Winsome Winnie and other New Nonsense Novels

by Stephen Leacock

  Produced by Malcolm Farmer and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  WINSOME WINNIEAND OTHER NEWNONSENSE NOVELS

  _BY THE SAME AUTHOR_

  THE HOHENZOLLERNS IN AMERICAAND OTHER IMPOSSIBILITIES

  LITERARY LAPSES

  NONSENSE NOVELS

  SUNSHINE SKETCHES OF A LITTLETOWN. With a Frontispiece by Cyrus Cuneo

  BEHIND THE BEYOND AND OTHERCONTRIBUTIONS TO HUMANKNOWLEDGE. With 17 Illustrationsby "FISH"

  ARCADIAN ADVENTURES WITHTHE IDLE RICH

  MOONBEAMS FROM THE LARGERLUNACY

  ESSAYS AND LITERARY STUDIES

  FURTHER FOOLISHNESS: SKETCHESAND SATIRES ON THE FOLLIESOF THE DAY. With coloured Frontispieceby "FISH" and 5 other Plates byM. BLOOD.

  FRENZIED FICTION

  THE UNSOLVED RIDDLE OF SOCIALJUSTICE.

  THE BODLEY HEAD

  _WINSOME WINNIEAND OTHER NEWNONSENSE NOVELS_

  _BY STEPHEN LEACOCK_

  _LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEADNEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY MCMXXI_

  _Printed in Great Britain by R. Clay & Sons, Ltd., London and Bungay_

  _CONTENTS_

  CHAP.

  I. WINSOME WINNIE; OR, TRIAL AND TEMPTATION I. THROWN ON THE WORLD II. A RENCOUNTER III. FRIENDS IN DISTRESS IV. A GAMBLING PARTY IN ST. JAMES'S CLOSE V. THE ABDUCTION VI. THE UNKNOWN VII. THE PROPOSAL VIII. WEDDED AT LAST

  II. JOHN AND I; OR, HOW I NEARLY LOST MY HUSBAND

  III. THE SPLIT IN THE CABINET; OR, THE FATE OF ENGLAND

  IV. WHO DO YOU THINK DID IT? OR, THE MIXED-UP MURDER MYSTERY I. HE DINED WITH ME LAST NIGHT II. I MUST SAVE HER LIFE III. I MUST BUY A BOOK ON BILLIARDS IV. THAT IS NOT BILLIARD CHALK V. HAS ANYBODY HERE SEEN KELLY? VI. SHOW ME THE MAN WHO WORE THOSE BOOTS VII. OH, MR. KENT, SAVE ME! VIII. YOU ARE PETER KELLY IX. LET ME TELL YOU THE STORY OF MY LIFE X. SO DO I

  V. BROKEN BARRIERS; OR, RED LOVE ON A BLUE ISLAND

  VI. THE KIDNAPPED PLUMBER: A TALE OF THE NEW TIME

  VII. THE BLUE AND THE GREY: A PRE-WAR WAR STORY

  VIII. BUGGAM GRANGE: A GOOD OLD GHOST STORY

  I

  WINSOME WINNIE

  OR, TRIAL AND TEMPTATION

  (_Narrated after the best models of 1875_)

  _I.--Winsome Winnie; or, Trial and Temptation._

  CHAPTER I

  THROWN ON THE WORLD

  "Miss Winnifred," said the Old Lawyer, looking keenly over and throughhis shaggy eyebrows at the fair young creature seated before him, "youare this morning twenty-one."

  Winnifred Clair raised her deep mourning veil, lowered her eyes andfolded her hands.

  "This morning," continued Mr. Bonehead, "my guardianship is at an end."

  There was a tone of something like emotion in the voice of the stern oldlawyer, while for a moment his eye glistened with something like a tearwhich he hastened to remove with something like a handkerchief. "I havetherefore sent for you," he went on, "to render you an account of mytrust."

  He heaved a sigh at her, and then, reaching out his hand, he pulled thewoollen bell-rope up and down several times.

  An aged clerk appeared.

  "Did the bell ring?" he asked.

  "I think it did," said the Lawyer. "Be good enough, Atkinson, to fetchme the papers of the estate of the late Major Clair defunct."

