Never had I met any man so methodical in his habits, so neat in his
dress, so accurate in speech, so precise in manner as my fellow-lodger.
When he took his bath in the morning I knew it was half-past seven,
and when he rang for hot water that it was a quarter to eight Until a
quarter-past he moved about the room in his slow, careful dressing, and
then everything was quiet next door till half-past eight, when the low
murmur of the Lord's Prayer concluded his devotions. Two minutes later
he went downstairs--if he met a servant one could hear him say “Good
morning”--and read his newspaper--he seldom had letters--till nine, when
he rang for breakfast. Twenty-past nine he went upstairs and changed his
coat, and he spent five minutes in the lobby selecting a pair of gloves,
brushing his hat, and making a last survey for a speck of dust One glove
he put on opposite the hat-stand, and the second on the doorstep,
and when he touched the pavement you might have set your watch by
nine-thirty. Once he was in the lobby at five and twenty minutes to ten,
distressed and flurried.
“I cut my chin slightly when shaving,” he explained, “and the wound
persists in bleeding. It has an untidy appearance, and a drop of blood
might fall on a letter.”
The walk that morning was quite broken, and before reaching the corner,
he had twice examined his chin with a handkerchief, and shaken his head
as one whose position in life was now uncertain.
“It is nothing in itself,” he said afterwards, with an apologetic
allusion to his anxiety, “and might not matter to another man. But any
little misadventure--a yesterday's collar or a razor cut, or even an
inky finger--would render me helpless in dealing with people. They would
simply look at the weak spot, and one would lose all authority. Some of
the juniors smile when I impress on them to be very careful about
their dress--quiet, of course, as becomes their situation, but
unobjectionable. With more responsibility they will see the necessity of
such details. I will remember your transparent sticking-plaster--a most
valuable suggestion.”
His name was Frederick Augustus Perkins; so ran the card he left on my
table a week after I settled in the next rooms, and the problem of his
calling gradually became a standing vexation. It fell under the class of
conundrums, and one remembered from childhood that it is mean to be
told the answer, so I might not say to Mister Perkins--for it was
characteristic of the prim little man that no properly constituted
person could have said Perkins--“By the way, what is your line of
things?” or any more decorous rendering of my curiosity.
Mrs. Holmes, who was as a mother to Mr. Perkins and myself, as well as
two younger men of literary pursuits and irregular habits, had a gift of
charming irrelevance, and was able to combine allusions to Mr. Perkins'
orderly life and the amatory tendencies of a new cook in a mosaic of
enthralling interest.
“No, Betsy Jane has 'ad her notice and goes this day week; not that her
cookin's bad, but her brothers don't know when to leave. One was 'ere
no later than last night, though if he was her born brother, 'e 'ad a
different father and mother, or my name ain't 'Olmes. 'Your brother,
Betsy Jane,' says I, 'ought not to talk in a strange 'ouse on family
affairs till eleven o'clock.'
“'E left at 'alf-past ten punctual,' says she, looking as hinnocent as
a child, 'for I 'eard Mr. Perkins go up to 'is room as I was lettin' Jim
out.
“'Betsy Jane,' I says, quite calm, 'where do you expeck to go to as
doesn't know wot truth is?' for Mr. Perkins leaves 'is room has the 'all
clock starts on eleven, and e's in 'is bedroom at the last stroke. If
she 'adn't brought in Mr. Perkins she might'ave deceived me, gettin' old
and not bein' so quick in my hearing as I was; but that settled her.
“'Alf-past,” went on Mrs. Holmes, scornfully; “and 'im never varied
two minutes the last ten years, except one night 'e fell asleep in 'is
chair, being bad with hinfluenza.
“For a regular single gentleman as rises in the morning and goes out,
and comes in and takes 'is dinner, and goes to bed like the Medes and
Persians, I've never seen 'is equal; an' it's five-and-twenty years
since 'Olmes died, 'avin' a bad liver through takin' gin for rheumatics;
an' Liz-beth Peevey says to me, 'Take lodgers, Jemima; not that they
pays for the trouble, but it 'ill keep an 'ouse.'...
