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35,   NEW    QUtn--"    STRe 


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V I  Si  t  l^ 


-  A  T  X^  N  EOR-i^ 

jHTS  BRIDGE,  S.W. 


Presented  to  the 

LIBRARY  of  the 

UNIVERSITY  OF  TORONTO 

by 

SCOTT  THOMPSON 


The  Celebrity  at  Home 


The  Celebrity  at  Home 


Bv  VIOLET  HUNT 

AUTHOR   OF   *A    HARD   WOMAN* 


SECOND  EDITION 


LONDON 

CHAPMAN   AND   HALL,   LD. 

1904 


Tempe,  a  valley  in  Thessaly,  between  Mount  Olympus  at  the  north, 
and  Ossa  at  the  south,  through  which  the  river  Peneus  flows  into  the 
yEgean.  — Lemprilre. 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT   HOME 


CHAPTER  I 

THEY  say  that  a  child's  childhood  is  the  happiest 
time  of  its  life  ! 

Mine  isn't. 

For  it  is  nice  to  do  as  you  like  even  if  it  isn't  good 
for  you.  It  is  nice  to  overeat  yourself  even  though 
it  does  make  you  ill  afterwards.  It  is  a  positive 
pleasure  to  go  out  and  do  something  that  catches 
you  a  cold,  if  you  want  to,  and  to  leave  off  your 
winter  clothes  a  month  too  soon.  Children  hate 
feeling  "  stuffy  " — no  grown-up  person  understands 
that  feeling  that  makes  you  wriggle  and  twist  till  you 
get  sent  to  bed.  It  is  nice  to  go  to  bed  when  you 
are  sleepy,  and  no  sooner,  not  to  be  despatched  any 
time  that  grown-up  people  are  tired  of  you  and  take 
the  quickest  way  to  get  rid  of  a  nuisance.  Taken 
all  round,  the  very  nicest  thing  in  the  world  is  your 
own  way  and  plenty  of  it,  and  you  never  get  that 
properly,  it  seems  to  me,  until  you  are  too  old  to 
enjoy  it,  or  too  cross  to  admit  that  you  do  ! 

I  suspect  that  the  word  "  rice-pudding  "  will  be 


4  THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

written  on  my  heart,  as  Calais  was  on  Bloody  Mary's, 
when  I  am  dead. 

I  have  got  that  blue  shade  about  the  eyes  that 
they  say  early-dying  children  have,  and  I  may 
die  young.  So  I  am  going  to  write  down  every- 
thing, just  as  it  happens,  in  my  life,  because 
when  I  grow  up,  I  mean  to  be  an  author,  like  my 
father  before  me,  and  teach  in  song,  or  in  prose, 
what  I  have  learned  in  suffering.  Doing  this  will 
get  me  insensibly  into  the  habit  of  composition. 
George  —  my  father — we  always  call  him  by  his 
Christian  name  by  request — offered  to  look  it  over 
for  me,  but  I  do  not  think  that  I  shall  avail  myself 
of  his  kindness.  I  want  to  be  quite  honest,  and  set 
down  everything,  in  malice,  as  grown-up  people  do, 
and  then  your  book  is  sure  to  be  amusing.  I  shall 
say  the  worst — I  mean  the  truth — about  everybody, 
including  myself.  That  is  what  makes  a  book 
saleable.  People  don't  like  to  be  put  off  with  short 
commons  in  scandal,  and  chuck  the  book  into  the 
fire  at  once  as  I  have  seen  George  do,  when  the 
writer  is  too  discreet.  My  book  will  not  be  discreet, 
but  crisp,  and  gossippy.  Even  Ariadne  must  not 
read  it,  however  much  of  my  hair  and  its  leaves  she 
pulls  out,  for  she  will  claw  me  in  her  rage,  of  course. 
Grammar  and  spelling  will  not  be  made  a  specialty 
of,  because  what  you  gain  in  propriety  you  lose  in 
originality  and  verve.  I  do  adore  verve  ! 

George's  own  style  is  said  to  be  the  perfection  of 
nervousness  and  vervousness.  He  is  a  genius,  he 
admits  it.  I  am  proud,  but  not  glad,  for  it  cuts 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  5 

both  ways,  and  it  is  hardly  likely  that  there  will  be 
two  following  after  each  other  so  soon  in  the  same 
family.  Though  one  never  knows  ?  Mozart's  father 
was  a  musical  man,  George  says  that  to  be  daughter 
to  such  a  person  is  a  liberal  education  ;  it  seems 
about  all  the  education  I  am  likely  to  get !  George 
teaches  me  Greek  and  Latin,  when  he  has  time.  He 
won't  touch  Ariadne,  for  she  isn't  worth  it.  He 
says  I  am  apt.  Dear  me,  one  may  as  well  make 
lessons  a  pleasure,  instead  of  a  scene !  Ariadne  cried 
the  first  time  at  Perspective,  when  George,  after  a 
long  explanation  that  puzzled  her,  asked  her  in  that 
particular,  sniffy,  dried-up  tone  teachers  put  on, 
— "  Did  she  see  ?  "  And  when  he  asked  me,  I 
didn't  see  either,  but  I  said  I  did,  to  prevent 
unpleasantness. 

I  do  not  know  why  I  am  called  Tempe.  Short 
for  temper,  the  new  cook  says,  but  when  I  asked 
George,  he  laughed,  and  bid  me  and  the  cook  beware 
of  obvious  derivations.  It  appears  that  there  is  a 
pretty  place  somewhere  in  Greece  called  the  Vale  of 
Tempe,  and  that  I  am  named  after  that,  surely  a 
mistake.  My  father  calls  me  a  devil — plain  devil 
when  he  is  cross,  little  devil  when  he  is  pleased.  I 
take  it  as  a  compliment,  for  look  at  my  sister  Ariadne, 
she  is  as  good  as  gold,  and  what  does  she  get  by  it  ? 
She  does  not  contradict  or  ask  questions  or  bother 
anybody,  but  reads  poetry  and  does  her  hair  different 
ways  all  day  long.  She  never  says  a  sharp  word — 
can't !  George  says  she  is  bound  to  get  left,  like 
the  first  Ariadne  was.  She  is  long  and  pale  and 


6  THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

thin,  and  white  like  a  snowdrop,  except  for  her 
reddish  hair.  The  pert  hepatica  is  my  favourite 
flower.  It  comes  straight  out  of  the  ground,  like 
me,  without  any  fuss  or  preparation  in  the  way  of 
leaves  and  trimmings. 

I  know  that  I  am  not  ugly.  I  know  it  by  the 
art  of  deduction.  We  none  of  us  are,  or  we  should 
not  have  been  allowed  to  survive.  George  would 
never  have  condescended  to  own  ugly  children.  We 
should  have  been  exposed  when  we  were  babies  on 
Primrose  Hill,  which  is,  I  suppose,  the  tantamount 
of  Mount  Taygetus,  as  the  ancient  Greeks  did  their 
ugly  babies.  We  aren't  allowed  to  read  Lempriere. 
I  do.  What  brutes  those  Greeks  were,  and  did  not 
even  know  one  colour  from  the  other,  so  George  says ! 

I  am  right  in  saying  we  are  all  tolerable.  The 
annoying  thing  is  that  the  new  cook,  who  knows 
what  she  is  talking  about,  says  that  children  "  go 
in  and  out  so,"  and  even  Aunt  Gerty  says  that 
"  fancy  children  never  last,"  and  after  all  this,  I 
feel  that  the  pretty  ones  can  never  count  on  keeping 
up  to  their  own  standard. 

I  cannot  tell  you  if  our  looks  come  from  our 
father,  or  our  mother  ?  George  is  small,  with  a  very 
brown  skin.  He  says  he  descends  "  from  the  little 
dark,  persistent  races  "  that  come  down  from  the 
mountains  and  take  the  other  savages'  sheep  and 
cows.  He  has  good  eyes.  They  dance  and  flash.  His 
hair  is  black,  brushed  back  from  his  forehead  like  a 
Frenchman,  and  very  nice  white  teeth.  He  has  a 
mouth  like  a  Jesuit,  I  have  heard  Aunt  Gerty  say. 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME  7 

He  never  sits  very  still.  He  is  about  thirty-seven, 
but  he  does  not  like  us  chattering  about  his  age. 

Mother  looks  awfully  young  for  hers — thirty-six  ; 
and  she  would  look  prettier  if  she  didn't  burn  her 
eyes  out  over  the  fire  making  dishes  for  George,  and 
prick  her  fingers  darning  his  socks  till  he  doesn't 
find  out  they  are  darned,  or  else  he  wouldn't  wear 
them  again,  and  spoil  her  figure  stooping,  sewing  and 
ironing.  George  won't  have  a  sewing  machine  in 
the  house.  Her  head  is  a  very  good  shape,  and  she 
does  her  hair  plain  over  the  top  to  show  it.  George 
made  her.  Sometimes  when  he  isn't  there,  she  does 
it  as  she  used  before  she  was  married,  all  waved  and 
floating,  more  like  Aunt  Gerty,  who  is  an  actress, 
and  dresses  her  head  sunning  over  with  curls  like 
Maud.  George  has  never  caught  Mother  like  that, 
or  he  would  be  very  angry.  He  considers  that 
she  has  the  bump  of  domesticity  highly  developed 
(though  even  when  her  hair  is  done  plain  I  never 
can  see  it  ?),  and  that  is  why  she  enjoys  being  wife, 
mother,  and  upper  housemaid  all  in  one. 

We  only  keep  two  out  here  at  Isleworth,  though 
my  brother  Ben  is  very  useful  as  handy  boy 
about  the  place,  blacking  our  boots  and  browning 
George's,  and  cleaning  the  windows  and  stopping 
them  from  rattling  at  nights — a  thing  that  George 
can't  stand  when  he  is  here.  When  he  isn't  we  just 
let  them  rave,  and  it  is  a  perfect  concert,  for  this 
is  a  very  old  Georgian  house.  Mother  makes  every- 
thing, sheets,  window-curtains,  and  our  frocks  and 
her  own.  She  makes  them  all  by  the  same  pattern, 


8  THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

quite  straight  like  sacks.  George  likes  to  see  us 
dressed  simply,  and  of  course  it  saves  dressmakers' 
bills,  or  board  of  women  working  in  the  house,  who 
simply  eat  you  out  of  it  in  no  time.  We  did  have 
one  once  to  try,  and  when  she  wasn't  lapping  up 
cocoa  to  keep  the  cold  out,  she  was  sucking  her 
thimble  to  fill  up  the  vacuum.  We  are  dressed 
strictly  utilitarian,  and  wear  our  hair  short  like  Ben, 
and  when  it  gets  long  mother  puts  a  pudding  basin 
on  our  heads  and  snips  away  all  that  shows.  At 
last  Ariadne  cried  herself  into  leave  to  let  hers 
grow. 

The  new  cook  says  that  if  we  weren't  dressed  so 
queer,  Ariadne  and  me,  we  should  make  some  nice 
friends,  but  that  is  just  what  George  doesn't  want. 
He  likes  us  to  be  self-contained,  and  says  that  there 
is  no  one  about  here  that  he  would  care  to  have  us 
associate  with.  Our  doorstep  will  never  wear  down 
with  people  coming  in,  for  except  Aunt  Gerty,  and 
Mr.  Aix,  the  oldest  friend  of  the  family,  not  a  soul 
ever  crosses  the  threshold  ! 

I  am  forgetting  the  house-agent's  little  girl,  round 
the  corner  into  Corinth  Road.  She  comes  here  to 
tea  with  us  sometimes.  She  is  exactly  between 
Ariadne  and  me  in  age,  so  we  share  her  as  a  friend 
equally.  We  got  to  know  her  through  our  cat 
Robert  the  Devil  choosing  to  go  and  stay  in  Corinth 
Road  once.  At  the  end  of  a  week  her  people  had 
the  bright  thought  of  looking  at  the  name  and 
address  on  his  collar,  and  sent  him  back  by  Jessie, 
who  then  made  friends  with  us.  George  said,  when 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  9 

he  was  told  of  it,  that  the  Hitchings  are  so  much 
lower  in  the  social  scale  than  we  are,  that  it  perhaps 
does  not  matter  our  seeing  a  little  of  each  other. 
She  is  better  dressed  than  us,  in  spite  of  her  low 
social  scale.  She  has  got  a  real  osprey  in  her  hat, 
and  a  mink  stole  to  wear  to  church,  that  is  so  long 
it  keeps  getting  its  ends  in  the  mud.  She  doesn't 
like  our  George,  though  we  like  hers.  George  came 
out  of  his  study  once  and  passed  through  the  dining- 
room,  where  Jessie  was  having  tea  with  us. 

"  Isn't  he  a  cure  ?  "  said  she,  with  her  mouth  full 
of  his  bread-and-butter. 

We  told  her  that  our  George  was  no  more  of  a 
cure  than  hers,  which  shut  her  upland  was  quite  safe, 
as  neither  Ariadne  nor  I  know  what  a  "  cure " 
is.  She  isn't  really  a  bad  sort  of  girl.  We  teach 
her  poetry,  and  mythology,  and  she  teaches  us 
dancing  and  religion.  She  has  a  governess  all  to 
herself  every  morning,  and  goes  to  church  regularly. 
She  once  said  that  her  mamma  called  us  poor,  neg- 
lected children,  and  pitied  us.  We  hit  her  for  her 
mother,  and  there  was  an  end  of  that.  We  love 
each  other  dearly  now,  and  have  promised  to  be 
bridesmaids  to  each  other,  and  godmothers  to  each 
other's  children.  I  am  going  to  have  ten. 

Ariadne  went  to  her  birthday  party  at  Christmas, 
and  did  a  very  silly  thing,  that  Mother  advised  her 
not  to  tell  George  about.  Every  one  at  home  agreed 
that  poor  Ariadne  had  been  dreadfully  rude,  but 
I  can't  see  it  ?  I  adore  sincerity.  When  Mr.  Hitch- 
ings  asked  her  what  she  would  like  out  of  the 


io  THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

bran-pie  when  it  was  opened,  same  as  they  asked 
all  the  other  children,  Ariadne  only  said  quite 
modestly,  "  A  new  papa,  please  !  " 

Their  faces  frightened  her  so,  that  she  tried  to 
improve  it  away,  and  explain  she  meant  that  she 
should  like  an  every-day  papa,  like  Mr.  Hitchings, 
not  only  a  Sunday  one,  like  George.  I  know  of 
course  what  she  meant,  a  papa  that  one  sees  only 
from  Saturdays  to  Mondays,  and  not  always  then, 
is  only  half  a  papa. 

Ariadne's  real  name  is  Ariadne  Florentina,  after 
one  of  George's  friends'  books.  She  has  nice  hair. 
It  is  reddish  and  yet  soft,  but  it  won't  curl  by  itself, 
which  is  a  great  grief  and  sorrow  to  her.  But  at 
any  rate,  her  eyelashes  are  awfully  long  and  dark, 
and  she  likes  to  put  the  bedclothes  right  over  her 
head  and  listen  to  her  eyelashes  scrabbling  about 
on  the  sheet  quite  loud.  She  has  big  eyes  like 
nursery  saucers.  The  new  cook  calls  them  loving 
eyes.  On  the  whole,  Ariadne  is  pretty,  she  would 
think  she  was  even  if  she  wasn't,  so  it  is  a  good  thing 
she  is.  She  considers  herself  wasted,  for  she  is 
over  eighteen  now,  and  she  has  never  been  to  a 
party  or  worn  a  low  neck  in  her  life.  We  have 
neither  of  us  ever  seen  a  low  neck,  but  we  know  what 
it  is  from  books,  and  from  them  also  we  learn  that 
eighteen  is  the  age  when  it  takes  less  stuff  to  cover 
you.  The  new  cook  says  that  all  her  young  ladies 
at  her  last  place  came  out  when  they  were  only 
seventeen.  What  is  outness  ?  I  asked  George 
once,  and  he  said  it  was  a  device  of  the  Philistines. 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  n 

I  then  told  him  that  the  new  cook  said  that  Ariadne 
would  never  be  married  and  off  his  hands  unless  he 
gave  her  her  chance  like  other  young  ladies,  and 
he  said  something  about  a  girl  called  Beatrice 
who  was  out  and  married  and  dead  before  she  was 
nine.  Her  surname  was  Porter,  if  I  recollect.  The 
new  cook  said  "  Hout !  "  and  that  Beatrice  Porter 
was  all  her  eye  and  just  an  excuse  for  selfishness  ! 

Anyhow  it  is  Ariadne's  affair,  and  she  doesn't  seem 
to  care  much,  except  when  the  new  cook  fills  her  head 
with  ideas  of  revolt.  She  walks  about  the  green 
garden  reading  novels,  and  waiting  for  the  Prince, 
for  she  has  a  nice  nature.  I  myself  should  just  turn 
down  the  collar  of  my  dress,  put  on  a  wreath  and 
go  out  and  find  a  Prince,  or  know  the  reason  why  ! 

We  keep  no  gardener,  only  Ben.  Ben  is  short 
for  Benvenuto  Cellini,  another  of  George's  friends. 
He  is  thirteen,  old  enough  to  go  to  school,  only 
George  hasn't  yet  been  able  to  make  up  his  mind 
where  to  send  him.  It  is  a  good  thing  Ben  has 
plenty  of  work  to  do,  for  he  is  very  cross,  and  talks 
sometimes  of  running  away  to  sea,  only  that  he  has 
the  North  border  to  dig,  or  Cat  Corner  to  clear. 

That  is  the  corner  George  calls  The  Pleasaunce 
— it  is  we  who  call  it  Cat  Corner.  Not  only  dead 
cats  come  there,  but  brickbats  and  tin  kettles  with 
just  one  little  hole  in  them,  and  brown-paper  parcels 
that  we  open  with  a  poker.  I  hope  there  will  be 
a  dead  baby  in  one  some  day,  to  reward  us.  The  trees 
are  so  dirty  that  we  don't  like  to  touch  them,  and 
the  birds  that  scurry  about  in  the  bushes  would  be 


12  THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

yellow,  like  canaries,  Sarah  says,  only  for  the  dirt 
of  London.  I  hardly  believe  it,  I  should  like  to  catch 
one  and  wash  it.  In  the  opposite  corner  George  has 
built  a  grotto,  and  we  have  to  keep  it  dusted,  and 
he  sits  there  and  writes  and  smokes.  The  next 
garden  is  the  garden  of  a  mad-house.  The  doctor 
keeps  a  donkey  and  a  pony.  Once  a  table-knife 
came  flying  over  the  wall  to  us.  George's  nerves 
were  so  thoroughly  upset  that  he  could  not  bear 
anything  but  Ouida  and  Miss  Braddon  read  aloud 
to  him  all  the  rest  of  the  day.  Mother  happens  to 
like  those  authors  and  another  Italian  lady's  books 
that  we  are  forbidden  to  mention  in  this  house. 
She  never  reads  George's  own  works  ;  she  says  she 
has  promised  to  be  a  good  wife  to  him,  but  that 
that  wasn't  in  the  bond.  She  knows  them  too  well, 
having  heard  them  all  in  the  rough.  Behind  the 
scenes  in  a  novel  is  as  dull  as  behind  the  scenes  in  a 
theatre,  you  never  know  what  the  play  is  about. 
Aunt  Gerty  says  that  all  George's  things  are  rank, 
and  quite  undramatic,  and  George  says  he  is  glad 
to  hear  it,  for  he  doesn't  like  Aunt  Gerty. 

The  other  persons  in  the  house  are  George's  cats. 
There  are  three.  The  grey  cat,  the  only  one  who 
has  kittens,  I  call  Lady  Castlewood,  out  of  Esmond 
by  Thackeray.  George  sometimes  says  "  that 
little  cat  of  a  Lady  Castlewood  " — it  occurred  to 
me  that  "  that  little  Lady  Castlewood  of  a  cat " 
just  suits  ours,  for  she  is  a  jealous  beast,  a  can- 
tankerous beast,  and  goes  Nap  with  her  claws  all 
over  your  face  in  no  time  !  She  hates  her  children 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME  13 

once  they  are  grown  up,  and  is  merely  on  bowing 
terms  with  them,  or  you  might  call  it  licking  terms 
— for  she  doesn't  mind  giving  them  a  wash  and  a 
brush-up  whenever  they  come  her  way.  Robert 
the  Devil  was  the  one  that  stayed  away  a  week.  He 
is  very  big  and  mild ;  he  can  lie  down  and  wrap 
himself  in  his  fur  till  he  looks  all  over  alike,  and  you 
couldn't  find  any  particular  part  of  him,  no  more 
than  if  he  were  a  kind  of  soft  hedgehog.  George 
talks  to  them  and  tells  them  things  about  himself. 
"  I  am  sure  they  are  welcome  to  his  confidence  !  " 
that  is  what  the  new  cook  said.  She  likes  them  better 
than  she  likes  him.  She  is  quite  kind  to  cats, 
though  she  gives  them  a  hoist  with  her  foot  some- 
times, when  they  get  in  her  way.  They  are  valuable, 
you  see.  I  wish  I  was,  for  then  people  care  what 
you  eat  and  give  you  medecines,  which  I  love.  It 
isn't  often  you  are  disappointed  in  a  new  bottle  of 
medecine,  except  when  there's  gentian  in  it. 


CHAPTER    II 

You  don't  get  a  very  good  class  of  servant  down 
this  way,  my  mother  says,  but  then  she  is  so  par- 
ticular. She  is  the  kind  of  mistress  who  knows  how 
to  do  everything  better  herself,  and  that  kind  never 
gets  good  servants  ;  it  seems  to  paralyze  the  poor 
girls,  and  make  them  limp  and  without  an  idea  in 
their  heads,  or  what  they  choose  to  call  their  heads, 
which  I  strongly  suspect  is  their  stomachs.  You  can 
punish  or  reward  a  servant  best  through  its  stomach, 
and  don't  give  them  beer,  or  beer-money  either  ! 
Beer  makes  them  cross  or  cheeky,  depending,  I 
suppose,  on  the  make  of  the  beer.  Mother  never 
gives  it.  They  buy  it,  I  know,  but  I  never  tell.  It 
would  be  as  much  as  my  place  (in  the  kitchen)  is 
worth,  and  I  value  my  right  of  free  entry. 

Mother  is  terribly  down  on  dust  too.  She  has 
a  book  about  germ  culture,  and  sees  germs  in  every- 
thing. It  doesn't  make  her  any  happier.  But  as 
for  dusting,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  what  they  call  dust- 
ing is  only  a  plan  for  raising  the  dirt  and  taking  it 
to  some  other  place.  It  gets  into  our  mouths  in 
the  end.  I  do  pity  Matter  that  is  always  getting 
into  the  wrong  place,  chivied  here  and  there,  with 

14 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME  15 

no  resting-place  for  the  sole  of  the  foot.  For  when- 
ever Mother  sees  dust  anywhere,,  or  suspects  it,  she 
makes  a  cross  with  her  finger  in  it,  and  the  servants 
are  supposed  to  see  the  cross  and  feel  ashamed. 
Though  I  don't  believe  any  servant  was  ever  ashamed 
in  her  life.  'Tisn't  in  their  natures.  They  just 
grin  and  bear  with  it — with  the  dust,  and  the  scold- 
ing too. 

"  It's  'er  little  way,"  I  heard  Sarah  say  once,  not 
a  bit  unkindly  or  disagreeably,  though,  after  Mother 
had  come  down  on  her  about  something.  But  once 
I  caught  the  very  same  girl  shaking  her  fist  at 
George's  back  and  calling  him  "  an  old  beast !  " 

"  Sarah,"  I  said,  "  whom  are  you  addressing  ?  " 

"The  doctor's  donkey,  miss,"  she  said,  as  quick 
as  lightning,  pointing  to  it  grazing  in  the  doctor's 
garden  next  door.  People  were  always  overloading 
that  donkey,  and  shaking  their  fists  at  it. 

I  must  get  to  the  new  cook.  The  last  one  gave 
Mother  notice,  and  I  never  could  find  out  why, 
because  she  was  fond  of  Mother  and  could  stand  the 
cats. 

"  Oh,  I  like  you,  ma'am,"  I  heard  her  say,  just  as 
if  she  disliked  some  one  else.  Mother  took  no  notice, 
but  left  the  kitchen,  and  Cook  took  a  currant  off  her 
elbow  and  pulled  down  her  sleeves,  and  mumbled 
to  Sarah,  "It  isn't  right,  and  I  for  one  ain't  going 
to  help  countenance  it.  A- visiting  his  family  now 
and  then  between  jobs,  just  like  a  burglar — or  some- 
think  worse  !  " 

What  is  worse  than  a  burglar  ?   I  was  passing  the 


16  THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

scullery  window,  and  Sarah  had  just  thrown  a  lot 
of  boiling  water  into  a  basin  in  front  of  them  both, 
so  that  it  made  a  mist  and  she  didn't  see  me.  I 
knew,  though,  she  was  saying  something  rude,  for 
when  Sarah  told  her  she  "  shouldn't  reely,"  she 
muttered  something  more  about  a  "neglected  angel ! ' ' 
I  did  think  at  first  she  meant  me,  or  perhaps  the 
doctor's  donkey  as  usual,  but  then  the  words  didn't 
fit  either  of  us  ?  I  asked  her  straight  if  she  did  mean 
the  donkey,  just  for  fun,  and  she  said  the  poor  beast 
was  minding  his  own  business  and  I  had  better  do 
the  same. 

She  left  us  next  month,  crying  worse  than  I  ever 
did  in  my  life  for  really  serious  things.  Mother 
patted  her  on  the  back  as  she  went  out  at  the  back 
door,  and  she  kept  saying,  "  A  poor  girl's  only  got 
her  character,  mum,  and  she  is  bound  to  think  of  it — " 
and  Mother  said,  "  Yes,  yes,  you  did  quite  right  !  " 
and  seemed  just  to  want  her  out  of  the  house  and 
a  little  peace  and  quiet  and  will  of  her  own.  The 
very  moment  Sarah's  back  was  turned,  she  set  to 
work  and  turned  everything  into  the  middle  of  the 
room  and  left  it  there  while  she  and  Cook  swept 
round  into  every  corner.  Ariadne  and  I  rather 
enjoyed  clearing  our  bed  of  the  towel-horse  before 
we  could  lie  down  in  it,  and  having  dinner  off  the 
corner  of  the  kitchen-table  because  the  dining-room 
one  was  lying  on  its  back  like  a  horse  kicking. 

