"It would seem, Greenall, as if you couldn't even shoot."
"It would seem like it, wouldn't it."
As I sauntered back to the hotel I was conscious of a slight feeling of exacerbation. As if I had been "got at," "had." No man likes to feel that he is a laughing-stock. I felt that I had been made a laughing-stock just then; that, indeed, the process of manufacture had been going on ever since I showed my face in Ahmednugger. The men I had met were nice enough--in their way. Indeed, they were almost too nice--also in their way. They appeared to have so little to do, in the way of actual work, that they had made it the business of their lives to perfect themselves in what are usually regarded, say, as accomplishments. I was, and am, a plain civilian. I have worked for, and earned, my little pile, such as it is, and until I set out upon that pleasure tour in the East, it had never occurred to me that a man could be regarded as an uneducated idiot if he could not, say, run into double figures every time he took up his cue at billiards. A suspicion that a man might be so regarded had been dawning upon me ever since I arrived in India; but until I came to Ahmednugger I had never quite realised how shockingly my education had been neglected on exactly those points on which it ought to have been most carefully attended to. The men of Ahmednugger were the most sporting individuals I had ever yet encountered. Possibly I have not moved much among the congregations of the sporting men, but I certainly have seen something of men of business. These men of Ahmednugger were not only the keenest sportsmen I had encountered, they were the keenest men of business, too. And talk of the rigour of a competitive examination! They formed themselves into an examining board, which very soon took the "stiffening" out of me. They insisted on putting me through my paces before I had been a week in the place. They examined me in every game of cards which has been invented--and found me wanting in them all. They examined me as a rider, as a driver, as a shootist, as a cueist, in fact, in a range of subjects which I will not even venture to enumerate. They refused me one solitary "pass." They "plucked" me in them all. It did not add to my sense of satisfaction, that I found my ignorance expensive.
The joke of the thing was, that before I came to India I had rather fancied myself as an amateur sportsman. I flattered myself that I had a decent seat in a saddle, whether across country or on the flat. I thought that I made a tolerable fourth at whist; that I had some notion, at any rate, of English billiards, and of a hazard off the red. I certainly was under the impression that I could see with tolerable accuracy along the barrel of a gun. But these vain delusions were scattered, at once and for ever, by the men of Ahmednugger. My all-round, purblind, insensate ignorance had been so convincingly displayed, that, as I have said, I was the laughing-stock of all the place.
My latest performance in the exhibition line had been in a match with young Tebb, the youngest and the latest joined of the subalterns. Young Tebb had lured me on to skittles. Mr. Tebb--who would have been more correctly designated as "Master" Tebb--was an awkward hobbledehoy, who, at any other place than Ahmednugger, I should have looked down upon with the most supreme contempt. When he challenged me to see who could smash most glass balls with a rifle bullet, he or I, I rashly took his challenge up. I flattered myself that, at last, I had a "soft thing" on. I had, myself, been found a "soft thing" so many times, that I looked forward to a little change. I had no notion (it was rather late at night when the challenge was thrown down, and taken up) how difficult it really was to hit a glass ball with a rifle bullet. I had never fired at a glass ball, nor had I ever seen anyone else do so. But I conceived, that at any rate, young Tebb would find at least as much difficulty in the thing as I should.
We were each to fire at fifty glass balls, which were to be sent up into the air out of a trap. We were, of course, to fire at them while they were in the air. Out of my fifty I smashed one. Out of his fifty young Tebb smashed forty-nine. It was the most mirth-provoking exhibition that was ever seen. Of course, the young scoundrel had been doing nothing else but fire at glass balls his whole life long. It was when I handed over the two hundred rupees which I had staked and lost, that Mr. Tebb made his remark to the effect that "I couldn't even shoot."
When I returned to the hotel, a man was standing in the doorway. He addressed me as I came up the steps.
"It strikes me that you and I might shake hands, sir."
I asked him what he meant.
"I've made myself one kind of ass, and you've made yourself another kind. We'd be a pair of beauties."
I did not like being addressed in this manner, especially by a stranger, and especially by a stranger like this stranger. He was a short, undersized man, with a vacuous expression of countenance. His attire suggested seediness. Perceiving that I did not appreciate his manner, he explained.