“Mr. Perkins' business;” it was shabby, but the temptation came as a
way of escape from the flow of Mrs. Holmes' autobiography; “now that I
couldn't put a name on, for why, 'e never speaks about 'is affairs; just
'Good evening, Mrs.'Olmes; I'll take fish for breakfast to-morrow;' no
more than that, or another blanket on 'is bed on the first of November,
for it's by days, not cold, 'e goes....”
It was evident that I must solve the problem for myself.
Mr. Perkins could not be a city man, for in the hottest June he never
wore a white waistcoat, nor had he the swelling gait of one who made an
occasional _coup_ in mines, and it went without saying that he did not
write; a man who went to bed at eleven, and whose hair made no claim
to distinction. One's mind fell back on the idea of law--conveyancing
seemed probable--but his face lacked sharpness, and the alternative of
confidential clerk to a firm of drysalters was contradicted by an air
of authority that raised observations on the weather to the level of a
state document The truth came upon me--a flash of inspiration--as I saw
Mr. Perkins coming home one evening. The black frock-coat and waistcoat,
dark grey trousers, spotless linen, high, old-fashioned collar, and
stiff stock, were a symbol, and could only mean one profession.
“By the way, Mr. Perkins,” for this was all one now required to know,
“are you Income Tax or Stamps?”
“Neither, although my duty makes me familiar with every department in
the Civil Service. I have the honour to be,” and he cleared his throat
with dignity, “a first-class clerk in the Schedule Office.”
“Our work,” he explained to me, “is very important, and in fact... vital
to the administration of affairs. The efficiency of practical government
depends on the accuracy of the forms issued, and every one is composed
in our office.
“No, that is a common mistake,” in reply to my shallow remark; “the
departments do not draw up their own forms, and in fact they are not fit
for such work. They send us a memorandum of what their officials wish to
ask, and we put it into shape.
“It requires long experience and, I may say, some... ability to compose
a really creditable schedule, one that will bring out every point
clearly and exhaustively--in fact, I have ventured to call it a
science”--here Mr. Perkins allowed himself to smile--“and it might be
defined Schedulology.
“Yes, to see a double sheet of foolscap divided up into some twenty-four
compartments, each with a question and a blank, space for the answer, is
pleasing to the eye, very pleasing indeed.
“What annoys one,” and Mr. Perkins became quite irritable, “is to
examine a schedule after it has been filled and to discover how it has
been misused--simply mangled.
“It is not the public simply who are to blame; they are, of course,
quite hopeless, and have an insane desire to write their names all over
the paper, with family details; but members of the Civil Service abuse
the most admirable forms that ever came out of our office.
“Numerous? Yes, naturally so; and as governmental machinery turns on
schedules they will increase every year. Could you guess, now, the
number of different schedules under our charge?”
“Several hundred, perhaps.”
Mr. Perkins smiled with much complacency. “Sixteen thousand four hundred
and four, besides temporary ones that are only used in emergencies. One
department has now reached twelve hundred and two; it has been admirably
organised, and its secretary could tell you the subject of every form.
“Well, it does not become me to boast, but I have had the honour of
contributing two hundred and twenty myself, and have composed forty-two
more that have not yet been accepted.
“Well, yes,” he admitted, with much modesty, “I have kept copies of the
original drafts,” and he showed me a bound volume of his works.
“An author? It is very good of you to say so,” and Mr. Perkins seemed
much pleased with the idea, twice smiling to himself during the evening,
and saying as we parted, “It's my good fortune to have a large and
permanent circulation.”
All November Mr. Perkins was engaged with what he hoped would be one of
his greatest successes.
“It's a sanitation schedule for the Education Department, and is, I dare
to say, nearly perfect It has eighty-three questions on every point,
from temperature to drains, and will present a complete view of the
physical condition of primary schools.
“You have no idea,” he continued, “what a fight I have had with our
Head to get it through--eight drafts, each one costing three days'
labour--but now he has passed it.
“'Perkins,' he said, 'this is the most exhaustive schedule you have
ever drawn up, and I'm proud it's come through the hands of the drafting
sub-department Whether I can approve it as Head of the publishing
sub-department is very doubtful.'”
