a watering place, or the Dukeries, or anything like -that. Don't mention Oxford or Cambridge. And above all don't mention -Stratford-on-Avon. I want retirement. What I want is a place where -there's no railway within miles, no corrugated iron roofs, no waiters -in clawhammer coats, but pretty waiting-maids named Kate and Lucy -instead, and no boys calling winners. And I want there to be a saddler -in it making saddles in the midst of the smell of leather, and a -churchyard with the graves all crooked and all over moss. And spaniels; -yes, there must be spaniels. And another thing, a rookery. Can you do -this?" - -Ben furrowed her forehead. - -"I wonder," she said, "if Shaftesbury would do? It's in Dorset; very -old, very quiet and self-contained, and high up on a hill like an -Italian town, like Siena." - -"That settles it," said Mr. Corbet. "If it's high on a hill, it's -no good to me. I've had all the climbing I want. And if it's like -anything Italian, it can fade away into the back seats. I've done with -macaroni. No," he went on, "think again. Think of something where -there's a river to loaf beside and a water mill." - -"A water mill! Oh, I know," exclaimed Ben--"Bibury!" - -"You seem mighty struck on places ending in 'bury'," said her client. - -"It was you who insisted on a churchyard," Ben retaliated. - -"So it was," said the American, "but for æsthetic purposes only. Still, -tell me about this Bibury." - -"Bibury is a dream," said Ben. "It's all grey stone, and every house -looks as if it grew there. But they're beautiful too, and even the -tiniest cottages have mullioned windows and delicious gables. The barns -are like cathedrals--without," she added hastily, "any vergers--and the -cattle-sheds are like cloisters. It's in Gloucestershire. It's miles -from a station, and there's a trout stream, and--if you value that, but -of course you don't--the people still touch their caps and the little -girls curtsy. And when I was there last there certainly weren't any -waiters--only nice girls, even if they weren't named Kate and Lucy. But -their caps were white. And there are millions of rooks, and if you -were very lucky you might see a kingfisher." - -"It's too good to be true," said the American. "Show it me in the -'A.B.C.'" - -"I can't," said Ben. "It isn't there. You have to go to Cirencester." - -"Better and better," said the American. "Places not in the 'A.B.C.' -have a special appeal for me. And bury or no bury, I'll go there. Is -the food good?" - -"Didn't I say it was a fishing inn?" Ben replied. - -"Well, young lady," said the American, "you've put me wise to what -sounds like a very good thing. Tell me how I pay you." - -"I don't think you do," said Ben. "Not this time. You must come again -and let me do something more practical for you." - -"It's a bet," said the American. "I'm very much obliged to you, young -lady. You're the brightest thing I've struck in this country yet. _Au -revoir!_ We shall meet again." - -On his way through "The Booklovers' Rest" he paused to ask Jack if he -knew a place called Bibury. - -"Know it?" said Jack. "I should think I do. It's one of the most -beautiful spots in England." - -"Bully," said the American; but he had sufficient native scepticism to -ask if the bright girl upstairs did not have an interest in the inn. - -"Because she's been recommending it?" Jack asked. - -"I just wondered," said the American. "No offence," he added quickly, -as Jack's face darkened. - -"It's just as well you said that," Jack replied, "or by jingo----" His -fists relaxed. - -"Now look here, young man," said the American, "forgive me. I meant no -harm. And I like you for your feelings. I'll insure my life and come -here again." - -A few weeks or so later Mr. Barclay Corbet, who was as good as his -word, was again announced by Jan. - -"Miss Beck," he said, greeting Ben, "I've come to thank you for your -advice about an English village and to ask you to help me some more. -But this time it's a real business proposition. I've bought Bibury -Grange and I want you to furnish it for me as a place should be -furnished and find me some good servants. Will you?" - -Ben collected her startled wits. "Of course," she said. "When do you -want to go in?" - -"In three weeks to the minute," said Mr. Corbet, looking at his watch. - -"Three weeks!" Ben gasped. - -"Yes. I can't wait any longer. I'm going over to New York for a day or -two to settle some affairs, and I want when I return in exactly three -weeks to find the house ready for me to live in. I want to go straight -there and settle down and be happy. Will you do it?" - -"But----" Ben was beginning. - -"No 'buts,' Miss Beck," said the American. "Here's a plan of the house, -every room measured up. Take it and get busy. And here's a cheque that -will more than cover everything, and the bank is ready to let you have -more on your signature, if you'll kindly write one out for me for -reference. I haven't a minute now. The signature, please." - -He rose. - -"But I don't know your taste," said Ben. - -"It's yours," said the American; "or rather, I should like it to be." - -"Do you want a butler and a footman or only women?" Ben called after -him. - -"Nice women, named Kate and Lucy and Alice and things like that," he -replied, as he left the room. - -"And what about wall-paper?" she remembered to ask at the top of her -voice. - -"White distemper," he called back, and was gone. - - - - -XXXI - - -With plenty of money one can acquire most of the less important things -of life; and Ben was not stinted there. So we had three terrific weeks. -I say "we" because I was in it. - -We went to Bibury that evening, with an expert from one of the big -furnishers, and early the next morning we were busy starting the work. -Then we hurried back, with a full plan of house and garden, and began -to compile catalogues of necessities. There are printed lists to be had -from the big furnishers, and to these we added every kind of minute -accessory. Ben wanted to leave no loophole for criticism whatever. Ten -times in a night I would wake up and think of something that might be -forgotten and jot it down; and if I woke up ten times, Ben probably -woke up twenty, for this commission was her great chance. - -I thought in this way of: - - - Nut-crackers - Goloshes - Pepper mill - Pond's Extract - Court Plaster - Order for newspapers - Garden seats - Fishing tackle - Cigars and cigarettes - Lavender sachets - Paper clips - Notepaper die. - - -Ben was taking Mr. Barclay Corbet at his word and making her own taste -control the whole scheme. This meant grey carpets and rose curtains, -all of which had to be put in hand instantly. Then there were rush -mattings and linos and rugs and blinds. Everything was new: there was -no time to hunt for the old; but it was the best new, and we saw that -every drawer opened easily. Fortunately two of the essentials of an -American's house that take most time to supply--central heating and the -telephone--were there already. - -When it came to decorative inessentials we were cautious. Pictures, -for example. It is very difficult to buy pictures for other people, as -every one who has ever been in a hotel sitting-room will agree. Yet -there were those great bare, white distempered walls. - -The pictures being an acute problem, Ben, with deep cunning, left them -to me. - -"But I haven't seen your Barclay Corbet," I said. "A man can be -anything in the world until you've seen him. How can I choose? Does he -look like a hunting man?" - -"No." - -"That shuts out sets of coloured Alkens, which might be just the thing -for such a place: Alken, Sartorius, Ben Marshall, all those fine old -horsy fellows. Does he suggest exotic tastes?" I asked. - -"No." - -"That's puts a stopper on Japanese prints--as a rule such a safe line! -And oil paintings would cost too much. And mezzotints of beautiful -women, after Reynolds and Gainsborough, also dear, might not please -him." - -It was then that Mr. Harford came to the rescue. "If he likes Bibury so -much," he said, "it follows that he must like Old England. I'll frame -up a lot of our water-colours--De Wint, Birket Foster, William Callow, -Tom Collier, David Cox, Varley--and if he likes them he can keep them, -and if not I'll take them back. And now I come to think of it, he -wanted to buy my dog, the swine! Called him a flea-trap! I've got some -engravings of spaniels and setters after Stubbs--I'll hang those in the -hall." - -We settled the books in the same way. A certain number were decided -upon without any question, such as the "Encyclopædia Britannica," -Dickens and Thackeray, and then a mixed collection was put together by -Mr. St. Quentin: to be retained or returned. All were supplied by that -enterprising firm "The Booklovers' Rest" on the principle, as Ben said, -of keeping Mr. Corbet in the family. - -The few vases and bowls that were necessary were simpler: there are so -many non-committal shapes and colours now. - -Mr. Harford did not confine himself to supplying the pictures and -books, but himself superintended their arrangement in the house, -and when I went down to Bibury for a last look round two or three -days before the time limit was up, in order to have the chance of -supplying any last-minute deficiencies that might occur to any of us, -I found that pleasant young gentleman among the people staying at the -inn. Although a second-hand book seller, he seemed to have views on -everything else too, together with a knack of getting things done, -while in addition he found time to throw a fly now and then over the -rapid waters of the Coln. - -"Mr. Harford has been very kind," Ben said. "I'm sure he's needed in -London, for Mr. St. Quentin has sent him several telegrams; but he -wouldn't go back so long as there was any bother here." - -We went over the house together, and it was undoubtedly an achievement. -Between us we had, I believe, covered the ground; Mr. Harford, with -diabolical thoroughness and perhaps a touch of malice, having actually -provided the library with a cuspidor. - -The time being ripe, Ben and I returned to London--Mr. Harford, having -given in to his partner's S.O.S.'s the day before--for Ben preferred -not to be present when her client arrived. She argued that a house may -be described as more ready to live in if there is no one to welcome you -but your own people. But she left a little note expressing her hope -that she had succeeded in her task, and adding, "There is a corkscrew -in every room." - - - - -XXXII - - -It was, I imagine, the presence of the cuspidor which tickled Mr. -Barclay Corbet's fancy and provoked him to the series of telegrams -which he despatched to Ben. They came at intervals for a day or so. I -can remember a few, with the replies: - - - Corbet Bibury to Beckancal London: - Please explain curious article by library fire-place. - - Beckancal London to Corbet Bibury: - Sorry if I have been over-zealous. - - ---- - - Corbet Bibury to Beckancal London: - Do not seem to have any bellows. - - Beckancal London to Corbet Bibury: - Look in oak chest in hall. - - ---- - - Corbet Bibury to Beckancal London: - Gardener clamouring for secateur. - - Beckancal London to Corbet Bibury: - In cupboard in summer-house. - - ---- - - Corbet Bibury to Beckancal London: - Cannot find any shaving paper. - - Beckancal London to Corbet Bibury: - Tear up "Times." - - -And then came Mr. Barclay Corbet in person to express his absolute -satisfaction and to make Ben and her staff a handsome present, and then -to spend some hours downstairs in fixing up his shelves properly. - -"Whoever