I ASK PAPA
XIX
Reviewing the matter later, I see that I made a poor choice of timeand place. But at the moment this did not strike me. It is a simplething, I reflected, for a man to pass another by haughtily and withoutrecognition, when they meet on dry land; but when the said man, beingan indifferent swimmer, is accosted in the water and out of his depth,the feat becomes a hard one.
When, therefore, having undressed on the Cob on the following morning,I spied in the distance, as I was about to dive, the gray head of theprofessor bobbing on the face of the waters, I did not hesitate. Iplunged in and swam rapidly toward him.
His face was turned in the opposite direction when I came up with him,and it was soon evident that he had not observed my approach. Forwhen, treading water easily in his immediate rear, I wished him goodmorning in my most conciliatory tones, he stood not upon the order ofhis sinking, but went under like so much pig iron. I waitedcourteously until he rose to the surface once more, when I repeated myremark.
He expelled the last remnant of water from his mouth with a wrathfulsplutter, and cleared his eyes with the back of his hand.
"The water is delightfully warm," I said.
"Oh, it's you!" said he, and I could not cheat myself into believingthat he spoke cordially.
"You are swimming splendidly this morning," I said, feeling that anounce of flattery is often worth a pound of rhetoric. "If," I added,"you will allow me to say so."
"I will not," he snapped. "I--" Here a small wave, noticing that hismouth was open, walked in. "I wish," he resumed warmly, "as I said inme letter, to have nothing to do with you. I consider ye've behaved ina manner that can only be described as abominable, and I will thank yeto leave me alone."
"But, allow me--"
"I will not allow ye, sir. I will allow ye nothing. Is it not enoughto make me the laughingstock, the butt, sir, of this town, withoutpursuing me in this manner when I wish to enjoy a quiet swim?"
His remarks, which I have placed on paper as if they were continuousand uninterrupted, were punctuated in reality by a series of gasps andpuffings as he received and ejected the successors of the wave he hadswallowed at the beginning of our little chat. The art of conductingbright conversation while in the water is not given to every swimmer.This he seemed to realize, for, as if to close the interview, heproceeded to make his way as quickly as he could toward the shore.Using my best stroke, I shot beyond him and turned, treading water asbefore.
"But, professor," I said, "one moment."
I was growing annoyed with the man. I could have ducked him but forthe reflection that my prospects of obtaining his consent to myengagement with Phyllis would hardly have been enhanced thereby. Nomore convincing proof of my devotion can be given than this, that Idid not seize that little man by the top of his head, thrust him underwater, and keep him there.
I restrained myself. I was suave. Soothing, even.
"But, professor," I said, "one moment."
"Not one," he spluttered. "Go away, sir. I will have nothing to say toyou."
"I shan't keep you a minute."
He had been trying all this while to pass me and escape to the shore,but I kept always directly in front of him. He now gave up the attemptand came to standstill.
"Well?" he said.
Without preamble I gave out the text of the address I was about todeliver to him.
"I love your daughter Phyllis, Mr. Derrick. She loves me. In fact, weare engaged," I said.
He went under as if he had been seized with cramp. It was a littletrying having to argue with a man, of whom one could not predict withcertainty that at any given moment he would not be under water. Ittended to spoil one's flow of eloquence. The best of arguments isuseless if the listener suddenly disappears in the middle of it.
However, I persevered.
"Mr. Derrick," I said, as his head emerged, "you are naturallysurprised."
"You--you--you--"
So far from cooling him, liberal doses of water seemed to make himmore heated.
"You impudent scoundrel!"
He said that--not I. What I said was more gentlemanly, more courteous,on a higher plane altogether.
I said winningly: "Mr. Derrick, cannot we let bygones be bygones?"
From his expression I gathered that we could not.
I continued. I was under the unfortunate necessity of having tocondense my remarks. I was not able to let myself go as I could havewished, for time was an important consideration. Erelong, swallowingwater at his present rate, the professor must inevitably becomewaterlogged. It behooved me to be succinct.
"I have loved your daughter," I said rapidly, "ever since I first sawher. I learned last night that she loved me. But she will not marry mewithout your consent. Stretch your arms out straight from theshoulders and fill your lungs well, and you can't sink. So I have comethis morning to ask for your consent. I know we have not been on thebest of terms lately."
"You--"
"For Heaven's sake, don't try to talk. Your one chance of remaining onthe surface is to keep your lungs well filled. The fault," I saidgenerously, "was mine. But when you have heard my explanation, I amsure you will forgive me. There, I told you so."
He reappeared some few feet to the left. I swam up and resumed:
"When you left us so abruptly after our little dinner party, you putme in a very awkward position. I was desperately in love with yourdaughter, and as long as you were in the frame of mind in which youleft, I could not hope to find an opportunity of telling her so. Yousee what a fix I was in, don't you? I thought for hours and hours, totry and find some means of bringing about a reconciliation. Youwouldn't believe how hard I thought. At last, seeing you fishing onemorning when I was on the Cob, it struck me all of a sudden that thevery best way would be to arrange a little boating accident. I wasconfident that I could rescue you all right."
"You young blackguard!"
He managed to slip past me, and made for the shore again.
"Strike out--but hear me," I said, swimming by his side. "Look at thething from the standpoint of a philosopher. The fact that the rescuewas arranged oughtn't really to influence you in the least. You didn'tknow it at the time, therefore relatively it was not, and you weregenuinely saved from a watery grave."
I felt that I was becoming a shade too metaphysical, but I could nothelp it. What I wanted to point out was that I had certainly pulledhim out of the water, and that the fact that I had caused him to bepushed in had nothing to do with the case. Either a man is a gallantrescuer or he is not a gallant rescuer. There is no middle course. Ihad saved his life, for he would have drowned if he had been left tohimself, and was consequently entitled to his gratitude. And that wasall that there was to be said about it.
These things I endeavored to make plain to him as we swam along. Butwhether it was that the salt water he had swallowed dulled hisintelligence or that my power of stating a case neatly was to seek,the fact remains that he reached the beach an unconvinced man.
We faced one another, dripping.
"Then may I consider," I said, "that your objections are removed? Wehave your consent?"
He stamped angrily, and his bare foot came down on a small butsingularly sharp pebble. With a brief exclamation he seized the footwith one hand and hopped. While hopping, he delivered his ultimatum.Probably this is the only instance on record of a father adopting thisattitude in dismissing a suitor.
"You may not," he said. "You may not consider any such thing. Myobjections were never more--absolute. You detain me in the water tillI am blue, sir, blue with cold, in order to listen to the mostpreposterous and impudent nonsense I ever heard."
This was unjust. If he had heard me attentively from the first andavoided interruptions and not behaved like a submarine, we shouldhave got through our little business in half the time. We might bothhave been dry and clothed by now.
I endeavored to point this out to him.
"Don't talk to me, sir," he roared, hobbling off across
the beach tohis dressing tent. "I will not listen to you. I will have nothing todo with you. I consider you impudent, sir."
"I am sure it was unintentional, Mr. Derrick."
"Isch!" he said--being the first occasion and the last on which I everheard that remarkable word proceed from the mouth of man.
And he vanished into his tent, while I, wading in once more, swam backto the Cob and put on my clothes.
And so home, as Pepys would have said, to breakfast, feelingdepressed.
Love Among the Chickens Page 19