“Do you mean that the same man would approve your paper in one
department to-day and...
“Quite so. It's a little difficult for an outsider to appreciate the
perfect order--perhaps I might say symmetry--of the Civil Service,” and
Mr. Perkins spoke with a tone of condescension as to a little child.
“The Head goes himself to the one sub-department in the morning and to
the other in the afternoon, and he acts with absolute impartiality.
“Why, sir,”--Mr. Perkins began to warm and grow enthusiastic,--“I have
received a letter from the other sub-department, severely criticising
a draft he had highly commended in ours two days before, and I saw his
hand in the letter... distinctly; an able review, too, very able indeed.
“'Very well put, Perkins,' he said to me himself; 'they've found the
weak points; we must send an amended draft;' and so we did, and got a
very satisfactory reply. It was a schedule about swine fever, 972 in
the department of Agriculture. I have had the pleasure of reading it
in public circulation when on my holidays.”
“Does your Head sign the letters addressed to himself?”
“Certainly; letters between departments are always signed by the chief
officer.” Mr. Perkins seemed to have found another illustration
of public ignorance, and recognised his duty as a missionary of
officialism. “It would afford me much pleasure to give you any
information regarding our excellent system, which has been slowly built
up and will repay study; but you will excuse me this evening, as I am
indisposed--a tendency to shiver which annoyed me in the office to-day.”
Next morning I rose half an hour late, as Mr. Perkins did not take
his bath, and was not surprised when Mrs. Holmes came to my room,
overflowing with concern and disconnected speech.
“'E's that regular in 'is ways, that when 'Annah Mariar says 'is water's
at 'is door at eight o'clock, I went up that 'urried that I couldn't
speak; and I 'ears him speaking to 'isself, which is not what you would
expect of him, he being the quietest gentleman as ever...”
“Is Mr. Perkins ill, do you mean?” for Mrs. Holmes seemed now in fair
breath, and was always given to comparative reviews.
“So I knocks and says, 'Mr. Perkins, 'ow are you feeling?' and all
I could 'ear was 'temperance'; it's little as he needs of that, for
excepting a glass of wine at his dinner, and it might be something 'ot
before going to bed in winter....
“So I goes in,” resumed Mrs. Holmes, “an' there 'e was sittin' up in'is
bed, with 'is face as red as fire, an' not knowing me from Adam. If it
wasn't for 'is 'abits an' a-catching of 'is breath you wud 'ave said
drink, for 'e says, 'How often have the drains been sluiced last year?'”
After which I went up to Mr. Perkins' room without ceremony.
He was explaining, with much cogency, as it seemed to me, that unless
the statistics of temperature embraced the whole year, they would
afford no reliable conclusions regarding the sanitary condition of Board
Schools; but when I addressed him by name with emphasis, he came to
himself with a start:
“Excuse me, sir; I must apologise... I really did not hear... in
fact,” and then, as he realised his situation, Mr. Perkins was greatly
embarrassed.
“Did I forget myself so far as... to send for you?... I was not feeling
well. I have a slight difficulty in breathing, but I am quite able to go
to the office... in a cab.
“You are most kind and obliging, but the schedule I am... it just comes
and goes... thank you, no more water... is important and... intricate;
no one... can complete it... except myself.
“With your permission I will rise... in a few minutes... ten o'clock,
dear me... this is most unfortunate... not get down till eleven... I
must really insist...” But the doctor had come, and Mr. Perkins obeyed
on one condition.
“Yes, doctor, I prefer, if you please, to know; you see I am not a young
person... nor nervous... thank you very much... quite so; pneumonia is
serious... and double pneumonia dangerous, I understand... no, it is
not that... one is not alarmed at my age, but... yes, I'll lie down...
letter must go to office... dictate it to my friend... certain
form... leave of absence, in fact... trouble you too much... medical
certificate.”
He was greatly relieved after this letter was sent by special messenger
with the key of his desk, and quite refreshed when a clerk came up with
the chiefs condolences.
