by W. W. Jacobs
ODD MAN OUT
The night watchman pursed up his lips and shook his head. Friendship, hesaid, decidedly, is a deloosion and a snare. I’ve ‘ad more friendshipsin my life than most people—owing to being took a fancy to for somereason or other—and they nearly all came to a sudden ending.
‘Friendship, he Said, Decidedly, is a Deloosion and A Snare.’
I remember one man who used to think I couldn’t do wrong; everythingI did was right to ‘im; and now if I pass ‘im in the street he makesa face as if he’d got a hair in ‘is mouth. All because I told ‘im thetruth one day when he was thinking of getting married. Being a bituneasy-like in his mind, he asked me ‘ow, supposing I was a gal, hislooks would strike me.
It was an orkard question, and I told him that he ‘ad got a good ‘artand that no man could ‘ave a better pal. I said he ‘ad got a good temperand was free with ‘is money. O’ course, that didn’t satisfy ‘im, and atlast he told me to take a good look at ‘im and tell him wot I thought of‘is looks. There was no getting out of it, and at last I ‘ad to tell himplain that everybody ‘ad diff’rent ideas about looks; that looks wasn’teverything; and that ‘andsome is as ‘andsome does. Even then ‘e wasn’tsatisfied, and at last I told ‘im, speaking as a pal to a pal, that ifI was a gal and he came along trying to court me, I should go to thepolice about it.
I remember two young fellers that was shipmates with me some years ago,and they was such out-and-out pals that everybody called ‘em the Siamesetwins. They always shipped together and shared lodgings together whenthey was ashore, and Ted Denver would no more ‘ave thought of going outwithout Charlie Brice than Charlie Brice would ‘ave thought of goingout without ‘im. They shared their baccy and their money and everythingelse, and it’s my opinion that if they ‘ad only ‘ad one pair o’ bootsbetween ‘em they’d ‘ave hopped along in one each.
They ‘ad been like it for years, and they kept it up when they left thesea and got berths ashore. Anybody knowing them would ha’ thought thatnothing but death could part ‘em; but it happened otherwise.
There was a gal in it, of course. A gal that Ted Denver got intoconversation with on top of a bus, owing to her steadying ‘erself byputting her hand on ‘is shoulder as she passed ‘im. Bright, lively sorto’ gal she seemed, and, afore Ted knew where he was, they was talkingaway as though they ‘ad known each other for years.
Charlie didn’t seem to care much for it at fust, but he didn’t raise noobjection; and when the gal got up to go he stopped the bus for ‘er bypoking the driver in the back, and they all got off together. Ted wentfust to break her fall, in case the bus started off too sudden, andCharlie ‘elped her down behind by catching hold of a lace collar shewas wearing. When she turned to speak to ‘im about it, she knockedthe conductor’s hat off with ‘er umbrella, and there was so muchunpleasantness that by the time they ‘ad got to the pavement she toldCharlie that she never wanted to see his silly fat face agin.
“It ain’t fat,” ses Ted, speaking up for ‘im; “it’s the shape of it.”
“And it ain’t silly,” ses Charlie, speaking very quick; “mind that!”
“It’s a bit o’ real lace,” ses the gal, twisting her ‘ead round to lookat the collar; “it cost me one and two-three only last night.”
“One an’ wot?” ses Charlie, who, not being a married man, didn’tunderstand ‘er.
“One shilling,” ses the gal, “two pennies, and three farthings. D’yeunderstand that?”
“Yes,” ses Charlie.
“He’s cleverer than he looks,” ses the gal, turning to Ted. “I s’poseyou’re right, and it is the shape after all.”
Ted walked along one side of ‘er and Charlie the other, till they cameto the corner of the road where she lived, and then Ted and ‘er stoodthere talking till Charlie got sick and tired of it, and kept tugging atTed’s coat for ‘im to come away.
“I’m coming,” ses Ted, at last. “I s’pose you won’t be this wayto-morrow night?” he ses, turning to the gal.
“I might if I thought there was no chance of seeing you,” she ses,tossing her ‘ead.
“You needn’t be alarmed,” ses Charlie, shoving in his oar; “we’re goingto a music-’all to-morrow night.”
“Oh, go to your blessed music-’all,” ses the gal to Ted; “I don’t wantyou.”
She turned round and a’most ran up the road, with Ted follering ‘er andbegging of ‘er not to be so hasty, and afore they parted she told ‘imthat ‘er name was. Emma White, and promised to meet ‘im there the nextnight at seven.
