A Lame Dog's Diary

by S. Macnaughtan

  CHAPTER VIII.

  The Uncle, Sir John, is coming to stay at the Taylors', and the town isin something of a flutter over this event. It was hoped that theTaylors would give a tea-party in honour of their guest, but there is ashrewd notion abroad that no one will be allowed to see very much ofhim except at a distance. The Taylors had hoped that there would besome occasion during his visit on which The Uncle might speak inpublic, and Mr. Taylor has tried, half jestingly, to induce his brothertownsfolk to arrange what he calls "something in the political line"while the august relative is staying with him. I think we owe it tothe fact that the political meeting was found to be an impossibilitythat we were asked to tea at the Taylors'.

  Invitations, instead of taking the form of a friendly note, after thepattern of Stowel invitations in general, were conveyed on one of Mrs.Taylor's visiting cards, with "At home, Thursday the 17th, four toseven," upon it. "A little abrupt," ladies of Stowel were inclined tothink, but of course the Taylors are people of some importance in theplace. No one quite knew how to answer the invitation, and a good manyfriendly little visits were paid on the afternoon on which it arrived,and the mysterious card was produced from a bag or purse, with thesmiling apology, "I am sure fashions change so quickly that one hardlyknows how to keep up with them." And then ideas were exchanged as tothe reply suitable to such a form of invitation. Miss Tracey said thatshe always thought that an invitation was accepted in as nearly aspossible the same manner in which it was given, and she announced thatshe and her sister meant to return one of their own visiting-cards toMrs. Taylor, with the day and the hour named upon it, and "Withpleasure" written underneath. This was considered suitable, for themost part; but those who still had doubts upon the subject madeelaborate efforts to meet Mrs. Taylor during the morning's shopping,and to say to her in a friendly way, "We are coming, of course, onThursday. Will you excuse our writing a note, at this busy time?"

  The Miss Blinds always send their thanks for a "polite invitation" inthe old style, but on this occasion Miss Lydia was obliged to offerregrets as well as thanks, as she had not been very well lately. She,I suppose, was the only person in Stowel who did not accept Mrs.Taylor's invitation. Two parties are, of course, never given on thesame day, and it would be considered eccentric to prefer staying athome to going out.

  "I am sorry Miss Lydia cannot come," said Mr. Taylor, when the notes ofacceptance were being opened at breakfast-time; "after all, it is notevery day that people have a chance of meeting so distinguished a manas the General."

  "Miss Lydia was never intrusive," said Mrs. Taylor.

  Mrs. Lovekin was one of those who avoided the difficulty raised by Mrs.Taylor's unusual form of invitation by meeting her accidentally in thebaker's shop, where an assortment of cakes was being ordered for thetea-party, and signifying her intention of coming to tea. "No need towrite, I suppose," said Mrs. Lovekin lightly, "as I have met you?"Both Mrs. Taylor and the baker's wife thought it would have been inbetter taste if Mrs. Lovekin had then withdrawn, instead of remainingin the shop and hearing what was ordered.

  Mrs. Taylor had made up her mind at an early stage in the proceedingsthat she would be very firm indeed about the matter of dispensing teaherself in her own house. She would appropriate one teapot, and herdaughter should have the other, and not even to shake hands with alate-arriving guest would they run the risk of letting this badge ofoffice fall into the hands of the co-hostess.

  "And if," said Mrs. Taylor, "I find that she is appropriating The Uncletoo much, I shall not hesitate to remove him, on the plea ofintroducing him to some other and more important guests."

