THE DINNER PARTY--A SUDDEN PIECE OF QUESTIONABLE GOOD FORTUNE BEFALLS
MRS. GAFF.
"It is a most unfortunate piece of good fortune this that has befallen
Mrs Gaff," said Mr George Stuart, "a very unfortunate thing indeed."
"Dear me, do you think so? Now I don't agree with you at all, brother,"
observed Miss Peppy. "I think that good fortune is always good fortune,
and never can be bad fortune. I wish it would only come to me
sometimes, but it never does, and when it does it never remains long.
Only think how she'll flaunt about now, with a coach-and-four perhaps,
and such like. I really think that fortune made a mistake in this case,
for she has been used to such mean ways, not that I mean anything bad by
mean, you know, but only low and common, including food and domestic
habits, as well as society, that--that--dear me, I don't exactly know
how to express myself, but it's a puzzle to me to know how she'll ever
come to be able to spend it all, indeed it is. I wonder why we are
subjected to such surprises so constantly, and then it's _so_ perplexing
too, because one will never be able to remember that she's not a
fisherwoman as she used to be, and will call her Jessie in spite of
one's-self; and how it ever came about, that's another puzzle. But
after all there is no accounting for the surprising way in which things
_do_ come about, dear me, in this altogether unaccountable world. Take
a little more soup, Captain Bingley?"
The above observations were made by Miss Peppy and my friend Stuart,
from the head and foot respectively of their dinner-table, around which
were assembled my wife, my niece Lizzie Gordon, an elderly spinster
named Miss Eve Flouncer, a Miss Martha Puff, (niece to Miss Flouncer), a
baronet named Sir Richard Doles, my son Gildart, and Kenneth Stuart.
I was seated beside Miss Peppy, opposite to Sir Richard Doles, who was
one of the slowest, dullest, stupidest men I ever met with. He appeared
to me to have been born without any intellect. When he told a story
there was no end to it, indeed there seldom was anything worthy the name
of a beginning to it, and it never by the remotest chance had any point.
In virtue of his rank, not his capacity of course, Sir Richard was in
great demand in Wreckumoft. He was chairman at every public meeting;
honorary member of every society; a director in the bank, the insurance
company, the railway, the poorhouse, and the Sailors' Home; in all of
which positions and institutions he was a positive nuisance, because of
his insane determination to speak as long as possible, when he had not
the remotest notion of what he wished to say, so that business was in
his presence brought almost to a dead lock. Yet Sir Richard was
tolerated; nay, courted and toadied, because of his title.
My wife was seated opposite to Miss Eve Flouncer, who was one of the
strong-minded women. Indeed, I think it is but just to say of her that
she was one of the strongest-minded women in the town. In her presence
the strength of Mrs Bingley's mind dwindled down to comparative
weakness. In form she was swan-like, undulatory, so to speak. Her
features were _prononce_; nose, aquiline; eyes, piercing; hair, black as
night, and in long ringlets.
Miss Flouncer was, as I have said, an elderly spinster. Sir Richard was
an elderly bachelor. Miss Flouncer thought of this, and often sighed.
Sir Richard didn't think of it, and never sighed, except when, having
finished a good dinner, he felt that he could eat no more. By the way,
he also sighed at philanthropic meetings when cases of distress were
related, such as sudden bereavement, coupled, perhaps, with sickness and
deep poverty. But Sir Richard's sighs were all his contributions to the
cause of suffering humanity. Sometimes, indeed, he gave it his
blessing, though it would have puzzled the deepest philosopher to have
said what that consisted in, but he never gave it his prayers, for this
reason, that he never prayed for himself or anybody else. He held that
this world was in a sufficiently satisfactory condition, and advised
that men should let well alone, and contended that any attempt to
interfere with its arrangements in the way of prayer was quite
indefensible. He did indeed read his prayers in church on Sundays, in a
very loud and distinct voice, to the great annoyance and distraction,
not to say irritation, of all who sat within fifty yards of him, but
this he regarded as a commendable institution of the country. But to
return to Miss Flouncer.
