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Once a Week

Page 20

by A. A. Milne


  SILVER LININGS

  "We want some more coal," said Celia suddenly at breakfast.

  "Sorry," I said, engrossed in my paper, and I passed her the marmalade.

  "More coal," she repeated.

  I pushed across the toast.

  Celia sighed and held up her hand.

  "Please may I speak to you a moment?" she said, trying to snap herfingers. "Good; I've caught his eye. We want----"

  "I'm awfully sorry. What is it?"

  "We want some more coal. Never mind this once whether Inman beat Hobbsor not. Just help me."

  "Celia, you've been reading the paper," I said in surprise. "I thoughtyou only read the _feuill_--the serial story. How did you know Inman wasplaying Hobbs?"

  "Well, Poulton or Carpentier or whoever it is. Look here, we're out ofcoal. What shall I do?"

  "That's easy. Order some more. What do you do when you're out ofnutmegs?"

  "It depends if the nutmeg porters are striking."

  "Striking! Good heavens, I never thought about that." I glanced hastilydown the headlines of my paper. "Celia, this is serious. I shall have tothink about this seriously. Will you order a fire in the library? Ishall retire to the library and think this over."

  "You can retire to the library, but you can't have a fire there. There'sonly just enough for the kitchen for two days."

  "Then come and chaperon me in the kitchen. Don't leave me alone withJane. You and I and Jane will assemble round the oven and discuss thematter. B-r-r-r. It's cold."

  "Not the kitchen. I'll assemble with you round the electric lightsomewhere. Come on."

  We went into the library and rallied round a wax vesta. It was aterribly cold morning.

  "I can't think like this," I said, after fifteen seconds' reflection."I'm going to the office. There's a fire there, anyway."

  "You wouldn't like a nice secretary," said Celia timidly, "or an officegirl, or somebody to lick the stamps?"

  "I should never do any work if you came," I said, looking at herthoughtfully. "Do come."

  "No, I shall be all right. I've got shopping to do this morning, and I'mgoing out to lunch, and I can pay some calls afterwards."

  "Right. And you might find out what other people are doing, the peopleyou call on. And--er--if you _should_ be left alone in the drawing-rooma moment ... and the coal-box is at all adjacent.... You'll have yourmuff with you, you see, and---- Well, I leave that to you. Do what youcan."

  I had a good day at the office and have never been so loth to leave. Ialways felt I should get to like my work some time. I arrived home againabout six. Celia was a trifle later, and I met her on the mat as shecame in.

  "Any luck?" I asked eagerly, feeling in her muff. "Dash it, Celia, thereare nothing but hands here. Do you mean to say you didn't pick upanything at all?"

  "Only information," she said, leading the way into the drawing-room."Hallo, what's this? A fire!"

  "A small involuntary contribution from the office. I brought it homeunder my hat. Well, what's the news?"

  "That if we want any coal we shall have to fetch it ourselves. And wecan get it in small amounts from greengrocers. Why greengrocers, I don'tknow."

  "I suppose they have to have fires to force the cabbages. But what aboutthe striking coal porters? If you do their job, won't they picket you orpickaxe you or something?"

  "Oh, of course, I should hate to go alone. But I shall be all right ifyou come with me."

  Celia's faith in me is very touching. I am not quite so confident aboutmyself. No doubt I could protect her easily against five or six greatbrawny hulking porters ... armed with coal-hammers ... but I amseriously doubtful whether a dozen or so, aided with a little luck,mightn't get the better of me.

  "Don't let us be rash," I said thoughtfully. "Don't let us infuriatethem."

  "You aren't afraid of a striker?" asked Celia in amazement.

  "Of an ordinary striker, no. In a strike of bank-clerks, or--orchess-players, or professional skeletons, I should be a lion among theblacklegs; but there is something about the very word coal porterwhich---- You know, I really think this is a case where the British Armymight help us. We have been very good to it."

  The British Army, I should explain, has been walking out with Janelately. When we go away for week-ends we let the British Army drop in tosupper. Luckily it neither smokes nor drinks nor takes any greatinterest in books. It is a great relief, on your week-ends in thecountry, to _know_ that the British Army is dropping in to supper, whenotherwise you might only have suspected it. I may say that we are ratherhoping to get a position in the Army Recruiting film on the strength ofthis hospitality.

  "Let the British Army go," I said. "We've been very kind to him."

  "I fancy Jane has left the service. I don't know why."

  "Probably they quarrelled because she gave him caviare two nightsrunning," I said. "Well, I suppose I shall have to go. But it will be noplace for women. To-morrow afternoon I will sally forth alone to do it.But," I added, "I shall probably return with two coal porters clinginground my neck. Order tea for three."

  Next evening, after a warm and busy day at the office, I put on mytop-hat and tail-coat and went out. If there was any accident I wasdetermined to be described in the papers as "the body of a well-dressedman"; to go down to history as "the remains of a shabbily dressedindividual" would be too depressing. Beautifully clothed, I jumped intoa taxi and drove to Celia's greengrocer. Celia herself was keeping warmby paying still more calls.

  "I want," I said nervously, "a hundredweight of coal and a cauliflower."This was my own idea. I intended to place the cauliflower on the top ofa sack, and so to deceive any too-inquisitive coal porter. "No, no," Ishould say, "not coal; nice cauliflowers for Sunday's dinner."

  "Can't deliver the coal," said the greengrocer.

  "I'm going to take it with me," I explained.

  He went round to a yard at the back. I motioned my taxi along andfollowed him at the head of three small boys who had never seen atop-hat and a cauliflower so close together. We got the sack intoposition.

  "Come, come," I said to the driver, "haven't you ever seen adressing-case before? Give us a hand with it or I shall miss my trainand be late for dinner."

  He grinned and gave a hand. I paid the greengrocer, pressed thecauliflower into the hand of the smallest boy, and drove off....

  It was absurdly easy.

  There was no gore at all.

  . . . . .

  "There!" I said to Celia when she came back. "And when that's done I'llget you some more."

  "Hooray! And yet," she went on, "I'm almost sorry. You see, I wasworking off my calls so nicely, and you'd been having some quite busydays at the office, hadn't you?"

 

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