[ Transcriber's Note:

 Inconsistent hyphenation and spacing of abbreviations have been retained as in the original. Corrections of spelling and punctuation are listed at the end of this file. ]

 HAPPY-THOUGHT HALL. 

 BY

 F. C. BURNAND, AUTHOR OF "HAPPY THOUGHTS, " "MORE HAPPY THOUGHTS, " "OUT OF TOWN, " &c. 

 [Illustration]

 ILLUSTRATED BY THE AUTHOR

 BOSTON: ROBERTS BROTHERS. 1872. 

CONTENTS. 

 CHAPTER I. 

 THE IDEA--ADVICE--TITLE--PLAN--ON PAPER--SUGGESTION--COST--BOODELS --OLD FRIENDS--JENKYNS SOAMES--DESIGNS--STAIRCASES--BAYS-- OBJECTIONS--ORDER OF ARCHITECTURE--STABLES--PRICE--GIVEN UP-- CAZELL'S IDEA 1

 CHAPTER II. 

 NOTIONS--GUIDE WANTED--BLACKMEER--CHILVERN--HIS ELEMENT--VIEWS-- OBSERVATIONS--DISCUSSIONS--FISHING--TROUT--SHROPSHIRE--THE LAKE-- THE SOLITARY CASTLE--HERMITS--GAMES--DIFFERENCES--AT THE HOUSE 13

 CHAPTER III. 

 WITHIN--THE HOUSEKEEPER--WINDOWS--INFORMATION--THE ORIEL--VIEW-- FLOOR--MILBURD'S INQUIRY--TYPICAL DEVELOPMENT--MATERIAL--AN EXAMPLE --CRONE--POOR--MEDITATIONS--THE FRESCO--TAPESTRY--ARMOUR--MICE-- RATS--THE GHOST 19

 CHAPTER IV. 

 ALONE--THE SECRET DOOR--UNSOCIABILITY--THE PICTURE--GRIM THOUGHTS-- ONE CHEERFUL IDEA--MELON--HIDING--CRUEL JOKES--SPIRAL--ANGLES-- ASSASSINS--WHITE LADY--A COMFORT--NERVES--THE DOOR--A GROWL--SNIFFS --A FOLLOWER--REASONING--SAD THOUGHTS--OUT AT LAST 24

 CHAPTER V. 

 ON THE ROOF--DOWN AGAIN--FURTHER INSPECTION--VARIETY--ELIZABETHAN-- NORMAN--COLOUR--RAYS--FILTERED--CUI BONO?--SUGGESTION--PLAY IN STORE--THE STABLES--PREVIOUS TENANTS--GOOD INTENTIONS--NAME 31

 CHAPTER VI. 

 CHOOSING A PARTY. 

 ROOMS--DECISION--ODD MEN--RETURN--ARRANGEMENTS--THEORIES-- OBJECTIONS--PROPOSITIONS--ELECTIONS--THE LADIES--WHO'S HOST?-- GUESTS--HOSTESS--MORE PROPOSALS--GRANDMOTHERS--AUNTS--HALF-SISTERS --SISTERHOOD PROPOSED--GRAND IDEA--CHAPERONS--TERMS--IDEAL--A PROFESSION--A DEFECT--OR ADVANTAGE--ADDITIONAL ATTRACTIONS--OLD MAN --DULNESS--THEATRICAL--PLANS--THE PRESIDENT--EXPLANATION--IDEA 36

 CHAPTER VII. 

 THE NEW ORDER. 

 A BROTHERHOOD--SIMPLICITY--A DIFFICULTY MET--ILLUSTRATIONS-- PROCEEDINGS--INTERVIEW--QUESTION--ANSWER--MODELS--PETITS FRÈRES-- TERMS--RULES AND REGULATIONS--THE SCHEME DISMISSED--THE LIST SETTLED 44

 CHAPTER VIII. 

 A MORNING DISCUSSION. 

 ON DEAFNESS--ESCAPES--BUTTONHOLED--A DISCUSSION--MORNING LOST--RAGE --DESPAIR 53

 CHAPTER IX. 

 A WET DAY. 

 RAIN--THE MEDFORDS--CONVERSATION--A PROPOSAL--ACCEPTED--THE TRICK-- THE LECTURE 60

 CHAPTER X. 

 OUT OF AN ALBUM--ON LOSS OF PATIENCE--MRS. FRIMMELY'S SUGGESTION--A DAY-DANCE 71

 CHAPTER XI. 

 A NIGHT SURPRISE 78

 CHAPTER XII. 

 OUR LIBRARY--BUSTS--DISTINGUISHED CHARACTERS--MELANCHOLY--GUESSES-- SOAMES--MRS. BOODELS AGAIN--MILBURD--HIS JOKE--A NUISANCE 80

 CHAPTER XIII. 

 MUSIC--MEDFORD--MILBURD'S SONG--CONSEQUENCE--OPINIONS--NOTE-- COMPLIMENTS--EPIGRAM--THE DAMP FIREWORK 84

 CHAPTER XIV. 

 OUR POSTAL ARRANGEMENTS 88

 CHAPTER XV. 

 MRS. BOODELS--BOODELS--HIS GRANDMOTHER'S OBSERVATION--HER FATE SEALED--THE COMEDY--HER DEPOSITION--NEW PROPOSAL--AWKWARD-- MILBURD'S RELATION--INVITATION--THE DINNER HOUR--RECOMMENDATION-- DECISION 91

 CHAPTER XVI. 

 FRESH ARRIVALS--DESCRIPTION--A HISTORY 95

 CHAPTER XVII. 

 SUNDAY--SUNDAY REASONS--A CHAMBER DIALOGUE 108

 CHAPTER XVIII. 

 MORE SUNDAY THOUGHTS--IN MY ROOM--A TELEGRAM--IMPOSSIBILITIES-- INTERRUPTION 116

 CHAPTER XIX. 

 THE PROSAIC GENTLEMAN. 

 A WALK WITH SIGNOR REGNIATI 120

 CHAPTER XX. 

 A SUNDAY CONVERSATION 123

 CHAPTER XXI. 

 COMMENCEMENT OF MY SAYINGS FOR SUNDAYS 130

 CHAPTER XXII. 

 THE PROGRAMME--THE FARCE 136

 CHAPTER XXIII. 

 AFTER THE PERFORMANCE, CONVERSATION COMMENCES 181

 CHAPTER XXIV. 

 CHILVERN'S BALLAD--THE MORAL 191

 CHAPTER XXV. 

 IN AND OUT--BEFORE THE FIRE--MEDITATIONS--SURPRISES--HAPPY THOUGHTS --AWAKENINGS--SLUMBERS--BELL-PULLS--BOOTS--VALET--DIFFICULTIES-- MRS. REGNIATI--WHAT'S ON THE TAPIS?--MATCH-MAKING--CUPID 198

 CHAPTER XXVI. 

 AT DINNER--WEIGHT--WATCHING--JOKES--PROTEST--AWKWARD SITUATION--AN ANNOUNCEMENT--INQUIRY--ARRIVAL--PRACTICAL JOKES 206

 CHAPTER XXVII. 

 FIFTH WEEK--DIFFICULTIES--HINTS--BOODELS' SECRET--ARRIVAL OF JIMMY LAYDER--A CHANGE--PRACTICAL JOKES--PLAYING THE FOOL--DRESSING UP-- MORE JOKES--CHEMICAL LECTURE--EXPERIMENTS--RESULTS--OPEN WINDOWS-- COLDS--DEPARTURES--SMALL BY DEGREES--BEAUTIFULLY LESS--THE SHILLING AND THE TUMBLER--BOODELS' LAST--TWO'S COMPANY--CONCLUSION 209

HAPPY THOUGHT HALL. 

CHAPTER I. 

 THE IDEA--ADVICE--TITLE--PLAN--ON PAPER--SUGGESTION--COST--BOODELS-- OLD FRIENDS--JENKYNS SOAMES--DESIGNS--STAIRCASES--BAYS--OBJECTIONS-- ORDER OF ARCHITECTURE--STABLES--PRICE--GIVEN UP--CAZELL'S IDEA. 

_Happy Thought. _--To get a country house for the winter. To fill it withfriends. To have one wing for bachelors. Another wing for maidens with_chaperons_. To have the _Nave_, as it were, of the house, for themarried people. 

"I'll tell you what you ought to do, " says Cazell to me. "You ought tobuild a nice little snuggery in the country. "

I object to the cost. 

"Cost? Bah! that's nothing. You can always get a Building Society, " sayshe, enthusiastically, "to advance you _any_ sum. "

I ask how these Building Societies proceed. 

 [Illustration: CAZELL. ]

"Simply enough, " says Cazell, who invariably knows everything aboutanything, only if you act on his information and go wrong, he generallydenies warmly afterwards that "he ever said such a thing. " "Simplyenough, " he continues. "You go to the Society, you give 'em somesecurity, --any security will do, and you could get _that_ easilyenough. " I nod cheerfully, more to encourage him to proceed, than fromany feeling of certainty as to the means of obtaining the security. Then, having, satisfactorily to himself, disposed of this difficulty, hecontinues:--"Well, your security in this case would be your title-deedsof the house and land. "

_Happy Thought. _--Title-deeds. 

"Then, " he goes on, as if he'd been accustomed to do this sort of thingevery day, "you say how much you want. Then they ask you" (it's becomingquite dramatic), "where's your house? You say . . . . Wherever it is, youknow. " Cazell puts it in this way, as impressing upon me that before theBuilding Society I _must_ tell the truth and not pretend to them that myhouse is in Bedfordshire, for example, when it isn't. "Well, " heresumes, "then they ask you what sort of a house do you intend to build?Then, you lay your plan before them. "

_Happy Thought. _--The Plan of my House. 

"They examine it, that is, their architect does . . . They inquire aboutthe land . . . And then they decide, whether they'll buy it for you, ornot. "

("_Not_" I should think, but I don't say so. )

"Then, " he goes on. "You make the purchase, and hand over thetitle-deeds. Pay them a rent and a per-centage every year until thewhole is paid off, when it becomes yours. "

"In fact, " I put it, bluffly, to him, "I can build a house withouthaving any money; I mean, by getting the money from the BuildingSociety?"

"Precisely. Any day. "

I hesitate. It really is--if Cazell is correct--much better than hiringa house . . . Or taking lodgings. And what does Cazell think the cost willbe?

"Well, " says he, "put it at £2, 000, the outside. " I reflect that theinside, too, will be a considerable expense. "A good, strong house. Why, I knew a fellow build one for £1, 500. Just what you want. Then, there'sthe ground--say at another two. And there you are. Four thousandaltogether. Well, you'd pay 'em a mere rent for that, and so much tackedon, which would, each time, reduce the principal. And when you pay yourlast year of rent and interest, it ought to have come down to afive-pound note. "

This is admirable. What a glorious society is the Building Society . . . _if_ Cazell is only right. 

I will draw out plans at once. 

Will he come down with me, somewhere, and choose the land?

"Certainly. Why not try Kent?" he asks. I have no objection to Kent. "But, " I suggest, "wouldn't it be better, first, to settle the sort ofthing wanted?"

_Happy Thought. _--Put it down on paper. 

A billiard-room, _absolute necessity_. 

Stables. _Do. _

"Bath-room, " adds Milburd, to whom, on his accidentally looking in, weappeal for assistance. 

 [Illustration: MILBURD. ]

_Happy Thought. _--"While I _am_ about it" (as Milburd says), "why not aTurkish bath?" In the house. Excellent!

What after this?

Milburd suggests smoking-room, and library. Yes. That's all. 

Not _all_: Milburd thinks that a Racquet Court wouldn't be bad, and_while I am about it_, it would be scarcely any more expense, to have aTennis Court; and, by the way, a positive saving to utilise the outsidewalls of both, for Fives. 

_Query. _ Won't this cost too much?

"The question is, " says Boodels (he has been recently improving his ownhouse), "What is your limit?"

"No, I argue, let's see what an imaginary house will cost, and then_I'll have so much of it as I want_. Say, " I put it, "a house is to costtwo thousand----"

"Can't be done for the money, " says Boodels, positively. 

This is rather damping, but, on consideration, it's just what Boodels_would_ say in anybody's case, except his own. 

 [Illustration: BOODELS OF BOODELS. ]

I pass over his opinion and continue. 

"For argument's sake, let's say the house costs four thousand----" (ThisI feel sounds very pleasant, but what will the Building Society say, andhow about the security? These, however, are details for subsequentconsideration. One thing at a time: and these extras rather hamper one'sideas. So I say £4, 000, and leave it at that. )

"More, " says Boodels, "but you _might_ do it for that. "

I repeat "For argument's sake. " Formula admitted. 

Well then, I suppose it to cost four thousand, I can only spend twothousand. Very good, I'll only have, as it were, two thousand pounds'worth of house. 

"Half a house, in fact, " says Milburd. 

This is not the way to put it, but I am, I feel, right, somehow. 

I appeal to my friend Jenkyns Soames, who is writing a book onScientific Economy. 

He replies that mine is correct, in theory, if taken from a certainpoint of view. We admit that this is a sensible way of putting it. Andare, generally, satisfied. 

"There's one thing I _must_ have, " I remember, aloud, as I sit down todraw a first plan, "my Study. "

 [Illustration: A. Billiard Room. B. Tennis Court. C. Racquet Court. D. Library. E. Study. F. Dining Room. _a a a_ &c. All bay windows and lights high up, according to room. _d d d_ &c. , doors. ]

On this plan every room is _en suite_. 

"How about your staircases, " says Boodels, "and your kitchen, eh?"

I observe that this is only a commencement. That my object is toremember everything gradually, and so omit nothing. 

_Happy Thought. _--Only one floor and one flight of stairs. 

 [Illustration]

Here I find the library has been forgotten. 

Add on the library in dots; like a railway map. 

"How do you get there from the study?" asks Milburd. 

"Why, by doors, through the dining-room. "

"Awkward, " suggests Boodels. 

"No; I don't think so. "

"How do you light your study?" asks Cazell. 

"Eh?. . . . . Ah!. . . "

_Happy Thought. _--From above. 

"Then, " says Milburd, as if there was an end of the whole thing, "youlose a bed-room by that, and another over the billiard-room. "

True. 

_Happy Thought. _--Bring study more forward and light it by big window infront. (I do so in dots. )

Milburd says: "Throw out a bay. "

This is his invariable resource. 

I throw out a bay-window (also in dots) and then we survey it carefully. 

_Happy Thought. _--To have an In-door Amusement Hall for Wet Weather. 

"Will your Amusement hall be _the_ Hall?"

"Well . . . Yes. "

"Then the front door will be . . . ?"

I indicate in dots the front door, and the drive. 

"Precisely, " says Boodels, "and just as you're in the middle of a gameof something, up comes a party to call; you can't say you're not athome, and the servants can't open the door while the ball, or whateverit is, is flying about. "

True . . . Then . . . Bring it more forward. Or make a new plan. 

 [Illustration]

"Then the bath-room's forgotten, " says Milburd. Add it in dots to tenniscourt. 

Then over every room there'll be a bed-room and dressing-room. Sothat'll be a good house. 

"What style?" asks Cazell. 

"Elizabethan, decidedly, " I reply. They think not. 

"Gothic's useful, " says Boodels. 

"Italian's better, " observes Milburd. 

"Something between the two, " suggests Cazell. 

Twelve rooms below, twelve above. Stables outside, added subsequently. 

_Happy Thought. _--Submit this to Chilvern, my architectural friend. 

I say, Estimate it roughly. 

He does it, after a day or so. 

_Rough Estimate. _ About £8, 000. 

"That, " I say, a little staggered, "is rather _over_ the mark than underit, eh?"

 [Illustration: CHILVERN. ]

"_Over?_ No, " he replies, "_Under. _ I mean, of course, to haveeverything done well, thoroughly well. Of course, " says he, "there aremen who will run you up a house in a few weeks and charge you about£4, 000. But what's the result? Why you're always repairing, and it costsyou, in the end, double what you'd have paid for having it thoroughlywell done at first. "

I ask how long the building would take? Chilvern is of opinion that itwould be six months at the least. 

Then I say I'll give it up. I wanted it for Christmas. 

Then the notion of the party must be abandoned. 

_Happy Thought. _--An abandoned party! Dreadful character. 

Boodels says he's sorry for that, as he can't go into his own house justnow, it being under repair. 

Cazell suddenly exclaims, "I tell you what we ought to do!" We listen. He goes on. "We ought to take a house for the Winter Season, the lot ofus together, and then ask our own friends. "

Boodels observes, that, if we agree to this, he will supply someservants, as _his_ are doing nothing. Chilvern can tell us where there'sa place to be let. Just what we want, about an hour's train from town. Queer old mansion, a bit out of trim, he tells us, in fact he was goingto have had the job of restoring it, only the people suddenly left; buthe'd put that to rights. Would we go and look at it?

Carried nem. Con. 

CHAPTER II. 

 NOTIONS--GUIDE WANTED--BLACKMEER--CHILVERN--HIS ELEMENT--VIEWS-- OBSERVATIONS--DISCUSSIONS--FISHING--TROUT--SHROPSHIRE--THE LAKE-- THE SOLITARY CASTLE--HERMITS--GAMES--DIFFERENCES--AT THE HOUSE. 

We go down. Hertfordshire. I find on inquiry that there is no Guide tothis county. Black ignores it, Murray knows nothing about it, andBradshaw is silent on the subject. 

_Happy Thought. _--While at Our Mansion write a Guide to Hertfordshire. 

Arrived at the station we inquire for Blackmeer Hall. Six or seven milesto drive. I ask if this distance isn't against it? I am met by theunanimous answer, "Not at all. "

Chilvern points out the beauties of the road as we go along. We becomesilent, not liking to have things perpetually pushed under our notice, as if we couldn't see them for ourselves. 

"There's a fine bit, " he says, pointing to a gate. We nod. "Aren't thecolours of the trees lovely?" he asks. We agree with him. For the sakeof argument, I observe that I've seen finer. "Where?" he inquires. Idon't know at this moment _where_, but, being on my mettle, I am certainthat I _have_ seen finer. 

_Happy Thought. _--In Derbyshire. 

He pooh-poohs the notion of Derbyshire. Then he continues giving us bitsof useful information, like a disjointed lecture. 

"There's a tree for you!" he exclaims. Then, "There's a queer old roof, eh?" No notice being taken of this, he continues, "Fine beech that!""Beautiful view, isn't it?" Presently, "Just look at the sky _now_!" andso on. 

Cazell begins to resent it, so does Boodels. 

Chilvern says, pointing left and right, "Ah, these fields are the placefor mushrooms. "

Boodels says that his own fields in Essex are better. 

"Not better than this, " says Chilvern. 

Boodels returns that they are, and that _he_, Boodels, _ought_ to know. 

Chilvern pauses to allow the subject to stand and cool, as it were; thenhe begins again. 

"That's a fine cow there. This is a great place for cows. It's where allthe celebrated cheeses are made. "

"Ah, my dear fellow, " cries Boodels, "you should see the cows inGloucestershire. They _are_ cows. "

Cazell agrees with him, but caps it with, "Yes, but I'll tell you what_you_ ought to do, " to Chilvern: "you ought to go to the Scilly Islands, and see the cows there. "

Milburd says if it's a question of going to islands, why not to the Isleof Wight and see Cowes there? I laugh, slightly; as it doesn't do toencourage Milburd too much. The others, who are warming with theirconversation, treat the joke with silent contempt. 

"There's a larch for you, " cries Chilvern, in admiration of a giganticfir-tree. 

"That!" exclaims Cazell. "My dear fellow"--whenever he is gettingnettled in discussion, he always becomes excessively affectionate in histerms--"My dear fellow, you ought to go to Surrey to see the larches, and the firs. " Boodels observes in a chilly sort of way that he doesn'tcare for larches, _or_ firs. 

In order to divert the stream of their conversation, I remark that Ihave no doubt there's some capital trout fishing about here. I say thison crossing a bridge. 

"Ah!" says Chilvern, "see the trout in Somersetshire. My! Why in someplaces you could catch twenty, with as many flies, all at once. "

Cazell tops this without a pause; he says, "Ah! if you want trout youshould go to Shropshire. I _never_ saw such a place for trout. You'veonly got to put your hand down, and you can take them asleep in theditches. "

Milburd exclaims incredulously, "Oh yes, " meaning, "Oh no. "

"My dear boy, " says Cazell, emphatically, "I assure you it's a knownthing. Tell a Shropshire man about trout in any other county, and he'lllaugh in your face. "

Except for politeness, we feel, all of us, a strong inclination to actlike the ideal Shropshire man, under the present circumstances. 

We enter an avenue. 

The driver tells us we are approaching the house. We pass a large pondpartially concealed by trees. In the centre there is an island with asort of small ruined castle on it. It is, as it were, a Castle for One. 

_Happy Thought. _--Sort of place where a Hermit could play Solitaire. Andget excited over it. Who invented Solitaire? If it was a Hermit, whydidn't the eminent ascetic continue the idea and write a book of games?

_Happy Thought. _--To call it "Games for Hermits. "

Milburd exclaims, "Stunning place for fireworks. We might do thestorming of the Fortress there. "

_Happy Thought. _--"Good place, " say, "for a retired study. "

Cazell says, "I tell you what we ought to do with that; make it intospare rooms. A castle for single gentlemen. They could cross in a boatat night. "

Chilvern is of opinion it ought to be restored, and made a gem ofarchitectural design. 

Boodels says, if anything, he should like it to be an observatory, or, on second thoughts, a large aquarium. 

Cazell says at once, "If you want to see an aquarium you should go toHavre. "

Chilvern returns that there's a better one at Boulogne. 

Milburd caps this by quoting the one at the Crystal Palace. 

Cazell observes quickly that _the_ place for curious marine specimens isBakstorf in Central Russia. 

"_You've_ never been to Central Russia, " says Milburd, superciliously. Professing to have travelled considerably himself, he doesn't like theidea of anyone having done the same. 

"I wish, " exclaims Cazell, using a formula of his own, "I wish I had asmany sovereigns as I've been in Central Russia. "

This appears conclusive, and, if it isn't, here we are at the House. Blackmeer Hall. Elizabethan, apparently. 

 [Illustration: AN OLD WOMAN RECEIVES US AT THE DOOR. ]

CHAPTER III. 

 WITHIN--THE HOUSEKEEPER--WINDOWS--INFORMATION--THE ORIEL--VIEW-- FLOOR--MILBURD'S INQUIRY--TYPICAL DEVELOPMENT--MATERIAL--AN EXAMPLE --CRONE--POOR--MEDITATIONS--THE FRESCO--TAPESTRY--ARMOUR--MICE--RATS --THE GHOST. 

An old woman curtseys, and ushers our party into the Hall itself, whichis lofty and spacious, but in a mildewy condition. 

The floor is partly stone partly tiles, as if the original designer hadbeen, in his day, uncertain whether to make a roof of it, or not. 

A fine old chimney, with a hearth for logs, and dogs, is at one end, andreminds me of retainers, deer hounds, oxen roasted whole, and Christmasrevels in the olden time. 

The windows are diamond-paned. To open in compartments. 

The old woman tells us that this was rebuilt in fifteen hundred andfifty-two, and then she shows us into the drawing-room. 

This is a fine apartment with an Oriel window, giving on to a lawn ofrank and tangled grass. Beyond this chaos of green, is a well timberedcovert, dense as a small black forest. 

The distance between the trees becoming greater to the left of theplantation, we obtain a glimpse of the lake which we passed on our road. 

There is another grand fire-place in this room. The wainscot wantspatching up, and so does the parqueted floor. 

The old woman tells us that "they say as Queen Elizabeth was once here. "

Milburd asks seriously, "Do you recollect her, ma'am?"

The crone wags her head and replies "that it was afore her time. "

Mentioning the word Crone to Boodels, I ask him what relation it bearsto 'Cronie. ' "'Cronie, ' almost obsolete now, means 'a familiar friend, '"I explain to him. He says thank you, and supposes that the two wordshave nothing in common except sound. 