Of  course  George  wasn't  allowed  home  all  this 
time.  Mother  wrote  to  him  where  he  was  staying 
at  the  Duke  of  Frocester's  for  the  shooting  (George 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  17 

shooting  !  My  eye  ! — and  the  keeper's  legs  !)  and 
said  he  had  better  not  come  home  till  we  were 
straight  again.  I  was  in  no  hurry  to  be  straight 
again.  It  was  like  Heaven.  When  I  was  a  child 
I  always  built  my  brick  houses  crooked,  and  Ariadne 
called  me  Queen  Unstraight,  and  that  made  me  cry. 
But  she  liked  this  too.  We  made  all  the  beds,  and 
didn't  bother  to  tuck  them  in.  It  isn't  necessary 
to  do  so  when  we  turn  head  over  heels  in  the  bed- 
clothes on  to  the  floor  every  night  three  times  to 
make  us  dizzy  and  sleepy.  We  washed  up  every- 
thing with  a  nice  lather  of  three  things  mixed  that 
occurred  to  me,  Hudson's,  Monkey  Soap,  and  Bath 
Eucryl.  In  the  end  there  wasn't  a  speck  of  dirt, 
or  pattern  either,  left  on  the  plates.  It  looked 
much  cleaner.  Why  should  one  eat  one's  meat 
off  a  fat  Chinese  dragon  or  have  bees  all  round  the 
edge  of  one's  soup  plate  ready  to  fall  in  ?  It  is  a 
dirty  idea.  We  basted  the  joints  turn  and  turn 
about,  and  our  own  pinafores.  They  couldn't  scold 
us  for  not  keeping  clean,  any  more  than  they  can 
pigs  when  they  put  them  in  a  sty.  We  asked  no 
questions  or  bothered  Mother  at  all,  but  we  black- 
leaded  the  steps  and  bath-bricked  the  grates,  and 
washed  down  the  walls  with  soda-water.  The  wall- 
paper peeled  off  here  and  there,  but  that  shows  it 
was  shabby  and  ready  for  death. 

Mother  said  afterwards  that  she  couldn't  see  any 
improvement  anywhere,  but  anyhow  we  enjoyed 
ourselves  and  that  is  everything.  We  spent  money 
on  it,  for  we  bought  decalcomanie  pictures,  and  did 

c 


i8  THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

bouquets  all  over  the  mantelpieces,  but  Mother  in- 
sisted  we  should  peel  all  these  off   again   before 
George  came  back.     He  couldn't  come  back  till 
we  got   that  cook,  for  George   is  most   absurdly 
particular  about  our  servants.     Sarah  has  got  used 
to  him,  and  there  seems  to  be  no  idea  of  her  going. 
She  has  to  valet  him,  for  he  is  always  beautifully 
dressed.     She  has  to  take  the  greatest  care  of  her 
own  appearance,  and  get  her  nails  manicured  and 
her  hair  waved  when  he  is  at  home.     That  is  about 
all  for  her.     But  the  cook  he  calls  the  keeper  of  his 
conscience,  that  is  to  say,  his  digestion.     His  diges- 
tion is  as  jumpy  as    he  is.     Sometimes  it  wants 
everything  quite  plain,  and  he  will  eat  nothing  but 
our  rice-puddings  and  cold  shapes  of  tapioca,  etc. ; 
at  another  time  he  calls  it  "  apparition,"  and  says 
the  very  name  of  it  makes  him  shiver.     I  am  used 
to  cold  shapes,  alas  !    He  sometimes  brings  things 
down  from  town  himself — caviare  and  "  patty  de  foy." 
Children  are  not  supposed  to  like  that  sort  of  thing, 
but  we  do,  and  George  gives  them  us  ;  he  is  not  mean 
in  trifles.    Sometimes  it  is  pheasants  and  partridges, 
that  he  has  shot  himself  on  ducal  acres.     They  are 
shot  very  badly,  not  tidily,  with  the  shot  all  in  one 
place  as  it  ought  to  be :    Mr.  Aix  explained  this  to 
me.     They  are  not  to  be  cooked  till  they  are  ready, 
and  when  they  are  they  are  a  little  too  ready  for 
Mother  and  us,  so  Papa  and  Mr.  Aix  have  to  eat  it 
all.     George  belongs  to  the  sect  of  the  Epicureans  ; 
I  heard  him  tell  the  cook  so,  also  that  he  is  the  re- 
incarnation of  a  gentleman  called  Villon. 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME  19 

For  a  month  Mother  "  sat  in  "  for  cooks,  and  all 
sorts  of  fat  and  lean  women  came  and  went.  Our 
establishment  didn't  seem  attractive.  George  be- 
spoke a  fat  one,  by  letter,  but  Mother  inclined  to 
lean.  These  women  sat  on  the  best  chairs  and 
prodded  the  pattern  of  the  carpets  with  their  dusty 
umbrellas,  and  asked  tons  of  questions, — far  more 
than  she  asked  them,  it  seemed  to  me,  and  this  one 
that  we  have  at  last  got  was  the  coolest  of  all,  but 
in  rather  a  nice  way.  She  was  tall  and  thin,  with 
a  long  nose  with  a  dip  in  it  just  before  the  tip,  which 
was  particularly  broad.  Ariadne  said  afterwards 
that  a  nose  like  that  seemed  to  need  a  bustle.  She 
said  she  was  a  north-country  woman,  and  that  is 
about  all  she  did  tell  us  about  herself,  except  her 
name,  Elizabeth  Cawthorne. 

She  sat  and  asked  questions.  When  she  came  to 
the  usual  "  And  if  you  please,  ma'am,  how  many  is 
there  in  family  ?  "  Mother  answered,  "  Myself  and  my 
son  and  my  two  daughters, — and  my  sister — she  is 
professional — and  is  here  for  long  visits — that  is  all." 

"  Then  I  take  it  you  are  a  widow,  ma'am  ?  " 

Mother,  getting  very  red,  explained  that  George 
is  very  little  at  home,  so  that  in  one  way  he  didn't 
count,  but  in  another  way  he  did,  for  he  is  very 
particular  and  has  to  be  cooked  for  specially.  Being 
an  author,  he  has  got  a  very  delicate  appetite. 

"  A  proud  stomach,  I  understand  ye.  Well,  I 
shall  hope  to  give  him  satisfaction."  She  said  that 
as  if  she  would  have  liked  to  add,  "  or  I'll  know  the 
reason  why." 


20  THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

She  seemed  quite  to  have  settled  in  her  own  mind 
that  she  was  going  to  take  our  place.  She  "  blessed 
Mother's  bonny  face  "  before  that  interview  was 
over,  and  passed  me  over  entirely. 

She  came  in  in  a  week,  and  the  first  time  she  saw 
George  she  was  "  doing  her  hall."  Ariadne  and  I 
were  there  as  George's  hansom  drove  up  and  he  got 
out  and  began  a  shindy  with  the  cabman. 

"Honeys,  this  will  be  your  father,  I'm  thinking  !  " 
she  said. 

Perhaps  she  expected  us  to  rush  into  his  arms, 
but  we  didn't ;  we  knew  better.  We  just  said 
"  Hallo  !  "  and  waited  till  he  was  disengaged  with 
the  cabman,  who  wanted  too  much,  as  we  are  beyond 
the  radius.  George  didn't  give  it  to  him,  but  a  good 
talking  to  instead.  The  new  cook  stopped  sweep- 
ing— servants  always  stop  their  work  when  there  is 
something  going  on  that  doesn't  concern  them,  and 
looked  quite  pleased  with  George. 

"  He  can  explain  himself,  and  no  mistake  !  "  she 
said  to  Sarah  afterwards,  and  she  cooked  a  splendid 
dinner  that  night,  for,  says  she  to  Sarah,  "  seemed 
to  her  he  was  the  kind  of  master  who'd  let  a  woman 
know  if  she  didn't  suit  him." 

She  doesn't  "  make  much  account  of  childer,"  in 
fact  I  think  she  hates  them,  for  when  Ariadne  showed 
her  the  young  shoots  in  a  pot  of  snowdrops  she  was 
bringing  up,  and  said,  "  See,  cook,  they  have  had 
babies  in  the  night !  "  Elizabeth,  meaning  to  be 
civil,  said,  "  Disgusting  things,  miss  !  " 

Still,  she  isn't   really  unkind   to   children,  and 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  21 

admits  that  they  have  a  right  to  exist.  She  will 
boil  me  my  glue-pot  and  make  me  paste,  and  lets 
Ariadne  heat  her  curling-tongs  between  the  bars  of 
the  kitchen  fire.  She  doesn't  "  matter  "  cats,  but 
she  gives  them  their  meals  regular  and  doesn't  hold 
with  them  loafing  in  the  kitchen,  and  getting  tit- 
bits stolen  or  bestowed.  And  they  know  she  is  just, 
though  not  generous,  and  never  forgets  their  supper. 
They  were  all  hid,  as  it  happened,  when  she  came 
about  the  place,  but  she  said  she  knew  she  had 
got  into  a  cat  house  as  soon  as  she  found  herself 
eating  fluff  with  her  tea,  and  she  thinks  she  ought  to 
have  been  told.  George  laughs  at  her  and  calls 
her  "stern  daughter  of  the  north,"  but  he  wasn't 
a  bit  cross  when  she  told  him  that  Ben  ought  to 
be  sent  to  school.  He  even  agreed,  but  Ben  isn't 
sent.  Ben  is  still  eating  his  heart  out,  and  he 
keeps  telling  Elizabeth  Cawthorne  so.  He  is  much 
in  the  kitchen.  She  is  very  sensible.  She  just 
stuffs  a  jam  tart  into  his  mouth,  and  says,  "Tak' 
that  atween  whiles  then,  my  bonny  bairn,  to  distract 
ye."  Ben  takes  it  like  a  lamb,  and  it  does  distract 
him,  or  at  any  rate  it  distends  him  ;  he  has  got  fat 
since  she  came. 

She  orders  Mother  about  as  if  she  were  a  child. 
Mother  does  look  very  young,  as  I  have  said.  She 
ought,  and  so  ought  Aunt  Gerty,  considering  the 
trouble  they  both  take  to  keep  the  cloven  hoof  of 
age  off  their  faces.  They  go  to  bed  with  poultices 
of  oatmeal  on  them,  and  Aunt  Gerty  once  tried  the 
raw-beef  plaster.  But  what  she  does  in  the  night 


22  THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

she  undoes  in  the  day,  with  the  grease  paint  and 
sticky  messes  that  are  part  of  her  profession. 

She  lives  with  us  except  when  she  is  on  tour,  and 
is  only  here  when  she  is  "  resting  "  in  the  Era,  and 
all  that  time  she  is  dreadfully  cross,  because  she 
would  rather  be  doing  than  resting,  for  "  resting  " 
is  only  a  polite  way  of  saying  no  one  has  wanted  to 
engage  her,  and  that  she  is  "  out  of  a  shop,"  which 
all  actresses  hate. 


CHAPTER    III 

I  HAVE  forced  George's  hand,  so  I  am  told,  and 
neither  he  nor  mother  take  any  notice  of  me. 

But  Aunt  Gerty  hugged  me  all  over  when  she  heard 
what  I  had  done,  and  scolded  Mother  for  not  being 
nice  to  me. 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  need  put  that  poor  child 
in  Coventry  ?  "  she  said.  "  You  had  more  need 
to  be  grateful  to  her  than  not.  How  much  longer 
was  it  going  to  go  on,  I  want  to  know  ?  Hiding 
away  his  lawful  wife  like  an  old  Bluebeard,  and  me 
Sister  Anne  boiling  over  and  wanting  to  call  it  all 
from  the  house-tops  !  " 

"  Well,  Gerty,  you  seem  to  have  got  it  a  bit 
mixed  !  "  said  Mother.  "  But,  talking  of  Bluebeard , 
I  always  envied  the  first  Mrs.  B.  the  lots  of  cupboard 
room  she  must  have  had  !  I  wonder  if  she  was  a 
hoarder,  like  me,  who  never  have  the  heart  to  throw 
anything  away  ?  If  I  do  happen  to  see  the  plans 
for  the  new  house,  I  will  speak  up  for  lots  of  cup- 
boards, and  that  is  all  I  care  about." 

"  See  the  plans  !  Why,  of  course  you  will !  Isn't 
it  your  right?  You  must  make  a  point  of  seeing  them 
and  putting  your  word  in.  Look  after  your  own 

23 


24  THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

comfort  in  this  world  or  you  will  jolly  well  find  your- 
self out  in  the  cold,  and  'specially  with  a  husband 
like  you've  got !  " 

"  Bother  moving  !  "  said  Mother,  in  her  dreary 
way  that  comes  when  she  has  been  overdoing  it, 
as  she  has  lately.  "It  is  an  odious  wrench  ;  just 
like  having  all  one's  teeth  out  at  once." 

"  Hadn't  need  !  Yours  are  just  beautiful.  One 
of  your  points,  Lucy,  and  don't  you  forget  it." 

"  The  life  here  suited  me  well  enough  ;  I  had  got 
used  to  it,  I  suppose." 

"  You  can  get  used  to  something  bad,  can't  you, 
but  that's  no  reason  you  are  not  to  welcome  a  change  ? 
Oh,  you'll  like  the  new  life  that's  to  be  spent  up- 
stairs in  the  daylight,  above-board  like,  instead  of 
this  kind  of '  behind  the  scenes '  you  have  been  doing 
for  eighteen  years.  And  a  pretty  woman  still,  for 
so  you  are.  Cheer  up  !  You  are  going  to  get  new 
scenery,  new  dresses,  new  backcloth " 

"  You  see  everything  through  the  stage,  Gerty. 
I  must  say  it  irritates  one  sometimes,  especially  now, 
when " 

"  I  know  what  you  mean.  No  offence,  my  dear 
old  sis.  And  you  can  depend  on  me  not  to  be  bring- 
ing the  smell  of  the  footlights,  as  they  call  it — it's  the 
only  truly  pleasant  smell  there  is,  to  my  idea  ! — 
into  your  fine  new  house.  Pity  but  He  can't  get 
a  little  whiff  of  it  into  his  comedies,  and  some 
manager  would  see  his  way  to  putting  them  on, 
perhaps  ?  No,  beloved,  me  and  George  don't  cotton 
to  each  other,  nor  never  shall.  He  isn't  my  sort. 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  25 

I  like  a  man  that  is  a  man,  not  a  society  baa-lamb  ! 
Baa  !  I've  no  patience  with  such " 

"  Sh',  Gerty.  You  seem  to  forget  his  child  sitting 
messing  away  with  her  paints  in  a  corner  so  quietly 
there  !  " 

That  was  me.  Aunt  Gerty  stopped  a  minute,  and 
then  they  went  on  just  the  same. 

"  We  have  never  minded  the  child  yet  "  (which 
was  true),  "  and  I  don't  see  why  we  should  begin 
now.  Tempe  is  getting  quite  a  woman  and  able 
to  hold  her  tongue  when  needful.  And  she  knows 
her  way  about  her  precious  father  well  enough. 
What  you've  to  think  of  now,  Lucy,  is  getting  your 
hands  white,  and  the  marks  of  sewing  and  cooking 
off.  Lemons  and  pumice  !  Cream's  good,  too.  You 
have  been  George  Taylor's  upper  servant  too  long 
— Gracious,  who's  that  at  the  front-door  ?  " 

Aunt  Gerty  nearly  knocked  me  over  in  her  rush 
to  the  window.  We  were  all  three  sitting  in  the 
front  bedroom,  which  is  George's,  when  he  is  at 
home,  and  Mother  had  been  washing  my  hair.  It 
was  a  dreadfully  hot  day — a  dog-day,  only  we  haven't 
any  dogs,  but  the  kittens  were  tastefully  arranged 
in  the  spare  wash-basin  all  round  the  jug  for  cool- 
ness. They  had  put  themselves  there.  We  humans 
had  got  very  little  clothes  on,  partly  for  heat  and 
also  having  got  out  of  the  habit  of  dressing  in  the 
afternoons,  for  no  callers  ever  came  to  The  Magnolias. 
But  there  were  some  now.  There  was  a  big,  two- 
horsed  thing  at  the  door  such  as  I  have  often  seen 
driving  out  to  Hampton  Court,  but  never,  never  had 


26  THE  CELEBRITY  AT   HOME 

I  seen  one  stop  at  our  gate  before.  It  was  most 
exciting.  I  hoped  Jessie  Hitchings  and  her  mother 
saw. 

There  were  two  ladies  inside,  one  of  them  old  and 
frumpy,  the  other  was  Lady  Scilly,  whom  I  knew, 
though  Mother  didn't.  I  haven't  got  to  her  yet 
in  my  story.  A  footman  was  taking  their  orders, 
and  Sarah  was  standing  at  the  door  holding  on  to 
her  cap  that  she'd  forgotten  to  put  a  pin  in.  Lucky 
she  had  a  cap  on  at  all !  Mother  doesn't  like  her  to 
leave  her  caps  off  to  go  to  the  door,  even  when  George 
isn't  here,  out  of  principle,  and  for  once  it  told. 

"  For  goodness  sake  get  your  head  in,  Gerty,  you 
have  got  the  shade  a  bit  too  strong  to-day,"  cried 
Mother,  pulling  my  aunt  in  by  her  petticoats,  and 
nearly  upsetting  the  mirror  on  the  dressing-table. 
Aunt  Gerty  came  in  with  a  cross  grunt,  and  we  all 
sat  well  inside  till  we  heard  the  carriage  drive  away 
and  Sarah  mounting  the  stairs  all  of  a  hop,  skip 
and  a  jump. 

"  Please  m'm  !  "  she  cried  almost  before  she  got 
into  the  room,  "  there's  a  carriage-and-pair  just 
called " 

"  Anything  in  it  ?  "  mother  said. 

"  Two  ladies,  m'm,  and  here's  their  cards." 

I  took  one  and  Aunt  Gerty  the  other. 

"  Dowager  Countess  of  Fylingdales ! "  Aunt  Gerty 
read,  as  if  she  was  Lady  Macbeth  saying,  "  Out, 
dammed  spot !  " 

The  card  I  held  was  for  Lady  Scilly,  and  there  was 
one  for  Lord  Scilly,  but  it  had  got  under  the  drawers. 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME  27 

"  I  said  you  wasn't  dressed,  ma'am,"  Sarah  said, 
looking  at  Mother's  apron  all  over  egg,  and  her 
rolled-up  sleeves. 

"  No  more  I  am,"  said  Mother,  laughing.  "  Don't 
look  so  disappointed,  Gerty.  I  couldn't  have  seen 
them." 

"  But  you  shouldn't  have  said  your  mistress 
wasn't  dressed,  Sarah,"  said  Aunt  Gerty.  "  It 
isn't  done  like  that  in  good  houses.  You  should 
have  said,  *  My  mistress  is  gone  out  in  the 
carriage.' ' 

"  But  that  would  have  been  a  lie  !  "  argued  Sarah, 
"  and  I'm  sure  I  don't  want  to  go  to  hell  even  for  a 
carriage- and-pair." 

"  Oh,  where  have  you  been  before,  Sarah,"  Aunt 
Gerty  sighed,  "  not  to  know  that  a  society  lie  can't 
let  any  one  in  for  hell  fire  ?  Well,  it  is  too  late  now  ; 
they  have  gone.  And  it  was  rather  a  shabby  turn- 
out for  aristocratic  swells  like  that,  after  all." 

"  They  didn't  really  want  to  see  me,"  said  Mother. 
"  They  only  called  on  me  to  please  George.  He 
sent  them  probably.  I  have  heard  him  speak  of 
Lady  Fylingdales.  He  stays  there.  She  is  one  of  his 
oldest  friends.  She  is  lame  and  nearly  blind.  Lady 
Scilly  I  shall  never  like  from  what  I  have  heard  of 
her.  Tempe,  run  in  the  garden  in  the  sun  and  dry 
your  hair.  Off  you  go  !  " 

"  And  get  a  sunstroke,"  thought  I.  "  Just  be- 
cause she  wants  to  talk  to  Aunt  Gerty  about  the 
grand  callers  !  " 

So  I  stayed,  and  they  have  got  so  in  the  habit  of 


28  THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

not  minding  me  that  they  went  on  as  if  I  really  had 
been  out  broiling  in  the  sun. 

Mother  began  to  talk  very  fast  about  the  new 
house,  and  getting  visiting-cards  printed,  and  taking 
her  place  in  Society.  These  ladies  coming  had  given 
her  thoughts  a  fresh  jog.  She  nearly  cried  over 
the  bother  of  it  all,  and  what  George  would  now  go 
expecting  of  her,  and  she  with  no  education  and  no 
ambition  to  be  a  smart  woman,  as  Aunt  Gerty  was 
continually  egging  her  on  to  be,  saying  it  was  quite 
easy  if  you  only  had  a  nice  slight  figure,  like  she  has. 

"  Bead  chains  and  pince-nezs  won't  do  it  as  you 
seem  to  think,"  Mother  said.  "  And  even  if  I  get 
to  be  smart,  I  shall  never  get  to  be  happy  !  " 

"  Happy !  "  screamed  my  Aunt  Gertrude.  "  Who 
talked  of  being  happy  ?  You  don't  go  expecting 
to  be  happy,  unless  it  makes  you  happy,  as  it  ought, 
to  put  your  foot  down  on  those  stuck-up  cats  who 
have  been  leading  your  husband  astray  all  these 
years,  and  giving  them  a  good  what-for.  It  would 
me,  that's  all  I  can  say.  Happiness  indeed  !  It  is 
something  higher  than  mere  happiness.  What  you 
have  got  to  do,  my  dear  Lucy,  is  just  to  take  your 
call  and  go  on — not  before  you've  had  a  trip  to 
Paris  for  your  clothes,  though — and  show  them  all 
what  a  pretty  woman  George  Taylor's  qespised 
wife  is.  There's  an  object  to  live  for  !  Thatp  your 
ticket,  and  you've  got  it.  He  married  you  for  your 
looks,  now,  didn't  he  ?  " 

"  Nothing  else,"  said  Mother  sadly. 

"  Nonsense  !     Weren't  you — aren't  you  as  good 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  29 

as  he  ?  You  are  the  daughter  of  a  respectable  Irish 
clergyman.  Whose  daughter — I  mean  son — is  he  ? 
A  French  tailor's,  I  expect.  You  married  him 
eighteen  years  ago  in  Putney  Parish  Church  by 
special  licence,  when  he  was  nothing  and  nobody 
cared  whom  or  what  he  married.  Little  flighty, 
undersized  foreign-looking  creature  !  You  have  been 
a  good  wife  to  him,  borne  his  children,  nursed  him 
when  he  was  ill,  and  kept  a  house  going  for  him 
to  come  back  to  when  he  was  tired  of  the  others, 
and  if  it's  been  done  on  the  sly,  it  hasn't  been 
through  any  will  of  yours  !  And  now  that  the  matter 
has  been  taken  out  of  his  hands,  and  a  good  thing 
too,  and  he's  obliged  to  leave  off  his  dirty  little  tricks 
and  own  you,  and  send  his  grand  friends  to  call  on 
you,  and  build  a  nice  house  to  put  you  in,  you  want 
to  back  out  and  hide  yourself — lose  your  chance 
once  for  all  and  for  ever  !  You  are  good-looking, 
your  children  are  sweet — you'll  soon  catch  them  all 
up,  and  then  you  can  be  as  haughty  and  stuck-up 
as  the  rest  of  them.  If  it  is  me  you  are  thinking  of, 
/  shan't  trouble  you — I  have  my  work  and  I  mean 
to  stick  to  it!" 

"  I  shall  never  disown  you,  Gerty." 

"  No,  I  dare  say  not,  but  I  shan't  put  myself  in 
the  way  of  a  snub.  I've  got  one  thing  that's  been 
very  useful  to  me  in  this  life — that's  tact.  I  shan't 
make  a  nasty  row  or  a  talk,  but  you'll  not  see  more 
of  me  than  you  want  to.  I'm  a  lady — I'll  never 
let  anybody  deny  that — but  I've  knocked  about 
the  world  a  bit,  and  it's  a  rough  place,  and  that  soft 


30  THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

dainty  manner  people  admire  so,  rubs  off  pretty 
soon  fighting  one's  own  battles.  The  aristocracy 
can  afford  to  keep  it  on.  Clothes  does  it,  largely. 
Where  you're  wearing  chiffon,  I'll  be  wearing  linen, 
that's  the  diff .  Now  I'm  off—4  on  '  first  act  and 
share  a  dresser  with  three  other  cats,  where  there 
sn't  room  to  swing  one.  Ta-ta  !  I'm  not  as  vulgar 
as  you  think  !  " 

She  put  on  her  picture-hat  carefully  with  sixteen 
pins  in  it,  and  went  away.  Mother  asked  me  why 
I  hadn't  been  drying  my  hair  in  the  garden  all  this 
time  ?  Because  I  wanted  to  hear  what  Aunt  Gerty 
had  to  say,  I  answered,  and  Mother  accepted  the 
explanation.  But  now  I  went  and  found  a  cool 
place  and  meditated  on  my  sins. 

I  am  not  what  is  called  a  strictly  naughty  child. 
I  am  too  busy.  Satan  never  need  bother  about  me 
or  find  mischief  for  me  to  do,  for  my  hands  are  never 
idle,  and  I  can  generally  find  it  for  myself. 

On  the  eventful  morning  that  decided  our  fate 
three  weeks  before  this  incident,  I  was  in  the  drawing- 
room,  where  we  hardly  ever  sit,  making  devils  with 
George's  name  with  the  ink  out  of  the  best  inkstand. 
I  spilt  it.  Why  do  these  things  happen  ?  It  is  the 
fault  of  fatality. 

There  is  nothing  I  hate  more  than  the  sickening 
smell  of  spilt  ink,  or  rather,  the  soapy  rags  they 
chose  to  rub  it  up  with,  so  I  went  up  to  my  room 
quietly  intending  to  get  my  hat  and  go  out  till  it 
had  blown  over,  or  rather  soaked  in.  Sarah  was 
there,  tidying  or  something,  and  she  said  imme- 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  31 

diately,  "  Now  whatever  have  you  been  up  to  ?  " 
I  told  her  that  the  word  "  ever  "  was  quite  surplus 
in  that  sentence,  and  that  George  objected  to  it 
strongly.  Thus  I  got  away  from  her,  wishing  I 
had  a  less  expressive  face. 

I  found  myself  in  the  street  without  an  object. 
I  have  got  beyond  the  age  of  runaway  rings,  thank 
goodness,  but  they  did  use  to  amuse  me,  till  one  day 
an  old  gentleman  got  hold  of  me  and  went  on 
about  the  length  of  kitchen  stairs  generally,  and  the 
shortness  of  cooks'  legs,  and  the  cruel  risk  of  things 
boiling  over.  He  changed  my  heart.  So  this  day 
I  just  walked  along  to  a  motor-car,  that  I  saw  at 
the  end  of  the  next  street  but  one,  standing  in  front 
of  the  "  Milliner's  Arms,"  with  nobody  in  it.  I 
expected  the  man  was  having  a  drink,  for  it  was 
piping  hot.  I  got  into  the  car  and  sat  down,  and 
just  put  my  hand  on  the  twirly-twirly  thing  in  front, 
considering  if  I  should  set  the  car  going.  It  was  the 
very  first  time  I  had  ever  been  in  a  motor  in  my 
life,  and  I  simply  hadn't  the  heart  to  miss  the  chance. 

