_The majority of the inside passengers, as usual, sit in solemn
silence, and gaze past their opposite neighbours into vacancy. A
couple of Matrons converse in wheezy whispers._
_First Matron._ Well, I must say a bus is pleasanter riding than what
they used to be not many years back, and then so much cheaper, too.
Why, you can go all the way right from here to Mile End Road for
threepence!
_Second Matron._ What, all that way for threepence--(_with an impulse
of vague humanity_.) The _poor_ 'orses!
_First Matron._ Ah, well, my dear, it's Competition, you know,--it
don't do to think too much of it.
_Conductor (stopping the bus)._ Orchard Street, Lady.
_To_ Second Matron, _who had desired to be put down there._
_Second Matron (to_ Conductor). Just move on a few doors further,
opposite the boot-shop. (_To_ First Matron.) It will save us walking.
_Conductor._ Cert'inly, Mum, we'll drive in and wait while you 're
tryin' 'em on, if you like--_we_ ain't in no 'urry!
_The_ Matrons _get out, and their places are taken by two young girls,
who are in the middle of a conversation of thrilling interest._
_First Girl._ I never liked her myself--ever since the way she behaved
at his Mother's that Sunday.
_Second Girl._ How _did_ she behave?
_[A faint curiosity is discernible amongst the other passengers to
learn how she--whoever she is--behaved that Sunday.
First Girl._ Why, it was you _told_ me! _You_ remember. That night JOE
let out about her and the automatic scent fountain.
_Second Girl._ Oh, yes, I remember now. _(General disappointment. )_ I
couldn't help laughing myself. Joe didn't ought to have told--but she
needn't have got into such a state over it, _need_ she?
_First Girl,_ That was ELIZA all over. If GEORGE had been sensible,
he'd have broken it off then and there--but no, he wouldn't hear a
word against her, not at that time--it was the button-hook opened
_his_ eyes!
_[The other passengers strive to dissemble a frantic desire to know
how and why this delicate operation was performed._ Second Girl
(mysteriously)_. And enough too! But what put GEORGE off most was her
keeping that bag so quiet.
_[The general imagination is once more stirred to its depths by this
mysterious allusion._
_First Girl._ Yes, he did feel that, I know, he used to come and go
on about it to me by the hour together. "I shouldn't have minded so
much," he told me over and over again, with the tears standing in his
eyes,--"if it hadn't been that the bottles was all silver-mounted!"
_Second Girl._ Silver-mounted? I never heard of _that_ before--no
wonder he felt hurt!
_First Girl (impressively)._ Silver tops to everyone of them--and that
girl to turn round as she did, and her with an Uncle in the oil and
colour line, too--it nearly broke GEORGE'S 'art!
_Second Girl_. He's such a one to take on about things--but, as I said
to him, "GEORGE," I says, "You must remember it might have been worse.
Suppose you'd been married to that girl, and _then_ found out about
ALF and the Jubilee sixpence--how would _that_ have been?"
_First Girl (unconsciously acting as the mouth-piece of the other
passengers)._ And what did he say to _that?_
_Second Girl._ Oh, nothing--there was nothing he _could_ say, but
I could see he was struck. She behaved very mean to the last--she
wouldn't send back the German concertina.
_First Girl._ You don't say so! Well, I wouldn't have thought that of
her, bad as she is.
_Second Girl._ No, she stuck to it that it wasn't like a regular
present, being got through a grocer, and as she couldn't send him back
the tea, being drunk,--but did you hear how she treated EMMA over the
crinoline 'at she got for her?
_First Girl (to the immense relief of the rest)._ No, what was that?
_Second Girl._ Well, I had it from EMMA her own self. ELIZA wrote up
to her and says, in a postscript like,--Why, this is Tottenham Court
Road, I get out here. Good-bye, dear, I must tell you the rest another
day.
_[Gets out, leaving the tantalised audience inconsolable, and longing
for courage to question her companion as to the precise details of_
ELIZA'S _heartless behaviour to_ GEORGE. _The companion, however,
relapses into a stony reserve. Enter a_ Chatty Old Gentleman _who has
no secrets from anybody, and of course selects as the first recipient
of his confidence the one person who hates to be talked to in an
omnibus._
_The Chatty O.G._ I've just been having a talk with the policeman at
the corner there--what do you think I said to him?
