The Woman with One Hand (and) Mr. Ely's Engagement Part 29

"First-cla.s.s smoking," Mr. Ash suggested to the guard.

Mr. Ely pulled up short.

"Not for me."

"What do you mean?"

"No smoking carriage for me. I've got enough on my hands already, without having to disinfect myself immediately I arrive."

So they were shown into a non-smoking compartment. Mr. Ash wished his friend at Jericho. The idea of a journey to Portsmouth without the aid of a cigar did not commend itself to him. Besides, he knew that Miss Truscott had liberal-minded notions on the subject of tobacco. But he deemed it prudent to refrain from treading on the tail of the coat which Mr. Ely was obviously trailing on the ground. And he had his revenge!

Just as the train was actually starting there was a cry of "Stop!"

Some one came rus.h.i.+ng down the platform, the door was opened, and first a lady and then a gentleman were a.s.sisted in.

"That was a narrow squeak!" exclaimed the gentleman. Then he turned laughing to the lady: "That's a nice beginning, Mrs. B." The lady laughed at him again. "It's a matter of no importance, but I suppose all our luggage is left behind." He put his head out of the window to see. "No, they're putting it in! In such a style! What a scene of ruin will greet our eyes when we reach the other end."

He drew his head into the compartment and took a survey of his surroundings.

"What, As.h.!.+ What, Ely! Here's a go! What brings you two thieves in here? Quite a happy family, my boys."

The gentleman extended one hand to Mr. Ash and the other to Mr. Ely.

Mr. Ash laughingly grasped the one which came his way; Mr. Ely acidly declined the other, but the gentleman did not seem to be in the least cast down. He gave Mr. Ely a resounding thwack upon the shoulder, which doubled him up as though he were some lay figure.

"Ely, my boy, you look as though you had been living on sour apples for a week! What's the matter with him, Ash? Been induced to lend his aged mother half a crown? He'll never get over it, you know."

"Mr. Bailey," gasped Mr. Ely, "I'll trouble you not to play your practical jokes on me."

Mr. Bailey laughed. Behind the cover of his paper Mr. Ash laughed too.

Mr. Bailey--better known as "Jack" Bailey--was also a member of the "House," and as such known both to Mr. Ely and to Ash. One of those hearty, healthy Englishmen, who having not the slightest reserve themselves have no notion of the existence of such a sense in anybody else. He was Mr. Ely's particular abhorrence. When Mr. Bailey had done laughing, he turned to the lady who accompanied him. She was a feminine repet.i.tion of himself: a tall, strapping, buxom wench, with bright black eyes and bright red cheeks; the very embodiment of health and strength; the sort of damsel who is in her element on the tennis-lawn or on the river, or doing four-and-twenty dances off the reel.

"Who do you think that is?"

The lady laughed.

"Jack! shut up," she said.

"Just hark at her! We've not been married an hour, and she's beginning to order me about already! Allow me to introduce you to my wife, Mrs. Bailey--Miss Williamson that was. Married this morning in the Church of St. Michael and All Angels, six bridesmaids, and such a wedding-cake! Only we couldn't stop to eat this wedding-cake, we had to catch the train!"

Mr. and Mrs. Bailey laughed again. Mr. Ash laughed too. But Mr.

Ely--he turned green. Mr. Ash raised his hat and bowed to the lady.

"Allow me to offer you my congratulations, Mrs. Bailey. Am I justified in supposing that you are starting on your honeymoon?"

"Justified! I should think you are!" Seating himself, Mr. Bailey slipped his arm about the lady's waist. "I say, Bess, it's lucky we've fallen among men I know. I should have had to apologise for kissing you in front of strangers."

He kissed her then. But the lady only laughed.

"You know Jack," she explained. "Every one knows Jack! He has a way of his own."

"I should think I have got a way of my own!" cried the gentleman referred to. And he slipped the lady on to his knee. "I wouldn't give a b.u.t.ton for the man who hadn't; eh, Ely, what do you say? I say, Ely, why don't you go in for something in this line?"

And he nodded towards his wife.

"I'm afraid I do not understand you."

"He says he doesn't understand me, Bess. Isn't that a funny man?"

"Are you not married, Mr. Ely?" inquired the bride of an hour.

"I have not that happiness."

For the life of him Mr. Ash could not have resisted the chance which offered.

"But he's going to be--he's engaged," he said.

Mr. Ely turned the colour of a boiled beetroot. But Mr. and Mrs.

Bailey quite mistook the reason. It was not because he was shy; it was because the exigencies of civilisation debarred him from cutting Mr.

Ash's throat.

"I wish you joy!" exclaimed the gentleman.

"When's it going to be!" chimed in the lady.

"I'll be best man!"

"If you promise to send me a piece of the cake I'll let you have a piece of mine."

Mr. Bailey turned to his wife.

"To look at him you wouldn't think he was engaged, now, would you?"

"Why? Is there anything funny about the looks of a man when he's engaged?"

"Funny! I should think there is! Ely, what do you think? Don't you feel funny? You ought to if you don't."

"May I inquire, Mr. Bailey, what you mean?"

There was such a savage tone in Mr. Ely's voice that even the not quick-witted Mr. Bailey was struck by it.

"Hallo! What's up now? I say, Ash, you ought to tip a fellow the wink when a man's had an unfortunate misunderstanding with his best girl."

"Mr. Bailey--I beg Mrs. Bailey's pardon,--but I suppose that in the presence of a lady you take it for granted that you may permit yourself the utmost license of speech."

Mr. Bailey whistled, Mrs. Bailey laughed, then looked out of the window with a look of innocent surprise--that look of innocent surprise which means so much. Mr. Bailey nudged his wife with his elbow.

"Beautiful scenery, isn't it?"

They were then pa.s.sing a long, level stretch of what seemed turnip-fields. Mrs. Bailey laughed again.