OVER BEMERTON'S
AN EASY-GOING CHRONICLE
BY
E. V. LUCAS
"IT IS VERY DIFFICULT FOR HUMAN BEINGS NOT TO INFLUENCE
EACH OTHER: WE ARE ALL LINKS IN A CHAIN."--_Observer's Corner_
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1908
_All rights reserved_
COPYRIGHT, 1908,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Set up and electrotyped. Published October, 1908.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
Listener's Lure
The Open Road
The Friendly Town
The Gentlest Art
Fireside and Sunshine
Character and Comedy
The Ladies' Pageant
A Wanderer in Holland
A Wanderer in London
Anne's Terrible Good-Nature
CONTENTS
CHAP.
I. ONE TRAVELLER RETURNS AND FINDS A HOME IN WESTMINSTER
II. INTRODUCING THE READER TO MR. AND MRS. WYNNE, A COUNTY CRICKETER,
A SUFFRAGETTE, AN HEIR OF THE AGES, AND AN ANGEL
III. THE HAUNTS OF MEN REVISITED AND THE FIRST BEMERTONIAN NUGGET
IV. DESCRIBING MR. AND MRS. DUCKIE, ALF PINTO, BEATRICE, AND ERN
V. MR. DABNEY OF _THE BALANCE_ LETS HIMSELF GO
VI. MR. BEMERTON CONFERS UPON ME THE FREEDOM OF HIS TREASURY
VII. RECALLS OLD STRUGGLES IN THE EARLY DAYS OF GRACE AND INTRODUCES
A TYRANT FROM LUDLOW
VIII. I MEET AN OLD FRIEND AND RECEIVE A LESSON IN PHILOSOPHY
IX. HOW MRS. FRANK TRIED HER INNOCENT GAMES ON ONE OF THE GREAT ONES
OF THE EARTH
X. A HERO-WORSHIPPER AGAIN GLIMPSES HIS HERO, AFTER MANY YEARS
XI. MR. BEMERTON'S FIRST BED BOOK BRINGS US INTO THE COMPANY OF
QUAINT AND LEARNED GENTLEMEN
XII. THESPIS SENDS ME TWO REPRESENTATIVES ON THE SAME DAY AND
MONOPOLISES OUR ATTENTION
XIII. I GO INTO BUSINESS _PRO TEM_, READ A GOOD POEM UNDER
DIFFICULTY, AND LEARN SOMETHING OF WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A SECOND-HAND
BOOKSELLER
XIV. THE LINKEDNESS OF LIFE IS ILLUSTRATED, AND I BECOME A
MONEY-LENDER
XV. MR. DUCKIE, WITH HIS NAPKIN ON HIS ARM, SUGGESTS A SCHEME FOR
HUMAN HAPPINESS
XVI. MR. DABNEY OF _THE BALANCE_ MEETS MORE THAN HIS MATCH, AND FINDS
A RESCUER
XVII. IN WHICH, AFTER EXCEEDINGLY TEDIOUS TALK ABOUT THE WISE
EXPENDITURE OF SUPERFLUOUS CASH, AN IDLER IS SET TO WORK
XVIII. WE ASSIST AT A FUNCTION IN THE MODERN SMITHFIELD, BUT NOT
QUITE TO THE DEATH
XIX. SOME LATTER-DAY CHILDREN ARE PROVIDED WITH VERY CONGENIAL
MATERIAL FOR LAUGHTER
XX. AN UNEXPECTED CHEQUE LEADS TO PLANS OF TRAVEL, AND NAOMI AND I
ACCEPT A RESPONSIBILITY
XXI. WE ARE WHIRLED AWAY BY THE 2.20 FROM CHARING CROSS AND MEET THE
QUEEN OF THE ADRIATIC
XXII. MR. BEMERTON'S SECOND BED BOOK SOLACES ME WITH THE ODD AND
HUMANE HUMOURS OF STUARTS AND TUDORS
XXIII. MISS AZURE VERITY AND MR. DABNEY OF _THE BALANCE_ CONTINUE TO
KEEP MY MIND TO A SINGLE SUBJECT
XXIV. WITH MR. BEMERTON'S ASSISTANCE I TAKE REFUGE AMID A GALLANT
COMPANY OF SEA DOGS
XXV. I ASSIST AT TWO WEDDINGS AND HAVE THE BEST OPPORTUNITY FOR
CONTRASTING THE GRAVE AND THE GAY
XXVI. MR. DABNEY AGAIN SUFFERS, AND THE YOUNGER GENERATION DOES NOT
KNOCK AT THE DOOR BUT WALKS RIGHT IN AND TALKS EXTRAORDINARY STRAIGHT
TALK
XXVII. MISS GOLD SHOWS ME THE WAY
XXVIII. REACHING A POINT WHERE MY HISTORY BEGINS TO BE WORTH
RECORDING, I CEASE TO NARRATE IT
OVER BEMERTON'S
CHAPTER I
ONE TRAVELLER RETURNS AND FINDS
A HOME IN WESTMINSTER
"Mr. Falconer," said Naomi to Mrs. Duckie, "wants quiet, clean rooms
and the simplest cooking. Rarely anything but breakfast, and that
very light. It must be in this neighbourhood, so as to be near Queen
Anne's Gate."
