CHAPTER X.
The Jamiesons have taken lodgings in West Kensington, which theydescribe as being "most central"--a phrase which I have begun to thinkmeans inexpensive--and near a line of omnibuses. George and the Pirateare assiduous in taking their sisters to the Play and other places ofamusement, and are showing them something of London with a zeal whichspeaks much for their goodness of heart. Even Mrs. Jamieson has beenout once or twice, and although doubly tearful on the morning followingany little bit of dissipation, her family feel that the variety hasbeen good for her. Eliza has found that London is radio-active, henceenjoyable. And Eliza had been only once to the Royal Institution whenshe said it! Maud's engagement to the Hampstead young man has beenfinally broken off, and Maud has cried so much that her family haveforgiven her. Maud explains that it is such an upset for a girl tobreak off an engagement, and The Family say soothingly that she mustjust try and get over it.
"We hope," said Kate, "that next time things will arrange themselvesmore happily, and at least we can all feel that Maud might have marriedmany times, had she wished to do so." There seems to be a strongfeeling in The Family that Maud will go on having opportunities.Arguing from the general to the particular, they have proved, with asort of tribal feeling of satisfaction, that Maud is undoubtedly veryattractive to men, and that if one man likes her, why should notanother?
Still, we all felt that we could not have sympathized immediately withanother love affair of Maud's, and it was refreshing, not to say mostpleasing and surprising, to find that since her arrival in Town, it wasMargaret who attracted the notice of a gentleman, Mr. Swinnerton byname, a friend of George's, who brought him to supper one Sundayevening. The Jamiesons could see at a glance that Mr. Swinnerton was"struck," and, as he called two or three times in the following week,Margaret made the usual Jamieson opportunity of seeing Palestrina home,one afternoon when she had been to call, to embark in confidences abouther lover in the usual Jamieson style. Margaret was diffident,bashful, shy, uncertain about Mr. Swinnerton's feelings for her, andhopelessly nervous lest her family should have had their expectationsraised only to be disappointed. She implored Palestrina over and overagain to say nothing about it to them, though it has been more thanobvious to us all along how full of expectation every member of TheFamily is. It was a very wet evening as Margaret and my sister leftthe Jamiesons' lodgings, but she hardly seemed conscious of theinclemency of the weather, and begged Palestrina not to think of takinga cab, as she particularly wished to speak to her.
"At first," she began, "I thought it must be Maud, although she has butjust broken off her engagement to Mr. Evans; still, one knows she isthe pretty one, and if any one calls often, it is generally her."
It was a little difficult to follow Margaret's rapid, ungrammaticalspeech, but Palestrina and I both knew that to the vigorous minds ofthe Jamiesons there must be a direct purpose in every action, and thattherefore if Mr. Swinnerton came to call he must have a purpose,presumably a matrimonial purpose, for paying his visits. After two orthree afternoon calls from a gentleman the Jamiesons generally ask eachother ingenuously, "Which of us is it?" It hardly seems to themrespectable that a man should continue to pay them visits unless hemeans to show a preference for one of them.
Presuming that it was not Maud he came to see, Margaret, with modesthesitation and many blushes, asked Palestrina if she did not think itpossible that these visits might be intended for her.
"Please do not say anything about it to the others. I always havehoped that if ever I had a love affair it would be when I was away fromhome. Do you know at all what they think about it?"
She did not pause for a reply, but began again: "You see he has calledthree times in one week, but" (hopelessly) "I am always surrounded byThe Family, and he couldn't say anything if he wanted to. Of course Idon't think it has come to anything of that sort yet; still, you know,we could get to know each other better if there were not so many of usalways about. Maud doesn't mind a bit; she has had love affairs infront of us all, and she does not mind talking about them in the least,or even asking us to let her have the drawing-room to herself oncertain afternoons. But I don't feel as if I could bear to have thisdiscussed before anything is settled. And then we have so fewopportunities. Maud generally takes them to a distant church, and thenthey have the walk home together. But I never quite know whether shemakes the suggestion about church, or if she merely thinks it would benice, and leaves the man to make it."
"Maud," I remarked parenthetically to Palestrina, "has raisedlove-making to a science--an exact science."
"I hope you don't think for a moment," Margaret had gone on, "that I amabusing Maud; you know how fond we all are of each other."