The notion being in fact part of my scheme for _Typical Developments_(Vol. XIII. Part I. "_On sounds of words and their relation to oneanother_"), I offer him my idea on the subject. 

He asks, "What is it?"

_Happy Thought. _--"Crone" is the feminine of "Cronie. " "Cronie" is anold friend, "Crone" is an old friend's old wife. Which sounds like asentence in one of my German Exercises. "The Old wife of the Old friendmet the Lion in the garden. "

Boodels says "Pooh!" If he doesn't understand a thing at once hedismisses it with "pooh. " As I ascend the wide oak staircase, with roomenough for eight people abreast on every step, I reflect on thefoolishness of a man saying "pooh, " hastily. How many great schemesmight anyone nip in the bud by one "pooh. " What marvellous inventions, apparently ridiculous in their commencing idea, would be at once knockedon the head by a single "pooh. " The rising Artist has an infant designfor some immense historical Fresco. He comes--I see him, as it were, coming to Boodels to confide in him. "I mean, " says he, "to show Peterthe Great in the right-hand corner, and Peter the Hermit in another, with Peter Martyr somewhere else, . . . In fact, I see an immensehistorical subject of all the Celebrated Peters . . . . Then why not offerit to St. Peter's at Rome, and why not . . . ?" "Pooh!" says Boodels, andthe artist perhaps goes off and drowns himself, or goes into businessand so is lost to the World. If I'd listened to Boodels' "Pooh, " Ishould never have got on so far as I have with my work on TypicalDevelopments. I hope to be remembered by this. 

Milburd is calling me. Everyone in ecstasies. What wonderful oldchambers. Oak panels, diamond panes. Remains of tapestry, containingprobably a fine collection of moths. Old rusty armour on the walls. Strange out-of-the-way staircases leading to postern-doors and offices. 

Chilvern observes that it all wants doing up, and commences making plansand notes in a book, which he takes from his pocket, in company with asmall ivory two-foot rule. 

"Plenty of mice, " says Cazell, looking at the old woman forcorroboration. 

"Yes, in winter-time, " she says. 

"And rats?" inquires Milburd. 

"I've met 'em on the stairs, " replies the old lady, quite cheerfully. 

"Ghosts, too?" suggests Boodels. [He has become somewhat melancholy oflate and says that he is studying the phenomena of "UnconsciousCerebration, " which Milburd explains is only a name for thinking ofnothing without knowing it. Boodels, in consequence, thinks Milburd amere buffoon. ]

"Well, my husband, " she answers in a matter-of-fact way, "my husband, hesee the Ghost. . . I think it were last Christmas twelvemonth. "

"_The_ Ghost!" exclaims Boodels, much interested. 

"Yes, the White Lady, " says the old woman as pleasantly as possible. "There's the marks on the floor of the stain where she was murdered. There! that gentleman's standing on it. "

Good gracious! so I am. A dull sort of mulberry-coloured stain. "Itwon't wash out, " she goes on. "I've tried it. And it won't plane out, asthey've tried _that_. And so, " she finishes with a sniff, "there it is. "

 [Illustration]

CHAPTER IV. 

 ALONE--THE SECRET DOOR--UNSOCIABILITY--THE PICTURE--GRIM THOUGHTS-- ONE CHEERFUL IDEA--MELON--HIDING--CRUEL JOKES--SPIRAL--ANGLES-- ASSASSINS--WHITE LADY--A COMFORT--NERVES--THE DOOR--A GROWL--SNIFFS --A FOLLOWER--REASONING--SAD THOUGHTS--OUT AT LAST. 

Every one is silent for a minute, and then we smile at the absurd ideaof there being a ghost about. I linger for a few seconds after theothers. They go out on to the landing. When I leave the room I pass outthere too. They are all gone. I catch sight of a small door, in thepanelling, on my right at the end of this corridor, closing quickly. They are gone evidently to visit some other quarter of the house. Theymight have stopped for me. Very unsociable. One seems to hear everyfootfall in this house. And even when you're not speaking, your thoughtsappear to find an echo, and to be repeated aloud. In this short narrowgallery, there is an old picture of a man in a Spanish dress, holding amelon in his hand. His eyes follow me. Curious effect. I stop for amoment. They are fixed on me. Remember some story about this somewhere, when it turned out that there was a man concealed, who came out tomurder people at night, living happily behind the picture in theday-time. Cheer myself up by thinking that if Milburd had seen thispicture he'd have named it "The Meloncolic Man. "

Odd. I don't hear their voices. They can't be playing me any trick, andhiding. If there is a thing I detest, if there is one thing aboveanother absolutely and positively wicked and reprehensible, it is hidingbehind a door or a curtain . . . Or in fact behind anything . . . And thenpopping out on you suddenly. Heard of a boy to whom this was done, andhe remained an idiot for the rest of his life. 

_Happy Thought. _--To look cautiously _at_ the corners. To open the smalldoor quietly, and say, "Ah!" . . . No. No one there. All gone down. A darknarrow winding staircase (lighted only by loopholes), so that one isperpetually going round angles and might come upon anyone, or anyoneupon you, without any sort of preparation. I can quite understandassassins coming down on their victim, or up on their victim, or up anddown, simultaneously, on their victim, in one of these old places. Assassins in the olden time. I wonder if it's true about the White Lady?The old woman's husband was not a bit frightened of her, so she says. Perhaps he had come home rather tipsy, and mistook some shadow in themoonlight for a ghost. 

My eyes are fast becoming accustomed to this obscurity. 

_Happy Thought. _--There are no such things as ghosts. 

On the whole, I'd rather meet a ghost, than a rat, or a blackbeetle, ora burglar. 

The diminishing scale, of what I would rather _not_ meet in a narrowstaircase at night, is, the burglar, rat, blackbeetle, ghost. 

I hear something moving. . . Below or above. . . 

I look cautiously back round the last corner. . . 

Nothing. 

_Happy Thought. _--To shout out, "Hi! you fellows!" Shouting wouldfrighten a burglar, or a rat, but would have no effect on a blackbeetle, or a ghost. 

No answer. I descend a few more steps. Something seems to be coming downbehind me. Almost in my footsteps, and at my pace. Ah! of course, echo. But why wasn't there an echo when I shouted?. . . I will go on quicker. I'm not a bit nervous, only the sooner I'm out of this, the better. Atlast a door. Thick, solid, iron-barred, and nail-studded door. Where'sthe handle? None. Yes, an iron knob. It won't be turned. It won't betwisted. It's locked; or, if not, fastened somehow. No; a faint light isadmitted through the keyhole, and by putting my eye to it, I can see astone passage on the other side. Perhaps the old woman has locked thisby accident. And perhaps they are not far off. I shake it. A deep, lowsavage growl follows this, and I hear within two inches of my toes, aseries of jerky and inquisitive sniffs. The sniffs say, as it were, "There's no doubt about it, I know you're there;" the growl adds, "Showyourself, and I pin you. "

_Happy Thought. _--Go upstairs again and return by the other door. 

Hope nobody, while I am mounting the steps again, will open the door andlet the dog up here for a run, or to "see who it is, " in a professionalway. 

No. Up--up--up. Excelsior. I seem to be climbing double the number ofsteps, in going up, to what I did in coming down. My eyes too, after thekeyhole, have not yet become re-accustomed to the light. I pause. Icould almost swear that somebody, two steps lower down behind me, stopped at the same instant. 

Is there anyone playing the fool? Is it Milburd? I'll chance it, andask. I say, "Milburd?" cautiously. No. Not a sound. I own to being alittle nervous. Someone--Boodels, I think--once said that fine natureswere always nervous. 

_Happy Thought. _--When nervous, reason with yourself quietly. 

I say, to myself, reasoning, this is not _fright_: this is not_cowardice_: it's simply nervousness. You wouldn't (this addressed tomyself) be afraid of meeting a . . . A . . . For instance . . . Say . . . Aghost . . . No. Why should you? You've never injured a ghost that you knowof, and why should a ghost hurt you? Besides . . . Nonsense . . . There areno ghosts . . . And as to burglars . . . The house doesn't belong to us yet, and so if I meet one, there'd be no necessity to struggle . . . On thecontrary, I might be jocosely polite; I might say, "Make yourself athome; you've as much right here as I have. " . . . . But, on secondthoughts, no one would, or could, come here to rob this place. It'sempty. . . . . . 

Odd. I cannot find the door I came in at. I thought that when I enteredby it, I stepped on to a landing, but I suppose that it is only a doorin the wall, and opens simply on to a step of the stairs. 

Perhaps this is an unfrequented staircase. One might be locked up here, and remain here, for anything that the old woman, or her husband, wouldknow about it. 

If one was locked away here, or anywhere, for how long would it remain asecret?

When one has been absent from town for instance, for months, and thenreturns, nobody knows whether you've been in your own room all the time, or in Kamschatka. They say, "Hallo! how d'ye do? How are you? Where haveyou been this age?" They've never inquired. They've got on very wellwithout you. Important matters, too, which "absolutely demand yourpresence, " as the letter says, which you find on your table six monthsafterwards, settle themselves without your interference. 

The story of the Mistletoe Bough, where a young lady hides herself in anoak chest, and is never heard of for years (in fact never at all untilher bones were found with her dress and wreath, ) is not so veryimprobable. 

Suppose the old woman forgot this staircase, suppose my party went offthinking that I was playing them some trick; supposing they stick tothat belief for four days, what should _I_ do?. . . I don't know. I couldhowl, and shout. That's all. 

What chance of being discovered have I, except by a tradesman wantinghis quarter's account settled very badly and being determined uponhunting me up wherever I was. 

A door at last! And light and fresh air through the chinks. It openseasily, and I am on the leads of the roof. 

With a [Illustration: BIRD'S-EYE VIEW] of the surrounding country. Ibreathe freely once more. Now the question is how to get down again. 

 [Illustration: "SICH A GITTIN' UP STAIRS MASSA. "]

CHAPTER V. 

 ON THE ROOF--DOWN AGAIN--FURTHER INSPECTION--VARIETY--ELIZABETHAN-- NORMAN--COLOUR--RAYS--FILTERED--CUI BONO?--SUGGESTION--PLAY IN STORE --THE STABLES--PREVIOUS TENANTS--GOOD INTENTIONS--NAME. 

Just as I am asking myself this, I meet Chilvern on the roof. He isexamining the chimneys. The others are below choosing their rooms. Itappears that no one has been up the narrow staircase except myself. Heshows me a different way down. 

We take another turn over the house. This time more observantly. Variousorders of architecture. Chilvern, as an architect, makes a professionaljoke. He says, "The best order of architecture is an order to build anunlimited number of houses. "

_Happy Thought. _--Who was the first scientific builder?_Answer. _--Noah, when he invented arky-tecture. (N. B. This will do for aSunday conundrum. )

Part of it is very old, (the staircase and tower part where I've been), and wall of the yard at the back, overgrown with ivy, shows the remainsof a genuine Norman arch. 

Another quarter is decidedly Elizabethan, while a long and wellproportioned music room, --of which the walls and ceiling, once evidentlycovered with paintings, are now dirty, damp, and exhibiting, here andthere, patches of colour not yet entirely faded, --is decidedly Italian. 

Of this apartment, the crone can tell us nothing. She never recollectsit inhabited. We undo the huge shutters for ourselves, and bring down acloud of dust and cobwebs. 

The rays of light, bursting violently, as it were, into thedarkness--become--after once passing the square panes, or where thereare no panes, the framework--suddenly impure, and in need of a patentfilter before they are fit for use. 

Chilvern admires the proportions, and asks what we'll make, of thisroom?

A pause. 

_Happy Thought. _--A Theatre. Nothing more evident; nothing easier. 

I notice that both Boodels and Milburd catch at this idea. From which Ifancy, knowing from experience Boodels' turn for poetry, that they havegot, ready for production, what they will call, "little things of theirown that they've just knocked off. "

Almost wish I hadn't suggested it. But if they've got something to act, _so have I_. If they do _theirs_, they must let mine be done. 

Settled, that it is to be a theatre. 

Odd that no one part of the house seems finished. Saxons started it;Normans got tired of it; Tudors touched it up; Annians added to it. 

_Happy Thought. _--(_Alliterative, on the plan of "A was an Apple pie. "_)

 Saxons started it: Normans nurtured it: Tudors touched it up: Annians added to it; Georgians joiced it: Victorians vamped it. 

"Joice, " I explain, is a term derived from building; "to joice, _i. E. _to make joices to the floors. " Chilvern says, "Pooh!" To "vamp" isequal, in musical language, to "scamp" or to dodge up. The last ownerevidently has done this. 

_Happy Thought. _--Good name for a Spanish speculative builder--Don Vampadi Scampo. Evidently an architect of _Châteaux d'Espagne_. 

We visit the stables. The gates are magnificent, two lions sit on theirtails, and guard shields on two huge pillars. After this effort, theowner seems to have got tired of the place and left it. 

We notice this of every room, of various doors, of many windows. 

 [Illustration: DON VAMPA DI SCAMPO IN AN ARCHITECTURAL OPERA. ]

Successive tenants have commenced with great ideas, which have, so tospeak, vanished in perspective. 

Boodels becomes melancholy. He says, "I should call this 'The House ofGood Intentions. '"

I point out that these we are going to perfect and utilise. 

A brilliant idea strikes me. I say--

_Happy Thought. _--Let us call it, "Happy-Thought Hall. " I add that thiswill look well on the top of note-paper. 

 [Illustration]

CHAPTER VI. 

CHOOSING A PARTY. 

 ROOMS--DECISION--ODD MEN--RETURN--ARRANGEMENTS--THEORIES--OBJECTION --PROPOSITIONS--ELECTIONS--THE LADIES--WHO'S HOST?--GUESTS--HOSTESS --MORE PROPOSALS--GRANDMOTHERS--AUNTS--HALFSISTERS--SISTERHOOD PROPOSED--GRAND IDEA--CHAPERONS--TERMS--IDEAL--A PROFESSION--A DEFECT--OR ADVANTAGE--ADDITIONAL ATTRACTIONS--OLD MAN--DULNESS-- THEATRICAL--PLANS--THE PRESIDENT--EXPLANATION--IDEA. 

There are, it appears, sixteen bed-rooms in the house, independently ofservants' rooms. 

The question is, How shall we decide?

_Happy Thought. _--Toss up. 

We do so. The "odd man" to toss again, and so on. I am the last odd man. Boodels chooses the room with the stain on the floor. He says he prefersit. 

We drive back to Station. Thoughtful and sleepy journey. 

Chilvern is to arrange all details as to fitting up and furnishing. This, he says, he can do, inexpensively and artistically, in a couple ofweeks' time. 

Milburd points out clearly to us that the old woman in charge evidentlydoesn't want to be turned out, and so invented the ghost. We all thinkit highly probable, except Boodels, who says he doesn't see why thereshouldn't be a ghost. We don't dispute it. 

The next thing is to make up a party. Cazell tells us "what we ought todo. " "We ought, " he says, "to form ourselves into a committee, and askso many people. "

 [Illustration: "I'LL TELL YOU WHAT YOU OUGHT TO DO. "]

We meet in the evening to choose our party. Rather difficult to proposepersonal friends, whom every one of us will like. We agree that we mustbe outspoken, and if we don't like a guest proposed, we must say so, and, as it were, blackball him. 

Or _her_?--This remark leads to the question, Are there to be anyladies? Boodels says decidedly, Yes. 

Chilvern, putting it artistically, says, "We want a bit of colour in ahouse like that. "

Cazell wants to know who is to be the host. Boodels proposes me. 

I accept the position; but what am I _exactly_? that's what I mustclearly understand. 

Milburd explains--a sort of president of a Domestic Republic. 

Very good. Then how about the ladies?

Chilvern says we must have a hostess. We all suppose, doubtfully, thatwe must. I ask, Won't that interfere with our arrangements?

Boodels replies, that "we can't have any arrangements without ahostess. " He says, after some consideration, that he has got aGrandmother who might be useful. Chilvern, deferentially, proposes anAunt of his own, but does not, as it were, press her upon us, on accountof some infirmities of temper. I've got a half-sister who was a widowabout the time I was born, and if she's not in India . . . . 

On the whole we think that if Boodels would have no objection to hisgrandmother coming. . . . . 

"Not in the least, " says Boodels. "I think she can stand a fortnight ofit or so. "

Carried nem. Con. Boodels' grandmother to be lent for three weeks, andto be returned safely. 

_Happy Thought (to suggest to ladies). _--Why shouldn't there be asisterhood of chaperons? Let somebody start it. "Oh!" says a young lady, "I can't go there wherever it is, because I can't go alone, and Ihaven't got a chaperon. "

Now carry out the idea. The young lady goes to The Home (this sort ofestablishment is always a Home--possibly because people to be hired arenever _not_ at home), --well, she goes to the Home, sees the ladysuperioress or manageress, who asks her what sort of a chaperon shewants. She doesn't exactly know; but say, age about 50, cheerfuldisposition, polished manners. 

Good. Down comes photograph book. 

Young lady inspects chaperons and selects one. 

She comes downstairs. "Is she, " asks the lady manageress, "to be dressedfor evening or for day, a fête or for what?"

Well then, that's all settled. 

Terms, so much an hour, and something for herself. What the French calla _pour boire_. 

This is a genuinely good idea, and one to be adopted, I am sure. What anexcellent profession for ladies of good family and education, of acertain age, and an uncertain income. 

They might form a Social Beguinage, on the model of the one at Ghent. Novows. All sorts of dresses. All sorts of feeding. Respectable address. And a Home. 

Boodels' grandmother, it turns out, is deaf. 

Here again what a recommendation for a chaperon! and how very fewemployments are open to deaf people. No harmless, bodily ailment woulddisqualify, except a violent cold and sneezing. 

A chaperon with a song: useful. Consider this idea in futuro. Put itdown and assist the others in our list. 

We ought to make our company a good salad. 

I propose my friend, Jenkyns Soames. 

Jenkyns Soames is a scientific man. 

"We mustn't be _dull_, " says Boodels, which I feel is covertly anobjection to my friend. 

 [Illustration: JENKYNS SOAMES, ESQ. (_Professor of Scientific Economy. _)]

Chilvern says that he thinks we ought to have an old man. 

What for?

Well, . . . He hesitates, then says, politely, that with all young ones, won't Mrs. Boodels be rather dull?

(_Happy Thought. _--Old man for Mrs. Boodels, to talk to her through herear-trumpet. )

Boodels says, "Oh, no! his grandmother's never dull. "

Milburd observes, that this choosing is like making up characters for aplay. He takes in a theatrical newspaper, and proposes that we shouldset down what we want, after the style in which the managers frame theiradvertisements. 

 [Illustration: THE "LEADING HEAVY. " "But--soft! I must dissemble!"]

_Wanted. _--A First Old Man. Also A Leading Heavy. 

He proposes "Byrton--Captain Byrton. He was in a dragoon regiment. "

_Happy Thought. _--Good for "Leading Heavy. "

Milburd's man is Byrton. Mine is Soames. I have an instinctive disliketo Byrton, I don't know why, perhaps because I perceive a certain amountof feeling against Soames. 

_Boodels' Proposal. _--That we should meet once a week to determine whoseinvitations should be renewed, and whose _congé_ should be given. 

_As President_ I say, "Well, but I can't tell our guests that they mustgo. "

Cazell strikes in, "I tell you what we ought to do--only ask everyonefor a week, and then, if we like them, we can ask 'em to stop on. "

_Agreed. _--That we take these matters into weekly consideration. 

Milburd wishes to know who is to order dinner every day. 

_Happy Thought. _--Take it in turn, and I'll begin as President. 

Boodels, when this has been agreed to, says that we ought to have gooddogs about and outside a large house like that. 

I tell them that there is one--a very fierce beast. 

Boodels says he's sure I must be mistaken, as they went all over thehouse, and there was only a little snarling, growling puppy making dartsat a mouse, or a rat, which he saw moving behind some door which waslocked. 

[_Happy Thought. _--Keep the facts to myself. Only a Puppy! and I thoughtit was a mastiff! [Good name, by the way, for a novel--_Only a Puppy_. ]If I'd shaken that door again, then they could have let me out. ]

We've all got dogs, except myself. I have, I say, my eye on a dog. Iremember some one promising me a clever poodle a year ago. Will thinkwho it was, and call on him. 

Cazell is of opinion that we ought to wear some peculiar sort of dress, and call ourselves by some name. 

_Happy Thought. _--Why not be an Order?

Someone is just going to speak, when I beg his pardon, and say, "Lookhere!" I am

 [Illustration: STRUCK BY A HAPPY THOUGHT. ]

CHAPTER VII. 

THE NEW ORDER. 

 A BROTHERHOOD--SIMPLICITY--A DIFFICULTY MET--ILLUSTRATIONS-- PROCEEDINGS--INTERVIEW--QUESTION--ANSWER--MODELS--PETITS FRÈRES-- TERMS--RULES AND REGULATIONS--THE SCHEME DISMISSED--THE LIST SETTLED. 

Apropos of the Home for Chaperons. 

_The Happy Thought. _--Why not start a new Brotherhood?

A social and sociable one. An order. 

"What do I mean?" asks Milburd. 

Simplest thing possible. 

Hosts are so often in want of some one to "fill up. " A guest disappointsthem at the last hour, and where are they to get another?

"Well, " says Boodles, "how _is_ another to be got?"

_Easily_: if, in a central situation, there were a House, a large House, where male guests of all sorts could be obtained. 

I explain myself more clearly. 

A lady says, "Oh dear! Our ball will be overdone with ladies. I mean, we've got plenty of gentlemen, but--I don't know what's the matter withthe young men now-a-days, hardly any of them _dance_. "

If my Happy Thought is carried out, why here's her remedy. 

Down she goes to the Home. Rings. Enters. Sees the Brother Superior, orManager. 

"What sort of young men do you want?"

"Well, specially for dancing, and generally effective. "

 [Illustration: THE EFFECTIVE "LITTLE BROTHER. "]

 [Illustration: THE INTELLECTUAL "LITTLE BROTHER. "]

Good. Here is the very thing to suit you. "We've got only three ofthese in, as there's such a demand just now for this article, during theseason. "

 [Illustration: THE SPRIGHTLY "LITTLE BROTHER. "]

 [Illustration: THE THEATRICAL "LITTLE BROTHER. "]

 [Illustration: THE SERIOUS "LITTLE BROTHER. "]

 [Illustration: THE MUSICAL "LITTLE BROTHER. "]

"Very well. Send them at ten. "

"With pleasure, and if any of the dancing brothers come in, they shallbe forwarded to you later in the evening. "

_Terms_, so much an hour. Supper _ad lib. _ included. Breakages notallowed as discount. Any complaints as to inebriety, serious andcompromising flirting, or of _laziness_, to be made to the manager orbrother superior. 

I would call this Order, THE LITTLE BROTHERS OF THE RICH. 

There should be no vows, and the rules to be strictly observed shouldbe:--

1. To live in community, the House being supported by the labour of the Brothers, who shall receive a certain allowance, each one, per annum, out of the profits. 

2. Always to be ready to fulfil engagements, whether for dancing parties, dinner parties, or other social gatherings. 

3. The Serious Brothers will devote their time only to such literature as suits their professional duties. 

4. The Sprightly, or dining-out Brothers, shall pass, monthly, an examination in good stories, anecdotes, and bons mots. 

5. The Musical Brothers must be up in all new songs, and arrangements shall be made with publishers for Singing Brothers and Playing Brothers to receive a fair percentage on sale of pieces (indirectly). 

6. The General Utility Brothers must be up in anecdotes and jokes, play a little, sing a little, sport a little, and do everything more or less, so as to make themselves _indispensable_ to country houses where there are large gatherings. 

7. The Theatrical Brothers must be perfect companions for amateurs, and know all about charades and extempore costumes. 

Any Brother found _dining, or doing anything, at his own expense, to beimmediately dismissed_. 

 -----

I submit this scheme to the civilised world, hoping to meet a Want ofthe 19th century. 

 -----

Boodels says that, practically, a Cricketing Eleven means something ofthis sort, being, generally speaking, merely a society organised for thepurpose of staying at other people's houses free of charge. 

