Driftwood Spars

by Percival Christopher Wren

  Sec. 1. MR. GROBBLE.

  There was something very maidenly about the appearance of AugustusClarence Percy Marmaduke Grobble. One could not imagine him doinganything unfashionable, perspiry, rough or rude; nor could one possiblyimagine him doing anything ruthless, fine, terrible, strong ordifficult.

  One expected his hose to be of the same tint as his shirt andhandkerchief, his dress-trousers to be braided, his tie to be delicateand beautiful, his dainty shoes to be laced with black silk ribbon,--butone would never expect him to go tiger-shooting, to ride a gay and giddyyoung horse, to box, or to do his own cooking and washing in the desertor jungle.

  Augustus had been at College during that bright brief period of theattempted apotheosis of the dirty-minded little Decadent whose stock intrade was a few Aubrey Beardsley drawings, a widow's-cruse-like bottleof Green Chartreuse, an Oscar Wilde book, some dubious blue china, somefloppy ties, an assortment of second-hand epigrams, scent and scentedtobacco, a _nil admirari_ attitude and long weird hair.

  Augustus had become a Decadent--a silly harmlessconventionally-unconventional Decadent. But, as Carey, a contemporaryRugger blood, coarsely remarked, he hadn't the innards to go far wrong.

  It was part of his cheap and childish ritual as a Decadent to draw thecurtains after breakfast, light candles, place the flask of GreenChartreuse and a liqueur-glass on the table, drop one drip of the liquidinto the glass, burn a stinking pastille of incense, place a Birmingham"god" or an opening lily before him, ruffle his hair, and sprawl on thesofa with a wicked French novel he could not read--hoping for visitorsand an audience.

  If any fellow dropped in and, very naturally, exclaimed, "What the devil_are_ you doing?" he would reply:--

  "Wha'? Oh, sunligh'? Very vulgar thing sunligh'. Art is always superiorto Nature. You love the garish day being a gross Philistine, wha'? Now Ionly live at night. Glorious wicked nigh'. So I make my own nigh'. Wha'?Have some Green Chartreuse--only drink fit for a Hedonist. I drink itscolour and I taste its glorious greenness. Ichor and Nectar of Heliconand the Pierian Spring. I loved a Wooman once, with eyes of just thatglowing glorious green and a soul of ruby red. I called her myEmerald-eyed, Ruby-souled Devil, and we drank together deep draughts ofthe red red Wine of Life----"

  Sometimes the visitor would say: "Look here, Grobb, you ought to be inthe Zoo, you know. There's a lot there like you, all in one big cage,"or similar words of disapproval.

  Sometimes a young fresher would be impressed, especially if he had beenbrought up by Aunts in a Vicarage, and would also become a Decadent.

  During vac. the Decadents would sometimes meet in Town, and See Life--asingularly uninteresting and unattractive side of Life (much more likeDeath), and the better men among them--better because of a littlesincerity and pluck--would achieve a petty and rather sordid "adventure"perhaps.

  Augustus had no head for Mathematics and no gift for Languages, whilehis Classics had always been a trifle more than shaky. History boredhim--so he read Moral Philosophy.

  There is a somewhat dull market for second-hand and third-class MoralPhilosophy in England, so Augustus took his to India. In the firstcollege that he adorned his classes rapidly dwindled to nothing, and theCollege Board dispensed with the services of Augustus, who passed on toanother College in another Province, leaving behind him an odour ofmoral dirtiness, debt, and decadence. Quite genuine decadence this time,with nothing picturesque about it, involving doctors' bills, alimony,and other the fine crops of wild-oat sowing.

  At Gungapur he determined to "settle down," to "turn over a new leaf,"and laid a good space of paving-stone upon his road to reward.

  He gave up the morning nip, docked the number of cocktails, went to bedbefore two, took a little gentle exercise, met Mrs. Pat Dearman--and(like Mr. Robin Ross-Ellison, General Miltiades Murger and many another)succumbed at once.

