MR. BINNEY DRINKS THE HEALTH OF A "BLUE"
Nine months had passed and the nipping March winds were raising the
dust and numbing noses and finger-tips in London, while March sunshine
was bringing out daffodils and primroses in the country. It was very
cold on the river Thames between Putney and Mortlake, but the sun was
shining brightly, and a little party on the deck of a steamer, which
was making its way with other similar craft to a station near Barnes
Bridge, seemed to be quite unaffected in spirits by the keen east wind,
for it was the morning of the Oxford and Cambridge boat race. The
party on the steamer were all interested in the prospects of one
University, but the two crews were so equal that none of the sporting
critics had ventured to prophesy the winner in clear and unmistakable
terms, and everybody looked forward to seeing one of the best races
that had been rowed for years.
Surely that short but erect figure, standing in the bows, with a First
Trinity scarf showing above the collar of its overcoat and the ruddy
glow of health in its cheeks, can belong to no one but Mr. Peter
Binney, late of Trinity College, Cambridge! And that ample comfortable
form on the seat beside him with a fur-lined cloak and a close-fitting
bonnet, well-secured against the wind, must be that of his true and
loyal wife, Martha Binney, relict of the late Matthew Higginbotham.
Here also are the Reverend Dr. Toller with his wife and daughter, for
Mr. Binney still lives in Russell Square, and is once more a valued and
important official in the doctor's congregation. Here also are Mr. and
Mrs. Jermyn with their son and daughter, the latter attended by the
loquacious Dizzy, while John Jermyn sticks close to the side of Nesta
Toller, rather to the dismay of Mrs. Jermyn, who, charitable woman as
she is, has not taken kindly to that young lady's mother, and is not at
all anxious that this acquaintanceship which has been made under Mr.
Binney's hospitable roof should develop into intimacy. There are other
people on the boat which has been chartered by Mr. Binney for the
entertainment of his friends, but we need not concern ourselves with
them. There is one very important person, however, of those with whom
our story has concerned itself, who is not to be found there. Surely
Lucius, and not Dizzy, entertaining as that gentleman's conversation
is, should be found by the side of Betty Jermyn! And by her side
Lucius certainly would be, if duty and honour did not call him
elsewhere. For Lucius has occupied the bow seat of the Cambridge boat
ever since they went into practice, and is even now, as Mr. Binney's
steamer makes its way up the crowded river, preparing to help launch
the frail shell which all those in whom we are interested confidently
hope will soon bear him to victory.
Mr. and Mrs. Peter Binney are alone for a time in the bows of the
steamer. Let us join them, and listen to their conversation.
"See what an interest the world takes in this historic contest," Mr.
Binney is saying, waving his hand round towards the river dotted with
craft all moving the same way, and the banks lined with a dense,
holiday-making mass. "It makes you proud of being able to call
yourself a 'Varsity man."
"Yes, indeed," answers his wife. "And to think of Lucius actually
taking part in it! I feel as proud as anything of the dear boy."
"So do I," says Mr. Binney heartily. "There was a time when I should
have been jealous of him. But that is all over and done with. I've
put such things behind me. Here am I, settled down comfortably with a
devoted and charming wife. I can take life gratefully now as it comes,
and be just as proud of my boy distinguishing himself as if I had done
it myself."
"That's the way to look at it, Peter," says Mrs. Binney. "We made a
mistake in thinking it was necessary for you to go to Cambridge in
order to keep young. It's love that keeps the heart young, and so
we've found, haven't we?"
"Indeed we have, Martha," says Mr. Binney. "Ah! Shall I ever forget
what you did for me in that dark time of illness and remorse? Shall I
ever forget reaching home that morning, racked with anguish at the
thought of the ingratitude I had displayed towards my noble-hearted
son, and the remembrance of the awful punishment I had received for my
rash folly? How I sat indoors brooding over the past, feeling wretched
and miserable, without hope or comfort. How the next day I was too ill
to get up, and by night time was mercifully beyond the reach of my
remorseful thoughts, because of the severe attack of pneumonia, which
the exposure and distress I had gone through had brought on. How I lay
for days, tossing and burning on a couch of misery, and woke at last to
find your cool hand stilling the throbbing of my burning brain, and
your angel voice falling in words of balm on my distressed and fevered
spirit.
"Yes, dear," says his wife as Mr. Binney pauses for breath, "and then
you soon got better, didn't you?"
