A Lesson in Sculling
MISS WHITBY WRITES TO HER MOTHER
"My Dearest Mamma,--I have had the most delightful time you canpossibly think of. Everybody and everything has been so nice! And Jackhas been teaching me sculling. And--oh, what do you think?--he drownedme! Yes--completely! Only, of course, it was all my fault. And hepulled me out of the water by the hair of my head--or something; Idon't know what, or how. Wasn't it noble of him? I never enjoyedanything so much in all my life!
"But I will tell you all about it. I know you must feel anxious. Onlydon't think I'm dead, because I'm not. I haven't even caught a cold.All owing to Charlie. He says I wasn't in the water long enough;that's what he says. I assure you I was in the water quite long enoughfor me!
"You know, ever since we've been down here we've been on the riverevery day, Charlie and I. His mother--Mrs. Mason, you know--doesn'tcare for the water; she says it's damp. But I think that's because sheknows that two are company, and is tender-hearted--like you, mydearest Momkins! Besides, she likes fussing about and paying visits,and she is so good--I hope that I shall be as good as she is one ofthese fine days! But you can never tell!
"Of course it was very nice being pulled about. Only Charlie was soaggravating! He wouldn't do in the least bit what you told him. Iwould say to him before we started:
"'Charlie, do take me for a long row--now, promise me!' And he wouldsay:
"'Certainly. Fourteen miles out and fifteen in."
"'Don't be silly! I wish you would--I do so like to be pulled.'
"He would be standing on the bank with his back to the water, and withme just in front of him. He would stretch out his arm.
"'Tip us your flipper!' He meant, 'Give me your hand.' When he choosesCharlie can be slangy. 'I'll pull you into the river.'
"It was not the slightest use my talking. I would sigh, and get intothe boat and hope for the best. But I never got it. No!
"As soon as we had gone three or four hundred yards Charlie would pulltowards a little island, which is just beyond the bend in the river--Idon't know who put it there; I know that I often wished that it wasfurther--and row right round it into a sort of little creek which wason the other side, which was just large enough to hold the boat, andwhere no one could see us because of the trees. So far as privacy wasconcerned we might as well have been in the heart of a virgin forest.And there Charlie would stop, and do nothing else but talk; though I'mbound to confess that he chose interesting subjects of conversation asa rule, because generally, when he wasn't talking of himself, he wastalking of me. And it is such a help to conversation when one is wellacquainted with the topic under discussion. But he did so annoy me,because he would never do what I told him. I wanted him to row me toOxford, or somewhere. But he said it was so hot--I didn't feelhot!--and Oxford was twenty miles away, and more. That was nonsense,because quite little electric launches go there and back in a day. Atleast, I am nearly sure they do.
"But what irritated me more than anything else was because he kept onasking me why, if I was so fond of rowing, with the thermometer fourhundred degrees above bursting point--I don't believe it was anythinglike so hot as that, but that is what he said--I didn't row myself. Heknew I couldn't. But I made up my mind that I would learn, and, whatis more, I would teach myself: I would show him what I could do.
"So one morning I got up, all alone, quite early, without breathing asingle word to anyone. I don't know how early it was, but I know itwas early, because, when I let myself through the dining-roomwindow--French window--into the garden, there was not a creature insight. The garden runs right down to the river. The boat is kept tiedto the bank. I pulled it close and got into it--and directly I gotinto it it wobbled.
"Dearest mamma, even at that last moment--or at that first moment,whichever it was--I almost wished I hadn't come. Suppose I shouldupset! I do believe I should have gone straight back again to bed,only I couldn't. The boat had drifted to the end of the string and wasever so far from the land, and how to get it back again I didn't know.So I sat still, and scarcely dared to breathe. But it did seem sosilly to sit still like that. If anybody saw me what should I say? Ihad a pair of nail-scissors in my pocket, and with them I cut thestring. They were a very small pair, and the string was thick and itwas wet. It took me a long time to cut it. But I succeeded at last. Iwas adrift on the waters!