A  lady  came  out  of  the  Public.  I  never  saw  any- 
thing so  pretty,  and  her  dress  was  all  billowy,  like 
the  little  fluffy  clouds  we  call  Peter's  sheep  in  a  blue 
sky,  and  the  hem  of  it  was  covered  with  sawdust 
off  the  public-house  floor.  Yet  I  can't  say  she 
looked  at  all  tipsy. 

"  I  wanted  a  pick-me-up  so  badly,  I  just  had  to 
go  in  and  get  it."  She  said  this  in  an  apologizing 
sort  of  way,  while  I  was  just  wondering  how  I  should 
explain  my  presence  in  her  car.  She  settled  that 


32  THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

for  me,  by  saying  with  a  little  sweet  smile,  "  Well, 
you  pretty  child,  how  do  you  like  my  motor-car  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  first  time  I " 

"  Oh,  of  course  !  Would  you  like  to  be  in  one 
while  it  is  on  the  move  ?  " 

I  confessed  I  should,  and  she  jumped  in  beside  me, 
saying,  "  Sit  still,  then,  child  !  "  and  moved  the 
crissy-cross  starfish  thing  in  front,  and  we  were  off. 

Mercy,  what  a  rate  !  Policemen  seemed  to  hold 
up  their  hands  in  amazement  at  us,  and  she  looked 
pleased  and  flattered.  We  drove  on  and  on,  past 
the  Hounslow  turning,  through  miles  of  nursery 
gardens  and  then  miles  of  slums,  till  at  last  the 
houses  got  smarter  and  bigger,  and  I  guessed  this 
was  the  part  of  London  where  George  lives,  only  I 
did  not  ask  questions.  I  hardly  ever  do.  I  did 
see  a  clock  once,  and  I  saw  it  was  nearly  our  lunch 
time.  I  realized  that  I  had  missed  rice-pudding  for 
once,  and  was  glad.  She  talked  all  the  way  along, 
and  I  listened.  I  find  that  is  what  people  like,  for 
she  kept  telling  me  that  I  was  a  nice  child,  and  that 
she  thought  she  should  run  away  with  me. 

"  You  are  running  away  with  me,"  I  said. 

"  And  you  don't  care  a  bit,  you  very  imperturb- 
able atom  !  I  think  I  shall  take  you  home  with  me 
to  luncheon.  You  amuse  me." 

She  amused  me.  She  was  a  darling — so  gay,  so 
light,  as  if  she  didn't  care  about  anything,  and  had 
never  had  a  stomach-ache  in  her  whole  life.  If 
George's  high-up  friends  are  like  this,  I  don't  wonder 
he  prefers  them  to  Aunt  Gerty.  Mother  can  be  as 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME  33 

amusing  as  anybody, — I  am  not  going  to  try  to  take 
Mother  down — but  even  she  can't  pretend  she  is 
happy  as  this  woman  seemed  to  be.  She  was  like 
champagne, — the  very  dry  kind  George  opens  a 
bottle  of  when  he  is  down,  and  gives  Mother  and  me 
a  whole  glassful  between  us. 

We  were  quite  in  a  town  now,  and  on  a  soft  pave- 
ment made  of  wood,  like  my  bedroom  floor.  The 
streets,  oddly  enough,  grew  grander  and  narrower. 
She  told  me  about  the  houses  as  we  went  along. 

"That  is  where  my  uncle,  the  Duke  of  Frocester, 
lives,"  she  said,  and  pointed  to  a  kind  of  grey  tomb, 
with  a  paved  courtyard  in  a  very  tiny  street.  I  knew 
that  name — the  name  of  the  man  George  stays  and 
shoots  with — but  of  course  I  didn't  say  anything. 
Then  we  passed  a  funny  little  house  in  a  smaller 
street  called  after  a  chapel,  and  there  was  a  fanlight 
over  the  door,  and  a  great  extinguisher  thing  on  the 
railings. 

"  You  have  no  idea  what  a  lovely  place  that  is 
inside,"  she  told  me.  "  A  great  friend  of  mine  lives 
there,  and  pulled  it  about.  He  took  out  all  the  in- 
side of  the  house,  and  made  false  walls  to  the  rooms. 
One  of  them  has  just  the  naked  bricks  and  mortar 
showing,  but  then  the  mortar  is  all  gilt.  He  always 
has  quantities  of  flowers,  great  arum  lilies  shining 
in  the  gloom,  and  oleanders  in  pots,  and  stunted 
Japanese  trees.  He  gives  heavenly  tea-parties  and 
little  suppers  after  the  play.  He  writes  plays,  but 
somehow  they  have  never  been  acted  that  I  know  of  ? 
Bachelors  always  do  you  so  well*  I  declare,  if  t 


34  THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

wasn't  going  to  see  him  this  very  afternoon  at  my 
club,  I  would  go  in  and  surprise  him,  now  that  I 
have  got  you  with  me,  you  little  elf  !  You  have 
certainly  got  the  widest  open  eyes  I  ever  saw.  He 
is  probably  in  there  now,  working  at  his  little  table 
in  the  window,  getting  up  the  notes  for  his  lecture, 
so  we  should  put  him  out  abominably.  I  will  take 
you  to  the  lecture  instead.  And  remind  me  to  lend 
you  one  of  his  books, — that  is,  if  your  mother  allows 
you  to  read  novels." 

I  explained  to  her  that  I  was  a  little  off  novels, 
as  my  father  kept  us  on  them. 

"  Oh,  does  he  ?  How  interesting  !  I  love  authors  ! 
You  must  introduce  him  to  me  some  day.  Bring 
him  to  one  of  my  literary  teas.  I  always  make  a 
point  of  raising  an  author  or  so  for  the  afternoon. 
It  pleases  my  crowd  so,  far  better  than  music  and 
recitations,  and  played-out  amusements  of  that 
kind  ;  and  then  one  doesn't  have  to  pay  them.  They 
are  only  too  glad  to  come  and  get  paid  in  kind  looks 
that  cost  nothing.  The  queerer  they  are,  the  more 
people  believe  in  them.  I  used  to  have  Socialists, 
but  really  they  were  too  dirty  !  Some  authors  now 
are  quite  smart,  and  wear  their  hair  no  longer  than 
Lord  Scilly,  or  so  very  little  longer.  Now,  there  is 
Morrell  Aix,  the  man  who  wrote  The  Laundress.  I 
took  him  up,  but  he  had  been  obliged,  he  said,  to 
live  in  the  slums  for  two  years  to  get  up  his  facts, 
and  you  could  have  grown  mustard  and  cress  on 
the  creases  of  his  collar.  And  I  do  think,  considering 
the  advertisement  he  gave  them,  the  laundresses 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME  35 

might  have  taken  more  trouble  with  the  poor  man's 
shirts  !  " 

I  knew  Mr.  Aix,  of  course,  and  I  have  often  seen 
Mother  take  the  clothes-brush  to  him,  but  I  said 
nothing,  for  I  like  to  show  I  can  hold  my  tongue. 
Knowledge  is  power,  if  it's  ever  so  unimportant. 
We  didn't  go  far  from  the  house  with  walls  like 
stopped  teeth,  before  she  pulled  up  at  another  rather 
smart  little  door  in  a  street  called  Curzon. 

"  Here  we  are  at  my  place,  and  there's  Simmy 
Hermyre  on  the  doorstep  waiting  to  be  asked  to 
lunch." 

It  was  a  nice  clean  house  with  green  shutters  and 
lovely  lace  curtains  at  the  windows,  that  Ariadne 
would  have  been  glad  of  for  a  dress,  all  gathered  and 
tucked  and  made  to  fit  the  sash  as  if  it  had  been 
a  person.  The  young  man  standing  at  the  front 
door  had  a  coat  with  a  waist,  and  a  nice  clean  face, 
and  a  collar  that  wouldn't  let  him  turn  his  head 
quickly.  He  helped  us  out,  and  she  laughed  at  him 
as  if  he  was  hers. 

"  Are  you  under  the  impression  that  I  have  asked 
you  to  lunch  ?  Why,  I  don't  suppose  there  is  any!" 

Imagine  her  saying  that  when  she  had  brought 
me  all  the  way  from  Isleworth  to  have  it !  I  didn't, 
of  course,  say  anything,  and  she  made  me  go  in,  and 
the  young  man  followed  us,  quite  calm,  although 
she  had  said  there  wasn't  anything  for  him  to  eat. 

"  I  would  introduce  you  to  this  person  "  (I  thought 
it  so  nice  of  her  not  to  stick  on  the  offensive  words 
little  or  young  !)  "  only  it  strikes  me  I  don't  know 


36  THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

her  name."  She  didn't  ask  it,  but  went  on,  "  It's  a 
most  original  little  creature,  and  amused  me  more 
in  an  hour  than  you  have  in  a  year,  my  dear  boy  !  " 

Now,  had  I  said  anything  particularly  amusing  ? 
I  hadn't  tried,  and  I  do  think  you  should  leave  off 
calling  children  "  it "  after  the  first  six  months. 
Mothers  hate  it.  Still,  though  I  didn't  think  her 
quite  polite,  I  told  her  my  name — Tempe  Vero- 
Taylor — in  a  low  voice  so  that  she  could  introduce 
me  to  her  great  friend,  as  we  were  going  to  lunch 
at  the  same  table.  I  thought  there  wouldn't  be  a 
children's  table,  as  she  didn't  speak  of  children,  and 
I  was  glad,  for  children  eat  like  pigs  and  have  no 
conversation. 

Her  eyebrows  went  up  and  her  mouth  went  down, 
but  she  soon  buttoned  up  her  lips  again,  though  they 
stayed  open  at  the  corners,  and  didn't  introduce  me 
to  Mr.  Hermyre  at  all.  I  didn't  suppose  I  should 
ever  meet  him  again,  so  it  didn't  matter. 

We  went  in  and  had  lunch,  and  it  was  quite  a 
grand  lunch,  hot,  and  as  much  again  cold  on  a  side- 
table.  But  I  was  actually  offered  rice-pudding  ! 
I  wouldn't  have  believed  it,  in  a  house  like  this. 
I  refused  rather  curtly,  but  she  ate  it,  and  very  little 
else.  I  generally  take  water  at  home,  but  I  did 
not  see  why  I  shouldn't  taste  champagne  when  I 
had  the  chance,  and  I  took  a  great  deal,  quite  a 
full  glass  full,  and  when  I  had  taken  it,  I  felt  as  if  I 
could  fight  a  lion.  George  often  says  when  he  comes 
back  from  London  that  he  has  been  fighting  with 
wild  beasts  at  Ephesus.  I  wondered  if  I  might  not 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME  37 

meet  some  this  afternoon  at  the  lecture  at  the  Go- 
ahead  Club  ?  Lady  Stilly  (that's  her  name)  said 
she  must  take  me,  and  I  knew  I  should  be  bored, 
but  I  couldn't  very  well  say  no. 

"  You  may  come  too,  Simmy,"  she  said  to  the 
young  man  ;  "  it  will  be  exciting,  I  can  promise 
you  !  " 

"  Not  if  I  know  it,"  he  said.  Then  he  tried  to 
be  kind  and  said,  "  What  is  the  lecture  about  ?  " 

"  The  Uses  of  Fiction." 

"  None,  that  I  can  see,  except  to  provide  some 
poor  devil  with  an  income." 

"  That's  a  man's  view." 

"  It  is,"  he  said,  "  a  man,  and  not  a  monkey's. 
You  don't  call  your  literary  crowd  men,  do  you  ?  " 

I  was  just  wondering  what  he  did  call  them,  when 
Lady  Stilly  shut  him  up,  and  I  thought  she  looked 
at  me.  Presently  he  went  on — 

"  You're  quite  spoiling  your  set,  you  know, 
Paquerette.  I  used  to  enjoy  your  receptions." 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  should  permit  yourself  to 
abuse  my  set  because  you're  a  fifth  cousin.  That's 
the  worst  of  being  well  connected,  so  many  people 
think  they  have  the  right  to  lecture  one  !  " 

"  All  the  better  for  you,  my  dear  !  Do  you  suppose 
now,  that  if  you  were  not  niece  to  a  duke  and  cousin 
to  a  marquis,  that  Society  would  allow  you  to  fill 
your  house  with  people  like  Morrell  Aix  and  Mrs. 
Ptomaine  and  Ve " 

Lady  Stilly  jumped  up  and  said  she  must  go  and 
dress,  and  if  he  wouldn't  come  to  the  lecture  he  must 


38  THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

go,  and  pushed  me  out  of  the  room  in  front  of  her 
and  on  up-stairs. 

"  Good-bye  !  "  she  called  to  him  over  the  ban- 
nisters. "  Let  yourself  out,  and  don't  steal  the 
spoons." 

That  was  a  funny  thing  to  say  to  a  friend,  not  to 
say  a  relation  !  We  went  up  into  her  bedroom,  and 
her  old  nurse — I  suppose  it  was  her  nurse,  for  she 
wore  no  cap  and  bullied  her  like  anything — came 
forward. 

"  Put  me  into  another  gown,  Miller  !  "  she  said, 
flopping  into  a  chair.  Miller  did,  putting  the  skirt 
over  her  head  as  if  she  had  been  a  child,  and  even 
pulling  her  stockings  up  for  her.  Then  she  had  a 
try  at  tidying  me. 

"  Don't  bother.  The  child's  aU  right.  She's  so 
pretty  she  can  wear  anything." 

I  think  personal  remarks  rude  even  if  she  does 
think  me  pretty,  but  I  said  nothing.  She  looked 
at  herself  very  hard  in  the  glass,  and  we  went  down- 
stairs and  got  into  the  motor  again.  Lady  Scilly 
sat  with  her  hand  in  mine,  and  a  funny  little  spot 
of  red  on  the  top  of  the  bone  of  her  cheek  that  I 
hadn't  noticed  there  before.  It  was  real. 


CHAPTER    IV 

WE  went  into  a  house  and  into  a  large  empty  room 
with  whole  streets  of  coggley  chairs  and  a  kind  of 
pulpit  thing  in  the  middle.  A  jug  of  water  and  a 
tumbler  stood  on  it.  There  was  a  governessy-look- 
ing  person  present,  presiding  over  this  emptiness, 
whom  Lady  Scilly  immediately  began  to  order  about. 
She  was  the  secretary  of  the  club,  and  Lady  Scilly 
is  a  member  of  the  committee. 

"  Where  will  you  sit,  Lady  Scilly  ?  "  said  this 
person,  and  she  asked  a  good  many  other  questions, 
using  Lady  Scilly 's  name  very  often. 

"  I  shall  sit  quite  at  the  back  this  time,"  Lady 
Scilly  answered.  "  Too  many  friends  immediately 
near  him  might  put  the  lecturer  out !  "  As  she  said 
this  she  looked  at  me  wickedly,  but  I  could  not  think 
why. 

We  then  went  away  and  read  the  comic  papers 
for  a  little  until  the  place  had  filled.  In  the  reading- 
room  we  met  a  gentleman,  who  seemed  to  be  a  great 
friend  of  Lady  Scilly's.  He  spoke  to  me  while  she 
was  discussing  some  arrangement  or  other  with  the 
secretary,  who  had  followed  her. 

"  How  do  you  like  going  about  with  a  fairy  ?  " 
he  asked  me. 

39 


40  THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

"  I'm  not,"  I  said.  "  She's  a  grown-up  woman, 
old  enough  to  know " 

"  Worse  !  "  he  interrupted  me.  "  She  is  what  I 
call  a  fairy  !  " 

"  What  is  a  fairy  ?  "  I  asked,  though  he  seemed 
to  me  very  silly,  and  only  trying  to  make  conver- 
sation. 

"  A  fairy  is  a  person  who  always  does  exactly 
as  she  likes — and  as  other  people  sometimes  don't 
like." 

"  I  see,"  I  said,  as  usual,  although  I  did  not  see, 
as  usual,  "  just  as  grown-up  people  do." 

"  But  she  isn't  pretty  when  she  is  old  !  I  wonder 
if  you  will  grow  up  a  fairy  ?  No,  I  think  not,  you 
don't  look  as  if  you  could  tell  a  lie." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  I  said.  He  then  remarked 
that  Lady  Scilly  had  sent  him  to  take  me  into  the 
room  where  the  lecture  was  to  be  given,  and  we  went. 
Of  course  I  politely  tried  to  let  age  go  first,  but  he 
didn't  like  that,  and  said  "Jeunesse  oblige,"  and 
"Place  aux  dames,"  and  "Juniores  adpriores" — every 
language  under  the  sun,  winding  up  with  that  silly 
old  story  about  the  polite  Lord  Stair,  who  was  too 
polite  to  hang  back  and  keep  the  king  waiting. 

"  Oh  yes,  I  know  that  story,"  I  said,  just  to  prevent 
him  going  on  bothering.  "  It's  in  Ollendorff." 
l  The  lecture-room  was  quite  full,  and  we — Lady 
Scilly  and  I — squeezed  ourselves  in  at  the  back  in 
a  kind  of  cosy  corner  there  was,  and  we  were  almost 
in  the  dark. 

"  Sit  tight,  child,  whatever  happens  !  "  she  kept 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME  41 

saying,  and  held  my  hand  as  if  I  should  run  away. 
When  among  a  rain  of  claps  the  lecturer  came  in 
I  saw  why,  for  it  was  George  ! 

Lady  Scilly  grabbed  my  arm,  and  said,  "  Don't 
call  out,  child  !  " 

As  if  I  was  going  to  !  But  now  I  saw  why  she  had 
kept  calling  him  the  lecturer  instead  of  saying  his 
name  whenever  she  had  spoken  of  him  before.  Now 
I  saw  why  she  was  so  full  of  nods  and  winks  and 
grins,  and  had  brought  me  to  the  lecture  so  par- 
ticularly. Now  I  saw  why  the  old  gentleman  had 
called  her  a  fairy — that  meant  a  tease,  and  I  wasn't 
going  to  gratify  her  by  seeming  upset  or  anything. 
Not  I !  So  I  sat  quite  still  as  she  told  me,  and  George 
began. 

I  borrowed  a  pencil  of  the  Ollendorff  man,  and 
put  down  some  notes  to  remind  me  of  what  George 
said,  for  Ariadne.  It  took  me  some  time  to  get  used 
to  the  funny  little  voice  George  put  on  to  lecture 
with,  quite  different  to  his  Isleworth  voice.  Presently 
when  I  began  to  catch  on  a  little  I  found  that  the 
lecture  was  all  about  novels  and  the  good  of  them, 
as  Lady  Scilly  had  said.  This  is  the  sort  of  thing — 

"  A  novel"  said  my  father,  "  is  apt  to  hold  a  group 
of  quite  ordinary,  uninteresting  characters,  wallowing 
in  their  clammy,  stale  environment,  like  fishes  in  an 
aquarium,  held  together  by  a  thin  thread  of  narrative, 
and  bounded  by  the  four  walls  of  the  author's  experi- 
ence. His  duty  is  to  enlarge  that  experience,  for  to 
novels  we  go,  not  so  much  for  amusement  as  for  a 
criticism  of  Life.  That  portion  of  life  which  comes 


42  THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

under  the  reader's  own  observation  is  naturally  so  re- 
stricted, so  vastly  disproportionate,  to  the  whole  great 
arcana"  (I  do  hope  I  got  this  down  right !)  "  The 
novelist  should  be  omniscient  and  omnipotent."  (Once 
I  got  these  two  great  words,  all  the  rest  seemed 
child's  play.)  "  A  great  responsibility  lies  with  the 
purveyors  of  this  necessary  panorama  of  existence,  the 
men  who  monopolize  the  furnishing  and  regulating  of 
the  supply"  (Loud  applause.)  "  The  right  man,  or 
per 'adventure,  the  right  woman  "  (he  bowed  at  Lady 
Scilly),  "  knows,  or  ought  to  know,  so  many  sides,  while 
the  reader,  alas,  knows  but  one,  and  is  so  tired  of  that 
one  !  " 

Everybody  sighed  and  groaned  a  little  to  show 
how  tired  they  were,  and  George  went  on — 

"  /  see  my  audience  is  in  touch  with  me.  It  works 
both  ways"  (What  works  both  ways  ?  I  must  have 
left  something  out.)  "  A  Duchess  of  my  acquaint- 
ance said  some  poignant,  pregnant  words — as  indeed 
all  her  words  are  pregnant  and  poignant "  (he  bowed 
to  an  old  corpulent  lady  in  another  part  of  the  room) 
— "  to  me  the  other  day.  She  said  that  her  novel  of 
predilection  was  not  a  society  novel.  '  /  know  it  all, 
don't  I,  like  the  palm  of  my  hand?'  she  objected.  ll 
know  how  to  behave  in  a  drawing-room  and  how  not 
to  behave  in  a  boudoir  / '  So  she  complained.  The 
substance  of  her  complaint,  as  I  understand  it,  is 
this  ; — what  she  wants  is  worlds  not  realized  !  She 
wants  to  see  the  actress  in  her  drawing-room,  the 
flower-girl  in  her  garret,  the  laundress  at  her  tub,  the 
burglar  at  his  work " 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  43 

Here  George  made  a  little  bob  at  Mr.  Aix  in  the 
audience,  for  there  he  was,  and  there  was  another 
fit  of  clapping.  Then  he  went  on — 

"  /  mean  to  say  that  what  we  mostly  seek  in  fiction 
is  to  be  taken  out  of  our  own  lives,  and  put  into  some- 
body else's — to  temporarily  change  our  moral  environ- 
ment. High  life  is  deeply  interested  in  what  is  going 
on  below  stairs.  Bill  Sykes  and  'Liza  of  Lambeth, 
if  they  have  any  time  for  reading,  want  to  know  all 
about  countesses  and  their  attendant  sprites"  (Fancy 
calling  Simon  Hermyre  that !)  "  The  Highest  or  the 
Lowest,  but  no  middle  course,  is  the  novelist's  counsel 
of  perfection.  There  is  no  second  class  in  the  literary 
railway. 

"  Yet  there  is  a  serious  issue  involved  in  this  pro- 
position. If,  for  instance — only  for  instance,  for  I 
am  very  sure  that  most  of  us  here  will  have  to  rely  on 
imagination,  not  fact,  to  support  my  illustration — 
if  our  home  is  a  suburban  one,  and  our  wildest  actual 
dissipation  a  tea-party  in  Clapham  or  Tooting — even 
Clapham  Rise  or  Upper  Tooting — we  must  transport 
ourselves  in  seven-league  boots  to  the  better  quarters 
of  London,  to  visualize  the  giddy  cultured  throng  in 
the  halls  of  Belgravia,  and  set  down  accurately  the 
facile  inaccuracies  of  the  small  talk  of  May  fair.  It  is 
the  tale  of  the  mad,  bad  great  world  that  sets  the  heart  of 
the  matron  of  Kennington  Common  aflame,  and  makes 
her  waking  dreams  '  all  a  wonder  and  a  wild  desire.' 
Que  voulez  vous  ?  She  is  our  staple  standing  reader. 
She  does  not  want  to  bend  her  chaste  thoughts  towards 
Hornsey  Rise  and  Cricklewood,  to  envisage,  stimulated 


44  THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

by  the  novelist's  art,  its  bursten  boilers,  its  infant  woes, 
its  humdrum  marrying  and  giving  in  marriage.  No, 
she  prefers,  in  her  grey  unlovely  Jerry-built  parlour, 
to  gloat  over  the  morbid,  rose-coloured  sins  that  are 
enacted  in  the  halls  of  fashion  ;  the  voluptuous  sorrows 
of  the  Bridge-end  of  the  week  ;  the  mystery  of  Royal 
visits  postponed  are  her  chosen  pabulum.  To  all 
these  novelists  whose  ways  are  cast  in  safe  and  hum- 
drum middle-class  places  I  would  say  that  they  had 
best  ignore  their  entourage  as  a  help  to  local  colour. 
In  this  case,  character  drawing,  like  charity,  should 
not  begin  at  Home.  Go  out,  go  out,  young  man,  from 
thy  homely  nest  in  the  suburbs,  where  the  females  of 
thy  family  hang  over  their  flaccid  meat  teas  in  faded 
blouses " 

I  think  it  was  about  here  that  I  half  got  up,  quite 
determined,  and  Lady  Stilly  pinched  me  in  several 
places  at  once. 

"  Don't  nip  me,  please,"  I  said.  "  I  think 
somebody  ought  to  get  up  and  tell  George  he's 
drivelling,  and  if  nobody  else  does,  I  will," 

"  Bless  the  child  !  "  she  said.  "  You  may  answer 
him  when  he's  done,  if  you  like,  and  can.  It  will 
be  quite  amusing." 

I  think  that  she  really  was  a  fairy,  but  never  mind  ! 
I  did  think  somebody  ought  to  stop  George,  and  take 
Mother's  side.  So  I  waited,  though  I  stopped  my 
ears  and  would  not  listen  to  any  more  till  George  sat 
down  and  the  secretary  lady  asked  if  some  one  would 
care  to  answer  Mr.  Vero-Taylor's  speech  ?  Lady 
Stilly  poked  me  up,  and  I  got  up  so  that  George  and 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME  45 

all  of  them  could  see  me,  and  I  didn't  feel  a  bit  shy 
— no,  for  I  had  something  to  say,  and  off  I  went, 
to  speak  up  for  Mother  who  wasn't  there  to  speak 
up  for  herself. 

"  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,"  I  said — I  noticed  that 
George  began  like  that — "  I  don't  agree  at  all  with 
what  the  gentleman — who  is  my  father — has  been 
saying  about  Tooting — Upper  Tooting,  I  mean.  He 
ought  to  be  more  patriotic,  as  he  lives  at  Isleworth, 
which  is  pretty  nearly  the  same  thing,  part  of  his 
time  anyhow,  and  I  suppose  he  needn't  do  it  unless 
he  likes.  And  as  for  what  he  says  about  Mother, 
why,  I  can  tell  everybody  that  Mother  doesn't  read 
novels  about  Duchesses  or  anybody.  She  hasn't 
time,  she's  much  too  busy  in  the  house,  bringing 
us  up,  and  cooking  specially  for  George,  and  so  on. 
That's  all !  " 

I  sat  down  with  a  bump.  George  seemed  to  sub- 
side, and  I  lost  him,  but  I  hardly  expected  him  to 
come  and  hug  me.  Lady  Scilly  went  and  comforted 
him,  perhaps  !  I  don't  know  what  happened,  except 
tea  and  coffee,  but  I  didn't  feel  inclined,  and  I  asked 
Mr.  Aix  to  take  me  home. 

He  did,  in  a  hansom.  He  held  my  hand  all  the 
way.  We  didn't  talk,  but  I  am  sure  he  wasn't  cross 
with  me,  and  held  my  hand  to  show  it.  He  seemed 
to  know  I  was  going  to  have  a  bad  time. 

I  did.     Even  Mother  scolded  me. 