  Mrs. Pat Dearman had come to India (as Miss Cleopatra Diamond Brighte)to see her brother, Dickie Honor Brighte, at Gungapur, and muchinterested to see, also, a Mr. Dearman whom, in his letters to her,Dickie had described as "a jolly old buster, simply full of money, andfairly spoiling for a wife to help him blew it in." She had not onlyseen him but had, as she wrote to acidulous Auntie Priscilla at theVicarage, "actually married him after a week's acquaintance--fancy!--thelast thing in the world she had ever supposed ... etc." (AuntiePriscilla had smiled in her peculiarly unpleasant way as the artlessletter enlarged upon the strangeness of her ingenuous niece's marryingthe rich man about whom her innocent-minded brother had written somuch.)

  Having thoroughly enjoyed a most expensive and lavish honeymoon, Mrs.Pat Dearman had settled down to make her good husband happy, to have agood time and to do any amount of Good to other people--especially toyoung men--who have so many temptations, are so thoughtless, and whoeasily become the prey of such dreadful people and such dreadful habits.

  Now it is to be borne in mind that Mrs. Dearman's Good Time was marredto some extent by her unreasoning dislike of all Indians, a dislikewhich grew into a loathing hatred, born and bred of her ignorance of thelanguage, customs, beliefs and ideals of the people among whom shelived, and from whom her husband's great wealth sprang.

  To Augustus--fresh from very gilded gold, painted lilies and highlyperfumed violets--she seemed a vision of delight, a blessed damozel, aliving Salvation.

  _"Incedit dea aperta,"_ he murmured to himself, and wondered whether hehad got the quotation right. Being a weak young gentleman, hestraightway yearned to lead a Beautiful Life so as to be worthy to livein the same world with her, and did it--for a little while. He became ateetotaller, he went to bed at ten and rose at five--going forth intothe innocent pure morning and hugging his new Goodness to his soul as hecomposed odes and sonnets to Mrs. Pat Dearman. So far so excellent--butin Augustus was no depth of earth, and speedily he withered away. Andhis reformation was a house built upon sand, for, even at its pinnacle,it was compatible with the practising of sweet and pure expressionsbefore the glass, the giving of much time to the discovery of the reallymost successful location of the parting in his long hair, theintentional entangling of his fingers with those of the plump and prettyyoung lady (very brunette) in Rightaway & Mademore's, what time shehanded him "ties to match his eyes," as he requested.

  It was really only a change of pose. The attitude now was: "I, young asyou behold me, am old and weary of sin. I have Passed through the Fires.Give me beauty and give me peace. I have done with the World and itsDead Sea Fruit. There is no God but Beauty, and Woman is its Prophet."And he improved in appearance, grew thinner, shook off a veritable OldMan of the Sea in the shape of a persistent pimple which went ill withthe Higher Aestheticism, and achieved great things in delicate socks,sweet shirts, dream ties, a thumb ring and really pretty shoes.

  In the presence of Mrs. Pat Dearman he looked sad, smouldering,despairing and Fighting-against-his-Lower-Self, when not lookingYoung-but-Hopelessly-Depraved-though-Yearning-for-Better-Things. And heflung out quick epigrams, sighed heavily, talked brilliantly and wildly,and then suppressed a groan. Sometimes the pose of, "Dear Lady, I couldkiss the hem of your garment for taking an interest in me and mypast--but it is too lurid for me to speak of it, or for you tounderstand it if I did," would appear for a moment, and sometimes thatof, "Oh, help me--or my soul must drown. Ah, leave me not. If I havesinned I have suffered, and in your hands lie my Heaven and my Hell."Such shocking words were never uttered of course--but there are fewthings more real than an atmosphere, and Augustus Clarence could alwaysget his atmosphere all right.

  And Mrs. Pat Dearman (who had come almost straight from a vicarage, avicar papa and a vicarish aunt, to an elderly, uxorious husband anduntrammelled freedom, and knew as much of the World as a little bunnyrabbit whom its mother has not brought yet out into the warren for itsfirst season), was mightily intrigued.

  She felt motherly to the poor boy at first, being only two years hisjunior; then sisterly; and, later, very friendly indeed.

  Let it be clearly understood that Mrs. Pat
Dearman was a thoroughlygood, pure-minded woman, incapable of deceiving her husband, and bothinnocent and ignorant to a remarkable degree. She was the product of anunnatural, specialized atmosphere of moral supermanity, the secludedlife, and the careful suppression of healthy, natural instincts. Injustice to Augustus Clarence also it must be stated that the impulse todecency, though transient, was genuine as far as it went, and that hewould as soon have thought of cutting his long beautiful hair as ofthinking evil in connection with Mrs. Pat Dearman.