thought I wanted an 'Encyclopædia Britannica,'" he said, "is -the world's worst clairvoyant. What I want is the works of A. Trollope. -They're good to read and they're good to send you to sleep." - - - - -XXXIII - - -Alicia, better dressed than usual, with a new vanity bag and a rather -dashing hat, had been seated in Ben's room for many minutes before she -could bring herself to be explicit and admit that she had received -an offer of marriage. From a widower, a retired ironmaster, living -at Hove. In one of the avenues, she added; with his sister: a horrid -woman. They had met at a séance, for he, too, was interested in -spiritualism and was in communication with his late wife. At least he -had tried to be, but that lady had refused to be communicative because, -she said, there was someone antipathetic to her in the room. - -"You, I suppose," said Ben, in her blunt way. - -"I don't know why you should say so," said Alicia, hurt. - -"I don't see why she should rejoice in your presence, anyway," Ben -replied. "It can't be much fun for dead wives, out of it for ever, -watching their husbands preparing for a second marriage." - -"That's just it," said Alicia, with a groan. - -"What do you mean?" Ben asked. - -"Nothing," said Alicia, and was silent for quite a long while. - -"Do you want to marry him?" Ben asked. - -"I don't dislike him," said Alicia, "but it is very sudden. I had never -expected anything of the kind to happen, or indeed thought about it. As -you know, I was anticipating a lonely life dedicated to the boys. And -if it weren't for the boys I shouldn't consider it now, for an instant. -But of course it would be good for them. He is so fond of them, and a -man is a better influence than a weak, fond mother." - -"So you will say yes?" said Ben. - -"I don't know, oh, I don't know," said Alicia, dismally, with a glance -at her pocket mirror. "You see," she added, "there's Bertrand. He ought -to be told." - -"I thought you said that he knew everything about you," said Ben. - -"So I have thought," said Alicia. "But he ought to be told formally. -And that can be done only through the medium, and I don't want her to -know. I've never liked her, apart from her calling. Not a lady, by a -long way. Not even the third drawer! But if Bertrand knew, wouldn't he -have let me know? Some little message of encouragement? Surely! But no, -nothing. I used to feel so certain of him, but now it's all changed. -Do you think I'm becoming less psychic or that he's cross?" - -"I hope you're becoming less psychic," said Ben. "You oughtn't to marry -retired iron-masters and be psychic too. Bertrand was a very just man," -she continued. "He couldn't be so unreasonable as to wish you to be -deprived of the company and consolation of a second husband." - -"I'm not sure," said Alicia. "I feel that he counts on me, and I may -lose him if I marry again." - -"I suppose, to a certain extent, you would," said Ben. - -"You think so?" Alicia asked eagerly. - -"Yes, I think you would," said Ben. "It's only natural. And I think if -you married you would want to, too." - -"Want to lose Bertrand?" Alicia asked in amazement. - -"Yes. It would be very awkward to have both." - -"I suppose it would," Alicia admitted. - -"And besides," said Ben, "after all, you may have been mistaken -about conversing with Bertrand at all. The whole thing may be an -hallucination, proceeding from yourself. The wish the father to the -thought, you know." - -"Do you think so?" Alicia asked with some excitement. "Do you think I -have imagined it all and Bertrand and I have had no communication?" - -"I think it quite possible," said Ben. "You'll never be able to prove -it, of course. Anyway, from what I remember of Bertrand, he would want -you to be happy, and he would like his boys to be looked after." - -"You think he would?" Alicia asked. - -"I'm certain of it," said Ben. - -"Then you would marry Mr. Redforth?" - -"If I liked him sufficiently, and trusted him, yes," said Ben. "In any -case I should not let the vague possibility of Bertrand's disapproval -deprive me of the chance of new happiness." - -"Ben, you're a darling!" said Alicia, kissing her impulsively. "I'll do -it." - -"And what about Mr. Redforth's sister?" Ben asked. - -"Oh, she must make her own arrangements," said Alicia. - - - - -XXXIV - - -Walking in Kensington Gardens to-day whom should I meet but Ben's Uncle -Paul, with his latest yacht on his arm; and he seemed almost to welcome -the opportunity of sitting down for a while to chat. For we are not the -most intimate of acquaintances; not because of any inherent antipathy, -but because of an acute observer would probably detect in each of us -a slight suspicion of the other--a tincture of jealousy--each of us -wishing to be the nearest and dearest among Ben's middle-aged friends. -Her capture of a young man we should accept not with joy but with -resignation--for it would be according to nature--but we should hate to -see her adding another friend of fifty to her retinue. - -We began, as we usually do when we meet, by mentioning her. It is a -sign that true intimacy is lacking when a third person is called in as -an ice-pick. And how often it happens! - -"Have you seen Ben lately?" I asked, hoping fervently that the -advantage was with me. - -"She came in to see me last evening," said Uncle Paul, with all his -usual difficulty of utterance, and my heart fell. (But of course -relatives don't count. Relatives are in the line of least resistance. -The real test is when a stranger is made a friend of.) - -"How do you feel about the business?" Uncle Paul asked. "Do you think -it is really thriving? Do you think it is too great a strain?" - -"I don't think so," I said. "And she does it so well; she's so happy -doing it that a little strain wouldn't matter." - -"I went into the book shop underneath the other day," said Uncle Paul, -"all unbeknown to Ben, to have a look at those young men. I suppose -you've seen them?" - -I had seen them often, confound them! "Yes," I said, "once or twice." - -"And how do they strike you?" Uncle Paul inquired. "Because you know, I -suppose----" He stopped for a while. "Well, I wonder what you think of -them," he said. - -"I am sorry to say," I replied, "that I don't see anything very wrong -with either." - -He looked at me through his highly magnifying gold-rimmed glasses. Then -he laughed. - -"I felt a little like that myself," he said. "But we mustn't be dogs in -the manger: old men like us." - -(Not so old as that, all the same! He must speak for himself.) - -"I could wish that the quiet one had more legs," said Uncle Paul. "But -I suppose that his disability is all in his favour with such a born -manager as Ben. Would he be your choice?" - -"I don't know," I said. "I sometimes think I should prefer her to take -the jolly one. And I like a man to be complete." - -"The jolly one might get on her nerves after a while," said Uncle Paul. -"High spirits and facetiousness can ruin a marriage almost as easily as -egotism and irony." - -"I don't think Harford's humour is as virulent as that," I said. "I -saw a lot of him at Bibury. I thought his gaiety rather attractive. He -has some brains, too. His principal fault--and I wish I could share -it--is that he finds life an adventure and a joke. But he will be cured -of such heresies as those all too soon. Nothing so enrages the Powers -above as to see anyone down here daring to be like that. And they have -all the weapons of chastisement and correction so handy!" - -"Well, I shall put my money on the lame one," said Uncle Paul. - -"But why should she marry either?" I asked. "She does not strike me as -so inevitably a marrying girl." - -"Geographical conditions largely," said Uncle Paul. "There they all -are, so absolutely on the spot." - -"I should have thought they would be jealous," I said. - -"I've no doubt they are," said Uncle Paul, who seemed to me to know far -too much for a stammering recluse given to Round Pond navigation. "And -if one of them is not accepted, or both aren't refused, pretty soon, -'The Booklovers' Rest' will dissolve partnership." - -"As bad as that?" I remarked. - -"I think so," he said. "It's astonishing what a disturbing element in -the lives of two young men one young woman can be." - -"Yes," I said, "and it's more astonishing when it's such a sensible -girl as Ben, who would not be bothered to make mischief with anyone, -but merely wants to go her own way and be busy. But what does Nature -care about 'The Becks and Calls'? Nature has only two ideas in her -obstinate old head. One is that people should fall in love and become -parents, and the other that they should grow old." - - - - -XXXV - - -"You may think us very foolish," said the tall man, as he seated -himself. - -"Or very greedy," said his wife. - -"But we want some advice about food, and seeing your signboard, which -reminded me of the inn my father used to keep in Helmsley," the man -continued, "we thought we'd come in and ask. But," he said, "I never -thought to find a beautiful young lady like you, miss. You are 'miss,' -I take it?" - -"Yes," said Ben, laughing. - -"Somehow," said the tall man, "our difficulty is more one to put to -an older woman. But it's like this. My wife and I are just back from -New Zealand, where we've lived ever since I was twenty. I've done very -well, and we're having a look round London. We're staying at the Hotel -Splendid, you know. Everything bang up. Private suite. Gold clock under -a glass shade." - -"Which doesn't go," said his wife. - -"Steam heat," he continued, "that dries up all my tobacco. Everything -perfect, in fact. But we can't get the food we like. You see, miss, -we're very simple folk, and we want the old-fashioned things. All the -way home we have been thinking and talking about the things we would -eat, and now that we're here we can't get them. They serve them, but -they're not right. Sausages and mashed--I know just how they ought to -taste; but at the 'Splendid' they taste of nothing. And lots of things -I used to be so fond of at home they don't serve at all. I can't get a -pork-pie--'porch-peen,' as we used to call it. When I asked the head -waiter for cow's heel, I thought he'd throw a fit. Batter pudding, -boiled onions, apple dumplings; it's no good, they can't make them to -taste of anything, or they can't make them at all. They've got such -a horror of the flavour of apple that they smother it with lemon and -cloves. Now, miss, couldn't you tell us of some smaller places--we -don't mind how small or how common--where we could get some of the old -homely stuff? My poor wife here is wasting away." - -"Oh, John, it's you that want them much more than I do," said his wife. - -"I don't know much about food myself," said Ben, "but I've heard my -father say that there are certain things that no restaurant can ever -do as well as home cooks. He says that no restaurant can make bread -sauce or horse-radish sauce properly. No restaurant can be trusted -with mushrooms. My advice to you," she continued, "would be to cut -out London altogether, unless you were set on it, and go either to a -country inn or to a farm, where the milk isn't watered and the cream -hasn't any boric acid, and the eggs are this morning's, and things -taste as they should. London never gets anything really fresh. Why -don't you go to your own Yorkshire?" she asked. - -"We shall later," said the tall man. "But we want to see London first; -and meanwhile we're starving." - -"Then you must go into lodgings," said Ben, "where there is a good -plain cook." - -"John is so fond of the 'Splendid,'" said