Papa  didn't  come  near  us  for  a  week,  and  when 
he  was  due  I  asked  if  I  might  have  a  cold  and  be  in 
bed.  God  sent  me  a  real  cold  to  make  me  truthful. 


46  THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

Aunt  Gerty  nursed  me.  It  wasn't  so  bad.  She 
read  to  me  about  Thumbelina  and  Boadicea,  my 
two  favourite  heroines,  one  big  and  the  other  little, 
and  poetry  about  my  painted  boy,  which  I  love  and 
that  always  makes  me  go  to  sleep.  I  believe  it  is 
spelt  with  a  u,  and  doesn't  mean  a  child  at  all.  But, 
I  like  it  best  my  way — 

"  We  left  behind  the  painted  buoy 

That  tosses  at  the  harbour-mouth, 

And  madly  danced  our  hearts  with  joy 

As  fast  we  fleeted  to  the  South." 

While  I  was  ill,  though,  I  missed  all  the  discussions 
about  moving,  and  the  results  of  the  lecture  and  all 
that.  Ariadne  reported  what  she  could.  She  said 
that  Mother  and  George  never  mentioned  me,  but 
talked  as  if  the  drains  had  gone  wrong,  or  a  pipe 
had  burst,  or  as  if  George  had  lost  a  lot  of  money 
somehow.  Everything  is  to  be  altered  and  the  world 
will  be  topsy-turvey  when  I  get  down-stairs  again. 
Though  I  don't  suppose  that  even  if  I  did  get  a 
chance  of  putting  my  word  in,  I  could  alter  anything 
as  I  wished  it  ?  These  grown-ups,  once  they  get 
the  bit  between  their  teeth ! 


CHAPTER   V 

IT  is  no  fun  for  George  now,  when  everybody 
knows  he  is  a  married  man.  Lady  Scilly  took  care 
of  that,  and  told  everybody  as  a  good  joke,  and  all 
her  friends  at  the  Go-ahead  Club  told  their  friends 
how  George  Vero-Taylor's  little  girl  had  burst  into 
the  middle  of  his  lecture  there  and  given  him  away 
— such  fun,  don't  you  know  !  It  wasn't  fun  for  me, 
for  I  had  nothing  but  the  consciousness  of  a  bad 
action  to  support  me  in  Coventry,  where  they  all 
put  me  for  a  month.  It  wouldn't  have  mattered 
so  much  if  George  hadn't  been  at  home  a  good  deal 
about  that  time.  I  think  I  prefer  George  as  a  visitor, 
and  so  does  Elizabeth  Cawthorne,  though  she  says 
it  is  more  natural  perhaps  for  a  gentleman  to  stop 
with  his  family,  though  wearing  to  the  servants. 

George  is  a  philosopher.  He  has  been  forced  to 
own  up  to  a  family,  and  thus  has  lost  a  certain 
amount  of  prestige,  but  he  is  now  trying  a  new  line. 
At  any  rate,  he  has  been  a  good  deal  talked  about, 
and  got  into  the  newspapers,  and  that  will  sell  an 
edition,  I  should  think.  He  has  a  volume  on  the 
stocks.  Misfortunes  never  come  single-handed, 
luckily.  He  settled  to  build  a  house — a  house  that 

47 


48  THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

should  express  him  and  shelter  his  family  as  well. 
Mother  didn't  want  to  build.  If  we  had  to  move,  she 
wanted  a  dear  little  house  on  the  river  at  Datchet, 
or  even  at  Surbiton,  and  she  and  I  used  to  go  down 
for  the  day  third-class  to  see  if  there  were  any  to  let. 
We  used  to  take  a  packet  of  sandwiches  and  a  soda- 
water  bottle  full  of  milk  for  us  both.  Mother  never 
hardly  touches  spirits.  In  this  way  we  looked  over 
heaps  of  little  earwiggeries  trimmed  with  clematises 
and  pots  of  geraniums  hanging  from  the  balconies, 
with  their  poor  roots  higher  than  their  heads,  and 
manicured  lawns  right  down  to  the  water's  edge. 
George  didn't  stop  our  doing  this  and  taking  so  much 
trouble  ;  I  believe  he  thought  it-amused  us  and  did 
him  no  harm.  But  all  the  time,  he  was  hansoming 
it  backwards  and  forwards  to  St.  John's  Wood,  where 
he  meant  to  settle.  He  quietly  chose  a  site,  and 
bought  it,  and  was  his  own  architect,  though  a  little 
Mr.  Jortin  he  discovered,  made  the  plans  from  his 
dictation.  He  got  no  credit,  except  for  the  blunders. 
George,  being  a  man  of  the  widest  culture,  wanted 
to  show  the  world  that  he  can  do  other  things  than 
write  books.  In  Who's  Who,  he  doesn't  mention 
writing  as  one  of  his  occupations,  not  even  as  one 
of  his  amusements.  These  are  Riding,  Driving, 
Shooting,  Fishing,  Fencing,  Polo,  Rotting  and  Log- 
rolling, or  at  least,  that's  what  his  friend  Mr.  Aix 
read  out  to  us  one  afternoon  he  came  to  see  us,  out 
of  the  very  newest  edition,  and  George  was  in  the 
room  too,  and  laughed. 

All  this  time  Ariadne  and  I  were  kept  hard  at  it 


THE   CELEBRITY    AT   HOME  49 

copying  things.  George  talked  of  nothing  but 
atriums  and  tricliniums  and  environments.  I  only 
interrupted  once,  when  I  said  that  they  had  never 
mentioned  a  main  staircase,  and  was  it  going  to  be 
outside,  like  those  wooden  ones  you  see  in  the 
country,  with  the  fowls  stepping  up  to  bed  on  them  ? 
They  thanked  me,  and  added  an  inside  stairs  to  the 
plan  at  once. 

As  soon  as  we  get  into  the  new  house,  George  in- 
tends to  raise  his  prices.  He  expects  to  get  ten 
pounds  per  "  thou."  He  told  Middleman,  his  literary 
agent,  so.  Up  to  now  his  price  was  four  pound  ten 
per  "  thou."  for  articles,  and  the  royalties  on  his  last 
book  are  going  to  pay  for  the  new  house.  Middle- 
man says  George  will  be  quite  right  to  charge  estab- 
lishment charges.  Middleman  is  supposed  to  have 
a  faint,  very  faint  sense  of  humour,  and  that's  the 
only  way  people  get  at  him.  Mr.  Aix  says  Middle- 
man can  run  up  an  author's  sales  twenty  per  cent,  in 
no  time,  if  he  fancies  you  personally,  or  thinks  there's 
money  in  you. 

George's  new  book  is  going  to  be  not  mediaeval 
this  time ;  people  have  imitated  him  and  The 
Adventures  of  Sir  Bore  and  Sir  Weariful  was  brought 
out  just  to  plague  him,  so  he  is  going  to  quit  that  for 
a  time.  He  thinks  that  the  Isles  of  Greece  would 
be  a  good  place  to  dump  a  few  English  aristocrats 
and  tell  their  adventures  on.  He  will  go  abroad 
soon,  but  is  waiting  for  some  of  the  aristocrats  to 
make  up  a  party  and  pay  his  expenses. 

Meanwhile  Cinque  Cento  House,  as  it  is  to  be 


50  THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

called,  rose  like  a  thief  in  the  night,  and  as  it  grew 
higher  and  higher  Mother's  face  grew  longer  and 
longer.  She  refused  to  go  near  it,  and  it  was  Lady 
Stilly  who  helped  George  to  arrange  the  furniture. 

Aunt  Gerty,  however,  is  practical,  and  tried  to 
get  Mother  to  take  some  interest  in  her  own 
mansion. 

"I  do,"  Mother  said,  "but  at  a  distance.  I 
couldn't  be  of  any  use  advising,  and  whatever  I  ad- 
vised, George  would  still  take  his  own  way.  That 
odious  woman,  whom  I  thank  God  I  have  never 
set  eyes  on,  is  always  about,  and  would  put  my  back 
up  if  I  met  her  there,  and  I  should  say  things  I  should 
be  sorry  for  after.  No,  Gerty,  let  them  arrange  it 
as  they  like,  and  buy  furniture  and  set  it  up.  It  is 
George's  own  money.  He  earned  it." 

"  Not  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow,  at  all  events  !  " 
sneered  my  aunt. 

"  I  came  to  him  without  a  penny,  and  I  haven't 
the  right  to  dictate  so  much  as  the  position  of  a 
wardrobe." 

"  You're  the  man's  lawful  wife,"  said  Aunt  Gerty, 
as  she  always  did.  One  got  tired  of  the  expression. 

"Yes,  unfortunately,"  said  Mother.  "Or  I'd 
have  a  better  chance  !  But  I  am  not  going  to  fight 
over  George  with  that  minx  !  " 

How  Mother  did  hate  Lady  Stilly,  to  be  sure,  a 
person  she  had  never  seen  !  I  once  told  her  she 
needn't  be  cross  with  Lady  Stilly,  and  how  harmless 
she  was,  and  how  very  little  she  really  thought  of 
Papa — snubbed  him  even,  and  treated  him  like  dirt ; 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  51 

and  then  she  was  cross  with  me,  and  said  George  was 
a  man  of  whom  any  woman  might  be  proud. 

Ariadne  and  I  went  over  to  the  new  house  often, 
to  get  measurements  for  blinds  and  curtains  and 
things  at  home.  Mother  made  them,  and  then  we 
took  them  round.  Lady  Stilly  was  always  there, 
from  twelve  to  two,  and  George  generally  met  her 
and  they  shut  themselves  into  first  one  room  and 
then  another,  discussing  it.  Vanloads  of  furniture 
kept  coming  in,  and  all  George's  furniture  from  his 
old  rooms  in  Mayfair.  She  kept  saying — 

"  Oh,  that  dear  old  marquetry  cabinet !  How  I 
remember  it  in  Chapel  Street,  and  how  the  firelight 
caught  it  in  the  evenings  !  "  or  else — "  That  sweet 
little  pair  of  Flemish  bellows  ?  Do  you  remember 
when  you  and  I  " — something  or  other  ? 

She  marched  about  and  settled  everything.  George 
took  it  quite  mildly,  and  made  jokes,  at  least  I 
suppose  they  were  jokes,  for  he  made  her  laugh 
consumedly,  so  she  said.  It's  extraordinary  how 
he  can  make  people  laugh — people  out  of  his  own 
family  ! 

She  is  very  friendly  to  me  and  Ariadne,  and  has 
promised  to  present  Ariadne  at  the  next  Court.  It's 
to  please  George,  if  she  does  remember  to  do  it. 
But  if  I  were  Ariadne  I  should  refuse  till  my  own 
mother  had  been  presented  first,  so  that  she  could 
introduce  me  herself.  George  ought  to  insist  on  it, 
but  he  always  says  "  Let  them  rave  !  "  and  that 
means,  Do  as  you  like,  but  don't  bother  me.  What 
he  won't  like  will  be  forking  out  forty  pounds  for 


52  THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

Ariadne's  dress,  and  it  will  end  by  her  staying  at 
home.  Ariadne  wants  to  be  presented  badly  ;  she 
is  practising  curtseys  already,  and  longing  for  the 
season  to  begin.  I  would  not  condescend  to  owe 
even  a  pleasure  to  Lady  Scilly,  but  Ariadne  is  so 
poor-spirited,  and  Aunt  Gerty  continually  advises 
her  to  take  what  she  can  get,  and  make  what  she 
can  out  of  George's  "  mash,"  when  well  disposed. 

About  Easter,  George  got  his  chance.  Lady 
Scilly  proposed  a  month's  yachting  trip  in  the 
Mediterranean  in  somebody's  yacht  that  they  were 
willing  to  lend  her,  on  condition  she  invited  her  own 
party  and  included  them.  If  I  had  a  yacht,  I  would 
ask  my  own  party,  that  is  all  I  can  say.  She  asked 
George  to  go  with  them — "  We  shan't  see  more  of  Mr. 
Pawky  (i.e.  the  owner)  than  we  can  help,  and  you  can 
have  a  study  on  board  and  write  a  yachting  novel, 
like  William  Black's,  and  put  old  Pawky  in.  He  is 
quite  a  character,  you  know,  with  a  gilded  liver,  as 
they  say — dyspeptic  and  all  that.  I  can't  stand 
him,  but  you  might  bear  with  him  a  little  in  the 
interests  of  Art!"  George  had  no  objection  to  visit- 
ing the  scene  of  his  new  book  at  Mr.  Pawky' s  ex- 
pense, in  the  company  of  his  own  pals,  and  accepted 
at  once.  I  wonder  if  they  will  batten  down  the 
hatches  on  Mr.  Pawky  as  soon  as  they  get  out  to 
sea,  and  keep  him  there  for  the  rest  of  the  voyage  ? 
It  would  be  just  like  them. 

George  proposed  to  Mother  that  she  should  move 
in  while  he  was  away.  He  said  somebody  must  go 
in  to  get  the  painters  out.  Then  he  would  come 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME  53 

home  fresh  and  full  of  material,  and  find  his  study 
organized  and  everything  ready  for  him  to  begin. 
He  said  there  would  be  ructions,  inseparable  from 
a  first  installation,  and  that  would  put  him  off  work 
abominably,  and  spoil  the  whole  brewing  ! 

"  Dear,"  said  Mother,  "  I  fear  we  shall  do  badly 
without  you — you  are  a  man,  at  least — but  I'll  be 
good,  and  spare  you  cheerfully  !  " 

So  he  went.  Then  Mother  set  to  work,  and  was 
perfectly  happy.  There  was  to  be  a  sale  in  this 
house,  because  the  furniture  in  it  would  not  go  with 
what  George  and  Lady  Scilly  had  chosen  for  Cinque 
Cento  House,  but  there  were  some  old  pieces  Mother 
could  not  do  without.  Her  nice  brass  bedstead, 
and  the  old  nursery  fender  that  Ariadne  nearly 
hanged  herself  on  once  in  a  fit  of  naughtiness,  and 
of  course  all  the  bedding  and  linen  and  kitchen 
utensils  from  "  The  Magnolias  " — one  could  hardly 
suppose  Lady  Scilly  had  troubled  herself  about  that 
sort  of  thing  ?  The  greengrocer  "  moved  "  us  for 
two  pounds.  Mother  and  Aunt  Gerty  and  the  cook 
saw  the  things  off  at  Isleworth,  and  Ariadne  and 
I  and  Kate — Sarah  had  gone,  and  I  never  got  any 
better  reason  than  that  she  "had  to  "—received 
them  at  Cinque  Cento  House.  Mother  had  stuck 
to  it,  that  she  would  not  go  near  the  place  till  she 
went  in  for  good,  so  it  was  to  be  all  quite  new  to  her 
and  Aunt  Gerty.  Ariadne  and  I,  who  had  been  in 
and  out  for  months,  wondered  how  they  would  like 
it,  and  expected  some  sport  when  their  eyes  first  fell 
on  it. 


54  THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

We  had  a  long  delightful  day  of  anticipation,  and 
putting  things  where  they  had  to  go,  and  in  the  even- 
ing Mother  and  Aunt  Gerty  came.  They  had  got  out 
of  the  train  at  Swiss  Cottage,  and  asked  their  way 
to  their  own  house.  Aunt  Gerty  had  her  mouth 
wide  open  ;  Mother  had  hers  tight  shut.  She  was 
not  intending  to  carp  or  pass  opinions,  but  the  front- 
door knocker  was  a  regular  slap  in  the  face,  and  took 
her  breath  away. 

She  tried  to  talk  of  something  else,  and  whispered 
to  Aunt  Gerty,  "  Rather  an  inconvenient  place  for 
a  coal-shoot,  isn't  it !  Right  alongside  the  front- 
door !  " 

I  hastened  to  explain  that  that  was  the  larder- 
window  she  saw,  to  prevent  unpleasantness. 

Mother  shivered  when  she  got  into  the  hall,  which 
is  vast  and  flagged  with  marble  like  a  church.  "  It 
strikes  very  cold  to  the  feet!"  she  said  to  Aunt  Gerty. 
"  Mine  are  like  so  much  ice." 

"  Oh,  come  along,  and  we'll  brew  you  a  glass  of 
hot  toddy  !  "  Aunt  Gerty  said  cheerfully.  "  It's 
a  bit  chilly,  I  think,  myself,  but  'ansom,  like  the 
big  'all  where  'Amlet  'as  the  players  !  " 

Aunt  Gerty  is  generally  most  careful,  but  she  is 
apt  to  drop  a  little  h  or  so  when  she  is  excited.  She 
could  hardly  contain  herself,  as  Ariadne  and  I  had 
hoped,  when  she  saw  the  gilt  stairs  leading  up  into 
the  study. 

"  What  price  broken  legs  ?  Why,  I  shall  have  to 
get  roller-skates  or  take  off  my  shoes  and  stockings 
to  go  up  them  !  " 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME  55 

"  So  you  will,  Aunt  Gerty,"  said  Ariadne.  "  It 
is  one  of  George's  rules.  He  made  Lady  Stilly 
even  leave  off  her  high  heels  before  she  used 
them." 

"  Took  'em  off  for  her  himself  with  his  lily  hands, 
I  suppose  ?  "  snorted  my  aunt.  "  Well,  I  don't 
expect  you  will  find  me  treading  those  golden  stairs 
very  often.  I  ain't  one  of  George's  elect." 

"  Such  wretched  things  to  keep  clean,"  Mother 
complained.  "  The  servants  are  sure  to  object  to 
the  extra  work,  and  give  up  their  places,  and  I  am 
sure  one  can't  blame  them,  and  such  good  ones  as 
we've  got,  too,  in  these  awful  times,  when  looking 
for  a  cook  is  like  looking  for  a  needle  in  a  bottle  of 
hay.  Heavens,  is  the  girl  there  all  the  time  listening 
to  me  ?  " 

Kate  was,  luckily,  down-stairs,  showing  Elizabeth 
Cawthorne  the  way  about  her  kitchen,  or  else  it 
would  have  been  very  imprudent  to  tell  a  servant 
how  valuable  she  is.  Mother  was  cowed  by  the 
danger  she  had  escaped,  but  Aunt  Gerty  went  on 
flouncing  about,  pricing  everything  and  tinkling  her 
nails  against  pots  and  jugs,  till  she  stopped  suddenly 
and  put  her  muff  before  her  face — 

"  Well,  of  all  the  improper  objects  to  meet  a  lady's 
eye  coming  into  a  gentleman's  house  !  Who's  that 
mouldy  old  statue  of  ?  " 

I  told  her  that  was  Autolycus. 

"  Cover  yourself,  Tollie,  I  would,"  Aunt  Gerty 
said,  going  past  him  affectedly.  "  Oh,  look,  Lucy, 
at  all  those  dragons  and  cockroaches  doing  splits 


56  THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

on  the  fire-place  !  Brass,  too,  trimmed  copper.  My 
God  !  " 

"  I  shall  just  have  to  clean  that  brass  fire-place 
myself,"  said  Mother.  "  I  shall  never  have  the 
face  to  ask  Kate  to  do  it." 

"  And  no  proper  grate,  only  the  bare  bricks  left 
showing  !  "  Aunt  Gerty  wailed.  "  How  could  one 
get  up  any  proper  fireside  feeling  over  a  contraption 
like  that !  The  Lyceum  scenery  is  nothing  to  it. 
It  makes  me  think  of  Shakespeare  all  the  time — so 
painfully  meretricious " 

Lady  Castlewood  in  a  basket  under  Mother's 
arm,  suddenly  began  to  mew  very  sadly.  Aunt 
Gerty  had  put  Robert  the  Devil  down  on  the  floor, 
in  his  hamper,  and  I  suppose  a  draught  got  to  him, 
for  he  spat  loudly.  Ariadne  and  I  let  out  the  poor 
things  and  they  bounced  straight  out  on  to  the 
parquet  floor,  and  their  feet  slid  from  under  them. 
I  never  saw  two  cats  look  so  silly  ! 

"  Well,  if  a  cat  can't  keep  his  feet  on  those  wooden 
tiles,"  said  Mother,  "  I  don't  suppose  I  can,"  and 
she  jumped,  just  to  try,  right  into  the  middle  of  a 
little  square  of  blue  carpet,  which,  true  enough,  slid 
along  with  her. 

"You  can  give  a  nice  hop  here,  at  any  rate,"  cried 
Aunt  Gerty,  catching  her  round  the  waist,  and  waltz- 
ing all  over  the  room,  till  both  their  picture  hats  fell 
off,  and  hung  down  their  backs  by  the  pins.  "  Ask 
me  and  all  the  boys,  and  give  a  nice  sit-down  supper, 
and  do  us  as  well  as  the  old  villain  will  allow  you." 

She  was  quite  happy.     That  is  just  like  an  actress  ! 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  57 

Ariadne  and  I  danced  too,  and  the  cats  mewed 
loudly  for  strangeness.  Cats  hate  newness  of  any 
kind,  and  they  weren't  easy  till  I  got  some  news- 
paper, crackled  it,  and  let  them  sit  on  it,  and  then 
they  were  all  right.  Then  Mother  and  Aunt  Gerty 
rang  the  queer-shaped  bell,  as  if  it  would  sting  them, 
and  got  up  some  coals  which  Mother  had  had  the 
forethought  to  order  in,  and  lit  a  modest  little  fire 
in  a  great  cave  with  brass  images  in  front  of  it  under 
the  kind  of  copper  hood.  It  wouldn't  draw  at  first, 
being  used  to  logs,  and  when  it  smoked  we  threw 
water  on  it,  lest  we  dirtied  the  beautiful  silk  hang- 
ings. At  last  we  fetched  Elizabeth  Cawthorne. 

"  Hout !  "  she  said.  "  I'd  like  to  see  the  fire  that's 
going  to  get  the  better  of  me  !  " 

She  made  it  burn,  sulkily,  and  Ariadne  and  I  went 
to  a  shop  we  knew  of  round  the  corner,  and  bought 
tea  and  sugar  and  condensed  milk,  to  make  our- 
selves tea  with  the  spirit-lamp  Aunt  Gerty  had 
brought.  We  had  no  butter  or  bread,  only  biscuits 
luckily,  so  we  couldn't  stain  the  Cinque  Cento  chairs, 
whose  gold  trimmings  were  simply  peeling  off  them. 
Sit  on  them  we  dared  not,  they  would  have  let  us 
down  on  the  floor  for  a  certainty.  Mother  and  Aunt 
Gerty  had  a  high  old  time  blaming  Lady  Scilly  for 
all  her  foolish  arrangements,  and  then  we  all  went 
down  to  the  so-called  kitchen  to  see  how  Elizabeth 
Cawthorne  was  getting  on  there.  She  was  in  a  rage, 
but  trying  to  pass  it  off,  like  a  good  soul  as  she  is. 

"  Well,  I  never  !  Here's  a  gold  handle  to  my  coal- 
cellar  door  !  I  shall  have  to  wipe  my  lily  hands 


58  THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

before  I  dare  use  it.  And  a  fine  lady  of  a  dresser 
that  I  shall  be  shy  to  set  a  plain  dish  on.  Beetles 
here,  do  you  ask,  woman  ?  "  (To  Kate.)  "  They'd 
be  ashamed  to  show  their  faces  in  such  a  smart  place 
as  this,  I'm  thinking.  And  what's  this  couple  of 
drucken  little  candlesticks  for  the  kitchen  ?  Our 
Kate  '11  soon  rive  the  fond  bit  handles  from  off  them, 
or  she's  not  the  girl  I  take  her  f or  !  " 

She  banged  it  hard  against  the  dresser  as  servants 
do,  to  make  it  break,  but  it  didn't,  and  she  looked 
disappointed.  Mother  then  suggested  she  should 
unpack  a  favourite  frying-pan  she  never  goes  any- 
where without,  and  sent  Kate  out  for  a  pound  and 
a  half  of  loin-chops,  and  cook  was  to  fry  them  for  our 
dinners. 

The  kitchen  fire,  after  all,  was  the  only  one  that 
would  burn,  so  we  ate  our  chops  there,  and  sat  there 
till  bed-time.  Ariadne  looked  like  a  picture,  sitting 
at  a  trestle-table,  and  a  thing  like  a  torch  burning 
at  the  back  of  her  head.  She  was  thoroughly  dis- 
gusted, and  got  quite  cross,  and  so  did  Elizabeth, 
as  the  evening  went  on.  She  hated  trestles,  and 
flambeaus,  and  dark  Rembrandtish  corners,  and 
couldn't  lay  her  hand  on  her  things  nohow,  so  that 
when  we  all  went  up  to  bed,  Mother  said  to  her — 

"  Good-night,  Elizabeth.  You  have  been  a  bit 
upset,  haven't  you  ?  I  wonder  we  have  managed 
to  get  through  the  day  without  a  row  !  " 

"  So  do  I,  ma'am,"  said  the  cook.  "  Heaps  of 
times  I'd  have  given  you  warning  for  twopence,  but 
you  never  gave  me  ought  to  lay  hold  on." 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  59 

A  horrid  wind  sprang  up  and  moaned  us  off  to 
sleep.  I  thought  once  or  twice  of  George  out  on 
the  Mediterranean  on  a  tippity  yacht,  and  didn't 
quite  want  him  to  get  drowned,  though  he  had  made 
us  live  in  such  an  uncomfortable  house.  I  had  tried 
to  colonize  a  little,  and  put  up  a  photograph  of 
Mother  done  at  Ramsgate  in  a  blue  frame,  to  make 
me  feel  more  at  home.  Ariadne  had  hung  up  all 
her  necklaces  on  a  row  of  nails.  She  has  forty. 
There  is  one  made  of  dried  marrowfat  peas,  that 
she  nibbles  when  she  is  nervous,  and  another  of 
horse's  jesses,  or  whatever  you  call  them,  sewn  on 
red  velvet.  We  have  a  bed  each,  costing  fourteen- 
and-six.  They  are  apt  to  shut  up  with  you  in  them. 
There  is  no  carpet  in  our  room,  and  there  are  not 
to  be  any.  We  are  to  be  hardy.  Nothing  rouses  one 
like  a  touch  of  cold  floor  in  the  mornings,  and  cools 
one  on  hot  nights  better  than  the  same.  Our  water- 
jug  too  is  an  odd  shape.  I  tilted  all  the  water  out 
of  it  on  to  the  floor  the  first  time  I  tried  to  use  it. 
It  must  be  French,  it  is  so  small.  I  shall  not  wash 
my  hands  very  often  in  the  days  to  come,  I  fancy. 

Ariadne  began  to  get  reconciled  to  our  room  when 
she  had  made  up  her  mind  it  was  like  the  bower  of 
a  mediaeval  chatelaine,  or  like  Princess  Ursula's 
bedroom  in  Carpaccio,  but  I  prefer  Early  Victorian, 
and  cried  myself  to  sleep. 

