Lyre and Lancet Part 3

[_They do._

JAMES SPURRELL, M.R.C.V.S., _enters with his friend_, THOMAS TANRAKE, _of_ HURDELL AND TANRAKE, _Job and Riding Masters, Mayfair_.

_Spurrell._ Yes, it's lucky for me old Spavin being laid up like this--gives me a regular little outing, do you see? going down to a swell place like this Wyvern Court, and being put up there for a day or two! I shouldn't wonder if they do you very well in the housekeeper's room. (_To_ Clerk.) Give me a Pink Un and last week's _Dog Fancier's Guide_.

_Clerk._ We've returned the unsold copies, sir. Could give you _this_ week's; or there's _The Rabbit and Poultry Breeder's Journal_.

_Spurrell._ Oh, rabbits be blowed! (_To_ TANRAKE.) I wanted you to see that notice they put in of Andromeda and me, with my photo and all; it said she was the best bull-b.i.t.c.h they'd seen for many a day, and fully deserved her first prize.

_Tanrake._ She's a rare good b.i.t.c.h, and no mistake. But what made you call her such an outlandish name?

_Spurrell._ Well, I _was_ going to call her Sal; but a chap at the College thought the other would look more stylish if I ever meant to exhibit her. Andromeda was one of them Roman G.o.ddesses, you know.

_Tanrake._ Oh, I knew _that_ right enough. Come and have a drink before you start--just for luck--not that you want _that_.

_Spurrell._ I'm lucky enough in most things, Tom; in everything except love. I told you about that girl, you know--Emma--and my being as good as engaged to her, and then, all of a sudden, she went off abroad, and I've never seen or had a line from her since. Can't call _that_ luck, you know. Well, I won't say no to a gla.s.s of something.

[_They disappear into the refreshment room._

_The_ Countess of CANTIRE _enters with her daughter_, Lady MAISIE MULL.

_Lady Cantire_ (_to_ Footman). Get a compartment for us, and two foot-warmers, and a second-cla.s.s as near ours as you can for Phillipson; then come back here. Stay, I'd better give you Phillipson's ticket. (_The_ Footman _disappears in the crowd_.) Now we must get something to read on the journey. (_To_ Clerk.) I want a book of some sort--no rubbish, mind; something serious and improving, and _not_ a work of fiction.

_Clerk._ Exactly so, ma'am. Let me see. Ah, here's _Alone with the 'Airy Ainoo_. How would you like that?

_Lady Cantire_ (_with decision_). I should not like it at all.

_Clerk._ I quite understand. Well, I can give you _Three 'Undred Ways of Dressing the Cold Mutton_--useful little book for a family, redooced to one and ninepence.

_Lady Cantire._ Thank you. I think I will wait till I am reduced to one and ninepence.

_Clerk._ Precisely. What do you say to _Seven 'Undred Side-splitters for Sixpence_? 'Ighly yumerous, I a.s.sure you.

_Lady Cantire._ Are these times to split our sides, with so many serious social problems pressing for solution? You are presumably not without intelligence; do you never reflect upon the responsibility you incur in a.s.sisting to circulate trivial and frivolous trash of this sort?

_Clerk_ (_dubiously_). Well, I can't say as I do, particular, ma'am.

I'm paid to sell the books--I don't _select_ 'em.

_Lady Cantire._ That is _no_ excuse for you--you ought to exercise some discrimination on your own account, instead of pressing people to buy what can do them no possible good. You can give me a _Society Snippets_.

_Lady Maisie._ Mamma! A penny paper that says such rude things about the Royal Family!

_Lady Cantire._ It's always instructive to know what these creatures are saying about one, my dear, and it's astonis.h.i.+ng how they manage to find out the things they do. Ah, here's Gravener coming back. He's got us a carriage, and we'd better get in.

[_She and her daughter enter a first-cla.s.s compartment_; UNDERSh.e.l.l _and_ DRYSDALE _return_.

_Drysdale_ (_to_ UNDERSh.e.l.l). Well, I don't see now where the insolence comes in. These people have invited you to stay with them----

_Undersh.e.l.l._ But why? Not because they appreciate my work--which they probably only half understand--but out of mere idle curiosity to see what manner of strange beast a Poet may be! And _I_ don't know this Lady Culverin--never met her in my life! What the deuce does she mean by sending me an invitation? Why should these smart women suppose that they are ent.i.tled to send for a Man of Genius, as if he was their _lackey_? Answer me that!

_Drysdale._ Perhaps the delusion is encouraged by the fact that Genius occasionally condescends to answer the bell.

_Undersh.e.l.l_ (_reddening_). Do you imagine I am going down to this place simply to please _them_?

_Drysdale._ I should think it a doubtful kindness, in your present frame of mind; and, as you are hardly going to please yourself, wouldn't it be more dignified, on the whole, not to go at all?

_Undersh.e.l.l._ You never _did_ understand me! Sometimes I think I was born to be misunderstood! But you might do me the justice to believe that I am not going from merely sn.o.bbish motives. May I not feel that such a recognition as this is a tribute less to my poor self than to Literature, and that, as such, I have scarcely the _right_ to decline it?

_Drysdale._ Ah, if you put it in that way, I am silenced, of course.

_Undersh.e.l.l._ Or what if I am going to show these Patricians that--Poet of the People as I am--they can neither patronise nor cajole me?

_Drysdale._ Exactly, old chap--what if you _are_?

_Undersh.e.l.l._ I don't say that I may not have another reason--a--a rather romantic one--but you would only sneer if I told you! I know you think me a poor creature whose head has been turned by an undeserved success.

_Drysdale._ You're not going to try to pick a quarrel with an old chum, are you? Come, you know well enough I don't think anything of the sort. I've always said you had the right stuff in you, and would show it some day; there are even signs of it in _Andromeda_ here and there; but you'll do better things than that, if you'll only let some of the wind out of your head. I take an interest in you, old fellow, and that's just why it riles me to see you taking yourself so devilish seriously on the strength of a little volume of verse which--between you and me--has been "boomed" for all it's worth, and considerably more. You've only got your immortality on a short repairing lease at present, old boy!

_Undersh.e.l.l_ (_with bitterness_). I am fortunate in possessing such a candid friend. But I mustn't keep you here any longer.

_Drysdale._ Very well. I suppose you're going first? Consider the feelings of the Culverin footman at the other end!

_Undersh.e.l.l_ (_as he fingers a first-cla.s.s ticket in his pocket_). You have a very low view of human nature! (_Here he becomes aware of a remarkably pretty face at a second-cla.s.s window close by_). As it _happens_, I am travelling second.

[_He gets in._

_Drysdale_ (_at the window_). Well, good-bye, old chap. Good luck to you at Wyvern, and remember--wear your livery with as good a grace as possible.

_Undersh.e.l.l._ I do not intend to wear any livery whatever.

[_The owner of the pretty face regards_ UNDERSh.e.l.l _with interest_.

_Spurrell_ (_coming out of the refreshment room_). What, second--with all my exes. paid? Not _likely_! I'm going to travel in style this journey. No--not a smoker; don't want to create a bad impression, you know. This will do for me.

[_He gets into a compartment occupied by_ Lady CANTIRE _and her daughter_.

_Tanrake_ (_at the window_). There--you're off now. Pleasant journey to you, old man. Hope you'll enjoy yourself at this Wyvern Court you're going to--and, I say, don't forget to send me that notice of Andromeda when you get back!

[_The_ Countess _and_ Lady MAISIE _start slightly; the train moves out of the station_.

PART IV

RUs.h.i.+NG TO CONCLUSIONS