"Dearest mamma, have you ever felt what it is like to be adrift, allalone by yourself, in a dinghy?--you know what that is, I am sure. Ithink that is how it is spelt. I hope you never have, for your ownsake. It is awful! I could have screamed, only I dared not, forfear of upsetting the boat. I had never thought of the oars untilI was adrift. And when I did think of them my heart went into mymouth--between ourselves, I believe it was there already. They weregenerally taken out of the boat at night. But, fortunately, Charliehad been too lazy the evening before and had left them in. And therethey were, staring me in the face. I took hold of one very gently,but directly I began to lift it the boat began again to wobble. Itried to think I didn't care. I clenched my teeth and I kept onlifting the oar, and at last I got it straight up in the air--like ascaffold-pole. I had had no idea it was so heavy. It was all I coulddo to hold it; in fact, I couldn't hold it. To my horror it slippedout of my grasp and fell into the stream with a splash. It drenched mewith water from head to foot. And there it was, floating about byitself, ever so far away.
"I quite abandoned hope. I gave myself up for lost. I tried to collectmy presence of mind and to think of the Royal Humane Society'sdirections for drowning--which are printed on the board in Hyde Park,you know. Judged by the light of after events, losing that oar was themost fortunate thing which could have happened to me. If I had notlost it I should have drowned myself. My body might have been lying atthe bottom of the river even now. But I did not know that at the time.And after I had abandoned hope it was all I could do to keep fromcrying.
"Suddenly someone called to me from the bank. It was Charlie. He wasnot very well dressed; he had his towel over his arm; he was going forhis morning bathe. But I don't think I ever had loved him so much aswhen I heard his voice and saw him standing there--no, not even inthat glad moment when first he told me that he loved me and asked meto be his wife.
"'Oh, Charlie!' I cried. 'I'm drowning!'
"'That's all right!' It sounded unfeeling, but I knew what he meant.'I'll swim out to you.'
"He leaped head foremost into the river as if it had been nothing atall, and swam out to me as if he had been a dog. He swam first of allto the oar, and then he swam to the boat.
"'Sit still!' he said.
"But it was not the slightest use my sitting still when he himselfnearly pulled the boat right over. Almost before I knew it he wassitting on the seat in front of me, sopping wet and laughing.
"'What's the meaning of this?' he asked.
"'I'm learning to row.'
"'You looked as if you were learning to row! Well, have you learnt?'
"'Charlie, you're not to laugh at me! It isn't right. Some girls havepeople to teach them rowing--people who care for them, that is. But Ihaven't, so of course I have to teach myself. And I have to get up inthe small hours of the morning to do it too.' I sighed--or I chose tolet him think I did--'I might have been drowned.'
"'That's true--you might.' He looked at me hard, and I believe therewas a twinkle in his eyes. But as I looked right past him, far acrossthe water, and he saw that I was serious, I think that it went nofurther. 'Look here, Miss Whitby----'
"'You're not to call me Miss Whitby, Charlie!'
"'Very well, I won't. Look here, young person----'
"'And you're not to call me young person either. I'm not a youngperson.'
"'Then look here, old chap----'
"'Charlie Mason, if you call me old chap I'll get out of the boat thisinstant!'
"'That's right. Do.' He pretended to wait for me to get out. I was notso absurd. He went on: 'I don't know if you're aware that it's
easierto learn rowing with one scull than with two?'
"'How was I to know that? No one ever told me. Nobody takes sufficientinterest in me to tell me anything.'
"'If you had betrayed the slightest sign of desiring the information Iwould have taken sufficient interest in you to tell you that. I cameout here to have a dip. I have had half of it. During the interval,before I have the other half, I shall have pleasure in imparting toyou that instruction for which your soul professes to yearn.' I hadsaid nothing about my soul, or about yearning either; I am not soprofane. He pointed to the seat behind me. 'Get on to that seat andsit in the middle.'
"'You must take the boat to shore first. You know how strongly Iobject to changing places while the boat is in the middle of theriver; it does make it wobble so.'
"'Is the teacher to obey or to be obeyed? Execute my commands!'
"I 'executed his commands,' and the boat did not turn over. Charliemoved on to the seat which I had occupied. He showed me his back.
"'Do as I do.'
"I did as he did, or I tried to. He put one of the oars in its placein the water without the slightest difficulty. I did not find it byany means so easy.
"'May I ask, before we proceed any further, if it is your intention toknock me overboard?' He said that simply because I happened to hit himwith my oar as I was lifting it. The thing would not go right. Idaresay that I did knock him two or three times, but there was reallyno necessity why he should make a fuss, as he did do. 'Is your scullhaving a row with you, or are you having a row with it? What is thematter?'
"Thank you, nothing is the matter."
"I scorned to complain.
"'I'm glad to learn it; I hate to hear of people falling out. Now, areyou all right?'
"'I am perfectly right.'
"He glanced round to inspect me.
"'Yes, you look perfectly right. You've got your scull the wrong wayround.' I turned the thing. 'Now you've got it upside down.'
