AFTER THE STORM
XXIII
A yell of welcome drowned the tumult of the looters.
"Is that you, Garny, old horse? What's up? What's the matter? Haseverybody gone mad? Who are those blackguardly scoundrels in the fowlrun? What are they doing? What's been happening?"
"I have been entertaining a little meeting of your creditors," I said."And now they are entertaining themselves."
"But what did you let them do it for?"
"What is one among so many?" I said.
"Oh," moaned Ukridge, as a hen flashed past us, pursued by a criminal,"it's a little hard. I can't go away for a day--"
"You can't," I said. "You're right there. You can't go away without aword--"
"Without a word? What do you mean? Garny, old boy, pull yourselftogether. You're overexcited. Do you mean to tell me you didn't get mynote?"
"What note?"
"The one I left on the dining-room table."
"There was no note there."
"What!"
I was reminded of the scene that had taken place on the first day ofour visit.
"Feel in your pockets," I said.
And history repeated itself. One of the first things he pulled out wasthe note.
"Why, here it is!" he said in amazement.
"Of course. Where did you expect it to be? Was it important?"
"Why, it explained the whole thing."
"Then," I said, "I wish you'd let me read it. A note that can explainwhat's happened ought to be worth reading."
I took the envelope from his hand and opened it.
It was too dark to read, so I lit a match. A puff of wind extinguishedit. There is always just enough wind to extinguish a match.
I pocketed the note.
"I can't read it now," I said. "Tell me what it was about."
"It was telling you to sit tight and not to worry about us goingaway--"
"That's good about worrying. You're a thoughtful chap, Ukridge."
"--because we should be back in a day or two."
"And what sent you up to town?"
"Why, we went to touch Millie's Aunt Elizabeth."
A light began to shine on my darkness.
"Oh!" I said.
"You remember Aunt Elizabeth? We got a letter from her not so longago."
"I know whom you mean. She called you a gaby."
"And a guffin."
"Of course. I remember thinking her a shrewd and discriminating oldlady, with a great gift of description. So you went to touch her?"
"That's it. I suddenly found that things were getting into an A1tangle, and that we must have more money. So I naturally thought ofAunt Elizabeth. She isn't what you might call an admirer of mine, butshe's very fond of Millie, and would do anything for her if she'sallowed to chuck about a few home-truths before doing it. So we wentoff together, looked her up at her house, stated our painful case, andcorralled the money. Millie and I shared the work. She did the asking,while I inquired after the rheumatism. She mentioned the precisefigure that would clear us. I patted the toy Pomeranian. Little beast!Got after me quick, when I wasn't looking, and chewed my ankle."
"Thank Heaven for that," I said.
"In the end Millie got the money and I got the home truths."
"Did she call you a gaby?"
"Twice. And a guffin three times."
"But you got the money?"
"Rather. And I'll tell you another thing. I scored heavily at the endof the visit. Lady Lakenheath was doing stunts with proverbs--"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Quoting proverbs, you know, bearing on the situation. 'Ah, my dear,'she said to Millie, 'marry in haste, repent at leisure!' 'I'm afraidthat proverb doesn't apply to us,' said Millie, 'because I haven'trepented.' What do you think of that, old horse?"
"Millie's an angel," I replied.
Just then the angel joined us. She had been exploring the house, andnoting the damage done. Her eyes were open to their fullest extent asshe shook hands with me.
"Oh, Mr. Garnet," she said, "_couldn't_ you have stopped them?"
I felt a cur. Had I done as much as I might have done to stem thetide?
"I'm awfully sorry, Mrs. Ukridge," I said. "I really don't think Icould have done more. We tried every method. Beale had seven fights,and I made a speech on the lawn, but it was all no good."
"Perhaps we can collect these men and explain things," I added. "Idon't believe any of them know you've come back."
"Send Beale round," said Ukridge. "Beale!"
The hired retainer came running out at the sound of the well-knownvoice.
"Lumme, Mr. Ukridge, sir!" he gasped.
It was the first time Beale had ever betrayed any real emotion in mypresence. To him, I suppose, the return of Ukridge was as sensationaland astounding an event as the reappearance of one from the tomb wouldhave been. He was not accustomed to find those who had shot the moonrevisiting their old haunts.
"Go round the place and tell those blackguards that I've come back,and would like to have a word with them on the lawn. And if you findany of them stealing my fowls, knock them down."
"I 'ave knocked down one or two," said Beale with approval. "ThatCharlie--"
"That's right, Beale. You're an excellent man, and I will pay you yourback wages to-night before I go to bed."
"Those fellers, sir," said Beale, having expressed his gratification,"they've been and scattered most of them birds already, sir. They'vebeen chasin' of 'em for this hour back."
Ukridge groaned.
"Demons!" he said. "Demons!"
Beale went off.
The audience assembled on the lawn in the moonlight. Ukridge, with hiscap well over his eyes and his mackintosh hanging around him like aRoman toga, surveyed them stonily, and finally began his speech.
"You--you--you--you blackguards!" he said.
