CHAPTER XI
The Split Infinitive
Guests at the Leightons' were divided into two classes. There were thosewho were friends of Mr. Leighton, and who therefore were interested inart, or literature, or science, or public enterprise, but were notexpected to go further; and there were those who came in a general wayand who might be expected to be interested in anything from a game oftennis to a tea party. Of the first might be reckoned the like of Mr.Sturgis, who painted pictures in a magnificent manner, and who, at theend of a large cigar, would breathe the heresies on the teaching of artwhich for ever paralyzed the artistic abilities of Elma. Mr. Sturgiswas quite young enough for an Aunt Katharine public to quote hiseligibility on all occasions.
"You don't understand, Aunt Katharine," Mabel told her once. "Nobodyseems to understand that a man, even a young man, may adore papa withouthaving to adore us at the same time. Mr. Sturgis is quite differentfrom your kind of young man."
"Different from Robin, I suppose," sighed Aunt Katharine.
"Yes, quite different from Robin," said Mabel sedately. Robin hadcertainly from the first put Mr. Leighton into the position of being hisdaughter's father. Mr. Sturgis, on the other hand, found his firstfriend in Mr. Leighton because he had such a nice discriminating andmost sympathetic enthusiasm for Art. Besides which Mr. Leighton had theattributes of an exceptional man in various respects.
The girls put Mr. Sturgis on the same high plane as their father andadmired him openly accordingly. But there were others whom they put onthis plane by reason of their accomplishments and yet did not admire atall.
Amongst these was the "Split Infinitive."
The first call on the part of Professor Theo. Clutterbuck was one neverto be forgotten. He found a roomful of people who, so far as his ownattitude to them was concerned, might have been so many pieces offurniture. Mr. Sturgis had at least the artist's discrimination whichmade him observe one's appearance, and he also allowed one to converseoccasionally; but Dr. Clutterbuck rushed his one subject at Mr. Leightonfrom the moment of his entrance, and after that no one else existed.
"What more or less could you expect from the father of the Serpent?"asked Betty.
Lance was responsible for the nickname.
The Serpent, the elf-like daughter of the Professor, staying next to theTurbervilles, had introduced herself in a violent manner long ago toBetty and Elma. Sitting one day, hidden high in the maple tree, shecajoled her cat silently over the Turberville wall and from a widebranch sent him sprawling on a tea table. From the moment that the blackcat drew a white paw from the cream jug, and a withering giggle from themaple tree disclosed the wicked little visage of the Serpent, war hadbeen declared between the Clutterbucks and the Turbervilles. Lanceoccasionally removed the barrier and met the Professor in company withhis own father.
"An awful crew," his verdict ran. "The Past Participle (Mrs.Clutterbuck) can't open her poor little timid mouth but the SplitInfinitive is roaring at her. Consequently she keeps as silent as thegrave."
"Will you kindly explain?" said Mrs. Leighton patiently. "It's a longtime since I studied grammar in that intimate way. What is the SplitInfinitive and why the Past Participle?"
"It's like this, Mrs. Leighton, simple when you know--or when you aremarried to a brute like Clutterbuck," said Lance mischievously. "I begyour pardon. I know I ought to say that he is a genius and all that sortof thing. But 'brute' seems more explicit."
"Go on with your story," said Mrs. Leighton.
"Well--Clutterbuck married Mrs. Clutterbuck."
"That's generally the end of a story, isn't it?" asked Jean.
Lance was not to be interrupted.
"Trust a boy for gossip," exclaimed Betty. "Fire away, Lance."
"My aunt knew them," said Lance. "She, Mrs. C., was a little dear,awfully pink and pretty you know, and Clutterbuck, a big raw thin thingwith wild sort of hair and dreamy manners. Well, they were awfullyproud and pleased with themselves, and started off for their honeymoonlike two happy babies."
"Will you kindly tell me how you knew this?" asked Mrs. Leightonhelplessly.
"I heard my aunt telling my mother," said Lance.
"There's a gleam in your eye which I don't quite trust," Elma remarkedsedately. "Go on."
"Everything went well," exclaimed Lance, "until one morning when Mrs.C., all rosy and chiffony you know, said 'My dear Theo, I don't rememberto ever have been so happy.' Clutterbuck rose from the table, as paleas death. She cried, 'Theo, Theo, tell me, what is wrong?' 'Wrong,'cried Professor Clutterbuck, 'you have used the Split Infinitive!'Gospel, Mrs. Leighton," said Lance as a wind-up. "She's been the PastParticiple ever since."
There was this amount of truth in Lance's story: that Dr. Clutterbuckwas distinguished in his own career as Professor of Geology, that hisEnglish was irreproachable; and that Mrs. Clutterbuck had practically noEnglish, since she was hardly ever known to speak at all. She shunnedsociety; and the same introspective gaze of the Professor, which hadskimmed the Leighton drawing-room and found there only the strikingpersonality of Mr. Leighton, skimmed his own home in a like abstractedmanner, and took no notice of the most striking personality inRidgetown--Elsie, his daughter.