Cazell wishes to know if we are going to waste our time in talkingnonsense, or are we going to settle about our guests?

The question, I say, is whether my proposal _is_ nonsense or not. 

Chilvern hopes we'll make out our list. 

Jenkyns Soames settled. Byrton ditto. Old Mrs. Boodels. 

 [Illustration: BYRTON, AN ETONIAN, IN TWO FORMS. _Upper Form. _ _Lower Form. _]

 [Illustration: BOODELS' GRANDMOTHER. (_Now. _)]

 [Illustration: BOODELS' GRANDMOTHER AT EIGHTEEN. (_Then. _)]

_Happy Thought (on seeing these pictures). _--To ask Boodels' grandmother"_then_. "

Milburd votes for asking the Chertons. Capital girls, he says, andappeals to Boodels. Boodels opines that--yes, they are very nice girls. 

"No humbug about them, " says Milburd. 

With this recommendation we put down the Chertons. 

Miss Adelaide and Miss Bella. 

 [Illustration: ADELAIDE CHERTON. _Happy Thought. _--Pine Apple Style. ]

 [Illustration: BELLA CHERTON. ]

Boodels says that, as they often go on a visit to his grandmother, shecan bring them both. 

Settled. 

Boodels lends us a butler. Pious, with a turn for hymns in the pantry. Milburd brings a valet. A sociable creature, with an inclination to beaffable, and join in the conversation round the dinner-table. 

 [Illustration: OUR BUTLER. ]

Milburd presents us with a groom, whose wife cooks. The groom himselfhas waited at table occasionally. At first he says "Woa" to thevegetables and the sauces. He cannons against the butler, and tells thedogs to "get out, carn't yer!" After a few days he is in good training. 

 [Illustration: OUR GROOM. ]

Byrton brings a soldier-servant who will only attend to his master. 

The Chertons have a ladies' maid, who affects the latest fashion, but isa failure in gloves. 

 [Illustration: THE CHERTONS' MAID. ]

Mrs. Boodels' maid is an elderly female. The vinegar in the kitchensalad. 

 [Illustration: MRS. BOODELS' MAID. ]

We engage, on her recommendation, a housemaid, and a charwoman ofirreproachable antecedents. 

Chilvern, who gives himself a holiday, brings his clerk, a sharp littlefellow of sixteen, to clean the boots, and render himself generallyuseful. The first day he was impudent to Mrs. Boodels' maid, and wasthrashed by Byrton's servant. He is now quiet and subservient. 

 [Illustration: OUR PRETTY PAGE. ]

CHAPTER VIII. 

A MORNING DISCUSSION. 

 ON DEAFNESS--ESCAPES--BUTTONHOLED--A DISCUSSION--MORNING LOST--RAGE --DESPAIR. 

"Deaf people are very happy, " says Boodels, thoughtfully. 

"Perhaps, " replies the Professor of Scientific Economy; "a deaf personcan gain no information from conversation. "

"Who does?" asks Bella, pertly. 

"Who finds mushrooms in a field?" asks Chilvern, who has been engaged inthis lately. 

"Give it up, " says Milburd. That's the worst of Milburd, when aconversation is beginning to promise some results, he nips it in the budwith the frost of his nonsense. 

Bella asks what Mr. Chilvern was going to say. He has nearlyforgotten, but recalls it to his mind, on Cazell repeating the wordmushrooms. 

"Ah, yes, " says Chilvern, evidently feeling that the brilliancy of hissimile has been taken off by the interruption. "I was going to say _àpropos_ of Miss Bella's remark about no one gaining any information fromconversation----"

"I didn't say _that_, Mr. Chilvern. "

No, of course not. We all side with Miss Bella. 

Chilvern nowhere. "Ah, well, " he says, "I thought you did. "

"And if I had?" asks Miss Bella, triumphantly. 

"Eh!--well, if you _had_--" Chilvern meditates, and then answers, "--ifyou had, why then I was going to say that . . . . " here he breaks off andfinishes, "--well, it doesn't matter now, but it _was_ very good when Ifirst thought of it. "

He disappears, _i. E. _, from a conversational point of view, in ourlaughter. He is extinguished. 

"What's he saying?" asks Mrs. Boodels. 

Milburd takes up the trumpet. "He says, " shouts Milburd, it being quiteunnecessary to shout, "that he's a very clever fellow. "

"Ah, " says Mrs. Boodels. "Mr. Chilvern's always joking. "

"I never said anything of the sort, " says the injured Chilvern to her, defending himself through the ear-trumpet. 

"Ah, " observes Mrs. Boodels, perfectly satisfied. "I was sure he nevercould have said that. " Then she considers for a few seconds. After thisshe remarks, "Cleverness, is not one of his strong points. "

Whereupon she smiles amiably. Chilvern walks to the window. 

"We were saying, " says the Professor, who evidently has a wholethree-volume lecture ready for us, "that deaf people are happy. Now Icontrovert that opinion. To be deaf, is not a blessing. "

"Then, " says Milburd, "a person who is deaf, is not a blessed old man, or old woman, as the case may be. "

"You misapprehend me, my dear Milburd. What I would say about deafness, is this--" (_exit BELLA, quietly_, )--"is this--that the loss of thesense of hearing----"

"Is seldom the loss of hearing sense, " interrupts Boodels, at the door. 

 [_Exit BOODELS. _

"To a certain extent, " continues the Professor, who has Milburd, now, asit were, in his grasp. "Boodels, although putting it lightly, was right. Sense is uncommon--"

"'Specially common sense, " I observe. Being my first remark for sometime. But I like the Professor; and his philosophic views have aninterest for me that they evidently do not possess for natures whichwill be always butterflying about. 

"You are right, " says the Professor turning to me, whereupon Milburdrises quietly, and gets to the door. (_Exit MILBURD. _) "But commonsense, though, I admit, wrongly designated, does not convey to us apositive pleasure. The question, which we are considering--namely, whether to be deaf, is a happiness or not--should be treated in theSocratic method, and the whole reasoning reduced to the simplestsyllogisms. "

Through the window, I see Bella going out with Milburd. Adelaide is withBoodels. Chilvern is pointing at me: they are all laughing. I smile _to_them, and at them, as much as to say, "Bless you! I'm with you inspirit, but the Professor has my body. " Byrton I see meeting them. Hehas his driving coat on. Hang it, they're going for some excursionwithout me. 

_Thoughts while the Professor is talking on the pleasures ofdeafness. _--Where are they going to? Why didn't they tell me? I thinkBella _might_ have given me some notion. If she's with Milburd, won't hemake fun of _me_? Is he trying to cut me out, or not? If "yes, " it'sdeuced unfair of him. Bella doesn't look back, or make any sign to me tocome. If I joined them now, should I be _de trop_? No. How can I? It'sall _our_ party generally. They disappear into the shrubbery. 

Professor suddenly asks me, "That _you'll_ admit, I suppose. "

_Happy Thought. _--(As I haven't heard a single word of what he's beensaying, to reply guardedly), "Well, to a certain extent, perhaps--but--"then I pause, and frown, as if considering it, whatever it is. 

The Professor is lost in amazement. "But, " he exclaims, "you _must_admit _that_. By what theory of approximation can you show that we donot attain to such perfectibility of number; unless you would say, as I_have_ heard advanced by the Budengen school, that the expression is buta formula adapted to our human experience. "

I wonder to myself what point he is arguing with me. His subject wasDeafness. 

_Happy Thought. _--(In order to find out where he's got to in hislecture, ask him). "Yes, but how does this tell upon Deafness. "

"I will show you; but it is impossible to discuss conclusions unless wesettle our premisses. " [I hear the trap in the stable yard and Byrtonwoa-woaing. Bother!] "Will you bring some deep objection to a premisswhich is fundamental . . . . "

I beg his pardon, which premiss?

_Happy Thought. _--Better find out what he _is_ talking about, thendiffer from him point blank, and leave the room. 

_Happy Thought. _--Pair off. Same idea as that excellent parliamentaryarrangement, when you agree to differ with another member, for a wholesession, on every question, and then go away and enjoy yourself. 

"The premiss, " repeats the Professor, "that you would not admit justnow. I do not say, " he adds--[I hear the wheels. Can I jump up and say, "Excuse me!" and run out. I could if I was a young lady, or an elderlyone. But a man can't do it, specially as President, or Host, withoutbeing rude]--"that you had not good grounds, but what are thosegrounds?" Here he plants his _binocle_ on his nose, leans back andstares at me. 

Good Heavens! If I hadn't differed from him, or, I mean, if I'd onlyunderstood what the----

_Happy Thought. _--(_To ask seriously_), "Re-state, exactly, the premissI disputed. " [I'm sure to catch a glimpse of the trap and horses as theydrive past the lake. Hang the Professor!]

"Simply, " says he, "in putting the first premiss, I used the oldformula, viz. , that the point in question was as clear as that two andtwo make four. "

"Good Heavens! have I been disputing _that_ with you?" I almost shout. 

"What else?" he asks, astonished. 

"Why . . . I . . . " I really cannot speak, I am so annoyed. I've lost awhole morning, and whole day, perhaps, and a jolly party, and--and--and--

"What's the matter?" asks Mrs. Boodels, handing her instrument oftorture to the Professor. "What does he say?"

"He says--" commences the Professor . . . . 

_Je me sauve!_ (_Exit myself, hurriedly. _) I rush to the stable. 

"James! Where are they gone?"

"They said, sir, as they were gone to the meet. 'Ounds is out near'ere. "

 [Illustration: "GONE TO THE MEET. "]

CHAPTER IX. 

A WET DAY. 

 RAIN--THE MEDFORDS--CONVERSATION--A PROPOSAL--ACCEPTED--THE TRICK-- THE LECTURE. 

Provoking! "I do believe, " says Miss Adelaide Cherton, "it's literallyset in for rain. "

Mrs. Boodels, without troubling herself to raise her ear-trumpet, smilesblandly and proceeds with her knitting. 

_Happy Thought. _ A deaf person can always talk to herself, and obtain ahearing. 

Miss Bella exclaims, "Oh, what shall we do if it rains?"

Whereupon Miss Medford observes that the gentlemen will amuse us. 

[Miss Medford is an addition to our party. She was brought by Mrs. OrbyFrimmely, and Mr. Frimmely subsequently came down with her brotherAlfred Medford, a celebrated musical amateur, "of the nobility'sconcerts. " "A very interesting looking young man, " Mrs. Boodels observesaloud when he arrives, but she is a little afraid of him on finding thathe can do _a_ conjuring trick. He only has one. ]

[Illustration: MISS MEDFORD. _Happy Thought. _--"Japanese Tommy" style. ]

I continue reading the newspaper. I determine to withdraw presently tomy own room, where I shall lock myself in and . . . . 

_Happy Thought for Wet Day. _ Write letters. Jenkyns Soames observes thathe shall devote his day to correcting his great work on ScientificEconomy for the press. Mrs. Orby Frimmely says, that "it's wonderful to_her_, how Mr. Soames thinks of all the clever things he writes. "

[Illustration: MRS. ORBY FRIMMELY. _Happy Thought. _--The Anyhow style. ]

Soames remarks upon this, modestly, that "he has made the one subjecthis study, and all his thoughts are given to its development. "

Mrs. Boodels requests that the Professor's last observation may berepeated to her. 

Solo on the Ear-trumpet by Miss Medford. Milburd strolls in, thenBoodels. Mrs. Boodels suddenly informs everyone that she is deeplyinterested in Mr. Soames' work, and, as it is a wet day, will he readsome of it aloud to amuse us?

The ladies look at one another and smile. Mrs. Orby Frimmely exclaims, "Oh do, " and laughs. 

Milburd says it's just the thing to while away a happy hour, andinstances the Polytechnic as being his favourite place of amusement inLondon. 

Mr. Soames replies to this that the Polytechnic and himself aredifferent institutions. 

"All right, " says Milburd; "go ahead!" Whereupon Milburd rushes into thelibrary. Silence during his absence. It is broken by Medford askingBoodels if he's ever seen the trick with the shilling in the tumbler?Boodels replies that he has, but would like to see it again. Medford isjust producing his shilling when the Professor returns. The Professor, who has been searching for something in his note book, now asks if they(the ladies) really wish to hear some of his new book. 

"Oh! do!" enthusiastically everybody. 

"I will fetch it down, " says the Professor, much pleased, and leaves theroom. 

Medford holds up the shilling and says, "You see this shilling. " Boodelsbegs his pardon for a minute, and, referring to the Professor, asks, "Isay, haven't we let ourselves into too much of a good thing?"

Mrs. Frimmely observes "that it'll be something to do. "

Miss Adelaide says, "I hate lectures. "

Miss Bella strikes in with, "Well, if he bores, we can ask himquestions. "

It appears that he's going to have a lively time of it. 

Milburd re-enters; he has arranged the library, and begs us to "Walkup!" as if it were a show. 

Medford observes that there will be time before the lecture begins toshow his conjuring trick with the shilling. 

Cazell interrupts him with the gong from the hall, and Chilvern plays amarch on the piano. Medford pockets his shilling and observes that"he'll do it afterwards. "

The Professor appears on the scene. He requests that there may be noTomfoolery. 

I say to him, "No, of course not, " as I really do wish Milburd wouldshow some consideration, and treat the matter seriously. 

Milburd apologises for his fun, and we attend the Professor to thelibrary. There we find a black board, a glass of water, and a piece ofchalk. 

"I propose, " commences the Professor, "dealing with the Pleasures ofWealth. " "Brayvo!" from Milburd. Immediately frowned down by everybody. 

"I have reduced the calculation to a simple formula, intelligible to allintellects of more or less cultivation. "

Medford asks me in a whisper if I _do_ know his trick with a shilling. Ireturn "hush" and look serious. 

Winks between Byrton and Chilvern. 

Catching the Professor's eye, Chilvern looks suddenly solemn and deeplyinterested. It _is_ a pity that they will go on being buffoons. 

"The study of algebra suggests the mode of treatment. "

Wry face made by Mrs. Frimmely. 

Mrs. Boodels is seated, placidly, with her ear-trumpet raised and on herlips a smile of calm contentment, from which we subsequently infer thatshe doesn't catch one word. 

"As the wealth so the Pleasure. [_Here he draws on his slate. Milburdinquires, 'What's that?' but is hushed down. _]

 "As x : 2 :: b : 5. 

"The product of the extremes equals the product of the Means, and aslong as this sum in proportion is observed, Ruin is impossible. 

"* The key here is that b = £1, 000, 000. 

"Then:--

 5x = 2b

 * x = 2b/5

 = 2, 000, 000/5 = £400, 000. 

"Not a bad sum per annum, " says the Professor, smiling, in order tothrow a little pleasantry into the matter, which is becoming a trifleheavy. Mrs. Boodels asleep. "Though I thought it was more when Icommenced the equation. 

"I will now, " he says, "write down a text. "

[_Watches out . . . . A yawn from Cazell . . . . Ladies restless. _]

"To _Give_ is a Wealthy Pleasure. 

"And on this I make what I call 'suggestions. '

"The poor man has it in his power to cause the Rich great pleasure. 

"Let =I= stand for me. "

("Impossible, " interrupts Milburd, _sotto voce_. Our PhilosophicLecturer takes no notice. He is rising with his subject). 

"Let us say '=I= is poor. '"

Miss Bella says, "Excuse me a moment, " and vanishes. Wish I could getout. 

"Let all =I='s rich friends subscribe according to their means from £5upwards. 

"Result, easily attained, £5, 000. 

"Say that eighty people subscribed £62 10s. Apiece. Are there not eightypeople in London, Manchester, and Liverpool who could do this and notmiss it so much as I should miss a farthing put by accident into aChurch plate--of course I mean by mistake for half a sovereign. 

"But how could such a mistake arise? you would say. "

(We wouldn't, but _he_ couldn't tell that. )

"Why simply because I never give less in Church than half a sovereign. _Ergo_, I never give in Church unless I have half a sovereign in mypocket. _But_ I _never_ have half a sovereign in my pocket. "

 [Smiles from everyone, and applause from Milburd, towards whom the Professor looks appealingly, as much as to say, "There, I can be just as funny as _you_, only without Tomfoolery. "]

"_Ergo . . . Cela va sans dire. _

"So, you see, eighty people could make '=I=' happy. 

 [Medford is practising his trick with a shilling by himself. ]

"Which is equivalent to saying that eighty people could make _me_ happy. 

"And '=I=' has it, you observe, in his power to make eighty people happyby accepting the subscription. "

_Note, which I suggest to the Professor. _ Should this ever meet the eyeof Baron Rothschild, let him remember, that by his single act, he canattain to the happiness of eighty people. 

"If any of you, here present, happen to be acquainted with the Baron, and will introduce me to him, it will be, I am sure, a step in theinterests of humanity generally, and not without its beneficial resultsto individuals particularly. " ("Hear! hear!")

 . . . . . . . 

With this bit of Practicality the lecture concludes. 

He tells me, in confidence, that he finished quickly because he felt hewas "above his audience. "

Milburd subsequently offers to introduce the Professor to BaronRothschild "for a consideration. "

 * * *

No one, as yet has found any of the pleasures of Poverty. 

Some one says "Absence of Income-tax. " This is met with Absence ofIncome. Solution rejected. 

 * * *

We found afterwards on our Scientific Lecturer's table MSS. Of

 _"Letters to Rothschild" by a Professor of Scientific Economy. _

One commences thus:--

 Dear Baron, You will doubtless be surprised at hearing from an humble individual who has nothing but his Scheme of Personal Scientific Economy, and his unblemished character, to recommend him to your notice. 

 I am getting up a subscription for myself. This sounds, put shortly, egotistical. On the contrary, it is Cosmopolitanly Philanthropical. If I am enabled to teach my doctrines for nothing, I shall, then, be slave to no man, no, not even to myself, as represented by my own necessities. May I head the list with a sum worthy your munificence and perfectly Oriental wealth? Yes. I hear you say 'yes. ' I knew it. I shall put your Lordship down for £20, 000, and will be careful to send you a receipt for the money. Business is business. 

 Yrs. , &c. 

 J. SOAMES. 

 * * *

Perhaps one day the Professor of Scientific Economy will publish his"_Letters to Baron Rothschild_. " But I don't think there will everappear a very voluminous collection of "_Letters of Baron R. To Mr. Jenkyns Soames_. "

 -----

Milburd asks him "what he should say were the pleasures of poverty. "

The Professor considers. 

We all consider. 

The Professor wishing to do everything methodically, writes on the slatein large type THE PLEASURES OF POVERTY. 

FIRST Pleasure . . . . . . 

 . . . . . . . . . 

Then he pauses. Then he speaks. "On thorough consideration, I amconvinced that Poverty has no pleasures. 

"If any, they are peculiar. 

"They are Grim Pleasures. 

"One grim Pleasure of Poverty is talking about ourselves. "

"A very poor subject, " observes Miss Medford. 

After a silence, during which I am just on the point of sayingsomething, but don't, the Professor adds, "No. We try very hard, but can _not_ see any pleasure in Poverty. "

 [Illustration: PENNY WISE AND POUND FOOLISH. ]

CHAPTER X. 

 OUT OF AN ALBUM--ON LOSS OF PATIENCE--MRS. FRIMMELY's SUGGESTION--A DAY-DANCE. 

Query--What shall we do?

We lounge over the room undecidedly. Mrs. Boodels thinks it's stillraining. Pouring. Miss Bella says, "What a bother!" Miss Medfordremembers having heard a problem worthy the Professor's attention. Wepause in our indecision, and she reads from her album. 

 _What circumstance most justifies loss of patience?_

_The Professor of Scientific Economy_ replies, a smoky chimney. 

* He explains that he is thinking of a bitterly cold day in winter whenhe wanted to sit in his study, and write a treatise on the _Amount ofchange to be obtained out of a Roman Denarius_, B. C. 108. On thisoccasion his chimney _would_ smoke, and he had to sit with the door andwindow open. Then the smoke choked him; next, the draught gave him cold;then his fingers became frozen; finally, his feet were like icicles inrefrigerating stockings. After standing this for about two hours, hecould not help saying. . . . . . . 

Evidently a case where the Recording Angel would not even chance a blot. 

_Happy Thought. _--What a mess that book _will_ be in. Perhaps_illegible_!!

 * * *

Miss Adelaide Cherton thinks that to find a wasp inside the only peachon the wall was most provoking. 

_Byrton's Opinion. _ Hot coffee over your new cords on a "show-meet" day. 

It strikes me that to come on shore after taking a swim in the river, and not to be able to find your clothes, is a circumstance quitejustifying loss of patience. 

Apropos of this, Chilvern says he recollects a fellow--Smith, a friendof his--bathing, and when he came out he couldn't find his clothes. So, as some people were coming along the bank, Smith retired to the stream, and Chilvern went to search for the habiliments. The fact was, thatSmith had gone down _with the stream_, and his clothes had beenconsequently left a mile behind. 

Chilvern found the clothes, then returned, but couldn't find Smith. 

The current had taken him down stream another mile. 

So it might have gone on; had not the river been a tidal one (or workedon some peculiar principles, which Chilvern doesn't explain)--and, thestream changing, back brought Smith with it, and then he washappy, --only with a cold for ever after. 

Mrs. Boodels being informed of the discussion through her ear-trumpet, said that losing a thimble was quite sufficient to justify any loss ofpatience. 

The gentlemen present observe, that they have no doubt it is so, butthey have had no experience. 

Milburd thinks that the button off your collar, or, losing your stud, _at the last moment_, is the most trying thing. 

Bella Cherton, after walking to the window several times and seeing nosign of fine weather, says, "I'll tell you what I consider mostjustifies loss of patience. "

"What?" we inquire. 

"_Sitting here_!" she replied. 

_Note. _ This sort of reply rather throws a damper over efforts to begenial. Mrs. Boodels wishes it to be repeated to her through thetrumpet. Damper through the ear trumpet. 

Mrs. Orby Frimmely says, that trying to get through your favourite valsewith a bad partner. . . Ah!

_Mrs. O. F. 's Happy Thought. _ "By the way, as it is so wet, why not havea dance? Mr. Medford can play. "

Seconded by Byrton, and supported by the ladies. 

Adjournment to Drawing-Room. Odd. We suddenly fall into our ball-roommanners. Talking to partners quietly. Going out to get cool, --on thestairs. 

Byrton is dancing with Mrs. Orby Frimmely. Mr. Orby Frimmely beingengaged in town is not here. 

Byrton is certainly very much struck, in fact he says so; and shows it. However, he is always being struck, always saying so, always showing it, and . . . That's all. 

Jenkyns Soames has retired to his room; probably to write to Rothschild. 

Chilvern is Miss Cherton's partner. 

Milburd is Miss Bella's. 

_I don't dance. _ I debate with myself whether I _can_ or not. I used to. In a waltz for instance, I know two steps out of three. The third iswhere I fail. Dances change so. My waltz is the _Deux temps_, for thesimple reason that the _Deux temps_ does also for the galop, that is, itdoes for my galop. 

I flatter myself on my galop. Here, so to speak, I am at home. IfMedford can only play a galop, and if Miss Bella will give up Milburd, or Milburd give her up, why _je suis son homme_. I am her man. 

Medford will do a galop, he says; and immediately before I have time toask if Bella--if Miss Bella . . . He strikes into it and the dancerschange their step, and are whirling round and round, then up and down. Ican't stop them. As the opera books say, "Rage! Madness! Despair!"

I catch _her_ eye. 

She understands, I am sure. 

She will . . . 

If she does . . . 

She stops, making some excuse to Milburd and looking at me. (Aha!Milburd! you think yourself such a lady killer, that a . . This tomyself, _thinkingly_). 

_Happy Thought. _--To go up to her and say, "You promised me. "

I do it. 

"Did I?" she says. 

Milburd gives in, unexpectedly, and relinquishes her. 

Aha! we are off! Round and round . . . Carpet rather bad to dance on . . . Up and down . . . I feel that we are just skirting chairs, and thatanother inch will bring down the fire-irons----we put on the pace . . . Ihaven't danced for . . . Well, for some considerable time . . . We nearlycome bang against the piano . . . My fault . . Beg pardon . . . But we won'tstop . . . 