_His Opposite Neighbour._ I--I really don't know.
_The C.O.G._ Well, I told him he was a rich man compared to me. He
said, "I only get thirty shillings a week, Sir." "Ah," I said, "but
look at your expenses, compared to mine. What would _you_ do if you
had to spend eight hundred a year on your children's education? I
spend that--every penny of it, Sir.
_His Opp. N. (utterly uninterested)._ Do you indeed?--dear me!
_C.O.G._ Not that I grudge it--a good education is a fortune in
itself, and as I've always told my boys, they must make the best of
it, for it's all they'll get. They're good enough lads, but I've had
a deal of trouble with them one way and another--a _deal_ of trouble.
_(Pauses for some expression of sympathy--which does not come--and he
continues:)_ There are my two eldest sons--what must they do but fall
in love with the same lady--the same lady. Sir! _(No one seems to care
much for these domestic revelations--possibly because they are too
obviously addressed to the general ear.)_ And, to make matters worse,
she was a married woman--_(his principal hearer looks another way
uneasily)_--the wife of a godson of mine, which made it all the more
awkward, y'know. (His Opposite Neighbour _giving no sign, the_ C. O.
G. _tries one Passenger after another.)_ Well, I went to him--(here he
fixes an old Lady, who immediately passes up coppers out of her glove
to the_ Conductor)--went to him, and said--_(addressing a smartly
dressed young Lady with a parcel, who giggles)_--I said, "You're a man
of the world--so am I. Don't you take any notice," I told him--_(this
to a callow young man, who blushes)_--"they're a Couple of young
fools," I said, "but you tell your dear wife from me not to mind those
boys of mine--they'll soon get tired of it if they're only let alone."
And so they would have, long ago, it's my belief, if they'd met with
no encouragement--but what can _I_ do--it's a heavy trial to a father,
you know. Then there's my third son--he must needs go and marry--_(to
a Lady at his side with a reticule, who gasps faintly)_--some young
woman who dances at a Music-hall--nice daughter-in-law that for a man
in my position, eh? I've forbidden him the house of course, and
told his mother not to have any communication with him--but I know,
Sir,--_(violently, to a Man on his other side, who coughs in much
embarrassment)_--I _know_ she meets him once a week under the eagle
in Orme Square, and _I_ can't stop her! Then I'm worried about my
daughters--one of 'em gave me no peace till I let her have some
painting lessons--of course, I naturally thought the drawing-master
would be an elderly man--whereas, as things turned out,--
_A Quiet Man in a Corner._ I 'ope you told all this to the Policeman,
Sir?
_The C.O.G. (flaming unexpectedly)._ No, Sir, I did _not_. I am not
in the habit--whatever _you_ may be--of discussing my private affairs
with strangers. I consider your remark highly impertinent, Sir.
[_Fumes in silence for the rest of the journey.
The Young Lady with the Parcel (to her friend--for the sake of
vindicating her gentility)._ Oh, my dear, I do feel so funny, carrying
a great brown-paper parcel, in a bus, too! Anyone would take me for a
shop-girl!
_A Grim Old Lady opposite._ And I only hope, my dear, you'll never be
taken for anyone less respectable.
[_Collapse of_ Genteel Y. L.
_The Conductor_. Benk, benk! _(he means "Bank")_ 'Oborn, benk! 'Igher
up there, BILL, can't you?
_A Dingy Man smoking, in a Van._ Want to block up the ole o' the road,
eh? That's right!
_The Conductor (roused to personality)._ Go 'ome, Dirty DICK! syme
old soign, I see,--"Monkey an' Pipe!" _(To Coachman of smart brougham
which is pressing rather closely behind.)_ I say, old man, don't
you race after my bus like this--you'll only tire your 'orse. _[The
Coachman affects not to have heard._
_The Conductor (addressing the brougham horse, whose head is almost
through the door of the omnibus)._ 'Ere, '_ang_ it all!--step insoide,
if yer want to!
_[Brougham falls to rear_--_triumph of_ Conductor _as Scene closes_.
* * * * *