It was the black cat episode which precipitated the nickname of "TheSerpent." Lance had always declared that this girl had an understandingwith animals which was nothing short of uncanny. He happened to read_Elsie Venner_, and the names being alike, and temperament on similarlines, he immediately christened her the Serpent. He caught her out atnumberless pranks which were never reported to the diligent ears ofBetty and May. One was that she had climbed to his bedroom andpurloined a suit of clothes.
There was no end to what might be expected of this lonely little person.
Years ago, Betty and May had turned their backs on her in the cruelhaphazard manner of two friends who might easily dispose of an outsider.Betty and May despised the Serpent because she "had a cheap governess,""couldn't afford to go to school," and "wore her hair in one plait."
The lonely little Serpent never properly forgave these insults.
Mrs. Leighton did not wholly encourage Lance in his tale.
"I do not think I approve of your being so down on these people," shesaid: "and if there is any truth in what you say, it is very tragicabout poor Mrs. Clutterbuck, though she does not strike me as being avery capable person."
"Capable," asked Lance. "Who could remain capable, Mrs. Leighton, witha cold tap continually running freezing remarks down one's back. Don'tyou think it's a miracle she's alive?"
Mrs. Leighton preferred to remain on her smooth course of counsel.
"It never does to judge people like that," she exclaimed. "You do notknow. To put it in a selfish manner, one day you may find theClutterbucks being of more service to you than any one on earth."
She pulled at her knitting ball.
"You girls talk a great deal of romance and nonsense about people likethe Dudgeons. Why don't you think something nice about that poor littleSerpent for a change?"
The girls remembered not very long afterwards the prophetic nature ofthese remarks. That they should cultivate the Clutterbucks for anyreason at all, however, seemed at that moment impossible.
Dr. Merryweather called the same afternoon.
It was one of the coincidences of life that he should immediately talkof the Clutterbucks.
"Know them?" he asked. "I think your husband does, doesn't he? Do youcall on the wife at all?"
"No," answered Mrs. Leighton. "I never feel that I could get on withher very well either. Mr. Leighton meets the Professor and they talk alot together, but it's quite away from domestic matters."
"It would be a bit of a kindness, I think," said the old Doctor, "yourcalling, I mean. There's too little public spirit amongst women, don'tyou think?"
"Oh, wouldn't it be a little impertinent perhaps to call, in thatspirit?" asked Mrs. Leighton.
/> "Well, I don't know. The child is running wild. The parents are a pairof babies where healthy education is concerned. Result, the child hasno friends, and expends her affection, she has stores of it, on heranimals. A dog gets run over and dies. What do you get then? Shenever squeaks. Not a moan, you observe. But she sits up in that treeof hers with a cat to do any comforting she may want--and her hairbegins to come out in patches."
Mrs. Leighton's knitting fell to her lap.
"Her hair is coming out in patches?" she asked in a horrified voice.
"Yes. What else would you have when a child is allowed to mope.Something is bound to happen. Clergymen are of use when a child'snaughty. But when it mopes itself ill, we are called in. Yet it's aclergyman's task after all. This child, on the way to being a woman,has never had one friend. Her mother is too timid to be really friendlywith any one, and the husband is wrapped in his dry-as-dustphilosophy--and where are you with a tender child like that?"
"But if Mrs. Clutterbuck can't be friendly with any one, why should Icall?" asked Mrs. Leighton hopelessly.
"Your girls might become friendly with the child," said he. "I'm afraidI don't make a very good clergyman."
"They call her the Serpent, you know," said Mrs. Leighton, "very naughtyof them. I shall do my best, Doctor. I didn't know her hair was comingout in patches."
Dr. Merryweather might be complimented on his new profession after all.It had been a master stroke to refer to the patches. Mrs. Leighton hadknown of its happening after illness or great worry. That a childshould suffer in this quiet moping manner seemed pathetic.
"Yet, I don't think I'm the person to do a thing of this sort," Mrs.Leighton said hopelessly to Miss Meredith later in the day. "I do soobject to intrude on people. I should imagine it indelicate of any oneelse to do the same to myself, you know."
"Very awkward, certainly," replied Miss Meredith primly.
"Oh, mummy," said Elma, "you know how kind Miss Grace is or Miss Annie.They say 'Isn't Betty a little pale at present?' and you get her atonic. You think nothing of that. It's just the same with theClutterbucks. Betty ought to behave herself and go and call with you,and get the Serpent to come. I think she looks a jolly little thing."
Elma was quite alone in that opinion.
"Jolly!" said Jean, "you might as well talk of a toadstool's beingjolly. Still, Betty isn't a child. She shouldn't be squabbling. Bettyought to call."
"You know Dr. Clutterbuck, wouldn't you call on his wife?" asked Mrs.Leighton of Miss Meredith.
"Oh, I'm afraid I don't know him well enough. Robin rather dislikeshim--and, well, we have no young people, you see."
Miss Meredith was lame but definite.
"Then the sooner the better. Betty and I call to-morrow," said Mrs.Leighton.