"Oh no!" says Bella . . . And we don't stop. 

A little quieter, just to, as it were, regain consciousness, foreverything is becoming blurred--(jerky sentences while dancing) . . . "It's more difficult . . . To steer when . . . There are a few . . . Thanwhen . . . " "Yes, " says Miss Bella, who quite understands. (_Myselftenderly. _) "Do you . . . Like dancing?" . . . "Yes, " . . . (_whirl round, upand down_ . . . Then) . . . "This dance?" . . . What? . . . (_whirl round justto get the steam up again for the question, and put it sotto voce, finding myself close to her ear--such a pretty little ear--made to bewhispered into_). "Do you like this dance?" . . . "Very much. " (_My heartis fluttering nervously, like a stray bird under a skylight_) . . . "Withanyone?" . . . (_No answer . . . My question means do you prefer ME to dancewith, and not only to dance with, but . . . _)

The music ceases. Medford is tired. We all thank him. 

Gong. Luncheon. 

If it hadn't been for the gong . . . 

But at all events the wet morning is over. 

 [Illustration: "HOW DO YOU LIKE MY FIZZ"]

CHAPTER XI. 

A NIGHT SURPRISE. 

Boodels and Milburd knock at my door at 2. 30 a. M. , after I've beenasleep two hours, and wake me up to tell me that they had thought of aPleasure of Poverty: it was, Milburd said, _To think that you can't be worse off, while you hope that others may. _

I say . . "_Oh_ . . . Don't bother--I mean--yes--capital . . . Go to . . . Bed, " and turning round, try to sleep again. 

The Deputation thanks me and withdraws. 

"What an idiotic thing to do, " I say to myself . . . . "What a foolishthing" . . . . Getting more wakeful . . . "What a cruel thing . . . . Hang it!it's positively selfish . . . It's" . . . Turning for the fifth time, and mypillow becoming as hot as a blister . . . "Confound Boodels . . . AndMilburd . . . It's all _his_ doing, I know" . . . Sitting up in bed. 

It occurs to me that counting one hundred and forty backwards, and thengetting out and drinking a glass of water, is a capital way of inducingsleep . . . 

Odd, but in Milburd and Boodels coming to rouse me at this time, I find_a_ solution to the other question that we had occupied part of ourmorning in discussing. 

What circumstance justifies loss of patience?

Why, loss of sleep. 

 [Illustration: SOFT REPOSE. ]

CHAPTER XII. 

 OUR LIBRARY--BUSTS--DISTINGUISHED CHARACTERS--MELANCHOLY--GUESSES-- SOAMES--MRS. BOODELS AGAIN--MILBURD--HIS JOKE--A NUISANCE. 

Of all the melancholy objects of Art Busts are the most so. 

Do you want a sensation of Miserable Melancholy?

Take, yourself----

Off to a dusty library of bookshelves, chiefly empty, and the remainderhaving an occasional medical treatise in the original Latin, withdiagrams of the human frame, no fire, rain pouring, damp mist over thelandscape, no pens, ink, or even paper to tear up into fanciful shapes, and nothing for company except busts of celebrated people, looking likethe upper part of the ghosts of half-washed chimney-sweepers. 

After a time, they only resemble one thing, a collection of severalhomicidal criminals. 

Sit before a bust, any bust, under the above circumstances. 

You wonder to what you would have condemned this hideous creature had hebeen brought up, in his lifetime, before you, as a magistrate. 

On every feature is stamped Ruffian. This man _must_ have been hung, were there any justice in the world. 

No. This bust is of the late venerable and excellent ArchbishopSnuffler. 

Is it possible. And all these other savage-looking creatures?. . . "Are, "says my informant in the damp library who only comes in for a minute, "Archbishops, Bishops, celebrated Philanthropists, Doctors, and men ofscience. "

And here they are perched up aloft, like overgrown cherubs, whose wingshave been taken off by some surgical operation. 

_Happy Thought. _--If you want to be revenged on somebody, and don't mindexpense, have his portrait painted with all his defects glaringlyrendered, and present it, as a mark of esteem, to his family. 

On his fiftieth birthday give him a bust of himself to be placed in hishall. Depend upon it you've punished him. 

Jenkyns Soames, our Professor of Scientific Economy, was talking of theZoological Gardens. 

"I dispute, " says he, "the fact of the Hyæna laughing. "

"Why?"

"Why? Solvitur ambulando, or rather non ambulando, for I've stood infront of his cage for half an hour, and I've never seen him laugh once. "

This was repeated to Mrs. Boodels. 

"Yes, " says she, "that's very probable. But when Mr. Jenkyns _wentaway_ * *"

Milburd tried to cap this by asking as a conundrum "why the Hyænawouldn't laugh in your face?"----

As Mrs. Boodels rose, the ladies had to go out too, so no one stoppedfor the answer. He caught me alone in a corner and told me what it was. I think he said that it was because the Hyæna was an _Hy-brid_ animal. He explained that he meant "_high-bred_. "

_Happy Thought. _--To say, "Oh, that's very old. " This has the sameeffect on a conundrum-maker as the most brilliant repartee. 

Unless it leads him to come to you three times a day ever afterwards, with fresh ones, all hot as it were from the baker's, and ask youperpetually, "Well, is _this_ old?"

 [Illustration: JO MILLER, (_Bringing more Material for Joke_). ]

CHAPTER XIII. 

 MUSIC--MEDFORD--MILBURD'S SONG--CONSEQUENCE--OPINIONS--NOTE-- COMPLIMENTS--EPIGRAM--THE DAMP FIREWORK. 

Milburd asks Medford to accompany him in a "little thing of his own. "The ladies have taken their turn at the piano, and Medford himself hasfavoured us with half an hour's worth of his unpublished compositions. Milburd announces his song as "A WAITING GAME. "

 (_Suggested by "A Dreary Lot is Mine. "_)

 A waiting game is mine, Fair maid, A waiting game is mine; One day I shall not be afraid To ask, then hear "I'm thine!" And when that word I've spoo-ō-ken, Ere yet I am quite grey, Ne'er will it, dear, be bro-o-o-ken For ever and a day!

Mrs. Boodels wants to know if he won't kindly sing it to her through herear-trumpet. He promises to do so, one day when they are alone. 

 SECOND VERSE. 

 A waiting game is mine, fair maid, A waiting game is mine, I'll stay until my debts are paid, The contract _then_ I'll sign. Unless you've fifty thousand pounds, To bring me as a dower, If so . . . . Those are sufficient grounds For wedding--now--this hour. 

Nobody asks him to sing again. Mrs. Frimmely says, "She only cares forFrench songs. English comic songs, " she adds, "are _so vulgar_. " Settlerfor Milburd. Glad of it. 

After this Milburd says he's got another; a better one. 

We say, sing it to-morrow. 

_Happy Thought (expressed in a complimentary manner). _--A good song, like yours, is better for keeping. 

 _Note to Myself. _

The age for compliments is gone. The courtly and polished Abbé, whowould have said the above epigrammatically when it would have beenconsidered remarkably witty, has passed away. No one believes incompliment. It has no currency, except done in a most commonplace way. But the epigrammatic compliment, the well-prepared impromptu, thecareful rehearsed inspiration, is out of date. Now-a-days there are nowits, and no appreciation of The Wits. Conversation is damped by abon-mot. An awful silence follows the most brilliant _jeu de mot_, assombre as the darkness after a forked flash, or as the gardens at theCrystal Palace after the last bouquet of fireworks. 

 -----

Conversation is like a boot. When damped it loses its polish. 

 -----

[The above remarks occasioned by no one having taken any notice of myepigram, and Milburd only replying to it by saying, "Oh! bosh!"]

 [Illustration]

I've just tried to draw a firework in my pocket-book. It doesn't exactlyexpress my idea. But is a very good sketch of a joke which has failed. 

This evening I am melancholy. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

OUR POSTAL ARRANGEMENTS. 

Knock at the door. 

Complaints made to the President of Happy-Thought Hall of thenon-delivery or late delivery of letters, and newspapers. 

I promise to see to it. 

"George, " I say to our servant, "let me see the postman when he comes. "George grins, says Yes. Exit George. 

Why does he grin?

Half an hour after this I am in the yard. I hear a shrill piping voice. It says, "It carnt b' elped n'ow. 'Taint no farlt o' mine. It's them atth' office as is irregylar. I says to them, I do, allus; come now, Isays, you ain't to your time, I says, which you carnt say to me all theyears as I've been up-a-down on this road, summer nor winter, and noone never lost nothin' nor complainin'. Tell the gendlemun frommeas----" here I step in, and interrupt an old woman talking. I ask. "Hasthe postman come?"

The old woman with a bag bobs a curtsey, and says, [Illustration: "I'M THE POSTMAN, SIR. "]

And so she is; and has "carried the bag"--only without the dishonesty ofa Judas--for the last twenty years. Wonderful old lady. About seventy, and walks twelve miles, at least, in all weathers, every day of herlife. 

A little girl, her granddaughter, walks by her side, and a sharp terrieraccompanies the pair. 

Poor old woman! blind. 

I am disarmed. 

The little girl informs me that "it's the folks at the post office as iswrong. "

Generally true. 

"Good-bye old Martha, and here's a Christmas-box for you. "

"Ar, thank'ee kindly, sir. "

 [Illustration]

CHAPTER XV. 

 MRS. BOODELS--BOODELS--HIS GRANDMOTHER'S OBSERVATION--HER FATE SEALED--THE COMEDY--HER DEPOSITION--NEW PROPOSAL--AWKWARD--MILBURD'S RELATION--INVITATION--THE DINNER HOUR--RECOMMENDATION--DECISION. 

Being deaf, Mrs. Boodels has, as our friend Captain Byrton expresses it, six to four the best of us. Repartees through an ear-trumpet lose theirsting. And then you can't in politeness, and in all respect, sting anold lady of seventy-five. 

The other evening Boodels says, blushingly, that some of his friendstell him that he is just the man to write a comedy. 

This is repeated to his grandmother through the trumpet. 

"Yes, " she says, quietly; "I've heard John's friends say that he canwrite a comedy, and I've heard 'em add that _they hope he won't_. "

 * * *

Since this we've not heard any more of Boodels' comedy. I rather thinkthat he's got it all ready to read to us. 

Next morning after this observation of Mrs. Boodels, her grandson comeswith Milburd to my room. 

Boodels says he thinks his grandmother's a little too old for the work. 

I reply that we all like her, and that she's a charming old lady. 

 [Illustration: "OUT FOR THE DAY. "]

Milburd agrees. 

Boodels says, rather testily, of course she's all _that_, but we wantsome one more sprightly, and having to repeat everything to her throughthe trumpet is tedious. 

We own that we should not have liked to have been the first to hazardthis objection, but as he _has_ made it himself, why we perhaps on thewhole agree with him rather than not. 

Boodels is satisfied with this craftily qualified assent. 

"The old girl, " he says, --(odd, how she's suddenly come down in hisestimation--down to "old girl")--"has told me this morning that the latehours are beginning to tell upon her, and she wants to dine earlier!"

Ah! there we _are_ touched nearly. Alter the dinner hour! Never!

"She's accustomed at home, you see, " continues her grandfilialrelation, "to dine at one o'clock or thereabouts, and tea at six. "

Nursery hours! we couldn't think of it. 

"Of course not, " returns Boodels; "so I said to her . . . . She was ratherhuffed at the idea of my calling them 'nursery hours, ' and wanted toknow if I meant that she was in her second childhood. In fact, " saysBoodels, blurting it all out, "there's been a row, and the old girlthreatened to take away the Chertons. "

"Pooh!" from both of us. 

"But if she goes--" commences Boodels, who has a strict and severe senseof propriety. 

"If she does, " cries Milburd, "look here! I've got it. " He subdues hisexcitement, and proceeds, "I've a letter from the Regniatis. "

"Regniatis! let's see, " considers Boodels. "They're relations of yours?"

"Yes. Count Regniati, an Italian, and the jolliest fellow in theworld"--he adds this as a set-off against his nationality, which may, heevidently thinks, suggest secret societies, daggers, carbonari--"marriedmy Aunt. The Chertons are also some sort of distant connection. At leastthey often stay with Madame. So that _she'll_ be their chaperone. I'msure you'll like 'em immensely, " he adds, "and the Signor, my uncle, isfirst-rate. " We decide. Abdication of Mrs. Boodels and enthronement ofthe Regniati dynasty. 

"Good, " exclaims Boodels. "Then I'll tell my grandmother to-day. I don'twant to do anything unpleasant"--we agree with him, such a feeling doeshim honour--"and I'll take the opportunity of her wanting to go up to anaurist to _congédier_ her. After all the old lady will be much happieraway, and I'll tell her that we shall be so glad to see her whenever shelikes to turn up again, that is, if the Hall is still going on. "

We admit that nothing could be more courtly, more diplomatic than this. 

Milburd is to invite his Uncle and Aunt. And that's settled. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

 FRESH ARRIVALS--DESCRIPTION--A HISTORY. 

Mrs. Boodles is deposed and retires, _vice_ Madame Regniati promoted. 

Madame Regniati arrives alone. "The Signor, " as his nephew Milburdalways affectionately terms him, "has not come by the same train. "

"It is just like Mr. Regniati, " observes Madame, severely. "He said he'dleave me to look after the luggage. Mr. Regniati has no notion of evenlooking after himself. Probably he has lost himself. My luggage has comewith me. I have his ticket, and I know he has no money, as he has spenthis allowance this week. When Mr. Regniati has found himself once more, I have no doubt he will appear. "

 [Illustration: SIGNOR REGNIATI. ]

All this she delivers in disjointed sentences, with a little pause or acough between each. She speaks without any action, and generallystatuesquely. She prides herself evidently on her classicality. She ismore the antique Roman than the English dame. It was this, Milburd, insmoking-room confidence, informs us, that first inspired her with aliking for Mr. Regniati, whom she met in Rome. Mr. Regniati was then asculptor, and might have gained, ultimately, a considerable reputation, if his good-natured indolence, and his social qualities, had not, inthe end, proved too much for his undoubted talent. Being possessed ofsmall private means, he would probably have remained an amateur, seeing, not only without a particle of envy, but with a smile of positiveencouragement, others far less able than himself, pass him on the roadof art, and occupy pedestals which ought to have been his. One eveningmeeting Miss Milburd at an artistic reunion, she overheard him expresshis admiration of her classical lineaments. Being mistress of her ownfortunes, and of her own fortune, she simply determined to many Mr. Regniati; and did so. She foresaw his future greatness. She lookedforward to his name being enrolled among those whom art has madeillustrious. She was doomed to disappointment. 

 [Illustration: MADAME REGNIATI. (_From a Classical Portrait in her own possession. _)]

 [Illustration: MADAME REGNIATI (_in fact_). ]

Transplanted to British soil, the Signor found himself a gentleman atlarge. He abandoned the chisel for the gun, and prided himself uponbecoming a sportsman and an agriculturist. From the moment of his beingthus thoroughly acclimatised, Madame Regniati gave him up, so to speak, then and there, as a bad job. The Signor's private means were notanything like enough to supply his peculiarly English tastes, and hiswife would not "fritter _her_ money away, " she said, "in pigsties. "

So she decided upon giving up their rural retreat which she had chosenfor the purpose of affording Mr. Regniati every opportunity of communingwith nature, and took him up to London. Here she obtained a small house, with a studio, built out at the back by its previous artistic occupant, where she fondly hoped Mr. Regniati would once more devote himself tothe study of the fine arts. 

Her husband now appeared to be inclined towards her way of thinking. Themore, because his funds were in her hands, and she "allowanced" him. 

He commenced a group, several sizes larger than life, of _The Judgmentof Paris_. 

The process was slow, and, apparently, far from inexpensive. Moreover itwas excessively fatiguing, and Madame, proud of her husband's design, and sanguine as to his future, willingly permitted the Signor to takeoccasional relaxation in the country. 

He was obliged to come to her from time to time for money. The allowancewas insufficient. 

This gradually aroused her suspicions. She had permitted theintroduction of living models to the studio, out of regard for thenecessities of art, but it was her invariable custom to bring her workthither, while Mr. Regniati was engaged in modelling from nature. He wasseldom out of her sight, nor did he, indeed, appear at all anxious to beother than most eager for her companionship, except on the holidayoccasions, when he sought invigoration in the country. Then herepresented that he loved solitude, and generally selected a time whenMadame was too indisposed even to offer to join him in his excursion. 

Madame became, in fact, jealous. 

Being a woman of deeds, not words, she determined to ascertain thetruth, before she startled the Signor with the expression of asuspicion. 

The Signor asked her for money. She gave it to him cheerfully, regrettedthat her rheumatism was so bad as to confine her to her room, begged himto stay away until he felt quite restored and able to go on withMinerva's toes (he had got so far with the three goddesses, but, havingcommenced with the toes, this was not much as representing the labour ofnearly a year and a half), and wished him good-bye. 

The Signor went to Dunby Dale, a small, out-of-the-way village inHampshire, totally unaware of being closely followed by Madame's maid, who gave the information, and then by Madame herself. 

The Signor was traced to a small farm-house, beautifully situated, andin the most perfect order. 

He was welcomed, respectfully, at the door by a fresh-looking, buxomcountry wench. 

The following conversation was overheard. 

[The Signor's English is far from perfect. 

He divides every syllable, _more Italiano_, and talks not unmusically inrather a high key. Most of his conversation is, as it were, written fora tenor, and he strains at it like a low baritone. _Figurez-vous_ aportly gentleman, brown as walnut juice, dark black hair, moustache andbeard. Teeth flashing and brilliant, like a set of impromptu epigramsin the mouth of a wit. Laughing lips, and eyes beaming with good-nature. Height five feet seven. _Voilà le Signor Regniati. _]

"Ah! Mar-ree!"--this was to Mary the maid who had received him. "Youlook all rose and pink. And 'ow does my leet-tel Clo-teel-da? She isvell, I 'ope?"

"She gets on beautiful, sir, " was the answer. "She's thrivin'wonderful. "

"Oh!" exclaimed the Signor, lighting up, and evidently intenselydelighted. "I _am_ so glad. I come avays to see _'er_. Tell me, " hecontinued, becoming suddenly serious, "'ave she 'ad 'er bart?" [TheSignor almost sings his sentences. He went up the scale to the verb"'ad, " and took a turn down again three notes to the noun "bart, " which, by the way, was his way of pronouncing "bath. "]

"Every day, sir, " replied the maid, cheerfully, "and her skin looks aswhite as a young infant's. "

Again the Signor was in ecstasies. 

"Come!" he cried, "let us go an' see 'er. "

A good deal of the Signor's conversation resembles easy lessons in onesyllable for beginners. His "let us go and see 'er, " was delivered witha slight halt between each word, like a child in a state of doubt overa column in a spelling book. 

They went into the house, and out, by the back way. 

Madame Regniati soon discovered the worst. When the Signor had gone, shecalled at the house herself, and found that the Signor rented a lodgingof the farmer, and, _kept a pig_. 

Though forced to give up the country, he could not deny himself thisagricultural pleasure. His first pig had won a prize, and the farmershowed Mrs. Regniati the account of the Cattle Show in a local paper, with Mr. Regniati exhibiting under the name of "Tomkins, " and then, inthe fulness of his heart, he brought out a silver medal, tied to a blueriband and preserved in a case of morocco leather, on which wasinscribed that this represented the second prize for pigs awarded by theJudges to Mr. Regniati, as "Tomkins, " for the sow Selina, and thenfollowed date, place, and other particulars. 

After this discovery there was an arrangement. Mr. Regniati was alloweda small farm-house in the country, on condition of his not _wasting_money upon it, and only taking to it as a recreation, while the greaterportion of his time he would be, henceforth, in honour bound to dedicateto his Art. 

The Signor accepted these terms. 

In six years' time he had got as far as the third pair ofknees, --Juno's, --and had obtained the first prize for pigs, and thesecond for bullocks, at a County Show. 

This success lured him on to his ruin. At the expiration of ten years, Venus had a head on her shoulders, and he had almost lost his own. Therehad been years of disease among the cattle, insects in the turnips, androttenness in the heart of his mangels; his expenses had becomeenormous, the Inspector of Nuisances had complained of the state of thedrains round and about his farm, his oxen had strayed, two bulls had gotloose and had maimed several people for life, whom he had to pension aslong as they were unable to work, --and their inability to work appearedto increase with the duration of the pension. In fact Mr. Regniati'smodel farm promised to eventuate in a gigantic failure. At this crisisMadame stepped in and saved the citadel. 

She simply got rid, _sur-le-champ_, of the live-stock, man and beast. 

Then she disposed of the house and outbuildings. 

The Signor went down, and sat, like Marius, or rather like a secondCincinnatus, when, on returning from the metropolis, he found that hisfarm had gone utterly to the bad. 

After this, Signor Regniati went hard to work on Juno. A year's toilbrought its reward. Madame his wife was pleased to sit as his model, and, ultimately, to purchase for him a small game preserve, and ashooting box in Bedfordshire, at an easy distance from town. 

It was on his way to Budgeby Box that the Signor came to us atHappy-Thought Hall, and brought Madame; or rather, that Madame came andbrought the Signor. 

Milburd was now the Signor's constant companion. Madame trusted, shesaid, Mr. Regniati to his nephew. Mr. Regniati, she adds, is a child. "Iexpect no responsibility from him. I look to Richard for that. Richardmust take care of his uncle, and go out shooting with him, as I will_not_ have, " she says, emphatically "I will _not_ have Mr. Regniatigoing out with a gun, _alone_. "

If Mr. Regniati is present when these remarks are made, he merelysmiles, quite happily, stretches out his arms, and exclaims, in a toneof the slightest remonstrance possible, "Oh, my dear! I can shoot! I amquite safe. "

"Yes, " returns Madame, "and I mean you to keep so. "

"I vas born for a sport-mans, " Mr. Regniati observes to us. 

I notice that he is fond of putting words into a sort of plural of hisown invention. 

"You're lucky, Mr. Regniati, " observes his wife, "to find _that_ out atall events. For my part I can't make out why you were ever born at all. "

Again the Signor smiles, and says in cheerful remonstrance, "Oh mydear!" but he is too wise to continue a conversation which would onlyinvolve an argument, and perhaps, the loss of his "lee-tel shoot-box atBod-ge-bee. "

Dick, _i. E. _ Milburd, benefits considerably by this arrangement. Hisaunt pays all the expenses (trusting Mr. Regniati with no money), aslong as he and his uncle are together. 

"Richard, " she says, "is clever and careful. My husband is a schoolboy. I can only trust a schoolboy with a tutor. "

We are at dinner when the Signor arrives. 

He enters in a state of great excitement. 

"Ah!" he exclaims, "'Ow do you do?" this to everyone generally. "AhDeeck!" this to Milburd, reproachfully. "Vy you not meet me at zeRail-vays?"

"You'd better go and dress yourself, Mr. Regniati, " remarks Madame, drily, finishing her soup, "or you won't have any dinner. "

"My dear!" he cries, "No din-ner! I am so 'ongry. I 'ave no-sing to eatsince my break-fast. "

"You should have been here before, " says Madame. 

"My Jo!" he exclaims, in a very high key, almost between laughing andcrying. I find out that "My Jo, " is _his_ rendering of "By Jove!"--avery harmless oath--"My Jo! I could not!" Then he enters appealingly tous into an explanation. "Madame Regniati vas in ze car-ri-age, and shesay to me, Mr. Regniati, she say, I did not see ze boxes-put-in, "--thisis all one word. --"I say my dear eet ees all right. She say No you gosee it, for I tinks not. Den I go. I say vere ees my box, but I seeno-sing, no veres, den ven I try to find my car-ri-age again ze traingoes off. I jomp into a carri-age and a man say you most not do zat, butI tomble in. I do not know vere de train goes to, but it vas not to come'ere and ven I stop--My Jo!--dey ask-a-me for my tee-kets. 'I 'ave notzem, ' I say, 'my vife 'as zem. ' Zen zey say to me I most buy vun. My Jo!I say I can-not! I 'ave no money. I vant I say to go to Blackmeer. Ohzey say zat is on a-noser line, in a-noser contry. My Jo! I say to 'imvot shall I do? Zen I meet a gentle-mans who know me and he say----"

"Nonsense, Mr. Regniati. I believe you stopped at the refreshment-roomin London----"

"Oh My Jo! my dear! I as-sure you, " he commences, but Madame cuts himshort. 