"No offence intended, sir. But I just now saw you playing pantaloon to that youngster's clown, and I thought that he made the end of the poker rather hot. As for me, I'm an ass all over. My name's Johns. I came to this place to shear the sheep. There's been some shearing, but it's the sheep that's done it. They've about sheared me. I happened to have a trifle of money, so I came to these parts to see if I could do a bit of bookmaking. I've done a bit. The gentlemen in these parts have also done a bit. They've got hold of pretty well every blessed mag I had."
I did not encourage Mr. Johns; quite the contrary. I had heard of him before. The regimental races had recently been held; a bookmaker had appeared upon the scene--Mr. Johns. Nearly every man in the place had had bets with him, and to nearly every man in the place he had lost his money. With a vengeance had the Philistine been spoiled.
Later in the day on which I had shot off that match with Mr. Tebb I encountered Mr. Johns again. I was in the billiard-room of what was called "the club." As regards membership, it was very free-and-easy "club" indeed. A local celebrity was taking the floor. The room was tolerably full. On one of the side seats was Mr. Johns.
The local celebrity was a Mr. Colson. Mr. Colson was stud groom to the Rajah of Ahmednugger. He was also, and at the same time, one of the most obnoxious persons I have, in the course of my career, had the pleasure of meeting. There never was such a loud-voiced braggart. It set one's nerves on edge to hear him. To listen to him, there was nothing he could not do. The misfortune was, that some of the things which he said he could do, he could do, and do well. I had found that out to my cost, soon after my arrival in Ahmednugger. And, in consequence, he had sat on me heavily ever since. He was a horrible man.
That evening Mr. Colson was holding forth in his usual style, on the subject of billiards. I should mention that, at the period of which I am writing, Mr. John Roberts, the famous player, was on a tour in India.
"I saw John Roberts at Calcutta," observed Mr. Colson, "and he saw me. He also saw me play. When he saw me play, he said he doubted if he could give me fifteen in a hundred. I told him that I should like to see him do it. But he wouldn't take it on."
"Is that so?" asked Mr. Johns.
"That is so. I should like to see him give me ten in a hundred, either John Roberts or any man now living."
"I should like to have a game with you, Mr. Colson."
"You would?" Mr. Colson looked at Mr. Johns. He looked him up and down. Mr. Colson was large and florid. Mr. Johns was small and underfed. Mr. Colson was, at least, expensively attired. About Mr. John's costume there was certainly no suspicion of expense. "I don't mind having you a hundred up, my lad. How many shall I give you?"
"I am no player, Mr. Colson, but I'd like to play you even, if only for the sake of saying that I'd had the cheek to do it."
"You shall have that pleasure. And how much would you like to have on--if only for the sake of saying that you had the cheek to have it on?"
And Mr. Colson winked at the company in general.
"Well, Mr. Colson, you and the other gentlemen have won all my money; but, I daresay, I might manage ten rupees."
"Put 'em up, my lad. Here's my ten. We'll play for the twenty."
They played for the twenty. And, to my satisfaction, and I believe to the satisfaction of most of the others who were in the room, it was Mr. Johns who won. I am bound to say that it seemed to me to be rather a fluky win. Mr. Colson, whose disgust was amusing, had no doubt whatever about the fluke.
"Never saw anything like it, never! The balls never broke for me, not once! As for you; why, you did nothing else but fluke."
"Do you think so? I'll play you again double or quits, and I'll give ten in the hundred, Mr. Colson."
Mr. Colson seemed amazed. In fact, I have no doubt he was amazed.
"I like your modesty! You'll give me ten! Here's my twenty. I'll take you on."
Mr. Colson took him on. And, by way of fair exchange, Mr. Johns took him off. That is to say, he took off the stakes and the game. He did it rather neatly: just running in as Mr. Colson looked like winning. Mr. Colson was adjectival.
"Never saw anything like it--never, in all my born days! Never saw anything like my somethinged, somethinged, somethinged luck! And as for your fluking--why, it just beats anything."
"Think so? I'll play you again, Mr. Colson, and again double or quits; and this time I'll give you twenty in a hundred."
"You'll give me--you'll give me--twenty in a hundred? You will? Come on! That'll be forty rupees a side--here's mine! Macbee, put me on twenty, and we'll see what I can do."
We did see what he could do. We also saw that Mr. Johns seemed able to do a little better. Once more he won the game. I am sure that we were all enjoying ourselves very much--much more than we had had any reason to anticipate. As for Mr. Colson, he went purple. He showered on Mr. Johns a volley of that sort of language which I had found pretty fashionable at Ahmednugger. Mr. Johns listened to him in silence, while he pocketed the spoils. Then he had his say.
