HOW THEY DRANK A NEW TOAST
"The Major's rib will do, sir," nodded Dr. Ponderby, "'tis doing well
and will do better and better. A simple fracture, sir--'twill be sound
in no time, it being a rib of health abounding, owing, if I may put it
so, to an abstemious life, a past puritanic--a----"
"Abstemious, sir!" exclaimed Lord Cleeve, rolling his eyes, "abstemious
d'ya' say? O begad, hark to that, Jack! Abstemious sir, abste----"
The Colonel choked and rolled his eyes fiercer than ever.
"My lord," said portly Dr. Ponderby, patting his smooth wig, "I am no
Puritan myself, nor do I look askance at a glass or so of wine, far
from it----"
"The bottle is at your elbow, sir," said the Major from his cushioned
chair.
"Abstemious--begad!" chuckled Lord Cleeve, snuffing fiercely.
"I thank you, Major," said Dr. Ponderby, leisurely filling his glass,
"and my Lord Cleeve, coming back to my patient's rib, I repeat its
abounding health is due entirely to a youthful and immensely robust
constitution and----"
"Abstemious--ho!" chuckled the Colonel. "Given occasion sir, Jack can
be as abstemious as Bacchus. I remember last time we made a night
on't--aha! It being nigh dawn and we on our fifth bottle, or was it
the seventh, Jack--not to mention Sir Benjamin's punch, begad, it being
nigh dawn, I say, and I happening to glance about missed divers faces
from the genial board. 'Where are they all, Jack?' says I. 'Under the
table,' says he, sober as a judge, and damme sir, so they were and Jack
as I say, sober as yourself sir, for all his abstemiousness!"
"Hem!" exclaimed Dr. Ponderby, gulping his wine and rising. "None the
less, Major d'Arcy, my dear sir, you shall be abroad again in a week
if--I say, and mark me sir, I say it with deepest emphasis--if you will
brisk up, banish gloomy thought and melancholy, cultivate joy, sit i'
the sun, eat well, drink moderately and sleep as much as possible."
"A copious prescription, sir!" sighed the Major wearily.
"Brisk?" snorted Lord Cleeve, "brisk, is it? Refuse me but he's as
brisk and joyous as a gallows! Here he sits, hunched up in that old
service coat and glooms and glowers all day, and when night draws on,
damns his bed, curses himself, and wishes his oldest friend to the
devil and that's me sir--his friend I mean."
"Stay, never that, George," smiled the Major, shaking protesting head.
"But ya' curst gloomy Jack, none the less."
"This won't do," smiled Dr. Ponderby, "won't do at all. Gloom must we
dissipate----"
"Dissipate!" exclaimed the Colonel, "dissipate--aye man, but he won't
drink and the Oporto's the right stuff you'll allow----"
"He must have company----"
"Well and aren't I company?"
"The very best, my lord----"
"Not to mention Viscount Tom and----"
"Very true sir," smiled the doctor, "only you don't either of you
happen to wear petticoats----"
"Petticoats!" exclaimed the Colonel, rolling his eyes.
"Petticoats are my prescription, my lord--plenty of 'em and taken
often. A house is a gloomy place without 'em----'
"Agad and ya' right there--ya' right there!" nodded the Colonel
vehemently.
"No!" protested the Major.
"Yes!" cried the Colonel. "Look at my place in Surrey, the damndest,
dreariest curst hole y'ever saw----"
"Nay George, when I saw it last it was----"
"A plaguy, dreary hole, Jack!" snapped the Colonel. "Used to wonder
why I couldn't abide the place--reason perfectly plain to-day--lacks a
petticoat, and Jack man, a petticoat I'm a-going to have soon, man,
soon ha, and so shall you begad!"
"Never!" said the Major drearily.
"Now hark to the poor, curst wretch, 'tis the woefullest dog!"
exclaimed the Colonel feelingly, "won't drink and no petticoats! Man
Jack, I tell thee woman is to man his--his--well, she's a woman, and
man without woman's gentle and purifying influence is--is only--only
a--well, man. Look at me. After all these years, Jack 'tis a
petticoat for me."
The Major murmured the old adage about one man's meat being another
man's poison, whereon his lordship snarled and rolled his eyes as he
rose to escort the doctor to the door.