“My compliments to Mr. Lighthead... an excellent young official, very
promising indeed... and would he step upstairs for a minute... will
excuse this undress in circumstances... really I will not speak any
more.
“Those notes, Mr. Lighthead, will make my idea quite plain... and I hope
to revise final draft... if God will... my dutiful respect to the Board,
and kind regards to the chief clerk... it was kind of you to come, most
thoughtful.”
This young gentleman came into my room to learn the state of the case,
and was much impressed.
“Really this kind of thing--Perkins gasping in bed and talking in his
old-fashioned way--knocks one out of time, don't you know? If he had
gone on much longer I should have bolted.
“Like him in the office? I should think so. You should have seen the
young fellows to-day when they heard he was so ill. Of course we laugh
a bit at him--Schedule Perkins he's called--because he's so dry and
formal; but that's nothing.
“With all his little cranks, he knows his business better than any man
in the department; and then he's a gentleman, d'y see? could not say
a rude word or do a mean thing to save his life--not made that way, in
fact.
“Let me just give you one instance--show you his sort Every one knew
that he ought to have been chief clerk, and that Rodway's appointment
was sheer influence. The staff was mad, and some one said Rodway need
not expect to have a particularly good time.
“Perkins overheard him, and chipped in at once. 'Mr. Rodway'--you know
his dry manner, wagging his eyeglass all the time--'is our superior
officer, and we are bound to render him every assistance in our power,
or,' and then he was splendid, 'resign our commissions.' Rodway, they
say, has retired; but the worst of it is that as Perkins has been once
passed over he 'ill not succeed.
“Perhaps it won't matter, poor chap. I say,” said Lighthead, hurriedly,
turning his back and examining a pipe on the mantel-piece, “do you think
he is going to... I mean, has he a chance?”
“Just a chance, I believe. Have you been long with him?”
“That's not it--it's what he's done for a... for fellows. Strangers
don't know Perkins. You might talk to him for a year, and never hear
anything but shop. Then one day you get into a hole, and you would find
out another Perkins.
“Stand by you?” and he wheeled round. “Rather, and no palaver either:
with money and with time and with... other things that do a fellow more
good than the whole concern, and no airs. There's more than one man in
our office has cause to... bless Schedule Perkins.
“Let me tell you how he got... one chap out of the biggest scrape he'll
ever fall into. Do you mind me smoking?” And then he made himself busy
with matches and a pipe that was ever going out for the rest of the
story.
“Well, you see, this man, clerk in our office, had not been long up from
the country, and he was young. Wasn't quite bad, but he couldn't hold
his own with older fellows.
“He got among a set that had suppers in their rooms, and gambled a bit,
and he lost and borrowed, and... in fact, was stone broke.
“It's not very pleasant for a fellow to sit in his room a week before
Christmas, and know that he may be cashiered before the holidays, and
all through his own fault.
“If it were only himself, why, he might take his licking and go to the
Colonies; but it was hard... on his mother--it's always going out, this
pipe--when he was her only son, and she rather... believed in him.
“Didn't sleep much that night--told me himself afterwards--and he
concluded that the best way out was to buy opium in the City next day,
and take it--pretty stiff dose, you know--next night.
“Cowardly rather, of course, but it might be easier for the mater down
in Devon--his mother, I mean--did I say he was Devon?--same county as
myself--affair would be hushed up, and she would have... his memory
clean.
“As it happened, though, he didn't buy any opium next day--didn't get
the chance; for Perkins came round to his desk, and asked this young
chap to have a bit of dinner with him--aye, and made him come.
“He had the jolliest little dinner ready you ever saw, and he insisted
on the fellow smoking, though Perkins hates the very smell of 'baccy,
and--well, he got the whole trouble out of him, except the opium.
“D'y think he lectured and scolded? Not a bit--that's not Perkins--he
left the fool to do his own lecturing, and he did it stiff. I'll
tell you what he said: 'Your health must have been much tried by this
anxiety, so you must go down and spend Christmas with your mother, and I
would venture to suggest that you take her a suitable gift.