Next  morning  Ben  come  along  ;  he  had  stayed 
all  night  at  the  Hitchings',  in  Corinth  Road.  Jessie 
Hitchings  likes  Ben  best  of  the  family.  She  may 
marry  him,  when  he  is  grown  up,  if  she  likes.  He 


60  THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

has  birth,  but  no  education,  so  that  will  make  them 
even.  The  only  glimmering  of  hope  I  see  for  Ben 
is  that  in  this  house  there  seems  to  be  no  bedroom 
for  him,  unless  it  is  a  room  at  the  top  with  all  the 
water  tanks  in  it,  which  makes  me  think  perhaps 
George  is  going  to  send  him  to  school  ?  For  the 
present  we  have  arranged  him  a  bed  in  the  butler's 
pantry.  Ben  says  perhaps  George  means  him  to  be 
butler,  as  he  has  laid  it  down  as  a  rule  that  only 
women  servants  are  to  be  used  in  Cinque  Cento 
House.  They  look  so  much  nicer  than  men,  George 
says  ;  he  likes  a  houseful  of  waving  cap-ribbons. 
Mother  thinks  she  can  work  a  house  best  on  one 
servant,  and  better  still  on  none.  George  doesn't 
mind  her  having  any  amount  of  boys  from  the  Home 
near  here,  but  that  doesn't  suit  Mother.  She  says 
one  boy  isn't  much  good,  that  two  boys  is  only 
one  and  a  half,  and  that  three  boys  is  no  boy  at  all. 
I  suppose  they  get  playing  together  ?  Ariadne  and 
I  would,  in  their  place,  I  know,  and  human  nature 
is  the  same,  even  in  a  Home,  though  I  can't  call 
ours  quite  that. 


CHAPTER    VI 

GEORGE  makes  a  point  of  refusing  to  be  inter- 
viewed. He  hates  it,  unless  it  is  for  one  of  the  best 
papers.  Then  he  says  that  it  is  a  sheer  kindness, 
and  that  a  successful  man  has  no  right  to  refuse 
some  poor  devil  or  other  the  chance  of  making  an 
honest  pound  or  two.  So  he  suffers  him  gladly. 
He  even  is  good  enough  to  work  on  the  thing  a  little 
in  the  proof :  just  to  give  the  poor  fellow  a  lift,  and 
prevent  him  making  a  fool  of  himself  and  getting  his 
facts  all  wrong.  In  the  end  George  writes  the  whole 
thing  entirely  from  beginning  to  end,  and  makes 
the  man  a  present  of  a  complete  magazine  article, 
and  a  very  fine  one  too  ! 

"  I  have  been  generous,"  he  tells  us.  "  I  have 
offered  myself  up  as  a  burnt  sacrifice.  I  have  given 
myself  all,  without  reservation.  I  have  nothing 
extenuated,  everything  set  down  in  malice.  I  have 
owned  to  strange  sins  that  I  never  committed,  to 
idiosyncrasies  that  took  me  all  my  time  to  invent, 
and  all  to  bump  out  an  article  by  some  one  else.  I 
have  been  butchered  to  make  a  journalistic  holiday ! " 

This  is  all  very  nice  and  self-sacrificing  of  George, 
but  this  particular  interview  read  very  well  when  it 

61 


62  THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

came  out,  and  made  George  seem  a  very  interesting 
sort  of  man  with  some  quaint  habits,  not  half  so 
funny  as  his  real  ones,  though,  and  I  think  the 
interviewer  might  just  as  well  have  given  those. 

So,  when  I  got  a  chance  of  telling  the  truth,  I  did, 
meaning  to  act  for  the  best,  and  give  Papa  a  good 
show  and  save  him  the  trouble  of  telling  it  all  him- 
self, but  nobody  gave  me  credit  for  my  good  inten- 
tions, and  kind  heart. 

In  the  first  place,  how  dared  I  put  myself  forward 
and  offer  to  see  George's  visitors  !  But  the  young 
man  asked  for  me — at  least,  when  he  was  told  that 
George  was  out,  he  said  might  he  see  one  of  the 
young  ladies  ?  Of  course  I  don't  suppose  that  would 
have  occurred  to  him,  only  I  was  leaning  over  the 
new  aluminium  bannisters,  and  caught  his  eye. 
Then  an  idea  seemed  to  come  into  his  head.  The 
look  of  dsappointment  that  had  come  over  him 
when  he  was  told  that  George  was  out  changed  to 
a  little  happy  perky  look,  as  if  he  had  just  thought 
of  something  amusing.  He  crooked  his  little  finger 
at  me  as  I  slid  down  the  bannister,  and  said  would 
I  do  ?  and  would  he  come  in  ?  Kate  is  a  cheeky 
girl,  but  even  the  cook  admits  that  Kate  is  not  a 
patch  upon  me.  Kate  evidently  didn't  think  it 
quite  right,  but  she  slunk  away  into  the  back 
premises,  and  left  me  to  deal  with  the  young  man. 

He  handed  me  a  card.  I  thought  that  very  polite 
of  him,  and  "  Mr.  Frederick  Cook''  and  Represent- 
ative of  The  Bittern  down  in  the  corner,  explained 
it  all  to  me.  We  take  in  about  a  hundred  rags,  and 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  63 

that's  the  name  of  one  of  them.  It's  called  The 
Bittern  because  it  booms  people,  so  George  says. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  come  to  interview  my 
Father,"  I  said.  "  I'm  sorry,  but  he  is  out.  Did 
you  have  an  appointment  ?  " 

"  No,  I  didn't,"  said  the  young  man  right  out. 

I  liked  his  nice  bold  way  of  speaking  ;  he  was  the 
least  shy  young  man  I  ever  met. 

"  I  don't  believe  in  appointments.  The  subject 
is  conscious,  primed,  braced  up,  ready  with  a  series 
of  cards,  so  to  speak,  which  he  wishes  to  force  on 
the  patient  public — a  collection  of  least  character- 
istic facts  which  he  would  like  dragged  into  promi- 
nence. It  is  as  if  a  man  should  go  to  the  dentist  with 
his  mind  made  up  as  to  the  number  of  teeth  that  he 
is  to  have  pulled  out,  a  decision  which  should  always 
rest  with  any  dentist  who  respects  himself." 

He  went  running  on  like  that,  not  a  bit  shy,  or 
anything,  and  amused  me  very  much. 

"  But  then  the  worst  of  that  is,  you've  got  no 
appointment  with  George,  and  he  is  not  here  to  have 
his  teeth  pulled  out." 

I  really  so  far  wasn't  quite  sure  if  he  was  an  inter- 
viewer or  a  dentist,  but  I  kept  calm. 

"  All  the  better,  my  dear  young  lady,  that  is  if 
you  are  willing  to  aid  and  abet  me  a  little.  Then 
we  shall  have  a  thundering  good  interview,  I  can 
promise  you.  You  see,  in  my  theory  of  interviewing, 
the  actual  collaboration  of  the  patient — shall  we 
call  him  ? — is  unnecessary.  Indeed,  it  is  more  in 
the  nature  of  an  impediment.  My  method,  which  of 


64  THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

course  I  have  very  few  opportunities  of  practising, 
is  to  seek  out  his  nearest  and  dearest,  those  who  have 
the  privilege — or  annoyance — of  seeing  him  at  all 
hours,  at  all  seasons,  unawares.  If  a  painter,  'tis 
the  wife  of  his  brush  that  I  would  question  ;  if  an 
author,  the  partner  of  his  pen — do  you  take  me?" 

Yes,  I  "  took  "  him,  and  as  George  had  called  me 
a  cockatrice — a  very  favourite  term  of  abuse  with 
him — only  that  morning,  and  remembering  how  she 
swaggers  about  being  George's  Egeria,  I  said,  "You'll 
have  to  go  to  Lady  Scilly  for  that !  " 

"  Quite  so  !  "  he  said  very  naturally.  "  Your 
distinguished  parent  dedicated  his  last  book  to  her, 
did  he  not  ?  Did  you  approve,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  said.  "  People  should  always  dedicate 
all  their  works  to  their  wife,  whether  they  love  her 
or  not,  that's  what  I  think  !  " 

"  Quite  so,"  he  said  again.  "  I  see  we  agree 
famously,  and  between  us  we  shall  concoct  a  splendid 
interview.  But  now,  if  you  would  be  so  very  good, 
and  happen  to  have  a  small  portion  of  leisure  at 
your  disposal " 

"  I'll  do  what  I  can  for  you,"  I  said,  delighted 
at  his  nice  polite  way  of  putting  things.  "  I'll  take 
you  round  the  house,  shall  I  ?  Have  you  a  Kodak 
with  you  ?  Would  you  like  to  take  a  snapshot  at 
George's  typewriter  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  if  she  is  pretty,"  said  the  silly  man, 
and  I  explained  that  Miss  Mander  was  out,  and  that 
it  was  the  machine  I  meant.  He  said  one  machine 
was  very  like  another,  but  that  if  he  might  see  the 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME  65 

study,  where  so  many  beautiful  thoughts  had  taken 
shape  ?  He  said  it  quite  gravely,  but  I  felt  he  was 
laughing  in  his  jacket  all  the  time. 

"  We'll  take  it  all  seriam  !  "  I  said,  not  wishing 
him  to  have  all  the  fine  words.  "  And  we  will  begin 
at  the  beginning — I  mean  the  atrium." 

He  had  a  little  pocket-book  in  his  hand,  and  he 
said,  as  I  led  the  way  through  the  hall,  "  You 
won't  mind  my  writing  things  down  as  they  occur 
to  me  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all !  "  I  said.  "  If  you  will  let  me  look 
at  what  you  have  written.  I  see  you  have  put  a  lot 
already." 

He  laughed  and  handed  me  his  book,  and  I  read — 

"  Through  dusky  suites,  lit  by  stained  glass  windows, 
whose  dim  cloistral  light,  falling  on  lurid  hangings  and 
gorgeous  masses  of  Titianesque  drapery,  and  antique 
ebon  panelling,  irresistibly  suggest  the  languorous 
mysteries  of  a  mediceval  palace  .  .  .  Do  you  think 
your  father  will  like  this  style  ?  " 

"  You  have  made  it  rather  stuffy — piled  it  on  a 
good  deal,  the  drapery  and  hangings,  I  mean  !  " 
I  said.  "  Now  that  I  know  the  sort  of  thing  you 
write,  I  shan't  want  to  read  any  more." 

"  I  thought  you  wouldn't,"  he  said,  taking  it  back. 
"  I'll  read  it  to  you.  '  Behind  this  arras  might  lurk 
Benvenuto  and  his  dagger '  : 

"  Not  Ben's  dagger,  but  Papa's  bicycle." 

"  We'll  leave  it  there  and  keep  it  out  of  the  inter- 
view," he  said.  "  It  would  spoil  the  unity  of  the 
effect.  '  On,  on,  through  softly-carpeted  ante-rooms 


66  THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

where  the  footstep  softer  falls,  than  petals  of  blown 
roses  on  the  grass.  .  .  .' ' 

"  I  hate  poetry  !  "  I  said.  "  And  we  mayn't  walk 
on  that  part  of  the  carpet  for  fear  of  blurring  the 
Magellanic  clouds  in  the  pattern.  Do  you  know 
anything  about  Magellanic  clouds  in  carpets  ?  " 

"  No,  I  confess  I  have  never  trod  them  before/' 
he  said,  becoming  all  at  once  respectful  to  me.  I 
expect  he  lives  in  a  garret,  and  has  no  carpet  at  all, 
and  I  thought  I  would  be  good  to  him,  and  help  him 
to  bump  out  his  article,  and  not  cram  him,  but  tell  him 
where  things  really  came  from.  So  I  drew  his  atten- 
tion particularly  to  the  aluminium  eagle,  and  the 
pinchbeck  serpent  George  picked  up  in  Wardour 
Street.  I  left  out  George's  famous  yarn  about  the 
sack  of  our  ancestral  Palace  in  Turin  in  the  fifteenth 
century,  when  the  Veros  were  finally  disseminated 
or  dissipated,  whichever  it  is.  I  don't  believe  it 
myself,  but  George  always  accounts  for  his  swarthy 
complexion  by  his  Italian  grandmother.  Aunt  Gerty 
says  it  is  all  his  grandmother,  or  in  other  words, 
all  liver ! 

We  went  down-stairs  into  the  study,  which  is  the 
largest  room  in  the  house. 

"  Your  father  has  realized  the  wish  of  the  Psalm- 
ist," said  The  Bittern  man.  "  Set  my  feet  in  a  large 
room  !  " 

"  He  likes  to  have  room  to  spread  himself,"  I  said, 
"  and  to  swing  cats — books  in,  I  mean." 

"  So  your  father  uses  missiles  in  the  fury  of 
composition  ?  " 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  67 

"  Sometimes  ;  but  oftenest  he  swears,  and  that 
saves  the  books.  He  mostly  swears.  Look  here  !  " 

I  had  just  found  a  piece  of  paper  in  Miss  Mander's 
handwriting,  and  on  it  was  written,  "  Selections  from 
the  nervous  vocabulary  of  Mr.  Vero-Taylor  during 
the  last  hour." 

The  Bittern  man  looked  at  them,  and,  "  By  Jove  ! 
these  are  corkers  !  "  he  said.  Then  I  thought  per- 
haps I  ought  not  to  have  let  him  see  them.  There 
was  Dray  ton,  the  ironmonger's  bill  lying  about 
too,  and  I  saw  him  raise  his  eyebrows  at  the  last 
item,  To  one  chased  brass  handle  for  coal-cellar 
door:' 

"  That's  what  I  call  being  thorough  !  "  said  The 
Bittern  man.  "  I'm  thorough  myself.  See  this 
interview  when  it  is  done  !  " 

He  was  thorough.  He  looked  at  everything,  and 
particularly  asked  to  see  the  pen  George  uses.  "  Or 
perhaps  he  uses  a  stylograph  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Mercy,  no  ! "  I  screamed  out.  "  He  would  have 
an  indigestion  !  This  is  his  pen — at  least,  it  is  this 
week's  pen.  George  is  wasteful  of  pens  ;  he  eats 
one  a  week." 

"  Very  interesting  !  "  said  he.  "  Most  authors 
have  a  fetish,  but  I  never  heard  of  their  eating  their 
fetish  before.  This  will  make  a  nice  fat  paragraph. 
Come  on  !  " 

You  see  what  friends  we  had  become  !  We  went 
into  the  dining-room,  and  I  showed  him  the  dresser, 
with  all  the  blue  china  on,  and  the  Turkey  carpet 
spread  on  it,  instead  of  a  white  one — that  was  how 


68  THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

they  had  it  in  the  Middle  Ages.  He  sympathized 
with  me  about  how  uncomfortable  Mediaeval  was, 
and  if  it  wasn't  for  the  honour  and  glory  of  it,  how 
much  we  preferred  Early  Victoria,  when  the  drawers 
draw,  and  the  mirrors  reflect — there's  not  one  look- 
ing-glass in  the  house  that  poor  Ariadne  can  see 
herself  in  when  she's  dressing  to  go  out  to  a  party — 
or  chairs  that  will  bear  sitting  on.  Why,  there 
are  four  in  one  room  that  we  are  forbidden  to  sit 
upon  on  pain  of  sudden  death  ! 

"  Very  hard  lines  !  "  said  The  Bittern  man.  "  I 
confess  that  this  point  of  view  had  not  occurred  to 
me.  I  shall  give  prominence  to  it  in  my  article. 
Art,  like  the  car  of  some  fanatical  Juggernaut, 
crushing  its  votaries " 

"  Yes,"  I  said.  "  Mother  draped  a  flower-pot 
once,  and  sneaked  Ariadne's  photograph  into  a 
plush  frame.  You  should  have  heard  George  !  '  To 
think  that  any  wife  of  his — '  *  Caesar's  wife  must 
be  above  suspicion  !  '  And  as  for  Ariadne,  he  had 
rather  see  her  dead  at  his  feet  than  folded  in  blue 
plush." 

"  Capital !  "  said  The  Bittern  man.  "  All  good 
grist  for  the  interview  !  And  now,  will  you  show  me 
the  famous  metal  stairs  of  which  I  have  heard  so 
much  ?  There  are  no  penalties  attached  to  that,  I 
trust  ?  " 

"  Except  that  we  are  not  allowed  to  go  up  them — 
Ariadne  and  me — without  taking  our  boots  off  first, 
for  fear  of  scratching  the  polish.  We  have  to  strip 
our  feet  in  the  housemaid's  pantry,  and  carry  them 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME  69 

up  in  our  hands.  That's  rather  a  bore,  you  will 
admit !  " 

"  And  your  father  ?  Does  he  bow  to  his  own 
decrees  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  I  said.  "  Papa  is  the  exception  that 
proves  the  rule." 

"  Capital !  "  again  remarked  The  Bittern  man.  "  I 
am  getting  to  know  all  about  the  great  Mr.  Vero- 
Taylor  in  the  fierce  light  that  beats  upon  the  domestic 
hearth  !  But,  by  the  way,"  he  said,  with  a  little 
crooked  look  at  me,  "  it  is  usual — shall  I  say  some- 
thing about  Mrs.  Vero-Taylor  ?  People  generally 
like  an  allusion — just  a  hint  of  feminine  presence — 
say  the  mistress  of  the  house  flitting  about,  tending 
her  ferns,  or  what  not  ?  " 

"  You  must  put  her  in  the  kitchen,  then,"  I  said, 
"  tending  her  servants.  Would  you  like  to  see 
her  ?  " 

"  I  should  not  like  to  disturb  her,"  he  said  politely. 
"  Will  you  describe  her  for  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  mother's  nice  and  thin — a  good  figure — I 
should  hate  to  have  one  of  those  feather-beddy 
mothers,  don't  you  know?  But  I  don't  really  think 
you  need  describe  her.  I  don't  think  she  cares 
about  being  in  the  interview,  thank  you,  but  you 
may  say  that  my  sister  Ariadne  is  ravishingly 
beautiful,  if  you  like  ?  " 

"  And  what  about  you,  Miss ?  "  he  asked,  look- 
ing at  me. 

"  Tempe  Vero-Taylor,"  I  said.  "  But  whatever 
you  do,  don't  put  me  in  !  George  would  have  a  fit ! 


70  THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

He  won't  much  like  your  mentioning  Ariadne,  but 
I  don't  see  why  she  shouldn't  have  a  show,  if  I  can 
give  her  one." 

"  Very  well,"  he  said.  "  Your  ladyship  shall  be 
obeyed.  Now  I  jeally  think  I  have  got  enough, 
unless "  I  saw  his  eyes  straying  up-stairs. 

"  There's  nothing  much  to  see  up  those  stairs, 
except  George's  bedroom,  and  I  daren't  take  you 
in  there.  It  is  quite  commonplace,  too1*;  not  like 
the  rest  of  the  house,  but  very,  very  comfortable." 

"  Oho  !  Your  father  reminds  me  of  the  man  who 
plays  Othello,  and  doesn't  trouble  to  black  more 
than  his  face  and  arms,"  said  The  Bittern  man.  "And 
your  rooms  ?  " 

"  Oh,  our  rooms  are  cupboards.  Bowers,  George 
calls  them,  and  says  we  have  more  room  to  keep 
our  clothes  in  than  the  lady  of  a  mediaeval  castle 
would  have.  Now  that's  all,  and " 

The  truth  was,  I  wanted  him  to  go  before  George 
came  home,  for  I  thought  it  might  be  awkward  for 
me  if  I  were  found  entertaining  a  newspaper  man. 
George  might  have  preferred  to  do  his  own  interview, 
who  knows  ?  This  reflection  only  just  occurred  to 
me,  as  all  reflections  do,  too  late.  The  Bittern  man 
was  very  quick,  however,  and  understood  me.  He 
thanked  me  very  much,  far  more  than  he  need,  for 
on  reflection  I  did  not  see  how  he  was  going  to  make 
an  interview  out  of  all  the  scrappy  things  I  had  told 
him,  and  I  said  so.  He  assured  me  I  need  be  under 
no  uneasiness  on  that  score,  that  this  particular 
interview  would  be  unique  of  its  kind,  and  would 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME  71 

gain  him  great  credit  with  his  editor,  and  increase 
the  circulation  of  the  paper.  If  it  had  nothing 
else,  he  said,  it  would  at  least  have  a  succes  de  scan* 
dale,  at  least  I  think  that  is  what  he  said,  for  I  don't 
understand  French  very  well.  While  he  was  making 
all  those  pretty  speeches  we  stood  in  the  hall,  and  I 
heard  the  little  grating  noise  in  the  lock  that  meant 
that  George  was  fitting  his  key  in,  and  oh,  how  I  just 
longed  to  run  away  !  But  I  didn't.  George  opened 
the  door,  and  came  in  and  shook  off  his  big  fur  coat. 
Then  he  saw  The  Bittern  man  and  came  forward,  and 
The  Bittern  man  came  forward  too,  with  his  funny 
little  smile  on  his  face  that  somehow  reminds  me  of 
the  Pied  Piper  we  used  to  read  of  when  we  were  little. 

"  I  came  from  The  Bittern"  he  said,  and  George 
nodded,  to  show  he  knew  what  for.  "  To  ask  you 
to  grant  me  the  favour  of  an  interview " 

"  I  am  sorry  I  happened  to  be  out !  "  began 
George,  and  then  I  knew,  by  the  sound  of  his  voice, 
that  The  Bittern  was  a  good  paper.  "  But  if  it  is 
not  too  late,  I  shall  be  happy " 

"  No  need,  no  need  to  trouble  you  now,  my  dear 
sir,"  the  interviewer  said,  waving  his  hand  a  little. 
"  I  came,  and  I  go  not  empty  away,  but  with  the 
material  of  a  dozen  articles  of  sovereign  interest  in 
my  pocket.  You  left  an  admirable  locum  tenens 
in  the  person  of  your  daughter  here,  who  kindly 
consented  to  be  my  cicerone  and  relieved  me  of  the 
necessity  of  troubling  you.  You  will  doubtless  be 
relieved  also.  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  sending 
you  a  proof  to-morrow.  Good-day  !  " 


72  THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

And  before  George  could  say  what  he  wanted  to 
say,  Mr.  Cook  had  opened  the  door  for  himself  and 
had  gone.  I  said  he  had  plenty  of  cheek.  George 
said  so,  too,  and  a  great  deal  worse.  I  was  black 
and  blue  for  a  week,  and  The  Bittern  man  never  sent 
a  proof  after  all,  so  when  the  article  came  out — 
"  Interviewing,  New  Style.  A  Talk  with  Miss  Tempe 
Vero-Taylor" — I  got  some  more.  That  is  the  first 
and  last  time  I  was  ever  interviewed.  George  has 
peculiar  theories  about  interviewing,  I  see,  and  I 
shall  not  interfere  with  them  in  future.  I  should 
think  Mr.  Frederick  Cook  would  get  on,  making 
tools  of  honest  children  to  serve  his  ambition  like 
that.  George  didn't  punish  him,  of  course,  he  is  a 
power  on  a  paper ;  while  I  am  but  a  child  in  the 
nursery. 


CHAPTER    VII 

I  WONDER  if  other  families  have  got  tame  coun- 
tesses, who  come  bothering  and  interfering  in  their 
affairs  ?  I  don't  mind  our  having  a  house-warming 
party  at  all,  but  I  do  hate  that  it  should  be  to  please 
Lady  Scilly. 

"  A  party  !  A  party  !  ':  she  said  to  George,  clasp- 
ing her  hands  in  her  silly  way.  "  My  party  on  the 
table  !  "  like  the  woman  in  the  play  of  Ibsen.  "  Ask 
all  the  dear,  amusing  literary  people  that  I  adore. 
And  I'll  bring  a  large  contingent  of  smart  people, 
if  I  may,  to  meet  them.  Please,  please  I  " 

I  don't  know  what  a  contingent  is,  but  I  fancy 
it's  something  disagreeable.  Lady  Scilly  is  George's 
friend,  not  Mother's.  She  has  only  called  on  Mother 
once,  and  that  was  in  the  old  house,  and  then  Mother 
was  not  receiving  as  they  call  it,  so  she  has  never 
even  seen  the  mistress  of  the  house  where  she  is 
going  to  give  the  party.  Christina  Mander,  George's 
secretary,  says  that  is  quite  the  new  way  of  doing 
things,  and  she  has  been  about  a  great  deal,  and 
ought  to  know. 

Miss  Mander  is  a  lady.  She  is  very  thin,  one  of 
those  lath-and-plaster  women,  you  know,  that  seem 
to  live  to  support  a  small  waist  that  is  their  greatest 

73 


74  THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

beauty,  but  when  we  first  knew  her,  she  was  plump 
and  jolly-looking.  We  practically  got  her  for 
George;  Years  ago,  when  we  were  quite  little  and  had 
had  measles,  we  were  sent  down  to  a  sort  of  boarding- 
house  at  Ramsgate  to  an  old  lady,  an  ex-dresser  in 
some  theatre  Aunt  Gerty  knew,  and  who  could 
neither  see  to  mend  or  to  keep  us  in  order,  though 
she  got  thirty  shillings  a  week  for  doing  it.  They 
never  got  us  up  till  nine;  I  suppose  the  slavey  thought 
sufficient  for  the  day  was  the  evil  thereof,  and  tried 
to  make  the  evil's  day  as  short  as  possible.  One 
morning  when  it  was  quite  nine,  and  the  sun  was 
shining  in,  Ariadne  and  I  were  feeling  frightfully 
bored,  so  we  got  up  in  our  night-gowns,  moved  a 
wardrobe,  and  found  a  door  behind  it  into  another 
house.  It  was  quite  a  smart  house,  with  soft  plush 
carpets  and  nicely- varnished  yellow  doors.  We  went 
all  over  it.  Only  the  cat  was  awake,  licking  herself 
in  the  window-seat.  The  bedroom  doors  were  all 
shut  except  one,  and  we  went  in  and  found  a  nice 
girl  in  bed  with  her  gold  hair  all  spread  over  the 
pillow.  She  didn't  seem  shocked  at  us,  but  laughed, 
and  when  we  had  explained,  she  wished  us  to  get 
into  the  bed  beside  her.  It  had  sheets  trimmed  with 
lace,  and  her  initials,  C.  M.,  on  the  pillow.  We  did 
this  every  morning  till  we  went  away.  She  kept 
us  up,  afterwards  sending  us  Christmas  cards  and 
so  on,  and  when  George  advertised  for  a  secretary 
to  help  him  to  sub-edit  Wild  Oats,  she  answered  it, 
among  the  thousand  others,  and  we  remembered 
her  name  and  made  George  engage  her. 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME  75 

She  had  been  to  Girton,  and  to  a  journalistic 
school,  and  Mr.  D'Auban's  dancing  academy,  and 
to  Klondike — where  all  her  hair  got  cut  off,  so  that 
she  hasn't  enough  to  spread  over  the  pillow  now — 
and  behind  the  scenes  at  a  music-hall,  and  a  month 
on  the  stage,  and  edited  a  paper  once  and  wrote  a 
novel.  All  before  she  was  thirty !  At  every  new 
arrangement  for  amusement  she  made  her  people 
opposed  her,  and  prayed  for  her  in  church.  But 
she  always  got  her  own  way  in  the  end.  Her  mother, 
Mrs.  Stephen  Cadwallis  Mander,  came  here  to  sniff 
about  when  George  first  took  Christina  on.  She 
is  a  woman  of  the  world,  tortoise-shell  pince-nez  and 
all,  but  she  took  to  Mother  at  first  sight,  and  talked 
to  her  quite  naturally  about  this  "  new  move  of 
dear  Christina's." 