his wife. "He's always wanted -to stay in that kind of hotel and waste his money on red carpets and -sit in lounges and watch the actresses." - -"Then stay at the 'Splendid,'" said Ben, "but eat at simpler places. It -would be amusing to pay five pounds for a bed and five shillings for -meals. The management ought to know about it--it might do them good. -But wait a minute," she went on, "I've just thought of something." - -She rang the bell and Dolly entered. - -"We want your advice," she said. "Do you know of any eating-houses -where old-fashioned food is well cooked and tastes like itself?" - -"Plenty, miss," said Dolly. "There's a place in the Hampstead Road with -a placard up that says 'Everything as Nice as Mother Makes It.'" - -The New Zealander slapped his thigh. "Now you're talking!" he cried. -"Does it really say that? That's what we're looking for: 'Everything -as Nice as Mother Makes It'--my! but that's a great sentence; that's -literature. Where is this place, boy?" - -"In the Hampstead Road," said Dolly. "But there are others too, very -likely. And I can tell them about sausages, too, miss, and tripe and -onions. Famous places. And stewed eels, miss." - -Ben shuddered. - -"This is great!" said her client. "Now, look here, miss," he continued, -"this seems to me to be a bright boy. Let us have him for a few days -to show us round, and name your own price. He'll take us to the places -we want to see, like the Tower and the Zoo and Westminster Abbey, and -he'll show us where to eat." - -"What do you say, Dolly?" Ben asked. - -Dolly was obviously flattered; but he had the business at heart. - -"I was wondering if I could be spared," he replied. - -"Well, if you can be, what do you think your time is worth?" Ben -inquired. - -"Including fares," he said, after some thought, "and taking into -consideration the distress and upheaval caused here by my absence, -fifteen bob a day, exclusive of lunch." - -"We'll pay that," said the New Zealander, cheerfully, and the bargain -was struck. Dolly had become, for a week, a courier. - -Later that same afternoon, Ben told me--it was one of her mixed-grill -days, as she called them, when every one was odd--a plainly dressed -young woman asked to see Miss Staveley on very pressing private -business, and was admitted. - -"You won't know me, miss," she said, "but my mother was your Jane." - -"Jane?" replied Ben. "You don't mean Jane Bunce?" - -"Yes," said the girl. "The one who was with the Colonel and his lady -for so long and only left to be married." - -"Of course," said Ben. "We are all very fond of her. I can remember her -perfectly, although I was so small. I hope she is all right." - -"Yes," said the girl. "But father----" - -"Tell me," said Ben. - -"It's like this," said the girl. "Father's been ill now for months and -months, and somehow mother heard about you setting up here as a kind of -advice-giver. And she said 'You go along to Miss Ben's and ask her. I'm -sure she wouldn't object, for old sake's sake.'" - -"Tell me," said Ben again. - -"It's like this," the girl resumed. "Father's been ill for months and -months, and you know what sick folks are, how they get their minds -set on things? Well, he sits in a chair at the window watching the -motor-cars go by. We're in Peckham, you know, and motor-cars go by all -the time, and even more on Sundays, and--well, miss--he's never been in -one in his life. In motor-buses, yes, but never in a car. Motor-buses -don't count. They've got solid tyres; they're public. But a shiny -private car with rubber tyres, all his own for the time being--he's -never been in one of those; and he sits there at the window and it's -his only wish. But you see, miss, he can't ever do it now, because he's -that weak, and the doctor only gives him another two or three days." - -"Well?" said Ben. - -"Well," the girl went on, dabbing her eyes, "well, mother told me to -come and ask you if you think it would be very wrong--too extravagant, -I mean--if we were to give him a motor funeral? As a surprise, miss, -of course? What do you think, miss? What may I tell mother?" - -"Give her my love," said Ben, "and tell her most certainly to do it. -And tell her to come and see me when the funeral's over." - - - - -XXXVI - - -"May I come in?" asked the bronzed, soldierly-looking man, as he opened -the door of Ben's room, having brought his handsome face and easy charm -to break down, with their usual success, Jan's opposition. - -"My dear Cecil!" Ben exclaimed, rushing into her brother's arms, "what -brings you here? I thought you were in Paris." - -"So we were," he said, "but I had to leave in self-defence. Yvonne was -ruining me. We were to have stayed there a month, but I should never -have got away at all if I hadn't put out all my strength and insisted -on coming now. - -"The clothes that child buys!" he continued. "We're heading straight -for Queer Street. I see that you solve domestic problems; well, if -anyone ever asks you for advice as to marrying a foreigner, tell them -not to. The answer is in the negative. Foreigners are all right in -their place, but don't marry them." - -"Poor Cecil!" said Ben. - -"No, it isn't as bad as that," he said. "Yvonne and I get on very -well. But she's a foreigner, and once a foreigner, always a foreigner. -They never get to understand. I can't make her realize that I'm not -rich. She thinks that all Englishmen must be rich. She has plenty of -relations in the French Army--naturally--and they are poor enough, but -an English officer must necessarily be wealthy. Nothing that I can -say or do has any effect. I show her my accounts; but I might just as -well be exhibiting a bridge score. She has no idea of money or figures -whatever. And if by any chance a glimmering that I may be telling the -truth enters her brain, she says 'Ah, but your father is rich. Some -day he will die--he is an old man--and then you will be rich too.' -They're so practical, the French. They go straight for what they want, -and what she wants is her father-in-law's death. But, as a matter of -fact, as I have told her, judging by the governor's general appearance -to-day, he is far less likely to peg out than I am. He's as skittish as -a two-year-old on stepmother's money; and he and Yvonne are as thick as -thieves. They're at some function or other together to-day--Ranelagh, I -believe. Thank God you can't buy clothes at Ranelagh!" - -"No," said Ben, "but you can see them and get envious and plot -terrific campaigns for to-morrow." - -Cecil groaned. - -"As a matter of fact," he said, "I don't see what I've gained by -bringing her to London. There's a Rue de la Paix here too! The old joke -had it that first you paid and then you rued, but I don't see how I can -pay. It's her only fault, but it's deadly. I can't put a notice in the -papers disowning her bills, because I'm not that sort, but it's getting -very serious, and if something doesn't happen or someone doesn't leave -me a fortune, I shall be up against it. When you see her, Ben, do try -and make her understand." - -"Of course I'll try," said Ben. "What a pity you haven't any children! -If she had something like that to occupy her, she'd forget about dress." - -"Not Yvonne!" said Cecil. "If Yvonne had been the old woman who lived -in a shoe, she'd have had a different dress to do every whipping in." - -"Doesn't she read?" Ben asked. - -"She lies on the sofa with a book," said Cecil, "but she's not a -reader. She's at heart a _mannequin_; but she's a darling too," he -added hastily. "Don't think I'm not in love with her still. I am. I -adore her. But heavens! she's extravagant: I've had to give up polo -entirely because of it. She doesn't know it, but I have. I pretended -I'd strained my back." - -That evening Ben and Yvonne met at Colonel Staveley's. - -"But, my dear Ben," said Yvonne, in her pretty broken English, "you -would not 'ave me shabbee?" - -"That would be impossible," said Ben. "But poor old Cecil isn't rich, -you know." - -"Ah!" said Yvonne, giving Ben a pat with delicate ringed hands, "'e -'ave spoke with you about me. And you say 'I will defend my big brozzer -against this--this--so naughty butterfly?' Is it not so?" - -"Cecil adores you," said Ben. "I wish you had some children." - -Yvonne's large brown eyes filled with tears. - -"And I," she said. "Always I think of it. But _le bon Dieu_, 'E say no." - - - - -XXXVII - - -Not long after the close of the Barclay Corbet episode Mr. Harford -waylaid Ben as she passed through the shop. - -"I was wondering," he said, "if you would break a chop with Soul and me -this evening? Anywhere you like?" - -Ben agreed. - -"You shall not be restricted to a chop," said Jack. "Order anything in -season or out of it. I'm rich to-day. I sold a lot of things to another -Yank. They're the book seller's friends! Pat's at Leamington at a book -sale--and I flatter myself he'll be surprised when he comes back." - -"There are two ways of being surprised," said Ben, remembering the -incident of the imperfect copy. - -"That's a very nasty one," said Mr. Harford. "I credited you with a -shorter memory. But the insult shall be washed out in red wine, or -even, if you say the word, in the yellow and effervescing juices of -Epernay or Rheims. Money is no object. Consider me this evening as a -Quaritch, or even a Rosenbach." - -"As a matter of fact," said Ben, "I am in need of a particularly good -dinner, for I have had a trying day. More than one thing has happened -to tire me, and my last client--or would-be client--did more than tire, -she humiliated me." - -"'How come?'" asked Jack, who had added that detestable transatlantic -locution to his vocabulary, chiefly with the meritorious if frivolous -purpose of exasperating his partner. - -"A very offensive woman called half an hour ago in a motor-car many -yards long--you may have noticed her--to ask me to make arrangements to -take her little Peter out for a walk three times every day while she is -away in Paris," said Ben. "I was very angry and refused." - -"Is Peter her little boy?" Jack asked. - -"Little boy!" said Ben. "Nothing so unimportant. It's her Pekinese. -When I refused she was furious. She almost accused me of being an -impostor. She said that my business was to solve domestic problems and -that no domestic problem was so acute as the exercising of dogs." - -"I wish I'd known," said Mr. Harford. "I saw her go out. If I'd known, -I should have offered her some suitable books: 'Self Help' by Smiles, -or 'It's Never Too Late to Mend,' The--the----" - -"Hush!" said Ben. "People who hang out signs can't be choosers." - -"Now that we are firmly entrenched in this corner," said Mr. Harford, -after they had finished their soup, "I've got a proposition to lay -before you. I was useful at Bibury, wasn't I?" - -"Very," said Ben. - -"I helped in bucking the men up and getting things done?" - -"Very," said Ben. - -"And you don't dislike me?" - -"Not particularly," said Ben. - -"Well," said Mr. Harford, "what I was thinking is that you and I might -do very well in partnership." - -Ben flushed. - -"No," he said quickly. "I don't mean what you think I mean--at any rate -not at the moment. But you're not engaged, are you?" - -"No," said Ben. - -"Thank Heaven!" said Mr. Harford fervently. "But look here, Miss -Staveley, I swear I didn't ask you here to ask you that. It was sprung -on me. I swear I didn't. You believe me, won't you?" - -Ben expressed her belief. - -"When I said 'partnership,'" he resumed, "I meant business partnership, -although---- When I said partnership I meant business partnership. -Because it seems