Once Aboard the Lugger-- The History of George and his Mary

by W. W. Jacobs

  CHAPTER III.

  Barley Water For Mr. Marrapit.

  I.

  Up the drive George came bounding with huge strides. The fires oftremendous joy that roared within him impelled him to enormous energy.

  Upon the journey from Waterloo to Paltley Hill he could with difficultyrestrain himself from leaping upon the seat; bawling "I've passed! I'vepassed! I'm qualified!" He could not sit still. He fidgeted, wriggled;thrust his head first from one window, then from the other. Every footof the line was well known to him. To each familiar landmark his spiritbellowed: "Greeting! When last you saw me I was coming up in a bluefunk. Now! Oh, good God, now--" and he would draw in, stride thecarriage, and thrust his head from the other window.

  His four fellow-passengers regarded him with some apprehension. Theydetected signs of lunacy in the young man; kept a nervous eye cockedupon the alarm cord; at the first stopping place with one accord aroseand fled. One, signing herself "Lady Shareholder," had her alarmingexperience in her daily-paper upon the following morning.

  At his station George leapt for the platform a full minute before thetrain had stopped. Up the lanes he sent his bursting spirits flyingin shrill whistlings and gay hummings; slashed stones with hisstick; struck across the fields and took gates and stiles in greatspread-eagled vaults.

  So up the drive, stones still flying, whistlings still piping.

  II.

  Upon the lawn he espied Mr. Marrapit and his Mary. She, on a gardenseat, was reading aloud from the _Times_; Mr. Marrapit, on a deep chairstretched to make lap for the Rose of Sharon, sat a little in advance ofher.

  George approached from Mr. Marrapit's flank; soft turf muffled hisstrides. The warm glow of kindliness towards all the world, which hissuccess had stoked burning within him, put a foreign word upon histongue. He sped it on a boisterous note:

  "Uncle!" he cried. "Uncle, I've passed!"

  Mary crushed the _Times_ between her hands; bounded to her feet. "Oh!"she cried. "Hip! hur--!"

  She bit the final exclamation; dropped to her seat. Mr. Marrapit hadtwisted his eye upon her.

  "You are in pain?" he asked.

  "No--oh, no."

  "You have a pang in the hip?"

  "Oh no--no."

  "But you bounded. You cried 'hip'! Whose hip?"

  "I was startled."

  "Unsatisfactory. The brain, not the hip, is the seat of the emotion.Elucidate."

  "I don't know why I said 'hip.' I was startled. Mr. George startled me."

  "Me also he startled. I did not shout hip, thigh, leg nor knee. Controlthe tongue."

  He turned to George. "Miss Humfray's extraordinary remark has projectedthis dilatory reception of your news. I beg you repeat it."

  Sprayed upon between mortification and laughter at the manner of hisgreeting, George's enthusiasm was a little damped. But its flame was toofierce to be hurt by a shower. Now it roared again. "I've passed!" hecried. "I'm qualified!"

  "I tender my felicitations. Accept them. Leave us, Miss Humfray. This isa mighty hour. Take the Rose. Give her cream. Let her with us rejoice."

  Mary raised the cat. She faced about so that she directly shut Mr.Marrapit from his nephew; with her dancing eyes spoke her happiness toher George; passed down the lawn.

  III.

  Mr. Marrapit drew in the lap he had been making. He sat upright. "Again,accept my felicitations," he said. "They are yours. Take them."

  With fitting words George took them. Mr. Marrapit continued: "It is amighty hour. Through adversity we have won to peace, through perils toport, through hurts to harbour."

  He paused.

  "You mean--" George said, groping.

  "Do not interpose. It is a mighty hour. Let this scene sink into ourminds and march with us to the grave. Here upon the lawn we stand.Westward the setting sun. Creeping towards us the lengthening shadows.Between us the horrid discord which has so long reigned no longerstands. It is banished by a holy peace. The past is dead. My trust isended. The vow which I swore unto your mother I have steadfastly kept. Iwould nourish you, I declared, until you were a qualified physician.You are a qualified physician. I have nourished you. Frequently in thefuture, upon a written invitation, I trust you will visit this home inwhich your youth has been spent. When do you leave?"