  "I have them here," said the clerk, and he laid upon the table a bundleof faded blue papers, and withdrew.

  "Miss Winnifred," resumed the Old Lawyer, "I will now proceed to giveyou an account of the disposition that has been made of your property.This first document refers to the sum of two thousand pounds left to youby your great uncle. It is lost."

  Winnifred bowed.

  "Pray give me your best attention and I will endeavour to explain to youhow I lost it."

  "Oh, sir," cried Winnifred, "I am only a poor girl unskilled in theways of the world, and knowing nothing but music and French; I fear thatthe details of business are beyond my grasp. But if it is lost, I gatherthat it is gone."

  "It is," said Mr. Bonehead. "I lost it in a marginal option in anundeveloped oil company. I suppose that means nothing to you."

  "Alas," sighed Winnifred, "nothing."

  "Very good," resumed the Lawyer. "Here next we have a statement inregard to the thousand pounds left you under the will of your maternalgrandmother. I lost it at Monte Carlo. But I need not fatigue you withthe details."

  "Pray spare them," cried the girl.

  "This final item relates to the sum of fifteen hundred pounds placed intrust for you by your uncle. I lost it on a horse race. That horse,"added the Old Lawyer with rising excitement, "ought to have won. He wascoming down the stretch like blue--but there, there, my dear, you mustforgive me if the recollection of it still stirs me to anger. Suffice itto say the horse fell. I have kept for your inspection the score cardof the race, and the betting tickets. You will find everything inorder."

  "Sir," said Winnifred, as Mr. Bonehead proceeded to fold up his papers,"I am but a poor inadequate girl, a mere child in business, but tell me,I pray, what is left to me of the money that you have managed?"

  "Nothing," said the Lawyer. "Everything is gone. And I regret to say,Miss Clair, that it is my painful duty to convey to you a furtherdisclosure of a distressing nature. It concerns your birth."

  "Just Heaven!" cried Winnifred, with a woman's quick intuition. "Does itconcern my father?"

  "It does, Miss Clair. Your father was not your father."

  "Oh, sir," exclaimed Winnifred. "My poor mother! How she must havesuffered!"

  "Your mother was not your mother," said the Old Lawyer gravely. "Nay,nay, do not question me. There is a dark secret about your birth."

  "Alas," said Winnifred, wringing her hands, "I am, then, alone in theworld and penniless."

  "You are," said Mr. Bonehead, deeply moved. "You are, unfortunately,thrown upon the world. But, if you ever find yourself in a positionwhere you need help and advice, do not scruple to come to me.Especially," he added, "for advice. And meantime let me ask you in whatway do you propose to earn your livelihood?"

  "I have my needle," said Winnifred.

  "Let me see it," said the Lawyer.

  Winnifred showed it to him.

  "I fear," said Mr. Bonehead, shaking his head, "you will not do muchwith that."

  Then he rang the bell again.

  "Atkinson," he said, "take Miss Clair out and throw her on the world."

  CHAPTER II

  A RENCOUNTER

  As Winnifred Clair passed down the stairway leading from the Lawyer'soffice, a figure appeared before her in the corridor, blocking the way.It was that of a tall, aristocratic-looking man, whose features worethat peculiarly saturnine appearance seen only in the English nobility.The face, while entirely gentlemanly in its general aspect, was stampedwith all the worst passions of mankind.

  Had the innocent girl but known it, the face was that of Lord Wynchgate,one of the most contemptible of the greater nobility of Britain, and thefigure was his too.

  "Ha!" exclaimed the dissolute Aristocrat, "whom have we here? Stay,pretty one, and let me see the fair countenance that I divine behindyour veil."

  "Sir," said Winnifred, drawing herself up proudly, "let me pass, Ipray."

  "Not so," cried Wynchgate, reaching out and seizing his intended victimby the wrist, "not till I have at least seen the colour of those eyesand imprinted a kiss upon those fair lips."

  With a brutal laugh, he drew the struggling girl towards him.

  In another moment the aristocra
tic villain would have succeeded inlifting the veil of the unhappy girl, when suddenly a ringing voicecried, "Hold! stop! desist! begone! lay to! cut it out!"