to me that you and I could do a lot of things together -very profitably. You could get this kind of commission again--old -Corbet is probably singing your praises all over the place to other -impulsive and rich Americans, and that will mean business--and I could -act as your overseer." - -"But what about 'The Booklovers' Rest'?" Ben asked. - -"Well, Pat would run that; or, if need be, I'd retire. You know, Miss -Staveley, speaking in strict confidence, I don't believe I'm a born -book seller. Honest, I don't." - -Ben laughed. "What a wonderful discovery to have made!" she said. - -"But," he went on, quite gravely, "I do believe I have a _flair_ for -getting the best out of people under me." - -"There won't always be a trout stream," said Ben. - -"Now you're making fun of me," he said. "I'm really serious. I feel all -tied up and congested in that shop among mouldy books. It's all right -for Pat--he's a literary cove, and his one desire is to read books and -write them." - -"Does he want to write?" Ben asked. "I didn't know that." - -"Oh, yes," said Mr. Harford; "that's his one ambition. But he can't -afford to. He has to make a living. If he were rich he'd chuck book -selling to-morrow and take to authorship; and he'd be jolly good too. -I'd have my money in the business whatever happened. My mother is -always good for more. But what do you say?" - -"Well," said Ben, "I can't say anything very definite. We must wait -till another Mr. Barclay Corbet comes along and then we might make -some arrangement; but I think to talk of--of partnership is rather -premature." - -"But you don't hate me?" Mr. Harford asked anxiously. - -"I said I didn't," Ben replied. - -"I wish you could see my mother," he said. "She's splendid. But she -lives rather a long way off--at Laycock. I suppose you wouldn't come -down for a week-end? It is a delicious place, a little like Bibury, as -a matter of fact. All grey too. Would you?" - -"I don't see how I could," said Ben. - -"No," said Mr. Harford. "I was afraid not." - -He left her at her door. - -She gave him her hand. - - - "Good evening, O'Reilly, - You _are_ looking glum," - - -she sang. - -"No wonder," he said, and turned away. - -Ben stood at the door long enough to see him stoop down and pat Soul's -head. - - - - -XXXVIII - - -On Ben's desk lay a long envelope addressed to Miss Staveley in an -unknown hand. Opening it she found the following fantasy: - - - THE INTERVIEW - - I dreamed that I went to Heaven. I wasn't dead; I went there on a - mission to interview God for a paper. - - "He will be quite easy," the editor assured me. "In fact, He will - like it; it will be a new experience. Every one secretly likes - being interviewed, no matter what they say to the contrary, and - God will like it too. I'm told He's very human." - - This was an odd dream for me, because I've never been a - journalist; but if dreams weren't odd we shouldn't remember them. - - I knocked at the door and St. Peter opened it: an old man like a - Tintoretto portrait with a halo. It was the first real halo I had - ever seen and I looked at it more than at its wearer. It had no - visible fastening, but always remained in position, about three - inches above the head, not exactly shining but luminous. At night - they must be very effective--if there is any night in Heaven. I - wish I had asked. I wish now that I had asked heaps of things I - didn't ask. Next time I shall make a list; but then there will be - no next time. - - Of course I don't mean that I should have troubled God about these - trifles; I should have found one of the young angels who were - everywhere and asked him; or I should have sent for one of my - friends who died in the War.... - - Should I? I wonder if I should have dared.... - - Meanwhile St. Peter waits. "What do you want?" he asked. - - I handed him my card with the name of the paper on it. - - "God perhaps would grant me an interview?" I said. "I was sent - here for the purpose." - - St. Peter looked more than surprised. - - "My editor," I said, "seemed confident that I should be admitted." - - "Who is your editor?" said St. Peter. "Do we know him here?" - - "I should doubt it," I replied. - - "Well, I'll see," he said, "but it's all very unusual and - irregular. You'd better tell your leonid to wait." - - He carefully locked the door again, with me just inside it, and - shuffled away. He was clearly irritated. - - After a while he returned. - - "It's very surprising," he said, "but God will see you. He seemed - quite pleased about it. I don't know what Heaven's coming to. - Personally, I'm against every kind of publicity. The emphasis - laid by a fellow-disciple on one or two unfortunate moments in - my own life has been a source of grief to me ever since. This - way, please, and remember that the interview is permitted only - on condition that no leading questions are asked. Nothing as to - the reason for the creation or anything like that, for example. A - quiet talk merely; no excitement." - - How I came into the Presence I cannot remember; but suddenly I was - with God, just ourselves. Nor did I feel frightened. - - But St. Peter's warning about leading questions made it difficult - for me. Of course those were what I wanted to ask, and I remember - thinking how annoyed my editor would be that I had paid any - attention to a doorkeeper. The whole business of interviewers is - to be superior to doorkeepers. But then I am not a journalist; I - have quite a lot of sensitiveness; and I could not bring myself - to disregard the old saint, who, after all, was only acting on - instructions. It would be terrible to be allowed into Heaven and - then behave in a vulgar way. - - After racking my brains for a start I asked God if there was - anything that was interesting Him in particular just at the moment. - - He smiled. - - "As it happens," He said, "there is. Only this morning I was - looking down over London, and almost for the first time I noticed - something that gave me great pleasure. Pathetic too, in a way; but - then there is so much pathos---- - - "I noticed all the little gardens. I don't mean the gardens where - there are gardeners; I mean the tiny square yards among the stones - and squalor, with flowers and shrubs that literally fight for life - and would never live at all if they were not lovingly tended. - Sometimes there is a rockery, sometimes an attempt at a pool, and - then the window-boxes--they give Me pleasure too, much more than - Corporation ornamental bedding ever could. Some of these little - gardens," He said, "and the gallant struggle they make to bring - beauty into ugly places, call tears to the eyes"; and I believe He - meant it, for I watched Him. "The poor souls," He murmured, "the - poor, brave souls." - - "You mentioned Corporation carpet-bedding just now, Sir," I - said. "You must have noticed that English gardens are infinitely - more reckless and joyful than they used to be? Of course, I don't - know what flowers were like, Sir, when You began, but every year - sees new varieties come into being--more lovely delphiniums, - more ethereal columbines, more glorious tulips, more delicate - daffodils, and every year more people lavish themselves on - herbaceous borders and wild gardens." - - "I have certainly noticed it," said God, "and it has given Me - immense satisfaction. I know who is chiefly responsible for it - too," He added, "and her name is very highly honoured here." - - And then I woke up. - - -Here it ended, but at the foot of the page was written: "Dear Miss -Staveley, I hope this hasn't bored you. I thought I should like you to -know that I now and then have a thought beyond book selling. - -"Yours sincerely, -"PATRICK ST. QUENTIN." - - -Patrick was in the shop that evening when Ben left. - -He said nothing, but looked expectant. - -"Good night, Mr. St. Quentin," said Ben, holding out her hand. "But -really I ought to be cross with you because you made me neglect my work -for over an hour." - -Patrick glowed. - -"You have given me a totally new God," she said, "and I'm going home to -think about Him." - - - - -XXXIX - - -Guy drove straight from the station to Ben's office. Like Cecil, he, -too, was bronzed and hard and the typical soldier with his little trim -moustache, but he looked worried. - -He embraced her with ardour. "You're very pretty," he said. "I'd -forgotten." - -"Nonsense," said Ben. "I'm a 'capable woman'; no more and no less." - -He held er at arm's length. "You're very attractive," he said. "I can't -think why you're not married." - -"I've given you one reason," said Ben. "'Capable women' remain free." - -"Every woman should be married," said Guy. - -"Especially Melanie," said Ben, laughing. But Guy did not laugh. His -face clouded. - -"Oh, my hat!" he said. "That's what I came to talk to you about. Before -I went home even. By the way, how is the governor?" - -"Just the same," said Ben. "His capacity for bearing other people's -calamities with fortitude, as somebody said, develops every day." - -"And the step?" he asked. - -"Oh, she's all right," said Ben; "you'll like her." - -"Rolls, too, doesn't she?" Guy inquired. - -"Rolls," said Ben. - -"Does she let the governor touch it?" asked Guy. - -"How little you seem to know of your own father!" said Ben. "And I -thought of you as a wise child." - -"I may have been once," said Guy, "but that's all over. Oh, the mess -I've been getting into!" - -"What kind of a mess?" Ben asked anxiously. - -"On the boat," said Guy. - -"Cards?" she asked. - -"No, I wish it was. No, I've--well, the fact is, Ben, my dear, I'm -engaged." - -"I know that," said Ben. "You've been engaged for years. Don't Melanie -and I live together, and don't I see her watching for the postman?" - -"Oh, cut that out," said Guy, with a groan. "That's not the engagement -I mean. I'm engaged to someone else, someone I met on the boat." - -"My dear Guy," said Ben, "this is awful." - -"Don't I know it?" said Guy. - -"But I mean for Melanie," said Ben. - -"For both of us," said Guy. - -"Can't you break off the new affair?" Ben asked. - -"I suppose I could if I wanted to," said Guy. "But I don't. I'm potty -about her. The other thing was a ghastly mistake. Surely," he went on, -"you would rather I discovered the mistake while there was yet time -than go on with it and ruin both our lives? I know it sounds like a -novel, but you know what I mean." - -"Yes," said Ben, "I quite agree with that. But I wonder if it hasn't -been too quick for you to be sure about yourself? You've known one girl -five years and the other less than five weeks." - -"That's true," said Guy. "But I don't think time means much. What about -love at first sight?" - -"I know," said Ben. "But liner love--especially Indian liner love--is -supposed to be particularly misleading." - -"This isn't," said Guy firmly. "This is the goods. I may be impulsive," -he went on, "but I'm not an ass; at any rate I'm not a silly ass. I've -kept my eyes open, and I'll bet you that for every marriage that has -gone wrong after a very short engagement I can show you two that have -gone equally wrong after a long one." - -"I think that's exceedingly probable," said Ben, with a sigh. "What I -am thinking is not that you are any less likely to be happy with your -new girl than with Melanie; I am thinking of Melanie herself and what -is to be done about her. What do you mean to do? She's expecting you -to-day; looking forward to it. What do you mean to do?" - -"Well," said Guy, "that's just it. I was wondering if you would help -me, if you would explain." - -Ben laughed bitterly. "Me again!" she