"Shall I ever forget," pursues Mr. Binney more energetically than ever,
"how, when I came again to the realisation of all the many follies I
had committed, you soothed and consoled me, how you brought my boy to
me, and neither of you would listen to my broken cries of repentance,
but gave me calves' foot jelly and grapes instead, and insisted upon
carrying on a cheerful conversation? How you brought me the news of my
success in the Little-go, which was greater than I deserved, but less
than I expected; and finally, Martha, how you made me the happy man I
am to-day by promising to become mine when I had sufficiently
recovered, on the condition that I should leave Cambridge and settle
down once more to my business."
"Yes, dear, and now we're all comfortable and happy," says Mrs. Binney.
"I made mistakes too, Peter, as well as you, but they're all over now.
And----"
"Well, Mrs. Binney," interrupts a well-known voice, "this is something
like, eh? I don't know whether you know that if you've got any
microbes or things of that sort in your system a wind like this blows
'em all away."
"I didn't know it, Mr. Stubbs," says Mrs. Binney, with a pleasant
smile. "But I have no doubt the wind is a very good thing if only it
wouldn't blow all one's hair about one's face so?"
"Ah, dear lady!" says Dizzy, "you may consider yourself lucky you've
got any hair _to_ be blown about. Now look at the top of _my_ old
pepper-box. I haven't had to use a comb for a year, and I shall soon
be able to part my hair with a towel. You wouldn't like to be like
that, would you?"
"No," says Mrs. Binney. "But you are very young to be going so bald,
Mr. Stubbs. What do you attribute it to?"
It appears that Dizzy attributes his growing baldness to hard work and
care combined, but just as he is explaining this to the sympathetic
Mrs. Binney the steamer shuts off steam and is turned and backed with a
good deal of commotion into her berth just by Barnes Bridge.
There is another hour to wait, but the time goes by somehow. The party
stamp about the deck and huddle themselves up in coats and cloaks to
keep themselves warm, and by-and-bye a muffled roar from a mile away
down the river, warns them that the boats are drawing near. The roar
deepens and increases, and by-and-bye, leaning over the rail of the
steamer, they can see the rhythmic flash of oars in the sunshine, and
nearer and nearer come the two boats, with the Umpire's launch fussing
along just behind them, and the four steamers which follow the race in
the background, the Cambridge steamer--_absit omen!_--some way behind
the rest. Now they are alongside, and a mighty cheer goes up from all
the throats in Mr. Binney's steamer as they pass, and Cambridge is seen
to be leading by half a length. Just here Oxford makes a spurt, and
creeps up level. Cambridge answers it, and on they go under Barnes
Bridge, fighting every inch of the way, as they have done ever since
the starting gun sent them off like greyhounds from the leash, four
miles down the river at Putney.
Our party spends five minutes of breathless expectation, after boats
and following steamers have passed out of sight, and then another
cheer, louder than the first, goes up as the light blue flag slowly
unfurls itself from the flag-staff at the finish of the course, and the
dark blue is run up underneath it. Then mutually congratulating one
another with every expression of delight and fulfilled expectation, our
party steam away down the river, very well pleased with their
afternoon's amusement.
On the night of the boat race Lucius dined with the crews; but while he
was by no means a drag on the hilarity of the proceedings, and may be
said on the whole to have enjoyed himself, he often found himself
wishing that he was at home in Russell Square, where Betty was. He had
declined the invitation he had received to the "Blue Monday" dinner, as
Mr. Binney had announced his intention of exercising his hospitality on
that evening in honour of the distinction Lucius had gained in rowing
in the winning University crew. The company was the same as that which
had graced Mr. Binney's board in the Easter vacation a year before,
with the exception of Miss Tupper, who had not entered the house since
Mrs. Higginbotham had taken her place there, and with the addition of
Mrs. Jermyn, Betty, and John. The Reverend Julius Jermyn had returned
to his parish at Norfolk directly after the boat race on the previous
Saturday. The Tollers would not have been there had not Mrs. Toller
practically asked herself. She was sweetness itself in her intercourse
with Mrs. Binney, but although her claws were sheathed they were not
cut, and were likely to spring out at a moment's warning if she were
offended, and Mrs. Binney had wisely given in at once, and warmly
proffered the invitation which was being fished for. Mrs. Toller could
not come without her husband, and Nesta had been asked in order to fill
up.
Mr. Binney took in Mrs. Jermyn. It was known that Mrs. Toller would
resent this, but she was placed on her host's left, having been paired
off with Dizzy, to whom she had taken a great fancy, and smiled sweetly
as she took her seat after the Doctor's extempore grace. Lucius was
allowed to take in Betty, and sat between her and her mother. Next to
Betty came Dr. Toller on Mrs. Binney's left. On the other side of the
table was John Jermyn, who had been made happy with Nesta Toller, with
Dizzy and Mrs. Toller next to them. The table was decorated with
Lucius's silver cups, standing on an artistically crinkled square of
light blue silk. The menus, adorned with appropriate aquatic emblems
and the arms of the two Universities, had been ordered expressly from
Messrs. Breedon & Co., and were quite in the orthodox Cambridge style.
