THE BENEFACTOR
It was not till October that Captain Polkington was able to change the
five pound note. This was really Julia's fault, she went so seldom
into the town; he had once or twice suggested her doing so when she
said they wanted this or that, but she never took the hint, and the
note was still in his pocket-book. At last, however, the opportunity
came.
A keeper's wife with whom Julia had got acquainted had promised her a
pair of lop-eared rabbits if she could come and fetch them. She was
not very anxious to have them, but Mr. Gillat was; he said they would
be very profitable. Julia doubted this; but, since he wanted them, she
said they would have them, and accordingly, one morning, they started
together with a basket for the rabbits. They started directly after
breakfast for they had to go a long way across the heath and could not
at the best be back before two o'clock. Captain Polkington watched
them go, standing at the cottage door until their figures were small
on the great expanse of heather. Then he went in and, sitting down,
wrote a hasty note to Julia; it was to the effect that he had been
obliged to go into town, but would be back by dark or soon after. It
read as quite a casual communication, as if he were in the habit of
going into town frequently and had much business to transact. The
Captain was rather satisfied with it; he felt he was doing the
straightforward thing in telling Julia, his whole proceedings were
open and above board. When he came back he should tell her all about
the money, how it had been raised and how spent. She should have had
the spending of it herself if only she had gone to town when he
suggested it; as it was, he must do it; it was absurd to wait any
longer; the weather was already cold; he must go, and bring her some
pleasant surprise when he came back.
Satisfied with these reflections and feeling already the glow of
beneficence, he dressed himself and set out for Halgrave. He had to
walk to the village and there take the carrier's cart which went into
town twice a week; he reflected, while he waited for the vehicle, how
fortunate it was that Julia and Johnny had chosen to go for the
rabbits to-day, one of the days when the carrier went to town. There
were a good many bundles going by the cart, and two other passengers
who were inclined to be too familiar until somewhat haughtily shown
their proper place. The Captain was a little annoyed by this; and
annoyed, also, to find that the carrier was not in the habit of
starting on the return journey till rather late, later than the note
would lead Julia to expect her father. But as the carrier was not one
to change his habits for anybody, that could not be helped and Captain
Polkington made the best of it. Julia was not likely to be anxious
about him, he was sure; and since he was going to tell her all about
his doings, it might as well be late as early. By this time he had
quite got rid of any qualms--if he ever had them--about the method of
getting and the intention of spending the note. He had almost
forgotten that it had not always been his, and was quite sure that he
was doing the right thing--for others as well as himself--in the
difficult circumstances which seemed to beset him more than the
common run of men. Cheered by these thoughts he endured the
discomforts of the journey with moderate patience; he almost felt that
he was suffering them in a good cause, for the sake of Johnny and
Julia.
The town was large and the centre of a large district, not at all like
the retired gentility of Marbridge, very much bigger and busier.
Captain Polkington, who had lived quietly so long, felt rather lost
and bewildered at first in the bustling intricate streets; there were
so many people, especially among the shops, they were always getting
in his way. He only made one purchase before lunch; he would have
plenty of time in the afternoon, he thought, and would be better able
to decide what to buy when he had seen things and had a meal. The
purchase made before lunch was at the wine merchants, it was whisky.
He lunched at the best hotel; that and the whisky made a rather bigger
hole in the five pound note than one would have expected. Still, as he
told himself the whisky really was a vital matter with winter coming
on, a necessity, not a luxury, for all of them--Johnny would be better
for a little--he used to like a glass in the old days; and Julia would
certainly be the better for it, working as she did in the cold. It was
a medicine for them all, not himself alone. The lunch was the only
personal extravagance and really, seeing what he was doing for the
others, there was no need for him to grudge that to himself.
So he lunched and then the trouble began. He was not clear quite how
it happened; at least, owing to the confusion there always was in his
mind between facts as they were, as he wished them to be, and as they
appeared in retrospect--he was never able to explain it thoroughly.