"Go and dress, Mr. Regniati, " she says, "and don't be long. Dick, showMr. Regniati his room, and bring him down in five minutes. Don't let himchatter. "

Milburd takes his uncle out, and we hear him repeating his story to hisnephew, as he crosses the hall, and ascends the stairs. 

 [Illustration: "PIGGY WIGGY. "]

CHAPTER XVII. 

 SUNDAY--SUNDAY REASONS--A CHAMBER DIALOGUE. 

_Sunday Meditations. _--When we first saw this place we called it TheHouse of Good Intentions. It recurs to me forcibly at this moment, as Ilook over my note-book. 

Under the heading of "Operanda, " or Works to be done, I find:--

 (a) _Continuation of Typical Developments. Vol. III. _

 (b) _A Guide to Hertfordshire. _

 (c) _A Lesser Dictionary of French words not generally found in other Lexicographical compilations. _

 (d) Theories on Dew. Practical utilitarian results. 

 (e) A Commentary on hitherto obscure portions of Shakespeare's plays, with a life of the Great Poet, gathered from _obiter dicta_, which nobody has, up to this time, noticed. 

 (f) "All Law founded upon Common Sense, " _being a few steps towards the abolition of technicalities and antique repetitions in our legal proceedings_. 

 (g) _Pendant to the above, "Every man his own lawyer and somebody else's. "_

 (h) _Studies in the Country. _ I thought I should have been able to write a good deal in this line while at the country-house. This was to include botany, farming, agriculture generally, with a resumption of what I took up years ago, as a Happy Thought, namely, "Inquiries into, and Observations upon, the Insect World. "

Nothing of all this have I done. Not a line. It is afternoon. We havemost of us been to Church in the morning, except Boodels and Chilvern. Those who have not been, gave the following reasons for arriving at thesame conclusion. 

_Boodels' reason. _ That he had a nasty headache, and should not get up. [This he sent down to say at breakfast. ]

_Milburd's reason. _ That the weather looked uncommonly like rain. Thatto get wet _going_ to Church is a most dangerous thing, as you have tosit in your damp clothes. 

_My own statement on the subject. _ Milburd has puzzled me by saying it'sgoing to rain. Is it? If it isn't, nothing I should enjoy more thangoing to Church. Wouldn't miss it on any account, except of course outof consideration for one's health. 

_Happy Thought. _--I don't feel very well this morning, and damp feetmight be followed by the most serious results. 

Miss Adelaide and Miss Bella are going. Their chaperonship this morningdevolves upon Mrs. Frimmely, as Madame and the Signor are Catholics, andhave been to mass, early in the morning, at St. Romauldi's MissionaryCollege, near here. Madame is very strict, and the Signor is not partialto early rising. The College Service being at half-past eight in themorning, they have to rise at seven on Sundays, and then there is adrive of four miles. The following dialogue is overheard:

 _Time, 7. 15 A. M. Scene, _Signor_ and _Madame's_ room. _Madame_ is up and dressing rapidly. The _Signor_ is still under the bedclothes. _

_Madame_ (_severely_). Mr. Regniati. 

_The Signor_ (_pretending extra sleepiness_). My dear! (_He won't openhis eyes. _)

_Madame. _ It is exactly a quarter past seven. 

_The Signor_ (_snuggling down into the pillow_). I vill not be twome-neets. (_Disappears under bedclothes. _)

_Madame_ (_before the looking-glass, with her head bent well forward, her hands behind her back, lacing herself into determination_). Get up, Mr. Regniati. (_No sign of life in the bed. _) Don't pretend to have goneto sleep again. (_Not a movement. _) I know you haven't. I shan't waitfor you when I'm once dressed. It's twenty-five minutes. (_Sharply. _) Doyou hear, Mr. Regniati?

_The Signor_ (_re-appearing as far as the tip of his nose. Both eyesblinking_). My dear--oh! (_as if in sudden agony. Then plaintively_) I'ave such a pain in my nose. 

_Madame_ (_backhairing energetically_). Fiddlesticks. 

_The Signor_ (_in an injured tone_). Oh! Vy you say zat? You know I dosof-far from my nose--and my head ache all . . . 

_Madame_ (_coming to a dead stop in her toilette_). Mr. Regniati, youeat and drink too much. 

_The Signor_ (_as if horrified at lying under such an imputation, butshowing no disposition to rise with the occasion_). Oh! My Jo!(_appealing to abstract justice in the bed-curtains. _) Good-ness knows(_he pronounces it 'Good-ness-knows'_) I eat no-sing at-all. 

_Madame_ (_coming to the point_). Mr. Regniati, I can't finish mydressing if you stop there. 

_The Signor_ (_bestirring himself with as much dignity as is possibleunder the circumstances_). I go. Vere is my leet-tel slip-pers?(_Protesting_) I shall catch my dets of cold. (_He finds them. _)

_Madame. _ Now, Mr. Regniati, make haste, or we shall be late. (_Shutshis dressing-room door on him. _)

In about a quarter of an hour after this, the carriage is announced, andthe Signor is hurried down stairs. 

_The Signor_ (_complaining_). Oh! I am so ongry. (_Procrastinating. _) Ve'ave time to take som-sing to eat, be-fore zat ve . . . 

_Madame_ (_cutting him short_). Nonsense, Mr. Regniati. If you wanted tostuff, you should have got up earlier. 

_Mr. Regniati. _ Stoff! (_Protests. _) My Jo! I do not stoff!(_Unhappily. _) I 'ave no-sing in . . . 

_Madame_ (_ascetically_). A little abstinence will do you good. Come. 

_Exeunt Madame, attended by the Signor. Carriage drives off. _

Mrs. Orby Frimmely, whose new things came down yesterday--latestParisian mode--the two Misses Cherton, Miss Medford, Captain Byrton, Chilvern, Cazell, are the Church party. 

Mr. Orby Frimmely, having been busy in the City all the week, is what hecalls "taking it out" in bed on Sunday morning. He emphatically assertshis position (a horizontal one), and with religious fervour claimsSunday as a day of rest. 

Being uncertain of the weather I remain at home with Milburd. 

Milburd shifts the responsibility on to my shoulders by saying, "I'll goif you'll go. "

Hesitation. 

_Happy Thought. _ Wait and see what the weather is like. 

At a quarter to eleven (service is at eleven) the weather is likenothing particular. 

_10. 50. _ A gleam of sunshine. We watch it. The Signor, to whom theweather is of consequence, as he intends walking to the nearest farm ona visit of inspection to some rather fine pigs, remarks, "It vill'old-up. Ven de sun shine now, it shine all day. "

Milburd doesn't think so. My opinion is that these rays are treacherous. 

_10. 55. _ First appearance of genuine blue sky. Peal of bells stopped, and one only going now. The last call. More hesitation, I ask Milburdwhat he thinks of it. Milburd, in an arm-chair before fire and the"Field" newspaper in his hand, says "that he doesn't know what to makeof it. " Further hesitation. 

_Eleven. _ Cessation of all bells. Sudden silence everywhere. Sky brightand blue. Sun out. 

_Happy Thought. _--If we'd only known this we might have gone to church. 

_Milburd_ (_from behind the "Field"_). "Yes. It's too late now. "

The Signor has started with Jenkyns Soames (who is of some philosophicform of religion, in which long walks and gymnastics play leadingparts), for the Piggeries. 

Of Boodels nothing has been seen, or heard, since his first message. 

Mr. Orby Frimmely, under the impression that the ladies have disappearedfrom the scene, descends in his lounging coat, and breakfasts alone. After this he lights a cigar, and makes himself useful in theconservatory. 

Madame is walking in the garden, enjoying the winter sun's warmth, andreading. 

From my room I can see her. She comes pacing majestically rightunderneath my window. Her book is the _Meditations of Marcus Aurelius_. 

I pause . . . . 

Then . . . . My Pens!. . . . I write

 [Illustration: CURRENTE CALAMO. ]

CHAPTER XVIII. 

 MORE SUNDAY THOUGHTS--IN MY ROOM--A TELEGRAM--IMPOSSIBILITIES-- INTERRUPTION. 

_Happy Thought for Sunday. _--Write down meditations. Like MarcusAurelius did. Why not go in for _Sunday Books_? Telegraph to Popgood andGroolly (my publishers, who have been in treaty with me for two yearsabout _Typ. Developments_), and say, FROM ME, | Messrs. POPGOOD & GROOLLY, HAPPY THOUGHT HALL, | THE WORKS, HERTFORDSHIRE. | BOOKMAKERS' WALK, | FINSBURY, E. C. 

Good notion for you. Sunday book. Nothing solemn. Lightly contemplative. Will you? Wire back. 

Forgot it's Sunday, and no telegrams can be sent. Very absurd. Whyshouldn't one want to send a telegram on Sunday equally as much as onMonday? Telegraphic people might arrange for holidays easily enough, byhaving small extra Sunday staff. 

_Happy Thought. _--Will commence my Meditations. Head them _SundaySayings_. No, they're _not_ sayings. Prefer alliterative title. Try_Sunday Sighs_. But they're not sighs. Try another, _Sunday Sermons_. No, they won't be sermons. Put down a lot of titles and see which Ilike. _Sunday Songs. _ _Sobs for Sunday. _ _Sunday Solids. _ (This issomething more like it. ) Or a double title. _Sunday Solids and SundaySuctions. _ No; won't do. 

_Happy Thought. _--Write the meditations first, see what they come outlike, and then give them a name. This will, so to speak, "suit my book, "as to-morrow, with a name and everything cut and dried, I can writeparticulars to Popgood and Groolly. 

For the nonce--(good word, by the way, "the nonce")--only it's alwaysgiven me the idea of sounding like a vague part of the body, where onecould be hit or knocked down. I mean it would never surprise me to hearthat some one had met a man and hit him on the nonce. Result fatal. 

 _"He was not found for some days after, but there is no doubt that he was killed by a blow on the nonce. "_

 _Extract from local paper. _

To resume:--

For the nonce, I will head them merely for my own personal information, "Sayings for Sunday. "

_Happy Thought. _--Good Hebdomadal Alliterative Series. 

Sayings for Sundays. _1 Vol. _

Mysteries for Mondays. _do. _

Tales for Tuesdays. _do. _

Wit for Wednesdays. 

Themes for Thursdays. 

Fun for Fridays. 

Sonnets for Saturdays. 

And then, all, in a monthly volume, as Medleys for the Month. Idistinctly see Popgood and Groolly's rapid and colossal fortune. Thenthere'd be a quarterly. Why not _Quarterly Quips_? No, this is notsufficiently general. [N. B. Joke by a man on a treadmill might be termeda _Quip on a Crank_. ]

_Happy Thought. _--_Quantity and Quality, a Quarterly Quintessence. __Quips, Quiddities, Quibbles, and Quirks_, by . . . Dear me, I want to say"ready writers"--that's the style of _nom de plume_ required. 

_Plume_ is suggestive. I have it. 

_Happy Thought. _--"_Quick Quills. _" Popgood's advertisement will say, "The above Quarterly by Quick Quills. "

Now I'll begin. 

Knock at the door. Mr. Orby Frimmely wants to know if I will stroll outwith him and meet the Signor returning. 

With pleasure. Leave the sayings for another Sunday. 

We stroll. 

 [Illustration: AWAY!]

CHAPTER XIX. 

A WALK WITH SIGNOR REGNIATI. 

_THE PROSAIC GENTLEMAN. _

_Weather fine. We are out for a walk. Mr. Orby Frimmely, of the City, represents the Prosaic. I put myself down as the Poetic, and the Signoras the Enthusiastic. To us a small man in clerical black and Romancollar. _

_The Signor_ (_saluting cleric_). Ah, Father Cuthbert. 'Ow you do?(_Introduces us. _) You 'ave got beautiful flowers. 

_Father C. _ (_alluding to the bunch in his hand_). _Flores martyrum. _You have heard that we are ordered off for active service in China. 

_Self. _ China! (_We see in our "mind's eye, Horatio" the fearfultortures recently practised upon Christians in China and arespeechless. _)

_Frimmely_ (_the Prosaic_). Ah! You must take care what you're aboutthere. (_Surprise of the Reverend F. Cuthbert. _) The Government won'tprotect you, you know (_he says this as if the reverend gentleman wasgoing to China to rob an orchard_). 

_Father C. _ No. It will not. (_Nobly. _) We go to suffer and to preachthe faith. 

_Signor. _ Oh, my Jo! I should not like to be eat. I 'ope you vill notgo. Let us know before you start. 

_Father C. _ (_cheerfully_). It is certain. I'm afraid I shan't be at theCollege to see you next Sunday. Good-bye. 

 [_Exit Father C. _

_We continue our walk. _

_Myself_ (_the poetical_). Ah! What a grand lot! What a high and holycalling. Here we are, striving for comfort, and perhaps for fame, therethe missioner goes forth, to die, perhaps in torments, unknown to theworld until the Day of Doom. 

 [_I am impressed and silent. _]

_Signor. _ Oh, my Jo! I vould not go to be eat. (_Nobly, and in trueChristian spirit. _) I vould say let me go, and I vill run a-vays. 

_Frimmely_ (_the Prosaic_). Martyr!. . . Well, I wouldn't mind being amartyr if I'd been brought up to it. I don't see why you should wastesentiment on Father Cuthbert or anybody else whose profession it is. (_Repeating incisively_) It's his profession, his business, to beuncomfortable, and, finis coronat opus, martyrdom signifies in his line, success. (_We are silent and he continues further to instruct us. _) YouCatholics (_to the Signor_), you know, have colleges of Missioners intraining; I've seen 'em. As in a Law College there would be portraits ofChief Justices and celebrated Q. C. 's in the costumes of their rank, soin a Missioners' College you have pictures of Celebrated Martyrs in thepeculiar Costumes of their particular torments. It's a regular business, with _you_ I mean, not so much with Protestants. We do it morecomfortably. With us it's rather a question of a foreign appointment, with a good income. 

_The Signor. _ Vell--(_considering_). I am ongry. Let us go an' eatsome-sing. 

 [Illustration: ÊTRE MARTYR . . . . SON MÉTIER. ]

CHAPTER XX. 

A SUNDAY CONVERSATION. 

_Miss Adelaide_ (_warming her toes on the fender before sitting down toluncheon_). Oh, how cold it was in Church. 

_Captain Byrton. _ Wasn't it. Upon my word if they expect people to go, they ought to keep the place warm. 

_Chilvern. _ It was so cold I couldn't go to sleep during the sermon(_knives and forks at work_). 

_Cazell. _ It wasn't such a very bad sermon. Pickles, please! Thanks. 

_Myself_ (_showing some interest_). Who preached?

_Mrs. Frimmely. _ I don't know his name. He wasn't here last Sunday. 

_Boodels_ (_whose headache has entirely disappeared_). Ah, the Rectorperhaps. There are two Churches here, and he has two Curates. 

_Miss Bella_ (_frowningly_). He preached in black. 

_Milburd. _ It _is_ the Rector. It's what they call 'Low Sunday' here. 

_Chilvern. _ What's that?

_Madame. _ Not Low Sunday with us; that is after Easter Day. 

_Medford_ (_explaining_). Ah yes, Boodels refers to the tone of theirChurchmanship. The Rector is Broad Church, Mr. Marveloe, the seniorCurate, is High Church, and Mr. Alpely, the junior Curate, is Low. Thisjust suits the parishioners, and they take it turn and turn about at thetwo Churches, the Rector doing duty at both, accommodating himself toeither view as the case may be. One Sunday they're high, another they'relow, and the other Church is _vice versâ_. 

_Miss Adelaide. _ To-day it was the duett of parson and clerk. 

_Miss Bella. _ Oh, horrid! I'd rather stop at home than hear that. Why atS. Phillips at home we have vestments, and incense, and everything isdone so well. 

_Miss Medford_ (_quietly_). Well, I'd just as soon go to one as another. May I trouble you for the salt, Signor Regniati?

_Signor. _ My Jo! If zey do not preach I vould go--

_Madame_ (_severely_). Mr. Regniati, hand the salt. 

_Mrs. Frimmely. _ What an absurd cloak that Mrs. Tringmer had. 

_Miss Bella. _ I suppose she thought it was quite the fashion. 

_Mrs. Frimmely. _ Who was that lady--Captain Byrton, do _you_ know?--whocame in rustling all up the Church, and so scented! as if she'd steppedout of a perfumer's. 

_Byrton. _ Don't know. Perhaps she _has_ stepped out of a perfumer's, andis an advertisement. 

_Happy Thought (for a perfumer). _--To send scented people about. Questions asked, _e. G. _ Stranger (_sniffing_) goes up politely andinquires, "I beg a hundred pardons, but what scent--what delicious scentare you wearing?" Then the lady replies, "Don't mention it, Ma'am. It's(whatever the name is), and there's the card. " And gives her theperfumer's address. 

_Miss Adelaide. _ I thought Miss Vyner rather prettily dressed. 

_Mrs. Frimmely. _ Oh! but _did_ you see her gloves! Such a fit!

_Miss Bella. _ And such a colour!

_Cazell. _ I wonder who that bald-headed man in front of me was? Therewas a collection, and he put a sovereign into the plate. 

_Chilvern. _ I'm always unlucky in that way. Whenever I go to Churchthere's always a collection. 

_Captain Byrton. _ Yes. You kept the man waiting at the pew door for atleast two minutes, while you fumbled in all your pockets. Anyone haveany cheese?

_Chilvern. _ I knew I'd got a shilling somewhere--but it was afourpenny-bit after all. 

_Miss Medford. _ How very disturbing it must be for the clergyman, when achild persists in crying at intervals all through the sermon. 

_Mrs. Frimmely. _ Yes, little things like that oughtn't to be brought tochurch; at least, not to sit out sermons. 

_Boodels_ (_with some vague recollection of the baptismal service_). Butyou forget, Mrs. Frimmely, godfathers and godmothers promise to bringchildren to _hear_ sermons. That's one of the three things they vow inthe child's name. 

_Mrs. Frimmely. _ Really? (_seeing no help for it short of a secondreformation, or disestablishment_). Well it's a great pity. 

_Milburd_ (_to Byrton_). I see by the _Field_ to-day, that _Lysander_ isgoing up for the Derby. 

_Byrton. _ He's nowhere. _Corkscrew's_ at a hundred to fifteen. 

_Mrs. Frimmely. _ I was right last year. Wasn't I? (_To her husband. _)

_Frimmely. _ Yes: for once. (_Mrs. Frimmely tosses her head. _)

_Soames_ (_the Professor of Scientific Economy_). Betting can be reducedto the certainty of a mathematical calculation. 

_Cazell_ (_to him_). I tell you what _you_ ought to do, then. 

_Soames_ (_innocently_). What?

_Cazell. _ Make your fortune. (_A titter. Pause. _)

_Medford. _ I see by the _Musical Times_ that we're to have the new primadonna, Stellafanti, at Covent Garden. 

_Madame. _ We heard her years ago at Naples. (_Interest in herdiminishes. _)

_Mrs. Frimmely. _ We _must_ get up some theatricals here. 

_Misses Adelaide and Bella. _ Oh yes, _do let's_!

_Miss Medford. _ I think they _are_ such fun. 

_Medford. _ We could do something musical, easily. 

_The Signor_ (_while the others talk about theatricals_). My Jo! Ishould like to get a leettel shoot vile I am here. 

_Capt Byrton. _ Birds very wild. Have you had good sport?

_Signor. _ My Jo! at Bad-ge-bee zere are--oh--'eaps of birds! but ven zeysee me, zey go avays. I go out to shoot zem, an' I shoot no-sing. 

Here the conversation becomes general, some are hot on theatricals andmusical matters, others on sporting. Mr. Frimmely and the Professor arediscussing finance. Miss Medford and Mrs. Regniati have got on anecclesiastical topic. 

--"We might play an opera, with a part for--"

--"The Archbishop of Canterbury, he is a friend of our rector's andsays--"

--"My Jo! I 'ave such a pig! and I 'ave a bull that--"

--"With skates on! in a frost--"

--"Will win the Derby, I'll back him unless he's--"

--"Dressed as a brigand. Charming! or else as--"

--"A simple sum in arithmetic--"

--"With a red nose--"

--"In the organ-loft. But he objected to--"

--"Cold cream the only thing! put that on first, and then--"

--"You may get within a few yards of the birds, they won't hear you, andwhen they're--"

--"Paying ten per cent. For your money. Why not leave it--"

--"On the top of your head with a feather--"

--"Or go up in the pulpit before the sermon, as the rector did--"

--"In a transparency; it's easily managed by--"

--"Another tax on the Spanish coupons--"

--"And a bath every evening with--"

--"My prize pig--"

--"And three or four fireworks--"

_Milburd_ (_decisively_). A capital effect! We'll do it!

 [_The ladies rise. Conversation finishes. _]

 [Illustration: ONE OF THE SURPLICE POPULATION. ]

CHAPTER XXI. 

COMMENCEMENT OF MY SAYINGS FOR SUNDAYS. 

 [Illustration]

_First. _--Of the bee. If the bee could talk, he would always be boastingof his business, and would do nothing. 

_Moral. _--Learn then from the bee, the lesson of silent perseverance. 

(I think this _is_ the lesson to be learnt. )

_Second. _--The wasp's sting is in its tail. So is a tale-bearer's. 

_Moral. _--Avoid wasps and tale-bearers. 

(This would come among the quips. Still I think it would be a fairSunday quip, for even a serious circle. )

_Third. _--Stand by Niagara Falls, and abuse them. The falls will go onthe same as ever. Throw mud at them. None will stick. The power of purewater will wash it away. 

_Moral. _--A spotless character is protected by its own integrity, andthough men will try to defame it, yet it triumphs in the end. 

(Don't care about this moral. Get something better out of it beforeto-morrow. It will do for "_material_. ")

_Fourth. _--We are born for the sake of one another. 

_Moral. _--Find out for whom you were born, and stick to him, or her. 

(Rather a frisky moral this. More for Mondays than Sundays, perhaps. Marcus Aurelius was a great man. One begins to appreciate the greatnessof a maxim-maker or aphorist, when you try to do something in that lineyourself. )

_Fifth. _--You yourself are often like those who offend you. 

_Moral. _--When you detect the resemblance to yourself in others, treatthem as you deserve to be treated. This may lead to difficulties. 

(Something suggested here, by this last word. )

_Sixth. _--Difficulties were made to be surmounted. 

_Moral. _--Go up Mount Ararat and down the other side. 

_Seventhly. _--The sum of social Christianity: Love your neighbour, andhate your relations. 

(This will do for Sunday. Irony for Sunday. Fun for Friday _à propos_ ofirony. Who ought to have been the best writer of _irony_? _Steele. _)

_Eighthly. _--In a woman's youth, coquetry is natural. It is theexpression of amiable indecision. At thirty, it is a science. 

(Somehow I think, I've slid away from Sunday literature. )

_Ninthly. _--A pretty woman well "made up" is an angel . . . With falsewings. 

(The mention of an angel, is something nearer to Sunday. )

_Tenthly. _--'Tis curious that when the Jews finish, the Christiansbegin. Their Sabbath is the last day of the week, our Sunday is thefirst. 

(This is more like what I wanted. Only in the last three instances, there has been no moral. )

_À propos_ of a moral. 

_Eleventhly. _--A moral in a fable is like the hook in the bait. 

_Moral_. --Take the bait . . . And leave the hook. 

_Twelfthly. _--"The Devil, " said Voltaire, "is at the bottom ofChristianity. Without the Devil Christianity would not be. "

Ah, but the Devil little thought this when he tempted Eve. 

There is no particular moral to this. It does not require one. 

_Thirteenthly. _--The bad man who attends to the convenances of religiousobservance, only puts polish on muddy boots. 

_Moral. _--Clean your boots. 