Mrs. Duckie said that hers were the quietest rooms in London and
almost the nearest to Queen Anne's Gate: certainly the nearest quiet
rooms. As for her cooking, although she had of course in her time
served up for dinner parties of ten or a dozen, when she was with
Canon Lyme, she was famous for her small happetising meals too. If
Mr. Dabney was only up and dressed we might ask him.
Mr. Dabney had the rooms above mine--or, I should say, above those
which (as I could see) Naomi intended should be mine in about five
minutes--but being a gentleman on the press who kept very late hours,
he did not appear till nearly lunch time;--all gentlemen who use
their heads, said Mrs. Duckie, needing their full eight hours, if not
nine. As for herself, she could do with six or seven; but Duckie
wanted his full eight, and had them too, coming as he did from a
sleepy stock. She had known him of a Saturday night when he had
slep' for a good ten.
"I also like to get up late," I said, "but that is owing to my
misfortune in being unable to sleep well. I suffer very badly from
insomnia."
"Yes," said Naomi, "and that is one reason why I brought you first to
these rooms, because of the advantage of living over a second-hand
bookseller's shop. Don't you see that there will always be something
to read? When you can't sleep," she hurried on, "and you are tired
of all your own books, as one then is, you have only to get up, light
a candle, slip on your dressing-gown" (Naomi's mind is all
hopefulness and practical method), "and go down to the shop for as
many others as you want. Because of course you will become friends
with the bookseller directly. You always do."
"All very well; but how if the bookseller only rents the ground floor
and basement and lives four miles away in Harringay with the key
under his pillow? which as a matter of fact he does, for
Mrs.--er--Mrs.--told me so while you were looking at the bathroom.
What then, Naomi?"
"Oh, I don't think anything of that," she said: "why, he'll give you
a duplicate key within a week. And look," she went on, "what
splendid cupboards those are, and it's a Lambert grate too, and it's
known that they throw the heat right out into the room" (Naomi has no
scepticism in her, and she remembers so many advertisements), "and it
is so convenient to have the bedroom and the bathroom leading out of
each other. It is a good bath, too: the hot water comes at once."
"How long does it run hot?" I asked.
"Dear Kent," she cried, now as completely on the side of the landlady
as if they were in partnership, "you are so suspicious. It keeps hot
all the time. I tried it."
Mrs. Duckie corroborated. "There isn't another house within a mile,"
she said, "which lets rooms that has a bathroom like ours. It was
put in by the landlord when he thought of living here himself, and
then of course he had his accident and married the nurse and settled
down at Hendon for life. And though I wish him nothing but
happiness, it's an accident that I've found it in my heart to be very
thankful for, laying in that beautiful bath of a Saturday night."
"After the books and the bathroom," Naomi broke in, "the best thing
is the corner position. The windows look right along two streets.
Think how interesting that will be sometimes. Because I shall put
your table in the corner, so that you can look up from your reading
and see out of both equally well."
I mentioned something about draughts.
"Oh no," said Naomi; "there will be india-rubber piping put all
round, and sandbags over the cracks."
"They are such a violent red," I said.
"Yes, of course, when you buy them," said Naomi, who thinks ahead by
instinct, "but I shall cover them for you. I saw some stuff at
Libnett's the other day. I think purple is the colour for this room,
and blue for the bedroom. Yes, purple and blue. I will send for a
book of patterns at once, and we can choose them to-morrow morning
when the light is good."
"But the 'Goat and Compasses' opposite," I said, determined to be as
difficult as I could, "isn't that rather near?"
"Not a better conducted house in London," Mrs. Duckie at once broke
in. "The landlord and the landlady are as nice a couple as God
Almighty ever set behind a bar. He was butler to Lord Latimer, and
she was the cook, and his Lordship left them each five hundred
pounds. They've only been there eight months, and already the place
is so changed you wouldn't know it. The difference between it now
and what it used to be!" Mrs. Duckie raised her hands. "I assure
you, miss," she said, "that if you had brought your--your----"
"Grandfather," I suggested.
"Oh no, sir!" said Mrs. Duckie. "What a thing to say! Grandfather
indeed! Why, you're in your prime."
"Of course," said Naomi, "what rubbish you talk!"
"As I was saying," Mrs. Duckie continued, "if you had brought him to
these rooms a year ago, and implored me on your bended knees to let
him take them at twice the rent, I should have said no. My
conscience wouldn't have permitted me to let them to a refined
gentleman with insomnia and scholarly ways of life and relations in
Queen Anne's Gate. I should have said no. But now--why, I might be
living in the Little Cloisters at the Abbey again, it's so
respectable and quiet."