  Yes, Mrs. Pat Dearman was mightily intrigued--and quickly came to theconclusion that it was her plain and bounden duty to "save" the poor,dear boy--though from _what_ she was not quite clear. He was evidentlyunhappy and obviously striving-to-be-Good--and he had such beautifuleyes, dressed so tastefully, and looked at one with such a respectfuldevotion and regard, that, really--well, it added a tremendous savour tolife. Also he should be protected from the horrid flirting Mrs. Bickkerwho simply lived to collect scalps.

  And so the friendship grew and ripened--quickly as is possible only inIndia. The evil-minded talked evil and saw harm where none existed,proclaiming themselves for what they were, and injuring none butthemselves. (Sad to say, these were women, with one or two exceptions infavour of men--like the Hatter--who perhaps might be called "old womenof the male sex," save that the expression is a vile libel upon the sexthat still contains the best of us.) Decent people expressed the beliefthat it would do Augustus a lot of good--much-needed good; and thecrystallized male opinion was that the poisonous little beast wasuncommon lucky, but Mrs. Pat Dearman would find him out sooner or later.

  As for Mr. (or Colonel) Dearman, that lovable simple soul was gratefulto Augustus for existing--as long as his existence gave Mrs. Dearman anypleasure. If the redemption of Augustus interested her, let Augustus beredeemed. He believed that the world neither held, nor had held, hiswife's equal in character and nobility of mind. He worshipped an imageof his own creation in the shape of Cleopatra Dearman, and the image hehad conceived was a credit to the single-minded, simple-heartedgentleman.

  Naturally he did not admire Augustus Clarence Percy Marmaduke Grobble(learned in millinery; competent, as modes varied, to discuss harem,hobble, pannier, directoire, slit, or lamp-shade skirts, berthes,butterfly-_motif_ embroideries, rucked ninon sleeves, chiffon tunics,and similar mysteries of the latest fashion-plates, with a ladyundecided).

  Long-haired men put Dearman off, and he could not connect the virilevirtues with large bows, velvet coats, scent, manicure, mannerisms andmeandering.

  But if Augustus gave his wife any pleasure--why Augustus had not livedwholly in vain. His attitude to Augustus was much that of his attitudeto his wife's chocolates, fondants, and crystallized violets--"Notabsolutely nourishing and beneficial for you, Dearest;--but harmless,and I'll bring you a ton with pleasure".

  Personally he'd as soon go about with his wife's fat French poodle aswith Augustus, but so long as either amused her--let the queer thingsflourish.

  Among the nasty-minded old women who "talked" was the Mad Hatter.

  "Shameful thing the way that Dearman woman throws dust in her husband'seyes!" said he, while sipping his third Elsie May at the club bar. "Heshould divorce her. I would, to-morrow, if I were burdened with her."

  A knee took him in the small of the back with unnecessary violence andhe spun round to demand instant apology from the clumsy....

  He found himself face to face with one John Robin Ross-Ellison newlycome to Gungapur, a gentleman of independent means but supposed to beconnected with the Political Department or the Secret Service orsomething, who stared him in the eyes without speaking while he poised along drink as though wondering whether it were worth while wasting goodliquor on the face of such a thing as the Hatter.

  "You'll come with me and clear the dust from Dearman's eyes at once,"said he at last. "Made your will all right?"

  The Hatter publicly apologised, then and there, and explained that hehad, for once in his life, taken a third drink and didn't know what hewas saying.

  "If your third drink brings out the real man, I should recommend you tostick to two, Bonnett," said the young man, and went away to cogitate.

  Should he speak to Dearman? No. He didn't want to see so good a chaphanged for a thing like the Bonnett. Should he go and slap AugustusGrobble hard and make him leave the station somehow? No. Sure to be ascandal. You can no more stop a scandal than a locust-cloud or a fog.The best way to increase it is to notice it. What a horrid thing is ascandal-monger--exhaling poison. It publishes the fact that it ispoisonous, of course--but the gas is not enjoyable.

