AN ENCOUNTER IN THE TRAIN
Mr. Ely's last journey from Shanklin up to town had not been exactly
of a cheerful kind. Mr. Rosenbaum's appearance on the scene had put a
damper on to that. The tale of the six daughters had banished peace
from the successful wooer's mind. The journey from town to Shanklin
was not exactly pleasant either. Under the best of circumstances Mr.
Ely was not the most cheerful of companions. Under existing
circumstances he was the most cheerless man alive.
He showed his mettle at the start.
"First-class smoking," Mr. Ash suggested to the guard.
Mr. Ely pulled up short.
"Not for me."
"What do you mean?"
"No smoking carriage for me. I've got enough on my hands already,
without having to disinfect myself immediately I arrive."
So they were shown into a non-smoking compartment. Mr. Ash wished his
friend at Jericho. The idea of a journey to Portsmouth without the aid
of a cigar did not commend itself to him. Besides, he knew that Miss
Truscott had liberal-minded notions on the subject of tobacco. But he
deemed it prudent to refrain from treading on the tail of the coat
which Mr. Ely was obviously trailing on the ground. And he had his
revenge!
Just as the train was actually starting there was a cry of "Stop!"
Some one came rushing down the platform, the door was opened, and
first a lady and then a gentleman were assisted in.
"That was a narrow squeak!" exclaimed the gentleman. Then he turned
laughing to the lady: "That's a nice beginning, Mrs. B." The lady
laughed at him again. "It's a matter of no importance, but I suppose
all our luggage is left behind." He put his head out of the window to
see. "No, they're putting it in! In such a style! What a scene of ruin
will greet our eyes when we reach the other end."
He drew his head into the compartment and took a survey of his
surroundings.
"What, Ash! What, Ely! Here's a go! What brings you two thieves in
here? Quite a happy family, my boys."
The gentleman extended one hand to Mr. Ash and the other to Mr. Ely.
Mr. Ash laughingly grasped the one which came his way; Mr. Ely acidly
declined the other, but the gentleman did not seem to be in the least
cast down. He gave Mr. Ely a resounding thwack upon the shoulder,
which doubled him up as though he were some lay figure.
"Ely, my boy, you look as though you had been living on sour apples
for a week! What's the matter with him, Ash? Been induced to lend his
aged mother half a crown? He'll never get over it, you know."
"Mr. Bailey," gasped Mr. Ely, "I'll trouble you not to play your
practical jokes on me."
Mr. Bailey laughed. Behind the cover of his paper Mr. Ash laughed too.
Mr. Bailey--better known as "Jack" Bailey--was also a member of the
"House," and as such known both to Mr. Ely and to Ash. One of those
hearty, healthy Englishmen, who having not the slightest reserve
themselves have no notion of the existence of such a sense in anybody
else. He was Mr. Ely's particular abhorrence. When Mr. Bailey had done
laughing, he turned to the lady who accompanied him. She was a
feminine repetition of himself: a tall, strapping, buxom wench,
with bright black eyes and bright red cheeks; the very embodiment of
health and strength; the sort of damsel who is in her element on the
tennis-lawn or on the river, or doing four-and-twenty dances off the
reel.
"Who do you think that is?"
The lady laughed.
"Jack! shut up," she said.
"Just hark at her! We've not been married an hour, and she's beginning
to order me about already! Allow me to introduce you to my wife,
Mrs. Bailey--Miss Williamson that was. Married this morning in the
Church of St. Michael and All Angels, six bridesmaids, and such a
wedding-cake! Only we couldn't stop to eat this wedding-cake, we had
to catch the train!"
Mr. and Mrs. Bailey laughed again. Mr. Ash laughed too. But Mr.
Ely--he turned green. Mr. Ash raised his hat and bowed to the lady.
"Allow me to offer you my congratulations, Mrs. Bailey. Am I justified
in supposing that you are starting on your honeymoon?"
"Justified! I should think you are!" Seating himself, Mr. Bailey
slipped his arm about the lady's waist. "I say, Bess, it's lucky we've
fallen among men I know. I should have had to apologise for kissing
you in front of strangers."
He kissed her then. But the lady only laughed.
"You know Jack," she explained. "Every one knows Jack! He has a way of
his own."
"I should think I have got a way of my own!" cried the gentleman
referred to. And he slipped the lady on to his knee. "I wouldn't give
a button for the man who hadn't; eh, Ely, what do you say? I say, Ely,
why don't you go in for something in this line?"
And he nodded towards his wife.
"I'm afraid I do not understand you."