  With these words a tall, athletic young man, attracted doubtless by thegirl's cries, leapt into the corridor from the street without. Hisfigure was that, more or less, of a Greek god, while his face, althoughat the moment inflamed with anger, was of an entirely moral andpermissible configuration.

  "Save me! save me!" cried Winnifred.

  "I will," cried the Stranger, rushing towards Lord Wynchgate withuplifted cane.

  But the cowardly Aristocrat did not await the onslaught of the unknown.

  "You shall yet be mine!" he hissed in Winnifred's ear, and, releasinghis grasp, he rushed with a bound past the rescuer into the street.

  "Oh, sir," said Winnifred, clasping her hands and falling on her kneesin gratitude. "I am only a poor inadequate girl, but if the prayers ofone who can offer naught but her prayers to her benefactor can avail tothe advantage of one who appears to have every conceivable advantagealready, let him know that they are his."

  "Nay," said the stranger, as he aided the blushing girl to rise, "kneelnot to me, I beseech. If I have done aught to deserve the gratitude ofone who, whoever she is, will remain for ever present as a bright memoryin the breast of one in whose breast such memories are all too few, heis all too richly repaid. If she does that, he is blessed indeed."

  "She does. He is!" cried Winnifred, deeply moved. "Here on her knees sheblesses him. And now," she added, "we must part. Seek not to follow me.One who has aided a poor girl in the hour of need will respect her wishwhen she tells him that, alone and buffeted by the world, her oneprayer is that he will leave her."

  "He will!" cried the Unknown. "He will. He does."

  "Leave me, yes, leave me," exclaimed Winnifred.

  "I will," said the Unknown.

  "Do, do," sobbed the distraught girl. "Yet stay, one moment more. Letshe, who has received so much from her benefactor, at least know hisname."

  "He cannot! He must not!" exclaimed the Indistinguishable. "His birth issuch--but enough!"

  He tore his hand from the girl's detaining clasp and rushed forth fromthe place.

  Winnifred Clair was alone.

  CHAPTER III

  FRIENDS IN DISTRESS

  Winnifred was now in the humblest lodgings in the humblest part ofLondon. A simple bedroom and sitting-room sufficed for her wants. Hereshe sat on her trunk, bravely planning for the future.

  "Miss Clair," said the Landlady, knocking at the door, "do try to eatsomething. You must keep up your health. See, I've brought you akippered herring."

  Winnifred ate the herring, her heart filled with gratitude. With renewedstrength she sallied forth on the street to resume her vain search foremployment. For two weeks now Winnifred Clair had sought employment evenof the humblest character. At various dress-making establishments shehad offered, to no purpose, the services of her needle. They had lookedat it and refused it.

  In vain she had offered to various editors and publishers the use of herpen. They had examined it coldly and refused it.

  She had tried fruitlessly to obtain a position of trust. The variousbanks and trust companies to which she had applied declined herservices. In vain she had advertised in the newspapers offering to takesole charge of a little girl. No one would give her one.

  Her slender stock of money which she had in her purse on leaving Mr.Bonehead's office was almost consumed.

  Each night the unhappy girl returned to her lodging exhausted withdisappointment and fatigue.

  Yet even in her adversity she was not altogether friendless.

  Each evening, on her return home, a soft tap was heard at the door.

  "Miss Clair," said the voice of the Landlady, "I have brought you afried egg. Eat it. You must keep up your strength."

  Then one morning a terrible temptation had risen before her.

  "Miss Clair," said the manager of an agency to which she had applied, "Iam glad to be able at last to make you a definite offer of employment.Are you prepared to go upon the stage?"

  The stage!

  A flush of shame and indignation swept over the girl. Had it come tothis? Little versed in the world as Winnifred was, she knew but too wellthe horror, the iniquity, the depth of degradation implied in the word.

  "Yes," continued the agent, "I have a letter here asking me to recommenda young lady of suitable refinement to play the part of Eliza in _UncleTom's Cabin._ Will you accept?"

  "Sir," said Winnifred proudly, "answer me first this question fairly. IfI go upon the stage, can I, as Eliza, remain as innocent, as simple as Iam now?"

  "You can not," said the manager.

  "Then, sir," said Winnifred, rising from her chair, "let me say this.Your offer is doubtless intended to be kind. Coming from the class youdo, and inspired by the ideas you are, you no doubt mean well. But let apoor girl, friendless and alone, tell you that rather than accept such adegradation she will die."

