Part 15
And then he began to develop in other ways. From a slim, nervous boy he rapidly became a robustious, self-assured, florid man. His body filled out, his cheeks reddened, his hair grew unmanageable. He adopted an eccentric mode of dress. And Mrs. Beelbrow? The affair reacted upon her just as one might expect. She became more precious, more aloof, more impossible. She floated round the drawing-room with her protégé with an air which implied:
“Look at me! I’m the woman who made a lion!”
She wore a tiger skin and left Mr. Beelbrow at home to look after the live stock.
And after the first flush of triumph and excitement, Skrâtch treated Mrs. Beelbrow with complete indifference and contempt. He left lighted cigar-ends on the lid of the grand piano, spilt wine on his bed-linen, walked about the house all day in a dressing-gown, threw his boots at the servants, and snubbed visitors. He would get up from table in the middle of a meal and walk out of the room without an apology. He was even rude to her in public, and she revelled in it. The ruder he was the more delighted she appeared. She would glance round the room proudly, as much as to say:
“There! didn’t I tell you I had made a lion?”
They went about everywhere together. They went to the opera, the theatre, to concerts and receptions, for motor rides in the country, and they were always alone. Mr. Beelbrow was very busy, you see, making money in the city. (He had to do that to pay for Herr Skrâtch’s publicity campaign.) Of course, people began to talk. They might have talked on much less evidence than they had. The thing was simply thrown at them. She glued herself to him, and he accepted her and what she gave him as only right and proper. Sometimes he would treat her with playful familiarity. He would put his arm round her shoulders and call her “ol gel!” All very well, but how old really was Mrs. Beelbrow? What was happening in the dark places of _her_ heart? Of course, it couldn’t go on for ever. We all shook our heads and were very wise, and we were right. It went on for nine months, and then Mr. Beelbrow--no, Mr. Beelbrow did nothing. He just sat tight, helped people to hock-cup, and expatiated upon his wife’s remarkable character and abilities. The disruption came from outside.
Another woman appeared on the scene. Her name was Fanny Friedlander. She was an accompanist. Now, if you had wanted to invent a complete antithesis to Mrs. Beelbrow, Fanny would have saved you the trouble. She was it. She was young, common, ignorant and frivolous; at the same time she had emotional warmth. There was something sympathetic and lovable about her. She was not exclusively a man-hunter. She liked to be petted and admired. When she accompanied she wore red carnations in her hair, and cast glad, furtive glances at the audience, and sometimes at the soloist, who, of course, was Herr Skrâtch.
Herr Skrâtch was not the kind of gentleman to make any bones about such a position. He flirted with her outrageously, even on the platform. Whether Mrs. Beelbrow made any protest about this affair at its inception is not known. By the time the infatuation was apparent it was too late. Inflated by his meretricious successes, he was in no mood to brook interference. Mrs. Beelbrow’s face expressed little. I really believe she was rather fascinated by the girl herself. She seemed to be watching a little bewildered and uncertain how to act.
It ended in the three of them going about everywhere together, the usual unsatisfactory triangle. The fact that she had to play his accompaniments was sufficient excuse for Fanny Friedlander to go with him to concerts where he was playing, and to call at Mrs. Beelbrow’s for rehearsals, but hardly an excuse for her to go to the opera, the theatre, and motor rides, or even to stop all the afternoon at Mrs. Beelbrow’s and then to stay on to dinner. It was surmised that Mrs. Beelbrow only tolerated it because she knew that if she turned the girl out, Skrâtch would have gone with her. She appeared to be content with the crumbs the younger woman left over. Ah! but only for the moment, we were convinced.