  Well, God help anybody Dearman might happen to hear on the subject!Happily Mr. (or Colonel) Dearman heard nothing, for he was a quiet,slow, jolly, red-haired man, and the wrath of a slow, quiet, red-hairedman, once roused, is apt to be a rather dangerous thing. Also Mr.Dearman was singularly elephantine in the blundering crushing directnessof his methods, and his idea of enough might well seem more than a feastto some.

  And Mr. Dearman suffered Augustus gladly, usually finding him present attea, frequently at dinner, and invariably in attendance at dances andfunctions.

  Augustus was happy and Good--for Augustus. He dallied, he adored, hebasked. For a time he felt how much better, finer, more enjoyable, morebeautiful, was this life of innocent communion with a pure soul--pure,if just a little insipid, after the real spankers he had hithertoaffected.

  He was being saved from himself, reformed, helped, and all the rest ofit. And when privileged to bring her pen, her fan, her book, hercushion, he always kissed the object with an appearance of wishing to beunseen in the act. It was a splendid change from the Lurid Life and themean adventure. Piquant.

  Unstable as water he could not excel nor endure, however, even indalliance; nor persevere even when adopted as the _fidus Achates_ of agood and beautiful woman--the poor little weather-cock. He wasessentially weak, and weakness is worse than wickedness. There is hopefor the strong bad man. He may become a strong good one. Your weak mancan never be that.

  There came a lady to the Great Eastern Hotel where Augustus lived. Herhusband's name, curiously enough, was Harris, and wags referred to himas _the_ Mr. Harris, because he had never been seen--and like BetseyPrig, they "didn't believe there was no sich person". And beyond doubtshe was a spanker.

  Augustus would sit and eye her at meals--and his face would grow alittle less attractive. He would think of her while he took tea withMrs. and Mr. Dearman, assuring himself that she was certainly a stepper,a stunner, and, very probably,--thrilling thought--a wrong 'un.

  Without the very slightest difficulty he obtained an introduction and,shortly afterwards, decided that he was a man of the world, a Decadent,a wise Hedonist who took the sweets of every day and hoped for moreto-morrow.

  Who but a fool or a silly greenhorn lets slip the chances of enjoyment,and loses opportunities of experiences? There was nothing in the world,they said, to compare with War and Love. Those who wanted it werewelcome to the fighting part, he would be content with the loving role.He would be a Dog and go on breaking hearts and collecting trophies.What a milk-and-water young ass he had been, hanging about round good,silly, little Mrs. Dearman, denying himself champagne at dinner-parties,earning opprobrium as a teetotaller, going to bed early like abread-and-butter flapper, and generally losing all the joys of Life!Been behaving like a _backfisch_. He read his Swinburne again, andunearthed from the bottom of a trunk some books that dealt with thedecadent's joys,--poets of the Flesh, and prosers of the Devil, in hismany weary forms.

  Also he redoubled his protestations (of undying, hopeless, respectfuldevotion and regard) to Mrs. Dearman, until she, being a woman,therefore suspected something and became uneasy.

  One afternoon he failed to put in an appearance at tea-time, thoughexpected. He wrote that he had had a headache. Perhaps it was true, but,if so, it had been borne in the boudoir of the fair spanker whosehusband may or may not have been named Harris.

  As his absences fro
m the society of Mrs. Dearman increased in frequency,his protestations of undying gratitude and regard for her increased infervour.

  Mrs. Dearman grew more uneasy and a little unhappy.

  Could she be losing her influence for Good over the poor weak boy? Couldit be--horrible thought--that he was falling into the hands of somenasty woman who would flirt with him, let him smoke too many cigarettes,drink cocktails, and sit up late? Was he going to relapse and slip backinto that state of wickedness of some kind, that she vaguely understoodhim to have been guilty of in the unhappy past when he had possessed noguardian angel to keep his life pure, happy and sweet, as he nowdeclared it to be?

  "Where's your young friend got to lately?" inquired her husband one day.

  "I don't know, John," she replied, "he's always missing appointmentsnowadays," and there was a pathetic droop about the childish mouth.

  "Haven't quarrelled with him, or anything, have you, Pat?"

  "No, John dear. It would break his heart if I were unkind to him--or itwould have used to. I mean it used to have would. Oh, you know what Imean. Once it would have. No, I have not been unkind to him--it's ratherthe other way about, I think!"

