Penelope's Postscripts - LightNovelsOnl.com
You're reading novel online at LightNovelsOnl.com. Please use the follow button to get notifications about your favorite novels and its latest chapters so you can come back anytime and won't miss anything.
"Any place that descends to the sea abruptly or otherwise has my approval in advance," said Tommy.
"Be quiet, my boy."--"It consists of one main street, or rather a main staircase, with a few houses climbing on each side of the combe so far as the narrow s.p.a.ce allows. The houses, each standing on a higher or lower level than its neighbour, are all whitewashed, with gay green doors and lattices." -
"Heavenly!" cried Mrs. Jack. "It sounds like an English Amalfi; let us take the first train."
- "And the general effect is curiously foreign; the views from the quaint little pier and, better still, from the sea, with the pier in the foreground, are also very striking. The foundations of the cottages at the lower end of the village are hewn out of the living rock."
"How does a living rock differ from other rocks--dead rocks?" Tommy asked facetiously. "I have always wanted to know; however, it sounds delightful, though I can't remember anything about Clovelly."
"Did you never read d.i.c.kens's 'Message from the Sea,' Thomas?"
asked Miss Van Tyck. Aunt Celia always knows the number of the unemployed in New York and Chicago, the date when North Carolina was admitted to the Union, why black sheep eat less than white ones, the height of the highest mountain and the length of the longest river in the world, when the first potato was dug from American soil, when the battle of Bull Run was fought, who invented the first fire-escape, how woman suffrage has worked in Colorado and California, the number of trees felled by Mr. Gladstone, the principle of the Westinghouse brake and the Jacquard loom, the difference between peritonitis and appendicitis, the date of the introduction of postal-cards and oleomargarine, the price of mileage on African railways, the influence of Christianity in the Windward Islands, who wrote "There's Another, not a Sister," "At Midnight in his Guarded Tent," "A Thing of Beauty is a Joy Forever," and has taken in through the pores much other information likely to be of service on journeys where an encyclopaedia is not available.
If she could deliver this information without gibes at other people's ignorance she would, of course, be more agreeable; but it is only justice to say that a person is rarely instructive and agreeable at the same moment.
"It is settled, then, that we go to Clovelly," said Jack. "Bring me the ABC Guide, please" (this to the waiter who had just brought in the post).
"Quite settled, and we go at once," said Mrs. Jack, whose joy at arriving at a place is only equalled by her joy in leaving it.
"Penelope, hand me my letters, please; if you were not my guest I should say I had never witnessed such an appet.i.te. Tommy, what news from father? Atlas, how can you drink three cups of British coffee? Oh-h-h, how more than lucky, how heavenly, how providential! Egeria is coming!"
"Egeria?" we cried with one rapturous voice.
"Read your letter carefully, Kitty," said Jack; "you will probably find that she wishes she might come, but finds it impossible."
"Or that she certainly would come if she had anything to wear,"
drawled Tommy.
"Or that she could come perfectly well if it were a few days later," quoth I.
Mrs. Jack stared at us superciliously, and lifting an absurd watch from her antique chatelaine, observed calmly, "Egeria will be at this hotel in one hour and fifteen minutes; I telegraphed her the night before last, and this letter is her reply."
"Who is Egeria?" asked Atlas, looking up from his own letters.
"She sounds like a character in a book."
Mrs. Jack: "You begin, Penelope."
Penelope: "No, I'd rather finish; then I can put in everything that you omit."
Atlas: "Is there so much to tell?"
Tommy: "Rather. Begin with her hair, Penelope."
Mrs. Jack: "No; I'll do that! Don't rattle your knives and forks, shut up your Baedeker, Jackie, and listen while I quote what a certain poet wrote of Egeria when she last visited us:-
"'She has a knot of russet hair: It seems a simple thing to wear Through years, despite of fas.h.i.+on's check, The same deep coil about the neck, But there it twined When first I knew her, And learned with pa.s.sion to pursue her, And if she changed it, to my mind She were a creature of new kind.
"'O first of women who has laid Magnetic glory on a braid!
In others' tresses we may mark If they be silken, blonde, or dark, But thine we praise and dare not feel them, Not Hermes, G.o.d of theft, dare steal them; It is enough for eye to gaze Upon their vivifying maze.'"
