Clarence Mills, invited to be present at the birthday evening, wrote in
frolicsome terms, from which the young hostess judged that with him the
progress of love was satisfactory. "My dear young relation, near
Paddington Station, of course I will come to your show. If forced to
leave early, you won't think me surly; I have to meet some one you
know!" To this Gertie sent a card begging Miss Loriner to include
herself in the invitation, and that young woman forwarded a telegram
from Ewelme with the word "Delighted."
"Now"--to herself hopefully--"now I shall hear some news about him!"
Gertie decided the evening should differ from evenings which had
preceded it, in that the entire expense was to be borne by herself; and
Mrs. Mills therefore only offered a feeble objection when the girl
arranged that the front room upstairs was to be turned out, rout seats
hired, and a few articles of furniture, including the piano-forte
(which, at one perilous moment, threatened to remain for the rest of
its life at the turn of the staircase), transferred from the shop
parlour. Bulpert announced his intention of taking charge of the
musical and dramatic part of the entertainment. Bulpert no longer
considered himself a visitor at Praed Street, and on one occasion he
entered a stern protest when he found Mr. Trew's hat there, resting
upon the peg which he considered his own. Twice he had suggested that
Gertie should lend him half a sovereign, reducing the amount, by
stages, to eighteenpence; but she answered definitely that advances of
this kind interfered with friendship, and she preferred not to start
the practice.
"I could let you have it back in a fortnight."
"Perhaps!" she said. "And if you did, you would be under the
impression that you were doing me a great favour."
"I like to see a girl economical," he remarked, frowning, "but there's
a diff'rence between that and being miserly. And," with resolution, "I
go further, and I say that if there's anybody who's got a just and fair
and proper claim on your consideration, it is F. W. B."
"There's some one who comes before you."
"The name, please?"
"Myself," replied Gertie.
The question of conciliating Miss Rabbit at Great Titchfield Street had
been solved, and matters there were going smoothly. Miss Rabbit
continued to hold her title of forewoman, although she was no longer
forewoman; and Miss Higham took the label of secretary, which well
described duties she did not perform. The girls in the workroom made
no concealment of their satisfaction with the change, and men at the
looms upstairs came individually to Gertie and said, "Look here, miss!
If ever you have any difficulty or awk'ardness or anything of the kind
with the other chaps, just give the word, and I'll put it all right."
Bunny, for the preservation of friendship, went down on the birthday
party list, and Miss Radford (who had not been seen for some time) and
two girls (formerly at school with Gertie, and then known as a couple
of terrors, but now grown tall and distinguished, and doing well in a
notable shop in Westbourne Grove), and, of course, Mr. Trew, and two
friends of Bulpert's, whom he guaranteed capable of keeping any party
on the go. Mrs. Mills checked the names, expressed satisfaction.
"I was half afraid," she said, "you'd want to send a note to that young
gentleman who lives near where I was brought up."
"If he came here," replied the girl steadily, "I should only fall in
love with him again, and that would complicate matters."
"I think you're wise," approved Mrs. Mills.
A charwoman from Sale Street came in to scrub floors, to see to
fireplaces, and to renovate apartments generally--a slow worker, on
account of some affection of the heart, but an uncommonly good talker.
When human intercourse failed she addressed articles of furniture,
asking them how much they cost originally, and, sarcastically, whether
they were under the impression that they looked as good as new; to some
she gave the assurance that if she were to meet them at a jumble sale,
she would pass by without a second glance. The charwoman suggested, at
the completion of her task, and rolling up her square mat with the care
of one belonging to an Oriental sect, that her help should be engaged
for the party; Mrs. Mills replied that if they required help, some one
of more active methods and of less years would be approached.
"Right you are!" she said, taking her money from the counter. "In that
case, I'll send along my Sarah."
To suit the young hostess, and to meet the convenience of one or two of
the guests, the party began at an hour that was quite fashionably late.
Miss Radford came early, excusing herself for this breach of decorum on
the grounds that it made her painfully nervous to enter a room when
strangers were present; apart from which, to arrive in good time meant
that one had a chance of looking at oneself in the mirror. Did Gertie
consider that her (Miss Radford's) complexion was showing signs of
going off? A lady friend, who, from the description given, seemed to
be neither a friend nor a lady, had mentioned that Miss Radford was
beginning to look her full age; and remarks of this kind might be
contradicted but could not be ignored.
