A WEDDING.
At one time my proposed expedition seemed threatened with extinction,
for my family strongly objected to my running about the East End with
no more efficient protector than Belinda Ann—on a bank holiday too!
In vain I painted her character in glowing colours; in vain I cited
my hostess of the club as an authority that I should come to no harm.
The family were obdurate. Either I must find someone to go with me who
could look after me properly, or I must give up the idea.
I was loath to do the latter so I set about the former, and by great
good luck discovered a lady who spent most of her time amongst Belinda
Ann and her friends and knew the bride and her family intimately.
I admit it robbed the expedition of some of its fun to thus have a
chaperon tacked on to me, and there was a lurking doubt in my mind as
to how Belinda Ann herself would regard the innovation. When, after a
long, hot omnibus ride, we arrived at the place where we had appointed
to meet her we caught sight of her waiting, my eyes anxiously sought
her face to judge from its expression whether or no she would resent
the unexpected addition to the party. Luckily she both knew and liked
the lady in question (who shall be called Miss H.), and though for a
moment her face clouded over, it soon brightened again, and, with a
great air of importance, she bustled us off to the tram.
On the way I had time to note that she had evidently bestowed great
pains on her person, for the straight fringe was elaborately curled
and surmounted by a wonderful crimson plush hat, _à la_ Gainsborough,
adorned with a profusion of feathers to match shaded off to palest pink.
“That must have cost her a lot of money,” I whispered to Miss H.; but
the latter replied, “She belongs to a feather club, of course.”
I did not understand what she meant, and there was no opportunity of
then asking; but I resolved to inquire into this at some future period.
Meanwhile Belinda Ann, by means of a dexterous application of her
thin sharp elbows and a running fire of chaff, secured us an entrance
into the tram which was already inconveniently crowded in my opinion;
but everyone was so heartily good-natured, no one could possibly show
temper at being a little squeezed.
Belinda Ann ensconced herself near the door, where she kept a lively
look-out for every fresh arrival, whom she greeted with some choice
specimen of wit which, if replied to in the proper spirit, afforded her
unbounded satisfaction.
During this period of waiting I was able to study, from the window of
the tram, the fashionable hand-shake as practised by a lady with a
market-basket taking leave of another matron on the pavement. There was
a sort of perpendicular and horizontal movement combined about it which
was very difficult to catch but most effective, and I could not but
admire the elegance with which it was done. It is, I believe, sacred to
trams.
Presently the tram moved off, rather to my relief, for it was decidedly
warm waiting in the sun, and we rolled smoothly along, Miss H. ever and
anon pointing out objects of interest on the route.
“There’s the bridegroom!” she whispered presently, clutching my arm;
and, looking in the direction of her glance, I espied a well set-up
young man emerging from a barber’s shop.
Belinda Ann caught sight of him at the same time, and in a sarcastic
undertone remarked, “My! Ain’t ’e done ’isself proper?”
I suppose I looked mystified, and, indeed, it was Greek to me until
Miss H. silently pointed to the sign over the door—“Shaving done here.
Fresh water for every person.” And even then I didn’t quite see it till
she explained that the latter was by no means a _sine quâ non_, but
that the bridegroom on this important occasion evidently thought it
incumbent on him to do the thing in style!
Next we passed a church with an inscription outside to the effect that
parties could be married there for sevenpence halfpenny.
I was still lost in wonder at this legend when a wedding-party emerged
and made a wild rush for the tram. The bride came inside and the
bridegroom went outside, and I felt grieved to think they should be
separated so soon after their sevenpence-halfpennyworth. Judging from
the bride’s apparent age, I concluded that the youthful bridesmaid of
ten was her eldest daughter.
At this moment a man plumped down next to me carrying a trio of
remarkably lively puppies, and the remainder of the drive was rendered
extremely hilarious by the antics of the small doggies, who persisted
in swarming on to the floor ever other minute, and then abjectly
licking our boots.