"You say I fluke? Why, my dear sir, you've no idea what a fluke is. You've no idea of any sort about billiards. You can no more play billiards than you can play the gentleman--you can't! You're the sort of person whom it is just as well, once in a way, to expose. You're a humbug, Mr. Colson, you're a humbug. As for John Roberts doubting if he could give you fifteen in a hundred--why, he could give you ninety-nine in a hundred, and beat you single-handed. I tell you what I will do, Mr. Colson. I will play you five hundred up, for five hundred rupees a side. I will give you four hundred start, and I will lay two to one against you with any gentleman who cares to back you. I don't think that's an unfair offer, Mr. Colson."
It struck me as, at any rate, a rash offer. Mr. Colson was not such a tyro as Mr. Johns made out. He had made mincemeat of me--I do know that. Yet the offer did not seem to be made in any spirit of braggadocio. I fancy that the quiet, matter-of-fact manner in which it was made impressed Mr. Colson more than he altogether cared to own. My impression it that, if he had had his own way, he would have changed the subject. But the odds offered him were such, and the challenge was made in such a public manner, that he probably felt that, if he wished to preserve a rag of reputation, now or never was the time to show the stuff that he was made of. Anyhow, the offer was accepted, and the terms of the match were definitely arranged before the parties left the room.
As I was retiring to rest, some one tapped at my bed-room door. In response to my invitation to enter, Mr. Johns came in. Without any preamble, he plunged at once into the purport of his presence in my chamber at that hour of the night, or, rather, morning.
"I have come, Mr. Greenall, to ask you to lend me five hundred rupees."
I turned. I looked at him. He met my glance without showing any signs of discomposure.
"You have come to--what?"
He repeated his remark--quite as though it were a matter of course.
"To ask if you will lend me five hundred rupees."
"I don't know if you are in earnest, Mr. Johns. If you are, I would remark, first, that I am not a money lender; and, second, that you are a complete stranger to me."
"I want the money to stake in my match with Mr. Colson."
"Indeed. Is that so? Then that is an added reason why I should decline to lend it to you. In my opinion, Mr. Johns, your chances of success in that match are, to say the least of it, remote."
"Look here, Mr. Greenall, I'm the last man in the world to wish to make myself offensive, but if we can understand each other I think that you and I might do each other a good turn. I know all about how you've been treated by the fellows here. I know how they've all been taking pop shots at you. From what I hear they've made you look like the biggest all-round muff that ever left his mammy. I daresay it's cost you something, too."
I did not altogether appreciate this gentleman's free-and-easy style of conversation. But to a certain extent I, so to speak, dissembled.
"I do not know what warrant you have, Mr. Johns, for your remarks; and, in any case, I fail to see what business it is of yours."
"It's this way; if you like, you can be even with all the lot of them--and more than even."
"How? By lending you five hundred rupees, and letting you have, as you put it, a pop-shot at me with the rest of them. Thank you, Mr. Johns. By the way, I fancy I have heard of some person or persons taking pop-shots at you. I think I did hear that you came here to make a fortune. Did you make it, Mr. Johns?"
"No, I didn't--hang 'em! I'm like you, I owe them one. And I mean to pay them, with compound interest. And, if you like to say the word, I'll pay them that little lot you owe them too. Look here, Mr. Greenall, I don't mind owning that a keener lot of gentlemen than the gentlemen here I don't think I ever had to do with. I won't say they robbed me, but they certainly cut me up into very nice little pieces, and they handed me round. I've seldom seen any thing of the kind which was better done. But never mind--my turn's coming! I'm not fond of bragging--quite the other way. If it wasn't that I was in a hole, I wouldn't say a word. But it is the simple truth that, at all the things at which these fellows think they're dabsters, I'm as far ahead of them as they're ahead of you,--no offence intended. You can take my word for it that I know what I'm talking about. It doesn't follow because, just once in a way, they happened to muck up my book, that I'm a flat. As for being able to give Colson four hundred out of five hundred at billiards,--if I choose, and I shall choose, he's simply bound to lose. I don't mean to say that I'm a John Roberts, because I'm not. But I do know how to play, and that in a sense which Colson hasn't even begun to understand. I've heard that Mr. Colson hasn't behaved over well to you. I thought that you'd like to see him taken down a peg or two."
I should. I should have liked to have seen more than one of them taken down a peg or two, though I said nothing of that to Mr. Johns.