"Petticoats quotha?" said he, "Petticoats it shall be."
"In large doses!" nodded Dr. Ponderby, "and repeated often." So
saying, he shook the invalid's languid hand, smiled and bustled away.
"Ha!" exclaimed his lordship, "there's a man of stark common sense,
Jack."
"Aye, aye," nodded the Major a little impatiently, "but what of
Effingham, you say he has left Westerham?"
"He left at mid-day, Jack."
"For good?"
"'Twould seem so, he marched bag and baggage. The rascal fences purely
well, I vow."
"Superlatively well," nodded the Major beginning to fill a much smoked
clay pipe.
"Man Jack, I thought he had ya' there in carte."
"Nay I was expecting it and ready, George. I should have caught him on
the riposte but I was short d'ye see----"
"Owing to ya' rib, Jack."
"Damn my rib!" exclaimed the Major. "'Tis pure folly I should be laid
up and sit here like a lame dog for so small a matter as a rib, d'ye
see----"
"'Tis more than ya' rib is wrong with ya', Jack!"
"A Gad's name, what?"
"A general gloom and debility induced by lack of and need for--a
petticoat."
"Folly!" snorted the Major, but his pale cheek flushed none the less.
"Talking o' Dalroyd, ya' pinked his sword arm, Jack."
"But he's alive, alive George and now, now for all I know--where's
Tom--where's Pancras? For all we know they may be fighting at this
moment!" And the Major half rose from his elbow-chair.
"Content ya', Jack, content ya'!" said the Colonel, pressing him back
with hands surprisingly gentle, "the lad's not fighting--nor likely to.
I swear again, he shan't cross blades with Dalroyd or Effingham if I
have to pistol the rogue myself, so ha' no worry on that score, Jack."
The Major sighed and leaned back in his chair while Lord Cleeve watched
him and, snuffing copiously, sighed sympathetically.
"'Tis the woefullest figure ya' cut, Jack, wi' that long face and
damned old service coat."
"'Tis the one I wore at Ramillies," said the Major, glancing down at
faded cloth and tarnished lace.
"Is it, begad! I'd never ha' recognised it. Then 'tis time 'twas
superannuated and retired from active service. You was wounded that
day I remember, Jack."
"Yes."
"Twice."
"Yes."
"But ya' never wore look so doleful--never such a damned dumb-dog,
suffer-and-smite me air--not then, Jack--not in those days and ya' were
generally nursing some wound or other."
"I was younger then!" sighed the Major.
"Pah!" exclaimed the Colonel scattering a pinch of snuff in his
vehemence, "I say pish, man--tush and the devil! Ya' younger these
days than ever ya' were--all ya' need to become a very youth is a
petticoat--take your old comrade's advice and marry one."
"Never!" exclaimed the Major, clenching his fists.
"Tush!" exclaimed the Colonel, snuffing. "As ya' friend, Jack, 'tis my
duty to see ya' happily married and I'll be damned if I don't. Wedlock
'twixt man and woman is--is--ah, is well, marriage. There's little
Mrs. Wadhurst over at Sevenoaks--a shape, Jack, an eye and a curst
alluring nose. Hast ever noticed her nose?"
"No!" snarled the Major.
"Ha!" sighed the Colonel. "Not to ya' taste, belike. Why then there's
Lady Lydia Flyte--a widow, Jack--another neighbour--a comely piece,
man, bright eyes, wealthy and sufficiently plump----"
"Ha' done!" snapped the Major, puffing smoke.
"Dooce take ya'!" snarled the Colonel, scattering snuff. "Begad, man
Jack, ya' damned peevish and contrary, y'are 'pon my life! If I wasn't
the most patient, long-suffering, meek and mild soul i' the world I
should be inclined to lose my temper over ya' damned stubbornness--rot
me, I should!" At this the Major chuckled..
"Your meekness, George, hath ever been equalled only by your humility!"
said he.
"Nay, but man Jack, look'ee now--'tis not that I would ram my own
happiness down thy throat, but to see thee so glum and spiritless,
damps my own joy doocedly. And the word glum brings us back to
petticoats."
"Nay George, for mercy's sake no more----"
"But comrade, a petticoat should be--ah--should be, a petticoat is--is
a--ha!"