“They don’t allow live-stock inside the trams on Sundays,” remarked
Miss H., as she hauled up a puppy for the twentieth time and handed it
over to its rightful owner. “Still,” she added meditatively, “a man
may get in holding a sack, not by the neck, but round the loins, so to
speak, and if he lets go to get his fare or his handkerchief, you see
the sack wriggle!”
I had not done laughing at this graphic description when Belinda Ann,
who had been keeping a sharp look-out all this time, gave us the signal
to dismount, which we did in a breathless scramble owing to the tram
starting on again before we were well off the step.
I found there was still some little distance to walk before we arrived
at the house, but everything was so new to me that I did not mind.
Thus, passing a second-hand clothier’s window, my eye was at once
caught by a white dress in the window labelled, “A boon to young ladies
about to marry! Let out by the day!”
It was made of some soft silky material in the prevailing fashion and
thoughtfully cut large enough to accommodate any figure, as of course
any superfluity could be pinned over should the hirer happen to be of a
sylph-like form!
“I s’pose I shall come ter that if any chap ever says ‘Chairs’ ter me!”
remarked Belinda Ann, with a last glance at it as we tore ourselves
away.
“Says what?” I inquired, not very elegantly, I fear.
“Chairs!” she replied shortly, for she took the surprise in my voice to
imply a doubt of her ever wanting a wedding-dress.
“What in all the world has that to do with it?” I asked, after a
moment’s puzzled silence.
She surveyed me for a second with a sort of pitying scorn for my
ignorance, and then proceeded to enlighten me.
“Why, yer see, yer may walk out with a feller fer months an’ never get
no forrader, so ter speak, or yer may chynge about with another feller
an’ no one think any harm of it; but if any on ’em mentions ‘furniture’
to yer, it’s a sign that he means bizness, an’ yer can begin ter think
about yer trossax.”
This tickled my fancy so much that I doubt if I should ever have
stopped laughing if Belinda Ann had not shown signs of temper by
remarking huffily, “In coorse I knows as ’ow toffs don’t manage it that
wy; but yer arsked me about it, an’ it ain’t bad fer all that.”
“I think it’s a perfectly charming plan,” I put in hastily, smothering
my mirth as well as I could; but I nearly went off again at the
reflection that the innocent remark, “Can I get you a chair?” would be
construed by an East End beauty into a proposal of marriage.
Belinda Ann did not quite recover her good humour till we arrived at
the bride’s mansion, which fortunately was not far off, for once there
her smiles returned in full force, and she quite forgot my ill-timed
merriment.
We stepped straight from the court into the banqueting-hall, without
even the formality of a doorstep, and the bride received us in person,
her mother being busy in the back premises over her toilette.
The heroine of the occasion was of such colossal proportions she might
almost have gone about in a show, and her complexion matched her gown,
which was of a warm brickdusty red.
This was not, however, the wedding garment, for, after having greeted
us, she disappeared with Belinda Ann and many apologies to reappear
later on in a really elegant grey silk, presented by Miss H. and her
sister in fulfilment of a very old promise.
She had rather spoilt the effect by hanging round her neck a string of
iridescent beads, so large that they looked like homœopathic globules,
and wearing the inevitable befeathered hat, this time of a crude violet
hue; but otherwise she was all that could be desired, and was immensely
admired.
Belinda Ann had added to her attire a huge lace collar and a silver
chain, from which hung a locket to match about the size of a small
warming-pan, and the party was completed by the bride’s mother, also
dressed in an old gown of Miss H.’s.
Now Miss H. being tall and slim, while Mrs. Hogg was of the same
generous proportions as her daughter, the dress proved somewhat too
scanty, so she had taken some of the material from the waist to eke out
the bodice, and to hide this theft had donned a black velvet apron.
