Mr. T. I might wire to Filleter or Makewayt—but I rather think they're both away, and it won't do to run any risk. Shall I bring home Sternstuhl or Federfuchs? Very quiet, respectable young fellows, and I could let one of 'em go off early to dress.
Mrs. T. Thank you, Montague—but I won't have one of your German clerks at my table—everyone would see what he was in a minute. And he mightn't even have a dress-suit! Let me think ... I know what we can do. Blankley supplies extra guests for parties and things. I remember seeing it in the paper. We must hire a man there. Go there at once, Montague, it's very little out of your way, and tell them to be sure and send a gentlemanly person—he needn't talk much, and he won't be required to tell any anecdotes. Make haste, say they can put him down to my deposit account.
Mr. T. I don't half like the idea, Maria, but I suppose it's the only thing left. I'll go and see what they can do for us.
[He goes out.
Mrs. T. I know he'll make some muddle—I'd better do it myself! (She rushes out into the passage.) Jane, is your Master gone? Call him back—there, I'll do it. (She calls after Mr. T.'s retreating form from the doorstep.) Montague! never mind about Blankley's. I'll see to it. Do you hear?
Mr. T.'s Voice (from the corner). All right, my love, all right! I hear.
Mrs. T. I must go round before lunch. Jane, send Miss Seaton to me in the breakfast-room. (She goes back to her desk; presently Miss Marjory Seaton enters the room; she is young and extremely pretty, with an air of dejected endurance.) Oh, Miss Seaton, just copy out these menus for me, in your neatest writing, and see that the French is all right. You will have plenty of time for it, as I shall take Miss Gwendolen out myself this morning. By the way, I shall expect you to appear in the drawing-room this evening before dinner. I hope you have a suitable frock?
Miss Seaton. I have a black one with lace sleeves and heliotrope chiffon, if that will do—it was made in Paris.
Mrs. T. You are fortunate to be able to command such luxuries. All my dresses are made in the Grove.
Miss Seat. (biting her lip). Mine was made when we—before I—— [She checks herself.
Mrs. T. You need not remind me quite so often that your circumstances were formerly different, Miss Seaton, for I am perfectly aware of the fact. Otherwise, I should not feel justified in bringing you in contact, even for so short a time, with my relations and friends, who are most particular. I think that is all I wanted you for at present. Stop, you are forgetting the menus.
[Miss Seaton collects the cards and goes out with compressed lips as Jane enters.
Jane. Another telegram, if you please, M'm, and Cook would like to speak to you about the pheasants.
Mrs. T. Oh, dear me, Jane! I wish you wouldn't come and startle me with your horrid telegrams—there, give it to me. (Reading.) "Wife down, violent influenza. Must come without her, Toomer." (Resentfully.) Again! and I know she's had it twice since the spring—it's too tiresomely inconsid—no, it isn't—it's the very best thing she could do. Now we shall be only twelve, and I needn't order that man from Blankley's, after all. Poor dear woman, I must really write her a nice sympathetic little note—so fortunate!
Scene II.—Mrs. Tidmarsh's Bedroom—Time 7:15. Mrs. T. has just had her hair dressed by her Maid.
Mrs. T. You might have given me more of a fringe than that, Pinnifer. You don't make nearly so much of my hair as you used to! (Pinnifer discreetly suppress the obvious retort.) Well, I suppose that must do. I shan't require you any more. Go down and see if the lamps in the drawing-room are smelling. (Pinnifer goes; sounds of ablutions are heard from Mr. T.'s dressing-room.) Montague, is that you? I never heard you come in.
Mr. T.'s Voice (indistinctly.) Only just this moment come up, my dear. Been putting out the wine.
Mrs. T. You always will leave everything to the last. No, don't come in. What? How can I hear what you say when you keep on splashing and spluttering like that?
Mr. T.'s Voice (from beneath a towel.) That dozen of Champagne Uncle Gabriel sent has run lower than I thought—only two bottles and a pint left. And he can't drink that Saumur.
Mrs. T. Two bottles and a half ought to be ample, if Seakale manages properly—among twelve.
Mr. T.'s V. Twelve, my love? you mean fourteen!
Mrs. T. I mean nothing of the sort. Mrs. Toomer's got influenza again—luckily, so of course we shall be just twelve.
