by R S Surtees
First little Curlew was seen shaking his elbow — fun, just for fun — and having satisfied his innocent curiosity as to whether he could throw doublets twice out of thrice or not, he cast away the box, when the great master himself took it up, and seating himself at the green-baize table, adjusted the modérateur lamp to his liking, and proceeded to back himself in. The well trained confederates then plied their respective parts; now joyous at winning, now stamping at losing, until after repeated rattle, rattle, rattle and bangs of the box on the table, Mr. O’Dicey thought he had drawn Jasper as fine as was prudent, and throwing down the box, swung carelessly away to the grill, telling our friend to take his seat and try his luck with the bones. But the prudent Major here interposed. “It was l — l — late. Did anybody know what o’clock it was?” producing his watch with well-feigned astonishment, and showing that it wanted twenty minutes to two.
“Hot the time!” exclaimed O’Dicey, helping himself to seltzer water on the faintest possible imputation of brandy. “Rot the time!”
“Day was made for vulgar souls, Night, my boys, for you and I.”
But Captain Gammon, too, got nervous, and drawing our hero aside, whispered confidentially in his ear, that he didn’t like the looks of the thing, that luck was evidently against them, and they had better desist for the present and begin fresh another night.
“Well,” said our heated and confused hero, considering how they were to settle matters then.
“Come along! Come!” cried Mr. O’Dicey, peremptorily, returning to the table as he spoke, adding, “Who will hold the box?” putting in the dice and taking it up and rattling them.
But the spirit of the game seemed to have evaporated, and Mr. O’Dicey in vain endeavoured to rally them by urging the losers never to give up then without waiting for a return of luck.
Captain Gammon pleaded satiety for the present. The winners would perhaps give them a chance another night.
“By all means!” exclaimed O’Dicey. “By all means! Only one doesn’t like to leave off a winner in one’s own house as it were. However, if that’s the wish of the party,” added he, looking around, “it’s not for me to press play — it’s not for me to press play,” added he, carelessly.
“O, I — I — I de — decidedly think,” stuttered the Major, “that we had b — b — better leave off now and start f — f — fresh another night.”
“Humph,” grunted Mr. Wanless. “That’s supposing we have all got the wherewithal to settle with now. I confess I haven’t.”
“O never mind the settling,” replied the off-hand O’Dicey. “Never mind the settling. We can just dot it down on a bit of paper, so that we may know how to begin again the next time. I’ve known men play for weeks and weeks without ever coming to the final penultimate cash.”
“Ah, but short reckonings make long friends,” interposed little Curlew, now leading on to the desired point.
“So they do,” assented Wanless; “but if anybody will tell me how I am to pay fourteen hundred and twenty pounds, with three half crowns,” producing his poor attenuated purse as he spoke, “I should be very much ‘bleged to them.”
“Oh, I don’t mean money down,” rejoined Curlew; “I don’t mean money down, but a statement of how we stand.”
“Ah, to be sure, that’s most de-de-sirable,” observed the Major, “that’s most de-de-sirable; but as to p-p-paying, no man can p-p-pay what he owes over the c-co-counter, as it were.”
“Certainly not,” replied O’Dicey, “certainly not; credit is the soul of commerce, and why not of cards? Let us see then how each stands, and then we can talk about settling.”
Our friends then resolved themselves into a finance committee, and the process of “I O U-ing,” and “U O Me-ing,” commenced, and proceeded vigorously, each debtor being exceedingly complaisant to his creditor, assenting to whatever sum he claimed. And what with one claim and another, they brought our friends Gammon and Jasper in debtors to above four thousand pounds; so much to this man, so much to that, so much to a third; and as Captain Gammon, who was equally implicated, did not dispute any claim, our greatly disconcerted hero could not do so either. This, the last, account being at last adjusted, Mr. O’Dicey recapitulated the whole as against the partners, and taking a hasty retrospective view of affairs — the amount they had won — the sum Jasper was said to be good for — together with the insidious glances from beneath the suspicious Spanish hat — be determined to make the bold coup, and go for the whole. “May just as well ‘stonish the governor with a cheque for four thousand as for two,” thought O’Dicey, conning the final proposition in his mind.