  _Rather the other way about_! The little affected pimp unkind to Mrs.Dearman! Mr. (or Colonel) Dearman made no remark--aloud.

  Augustus came to tea next day and his hostess made much of him. His hosteyed him queerly. Very.

  Augustus felt uncomfortable. Good Heavens! Was Dearman jealous? The manwas not going to cut up jealous at this time of day, surely! Not aftergiving him the run of the house for months, and allowing him to take hiswife everywhere--nay, encouraging him in every way. Absurd idea!

  Beastly disturbing idea though--Dearman jealous, and on your track! Arather direct and uncompromising person, red-haired too. But the man wasabsolutely fair and just, and he'd never do such a thing as to let afellow be his wife's great pal, treat him as one of the family for ages,and then suddenly round on him as though he were up to something. No.Especially when he was, if anything, cooling off a bit.

  "He was always most cordial--such a kind chap,--when I was living in hiswife's pocket almost," reflected Augustus, "and he wouldn't go and turnjealous just when the thing was slacking off a bit."

  But there was no doubt that Dearman was eyeing him queerly....

  "Shall we go on the river to-morrow night, Gussie?" said Mrs. Dearman,"or have a round of golf, or what?"

  "Let's see how we feel to-morrow," replied Augustus, who had otherschemes in view. "Sufficient unto the day is the joy thereof," and heescorted Mrs. Dearman to the Gymkhana, found her some nice, ladies'pictorials, said, "I'll be back in a minute or two,"--and went in searchof Mrs. "Harris".

  "Well," said that lady, "been a good little boy and eaten your bread andbutter nicely? Have a Lyddite cocktail to take the taste away. So willI." ...

  "Don't forget to book the big punt," said the Siren an hour or so later."I'll be ready for you about five."

  Augustus wrote one of his charming little notes on his charming littlenote-paper that evening.

  "KIND AND GRACIOUS LADYE,

  "Pity me. Pity and love me. To-morrow the sun will not shine for yourslave, for he will not see it. I am unable to come over in the evening.I stand 'twixt love and duty, and know you would counsel duty. Would theCollege and all its works were beneath the ocean wave! Think of me justonce and I shall survive till the day after. Oh, that I could think yourdisappointment were but one thousandth part of mine. I live but forThursday.

  "Ever your most devoted loving slave,

  "GUSSIE."

  Mrs. Dearman wept one small tear, for she had doubted his manner when hehad evaded making the appointment, and was suspicious. Mr. Dearmanentered and noted the one small tear ere it trickled off her daintylittle nose.

  She showed him the note.

  Mr. (or Colonel) Dearman thought much. What he said was "Hm!"

  "I suppose he has got to invigilate at some horrid examination orsomething," she said, but she did not really suppose anything of thekind. Even to her husband she could not admit the growing dreadful fearthat the brand she had plucked from the burning was slipping from herhand--falling back into the flames.

  At a dinner-party that night a woman whom she hated, and wrote down anevil-minded scandal-monger and inventor and disseminator of lies,suddenly said to her, "Who _is_ this Mrs. Harris, my dear?"

  "How should I know?" replied Mrs. Dearman.

  "Oh, I thought your young friend Mr. Grobble might have told you--heseems to know her very well," answered the woman sweetly.

  That night Mr. Dearman heard his wife sobbing in bed. Going to her heasked what was the matter, and produced eau-de-Cologne, phenacetin,smelling-salts and sympathy.

  She said that nothing at all was the matter and he went away andpondered. Next day he asked her if he could row her on the river as hewanted some exercise, and Augustus was not available to take her for adrive or anything.

  "I should love it, John dear," she said. "You row like an ox," and John,who had been reckoned an uncommon useful stroke, felt that a complimentwas intended if not quite materialized.

  Mrs. Pat Dearman enjoyed the upstream trip, and, watching her husbanddrive the heavy boat against wind and current with graceful ease,contrasted him with the puny, if charming, Augustus--to the latter'sdetriment. He was so safe, so sound, so strong, reliable and true. Butthen he never needed any protection, care and help. It was impossible to"mother" John. He loved her devotedly and beautifully but one couldn'tpretend he leaned on her for moral help. Now Augustus did need her or hehad done so--and she did so love to be needed. _Had_ done so? No--shewould put the thought away. He needed her as much as ever and loved heras devotedly and honourably.... The boat was turned back at the weirand, half an hour later, reached the Club wharf.

