"Shall I type your Good-bye to George?" I asked Mother. She said, "What
do you mean?" I said, "The one you will leave pinned to your pincushion
in the usual place?"
She laughed, and I again thought her most fearfully casual. There was no
packing done, although one would have thought she would have liked her
clothes nice and fresh and lots of them, so that she shouldn't feel
shabby at Boulogne, and let Mr. Aix and herself down. As for my
clothes--I really only had one--one dress I mean--and it was hanging
loose where it shouldn't, and with a large ink-spot in front nobody had
troubled to take out with salts of lemon or anything.
But I began to think some things had been sent on beforehand, as advance
luggage or so forth, for Mr. Aix came in one evening, and when Aunt
Gerty raised her eyebrows at him, he said "A 1!" That I fancied was the
ticket number for the luggage, so I felt more at ease.
One eventful evening, after Mother had been lying down all day, I was
told to put on my sun-ray pleated, and to mend it if it wanted it. I did
mend it and I put a toothbrush in the pocket of it, and I kissed all
the cats until they hated me. Cats don't like kissing, but then I didn't
know when I should see them again? I supposed some time, for running
away never is a permanent thing. People always come back and take up
housekeeping again, in the long run.
The funny thing was, they had chosen the day of Mr. Aix's first night to
run away on. I suppose it was in case he was boo-ed. Then the manager
could come on and say, "The author is not in the house, having gone to
Boulogne with a lady and little girl, by the nine o'clock mail!" That,
of course, was the train we were to catch. I looked it out, I am good at
trains.
George took Lady Scilly to dine at the Paxton that night, and on to the
theatre where some others were to meet them. I have never been to a
theatre myself, only music halls. At six o'clock George went off, all
grin and gardenia. The grin was as forced as the gardenia. I observed
that.
Aunt Gerty badly wanted to go with Mr. Aix and hold his hand, as he was
as nervous as a cat. But he wouldn't have her with him, and I don't
wonder. It would have been impossible to shake her off by nine o'clock,
and he would have missed the boat-train, and Mother and me.
After our dinner, Mother went up to her room and put on her hat, and
told me to go to mine and to put on my Shanter. I didn't intrude on her
privacy. I daresay she was saying a long good-bye to her old home, as I
was. I filled my pockets with mementoes. I took Ernie Fynes' list of
horses--for after all he is the only boy I ever loved, and it is my only
love-letter. I wondered what Mother would take? However, she came out of
her room smiling, and her pockets didn't stick out a bit. She is calm in
the face of danger; just as she was that awful day when I supplied a
fresh lot of methylated to a dying flame under our tea-kettle straight
from the bottle, and she had to put out the large fire I had started
unconsciously.
"Goodness, child, how you do bulge! Empty your pocket at once!"
I did as I was told. We must buy pencils over there, I suppose, but I
held on to the toothbrush.
"Now you are not to talk all the way there and tire me!" Mother said, as
we got into a hansom.
"I won't; but do tell me where we are to meet Mr. Aix?"
"Mr. Aix? I am sure I don't know. He will be about, I suppose, unless
they sit on his head to keep him quiet! Don't talk."
She put her hand up to her head, not because she had a headache, but to
keep her hair in place, as it was a windy night, and I couldn't help
thinking of the crossing that I had never crossed, only heard what
Ariadne said about it, when she came back from her wedding-tour. Ariadne
tried seven cures, and none of them saved her.
It was ridiculously early, only seven o'clock. As we drove on and on I
began to hope that we were going to lose Mr. Aix and go alone. But it
was no good. We stopped at a door that certainly wasn't the door of a
station, and Mr. Aix came out to meet us. He squeezed our hands, and his
hand was hot, while his face was as white as a table-cloth. We went in,
up a dirty passage, and into a great cellar where there seemed to be
building constructions going on, for I noticed lots of scaffolding and
that sort of thing. There were also great pieces of canvas stretched on
wood, and one very big bit lying there propped against the wall had a
landscape of an orchard on it.
"What is it?" I asked one of the people standing about--a man in a white
jacket.
"That, Missie--that's the back cloth to the first scene," and then he
mumbled something, about flies and their wings, that I did not chose to
show I didn't understand.