said. "'Always go to Ben when -you're in a mess!' Has the liner girl got any money?" she asked. - -"Money! What's money?" said Guy. "Don't be squalid." - -"Melanie's two hundred a year might be very useful," said Ben. - -"You're too late," said Guy. He pulled at his absurd moustache. "But -if you wouldn't mind breaking it to Melanie tactfully, and letting her -down gently, you'd be a brick. And I'm sure you could; no one could -do it better. And, by Jove! you advertise to do it too--'Domestic -Problems.' Now compared with this one, all other domestic problems are -'also rans.' Be a darling, Ben, and smooth things with Melanie. After -all, she's not a child; she knows that in this kind of matter minds -often change." - -"I know Melanie pretty well," said Ben, "and I should guess you're -making a very foolish mistake. She may look bored and take too little -trouble to make you her slave, but she's true as steel and she's as -fond of you as she can be. And another thing, she's always amusing; -and from what I know of life, a girl who is always amusing is not to -be lightly turned down. It isn't fair to break a long engagement like -this, without seeing her again first." - -"Oh, as to that," said Guy, "engagements are being broken every day; -why not ours? You will help me, won't you?" - -Ben stood up. "No, Guy," she said, "I won't. Not like that, anyway. -Usually when people ask me to do things I comply. But not if I don't -believe I ought to. In your case I am certain that you, and you alone, -are the person to explain. It would be very cowardly not to, and you -are a soldier and therefore not a coward. You owe it to Melanie to -tell her yourself, face to face; and the sooner you do it, the better. -That's my last word." - -"I think you're very selfish," said Guy. - -"I can't help what you think," said Ben. "That's my last word. She'll -be at home after five. I shan't get back till seven or later. And now I -must earn my living." - -Guy went off like a bear, and Ben spent a wretched day thinking about -Melanie's misery and deploring the fickleness of men and Staveleys. - -She was therefore the more rejoiced when on reaching Aubrey Walk she -heard Melanie singing in her room and found her arraying herself in her -best, preparatory to dining with Guy and going to the play. - -Ben expressed no surprise. - -"How did Guy strike you?" she asked, after a while. - -"At first he seemed awfully gloomy," said Melanie. "He didn't even seem -to want to kiss me. But after a little while he got quite like his -old self again, only more so, and was the nicest thing on earth, and -he wants the wedding directly. This week if possible, he said; but of -course that's absurd." - -At that moment Guy's taxi was heard and he came bounding up the stairs, -while Melanie retired to complete her toilet. - -He put his fingers on his lips as he met his sister. "Not a word," he -said. "It's all right. That other affair was a mistake. Those Indian -liners, you know. That proverb about being off with the old love is a -very sound one, and almost directly I saw Mel again I knew I didn't -want to be on with the new." - -"Have you told the new?" Ben asked. - -"Not yet," he said. "I was wondering if you----" - -Ben drew back. "Not I!" she exclaimed. - -Guy burst into roars of triumphant laughter. "You bought it!" he cried, -and roared again. "What I was going to say," he went on, "was that I -was wondering if you would--post this letter to her. I haven't got a -stamp." - -Ben threw a cushion at him with masterly accuracy, as Melanie, all -radiance and joy, came into the room. - - - - -XL - - -Merrill, looking very attractive in her weeds, sat in Ben's room, -interfering not a little with "The Beck and Call's" machinery. But -that, of course, is the principal industry of all widows who call on -business people. - -"I call it very selfish and horrid of Alicia," she said. "Here she is, -about to marry this rich old ironmonger----" - -"Ironmaster," Ben corrected. - -"Ironmaster, then. It's the same thing," said Merrill. "Here she is, -anyway, about to be happy herself and have all her worries about money -and about the boys removed for ever, and she has the cheek to say that -I oughtn't even to see Roland--that's Captain Andrews, you know--for -another three months. What do you think of that?" - -"Well," said Ben, "I disagree. I think you should do exactly as you -want to." - -"And marry at once?" - -"Certainly, if you want to. It's nobody's affair but yours and his. -You are definitely engaged, aren't you?" - -"Of course," said Merrill. - -"And there's nothing to prevent you marrying except the possibility of -public opinion disapproving?" - -"No," said Merrill, "but people are very horrid." - -"You mustn't mind people," said Ben. "Surely you know that? If we mind -people life isn't worth living. The only thing to consider is your -happiness. If you had been happy with Egbert you would not want to -marry again so soon, or possibly not at all; but as you weren't happy -with him I don't see any reason for you to wait." - -"The whole question of time is absurd," said Merrill. "Who is it that -fixes the interval? Why should a year be all right and eleven months -all wrong? It is ridiculous--with life galloping on in the monstrous -way it does." - -"Well," said Ben, with a despairing glance at the letters waiting to be -attended to, "the remedy is yours. Defy public opinion, and marry next -week. Go and be registered; get a special licence; anything. But do it." - -"I was wondering," said Merrill, "whether we might not marry now -secretly and go abroad, and then come back and announce it. That would -kill two birds with one stone: we should be married at once, and all -those horrid cats, including darling Alicia, would be silenced." - -"You never silence horrid cats," said Ben. "And I'm against anything -secret. And I don't suppose Captain Andrews would care about it either." - -"I think he would do as I wish," said Merrill, with a confident smile. - -Only if he liked the wish himself, thought Ben, remembering the quiet -decisiveness of the plus-four warrior; but all she said was that it was -a pity that Merrill was such a coward. - -"A coward!" exclaimed the widow. "How can you? You are as bad as -Alicia. And you have been a great disappointment to me, too. I always -thought of you as being so kind and comforting, and all you do is to -look absent-minded and call me a coward." - -"My dear," said Ben, "I have encouraged you in every possible way. I -have even urged you to marry at once, which is what you say you want to -do." - -"I don't know that I do want it," said Merrill. "I don't want to do -anything that would be unfair to Roland. I don't mind about myself, -even though you think I do, but I should never forgive myself if -through marrying too soon Roland lost anyone's respect. I am going -now," she said sadly. "I am sorry to have troubled you." - -"Good-bye, darling," said Ben. "You have never looked prettier. If you -want someone really sympathetic to talk to, step in the shop downstairs -and ask Mr. Harford to recommend you a good book. He's the one in -tweeds." - -"I was thinking of doing so," said Merrill. "I noticed him as I came -in. Good-bye; I hope you'll be nicer next time." - -"Good-bye, darling," said Ben. "You have never looked prettier. I think -Roland the most enviable of men." - -"Cat!" said Merrill, returning suddenly and flinging her arms round -Ben's neck. "No, not cat--sweetest of hearts! But oh, I'm so miserable!" - -She cried luxuriously for a minute and then jumped up smiling. - -"I shall let Roland decide," she said. - - - - -XLI - - -"This is rather a blow, your brother coming back," said Tubby Toller, -looking round Ben's office with a critical eye. "It's done our little -circle in. Why, he wants to be married in five minutes. Highly -suspicious, I call it." - -"What do you mean--suspicious?" Ben asked. - -"When a fellow who's been engaged for years clamours suddenly to marry, -all in a moment, it suggests that he's in danger, has lost his nerve, -wants to be pulled into safety," said Tubby. "I rather fancy Master Guy -has been singeing his wings." - -"Oh, Tubby! how cynical you are!" said Ben. "What will you be like when -you're fifty?" - -"At fifty," said Tubby, "I shall be a child again. I notice a strong -tendency in middle-aged men to become childish. But aren't I right -about your brother?" - -"You must ask someone else," said Ben. - -"And I'll tell you something more," said Tubby. "When you're married -and your husband suddenly begins to give you pearl necklaces and -diamond rings, look out. They're more likely to be from the guilty -conscience than the loving heart." - -"Oh, Tubby, shut up!" said Ben. "You're insufferable. But what is it -you want? You didn't come here merely to be destructively clever, I'm -sure." - -"I came to look round," said Tubby. "After all, a parent may inspect -his young, mayn't he? And I consider 'The Beck and Call' largely my own -child. How is it doing?" - -"Not so badly," said Ben. "I've just carried out an American commission -that netted quite a lot." - -"Thank God for America!" said Tubby. "As Canning said, or meant to, -'The New World was called in very largely to redress the bank balances -of the Old.' Could you get me a lady-cook?" - -"What for?" Ben asked. - -"To be a lady and to cook, of course," he said. - -"How many in family?" Ben asked. - -"Just the three of us," he said. - -"Three? Who is the other?" Ben asked. - -"Myself--1," he replied; "the lady--2; the cook--3." - -"No, I couldn't," said Ben. "I couldn't lend myself to such a -_ménage_." - -"But it would be all right," said Tubby. "The cook would act as -chaperon when I was talking with the lady; and the lady would be on the -watch when I was visiting the kitchen. I want a lady-cook. I feel I -should be a better man if I had the constant society of a lady-cook--or -a cook-lady, I don't mind which." - -"No," said Ben firmly. - -"Then will you get me a valet-governess?" Tubby asked. "I have a -passion for hyphenated assistance." - -"You haven't got any children," said Ben. - -"No, but I have clothes," said Tubby. "And I'll hire a child. Anything -to persuade a valet-governess to stay." - -"Tubby, you're wasting my time," said Ben. "Go back to the Treasury or -wherever it is you sleep." - -"Listen to her!--" Tubby invoked the ceiling. "She advertises herself -as 'The Beck and Call' and she turns away business! She is rude to -clients! I came here with money in my purse to try and do you a good -turn, and you spurn me. Now, my dear Ben, be serious. Will you get me a -chauffeur-billiard-marker?" - -"No!" said Ben, lifting up a paper-weight, as Tubby made for the door. - -He did, however, go; but three minutes later reappeared. - -"I've been talking to the sportsman outside," he said. "A clever child. -I have asked him to come to me as a butler-secretary and he seems keen. -Do you mind?" - -"If you rob me of Dolly," said Ben, "I'll never speak to you again." - -"I must do something," said Tubby. "It would be a very serious thing -for you if I went about London telling everybody that I had been to -'The Beck and Call' with quite a number of needs and not one could you -satisfy. Grant me one request anyway. Grant me!" - -"What is it?" said Ben. - -"Give me leave to read a novel by Erckmann-Chatrian." - -And this time he went. - - - - -XLII - - -She was a plump and kindly lady of a little more than middle age, with -evidences of wealth about her and a handkerchief ready for service. - -"You don't know me," she said to Ben, "but I know you, or rather all -about you. In a kind of way we're relations." - -Ben expressed her surprise. - -"If there is such a thing as a step-aunt," said the lady, "I'm one. I'm -Belle's sister." - -"Oh!" said Ben. "Mrs. Vicat?" - -Her visitor admitted it. - -"Of course," said Ben, sympathetically. "I've heard about you. Your son -died quite recently. I'm so sorry." - -The handkerchief came into play. - -"Yes," said Mrs. Vicat. "He never had a chance, he was so badly -wounded. But he lingered on and on and was always so brave. And now -he's gone. It's because I want to do something in memory of him that -I'm here. My sister told me to come to you. 