O’ course Mr. Charlie Brice turned up alongside o’ Ted the next night,and at fust Emma said she was going straight off ‘ome agin. She did gopart o’ the way, and then, when she found that Ted wouldn’t send hismate off, she came back and, woman-like, said as ‘ow she wasn’t going togo ‘ome just to please Charlie Brice. She wouldn’t speak a word to ‘im,and when they all went to the music-’all together she sat with her faceturned away from ‘im and her elbow sticking in ‘is chest. Doing that andwatching the performance at the same time gave ‘er a stiff neck, and shegot in such a temper over it she wouldn’t hardly speak to Ted, and whenCharlie—meaning well—told ‘er to rub it with a bit o’ mutton-fat shenearly went off her ‘ead.
“Who asked you to come with us?” she ses, as soon as she could speak.“‘Ow dare you force yourself where you ain’t wanted?”
“Ted wants me,” ses Charlie.
“We’ve been together for years,” ses Ted. “You’ll like Charlie when youget used to ‘im—everybody does.”
“Not me!” ses Emma, with a shiver. “It gives me the fair creeps to lookat him. You’ll ‘ave to choose between us. If he comes, I sha’n’t. Whichis it to be?”
Neither of ‘em answered ‘er, but the next night they both turned up asusual, and Emma White stood there looking at ‘em and nearly crying withtemper.
“‘Ow would you like it if I brought another young lady with me?” she sesto Ted.
“It wouldn’t make no difference to me,” ses Ted. “Any friend o’ yours iswelcome.”
Emma stood looking at ‘em, and then she patted ‘er eyes with apocket-’ankercher and began to look more cheerful.
“You ain’t the only one that has got a dear friend,” she says, looking.at ‘im and wiping ‘er lips with the ‘ankercher. “I’ve got one, and ifCharlie Brice don’t promise to stay at ‘ome to-morrow night I’ll bringher with me.”
“Bring ‘er, and welcome,” ses Ted.
“I sha’n’t stay at ‘ome for fifty dear friends,” ses Charlie.
“Have it your own way,” ses Emma. “If you come, Sophy Jennings comes,that’s all.”
She was as good as ‘er word, too, and next night when they turned upthey found Emma and ‘er friend waiting for them. Charlie thought it wasthe friend’s mother at fust, but he found out arterwards that she was awidder-woman. She had ‘ad two husbands, and both of ‘em ‘ad passed awaywith a smile on their face. She seemed to take a fancy to Charlie themoment she set eyes on ‘im, and two or three times, they’d ‘ave lost Tedand Emma if it hadn’t been for ‘im.
‘When They Turned up They Found Emma and ‘er Friend Waiting for Them.’
They did lose ‘em the next night, and Charlie Brice ‘ad Mrs. Jenningsall alone to himself for over a couple of hours walking up and down theCommercial Road talking about the weather; Charles saying ‘ow wet andcold it, was, and thinking p’r’aps they ‘ad better go off ‘ome afore shegot a chill.
He complained to Ted about it when ‘e got ‘ome, and Ted promised asit shouldn’t ‘appen agin. He said that ‘im and Emma ‘ad been so busytalking about getting married that he ‘ad forgotten to keep an eye onhim.
“Married!” ses Charlie, very upset. “Married! And wot’s to become o’me?”
“Come and lodge with us,” ses Ted.
They shook hands on it, but Ted said they ‘ad both better keep it tothemselves a bit and wait until Emma ‘ad got more used to Charlie afo
rethey told her. Ted let ‘er get used to ‘im for three days more afore hebroke the news to ‘er, and the way she went on was alarming. She wenton for over ten minutes without taking breath, and she was just going tostart again when Mrs. Jennings stopped her.
“He’s all right,” she ses. “You leave ‘im alone.”
“I’m not touching ‘im,” ses Emma, very scornful.
“You leave ‘im alone,” ses Mrs. Jennings, taking hold of Charlie’s arm.“I don’t say things about your young man.”
Charlie Brice started as if he ‘ad been shot, and twice he opened ‘ismouth to speak and show Mrs. Jennings ‘er mistake; but, wot with tryingto find ‘is voice in the fust place, and then finding words to useit with in the second, he didn’t say anything. He just walked alonggasping, with ‘is mouth open like a fish.
“Don’t take no notice of ‘er, Charlie,” ses Mrs. Jennings.