"'What do you mean? You don't mean to tell me that the other end oughtto be in the water?'
"'No, I don't mean to tell you quite that, but I do mean to tell youthat you ought to hold it so that the hollow part of the blade looksin front of you. It's an elementary fact, but it is a fact.' I turnedthe thing again. 'Suppose you put three or four feet more of it out ofthe boat. As you're holding it at present a good part of your scullseems to run to handle.' I pushed some more of the thing through theplace they call the rowlock. 'I didn't tell you to put the whole of itout of the boat; it's just as well to keep something to catch hold of,if only for the look of the thing. If you observe, there's a strip ofleather round the scull. That strip of leather marks the point wherethe scull is supposed to rest in the rowlock. That's better. Yourhands are wrong; shift them. Hold your scull as I am holding mine.'
"It was all very well of him to talk like that, but it was mostunfair, besides being ridiculous. His hands are, at least, twice aslarge as mine; he could get right hold of his oar, while I couldscarcely get hold of mine at all. But I declined to argue.
"'Now, when I say "pull," pull. And it's about time that somebody didbegin to pull, or very shortly we shall be aground. Now, pull!'
"For some reason, I don't know what, the boat began to turn rightround. Charlie immediately stopped rowing. I had never begun. Ofcourse, at once Charlie tried to be funny.
"'I see the progress of this boat is going to be conducted on thetee-to-tum principle. May I ask why you didn't pull?'
"'Because I couldn't.'
"'Why couldn't you?'
"'Because I couldn't get my oar out of the water.'
"'So I should imagine. There appears to be six feet more of it in thewater than there ought to be. This is not intended to be a lesson inpunting. In punting one desires to feel the bed of the river; you andI do not want to get quite so deep.'
"'I wish you wouldn't laugh at me.'
"'My dear May, nothing can be further from my thoughts. How could Idare? Let us try again. Before making our second effort I should,perhaps, tell you that it is advisable to put your scull in just deepenough to cover the blade, and then to pull it steadily out again.There's no hurry. Take your time; there's no fear of our going ashorejust yet. At present we look more like crossing the river. Now, areyou ready. When I say the word--pull!'
"Again the boat began to turn.
"'Charlie, I cannot get my oar out of the water. I'm not as strong asa horse.'
"He looked at me and laughed. I could have laughed, only I was afraidof crying; it was so vexing to feel one was so stupid.
"'When I was a small boy and I first started to row I couldn't get myoar out of the water, except when I didn't want to, and then it cameout too easily. See, May, I'll keep the boat straight, and you haveone or two shots at paddling.'
"I had what he called 'one or two shots at paddling,' that is, I justdipped my oar into the water and pulled. I began to feel that I wasgetting the hang of the thing--Charlie's own words. I saw that it wasgoing to be much harder than I had ever imagined, but I did not mindthat, because, as I say, I did feel that I was getting on.
"'Now,' said Charlie, 'I'll paddle.'
"Directly he began to paddle the boat began to turn.
"'What makes the boat go round?'
"'It's because you don't pull strong enough. If two persons don't pullequally--that is, together, and with equal strength--the boat is boundto turn.'
"When he said that I made up my mind that I would pull stronger; theboat should not go round. So I shut my eyes and clenched my teeth andI pulled with all my might, and before I knew what had happened, I wasin the water!
"Charlie says that I caught a crab. He says, in my haste and myexcitement--I didn't know I was excited, but I suppose I must havebeen--I did not put the oar into the water at all; I pulled with allmy might at the vacant air. I know that I fell backwards off my seat,and that I made a wild grab at anything and everything, and that theboat went over.
"I never shall forget it. The water got into my ears and eyes and noseand mouth, and I thought that I never should stop going down. Then,all of a sudden, I found myself on the surface again, with the skyabove me and Charlie's arm about my waist.
"Keep still," he said.
I did keep still; he says I did keep still. He says himself that Ibehaved like a regular trump. I do declare to you, mamma, that I neverfelt the least bit uneasy directly I felt Charlie's arm round mywaist. Wasn't it strange?
"'You won't let me drown, Charlie, will you?'
"That was all I said.
"'Not if I know it. It's all right, May; we're going shares in theother half of my dip, that's all. I'll take you ashore as easy aswinking.'
"I don't know exactly what it was I said, but I believe that I saidsome absurd thing about that, if I was drowned, he would know that Iloved him. But I do know that he kissed me, then and there, while hewas holding me up for dear life, in the middle of the river.
