TWO: SEVEN-STROKE HORSE. SEVEN-STROKE HORSE.To the left of the Gothic and inner halls, a very large room had been built out to the demolition of a laurel shrubbery. This was Mr Keelings study, and when he gave his house over to the taste of his decorators, he made the stipulation that they should not exercise their artistic faculties{17} therein, but leave it entirely to him. In fact, there had been a short and violent scene of ejection when the card-holding crocodile had appeared on a table there owing to the inadvertence of a house-maid, for Mr Keeling had thrown it out of the window on to the carriage sweep, and one of its hind legs had to be repaired. Here for furniture he had a gray drugget on the floor, a couple of easy chairs, half a dozen deal ones, an immense table and a step-ladder, while the wall space was entirely taken up with book shelves. These were but as yet half-filled, and stacks of books, some still in the parcels in which they had arrived from dealers and publishers, stood on the floor. This room with its books was Mr Keelings secret romance: all his life, even from the days of the fish-shop, the collection of fine illustrated books had been his hobby, his hortus inclusus, where lay his escape from the eternal pursuit of money-making and from the tedium of domestic life. There he indulged his undeveloped love of the romance of literature, and the untutored joy with which design of line and colour inspired him. As an apostle of thoroughness in business and everything else, his books must be as well equipped as books could be: there must be fine bindings, the best paper and printing, and above all there must be pictures. When that was done you might say you had got a book. For rarity and antiquity he cared nothing at all; a sumptuous edition of a book{18} of nursery rhymes was more desirable in his eyes than any Caxton. Here in his hard, industrious, Puritan life, was Keelings secret garden, of which none of his family held the key. Few at all entered the room, and into the spirit of it none except perhaps the young man who was at the head of the book department at Keelings stores. He had often been of use to the proprietor in pointing out to him the publication of some new edition he might wish to possess, and now and then, as on this particular Sunday afternoon, he was invited to spend an hour at the house looking over Mr Keelings latest purchases. He came, of course, by the back door, and was conducted by the boy in buttons along the servants passage, for Mrs Keeling would certainly not like to have the front door opened to him. That would have been far from proper, and he might have put his hat on one of the brass-tipped chamois horns. But there was no real danger of that, for it had never occurred to Charles Propert to approach The Cedars by any but the tradesmans entrance.
ONE:There was further delay. The bowler at the other end objected to the position of the Clockwork man. He argued, reasonably enough, that the non-participating batsman ought to stand quite clear of the wicket. The umpire had to be consulted, and, as a result of his decision, the Clockwork man was gently but firmly induced to move further away. He then remained, in the same attitude, at the extreme edge of the crease. His obtuseness was certainly remarkable, and comment among the spectators now became general and a trifle heated.Close by was a clothes-merchant, to whom a customer was making an offer, while the dealer was rubbing his head and vowing he could not possibly part with the garment at that price. Frank watched him to see how the affair terminated, and found it was very much as though the transaction had been in New York instead of Tokio: the merchant, whispering he would ne'er consent, consented, and the customer obtained the garment at his own figures when the vender found he could not obtain his own price. It is the same all the earth over, and Frank thought he[Pg 124] saw in this tale of a coat the touch of nature that makes the whole world kin.
THREE:
THREE:"Good-bye,--Dick."
THREE:Now Mrs Keeling had a very high opinion of her powers of tact and intuition. Here was a situation that promised to drive the final nail into the cheap and flimsy coffin of Mrs Fysons hopes. Mr Silverdale had come to tea all alone with Alice, and here was Alice writing him a note that required an answer not half an hour afterwards. Her intuition instantly told her that Mr Silverdale had made a proposal of marriage to Alice, and that Alice had written to him saying that he must allow her a little time to think it over. (Why Alice should not have said that, or why Alice should not have instantly accepted him, her intuition did not tell her.) But it was certain that no other grouping of surmises would fit the facts. Then her intuition having done its work, though bursting with curiosity she summoned her tact to her aid, and began to talk about the spiders web again. She was determined not to pry into her daughters heart, but wait for her daughter to open the door of it herself. Alice (and this only served to confirm Mrs Keelings conjectures) responded instantly to this tactful treatment, and began to talk so excitedly about the spiders web, and the plush monkey, and their journey to Brighton next day, that Mrs Keeling almost began to be afraid that she was feverish again. But presently this volubility died down, and she{220} sat, so Mrs Keeling rightly conjectured, listening for something. Once she was certain that she heard steps in the next room, and went to see if her father had come in: once she was almost sure that the telephone bell had rung, and wondered who it could be disturbing them at their chat over the fire. Then, without doubt, the telephone bell did ring, and on this occasion she pretended she had not heard it, but hurriedly left the room on the pretext of taking her tonic. She left the door open, and Mrs Keeling could distinctly hear her asking her tonic apparently who it was, though well aware that it was strychnine.... Then after a pause she heard her thanking her tonic ever ever so much, and she came back looking as if it had done her a great deal of good already.
TWO:He paused a moment.
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TWO:
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THREE:"Of course, you will want to know if the Japanese women are pretty. Now, you mustn't be jealous when I say they are. Fred thinks so too, and you know it won't do for me to have a quarrel with Fred when we are travelling together, and especially when I think he's right. They are all brunettes, and have sharp, bright eyes, full of smiles, and their skins are clear and healthy. They look very pleasant and happy; and they have such sweet, soft voices that nobody could help liking them even if he didn't want to. They have such nice manners, too, that you feel quite at your ease in their company. They may be wishing you ten thousand miles away, and saying to themselves that they hate the sight of a foreigner; but if they do, they manage to conceal their thoughts so completely that you can never know them. You may say this is all deception, and perhaps it is; but it is more agreeable than to have them treat you rudely, and tell you to get out of the way.
THREE:This entertaining scheme succeeded admirably. Alice showed a remarkable sense of dramatic by-play, and talked very eagerly to her neighbour, while Mr Silverdale stripped off layer after layer of paper, as if she was quite unaware that anything unusual was happening, and it was not till an unmistakable shape of slippers began to reveal itself in the core, that Master guessed.I will do my best to satisfy you, sir, she answered.
THREE:Yes; he usually comes with me in the evening, said Norah, but he is in bed with a very bad cold.
THREE:From the mere habit of pawing, he laid his hand on hers.
THREE:Dear me, Mamma! said Mrs Keeling, you talk as if the gentleman was a bit of beef.
THREE:Leona Lalage's eyes gleamed like points of fire. They seemed to be burnt into her face. Hetty could see the restless play of the 62jeweled hands.
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ONE:"No, suh, dass so. But same time, while she no notion o' gitt'n' him cotch, she believe she dess djuty-bound to head-off his devilment. 'Tis dess like I heah' Mr. Goshen say to Miss Hahpeh, 'Dis ain't ow own li'l pri'--'"
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"The Chinese have a god of thieves; but he has no temple, and is generally worshipped in the open air. All the thieves are supposed to worship him, as he is a saint who made their business successful; and, besides this, he is worshipped by those who wish to become wealthy in honest ways. He is said to have been a skilful thief, and very pious at the same time. He was kind to his mother, and the most of his stealing was done to support her.There was no mistaking the sincerity of this, the good feeling of it. Keeling was moved to be equally sincere.The End