"Oh, yes, quite so," I said to the dirty man in the white (it had once
been) jacket, and got hold of Mr. Aix, who was mooning about in evening
dress, quite unsuitable for a journey. But he was always an untidy sort
of inappropriate man.
"Where's my mother?"
"Oh, your mother! Yes, she's gone to her room. I'll take you to her."
"But are you going to make us live _here?_" I asked; but bless the man!
he was too nervous to take any more notice of me and my remarks. We
muddled along; I tumbled over a lump in the middle of the floor with
grass sown on it, and caught my foot in a carpet, made of the same. Mr.
Aix quite forgot me and I lost him.
"Mind! Mind!" everybody kept saying, and shouldering past me with bits
of the very walls in their arms. They left the brick perfectly bare, as
bare as our old coal-cellar at Isleworth. (The one in Cinque Cento House
is panelled.) I saw an ordinary tree, as I thought, but I was quite
upset to find it was flat, like a free-hand drawing. My eyes were
dazzled with electric lights, mounted on strings, like a necklace, only
stiff, that they pushed about everywhere they liked. There were things
like our nursery fire-guard all round the gas, that was there as well as
electric. I noticed a girl go and look through a hole in a bit of canvas
or tapestry that took up all one side of the wall, and went near her.
"Pretty fair house!" she said. She was a funny-looking little thing,
with hardly enough on, and what there was was dirty, or dyed a dirty
colour. In fact no two persons there were dressed alike; it was like a
fancy-dress party, such as the Hitchings have at their Christmas-tree.
The noise was deafening, they were shoving heavy weights about here and
there, without knowing particularly or caring where they were going. My
new friend had an American accent, and was as gentle as a cat. She went
a little way back from the curtain with me and stood by a man she seemed
rather to like, though he didn't seem to like her. He was very tall and
big, and when she had been talking to him a little while, she said
suddenly--
"Excuse me! I must not let myself get stiff!" and took hold of a great
leather belt he wore, and propped herself up by it and began to dip up
and down, opening her knees wide. The man didn't seem to like it much,
but he was kind and chaffed her, till I got tired of her see-sawing up
and down, and talking of her Greekness, and asked one or the other of
them to be kind enough to take me to my mother.
"Certainly, little 'un," said the man; "kindly point the young lady out
to me. There's so many in the Greek chorus!"
"It is Miss Lucy Jennings' daughter," said somebody near.
"I'll take you to her after my dance," said the girl. "Wait. Watch me! I
go on!"
It was a sort of hop-skip-and-a-jump, like a little spring lamb capering
about the fields and running races with the others as they do, but not
more than that. They made a ring for her, and we all stood round and
watched her, and somebody sang while she was dancing. She had no
stockings at all on her clean manicured feet, but a kind of open-work
boot of fancy leather. She came back as cool as a cucumber, and no
wonder, for she had nearly stayed still, not so much exercise as an
ordinary game of blindman's-buff, and said to me, "Now, pussy, I will
escort you to your mommer."
She took me to the edge of the wall where a little stairs came down,
and on the way we passed a boy with one side of him blue and the other
green, and another man with wattles like a turkey hanging down his
cheeks and a baby's rattle in his hand. I hated them all, they were
streaky and hot, like a nightmare, and simply longed for my nice, clean,
natural mother.
But when we got to a door and knocked, a woman like a nurse came and
answered it, and through her arm I could see my mother, standing in
front of a looking-glass, under a gas globe with a fender over it, and
she was streakier than anybody. She had a queer dress on too, with a
waistband much too low, and a skirt, shortish, and her hair was yellow!
That finished me, and I screamed, "Oh, Mother, where have you put your
black hair?"
Aunt Gerty, who was sitting on a large cane dress-basket, told me to
shut my mouth, and Mother turned round and said--
"It is only a wig, dear, and the paint will wash off, and then I will
kiss you. Meantime, sit down and keep still!"
So I did, and watched the nurse arranging Mother as if she was a child,
nothing more or less. I turned this way and that, trying to get the
effect, but it was no use, I still thought she looked horrid.
The others didn't think so. Aunt Gerty kept saying, "Really, Lucy, I
wouldn't have believed it! A little make-up goes a long way with us poor
women, I see. More on the left-hand corner of the cheek, Kate. The
lighting is rather unkind here, I happen to know."