There were other men lunching at the same time; he still had the
Polkington faculty for making friends and acquaintances; he still,
too, had the appearance and manner of a gentleman, if of somewhat
reduced circumstances. He apparently made acquaintances; exactly how
many and what sort is not certain, the account was very confused here.
There was a whisky and soda in it, two whiskies and sodas, or even
three; a cigar, a game of billiards--perhaps there was more than one
game, or some other game besides billiards. At all events there must
have been something more, for the Captain afterwards declared he was
ruined in less than an hour, fleeced, cheated of his little all! It is
quite possible that he was nothing of the kind, and that the
acquaintances were perfectly honest and honourable men. They would not
know he could not afford to lose, a true Polkington always set out to
hide the reality of his poverty. And he was not likely to win, he
seldom did, no matter at what he played or with whom; he was
constitutionally unlucky--or incapable, which is a truer name for the
same thing--it had always been so, even as far back as the old times
in India. That day he lost at something, that at least was clear; then
there was more whisky and soda and more losses, and perhaps more
whisky again; and so on until late in the afternoon, he found himself
standing, miserable and bewildered, in the main street of the town.
Some one had brought him there, a good-natured young fellow who
thought, not that he had spent all he ought, but that he had drunk all
he should.
"Not used to it, you know," he had said with good-humoured apology;
"been rusticating out of the way so long. Better come out and get a
breath of air, it'll pull you together."
And he persuaded him out, walked some way down the street with him and
then, seeing that he seemed all right, left him and went to attend to
his own business.
For a little the Captain stood where he was, the depression, begotten
of whisky and his losses, growing upon him in the old overwhelming
way. No one took any notice of him; passers by jostled against him,
for the pavement was rather narrow, but no one paid any attention to
him. The bustle bewildered his weak head, and the noise and movement
of the traffic in the roadway irritated him unreasonably. A youth ran
into him and he exploded angrily with sudden weak unrestrained fury.
Thereat the boy laughed, and, when he shouted and stamped his foot,
ran away saying something impudent. The Captain turned to run after
him shaking his stick; but he was stiff and rheumatic and weak on his
legs, too, just now. It was no use to try and run. Of course it was no
use, nothing was any use now, he was a miserable failure, he could not
even run after a boy; he must bear every one's taunts; he could almost
have wept in self-pity. Then he became aware that several passers by
were looking at him curiously, arrested by the noise he had made.
Annoyed and ashamed he turned his back on them and pretended to be
examining the goods in a shop window near.
It was a large draper's, rather a cheap one; the better shops were
higher up the street. In this one the things were all priced and
labelled plainly; the Captain at first did not notice this one way or
the other; he simply looked in to cover his confusion. But after a
little he became aware of what he looked at, and it recalled to his
mind the fact that he was going to buy something for Julia. He did not
quite know what, he had had large ideas at one time; they had had to
be diminished once because five pounds will not do as much as twenty;
they had to be diminished again because he had been fleeced of so much
of the five pounds. A wave of anger shook him as he thought of that,
but he suppressed it; he felt that he must not give way, so he looked
steadily at the window. There were furs displayed there, muffs and
collarettes of skunk and other animals, even the humble rabbit
artistically treated to meet the insatiable female appetite for sable
at all prices. The Captain decided on the best collarette displayed
and turned towards the shop door feeling a little better in the glow
of benevolence that returned to him as he thought of how much he was
going to spend for Julia. Just as he was going in he caught sight of a
girl selling violets in the street. She was a good-looking impudent
girl, and catching his eye she pressed her wares on him glibly; he
hesitated, smiled--here was one who treated him as a man, who
considered it worth while. He looked defiantly at the passers by--he
was a man, not an object for curiosity or kindly contempt. He returned
the girl's glance with an ogle and, stepping as jauntily as he could
to the edge of the pavement, took a bunch of flowers with some
suitable pleasantry. Half-way through his remark he stopped dead; he
had felt in his pocket for a penny and found nothing. Quickly,
feverishly, almost desperately, he felt in the other pocket;
there were three coins there; by the size he could tell that one at
least was a penny; he took it out and gave it to the girl; he had not
the courage to put down the flowers and go without them. Then he
turned away. A narrow passage ran down between the draper's and the
next house; fewer people went that way and in the window there, common
and less expensive goods were displayed. The Captain went down the
foot-way and examined the two remaining coins. They were a shilling
and a penny.