“With regard to your debt, you will allow me,' and Perkins spoke as
if he had been explaining a schedule, 'to take it over, on two
conditions--that you repay me by instalments every quarter, and dine
with me every Saturday evening for six months.
“See what he was after? Wanted to keep... the fellow straight, and cheer
him up; and you've no idea how Perkins came out those Saturdays--capital
stories as ever you heard--and he declared that it was a pleasure to
him.
“'I am rather lonely,' he used to say, 'and it is most kind of a young
man to sit with me.' Kind!”
“What was the upshot with your friend? Did he turn over a new leaf?”
“He 'ill never be the man that Perkins expects, but he's doing his level
best, and... is rising in the office. Perkins swears by him, and that's
made a man of the fellow.
“He's paid up the cash now, but... he can never pay up the
kindness--confound those wax matches, they never strike--he told his
mother last summer the whole story.
“She wrote to Perkins--of course I don't know what was in the
letter--but Perkins had the fellow into his room. 'You ought to have
regarded our transaction as confidential. I am grieved you mentioned my
name;' and then as I--I mean, as the fellow--was going out, 'I'll keep
that letter beside my commission,' said Perkins.
“If Perkins dies”--young men don't do that kind of thing, or else one
would have thought--“it'ill be... a beastly shame,” which was a terrible
collapse, and Mr. Geoffrey Light-head, of the Schedule Department, left
the house without further remark or even shaking hands..
That was Wednesday, and on Friday morning he appeared, flourishing a
large blue envelope, sealed with an imposing device, marked “On Her
Majesty's Service,” and addressed to--
“Frederick Augustus Perkins, Esq.,
“First Class Clerk in the Schedule Department,
“Somerset House,
“London,”
An envelope any man might be proud to receive, and try to live up to for
a week.
“Rodway has retired,” he shouted, “and we can't be sure in the office,
but the betting is four to one--I'm ten myself--that the Board has
appointed Perkins Chief Clerk,” and Lighthead did some steps of a
triumphal character.
“The Secretary appeared this morning after the Board had met 'There's a
letter their Honours wish taken at once to Mr. Perkins. Can any of
you deliver it at his residence?' Then the other men looked at me,
because--well, Perkins has been friendly with me; and that hansom came
very creditably indeed.
“Very low, eh? Doctors afraid not last over the night--that's hard
lines... but I say, they did not reckon on this letter. Could not you
read it to him? You see this was his one ambition. He could never be
Secretary, not able enough, but he was made for Chief Clerk. Now he's
got it, or I would not have been sent out skimming with this letter.
Read it to him, and the dear old chap will be on his legs in a week.”
It seemed good advice, and this was what I read, while Perkins lay very
still and did his best to breathe:--
“Dear Mr. Perkins,--
“I have the pleasure to inform you that the Board have appointed you
Chief Clerk in the Schedule Department in succession to Gustavus Rodway,
Esq., who retires, and their Honours desire me further to express their
appreciation of your long and valuable service, and their earnest hope
that you may be speedily restored to health. I am,
“Your obedient servant,
“Arthur Wraxhall,
“Secretary.”
For a little time it was too much for Mr. Perkins, and then he
whispered:--
“The one thing on earth I wished, and... more than I deserved... not
usual, personal references in Board letters... perhaps hardly regular...
but most gratifying... and... strengthening.
“I feel better already... some words I would like to hear again... thank
you, where I can reach it... nurse will be so good as to read it”
Mr. Perkins revived from that hour, having his tonic administered at
intervals, and astonished the doctors. On Christmas Eve he had made such
progress that Lighthead was allowed to see him for five minutes.
“Heard about your calling three times a day... far too kind with all
your work... and the messages from the staff... touched me to heart...
never thought had so many friends... wished been more friendly myself.
“My promotion, too... hope may be fit for duty... can't speak much,
but think I'll be spared... Almighty very good to me... Chief Clerk of
Schedule Department... would you mind saying Lord's Prayer together...
it sums up everything.”
So we knelt one on each side of Perkins' bed, and I led with “Our
Father”--the other two being once or twice quite audible. The choir of
a neighbouring church were singing a Christmas carol in the street, and
the Christ came into our hearts as a little child.