  It was in church on Sunday that we were first allowed to see The Uncle,and this is only following the usual custom in Stowel. Church onSunday is, as it were, the public life of the town. After a death itis customary to wait until the family has appeared in church to payvisits of condolence--not so much to avoid intrusiveness in the firsthour of grief as from a feeling that perhaps the crape mourning willnot have arrived. In the same way, if any one moves into a newhouse--a very unusual proceeding--we are made aware that the carpetsare all down, and the drawing-room curtains are hung, when the newarrivals are seen in their pew on Sunday. This, also, is accepted as atoken that calling may now begin. Mrs. Taylor said afterwards, indescribing that first Sunday when The Uncle appeared in Stowel Church,that her heart beat so painfully at the door that she thought she wouldhave been obliged to turn back. It was a triumphal progress that theparty of four made up the centre aisle to their pew, but the inwardexcitement of the Taylors rendered a natural deportment difficult.Neither Mrs. Taylor nor her daughter joined in the hymns or theresponses that Sunday morning. It is doubtful whether they heard aword of the service.

  Sir John is a very military-looking person, with white whiskers and abald pink head. He sat between Mrs. and Miss Taylor, who supplied himwith hymn and prayer books in as natural a manner as they found itpossible to assume; and Mr. Taylor sat at the end of the pew with agenial expression on his face, and a look of tempered pride, due nodoubt to the fact that the General was "one of my wife's people," andnot a blood relation of his own.

  It was a disappointment to Mr. Taylor that his own sister, Mrs.Macdonald--widow of a Scotch gentleman, whom the Taylors always talk ofas "The Laird"--was not able to come to this family gathering. ButMrs. Macdonald pleaded spring-cleaning as an insuperable objection toleaving home at present.

  As Miss Taylor, Mrs. Macdonald used to be one of Stowel's centralfigures, for she was a lady of considerable means and an indefatigablehousekeeper; and Mr. Macdonald was considered to have done well when hetook her as his bride to the North.

  The Sunday on which the Taylors appeared in church with The Uncle wascuriously hot for the time of year. It was very stuffy in church, andMiss Lydia had a slight fainting attack, and had to leave before theservice was over. Following the accepted custom in Stowel, my sistercalled the next day to ask how she did. But indisposition, usually amatter of solemn pleasure with us, was overshadowed and shorn of itsinterest by the presence of The Uncle amongst us. Even the Vicarlooked keenly at him from the pulpit before his sermon began, but noone except Mrs. Lovekin was forward enough to address the august partyas they left the church. Mrs. Lovekin, who always affirmed that shesaw no difference in rank, was the very first person in Stowel to shakehands with The Uncle. She overtook the Taylors before they had evenreached the gate of the churchyard, and was perforce introduced totheir relative, "who," Mrs. Taylor said afterwards, "was almost morecordial than she could have wished him to be; but of course his mannerswere always perfect." What annoyed every one a little in the days thatfollowed was that Mrs. Lovekin constantly referred to the General as ifhe had been an old friend; whereas of course it was well known in whatan intrusive way her precedence had been gained. During the week,however, we all had an opportunity of seeing Sir John, for he wasmarched in triumph up and down the village street regularly twice aday. Miss Taylor even condescended to subterfuge in the matter. Forhaving taken The Uncle as far as the baker's at the end of the town,with a view to continuing the walk into the country at The Uncle'srequest, she pretended to have forgotten something at the draper's, andmarched him down the street again, in the proud knowledge that alleyes, whether from pedestrians or from the interior of shops and housesin the High Street, were turned upon her. The tobacconist from whomThe Uncle bought some tobacco gave Miss Taylor quite a sympathetic lookas he said, "Allow me to send it for you, Sir John." And Miss Taylorsaid, "Do allow him to send it, uncle! I am sure that you ought not tocarry parcels for yourself."

  On Thursday, when we went to the party, we saw at once that the Taylorsmeant to make no snobbish distinction between their guests, but thateach and every one of them was to be introduced to The Uncle.

  "I am no good at this sort of thing, Mary," The Uncle said before theparty began, "and I think I will walk over and see Willie Jacobs, andspend the afternoon with him." Mrs. Taylor turned pale at thesuggestion. "It will
ruin it!" she said. "I shall feel as if I hadbeen acting on false pretences." And though the General remained, ashe was requested to do, he showed a most irritating tendency to slipaway, and sometimes he was not to be found at the most criticalmoments. Mrs. Taylor stationed him close to herself in thedrawing-room where she received her guests. But at the very momentwhen she turned round to effect an introduction between him and someparticular friend, it was discovered that the General had slipped offto the smoking-room or the tea-room, or was wandering aimlessly aboutthe garden, looking at the flower-beds.