This state of affairs between Sir Richard and herself did not augur much
for her prospects; but then she was a very strong-minded woman, and had
hopes; whereas Sir Richard was a very weak-minded man, and had no hopes
of any kind worth mentioning, being perfectly satisfied--good, easy
man--with things as they then stood.
Miss Martha Puff was niece to Miss Flouncer--age apparently sixteen. It
struck me, as I sat looking at her placid face, that this young lady was
well named. Her pink round visage was puffed up with something so soft
that I could scarcely venture to call it fat. Her round soft arms were
so puffy to look at, that one could not help fearing that an accidental
prick from a pin would burst the skin and let them out. She seemed so
like trifle in her pink muslin dress, that I could imagine a puff of
wind blowing her away altogether. She could not be said to be puffed up
with conceit, poor girl; but she dined almost exclusively on puff paste,
to the evident satisfaction of my gallant son Gildart, who paid her
marked attention during dinner.
Miss Puff never spoke except when spoken to, never asked for anything,
never remarked upon anything, did not seem to care for anything, (puff
paste excepted), and never thought of anything, as far as I could judge
from the expression of her countenance. Gildart might as well have had
a wax doll to entertain.
"To what unfortunate piece of good fortune does your brother refer, Miss
Stuart?" asked Sir Richard when Miss Peppy had concluded her
observations in regard to it.
"Is it possible that you have not heard of it?" exclaimed Miss Peppy in
surprise. "Why, the town has been ringing with it for a fortnight at
least, and those odious creatures, the gossips, (who never come near me,
however, because they know I will not tolerate them), have got up all
sorts of wild stories, showing that the man must have got the money by
foul means, though I don't know, I'm sure, why he shouldn't have got a
surprise as well as anybody else, for the unaccountable and astonishing
way in which things _do_ happen in this world, at least to human beings,
for I do not believe that cows or sheep or horses ever experience them;
the want of expression on their faces shows that, at all events they
never leave their offspring at people's doors, and then go away
without--"
"You'd better tell Sir Richard what piece of news you refer to, my
dear," interrupted Mr Stuart, somewhat testily.
"Ah yes, I was forgetting--(a little more fowl, Captain Bingley? May I
trouble you _again_, Sir Richard? thank you--a leg, if you please, I
know that the Captain prefers a leg)--well, as I was saying--let me see,
what _was_ I saying?"
"You had only got the length of forgetting, ma'am," observed the
baronet.
"Ah, to be sure, I was forgetting to tell you that Mrs Gaff has fallen
heir to ten thousand pounds."
Sir Richard exclaimed, with an appearance of what might have been
mistaken for surprise on his face, "Indeed!"
Miss Flouncer, to whom the news was also fresh, exclaimed, "You _don't_
say so!" with strong emphasis, and an immensely swan-like undulation of
her body.
"Indeed I do," continued Miss Peppy with much animation; "Mrs Gaff, the
fisherman's wife, has got a fortune left her amounting to ten thousand
pounds, which, at five per something or other, as my brother tells me,
yields an annual income of 500 pounds."
"But who left it to her, and how?" asked Sir Richard.
"Ah, who left it, and how?" echoed Miss Flouncer.
"What a jolly thing to be left five hundred a year!" whispered Gildart.
"Wouldn't you like some one to leave that to you, Miss Puff?"
"Yes," said Miss Puff.
"Have you any rich East Indian uncle or aunt who is likely to do it?"
inquired Gildart with a desperate attempt at jocularity.
"No," answered Miss Puff.
These two words--yes and no--were the utmost extent to which Miss Puff
had yet ventured into the dreaded sea of conversation. I could perceive
by the fagged expression of his face that the middy was beginning to
lose heart.
"Brother," said Miss Peppy, "you had better tell Sir Richard how it
happened. I have _such_ a memory--I really don't remember the details.
I never _could_ remember details of anything. Indeed I have often
wondered why details were sent into this world to worry one so. It _is_
so surprising and unaccountable. Surely we might have got on quite well
without them."
"Well, you know," observed Gildart in a burst of reckless humour, "we
could not get on very well, Miss Stuart, without some sorts of details.