“I—I don’t mind wot she ses,” ses pore Charlie; “but you’re making agreat——”
“She’s quick-tempered, is Emma,” ses Mrs. Jennings. “But, there, so amI. Wot you might call a generous temper, but quick.”
Charlie went cold all over.
“Treat me well and I treat other people well,” ses Mrs. Jennings. “Ican’t say fairer than that, can I?”
Charlie said “Nobody could,” and then ‘e walked along with her hangingon to ‘is arm, arf wondering whether it would be wrong to shove ‘erunder a bus that was passing, and arf wondering whether ‘e could do itif it wasn’t.
“As for Emma saying she won’t ‘ave you for a lodger,” ses Mrs. Jennings,“let ‘er wait till she’s asked. She’ll wait a long time if I ‘ave mysay.”
Charlie didn’t answer her. He walked along with ‘is mouth shut, his ideabeing that the least said the soonest mended. Even Emma asked ‘imat last whether he ‘ad lost ‘is tongue, and said it was curious ‘owdifferent love took different people.
He talked fast enough going ‘ome with Ted though, and pretty near lost‘is temper with ‘im when Ted asked ‘im why he didn’t tell Mrs. Jenningsstraight that she ‘ad made a mistake.
“She knows well enough,” he says, grinding ‘is teeth; “she was justtrying it on. That’s ‘ow it is widders get married agin. You’ll ‘aveto choose between going out with me or Emma, Ted. I can’t face Mrs.Jennings again. I didn’t think anybody could ‘ave parted us like that.”
Ted said it was all nonsense, but it was no good, and the next night hewent off alone and came back very cross, saying that Mrs. Jennings ‘adbeen with ‘em all the time, and when ‘e spoke to Emma about it she saidit was just tit for tat, and reminded ‘im ‘ow she had ‘ad to put upwith Charlie. For four nights running ‘e went out for walks, with Emmaholding one of ‘is arms and Mrs. Jennings the other.
“It’s miserable for you all alone ‘ere by yourself; Charlie,” he ses.“Why not come? She can’t marry you against your will. Besides, I missyou.”
Charlie shook ‘ands with ‘im, but ‘e said ‘e wouldn’t walk out with Mrs.Jennings for a fortune. And all that Ted could say made no difference.He stayed indoors of an evening reading the paper, or going for littlewalks by ‘imseif, until at last Ted came ‘ome one evening, smilingall over his face, and told ‘im they had both been making fools ofthemselves for nothing.
“Mrs. Jennings is going to be married,” he ses, clapping Charlie on theback.
“Wot?” ses Charlie.
Ted nodded. “Her and Emma ‘ad words to-night,” he ses, laughing, “andit all come out. She’s been keeping company for some time. He’s away atpresent, and they’re going to be married as soon as ‘e comes back.”
“Well,” ses Charlie, “why did she——”
“To oblige Emma,” ses Ted, “to frighten you into staying at ‘ome. I’d‘ad my suspicions for some time, from one or two things I picked up.”
“Ho!” ses Charlie. “Well, it’ll be my turn to laugh to-morrow night.We’ll see whether she can shake me off agin.”
Ted looked at ‘im a bit worried. “It’s a bit orkard,” he ses, speakingvery slow. “You see, they made it up arterwards, and then they both mademe promise not to tell you, and if you come, they’ll know I ‘ave.”
Charlie did a bit o’ thinking. “Not if I pretend to make love to Mrs.Jennings?” he ses, at last, winking at ‘im. “And it’ll serve her rightfor being deceitful. We’ll see ‘ow she likes it. Wot sort o’ chap is theyoung man—big?”
“Can’t be,” ses Ted; “cos Emma called ‘im a little shrimp.”
“I’ll come,” ses Charlie; “and it’ll be your own fault if they find outyou told me about it.”
They fell asleep talking of it, and the next evening Charlie put on anew neck-tie he ‘ad bought, and arter letting Ted have arf an hour’sstart went out and met ‘em accidental. The fust Mrs. Jennings knew of‘is being there was by finding an arm put round ‘er waist.
“Good-evening, Sophy,” he ses.
“‘Ow—‘ow dare you?” ses Mrs. Jennings, giving a scream and pushing himaway.
Charlie looked surprised.
“Why, ain’t you pleased to see me?” he ses. “I’ve ‘ad the ragingtoothache for over a week; I’ve got it now a bit, but I couldn’t stayaway from you any longer.”
“You behave yourself,” ses Mrs. Jennings.