  The query towards which Mr. Marrapit had been making through his psalmcame to George with a startling abruptness that was disconcerting. Hehad not anticipated it. He jerked: "When do I--leave?"

  "Certainly. The hour of your departure, unduly deferred by idleness andwaywardness upon which we will not dwell, is now at hand. When doesit fall? Not to-night, I trust? A last night you will, I hope, spendbeneath my roof. To-morrow, perchance? What are your plans?"

  George flamed. "You're in a mighty hurry to get rid of me."

  Mr. Marrapit cast upward his eyes. He groaned:

  "Again I am misunderstood. All my life I have been misunderstood." Hebecame stern. "Ingrate! Is it not patent to you that my desire is not tostand in your way? You have earned manhood, freedom, a charter to wrestmoney from the world. I might stay you. I do not. I bid you Godspeed."

  George remembered his weighty purpose. Making for it, he became humble."I am sorry," he said. "I see what you mean. I appreciate your kindness.You ask what are my plans. I have come specially to lay them beforeyou."

  Mr. Marrapit clutched the seat of his chair with the action of onewaiting a dentist's torture. He had a premonition that support of somekind would be necessary. "Proceed," he said.

  George said: "My plans--" He swallowed. "My plans--" Again he swallowed.His plans were red-hot within him, but he sought despairingly for onethat would not at the very outset turn Mr. Marrapit into screams. "Myplans--" he stammered.

  "My God!" Mr. Marrapit groaned. "My God! What is coming?"

  George said on a rush: "These are my plans. I intend to marry--"

  Mr. Marrapit gave a faint little bark.

  "Then--then--" said George, floundering. "After that--then--I intend tomarry--I--"

  "Bigamy," Mr. Marrapit murmured. "Bigamy."

  "Not twice. I am nervous. I intend to marry. I want to buy a littleseaside practice that is for sale."

  Mr. Marrapit repeated the faint little bark. He was lying back, eyeshalf closed, face working upon some inward stress.

  "Those are my plans," George summarised: "to marry and buy thispractice."

  A considerable pause followed. The workings of Mr. Marrapit's faceceased; he opened his eyes, sat up. "When?" he asked.

  "At once."

  "This practice--"

  "I have it in my eye."

  "Immaterial. Have you it in your pocket?"

  "You mean the price?"

  "I mean the money wherewith to finance these appalling schemes."

  "Not exactly. It is about that I wish to speak to you."

  "To _me?_"

  "Yes. I wanted to ask--"

  "You intend to ask me for money?"

  "I want to suggest--"

  "How much?"

  "Four--five hundred pounds."

  "Great heaven!" Mr. Marrapit wildly fingered the air. Margaret, at theend of the lawn, crossed his vision. He called huskily: "Margaret!"

  She tripped to him. "Father! What is it?"

  "Barley water!" Mr. Marrapit throated. "Barley water!"

  While she was upon her errand no--words passed between the two. Mr.Marrapit took the glass from her in shaking hands. "Leave us," he said.He drank of his barley water; placed the glass upon the bench besidehim; gave George a wan smile. "I am stricken in years," he said. "Ihave passed through a trance or conscious nightmare. You will have hadexperience of such affections of the brain. I thought"--the hideousmemory shook him--"I thought you asked me for five hundred pounds."

  George said defiantly: "I did."

  Mr. Marrapit frantically reached for the barley water; feverishlygulped. "I shall have a stroke," he cried. "My hour is at hand."

  My poor George flung himself on a note of appeal. "O
h, I say, uncle,don't go on like that! You don't know what this means to me."

  "I do not seek to know. I am too fully occupied with its consequences tomyself; it means a stroke. I feel it coming. My tomb yawns."

  George gripped together his hands; paced a few strides; returned. "Oh,for heaven's sake, don't go on like that! Won't you listen to me? Is itimpossible to speak with you as man to man? If you refuse what I ask,you have only to say no."

  "You promise that?"

  "Of course; of course."

  "I say it now, then. No."

  "But you haven't heard me."

  "Unnecessary."

  The tortured young man raised his voice.

  "It is necessary! You shall! You must!"