"I never fainted till we got ashore, and then I only just dropped off.Charlie carried me right off to my bedroom, and there was a fineto-do. But I wasn't going to stop in bed--not I. I just changed myclothes and went straight downstairs to breakfast, and, afterbreakfast, I went for another row. And I went for another after lunch,and I got on first rate. Charlie declares that, with practice, I shallmake as good an oarswoman as you would care to see; and, after we aremarried, he's going to teach me swimming--so he says.
"But we're not married yet."
Outside!
Stacey-Lumpton wanted to go in a cab. I said that a 'bus was goodenough for me. He looked me up and down as if I were some inferiorkind of animal.
"I'll pay for the cab."
That settled it. I told him that I could not think of allowing such athing. He brushed a speck of dust off the silk facings of hisfrockcoat. Then, with his pocket-handkerchief, he brushed the top ofone of the fingers of his lemon-coloured kid gloves--where it hadtouched his coat.
"But I've never travelled in an omnibus
."
"In that case it'll be a new sensation, and a new sensation'severything! Read the daily paper--it's the salt of life."
"But all sorts of extraordinary people travel in an omnibus!"
"I should rather think they do. Why, the very last time I was on onethe Archbishop of Canterbury sat on the seat in front of me, the Dukeof Devonshire was on my right, a person high in favour at MarlboroughHouse was just behind, while there was no one below the rank of abaronet in sight."
He looked at me, as he fumbled for his eyeglass, as if he thoughtI might be getting at him. Before he could make up his mind a"Walham Green" came lumbering towards us. Stopping it, I hustledStacey-Lumpton into the road before he in the least understood whatwas happening.
"Now then, look alive! Here's the very 'bus we want! Jump up!"
I assisted him on to the step. He made as if to go inside. I twistedhim towards the stairs. He remonstrated.
"My dear fellow, I really must beg of you to allow me to get insidethis omnibus."
"Nonsense. You'll be crushed to death, besides being suffocated alive.There's plenty of room outside. Up you toddle."
I don't know about toddling, but urged, no doubt, to an appreciabledegree by the pressure which I exercised from behind, he did begin tomount the stairs gingerly one by one. I followed him. When he was nearthe top I sang out to the conductor.
"All right!" The conductor stamped his foot. The 'bus started. Then,to Stacey-Lumpton, "Hold tight!"
He held tight just in time. He seemed surprised. "Good gracious! Ialmost tumbled! The omnibus has started! Tell him to stop at once, I'mfalling!"
"Not you. The police won't allow them to stop more than a certaintime. They're bound to keep on moving. Shove along."
"This is most dangerous. I'm not used to this kind of thing. And theroof seems full."
"There are two empty seats in front there, just behind thedriver--move on."
He moved on after a fashion of his own. He seemed to find the task ofpreserving his equilibrium, and at the same time of steering his waybetween the two rows of occupied garden seats, a little difficult. Hestruck one man upon the head. He seized a lady by her bonnet. He allbut thrust the point of his umbrella into another person's eye. Hegrabbed an old gentleman by the collar of his coat. This method ofproceeding tended to make him popular.
"Driver!" exclaimed the old gentleman whom Stacey-Lumpton had grabbed,slightly mistaking the situation, "This person is drunk. He ought notto be allowed in such a condition on an omnibus."
Stacey-Lumpton was too confused to remonstrate. He went flounderingon. Presently he kicked against a box which a gentleman of the costerclass had placed beside himself on the roof. In trying to recoverhimself he brought his hand down pretty heavily on its owner's hat.Said owner lost no time in calling his attention to the thing which hehad done.
"Where do you think you're a-coming to? I shouldn't be surprised butwhat you thought this 'bus was made for you. You do that again andI'll send you travelling, and don't you seem to forget it neither."
Stacey-Lumpton had reached a vacant seat at last. I sat beside him.Immediately behind us was the coster. He had taken off his hat and waslovingly examining it. It was an ancient billycock, which had been insomebody's family for several generations. A friend accompanied him.
"If I was you, Jimmy," observed his friend, "I should make that covepay for your 'at."
"Make 'im pay for it? He ain't got no money. Do 'e look as though 'e'ad?"
"Well, I should make 'im give yer 'is 'at for yourn. He's bashed your'at in, ain't 'e?"
Jimmy acted on the hint. Leaning forward, he thrust his reminiscenceof a head-covering under Stacey-Lumpton's nose.