At this moment was a knock and, the door opening, the Sergeant advanced
two paces and stood at attention:
"Your honour," said he.
"Ha, Zeb," exclaimed the Colonel, fixing him with fierce, blue eye,
"ho, Sergeant Zeb, what the dooce is a petticoat?"
The Sergeant stared at his lordship, stared at the ceiling, scratched
smooth-shaven chin with thoughtful finger and spoke.
"A petticoat, m' lud, is a article as a woman can't very well go
without and a man shouldn't--and won't!"
The Colonel set down his glass, threw back his head and roared with
laughter till he stamped. "Aha--oho!" he cried at last, sprinkling
snuff over himself and everything within reach. "O Gad, Zeb, ya'
right, ya' right--must remember that. D'ya hear that, Jack--oho--aha!"
And he roared again while the Major smiled, chuckled, and despite rib
and bandages, laughed until Sergeant Zebedee anxiously bade him have a
care, and announced that Sir Benjamin Tripp, Lord Alvaston, Mr.
Marchdale, Sir Jasper and Captain West had ridden over to see him and
enquire after his health.
"Why then let 'em in, Zeb--let 'em in," said the Major a little
breathlessly, "and bring up a half-dozen or so of the yellow seal----"
"The yellow--ha!" sighed the Colonel, "if the same as last time 'tis
bottled sunshine, 'twill warm the very cockles o' ya' heart, man----"
"Nay, George----"
"Tush, Jack--an you don't drink, I don't----"
"But George----"
"Pish, Jack! You'll never go for to deny ya' old friend?" Here the
door opened and the company entered with a prodigious waving of hats,
flirting of gold-mounted whips and jingling of spurs.
"Major d'Arcy, sir!" cried Sir Benjamin, "your very devoted, humble
servant. My lord, yours! Ods my life, my dear Major d'Arcy, I joy to
see you no worse, sir, after your desperate battle with nine
bloodthirsty ruffians----"
"Four, Sir Benjamin----"
"Common report, sir, makes 'em twelve but I'm assured they were but
nine----"
"Sir, they were but four," repeated the Major gently. "But gentlemen,
you have lost one of your number--Mr. Dalroyd is gone, I understand?"
"Faith and so he has, sir," answered Mr. Marchdale petulantly, "clean
gone and with eight hundred guineas o' mine and more of Alvaston's, not
to mention----"
"But then we never had 'ny luck wi' th' cards, Tony," yawned his
lordship.
"Luck!" spluttered Mr. Marchdale, "luck, d'ye call it----"
"Ahem!" exclaimed Sir Benjamin. "'Tis true Dalroyd is gone, sir, and
suddenly, nor will I disguise the fact that his ahem!--his departure
was in some sort a relief considering the deplorable scene 'twixt him
and Viscount Merivale----"
"And his curst secret ways," added Mr. Marchdale, "and his treatment of
that fellow of his--Dalroyd's room was next mine and I know he's beaten
the poor rogue damnably more than once of late."
"Haw--that's true enough!" exclaimed Captain West, "heard the miserable
dog myself. Dismally a-groaning a-nights. More than once, haw!"
"And yesterday, just as he mounts to ride away Dalroyd must fall
a-kicking the fellow--in the open street and with us standing by! And
kicked him, look you, not as a gentleman should but with such vicious
pleasure in it--faith, 'twas positively indecent!"
"Od's life, sir, and that's true--indecent is the word!" nodded Sir
Benjamin tapping his snuff-box, "and gentlemen, if the human optic,
basilisk-like, could blast soul and wither flesh--Dalroyd would have
hem! I say would have known--ha--would have made a sufficiently
uncomfortable not to say painful exit--or setting forth the matter in
plainer terms Dalroyd hem----"
"Hold hard, Ben!" yawned Alvaston. "Y' gettin' lost again. What our
Ben wants t' say 's simply Dalroyd's f'low looked bloody murder 'n so
he did."
"Ha--begad! He did so!"
"Dalroyd is well enough enjoyed now and then," said Mr. Marchdale
sententiously, "but as a constant diet is apt to become devilish
indigestible! And as regards his unfailing lack with the cards, I
shouldn't wonder----"
"Then don't, Tony--don't!" murmured Lord Alvaston, crossing his slender
legs. "Dalroyd may be this, that or t'other, but Dalroyd ain't
here--enough of him."
