CELLULOID CUFFS AND A SILK HAT
The door opened, and there entered a poor-looking elderly man, bowing
and scraping as he came, and saluting the company with an old rusty
dented tall hat which he carried in his hand. The most striking thing
about him was that he had a wooden leg. His hair was grey and thin, and
his face was not very clean; there were signs of tobacco at the corners
of his mouth. His clothes were frayed and patched, and there was a good
deal of grease on his vest; he wore a celluloid collar without any
necktie, and round celluloid cuffs; his coat-sleeves were much too
short, and his cuffs hung out certainly three inches. Strange to say,
his collar and cuffs were spotlessly clean, and presented quite a
contrast to his very untidy face and clothes; but then, celluloid is
easy to clean; much less trouble than washing the face. As he stumped
into the room, he kept bowing humbly from one to another, and bobbing
his old hat up and down in his hand.
"Ahem!" he said, making another bow. "I was just going by, and I thought
I would drop in to--er--ahem!--I hope I am not in the way?"
"Oh, come in," said Toby, not very graciously. "As long as you are here,
you might as well stay. This is Mr. Punch, and this is Freddie."
The elderly man bowed to Freddie, and went up to Mr. Punch and shook him
cordially by the hand. He put his mouth quite close to Mr. Punch's ear,
and lowered his voice, and said:
"Ahem! I'm delighted to know you, sir. I trust you are well. I have seen
you often, but not to speak to. Ahem!" He lowered his voice again, and
spoke very confidentially into Mr. Punch's ear. "The fact is, sir, that
as I was going by, I suddenly found that I had left my tobacco pouch at
home; most unfortunate; and I came in with the hope that
perhaps--er--ahem! Very seldom forget my tobacco; very seldom indeed;
perfectly lost without it; do you--er, ahem!--do you happen to have such
a thing about you as a--er--ahem!--a small portion of--er--smoking
tobacco? I should be very much obliged!"
"Sorry," said Mr. Punch, stiffly, backing away. "Hi never use tobacco in
any way, shape or form."
The elderly man looked much disappointed, and sighed. He turned to Toby,
and bowed and smiled hopefully.
"Perhaps Mr. Littleback--" he began.
"Not on your life," said Toby. "You don't get no tobacco out of me, and
that's flat."
The elderly man sighed again, and looked steadily at Freddie; but he
evidently thought there was no hope in that quarter, and he said
nothing.
Freddie now realized who the elderly gentleman was. He had a wooden leg,
and he never bought tobacco when tobacco he could beg--It was the Old
Codger whom Mr. Toby had now and then sung a song about; one of his two
friends, the one who was always begging tobacco, and never had any of
his own. Freddie looked at him, and felt rather sorry for him.
"Ahem!" said the Old Codger with the Wooden Leg. "Very sorry to intrude,
Miss Amanda. I hope I'm not in the way. It's very mild weather we're
having."
"Now, then," said Toby, briskly, "let's look at this map."
As he said this, another knock was heard at the door; a firm and
confident knock this time.
"Confound it!" said Toby. "Who next? Come in!"
The door opened, and another elderly man stepped in; a tall slim man,
with very white hair and a long narrow face; he carried a tall shiny
black silk hat in his hand; he wore a black suit, all of broadcloth, and
his coat hung to his knees and was buttoned to the top; his cuffs and
collar and shirt were of beautiful white linen with a gloss, and his tie
was a little white linen bow. He came forward with an air of warm
benevolence.
"My dear, _dear_ friends!" he said, and stretched out both hands towards
the company, as if to clasp them all to his heart. "What a beautiful,
beautiful scene! So homelike, so cosy, so sociable, so--so--What can be
so beautiful as the gathering together of friends about the family
hearth! _So_ beautiful!" There was a Latrobe stove in the room, but no
hearth; however, that made no difference; he went, with his hands
outstretched, to Aunt Amanda, and pressed one of hers in both of his.
The Old Codger with the Wooden Leg immediately sidled up to him, and
while he was still pressing Aunt Amanda's hand, said, in a confidential
tone:
"Ahem! I'm delighted to see you again. I trust you are well. The fact
is, I find that I have--er--left my tobacco pouch at home,--most
unfortunate; very seldom forget it; completely lost without it; I was
wondering--er--ahem!--if you happened to have such a thing about you as
a--"
"No!" said the other old man, changing at once from beaming benevolence
to stern severity. "I'll be hanged if I do!" And he released Aunt
Amanda's hand, and turned his back on the Old Codger with the Wooden
Leg.
"Now," said Toby, "let's look at the map. This here is Mr. Punch, and
this is Freddie."
The newcomer took Mr. Punch's hand in both of his and squeezed it
softly; he then took Freddie's hand in both of his and pressed it
tenderly. Freddie knew him. He was the "other Old Codger, as sly as a
fox, who always had tobacco in his old tobacco-box." Freddie could
hardly believe that that white-haired old gentleman could be as sly as a
fox.
"My dear, _dear_ friends!" said the Sly Old Fox. "What is so beautiful
as the love of friends?" He stopped to glare at the Old Codger with the
Wooden Leg, who looked away nervously. "The love of friends! Gathered
together around the family hearth! How beautiful! It touches me, my
friends, it touches me----"
"That's all right about that," said Toby. "For heaven's _sake_, let's
look at the map!"
Aunt Amanda spread out the map on the table beside her, and the others
gathered round.
"It's an island!" cried Toby.
"On the Spanish Main," said Aunt Amanda.
"The Spanish Main!" said the Sly Old Fox. "A beautiful country! Full of
palms,--and grape-nuts,--What you might call a real work of nature! Full
of parrots, and monkeys, and lagoons, and other wild creatures; a work
of nature, my dear friends, a real work of nature."
"And pirates," said Freddie, earnestly.
"I _said_ parrots," said the Sly Old Fox.
"_I_ said pirates," said Freddie.
"Just what I said," said the Sly Old Fox. "That live in trees, my
little friend, in trees; and have red and blue feathers, and----"
"Pirates don't have feathers," said Freddie.
"Dear, dear!" said the Sly Old Fox. "How _can_ you say such a thing? How
_can_ you----?"
"Did you ever see a pirate in a tree?"
"In cages, my dear little friend! Hundreds of them!"
"That's enough!" said Mr. Toby. "Quit wrangling for a minute, will you?
What about this here map? I tell you what, though. I'd like the
Churchwarden to see this map. Freddie, will you run down the street and
get the Churchwarden?"
"Yes, sir," said Freddie, moving towards the door.
"And tell him to bring along his Odour of Sanctity with him. He always
carries a bottle of it in his pocket, and we may need it. Don't forget
it."
"No, sir," said Freddie.
"Hold on a minute," said Mr. Toby, snatching up his hat. "I'll go for
him myself. I can do it quicker." And in a moment he was out of the
door.