Once a Week

by A. A. Milne

  THE HALO THEY GAVE THEMSELVES

  [A collaboration by the Authors of "The Broken Halo" and "The Woman ThouGavest Me."]

  CHAPTER I

  SUNDAY MORNING

  (MRS. BARCLAY _begins_)

  It was a beautiful Sunday morning. All nature browsed in solemn Sabbathstillness. The Little Grey Woman of the Night-Light was hurrying,somewhat late, to church.

  Down the white ribbon of road the Virile Benedict of the Libraries camebicycling, treadling easily from the ankles. He rode boldly, with onlyone hand on the handle-bars, the other in the pocket of his whiteflannel cricketing trousers. His footballing tie, with his college armsembroidered upon it, flapped gently in the breeze. To look at him youwould have said that he was probably a crack polo player on his way todefend the championship against all comers, or the captain of a countygolf eleven. As he rode, his soul overflowing with the joy of life, hehummed the Collect for the Day.

  It was exactly opposite the church that he ran into the Little GreyWoman of the Night-Light. He had just flashed past a labourer in theroad--known to his cronies as the Flap-eared Denizen of theTurnip-patch--a labourer who in the dear dead days of Queen Victoriawould have touched his hat humbly, but who now, in this horrible age ofattempts to level all class distinctions, actually went on lighting hispipe! Alas, that the respectful deference of the poor toward the rich isnow a thing of the past! So thought the Virile Benedict of theLibraries, and in thinking this he had let his mind wander from theimportant business of guiding his bicycle! In another moment he had runinto the Little Grey Woman of the Night-Light!

  She had seen him coming and had given a warning cry, but it was toolate. The next moment he shot over his handle-bars; but even as herevolved through the air he wondered how old she really was, and what,if any, was her income. For since the death of the Little White Lady hehad formed a habit of marrying elderly women for their money, and hisfifth or sixth wife had perished of old age only a few months ago.

  [_Hall Caine_ (waking up). _Who, pray, is the Little White Lady?_

  _Mrs. Barclay. His first wife. She comes in my book, "The Broken Halo,"now in its two hundredth edition._

  _Hall Caine_ (annoyed). _Tut!_]

  "Jove," he said cheerily, as he picked himself and her and his bicycleup, "that was a nasty spill. As my Aunt Louisa used to say to the curatewhen he upset the milk-jug into her lap, 'No milk, thank you.'" Hisbrown eyes danced with amusement as he related this reminiscence of hisboyhood. To the Little Grey Woman he seemed to exhale youth from everypore.

  "What did your Aunt Louisa say when her ankle was sprained?" she askedwith a rueful smile.

  In an instant the merry banter faded from the Virile Benedict's browneyes, and was replaced by the commanding look of one who has taken abrilliant degree in all his medical examinations.

  "Allow me," he said brusquely; "I am a doctor." He bent down andlistened to her ankle.

  It did not take Dr. Dick Cameron's quick ear long to find out all therewas to know. His manner became very gentle and his voice very low; and,though he continued to exhale youth, he did it less ostentatiously thanbefore.

  "I must carry you home," he said, picking her up in his strong youngarms; "you cannot go to church to-day."

  "But the curate is preaching!"

  Dr. Dick murmured something profane under his breath about curates. Hehad, alas! these moments of irreverence; as, for instance, on oneoccasion when he had spoken of Mr. Louis N. Parker's noble picture-play,"Joseph and his Brethren," quite shortly as "Jos. Bros."

  "I will carry you home," he said gently. "Tell me where you live, LittleGrey Woman."

  She smiled up at him bravely. "The Manor House," she said.

  His voice became yet more gentle. "And now tell me your income," hewhispered; and his whole being trembled with emotion as he waited forher reply.

  [_Mrs. Barclay. There! That's the end of the chapter. Now it's yourturn._

  _Hall Caine_ (waking up). _I don't know if I told you that in my lastgreat work of the imagination, in which I collaborated with the Bishopof London, I wrote throughout in the first person. Nearly a millioncopies were sold, thus showing that the heart of the great publicapproved of my method of telling my story through the mouth of a youngand innocent girl, exposed to great temptation. I should wish,therefore, to repeat that method in this story, if you could so arrangeit._

  _Mrs. Barclay. But that's easy. The Little Grey Woman shall tell Dr.Dick the story of her first marriage. I did that in my last book, "TheBroken Halo," now in its two hundredth edition._

  _Hall Caine_ (annoyed). _Tut!_]

  CHAPTER II

  UNDER THE CEDAR

  (MRS. BARCLAY _continues_)

  They were having tea in the garden--the Little Grey Woman and Dr. Dick.More than six months had elapsed since the accident outside the church,and Dr. Dick still remained on at the Manor House in charge of hispatient, wishing to be handy in case the old sprain came on againsuddenly. She was eighty-two and had twelve thousand a year. On the lawna thrush was singing.