“Ted didn’t say anything about your toothache,” ses Emma.
“I wouldn’t let ‘im, for fear of alarming Sophy,” ses Charlie.
Mrs. Jennings gave a sort of laugh and a sniff mixed.
“Ain’t you pleased to see me agin?” ses Charlie.
“I don’t want to see you,” ses Mrs. Jennings. “Wot d’ye think I want tosee you for?”
“Change your mind pretty quick, don’t you?” ses Charlie. “It’s blow ‘otand blow cold with you seemingly. Why, I’ve been counting the minutestill I should see you agin.”
Mrs. Jennings told ‘im not to make a fool of ‘imself, and Charlie saw‘er look at Emma in a puzzled sort of way, as if she didn’t know wot tomake of it. She kept drawing away from ‘im and he kept drawing close to‘er; other people on the pavement dodging and trying to get out of theirway, and asking them which side they was going and to stick to it.
“Why don’t you behave yourself?” ses Emma, at last.
“We’re all right,” ses Charlie; “you look arter your own young man. Wecan look arter ourselves.”
“Speak for yourself,” ses Mrs. Jennings, very sharp.
Charlie laughed, and the more Mrs. Jennings showed ‘er dislike for ‘isnonsense the more he gave way to it. Even Ted thought it was going toofar, and tried to interfere when he put his arm round Mrs. Jennings’swaist and made ‘er dance to a piano-organ; but there was no stopping‘im, and at last Mrs. Jennings said she had ‘ad enough of it, and toldEmma she was going off ‘ome.
‘He Put his Arm Round Mrs. Jennings’s Waist and Made ‘er Dance to aPiano-organ.’
“Don’t take no notice of ‘im,” ses Emma.
“I must,” ses Mrs. Jennings, who was arf crying with rage.
“Well, if you go ‘ome, I shall go,” ses Emma. “I don’t want ‘is company.I believe he’s doing it on purpose.
“Behave yourself, Charlie,” ses Ted.
“All right, old man,” ses Charlie. “You look arter your young woman andI’ll look arter mine.”
“Your wot?” ses Mrs. Jennings, very loud.
“My young woman,” ses Charlie.
“Look ‘ere,” ses Emma. “You may as well know first as last—Sophy ‘as gota young man.”
“O’ course she ‘as,” ses Charlie. “Twenty-seven on the second of nextJanuary, he is; same as me.”
“She’s going to be married,” ses Emma, very solemn.
“Yes, to me,” ses Charlie, pretending to be surprised. “Didn’t you knowthat?”
He looked so pleased with ‘imself at his cleverness that Emma arf put upher ‘and, and then she thought better of it and turned away.
“He’s just doing
it to get rid of you,” she ses to Mrs. Jennings, “andif you give way you’re a bigger silly than I took you for. Let ‘im go onand ‘ave his own way, and tell your intended about ‘im when you see ‘im.Arter all, you started it.”
“I was only ‘aving a bit o’ fun,” ses Mrs. Jennings.
“Well, so is he,” ses Emma.
“Not me!” ses Charlie, turning his eyes up. “I’m in dead earnest; and sois she. It’s only shyness on ‘er part; it’ll soon wear off.”
He took ‘old of Mrs. Jennings’s arm agin and began to tell ‘er ‘owlonely ‘is life was afore she came acrost his path like an angel thathad lost its way. And he went on like that till she told Emma that she’deither ‘ave to go off ‘ome or scream. Ted interfered agin then, and,arter listening to wot he ‘ad got to say, Charlie said as ‘ow he’d tryand keep his love under control a bit more.
“She won’t stand much more of it,” he ses to Ted, arter they ‘adgot ‘ome that night. “I shouldn’t be surprised if she don’t turn upto-morrow.”
Ted shook his ‘ead. “She’ll turn up to oblige Emma,” he ses; “butthere’s no need for you to overdo it, Charlie. If her young man ‘appenedto get to ‘ear of it it might cause trouble.”
“I ain’t afraid of ‘im,” ses Charlie, “not if your description of ‘im isright.”
“Emma knows ‘im,” ses Ted, “and I know she don’t think much of ‘im. Shesays he ain’t as big as I am.”