"Don't you ever get anxious about your personal appearance?" she
inquired.
"Not specially."
"I suppose," agreed Miss Radford, "that being properly engaged does
make you a bit less anxious."
Clarence came with Miss Loriner, and the young hostess flushed at the
young woman's first words. Henry sent his best regards. Henry, it
appeared, no longer spent week-ends at Ewelme--this because of some
want of agreement with Lady Douglass; and he was now busy in connection
with a sanatorium at Walton-on-Naze, which demanded frequent journeys
from Liverpool Street. Gertie, in taking Miss Loriner to get rid of
hat and dust-cloak in the adjoining room, felt it good to find herself
remembered. Miss Loriner wanted a small fan, and searching the
hand-bag which she had brought, first looked puzzled, and then became
enlightened.
"I've brought Lady Douglass's bag by mistake," she cried,
self-reproachfully. "Here are her initials in the corner--'M. D.'; not
'M. L.'" Miss Loriner gave an ejaculation.
"What is it you've found there?"
"This," announced the other deliberately, "is the missing key of the
billiard-room at Morden Place!"
The two girls looked at each other, and Gertie nodded.
"I've been blaming her brother all along for that trick."
"My dear girl," demanded Miss Loriner, "aren't you fearfully excited
and indignant about it?"
"Doesn't seem to matter much now. But," smiling, "she is a character,
isn't she? I pity you if she often does things like that."
"I shall be uncommonly glad," admitted the other, "when Clarence earns
three hundred a year. Do you know that if you had stayed on at Morden
Place, this key would most likely have been found in your portmanteau."
Frederick Bulpert, arriving with his friends, asserted his position by
attempting to kiss Gertie; she drew back, and Bulpert said manfully
that if she could do without it he could also afford to dispense with
the ceremony. He introduced his companions as two of the very best and
brightest, and they intimated, by a modest shrug of the shoulders, that
this might be taken as a correct description. The sisters of
Westbourne Grove came bearing a highly-ornamental cardboard case with a
decoration of angels, and containing a pair of gloves. They mentioned
that if the size was not correct the gloves could be changed, and at
once took seats in the corner of the room, whence they surveyed the
company with a critical air, sighing in unison, as though regretting
deeply their mad impulsiveness in accepting the invitation. On this,
other presents were offered; Bulpert said his memento would come later
on. One of his friends sat on the music-stool, and Sarah, the
charwoman's daughter, entering at the first chord with a tray that held
sandwiches and cakes, said to him casually, "Hullo, George, you on in
this scene?" and handed around the refreshments. Bulpert's friend,
disturbed by the incident, waited until the girl left the room, and
then explained that he had met her in pantomime, the previous
Christmas, at the West London Theatre; he argued forcibly that people
encountered behind the footlights had no right to claim acquaintance
outside. "Otherwise," contended Bulpert's friend, "we're none of us
safe." He was induced to give his song, and the first lines,--
"I went to Margate, once I did, to spend my holidee,
Such funny things you seem to see beside the silver sea"
suggested that he was not one disposed to worship originality or make a
fetish of invention. Bulpert, at the end, pointed out that his friend
had omitted the last verse; the man at the pianoforte said there were
some places where he was in the habit of giving the last verse; this,
he declared flatteringly, was not one of them. Gertie's aunt came
upstairs to announce that, the occasion being special, she had taken it
upon herself to put up the shutters. If they excused her for half a
second this would give her sufficient space to tittivate and smarten up.
"Say when you want me to liven 'em up, Gertie," remarked Bulpert.
"Go and be nice to those two sisters in the corner."
"When we're married," he said, "we'll often give little affairs of this
kind. I'm a great believer in hospitality myself."