She  spoke  in  a  neat,  sighing  voice,  and  told  us  that 
Christina  had  developed  early,  and  was  so  different 
to  her  other  children  ;  she  kept  on  saying  the  name 
of  George's  new  magazine,  as  if  it  shocked  her  very 
much. 

"  Wild  Oats  /  Such  a  crude  name  !  Though  I 
suppose  she  must  sow  them  somewhere,  and  best, 
perhaps,  in  the  pages  of  a  magazine.  .You'll  look 
after  her,  won't  you  ?  Is  there  any  danger  " — she 
looked  towards  the  study-door  " — of  her  falling  in 
love  with  her  employer  ?  "  She  laughed  carelessly. 

"  Not  the  slightest !  "  said  Mother,  laughing  too. 
"  She  will  have  her  eyes  opened,  that's  all,  to  the 
seamy  side  of  artistic  life." 

"  My  daughter  is  so  absurdly  curious  about  that 


76  THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

wretched  seamy  side.  After  all,  it's  only  the  side 
that  the  workers  leave  the  knots  on,  they  must  be 
somewhere,  just  as  plates  must  be  washed  up  in  a 
scullery.  But  we  don't  need  to  go  in  and  gloat  on 
the  horrid  sight !  " 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  said  Mother.  "  Only 
if  one  happens  to  be  the  scullery-maid " 

Aunt  Gerty  came  in  just  then  and  took  her  part 
in  the  conversation.  I  was  glad  to  see  she  was 
dressed  more  quietly  than  usual. 

"  And,"  said  Mrs.  Mander,  "  she  buys  everything 
that  conies  out,  especially  badly-executed  magazines 
that  talk  about  the  fore-front  of  progress  and  look 
just  as  if  they  were  produced  in  the  dark  ages.  I 
know  that  she  came  to  your  husband  entirely  because 
she  wanted  to  help  to  edit  his  magazine — Wild  Oats. 
Is  not  that  its  name  ?  From  what  Chris  says,  it 
sounds  so  very  advanced  !  " 

"  Oh,  very,"  said  Aunt  Gerty.  "  But  it  won't 
live  !  " 

"  You  don't  say  so  ?  "  Mrs.  Mander  put  up  her 
pince-nez  and  looked  at  Aunt  Gerty,  whom  she 
already  didn't  like. 

"  None  of  my  brother-in-law's  things  do  !  "  Aunt 
Gerty  went  on  calmly.  "  He  is  a  prize  wrecker — 
of  women  and  magazines  !  " 

Mrs.  Mander  looked  startled,  and  Mother  tried 
to  change  the  conversation. 

"  Oh,  he's  a  law  unto  himself,  my  brother-in-law 
is,"  went  on  Aunt  Gerty.  "  But  I  don't  think  he'll 
convert  Miss  Mander  to  his  views." 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  77 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Mrs.  Mander,  "for  I  notice  that 
if  you  make  a  law  unto  yourself,  you  generally  have 
to  make  a  society  unto  yourself  too  !  At  least  as  far 
as  women  are  concerned." 

"  People  will  always  let  you  go  your  own  way," 
said  Mother ;  "  but  the  point  is,  will  they  come  with 
you — join  with  you  in  a  pleasant  walk  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Mander,  "  my  daughter  is  the 
most  headstrong  of  young  women.  I  can't  control 
her,  or  you  may  be  sure  I  should  not  have  allowed 
her  to  undertake  this  post  of  secretary  to  Mr.  Vero- 
Taylor." 

"  I  gathered  as  much,"  said  Mother,  not  offended 
a  bit.  "  But  I  will  look  after  her  well !  "  She 
does  ;  she  gives  her  cod-liver  oil  every  day  to  make 
her  fat,  and  breakfast  in  bed  once  a  week. 

Christina  says  Lady  Scilly  is  a  female  Mecaenas ! 
Ben  says  she  a  minx.  Ben  hates  her,  because  she 
makes  a  fool  of  George,  and  he  says  Ariadne  is  a  cad 
to  accept  her  old  dresses  and  wear  them,  and  go  out 
with  her,  but  then,  what  is  Ariadne  to  do  ?  She 
likes  to  go  to  parties,  and  Mother  won't  go  anywhere, 
she  is  quite  obstinate  about  that.  I  must  say 
that  George  doesn't  try  to  persuade  her  much. 
You  see,  he  isn't  used  to  having  a  wife,  socially 
speaking,  after  going  about  as  a  bachelor  all  those 
years ! 

George  agreed  to  have  a  party  here,  to  please  Lady 
Scilly,  but  Christina  is  quite  sure  that  the  idea  had 
occurred  to  him  already,  for  why  should  he  build 
a  house  for  purposes  of  advertisement,  and  then  hide 


78  THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

it  under  a  bushel  ?  A  successful  party  is  more  good 
than  fifty  interviews,  so  she  says,  and  sells  an  edition. 
She  knows  a  great  deal  about  geniuses.  She  says 
the  hermit-plan  would  not  suit  George.  I  asked 
her  what  the  hermit-plan  was.  She  said  she  had 
known  an  artist,  who  took  a  lovely  old  house  in 
the  suburbs  of  London,  and  lived  there,  and  never 
went  out ;  anybody  who  cared  must  come  out  to 
see  him,  and  then  it  was  not  so  easy,  for  his  Sundays 
were  only  for  a  select  few — very  selected.  He  only 
gave  tea  and  bread-and-butter — very  little  butter — 
and  no  table-cloth — plain  living,  and  high  prices, 
for  his  pictures  cost  a  lot,  though  he  pretended  he 
did  not  care  if  he  sold  them  or  not;  in  fact.it  cut  him 
to  the  heart  to  see  any  of  them  go  out  into  the  great 
cold  brutal  world,  and  he  never  exhibited  in  ex- 
hibitions, but  in  an  empty  room  in  his  own  house .  He 
said,  in  fun,  I  suppose,  that  if  the  Academy  were  to 
elect  him  to  be  an  R.A.,  he  should  put  the  matter 
into  the  hands  of  his  solicitors.  The  end  of  that 
man  was,  she  said,  that  he  did  become  a  Royal 
Academician,  quite  against  his  will,  and  princes 
and  princesses  of  the  blood  used  to  come  and  have 
tea  with  him,  without  a  table-cloth.  But  that  would 
not  do  for  George,  for  he  isn't  at  all  hermit-like,  and 
he  can  make  epigrams  !  They  say  that  is  his  forte. 
I  hate  them  myself,  I  think  they  are  rude,  and  only 
a  clever  way  of  hurting  people's  feelings  so  that  they 
can't  complain,  but  then,  of  course,  the  family  gets 
them  in  the  rough  ;  epigrams,  like  charity,  begin 
at  home. 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  79 

George  began  to  talk  a  great  deal  about  the  duty 
of  entertaining.  He  said  a  man  owed  it  to  his 
century.  And  his  party  must  be  something  out  of 
the  common  run  ;  it  must  be  individual  and  ex- 
ceptional. He  thought  he  would  give  a  party  like 
the  ones  they  gave  in  the  Middle  Ages.  Judging 
from  what  he  said,  I  think  that  it  must  have  been 
very  uncomfortable,  and  very  expensive,  for  to  be 
really  grand  you  had  to  have  cygnets  and  peacocks 
to  eat.  People  stood  about  round  the  sides  of  the 
room,  or  sat  on  the  floor  or  on  coffers,  and  before 
the  evening  was  half  over  the  smoke  from  the  flam- 
beaux made  it  impossible  for  them  to  see  each  other's 
faces  !  That  didn't  suit  Ariadne  at  all,  and  she 
snubbed  the  idea  as  much  as  she  could. 

Luckily,  George  changed  his  mind,  and, then  it 
was  to  be  a  supper,  still  Mediaeval,  at  six  o'clock. 
We  should  have  had  to  eat  with  our  fingers,  because 
only  the  carver  has  a  fork,  and  he  sometimes  lends 
it,  but  it  can't  go  all  round.  That's  the  reason  we 
have  finger-bowls  now,  and  little  bits  of  bread  beside 
our  plates  instead  of  big  bits  of  brown  to  eat  off. 
And  when  you  were  done,  did  you  eat  the  plate  ? 
As  far  as  I  can  see,  everybody  handed  everybody 
they  loved  nice  pieces  off  their  own  trenchers  and 
drank  out  of  the  same  glasses,  so  the  fewer  persons 
that  loved  one  the  better  I  should  have  liked  it. 
You  should  have  seen  Mother's  face  when  the  middle- 
aged  menu  was  explained  to  her  !  She  said  she  would 
do  what  she  could,  but  how  was  she  going  to  put  the 
grocers'  and  the  butchers'  shops  back  a  century  ? 


8o  THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

The  first  course,  George  explained,  was  quite 
easy — it  was  little  bits  of  toast  with  honey  and 
hypocras. 

"  Perhaps  they  will  know  what  that  is  at  the 
Stores  ?  "  Mother  said,  meaning  to  be  funny. 
"  There's  a  very  civil  young  man  there  might  help 
me?" 

"  Next  course,  smoked  eels,"  went  on  George. 
"  Any  soup  you  like,  only  it  must  be  flavoured  with 
verjuice.  That  is  the  third  course.  Then  you  have 
venison,  rabbits,  pigeons,  fricasseed  beans,  river 
crabs,  sorrel,  oranges,  capers  in  vinegar " 

"It  will  relieve  us  for  ever  of  the  burden  of  enter- 
taining for  ever  and  ever,  that's  one  good  thing  !  " 
Mother  said,  "  for  nobody  will  care  to  try  that  menu 
twice  !  " 

"It  would  look  well  in  the  papers,  though,"  George 
said.  "  What  do  you  say  to  barbecued  pig  ?  " 

But  Mother  would  have  nothing  to  say  to  barbe- 
cued pig,  and  George  and  Lady  Scilly  finally  settled 
that  it  was  to  be  a  masked  ball,  costume  not  obliga- 
tory, but  masks  and  dominos  imperative,  with  a  cold 
collation  at  twelve  o'clock,  and  all  the  guests  to 
unmask  then. 

The  date  was  chosen  to  please  her,  and  it  was 
changed  three  times,  but  at  last  it  was  fixed,  and 
George  got  some  cards  printed  that  he  had  designed 
himself.  They  were  quite  white  and  plain,  but  with 
a  knowing  red  splotch  in  one  corner,  which  signified 
George's  passionate  Italian  nature.  I  was  in  the 
study  when  the  first  dozens  of  packets  came,  with 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME  81 

Miss  Mander,  and  she  undid  them.  Secretaries  always 
take  the  right  to  open  everything  ! 

"  My  Goodness  !  "  she  said. 

"  Isn't  it  right  ?  "  I  asked,  getting  hold  of  it,  but 
when  I  had  looked  at  it  I  was  no  wiser,  for  I  couldn't 
see  what  was  wrong.  There  it  was,  written  out  very 
nicely,  "  Mr.  Vero-Taylor  At  Home.  Wednesday  the 
twenty-first"  and  the  address  in  the  corner,  and  all 
those  rules  about  the  dominos,  and  that  was  all. 

"  Oh,  dear  darling  Christina,"  I  begged,  deadly 
curious,  "  do  tell  me  what  is  wrong  with  that  ?  I 
cannot  guess." 

"  It's  just  as  well,  perhaps,"  she  said.  "  Preserve 
your  sublime  ignorance,  my  dear  child,  as  long  as 
you  can." 

And  not  another  word  could  I  get  out  of  her  !  I 
suppose  she  calls  that  being  loyal  to  her  employer. 

I  told  Ben,  and  he  said  he  knew,  and  what  was 
more,  he  would  go  one  better.  He  got  hold  of  one 
of  the  cards,  and  altered  it.  And  then  it  was  Mr. 
Vero-Taylor  and  Lady  Stilly  At  Home  I  I  think  that 
was  absurd,  for  though  Lady  Scilly  meddles  in  all 
our  affairs,  she  doesn't  quite  live  here  yet  I  and  Mother 
does,  and  what's  more,  Mother  never  goes  out  at  all 
except  to  take  a  servant's  character,  or  scold  the 
butcher,  or  something  of  the  sort,  so  she  is  really 
the  one  at  home  !  Christina  took  it  from  him,  and 
looked  at  it,  and  I'll  swear  I  saw  her  smile  before  she 
tore  it  up.  So  Ben  had  me  there,  for  he  still  wouldn't 
tell  me  what  was  wrong  with  the  first  card. 

We  began  to  write  in  the  names  of  the  people.     It 


82  THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

took  us  a  whole  morning,  Ben,  Ariadne,  Miss  Mander 
and  I.  I  offered  to  help,  and  really,  though  I  write 
rather  badly,  I  can  spell  better  than  any  of  them, 
but  I  don't  believe  they  valued  my  help  very  much, 
and  only  gave  me  a  card  now  and  then  to  keep  me 
quiet.  There  were  six  young  men  that  Ariadne 
wanted  asked — six,  no  less,  if  you  please — and  she's 
only  been  out  six  months  !  And  she  kept  trying  to 
force  them  on  George,  same  as  you  do  cards  in  a  card 
trick  !  But  he  didn't  take  any  notice,  and  kept  walk- 
ing up  and  down  the  room  mentioning  the  names 
of  all  sorts  of  absurd  people  that  nobody  wanted, 
except  himself.  It  was  really  going  to  be  a  very 
smart  party  ;  there  were  to  be  detectives  and  re- 
porters, and  what  more  can  you  have  than  that  ? 
All  the  countesses  and  dukes  and  so  on  were  to  come, 
of  course,  but  I  must  say  I  had  thought  that  George 
knew  a  great  many  more  of  them  ;  he  managed  to 
scratch  up  so  few,  considering  all  the  talk  there  had 
been  about  it.  I  kept  saying,  "  Oh,  do  give  me  a 
Countess  to  ask.  You  give  me  all  the  plain  people 
to  do." 

Somehow  or  other,  George  did  not  seem  to  be 
pleased,  and  he  sent  us  all  away  after  fifty  had  been 
written. 

Next  day,  he  told  us  that  he  had  thought  it  all  out, 
and  he  was  going  to  do  an  original  thing,  and  instead 
of  sending  out  cards  for  his  party,  he  was  going  to 
announce  it  in  the  pages  of  The  Bittern,  and  that  all 
his  friends,  reading  it,  must  consider  themselves 
bidden.  Mother  said  how  should  she  know  how  many 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME  83 

to  prepare  for  ?  I  suppose  the  answer  to  that  depends 
on  the  number  of  friends  George  has  got,  and  whether 
they  know  that  he  considers  them  his  friends.  For 
think  how  awkward  to  assume  that  you  were  a 
friend  and  had  a  place  laid  for  you,  and  then  to  come 
and  find  that  you  were  only  an  acquaintance.  I 
suggested  that  the  real  friends  should  have  a  hot 
sit-down  supper,  with  wine,  while  the  acquaintances 
should  only  go  to  a  buffet  and  have  cold  pressed  beef 
and  lemonade.  There  should  be  a  password,  Hot 
with,  and  cold  without,  and  they  roared  when  I  told 
them  this,  but  I  didn't  see  why.  Then  the  party 
would  really  be  of  some  use,  for  after  it  people  would 
know  where  they  were  !  But  how  about  the  news- 
paper people  ?  They  couldn't  call  themselves  friends, 
or  even  acquaintances,  so  they  wouldn't  be  able  to 
come  at  all,  and  what  would  George  do  then  ?  I  said 
all  this,  which  seems  to  me  very  sensible,  but  no  one 
noticed  it.  And  the  detectives  !  They  have  to  be 
paid  for  coming,  surely,  and  I'd  rather  see  them  than 
any  of  the  others.  "  If  they  don't  come  the  party 
will  be  spoilt  for  me,"  I  said  to  Christina. 

"  It  will  be  all  right,"  she  said,  and  Ariadne  was 
quite  pleased,  for  of  course,  this  way,  her  six  young 
men  can  come,  a  dozen  if  they  like. 

Ariadne  and  I  had  costumes.  I  was  the  little  Duke 
of  Gandia,  that  brother  of  Caesar  Borgia  that  he 
killed,  and  Ariadne  had  the  dress  of  Beatrice  Cenci 
with  a  sort  of  bath-towel  wound  round  her  head. 
The  funny  thing  is  that  she  looks  far  younger  than 
me  in  it,  quite  a  little  girl,  while  I  look  like  a  big  boy. 


84  THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

My  legs  are  very  long.  George  has  a  monk's  costume, 
one  of  the  Fratelli  del  Morti,  and  it  is  much  the  same 
sort  of  looking  thing  as  a  domino.  Nobody  would 
ever  know  him,  and  he  looks  very  nice. 

I  am  told  that  at  masques  you  have  to  speak 
a  squeaky  voice  or  alter  it  somehow.  George  will 
have  to,  because  he  has  a  very  peculiar  voice,  that 
anybody  would  know  a  mile  off  ;  people  call  it 
resonant,  nervous,  bell-like — I  call  it  cracked.  It 
is  one  of  his  chief  fascinations,  but  he  will  have  to 
do  without  it  for  once,  and  rely  on  the  others. 

The  study  was  to  be  the  ball-room,  only  George 
preferred  to  leave  signs  of  literary  occupation  in 
the  shape  of  his  desk,  which  he  just  shoved  away 
on  one  side,  with  the  proofs  of  his  new  novel  left 
negligently  lying  on  it.  We  sprinkled  copies  of  his 
last  but  one  about  the  house,  in  moderation  ;  it  was 
rather  fun — I  felt  as  if  I  were  planting  bulbs.  George 
likes  these  sort  of  little  attentions,  and  I  knew  I  was 
not  to  be  put  off  by  his  finding  one,  as  he  did,  and 
scolding  me  and  telling  me  to  put  it  on  the  fire. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

ABOUT  nine  they  all  began  to  arrive,  and  by  ten 
o'clock  the  house  was  overflowing.  Ben  was  a 
capital  commissionaire  in  a  District  Messenger's 
costume  he  had  borrowed,  with  George's  consent, 
and  I  do  believe  he  enjoyed  himself  most  of  anybody. 
Of  course  at  first  all  he  had  to  do  was  to  stand  at  the 
door  and  show  people  in,  but  he  hoped  that  later  in 
the  evening  he  should  have  to  chuck  somebody  out. 
It  was  likely,  he  thought,  for  all  the  literary  world 
of  London  would  be  sure  to  be  at  our  party.  I'm 
sorry  to  say  that  Ben  was  wrong  there,  or  else  the 
literary  people  didn't  come,  for  those  that  did  come 
were  as  quiet  as  lambs.  There  were  detectives, 
several  of  them,  and  although  I  looked  very  particu- 
larly at  their  boots,  which  I  have  always  been  told  is 
the  way  to  spot  a  detective,  I  saw  nothing  at  all  out 
of  the  common.  There  was  a  man  with  a  cloven  hoof, 
but  then  he  was  meant  for  the  devil.  He  was  masked 
of  course,  but  the  devil  needs  no  domino.  And  / 
knew  all  the  time  that  it  was  the  little  man  who 
interviewed  me  once  instead  of  George  for  The  Bit- 
tern, and  got  me  into  such  a  row,  and  very  devilish 
of  him  it  was,  and  I  had  no  butter  to  my  bread  for  a 

85 


86  THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

week  because  of  him.  How  I  was  supposed  to  know 
that  George  hated  the  truth  instead  of  loving  it,  I 
can't  see,  only  The  Bittern  man  knew  well  enough, 
I  expect !  Never,  never  again  will  I  interfere  between 
a  man  and  his  interviewer  ! 

There  were  hosts  of  newspaper  people  there ;  I 
heard  two  of  them  discussing  us,  sitting  in  the  high- 
backed  Medici  seat.  I  managed  to  get  jammed  in 
behind,  "  powerless  to  move,"  as  they  say  in  the 
novels,  even  if  I  had  wanted  to.  People  are  careless. 
I  heard  heaps  of  conversations,  anyhow,  people  even 
said  things  to  each  other  across  me,  without  stopping 
to  think  whether  or  no  I  wasn't  one  of  the  family. 
I  suppose  because  they  were  masked,  they  felt 
anonymous,  as  if  it  didn't  matter  what  they  said, 
and  it  needn't  count  afterwards. 

The  man  I  listened  to  was  The  Bittern  man,  dressed 
as  the  devil.  The  woman's  domino  was  all  shot 
with  queer  faint  colours,  and,  if  any  colour,  sulphur 
colour.  She  was  scented  too,  a  nice  odd  scent. 
The  Bittern  man  seemed  to  know  her. 

"  I  cannot  be  mistaken ;  am  I  not  talking  to  the 
most  dangerous  woman  in  London  ?  " 

The  woman  seemed  quite  complimented,  and 
smiled  under  her  mask. 

"  Not  quite,  but  very  nearly,"  she  said.  "  I  am 
a  gas.  Give  me  a  name  !  " 

"  I  will  call  you  Mrs.  Sulphuretta  Hydrogen. 
How  does  that  suit  you  ?  " 

"  Is  it  a  noxious  gas  ?  "  she  said,  "for,  honestly, 
I  never  am  spiteful !  I  only  speak  of  things  as  I 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  87 

find  them,  and  one  must  send  up  bright  copy,  or 
one  wouldn't  be  taken  on.  I  tell  the  truth " 

"  Nothing  extenuate,  everything  set  down  in 
malice  !  "  said  he.  "  The  devil  and  The  Bittern 
are  much  obliged  to  you.  It  is  the  honest  truth 
that  makes  his  work  so  easy  for  him.  We  are  of  a 
trade  in  more  senses  than  one.  Now  tell  me,  can't 
we  exchange  celebrities  ?  I'll  give  you  my  names, 
and  you  shall  give  me  yours.  I  suppose  all  the 
world  is  here  to-night  ?  " 

"  All  the  world — and  somebody  else's  wife  !  "  she 
said  quickly,  and  the  devil  rubbed  his  hands.  "  But 
that  is  the  rub — we  can't  know  who  they  all  are  till 
twelve  o'clock,  and  my  idea  is  that  a  good  many  of 
them  will  decamp  before  they  are  forced  to  reveal 
themselves.  Least  seen,  soonest  mended." 

"  Then  we  shall  have  to  invent  them  !  "  he  said. 
"  The  very  form  of  invitation  must  lead  to  a  good 
deal  of  promiscuity.  Can  you  tell  me  which  is 
Lady  Scilly  ?  She  at  least  is  sure  to  be  here." 

"Naturally !  Wasn't  it  she  who  discovered  George 
Vero-Taylor  and  made  him  the  fashion,  you  know  ?  " 

"  Do  you  suppose  he  was  particularly  obliged  to 
her  for  digging  his  family  out  as  well  ?  " 

"  You  naughty  man  !  But  it  was  a  most  extra- 
ordinary thing,  wasn't  it  ?  Delightful,  and  not  too 
scandalous  to  use.  For  the  man  is  really  quite 
harmless,  only  a  frantic  poseur  and " 

"  Ah,  yes,  and  posed  in  London  Society  for  ten 
years  as  an  unmarried  man  !  Suppose  some  nice 
girl  had  gone  and  fallen  in  love  with  him  ?  " 


88  THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

"  Ah,  but  he  was  careful,  as  careful  as  a  good 
parti  has  to  be  in  the  London  season.  He  lent  them 
his  books,  and  guanoed  their  minds  thoroughly,  but 
he  always  sheered  off  when  they  showed  signs  of 
taking  him  seriously." 

"  Chose  married  women  to  flirt  with,  for  prefer- 
ence ?  What  does  the  wife  say  ?  " 

"  The  wife?  So  there  is  a  wife!  But  no  one  has 
ever  seen  her.  Perpetual  hay-fever,  or  something 
of  the  sort." 

"  That  is  what  Vero-Taylor  gives  out." 
"  Oh,  I  don't  really  think  there  is  anything  in — 
with  Lady  Scilly,  I  mean.  He  is  too  selfish — they 
are  both  too  selfish.  Those  sort  of  women  are  like 
the  Leaning  Tower,  they  lean  but  never  fall.  It  is 
an  alliance  of  interest,  so  to  speak.  He  introduces 
the  literary  element  into  her  parties,  and  writes  her 
novel  for  her,  and  in  return  she  flatters  him  and 
takes  his  daughter  out.  Poor  girl,  she  would  be 
quite  pretty,  if  she  were  properly  dressed,  but  the 
mediaeval  superstition,  you  know — she  has  to  dress 
like  a  Monna  Somebody  or  other,  so  as  to  advertise 
his  books.  I  believe  she  did  refuse  to  have  her  hair 
shaved  off  her  forehead  a  la  Rimini,  but  she  mostly 
has  to  comply " 

"  Well,  I  never  heard  of  a  man  using  his  daughter 
as  a  sandwich-man  before.     Which  is  she  ?  " 

Mrs.  Sulphuretta  Hydrogen  pointed  out  Ariadne, 
whose  bath-towel  was  tumbling  all  over  her  eyes. 

"  She  looks  half-starved  !  "  said  The  Bittern  man. 

"  My  dear  man,"   said    Sulphuretta    Hydrogen, 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME  89 

"  don't  you  know  that  they  have  a  crank  about  meals, 
and  refuse  to  have  them  regularly  ?  I  am  told  that 
they  have  a  kind  of  buttery-hatch — a  cold  pie  always 
cut  in  the  cupboard,  and  they  go  and  put  their  heads 
in  and  eat  a  bit  when  so  disposed." 

"  Well,  they  are  free,  at  any  rate — free  from  the 
trammels  of  custom " 

"  Oh  yes,  they  are  free,  but  so  very  sallow  !  " 

I  was  getting  pretty  much  out  of  patience  at 
having  so  many  lies  told  about  my  family,  and  I 
was  just  going  to  contradict  that  about  the  buttery 
and  the  poking  our  heads  into  a  cupboard,  when  the 
fat  woman  that  they  had  said  was  Mother,  but  whom 
I  was  sure  was  not,  strode  up  to  Mrs.  Sulphuretta 
Hydrogen,  and  said — 

"  Begging  your  pardon  for  contradicting  you, 
Madam,  but  I  am  in  a  position  to  state  that  that  is 
not  so.  Miss  Ariadne  is  thin  because  she  chooses  to 
be,  and  thinks  it  becoming,  but  I  can  assure  you 
that  she  eats  her  three  meals  a  day  hearty,  and  Mr. 
Taylor  isn't  far  behind-hand,  though  he  is  yellow  !  " 

And  then  she  swooped  away,  and  I  knew  that  it 
was  Elizabeth  Cawthorne!  But  where  on  earth  had 
she  got  a  domino  and  leave  to  come  to  the  ball  ? 