'Go to "The Beck and -Call,"' she said, 'and talk to my stepdaughter. She's very clever and -quick at thinking of things. But of course you must pay,' she said. - -"As if I should take advantage of being connected with the family!" -Mrs. Vicat added indignantly. "So you must charge me for all the time -you give me, my dear, whether anything comes of it or not." - -"We'll see," said Ben. "What kind of a memorial were you thinking of?" - -"Well," said Mrs. Vicat. "At first I was thinking of an obelisk or a -cross, or something like that. You know the kind of thing. There's one -in Sloane Square. But somehow I've rather changed my mind. There are so -many of those, all over the country, and I'm wondering if it's quite -right to put up another just to one officer. - -"And of course," she continued, "there will be a monument in the -church: that's all arranged for. I've got a nice architect--one that -will let me have my own way a little, I'm assured; not one of those -masterful quarrelsome ones. Architects can be very trying, my dear. -You should see our house--all the living rooms and the bedrooms on -the north, and the passages and the kitchen and larder on the south! -Everything sacrificed to the entrance! My poor dear husband argued with -him night and day, but he was too much for us. But that's neither here -nor there. The monument is all arranged; it's the memorial I'm worrying -about now, and Belle told me to come to you." - -"How much do you want to spend?" Ben asked. - -"I don't mind," said Mrs. Vicat forlornly. "It's the only interest in -life I have left." - -"Had your son any particular hobbies?" Ben asked. "Did he support any -particular kind of charity?" - -"I can't say that he did," said Mrs. Vicat. "He had a wonderful -collection of postage stamps. But that doesn't help much." - -"No," said Ben, puckering her brow. "And yet," she continued, "you -would like it to be useful?" - -"Yes, I want it to be really helpful," said Mrs. Vicat. "I want my -son's name to be associated with something that would benefit people. I -saw a very pretty drinking-fountain the other day, which was also a War -Memorial." - -"But you could afford something bigger than that?" Ben suggested. - -"Oh, yes, money is no object. The cenotaph is very beautiful." - -"Very," said Ben. "But that has a distinct purpose and you wouldn't -wish to duplicate it." - -"On the top of a hill," said Mrs. Vicat. "There's a beautiful high hill -near us. Another cenotaph there would be most impressive." - -"But isn't a cenotaph a monument to someone whose real burial place is -somewhere else or isn't known?" Ben asked. - -"Is it?" said Mrs. Vicat. "I didn't know. I thought it meant a War -Memorial simply." - -"Since you have come to me for advice," said Ben, "I must say what I -feel about this, and that is that in memory and honour of your son you -ought to do something of real practical help for his fellow-soldiers -in distress. There are many incurables among them, and you could, for -example, build and endow a home--say at the seaside--for them--to be -comfortable in. That's an idea that occurs to me as I am talking." - -"I should like that," said Mrs. Vicat. "That's a very nice idea. Belle -said you were clever. And of course at the seaside, because then I -could go down and visit it. I'm very fond of the sea. Do you know -Littlehampton? I've been very happy there in that terrace overlooking -the green where the children ride on donkeys. We took a house there one -summer and stayed on through the winter. So mild. A seaside home at -Littlehampton is a charming notion." - -"If you would give me a little time to think and perhaps discuss the -matter with others," said Ben, "I am sure I could put some more ideas -before you. I should like to; it's the kind of task that would give me -great pleasure to carry out. Will you come to-morrow at three?" - -And Mrs. Vicat agreed, and, dabbing afresh at her eyes, made her way to -her very luxurious limousine. - -"Your employer is very clever," were her last words to Dolly, who -helped her downstairs, as she gave him a shilling. On this, being a -superstitious London boy, he was mindful, as soon as the car had moved -on, to spit. - - - - -XLIII - - -At dinner that evening, Melanie was sounded as to the memorial, but -Melanie had her own affairs in hand. When a girl is within a few days -of her marriage, she can't concentrate on outside questions such as -this, no matter how humane she may be. - -She was an odd girl, with no romance showing, whatever there might be -underneath. Her eyes were incapable of surprise; her mind of wonder. -It is a great loss, and too many girls seem to be suffering from it. -In speech she was candid; in hearing, careless; very particular that -you should not misunderstand her, but not in the least worried by the -chance of misunderstanding you--often, indeed, not listening to replies -at all. - -These are not qualities that on the face of them make for the happiest -unions, but along with them Melanie had a great sense of duty, and one -never knows how a girl may develop after marriage. Men and husbands are -not so widely different; but girls and brides can be divided by such -a gulf as to be almost strangers. A girl passing under her lover's -glamour can emerge a changed being. - -"We had a bit of a shindy to-day, Guy and I," said Melanie. "Over the -ring. He wants me to have a wedding ring and I refused. I can't bear -the things. They make me shudder. It's bad enough to go to church with -him and endure that disgusting service, without being branded for -ever more with a gold band. It's only one remove from the ring in the -bull's nose. I'm no more Guy's wife because I've got it than I should -be without it. If I agree to marry him, I marry him. A very unbecoming -piece of metal on my hand can't make the difference, not to a decent -woman." - -"It was a new idea to Guy, I expect," said Ben. - -"Absolutely," said Melanie. "He seemed thunderstruck." - -"He's not so advanced as you," said Ben. "And I expect he was -perplexed, because you don't mind wearing an engagement ring." - -"That's different," said Melanie. "It's beautiful. There's some reason -for that. But even that I don't wear on the ordinary finger. Why should -all the world know I'm engaged? Guy doesn't wear a ring to advertise -the fact; why should I?" - -"He probably would if you asked him," said Ben. "And he'd wear a -wedding ring too. He'd be proud to." - -"Don't you think I'm right?" Melanie asked. - -"No, I don't," said Ben. "Apart altogether from the fact that Guy -is my brother, I don't think it's fair to either of you. Take your -honeymoon, for example. I don't know where you're going, but probably -to some hotel. The first thing the people at the desk look at is your -left hand, and if there's no wedding ring on it your character has gone -completely, and Guy's is not what it might be." - -"But who cares what anyone else thinks?" Melanie asked. - -"All of us," said Ben, "in one way or another. But this is a case where -both of you ought to agree. If Guy took your attitude about wedding -rings, I shouldn't have a word to say; but as he objects, I think you -ought to give way." - -"Confound your cold common sense," said Melanie. "I will think about -it. But this public flaunting of one's bondage is hateful." - -"You may not think it bondage later on," said Ben. "If you don't, -you're all right. If you're going to for ever, I wish you'd break the -whole thing off at this moment." - -Melanie left her chair, and, going over to Ben, gave her a light kiss -on her hair. - -"Don't worry," she said. - -It was more reassuring than any other woman's oath on the Good Book. - -After dinner Ben carried the problem to Uncle Paul, whom she found -looking utterly miserable. - -"My dear!" said Ben. "You're not ill, are you? You frighten me." - -"No," said Uncle Paul weakly. "I'm not bodily ill. But life is a -blank--they're cleaning out the Round Pond." - -Ben put the matter before him. - -"As step-aunt," she said, "doesn't mind what she spends, isn't this a -gorgeous opportunity to do something really worth doing? And she's so -absurdly amenable, ready to take advice. Just like putty. There never -was such a chance to be really useful. - -"So many things," she continued, "begin well and then decline. Village -reading-rooms, with stone tablets in the wall saying in whose honour -they were built, are opened with a great flourish, and the next -time you go there they are closed and the windows broken. Clubs and -institutes the same. But we can provide against all that. It mustn't -be enough just to build; there must be endowment, and responsible -caretakers or managers, for whatever we do. - -"I suppose," she continued, "as a matter of fact, country people don't -want Village institutes; they want the village pump. That's where they -really enjoy meeting and talking." - -"Some friends of mine," said Uncle Paul, "made a beautiful garden in -their village, as a memorial. A lawn in the midst for the children -to play on, and seats and shelters all round for the old people. And -flowers. All properly looked after. That was a really good idea." - -"I like that," said Ben. "But there might be something more costly too. -I shall go on thinking. And I'll ask Mr. St. Quentin." - - - - -XLIV - - -The next morning when Ben entered "The Booklovers' Rest" it appeared to -be empty. Not a sign even of Ernie Bent, who usually had to be removed -from the doorstep, which he was scrubbing, to let her pass. - -And then from the depths came the wistful words: - - - Bring back, bring back, - Bring back my Bonnie to me, to me! - - -and Patrick hobbled out. - -"I didn't know it was you," he said, and flushed. - -"I wanted to try your pet divination scheme again," said Ben. "May I?" - -"Of course," said Patrick. - -"I will just fumble for a book," said Ben. - -She closed her eyes, approached the shelves and took down a volume. -Then she opened it, read a few words, and smiled. - -"Was it all right?" Patrick asked. - -"I think so," she said, and was about to run up the stairs, but -stopped. "Oh, by the way, Mr. St. Quentin," she said, "I've got a -client coming to-day to talk about a memorial to her son: something -philanthropic and costly. If I were to ask you to come up and join us, -could you--would you?" - -"With the greatest pleasure," said Patrick, "especially as there's a -catalogue due and I ought to be at work on it. But neglecting work is -so agreeable." - -"Soon after three," said Ben, and ascended to her own domain. - -When there, however, she received a shock, for instead of the ordinary -placid and competent Jan, was a nervous unhappy Jan, saying that she -had been to see the doctor on the evening before and he had ordered her -to stop work instantly and go to Bournemouth or Torquay. - -"Of course I shall do nothing of the kind until I can find you someone -else," she said, "but I know I'm not well. I've been feeling weak for a -long