The Town Traveller Part 25

"And the Honourable Minnie Trefoyle--she, too, enjoys good health, I trust?"

Polly and Gammon exchanged a stare, followed by laughter, which was a little forced on the man's part.

"That's Miss Clover," he remarked. "Sounds queer, doesn't it?"

"That's her _reel_ name?" cried Polly.

"Indeed it is, Miss Sparkes," replied Greenacre. "But let me remind you--if it is not impertinent--that beauty and grace can very well afford to dispense with t.i.tles. I think, Gammon, you and I know a case in point."

Polly tossed her head and shuffled her feet, well pleased with the men's laughter.

"And if it comes to that," Greenacre pursued, "I don't mind saying, Gammon, that I suspect you to be a confoundedly lucky and enviable dog.

May I congratulate him, Miss Sparkes?"

"Oh, you can if you like, Mr.--I forget your name."

"I do so then, Gammon. I congratulate you, and I envy you. Heigh-ho!

I'm a lonely bachelor myself, Miss Sparkes--no, hang it, Miss Polly.

You may well look pityingly at me."

"I'm sure I don't, Mr.--I can't remember your name," answered Polly with a delighted giggle.

"See here, Greenacre," Gammon interposed genially, "Miss Sparkes and I will have to talk this over. Mind you, I give no promise. I found out for myself who Mr. Clover was, and I hold myself free to do what I think fit. You quite understand?"

Greenacre nodded absently. Then he cleared his throat.

"I quite understand, my dear boy. I should like just to remind you that there's really nothing to be gained, one way or the other, by interfering with Lord Polperro before he has made his plans. The ladies would in no way be benefited, and it's very certain no one else would be. No doubt you'll bear that in mind."

"Of course I shall. You may take it from me, Greenacre, that I'm tolerably wide awake. Can I still address you at the Bilboes?"

"You can," was the grave and dignified reply. "And now, as I happen to have an appointment at the other end of the town, I really must say good-bye. I repeat, Miss Sparkes, you may trust me absolutely. I have your interests and those of my friend Gammon--the same thing now--thoroughly at heart. You will hear from his lords.h.i.+p, Miss Sparkes--no, hang it, Miss Polly. You will very soon have a line from his lords.h.i.+p, who, I may venture to say, is really attached to you. He speaks of you all most touchingly. Good evening, Miss Polly, not good-bye; we are to meet again very soon. And who knows all the happy changes that are before you. Ta-ta, Gammon. Rely upon me; I never failed a friend yet."

So saying he took his leave with bows and flourishes. Shortly after Polly and Gammon went into the superior room of the tavern and had tea together, talking at a great rate, one as excited as the other. Miss Sparkes being already attired for her evening duties they parted only when they were obliged to do so, agreeing to meet again when Polly left the theatre.

To pa.s.s this interval of time Mr. Gammon dropped into a music-hall. He wished to meditate on what had come to his knowledge. Had it not been that Lord Polperro was, in a sense, a public inst.i.tution, and could not escape him, he would have felt uneasy about the doings of that remarkable fellow Greenacre; as it was, he preferred to muse on the advantages certain to befall Minnie and her mother, and perchance Polly Sparkes. After all, the niece of a lord must benefit substantially by the connexion, and by consequence that young lady's husband. No one could have been freer from secondary motives than he, when he found himself falling in love with Polly; and if it turned out a marriage of unforeseen brilliancy, why, so much the better. Polly had not altered towards him--dear, affectionate girl that she was I He would act honourably; she should have the chance of reconsidering her position; but--

A damsel, sparingly clad, was singing in the serio-comic vein, with a dance after each stanza. As he sipped his whisky, and watched and listened, Gammon felt his heart glow within him. The melody was lulling; it had a refrain of delicious sentiment. The listener's eyes grew moist; there rose a lump in his throat. Dear Polly! Lovely Polly!

Would he not cherish her to the day of his death? How could he have fancied that he loved anyone else? Darling Polly!

When the singer withdrew he clapped violently, and thereupon called for another Scotch hot, with lemon.

As a matter of course a friend soon discovered him, a man who declared himself in a whisper "stonebroke," and said, after a gla.s.s of the usual beverage, that if the truth must be told he had looked in here this evening to save himself from the torments of despair. Three young children, and the missus just going to have another. Did Gammon know of any opening in the cork line?

"Afraid not," replied the traveller, "but I know a man out Hoxton way who's pus.h.i.+ng a new lamp-gla.s.s cleaner. You might give him a look in.

It goes well, I'm told, in the eastern suburbs."

Presently a coin of substantial value pa.s.sed from Gammon's pocket into that of his gloomy friend.

"Poor devil!" said the good fellow to himself. "He married a tripe-dresser's daughter, and she nags him. Never had a chance to marry a jolly little girl who turned out to have a lord for her uncle!"

So he drank and applauded, and piped his eye and drank again, till it was time to meet Polly. When he went forth into the cold street never was man more softly amorous, more mirthfully exultant, more kindly disposed to all the dwellers upon earth. Life abounds in such forms of happiness, yet we are told that it is a sad and sorry affair!

CHAPTER XIX

NOT IN THE SECRET

Since his adventure in knight-errantry Christopher Parish had suffered terrible alternations of hope and despair. For fear of offending Miss Sparkes he did not press for an explanation of the errand on which she had sent him enough that he was again permitted to see her, to entertain her modestly, and to hold her attention whilst he discoursed on the glories of the firm of Swettenham. Every week supplied him with new and astounding Swettenham statistics. He was able to report, as "an absolute fact," that a junior member of the firm--a junior, mind you--was building a house at Eastbourne which would cost him, all told, not one penny less than sixty-five thousand pounds! He would like to see that house; in fact, he must see it. When Easter came round would Miss Sparkes honour him with her company on a day trip to Eastbourne, that they might gaze together on the appalling mansion?