  Altogether, that most successful afternoon (and the Taylors really didfeel that it had been a success from the very highest point of view)had still some drawbacks to it, which they regret, and always willregret. For instance, when Miss Taylor had been dispatched into whatthe Taylors call the "grounds" to see "what The Uncle is doing"(playfully), "and tell him to come and make himself agreeable," she hadhardly departed to fulfil her mother's request when Mrs. Lovekin boredown upon the teapot, poured out several of the most distinguished cupsof tea, and handed round macaroons as though they were her own. Lastof all, as the party was breaking up, and Mrs. Lovekin's vicarioushospitality was therefore at an end, she was actually heard invitingThe Uncle to come and call upon her. Even the Miss Blinds, on beingtold of the incident, admitted that this behaviour on Mrs. Lovekin'spart could not be called anything but forward. Miss Lydia could onlysay, in a sort of sweet distress, "Perhaps she did not mean it;" butMiss Blind shook her head vigorously, and said, "Bad butter, badbutter, bad butter!"

  Margaret Jamieson had, of course, been helping to prepare the party,for Margaret Jamieson always helps wherever there is anything to bedone. And Eliza, we thought, made a deep impression upon The Uncle byher knowledge of literature, and the perfectly easy and natural way inwhich, without a moment's preparation, she alluded to the "atomictheory."

  "Ah! you are one of the Reading Society young ladies that I heardabout," said he. "Sorry I couldn't do more for you in the way ofbooks, but that's not in my line at all, you know. I was educated at aGrammar School, and I never had the advantages that you young peoplehave nowadays." (Mrs. Taylor thought this statement unnecessary, butreflected that great men often make allusions of this sort.) "However,if I ever can be of any use to you--getting you an order for reading atthe British Museum, or anything of that sort--I hope you will let meknow."

  For one brief day the Jamiesons were inclined to tease Eliza abouthaving made a conquest, but the Taylors would not have any nonsense ofthat sort for a moment. It made Mrs. Taylor quite nervous to think ofsuch a thing, and she remarked that that was the worst of havingdistinguished people to stop with one; there was always somebodyrunning after them. Eliza Jamieson, we noticed, was treated withmarked coldness by the Taylors for some time afterwards, and MissTaylor recollected darkly that it was Eliza's suggestion, in the firstinstance, that The Uncle should be consulted on the choice of books forthe Reading Society. "She may," said Miss Taylor, "have had an eye onhim from the first."

  A purely visionary affair of this sort, however, could not beconsidered satisfactory or exciting, even by the Jamiesons; and theTaylors' suspicions and anxieties were put on one side for the timebeing--ousted from their place, as it were--by the very distinct andexciting rumours which have reached us about Maud. Maud has beenstaying with friends at Hampstead, and has written home in a certainveiled way which is very provoking, but which, nevertheless, gives theimpression that another man has come to the point, and has proposed toMaud Jamieson. Maud seems out of spirits, and has written to say thatshe is returning; and this makes the sisters think that she must haveaccepted her present suitor, and is coming home to shed a few naturaltears. Eliza, who walked over to tell us the news, voiced The Family'sopinion when she said: "We have quite made up our minds that if Maudhas said 'Yes,' she is to stick to it this time. She is always in apanic directly she has accepted any one, but we know that it would bethe same whoever it was: and doubtless, unless we are firm, she willtreat this admirer just as she treated Mr. Reddy and Albert Gore andthe others. Mamma says that she will not have Maud coerced, and I amsure no one wants to coerce her; but why should she always get to acertain point, and then begin to have doubts? It is sounbusiness-like."