  "Barley water!" Mr. Marrapit gasped. "Barley water! I am going to bemurdered."

  "Oh, this is insupportable!" George cried.

  "I endorse that. A double death threatens me. I shudder between a strokeand a blow. I shall be battered to death on my own lawn."

  "If you would only listen to me," George implored. "Why can we never benatural when we meet?"

  "Search your heart for the answer," Mr. Marrapit told him. "It isbecause your demands are unnatural."

  "You haven't heard them. Listen. I am on the threshold of my career.I am sure you will not ruin it. The real price of this practice is650 pounds--the value of a year and a half's income; that is the usualcustom. I am offered it for four hundred. Then I want to marry and tohave a little balance with which to start--say 100 pounds for that. Thatmakes 500 pounds altogether. I implore you to lend--lend, not give--thatsum. I will pay you back 50 pounds at the end of the first year and ahundred a year afterwards. Interest too. I don't know much about thesethings. Any interest you like. We would get a solicitor to draw up anagreement. Say you will lend the money. I feel sure you will."

  "You delude yourself by that assurance."

  "Oh, wait before you refuse. My prospects are so bright if only youwill help me. I have no one else to whom I can turn. It is only a loan Iask."

  "It is refused."

  George stamped away, hands to head. The poor boy was in agony. Thenreturned:

  "I won't believe you. You will not be so heartless. Think over what Ihave said. Tell me to-night--to-morrow."

  "My answer would be the same."

  "You absolutely refuse to lend me the money?"

  "I refuse. It is against my principles."

  My frantic George clutched at a shimmering hope. "Against yourprinciples to lend? Do you mean that you will give--give me 500 pounds?"

  "Barley water!" Mr. Marrapit gasped. He drank; gasped: "Give 500 pounds!You are light-headed!"

  "Then lend it!" George supplicated on a last appeal. "Make anyconditions you please, and I will accept them. Uncle, think of when youwere a young man. Remember the time when you were on the threshold ofyour career. Think of when you were engaged as I am now engaged. Imagineyour feelings if you had been prevented marrying. You won't stand inmy way? The happiest life is before me if you will only give your aid.Otherwise--otherwise--oh, I say, you won't refuse?"

  "I implore you to close this distressing scene."

  "Will you lend me the money?"

  "My principles prevent me."

  "Then damn your principles!" George shouted. "Damn your principles!"

  While he had been battering his head against this brick wall he had beensaved pain by the hope that a last chance would carry him through. Nowthat he realised the futility of the endeavour, the stability of thewall, he had time to feel the bruising he had suffered--the bitternessof failure and of all that failure meant. The hurts combined to make himroar with pain, and he shouted furiously again: "Damn your principles!"

  "Barley water!" throated Mr. Marrapit on a note of terror. He reachedfor the glass. It was empty.

  He struggled to his feet; got the chair between George and himself;cried across it: "Beware how you touch me."

  "Oh, I'm not going to touch you. You needn't be afraid."

  "I have every need. I am afraid. Keep your distance. You are notresponsible for your actions."

  "You needn't be afraid, I tell you. It is too ridiculous."

  "I repeat I have need. Keep your distance. My limbs tremble as one in apalsy." Mr. Marrapit gripped the chair-back; his shudders advertised hisdistress.

  "I only want to say this," George declaimed, "that if you refuse whatI ask, you are refusing what is lawfully mine. My mother left you 4000pounds for my education. At the outside you have spent three. The 500pounds is mine. I have a right to it."

  "Keep your distance, sir."

  My furious George took three steps forward.

  "Can you answer what I say?" he shouted.

  Mr. Marrapit gave a thin cry: turned, and with surprising bounds madeacross the lawn. A slipper shot from his foot. He alighted upon astone; bounded heavenwards with a shrill scream; and hopping, leaping,shuffling, made the corner of the house.

  George swung on his heel. It occurred to him to visit Bill Wyvern.

  CHAPTER IV.

  The Rape Of The Rose.

  I.

  Bill was away from home, the maid who answered the door told George;Mrs. Wyvern was out; the Professor was in his study.

  George found the great biologist warming his chilly old bones in a vastarmchair before a fire.

