Lupin burst out laughing, and, in the most unseemly manner, said: ‘Alas, poor Cummings! He’ll lose £35.’ At that moment there was a ring at the bell. Lupin said: ‘I don’t want to meet Cummings.’ If he had gone out of the door he would have met him in the passage, so as quickly as possible Lupin opened the parlour window and got out. Gowing jumped up suddenly, exclaiming: ‘I don’t want to see him either!’ and, before I could say a word, he followed Lupin out of the window.
For my own part, I was horrified to think my own son and one of my most intimate friends should depart from the house like a couple of interrupted burglars. Poor Cummings was very upset, and of course was naturally very angry both with Lupin and Gowing. I pressed him to have a little whisky, and he replied that he had given up whisky; but would like a little ‘Unsweetened,’ as he was advised it was the most healthy spirit. I had none in the house, but sent Sarah round to Lockwood’s for some.
FEBRUARY 20. The first thing that caught my eye on opening the Standard was – ‘Great Failure of Stock and Share Dealers!1 Mr Job Cleanands Absconded!’ I handed it to Carrie and she replied: ‘Oh! perhaps it’s for Lupin’s good. I never did think it a suitable situation for him.’ I thought the whole affair very shocking.
Lupin came down to breakfast, and seeing he looked painfully distressed, I said: ‘We know the news, my dear boy, and feel very sorry for you.’ Lupin said: ‘How did you know? Who told you?’ I handed him the Standard. He threw the paper down, and said: ‘Oh, I don’t care a button for that! I expected that, but I did not expect this.’ He then read a letter from Frank Mutlar, announcing, in a cool manner, that Daisy Mutlar is to be married next month to Murray Posh. I exclaimed, ‘Murray Posh! Is not that the very man Frank had the impudence to bring here last Tuesday week?’ Lupin said: ‘Yes; the “Posh’s-three-shilling-hats” chap.’
We all then ate our breakfast in dead silence.
In fact I could eat nothing. I was not only too worried, but I cannot and will not eat cushion of bacon. If I cannot get streaky bacon, I will do without anything.
When Lupin rose to go I noticed a malicious smile creep over his face. I asked him what it meant. He replied: ‘Oh! only a little consolation – still it is a consolation. I have just remembered that, by my advice, Mr Murray Posh has invested £600 in Parachikka Chlorates!’
Marriage of Daisy Mutlar
and Murray Posh. The dream of
my life realized. Mr Perkupp
takes Lupin into
the office.
Chapter XVII
MARCH 20. Today being the day on which Daisy Mutlar and Mr Murray Posh are to be married. Lupin has gone with a friend to spend the day at Gravesend. Lupin has been much cut-up over the affair, although he declares that he is glad it is off. I wish he would not go to so many music-halls, but one dare not say anything to him about it. At the present moment he irritates me by singing all over the house some nonsense about ‘What’s the matter with Gladstone? He’s all right! What’s the matter with Lupin? He’s all right!’ Idon’t think either of them is. In the evening Gowing called, and the chief topic of conversation was Daisy’s marriage to Murray Posh. I said I was glad the matter was at an end, as Daisy would only have made a fool of Lupin. Gowing, with his usual good taste, said: ‘Oh, Master Lupin can make a fool of himself without any assistance.’ Carrie very properly resented this, and Gowing had sufficient sense to say he was sorry.
MARCH 21. Today I shall conclude my diary,1 for it is one of the happiest days of my life. My great dream of the last few weeks – in fact, of many years – has been realized. This morning came a letter from Mr Perkupp, asking me to take Lupin down to the office with me. I went to Lupin’s room; poor fellow, he seemed very pale, and said he had a bad headache. He had come back yesterday from Gravesend, where he spent part of the day in a small boat on the water, having been mad enough to neglect to take his overcoat with him. I showed him Mr Perkupp’s letter, and he got up as quickly as possible. I begged of him not to put on his fast-coloured clothes and ties, but to dress in something black or quiet-looking.
Carrie was all of a tremble when she read the letter, and all she could keep on saying was: ‘Oh, I do hope it will be all right.’ For myself, I could scarcely eat any breakfast. Lupin came down dressed quietly, and looking a perfect gentleman, except that his face was rather yellow. Carrie, by way of encouragement, said: ‘You do look nice, Lupin.’ Lupin replied: ‘Yes, it’s a good make-up, isn’t it? A regular-downright-respectable-funereal-first-class-City-firm-junior-clerk.’ He laughed rather ironically.