As he did not appear to make a great deal of headway with the
Westbourne Grove ladies, he was recalled and the task handed over to
Clarence Mills. Clarence scored an immediate success. The sisters, it
seemed, prided themselves upon being tremendous readers; Clarence was
acquainted with some of the writers who, to them, were only names. And
the young hostess would have been able to survey the room with
contentment, but for the fact that Miss Radford suddenly became
depressed--with hands clasped over a knee she rocked to and fro in her
chair. Gertie discovered that to her friend had just come the
terrifying thought that no one loved her, nobody cared for her, and for
all practical purposes Miss Radford might as well be dead and buried,
with daisies growing over her grave. Gertie argued against this
melancholy attitude, and the other explained that it came to her only
at moments when every one else was jolly and cheerful, adding defiantly
that she could not avoid it, and did not mean to avoid it.
"People," declared Miss Radford with truculence, "have to take me as
they happen to find me!"
Bulpert's second friend, advancing with a pack of cards, asked if Miss
Radford would kindly select one and tell him the description. "The
Queen of Hearts? Nothing," said Bulpert's second friend, with a
gallant bow, "nothing could be more appropriate." Miss Radford cried,
"Oh, what a cheeky thing to say!" and at once bade farewell to
melancholy.
A wonderful man, the second friend--able to do everything with cards
that ordinary folk deemed impossible. If you selected a card and tore
it up; and he presently--talking all the while--produced a card, and
said in the politest way, "I think that is yours, madam?" and you
remarked that this was the four of clubs, whereas you selected the
five, he exclaimed, with pretence of irritation, "Well, what is there
to grumble at?" and, looking again, you saw that it had changed to the
five of clubs. There was nothing to do but to applaud and wonder. He
swallowed cards, and produced them with a slight click from his elbow,
the middle of his back, and his ankle. He allowed Miss Loriner to find
the four aces and put them at the bottom of the pack, and the next
moment asked Mr. Trew, who had just arrived, to produce them from the
inside pocket of his coat. Mr. Trew had some difficulty in finding
them, but the conjurer assisted, and there were the four aces; and Mr.
Trew, after denying the suggestion that he had come prepared to play
whist, admitted the young man was a masterpiece. Mr. Trew's watch was
next borrowed and wrapped in paper; the poker borrowed in order to
smash it; the violent blow given. Miss Radford was asked to be so very
kind as to assist by looking in the plate of nuts that stood on the
table, and there the watch was discovered, safe and sound. Some
thought-reading followed, not easy to understand because of the
incessant monologue kept up by the gifted youth; but the results were
satisfactory, and by pressing the folded pieces of paper very hard
against his forehead, he was able to announce the names written within.
"This is yours, I think, Miss Higham. Now, I don't guarantee success,
mind you, in every case, but--the name, I think, is Henry"--he
contorted his features--"Henry Douglass. Is that right, may I ask?"
"Quite correct!" replied Gertie.
"What did you want to write his name for?" demanded Bulpert, seated
next to her.
"It was the first that came into my head."
"Kindly keep it out of your head in future," he ordered, "or else
there'll be ructions."
Did the ladies object to smoke? asked some one. The ladies answered,
separately and collectively, that they adored smoke; the Westbourne
Grove young women, now in excellent fettle, admitted that, at times,
they themselves enjoyed a cigarette, but could not be persuaded to give
a public exhibition of their powers. They did, however, agree to give
a short sketch entitled "Who is Who?" and the hearthrug was given up to
them; and if they had not made so many corrections--neither appeared to
be well acquainted with her own part in the piece, but each was letter
perfect in the part of the other--the duologue would have been a great
success.
"And now," said Mrs. Mills, "let's see about refreshments. Mr. Trew,
where's that corkscrew of yours?"
"Isn't it about time I was asked to do something?" demanded Bulpert,
with an injured air.
"Let us see you do your celebrated trick," suggested Gertie's aunt,
with irony, "of eating nearly everything there is on the table. That's
what you're really clever at."
Miss Radford, by a sudden inspiration, suggested the ladies should wait
upon the gentlemen, and herself took a plate to Bulpert's conjuring
friend; the example was imitated. Mr. Trew, attended to by Gertie,
declared it a real treat to see her looking like his own little friend
once again.
"Makes me think," he said, "that if there wasn't quite so much
diplomacy about on the part of those of us who reckon we know
everything, you young uns would get a far better chance. Speaking as
one who's been a fusser all my life, that's my candid opinion."
"If you interfered, Mr. Trew, you would interfere wisely."