  "Very good," said the manager.

  "I go forth," cried Winnifred, "to perish."

  "All right," said the manager.

  The door closed behind her. Winnifred Clair, once more upon the street,sank down upon the steps of the building in a swoon.

  But at this very juncture Providence, which always watches over theinnocent and defenceless, was keeping its eye direct upon Winnifred.

  At that very moment when our heroine sank fainting upon the doorstep, ahandsome equipage, drawn by two superb black steeds, happened to passalong the street.

  Its appearance and character proclaimed it at once to be one of thosevehicles in which only the superior classes of the exclusive aristocracyare privileged to ride. Its sides were emblazoned with escutcheons,insignia and other paraphernalia. The large gilt coronet that appearedup its panelling, surmounted by a bunch of huckleberries, quartered in afield of potatoes, indicated that its possessor was, at least, of therank of marquis. A coachman and two grooms rode in front, while twofootmen, seated in the boot, or box at the rear, contrived, by theimmobility of their attitude and the melancholy of their faces, toinspire the scene with an exclusive and aristocratic grandeur.

  The occupants of the equipage--for we refuse to count the menials asbeing such--were two in number, a lady and gentleman, both of advancedyears. Their snow-white hair and benign countenances indicated that theybelonged to that rare class of beings to whom rank and wealth are but anincentive to nobler things. A gentle philanthropy played all over theirfaces, and their eyes sought eagerly in the passing scene of the humblestreet for new objects of benefaction.

  Those acquainted with the countenances of the aristocracy would haverecognized at once in the occupants of the equipage the Marquis ofMuddlenut and his spouse, the Marchioness.

  It was the eye of the Marchioness which first detected the form ofWinnifred Clair upon the doorstep.

  "Hold! pause! stop!" she cried, in lively agitation.

  The horses were at once pulled in, the brakes applied to the wheels, andwith the aid of a powerful lever, operated by three of the menials, thecarriage was brought to a standstill.

  "See! Look!" cried the Marchioness. "She has fainted. Quick, William,your flask. Let us hasten to her aid."

  In another moment the noble lady was bending over the prostrate form ofWinnifred Clair, and pouring brandy between her lips.

  Winnifred opened her eyes. "Where am I?" she asked feebly.

  "She speaks!" cried the Marchioness. "Give her another flaskful."

  After the second flask the girl sat up.

  "Tell me," she cried, clasping her hands, "what has happened? Where amI?"

  "With friends!" answered the Marchioness. "But do not essay to speak.Drink this. You must husband your strength. Meantime, let us drive youto your home."

  Winnifred was lifted tenderly by the menservants into the aristocraticequipage. The brake was unset, the lever reversed, and the carriagethrown again into motion.

  On the way Wi
nnifred, at the solicitation of the Marchioness, relatedher story.

  "My poor child!" exclaimed the lady, "how you must have suffered. ThankHeaven it is over now. To-morrow we shall call for you and bring youaway with us to Muddlenut Chase."

  Alas, could she but have known it, before the morrow should dawn, worsedangers still were in store for our heroine. But what these dangerswere, we must reserve for another chapter.

  CHAPTER IV

  A GAMBLING PARTY IN ST. JAMES'S CLOSE

  We must now ask our readers to shift the scene--if they don't mind doingthis for us--to the apartments of the Earl of Wynchgate in St. James'sClose. The hour is nine o'clock in the evening, and the picture beforeus is one of revelry and dissipation so characteristic of the nobilityof England. The atmosphere of the room is thick with blue Havana smokesuch as is used by the nobility, while on the green baize table a litterof counters and cards, in which aces, kings, and even two spots areheaped in confusion, proclaim the reckless nature of the play.

  Seated about the table are six men, dressed in the height of fashion,each with collar and white necktie and broad white shirt, their facesstamped with all, or nearly all, of the baser passions of mankind.

  Lord Wynchgate--for he it was who sat at the head of the table--rosewith an oath, and flung his cards upon the table.

  All turned and looked at him, with an oath. "Curse it, Dogwood," heexclaimed, with another oath, to the man who sat beside him. "Take themoney. I play no more to-night. My luck is out."