"How came you to match yourself, Mr. Johns, when you were aware that you were not in possession of the required stakes?"
"I took it for granted that I should get the stakes from you."
Mr. Johns was frank, at any rate.
"From me? What claim did you suppose yourself to have on me?"
"No claim; but you see, sir, they've had me, and they've had you. They've had both of us, in fact, pretty smartly. And I thought that you might like to be even with some of them, by deputy."
By deputy. If it was workable, that was not a bad idea. I felt that I should like to be even with some of them, beginning, say, with Mr. Colson--how that man had squelched me beneath his elephantine foot! the brute!--even, as it were, by deputy.
"What guarantee have I that you will not lose my money, as you already have lost your own?"
"If we get up early, we shall have the billiard room all to ourselves. If you like, I will give you some idea of what I can do upon a billiard table."
We did get up early. We did have the billiard room all to ourselves. And Mr. Johns did give me some idea of what he could do upon a billiard table. For one thing, he got "on the spot," and he stopped there. He continued to put the red down, without once missing, until the marker appeared. When the marker did appear, we thought that perhaps the proceedings had better cease. If I can trust my memory, before the proceedings ceased, Mr. Johns had put the red down something like two hundred times in succession. I thought that was good enough, even for Mr. Colson. I agreed to advance the necessary number of rupees.
The match came off. It was a beautiful match. The room was crowded to overflowing. Mr. Johns had managed to back himself to a very fair amount. Even I, in my small way, had managed to back him too. But there was not so much readiness shown to support the local champion as I had expected. They were keen, were the men of Ahmednugger. I fancy that already they had begun to smell a rat. And not only so; they were always willing to "make a bet." But on that particular occasion they were almost equally willing to see Mr. Colson come to grief. I think that, in those parts, Mr. Colson was not so popular as he deserved to be. I verily believe that there were some who objected to him almost as much as I did.
Poor Mr. Colson! He was painfully nervous. His nervousness prevented his showing even his usual form. He had made fifteen, when Mr. Johns, getting on the spot, stayed there. He ran out without once putting down his cue. Nothing like it had ever been seen before in Ahmednugger. When the marker notified the fact that Mr. Johns had completed his fifth hundred, Mr. Colson was, for a moment, speechless. He seemed unable to realize that the thing was so.
"It's a--something swindle!"
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Colson--it's a what?"
Mr. Colson's tone was loud and threatening. Mr. Johns' tone was quiet, and almost indifferent. Yet Mr. Colson did not seem to altogether like it. He began to bluster. "You did not tell me that you were a professional."
"No; I did not tell you that I was a professional."
"You didn't play the other night as you have played to-day. It looks to me uncommonly like a put-up thing."
"It looks to you like a put-up thing, does it, Mr. Colson. Well, I'll give you a chance of showingyourprofessional side. I believe you can drive?"
"Drive!" Mr. Colson looked at the little man as if he would like to eat him. "I'm the finest whip in India."
"Indeed! Is that so? Well, I'll drive you either four, or eight, in hand, for a thousand rupees a side, although you are the finest whip in India."
Mr. Colson snapped at his offer, before it was fairly out of his mouth, and I felt that Mr. Johns was going a little too far. It was one thing to match him at billiards, another thing to match him at driving. There Mr. Colson was on his native heath. When I was alone with Mr. Johns I told him so.
"I don't know if you are aware, Mr. Johns, that Mr. Colson really is a first-rate whip. I am informed that it was his magnificent driving which first attracted the Rajah's attention."
Mr. Johns did not exhibit much appearance of concern.
"I guess I'll fix him, anyhow. I haven't driven a stage over some of the worst country in the western states of America for nothing. I'll back myself to drive a coach-and-four along a wall just wide enough to hold the wheels--and I'll take you as a passenger, if you like to come."
"Thank you, Mr. Johns, my tastes do not incline that way."
"Don't you worry, Mr. Greenall. I mean to take on the whole lot of 'em, one after the other, and show 'em a thing or two all round. These gentlemen here fancy they know a little, but we'll be more than even with them before we've done."
The driving match came off. I do not know how they manage similar affairs in England. I have sometimes wondered. But I am under the impression that they are not managed on the lines on which they managed that driving match in Ahmednugger.