  With a twinkling of his sky-blue eyes that spoke to pleasant temper, theProfessor greeted George; nodded him into an opposite seat.

  "I am reading a letter," he announced. This man spoke very slowly, neverabbreviated; had now an air of child-like happiness. "It is a letterfrom Bill."

  George said: "Ah, what is Bill doing? I've not seen him for days."

  Professor Wyvern chuckled away and fumbled with clumsy old fingers amongthe closely-written sheets on his lap. One he selected and inclinedtowards George. Its upper half was thickly lettered in heavy red type,prominent among which there bawled forth in wavy capitals, thicklyunderscored:

  "THE DAILY." EVERYBODY'S PAPER. PRICE 1/2d.

  "Hot stuff!" George cried. "Is old Bill on the staff of the _Daily_?"

  "Old Bill is on the staff of the _Daily_," the Professor returned withmore chuckling. "You have heard of it?"

  "Well, it's advertised everywhere. You can't get away from it. Firstnumber out to-morrow, isn't it?"

  "Yes, it is. I think it will be a very terrible production--a veryhorrible production indeed. But I am an annual subscriber becauseof Bill, and I have written a short article for the first issue alsobecause of Bill. Bill says" (the Professor fumbled again; ran his nosetwice up and down each sheet; finally struck the passage) "Bill says,'You were a brick, dear old governor, to send that article. It is a mostthundering scoop for the _Daily_, and made the Boss most awfully buckedup with me. You are a brick, dear old Governor."

  A little tear rolled out of Professor Wyvern's silly old eye, and heblew his nose in a series of terrific thunder-claps.

  "There!" he said. "You see how pleased Bill is with himself. I am afraidhe uses the most terrible expressions in his letters, but he does notuse them when he is writing his stories. He is a clever boy, and I amvery proud of him. Now let me tell you." He fell to nosing the sheetsagain. "All this first part is about his dogs. '... if Abiram and Dathanstart scrapping, just hoof Abiram--it's his fault.'"

  The Professor looked up at George. "I would more readily kick a policeconstable than I would kick Abiram," he said. "I must tell Hocken allthis."

  He continued, "'... see that Korah is kept short of meat for a bit ...when they are exercising, for goodness' sake don't let them be takendown Windmill Lane. There is a collie there that they have got a grudgeagainst and will tear to bits if they catch.'"

  The Professor paused. "Oh, dear! oh, dear! I must give all this part toHocken to keep. Ah! Now here is about his work. They have engaged himat four pounds a week. He does not know exactly what he is. Not asub-editor. Not a reporter. He thinks they will put him on to what hecalls 'special jobs,' or he may have to do what h
e calls 'ferret round'and find jobs for himself. The understanding is that he is only onprobation. If he does anything very good they will put him on thepermanent staff; if not, he is liable to go at a week's notice. Then hesays, 'Tell all this to George, and give him my love. He was up for hisexam--'"

  Professor Wyvern broke off. "Dear me!" he cried; "oh, dear me, I haveforgotten! You have been up for your examination?"

  George nodded.

  Kindly old Professor Wyvern misinterpreted the lack of enthusiasm. "WhenI was a medical student," he said, "I failed dozens of times in my finalexamination--dozens. It's no criterion of knowledge, you know: itis just luck. Never let examination failure dishearten you. Go alonghappily, George, and take your chance when it comes."

  "It's come," George said, beaming; recollection of his splendid successtemporarily overshadowed recollection of his tragic failure.

  "You have qualified?"

  "Yes."

  The Professor's sky-blue eyes danced with glee. He struggled on to histottery old legs; before George could save him the exertion, had hobbledover the hearth-rug and was wringing his hand in tremendous pleasure.

  "Well done, George!" he bubbled. "Well done! Well done! It is themost splendid news. I have not had such a happy day for a long time.Qualified! Well, that is splendid! Splendid!"

  He fell back into his chair, panting with his excitement. "Ring thatbell, George. We must celebrate this."

  A maid appeared. "Susan," said the Professor, "bring up a small bottleof champagne and two glasses. Mr. George has passed his examination. Bevery quick, Susan."