SCENE--_A thoroughfare near Hyde Park. Shortly before
Scene opens, an Elderly Gentleman has suddenly stopped
the cab in which he has been driving, and, without
offering to pay the fare, has got out and shuffled off
with a handbag. The Cabman has descended from his seat
and overtaken the old gentleman, who is now perceived
to be lamentably intoxicated. The usual crowd springs
up from nowhere, and follows the dispute with keen and
delighted interest._
_Cabman._ Look 'ere, you ain't goin' not without payin' _me_, you
know--where's my two shillings?
_The Elderly Gentleman_ (_smiling sweetly, and balancing himself on his
heels against some railings_). I'm shure _I_ dunno.
_Cabman._ Well, _look_, can't yer? don't keep me 'ere all day--feel in yer
pockets, come!
[_The Old Gentleman makes an abortive effort to find a
pocket about him somewhere, and then relapses into
abstraction._
_Crowd._ Let 'im take 'is time, _he'll_ pay yer right enough, if you let
the man alone.
_A Woman._ Ah, pore gentleman, the best of us is took like that sometimes!
[_Murmurs of sympathy._
_Cabman._ I don't want no more than what's my own. 'E's rode in my keb, and
I want my fare out of 'im--an' I mean '_aving_ it, too!
[_Here the Old Gentleman, who seems bored by the
discussion, abruptly serpentines off again and is
immediately overtaken and surrounded._
_The E. G._ Wha' d'ye mean? 'founded 'perrinence! Lemme 'lone ... 'portant
bishniss!
_Cabman._ Pay me my fare,--or I'll have your bag!
[_Seizes bag; the Elderly Gentleman resisting feebly,
and always smiling_.
_Crowd._ Why can't yer pay the man his fare and have done with it? There,
he's feeling in his pockets--he's going to pay yer now!
[_Elderly Gentleman dives vaguely in a pocket, and
eventually produces a threepenny bit, which he tenders
magnificently._
_Cabman._ Thruppence ain't no good _to me_--two shillings is what I want
out o' _you_--a florin--'j'ear me?
_The E. G._ (_after another dive fishes up three halfpence_). Thash all
you're 'titled, to--go 'way, go 'way!
_Crowd_ (_soothingly to Cabman_). 'E'll make it up in time--don't '_urry_
'im.
_Cabman._ D' ye think I kin stand 'ere cooling my 'eels, while he's payin'
me a 'apn'y every 'arf 'our? I've got my living to earn same as _you_ 'ave!
_Crowd._ Ah, he's right there! (_Persuasively to Elderly Gentleman._) 'Ere,
Ole Guv'nor, fork out like a man!
[_The Old Guv'nor shakes his head at them with a
knowing expression._
_Cabman._ Well, I shan't let go o' this 'ere bag till I _am_ paid--that's
all!
[_Here a Policeman arrives on scene._
_Policeman._ Now, then, what's all this? Move along 'ere, all of you--don't
go blocking up the thoroughfare like this! (_Scathingly_.) What are yer all
_lookin'_ at? (_The Crowd, feeling this rebuke, move away some three paces,
and then linger undecidedly._) 'Ere, Cabman, you've no right to lay 'old on
that gentleman's bag--_you_ know that as well as I do!
_Cabman_ (_somewhat mollified by this tribute to his legal knowledge,
releases bag_). Well, _he_ ain't got no right to ride in my keb, and do a
guy, without paying nothink, 'as he?
_Policeman._ All I tell _you_ is--you've no right to detain his bag.
_Cabman._ Let 'im pay me my legal fare, then--two shillings it is 'e owes
_me_. I don't want to hinterfere with 'im, if he'll pay me.
_Pol._ (_with a magnificent impartality, to the E. G._). What have you got
to say to _that_?
_The E. G._ (_with a dignified wave of the hand_). Shay? Why, tha' I'm
shimply--a gerrilm'n.
_Pol._ (_his impartiality gradually merging into official disgust_). Well,
all I can say to _you_ is, if you _are_ one, don't abuse it.... Where are
you going to?
_The E. G._ (_brimming over with happy laughter_). _I_ dunno!
_Pol._ (_deciding to work on his fears_). Don't you? Well, _I do_, then. I
know where _you_'re goin' to--ah, and where you'll _be_, too, afore you're
much older--the station-'us!--(_with a slight lapse into jocularity, in
concession to his audience_)--"for one night honly"--that's _your_
direction, unless you look out. (_With virtuous indignation._) 'Ere are
you--calling yourself a gentleman, and old enough to know better--riding in
this man's keb, and trying to bilk him out of his money. Why, you ought to
be _ashamed_ o' yourself!