So Kate put more on, and Mother kept taking more off with a shabby bit
of an animal's foot she kept in her hand. She never looked at me at all,
she was much too busy. Then suddenly a little scrubby boy came and said
something at the door--"Garden scene on!" and went away. The nurse
called Kate threw a coat over Mother, and we all three went out and down
the stairs.
Then for the first time I twigged what it was--a _Theatre!_ The people
were acting all round us. I knew acting well enough when I saw it, but
what I didn't know was behind the scenes, and goodness me, I have heard
Aunt Gerty talk about it enough! I was ashamed of having been so stupid,
and terribly disillusioned as well.
The play was all the running away there was to be! Mother was going to
be no more to Mr. Aix than taking a leading part in his play amounted
to. My toothbrush literally burned in my pocket. I had been made a fool
of.
But when I came to think it over quietly, I did not know but what I was
not rather glad. It would have been a horrid upset, this running-away
idea, and I believe George secretly felt it very much, though he did
swagger so and pretend he didn't care. The only thing was, perhaps he
would mind Mother going on the stage even worse than running away? I
longed to see him and hear what he had to say about it.
Mr. Aix was standing quite near us, between a flat green tree and the
wall of a temple. He looked almost handsome; I suppose it was the aroma
of success, for certainly this _was_ a success. The audience seemed
delighted with Mr. Bell, a great fat actor in boots, with frilled tops
like an ancient Roman, who stood in the very middle of the stage raging
away at Mother about something or other she had done.
"Bell's in capital form to-night," said Mr. Aix, quite loud. "I'm
pleased with him."
"I hope I shall content you too," said Mother, who was shivering all
over, and I don't wonder, for the draughts in this place were terrific.
Kate handed her a bottle of smelling-salts.
"Better by far have a B. and S.," said Mr. Aix.
"No Dutch courage for me, thank you!" said Mother. "Tell me at once, is
George and the cat in the box?"
"They are, and Mr. Sidney Robinson and the Countess of Fylingdales. You
must buck up, little woman, and show them what you can do!"
"And what you can do!" she answered politely. "I shan't forget you have
entrusted me with your play."
"And, by Jove! you'll bring it out as no other woman could. You can----"
"I'm on!" said Mother, suddenly, and shunted the shawl, and pushed
forward and began to act.
They clapped her at first and nearly drowned her voice, but she went
right on and abused Mr. Bell in blank verse. I was glad Mr. Aix hadn't
made her a laundress or a serio, but something nice and Greek and
respectable.
I stood there with Kate and Mother's shawl and Aunt Gerty, and never
knew what it was to be so excited before! The Greek girl came up to me
and said--
"Say, your mommer'll knock them!"
Then they seemed to come to a sort of proper place to stop, and the
curtain began to rattle down, and Mother and Mr. Bell were holding each
other tight, like lovers, only I heard her say in a whisper, "Mind my
hair!"
They stayed there a long time looking stupid, even while the curtain was
down and people were clapping all round. Then I saw why they did it, for
it went up again, and again, and then they parted and took hands the
last time, and looked straight in front of them and panted, while people
shouted their names. Then the curtain came down again and Mr. Bell
limped off, for, as he said, politely, Mother had been standing all the
while on his best corn. She was so sorry, and he said it didn't matter,
and he hoped he hadn't disarranged her hair.
Oddly enough the clapping began again. Aunt Gerty jogged Mother, who
stood near me looking quite giddy, and said "Take your call, silly!"
Mr. Bell took her by the hand and made her walk along in front of the
curtain that a man held back for her by main force, and then we heard
the people roaring again, till it seemed more as if they thirsted for
their blood than wanted to praise them. This happened twice. When they
didn't seem inclined to clap any more she went off to her room with
Kate, while Mr. Aix thanked her for making his play.
"Come and look at them!" said Aunt Gerty to me, and we went and looked
through the rent in the curtain, for that was the hole in the wall the
girl looked through. There was George and Lady Scilly talking away as if
Mother and her triumph hadn't existed. I think George was cross, but I
really couldn't tell.