"Very pretty," said Mrs. Toller, examining hers when she had settled
herself. "One might almost imagine oneself transported to Cambridge,
Mr. Stubbs. Quite delightful, is it not?"
"Yes," said Dizzy, "although to tell you the truth, I'm getting a bit
tired of Cambridge."
"Oh! but I thought young men never got tired of University life," said
Mrs. Toller. "I have always heard that it was so very attractive. I'm
sure you found it so, didn't you, Mr. Binney?"
But Mr. Binney was engaged with Mrs. Jermyn and affected not to have
heard the inquiry.
"It's all very well for a bit," said Dizzy, "but when a fellow gets my
age he wants to settle down and do something."
"Oh! come," said Mrs. Toller, "you're not so old as all that, Mr.
Stubbs."
"Not in years perhaps," said Dizzy. "But I assure you that in other
things Methuselah was a babe compared with me. I sometimes sit and
look at fellows amusing themselves, and I say to myself: 'Well, you are
a set o' Jugginses. Call this life! Why, you ought all to be in the
nursery!' However, I've only got one more term and the whole thing
will be over."
"And what are you going to do when you leave the University?" asked
Mrs. Toller. "Are you still thinking of entering the Church?"
"Oh! bless me, no," said Dizzy. "That's off. My old father got a bit
frightened, when these Kensit Johnnies began bally-ragging all over the
place. He's a far-sighted old fellow. He saw that if I got shoved
into a comfortable living and then they went and disestablished it or
something, I should get left."
"Have you ever turned your attention to the Nonconformist ministry?"
inquired Mrs. Toller.
"No, I can't say I have," replied Dizzy. "Is there much in it?"
"The incomes made by our leading men are superior to anything in the
Establishment," said Mrs. Toller. "Our people have been taught to
give."
"_Have_ they?" said Dizzy, with interest. "Well now, that's worth
knowing. I'll put my old governor on to that. If you hear of a soft
thing going, I shall consider it very kind of you if you'll drop me a
line. One's got to keep one's eyes skinned to pick up a living
now-a-days. We're getting ready for the bar now, to tell you the
truth. My old father was dining with a railway fellow down our way,
and he told him that they spent I forget how many thousands a year on
litigation. My governor's a cute old bird, and he thought it wouldn't
be a bad thing if I could pick up a bit of it, so I've been eating
dinners at Lincoln's Inn for the last year or so, and previous poor
dinners they are too. I don't think I shall take to it much. In fact,
the governor's been dropping hints about diplomacy lately. It seems
he's found out from the papers that the people ain't over and above
pleased with the way things have been carried on by the ambassadors
we've got now, and he thinks there might be a chance there in a few
years' time. I don't much care what it is. I suppose I shall keep
going somehow."
Lucius and Betty were talking quietly together on the other side of the
table.
"Only two more years," Lucius was saying. "Won't it be ripping, Betty,
when we're settled down in a house of our own?"
"I don't think we shall ever have a better time than we've had for the
last year at Cambridge," said Betty. "And think of another summer term
there together."
Lucius's face lit up. "There's nothing like a summer term at Cambridge
when the girl you're in love with is there," he said. "We'll go on the
Backs in a canoe every fine afternoon. I say, Betty, do you remember
that backwater?"
"Of course I do, you silly boy," said Betty. "I haven't forgiven you
yet for getting me to go up it on false pretences. I'll see that you
don't get me there again though."
"I'll take particular good care that I do," said Lucius. "I like that
backwater better than any place in Cambridge. Betty, what shall you do
when I've gone down?"
"I know I shall be very miserable," said Betty, her face falling. "But
don't let us talk about that. We shall have another summer term
together."
Dr. Toller was making himself pleasant to his hostess. He was an
agreeable man when he succeeded in banishing from his mind "the
Problems that confront the Age," and brought himself down to the level
of those who are content to let the Age worry along in its own way
without making too much noise about it. Mrs. Binney, at the head of
her own table, was an attractive figure in a gown of rich black silk,
festooned with hangings of lace, and smiled engagingly at the Doctor's
conversation.
"Yes, Doctor," she said, in answer to a remark from him, "I feel I am a
very fortunate woman. I have a comfortable house and the best of
husbands. Peter is consideration itself to all my little whims, and I
assure you I have a great many whims. There was a time when I feared
that this happiness would never come to me. You know all about it and
were very kind to me when I thought it my duty to cut myself off from
all these bright prospects. I am thankful that that trouble passed
away and I was not compelled to spend the rest of my life by myself.