At that time, as if conscious of his delinquency, Herr Skrâtch was a little more polite to Mrs. Beelbrow; whilst the girl made no end of a fuss of her in a loud common way that must have jarred the good lady’s sensibilities horribly. We waited to see what would happen next, what would be the next move of Mrs. Beelbrow to rid herself of this dangerous rival. To our surprise, a few weeks later the girl went there to live. She was actually living in the Beelbrows’ house! Was there ever a queerer _ménage à quatre_? There was Mrs. Beelbrow, the lion-hunter, badly mauled by one of her own lions, entertaining her most dangerous enemy. She must have shut her eyes to all kinds of things. Skrâtch was behaving abominably. The girl was not the kind you could trust anyway. There was Mr. Beelbrow, quite negative, merely earning the money to support the absurd drama.
“It’s incredible,” said Jimmy Beale, one night in the club, “that a woman as conceited as Mrs. Beelbrow is could possibly put up with such a damned indignity. It’s making her look the prize fool of London.”
“Love is more powerful than a sense of dignity,” remarked some sententious bore from the corner.
Love? Well, an unanalyzable quantity. I was perhaps the only one fortunate enough to have the opportunity to judge of the _dénouement_ by any practical evidence. And even then it was only a fluke, a glance. It occurred a few nights before Skrâtch disappeared. Some say he went back to the obscure café in Budapest, taking the girl with him. It is hardly likely in view of the handsome _dot_ which someone presented to Fanny.
It was one of Mrs. Beelbrow’s most overwhelming crushes. You could not hear yourself speak for the roar of lions. I was squeezed against the folding doors. Behind a palm in the corner was an empire mirror, tilted at an angle. It was about the only thing I could see. It gave me a good view of certain people a little farther down the room. The first person I saw was Mrs. Beelbrow, and as I glanced at her I saw an expression come over her face, an expression I can only describe as one of blind jealousy--a nasty, vindictive, dangerous look.
“Oh, ho!” I thought, and sought for the reflection of Fanny or Herr Skrâtch. But to my astonishment I realized very clearly that her glance was not directed at these two at all. She was looking at Mr. Beelbrow, whose wicked, malevolent little eyes were fixed on Fanny’s. Skrâtch for the moment was occupied with some other woman.
You might imagine that the defection of Skrâtch would have broken Mrs. Beelbrow’s heart for the business. But, oh dear, no! don’t you believe it. Whatever you may say or think about Mrs. Beelbrow she has proved herself a true and indomitable lion-hunter. Only last Thursday I was again in her crowded drawing-room. A little East-end Jewess was playing the piano quite nicely. Mrs. Beelbrow was standing by the folding-doors, her face set and taut. When the child had finished, she murmured:
“Ah, if Teresa Carreño could have heard that! Teresa never reached that velvety warmth in her mezzo passages. I believe the child must be the reincarnation of--who would it be? Liszt? No, someone more southern, more Byzantine. I will make her a lion.”
In the refreshment-room Mr. Beelbrow was ladling out hock-cup as usual. When I approached him he said:
“Halloa, old boy! Have some of this? Good! Have you seen my wife? She’s a wonderful woman--wonderful--um-m.”
A MAN OF LETTERS
ALFRED CODLING TO ANNIE PHELPS
MY DEAR ANNIE,
I got into an awful funny mood lately. You’l think I’m barmy. It comes over me like late in the evenin’ when its gettin dusky. It started I think when I was in Egypt. Nearly all us chaps who was out there felt it a bit I think. When you was on sentry go in the dessert at night it was so quite and missterius. You felt you wanted to _know_ things if you know what I mean. Since I’ve come back and settled in the saddlery again I still feel it most always. A kind of discontented funny feelin if you know what I mean. Well old girl what I mean is when we’re spliced up and settled over in Tibbelsford I want to be good for you and I want to know all about things and that. Well I’m goin to write to Mr. Weekes whose a gentleman and who lives in a private house near the church. They say he is a littery society and if it be so I’m on for joinin it. You’l think I’m barmy won’t you. It isn’t that old dear. Me that has always been content to do my job and draw my screw on Saturday and that. You’l think me funny. When you’ve lived in the dessert you feel how old it all is. You want something and you don’t know what it is praps its just to improve yourself and that. Anyway there it is and I’ll shall write to him. See you Sunday. So long, dear.