Charlie smiled to himself and laid awake for a little while thinkingof pet names to surprise Mrs. Jennings with. He called ‘er a fresh oneevery night for a week, and every night he took ‘er a little bunch o’flowers with ‘is love. When she flung ‘em on the pavement he pretendedto think she ‘ad dropped ‘em; but, do wot he would, ‘e couldn’t frighten‘er into staying away, and ‘is share of music-’alls and bus rides andthings like that was more than ‘e cared to think of. All the time Tedwas as happy as a sand-boy, and one evening when Emma asked ‘im to go‘ome to supper ‘e was so pleased ‘e could ‘ardly speak.
“Father thought he’d like to see you,” ses Emma. “I shall be proud toshake ‘im by the ‘and,” ses Ted, going red with joy.
“And you’re to come, too, Sophy,” ses Emma, turning to Mrs. Jennings.
Charlie coughed, feeling a bit orkard-like, and Emma stood there as ifwaiting for ‘im to go.
“Well, so long,” ses Charlie at last. “Take care o’ my little prizepacket.”
“You can come, too, if you like,” ses Emma. “Father said I was to bringyou. Don’t ‘ave none of your nonsense there, that’s all.”
Charlie thanked ‘er, and they was all walking along, him and Mrs.Jennings behind, when Emma looked over ‘er shoulder.
“Sophy’s young man is coming,” she ses.
“Ho!” ses Charlie. He walked along doing a bit o’ thinking, and by andby ‘e gives a little laugh, and he ses, “I—I don’t think p’r’aps I’llcome arter all.”
“Afraid?” ses Emma, with a nasty laugh.
“No,” ses Charlie.
“Well, it looks like it,” ses Emma.
“He’s brave enough where wimmen are concerned,” ses Mrs. Jennings.
“I was thinking of you,” ses Charlie.
“You needn’t trouble about me,” ses Mrs. Jennings. “I can look aftermyself, thank you.”
Charlie looked round, but there was no help for it. He got as far awayfrom Mrs. Jennings as possible, and when they got to Emma’s house hewent in last.
Emma’s father and mother was there and two or three of ‘er brothers andsisters, but the fust thing that Charlie noticed was a great lump of aman standing by the mantelpiece staring at ‘im.
“Come in, and make yourselves at ‘ome,” ses Mr. White. “I’m glad to seeyou both. Emma ‘as told me all about you.”
Charlie’s ‘art went down into ‘is boots, but every-body was so busydrawing their chairs up to the table that they didn’t notice ‘ow palehe ‘ad gone. He sat between Mr. White and Mrs. Jennings, and by and by,when everybody was talking, he turned to ‘im in a whisper, and asked ‘imwho the big chap was.
“Mrs. Jennings’s brother,” ses Mr. White; “brewer’s drayman he is.”
Charlie said, “Oh!” and went on eating, a bit relieved in ‘is mind.
“Your friend and my gal ‘ll make a nice couple,” ses Mr. White, lookingat Ted and Emma, sitting ‘and in ‘and.
“She couldn’t ‘ave a better husband,” ses Charlie, whispering again;“but where is Mrs. Jennings’s young man? I ‘eard he was to be here.”
Mr. White put down ‘is knife and fork. “Eh?” he ses, staring at ‘im.
“Mrs. Jennings’s intended?” ses Charlie.
“Who are you getting at?” ses Mr. White, winking at ‘im.
“But she ‘as got one, ain’t she?” ses Charlie. “That’ll do,” ses Mr.White, with another wink. “Try it on somebody else.”
“Wot are you two talking about?” ses Emma, who ‘ad been watching ‘em.
“He’s trying to pull my leg,” ses ‘er father, smiling all over his face.“Been asking me where Mrs. Jennings’s young man is. P’r’aps you oughtn’tto ‘ave told us yet, Emma.”
“It’s all right,” ses Emma. “He’s got a very jealous disposition, poorfellow; and me and Sophy have been telling ‘im about a young man justto tease ‘im. We’ve been describing him to ‘imself all along, and hethought it was somebody else.”
She caught Charlie’s eye, and all in a flash he saw ‘ow he ‘ad beendone. Some of ‘em began to laugh, and Mrs. Jennings put her ‘and on hisand gave it a squeeze. He sat there struck all of a heap, wondering wothe was going to do, and just at that moment there was a knock at thestreet door.
“I’ll open it,” he ses.
He jumped up before anybody could stop ‘im and went to the door. Twoseconds arter Ted Denver followed ‘im, and that is last he ever saw ofCharlie Brice, he was running down the road without ‘is hat as hard ashe could run.
‘He Was Running Down the Road Without ‘is Hat As Hard As He Could Run.’