Jack: "She has beautiful hair, but as an architect I shouldn't think of mentioning it first. Details should follow, not precede, general characteristics. Her hair is an exquisite detail; so, you might say, is her nose, her foot, her voice; but viewed as a captivating whole, Egeria might be described epigrammatically as an animated lodestone. When a man approaches her he feels his iron- work gently and gradually drawn out of him."
Atlas looked distinctly incredulous at this statement, which was reinforced by the affirmative nods of the whole party.
Penelope: "A man cannot talk to Egeria an hour without wis.h.i.+ng the a.s.sistance of the Society for First Aid to the Injured. She is a kind of feminine fly-paper; the men are attracted by the sweetness, and in trying to absorb a little of it, they stick fast."
Tommy: "Egeria is worth from two to two and a half times more than any girl alive; I would as lief talk to her as listen to myself."
Atlas: "Great Jove, what a concession! I wish I could find a woman--an unmarried woman (with a low bow to Mrs. Jack)--that would produce that effect upon me. So you all like her?"
Aunt Celia: "She is not what I consider a well-informed girl."
Penelope: "Now don't carp, Miss Van Tyck. You love her as much as we all do. 'Like her,' indeed! I detest the phrase. Werther said when asked how he liked Charlotte, 'What sort of creature must he be who merely liked her; whose whole heart and senses were not entirely absorbed by her! Some one asked me lately how I 'liked'
Ossian."
Atlas: "Don't introduce Ossian, Werther and Charlotte into this delightful breakfast chat, I beseech you; the most tiresome trio that ever lived. If they were travelling with us, how they would jar! Ossian would tear the scenery in tatters with his apostrophes, Werther would make love to Mrs. Jack, and Charlotte couldn't cut an English household loaf with a hatchet. Keep to Egeria,--though if one cannot stop at liking her, she is a dangerous subject."
Jack: "Don't imagine from these panegyrics that, to the casual observer, Egeria is anything more than a nice girl. The deadly qualities that were mentioned only appeal to the sympathetic eye (which you have not), and the susceptible heart (which is not yours), and after long acquaintance (which you can't have, for she stays only a week). Tommy, you can meet the charmer at the station; your sister will pack up, and I'll pay the bills and make arrangements for the journey."
Jack Copley (when left alone with his spouse): "Kitty, I wonder, why you invited Egeria to travel in the same party with Atlas."
Mrs. Jack (fencing): "Pooh! Atlas is safe anywhere."
Jack: "He is a man."
Mrs. Jack: "No; he is a reformer."
Jack: "Even reformers fall in love."
Mrs. Jack: "Not unless they can find a woman to reform. Egeria is too nearly perfect to attract Atlas; besides, what does it matter, anyway?"
Jack: "It matters a good deal if it makes him unhappy; he is too good a fellow."
Mrs. Jack: "I've lived twenty-five years and I have never seen a man's unhappiness last more than six months, and I have never seen a woman make a wound in a man's heart that another woman couldn't heal. The modern young man is as tough as--well, I can't think of anything tough enough to compare him to. I've always thought it a pity that the material of which men's hearts is made couldn't be utilized for manufacturing purposes; think of its value for hinges, or for the toes of little boys' boots, or the heels of their stockings!"
Jack: "I should think you had just been jilted, my dear; how has Atlas offended you?"
Mrs. Jack: "He hasn't offended me; I love him, but I think he is too absent-minded lately."
Jack: "And is Egeria invited to join us in order that she may bring his mind forcibly back to the present?"
Mrs. Jack: "Not at all; I consider Atlas as safe as a--as a church, or a dictionary, or a guide-post, or anything; he is too much interested in tenement-house reform to fall in love with a woman."
Jack: "I think a sensible woman wouldn't be out of place in Atlas'
schemes for the regeneration of humanity."
Mrs. Jack: "No; but Egeria isn't a--yes, she is, too; I can't deny it, but I don't believe she knows anything about the sweating system, and she adores Ossian and Fiona Macleod, so she probably won't appeal to Atlas in his present state, which, to my mind, is unnecessarily intense. The service of humanity renders a young man perfectly callous to feminine charms. It's the proverbial safety of numbers, I suppose, for it's always the individual that leads a man into temptation, if you notice, never the universal;--Woman, not women. I have studied Atlas profoundly, and he is nearly as blind as a bat. He paid no attention to my new travelling-dress last week, and yesterday I wore four rings on my middle finger and two on each thumb all day long, just to see if I could catch his eye and hold his attention. I couldn't."