I  thought  I  would  go  and  look  after  Ariadne,  who 
I  saw  could  manage  to  make  eyes  out  of  the  holes 
of  a  mask.  But  I  suppose  where  there's  a  will 
there's  a  way.  She  was  doing  it  all  right,  and  the 
young  men  seemed  to  like  it.  Though  I  don't  be- 
lieve young  men  marry  the  girls  who  make  eyes  at 
them  best,  and  as  Ariadne's  one  object  is  to  marry 


go  THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

and  get  out  of  this  house  and  have  me  to  stay  with 
her,  I  think  she  is  going  the  wrong  way  to  work. 
I  went  to  her,  and  I  asked  her  where  Mother  was. 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know,"  she  said  crossly. 

"  I'll  tell  you  where  Elizabeth  Cawthorne  is,"  I 
said.  "  She  is  in  the  party — in  the  room  !  " 

11  Well,  I  can't  help  that !  "  said  Ariadne,  tossing 
her  head.  "  Mother  ought  to  look  after  her  better." 

I  was  sorry  for  poor  Mother,  because  nobody 
seemed  to  mind  about  her  in  her  own  house,  and 
even  her  own  daughter  didn't  seem  to  care  whether 
she  was  in  the  room  or  not.  As  for  George,  he  was 
looking  all  over  for  Lady  Scilly,  and  at  last  he 
thought  he  had  got  her,  but  it  wasn't,  for  I  thought 
I  knew  a  little  join  in  the  hem  of  the  domino — I 
seemed  to  remember  having  helped  to  hem  it.  They 
needn't  say  that  eyes  can't  look  bright  in  a  mask, 
for  this  woman's  did.  She  went  up  to  George,  and 
she  didn't  speak  in  a  squeaky  voice  at  all,  but  in 
French,  not  the  kind  of  French  she  teaches  me,  but 
a  thick,  deep  sort,  right  down  her  throat. 

"  Eh,  bien,  beau  masque  /  "  was  what  she  said. 
"  I  know  you,  but  you  do  not  know  me  !  " 

"  I  know  you  by  your  eyes,"  he  said.  "  Eyes 
like  the  sea " 

Now,  Lady  Scilly's  eyes  are  quite  common,  it  is 
only  the  work  round  them  that  makes  them  tell,  and 
that  would  be  hidden  by  the  mask.  One  saw  that 
George  was  talking  without  thinking. 

"  Eyes  without  their  context  mean  nothing  !  "  she 
said,  and  then  I  knew  the  woman  was  Christina,  for 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME  91 

that  was  the  very  thing  she  had  once  said  to  Ariadne 
to  tease  her.  She  evidently  thinks  it  good  enough 
to  say  twice. 

"  Come  !  "  she  said  to  George.  "  Speak  to  me, 
say  anything  to  me  that  the  hour  and  the  mood 
permit.  I  want  to  hear  how  a  poet  makes  love  !  " 

"  Madame  !  "  said  George,  bowing.  I  think  he 
was  a  little  shocked,  but  after  all,  if  he  will  give  a 
masked  ball,  what  can  he  expect  ?  Only  I  had  no 
idea  that  Christina  could  have  done  it  so  well ! 

"Come,"  she  said  again,  tapping  her  foot  to  show 
that  she  had  grown  impatient.  "  Come,  a  madrigal 
— a  ballade,  in  any  kind  of  china  !  " 

I  fancy  it  was  then  that  George  began  to  suspect 
that  it  wasn't  Lady  Scilly.  She  couldn't  have 
managed  that  about  ballads  and  lyrics. 

He  asked  her  if  she  would  lift  up  the  lace  of  her 
mask  a  little — just  a  little. 

"  No,  no,  I  dare  not ! '"  she  cried  out.  "  There 
is  a  hobgoblin  called  Ben  in  the  room — a  sort  of 
lubber  fiend  who  loves  to  play  pranks  on  people. 
Why  on  earth  don't  you  send  that  boy  to  school  ?  " 

I  could  not  help  giggling.  George  looked  cross, 
for  this  was  personal,  and  he  took  the  first  chance 
of  leaving  the  mask's  side.  There  wasn't  a  buzz  of 
talk  in  the  room,  no,  not  at  all,  for  everybody  was 
trying  so  hard  to  say  something  clever  and  appro- 
priate, that  they  mostly  didn't  say  anything,  but 
mooned  about,  trying  to  look  as  if  they  were  enjoy- 
ing themselves  hugely,  and  secretly  bored  to  death 
all  the  time.  The  only  time  people  are  really  gay, 


92  THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

I  observe,  is  at  a  funeral,  or  at  Every  man,  or 
somewhere  where  they  particularly  shouldn't  be 
jolly. 

I  was  thinking  sadly  about  my  dear  Mother,  and 
wondering  where  she  was,  when  I  ran  against  a 
Frenchman,  a  real  Frenchman,  and  he  asked  me 
where  was  the  mistress  of  the  house,  and  that 
showed  me  that  other  people  thought  about  her  too  ; 
I  didn't  answer  for  a  moment,  and  he  went  on  in  a 
kind  of  dreamy  voice — 

"  I  was  brought  here  to  see  an  English  interior " 

"Well,"  I  said.     "It's  inside  four  walls,  isn't  it?" 
"  Mon  Dieuy  mademoiselle"  said  he,  "  I  had  made 
to  myself  another  idea  of  le  home  Anglais — the  fire- 
side— the  mattresse  de  la  maison  with  her  keys  de- 
pending from  her  girdle — the  children — the  sacred 

children,  standing  round  her — bM  crowing " 

"  There  isn't  any  baby  !  "  I  said,  "  and  a  good 
thing  too  !  But  this  is  a  party,  don't  you  see,  and 
we  are  all  playing  the  fool,  and  we  shall  be  sensible 
to-morrow,  and  if  you  will  excuse  me,  I  am  one  of 
the  sacred  children,  and  I  am  just  looking  for  my 
mother's  knee  to  go  and  stand  against." 

He  made  way  for  me  with  a  "  Permettez,  made- 
moiselle I  "  and  I  went,  thinking  I  would  go  and  ask 
Ben  at  the  door  if  he  knew  where  she  was.  Ben 
didn't  know,  but  he  said  that  a  woman  who  was 
standing  near  the  door,  letting  the  cool  night-wind 
blow  in  under  her  mask  and  telling  people  how  she 
enjoyed  it,  was  Lady  Scilly.  She  was  standing 
almost  in  the  street,  with  a  man,  who  was  George. 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  93 

There  are  tall  bushes  near  our  door,  rather  pretty 
at  night,  though  they  belong  to  the  next-door 
gardens.  Ben  didn't  know  till  I  told  him  ;  he  is  the 
stupid  child  that  doesn't  know  its  own  father.  He 
told  me  what  they  had  been  saying.  She  had  begun 
by  asking  him  if  he  approved  of  women  wearing 
ospreys  ?  There's  a  silly  thing  to  ask,  for  what 
could  he  say  but  that  he  didn't,  being  a  poet  ?  Then 
she  made  a  face,  prettyish,  out  of  habit,  forgetting 
that  it  couldn't  be  seen  under  her  mask,  and  whined, 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  sorry,  it  is  the  least  wicked  thing  I 
do  !  " 

"  For  beautiful  women — I  assume  you  are  a 
beautiful  woman,  for  purposes  of  dialogue,"  George 
said;  "  there  is  no  law  of  humanity.  Go  on.  Pluck 
your  red  pleasure  from  the  teeth  of  pain."  .  .  . 

"  Yes,  I  am  very  wicked,"  she  said.  "  My  im- 
pulses are  cruel.  Sometimes,  do  you  know,  I  am 
almost  afraid  of  myself." 

"  As  I  am — as  we  all  are,"  said  George. 

"  Why,  am  I  so  very  terrible  ?  What  do  I  do  to 
you  ?  Speak  to  me.  Why  are  you  so  guarded,  so 
unenterprising  ?  " 

She  cast  a  stage  glance  round.  It  was  very  funny, 
but  George  knew  that  Ben  was  the  commissionaire 
and  Lady  Scilly  didn't,  so  she  couldn't  think  why 
George  was  so  stiff.  In  fact,  if  George  had  only 
known  it,  he  was  bi-chaperoned — if  that  is  the  way 
to  put  it — for  there  was  me  too.  Ben  and  I  en- 
joyed it  hugely,  but  I  don't  think  George  did, 
because  he  could  not  quite  make  a  fool  of  himself 


94  THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

before  Ben.  Besides,  it  was  draughty  out  there, 
and  George  takes  cold  easily.  He  kept  trying  to 
get  her  to  come  in,  and  she  pretended  to  be  babyish 
and  wouldn't.  She  said  she  had  never  been  out  in 
the  open  street  at  midnight  in  her  life  before,  and 
she  thoroughly  enjoyed  it;  that  it  was  a  Romeo  and 
Juliet  night,  or  some  rot  of  that  sort,  and  that  she 
might  never  have  such  an  opportunity  again.  But 
poor  George  felt  he  could  not  play  Romeo,  because 
of  Ben,  and  there  was  nothing  to  climb,  except  a 
lamp-post  that  led  to  nothing,  since  Juliet  was 
standing  in  the  gutter  below  it. 

George  looked  at  his  watch,  and  said,  "  In  ten 
minutes  they  will  give  the  signal  for  the  removal  of 
masks.  Had  you  not  better ?  " 

"  I  shall  leave  the  party,"  she  said.  "  I  shall 
walk  straight  home  !  It  will  spoil  all  the  effect  of 
this  enchanted  night,  if  we  have  to  meet  again  in 
the  glare  of " 

"  The  lights  are  shaded,"  George  put  in. 

"  I  alluded  to  the  glare  of  publicity  !  "  she  said. 
"  I  shall  ask  this  commissionaire,"  she  said,  "  to 
call  my  carriage " 

"  Better  not,"  said  George  hastily,  "  for  you  would 
have  to  give  him  your  name, — your  name  which  I 
know.  For  my  sake — won't  you  slip  back  into  the 
ball-room  and  submit  to  the  ordeal,  as  I  know  it  is, 
of  unmasking  like  the  rest  ?  Believe  me  it  is 
best." 

"  It  is  my  host  commands,  is  it  not  ?  "  she  said 
slyly,  to  show  him  that  she  had  known  it  was  he  all 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  95 

the  time,  and  ran  past  him,  in  a  skittish  way.  As 
if  he  hadn't  known  all  the  time  that  she  knew  that 
he  knew  that  she  knew  who  he  was  !  Grown-up 
people  do  waste  so  much  time  in  pretending. 

Well,  I  thought  if  masks  were  going  to  be  removed, 
I  had  better  take  up  a  respectable-looking  position 
at  once,  say,  beside  Miss  Mander,  which  seemed 
suitable,  and  I  went  in.  Then  I  saw  Lady  Scilly 
again,  and  wanted  so  to  know  what  she  was  up  to. 
She  was  stealing  out  of  the  room,  and  the  devil  was 
going  with  her.  He  was  The  Bittern  man,  of  course, 
only  I  didn't  know  she  knew  him.  They  were 
talking  very  earnestly. 

"  You  know  the  way  ?  "  she  was  asking  him. 

"  I  know  the  house,  like  the  inside  of  a  glove," 
he  said,  and  indeed  he  did,  for  hadn't  I  taken  him 
all  over  it,  the  day  he  interviewed  me  instead  of 
George,  and  there  was  a  row  ?  I  think  he  is  mis- 
chievous, rather  like  Puck  was,  in  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream,  so  I  thought  I  would  stick  to  them.  Lady 
Scilly  wanted  to  go  into  an  empty  room  to  take  off 
her  mask  and  domino.  That  I  could  quite  under- 
stand, as  she  had  behaved  so  badly  in  both.  The 
Bittern  man  offered  to  show  her  the  way  to  George's 
sanctum. 

"  You  see,  you  can  go  where  you  like  in  a  show- 
house — or  ought  to  be  able  to.  It  is  public  property, 
the  property  of  the  press,  at  any  rate." 

'  The  press  is  too  much  with  us,  soon  and  late," 
said  she,  laughing. 

"  Ah,  but  confess,  my  lady,  you  can't  do  without 


96  THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

us  !  "  said  this  awful  young  man — though  I  suppose 
he  has  to  be  cheeky,  so  as  to  get  his  nose  in  every- 
where in  the  interest  of  his  paper.  "  You  suffer 
us  gladly." 

"  I  don't  suffer  at  all — I  shouldn't  allow  you  to 
make  me  surfer,"  said  she,  not  understanding  him. 
Smart  women  never  do  understand  things  out  of  the 
Bible. 

I  followed  them  ;  my  excuse  was,  that  I  wanted 
to  see  they  didn't  steal  the  spoons.  They  made  the 
coolest  remarks  as  they  went  up-stairs. 

"  I  have  never  been  beyond  the  First  Floor  in 
this  House  of  Awe,"  said  The  Bittern  man. 

"  Haven't  you  ?  It  seems  to  get  more  and  more 
comfortable  and  less  eccentric  as  one  goes  up,"  said 
Lady  Scilly. 

"  Art  is  only  skin-deep,"  said  The  Bittern  man. 
"  Just  look  at  that  bed,  which  seems  to  me  to  have 
come  from  nothing  more  dangerously  subversive  or 
artistic  than  Staple's.  .  .  .  Come,  lay  down  your 
mask  and  domino,  and  let  us  go  down  again,  and 
wait  about  in  the  back  precincts  till  we  hear  our 
host  give  the  word  for  unmasking." 

So  they  marched  out  of  George's  bedroom,  for 
that  was  where  they  had  got  to — and  as  no  one 
ever  need  see  that,  he  has  it  quite  comfortable,  and 
modern — and  sneaked  down-stairs  by  a  different 
way.  I  followed  them.  Soon  they  got  quite  lost 
and  were  heading  straight  for  the  kitchen.  I  won- 
dered if  Elizabeth  had  taken  off  her  domino,  and 
gone  back  to  her  work,  for  though  the  supper  was 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME  97 

all  sent  in  from  a  shop,  there  would  be  sure  to  be 
something  for  her  to  do. 

These  two  marched  straight  in,  and  I  after  them, 
and  found  themselves  in  a  blaze  of  light  and  an 
empty  kitchen — for  the  moment  only,  for  one  heard 
all  the  men  stumping  along  from  the  dining-room 
on  the  other  side,  and  the  scullery-maid  rinsing 
something  in  the  scullery.  Just  as  Lady  Scilly 
and  The  Bittern  man  burst  in,  Mother  was  standing 
alone,  in  a  checked  apron,  before  the  kitchen-dresser, 
and  turned  right  round  and  looked  at  them.  She 
looked  dignified  and  cold,  in  spite  of  the  kitchen  fire, 
which  had  caught  her  face  on  one  side. 

Lady  Scilly  and  The  Bittern  man  took  no  notice  of 
her,  but  walked  about  looking  at  things. 

"  And  so  this  is  the  Poet's  kitchen  !  "  Lady  Scilly 
said,  rather  scornfully.  "  How  his  pots  shine  !  " 

"  Very  comfortable  indeed  !  "  said  Mr.  Frederick 
Cook.  He  seemed  to  despise  George.  Then  he  con- 
tinued, laughing  under  his  mask — "  It's  no  end  of 
a  privilege  to  see  the  humble  objects  that  minister 
to  the  Poet's  use.  This  is  his  soup-ladle,  and " 

Mother  made  a  little  step  forward  and  finished 
Mr.  Cook's  sentence  for  him. 

"And  this  is  his  dresser,  and  this  is  his  boiler  ; 
that  is  his  cat — and  I'm  his  wife  !  " 

Lady  Scilly  skooted,  Mr.  Cook  stayed  behind  and 
did  a  little  bit  of  polite.  He  isn't  a  bad  sort,  and 
Mother  rather  liked  him  after  that,  and  he  began  to 
come  here. 


CHAPTER    IX 

SMART  women  like  having  a  fluffy  dog  or  a  child 
to  drive  with  them  in  the  afternoons.  Lady  Stilly 
hasn't  got  either  of  her  own,  so  she  is  always  bor- 
rowing me,  and  sending  for  me  to  lunch  and  drive. 
She  seldom  asks  Ariadne,  because  Ariadne  is  out 
and  nearer  her  x>wn  age — too  near.  That's  what  I 
tell  Ariadne,  when  she  is  jealous,  and  makes  me  a 
scene  about  it,  and  it  is  true.  If  it  were  not  for  the 
honour  and  glory  of  the  thing,  I  don't  care  so  very 
much  about  it  myself,  Lady  Stilly 's  motor  is  always 
getting  into  trouble,  because  it  is  so  highly  bred, 
I  suppose.  We  run  into  something  live — or  else  the 
kerb — most  times  we  are  out,  and  it's  extremely 
agitating,  though  I  must  say  she  never  screams, 
though  once  she  fainted  after  it  was  all  over.  It  is 
a  mark  of  breeding  to  get  into  scrapes,  but  not  make 
a  fuss.  We  have  all  heard  about  it,  she  is  just  as 
much  before  the  public  as  my  father,  though  in  a 
different  way.  I  read  an  interview  with  her  in  The 
Bittern  the  other  day  (she  had  to  start  some  Cottage 
Homes  at  Ealing  to  get  herself  into  that !),  and  it 
said  that  hers  was  one  of  the  oldest  names  in  England, 
and  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  a  hundred  Earls. 

98 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME  99 

Now  I  call  that  nonsense,  for  how  could  she  be  ? 
There  isn't  room  for  a  hundred  Earls  since  the 
Heptarchy,  unless  they  were  all  at  the  same  time, 
and  that  is  not  likely. 

Lord  Scilly  is  very  well  born  too,  he's  the  eldest 
son  of  the  Earl  of  Fowey.  The  Earl  keeps  him 
very  tight.  So  they  have  to  get  along  with  expecta- 
tions and  a  title,  till  the  old  man  dies,  and  Lady 
Scilly  wishes  he  would,  but  Lord  Scilly  doesn't, 
because  he's  not  quite  a  beast.  He  is  very  nice, 
and  rather  fond  of  Lady  Scilly,  though  he  is  always 
scolding  her.  That  is  the  expectations,  they  spoil 
the  temper,  I  fancy.  I  have  heard  that  he  doesn't 
think  it  dignified,  the  way  she  goes  on,  lowering 
herself  and  turning  his  house  into  a  menagerie.  He 
doesn't  understand  why  she  pets  authors  and  pub- 
lishers. The  authors  help  her  to  write  novels,  and 
the  publishers  publish  them  for  love  and  ninety 
pounds.  George  is  writing  one  for  her  now,  and  he 
goes  to  her  place  nearly  every  morning  to  see  about 
it.  Lord  Scilly  doesn't  mind  in  the  least  her  colla- 
borating with  George  and  the  others,  it  keeps  her 
out  of  mischief;  but  I  expect  he  would  be  down  upon 
her  at  once  if  she  were  to  collaborate  with  one  of 
her  own  class,  that  would  be  different. 

I  shall  be  glad  when  the  book  is  finished,  for 
Elizabeth  Cawthorne,  who  tells  me  everything,  doesn't 
think  so  much  collaborating  is  quite  what  is  due  to 
Mother,  and  that  if  she  were  the  mistress,  "  blessed 
if  she'd  let  herself  be  put  upon  by  a  countess." 

Elizabeth  says  Lady  Scilly  is  a  daisy — that's  what 


ioo          THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

her  name  means,  Paquerette.  That's  what  she  tells 
me  to  call  her.  I  am  proud  to  call  a  grown-up  person 
by  her  Christian  name,  and  a  titled  lady  too,  and  it 
makes  Ariadne  jealous,  which  does  her  good,  and 
keeps  her  down.  Paquerette  treats  Ariadne  on 
quite  another  footing,  any  one  can  see  she  is  not 
nearly  so  intimate  with  her  as  she  is  with  me.  I  go 
there  at  all  times  and  seasons,  and  I  accept  no 
benefits  from  her.  I  won't.  If  she  gives  me  things, 
I  take  them  and  give  them  to  Ariadne.  So  I  feel 
I  may  say  and  think  what  I  like  of  her,  while  amusing 
myself  with  her,  and  listening  to  all  the  silly  things 
she  says.  The  funny  thing  is,  I  am  always  trying 
to  be  grown-up,  and  she  is  always  trying  to  be 
childish. 

The  other  day  when  I  got  to  Curzon  Street  about 
twelve — Lady  Scilly  had  sent  a  messenger  for  me — 
she  was  still  in  bed  in  the  loveliest  pale-blue  tea- 
jacket,  down  to  where  the  bed-clothes  came  up  to, 
and  she  was  writing  her  letters  in  pencil  on  a  writing- 
board,  trying  to  squeeze  a  few  words  in  round  a 
great  sprawling  gilt  monogram  that  took  up  nearly 
all  the  paper.  There  were  three  French  books  on 
the  bed,  they  had  covers  with  ladies  with  red  mouths 
and  all  their  hair  down,  and  La  Femme  Polype  was 
the  name  of  one,  and  Madame  Belle-et-m'aime  another. 
Lady  Scilly  says  she  always  gets  up  all  her  history 
and  philosophy  in  French  if  possible,  so  as  to  im- 
prove her  grasp  of  the  language.  There  was  also 
on  the  pillow  a  box  of  cigarettes,  and  a  great  bunch 
of  lilies,  that  made  me  feel  sleepy.  There  are  daisies 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME          101 

worked  all  over  the  curtains  and  the  counterpane, 
and  great  bunches  of  them  painted  on  the  mirrors 
hanging  head  downwards,  and  about  three  sets  of 
silver-topped  brush  things  spread  out  on  the  dressing- 
table.  As  for  photographs,  I  never  saw  so  many  in 
my  life  !  There  are  about  a  dozen  cabinets  with 
"  To  darling,  from  Kitty  London,"  and  as  many 
more  with  "  Best  love,  yours  cordially,  Gladys 
Margate,"  and  I  have  given  up  trying  to  count  the 
ones  of  actresses  !  Then  the  men !  There  is  one 
of  the  poet  with  the  bumpy  forehead,  and  wrinkly 
trousers,  who  wrote  The  Sorrows  of  the  Amethyst, 
and  one  of  the  K.C.  who  wrote  Duchesses  in  the 
Divorce  Court — the  Ollendorff  man  I  call  him  ;  and 
one  of  the  man  who  did  the  Gaiety  play  called  The 
Up-and-Down  Girl,  which  Lady  Scilly  acted  in  the 
provinces  once,  for  a  charity,  till  Lord  Scilly  stopped 
her.  There  he  is  in  his  volunteer  uniform  looking 
like  a  lamb.  I  do  like  Lord  Scilly,  and  I  think  he's 
put  upon.  So  I  am  as  nice  to  him  as  I  can  be  when 
I  see  him,  which  isn't  often.  He  never  comes  into 
her  room  where  I  principally  am.  There's  a  desk  in 
one  corner,  where  she  writes  her  little  notes — I  don't 
suppose  she  ever  wrote  a  real  letter  in  her  life,  her 
handwriting  is  so  big  it  would  burst  the  post-bag — 
and  there  are  two  sorts  of  racks  on  it,  one  to  hold 
her  bills  that  she  hasn't  paid,  and  that's  got  printed 
on  it  in  gold  "  Oh  Honors  !  "  and  another  with  those 
she  has  paid  with  "  Thank  Heaven  /  "  on  it,  though 
that  one  is  mostly  empty.  She  never  hardly  pays 
bills,  she  says  it  is  waste  of  tissue,  and  bad  form, 


102          THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

but  sends  something  on  account,  and  that  I  think 
is  a  very  good  way,  for  however  broke  you  are,  you 
must  go  on  ordering  dresses,  else  the  dressmaker 
would  close  your  account,  and  if  you  only  go  on  long 
enough,  the  chances  are  you'll  die  first  and  leave 
a  nice  little  bill  behind  you,  that,  being  dead,  you 
can't  be  expected  to  pay  ! 

I  hate  kissing  people  in  bed,  I  nearly  always 
tumble  over  them ;  and  also,  if  they  are  writing,  I 
can't  help  seeing  what  it  is,  and  then  if  it  is  "  Dear- 
ests  "  and  "  Darlings  "  I  do  feel  awkward.  But  to- 
day when  she  had  said  "  How  do  you  do  ?  "  she 
handed  me  the  writing-board. 

"  Write  for  me,  dear,"  she  said,  "  to  the  most 
odious  woman  in  London.  And  the  most  insolent, 
and  the  most  unwashed !  Insolent !  Yes,  posi- 
tively she  dared  to  play  Lady  Ildegonde  in  The 
Devey  Devastator  at  a  matinee  at  Camberwell 
yesterday,  in  perfect  dreams  of  dresses — stood  by 
the  management  of  course — and  nails  like  a  coal- 
heaver's.  Now4don't  you  think,  that  as  the  part  of 
Lady  Ildegonde  was  admittedly  written  round  my 
personality,  with  my  entire  consent,  that  it  is  an 
outrage  for  Irene  Lauderdale  to  dress  the  part 
better  than  I  can  afford  to  do  !  I  shall  not  forgive 
her.  Now  you  write.  *  Dear  thing ! '  Don't  be 
surprised,  I  can't  afford  to  quarrel  with  her,  un- 
fortunately !  '  You  were  wonderful  yesterday  I  I 
know  what's  what,  and  believe  me  that's  it !  '  I  mean 
the  dresses,  but  she  will  think  I  mean  her  playing  ! 
That  is  what  we  call  diplomacy.  Don't  say  any 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME          103 

more.  Short,  and  spiteful.  Now  seal  it.  I  will 
see  that  Mrs.  Ptomaine  guys  Lauderdale  in  Romeo. 
Tommy  will  do  anything  for  me,  and  The  Bittern 
will  do  anything  for  her.  We  will  go  and  see  her 
this  very  afternoon.  I  must  get  up,  I  suppose. 
Ring  for  Miller,  dear.  Oh,  good  heavens !  how 
bored  I  am  !  " 

She  threw  one  of  the  French  novels  (they  were 
library  books,  so  it  didn't  matter)  across  the  room, 
and  it  fell  into  the  wash-basin,  and  then  she  seemed 
to  feel  better. 

"  I  wish  I  could  do  without  Miller  !  "  she  said. 
"  Old  Miller  hates  me,  and  I  loathe  her.  But  she 
will  never  leave  me.  Too  good  c  perks '  for  that. 
She  always  folds  up  my  frocks  as  if  she  knew  they 
would  belong  to  her  one  day.  So  they  will !  I 
can't  afford  to  quarrel  with  a  woman  who  can  do  my 
hair  carelessly,  with  a  single  hair-pin.  What  am  I 
going  to  wear  to-day,  Miller  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Miller  (she's  Scotch,  and  she 
is  rather  stingy  of  "  ladyships  "),  "  there's  your  blue 
that  come  home  last  week.  It  seems  a  pity  to  leave 
it  aside  just  yet." 