  The very next day Maud Jamieson came to tea. She looked well dressed,as usual, and had some pretty spring finery about her--yellow mimosawreathing a broad hat, and some yellow ribbons about her tastefuldress--but her pretty face looked very white, and she fidgetednervously for half an hour, and then told me I was so sympathetic shewould like to ask me something.

  "I dare say," she said, "that you have heard something about Mr. Evansfrom The Family?"

  I admitted that I had, and then there was a very long pause.

  "How is one to know," said Maud, "when it is the real thing?"

  Another pause. I wished with all my heart that I could have been morehelpful to this young lady in such evident distress of mind; but theintricacies of Maud's thoughts are most difficult to follow, and Ithought it better to wait until she had given me her entire confidence.

  "Little things," said Maud, "might annoy one so much if one had alwaysto live with a man. For instance, I do not think I could ever trulylove a man who sniffs."

  "Our friend Mrs. Fielden says," I remarked, "that a man generallyproposes when he has a cold in his head. But I pointed out to her thatthese statistics do her no credit."

  "Mr. Evans doesn't sniff," said Maud. "I was only citing that as anexample of what one might find very trying in a companion for life."

  I assented, and could only suggest hopefully the usual Jamieson remedythat such a defect might be cured after marriage.

  "But men are so obstinate about some things," said Maud. "Forinstance, suppose a man were well off and of really excellentcharacter, do you think it would matter much if he wore a whitewatered-silk waistcoat in the evening? Would it, for instance, appearan insuperable objection to most minds?"

  I replied that doubtless it was a serious fault, but that I did notconsider it an incurable one; and I further remarked, with what I hopedshowed a broad and liberal way of looking at things, that all men hadtheir idiosyncrasies. Maud admitted this, and seemed cheered by thereflection; but she pushed the matter further, and said she would liketo know what sort of a man I should presume any one to be who wore awhite watered-silk waistcoat.

  "If you care for Mr. Evans--" I began, and regretted that one'sarticulate expression is sometimes behindhand in the matter ofconveying the comprehensiveness of the inner working of one's mind----

  "I am afraid I care for some one else," said Maud, bursting into tears.

  "Let me see you home," I said, unable to think of any but this verydoubtful method of consolation; still, it seemed unkind to let her gohome alone when she had been crying.

  On the threshold of the Jamiesons' house several of The Family werewaiting for us, and they drew me into the drawing-room, while by tacitconsent it seemed to be understood that Maud should not join in theconclave, but should go straight upstairs and take off her hat.

  "Have you persuaded her?" said Eliza.

  "I hope you have put a little common sense into her," said Kate.

  James was admitted to family discussions now, and here remarked that hebelieved that all girls were happier married.

  "Though, of course," said Mettie, "it is a great risk."

  "Did she tell you," asked Gracie, "that she cares for some one else?"

  I admitted that Maud had said something of the sort. And her familyexclaimed triumphantly that this was always Maud's plea for releasingherself from an engagement as soon as that engagement had been made.

  Mrs. Jamieson remarked that she would not like any of the girls to feelthat they were not welcome at home, and all her affectionate daughterskissed her in turn, or patted her hand, and said that they knew thatsuch a thought as wanting to get rid of one of them would never enterher head.

  Mrs. Jamieson here left the room to seek her
banished daughter and toadminister comfort, and the members of The Family conclave said thatthey hoped that Mrs. Jamieson did not think that they had been unkind.

  "If it had not happened so often!" sighed Eliza. "However, as we donot know Mr. Evans, he can't ask to come down and stay with us, as Mr.Reddy did, so as to have an opportunity of pressing his suit."

  "He cried so much one afternoon," said Kate, turning in an explanatorysort of way to Mr. Ward, "that I really thought I should have to sendfor mamma." James looked sympathetic, and Gracie added: "We all reallyfelt quite relieved when he got engaged to some one else three weeksafterwards, and we hear that they are most happy, and have got a dearlittle baby."