In the hall I heard a great noise, and also Lupin shouting to Sarah to fetch down his old hat. I went into the passage, and found Lupin in a fury, kicking and smashing a new tall hat. I said: ‘Lupin, my boy, what are you doing? How wicked of you! Some poor fellow would be glad to have it.’ Lupin replied: ‘I would not insult any poor fellow by giving it to him.’
When he had gone outside, I picked up the battered hat, and saw inside ‘Posh’s Patent’. Poor Lupin! I can forgive him. It seemed hours before we reached the office. Mr Perkupp sent for Lupin, who was with him nearly an hour. He returned, as I thought, crestfallen in appearance. I said: ‘Well, Lupin, how about Mr Perkupp?’ Lupin commenced his song: ‘What’s the matter with Perkupp? He’s all right!’ I felt instinctively my boy was engaged. I went to Mr Perkupp, but I could not speak. He said: ‘Well, Mr Pooter, what is it?’ I must have looked a fool, for all I could say was: ‘Mr Perkupp, you are a good man.’ He looked at me for a moment, and said: ‘No, Mr Pooter, you are the good man; and we’ll see if we cannot get your son to follow such an excellent example.’ I said: ‘Mr Perkupp, may I go home? I cannot work any more today.’
My good master shook my hand warmly as he nodded his head. It was as much as I could do to prevent myself from crying in the ’bus; in fact, I should have done so, had my thoughts not been interrupted by Lupin, who was having a quarrel with a fat man in the ’bus, whom he accused of taking up too much room.
In the evening Carrie sent round for dear old friend Cummings and his wife, and also to Gowing. We all sat round the fire, and in a bottle of ‘Jackson Frères’, which Sarah fetched from the grocer’s, drank Lupin’s health. I lay awake for hours, thinking of the future. My boy in the same office as myself – we can go down together by the ’bus, come home together, and who knows but in the course of time he may take great interest in our little home. That he may help me to put a nail in here or a nail in there, or help his dear mother to hang a picture. In the summer he may help us in our little garden with the flowers, and assist us to paint the stands and pots. (By-the-by, I must get in some more enamel paint.) All this I thought over and over again, and a thousand happy thoughts beside. I heard the clock strike four, and soon after fell asleep, only to dream of three happy people – Lupin, dear Carrie, and myself.
Trouble with a stylographic
pen. We go to a Volunteer Ball, where
I am let in for an expensive supper.
Grossly insulted by a cabman.
An odd invitation to
Southend.
Chapter XVIII
APRIL 8. No events of any importance, except that Gowing strongly recommended a new patent stylographic pen, which cost me nine-and-sixpence, and which was simply nine-and-sixpence thrown in the mud. It has caused me constant annoyance and irritability of temper. The ink oozes out of the top, making a mess on my hands, and once at the office when I was knocking the palm of my hand on the desk to jerk the ink down, Mr Perkupp, who had just entered, called out: ‘Stop that knocking! I suppose that is you, Mr Pitt?’ That young monkey, Pitt, took a malicious glee in responding quite loudly: ‘No, sir; I beg pardon, it is Mr Pooter with his pen: it has been going on all morning.’ To make matters worse, I saw Lupin laughing behind his desk. I thought it wiser to say nothing. I took the pen back to the shop and asked them if they would take it back, as it did not act. I did not expect the full price returned, but was willing to take half. The man said h
e could not do that – buying and selling were two different things. Lupin’s conduct during the period he has been in Mr Perkupp’s office has been most exemplary. My only fear is, it is too good to last.
APRIL 9. Gowing called, bringing with him an invitation for Carrie and myself to a ball given by the East Acton Rifle Brigade, which he thought would be a swell affair, as the member for East Acton (Sir William Grime) had promised his patronage. We accepted of his kindness, and he stayed to supper, an occasion I thought suitable for trying a bottle of the sparkling Algéra that Mr James (of Sutton) had sent me as a present. Gowing sipped the wine, observing that he had never tasted it before, and further remarked that his policy was to stick to more recognized brands. I told him it was a present
from a dear friend, and one mustn’t look a gift-horse in the mouth. Gowing facetiously replied: ‘And he didn’t like putting it in the mouth either.’