(Might add also, "take care of the puddles. " Popgood and Groolly willmake a fortune of such a Sunday book as I am getting together. Only itwill take some time to compile two hundred pages of maxims and morals. )

_Fourteenthly. _--Stars and pretty women at a ball don't show toadvantage by daylight. 

_Moral. _--Go to bed early. 

_Fifteenthly. _--(_A pendant_). The Moon is pale from being up allnight. 

_Moral. _--Same as preceding. 

_Sixteenthly. _--Marrying for Love is like digging for gold. It is to behoped the speculation will succeed. 

_Moral. _--Love in haste: marry at leisure. 

(Altogether, I fancy, I'm wandering from Sunday Meditations. I don'tthink these are the jottings of Marcus Aurelius. )

_Seventeenthly. _--Here is something specially for Sunday:--

If you can't pay creditors, love them. It may not be exactly fulfillingthe law of your country, but the sentiment is sublime and thoroughlyChristian. 

(This is a moral in itself. _Happy Thought. _--Make a moral first andinvent the fable. Good. )

_Eighteenthly_. --We are all so vain that we can't imagine eternalhappiness too much for us. The reverse of the medal is unpalatable. 

_Moral. _--Be 'umble. 

_Nineteenthly. _--There are few men, if any, with whom it is possible toreason concerning either Love or Religion. 

_Moral. _--Don't try. 

_Twentiethly. _--Theological discussion generally comes in after dinnerwith the third bottle of wine. 

_Moral. _--Get to the fourth as quickly as possible. 

_Twenty-onethly. _--Life is a perpetual Epitaph. 

_Moral. _--Better than most epitaphs, because it's short. If you've gotto write one remember this. 

The last is so melancholy that I can only sit down and think. At presentthis will do for my Sunday Meditations. 

 [Illustration: THE MEDITATIONIST. ]

CHAPTER XXII. 

THE PROGRAMME--THE FARCE. 

For some days Milburd, Mrs. Orby Frimmely, Cazell, Chilvern, and theMedfords have been working hard at a new piece. 

The order of the evening is dinner for a few, then theatricals to amusethe many, then refreshments, then a dance, and finally supper. 

The Signor is in great force. 

"My dear, " he says to his wife, "I shall do my lit-tel step. I shallvalse. "

"Mr. Regniati, " returns Madame, severely, "you will do nothing of thesort. "

This rather damps his ardour; and the fact of being unable to consulthis nephew on the best means of obtaining his chance of doing his"lit-tel steps, " still further depresses him. 

He is perpetually looking into the theatre-room, and as often beggingpardon, and being turned out. 

The night arrives. I receive the guests as president, and I take thelady I don't want to in to dinner. 

Dinner successful. 

Madame rises at the proper moment; and after an hour, and the arrival ofseveral carriages full, the gong summons us to the theatre. 

Here Medford and myself hand round the programmes, and Miss Medfordperforms on the piano. 

The programmes are in her writing too. Most neatly done. 

 _This evening will be represented, for the first time on any stage, an entirely new and original Musical Farce, entitled_

 PENELOPE ANNE. 

 WRITTEN BY R. MILBURD, ESQ. 

 _Dramatis Personæ. _

DON JOSÉ JOHN BOXOS DE CABALLEROS Y } CARVALHOS Y REGALIAS DI SALAMANCA, } S. CAZELL. Generally known, and without familiarity } mentioned, as "JOHN BOX" }

COUNT CORNELIUS DE COXO, Land-Margrave } of Somewhere, with a Palazzo in Venice, } R. MILBURD. Commonly known as "JAMES COX" }

KARL, the German Waiter T. CHILVERN. 

MRS. PENELOPE ANNE KNOX MRS. ORBY FRIMMELY. 

MAJOR-GENERAL BOUNCER, B. L. H. CAPTAIN BYRTON. 

 ---------------------

 _The Scene is laid in Aix-la-Chapelle, at the Hotel known as Die Schweine und die Pfeiffer. _

_Time. _--There being no time like The Present, we choose the presenttime. 

The Orchestra under the superintendence of MISS CATHERINE MEDFORD. 

 Stage Manager, R. MILBURD. 

 Prompter, GEORGE A. MEDFORD. 

 [Illustration: OUR STAGE. ]

 PENELOPE ANNE. 

The Curtain being drawn up:--

 _The scene represents a public room in the small Hotel above-mentioned, at Aix-la-Chapelle. _

 _Doors R. H. And L. H. Also a door C. Leading on to a garden. _

 _Time, late in Autumn. _

 _On the table are various papers, books, &c. _

_Enter COX. _

 _Everybody applauds him. The Signor says, aloud, "_Oh 'ow good! eet is Deeck_, " and looks about, proud of his penetration of his nephew's disguise, when Madame observes, "_Mr. Regniati, if you can't be quiet, you'd better go out_, " whereupon the Signor confines himself to smiling and nodding to different people among the audience, intimating thereby his intense satisfaction with everything that is taking place on the stage. _

 [Illustration: COUNT COXO. ]

 _COX is in full tourist style of the most recent fashion. Over this he wears a top-coat and round his throat a cache-nez. In one hand he holds a large glass of water. _

 _He walks up and down on entering. Drinks a little. Takes off his coat, which he throws on the sofa. Then drinks again. Then walks. Then removes the cache-nez, which he throws on to coat, then he stands still and respires freely. _

COX. 

Phew! I'm only gradually cooling. This is the sixth day I've taken thewaters of Aix-la-Chapelle . . . And I'm beginning to be so sulphurous allover, that, if anybody was to rub against me suddenly, I should igniteand go off with a bang. I've written to my friend Box an account of it. I haven't seen Box for some years; but as I particularly wish him toremain in England just now, I've commenced a correspondence with him. I've told him that the doctor's orders here are very simple . . . . "HerrCox, " says he to me--Herr's German--I must explain that to Box, because, though Box is a good fellow, yet--he's--in fact--he's an ass. "HerrCox, " says he, "you must drink a glass of sulphur wasser. " Wasser'sGerman too; it didn't take long for my naturally fine intellect todiscover that it meant water. But Box doesn't know it . . . For thoughhe's an excellent fellow, he is--in fact he's an ignoramus. "Herr Cox, "says he to me, "you must take the sulphur wasser, and then walk about. ""What next, Herr Doctor?" says I. Note to Box. _Herr Doctor_ doesn'tmean that he's anything to do with a _Hair_-cutter. No, it's therespectful German for Mister--must explain that to Box, for though he'sa tiptop chap, yet Box is--is--in fact, Box is a confounded idiot. "HerrDoctor, " says I, "what next?" "Well, " says he "when you've taken thesulphur water and walked about, then you must walk about and take thesulphur water. " Simple. The first glass . . . Ugh! I shan't forget it. Inever could have imagined, till that moment, what the taste of a summerbeverage made of curious old eggs . . . A trifle over ripe . . . Beaten upwith a lucifer match, would be like . . . Now I know. But I was not to beconquered. Glass number two was not so bad. Glass number three . . . . Lessunpalatable than glass number two--glass number four . . . Um, betweennumber three and number four a considerable time was allowed to elapse, as I found I had been going it too fast. But now my enfeebled health isgradually being renovated, and they tell me that when I leave this, Ishall be "quite another man. " I don't know what other man I shall be. Yes I do. I am now a single man. I hope to leave here a double, I mean amarried man. Cox, my boy, that's what you've come here for. Cox, my boy, that's why you want to keep, diplomatically, Box, my boy, in England, and in ignorance of your proceedings. Herr Cox, you're a sly dog. If Icould give myself a dig in the ribs without any internal injury, I'd doit. I came here for the rheumatism. By the way I needn't have come herefor _that_, as I'd got it pretty strongly. I caught it, without any sortof trouble. I bathed, at Margate, in the rain. Before I could reach mybathing machine, I was drenched through and through, I don't know whereto, but long beyond the skin. The injury was more than skin deep. Noamount of exterior scrubbings could cure me. Brandies and waters hotinternally, every day for two months, produced more than the desiredeffect. I began to wander. I finished by travelling. And here I am. Insix more lessons on the sulphur spring, I shall be quite the Cure. (_Dances and sings. _) "The Cure, the Cure, the Cure, &c. "

(_Great applause: from the Signor especially. _)

_Enter WAITER. _

(_More applause. An elderly lady with eye-glasses asks audibly if thatisn't _Captain Byrton_?_)

WAITER (_putting newspaper on table_). 

Aachen Zeitung, Herr Cox. 

(_More applause for his German accent. _)

 [Illustration: THE WAITER. ]

COX. 

Nein danky. I mean, no thank you. Nix--nein--don't want any. 

WAITER. 

Nein, Herr Cox, zis ees de baber--de daily baber at Aix. Beebels come. 

 [_Exit. _

 (_The Signor here observes aloud, "_Eet is so like ven I----_" Madame says, sternly, "_Hush, Mr. Regniati_, " and he contents himself by finishing with a wink privately to me. _)

COX. 

Ja. Goot. I flatter myself I'm getting on with my German. Here's thearrival column . . English . . I look at this every day . . . Because . . . Um(_reading it_) . . . "Mr. And Mrs. Bloater, from Yarmouth, and all thelittle Bloaters . . . Major Bouncer" . . . Goodness gracious! howextraordinary!. . . Major Bouncer . . . Oh it can't be the same, it must beone of his ancestors . . . Or his posterity . . . "Major Bouncer of theRoyal Banbury Light Horse" . . . Pooh! fancy Bouncer on a light horse!

 Ride a cock horse To Banbury gorse To see Major Bouncer Upon a light horse; Rings on his fingers . . . . 

Stop a minute . . . Rings . . . Ah! (_reads_) "accompanied by Mrs. Bouncer, also of the Banbury Light Horse. " Of course, that settles it. It is_not_ old Bouncer. Next, "Mr. And Mrs. Winkle, from Pinner. " Ah! atlast . . . "Arrived at the Hotel, der Schwein und die Pfeife, " that'shere--"Mrs. Penelope Anne Knox. " I only heard it the other day atMargate. There she sat. Radiant as ever. A widow for the second time. Originally widow of William Wiggins, of Margate and Ramsgate, and nowwidow of Nathaniel Knox, of the Docks, with a heap--a perfect heap--ofmoney. Then my old passion returned. I determined to propose to her. Iwas about to do so, when on the very morning that I was going to throwmyself at her feet, I caught this infernal rheumatism, which laid me onmy back. When I recovered she was gone. "Where to?" says I. "Aix!" saysthey. My spirits mounted. I took a vast amount of pains to get to Aix, and here I am. I had heard of some property in Venice, which belonged tothe Coxes some hundreds of years ago, and so I thought I'd join pleasurewith business, and take Aix and Penelope Anne on the road. And now_here_ she is. If Box had only known it, he'd have been after her. He'sa first-rate fellow, is Box, but abominably mercenary and mean. He'dthink nothing of proposing to Penelope Anne merely for her money. And_I_ think nothing of a man who could do such a thing. So I've written toBox telling him to go to the North, and I'll come and stay with him forthe shooting season. A little shooting Box in Scotland. Ha! ha! when I_do_ go, it will be with Penelope Anne on my arm, as Mr. And Mrs. Cox. Let me see, when the hour strikes again, it will be time for my thirdtumbler--here it is--and the promenade. The Doctor says I must bepunctual in drinking the water, so I'll put myself straight, and then, so to speak, lay myself out for the capture of Penelope Anne. 

VERSES. 

(_"Les Pompiers de Nanterre. "_)

 I'm so very glad, Feel so very jolly, Like a little lad Who has come home to play. Now about I'll gad! Widow melancholy! She will be delighted When I my addresses pay. 

 Tzing la la la! Tzing la la la! I'm an artful dodger! Tzing la la la! Tzing la la la! Hey! for Victory!

 [_Exit out of room R. H. _

 (_Immense applause. The Signor insisting upon joining in the chorus, which he thinks he knows. MILBURD sings it again and then makes his exit. _)

_Enter WAITER with portmanteau. _

 _Applause. Then enter BOX as if from a long journey; he is wrapped up to the eyes, and above them. Questioning among audience, "_Who's that?_" WAITER points to room L. H. BOX inclines his head. Exit WAITER. BOX commences unbuttoning long foreign overcoat with hood. Then takes off hood, then takes off immense wrapper. When free of these he appears dressed in very foreign fashion. _

 [Illustration: DON BOXOS. ]

_Re-enter WAITER. _

WAITER (_puzzled_). 

'Ave you zeen a Herr mit ein long code, . . . Long tail?

BOX. 

A what? A hare with a long tail?

WAITER. 

Ah! ah! (_laughing_). You are him I zee (_pointing to coat_). Dat vasyou dere. Zo ist goot. 

BOX. 

Oh, I see. Yes, that's me, I mean that was me, only now I've come outlike the butterfly out of a grub. (_Aside. _) I forgot that this isGermany. (_Aloud. _) Ja. 

WAITER. 

Ach! der Herr sprech Deutsch?

(_Great applause. _)

BOX. 

Yah. (_Aside. _) That's more like a nigger. (_Aloud. _) On secondthoughts, nein. 

WAITER. 

Vill you your name in dese book write? (_Presenting visitors' book. _)

BOX. 

I will. (_Writes. _) Don José John de Boxos Cazadores Regalias, Spain. 

WAITER. 

Dank you, milor!

 [_Exit WAITER C. _

BOX. 

We know what we are, but we never know what we shall be. I am not quiteclear at present, by the way, what I am, let alone what I _shall_ be. Ifanybody three months ago had said to me, "Box, my boy, you are a grandeeof Spain" . . . I should have said that he was a . . . In point of fact Ishouldn't have believed him. But still I am--that is, partially so--I'mgradually becoming one. At present I'm only half a grandee. Three monthsago a friend, my legal adviser, a law stationer's senior clerk, nearChancery Lane, said to me, "Box, my boy, you've got Spanish blood inyou. " I said that I had suspected as much from my peculiar and extremepartiality for the vegetable called a Spanish onion, and I was going toa doctor, when my friend and legal adviser said to me, "Box, my boy, Idon't mean _that_. I mean that your great grandmother was of Spanishextraction. " I replied that I had heard that they had extracted my greatgrandmother from that quarter, "I came across some papers, " continued mylegal adviser, "which allude to her as Donna Isidora y Caballeros, Carvalhos y Cazadores y Regalias, Salamanca, Spain, who married JohnBox, trader, of Eliza Lane, St. Margaret's Wharf, Wapping. Date and allcorrect. Go, " says he--I mean my legal adviser--"go to Spain, and claimyour title, your estates, and your money, and I'll stand in with you, and take half the profits. " I was struck by this remarkably handsomeoffer, and went down to Margate to cultivate a Spanish moustache andthink about it. Whenever I want to think about anything deeply, I godown to Margate. Well, one morning as I was examining the progress of mymoustache, after shaving my chin and letting out some of the blue bloodof the Hidalgos in a most tremendous gash, judge of my astonishment, when, walking on the beach, in among the donkeys and the Ethiopianserenaders, I saw in widow's weeds, as majestic as ever, Penelope Anne!(_Sings_) "I saw her for a moment, but methinks I see her now, with thewreath of--something or other--upon her--something brow"----and then Ilost sight of her. But my Spanish blood was up. The extraction from thesunny South boiled in my veins . . . Boiled over, when I learnt, onreferring to the visitors' list, that Penelope Anne was the relict ofthe short-breath'd--I mean short-lived but virtuous--Knox, who had lefther his entire fortune. All my long-stifled passion returned--thepassion which the existence of a Wiggins, her first, had not quenched, which the ephemeral life of a Knox had not extinguished, a passion whichI have felt for her before I knew that the blue ink--I mean the blueblood, of the Hidalgos danced in my veins, and while she was only asweet village maiden eighteen years old, and known to all as MissPenelope Anne, of Park Place, Pimlico! I determined to go out and throwmyself at her feet, declare my passion, and take nothing for an answerexcept "Box . . . John . . . I'm yours truly, Penelope!" I couldn't presentmyself before her with a scrubbing-brush on my upper lip. So thatafternoon I sacrificed Mars to Venus--I mean I shaved off my moustachefor the sake of Penelope Anne. The next morning . . . . Toothache wasn'tthe name for what I suffered. Face-ache fails to describe my agonies. Neuralgia doesn't give the faintest idea of my tortures. The left sideof my face looked exactly as if I was holding a large dumpling in mymouth, or a gigantic ribston-pippin which I couldn't swallow. Swallow!Not a bit of food passed these lips, except slops, beef-tea, and teawithout the beef, for days. At the end of a week I was a shadow. Penelope Anne had gone. Where, no one knew. Somebody said they thoughtit was the Continent. I bought a map and looked out the Continent, butit wasn't in that. I suppose it was an old edition--there have been somany changes, and they're building everywhere--so I consulted my medicalman and my legal adviser. The first said, "Get change of air. Goabroad!" The second said, "Seize the opportunity and go to Spain. And, "he added, "come home by the Continent. " That suited me down to theground. I should get my title, my lands, and my money, meeting PenelopeAnne on the Continent. As I was coming back I should be able to offerher the hand and heart of either Don José John de Boxos y Cazadores yRegalias y Caballeros y Carvalhos of Salamanca, Spain, or of plain JohnBox, of Barnsbury. So here I am. I haven't got the whole title yet, asthe Spanish legal gentleman and I didn't hit it off exactly. . . . If I'donly known what he was talking about, it would have shortened theproceedings. However, as that remark applies to all legal business, Icouldn't quarrel with a foreigner on that point. Besides, if you quarrelwith a Spaniard, his southern blood can't stand it. He stabs you. He'ssorry for it afterwards, but that's his noble nature. So I've adoptedhalf the title, and the rest will be sent on to me if the suit isgained. But up to this moment I've not met Penelope Anne. I've had somuch of the wines of Spain, that my medical man wrote and advised me totry the waters of Germany. So here I am. (_Takes up paper_). What'sthis? _Comic Journal_, um. "We are sorry to announce the death of . . . "um, um. (_reads_) "_Spain on the eve of a crisis. _" . . . There were threewhile I was there. Nobody took any notice of them. What's this? "Hotelder Schwein and die Pfeife"--that's here--"Mrs. Penelope Anne Knox. " . . . . Don José de Boxos, she's yours. You've only got to propose, and she'syours. Tell her you're a Spanish grandee, and offer her a position asSpanish grand_she_. Don Boxos, you've only got to give yourself a brushup, and she's yours. (_Taking up COX'S glass of water which he has lefton table_) I wish myself every possible success! To my future happiness!(_drinks. _) Ugh! (_suddenly makes fearfully wry faces. The clockstrikes. Re-enter COX, R. H. _)

COX. 

Punctual to the moment. (_Seeing glass empty_) Confound it, dashit--who's taken my sulphur wasser? I say who (_sees BOX who is slowlyrecovering_)--Have you--(_starts_) Can I believe my eyes?

BOX. 

I don't know. 

COX. 

It _must_ be--. 

BOX. 

If it _must_ be, then in that case (_opens his eyes and recognisesCOX_). Ah!

COX. 

Box!

BOX. 

Cox!

 [_They are about to rush into each other's arms, when they think better of it, and shake hands rather coolly. _

BOX. 

How d'ye do?

COX. 

How are you?

BOX. 

Very well, sir. 

COX. 

Very well, sir! (_Aside_) I don't like the look of this. 

BOX (_aside_). 

I don't like the taste of _that_. 

COX (_aside_). 

What's Box here for?

BOX (_aside_). 

Has Cox been trying to poison himself--and poisoned me?

COX (_aside_). 

He mustn't stay here. 

BOX (_aside_). 

Cox must go. I don't think I feel as well as I did. 

COX. 

Ahem!

BOX. 

Ahem!

COX. 

I beg your pardon, you were going to say--

BOX. 

On the contrary, I interrupted you--

COX. 

No, you speak first. _Seniores priores. _

BOX. 

In that case you have the preference. Why, I'm quite a chicken by theside of you. 

COX. 

Pooh, sir. 

BOX. 

Well, if you don't like "chicken" I'll say gosling. 

COX. 

Don't be absurd, sir. At what age were you born?

BOX. 

What's that to you? I'm six years younger than you, whatever you are. 

COX. 

So am I. So you speak first. 

BOX. 

This is absurd. I'm only a visitor. You're a resident. 

COX. 

No I'm not. I'm only _ong parsong_. 

BOX. 

Ong Parsong? Why, you don't mean to say you've become a clergyman?Archbishop Cox, I congratulate you. 

(_Our two curates, who are among the audience, see the joke and laughsweetly. _)

COX. 

Don't be a fool. Are you stopping here?

BOX. 

Well, that depends. Are _you_?

COX. 

Well--(_shrugging his shoulders and stretching out his hands_). 

BOX. 

Ah! (_imitates action_) That's exactly my case. 

COX. 

It's time for me to go out and take the waters. You've taken mine forme. 

BOX. 

If you don't feel any better after it than I do--What's the effect ofthe waters?

COX (_aside_). 

I'll frighten him. (_Aloud_) If you're unaccustomed to them--poisonous. 

BOX. 

Good gracious! The first draught then is--

COX. 

Fatal. Deadly. 

BOX. 

Then you don't have much chance of getting accustomed to it. You lookvery well. 

COX. 

Yes. I could have taken that glass with impunity. It was my eighteenthtumbler. 

BOX. 

Then I'm safe. I began with the eighteenth. Aha! I shall smoke a cigarand read the paper. 

COX (_aside_). 

The paper!

BOX. 

Don't stop for me. (_Aside_) I wonder if he's seen the news. 

COX (_aside_). 

He mustn't know she's here. He's got it. (_Seeing BOX reading thepaper. _) Would you allow me to look at the paper?

BOX. 

There's nothing in it. 

COX (_coming up to table and putting his hand suddenly down on it_). 

Sir!

BOX (_taking no notice_). 

Come in. 

COX. 

No, sir, I shall not come in. I'm going to come out, sir, and come outpretty strongly too. (_Suddenly pathetic_) Box, my boy--

BOX (_the same_). 

Cox, my boy. (_Turns and allows the smoke of his pipe to come underCOX'S nose just as COX is attempting to take the paper. _)

COX (_sneezing_). 

Excuse my emotion (_sneezes_). 

BOX. 

It does honour to your head and heart--specially to your head. (_Offershis pocket-handkerchief. _)

COX. 

Thank you. I can't forget that we were once brothers. 

BOX. 

We were. 

COX. 

We had no secrets from each other. At least you had none from me, hadyou?

BOX. 

No, not unless you had any from me. 

COX. 

Then I will confide in you. I don't mind telling you--

BOX. 

I have no objection to inform you--

COX. 

That I am--

BOX. 

So am I--

COX. 

Here--

BOX. 

Exactly my case--

COX. 

To marry--

BOX. 

Yes, to espouse--

COX. 

Eh?

BOX. 

It's the same thing. 

COX. 

Oh. To marry Penelope Anne. 

BOX. 

Penelope Anne! So am I!

COX. 

You!

BOX. 

I. 

COX. 

Then, Box, I'm sorry for you. You've no chance. Go. 

BOX. 

On the contrary, Cox, as there can't be the smallest possibility of yourbeing accepted, it's for you to retire. _Allez. _

COX. 

I shan't allez. 

BOX. 

No more shall I. 

COX. 

Mr. Box, since we last met, circumstances have changed. You no longerspeak to a gentleman--

BOX. 

You needn't explain _that_--

COX. 

I say, to a gentleman connected with the Hatting interest. _No_, myfamily solicitor discovered that my great grandfather had been aVenetian Count, or a Margrave, or a Hargrave, or a something of thatsort, and that therefore my proper title was Count Cox The Landgrave. 

BOX. 

The _Landgrave_--you might as well be a tombstone at once. 

COX. 

I am serious. I have come over to mix pleasure with business, and tooffer to Penelope Anne the hand of The Landgrave, or of the VenetianCount. So yield to the aristocracy; and, Printer, withdraw. 

BOX. 

Excuse me, Cox, but since our parting I have discovered that in my veinsflows the blue blood of the Hidal_gos_--

COX. 

How many "goes"?

BOX. 