"P'r'aps," replied Polly, "if you're good."

Whereat Mr. Parish perspired with ecstasy, and began at once to plan the details of the outing.

Indeed, Polly was very gracious to him, and presently something happened which enhanced her graciousness--perhaps increased her genuine liking for the amiable young man. Her friend, Miss Waghorn, was about to be married to Mr. Nibby. It was a cheerless time of the year for a wedding, but Mr. Nibby had just come in for a little legacy, on the strength of which he took a house in a southeast suburb, and furnished it on the hire system, with a splendour which caused Miss Waghorn to shriek in delight, and severely tested the magnanimity of Polly's friends.h.i.+p. Polly was to be a bridesmaid, and must needs have a becoming dress but where was it to come from? Her perfidious uncle had vanished (she knew not yet _who_ that uncle really was), and her "tips"

of late had been--in Polly's language--measly. In the course of friendly chat she mentioned to Mr. Parish that the wedding was for that day week, and added, with head aside, that she couldn't imagine what she was going to wear.

"I shall patch up some old dress, I s'pose. Lucky it's dark weather."

Christopher became meditative, and seemed to s.h.i.+rk the subject. But on the morrow there arrived for Polly a letter addressed in his handwriting--an envelope rather--which contained two postal orders, each for one pound, but not a word on the paper enfolding them.

"Well now," cried Polly within herself, "if that ain't gentlemanly of him! Who'd a' thought it! And me just going to put my bracelet away!"

By which she meant that she was about to p.a.w.n her jewellery to procure a bridesmaid's dress. Grat.i.tude, for the moment, quite overcame her.

She sat down and wrote a letter of thanks, so worded that the recipient was beside himself for a whole day. He in turn wrote a letter of three full sheets, wherein, among other lyrical extravagances, he expressed a wish that by dying a death of slow torture he could endow Miss Sparkes with fabulous wealth. How gladly would he perish, knowing that she would come to lay artificial flowers upon his grave, and to the end of her life see that the letters on his tombstone were kept legible.

So Polly made a handsome appearance at the wedding. As a matter of fact, she came near to exciting unpleasantness between bride and bridegroom, so indiscreet was Mr. Nibby in his spoken and silent admiration. After consuming a great deal of indifferent champagne at Mr. Nibby's lodgings the blissful couple departed to spend a week at Bournemouth, and Polly returned to the room in Shaftesbury Avenue, which henceforth she would occupy alone. "And a good riddance!" she said to herself pettishly as she stripped off her wedding garments.

On this very evening she wrote to Mr. Gammon--the letter he was never to read.

Mr. Gammon had received an invitation to the ceremony, but through pressure of business was unable to accept it. He felt, too, that there would have been awkwardness in thus meeting with Polly for the first time since their rupture on the Embankment.

Polly, of course, concluded that he kept away solely because he did not wish to see her. In the mood induced by this reflection, and by the turbid emotions natural to such a day, she penned her farewell to the insulting and perfidious man. Mr. Gammon was informed that never and nowhere would Miss Sparkes demean herself by exchanging another word with him; that he was a low and vulgar and ignorant person, without manners enough for a road-sc.r.a.per; moreover, that she had long since been the object of _sincere_ attentions from someone so vastly his superior that they were not to be named in the same month. This overflow of feeling was some relief, but Polly could not rest until she had also written to Mrs. Clover. She made known to her aunt that Mr.

Gammon had of late been guilty of such insolent behaviour to her (the writer) that she had serious thoughts of seeking protection from the police. "As he is such a great friend of yours and Minnie's, I thought I had better warn you. Perhaps you might like to try and teach him better behaviour, though I can't say as you are the person to do it.

And you may be pleased to hear that I should not wonder if I am shortly to be married to a _gentleman_, which it won't surprise you after that if I am unable to see anything more of you and your family."

But for a violent storm which broke out after eleven that night, just as she finished these compositions, Polly would have posted them forthwith, and Mr. Gammon would in that case have received his letter by the first post next morning. As it was they remained in Polly's room all night, and only an hour or two after their actual dispatch came the fateful telegram which was to make such a revolution in Miss Sparkes'

sentiments and prospects. Mrs. Clover duly received her missive, and gave a good deal of thought to it, Being a woman of some self-command she spoke no word of the matter to Minnie nor, though greatly tempted, did she pen a reply, but in a few days she sent a quiet invitation to Polly's father, desiring the pleasure of his company at tea on Sunday.

Mr. Sparkes came. He was in very low spirits, for during the past week Chaffey's had disgraced itself (if Chaffey's _could_ now be disgraced) by supplying a supper at eighteen-pence per head, exclusive of liquors, to certain provincial representatives of the Rag, Bone, and Bottle Dealers' Alliance in town for the purpose of attending a public meeting. He called it 'art-breaking, he did. The long and short of it was, he must prepare himself--and Chaffey's--for the inevitable farewell. Why, it wasn't as if they had supplied the rag-tags with a _good_ supper. You should have seen the stuff put before them; every blessed dish a hash-up of leavings and broken meats. No man with a vestige of self-respect could continue to wait at such entertainments.

And this amid the gilding and the plush and the marble-topped tables, which sickened one with their surface imitation of real rest'rants.

"Wouldn't you like to retire into private life, Ebenezer?" asked his hostess. "I'm sure you _could_, couldn't you?"

"Well, Louisa," he replied with hesitation, "if it comes to that, I _could_. But I hardly know how I should spend my time."