Puppets at Large Part 10

MRS. ALL. You don't say so! Capsic.u.ms! Gracious!

MRS. ALL. Yes, _isn't_ it a pity! Such a lovely old place as it was, too--_the_ most comfortable house to stay at in all England; so beautifully _warm_! But it's dreadful to think of how the aristocracy are taking to marry out of their own set. Look at the Duke of Dragnet--married a Miss Duckweed--goodness only knows where he picked her up! but he got entangled somehow, and now his people are trying to get rid of her. I see so many of these cases. Well, I'm afraid I must wish you good evening--it's my time for retiring. (_Patronisingly._) I've quite enjoyed the conversation--such a pleasure in a place like this to come across a genial companion!

MRS. ARD. (_fluttered and flattered_). I'm sure you're exceedingly kind to say so, and I can say the same for myself. I hope we may become better acquainted. (_To herself, after MRS. ALLb.u.t.t has departed._) I've quite taken to that woman--she's so thoroughly the lady, and moves in very high society, too. You can tell that from the way she talks. What's that paper on the table? (_She picks up a journal in a coloured wrapper._) "_Society Snippets, the Organ of the Upper Ten. One Penny._"

The very thing I wanted. It's such a comfort to know who's who. (_She opens it and reads sundry paragraphs headed "Through the Keyhole."_) Now how funny this is! Here's the very same thing about the dulness of the Season that she said. That shows she must be really in it. And a note about Lady Neuraline being about to recruit at Homburg. And another about her reputation or eccentricity, and her "sweetness to the select few privileged to be her intimates." And here's all about Lord Mango, and what a pleasant house Capsic.u.ms is, and his marriage, and the Duke of Dragnet's, too. Her information was very correct, I must say! (_A light begins to break in upon her._) I wonder whether----but there--people of her sort wouldn't require to read the papers for such things.

[_Here the door opens, and MRS. ALLb.u.t.t appears, in some embarra.s.sment._

MRS. ALL. (_scrutinising the tables_). Oh, it's nothing. I thought I'd left something of mine here; it was only a paper--I see I was mistaken, don't trouble.

MRS. ARD. (_producing Society Snippets_). I expect it will be this.

(_MRS. ALLb.u.t.t'S face reveals her owners.h.i.+p._) I took it up, not knowing it was yours. (_Meaningly_.) It has some highly interesting information, I see.

MRS. ALL. (_slightly demoralised_). Oh, has it? I--I've not had time to glance at it yet. Pray don't let me deprive you of it. I dare say there's very little in it I don't know already.

MRS. ARD. So I should have thought. (_To herself, after MRS. ALLb.u.t.t has retired in disorder._) Fancy that woman trying to take me in like that, and no more in Society than I am--if so much! However, I've found her out before going too far--luckily. And I've a good mind to take in this _Society Snippets_ myself--it certainly does improve one's conversation.

She won't have it _all_ her own way _next_ time!

[Ill.u.s.tration]

A TESTIMONIAL MANQUe.

(A SKETCH FROM THE SUBURBS.)

_THE ARGUMENT.--Mr. Hotspur Porpentine, a distinguished resident in the rising suburb of Jerrymere, has recently been awarded fourteen days'

imprisonment, without the option of a fine, for a.s.saulting a ticket-collector, who had offered him the indignity of requiring him to show his season-ticket at the barrier. The scene is a Second-Cla.s.s Compartment, in which four of Mr. Porpentine's neighbours are discussing the affair during their return from the City._

MR. c.o.c.kCROFT (_warmly_). I say, Sir--and I'm sure all here will bear me out--that such a sentence was a scandalous abuse of justice. As a near neighbour, and an intimate friend of Porpentine's, I don't 'esitate to a.s.sert that he has done nothing whatever to forfeit our esteem. He's a quick-tempered man, as we're all aware, and to be asked by some meddlesome official to show his season, after travelling on the line constantly for years, and leaving it at home that morning--why--_I_ don't blame him if he _did_ use his umbrella!

MR. BALCH (_sympathetically_). Nor I. Porpentine's a man I've always had a very 'igh respect for ever since I came into this neighbourhood. I've always found him a good feller, and a good neighbour.

MR. FILKINS (_deferentially_). I can't claim to be as intimate with him as some here; but, if it isn't putting myself too far forward to say so, I very cordially beg to say ditto to those sentiments.

MR. SIBBERING (_who has never "taken to" Porpentine_). Well, he's had a sharp lesson,--there's no denying that.

MR. c.o.c.kCR. Precisely, and it occurs to me that when he--ah--returns to public life, it would be a kind thing, and a graceful thing, and a thing he would--ah--appreciate in the spirit it was intended, if we were to present him with some little token of our sympathy and unabated esteem--what do you fellers think?

MR. FILK. A most excellent suggestion, if my friend here will allow me to say so. I, for one, shall be proud to contribute to so worthy an object.