I thought the remarks were rude without being funny, but on tasting it myself, came to the conclusion there was some justification for them. The sparkling Algéra is very like cider, only more sour. I suggested that perhaps the thunder had turned it a bit acid. He merely replied: ‘Oh! I don’t think so.’ We had a very pleasant game of cards, though I lost four shillings and Carrie lost one, and Gowing said he had lost about sixpence: how he could have lost, considering that Carrie and I were the only other players, remains a mystery.
APRIL 14. SUNDAY. Owing, I presume, to the unsettled weather, I awoke with a feeling that my skin was drawn over my face as tight as a drum. Walking round the garden with Mr and Mrs Treane, members of our congregation who had walked back with us, I was much annoyed to find a large newspaper full of bones on the gravel-path, evidently thrown over by those young Griffin boys next door; who, whenever we have friends, climb up the empty steps inside their conservatory, tap at the windows, making faces, whistling, and imitating birds.
APRIL 15. Burnt my tongue most awfully with the Worcester sauce, through that stupid girl Sarah shaking the bottle violently before putting it on the table.
APRIL 16. The night of the East Acton Volunteer Ball. On my advice, Carrie put on the same dress that she looked so beautiful in at the Mansion House, for it had occurred to me, being a military ball, that Mr Perkupp, who, I believe, is an officer in the Honourable Artillery Company, would in all probability be present. Lupin, in his usual incomprehensible language, remarked that he had heard it was a ‘bounders’ ball’. I didn’t ask him what he meant though I didn’t understand. Where he gets these expressions from I don’t know; he certainly doesn’t learn them at home.
The invitation was for half-past eight, so I concluded if we arrived
an hour later we should be in good time, without being ‘unfashionable’, as Mrs James says. It was very difficult to find – the cabman having to get down several times to inquire at different public-houses where the Drill Hall was. I wonder at people living in such out-of-the-way
Young Griffin boys making faces, whistling, and imitating birds
places. No one seemed to know it. However, after going up and down a good many badly-lighted streets we arrived at our destination. I had no idea it was so far away from Holloway. I gave the cabman five shillings, who only grumbled, saying it was dirt cheap at half-a sovereign, and was impertinent enough to advise me the next time I went to a ball to take a ’bus.
Captain Welcut received us, saying we were rather late, but that it was better late than never. He seemed a very good-looking gentleman though, as Carrie remarked, ‘rather short for an officer’. He begged to be excused for leaving us, as he was engaged for a dance, and hoped we should make ourselves at home. Carrie took my arm and we walked round the rooms two or three times and watched the people dancing. I couldn’t find a single person I knew, but attributed it to most of them being in uniform. As we were entering the supper-room I received a slap on the shoulder, followed by a welcome shake of the hand. I said: ‘Mr Padge, I believe?’ He replied: ‘That’s right.’
I gave Carrie a chair, and seated by her was a lady who made herself at home with Carrie at once.
There was a very liberal repast on the tables, plenty of champagne, claret, etc., and, in fact, everything seemed to be done regardless of expense. Mr Padge is a man that, I admit, I have no particular liking for, but I felt so glad to come across someone I knew, that I asked him to sit at our table, and I must say that for a short fat man he looked well in uniform, although I think his tunic was rather baggy in the back. It was the only supper-room that I have been in that was not over-crowded; in fact we were the only people there, everybody being so busy dancing.
I assisted Carrie and her newly-formed acquaintance, who said her name was Lupkin, to some champagne; also myself, and handed the bottle to Mr Padge to do likewise, saying: ‘You must look after yourself.’ He replied: ‘That’s right,’ and poured out half a tumbler and drank Carrie’s health, coupled, as he said, ‘with her worthy lord and master’. We all had some splendid pigeon pie, and ices to follow.
The waiters were very attentive, and asked if we would like some more wine. I assisted Carrie and her friend and Mr Padge, also some people who had just come from the dancing-room, who were very civil. It occurred to me at the time that perhaps some of the gentlemen knew me in the City, as they were so polite. I made myself useful, and assisted several ladies to ices, remembering an old saying that ‘There is nothing lost by civility’.