I always like to think of Ukridge as he appeared at that moment. Therehave been times when his conduct did not recommend itself to me. Ithas sometimes happened that I have seen flaws in him. But on thisoccasion he was at his best. He was eloquent. He dominated hisaudience.
He poured scorn upon his hearers, and they quailed. He flung invectiveat them, and they wilted.
It was hard, he said, it was a little hard that a gentleman could notrun up to London for a couple of days on business without having hisprivate grounds turned upside down. He had intended to deal well bythe tradesmen of the town, to put business in their way, to give themlarge orders. But would he? Not much. As soon as ever the sun hadrisen and another day begun, their miserable accounts should be paidin full and their connection with him be cut off. Afterwards it wasprobable that he would institute legal proceedings against them fortrespass and damage to property, and if they didn't all go to prisonthey might consider themselves uncommonly lucky, and if they didn'tfly the spot within the brief space of two ticks he would get amongthem with a shotgun. He was sick of them. They were no gentlemen, butcads. Scoundrels. Creatures that it would be rank flattery to describeas human beings. That's the sort of things _they_ were. And now theymight go--_quick_!
The meeting then dispersed, without the usual vote of thanks.
* * * * *
We were quiet at the farm that night. Ukridge sat like Marius amongthe ruins of Carthage and refused to speak. Eventually he took Bobwith him and went for a walk.
Half an hour later I, too, wearied of the scene of desolation. Myerrant steps took me in the direction of the sea. As I approached Iwas aware of a figure standing in the moonlight, gazing moodily outover the waters. Beside the figure was a dog.
I would not disturb his thoughts. The dark moments of massive mindsare sacred. I forebore to speak to him. As readily might one of thegenerals of the Grand Army have opened conversation with Napoleonduring the retreat from Moscow.
I turned softly and walked the other way. When I looked back he wasstill there.
"I did think Mr. Garnet would have fainted when theb
est man said, 'I can't find it, old horse!'"]
EPILOGUE
ARGUMENT. From the _Morning Post: "... and graceful, wore a simplegown of stiff satin and old lace, and a heavy lace veil fell in softfolds over the shimmering skirt. A reception was subsequently held byMrs. O'Brien, aunt of the bride, at her house in Ennismore Gardens."_
IN THE SERVANTS' HALL
THE COOK. ... And as pretty a wedding, Mr. Hill, as ever I did see.
THE BUTLER. Indeed, Mrs. Minchley? And how did our niece look?
THE COOK (_closing her eyes in silent rapture_). Well,_there_! That lace! (_In a burst of ecstacy_.) Well, _there_!!Words can't describe it, Mr. Hill.
THE BUTLER. Indeed, Mrs. Minchley?
THE COOK. And Miss Phyllis--Mrs. Garnet, I _should_ say--she was ascalm as calm. And looking beautiful as--well, there! Now, Mr. Garnet,he _did_ look nervous, if you like, and when the best man--such aqueer-looking awkward man, in a frock coat that _I_ wouldn't have beenbest man at a wedding in--when he lost the ring and said--quite loud,everybody could hear him--"I can't find it, old horse!" why I didthink Mr. Garnet would have fainted away, and so I said to Jane, aswas sitting beside me. But he found it at the last moment, and allwent on as merrily, as you may say, as a wedding bell.
JANE (_sentimentally_). Reely, these weddings, you know, they do giveyou a sort of feeling, if you catch my meaning, Mrs. Minchley.
THE BUTLER (_with the air of a high priest who condescends for once tounbend and frolic with lesser mortals_). Ah! it'll be your turn next,Miss Jane.
JANE (_who has long had designs on this dignified bachelor_). Oh, Mr.Hill, reely! You do poke your fun.
[_Raises her eyes to his, and drops them swiftly, leaving him with a pleasant sensation of having said a good thing particularly neatly, and a growing idea that he might do worse than marry Jane, take a nice little house in Chelsea somewhere, and let lodgings. He thinks it over._
TILBY (_a flighty young person who, when she has a moment or two tospare from the higher flirtation with the local policeman, puts in alittle light work about the bedrooms_). Oh, I say, this'll be one inthe eye for Riggetts, pore little feller. (_Assuming an air ofadvanced melodrama._) Ow! She 'as forsiken me! I'll go and blow melittle 'ead off with a blunderbuss! Ow that one so fair could be sofalse!
MASTER THOMAS RIGGETTS (_the page boy, whose passion for the lady whohas just become Mrs. Garnet has for many months been a byword in theservants' hall_). Huh! (_To himself bitterly._) Tike care, tike care,lest some day you drive me too far. [_Is left brooding darkly._
UPSTAIRS
THE BRIDE. ... Thank you.... Oh, thank you.... Thank you so much....Thank you _so_ much ... oh, thank you.... Thank you.... Thank you _so_much.
THE BRIDEGROOM. Thanks.... Oh, thanks.... Thanks awf'lly.... Thanksawf'lly.... Thanks awf'lly.... Oh, thanks awf'lly ... (_with abrilliant burst of invention, amounting almost to genius_) Thanks_frightfully_.