ALF.
ALFRED CODLING TO JAMES WEEKES, ESQ.
DEAR SIR,
Someone tells me you are a littery society in Tibbelsford. In which case may I offer my services as a member and believe me.
Your obedient servant ALFRED CODLING.
PENDRED CASTAWAY (SECRETARY TO JAMES WEEKES, ESQ.) TO ALFRED CODLING.
DEAR SIR,
In reply to your letter of the 27th inst. I beg to inform you that Mr. James Weekes is abroad. I will communicate the contents of your letter to him.
Yours faithfully,
PENDRED CASTAWAY.
ANNIE PHELPS TO ALFRED CODLING
MY DEAR ALF,
You are a dear old funny old bean. What _is_ up with you. I expeck you are just fed up. You haven’t had another tutch of the fever have you. I will come and look after you Sunday. You are a silly to talk about improvin considerin the money you are gettin and another rise next spring you say. I expeck you got fed up in the dessert and that didn’t you. I expeck you wanted me sometimes, eh? I shouldn’t think the littery society much cop myself. I can lend you some books. Cook is a great reader. She has nearly all Ethel M. Dells and most of Charles Garvice. She says she will lend you some if you promiss to cover in brown paper and not tare the edges. They had a big party here over the weekend a curnel a bishop two gentleman and some smart women one very nice she gave me ten bob. We could go to the pictures come Wednesday if agreeable. Milly is walking out with a feller over at Spindlehurst in the grossery a bit flashy I don’t like him much. Mrs. Vaughan had one of her attacks on Monday. Lord she does get on my nerves when she’s like that. Well be good and cheerio must now close. Love and kisses till Sunday.
ANNIE.
JAMES WEEKES, ESQ. (MALAGA, SPAIN) TO ALFRED CODLING
DEAR SIR,
My secretary informs me that you wish to join our literary society in Tibbelsford. It is customary to be proposed and seconded by two members.
Will you kindly send me your qualifications?
Yours faithfully, JAMES WEEKES.
ALFRED CODLING TO ANNIE PHELPS
MY DEAR ANNIE,
Please thank Cook for the two books which I am keepin rapt up and will not stain. I read the Eagles mate and think it is a pretty story. As you know dear I am no fist at explaining myself. At the pictures the other night you were on to me again about gettin on and that. It isn’t that. Its difficul to explane what I mean. I expeck I will always be able to make good money enough. If you havent been throw it you cant know what its like. Its somethin else I want if you know what I mean. To be honest I did not like the picturs the other night. I thought they were silly but I like to have you sittin by me and holding your hand. If I could tell you what I mean you would know. I have heard from Mr. Weekes about the littery and am writin off at once. Steve our foreman has got sacked for pinchin lether been goin on for yeres so must close with love till Sunday.
ALF.
ALFRED CODLING TO JAMES WEEKES, ESQ.
DEAR SIR,
As regards your communication you ask what are my quallifications. I say I have no quallifications sir nevertheless I am wishful to join the littery. I will be candid with you sir. I am not what you might call a littery or eddicated man at all. I am in the saddlery. I was all throw Gallipoli and Egypt L/corporal in the 2/15th Mounted Blumshires. It used to come over me like when I was out there alone in the dessert. Prehaps sir you will understand me when I say it for I find folks do not understand me about it not even the girl I walk out with Annie Phelps, who is as nice a girl a feller could wish. Prehaps sir you have to have been throw if it you know what I mean. When you are alone at night in the dessert its all so big and quite you want to get to know things and all about things if you know what I mean sir so prehaps you will pass me in the littery.
Your obedient servant ALFRED CODLING.
ANNIE PHELPS TO ALFRED CODLING
DEAR ALF,
You was funny Sunday. I dont know whats up with you. You never used to be that glum I call it. Is it thinking about this littery soc turnin your head or what. Millie says you come into the kitchen like a boiled oul you was. Cheer up ole dear till Sunday week.