The way in which they managed it there was this. Mr. Colson was to drive upon the Monday, Mr. Johns upon the Wednesday. Each was to drive the same team--eight-in-hand. The horses, by-the-way, came out of the Rajah's stables. The course was to be up and down the streets of Ahmednugger, and then for a certain distance outside the city. The judges occupied the front of the coach. I had a seat among the insignificant people at the back. On the whole, I was content to sit behind. The proceedings, in the streets of Ahmednugger, were distinctly exciting--almost too exciting, I felt, for me. Those streets were very narrow, and they were blocked with traffic, be it understood. Mr. Colson and Mr. Johns, each with his eight horses, and a coach load of passengers, went down those streets at full speed, as if they had been fifty yards wide, and as if there had not been a soul in sight. What damages were done, and what was the list of the killed and wounded, I have never been informed. I never quite realized what it meant to belong to a subject race, till then. It appeared to me that, in the eyes of my companions, a native had, as a matter of course, no rights at all. We drove over whole streets full of them, in style. My heart was in my mouth most of the time. We dashed round impossible corners, shaking native tenements to their foundations. But we kept ourselves alive somehow. The peaceful pedestrians were slain. I am no judge of coachmanship--of such coachmanship as that, at any rate. Those who were judges, without a dissentient voice, awarded the palm to Mr. Johns and, in consequence it was said, Mr. Colson entered himself as a candidate for delirium tremens. He was a dreadful man.
It seemed as if Mr. Johns was prepared to match himself against the men of Ahmednugger at exactly those things at which each man fancied he was strongest. That is what he did do. He challenged any one to meet him at driving, or at billiards. And, when his challenge--for what seemed to me to be sufficient reasons--met with no response, he challenged any one to ride him. That challenge was taken up. But he beat all takers. He had a way with a horse which seemed little else than magical. A horse would jump six feet for him, when, apparently, it would not jump six inches for any other man in Ahmednugger. I don't know how it was, but so it was. I know nothing of Mr. Johns, beyond what I am writing. I never heard his story, nor how it was that a man of genius--he was a man of genius--came to find himself a broken-down small bookmaker in that little town "up country." Perhaps he was another exemplification of the fact that only mediocrity succeeds.
I know that I was more than even with the men of Ahmednugger--by deputy. The band played to them, as it had played to me. He made them face the music, and there was not one of them who did not leave his scalp upon the ground. My belt was adorned with trophies--by deputy. When Mr. Johns had beaten the men of Ahmednugger--as they had beaten me--at riding, and at driving, and at billiards, he took them on at shooting. And, so to speak, he shot their heads off. He showed them that, in the presence of this man, they were as nothing, and less than nothing. He even challenged Mr. Tebb to smash glass balls. He fixed the point from which they were to fire at an abnormal distance, and, if I remember rightly, he beat Mr. Tebb by about a score. After he had annihilated that presumptuous young vagabond, Mr. Johns informed me that shooting at glass balls really was not shooting. I was quite prepared to admit it. He said that it was only a trick. When you had once mastered the trick, it was impossible to miss. Perhaps. I have never fired at glass balls since then, so I have no reason to suppose that I have mastered the trick. When I do again fire at glass balls I am inclined to think that I shall not experience the slightest difficulty in missing every one of them.
When Mr. Johns had beaten the men of Ahmednugger at almost everything at which they could be beaten, he began to amuse himself by taking a hand in various little games at cards. It was remarked that, to say the least of it, his luck was wonderful. There was scarcely a man in Ahmednugger who had not been compelled by Mr. Johns to take a lower seat; to take a lower seat, too, just where he felt that his claim was strongest to take the highest one. Naturally, here and there, a man resented it. An even stronger spirit of resentment was evinced when the men of Ahmednugger found that their money was going in search of their vanished reputations. There were some disagreeable little scenes. Then there was a royal row; it was at the club. Mr. Johns had been carrying everything in front of him. Things were said; then other things were said Then Mr. Johns laid down his cards; he faced the company.
"Gentlemen, I wish to inform you that you are, individually and collectively, a set of curs."
There were sounds which suggested neither the ways of pleasantness nor the paths of peace.
"Softly. Postpone the fighting for one minute. I would remind you that, when Mr. Greenall appeared in Ahmednugger, you all, with one accord, took shots at him. You used him as if he had been a variety of old Aunt Sally. When I made my appearance, you put your heads together, and you bested me. You see, we were strangers, and you took us in. Neither Mr. Greenall nor I quite liked this sort of thing, so we put our heads together, and, in our turn, we've bested you. We've used you as old Aunt Sallies. We've made you all sit up. We've made you all sing small. Even at games of mingled chance and skill, I've beaten you. Instead of taking your punishment like men, you begin to whimper. Therefore, gentlemen, I repeat that you are, individually and collectively, a set of curs."