“Well now!” exclaimed he, diving his hands up to the hilts in his peg-top trowsers pockets; “Well now, let’s see, we are all in the same boat, winners of Mr. Goldspink; suppose, as he’s a stranger, and it’s not pleasant winning money of young men, that we all join in a double or quits toss, and that will include Gammon’s trifle too. It is not pleasant winning money of a young friend in that way,” muttered he, frowning, and shaking from side to side, as though the very idea was repugnant to him.
The Major said it wasn’t nice, and the other worthies apparently assenting, one cut with the cards was ultimately agreed upon. Jasper turned up the Queen of Hearts, which O’Dicey immediately capped with the King of Spades, and, of course, the debt was doubled.
“What luck!”— “Did ever anybody see such luck!”— “I think I never saw any thing like it in all my life!” exclaimed the gamblers, with well feigned astonishment, scattering themselves right and left in dismay; in the midst of which, Gammon drew Jasper aside by the arm, and whispered him to leave off, or he would inevitably ruin them both. Our fat friend then stood gaping, wondering how he was ever to get out of the dilemma.
And this well-intentioned effort to extricate him having unfortunately failed, the gamblers again gathered together to try and make the best settlement they could under this perverse aspect of affairs. Mr. Wanless, suddenly recollecting that he was engaged to join a shooting party in Worcestershire, and might not have the pleasure of meeting them again. “It was lucky,” he said, “if he hadn’t the cash, that he had the wherewithal for procuring it,” producing sundry bill stamps from his red leather pocket-book as he spoke; which Captain Gammon seeing, suggested that Mr. Goldspink and he might settle the same way.
“You seem to have plenty of paper there, Wanless; suppose you let my friend and I have the use of some of it.”
“With all my heart,” replied the obliging gambler; “with all my heart. Take whatever will suit your purpose,” handing over a whole sheaf of bill-stamps, two shilling ones, ten shilling ones, fifteen shilling ones, one pound ones.
“By Jove, but you must deal in large sums,” observed Captain Gammon, eyeing their amounts. “It will be nothing to a man of your means to take our little debt upon you as well.”
“Thank’ee, Gammon, thank’ee,” replied Wanless. “I find it’s about as much as I can do to pay my own way. Those stamps are meant to cover a multitude of mercantile transactions in all quarters of the globe.”
“Bless you, Wanless is one of the largest men in the city of London,” observed Mr. O’Dicey. “I’m dashed if I had half his means, but I’d have the longest string of horses at Newmarket, and hunt Leicestershire into the bargain.”
“Ah, would you, my friend,” replied Wanless. “I know where you’d very soon be if you did. But come,” continued he, sorting his stamps, “if I give you,” addressing Curlew, “an ‘on demand’ for your money, I ‘spose that will do?”
“Oh, certainly,” replied Curlew; “certainly, an! O U is enough for me.”
“May as well make it a negotiable instrument,” observed the great merchant, getting the ink-stand, and seating himself in a business-like way at the table. He then drew out a promissory-note in favour of Curlew, payable on demand at Messrs. Gingleton and Decimal’s bank, and presented Curlew therewith, who received it with as much gratitude as if it had been a real transactio
n.
Wanless then paid a similar compliment to the Major, amid the usual protestations of “No occasion, no occasion; any ti-ti-time will do for me.” And having thus settled his own obligations, he was appealed to by the innocent Gammon, who really knew nothing of such matters, to see if he could put Mr. Goldspink and himself in the way of settling too.
“Let me see,” said the man of metal, considering matters. “Let me see. You two gentlemen are partners, each owing the same amount. O, I should say, the shortest plan would be to draw on each other in favour of the parties to whom you owe the money.”
“Ah, but how to do it’s the question,” replied Gammon.
“O, I’ll soon show you how to do it,” replied Mr. Wanless.
“Please to give me those stamps here,” appealing to O’Dicey, who was examining the collection with the greatest curiosity, as if he had never seen any thing of the sort before. Having got them back, and ascertained the sums, with the names of the banks at which they were to be made payable, Mr. Wanless selected appropriate paper, and proceeded to spread it out, preparatory to filling up.