THE BRIDE (_to herself, rapturously_). A-a-a-h!
THE BRIDEGROOM (_dabbing at his forehead with his handkerchief duringa lull_). I shall drop.
THE BEST MAN (_appearing suddenly at his side with a glass_). Bellowsto mend, old horse, what? Keep going. You're doing fine. Bless you.Bless you.
[_Drifts away._
ELDERLY STRANGER (_to bridegroom_). Sir, I have jigged your wife on myknee.
THE BRIDEGROOM (_with absent politeness_). Ah! Lately?
ELDERLY STRANGER. When she was a baby, sir.
THE BRIDEGROOM (_from force of habit_). Oh, thanks. Thanks awf'lly.
THE BRIDE (_to herself_). _Why_ can't one get married everyday!... (_catching sight of a young gentleman whose bi-weekly conversationwith her in the past was wont to consist of two remarks on the weather andone proposal of marriage_). _Oh_! Oh, what a _shame_ inviting poorlittle Freddy Fraddle! Aunt Kathleen _must_ have known! How could she beso cruel! Poor little fellow, he must be suffering dreadfully!
POOR LITTLE FREDDY FRADDLE (_addressing his immortal soul as hecatches sight of the bridegroom, with a set smile on his face, shakinghands with an obvious bore_). Poor devil, poor, poor devil! And tothink that I--! Well, well! There but for the grace of God goesFrederick Fraddle.
THE BRIDEGROOM (_to the_ OBVIOUS BORE). Thanks. Thanks awf'lly.
THE OBVIOUS BORE (_in measured tones_).... are going, as you say, toWales for your honeymoon, you should on no account miss theopportunity of seeing the picturesque ruins of Llanxwrg Castle, whichare among the most prominent spectacles of Carnarvonshire, a county,which I understand you to say, you propose to include in your visit.The ruins are really part of the village of Twdyd-Prtsplgnd, but yourbest station would be Golgdn. There is a good train service to andfrom that spot. If you mention my name to the custodian of the ruins,he will allow you to inspect the grave of the celebrated ----
IMMACULATE YOUTH (_interrupting_). Hello, Garnet, old man. Don't knowif you remember me. Latimer, of Oriel. I was a fresher in your thirdyear. Gratters!
THE BRIDEGROOM (_with real sincerity for once_). Thanks. Thanksawf'lly.
[_They proceed to talk Oxford shop together, to the exclusion of the O. B., who glides off in search of another victim_.
IN THE STREET
THE COACHMAN (_to his horse_). _Kim_ up, then!
THE HORSE (_to itself_). Deuce of a time these people are. Why don'tthey hurry. I want to be off. I'm certain we shall miss that train.
THE BEST MAN (_to crowd of perfect strangers, with whom in somemysterious way he has managed to strike up a warm friendship_). Now,then, you men, stand by. Wait till they come out, then blaze away.Good handful first shot. That's what you want.
THE COOK (_in the area, to_ JANE). Oh, I do 'ope they won't miss thattrain, don't you? Oh, here they come. Oh, don't Miss Phyllis--Mrs.Garnet--look--well, there. And I can remember her a little slip of agirl only so high, and she used to come to my kitchen, and she used tosay, "Mrs. Minchley," she used to say--it seems only yesterday--"Mrs.Minchley, I want--"
[_Left reminiscing._
THE BRIDE (_as the page boy's gloomy eye catches hers, "smiles as shewas wont to smile_").
MASTER RIGGETTS (_with a happy recollection of his latest-read work offiction--"Sir Rupert of the Hall": Meadowsweet Library--to himself_)."Good-by, proud lady. Fare you well. And may you never regret.May--you--nevorrr--regret!"
[_Dives passionately into larder, and consoles himself with jam._
THE BEST MAN (_to his gang of bravoes_). Now, then, you men, bang itin.
[_They bang it in._
THE BRIDEGROOM (_retrieving his hat_). Oh-- [_Recollects himself intime._
THE BEST MAN. Oh, shot, sir! Shot, indeed!
[_The_ BRIDE _and_ BRIDEGROOM _enter the carriage amid a storm of rice._
THE BEST MAN (_coming to carriage window_). Garny, old horse.
THE BRIDEGROOM. Well?
THE BEST MAN. Just a moment. Look here, I've got a new idea. The bestever, 'pon my word it is. I'm going to start a duck farm and run itwithout water. What? You'll miss your train? Oh, no, you won't.There's plenty of time. My theory is, you see, that ducks get thin bytaking exercise and swimming about and so on, don't you know, so that,if you kept them on land always, they'd get jolly fat in about halfthe time--and no trouble and expense. See? What? You bring the missusdown there. I'll write you the address. Good-by. Bless you. Good-by,Mrs. Garnet.
THE BRIDE AND BRIDEGROOM (_simultaneously, with a smile apiece_).Good-by.
[_They catch the train and live happily ever afterwards._]
* * * * *
Love Among the Chickens Page 23