Colonel Smith interposed so soon as Mr. Johns ceased speaking. I fancy that the Colonel had only just entered the room.
"Mr. Johns, you very much forget yourself."
"On the contrary, Colonel, I am remembering myself. It is the gentlemen you have the honour to command, who forget themselves. Should there be any one present who resents the words which I have used, I shall be happy to meet that person, either with the gloves, or without them, or with any weapon he may choose--for the honour of Ahmednugger."
There was silence--grim silence. Probably there was more than one there who would have liked to have ground Mr. Johns between the upper and the nether millstones. But, after all, they were gentlemen--in their way. Bean stood up, the adjutant of the ----th. He was a big fellow, head and shoulders taller than the audacious little challenger. He went round to where Mr. Johns was sitting.
"Mr. Johns, you will either apologise for the words which you have just now used, or take a thrashing."
"I will take a thrashing," said Mr. Johns.
He took it. What is more, he took it there and then. The meeting was immediately adjourned; and in the moonlight, the little argument came off. The proceedings were a trifle irregular; perhaps over here we should deem them so. I am not prepared to say that any dignitaries were actually present. Still there was a goodly gathering. The two men "peeled." In a very short space of time the little man had knocked the big man senseless. This is not a fairy tale. It is a simple record of a sober matter-of-fact. It almost seems as if Mr. Johns was a lineal descendant of the Admirable Crichton. Looking back, I really fancy that he must have been.
When Mr. Bean's satisfaction had been signified in what, I believe, is the usual manner, Mr. Johns addressed the lookers-on:
"Is there any other gentleman present who would like to thrash me--for the honour of Ahmednugger?"
Someone came out of the shadow--someone who, in those parts, was a very great man indeed.
"Mr. Johns, you will be so good as to leave Ahmednugger within four-and-twenty-hours."
Mr. Johns looked the great man up and down. He seemed to be in no way awed, even though he stood there in the moonlight without his shirt.
"I am at a loss, sir, to understand by what authority you address yourself to me in such a manner. I am in no way answerable for my movements to you. I have not broken the law. I have not even broken the peace. As it happens, I do intend to leave Ahmednugger, and in less than four-and-twenty hours. Not in deference to your orders, but simply because I have had enough of Ahmednugger, having taught your compatriots hereabouts what, it strikes me, was a much-needed lesson--the next time they encounter strangers, except in the scriptural sense--not to take them in."
The next day Mr. Johns did leave Ahmednugger. And I went too. He went his way, I went mine. I have neither seen nor heard of him since. But, as I continued on my journeyings, I felt that after all I had been even, and more than even, with the men of Ahmednugger--by deputy.
I did not mean to kiss her; it was a pure accident. Her face was close to mine, or my face was close to hers, and then her lips came into contact with my lips, or my lips came into contact with her lips--I don't know which it was--and then at that moment her mother came into the room, and she said, "Mr. Whiting, may I ask what is the meaning of this?" I said it meant nothing--nothing! Absolutely nothing! Only I found it difficult to explain, and when I did explain she would not understand. Her manner was not at all the sort of thing I care for. The result is that I am engaged to Mary Ann Snelling without being conscious of having entertained any intention of the kind.
Not that I have a word to say against Mary Ann, except that I never knew a girl with quite so many relations. To begin with she had six brothers and five sisters, and she is the eldest of the batch, and there's not one of the brothers whom I feel drawn to. Her father is a most remarkable person, to say the least.
After they had arranged between them that I was engaged to Mary Ann (I was really not allowed to have a voice in the matter) her father remarked, with a pointed air, which I cannot but think, under the circumstances, was unusual, that he thought it was about time that I did come to the scratch, and that if I had kept on dilly-dallying much longer he would have had a word to say to me of a kind. I do not know what he meant, and would rather not attempt to imagine. But it is quite plain to me that all the arrangements for my wedding are going to be made by the Snellings.
I do not know when it is going to be, but it will be either next week or the week after, certainly at the earliest possible moment, and I shouldn't be at all surprised to learn that all Mary Ann's "things" had been already bought, and perhaps some of them marked.