ANNIE.
JAMES WEEKES, ESQ., TO ALFRED CODLING
DEAR SIR,
Allow me to thank you for your charming letter. I feel that I understand your latent desires perfectly. I shall be returning to Tibbelsford in a week’s time when I hope to make your acquaintance. I feel sure that you will make a desirable member of our literary society.
Yours cordially, JAMES WEEKES.
JAMES WEEKES TO SAMUEL CHILDERS
MY DEAR SAM,
I received the enclosed letter yesterday and I hasten to send it on to you. Did you ever read anything more delightful? We must certainly get Alfred Codling into our society. He sounds the kind of person who would make a splendid foil to old Baldwin with his tortuous metaphysics--that is, if we can only get him to talk.
Yours ever, J. W.
SAMUEL CHILDERS TO JAMES WEEKES
MY DEAR CHAP,
You are surely not serious about the ex-corporal! I showed his letter to Fanny. She simply screamed with laughter. But of course you mean it as a joke proposing him for the “littery.” Hope to see you on Friday.
Ever yours, S. C.
ALFRED CODLING TO ANNIE PHELPS
MY DEAR ANNIE,
I was afraid you would begin to think I was barmy dear I always said so but you musnt take it like that. It is difficult to tell you about but you know my feelins to you is as always. Now I have to tell you dear that I have seen Mr. Weekes he is a very nice old gentlemen indeed he is very kind he says I can go to his hous anytime and read his books he has hundreds and hundreds. I have nevver seen so many books you have to have a ladder to clime up to some of them he is very kind he says he shall propose me for the littery soc and I can go when I like he ast me all about mysel and that was very kind and pleesant he told me all about what books I was to read and that so I think dear I wont be goin to the picturs Wendesday but will meet you by the Fire statesion Sunday as usual.
Your lovin ALF.
EPHRAIM BALDWIN TO JAMES WEEKES
MY DEAR WEEKS,
I’m afraid I cannot understand your attitude in proposing and getting Childers to second this hobbledehoy called Alfred Codling. I have spoken to him and I am quite willing to acknowledge that he may be a very good young man in his place. But why join a literary society? Surely we want to raise the intellectual standard of the society, not lower it? He is absolutely ignorant. He knows nothing at all. Our papers and discussions will be Greek to him. If you wanted an extra hand in your stables or a jobbing gardener well and good, but I must sincerely protest against this abuse of the fundamental purposes of our society.
Yours sincerely, EPHRAIM BALDWIN.
FANNY CHILDERS TO ELSPETH PRITCHARD
DEAR OLD THING,
I must tell you about a perfect scream that is happening here. You know the Tibbelsford literary society that Pa belongs to, and also Jimmy Weekes? Well, it’s like this. Dear Old Jimmy is always doing something eccentric. The latest thing is he has discovered a mechanic in the leather trade with a soul! (I’m not sure I ought not to spell it the other way). He is also an ex-soldier and was out in the East. He seems to have become imbued with what they called “Eastern romanticism.” Anyway, he wanted to join the Society, and old Weekes rushed Pa into seconding him, and they got him through. And now a lot of the others are up in arms about it--especially old Baldwin--you know, we call him “Permanganate of Potash.” If you saw him you’d know why, but I can’t tell you. I have been to two of the meetings specially to observe the mechanic with the soul. He is really quite a dear. A thick-set, square-chinned little man with enormous hands with a heavy silver ring on the third finger of his left, and tattoo marks on his right wrist. He sits there with his hands spread out on his knees and stares round at the members as though he thinks they are a lot of lunatics. The first evening he came the paper was on “The influence of Erasmus on modern theology,” and the second evening “The drama of the Restoration.” No wonder the poor soul looks bewildered. He never says a word. How is Tiny? I was in town on Thursday and got a duck of a hat. Do come over soon.