  "How fresh and green the world is to-day," sighed Dr. Dick, leaning backand exhaling youth. "As the curate used to say to my Aunt Louisa, 'Adelightful shower after the rain.'" He laughed merrily, and threw acrumb at the thrush with the perfect aim of a good cricketer throwingthe ball at the wickets.

  "My dear boy," said the Little Grey Woman, "the world is always freshand green to youth like yours. But to an old woman like me----"

  "Not old," said Dick, with an ardent glance; "only eighty-two. Mrs.Beauchamp, will you marry me?"

  She looked at him with a sad but tender smile.

  "What _would_ my friends say?" she asked.

  "Bother your friends."

  "My dear boy, you would be considerably surprised if you could glancethrough an approximate list of the friends I possess to-day. Do you knowthat if I marry you I shall be required to make an explanation toseveral royal ladies--that is, if they graciously grant me theopportunity so to do."

  "But I want your mon--I mean I _love_ you," he pleaded, the light ofyouth shining in his brown eyes.

  The Little Grey Woman looked at him tenderly. Their eyes met.

  "Listen," she said. "I will tell you the story of my first marriage, andthen if you wish you shall ask me again."

  Dr. Dick helped himself to another slice of cake and leant back tolisten.

  [_Mrs. Barclay. There you are. Now you can do Chapter Three._

  _Hall Caine. Excellent. It is quite time that one got some emotion intothis story. In "The Woman Thou Gavest Me," of which more than amillion----_

  _Mrs. Barclay. Emotion, indeed! My last book is already in its twohundredth edition._

  _Hall Caine_ (annoyed). _Tut!_]

  CHAPTER III

  MRS. BEAUCHAMP'S STORY

  (MR. HALL CAINE _takes up the tale_)

  I have always had a wonderful memory, and my earliest recollection is ofhearing my father ask, on the day when I was born, whether it was a boyor a girl. When they told him "a girl," he let fall a rough expressionwhich sent the blood coursing over my mother's pale cheeks likelobster-sauce coursing over a turbot. My father, John Boomster, was agreat advertising agent, perhaps the greatest in the island, though healways said that there was one man who could beat him. He wanted a sonto succeed him in the business, and in the years to come he neverforgave me for being a girl. He would often glare at me in silence forthree-quarters of an hour, and then, letting fall the same roughexpression, throw a boot at me and stride from the room. A hard, cruelman, my father, and yet, in his fashion, he was fond of me.

  It was not until I was eighteen that he first spoke to me. To my dyingday I shall never forget that evening; nor his words, which bitthemselves into my mind as a red-hot iron bites its way into cheese.

  "Nell," he said, for that was my name, though he had never used itbefore, "I've arranged that you are to marry Lord Wurzel two months fromto-day."

  At these terrible words the blood ebbed slowly from my ears and
my handsgrew hot.

  "I do not know him," I said in a stifled voice.

  "You will to-morrow," he laughed brutally, and with another rough wordhe strode from the room.

  Lord Wurzel! I ran upstairs to my room and flung myself face downwardson the bed. In my agony I bit a large piece out of my pillow. The bloodflowed forward and backward over me in waves, and I burst every now andthen into a passion of weeping.

  By and by I began to feel more serene. I decided that it was my duty toobey my father. My heart leapt within me at the thought of doing myduty, and to calm myself I put on my hat and wandered into the glen. Itwas very silent in the glen. There was no sound but the rustling of theleaves overhead, the popping of the insects underfoot, the sneezing ofthe cattle, the whistling of the pigs, the coughing of the field-mice,the roaring of the rabbits, and the deep organ-song of the sea.

  But suddenly, above all these noises, I heard a voice which sent theblood ebbing and flowing in my heart and caused the back of my neck toquiver with ecstasy.

  "Nell!" it said.