We are to live in a house which belongs to a cousin of Mr. Snelling; it is to be furnished by a brother of Mrs. Snelling, the house linen is to be supplied by the father of the young man to whom Jane Matilda is engaged, and the ironmongery by the uncle to whom George Frederic is apprenticed. All, apparently, that is left for me to do, is to pay for everything. It is most delightful. It might just as well be some one else's wedding, so unimportant is the part which I am set to play in it.
And it is all the result of an accident. I deny that for the last six months I have been using Mr. Snelling's home as if it were a boarding-house. Nothing of the kind. The mere suggestion is absurd. It is true that I have dropped in to dinner now and then, or to spend the evening, or for an afternoon call, or for an hour or two in the morning; but that has been simply and solely because the Snelling family have evinced so marked a desire for my society. The alteration which has taken place in their demeanour since my accident with Mary Ann is, therefore, all the more amazing. For instance, look at their behaviour in the matter of the ring.
The accident in question occurred upon the Sunday evening. I had been with Mary Ann to church, and had seen her home, and had had a little supper, and it was after supper that it happened. I did not go and purchase the engagement ring the first thing on the Monday morning, I own it. Certainly not. Nor did I take any steps in that direction during the whole of that week. I was not pressed for time.
Besides, I was turning things over in my mind. But that was no reason why, the Monday week following, four of her brothers should have called on me on their way to the office, when I was scarcely out of bed, and actually breakfasting, and assailed me in the way in which they did.
There was William Henry, John Frank, Ferdinand Augustus, and Stephen Arthur. Each of them twice my size and all of them frightfully ignorant and wholly regardless of the sensitive little points of those with whom they came in contact. There is no circumlocution about them. They go straight at what they want; and were scarcely inside my door before they blurted out the purport of their coming. It was Frederick Augustus; if the thing is possible he is, if anything, more direct even than the rest of his family.
"Look here, Whiting, how about Mary Ann's ring? The girl is fretting, but you don't seem to notice it. And as you don't appear to know what is the proper thing to do in a case of this kind, and don't understand that the ring ought to be bought straight away, we've bought it for you."
I gasped--positively gasped.
"Am I to understand that you've purchased my engagement ring?"
"That's it; on your account. From a cousin of ours who's in that line."
I never saw people like the Snellings for possessing relatives in all sorts of "lines." No matter what you want, or do not want, and never will want, they are sure to have some relative who has dealt in it, his or her whole life long.
They produced the ring, and told me what I had to pay for it. A handsome price it was. I was persuaded that somebody besides that cousin got a profit out of Mary Ann's engagement ring. But I handed over the amount. I did not want any unpleasantness; and I am quite sure there would have been unpleasantness had I demurred.
Later in the day I took it with me when I went to call on Mary Ann. She appeared to be surprised almost into speechlessness when I presented it to her. Her head dropped on my shoulder, and she kissed me under the chin, observing, "You dear old Sam." The moments when I am alone with Mary Ann are alleviations for those more frequent moments when I am not alone with Mary Ann. Still I noticed that the ring fitted her perfectly, and I could not but wonder if she had tried it on before.
At the same time I am beginning to be comforted by a suspicion that Mary Ann is on my side; on my side, that is, as against the rest of her family. There has been a difference of opinion as to where we are to spend our honeymoon. It is from her action in that matter that my suspicion springs.
The Snellings have an aunt who lives in an out-of-the-way hole at the other end of nowhere. The woman's name is Brady. There she owns a cottage, or it may be a pigstye for all I know. When she heard of my engagement with Mary Ann, she wrote and suggested that we should spend our honeymoon in her cottage, or pigstye, and that I should pay her rent for it. The matter was talked about at dinner. Mary Ann was silent for some time; then she quietly remarked:
"Don't trouble yourselves to discuss Aunt Brady's proposal. I shall do nothing of the kind."
This observation was followed by perfect silence. The members of the family looked at one another. But, after a very considerable pause, her mother said, with quite unusual mildness, "Very well, my dear. Then, it's settled."
After dinner I took advantage of an opportunity which offered to thank Mary Ann for her action in the matter, because, of course, I had no wish to spend my honeymoon in a place of which I knew nothing, to oblige an aunt of whom I knew still less. Mary Ann beamed at me, and she said, "You dear old man!" Presently she continued:
"Do you know that in marrying me you are doing the best thing for yourself that you ever did in all your life?"
I endeavoured to explain to her that I felt sure of it; but I fear that my explanation was a little stumbling. But she went on with the most perfect fluency. There were no signs of faltering about her flow of language.