"Aye, true," nodded Sir Benjamin, "true indeed, Dalroyd is gone and we,
dear Major, like this year's roses, are going too. In a week sir, this
fraternity amorous will suffer disruption, our lady hath so decreed,
the fiat hath gone forth."
"Indeed sir, you surprise me!" said the Major, glancing from one to
another, "whence comes this?"
Here Sir Benjamin shook his head and sighed, Sir Jasper stifled a
groan, Mr. Marchdale swore beneath his breath, the Captain uttered a
feeble "Haw" and Lord Alvaston whistled dolefully.
"Sir," sighed Sir Benjamin, "you behold in us a band of woeful wooers
each alike condemned to sigh, and yet to sigh in unison and in this,
the measure of our woe doth find some small abatement. Each hath wooed
and each hath proved his wooing vain, his dreams, his visions must
remain but--hem!--but dreams and----"
"Hold on, Ben," murmured Alvaston, "burn me but y're gettin' int' th'
weeds again! What poor old Ben's strivin' t' say 's simply that----"
"Betty'll ha' none of us," scowled Mr. Marchdale, "though if I'd had
more time----"
"None of us!" added the Captain, "er--haw! Not one!" Here Sir Jasper,
trying to sip his wine and groan at the same time, choked.
"And yet--and yet," sighed Sir Benjamin, holding his glass between his
eye and the light, "seeing that our ahem! our unspeakable grief is
common to us, each and all, it shall, methinks, but knit closer the
bonds of our fellowship and we should unite to wish her happiness with
whatsoever unknown mortal she shall some day make blest. Regarding
which I think a toast might be appropriate--pray charge your glasses
and I----" Sir Benjamin paused and turned as with a perfunctory knock
the Sergeant re-appeared.
"Your honour," said he, "my Lady Belinda Damain with Lady Carlyon to
see you."
The Major caught his breath, then sat upright his square chin showing a
little grim.
"You will tell their ladyships that I present my humble respects and
thanks but regret I am unable to see them."
"Sir?" said the Sergeant, staring.
"Go, Sergeant!"
"Jack!" exclaimed the Colonel as the door closed "why, Jack!"
"Sir!" answered the Major, his eyes very keen and bright.
"P-petticoats, man--two of 'em--doctor's orders! O rot me!" spluttered
the Colonel.
"Gentlemen," said the Major, smiling wearily, "pray charge your glasses
for Sir Benjamin's toast."
"Major d'Arcy, sir," said Sir Benjamin, bowing from his chair, "permit
me to say that I applaud the delicacy of your feelings. We lovers who
have wooed and lost, alas! Ods my life, sir, 'twas well done--honour
me!" And he extended his snuff-box. "Sir," he continued, when they
had bowed and snuffed together, "summer is on the wane and with the
summer we, like the swallows, shall desert these rural solitudes. A
week hence, instead of perambulating bosky Westerham we shall most of
us be jolting over the cobblestones of London--but we shall one and all
treasure a lively memory of your friendship and trust that it may be
renewed from time to time. Meanwhile, ere we fly hence, it is our
united hope that you, together with my Lord Cleeve will honour us again
with your company to supper on an early date----"
"A Gad, sir, we will that!" nodded the Colonel. "Speaking for myself I
thank you heartily, and speaking for Jack, I say he shall come if I
have to carry him there and back again."
"And now, Sir Benjamin," said the Major, "pray give us your toast."
Sir Benjamin rose, glass in one hand, lace handkerchief in the other.
"We have all here, I think, with the exception of the gallant Colonel,
essayed our fortune with my lady Betty, and with equal ahem! equally
deplorable lack of success. 'Twould seem that she is determined on
according to no one of us here that felicity we have, each one, dreamed
of and sought for. But she is young and 'tis but to be expected that
one day some happier man shall succeed where we have failed. Now sirs,
as lovers, as gentlemen and sportsmen true, let us raise our glasses to
that happy unknown whoever he be, let us drink health to him, joy to
him, success and long life to him for the sake of Our Admirable Betty.
Gentlemen 'The Unknown!'"