Don't be profane--of the Hidalgos of Spain. I have already assumed halfthe title. The rest will be sent on to me in a few days, and I am hereto offer to Penelope Anne the hand and coronet of Don José John de Boxosy Caballeros y Regalias de Salamanca. _Fuego_, as we say in Spain, _Fuego_. 

COX. 

Never, while _I_ live, shall _you_ marry Penelope Anne. 

BOX. 

Never, while I marry Penelope Anne, shall you live. I've Spanish bloodin my veins. Pistols!

COX. 

Swords!

BOX. 

When?

COX. 

Now. (_Clock strikes_). That's the second glass of water you have mademe lose. You are ruining my health. 

BOX. 

Then let me shoot you at once. By the way, I haven't got a pistol. 

COX. 

Paltry evasion! There's a shooting gallery here where they let 'em outby the hour. 

BOX. 

How many hours shall we take 'em for?

COX. 

Well--we've got to pay in advance. 

BOX. 

Well, you advance the money and I'll pay. 

COX. 

No. We'll borrow it from the waiter. 

BOX. 

Yes, and leave it to be paid by our executors out of the estate. Come. 

BOTH. 

 DUETT. 

 ("_Suoni la tromba. _")

 Off to the tented field! Pistols! revolvers they shall be! Sooner than ever yield I'll fight for death or victore_e_!

BOX (_aside_). 

 Yes! he must be my target. Must the unhappy Cox. 

COX (_aside_). 

 What will they say at Margate When I have shot poor Box. 

BOTH. 

Ah!

 ["Off to the tented, " &c. _They repeat the duett and are about to exit, when they stop at the door and return. _

BOX. 

Hem! I say, sir. 

COX. 

Well, sir?

BOX. 

I intend to exterminate you. 

COX. 

I mean to blow you to atoms. 

BOX. 

But if we _don't_ exterminate each other it will be rather awkward. 

COX. 

Yes. I shouldn't like to be wounded. It hurts. 

BOX. 

Besides, if we both came off without our noses, or with only two eyesbetween us, we should neither be able to marry Penelope Anne. 

COX. 

True. I have it. 

BOX. 

So have I. 

COX. 

The Lady shall decide. 

BOX. 

Just exactly what I was going to propose. 

 [_A female voice heard without, singing a jödel. _

 [* _This is MRS. FRIMMELY. She sings a Tyrolienne by Offenbach, and in French. Every one delighted. Being encored, she appears at the door, curtseys, retires and sings again, "without. "_]

COX. 

'Tis she! What superb notes!

BOX. 

It's a rich voice. 

COX. 

She's a rich widow. 

BOTH. 

She comes. 

 [_PENELOPE ANNE appears C. In ultra Parisian watering-place toilette. They bring her down between them, each taking a hand. _

BOTH. 

Penelope Anne!

 [_Both kneel R. And L. C. _

 [Illustration: PENELOPE ANNE. ]

PENELOPE. 

Mr. James Cox. Ah! (_starts_). 

BOX. 

You've frightened her. You're so ugly. 

PENELOPE. 

Mr. John Box. Oh! (_faints, and falls into a chair placed C. _)

COX. 

You've killed her. You Gorilla. 

BOX. 

Gorilla--(_they are about to fight, when she screams again_). What shallwe do?

COX (_excitedly_). 

Cold key--Senna--no, I mean Salts. 

BOX (_more excitedly_). 

Pooh! Cold water . . . . With something in it. 

COX. 

Where's the sulphur water--throw it--

PENELOPE (_shrieking_). 

Ah! (_rising_). How dare you! (_calls_). Husband!

BOX. 

She said Husband. Dearest--

 [_PENELOPE slaps his face. _

COX. 

She means _me_. I knew it. Angel--

 [_PENELOPE repeats the slap on HIS face. _

BOX. 

You _did_ say "Husband?" Surely you can't be blind to the fascination ofDon Boxos de Regalias Salamanca--

COX. 

When you said "Husband" you must have been dreaming of Count CorneliusCox, Landgrave. 

PENELOPE. 

Gentlemen. Mr. Cox . . . Mr. Box--if the truth must be told--

BOX. 

It will be painful for Cox--but tell it, brave woman, tell it. 

COX. 

It will be harrowing for Box--but out with it, courageous Penelope, outwith it. 

PENELOPE. 

Well--when--I said--"Husband"--I meant . . . 

COX. 

Me--

PENELOPE. 

No--

BOX. 

Ha! ha! hooray! Me--

PENELOPE. 

No . . . . 

BOTH. 

Then whom _did_ you mean?

PENELOPE. 

When I said "Husband" I meant--

_MAJOR BOUNCER, suddenly entering. _

BOUNCER. 

Me. (_Sings in military style_) "Rataplan! Rataplan!"

 [Illustration: MAJOR-GEN. BOUNCER. ]

 (_Immense applause. _ "Why _that's_ Captain Byrton, " _exclaims the elderly lady, who, up to that moment, has been under the impression that he was playing the waiter. _)

BOTH. 

Him! You! Bouncer!

BOUNCER. 

Major Bouncer, of the Banbury Light Horse, at your service. We weremarried this morning. 

COX. 

Stop! Virtuous but misguided Penelope. Bouncer is married already!

ALL. 

Ah!

COX. 

Behold! and tremble! Read it, Box (_giving newspaper_). 

BOX (_reads_). 

At the hotel So-and-so--um--Major and Mrs. Bouncer. 

 [_PENELOPE and BOUNCER laugh. _

COX. 

They laugh! Horrible depravity. 

BOUNCER. 

Nonsense! Mrs. Bouncer mentioned there--

BOX. 

Is not the Mrs. Bouncer we see here. 

BOUNCER. 

True. The Mrs. Bouncer _here_ is Mrs. Penelope Bouncer, _My_ Mrs. Bouncer; but the Mrs. Bouncer there is your old landlady, your Mrs. Bouncer, _now_, the Dowager Lady Bouncer. 

BOX AND COX. 

Good gracious!

BOX. 

Has she any money?

COX. 

Is she well off?

BOUNCER. 

No. I support her entirely. 

BOX. 

Oh! Then bless you, Bouncer. Persevere. Go on supporting her. 

COX. 

I congratulate you, Bouncer. You may keep your Dowager to yourself. 

PENELOPE. 

And if you like to join us at the wedding-breakfast--

BOUNCER. 

We shall be delighted--

PENELOPE. 

Now, as always--

BOUNCER. 

To see--

PENELOPE. 

Two old friends. 

BOUNCER. 

Come, join hands. I'm an old soldier. 

BOX. 

You are. 

BOUNCER. 

I've stolen a march upon you. 

COX. 

You have. 

BOUNCER. 

But forgive and forget. 

BOX. 

I'll forget you with pleasure, but forgive--oh! Penelope Anne!

COX. 

Well, I'll forgive you; but don't do it again. 

BOUNCER. 

I promise. 

PENELOPE. 

So do I. 

BOX. 

Do you? Then there's my hand, and when I've got my Castle in Spain youshall come and stop with me. (_Aside_) I'll have old Bouncer up beforethe Inquisition. 

COX. 

And when I've got my Palazzo di Coxo at Venice, you shall always find aknife and fork at your service. (_Aside_) I'll take him out for a walkby a canal and upset him. 

 [_Enter WAITER with tray, which he puts down. Everything is placed ready for déjeûner à la fourchette. _

WAITER. 

Das Frühstuck ist fertische. 

 (_Applause. _)

ALL. 

Eh?

WAITER. 

Break-a-fast. 

 [_They sit. _

BOX. 

Permit me--

COX. 

And me--

BOX. 

To propose--

COX. 

The health--

BOTH. 

Of the Happy Pair. Major and Mrs. Bouncer. Hip! hip! hip! Hurrah!

BOX (_singing_). 

It's a way we have in the army. 

 [_They all join in chorus. _

SOLOS AND CHORUS. 

("_Ha, ha!_" "_Les Dames de la Halle. _")

BOX. 

 I drink the health of Madame Bouncer, And of the Major Bouncer, too!

SOPRANO ET TENOR. 

 Too too too too too too too!

BASSI. 

 Too too too too too too too!

COX. 

 Of his foes he is a trouncer, Equal to any Horse Guard Blue. 

ALL. 

 Blue, &c. (_as before_). 

BOX. 

 All our jealousy we smother From this happy bridal day. 

COX. 

 We'll embrace him like a brother

BOX. 

 And a sister--if I may!

PENELOPE ANNE. 

Ah!

BOX AND COX (_together_). 

 Viva, Viva Rataplan! Oh! Rataplan Penelope Anne, Oh! Rataplan Penelope-ĕlŏpĕ Anne, Anne, Anne!

CHORUS (_including the WAITER, all at table standing up, glasses in handconvivially_). 

 Viva, viva Rataplan! Oh! Rataplan Penelope Anne! Oh! Rataplan Penelope-ĕlŏpĕ Anne, Anne, Anne!

 Tableau. --_BOUNCER on chair, with dish-cover and carving-knife. WAITER at side, waving napkin. PENELOPE between COX and BOX in centre. _

 _Curtain descends. _

 [Illustration: "AUTHOR! AUTHOR!"]

CHAPTER XXIII. 

AFTER THE PERFORMANCE, CONVERSATION COMMENCES. 

"Your wife played charmingly, Mr. Frimmely. "

Mr. Frimmely smiles, and tries to look as if the merit of her acting wasdue entirely to his instruction. 

_Madame Regniati. _ I don't suppose you chose her dress for her. 

_Mr. Orby Frimmely_ (_still as if he HAD done so, but allowed her thecredit of it_). No, no; Mrs. Frimmely has a great taste for theatricals. 

_Miss Adelaide Cherton_ (_to Miss Medford_). Oh, I am sure we ought tobe so much obliged to you for playing. 

_Miss Ada. _ Oh, it was so good. I really wonder how you could manage toaccompany them as you did. 

_Miss Medford_ (_quite unaffectedly_). I am so glad I was able to do it, as I've only been accustomed to play to my brother's singing, that iswhen he doesn't do it himself. 

_The Signor_ (_delighted_). Oh, my Jo! I 'ave not laugh so much for along time. 

_Milburd_ (_who has put on evening dress and joined us, is evidentlyimmensely pleased_. ) No! (_Diffidently. _) It seemed to go very well. 

_Mrs. Frampton_ (_a middle-aged lady, coming up to him_). I really_must_ congratulate you, Mr. Milburd. I'm a great play-goer, and Ihaven't seen anything at any one of the London theatres equal to it. Youreally ought to produce it in Town. 

_Milburd_ (_foreseeing an extinguisher over Shakespeare_). Do you thinkit good enough?

_Mrs. Frampton. _ Good enough!--why--I was only saying to mydaughter--(Julia--Mr. Milburd (_introduction_))--wasn't I, Julia?

_Julia_ (_rather stupidly, but still exhibiting caution_). What, mamma?

_Mrs. Frampton. _ Why about Mr. Milburd's capital little farce. 

_Julia_ (_easily taking up her cue_). Oh, yes! (_ecstatically. _) I was_so_ delighted--and where _did_ you get that wonderful dress?

_Milburd_ (_carelessly_). Oh, I got it at the costumier's. I had it foranother part some time ago. 

_Jovial Stout Gentleman_ (_refreshing himself, and seeing CaptainByrton_). Hallo! Old Bouncer. By Jove! Capital, sir! Capital!

_Byrton_ (_much pleased_). Did you know me when I came on?

_Jovial Stout Person. _ Know you? Ha! ha! (_Skilfully evading thequestion, and pretending to quote. _) "Rataplan, Ratalan!"--eh? Ha! ha!

 [_They drink. _

Mrs. Orby Frimmely appears, gentlemen and ladies crowd about her. 

"Oh, charming! Such an admirable costume. You really must let me have asketch of it. "

_Mr. Muntson_ (_an Elderly Beau, with a literary-club reputation_). Mydear Mrs. Frimmely, I've been saying to your husband, that the stage haspositively suffered a loss in your not being . . . As they say . . . On theboards. 

_Mrs. Orby Frimmely_ (_thinks that _his_ opinion, at all events, isworth having, and says_) I'm so glad you liked it. 

_Mr. Muntson_ (_sees that he has created a most favourable impressionand continues_). It was delightful. All the vivacity of the Frenchstage--of course you know the French stage well?--(_Mrs. Frimmely nods. She has seen Schneider in "La Grande Duchesse, " and takes in a Frenchillustrated paper_)--You have--you know the expression--_vous avez duchic_. (_Mrs. Frimmely makes a little curtsey. Elderly Mr. Muntsonthinks that Mr. Frimmely is quite out of the race now that he has steptin. He goes on. _) We have no actresses now--and if you went on to thestage it would simply be a triumph. 

_Mrs. Frimmely_ (_gradually becoming convinced as to what _her_ vocationin life certainly ought to be_). But this little part I played to-night. . . It is nothing . . . You can't judge from that. 

_Muntson. _ I can, perfectly. I have seen--let me see--I recollect Mrs. Humby and . . . 

 [_Here he begins to be tedious. Mrs. Frimmely wants to talk about herself, not about other people. She welcomes Boodels. _

_Boodels. _ We have to thank you--most sincerely--for the great treatyou've given us. 

_Mr. Muntson. _ I've just been saying that it reminded me--

 [_Begins an anecdote. _

_Medford_ (_in a corner with Myself; he gives me his private opinion_). The piece would never have gone down without the music. 

_Myself_ (_rather pooh-poohing it all_). No . . . Of course not. 

Having neither acted nor appeared in any way, except as representativehost to do the honours, which, I find, did themselves easily, I am alittle bitter. Nobody knew exactly who I was, nor seemed to take anyinterest in me at all, except old Mrs. Frampton, who thought I was awaiter, and asked me to order her carriage punctually. 

_Medford. _ Milburd is _so_ obstinate. You know at first he wouldn'tintroduce those tunes. 

_Myself. _ (_Who want to go and talk to Ada Cherton. _) Wouldn't he?

_Medford. _ No. (_With the air of a genuine critic. _) Milburd couldn'ttouch Cox. Not his line at all. Between ourselves, Chilvern was best asthe Waiter. 

_Myself_ (_decidedly_). Oh, a long way. (_This is because he was anunimportant character comparatively. With very little to do, that littlehe did as if it wasn't in a play at all, but merely a bit of fun withthe audience. _)

_Cazell_ (_who is enthusiastic about theatricals after his performanceof Don Boxos, --comes up to Medford_). I say! I tell you what we ought todo. We ought to get up a good big piece for all of us. (_He sees himselfin some particular character. _)

_Medford. _ Yes (_reflectively_), we might easily do--let me see--there'sthe _Game of Speculation_. 

_Myself. _ Ah, yes! I remember. Charles Mathews played in it (_I add as ahit at Medford_) admirably; and (_to crush him with a final blow_)inimitably!

_Medford_ (_tolerantly_). Yes . . . Charley (_he never met this excellentcomedian, of course; but this is Medford all over_) has got some good"business" in the piece . . . But (_diffidently_) I think I make somepoints which would rather astonish him. For instance, when, &c. &c. 

 [_Here Medford begins telling us how he is far in advance of every professional actor. Luckily the Signor comes up, and changes the conversation. After a few minutes, Medford shows the Signor his conjuring-trick of the shilling in the glass. _

_The Signor_ (_entering the drawing-room_). O! my Jo! (_Everyone turnsexpecting to hear some startling intelligence. Quite unaware of theexcitement he has caused, the Signor continues in his usual highkey--appealing to everyone. _) O! have you seen de leet-tel shillings, and (_smiling all over his face_) ze glass; eet ees so clev-ver(_without a pause_), I nev-ver see so clev-ver ting-in my-life!

_Madame_ (_severely_). What _are_ you talking about, Mr. Regniati?

_The Signor. _ O, my dear, eet ess Mees-ter-Med-for; he ees so clev-ver!he put ze shillings in ze glass, an' zen he go avays. 

_Milburd. _ Do it, Medford. 

_Medford_ (_his chance at last--modestly_). Oh, it's nothing. I dare saymost of you have seen it. I'll do it, with pleasure. Will anybody lendme a shilling?

_The Signor_ (_delighted, exclaiming to everyone_). O, eet ees soclev-ver! Dat leet-tel Medfor', he ees so clev-ver!

(_Dat leet-tel Med-for' is half a head, at least, taller than theSignor. _)

_Medford_ (_refusing a coin from Boodels_). No. I must ask the ladies. Will any lady here, lend me a shilling?

_Enter our Butler. _

_Our Butler. _ Sir Thomas Bobyns's carriage. 

_Lady Bobyns_ (_to Boodels. She ought to address _me_, as president, butshe doesn't_). We really must be going; we've got ten miles to drive, you know; enjoyed themselves _so_ much, &c, &c. 

 [Illustration: LADY BOBYNS. ]

General disturbance in consequence of Lady Bobyns being an uncommonlyfine woman, and not to be moved without a considerable amount of rustle. 

The party now leaving, consists of Sir Thomas Bobyns, Lady Bobyns, andMiss Bobyns. Milburd and Cazell are most assiduous in their attentionsto Miss Bobyns, in order that she may be '_quite warm_' before shestarts. 

 [Illustration: MISS BOBYNS. ]

There is also a considerable amount of delay, in the hall, consequentupon the ceremony of packing up Sir Thomas for his long journey--amelancholy phrase--and Lady Bobyns' great fear lest her husband shouldtake cold. 

Sir Thomas looks something between the diver at the Polytechnic in hisarmour, an Esquimaux, an old Watchman, and a monk. 

Here is the result. 

 [Illustration: SIR THOMAS. ]

They have gone. But other carriages are waiting at the door, and thereis a general move. As the last person departs, we see Medford standingat a table in the drawing-room, with a tumbler and a shilling. 

 [Illustration: MEDFORD'S SONG AND SENTIMENT. ]

CHAPTER XXIV. 

CHILVERN'S BALLAD--THE MORAL. 

Chilvern has got a Ballad which Medford sets to music. It is illustratedby tableaux vivants, performed by Miss Adelaide Cherton, Cazell, andMilburd. 

 [Illustration: CORPORAL TIM AND FAIR MOLLY. ]

 "Farewell, " cries Corporal Tim. "Farewell, " said Molly, to him; "You're going, " says she, "I'm going, " says he, "To fight in Tartary Crim. " (_Sadly. _) "To fight in Tartary Crim!"

 "I see, " sobs Corporal Tim, "You're eyes with weeping are dim. " "No, no, " says she, "Don't stop for me, But go to Tartary Crim. " (_More sadly. _) "Oh! go to Tartary Crim!"

 "One word, " says Corporal Tim; "I have a young friend called Jim, He'll act to you, Like a brother would do, While I'm in Tartary Crim. " (_Most sadly. _) "While you're in Tartary Crim. "

 "The ship is off!" cried Tim. He raised his hat by the brim; He waved it about, While she sobbed out, "He's off to Tartary Crim. " (_Frantically. _) "He's off to Tartary Crim. "

 [Illustration]

 Now this young man called Jim, Was strong and not too slim; He was a tar, On a man-of-war, Arrived from Tartary Crim. (_Cheerfully. _) Arrived from Tartary Crim. 

 Now this young man called Jim, He took a holiday whim; Says he, to Molly, "Oh, let's be jolly, While _he's_ in Tartary Crim. " (_Jovially. _) "While he's in Tartary Crim. "

 [Illustration]

 One day, said Jovial Jim, "I've got some news of Tim; His ship, three-decked, Was smashed and wrecked, On leaving Tartary Crim. " (_Dubiously. _) "On leaving Tartary Crim. "

 "He's drowned! poor Corporal Tim!" Then Molly sang a hymn. "Now, Jim, " says she, "You'll marry me, And bother Tartary Crim. " (_Decidedly. _) "And bother Tartary Crim. "

 One night at home with Jim, Appeared a figure grim. Cries she, "'Tis T----!" "It is, " says he; "I've come from Tartary Crim. " (_Spectrally. _) "I've come from Tartary Crim. "

 "You didn't think, " says Tim, "That corporals could swim But ghosts know how To swim--I'm now-- (_Spectrally. _) My ghost!--from Tartary Crim. "

 And then they saw that Tim Had fins on every limb; His feet went squish-- Cries Jim, "I wish I was in Tartary Crim. " (_Excitedly. _) "Away to Tartary Crim!"

 He took a jump, did Jim, Right on to a vessel's rim; She made a tack, And he never came back, To her or Tartary Crim. (_With certainty. _) To her or Tartary Crim. 

 The ghost of Corporal Tim Took Molly away with him, And plunged in the sea, And there they be, Two ghosts in Tartary Crim. 

MORAL (_sung by the ghost of MOLLY_). 

 "Oh, when you hear that Tim Is drowned, don't marry Jim, Or else, like me, You'll have to be A ghost in Tartary Crim. "

 [Illustration]

CHAPTER XXV. 

 IN AND OUT. --BEFORE THE FIRE. --MEDITATIONS. --SURPRISES. --HAPPY THOUGHTS. --AWAKENINGS. --SLUMBERS. --BELL-PULLS. --BOOTS. --VALET. DIFFICULTIES. --MRS. REGNIATI. --WHAT'S ON THE TAPIS?--MATCH-MAKING. --CUPID. 

 [Illustration]

Captain Byrton is out hunting. The Signor and Milburd are out shooting. Mrs. Frimmely is out walking with Medford and Cazell. Miss AdelaideCherton and her sister are in the garden with Chilvern and Boodels. MissMedford is trying some new music. Madame is seated by the drawing-roomfire, engaged upon some mysterious wool-work, which may eventuate in acigar-case, slippers, a banner fire-screen, or a pair of fancy-pattern'dbraces for the Signor. Jenkyns Soames is supposed to be in his roomwriting something on "Numbers, " but whether in refutation of Dr. Colenso's later Pentateuchical views, or in support of his earlierArithmetical treatises, nobody has inquired, and nobody, particularly, cares. 

I am engaged very busily in thinking. It occurs to me that I will joinMiss Medford in the morning-room. There are some days when one finds itvery difficult to immediately follow thoughts with action. On suchoccasions time doesn't fly, but slides noiselessly down an inclinedplane, and one is in a state of perpetual surprise. 

_Surprise the first. _--You wake and are surprised to find it so early. 

_Happy Thought. _--Go to sleep again. 

You turn round, snuggle down, and snooze. A mere snooze until they callyou. It being their duty to call you, let 'em do it manfully, and you'lldo yours. 

_Second Surprise. _--To awake again. Later than you had expected. Mustget up. 

_Happy Thought. _--No use getting up, though, until you've been properlycalled, and the hot water's there. Besides, you'll be the only one down. Employ the time, until the servant comes, in _thinking_. Think whatyou'll do to-day. Think what you'll do first. Put things in order inyour mind, then when you get up you'll only have to do them one afterthe other, and there you are--or there you will be. Excellent plan, this. These arrangements being satisfactorily made mentally, yousuddenly find yourself very warm, and then very wakeful, so much so thatit is a

_Third Surprise_--on looking at your watch again--to find that it's anhour since you last consulted it. Odd. You _must_ have been to sleepagain. Very odd. And "it's too bad of them;" (of course) they've nevercalled you. 

_Happy Thought. _--Ring the bell for some one to come and call me. 

If the bell is by the bed, this is simple. If it isn't, certainarrangements are as necessary as if you were going to make a journey. Inquiries, as it were, concerning the route from the bed to thebell-pull have to be made. This ascertained, and the exact line you haveto travel being now clear before you, it is evident that you cannot beso venturesome as to attempt the excursion without your slippers anddressing-gown. 

Here commence manœuvres to obtain both articles, while incurring thesmallest possible danger of catching the slightest possible cold, orchill. 

Then after a series of gymnastic efforts, during which you have nearlybegun your day out of bed on your head, you are successful. It is thenrequisite to pause and take breath. This cessation of energy affords anopportunity for the servant to appear with your hot water, without yourinconveniencing yourself any further. 

However he doesn't come, and so you get out. Here the freshening breezewhich blows over the threshold, under the door, and across the carpet, causes you, for one second, to hesitate, and then foreseeing that thelonger you stop out, _en deshabille_, the worse it would be, you takeprecautions for the future, inspired by a

_Happy Thought. _--"Cover the bed up carefully, so that it will be warmwhen I come back again. " Aha! Then to the bell-pull. 