“On demand, I ‘spose,” said he, in a matter-of-course tone.
“On demand,” assented Captain Gammon, with a chuck of his chin. Whereupon the pen of the ready-writer passed glibly over the paper, and in about the time that it takes to pay a turnpike gate in the country, the onerous documents were ready for endorsement.
“There!” exclaimed the merchant, turning Captain Gammon’s bill on its face on the much-used blotting-sheet. “There, you’ve nothing to do but write the words ‘Accepted, Arthur Gammon,’ across here,” showing the place, “and the thing’s done.”
“Come along!” cried Gammon, taking the proffered pen, and writing as he was told.
“And you,” continued the director, now addressing Jasper, “do the same across here only sign your own name instead of Captain Gammon’s, you know.” And with a shaky hand and sad misgivings, for his father had always charged him never to put his name to anything, our Mend perfected the performance.
“There!” said Wanless, rising cheerfully, “the thing’s simple enough, you see.”
“Simple enough, when you know how,” assented Mr. O’Dicey, receiving the bills with a bow.
And with mutual observations that it was much better to square accounts as they went on, regrets that Mr. Wanless would not be able to get his revenge for the present, and hopes that they would soon meet again, and have another jolly evening, with thanks to O’Dicey for the one he had afforded them, the Mends proceeded down the spacious staircase of the now noiseless hotel, and were let out into the misty morning air by a drowsy eye-rubbing porter. A division of the party then took place under the portico, some going to the cast and some to the west, the surge of the sea accompanying each detachment, and alone breaking the silence of the sleep-wrapt town. And Mend Jasper having parted with the last of his expensive companions, rang up the porter on the coffee-room side of the Corinthian Hotel, and retired to his couch with very uncomfortable feelings, which were not at all alleviated when he came to put that and that together on the morrow, and thought how much cooler his head would have been if he had taken a quiet tea with Miss Rosa, instead of dining with O’Dicey.
CHAPTER XXX.
THE SUITORS.
MB. BUNTING’S ENTIRE and devoted submission to Miss Rosa made Mamma feel very independent of Mr. Jasper, who, not being so obedient as he ought under the circumstances, Mamma gave increased liberty to our Mend Jack, and aired him out freely and openly, to the surprise of the knowing ones, who thought his affair was settled.
“Why, how is that?” asked Miss Cloverley, opening wide her beautiful darkly-fringed black eyes, not knowing of the private promenades. “Why, how is that? I thought it was all over between Mr. B. and Miss McD.?”
Then came the explanations — oftener wrong than right — but every body likes to be knowing; one showing how ill Mr. Goldspink had behaved to the fair one; another, how the lawyers had quarrelled over the parchments, and would not let it be; a third, how the old curmudgeon down in the country had set his great gouty foot upon it, when, just as the stories were beginning to spread, lo and behold, Miss appeared, with a dangler on each side, the gentlemen looking sweetly at her, and bitterly at each other. Then the mistaken knowing ones had to flounder out of their Actions the best way they could, one saying, “Jones said so;” another, laying it on “Brown;” while the more hardened ones looked wise, and said there was “something wrong notwithstanding.”