MR. BALCH. I don't see why we shouldn't present him with an address--'ave it illuminated, and framed and glazed; sort of thing he could 'ang up and 'and down to his children after him as an _heirloom_, yi-know.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Well, he's had a sharp lesson,--there's no denying that."]

MR. SIBB. I don't like to throw cold water on any proposition, but if you want _my_ opinion, I must say I see no necessity for making a public thing out of it in that way.

MR. c.o.c.kCR. I'm with Sibbering there. The less fuss there is about it, the better Porpentine'll be pleased. My idea is to give him something of daily use--a _useful_ thing, yi-know.

MR. BALCH. Useful _or_ ornamental. Why not his own portrait? There's many an artist who would do him in oils, and guarantee a likeness, frame included, for a five-pound note.

MR. SIBB. If it's to be like Porpentine, it certainly won't be _ornamental_, whatever else it is.

MR. FILK. It can't be denied that he is remarkably plain in the face.

We'd better, as our friend Mr. c.o.c.kcroft here proposes, make it something of daily use--a good serviceable silk umbrella now--that's _always_ appropriate.

MR. SIBB. To make up for the one he broke over the collector's head, eh?--that's _appropriate_ enough!

MR. c.o.c.kCR. No, no; you mean well, Filkins, but you must see yourself, on reflection, that there would be a certain want of--ah--good taste in giving him a thing like that under the circ.u.mstances. I should suggest something like a hatstand--a handsome one, of course. I happen to know that he has nothing in the pa.s.sage at present but a row of pegs.

MR. SIBB. I should have thought he'd been taken down enough pegs already.

MR. FILK. (_who resents the imputation upon his taste_). I can't say what the width of Mr. Porpentine's pa.s.sage may be, never having been privileged with an invitation to pa.s.s the threshold, but unless it's wider than ours is, he couldn't get a hatstand in if he tried, and if my friend c.o.c.kcroft will excuse the remark, I see no sense--to say nothing of good taste, about which perhaps I mayn't be qualified to pa.s.s an opinion--in giving him an article he's got no room for.

MR. c.o.c.kCR. (_with warmth_). There's room enough in Porpentine's pa.s.sage for a whole host of hatstands, if that's all, and I know what I'm speaking about. I've been in and out there often enough. I'm--ah--a regular tame cat in that house. But if you're against the 'atstand, I say no more--we'll waive it. How would it do if we gave him a nice comfortable easy-chair--something he could sit in of an evening, yi-know?

MR. SIBB. A touchy chap like Porpentine would be sure to fancy we thought he wanted something soft after a hard bench and a plank bed--you can't go and give him _furniture_!

MR. c.o.c.kCR. (_with dignity_). There's a way of doing all things. I wasn't proposing to go and chuck the chair _at_ him--he's a sensitive feller in many respects, and he'd feel _that_, I grant you. He can't object to a little present of that sort just from four friends like ourselves.

MR. BALCH (_with a falling countenance_). Oh! I thought it was to be a general affair, limited to a small sum, so that all who liked could join in. I'd no notion you meant to keep it such a private matter as all that.

MR. FILK. Nor I. And, knowing Mr. Porpentine so slightly as I do, he might consider it presumption in me, making myself so prominent in the matter--or else I'm sure----

MR. c.o.c.kCR. There's no occasion for anyone to be prominent, except myself. You leave it entirely in my 'ands. I'll have the chair taken up some evening to Porpentine's house on a 'andcart, and drop in, and just lead up to it carelessly, if you understand me, then go out and wheel the chair in, make him try it--and there you _are_.

MR. BALCH. There _you_ are, right enough; but I don't see where _we_ come in, exactly.

MR. FILLK. If it's to be confined to just us four, I certingly think we ought _all_ to be present at the presentation.

MR. c.o.c.kCR. That would be just the very thing to put a man like Porpentine out--a crowd dropping in on him like that! I know his ways, and, seeing I'm providing the chair----

MR. BALCH (_relieved_). _You_ are? That's different, of course; but I thought you said that we four----

MR. c.o.c.kCR. I'm coming to that. As the prime mover, and a particular friend of Porpentine's, it's only right and fair I should bear the chief burden. There's an easy-chair I have at home that only wants re-covering to be as good as new, and all you fellers need do is to pay for 'aving it nicely done up in velvet, or what not, and we'll call it quits.

MR. BALCH. I daresay; but I like to know what I'm letting myself in for; and there's upholsterers who'll charge as much for doing up a chair as would furnish a room.

MR. FILK. I--I shouldn't feel justified, with my family, and, as, comparatively speaking, a recent resident, in going beyond a certain limit, and unless the estimate could be kep' down to a moderate sum, I really-----

MR. SIBB. (_unmasking_). After all, you know, I don't see why we should go to any expense over a stuck-up, cross-grained chap like Porpentine.

It's well-known he hasn't a good word to say for us Jerrymere folks, and considers himself above the lot of us!

MR. BALCH and MR. FILK. I'm bound to say there's a good deal in what Sibbering says. Porpentine's never shown himself what _I_ should call sociable.