The band struck up for the dance, and they all went into the ball-room. The ladies (Carrie and Mrs Lupkin) were anxious to see the dancing, and as I had not quite finished my supper, Mr Padge offered his arms to them and escorted them to the ball-room, telling me to follow. I said to Mr Padge: ‘It is quite a West End affair,’ to which remark Mr Padge replied: ‘That’s right.’
When I had quite finished my supper, and was leaving, the waiter who had been attending on us arrested my attention by tapping me on the shoulder. I thought it unusual for a waiter at a private ball to expect a tip, but nevertheless gave a shilling, as he had been very attentive. He smilingly replied: ‘I beg your pardon, sir, this is no good,’ alluding to the shilling. ‘Your party’s had four suppers at 5s. a head, five ices at 1s., three bottles of champagne at 11s. 6d., a glass of claret, and a sixpenny cigar for the stout gentleman – in all £30s. 6d.!’
I don’t think I was ever so surprised in my life, and had only sufficient breath to inform him that I had received a private invitation, to which he answered that he was perfectly well aware of that; but that the invitation didn’t include eatables and drinkables. A gentleman who was standing at the bar corroborated the waiter’s statement, and assured me it was quite correct.
The waiter said he was extremely sorry if I had been under any misapprehension; but it was not his fault. Of course there was nothing to be done but to pay. So, after turning out my pockets, I just managed to scrape up sufficient, all but nine shillings; but the manager, on my giving my card to him, said: ‘That’s all right.’
I don’t think I ever felt more humiliated in my life, and I determined to keep this misfortune from Carrie, for it would entirely destroy the pleasant evening she was enjoying. I felt there was no more enjoyment for me that evening, and it being late, I sought Carrie and Mrs Lupkin. Carrie said she was quite ready to go, and Mrs Lupkin, as we were wishing her ‘Good night,’ asked Carrie and myself if we ever paid a visit to Southend? On my replying that I hadn’t been there for many years, she very kindly said: ‘Well, why don’t you come down and stay at our place?’ As her invitation was so pressing, and observing that Carrie wished to go, we promised we would visit her the next Saturday week, and stay till Monday. Mrs Lupkin said she would write to us tomorrow, giving us the address and particulars of trains, etc.
When we got outside the Drill Hall it was raining so hard that the roads resembled canals, and I need hardly say we had great difficulty in getting a cabman to take us to Holloway. After waiting a bit, a man said he would drive us, anyhow, as far as ‘The Angel’ at Islington,
and we could easily get another cab from there. It was a tedious journey; the rain was beating against the windows and trickling down the inside of the cab.
When we arrived at ‘The Angel’ the horse seemed tired out. Carrie got out and ran into a doorway, and when I came to pay, to my absolute horror I remembered I had no money, nor had Carrie. I explained to the cabman how we were situated. Never in my life have I ever been so insulted; the cabman, who was a rough bully1 and to my thinking not sober, called me every name he could lay his tongue to, and positively seized me by the beard, which he pulled till the tears came into my eyes. I took the number of a policeman (who witnessed the assault) for nottaking the man in charge. The policeman said he couldn’t interfere, that he had seen no assault, and that people should not ride in cabs without money.
We had to walk home in the pouring rain, nearly two miles, and when I got in I put down the conversation I had with the cabman, word for word, as I intend writing to the Telegraph2 for the purpose of proposing that cabs should be driven only by men under Government control, to prevent civilians being subjected to the disgraceful insult and outrage that I had had to endure.
APRIL 17. No water in our cistern again. Sent for Putley, who said he would soon remedy that, the cistern being zinc.
APRIL 18. Water all right again in the cistern. Mrs James, of Sutton, called in the afternoon. She and Carrie draped the mantelpiece in the drawing-room, and put little toy spiders, frogs, and beetles all over it, as Mrs James says it’s quite the fashion. It was Mrs James’s suggestion, and of course Carrie always does what Mrs James suggests. For my part, I preferred the mantelpiece as it was; but there, I’m a plain man, and don’t pretend to be in the fashion.
APRIL 19. Our next-door neighbour, Mr Griffin, called and in a rather offensive tone accused me, or ‘someone’, of boring a hole in his cistern and letting out his water to supply our cistern, which adjoined his. He said he should have his repaired, and send us in the bill.
George Grossmith Page 12