"I say, I don't know if you know that you've bashed my 'at in,guv'nor?"
Stacey-Lumpton raised his fingers to his nostrils.
"Take it away, sir--horribly smelling thing."
"Wot are you calling a 'orribly smelling thing? Wot would you say if Iwas to bash your 'at in?"
"I should bash it in if I was you, Jimmy."
"So I will if 'e don't look out, and so I tell 'im."
The gentleman whose coat had been grabbed still seemed unappeased, andstill seemed labouring under a misapprehension.
"Persons who are in an intoxicated condition ought not to be allowedon public conveyances." I turned to Stacey-Lumpton.
"I don't know if you are aware that you almost pulled that gentleman'scoat off his back?"
The old gentleman's observations, although addressed to no one inparticular, had been audible to all. Twisting himself round in hisseat, Stacey-Lumpton proceeded to explain.
"I hope, sir, I didn't hurt you."
The coster chose to take this remark as being addressed to him.
"But you 'urt my 'at! I give fourpence for that 'at not three monthsago. 'Ow d'yer suppose I'm going to keep myself in 'ats?"
"If I have been so unfortunate as to damage your hat, sir, I shall behappy to present you with the sum of fourpence with which to provideyourself with another."
Jimmy's friend highly approved of this suggestion. He immediatelyproceeded to embellish it with an addition of his own.
"That's right. You give 'im fourpence and you give me fourpence.That's what I call be'aving like a gentleman."
Stacey-Lumpton failed quite to follow the line of reasoning.
"Why should I give you fourpence?"
"Why? Because I asks for it. I suppose you can 'ear me. You bashes inmy friend's 'at, and I'm 'is friend, and we shares and shares alike.As you treats 'im you treats me. Ain't that right, Jimmy?" Jimmy saidit was.
"Quite right, 'Enery--it's quite right. If the gentleman is agentleman 'e'll give us fourpence apiece--both the two of us. 'E looksa gentleman, don't 'e? 'Is 'at wasn't never bought for fourpence--no,nor for three fourpences neither."
A feminine voice was heard in the rear. It was the lady Stacey-Lumptonhad seized by the bonnet; she seemed to have been nursing a grievance.
"And what about me? I suppose it doesn't matter anything at all aboutme. Oh dear no! I have had my bonnet tore almost off my head, and myhair too, but, of course, I am nobody. If a drunken wretch was tohandle some wives some husbands would want to know the reason why. Butif I was to be thrown right off the omnibust, and trampled under foot,my husband would sit still and never say a word--oh dear no!"
The husband in question appeared to be a stout individual who, seatedby the lady's side, leaned his chin on the handle of an umbrella. Heseemed to consider that the remark was, at least, partially addressedto him.
"It was only an accident, Eliza."
"Oh, of course, it was only an accident. Whenever anyone insults me italways is an accident. Some husbands wouldn't say it was an accident,but I have to look after myself, I have." She immediately proceeded todo it. Raising her voice she addressed herself to Stacey-Lumpton."Young man, I don't know if you happen to be aware that you'vescrunched my new bonnet out of shape, and drove a hairpin through myhead. Is that the way you always get on omnibuses?"
Stacey-Lumpton was all apologies.
"I beg ten thousand pardons, madam, but the fact is I am notaccustomed to travelling on an omnibus, and I'm afraid----"
"Fares, please." The conductor came along cutting the apologies short."Your fare if you please, sir."
"What is the fare?"
"Arf a crown."
This was Jimmy's friend.
"Where are you going?"
This was the conductor. I explained.
"We want a pennyworth." I turned to Stacey-Lumpton. "I have nocoppers. Have you got twopence?"
He produced a sovereign purse.
"Have you change for a sovereign?"
This to the conductor, and the conductor was contemptuous.
"Change for a sovereign! I haven't got change for no sovereign, unlessyou like to take it all in coppers."
"Take change for a sovereign in coppers? What do you suppose I shoulddo with a sovereign's worth of coppers?"
"I do
n't know nothing at all about it. I've got to do with 'em,haven't I? Twopence, please!"
Jimmy's friend interposed.
"You 'and me over the sovering. I'll change it. I gotsevenpence-'apenny,"
Jimmy chorussed.
"And I dessay I could make it up to a bob, and then we'll take our two'ats out of it, and then we'll give yer wot's left next time we seesyer--eh, 'Enery?"
The driver, turning his head, nodded to his colleague.