  "I want to go straight home without changing, Pat; do you mind? I'lldrop you at the Gymkhana if you don't want to get home so early," saidDearman, as he helped his wife out.

  "Won't you change and have a drink first, John?" she replied. "You mustbe thirsty."

  "No. I want to go along now, if you don't mind."

  He did want to--badly. For, rowing up, he had seen something which hiswife, facing the other way, could not see.

  Under an over-hanging bush was a punt, and in the punt were Augustus andthe lady known as Mrs. Harris.

  The bush met the bank at the side toward his wife, but at the otherside, facing Dearman, there was an open space and so he had seen and shehad not. Returning, he had drawn her attention to something on theopposite bank. This had been unnecessary, however, as Augustus hadeffected a change of venue without delay. And now he did not want hiswife to witness the return of the couple and learn of the duplicity ofher snatched Brand.

  (He'd "brand" him anon!)

  * * * * *

  Augustus Clarence Percy Marmaduke Grobble sat in the long cane chair inhis sitting-room, a glass beside him, a cigarette between his lips, afleshly poet in his hand, and a reminiscent smile upon his flushed face.

  She undoubtedly was a spanker. Knew precisely how many beans make five.A woman of the world, that. Been about. Knew things. Sort of woman onecould tell a good story to--and get one back. Life! Life! Knew it up anddown, in and out. Damn reformation, teetotality, the earnest, and thestrenuous. Good women were unmitigated bores, and he.... A sharp knockat the door.

  "_Kon hai_?"[47] he called. "_Under ao_."[48]

  [47] Who's there. [48] Come in.

  The door opened and large Mr. Dearman walked in. He bore a nasty-lookingmalacca cane in his hand--somewhat ostentatiously.

  "Hullo, Dearman!" said Augustus after a decidedly startled and anxiouslook. "What is it? Sit down. I'm just back from College. Have a drink?"

  Large Mr. Dearman considered these things _seriatim_.

  "I will sit down as I want a talk with you. You are a liar in the matterof just being back from College. I will not have a drink." He thenlapsed into silence and looked at Aug
ustus very straight and veryqueerly, while bending the nasty malacca suggestively. The knees ofAugustus smote together.

  Good God! It had come at last! The thrashing he had so often earned wasat hand. What should he do? What _should_ he do!

  Dearman thought the young man was about to faint.

  "Fine malacca that, isn't it?" he asked.

  "Ye-yes!"

  "Swishy, supple, tough."

  "Ye-yes!" (How could the brute be such a fool as to be jealous now--nowwhen it was all cooling off and coming to an end?)

  "Grand stick to thrash a naughty boy with, what?"

  "Ye-yes!--Dearman, I swear before God that there is nothing between meand----"

  "Shut up, you infernal God-forsaken cub, or I shall have to whip you.I----"

  "Dearman, if you are jealous of me----"

  "Better be quiet and listen, or _I_ shall get cross, and _you'll_ gethurt.... You have given us the pleasure of a great deal of your companythis year, and I have come to ask you----"

  "Dearman, I have not been so much lately, and I--"

  "That's what I complain of, my young friend."

  "What?"

  "That's what I complain of! I have come to protest against your makingyourself almost necessary to me, in a sense, and then--er--deserting me,in a sense."

  "You are mocking me, Dearman. If you wish to take advantage of my beinghalf your size and strength to assault me, you----"

  "Not a bit of it, my dear Augustus. I am in most deadly earnest, asyou'll find if you are contumacious when I make my little proposition.What I say is this. _I_ have grown to take an interest in you, Augustus._I_ have been very kind to you and tried to make a better man of you._I_ have been a sort of mother to you, and you have sworn devotion andgratitude to me. _I_ have reformed you somewhat, and you have admittedto me that I have made another man of you, Augustus, and that you loveme for it, you love _me_ with a deep Platonic love, my Augustus,and--don't you forget it."