Maud's experiences on matters matrimonial are always quoted asprecedent in the Jamieson family, and she is cited whenever anything ofthe sort is afoot. Each phase in her experience is frankly discussed,and conclusions are drawn from it; and I have heard the Jamiesons say,"Mr. So-and-so must be in love with Miss So-and-so; he looks at her inexactly the same way that Mr. Reddy used to look at Maud." Maudherself, unconsciously as I believe, makes a sort of calendar of herlove affairs, and it is quite usual for her to date an event byreferring to it as having happened "in the Albert Gore days," or "whenMr. Evans was hovering."
Margaret's voice had not ceased from the moment they left the lodgingstogether. "It is, however, no use trying to copy other people in yourlove affairs," she said, "because it seems to come to every one sodifferently, and then of course different people must call forthdifferent feelings. I don't think I could have felt for Mr. Reddy, forinstance, quite as I do now, even if he had been in love with me. Youfeel so bewildered somehow."
The walk had by this time become very rapid, and Margaret, in hershort-sighted way, knocked against all the foot-passengers whom she mettravelling in the opposite direction. Her umbrella showered raindropsupon Palestrina, and she became so incoherent that my sister suggestedtaking a cab to our flat, and talking things over quietly when theyshould get there.
It was about eleven o'clock that night when Margaret Jamieson tookleave of us, and by that time I fancy the bridesmaids' dresses had beenarranged.
A few days later Palestrina received a note by the hand of amessenger-boy; it bore the word "Immediate" on the cover, and hadevidently been addressed in some haste.
"DEAR PALESTRINA (it ran),
"Can you possibly come to make a fourth at a concert this afternoon?Do come, even if it should be rather inconvenient to you. I want youso much. Mr. Swinnerton has asked mamma and me, and he has takentickets. They are not reserved places, so we could easily arrange tomeet at the door and sit together. Three is such an awkward number. Ifear mamma does not care for him, and that is a great grief to me. Iwill tell you everything this afternoon.
"Yours affectionately, "MARGARET JAMIESON.
"_P.S._--It is all going to come right, I believe, but I have hadimmense difficulties. Hardly ten minutes alone with him--you know wehave only one sitting-room.--but the family have been sweet."
"Hugo," said Palestrina, "this is an occasion when you could give verysubstantial aid to a deserving family."
"I am sorry I am engaged this afternoon," I said, with an instinct ofself-preservation, without, however, having any definite idea of whatPalestrina might say next.
"It is I who am engaged this afternoon," said my sister smiling, "andyou are perfectly aware of that fact. Thomas is taking me down toRichmond to introduce me to his aunt. Besides, Hugo, you know you likemusic."
"I am very sorry, Palestrina," I said, "but it is quite impossible."
"Margaret is the Jamieson you like best," said Palestrina, "and I hateto think of your being here alone a whole afternoon. What were youthinking of doing?"
I had been thinking of going to this concert, and Palestrina guessedit, of course....
I was at the door of the concert hall at two-thirty in the afternoon,and found Mrs. Jamieson and Margaret and the young man alrea
dy on thepavement, looking as if they had stood there for a considerable time.Mr. Swinnerton is a large, rather stupid-looking man, with a red face,a crooked nose, and curly hair. He wore a dark blue overcoat, so thickand strong that it reminded one of some encasement of plaster of Paris,or of some heavy coat of mail. His hands were covered in yellowdogskin gloves, equally unyielding, so that Mr. Swinnerton appeareddeprived of any agility of movement by his garments. Mr. Swinnerton isin the volunteers, and has "Captain Swinnerton" printed on his cards.He gave me the idea of seeming to think that every action of his wassome epoch-making event, and during the afternoon he frequentlyreferred to having seen a picture then on view at one of the galleries,as though this were rather an up-to-date, not to say remarkable,proceeding. Margaret seemed a good deal impressed by his manner, andthe Jamiesons had decided that he was "smart," which was a further andquite unnecessary addition to Mr. Swinnerton's vanity, and very bad fora gentleman of his complacent character.
He ushered us into the Queen's Hall in an important sort of way, whichgave one the impression that the place belonged to him; and the factthat I was making a third in a party under his guidance convinced methat I was in some sort adding to his self-satisfaction. Mr.Swinnerton had chosen shilling places, because, as he informed us agreat number of times, these were in the best position for hearing themusic. Mrs. Jamieson was disappointed. In her class of life a treatis given on a more magnificent scale.