It looked a little odd, perhaps, but on the whole was pronounced very
fair, and we set off for the church. Not on foot, although the edifice
was just round the corner. That would, indeed, have been a serious
breach of etiquette on such an occasion. No! Two four-wheeled cabs had
been chartered for the drive, and into these we packed, the bride, her
mother and father (who turned up at the last minute in a fearful state
of heat and nervousness) going in the first, and Belinda Ann, Miss H.,
and I taking the second.
An enthusiastic crowd was hanging round the porch cheering wildly
when we alighted, and at first I thought that Miss Hogg must be the
most popular girl in the East End; but I was soon undeceived. She was
not the only expectant bride of the occasion, for Bank Holiday is a
favourite East End wedding-day, for obvious reasons.
The crowd inside was so great, although perfectly orderly and reverent,
that I could see little or nothing of the actual ceremony, and was
rather glad than not when, all formalities having been complied with,
our party disentangled itself from the general _mêlée_, and we drove
back in the same order as we had come, with the addition of the
bridegroom, of course.
In our absence the table had been elegantly laid with wine-glasses
of every shape, colour, and size, borrowed right and left for the
occasion, each with half a sheet of clean notepaper stuck in it. I
puzzled over these for some time, till I came to the conclusion that
possibly this was in imitation of the serviettes placed in wine-glasses
at restaurants.
As each guest appeared, he or she was hospitably pressed to say
what he or she would take (“Give it a nyme!” was the general form
of invitation), and he or she usually seemed quite prepared for the
question and quite ready with an answer, for without any false delicacy
they promptly replied, “Drop o’ port!” This was immediately handed
them, and there they sat in a row, never opening their mouths except to
empty into them the aforesaid “drop o’ port.”
I was sorely troubled as to what to do with mine, which I would have
gladly refused only that I was warned that it was considered as
great an insult as to refuse in the real East to drink the cup of
black coffee offered at the threshold; so there I sat with the rest,
occasionally raising it to my lips, till an opportunity offered to
stick it behind a flower-pot, where it may remain to this day for all I
know.
The honeymoon was to be spent on Hampstead Heath, and we were pressed
to accompany the party, but excused ourselves as politely as possible
and shortly after took leave, as everyone was obviously aching to be
off, though far too polite to say so.
Our presence had added great _éclat_ to the proceedings in the opinion
of our hosts, and when we took leave the bridegroom insisted on
presenting each of us with seven Tangerine oranges!
Now he was by profession a fruiterer, and a kind Providence had
thoughtfully endowed him with hands so large that he could easily hold
seven oranges (or anything else for the matter of that) in one. My
hands, unluckily, are not on the same liberal scale; consequently when
he dropped the seven oranges into them, about six were bound to fall
on the ground in spite of all my efforts. Of course, they rolled into
all sorts of inaccessible corners, after their perverse nature; but
the company collected them with unfailing good-humour, and my secret
hope that one or two of them at least might be irrevocably lost was not
realised.
We left Belinda Ann behind to share the forthcoming trip, and soon
found ourselves in an omnibus rolling westwards.
“I never refuse little gifts of this kind,” said Miss H., as she
rescued an orange from bounding out of the door, “for it seems
more friendly to accept. Besides, I know if they send or give me
sixpennyworth of lemons, I can readily make it up to them later on by
something costing half-a-crown.”
I assented, and then remarked dreamily, “Those hats are the most
wonderful erections!”
“They may not be very artistic,” she replied, “but they are a sign of
self-respect. The last thing a respectable woman parts with, as a rule,
is her headgear, and the last thing a self-respecting man leaves off is
having his boots cleaned. When you see a man with dirty boots, and a
woman bareheaded, you may know they have touched the lowest depths.”
I was still meditating on this when the omnibus stopped with a jerk,
precipitating all my oranges into the gutter, and thus settling once
for all the vexed question of how I was to get them home.
ABOUT PEGGY SAVILLE.
BY JESSIE MANSERGH (Mrs. G. de Horne Vaizey), Author of “Sisters
Three,” etc.