Mother wouldn't have me in her room at all this time, and I lounged
about with Aunt Gerty till it all began again. Mother didn't do this
next act so well, at least Aunt Gerty said not, and scolded her.
"I can't help it, Gertrude," Mother said. "I thought George would
have----"
"Never fear! He'll hold out till the end of the play. Then he'll be
round here bothering as sure as my name is Gertrude Jenynge!"
And her name is Gertrude Jennings, which is pretty near, and in the
third piece of acting, when Mother was not on much, I heard George's
voice asking to be taken to her.
"Miss Jennings left word she was not to be disturbed this wait."
"I'm her husband."
"Very likely, sir!" The man sneered.
He didn't get in, and he stood there neglected by the staircase till the
beginning of the next and last act, as they said it was. I dared not go
and speak to him, for he looked so cross, and I was also afraid he
would carry me away to the box with Lady Scilly, so I just slipped
behind a bit of scenery and observed.
Presently Mother came softly out of her room and passed George leaning
on the rail of the staircase leading to her dressing-room.
She nodded and laughed.
"Wait for me, George, please. Kate, take this gentleman to my room----"
And she went gaily on to the stage.
I followed George and Kate to Mother's room, and discovered myself to
him. He made no fuss, simply looked right through me, and began walking
up and down while Kate sewed a button on to something.
We heard the clapping from the front quite distinctly. George ground his
teeth. Then Kate slipped out and Mother came in alone, panting, and took
hold of the dressing-table as if she was drowning.
"I've saved the piece!" said she almost to herself, and then to George,
"I'm an artist. Oh, George, why weren't you in front to see me in the
best moment of my life?"
"When I married you, Lucy----" George stuttered.
"Yes, but that wasn't nearly such an occasion! Oh, George, forgive me,
and don't spoil all my pleasure."
"Pleasure!" said George, as if he was disgusted.
"Here comes Jim Aix to congratulate me. Poor Aix, he is so pleased...."
She burst into tears as Mr. Aix came in. He took absolutely no notice of
George, but just caught hold of Mother's hands and said several times
over--
"Thank you! Thank you! Bless you! Bless you! Good God! You are
crying----"
"It is my husband there, who grudges me my success! He does, he does!
Oh, George, for shame! I did it for Ben--for our son--to be able to send
him to college. I have made a hit--quite by accident--and you grudge it
me!"
"He doesn't, he doesn't grudge you your artistic expansion!" said Mr.
Aix, and went to George and put his hand on his shoulder. "Old George is
the best sort in the world at the bottom. Pull yourself together, dear
old man, and be thankful you have a clever wife, as well as a good one.
She's a genius--she's better, she's a brick. I can tell you she's a
heaven-born actress, and you know what sort of a wife she has been to
you. Speak to her, man, don't let her cry her heart out now, in the hour
of her triumph. What's a triumph? At the best but short-lived! Don't
grudge it her! Congratulate her----"
George came out of his corner and took Mother's hand and kissed it
nicely, as I have seen him kiss Lady Scilly's hand, but Mother's never.
"One can only beg your pardon, Lucy, for this, and everything else. Can
you forgive me?"
I re-open my MS. to add a few facts of interest.
1. Ariadne got a baby in June; his name is Almeric Peter Frederick.
2. Aunt Gerty got her brewer, and Mrs. Bowser has left the stage.
3. Ben was sent to school, and they say he is clever, though I never
could see it.
4. Lady Scilly has run away with the chauffeur and, so far, hasn't come
back.
5. I am going to stay with Ernie Fynes' mother, Lady Fynes, at Barsom.
Ernie will be away at Eton, but he loves me.
THE END
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Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:
"Anything in it?" mother said.=> "Anything in it?" Mother said. {pg 26}
look of dsappointment=> look of disappointment {pg 62}
one of the man who did=> one of the men who did {pg 101}
when your times comes=> when your times comes {pg 105}
The fortune-seller doesn't=> The fortune-teller doesn't {pg 115}
though the first room=> through the first room {pg 137}
I dare said he had got=> I dare say he had got {pg 165}
it is the only times in his life=> it is the only time in his life {pg
199}
"The Survival of the fittest"=> "The Survival of the Fittest" {pg 284}
Gerty and mother think=> Gerty and Mother think {pg 270}