Ox-tails, for instance, are absolutely necessary to the soup which we
have just enjoyed so much. So, in like manner, are pig-tails to
Chinamen."
"Ay, and coat-tails to puppies," added Kenneth slyly, alluding to a bran
new garment which the middy had mounted that day for the first time.
"Perhaps," interposed Miss Flouncer, "after such bright coruscations of
wit, Mr Stuart may be allowed to go on with his--"
"Wittles," whispered Gildart in Miss Puff's ear, to the alarm of that
young lady, who, being addicted to suppressed laughter, was in horror
lest she should have a fit.
"Allowed to go on," repeated Miss Flouncer blandly, "with his tale of
this unfortunate piece of good fortune, which I am sure Sir Richard is
dying to hear."
"It can hardly be called a tale," said Mr Stuart, "but it is a curious
enough circumstance. You remember Stephen Gaff, Sir Richard?"
"Perfectly. He is the man who appeared in the village of Cove rather
mysteriously some months ago, is he not?"
"The same," returned Mr Stuart; "and it was he who accompanied Haco
Barepoles in my sloop, which he persists in naming the `Coffin,'
although its proper name is the `Betsy Jane,' on that memorable voyage
when Haco sailed her into port on the larboard tack after she had been
cut down to the water's edge on the starboard side. Well, it seems that
Gaff went with him on that occasion in consequence of having received a
letter from a London lawyer asking him to call, and he would hear
something to his advantage.
"You all know the way in which the people were taken out of the sloop by
the steamer which ran into her, and how they were all landed safely
except Gaff and his son William, who were carried away to sea. You are
aware, also, that the steamer has since then returned to England,
telling us that Gaff and his boy were put on board a barque bound for
Liverpool, and that this vessel has never made its appearance, so that
we have reason to believe that it has perished in one of the great
storms which occurred about that time.
"Well," continued Mr Stuart, helping Mrs Bingley to a glass of sherry,
"not long ago I had occasion to send Haco Barepoles to London, and he
bethought him of the lawyer who had written to Gaff, so he called on him
and told him of his friend's disappearance. The lawyer then asked if
Gaff's wife was alive, and on being informed that she was, he told Haco
that Gaff had had a brother in Australia who had been a very successful
gold digger, but whose health had broken down owing to the severity of
the work, and he had left the diggings and gone to Melbourne, where he
died. Before his death this brother made a will, leaving the whole of
his fortune to Stephen. The will stated that, in the event of Stephen
being dead, or at sea on a long voyage, the money should be handed over
unconditionally to his wife. About three weeks ago the lawyer came here
to see Mrs Gaff, and make arrangements and inquiries, and in the course
of a short time this poor woman will be in possession of ten thousand
pounds."
"It will be the ruin of her, I fear," said Sir Richard.
"No doubt of it," observed Miss Flouncer, emphatically.
"It is always the way," said my wife.
"D'ye think it would ruin _you_?" whispered Gildart.
This being an impertinent question, Miss Puff blushed, and made no
reply.
"You need not be at all afraid of Mrs Gaff being ruined by prosperity,"
said Lizzie Gordon, with sudden animation. "I have seen a good deal of
her during her recent sorrows, and I am quite sure that she is a good
sensible woman."
"What sorrows do you refer to, Miss Gordon?" asked Sir Richard.
"To her husband and son's sudden disappearance, and the death of her
brother-in-law John Furby," replied Lizzie. "Uncle, you can tell more
about the matter than I can."
"Yes," said I; "it has been my lot to witness a good many cases of
distress in my capacity of agent for the Shipwrecked Mariners' Society,
and I can answer for it that this has been a very severe one, and the
poor woman has borne up against it with Christian fortitude."
"How did it happen? Pray _do_ tell us about it," cried Miss Flouncer,
with an undulating smile.
"How does it happen, Miss Flouncer, that you are not already acquainted
with these things?"
"Because I have been absent from home for more than two months, and, if
I mistake not, Sir Richard's ignorance rests on somewhat similar
foundation."