"Shall I sit next you, Mrs. Jamieson?" I said, for I believed that thiswas what I was intended to say; but Mr. Swinnerton remarked toMargaret, "I'll go next; I like to divide myself amongst the ladies."
Mrs. Jamieson looked uncomfortable in the small amount of space ashilling had procured for her, and she suggested apologetically thatshe would like a programme; but the music was beginning, and Mr.Swinnerton put up his large, stiff-gloved hand like a slab, and said,"Hush!"
We went faithfully through the orthodox Queen's Hall concert from thevery first note to the "Ride of the Valkyries," and after every item onthe programme our host turned to us, moving his whole body in his stoutcoat, and said, "Isn't that nice now?--very nice I call it!" still withan air of ownership.
Mrs. Jamieson slept a little; but the hardness of her seat made it anuneasy resting-place, and it is to be feared that her mantle with thestorm-collar was too hot; but, she whispered to me in a burst ofconfidence, she was unable to remove it owing to the fact that thebodice and skirt of her dress did not correspond.
"I always like these places," said Mr. Swinnerton again; "they areexactly in the centre of the hall, and another thing is, they are nearthe door in case of fire."
Margaret assented sweetly. I always thought until to-day that MargaretJamieson was a plain woman; to-day I find she is good-looking.
"It is ridiculous," said Mr. Swinnerton, "to see the way people throwtheir money away on really inferior seats, just because they think theyare fashionable."
Mrs. Jamieson stirred a little on her uneasy bench, and Mr. Swinnertonsaid in self-defence, "Don't you agree with me, eh?"
"I think," said Mrs. Jamieson politely, "that perhaps for a longconcert the _fotoys_ would be more comfortable."
"Ah!" cried Mr. Swinnerton, "you want to be fashionable, I see; butthere are many of the best people who come to these seats. I know of aMember of Parliament--I don't know him, I know of him" (we felt thatsome connection with the Member had been established)--"who comesregularly to these very places, and who declares they are the best inthe house."
"Perhaps," said Mrs. Jamieson simply, "he had never tried the _fotoys_."
After the concert was over, Mr. Swinnerton suggested that Margaret andher mother should go and have tea at a bun-shop, qualifying thesuggestion with the remark, "I know you ladies can never get on withoutafternoon tea." When with Mr. Swinnerton ladies are never allowed toforget that he is a gentleman and they are ladies, and that a certainforbearance is therefore extended to them. He offered his arm to Mrs.Jamieson, who gathered up her skirt and umbrella in one hand, andaccepted the proffered support in some embarrassment. Margaret fellbehind with me, and whispered in a sort of excited way,--
"Hasn't it been lovely? Do tell me what you think--I mean about him."
"I haven't had much chance of judging," I replied stupidly; "but heseems all right, although perhaps his ideas are not very large."
"Still, you mean that one could always alter that," said Margaretquickly, with the true Jamieson optimism, as applied to the beneficialresults of matrimony. There is hardly, I believe, a defect that theythink they will not be able to eradicate in a future husband, save,perhaps, the conical shape of Mr. Ward's head. "But I really do notthink there is anything that I would like altered," she added simply.
"His name is Tudor," she went on. "George calls him that now, and Maudis beginning to do so--Maud is being so kind; she says it promotes afamiliar tone which is very helpful, to call him 'Tudor'--but I can'tcall him anything but Mr. Swinnerton yet."
After tea Mr. Swinnerton asked us how we had enjoyed our entertainment,and Margaret expressed herself in the highest terms in praise of it.There seemed to be a lingering tendency on Mrs. Jamieson's part torevert to the superior comfort of seven-and-sixpenny places andarmchairs, but we checked this by saying with emphasis that it was afriendly afternoon of this kind that we really enjoyed. Mr. Swinnertonthen put the Jamiesons into an omnibus, and directed the conductor to"let these ladies out at the top of Sloane Street," in a tone of voicethat suggested that they were to be caged and padlocked until thatplace of exit was reached. He lifted his hat with a fine air to them,and then, as I had called a hansom, he put me into it ratherelaborately, and cautioned the commissionaire at the door to "take careof this gentleman."
He will probably call me a South African hero next; I wish he wouldkeep his attentions to himself.
A Lame Dog's Diary Page 10