"You want someone who can look after you; and you could not, by any chance, have chosen a person who will look after you better than I shall."
Such an assurance was most satisfactory. We had a long confidential chat on matters of business. I found that as a woman of business she was beyond all my expectations.
I told her exactly what my income was; and the source from which it came, and all about it. She drew up a plan on which we were to lay it out. It was an admirable plan. I had never had one, but I saw clearly that in that way the money would go twice as far.
It turned out that she had a little money of her own; about a hundred and thirty pounds a year. And, of course, I had my expectations, and she had hers. It was plain that together we should manage most comfortably. Delightfully, in fact. On the subject of wedding presents, too, her ideas were the most lucid I ever yet encountered. It was wonderful to listen to her--really wonderful.
"I shall make papa give me five hundred pounds, at least. 'A bird in the hand is worth two in a bush'--and it will be something to have by us."
I quite agreed with her remarks about the bird in the hand; and it certainly will be something to have by us.
"I know what mamma can afford to give, and I will see she gives it. And I will see that there is no shirking about the boys--or about the girls either. I will take care that my relations do their duty. I have drawn up a list of all the people who ought to give us a present, and I shall tell them what they ought to give--it won't be my fault if I don't get it. Of course there are some people with whom you can't be perfectly plain, but I shall be as plain as I can; there's a way and a manner of doing that kind of thing. I have no intention of being presented with an endless collection of duplicates, or a lot of useless rubbish which I don't know what to do with. If you take my advice you will follow in my footsteps."
I endeavoured to. At least I drew up a list of people who ought to meet the occasion, and I tried in more than one instance to drop a hint of what, as I felt, they ought to meet it with.
But I am bound to admit that so far my success has been as nothing compared with hers. Hers has been prodigious. It is certain that we have a large collection of really valuable property about the house--the wedding presents to Mary Ann. She has a knack of getting people to do what she wishes and to give her what she wants, which is a little short of miraculous.
A singular feature about the situation is that people are actually beginning to pity me--to sympathise with me for being about to marry Mary Ann. I notice that they are generally persons who have already tendered their offerings. The fact of having given Mary Ann a wedding present seems to fill them with a feeling of rancorous acidity which, to me, is inexplicable. My belief is that they have been induced to spend at least twice as much as they intended, and that they resent it. Such is the selfishness of human nature. But why, on that account, they should pity me, I altogether fail to understand.
"We have all been giving Mary Ann presents, and I suppose you, Mr. Whiting, have been giving her something too." That was what Mrs. Macpherson said to me only the other day. I have given Mary Ann two or three trifles, and I said so. "And what," inquired Mrs. Macpherson, "has Mary Ann given you?"
"Her love."
Someone sniggered. I cannot pretend to explain why, except on the supposition that romance is dead; at least in that circle of society in which the Snellings move. But that is not the only society the world contains.
As a matter of fact, Mary Ann has given me a pair of slippers, worked by her own hands. It is true that they are a trifle large for me, and that I shall never be able to keep them on my feet except when I am sitting still. But Mary Ann does not seem to think that that matters, so why should I? Her youngest sister, Clara Louisa, has quite gratuitously informed me that she has had them by her for some considerable time, and that, not to put too fine a point on it, they were originally designed for another individual altogether--a Mr. Pilbeam. But even supposing that what Clara Louisa says is true--of which I have no evidence--I have, surely, cause to congratulate myself on standing literally in Mr. Pilbeam's shoes, even if they are a little spacious.
On the whole I do not know that I regret that accident I had with Mary Ann. It is true that there are times when I am a little disposed to wish that she were not quite so good a manager; now and then every man likes to call his soul his own. On the other hand, she is well qualified to protect me from the rest of the family. She will keep them at bay. Because it is beginning to dawn on me that, singlehanded, she is more than a match for them all. Which is just as well. If she had been like me they would have rent us limb from limb. As it is, unless I am mistaken, some of the rending will be on our side. And they know it!
P.S.--The cards are out for the wedding. It is to take place on Tuesday fortnight. We are going for our honeymoon to Italy and the South of France. A second cousin of Mary Ann's is in the Cook's Tours line. He has given us free passes all the way to the end of our journey, and all the way back again; and coupons for free board and lodging at the hotel. It's a wedding present. So that, as Mary Ann says, our honeymoon need cost us practically nothing. Besides which we can always sell the coupons and railway passes which we don't use.
Nothing could be more delightful.