"There," I said, "you've interrupted me again."
"Tut tut," said Francesca.
"And the dogs are barking," I said, "and the guinea-hens are squawking."
"I daresay," she said; "but you can't hear the guinea-hens; they're much
too far away."
"Yes, but I know they're squawking--they always are--and for a sensitive
highly-strung man it's the same thing."
"Tut-t----"
"Tut me no more of your tuts, Francesca," I said, "for I am engaged in a
most complicated and difficult arithmetical calculation."
"If," said Francesca deliberately, "two men in corduroys, with straps below
their knees, and a boy in flannel shorts, all working seven hours and a
half per day for a week, can plant five thousand potatoes on an acre of
land, how many girls in knickerbockers will be required to----"
"Stop, Francesca," I said, "or I shall go mad."
"If," she continued inexorably, "a train travelling at the rate of
sixty-two miles and three-quarters in an hour takes two and a half seconds
to pass a lame man walking in the same direction find how many men with one
arm each can board a motor-bus in Piccadilly Circus, having first extracted
the square root of the wheel-base."
"Stow it," I said.
"Isn't that rude?" she said.
"Yes," I said; "it was intended to be."
"Well, but what _are_ you doing?"
"I'm calculating rates of percentage on the new War Loan," I said.
"Why worry over that?" she said. "It announces itself as a five-per-center,
and I'm willing to take it at its word. What's your difficulty? Surely you
do not impute prevarication to the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER."
"No," I said, "far from it. I have the greatest possible respect for him.
I'm sure he would not deceive a poor investor; but he doesn't know my
difficulties. It's this getting £100 by paying only £95 that's knocking me
sideways; and then there's the income tax, and the other loan at four per
cent., on which no income tax is to be charged, and the conversion of the
old four-and-a-half per cent. War Loan, and of the various lots of
Exchequer Bonds. It's all as generous as it can be, but for a man whose
mathematical education has been, shall we say, defective, it's as bad as a
barbed-wire entanglement."
"Oh, don't muddle your unfortunate head any more. Just plank down your
money and take what they give you. That's my motto."
"No doubt," I said; "that's all very well for you. You aren't the head of
the household, with all its cares depending on you. Heads of households
ought-to know their exact position."
"Well, then, heads of households ought to have learnt their arithmetic
better and remembered more of it. The children and I haven't allowed
ourselves to be hindered by little obstacles of that kind."
"What," I said, "are you and the children in it too?"
"Yes, we're all in it. I've put in the spare money from the
housekeeping----"
"I always knew you got too much."
"And the children have chipped in with their savings."
"Savings?" I said. "How have they got any savings?"
"Presents from affectionate godmothers and aunts, which were put into the
Post Office Savings Bank. They're all out now and into the Loan--all, that
is, except Frederick's little all."
"And what's happened to that?"
"That's put into War Certificates. It was his own idea. He was fascinated
by the poster, and insisted that his money should go in the purchase of
cartridges, so there it is."
"And at the end of five years he'll get back £1 for every 15_s._ 6_d._ he's
put in."
"Yes, he'll get £5. He made a lot of difficulty about that."
"You don't mean to say he jibbed about getting his money back?"
"That's precisely what did happen. He said he'd _given_ the money for
cartridge buying, and how could he take it back with a bit extra after the
cartridges had been bought. He's really rather annoyed about it."
"I shall tell him," I said, "not to let it worry him, and shall explain to
him how much _per cent._ he's getting _per annum_."
"You'll have to work it out yourself first of all," she said, "and I know
you can't do that. And, by the way, you may as well be ready for him; he's
going to ask you if he may join the Army as a drummer-boy."
"What on earth's put that into his head?"
"He's been talking to the Sergeant-Major, and he's invented a musical
instrument of his own. It's made out of a cardboard box, some pins and two
or three elastic bands. There it is--you'll find its name inscribed on it."
I took it up and saw inscribed upon it in large pencilled letters this
strange device: "THE TIPINBANOLA; made for soldiers only."
"Francesca," I said, "it's a superb name. Where did he get it from?"
"Out of his head," she said.
"I wonder," I said, "if he keeps any arithmetic there?"
"Ask him; I'm sure he'd be proud to help you."
"No," I said, "I must plough my weary furrow alone."
"And the guinea-hens," she said, "are still squawking."
"Yes," I said, "isn't it awful?"
"I'll go and stop them," she said.
"It's no good," I said, "I shan't hear them stop."