"He says he doesn't understand me, Bess. Isn't that a funny man?"
"Are you not married, Mr. Ely?" inquired the bride of an hour.
"I have not that happiness."
For the life of him Mr. Ash could not have resisted the chance which
offered.
"But he's going to be--he's engaged," he said.
Mr. Ely turned the colour of a boiled beetroot. But Mr. and Mrs.
Bailey quite mistook the reason. It was not because he was shy; it was
because the exigencies of civilisation debarred him from cutting Mr.
Ash's throat.
"I wish you joy!" exclaimed the gentleman.
"When's it going to be!" chimed in the lady.
"I'll be best man!"
"If you promise to send me a piece of the cake I'll let you have a
piece of mine."
Mr. Bailey turned to his wife.
"To look at him you wouldn't think he was engaged, now, would you?"
"Why? Is there anything funny about the looks of a man when he's
engaged?"
"Funny! I should think there is! Ely, what do you think? Don't you
feel funny? You ought to if you don't."
"May I inquire, Mr. Bailey, what you mean?"
There was such a savage tone in Mr. Ely's voice that even the not
quick-witted Mr. Bailey was struck by it.
"Hallo! What's up now? I say, Ash, you ought to tip a fellow the wink
when a man's had an unfortunate misunderstanding with his best girl."
"Mr. Bailey--I beg Mrs. Bailey's pardon,--but I suppose that in the
presence of a lady you take it for granted that you may permit
yourself the utmost license of speech."
Mr. Bailey whistled, Mrs. Bailey laughed, then looked out of the
window with a look of innocent surprise--that look of innocent
surprise which means so much. Mr. Bailey nudged his wife with his
elbow.
"Beautiful scenery, isn't it?"
They were then passing a long, level stretch of what seemed
turnip-fields. Mrs. Bailey laughed again.
"Ah, it's a serious thing to have a misunderstanding with your best
girl!"
Mrs. Bailey laughed again.
"It's all very well to laugh, but I've had more than one, and nobody
knows what it feels like who hasn't gone through it all. Poor chap, no
wonder he feels down!"
"Mr. Ely," explained the lady, "never you mind Jack, it's a way he's
got; he will always have his joke." Then she showed the tact for which
women are so famous. "I hope that there really has been no
misunderstanding with--with the lady?"
"S--sh!--Bess!--For shame!--I'm surprised at you! I wouldn't have
asked such a question, not for a thousand pounds!"
"Mr. Bailey, if the worst comes to the worst, I feel quite convinced
that you will be able to provide Mrs. Bailey with an excellent
establishment by becoming a professional buffoon."
This was Mr. Ely's final word. The train just then drew up at
Guildford. Mr. Bailey rose with the air of a martyr.
"I'm afraid, my dear Bess, we must really tear ourselves away. We
ought to find a separate compartment. Our friends are most anxious to
smoke, and the presence of a lady prevents them, you know."
When the pair were gone, Mr. Ely turned upon Mr. Ash with something
that was very much like a snarl.
"I have to thank you for that."
"For what? What do you mean?"
"You know very well what I mean. For that clown's impertinence--great,
lumbering buffoon!"
"Good gracious, Ely, you don't seem to be in the pleasantest of moods.
What did I tell him? I only said you were engaged. What harm is there
in that? I don't know what good you expect to come from keeping it
hidden from the world."
Mr. Ely turned the matter over in his mind. He gnashed his teeth, not
figuratively, but very literally indeed.
"By George, I'll make her marry me, or I'll know the reason why!"
"One way to that desirable consummation is to compromise the lady's
name. Advertise the fact that she has promised to be your wife."
"If I thought that, I'd stick it up on every dead wall in town."
"Let's try milder means at first. Leave more vigorous measures to a
little later on. Unless I'm much mistaken, you'll find the milder
means will serve. There's a little misunderstanding, that is all."
"Little misunderstanding you call it, do you? I should like to know
what you call a big one, then."
If they did not actually come to blows they did more than one little
bit of figurative sparring on the way. Mr. Ash found it best to keep
quite still. Directly he opened his mouth Mr. Ely showed an amazing
disposition to snap at his nose. For instance, once when the train
stopped at a station--
"This is Rowland's Castle, isn't it?"
"No, it isn't Rowland's Castle. I should like to know what on earth
makes you think it's Rowland's Castle. I wonder you don't say it's
Colney Hatch."
Mr. Ash gazed mildly at his friend, and subsided into his paper. He
felt that with things as they were conversation might be labelled
"dangerous."