Miss Flouncer smiled and undulated towards the baronet, who, being thus
pointedly appealed to, smiled and bowed in return, and begged that I
would relate the facts of the case.
I observed that my son Gildart pressed Miss Puff to attempt another
tart, and whispered something impertinent in her ear, for the poor
thing's pink round face suddenly became scarlet, and she puffed out in a
dangerously explosive manner with suppressed laughter.
"Well then," said I, addressing myself to Miss Flouncer, "a month or so
before the lawyer brought Mrs Gaff tidings of her good fortune, her
brother-in-law John Furby was drowned. The brave fellow, who, you are
aware, was coxswain of our lifeboat, and has helped to save many a life
since he was appointed to that post of danger, went off in his own
fishing-boat one day. A squall upset the boat, and although the
accident was seen from the shore, and several boats put off at once to
the rescue, four of the crew perished, and Furby was one of these.
"The scene in Gaff's cottage when the body was carried in and laid on
the bed, was heartrending for the woe occasioned to poor Mrs Gaff by
the recent loss of her husband and little boy was, as it were, poured
upon her head afresh, and for some time she was inconsolable. My good
niece went frequently to read the Bible and pray with her, and I believe
it was the blessed influence of God's word that brought her at length to
a state of calm resignation. What made her case worse was the fact,
that, both husband and brother-in-law being taken away, she was left in
a state of absolute destitution. Now, at this point she began to feel
the value of the noble institution of which I have the happiness of
being an honorary agent--I mean the Shipwrecked Fishermen and Mariners'
Society. Poor Furby had been a member for several years, and regularly
paid his annual sum of three shillings. Stephen Gaff had also become a
member, just before starting on his last voyage, having been persuaded
thereto by Haco Barepoles, who is a stanch adherent and advocate of our
cause. Many a sailor has Haco brought to me to enrol as a member, and
many a widow and fatherless child has had occasion to thank God that he
did so. Although Gaff had only paid his first year's contribution of
three shillings, I took upon me to give the sum of 5 pounds to Mrs Gaff
and her little girl, and the further sum of 3 pounds because of Furby's
membership. This sum was quite sufficient to relieve her from want at
the time, so that, in the midst of her deep affliction, she was spared
the additional pains and anxieties of destitution."
"The society is a most noble one," said Miss Flouncer, with a burst of
enthusiasm.
"It is," said I, much pleased with her warmth of manner; "I think--at
least if my memory does not play me false--you are a contributor to its
funds, are you not?"
"Well, a--no. I have not the pleasure--a--"
Miss Flouncer was evidently a little put out.
"Then I trust, my dear madam," said I, hasting to her relief by
affording her an opportunity of being generous, "that you will allow me
to put down your name as an annual subscriber."
Miss Flouncer, being a _very_ strong-minded woman, had recovered herself
very suddenly, and replied with calm deliberation, accompanied by an
undulation--
"No, Captain Bingley, I have made it a rule never to give charity from
impulse; I always give, when I _do_ give--"
"Ahem!" coughed Gildart slightly.
"When I _do_ give," repeated Miss Flouncer, "from principle, and after a
careful examination of the merits of each particular case."
"Indeed!" said Sir Richard, with an appearance of faint surprise; "what
a bore you must find the examination of the cases!"
"By no means, Sir Richard. _Very_ little time suffices for each case,
for many of them, I find, almost intuitively, merit dismissal on the
spot; and I assure you it saves a great deal of money. You would be
surprised if you knew how little I find it necessary to give away in
charity in the course of the year."
Miss Flouncer undulated at Sir Richard as she gave utterance to this
noble sentiment, and Mrs Bingley applauded it to Mr Stuart, who took
no notice of the applause, and indicated no opinion on the point
whatever.
"Now," continued Miss Flouncer, firmly, "before I become a subscriber to
your society, Captain Bingley. I must be quite certain that it
accomplishes much good, that it is worthy of support."
Being somewhat fired by the doubt that was implied in this speech, I
replied with warmth--
"My dear madam, nothing will gratify me more than to enlighten you."
Hereupon I began an address, the substance of which is set down in the
following chapter.