Crowds of love, FAN.
JAMES WEEKES TO ALFRED CODLING
MY DEAR CODLING,
I quite appreciate your difficulty. I would suggest that you read the following books in the order named. You will find them in my library:
Jevon’s “Primer of Logic,” Welton’s “Manual of Logic,” Brackenbury’s “Primer of Psychology,” and Professor James’ “Text book of Psychology.”
Do not be discouraged!
Sincerely yours, JAMES WEEKES.
ANNIE PHELPS TO ALFRED CODLING
DEAR ALF,
I dont think you treat me quite fare You says you are sweet on me and that and then you go on in this funny way It isnt my falt that you got the wind up in Egypt I dont know what you mean by all this I wish the ole littery soc was dead and finish. Cook say you probibly want a blue pill you was so glum Sunday. Dont you see all these gents and girls and edicated coves are pullin youre leg if you dont know what they talkin about and that Your just makin a fule of yourself and then what about me you dont think of me its makin me a fule too. Milly says _she_ wouldent have no truck with a book lowse so there it is.
ANNIE.
ALFRED CODLING TO JAMES WEEKES, ESQ.
DEAR SIR,
I am much oblidged to you for puttin me on them books It beats me how they work up these things. I’m afeard I’m not scollard enough to keep the pace with these sayins and that. Its the same with the littery I lissen to the talk and sometimes I think Ive got it and then no. Sometimes I feels angry with the things said I know the speakers wrong but I cant say I feel they wrong but I dont know what to say to say it. Theres some things to big to say isnt that sir. Im much oblidged to you sir for what you done Beleive me I enjoy the littery altho I most always dont know the talk I know who are the rite ones and who are the rong ones If you have been throw what I have been throw you would know the same sir Beleive me your
obedient servant ALFRED CODLING.
EPHRAIM BALDWIN TO EDWIN JOPE, SECRETARY TO THE TIBBELSFORD LITERARY SOCIETY
DEAR JOPE,
For my paper on the 19th prox. I propose to discuss “The influence of Hegelism on modern psychology.”
Yours ever,
EPHRAIM BALDWIN.
EDWIN JOPE TO EPHRAIM BALDWIN
DEAR MR. BALDWIN,
I have issued the notices of your forthcoming paper. The subject, I am sure, will make a great appeal to our members, and I feel convinced that we are in for an illuminating and informative evening. With regard to our little conversation on Wednesday last, I am entirely in agreement with you with regard to the quite inexplicable action of Weekes in introducing the “leather mechanic” into the society. It appears to me a quite superfluous effrontery to put upon our members. We do not want to lose Weekes but I feel that he ought to be asked to give some explanation of his conduct. As you remark, it lowers the whole standard of the society. We might as well admit agricultural labourers, burglars, grooms and barmaids, and the derelicts of the town. I shall sound the opinion privately of other members.
With kind regards, Yours sincerely, EDWIN JOPE.
ANNIE PHELPS TO ALFRED CODLING
All right then you stick to your old littery. I am sendin you back your weddin ring you go in and out of that place nevver thinkin of me Aunt siad how it would be you goin off and cetterer and gettin ideas into your head what do you care I doant think you care at all I expeck you meet a lot of these swell heads there men _and women_ and you get talkin and thinkin you someone All these years you away I wated for you faithfull I never had a thowt for other fellers and then you go on like this and treat me in this way Aunt says she wouldn’t put up and Milly says a book lowse is worse than no good and so I say goodby and thats how it is now forever You have broken my hart
ANNE.
ANNIE PHELPS TO ALFRED CODLING
I cried all nite I didndt mean quite all I says you know how I mene dear Alf if you was only reesonible I doant mind you goin the littery if you eggsplain yourself For Gawds sake meet me tonight by the fire stachon and eggsplain everything.
Your broke hearted ANNE.
JAMES WEEKES TO SAMUEL CHILDERS
MY DEAR SAM,