"That's all right, Tom. You give the gentlemen their tickets. I'll seeyou get your twopence. The gentlemen can owe it me." He gave his whipan artistic twirl. "I've known myself what it's like to have asovereign and no change to be had--ah, and more than a sovereign,though you mightn't think it to see me here."
Not feeling inclined to be indebted to an omnibus driver for the loanof twopence, I suddenly discovered that I had two coppers. Theconductor retired. There was an interval of silence--spent, I imagine,by Stacey-Lumpton in endeavouring to smooth his ruffled plumage.Presently Jimmy's friend began again:
"I say, Jimmy, how about our fourpences?"
"That's what I say. Guv'nor, 'ow about our fourpences? I ain't seen nofourpence."
I tendered Stacey-Lumpton a word of advice.
"If you are wise you will give them nothing."
"I don't intend to."
"Oh, you don't, don't you? Well, that's 'andsome! Now, supposing Ibash in your 'at?" All at once he made a fresh discovery. "If 'e ain'tsmashed the blooming box!" He picked up from beside him the box whichStacey-Lumpton had kicked against. "Smashed it right in--straight, 'e'as! Well, there's a thing to do!" He thrust the box in questionbetween Stacey-Lumpton and myself. "Look 'ere there's bloaters inthat box." We did not need his word to make us conscious of that fact.The perfume was enough. Stacey-Lumpton recognised that this was sowith, on his face, an expression of speechless horror. "You've bustedin the box and spiled the lot of 'em. Who's going to buy bruisedbloaters, I'd like to know? I don't mind my 'at so much, but when itcomes to bloaters--they're my living."
An interposition from the lady whose bonnet had been "scrunched."
"Parties like him think no more of taking the bread out of the mouthsof the struggling poor than if they was insecks!"
Her husband seemed to think the remark slightly uncalled for.
"That's you, Eliza, all over. You must put your spoke in everybody'swheel. You can't keep quiet, can you?"
"It's as well some of us are like that. Some of us would keep quiettill we was dead. I'm not that sort, I thank goodness."
A gentleman on the seat on the other side of the driver, leaningtowards me, proffered a suggestion--his accent was distinctly nasal.
"If I vas your vriend I vould gif him a gopper or two to keep himquiet."
At last Stacey-Lumpton found his voice.
"Take that horrible thing away, man."
"'Orrible thing! Wot are you calling a 'orrible thing? Everythink's a'orrible thing accordink to you. Don't you come trying no toffs overme, my funny bloke, or you'll soon know."
Thereupon something happened which I had not expected, and which, I ampretty sure, Jimmy had not expected either. Stacey-Lumpton took thatbox of bloaters in his kid-gloved hands, and in another moment it waslying in the road. He had thrown it overboard. What immediately ensuedmay be described as larks. I had not anticipated anything of that kindwhen I had suggested that we should ride outside. Jimmy "went for"Stacey-Lumpton with a full-mouthed imprecation.
"He's took my bloaters ... his eyes!!!"
The driver pulled up. "Now then! now then! what's all this? Might Ijust inquire? Some of you'll get hurt, you know."
Stacey-Lumpton rose from his seat. He turned. He lifted Jimmy off hisfeet. Jimmy was one of those half-grown coster lads who in London maybe regarded as common objects of the sea-shore. His opponent was twicehis size and he was an athlete, although he was a "toff." LoweringJimmy, in spite of his frantic struggles, over the side of theomnibus, he dropped him on to the street. 'Enery, who also evincedsymptoms of violence, went by the same route after his friend.Stacey-Lumpton tossed a sovereign after them.
"Provide yourselves with another box of bloaters and a new hat out ofthat, my men."
But Jimmy was not to be appeased. His honour had been wounded in itsmost tender place. Tossing his injured billycock into the mud, hebegan to tear his coat off his back.
"Come down! Meet me like a man!"
The driver played the part of peacemaker.
"Don't be silly, my lad! The gentleman could swallow you! Pick up yoursovereign. You'll never see as much money in your life again." Hestarted his horses. "Good-bye, my little dears. If I was you I'd havea bloater each for tea."
When, having arrived at the end of his first 'bus drive,Stacey-Lumpton found himself on solid ground again, he deliveredhimself of a sententious observation:
"I fancy that some of the passengers on that omnibus were beneath therank of a baronet."
I agreed with him. I thought it possible that they were.
Not that I think much of a baronet either.
* * * * *
_W. Brendon and Son, Printers, Plymouth_.
Frivolities, Especially Addressed to Those Who Are Tired of Being Serious Page 11