_A Funny Onlooker._ Now, Policeman, why do you interfere? Why can't you
leave them to settle it between them?
_Pol._ (_turning on him with awful dignity_). I don't want no suggestions
from _you_, Sir. I know _my_ dooty, and them as tries to obstruck me'll get
no good by it. I'm not 'ere to take one man's part more than another.
_Cabman._ Well, ain't you goin' to do something now you _are_ here? What's
the good of a Copper if he won't 'elp a man to git his rights, eh?
[_Murmurs of sympathy from Crowd._
_Pol._ Now, you mind _your_self--that's what _you_'d better do, or _you_'ll
be gitting into trouble next! I've told you I can't interfere one way or
the other; and--(_generally, to Crowd_)--you must pass along 'ere, please,
or I shall 'ave to make yer.
_Crowd_ (_to Eld. G._). Give the man his money, can't yer? Pay 'im!
_Cabman._ Come, look sharp! Just you pay me!
_The E. G._ How c'n I pay, man? P'fectly 'shurd! Go to bleeshes!
[_Bolts again, and is once more overtaken by the
indignant Cabman._
_Pol._ (_following up_). Now, then, Cabman, don't go hustling him!
[_Crowd's sympathy veers round to the E. G. again._
_Cabman._ _'Oo's_ 'ustlin'? I ain't laid a finger on 'im.
(_Magnanimously._) I've no wish to 'inder 'im from going wherever he likes,
so long as he pays me fust!
_Pol._ You've no right to touch the man, nor yet his bag; so be careful,
that's all I tell you!
_The E. G._ (_with maudlin enthusiasm_). Pleeshman's perfelly ri'!
Pleeshman always knowsh besht!
[_Tries to pat Policeman on back._
_Pol._ (_his disgust reaching a climax_). 'Ere, don't you go pawin' _me_
about--for I won't '_ave_ it! If _I'm_ right, it's more than what _you_
are, anyhow! Now be off with you, wherever it is you're going to!
_Cabman_ (_desperate_). But look 'ere--can't you take his name and address?
_Pol._ (_rising to the occasion_). Ah! that's what I was waitin' for! Now
you've _ast_ me--now I kin _act_! (_Pulls out a pocket-book full of dirty
memoranda, and a stumpy pencil._) Now then, Sir, your name, if _you_
please?
_The E. G._ (_sleepily_). Shtupid thing a-do, but qui' forgot.... Come out
'ithout mi' name, 'shmornin'!
_Pol._ (_sternly_). That won't do with Me, you know. What's your name? Out
with it!
_The E. G._ (_evidently making a wild shot at it_). FERGUSHON.
[_Smiles, as if he feels sure the Policeman will be
pleased with a name like that_.
_Pol._ JOHN? GEORGE? JAMES?--or what?
_The E. G._ You can purr 'em all down t' me--it don' marrer!
_Pol._ (_briskly_). Where do you live, Mr. FERGUSON?
_The E. G._ (_mechanically_). Shirty-one, Lushington Street, Gargleshbury
Park.
_Pol._ (_writing it down, and giving leaf to Cabman_). There, will _that_
do for you?
_Cabman._ That's all _I_ want. (_To the E. G._) You'll 'ear from me later
on.
_The E. G._ (_affectionately_). Alwaysh pleash'd shee you, any time....
Pleeshman too.... Shorry can't shtop--mos' 'portant bishnish!
_Pol._ Which way do you want to go?
_The E. G._ Earlsh Court.
_Pol._ Then get there, if you're capable of it. And now, you boys, clear
the road, will you?
[_The Elderly Gentleman, smiling in the full conviction
of having extricated himself from a difficult situation
with consummate tact and diplomacy, goes off unsteadily
in the direction of Piccadilly, accompanied by a suite
of small boys who have kindly resolved to see him
through any further adventures that may await his
progress. The Cabman remains to discuss the affair at
great length on the curbstone. The Policeman paces
slowly on, conscious that he has worthily maintained
the dignity of his office._
[Illustration: A Cab-array.]
* * * * *
A CORRESPONDENT, _à propos_ of the prevailing epidemic, writes,--"Sir,
there must have been an epidemic of influenza at Cambridge about
thirty-three years ago, as in a travesty of _Faust_, produced at the A. D.
C. about that time, occurs a parody of the song '_Di Frienza_' from _La
Traviata_, commencing '_Influenza_ is about, So I'll stay no longer out.'
History repeats itself occasionally.--I am, Yours,