A lazy, lounging watering-place, where people have nothing whatever to do, but meet and pass, and meet and pass, morning, noon, and night, has a wonderful advantage over a trading, bustling town, and also over the country, where people are scattered far and wide, and can only come together by appointment, and more good business, as the merchants say, can be done in a week at a popular watering-place than in a year anywhere else. The men are idle at the watering-places as well as the ladies, which is a wonderful advantage, nine-tenths of the eligible men of the kingdom being so absorbed in their beloved ten per cent, hunting, as to leave little or no leisure for love. Hence, also, when they do begin wooing, they begin in right earnest; an introduction, a courtship, and an offer not unfrequently following in the same week. And though the time may seem short, and the climax premature, yet when we come to remember that these are railway days, and spread the time out, and apportion it fairly, what with morning rides, see side strolls, balls, concerts, confectioners, and comet, the enchanted ones see quite as much of each other in a week as they might otherwise do in a year. There is also another advantage, namely, that the lady has no occasion to conceal her love, letting “it feed on her damask cheek like a worm i’ the bud;” for “quick” is the word, and parties come to the—” What have-you-got? and what-will-you-do?” point quickly, cutting the cable if things don’t suit, and mooring the man if they do. Thus long courtships are avoided, and dilatory young gentlemen spurred up to the point, who might otherwise go on sighing and dying for years. In our particular case, Jasper might have served a regular apprenticeship to Miss Rosa, still keeping himself free and other admirers off; for men have not the same taste for cutting each other out that ladies have, and accept encouragement as a sign of engagement, or of the ladies’ willingness to be engaged. As even a Comet, however brisk and fiery, cannot make perpetual summer, still less replenish people’s purses, so the waning season, and the still more waning sovereigns, at length warned Mrs. McDermott that she ought to be giving that clear week’s notice from the day of entry, without which greedy uttermostfarthing-landlords too often insist upon another week’s rent. Save on the stage, the closing scene is undoubtedly the weak one anywhere — at a watering-place in particular, for there seems no end to the liabilities — the bills come showering in at the last moment — the parties’ gratitude being generally in the inverse ratio to their receipts — large bills, small thanks — each man biting as though he thought that bite would be the last — thus sending forth good walking advertisements against his house for evermore instead of parties to recommend him. Then when the ominous “Let” appears in the window, comes the unpleasantness of living in public for the rest of the time, it being open to any idle inquisitive person to come and look at the rooms to see who the parties are in them, or how they live. So the occupants are exhibited along with the furniture, much in the manner of the inmates of a club, only in a club the liabilities are general instead of being personal on the lady. And as ladies always want to see every thing from the attics down to the cellar, a good quick-eyed woman — such as Mrs. Trattles — would be able to form a tolerable idea of the ways and means of the party-r-compo-candles, cold mutton, and so on, just as the insolvent dandy indicated the sort of allowance he thought he could manage to keep body and soul together upon, when he paid a wax candle and Eau de Cologne” one.
The Paul Pry system of persecution being very popular at Roseberry Rocks, and our heroine making the house rather a marked one, Mamma
and Miss suffered a good deal from this sort of intrusion, the annoyance of which was not lessened by one old lady — Mrs. Saucefield — pretending to take Jasper for the drawing-master as he sat beside Miss with her sketch-book, and begging she might not interrupt Miss Rosa in her lesson. Another day, a whole troop of balloon-like Miss Jewisons came circling in with Mamma, criticising the rooms, and turning up their oiley hook noses at every thing, talking as though such accommodation might do very well for some people, it wouldn’t at all do for them. Then when they got into the street, an observer in the balcony might see their machinery-lace shrouded shoulders rising with laughter as the gaudy bonnets got together, and each party recounted the result of her observation; one what a pair of dirty stockings were hanging over the chair in the bed-room; another, that somebody’s hair-brush would be better of washing; a third had seen a roll of house flannel hid under the drawing-room sofa; a fourth would have liked to have had a peep into the ottoman; while Mamma declared the larder was filthy, and the kitchen a shame to be seen.
Next came the dread house-agent, Mr. Worrypenny, with his ominous red-backed book and pencil to go through the furniture and check the dilapidations. Then what a list of casualties appeared! Every thing seemed to be more or less injured — cracks, rends, and tears — all the more extraordinary, as Worrypenny said, because there were not no childer. Still he made the most of them. The drawing-room chairs were all more or less damaged in the joints (most likely from the fat boy swinging upon them), while those regular annuities to lodging-letters, the easy chairs, had wholly gone down, and now stood, or rather lounged, in the corners of the room. The commonest crockery could not be matched save at a matchless expense; and the old kitchen utensils were declared to have been wholly worn out in Mrs. McDermott’s service. So what with Chousey at one end, and Worrypenny at the other, the estimates for the visit were rather exceeded. That, however, is nothing uncommon, as most of our readers are aware.