while now and I have horrible nights." - -"I'm very sorry," said Ben. "It's a good deal my fault too, for -allowing you to go on having no proper lunch and getting no midday -break. I blame myself seriously, but you know, Jan, you were very -obstinate. What does the doctor say it is?" - -"He's afraid I may go into a decline," said Jan, "unless I have good -air, and do nothing, and drink milk and eat a lot; and--and--I'd much -rather be with you." - -Mrs. Vicat arrived puffingly to time and again placed her handkerchief -within easy range. - -"Well, my dear," she said, "what have you decided? I hope it's the -Littlehampton home." - -"I want you to hear what Mr. St. Quentin, one of the owners of the book -shop downstairs, has to say," said Ben. - -She rang the bell for Dolly and asked him to invite Mr. St. Quentin to -step up. - -"This is Mrs. Vicat," said Ben, and she prepared the ground. "Have you -any ideas?" - -"As a matter of fact, I have," said Patrick. "I have been thinking of -nothing else all the morning, and I believe I have the answer. May I -say how it strikes me; and you will forgive me if I am too long? - -"I've been thinking," he said, "of the men blinded in the war. They -have always been on my mind, but I never had a chance to help. Losing -limbs is a disaster of a totally different kind; it's a bore, of -course, to have a wooden leg, and be unable to join in sports any -more, and so on; but it's nothing to squeal about. Whereas losing -sight--that's terrible. - -"I should doubt if any quarrel between nations is worth such a price as -one blinded man. - -"Sight is too glorious a possession. I have been shutting my eyes at -intervals all the morning and realizing what it must be like never to -open them again. - -"'Never'--that is the appalling word. - -"I don't mean only what every one who cares anything for the beauty -of nature would miss--the first primrose, the new moon, a starry -night, a yacht race, snow on the trees. Those are the obvious things -and probably many a soldier had thought little enough about them. But -put yourself in the position of a blinded soldier and think of his -loss. The pretty girls, for example. That must be a loss indeed--the -faces and figures of the pretty girls. You know how soldiers in their -shirt-sleeves lean on the sills of barrack windows and compare notes -on the girls who pass? Not too edifying perhaps, but think of the poor -devils who can do this no more. - -"And games--never to see another football match, another cricket match. -I have seen blind men led into Lord's and watched their poor baulked -faces as the sound of the bat against the ball is heard and the crowd -cheers a boundary hit. They like to be there--they have the sense of -still being in it; they can't bear not to participate in life--but the -loss! - -"I have seen them in theatres and music halls too, often; and there the -spoken word still has its message; but oh, their baffled look when the -laughter depends upon gesture! - -"And then think of what blindness must mean to those who have loved -pictures. The sense of touch, intensely developed, may reveal much, and -certainly the beauty of shape, but it can convey no idea of colour. -Finger tips passing over the surface of a Corot learn nothing of its -beauty; the National Gallery for ever more is blotted out." - -Patrick paused and blushed. - -"I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to become rhetorical. But it's too -sad and I was carried away." - -Mrs. Vicat, who had been quietly weeping for some time, implored him to -go on. - -"Everything you say is so right," she assured him. "And what do you -propose?" - -"I haven't any very useful suggestions," Patrick said, "but the -endowment of new Braille presses might be considered. Many of the men, -however, cannot be very much given to reading. What about broadcasting -installations? They are all fond of music. Why shouldn't there be a -grant of a wireless set to all institutions or houses where blinded -soldiers are to be found?" - -"There's nothing I wouldn't like to do for the blinded soldiers," said -Mrs. Vicat, when he had finished. "And if you can arrange the Braille -presses and the broadcasting too, I'll gladly pay what is necessary; -but I had"--she almost whimpered--"set my heart on a seaside home, and -I don't see that for the blind that is needed. What they want, as I -understand it, is to be kept employed, beguiled; their minds and hands -are to be continuously occupied so that they mayn't brood and mope. -Isn't that it?" - -"Yes," said Patrick. "That's a very great part of it. That's certainly -the kindest thing we can do--to find them absorbing occupations and to -make life a pleasure, if not actually an excitement, still." - -"When I came in," said Mrs. Vicat to Ben, "I fancied that girl at the -desk outside was crying. Is she unhappy?" - -"Poor Jan!" said Ben. "Yes, she's just had a great shock. The doctor -has told her that she must stop work and retire to some southern place, -or she is in danger of going into a decline. She's miserable about -it--partly for herself but a great deal for me, because she doesn't -like to leave me in the lurch, she says." - -"Ah!" said Mrs. Vicat, with sudden cheeriness, "now I've got it!" - -She beamed on them with radiant triumph. - -"What?" exclaimed Ben. - -"The seaside home," she said. "We'll have the seaside home after all. -Not for blinded soldiers--they shall be dealt with all right, Mr. St. -Quentin, never fear!--but for poor working girls who need change and -rest from London and can't afford it. Oh, how happy I am! I did so want -that seaside home and now I've got it. Your poor girl can't go there -this time because it won't be ready; but will you see about it at once, -my dear? I leave the whole thing to you. You can build a new house or -you can take an old house and adapt it. I'll have all the papers made -out by my lawyer at once. And we'll call it the 'Adrian Vicat Seaside -Home.' Will you do it?" - -"Of course I will," said Ben. - -"And you'll find out all about the other things?" Mrs. Vicat inquired -of Patrick. - -"At once," he said. - -"I'm so happy," exclaimed Mrs. Vicat again. "Now my mind is perfectly -at rest." - -She went away in tearful content and Dolly was summoned to assist her -again to the car and to receive the usual guerdon. - -"Thank you," said Ben to Patrick. "You were splendid. I think we may -call this a truly red-letter day. It's all most inspiring; but one -thing in particular gives me enormous satisfaction." - -"And that?" Patrick asked. - -"You and I were in absolute agreement." - -"But you didn't say a word." - -"No, there was no need. But when I tried the Sortes Virgilianæ this -morning what do you think I stumbled on? Milton." - -"Well?" said Patrick. - -"Well, it opened at 'Samson Agonistes'!" - - - - -XLV - - -"I set out intending to pay you just a friendly call," said Aunt -Agatha, "but coming through the shop downstairs I saw such a lot of -books that now I'm going to be a client too. You see they gave me an -idea. I'd quite forgotten what a lot of books there are in the world -and how little I know of them. But now I think I really must try to -know more, so I want you to find me a nice girl to read to me. A girl -with a clear voice, mind. From half-past five to seven, I think. No, -there are often callers then. From half-past two till tea. No, that's -when I sometimes like a nap. In the morning, then. No, one mustn't be -read to in the morning. Well, my dear, let it be after lunch then, -and if I fall asleep now and again it doesn't really matter. But she -mustn't read what they call bed books." - -"I wonder if you really want me to get the girl at all," said Ben. - -"Of course I do, dear. It's terrible, it's disgraceful, to think of how -little time I have left in which to learn anything of all those books, -and I'm sure I couldn't read them to myself. Please get me a nice girl -with a refined and distinct voice--so many girls have adenoids, don't -you think?--to begin, not next week but the week after next. I'll spend -next week in clearing up and getting ready for her. - -"I suppose a girl is best," she continued after a moment's thought. -"A young man wouldn't do? And yet I see such lots of advertisements -in _The Times_ Personal Column--how interesting that is and how sad -sometimes!--I'm told that all those funny love letters, as they sound -like, are really burglars' codes. Isn't that dreadful? But so every -one says. But about this gentleman reader, there are such lots of -advertisements from disabled officers wanting employment that perhaps -one ought to consider one. I wonder how disabled officers read aloud, -dear? Rather strong voices, I'm afraid, after so much drilling. I -shouldn't like to be shouted at. Speaking of disabled officers, there's -a rather nice lame man in the shop downstairs who showed me the way up. -I suppose you've noticed him, dear? I think I must buy something from -him on the way out, so as not to disappoint him. I wonder if he's got -a Longfellow? I used to love Longfellow when I was a girl. That man -getting another to propose for him and the other one being the real -one--I haven't read it for years. We might begin with that. - -"I hope someone is going to propose to you, my dear," Aunt Agatha went -on. "So pretty and clever as you are, and so managing. People tell -me this office is wonderfully run. I don't say I want you to marry -the lame man downstairs, but I'm sure he's a gentleman, he has such a -charming voice, and he's very good-looking. All but the leg. But legs -aren't everything. What's that proverb about helping a lame man over a -stile? How well you'd do that! - -"I hope I'm not taking up your time, dear," Aunt Agatha continued; "but -it's such a long while since you came to see me, and if I'm a nuisance -you must make me pay half a crown, or whatever it is you charge for an -hour's interview." - -"What makes you think Mr. St. Quentin, the lame man downstairs, would -make me a good husband?" Ben asked. - -"I liked the look of him," said Aunt Agatha. "He looked kind and he's -a gentleman. And I don't think it's a bad thing to be a book seller. -Anyone may do that now, and he'd bring you home the new novels. -Besides, it's a good thing to marry a man who's out of the house all -day. I hate to see husbands in to lunch. All wrong. Home lunches are -for women. Besides, my dear, there's an epidemic of marrying in the -Staveley family and you'll catch it. You can't escape. Look at your -father! And then I'm told that Alicia is engaged again to someone at -Hove. A widower. I always said that Hove was too near Brighton. What -is the proverb--'Marry in----' Oh, no, it's not Hove, it's Hastings: -'Marry in Hastings and repent at leisure.' How silly of me, but they're -both on the South Coast. - -"And poor Merrill, she came to see me the other day. All in black, the -rouge, and looking so demure; but if I were one of those bookmakers who -advertise in the papers that they never pay, I'd go so far as to bet a -pony--it was a pony that your uncle always put on for me on the Derby -favourite year after year, but how seldom the favourites win!