He emptied his glass in one drink, and set it upon the mantelpiece. "I
wouldn't kiss the book on that, if I was you," he replied. "But what
you can be very well certain about is that if I saw the chance of doing
anything for you--"
Miss Rabbit was announced by Sarah, and Gertie had to leave Mr. Trew in
order to make much of her colleague. Bulpert, having edged other folk
from the hearthrug, announced that he was about to give, with the aid
of memory, a short incident of the American Civil War; to his
astonishment and open indignation, one of the Westbourne Grove girls
arrested him with the suggestion that instead they should all have a
game. Challenged to indicate one, she asked what was the matter with
musical chairs. So chairs were placed down the centre of the room,
facing opposite ways alternately. Gertie went to the pianoforte, and
all prepared to join, with the exception of Bulpert, who, in the
corner, and his back to the others, ate sandwiches.
Admirable confusion, thanks to Gertie's ingenious playing. As they
started to march warily in a line up and down the row, she, after
giving the first bar, stopped, and they had to rush for seats.
Clarence Mills was left out and a chair withdrawn. The next trial was
much longer, and only when caution was being relaxed did the music
cease; Miss Loriner, defeated at this bye-election, had to take a seat
near to Clarence. The joyousness was so pronounced that Bulpert found
himself to take some interest, and when Mrs. Mills, left in with Mr.
Trew, eventually won the game, he urged it should be restarted, and
that some other lady should play the music. On the first arrest by
Miss Rabbit at the pianoforte, he sat himself on a chair already
occupied by Gertie. At the moment, Sarah appeared again at the doorway.
"A young man," she announced importantly. "A gentleman this time."
Henry Douglass came in. Gertie struggled to disengage herself, but
Bulpert declined to move.
"Mrs. Mills, I must apologize for calling at this late hour."
"Don't mention it, sir."
"I have just had a message from my sister-in-law, and I wanted to see
Miss Loriner. Lady Douglass has been taken seriously ill."
Mr. Trew took Bulpert by the collar and sent him with a jerk against
the wall. Gertie, flushed and confused, shook hands with Henry.
"I'm not going to break up your evening," he said, looking at her
eagerly. "The matter is urgent, or I wouldn't have dared to call."
"We are always," she stammered, "always pleased to see you, Mr.
Douglass."
"My dear mother asked me to give you her love when I met you. There is
a car waiting," he went on, addressing Miss Loriner; "could you manage
to come now? We can do it in little over a couple of hours."
Gertie took Miss Loriner into the adjoining room.
"If she's really ill," said the girl, "don't tell him anything about
the key. He can hear it all, later on. And nobody at Praed Street
knows anything about the affair."
Bulpert declined to escort Miss Rabbit to her omnibus, and, in spite of
hints from Mrs. Mills, remained when all the other guests had departed.
He took opportunity to criticize the management of the evening, and to
deplore the fact that his services had not been utilized. Making an
estimate of the total cost, he again referred to his suggestion in
regard to a series of similar entertainments later on.
"If you find you can afford it," agreed Gertie.
"If I can afford it!" he echoed surprisedly. "There's no question of
me affording it. Why don't you talk sense? You'll be earning the same
good salary after we're spliced as you're earning at the present
moment."
"No!" she answered definitely. "When I'm married I give up work at
Great Titchfield Street."
"Why, of course," agreed Mrs. Mills. "She'll have her home duties to
attend to."
Bulpert stared at the two separately. Then he rose, pulled at his
waistcoat, and went without speaking a word.
"He's took the precaution," remarked Sarah, coming in to clear, as a
bang sounded below, "to shut the door after him."
Mrs. Mills, reviewing the party, and expressing the hope that all had
enjoyed themselves, mentioned that Miss Rabbit in the course of the
evening made a statement to her which had, apparently, been weighing on
the lady's mind. Miss Rabbit reproached herself for giving wrong
information in regard to the stability of the firm of Hilbert, and
begged Mrs. Mills would explain. In her own phrase she tried to out
Gertie, and as this had not come off, her suggestion was that bygones
should be considered as bygones, and nothing more said about the matter.
"It isn't such a bad world," decided Mrs. Mills, "if you only come to
look at it in a good light."