* * * * *
"This is a gentleman of excellent business ability, and I should say he
would be perfectly capable of managing a tolerably large business
concern." ("Then how was it he got the sack from the 'am-and-beef shop?"
_inquired one of the pests_.) "He is pushing and energetic, and he would
get on well--even in a 'olesale business." (_He is growing absolutely
fulsome!_) "If in business for himself, we shall not find him in a hurry
to shut up his shop exactly at the hour of closing, if he thinks he
could make more by keeping open a little longer." (_Considering that I
am in Government employ, with a decided leaning to literary pursuits,
which has not, as yet, met with much support--this is rather too much,
but it would be snobbish, perhaps, to say anything._) "I may add,"
concludes the Professor, with the air of a man who is conceding
somewhat, "that this gentleman would be qualified to succeed, would do
very well, as an artistic decorator. Are there any questions you would
like to ask?"
Not after that--no, none; I haven't the heart to ask him if he thinks I
could write even a creditable Nautical Drama! Besides, my faith in
Phrenology is shaken. Let me get away--out of sight and hearing of these
infernal Blazers.
Rise and leave with ironical dignity. Professor calls me back--thinks I
forgot to pay my shilling. Annoying, because it _had_ escaped me. "You
didn't tell us he had a bump for bilking!" jeers a fiend--"bilking," I
believe, is 'Arryan for going away without paying. Ironical dignity a
failure. "Will I pay half-a-crown extra, and have a written report of my
character?" I will _not_. Blazers seem sorry to part with me.
_Afternoon._--Too much depressed to work at Drama. Sands again.
Crowd--Conjuror. I shall see this time. "I want a soft gentleman's hat,"
he says, suddenly. "Do you mind?" He takes mine--the crowd roar. "Will I
assist him in this trick?" I did not mean to catch his eye--but I don't
like to be disobliging.
I am in the centre with the Conjuror. "May he do what he pleases with my
hat?" "By all means," I say, graciously. Then he'll _keep_ it, he says.
Childish joke that! "You're quite sure there's no hole in it?" he asks.
I am not, I tell him, in the habit of wearing a hat with a hole in it.
"Ain't you really? how do you get your head in?" he retorts, sharply.
Very old--but Starmouth people easily amused.
"Do I ever toss for drinks?" No, I do not. Then he will show me how to
do so, and win every time. He tosses up a penny on the little table, and
covers it with my hat. "Which do I think it is?" I say heads--to please
him. Again. "Now, Sir, heads or tails?" I happen to have seen it fall
head uppermost--but no doubt he has manipulated it some way--if I say
tails, he will look rather foolish. Tails, then. Will I lift my hat? I
do--a _guinea-pig!_ Renewed roars. I ought to be above feeling annoyed
at this tomfoolery--but these conjuring fellows go too far.
_Evening,_--On Pier. Military Band. Bazaar: ladies and children touting
for it. Wonder whether my "Firmness" is as large as Professor SKITTLES
declared.--Because I certainly never _intended_ to buy a box of
cracker-bonbons, or a basket of ripe tomatoes--and yet here I am,
carrying them about! And when I took a ticket for a raffle, I hardly
counted upon winning this particularly gaudy sofa-cushion. Clergyman
wants to sell me a very small plumcake, only three shillings.... I find
I _can_ be firm after all.
The girl with the brown eyes is on the pier, too, with a stout
respectable old female--probably her maid. I think they recognise me as
the victim of Phrenology; they glance at me with interest. Ah me! I
wish--I wish, but what is the use of wishing?
In the Bazaar again. Young lady proposes to tell me my fortune for a
penny, with a revolving card. I am in a superstitious mood--I want
encouraging. She spins the card; the dial indicates, as she informs me,
with unnecessary glee, "You spend your time in trifles."--Is a Nautical
Drama a "trifle," I should like to know? I can't be quite the thing, for
this incident affects me almost to tears. I have had a depressing day.
Bed in low spirits.
* * * * *
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