"Are you goin' to the Summer Sales this year, 'm?" inquired Elizabeth,
suddenly projecting herself on the horizon of my thoughts.
I laid down my pen at once. It is not possible to continue writing if
Elizabeth desires to make conversation at the same time.
"Certainly I shall, if I hear of a sale of cheap crockery," I replied
pointedly; "ours badly needs replenishing."
The barbed arrow did not find its mark. It may require a surgical operation
to get a joke into a Scotsman, but only the medium of some high explosive
could properly convey a hint to Elizabeth.
"'Oo wants to go to sales to buy things like pots?" asked Elizabeth
scornfully.
"_People who are always getting their pots broken_," I replied in italics.
"Well, everyone to their tastes," she commented casually. I began to wonder
if even trinitrotoluol could be ineffective at times. "Wot I mean by sales
is buyin' clothes," she continued; "bargins, you know."
"Yes, I know," I answered; "I've seen them--in the advertisements. But I
never secure any."
"Why don't you, then?"
"Because of all the other people, Elizabeth. Those who get the bargains
seem to have a more dominant nature than mine. They have more grit,
determination--"
"Sharper elbows is wot you mean," put in Elizabeth. "It's chiefly a matter
of 'oo pushes 'ardest. My! I love a sale if only for the sake o' the
scrimmage. A friend o' mine 'oo's been separated from 'er 'usband becos
they was always fightin' told me she never misses goin' to a sale so that
she'll be in practice in case 'er and 'er old man make it up again."
"I'm not surprised that I never get any bargains," I commented, "although I
often long to. Look at the advertisement in this newspaper, for instance.
Here's a silk jumper which is absurdly cheap. It's a lovely Rose du Barri
tricot and costs only--"
"'Oo's rose doo barry trick-o when 'e's at 'ome?" inquired Elizabeth.
I translated hurriedly. "I mean it's a pink knitted one. Exactly what I
want. But what is the use of my even hoping to secure it?"
"I'll get it for you," announced Elizabeth.
"You! But how?"
"I'll go an' wait an hour or two afore the doors open, an' when they do I
don't 'arf know 'ow to fight my way to the counters. Let me go, m'm. I'd
reelly like the outin'."
I hesitated, but only for a moment. What could be simpler than sending an
emissary to use her elbows on my behalf? There was nothing unfair in doing
that, especially if I undertook the washing-up in her absence.
Elizabeth set out very early on the day of the sale looking enthusiastic.
I, equally enthusiastic, applied myself to the menial tasks usually
performed by Elizabeth. We had just finished a lunch of tinned soup, tinned
fish and tinned fruit (oh, what a blessing is a can-opener in the absence
of domestics!) when she reappeared. My heart leapt at the sight of a parcel
in her hand.
"You got it after all!" I exclaimed. O thrice blessed Elizabeth! O most
excellent domestic! For the battles she had fought that day on my behalf
she should not go unrewarded.
"I'm longing to try it on," I said as I tore at the outer wrappings.
"Well, I orter say it isn't the one you told me to get," interposed
Elizabeth.
I paused in unwrapping the parcel, assailed by sudden misgivings. "Isn't
this the jumper, then?"
"Not that pertickler one. You see, it was like this: there was a great
'orse of a woman just in front o' me an' I couldn't move ahead of 'er
no'ow, try as I would. It was a case o' bulk, if you know what I mean, an'
elbows wasn't no good. An' 'ang me if she wasn't goin' in for that there
very tricky jumper you wanted! I put up a good fight for it, 'm, I did
indeed. We both reached it at the same time, got 'old of it together,
an'--an'--when it gave way at the seams I let 'er 'ave it," said Elizabeth,
concluding her simple narrative. It sounded convincing enough. I had no
reason to doubt it at the moment.
"The beast!" I said in the bitterness of my heart. "Is it possible a woman
could so far forget herself as to behave like that, Elizabeth?"
"But there's no need for you to be disappointed, as I got a jumper for you
arter all," she continued. She took the final wrappings off the parcel and
drew out a garment. "There!" she remarked proudly, holding it aloft.
The Old Masters, we are told, discovered the secret of colour, but the
colour of that jumper should have been kept a secret--it never ought to
have been allowed to leak out. It was one of those flaming pinks that
cannot be regarded by the naked eye for any length of time, owing to the
strain it puts on the delicate optic nerve. Bands of purple finished off
this Bolshevist creation.
"How dare you ask me to wear that?" I broke out when I had partially
recovered from the shock.
"Why, wot's wrong with it? You said you wanted a pink tricky one. It's
pink, isn't it?"
"Yes, it _is_ pink," I admitted faintly.
"An' it's far trickier nor wot the other was."
"You had better keep the jumper for yourself," I said crossly. "No doubt it
will suit you better than it would me."
She seemed gratified, but not unusually taken aback at my generosity.
"Well, since you ses it yourself, 'm, p'raps it is more my style. Your
complexion won't _stand_ as much as mine."
I was pondering on whether this was intended as a compliment or an insult
when she spoke again.
"I shan't 'arf cut a dash," she murmured as she drifted to the door; "an'
it might be the means o' bringin' it off this time."
"Bringing what off, Elizabeth?"
"Bringin' my new young man to the point, 'm. You see, 'e do love a bit o'
colour; _an' I knew 'e wouldn't 'ave liked the rose doo barry trick-o,
anyhow._"
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Proprietor_ (_to the rescue of his assistants, who have
failed to satisfy customer_). "ARE YOU SURE YOU KNOW WHAT KIND OF CAP YOU
DO WANT?"
_New "Blood."_ "WELL, YE SEE, IT'S LIKE THIS--I'VE BOUGHT A MOTOR-BIKE, AND
I THOUGHT AS 'OW I'D LIKE A CAP WI' A PEAK AT THE BACK."]
* * * * *
"Wanted, a General, plain cooking, gas fires, two boys 9 by 5.--South
Streatham."--_Local Paper._
Nothing is said of their third dimensions.
* * * * *