_Fourth Surprise. _--Odd. You had never noticed before, that this, whichyou thought was the bell-rope, is nothing of the sort; being a cordattached to the old-fashioned catch on the door, and originally hungwithin reach of the bed, which was of course in exactly the oppositeposition to where it is now. Where _is_ the bell? You cannot see therope anywhere. Bother. 

_Happy Thought. _--To trace the wire running round the room at the top. 

You _do_ trace it. It goes out at a hole and disappears. Trace it backagain. It goes all round, and as there is no sign of a bell-rope, thisarticle must be behind the bed. 

It is. Struggle with heavy bedstead. Dust. There at last is thebell-rope. You pull it. You pull it again. You hear it ring. This issatisfactory. 

_Happy Thought. _--Get into bed again. Do so. Warm. Arrange mentally forreprimanding the servant severely. Such a waste of time. Here you havebeen awake since, goodness knows when, and no hot water, no clothes, nothing! And you may add, you put 'em outside the door so carefully lastnight, _on purpose_ that they shouldn't be forgotten. 

Knock at door. "Come in. " Door shaken. 

_Fifth Surprise. _--Why doesn't he come in?----Door shaken again. Angrily, "Come in!"

Answer from outside, like the voice in a ventriloquist's entertainment, "I can't come in, sir; the door's locked. "

_Yourself_ (in bed). --"No, it isn't. Push it. "

Answer from without, as before, "No, sir, you've let down the latch. Ifyou pull the string, I can come in. "

Nuisance. Out of bed again. Pull up latch-string. Into bed again. Lesswarm now. 

_Yourself_ (_or myself, severely, from bed_). --"You didn't call me thismorning. And where are my things?"

_Valet. _--"They've been standing houtside, sir, this 'our and a 'arf. Iknocked twice, sir, but the latch was down, and so I couldn't get in. 'Ot water, sir, 's cold as hice. Better bring you some fresh. "

 [_Exit. _

There's still an entr'acte between his bringing the hot water and mygetting up. 

_Happy Thought. _--Well, I dare say it's all the better for me that I'veoverslept myself a little this morning. If Nature sleeps, depend upon itNature knows what she's about. 

 * * * * *

This is in fact how it has happened that all the others, except thethree mentioned, are out of doors. They've breakfasted hours ago. Ihaven't. 

 * * * * *

Madame Regniati puts down her work, looks towards the window, throughwhich we can see the garden-party, and then refers to me inquisitively. Presently she asks mysteriously, "Do you see anything going on here?"

I can't help returning with, "Here, Madame Regniati! where?"

"Oh, " she replies, in her short way, "_you_ see it, I know you do. EvenMr. Regniati has noticed it to me. For my part, " she adds, rubbing hernose with the tip of a long knitting-pin, "I think it's a case. "

I begin to understand. 

"Miss Adelaide----" I venture. 

 [Illustration]

"Yes. And with whom, eh?" she asks, with her head a little on one side, and her thin lips compressed, as if she had got the information on thetip of her tongue, and was preventing its escape by sheer force. 

"Well, " I begin, thinking to myself it's very odd I haven't noticed it, "well, I should say"--really, I shouldn't say anything. 

Madame nods at me. "Come, " she says; "I know you've got penetration. You're an observer of character. You're a thinker. My nephew has told meyou're writing a philosophical work. Now, I want you to lend me yoursagacity, and confirm my suspicions. "

_Happy Thought. _--Look sagacious. Smile in deprecation of too muchsagacity. I feel that, being right as far as mentioning Miss Adelaidegoes, my next guess will probably be wrong. Risk it. 

I say, "Miss Adelaide and Cazell, eh?" (They are walking together. )

Madame shakes her head. I have gone down in her estimation, evidently. 

_Happy Thought. _--To assume my own penetration. Say to Madame, "Ah, well, you'll see"--meaning, you'll find I'm right and you're wrong. 

"No, no, " she replies. "Mr. Cazell and Miss Bella, Mr. Chilvern and MissAdelaide. "

"H'm, " I say, dubiously. Madame Regniati, classical, lover of high artas she is, is, when occasion offers, is simply a match-maker. I believeit's a feminine instinct. 

"They've both got money, " she adds. She has summed it all up, andarranged it. 

 [Illustration]

CHAPTER XXVI. 

 AT DINNER. --WEIGHT. --WATCHING. --JOKES. --PROTEST. --AWKWARD SITUATION. --AN ANNOUNCEMENT. --INQUIRY. --ARRIVAL. --PRACTICAL JOKES. 

 [Illustration]

This weighs on my mind. I can't help looking from one to the other--fromChilvern to Miss Adelaide, from Miss Bella to Cazell. 

Milburd is more attentive to the latter than Chilvern, who seems to meto be making up to Miss Medford, if to anyone; while Byrton sits nextto Miss Bella at dinner, and monopolizes her entirely. 

Sly things _are_ passing; I notice _that_. As President, I have to sitat the head of the table, and can't join in any of the fun. They havegot a joke among them that I can't make out. The joke flies about, likean invisible shuttlecock, between Cazell, Miss Adelaide, Chilvern, MissBella, and Byrton. 

Jenkyns Soames sits on my right, and _will_ talk arithmetic and scienceto me. 

The Medfords and the Frimmelys make another joke-party as it were, and Icannot understand what's going on. 

_Happy Thought. _--Look as if I did. Smile, nod, say "I know. " Milburdasks, almost rudely, "_Do_ you? What is it?" As I don't, I merely smileagain, and say "Yes" to Jenkyns Soames, who is giving me his reasons forsupposing, by calculation, that vegetables have had a pre-adamiteexistence, and that even a turnip may have a glorious future before it, when man has disappeared from the face of the earth. 

[I shall protest against my term of office being protracted beyond thefive weeks, after Christmas, that I undertook to stop here. Three haveexpired. I begin to hate Jenkyns Soames. ]

A servant brings in a card for Mr. Milburd. 

 +------------------+ | Baron Booteljak. | +------------------+

"By Jove!" exclaims Milburd, "I _am_ so glad. That's capital. "

Everyone puzzled. 

_The Signor_ (_after reading the card_). --"O! eet ees a fonny name. Inev-ver 'ear soch an-name-bef-fore. Deeek! eet ees your non-sense. "

Milburd returns. He has shown the new guest to his room. He will join usdirectly. He explains that sending in his card "Baron Booteljak" is "hisfun. " "Such an amusing chap, " says Milburd; "he has cards of all sortsof names, printed to leave on his friends, and puzzle 'em. He tells methat he's brought down a box of practical jokes with him, all labelled, numbered, and ready for use. "

This intelligence is not received with that warmth which Milburdevidently had thought it would have elicited. 

Further discussion is stopped by the entrance of

 [Illustration: JIMMY LAYDER. ]

CHAPTER XXVII. 

 FIFTH WEEK--DIFFICULTIES--HINTS--BOODELS' SECRET--ARRIVAL OF JIMMY LAYDER--A CHANGE--PRACTICAL JOKES--PLAYING THE FOOL--DRESSING UP-- MORE JOKES--CHEMICAL LECTURE--EXPERIMENTS--RESULTS--OPEN WINDOWS-- COLDS--DEPARTURES--SMALL BY DEGREES--BEAUTIFULLY LESS--THE SHILLING AND THE TUMBLER--BOODELS' LAST--TWO'S COMPANY--CONCLUSION. 

_Note. _ Fifth week of our being here. 

Very happy generally, Miss Medford remarkably nice. Misses Adelaide andBella are always out with Cazell, Milburd and Chilvern. We've givenJenkyns Soames several hints to go. He won't. 

If I wasn't President--I should like to--but Byrton's always out withMiss Medford. I wonder that a girl with brains, as she evidently has, can be taken by a fellow, who really seems to think of nothing butriding, driving, and--

"_Her_, " says Boodels, to whom I utter secretly my complaint. I admitthe truth of this. Boodels informs me that he's going to be married. Icongratulate him. When? When his house is done up. Do I know the lady?Yes. Anyone here?--Ah, he won't say, and begs me to consider thiscommunication strictly confidential. 

Jimmy Layder is becoming a nuisance. He is perpetually practicallyjoking. Once and away it's very good fun--when he performs on somebodyelse, not me. He comes down-stairs quietly (this is one of his favouritetricks--so stupid, too!) and slaps you on the back suddenly, immediatelyafterwards begging your pardon, and explaining that he mistook you forsomebody else. 

Then the second day he was here, he changed all the boots. The third dayI could not find a single thing in its place when I went to dress in ahurry. On my complaining to him, he pretends to be the Clown in thePantomime (whom he emulates in everything--and really, most dangerously, with a genuine hot poker--so childish, and worse), and putting his handon his heart he declares "on his honour he didn't do it. " I know, that, when I turn, he sets them all (Miss Medford, too) laughing by makingsome grotesque face, and, if I face about suddenly, he is staring atnothing on the ceiling, or pretending to catch a fly. He puts orangesin boots, spoons and corkscrews in people's pockets--generally mine--andhas an irritating trick of calling out "Hi!" and beckoning; then, whenyou come, he asks you what you want?

_Happy Thought. _--To speak to him quietly, alone. He listens. He ownsthat his exuberance of animal spirits often leads him away. [HappyThought. --Wish they'd take him away altogether. ] He says he thinks it'sowing to the bracing air; adding, that I take a joke so well, he is sureI shan't be angry. I tell him that I don't speak _on my own account_, but for the sake of others. He promises he will be quiet and serious. 

At night he keeps his word by coming down dressed like the proverbialmethodist Mawworm. An enormous white tie, doubled. His hair combed sadlystraight. A high black waistcoat, his trousers shortened, whitestockings and shoes. 

They encourage him by laughing. He addresses everyone as "My ChristianBrother, " or "Sister, " and informs them that the Head of theEstablishment has requested him to be serious. 

He insists upon a serious evening, and tells us that Mr. Jenkyns Soameshas consented to give a Chemical Lecture "with, " he adds impressively, "experiments. "

It appears that Layder and Milburd have undertaken to assist theProfessor. 

After dinner, Layder announces that he has an entertainment to commencewith. He takes me on one side. We go into the library, which he hasprepared as a sort of dressing-room. 

_Happy Thought. _--Humour him, and then he'll play practical jokes onsomebody else--not me. 

He says, "Look here, you and I will dress up, and be the lecturer'sservants. " Very harmless and funny, seeing that the dresses (which hehas brought with him) are a mantle spangled, two or three pairs oftights and Cavalier boots, and a cocked hat. He says he's got a charade, and Milburd will dress up too, and we'll have it before the Lecture. 

He offers to do my face for me; and does it at once with burnt cork, redand white. 

Then he goes to dress. 

I am alone. It is a good idea enlisting under, as it were, his banner, then he won't annoy _me_. The fire's out here, and changing my dress atthis time has made me cold. 

_Meditations by myself when in a costume something between a navalofficer, a Spanish grandee, and Richard the Third. _--What _can_ be thefun of dressing up? It is so much more comfortable in your own things. And a charade's a bore. At least, it bores the audience, I'm sure. Andif there are people acting who say all sorts of nonsense, and doanything, there's no art in it. . . Nine o'clock. I wish he'd brought alonger candle, and would be quicker in dressing. He's gone to his ownroom, perhaps, to dress, or is arranging the performance. . . . . . . . It's amelancholy thing to be in these clothes. I wonder if they were made forsome great actor, or whether they were once the real thing? No, that'simpossible. . . . . I wish Miss Medford was going to take a part--perhapsshe is. . . . Unless that's her touch on the piano. The overtureprobably. . . . . It's so cold in here, I must walk about. . . . . The candle isburning down. 

_Happy Thought. _--Ring and ask for another candle, and for Mr. Layder. 

Maid servant enters . . . Gives a shriek and a start, and then--poorgirl!. . . . Faints. 

There is no water at hand. . . . 

I don't like to touch her. 

I've got an idea that people in that state bite, scratch, and kick, iftouched. 

_Happy Thought. _--Let ill alone. 

I ring violently. 

Enter Butler. Fortunately Madame Regniati's maid passes, with salts. The girl recovers consciousness. She revives and says I frightened her. I ask the butler to look for Mr. Layder. 

Butler thinks they're all in the theatre-room hearing some lecture. 10o'clock. 

I wait a quarter of an hour. 

It's too bad. I'll take these stupid things off. 

Enter Boodels. "Hallo!" he cries. "What on earth are you got up likethis for?"

I say, testily, "I don't know. "

Boodels continues. "Miss Cherton's maid 's been complaining, and saysyou've been playing tricks on her. Come! _Do_ take off those things. "

_Do!_ I don't want pressing. I have been for an hour and a half dressedup here, with my face painted like a Red Indian, and as cold as ice. 

Layder enters. "Oh, my dear fellow, a thousand pardons. I quite forgotyou were here; and we suddenly--I mean the ladies, suddenly altered theprogramme and wanted me to sing and do some nonsense, so I could notrefuse. "

_Happy Thought. _--(I'll vote against his invitation being renewed afterthis week). Say nothing. 

I find that Jenkyns Soames, induced to put on a sort of Conjuror'sdress, has been waiting to deliver his lecture the same time that Ihave; he is equally cold, but not cross, as he anticipates being a meansof instruction to the party. 

 [Illustration]

Milburd and Layder have arranged the Professor's glass bottles, glassjars, retorts, and all the other articles requisite for a ChemicalLecture. 

He informs us, that, owing to his friend Mr. Layder's kindness, and tothe accident of his having brought with him a few chemicals, he (theProfessor) will be enabled to give us an amusing and instructivediscourse. 

"With experiments, " adds Layder gravely, from his seat. 

_Happy Thought. _--Get as far away from the lecturer as possible. Nearthe door. 

The ladies being nervous, are re-assured by Milburd and Layder, who say(in answer to Madame Regniati, ) that, "there is to be no firing, " andfurther, that "there is no experiment on the table which can _hurt theaudience_. " This latter observation is added _sotto voce_, and isevidently not intended for the Professor's ears. 

Jenkyns Soames commences he says with Hydrogen. (_Hear! hear!_ fromMilburd and Layder. )

"Hydrogen, " he goes on, "is a most powerful refractor. "

"O my Jo!" exclaims the Signor in the front row, which he evidentlythinks is too near. "It vill go off, and 'urt some-bod-dy. "

The Professor informs him, that Hydrogen mixed with Atmospheric air, inthe proportion of two to five, will explode; but he does not mean toexhibit this peculiarity of Hydrogen. He shows us how the lime-light isobtained, and requests that the room may be darkened. Milburd andLayder, turn down the gas, and remove the candles. 

This is done too suddenly for the Professor, who has some trouble infinding the right materials in the dark. 

At last he has them. "I will now, " he says, "show you the lime-light. Alight of such steadiness and intensity, that it appears to us quiteblinding in its power. "

The immediate result is a fizz, a spark, and then we are in totaldarkness once more. The Professor tries again, another fizz, no spark. 

Madame Regniati begs that the lights may be restored, and asks him totry something else. 

Apologising for the lime-light (I see Milburd and Layder exchangingwinks). The Professor passes on to Oxygen. 

He shows us a jar of Oxygen. Experiments with an incandescent piece ofwood. (_Applause. _)

Another with phosphorus, and another with charcoal. (_Great applause, and nothing having happened, we feel ourselves in comparative safety. Madame observes, that she doesn't like anybody playing with fire. _)

His next theme is "Inexplosive Gases. "

_Professor. _--I will now proceed to mix two colourless bodies which, explosive in themselves, neutralize each other's qualities oncombination. You will observe that the same process is used in pouringone gas out of one jar into another, as in pouring water, and it isequally harmless. Here, for instance, is an empty jar, and here is aglass jar full of water. I wish to pour the water from the glass jarinto the earthen one. (_Hear, hear!_ from Milburd. ) I proceed to do so, and can assure you that the experiment with the gases, is not moreharmless and simple than this, with the water. 

He pours the water out of the glass jar into the earthenware one. In onesecond follows a series of sharp reports from inside the jar, whichseems suddenly to have become filled with highly combustible crackers. The Professor drops the jar as if he had burnt his fingers, and thecracking and popping go on inside. Ladies rise frightened. Laydersuddenly addresses them:

"There's no sort of danger, " he says; "the jar won't burst. I dropped anexplosive pellet into it some time ago, and it hasn't been taken out, that's all. The explosive pellets, " he adds, modestly, "are my owninvention, and chemically prepared, only to burn in water. "

The cracking has ceased. Layder goes out, ostensibly to see if he canprocure another jar. 

In his absence the ladies observe that the 'cracking thing, ' whatever itwas, has left a nasty smell in the room. 

The Professor, with a smile, thinks that he can obviate thisunpleasantness. He has come across a fluid among the chemicals labelled"_Parfum du Paradis_. " The direction upon it is simply, "_Pour it outinto a saucer, and everyone will be delighted at the refreshing anddelicious odour which will instantaneously pervade even the largestapartment. _"

The Professor, after uncorking and putting his nose to it, pronounceshis opinion that the liquid is inodorous, and must have been kept toolong in bottle. 

"However, " says he, "I will follow the direction. "

Forthwith he pours it out. 

The next minute we are all cramming our handkerchiefs to our faces, andmaking for the door. 

"Open the windows!" cries Medford, in a fit of coughing. 

"O my"--cough--"Jo!" exclaims the Signor. "I shall be, "--cough andsneeze, "so ill, "--cough, "eet ees in my nose. "

 [Illustration: "BUST UP. "]

As for the Professor, being just over the horrible compound, he hasnearly fainted. 

 * * * * *

The room is cleared. 

Servants sent to open windows. Sneezing, coughing, and a suffocating, nauseating sensation, experienced by everyone except Layder, who nowenters the drawing-room with a jar. 

_Happy Thought. _--To speak with an air of authority as President, andtell him that it is really too bad of him to carry such a liquid about. He exculpates himself by saying that the Professor didn't know how touse it, and that he oughtn't to have taken the things out of hisPractical Joke Box. 

"His _what_ box?" we ask. 

"My practical joke box, " he replies, quite calmly. "I've got a box fullof practical jokes in chemicals. They're very amusing, " he adds, "ifused properly. "

The horrid smell is gradually spreading itself throughout the lower partof the house. It is stealing into the drawing-room, it is getting intothe morning-room, into the hall, into the passages. 

"You can't get rid of it, " Layder informs us, "for two or three days. But it's first-rate for killing all insects. "

There is, we find, only one room in the house which the nuisance has notreached. The smoking-room. Here we all congregate. Everybody glum. Windows all over the place open. 

 * * * * *

Next morning. 

_Happy Thought. _--Layder gone. Early. 

He leaves us a note bequeathing us his box of Practical Jokes, and apaper of 'directions for use, ' with 'hints for further practical jokes, being jottings for a manual with a practical joke for every day in theyear. '

In consequence of the draughts last night, everyone has caught violentcolds. 

The Chertons won't leave their room. Madame Regniati doesn't come downuntil dinner. Mr. And Mrs. Frimmely pretend to have received a telegram, and say they must go to-morrow. Miss Medford accompanies them; herbrother stays. 

The Signor suddenly remembers that he must proceed to his leet-telshoot-box at Bodge-bee. 

Jenkyns Soames writes me a letter from his bedroom, commencing "Sir, "and, considering himself insulted, leaves without saying good-bye toanybody. 

 * * * * *

Committee meeting. Complaints. Examination of accounts. Row inconsequence. Amount divided into shares. Chilvern says he's sorry he'sleft his cheque-book in town. 

_Happy Thought. _--Write it on a piece of paper or telegraph for it. 

Chilvern genially says he's going up to town to-morrow, and will get itthen. Will I pay for him now?

Cazell says to me, "I tell you what you ought to do as President. Youought to draw one cheque for the whole expenses, and we'll pay you back. That's the most simple way of doing it. "

Put to the vote and the plan carried, with a minority of one (myself). 

 * * * * *

The party gradually broken up. This evening Adelaide Cherton and Madameappear with apologies for leaving us soon after dinner. The smell notnearly evaporated. Byrton and Milburd are gone to join the Signor forsome sport. Medford offers to show us his trick with a shilling, andMilburd, being asked to sing, refuses. Boodels (who is melancholy, andin love), asks Medford to play a tune, but Medford says he'd rather not, because nobody will attend to his trick with a shilling, whereuponChilvern sits down to what he calls "try something" on the piano. Whathe _does_ try is our temper. Gradually we leave the room and meet tosmoke. 

 * * * * *

_Next Morning. _ Violent cold. 

_Happy Thought. _--Stay in bed. 

When I come down-stairs at one o'clock, I notice the desolate appearanceof the Hall. Hats, coats, rugs, sticks and whips, all gone. Nothinglying about. Letters on table--"Sorry you are not up--spent a verypleasant time, &c, " from Madame and the Chertons, with whom have alsodeparted Chilvern and Cazell. 

The only three in the house are Boodels, Medford, and myself. 

I say, genially, "Well, a little quiet will be pleasant. "

Boodels replies, "Yes, " and adds that he's going off this afternoon. Ipress him to stay. He won't, because, as he tells me privately, thatfellow Medford is so confoundedly insulting. They've had a row. 

Boodels _will_ go. He promises to write to me about his going to bemarried. At present I'm not to mention it. He takes the butler and cookwith him. He says he's very sorry but he'll want them at home now. 

The housemaid and charwoman officiate. 

No other servants in the house. 

Medford and I dine alone. 

Somebody's taken the keys away by mistake, and we have to break into thecellar to get out the wine. Very little left. 

As host or president, I must stop and attend to Medford who is ourguest. 

After dinner he says, "You heard me talking to Cazell about the shillingand the glass. " I did. I know what's coming, "It's a capital trick, " hegoes on; "I'll show it you. Look here. " He shows it me. I am not at allinterested. He offers to teach it me. Declined with thanks. He thenexplains it to me. 

_Happy Thought. _--Having done all this once, he'll never try it againwith me. 

Getting comfortable in the smoking-room. We commence talking over allour friends. The difficulty appears to consist in finding any goodqualities in them. Medford depreciates everybody, specially if they cando anything in music or theatricals. Getting more comfortable andconfidential, I tell Medford that Boodels is going to be married, butdoesn't want anyone to know it just yet. Medford says, "Pooh! Boodels isan ass. " Subject dropped. 

_Last Morning. _--Charwoman and housemaid hearing that I am going awaywith Medford, say they can't live alone in this big place. They'd befrightened. 

_Happy Thought. _--Opportunity to get rid of them. Do it. Send for oldwoman and her husband to keep house while we're all away. Intend toreturn in the spring, if the others agree, if not we shall sell or let

 HAPPY-THOUGHT HALL. 

 [Illustration: _HAPPY THOUGHT. _--RIGHT THROUGH THE BOOK. ]

[ Transcriber's Note:

 The following is a list of corrections made to the original. The first line is the original line, the second the corrected one. 

("Impossible, " interrupts Milburn, _sotto voce_. Our Philosophic("Impossible, " interrupts Milburd, _sotto voce_. Our Philosophic

when . . . " "Yes, " says Miss Bella, who quite undertands. (_Myselfwhen . . . " "Yes, " says Miss Bella, who quite understands. (_Myself

 [Illustration: "HOW DO YOU LIKE MY FIZZ] [Illustration: "HOW DO YOU LIKE MY FIZZ"]

"Yes, " says she, "that's very probable. " But when Mr. Jenkyns _went"Yes, " says she, "that's very probable. But when Mr. Jenkyns _went

Again the Signor was in esctasies. Again the Signor was in ecstasies. 

Cox must go. I don't think I feel as well as I didCox must go. I don't think I feel as well as I did. 

immensely pleased_. No! (_Diffidently. _) It seemed to go very well. Immensely pleased_. ) No! (_Diffidently. _) It seemed to go very well. 

 You'll marry me, "You'll marry me, _Second Surprise. _--To awake again. Later than you had had expected. Must_Second Surprise. _--To awake again. Later than you had expected. Must

]