There is the closest confidence between me and my husband. He is of a
sanguine disposition, and I think I may say that any weight of
character I may have attained to--and you know, Doctor, I am a weighty
woman in more ways than one--keeps the balance true. There is not a
happier couple in all Bloomsbury than Peter and myself, and you know
that in marrying him I have gained a son, which is a great joy to me,
for I never had a child of my own. Lucius treats me with the greatest
respect and affection, and I could not be fonder of him than if he were
my own. I am as proud as anyone of his success to-day. Cambridge has
not proved an unmixed source of pleasure to me, as you know, but I have
seldom performed a more agreeable duty than when I arranged this light
blue silk on the table this afternoon with my own hands. Anything that
I can do towards making the dear boy's life happy with the sweet girl
he is going to marry I _shall_ do, as if they were my own children, and
consider myself fortunate in being permitted to do."
If Mrs. Binney could speak in such terms of gratitude of the new life
she had entered upon, what words could be too strong for her husband to
use in describing his content in having gained as his helpmate that
most estimable woman. She was the theme on which he was expatiating to
Mrs. Jermyn while the conversations already recorded were going on
around him.
"Nobody knows," Mr. Binney was saying, "what that woman has been to me.
She has stuck by me in sickness and in health, when I was working at
the business to which I was brought up, and when I was trying to do
something that I oughtn't have tried to do. You know all about that,
Elizabeth, so I don't mind mentioning it to you, although it's all over
now. I can't say that I'm altogether sorry to have had the mental
training that University life affords. Nobody can deny that there's a
difference between a man who has been at the University and one who
hasn't. You've had a husband at Oxford and a son at Cambridge and you
know that as well as I do. But still on the whole I acknowledge that
Oxford and Cambridge are for the young fellows. When I saw Lucius
pulling away in such perfect style in that boat on Saturday afternoon I
can tell you it warmed my heart to see it. And Martha feels just the
same as I do about it. She told me so. Nobody knows, Elizabeth, what
a treasure I've found in that woman. And as for Lucius, well, he
didn't take to the idea kindly at first--I don't know that it was to be
expected that he should--but they're as fond of one another as they can
be now, and--and it makes me very happy to see it--very happy."
The conversation became more general after this, and great were the
merriment and goodwill round Mr. Binney's table.
When dinner was over and the servants had left the room, Mr. Binney
rose to his feet. There was an expectant silence and a rapping on the
table from all except Lucius, who knew what was coming and wished it
was well over.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said Mr. Binney, "I rise to perform a very
pleasant duty, a duty which I am proud of having occasion to perform, a
duty which I am sure all the friends I see gathered round me to-night
will join with me heartily in--in performing, a duty which--which I
will now perform. I rise, ladies and gentlemen, to propose the health
of my son Lucius, who rowed with such conspicuous success in the
Cambridge boat last Saturday." (Murmured but heartfelt applause,
rappings on the table, and "Well rowed, Lucy, well rowed," from Dizzy.)
"We have gathered round our table to-night," continued Mr. Binney,
"four members of the University of Cambridge." ("Five, sir, five,"
from Dizzy.) Mr. Binney's puzzled eye searched quickly round the table
and lit upon Betty. "Five, of course," he said, "for have we not a
fair representative of the great college of Newnham in the person of
the dear girl whom I hope soon to welcome as a daughter?" (Renewed
applause.) "We have also a distinguished member of another University,
or rather of two Universities, for my friend Dr. Toller is a Bachelor
of Arts of the University of London and a Doctor of Divinity--_honoris
causa_--of the University of Joppa, Pa., across the water. And
speaking for the ladies, I am sure there is not one present here
to-night whose sympathies do not go out to the great University to
which I have the honour to belong." (Rappings and subdued acquiescent
murmurs from the ladies with the exception of Mrs. Toller, who thought
Oxford rather more aristocratic.) "I needn't say," pursued Mr. Binney,
"that to become a Blue is to gain the proudest position which Cambridge
can afford, and to become a rowing Blue is perhaps the highest
distinction of all. I have always had occasion to be proud of my son
throughout his school and University career, and I am prouder than ever
of him to-night." (Applause.) "These trophies, ladies and gentlemen,
and this decoration of light blue, are signs of his having
distinguished himself in the highest possible degree in one path of
life--the path which only those who have youth, strength, and health on
their side can hope to tread. In proposing the health of my son
Lucius, I am sure you will join with me in wishing him equal success in
other paths of life in the future, a success which, with the charming
girl who has promised to share it with him, I for one feel confident of
his attaining. Ladies and gentlemen--My son Lucius."
THE END