  "I admit that your wife----"

  "Don't you mention my wife, Augustus, or you and I and that malacca willhave a period of great activity. I was saying that _I_ am disappointedin you, Augustus, and truly grieved to find you so shallow and false. Iasked you to take me on the river to-night and you lied to me and took avery different type of--er--person. Such meanness and ingratitude fairlyget me, Augustus. Now I never _asked_ you to run after me and come andswear I had saved your dirty little soul alive, but since you did it,Augustus, and _I_ have come to take a deep interest in saving thething--why, you've got to stick it, Augustus--and if you don't--why,then I'll make you, my dear."

  "Dearman, your wife has been the noblest friend----"

  "_Will_ you come off it, Augustus? I don't want to be cruel. Now lookhere. _I_ have got accustomed to having you about the house andemploying you in those funny little ways in which you are a usefullittle animal. I am under no delusion as to the value of that Soul ofyours--but, such as it is, _I_ am determined to save it. So just youbring it round to tea to-morrow, as usual; and don't you ever be absentagain without my permission. You began the game and I'll end it--when Ithink fit. Grand malacca that."

  "Dearman, I will always----"

  "'Course you will. See you at tea to-morrow, Gussie. If ever my wifehears of this I'll kill you painfully. Bye-Bye."

  Augustus was present at tea next day, and, thenceforth, so regular washe that Mrs. Dearman found, first, that she had been very foolish inthinking that her Brand was slipping back into the fire and, later, thatGussie was a bore and a nuisance.

  One day he said in the presence of John:--

  "I can't keep that golf engagement on Saturday, dear lady, I have toattend a meeting of the Professors, Principal and College Board".

  "Have you seen my malacca cane, Pat," said Dearman. "I want it."

  "But I really have!" said Augustus, springing up.

  "Of course you have," replied Dearman. "What _do_ you mean?"

  * * * * *

  "John dear," remarked Mrs. Dearman one day, "I wish you could giveGussie a hint not to come quite so often. I have given him some verybroad ones during the last few months, but he won't take them. He wouldfrom you, I expect."

  "Tired of the little bounder, Pat?"

  "Oh, sick and tired. He bores me to tears. I wish he were in GovernmentService and could be transferred. A Government man's always transferredas soon as he has settled to his job. I can't forbid him the house, verywell, but I _wish_ he'd realize how weary I am of his poses and newsocks."

  * * * * *

  Augustus Clarence Percy Marmaduke Grobble sat in the long cane chair inhis sitting-room, a look of rebellious discontent upon his face. Whatcould he do? Better chuck his job and clear out! The strain was gettingawful. What a relentless, watchful brute Dearman was! To him enteredthat gentleman after gently tapping at the chamber door.

  "Gussie," said he, "I have come to say that I think you weary me. Idon't want you to come and play with me any more. _But_ be a nice goodboy and do me credit. I have brought you this malacca as a present and amemento. I have another, Gussie, and am going to watch you, so be a realcredit to me."

  And Gussie was.

  So once again a good woman redeemed a bad man--but a trifle indirectlyperhaps.

  Then came General Miltiades Murger and Mr. John Robin Ross-Ellison to besaved.

  During intervals in the salvation process, Mr. John Robin Ross-Ellisonvainly endeavoured to induce Mr. Augustus Clarence Percy MarmadukeGrobble to lend his countenance, as well as the rest of his person, tothe European Company of the Gungapur Fusilier Volunteer Corps which itwas the earnest ambition of Ross-Ellison to raise and train andconsolidate into a real and genuine defence organization, with amaxim-gun, a motor-cycle and car section, and a mounted troop, and with,above all, a living and sturdy _esprit-de-corps_. Such a Companyappeared to him to be the one and only hope of regeneration for theludicrous corps which Colonel Dearman commanded, and to change themetaphor, the sole possible means of leavening the lump by its exampleof high standards and high achievement.

  To Augustus, however, as to many other Englishmen, the idea was merelyridiculous and its parent simply absurd.

  The day dawned when Augustus, like the said many other Englishmen,changed his mind. In his, and their defence, it may be urged that theyknew nothing of the activities of a very retiring but perseveringgentleman, known to his familiars as Ilderim the Weeper, and that theyhad grown up in the belief that all England's fighting and defence canbe done by a few underpaid, unconsidered, and very vulgar hirelings.

  Perish the thought that Augustus and his like should ever be expected todo the dirty work of defending themselves, their wives, children, homesand honour.