They did, and to their astonishment found Mrs. Clutterbuck dimly butsurely pleased. Nobody remained timid very long in Mrs. Leighton's kindpresence, and the mutual subject of days long ago when it was no crimeto talk of babies, broke the ice of years of reserve in Ridgetown withMrs. Clutterbuck. The Serpent, after many pilgrimages on the part ofthe one maid to the garden, finally appeared. Mrs. Clutterbuck'srestraint returned with the evident unwillingness of Elsie's attitude.Both retreated to the dumb condition so trying to onlookers.
The Serpent indeed paid Betty out for many months of torture. Her calm,disconcerting gaze never wavered, as she watched every movement of thatready enemy. Mrs. Leighton made her only mistake in showing definitelythat she wanted to be kind to Elsie. That little lady's pale visagelooked fiercely out at her and chilled the words that were intended tocome.
It was as Betty described it a most "terrifying interview."
In the midst of it came a telegram to Mrs. Clutterbuck.
"Oh, you will excuse me," said she nervously. "We are expecting afriend."
During the interval of opening the envelope Elsie disappeared. It hadthe effect of warming Mrs. Clutterbuck to confidences once more.
"It is a great pleasure to me," said she. "My young cousin is coming.He is quite a distinguished, man. All Dr. Clutterbuck's people aredistinguished, but my family are different. Except Arthur, whom Dr.Clutterbuck is quite pleased to meet. He is coming to-night."
She called the maid.
"Tell Miss Elsie it is the 5.40 train. Mr. Symington comes then."
She had a halting, staccato way of picking her small sentences, asthough insecure of their effect.
"People enjoy coming to Ridgetown," said Mrs. Leighton lamely, in theendeavour to keep the wheels of conversation oiled more securely.
"Do they," asked the Professor's wife. Then she stammered a trifle."A--a--that is--I have never had a visitor in Ridgetown till now. Dr.Clutterbuck does not care for visitors. Arthur is different from whatothers have been, I hope."
She seemed full of anxiety.
"Oh, I gave up long ago trying to please Mr. Leighton with my visitors,"said Mrs. Leighton heartily and quite untruthfully. "Husbands must taketheir chance of that, you know." She rose to go.
"Please tell Dr. Clutterbuck he is never again to come to see us withoutyou," she said, "and won't Elsie come to tea one day?"
On their departure Mrs. Clutterbuck turned to find a blazing little furyin the doorway.
"Mother," cried Elsie, "Mother! How could you! I shall never go to teawith Betty Leighton."
Her mother turned two eyes full of light on her. The light slowly diedto dull patience again.
"We shall go down together to meet cousin Arthur," she said quietly. Itseemed as though her bright thoughts must turn to drab colourautomatically where either her husband or child was concerned.
It was characteristic of Elsie that, although blazing with wild angerand wicked little intentions, she should be unable to give voice to themat that moment. The inevitable obstinacy of her mother where theroutine of the house was concerned, the drab colour of the one day whichwas invariably like the other, the cruel, cruel sameness of it all! Itwas impossible that Cousin Arthur should not be drab colour also.
"I'd rather remain here," she said at last. There was even somepleading in her tone.
"Your father said we had better meet Cousin Arthur," said her mother.
That was the remorseless end and beginning to everything. "Your fathersaid" meant days and weeks and years of drab colour.
"Oh, let us go then," said Elsie. There was a drowning hopelessness inher voice, so great an emptiness that it was hard to believe she hadmerely used the words--"Let us go then."
Her mother accepted the answer without the sigh which burned in herheart because it had no outlet.
They proceeded to get ready to go out.
Mrs. Leighton and Betty by this time were chatting easily enough at theMerediths'. Mrs. Leighton had the feeling of an inexperienced generalafter a very indefinite victory.
"I do not possess the talent of inflicting myself gracefully on people,"she said, "and the child is quite extraordinary. However, I liked themother; she is a dear little woman."
Miss Meredith was only partially interested.
She arranged to walk home with them, and they set out in rather a slowmanner.
"I can quite believe the child would be different in othersurroundings," said Mrs. Leighton. "What a fine-looking man!" The oneremark ran into the other automatically. In later days it seemedprophetic that the two people should be mentioned in one breath.
Mrs. Leighton was passing the station where arrivals from the trainoccurred. A cab was drawn up, and into this a sunburned,athletic-looking young man put some traps. Then he handed in Mrs.Clutterbuck and Elsie.
Betty was greatly impressed.
"It must be Mr. Symington," said she.
"Well, for a timid lady, she has a very man-like cousin," exclaimed Mrs.Leighton. "I don't wonder she was allowed that one visitor at least."
Miss Meredith turned her head carefully to a more slanting angle, whenshe clearly saw the carriage drive past.
"Do
you know, Mrs. Leighton," she said quite nimbly and happily, "itseems very hard that she should not have all the visitors she wants.Dr. Merryweather is quite right. None of us have any public spirit. Ithink I shall call on her to-morrow."
So Miss Meredith also called on Mrs. Clutterbuck.
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