--I'd -bet a pony, whatever it means, that she's got another man in her eye. -I could see him lurking there, the rascal, and not a clergyman this -time, I'll be bound. I taxed her with it, and she said 'No' with such a -pretty blush that there wasn't any doubt at all. - -"And then there's Guy come all the way from India to marry your friend. -It's wonderful, I think, that that engagement should have lasted so -long, and he in India too, where men fall in love so easily. They say -that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but don't you believe it, my -dear. There's a better proverb than that which says, 'Out of sight, out -of mind.' But I can't admire Guy's constancy too much; he's a regular -Don Juan; no, I don't mean that--Don Quixote; no, that other man, -without fear and without reproach--Bayard. He's a regular Bayard. Not -only to have gone all through his life in India loving her truly, but -to have been faithful on the ship too! That's marvellous. I have the -deepest respect for him. Indeed, my dear, I almost rank him with you. - -"It shows how susceptible all you Staveleys are, and unless you're -very careful, my dear, you'll fall too. You ought to be inoculated. -Not that inoculation's any good. I never had such severe colds as -after the doctor injected what he called my own culture into my arm. -Culture--I didn't know I'd got any. I thought that was confined to -the universities. But sneeze! You should have heard me. Perhaps you -did--I'm only about a mile from Campden Hill. Well, dear, I'm a foolish -old woman and I'm sure I've talked a lot of rubbish; but I'm very fond -of you and you always do me good. - -"And now I must be going. I'm so glad to have seen you in your place -of business. And you'll get me a nice girl, won't you? We decided on -a girl, didn't we? Yes, I think it must be a girl, because sometimes I -should like her to take me to the pictures instead of reading. Reading -can be rather tedious. And it would never do for me to go to the -pictures with a disabled officer, would it? A nice girl, then. The week -after next. Half-past two to four. Without adenoids." - - - - -XLVI - - -Ben was receiving her first visit from her stepmother. - -"First of all let me thank you so much for being so kind to my sister," -Belle said. "She's not a very decisive person. Perhaps you gathered -that?" - -Ben admitted it. - -"Anyone at all emphatic can do what they like with her," said Belle. -"And that's why I'm so glad she's in your hands. - -"But that's not what I came about," said the comfortable lady as she -sank luxuriously into a chair. "You must forgive me butting in like -this, but I want help badly and only you can give it." - -"The cook hasn't left?" Ben asked. - -"Oh, no. She seems to be satisfied, if one dare use such a strong word -about a cook, or indeed any servant, nowadays. No, it's not the cook, -it's your father." - -"Yes?" said Ben. - -"Well, it's rather a difficult thing to talk about to a daughter--and -a stepdaughter too--and one knows what stepmothers are supposed to -be--but I'm all at sea about him. He's so different from what I was -expecting--from what he promised, in fact. When we were talking about -the second marriage he was so thoughtful and considerate of me, so -generous, always brought me flowers or some little thing, and you know -how fond I am of _marrons glacés_--too fond, the doctor says--and I was -very lonely, you know, and I had felt so neglected since Vincent died; -and it did really seem as if I was to have someone to pet me again -after all. Because Vincent, you know, was the kindest man. There was -nothing he wouldn't do to please me; he was always bringing cushions, -and arranging for week-ends in nice hotels, and motor trips. - -"Well, so was your father at first; but this is what is troubling me: -Vincent kept it up to the end, but your father has dropped it already. -Now, what I want to know, dear, is this: is it just your father's way -or has he got tired of me?" - -"Oh, I don't think he's got tired of you," said Ben, earnestly. - -"Was he like that to your mother?" Belle asked. - -"He wasn't very thoughtful of little things, ever," said Ben. "But he -was fond of her." - -"Yes," said Belle. "But how did he show it? It isn't enough for me -to be merely in a house with a man; see him at dinner and watch him -reading the paper and, what is much worse, hearing him do it--you have -no notion how that rustling gets on one's nerves, when he turns over; -that isn't marriage to me. And he is so particular about the food and -the service. Was he always like that?" - -"He was always rather--well, I might almost say fussy," Ben admitted. - -"I wouldn't mind his fussiness if he was fussy over me too," said -Belle. "But he isn't. It is all for his own comfort. Of course we're -all selfish, I know. Every one's selfish. I'm selfish and I'm lazy. -But I do try to play the game, and I don't think he does. And I'm -getting frightened." She lowered her voice and drew her chair nearer. -"Because, I've got the idea that Vincent knows. I've got the idea that -he's looking. I can't say exactly where he's looking from; I can't see -him with my mind's eye at all--but I feel that he is looking. Out of -some kind of window up there, I suppose; for he was a good man, Vincent -was--a dear, good man, kind and open-handed and ready to think the best -of every one, even if he did use awful language sometimes and take a -little too much wine now and then; but he was so nice in his cups, -as they say, not like some people at all: gentle and exaggeratedly -polite, even though a little maudlin. In spite of all this, I'm -sure he's up there. But it's dreadful thinking that he's looking on -and knowing and being sorry for me and"--she sank her voice still -lower--"hating your father. Because, my dear, it's going to make me -hate him too. There, I've said it." - -"Oh, no, Belle!" cried Ben. "You mustn't, you mustn't." - -"But I can't help it," said Belle. "It's coming on, and if it gets -worse I shall leave him. There's nothing to stay for now"--she sobbed a -little--"but if it got worse it would be a sin to stay on." - -While her stepmother had been talking Ben's thoughts had flown to -the future and all that the breaking up of her father's present -establishment would mean; but only hazily. Directly she was left alone -they assumed the clearest of outlines. For if her father were single -again what would he do? It was only too evident: he would request his -daughter to return. And what would she do? She would have to say yes. -She would not have the courage--or possibly even the right--to say no. -Horrible to lose all this independence, this amusing work just as it -was beginning to pay. But it would be inevitable, because he was her -father, and he was getting old, and she would have no real reason to -offer against it, being free as she was. - -If it had been anyone else's father she would not have liked him at -all, she found herself thinking. Ought the accident of parentage to -entail such self-sacrificing devotion as it often does? Anyway, it did; -and so long as she was free she would probably have to return. - -But supposing she was not free! Her heart fluttered. - -If she were not free--if she had thrown in her lot with another--her -father would have no right.... - - - - -XLVII - - -It was about half-past ten when the door of "The Beck and Call" office -opened and admitted Mr. St. Quentin. - -Ben was alone. "Dolly has a day off," she said, "and Miss Marquard is -accumulating things for a number of our people, or I would ask you into -the back room. - -"What is the news?" she asked. - -"Oh, I mustn't talk about news," said Pat. "I've come as a client." - -Ben laughed. "A client! That's splendid." She became very businesslike. -"What can we do for you to-day?" - -"It's perhaps rather an odd request," said Pat, "but I was wondering if -you could help me to find--well, in point of fact, a wife. For myself, -I mean." - -Ben reeled for a moment under the suddenness of the shock. - -"A wife!" she then exclaimed, blushing a little and fumbling for her -notebook. Anything to regain composure! - -"Yes," said Pat. "There's nothing so extraordinary about that, is -there? Lots of men have wanted wives ever since the world began. In -fact, there's a rumour that that is why it has gone on." - -"Yes--I know--I've heard," Ben replied. She was recovering her nerve -now. "But we don't transact business like that here. You want a -matrimonial agency, if there are such things." - -"No, I want 'The Beck and Call.' I have the greatest faith in it," said -Pat. "I believe it can get me one--if it will." - -He looked at her with a smile in his grave eyes until she looked away; -but she was smiling too. - -"I'm afraid----" she began. - -"At any rate," he said briskly, "let me describe my requirements and -then perhaps you'll know better. Age, shall we begin with age?" - -"If you insist on treating this as a marriage office, yes," said Ben. - -"I do," said Pat. "Age, then: twenty-three or four." - -"Yes," said Ben. - -"But you haven't written it down," said Pat. "This is a serious -request. I am honestly asking your help, and I've never been a real -client before. First impressions, you know." - -"Very well then," said Ben, making the note: "twenty-three or four." - -"Height, medium," said Pat. "Hair, dark. Eyes, grey-blue. Have you got -all that?" - -"I've taken it down," said Ben. - -"Voice, musical," Pat went on. "Laugh, delicious." - -Ben looked away as she affected to write. - -"Is that essential?" she asked. - -"Absolutely," said Pat. "Must be in business," he went on. "No idle -woman need apply. This kind of business would be all right." - -"Do you mean she is to continue in business when she is married?" Ben -asked. - -"I should leave that to her," said Pat; "but I hope so." - -"Aren't you rather narrowing it down?" Ben asked. "Making it rather -difficult for yourself?" - -"I was trying to make it more easy for 'The Beck and Call,'" he said. -"If the essentials are so explicitly stated, so little time need be -wasted on the search." - -"You have been wonderfully explicit," said Ben. "But what about -yourself? The girl--if she is found--will naturally want to know -something about her husband, who at present, of course, is a stranger -to her. What is she to be told?" - -"That he is utterly unworthy," said Pat; "a man of twenty-seven who was -knocked about in the War; a bit of a dreamer; a second-hand book seller -with an ambition to write; fairly amiable in temper; fairly sound in -health, but for a slight deficit in the number of legs normally served -out to men; and, although, as I said, utterly unworthy, filled, for a -woman of the kind specified, with worship, admiration, and love. Do you -think you could find a wife for a fellow like this?" he asked. - -Ben was silent. She stood still with lowered eyes and a heart beating -much too fast, but very, very happy. - -"Do you?" he asked again. - -It was fortunate that no other inquirers arrived at that moment, for -they would have found something very like a Universal Aunt in the arms -of a second-hand book seller with only one leg. - - - - -XLVIII - - -Mr. Paul Mostyn to Miss Benita Staveley: - - - "MY DEAREST BEN, - - "I have been a very long time in resorting to 'The Beck and Call' - for assistance; but now I have a real need. Will you go to the - best Bond Street jewellers and buy a ring regardless of cost? - It is a wedding present for one I am very fond of. Choose it as - though it were for yourself. - - "I am, - "Your devoted, - "UNCLE PAUL" - - - - -XLIX - - -Mr. Toby Staveley to Miss Benita Staveley: - - - "DARLING OLD BEN, - - "What a lark! I am preparing the best suite in the place for your - honeymoon. All the best, honey, from your loving brother, - - "TOBY STAVELEY - "Manager - "Fairmile Towers County Club, Ltd." - - -THE END - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Advisory Ben, by Edward Verrall (E. V.) 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