  It was the voice of my old comrade, Andrew Spinnaker, who had playedwith me in our childhood's days, and whom I had not seen now for eightyears.

  "Andrew!" I cried, as I turned round. "What are you doing here?"

  "I am just off to discover the South Pole," he said. "My shipmates arewaiting for me to command the expedition."

  I noticed then for the first time that he was dressed in a seal-skin capand a pair of sleeping-bags.

  "Nell," he went on, "before I go, tell me you love me."

  My heart fluttered like a captured bird; my knees trembled like adrunken spider's; my throat was stifled like a stifled throat. A hugewave of something or other surged over me and told me that the greatmystery of the world had happened to me.

  I was in love.

  I was in love with Andrew Spinnaker.

  "Andrew," I cried, falling on his startled chin, "I love you." All theback of my neck thrilled with joy.

  But my joy was shortlived. No sooner had I become aware that I lovedAndrew Spinnaker than my conscience told me I had no right to do so. Iwas going to marry Lord Wurzel, and to love another than my husband wassin. I shook Andrew off my lips.

  "I love you," I said, "but I cannot marry you. I am marrying LordWurzel."

  "That beast?" cried Andrew, in the impetuous sailor fashion which soendeared him to his shipmates. "When I come back I will thrash him as Iwould thrash a vicious ape."

  "When will that be?"

  "In about two months," said my darling boy. "This is going to be a veryquick expedition."

  "Alas, that will be my wedding day," I said with a low sob like that ofa buffalo yearning for its mate. "It will be too late."

  Andrew took me in his strong arms. I should not have let him, but Icould not help it.

  "Listen," he said, "I will start back from the Pole a day before myshipmates, and save you from that d-sh-d beast. And then I will marryyou, Nell."

  There was a roaring in my ears like the roaring of the bath when the tapis left on; many waters seemed to rush upon me; my hat fell off, andthen deep oblivion came over me and I swooned.

  . . . . .

  To go through my emotions in detail during the next two months would bebut to harrow you needlessly. Suffice it to say that seventeen times Iflung myself face downwards on my bed and bit a piece out of the pillow,on twenty-nine occasions the blood ebbed slowly from my face, and myheart fluttered like a captured bird, while in a hundred and fortyinstances a wave of emotion surged slowly over my whole body, leavingme trembling like an aspen leaf. Otherwise my health remained good.

  It was the night before the wedding. The bad Lord Wurzel had just leftme with words of love upon his lying lips. To-morrow, unless AndrewSpinnaker saved me, I should be Lady Wurzel.

  "A marconigram for you, miss," said our faithful old gardener, William,entering the drawing-room noiselessly by the chimney. "I brought itmyself to be sure you got it."

  With trembling fingers I tore it open. How my heart leapt and the hotcolour flooded my neck and brow when I recognised the dear schoolboywriting of my beloved Andrew! I have the message still. It went likethis:

  "_Wireless--South Pole._ Arrived safe. Found Pole. Weather charming. Blue sky. Not a breath of wind. Am wearing my thick socks. Sun never going down. Constellations revolving without dipping. Moon going sideways. Am starting for England to-morrow. Arrive Victoria twelve o'clock, Wednesday.--ANDREW."

  Back on Wednesday! And to-morrow was Tuesday--my wedding day! There wasno hope. I felt like a shipwrecked voyager. For the thirty-fifth timesince the beginning of the month deep oblivion came over me, and Iswooned.

  [_Hall Caine. I think you might go on now. I have put a little life intothe story. It is, perhaps, not quite so vivid as my last work, "TheWoman Thou Gavest Me," of which more than a million copies----_

  _Mrs. Barclay. In the two hundredth edition of "The Broken Halo"----_

  _Hall Caine_ (annoyed). _Tut!_]

  CHAPTER IV

  THE END

  (MRS. BARCLAY _resumes_)

  At this point in The Little Grey Woman's story handsome Dr. Dick putdown his third piece of cake and got up. There was a baffled look on hisvirile face which none of his previous wives had ever seen there. Foronce Dr. Dick was nonplussed!

  "Is there much more of your story?" he asked.

  "Five hundred and nineteen pages," she said.

  The Virile Benedict of the Libraries took up his hat. Never had heexhaled youth so violently, yet never had he looked such a man. He hadmade up his mind. She was rich; but, after all, money was noteverything.

  "Good-bye," he said.