People passed and repassed along the main road; carts and carriages
rumbled over the uneven stones; no one heeded the shabby hopeless
figure by the side window. They were lighting up in the draper's
though outside there was still daylight; the gas jets were considered
to make the place look more attractive. They shone warmly on the furs
and silk scarves in the front window, making them look rich and
luxurious. Two girls stopped to look in; then, their means being more
suitable to the goods there, they came to examine the side window.
They were two servants out for the afternoon; they wore winter coats
open over summer dresses and hats that might be called autumnal,
seeing that they were an ingenious blending of the best that was left
from the headgear of both seasons.
"I shall get one of them woolly neck things, I shall," one said;
"they're quite as nice as fur and not so dear."
The other could not agree. "Don't care about them myself," she said;
"I must say I like a bit of sable."
"Can't get it under two and eleven," her companion rejoined; "and
those things are only a shilling three. Look at that pink one there;
it looks quite as good as feathers any day. I'm not so gone on sable
myself; you can't have it pink, and pink's my colour."
They moved on to another window; they, no more than the passers by,
noticed the old man who stood just at their elbow. When they had gone
he looked drearily in where they had looked. There were the woolly
things they had spoken of, short woven strips of loopy wool, to be
tied about the neck by the two-inch ribbons that dangled from the
ends. "Ostrich wool boas in all colours, price, one shilling and three
farthings," they were ticketed. He read the ticket mechanically. He
still held his two coins; he held them mechanically; had he thought
about it he would scarcely have troubled to do so, they were so
cruelly, so mockingly inadequate. He read the ticket again; it
obtruded itself upon him as trivial things do at unexpected times.
But now its meaning began to be impressed upon his brain--"one
shilling and three farthings"--that, then, was the interpretation of
the servant girl's "shilling three." He had a shilling and a penny--a
shilling and three farthings. He could buy one of those ostrich wool
boas--he would buy it--that pink one for Julia.
The Halgrave carrier made it a rule to receive his passengers' fares
at the beginning of the expedition; if they were coming back as well
as going with him they paid for the double journey at the outset in
the morning. Captain Polkington had so paid, and it was that fact,
coupled with the early arrival at the stables of his one purchase,
which induced the carrier to wait nearly half-an-hour for him. The
cart was packed, everything was ready, and the good man and the only
other passenger he was taking back were growing impatient, when the
Captain, carrying a small crushed paper parcel, appeared. He had lost
his way to the stables and had wandered hopelessly in his efforts to
find it. The carrier was rather short-tempered about it, and the other
passenger said something to the effect that "They didn't oughter let
him out alone!" The Captain payed no attention but climbed into the
back of the cart and sat down near his whisky. The other passenger got
up beside the driver, and in a few minutes they were lumbering down
the crooked streets. Soon they were out of the town and jogging
quietly along the quiet lanes; the driver leaned forward to get a
light from his passenger's pipe; his face for a moment showed ruddy in
the glow of the one lamp, then it sunk into gloom again. Captain
Polkington did not notice; he did not notice the voices in
intermittent talk, or the fume of their tobacco that hung on the moist
air and mingled with the scent of the drooping violets in his coat.
He knew nothing and was aware of nothing except that he was the most
miserable, the most unfortunate of men. Throughout the whole
interminable journey he dwelt on that one thing as he sat by his
whisky in the dark, clutching tightly the soft paper parcel and
finding his only fragment of comfort in it. He had after all bought
something; poor, disappointed, fleeced as he was, he had spent his
last money in buying a present for his daughter.