"The sign of the 'Goat and Compasses,'" I remarked, "is said to be
derived from the words, 'God encompasseth us."
"I shouldn't be surprised," said Mrs. Duckie, who at that moment was
called away.
"Then you insist on my taking these rooms," I said to Naomi.
"No, Kent, not insist," she answered. "But they're really nice
rooms. And central too. You've only got to cross the bridge and
you're all among your Clubs and everything else, and such a nice walk
to lunch through the park among the ducks and cormorants. I should
be miserable if you were in Jermyn Street with no compulsory nice
walk at all. And you're close to us and the Stores."
"Yes," I said, "and if ever I choose to go into Parliament, which any
one may do to-day, how convenient! And how easy to become a Roman
Catholic, with the new Cathedral so handy! And I might buy one of
the Thames steamboats, which I am told are going very cheap, and keep
it at Westminster Bridge."
Naomi laughed. She laughs at me now and then, not because she thinks
I am particularly funny, but because she knows it makes me happier to
think that I am thought funny. For Naomi takes things as they come,
and, like most women, has no need of jokes. Brightness and sense
appeal to her more than all fantasy, wit, or cleverness. People who
think ahead are bound to be rather automatically receptive, and as a
matter of fact her mind was already turning over the patterns; but
the undercurrent of sweetness always running in her nature prompted
her little kindly laugh. Deceptive, no doubt, but innocently so. A
gentle hypocrisy is not only the basis but the salt of civilised life.
"The only objection left," I said, "is the name of the landlady. Do
I really understand you to say that it is Duckie?"
Naomi laughed outright. This struck her as being really funny.
"But, my dear Kent," she said, "you would not refuse good rooms
because of the landlady's name?"
"Oh yes, I would," I replied. "That's exactly what I would do."
"Not when all you have to do," said Naomi, "is to call her something
else? One of our parlourmaids was named Victoria, but we called her
Jane. You could call Mrs. Duckie Landlady or Housekeeper."
At this moment Mrs. Duckie returned, and I took the rooms without
another word.
"Mr. Bemerton will be very pleased," she said. "Mr. Bemerton has the
book shop downstairs. He asks me every day if I have a tenant yet,
and he has been hoping it would be some one who is fond of reading."
As a matter of fact (although I did not tell Naomi so, wishing her to
think that it was all her doing), as a matter of fact, I had made up
my mind directly I saw the book shop underneath, that unless there
were very imposing obstacles I should make these rooms my home. My
feet have always led me naturally to second-hand booksellers' shops,
and after thirty years of exile in such a bookless city as Buenos
Ayres, the idea of being so close to one of these little terrestrial
heavens was too much for me. Besides, think of the
name--Bemerton--with the suggestion of holy Mr. Herbert in it.
That was my fate, I knew swiftly (as one does know his fate at
fifty-five). I was to live over Bemerton's.
Having arranged to send in some paperhangers and painters at once, we
bade Mrs. Duckie farewell and descended the stairs to the street; but
I would not depart until I had bought a book for luck. Being a
profound believer in the humour if not the reason of chance, I told
Naomi that from the first shelf on the left hand that came as high as
my heart I would buy two books: for her, the twenty-ninth book from
the doorway (her age is twenty-nine); for me, the fifty-fifth;--no
matter what the subject and no matter what the price.
And what do you think they were? Naomi's by curious and very
pleasant fortune was _Walton's Lives_ (with holy Mr. Herbert of
Bemerton shedding a gentle light over all); and mine was a fat volume
in a yellow paper cover, lying on its side, for which I had to pay
two solid English pounds.
Naomi's face was a picture of disapproval as I produced the money;
for she is no believer in fate and no supporter of supine
acquiescence, wise receptivity, and all the rest of it: Naomi
believes in self-help and courage and in getting one's books from the
London Library. But when she saw the title her expression changed
from disapproval to positive grief, for it ran thus: _A Chinese
Biographical Dictionary_, by Herbert A. Giles, London and Shanghai,
1898.
"My dear Kent," she cried, "how very wrong of you to do these silly
superstitious things! Whatever can you find to interest you in
Chinese biography?"
"My dear young lady," said the bookseller, "you make a great mistake.
The gentleman has bought what is at once one of the best and the
least known books in this shop. If he looks at it to-night, however
casually, and does not agree with me, I will cheerfully give him two
pounds again for it to-morrow morning."
Directly Naomi heard this she brightened again--for was there not a
bargain in the air?--and off we trotted to Queen Anne's Gate in very
good humour, talking furniture and decoration all the way, with a
word as to the promising and unusual business habits of Mr. Bemerton,
and a few remarks from me on the favourite topic of the kindness of
chance when one really gives her her head and refrains from even the
shadow of authority.
To this Naomi replied that she thought, all things considered, that I
had better get most of the things at the Stores rather than go all
the way to Tottenham Court Road.