Mr. T.'s V. Maria, why didn't you tell me that before? Because I say, look here!——
[He half opens the door.
Mrs. T. I won't have you coming in here all over soap, there's nothing to get excited about. Twelve's a very convenient number.
Mr. T.'s V. Twelve! Yes—but how about that fellow you told me to order from Blankley's? He'll be the thirteenth!
Mrs. T. Montague, don't say you went and ordered him, after I expressly said you were not to mind, and that I would see about it myself! You heard me call after you from the front door?
Mr. T.'s V. I—I understood you to say that I was to mind and see to it myself; and so I went there the very first thing. The Manager assured me he would send us a person accustomed to the best society, who would give every satisfaction. I couldn't be expected to know you had changed your mind!
Mrs. T. How could you be so idiotic! We simply can't sit down thirteen. Uncle will think we did it on purpose to shorten his life, Montague, do something—write, and put him off, quick—do you hear?
Mr. T.'s V. (plaintively). My love, I can't write while I'm like this—and I've no pen and ink in here, either!
Jane (outside). Please, Sir, Seakale would like a word with you about the Sherry you put out—it don't seem to ta—smell quite right to him.
Mrs. T. Oh, never mind Sherry now. (She scribbles on a leaf from her pocket-book.) Here, Jane, tell Seakale to run with this to Blankley's—quick.... There, Montague I've written to Blankley's not to send the man—they're sure to keep that sort of person on the premises; so, if Seakale gets there before they close, it will be all right.... Oh, don't worry so.... What? White ties! How should I know where they are? You should speak to Jane. And do, for goodness sake, make haste! I'm going down.
Mr. T. (alone). Maria! hi.... She's gone—and she never told me what I'm to do if this confounded fellow turns up, after all! Hang it, I must have a tie somewhere!
[He pulls out drawer after drawer of his wardrobe, in a violent flurry.
(For Use in the Training School when the proposed Institution has been established.)
Question. What are the duties of a Porter?
Answer. To move passengers' luggage with the greatest possible expedition.
Q. Is there any exception to that general rule?
A. Yes, when the passenger is late, and there seems some doubt about the bestowal of a tip.
Q. How would he inform passengers that they have to change carriages for, say, Felstead, Margate, Highgate, Winchester and Scarborough.
A. By shouting, in one word, "Change-Felgit-Highchester-and-Boro!"
Q. If he had to call a Cab for an elderly Lady with three boxes, or a military-looking Gentleman with an umbrella, which passenger would first claim his attention?
A. Why, of course, the Captain.
Q. What is the customary charge of a Guard for reserving a compartment?
A. A shilling for closing one of the doors, half-a-crown for locking both.
Q. What are the duties of a Booking-Clerk?
A. If very busy, a Booking-Clerk may walk leisurely from one pigeon-hole to the other, and ask the passenger to repeat his demand, and then take some time in finding the required amount of change. If the passenger is irritable, and in a hurry, the Clerk can stop to explain, and remonstrate. In the case of an inquiry as to the progress of the trains, a busy Booking-Clerk can refer impatient passengers to the time-table hanging outside the station.
Q. When is a Booking-Clerk usually very busy?
A. When he happens to be in a bad temper.
Q. Ought a suggestion from the Public that the Public will write to his superiors have any effect upon a Booking-Clerk?
A. Not if the Public has just taken an express ticket in London either for Melbourne, Australia, or Timbuctoo.
Q. What is the best course for the Public to pursue under such circumstances?
A. To bear it either with or without a grin.
Q. Is there much point about a Pointsman?
A. Not after he has been on duty some eighteen hours.
Q. And does his application of the break suggest anything?
A. Yes, a break in this catechism. More on a future occasion.
A Suggestion for Pantomime.—The good Fairy, Sir Druriolanus, triumphing over Evil Spirits, King Fog, Frost ("he's a nipper, he is!"), and Slush, the obstructionists. Evil Spirits disappear, Good Spirits prevail, and, as Kate Nickleby's lunatic lover observed, "All is gas and gaiters!" Messrs. Dan Leno and Campbell are doing great business just now. Vive Druriolanus Pantomimicus Imperator!
A Meeting between the "Unemployed and Mr. Gladstone." What a contrast!
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