"  You  mean  you  can  do  without  it  a  little  longer, 
eh,  Miller?  No,  I  can't  put  that  on,  it's  too  big  for 
me  since  massage.  I  simply  swim  in  it." 

"  Then  there  is  the  grey  panne." 

"  Oh,  that  dam-panne,  as  I  call  it.  No,  it  makes 
me  look  like  my  own  maid.  No  offence  to  you, 
Miller." 

"  I  don't  intend  to  take  any,  my  lady,"  said 


104          THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

Miller,  pursing  up  her  lips.  "  What  about  your 
black  with  sequins  ?  " 

"  Yes,  let's  have  the  vicious  sequins.  It  will  go 
with  the  child's  hair.  You  see,  I  dress  to  you,  my 
dear." 

But  I  knew  it  was  only  that  she  likes  things  to  go 
nicely  together,  just  as  she  chooses  her  horses  to  be 
a  pair. 

Then  she  sat  down  and  did  her  face,  very  neatly  ; 
it  is  about  the  only  thing  she  does  really  well.  She 
put  red  on  her  lips,  and  white  on  her  nose,  and  black 
on  her  eyes,  till  she  looked  like  a  Siamese  doll  I  once 
had  before  I  licked  the  paint  off.  I  paid  particular 
attention,  for  I  shall  do  it  when  I  am  grown-up,  that 
is  if  I  am  able  to  afford  it — the  best  paints — and  I  am 
told  that  stands  you  in  about  four  hundred  a  year. 

Her  hair  is  the  very  newest  gold  shade,  the  one 
they  have  in  Paris — rather  purplish — it  will  be  blue 
next  season,  I  dare  say!  It  is  just  a  little  bit  dark 
down  by  the  roots,  which  is  pretty,  I  think,  and 
looks  so  very  natural.  All  the  time  Miller  was 
dressing  it,  she  worked  away  at  the  front  with  the 
stick  of  her  comb,  pulling  little  bits  out,  and  putting 
them  back,  and  staring  into  a  hand-glass  as  anxiously 
as  if  her  life  depended  on  it,  while  Miller  patiently 
gummed  some  little  tendrils  of  hair  down  on  her 
forehead. 

"  Child,  child,"  she  said  to  me.  "  Do  you  know 
what  makes  me  sigh  ?  " 

"  Indigestion  ?  "  I  asked,  quite  on  the  chance, 
but  she  said  it  wasn't,  that  she  never  had  had  it, 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME          105 

it  was  only  because  she  felt  so  terribly,  so  diabolically, 
so  preternaturally  ugly. 

"Oh  no,  you  look  sweet !  "  I  said.  I  really 
thought  so,  but  Miller  grinned. 

"  You  are  delightful !  "  Lady  Scilly  said.  "  And 
you  can  have  that  boa  you  are  fiddling  with,  if  you 
like.  Tulle  is  death  to  me  !  Makes  me  meretricious ; 
and,  child,  when  your  times  comes,  don't  ever — ever 
— have  anything  to  do  with  massage  !  It  grows  on 
one  so  !  One  can't  leave  it  off,  and  it  has  to  be 
always  with  one,  like  the  poor.  I  have  actually  to 
subsidize  a  masseuse  to  live  round  the  corner,  and 
she  cheeks  me  all  the  time.  Oh,  la,  la  !  " 

I  know  about  massage.  I  massed  Ariadne  once, 
according  to  a  system  we  read  of  in  a  book.  I've 
seldom  had  such  a  chance  at  her.  I  pinched  her 
black  and  blue,  and  she  kept  saying,  "  Go  on  ! 
Harder  !  Harder  !  "  but  as  it  didn't  seem  to  agree 
with  her  afterwards,  I  didn't  do  it  again.  But  I 
took  the  boa  to  give  Ariadne,  I  have  no  use  for 
such  things  myself. 

When  Lady  Scilly  was  ready  she  said — "  We 
won't  lunch  in,  we  will  go  to  Prince's  and  have  a 
filet.  Scilly's  in  a  bad  temper  because  of  bills.  Well, 
bills  must  come, — and  I  may  go,  I  suppose.  There's 
no  reason  one  shouldn't  keep  out  of  their  way." 

She  stuck  a  hat  on  with  twenty  feathers  in  it, 
and  we  went  down,  and  she  told  the  butler  to  call  a 
hansom  now,  and  tell  the  carriage  to  fetch  us  at 
three  o'clock. 

The  butler  said,    "  Very  well,  my  lady.     Your 


io6          THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

ladyship  has  a  lunch-party  of  ten  !  "  all  in  the  same 
voice. 

"  So  I  have  !  Oh,  Parker,  what  a  fool  I  am  !  " 
and  she  flopped  into  a  hall  seat. 

"Yes,  my  lady,"  Parker  said,  quite  politely, 
closing  the  hall-door  again.  He  has  known  her 
from  a  child,  so  he  may  be  rude. 

So  we  took  off  our  hats,  at  least  I  did — she  wears 
a  hat  every  time  she  can,  except  in  bed — and  went 
into  the  library  where  Lord  Scilly  was,  and  her 
cousin,  a  young  man  from  the  Foreign  Office,  Simon 
Hermyre,  that  I  know. 

Lord  Scilly  came  up  to  her  and  said  out  loud, 
"  You  have  got  too  much  on  !  " 

She  softly  dabbed  her  face  with  her  handkerchief 
to  please  him,  but  so  as  not  to  disturb  anything, 
and  the  young  man  from  the  Foreign  Office  laughed. 
He  is  a  fifth  cousin.  Lady  Scilly  says  her  cousins 
grow  like  blackberries  on  every  bush — one  of  the 
penalties  of  greatness. 

"  I've  never  really  seen  your  face,  Paquerette,"  he 
said,  "  and  I  do  believe  it  would  justify  my  wildest 
expectations.  Still,  I  think  you  are  right  not  to 
make  it  too  cheap.  Who's  coming  ?  Smart  people, 
or  one  of  your  Bohemian  crowds  ?  " 

"  You'll  see,"  she  said.    "  Mrs.  Ptomaine,  for  one." 

"  Dear  Tommy  !  "  said  he.  "  I  love  her.  .  .  . 
Desist,  O  wasp  !  "  he  said  to  one  that  had  come  in 
by  the  window  and  was  bothering  him.  "  This  is 
a  precursor  of  Tommy." 

"  Tommy's  all  right,  so  long  as  she  hasn't  got  her 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT   HOME          107 

knife  into  you.  She  favours  you,  Simon.  You  are 
to  take  her  in,  and  distract  her,  and  see  that  she 
doesn't  make  eyes  at  my  tame  millionaire." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Pawky  !  "  said  Simon.  "  Is  he  coming  ? 
You  should  put  me  opposite,  so  that  I  could  inter- 
cept the  glances.  And  why  mayn't  Tommy  have  a 
bit  of  him  ?  She's  terribly  thin  !  " 

"  Because  he  isn't  a  very  big  millionaire — only 
half  a  one — and  there's  only  just  enough  for  me. 
So  you  know  what  you  have  got  to  do.  You  may 
flirt  wildly  with  Tommy,  if  nothing  else  will  do. 
Let  me  see,  who  else  is  coming  ?  Oh,  Marston,  the 
actor,  a  nice  boy,  gives  me  boxes,  and  mortally 
afraid  of  Lauderdale — and  some  odd  fill-ups.  Just 
think,  I  nearly  went  out  to  lunch  with  this  child, 
and  forgot  you  all.  I  should  like  to  have  seen  all 
your  faces !  " 

Then  all  these  people  came,  and  Lady  Scilly  put 
me  on  one  side  of  the  millionaire  and  herself  on  the 
other.  He  looked  very  mild  and  indigestible,  and 
as  if  millionairing  didn't  agree  with  him.  He  could 
only  drink  hot  water  and  eat  dry  toast.  He  made 
a  little  "  How-Are-You-My-Pretty-Dear  "  conversa- 
tion with  me,  but  he  attended  most  to  Lady  Scilly, 
of  course.  She  was  telling  him  all  about  Miss 
Lauderdale,  and  Lady  Ildegonde  and  the  dresses, 
and  discussing  Society,  as  it  is  now. 

"  Titles  !  Why,  my  dear  man,  no  one  cares  a  fig 
for  birth  now-a-days.  No,  the  only  thing  we  care 
for  is  culture,  and  the  only  thing  we  can't  forgive 
is  for  people  to  bore  us  !  " 


io8          THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

I  wondered  where  the  poor  millionaire  came  in, 
for  he  can't  culture,  while  he  certainly  does  bore, 
but  I  suppose  Lady  Scilly  wouldn't  waste  her  time 
for  nothing,  and  perhaps  there  is  some  other  attrac- 
tion Society  takes  count  of  that  she  didn't  mention  ? 

"I'll  go  anywhere  and  everywhere  to  be  amused," 
she  went  on.  "  I'd  go  to  Gatti's  Music  Hall  under 
the  Arches — only  music  halls  are  a  bit  stale  now  ! 
I'd  go  to  a  prize-fight  in  a  sewer — anything  to  get 
some  colour  into  my  life  !  " 

"  Paint  the  town  red,  wouldn't  you  !  "  muttered 
Lord  Scilly. 

"  That  is  the  way  we  all  are,"  Lady  Scilly  went 
on.  "  Look  at  Kitty  London  !  She  is  going  to 
marry  a  perfect  darling  of  an  acrobat,  who  can  play 
billiards  on  his  own  back  !  " 

"  Cheap  culture  that !  "  said  Lord  Scilly,  and  I 
don't  know  what  he  meant,  but  I  knew  he  meant 
to  be  nasty ;  but  the  millionaire  went  on  sipping 
his  hot  water,  and  enjoyed  having  a  countess  talk 
like  that  to  him,  and  stood  her  any  amount  of 
dinners  at  the  Paxton  for  it,  I  dare  say.  They  say 
he  runs  it  ? 

He  was  well  protected,  but  still  I  could  not  help 
thinking  that  Mrs.  Ptomaine  on  the  other  side  of 
the  table,  not  even  opposite,  seemed  to  have  her  eye 
on  him,  one  of  them  at  any  rate,  Simon  couldn't 
manage  to  distract  both.  I  didn't  like  her.  She 
came  to  our  ball  in  a  mask,  and  flirted  with  Mr. 
Frederick  Cook.  I  quite  saw  why  Simon  Hermyre 
compared  her  to  a  wasp.  She  looked  as  if  she  sat 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME          109 

up  too  late  and  drank  too  much  tea,  and  I  was  sure 
that  though  they  were  very  smart,  her  petticoats 
were  all  muddy  at  the  bottom.  She  called  Lady 
Stilly  "  Darling  !  "  across  the  table  every  now  and 
then  to  show  how  intimate  she  was.  Lady  Stilly 
never  cares  or  notices.  It  is  one  of  her  charms. 
The  actor  was  on  her  other  side.  I  saw  Lord  Stilly 
stare  at  his  eighteen  rings  and  his  nice  painted  face, 
as  if  he  were  a  new  arrival.  But  there  is  some 
excuse  for  him,  he  was  just  up — he  said  so — and  I 
dare  say  he  was  too  tired  to  wash  the  paint  off  when 
he  got  home  this  morning.  Besides  that,  he  is 
acting  Juliet  to  Miss  Lauder dale's  Romeo — that  is 
the  way  they  do  it  now.  I  wish  I  had  seen  Shake- 
speare when  men  acted  men's  parts  and  women  did 
women,  but  I  was  born  too  late  for  that. 

When  we  got   up   from   lunch,   Mrs.   Ptomaine 
cleverly  caught  her  dress  in  a  leg  of  her  chair,  and 
she  wouldn't  let  the  actor  disengage  it,  but  waited 
till  the  millionaire  came  past  her  seat  and  had  a 
feeble  try  at  it.     She  smiled  at  him  very  gratefully 
for  tearing  a  large  bit  of  the  flounce  off  in  getting 
it  out,  but  after  all,  it  made  an  introduction,  and 
she  can  have  a  new  piece  of  common  lace  put  in. 
Afterwards  in  the  drawing-room  she  had  quite  a 
nice  chat  with  him,  before  Lady  Stilly  sent  some- 
body to  break  it  up,  as  she  did,  after  five  minutes. 
At  four  o'clock  they  all  went  and  we  took  our 
drive  after  all.     Lady  Stilly  never  pays  calls — only 
the  bourgeois  do — but  we  went  to  see  Mrs.  Ptomaine. 
"  I  hadn't  a  word  with  Tommy  to-day,"  Lady 


no          THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

Stilly  said,  "  and  I  had  several  little  things  to 
arrange  with  her.  I  can't  sleep  till  I  have  put  a 
spoke  in  Lauderdale's  wheel.  Poor  Tommy  !  What 
a  fright  she  looked  to-day  !  But  she  is  not  a  bad 
sort,  is  Tommy,  and  devoted  to  me  !  " 

"  What  does  she  do  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  she  works  the  press  for  me.  She  has  com- 
mand of  half-a-dozen  papers.  Goodness  knows  how, 
for  I  am  sure  no  editor  would  ever  care  for  her 
to  make  love  to  him  !  She  is  useful,  you  see,  she 
describes  my  dresses  free.  I  don't  care  for  that 
myself,  naturally,  but  the  dressmakers  do,  if  their 
names  are  given,  and  then  they  don't  worry  so  with 
their  bills.  And  she  interviewed  me  once,  and  I 
gave  Kitty  London  such  a  lesson — things  I  wanted 
conveyed  to  her,  you  know,  and  could  not  quite 
say  myself !  It  is  rather  a  good  idea  to  conduct 
one's  quarrels  through  the  press,  isn't  it  ?  Here  we 
are  at  Tommy's  flat !  Up  at  the  very,  very  top  ! 
The  vulture  in  its  eyrie — is  it  the  vulture  that  has 
an  eyrie  ?  I  know  it  has  a  ragged  neck  with  cheap 
fur  round  it !  Up  we  go  !  No  lift !  One  oughtn't 
to  visit  with  flats  without  a  lift !  You  ring  !  " 

I  rang,  and  Mrs.  Ptomaine  herself  opened  the  door. 

"  So  soon,  darling  !  Delightful !  "  she  said.  She 
didn't  look  very  pleased  to  see  us,  I  thought,  but 
she  was  "  in  to  tea,"  I  could  see,  for  there  were  three 
kinds  of  little  tea-cakes  and  a  yellow  cake  made 
with  egg-powder. 

"  I  wanted  to  prime  you  about  your  critique  of 
Lady  Ildegonde,  you  know.  Now,  Tommy,  it  is 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME         in 

understood,  Lauderdale  is  to  be  snubbed  and  pun- 
ished for  her  impertinence  in  daring  to  act  me,  in 
Camille's  dresses." 

"  Darling,  quite  so  !  Of  course.  I  had  it  nearly 
written.  Dearest,  you  don't  trust  your  Tommy." 

"  Not  so  much  darling  dear,  now,  if  you  don't 
mind,"  said  Lady  Scilly.  "  We  are  alone,  and  this 
child  doesn't  need  impressing.  It  fidgets  me." 

"  All  right,  sweetheart — I  beg  your  pardon,"  said 
Mrs.  Ptomaine,  quite  obligingly  ;  but  talk  of  fidget- 
ing, she  herself  was  in  a  terrible  state.  "  Is  it  too 
early  for  tea  ?  " 

"  Too  late  you  mean,  Tommy.  What  is  the 
matter  with  you  ?  Have  you  got  a  headache  ?  " 

"  Three  distinct  headaches,"  said  poor  Tommy. 
"  Did  three  first  nights  last  night,  and  got  a  separate 
headache  for  each." 

"  How  interesting  !  "  said  Lady  Scilly.  "  I  mean 
I  am  very  sorry.  Is  there  nothing  I  can  do  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  nothing.  I  have  experience  of  these. 
Nothing  but  complete  rest  will  do  any  good.  If  I 
could  just  lie  down  and  darken  the  room  and  think 
of  nothing  for  an  hour." 

Lady  Scilly  got  up  to  go  after  such  a  plain  hint 
as  that,  and  we  were  just  opening  the  door  when 
it  opened  itself  and  let  in  the  millionaire  ! 

Mrs.  Ptomaine  made  the  best  of  it.  She  got  up 
to  receive  him  with  a  very  pained  smile  on  the  side 
of  her  face  next  Lady  Scilly,  and  said  to  her  in  an 
undertone,  "  No  chance  for  me,  you  see  !  This  man 
will  want  his  tea.  Must  you  go  ?  " 


H2          THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

Lady  Scilly  hadn't  even  said  she  must  go,  but  she 
did  go,  and  p.  d.  q.  as  my  brother  Ben  says.  What 
was  more,  she  said  "  Good-bye,  Mrs.  Ptomaine,"  in 
a  tone  that  must  have  peeled  the  skin  off  poor 
Tommy's  nose.  No  more  "  dears  "  and  "  darlings  "  ! 
To  the  millionaire  she  said,  "So  we  meet  again  ?  " 
and  from  the  way  she  said  that  polite  thing,  I  should 
say  he  would  have  serious  doubts  as  to  whether  he 
would  ever  be  invited  to  drink  toast-and-water  in 
her  house  any  more. 

"  There  are  as  good  millionaires  in  South  Africa 
as  ever  came  out  of  it,"  she  said  to  me,  going  down- 
stairs. "  Poor  old  Pawky  !  One  woman  after  an- 
other exploits  the  dear  old  thing.  They  are  kind 
to  him,  pour  le  bon  motif  /  He  did  say  to  me  in  a 
first  introduction,  '  Hev'  you  any  bills  ?  '  But  I 
put  it  down  to  his  South  African  manners  and  his 
idea  of  breaking  the  ice  and  making  conversation. 
Tommy  will  fleece  him.  I  hope  she'll  get  him  to 
give  her  a  new  carpet  !  " 

I  know  that  Mr.  Pawky  gave  Lady  Scilly  her  box 
at  the  Opera,  but  then  it  was  on  consideration  of 
her  allowing  him  to  sit  in  it  with  her  now  and  then. 
Thus  she  gives  a  quid  pro  quo,  which  poor  Tommy 
can't  do,  having  nothing  marketable  about  her,  not 
even  a  title. 

If  he  values  Lady  Scilly's  kindness  he  is  a  fool  to 
run  after  Tommy  so  obviously.  But  that  is  what 
I  have  noticed  about  these  rich  people  ;  they  seem 
to  lose  their  heads,  let  themselves  go  cheap  every 
now  and  then.  Tommy  is  so  ugly — she  never  looked 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME          113 

nice  in  her  life  except  when  she  was  Mrs.  Sulphur- 
etta  Hydrogen,  at  our  party,  and  wore  a  mask  and 
flirted  with  Mr.  Frederick  Cook — that  he  must  be 
demented,  or  jealous  of  Frederick  Cook,  perhaps  ? 

She  has  an  organ,  I  mean  a  paper  she's  on,  and  I 
suppose  she  can  write  Mr.  Pawky  up.  Still  I  think 
he  has  made  a  bad  exchange,  for  Mrs.  Ptomaine 
won't  last.  They  change  the  staffs  of  those  papers 
in  the  night,  and  any  morning  Mr.  Frederick  Cook 
may  walk  down  to  the  office  and  find  a  new  man 
sitting  at  his  desk,  and  the  same  with  Mrs.  Ptomaine, 
— where  there's  a  way  (of  making  a  little)  there's  a 
minx  to  take  it !  so  she  often  says.  Lady  Scilly 
can't  lose  her  title  except  to  change  it  for  another 
and  a  nicer. 


CHAPTER   X 

IT  is  a  very  odd  thing  that  with  a  father  a  novelist, 
who  can  sell  ten  thousand  copies  of  a  book,  you 
can't  get  any  sort  of  useful  advice  on  the  subject  he 
has  made  peculiarly  his  own.  Ariadne  would  much 
sooner  consult  the  cook  about  such  things.  And 
it  is  not  nice  to  ask  advice  from  a  person  who  can 
oblige  you  to  follow  it !  George  can't  in  fairness 
advise  as  an  author  and  command  as  a  father,  so 
the  result  is  that  Ariadne  makes  blunders  at  all 
these  parties  she  goes  to  now.  Poor  girl,  she  only 
has  me  to  consult.  I  say  it  is  a  mistake  the  moment 
you  enter  a  room  to  fix  your  eyes  on  the  man  you 
want  to  dance  with  you,  or  even  to  ask  him  for  a 
dance  as  Ariadne  did  once.  She  said  she  thought 
he  was  too  shy  to  ask  her,  though  he  did  know  her  a 
little,  and  she  wanted  to  see  if  he  danced  as  beauti- 
fully as  he  looked.  A  man  shy!  It  takes  a  shy 
girl  like  Ariadne  to  imagine  that !  For  Ariadne  is 
both  shy  and  superstitious.  She  gets  that  from 
Lady  Scilly  and  Lady  Scilly's  aunt,  the  Countess 
of  Plyndyn.  A  very  fat  old  lady  with  a  corre- 
sponding hand,  that  when  she  holds  it  out  to  a 
fortune-teller,  it  is  like  counting  the  creases  in  a 

114 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          115 

feather-bed.  She  makes  them  take  count  of  every 
crease  though,  and  begs  them  to  invent  a  fate  for 
her. 

"  Haven't  I  got  a  future  like  other  people  ?  "  she 
whines,  and  then  the  poor  paid  fortune-teller,  in  a 
great  hurry,  sows  a  crop  of  initials  in  her  hand,  and 
she  is  not  more  than  pleased,  and  takes  it  as  a  right 
to  have  three  husbands,  although  she  is  already 
seventy. 

Lady  Scilly  never  thinks  of  having  an  afternoon- 
party  now  without  at  least  two  fortune-tellers  in 
different  parts  of  the  house.  You  see  people  waiting 
in  little  lumps  at  the  doors ;  in  a  little  more,  and 
they  would  be  tying  their  handkerchiefs  to  the 
handles,  just  as  you  do  to  bathing-machines,  to  say 
who  has  the  right  to  go  in  first.  They  go  in  shyly, 
just  like  people  who  have  made  a  stumble  in  the 
street,  looking  silly,  and  they  come  out  looking 
humble,  like  people  who  have  been  having  their  hair 
washed.  The  fortune-seller  doesn't  tell  women  the 
very  serious  things,  for  instance,  that  they  are  going 
to  die  themselves,  though  she  tells  them  when  their 
husbands  are.  They  always  tell  Ariadne  what  sort 
of  coloured  man  she  is  going  to  marry,  but  as  there 
are  only  two  sorts  of  coloured  men,  fair  and  dark, 
it  is  sure  to  come  right  sometimes.  The  last  time 
the  woman  said,  "  Fair — verging  on  red  !  "  and  as 
Ariadne  doesn't  know  any  man  who  has  anything 
like  red  hair  except  Mr.  Aix,  whom  she  doesn't  care 
for,  she  frowned  and  said,  "  Are  you  quite  sure  ?  " 
The  woman  changed  it  to  dark,  almost  black,  in  a 


n6          THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

great  hurry,  and  Ariadne  was  pleased,  for  it  is  a 
safer  colour.  Ariadne  wears  a  piece  of  wood  let  into 
a  bracelet  that  Lady  Scilly  gave  her,  just  the  same  as 
she  wears  herself,  and  touches  it  whenever  she  thinks 
misfortune  is  in  the  air,  or  when  she  is  afraid  of 
making  a  fool  of  herself  more  than  usual.  She  took 
me  out  to  gather  May  dew  in  Kensington  Gardens, 
and  very  smutty  it  was.  She  always  counts  cherry- 
stones, and  once  at  the  Islingtons'  lunch  when  it 
came  badly,  she  actually  swallowed  Never  ! 

Now,  in  Lady  Stilly' s  set,  they  call  her  "  The  girl 
that  swallowed  Never,"  and  it  seems  to  amuse  them. 
Anything  amuses  them,  especially  a  nickname.  I 
myself  wonder  Ariadne  did  not  have  appendicitis, 
or  at  least  that  apple-tree  growing  out  of  her  ear 
they  used  to  tell  us  of  when  we  were  children.  At 
luncheon  parties  now,  they  make  a  joke  of  refusing 
to  help  her  to  greengage,  cherry,  or  plum- tart,  in 
fact  to  anything  countable,  and  Ariadne  doesn't 
seem  to  see  that  it  is  plain  to  them  all  that  she  is 
anxious  to  be  married,  which,  though  it  is  true, 
sounds  unpleasant,  at  any  rate  for  the  men.  She  is 
wild  to  be  married,  and  to  go  away  and  leave  this 
house  and  have  a  house  of  her  own  that  she  can  ask 
me  to  come  and  stay  at,  and  Miss  Mander.  I  think 
it  is  a  very  good  wish,  only  why  make  it  public  ? 
Nor  she  needn't  let  every  one  know  that  George  only 
gives  her  fifteen  pounds  a  year  to  dress  like  a  lady 
on.  It  is  cheaper  to  dress  like  an  artist  or  a  Bohe- 
mian, or  in  character,  and  so  she  does.  We  don't 
have  any  dressmaker,  we  hardly  know  the  feel  of  one 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME         117 

even.  Mother  and  Ariadne  majce  their  own  clothes, 
and  Mother  never  going  out,  is  able  to  give  Ariadne 
a  little  extra  off  her  own  allowance.  I  don't  know 
how  much  that  is.  She  will  never  tell. 

Mother  has  all  the  taste  that  Aunt  Gerty  hasn't 
got.  It  is  odd,  how  taste  skips  one  in  a  family ! 
Aunt  Gerty  is  like  a  very  smart  rag-doll,  dressed  in 
odds  and  ends  to  show  the  fashion  on  a  small  scale. 
And  fashion  after  all  is  only  a  matter  of  "  bulge." 
You  bulge  in  a  different  place  every  year,  and  if  you 
can  only  bulge  a  little  earlier,  or  leave  off  bulging  in 
any  particular  place  sooner  than  other  people,  well, 
you  may  consider  you  are  a  well-dressed  woman ! 

Ariadne  makes  money  doing  his  reviews  for 
George.  He  gives  her  sixpence  a  head,  when  he 
remembers  to.  Dozens  of  books  come  in  to  our 
house  every  week,  from  The  Bittern,  and  for  Wild 
Oats.  George  is  "  Pease  Blossom  "  on  The  Bittern. 
We  don't  need  to  subscribe  to  a  library,  we  live  in 
a  book-shop  practically,  for  they  are  all  sold  in 
Booksellers'  Row  afterwards.  George  takes  the  im- 
portant ones,  of  course,  and  gives  the  smaller  fry  to 
Ariadne  to  do.  She  is  his  understudy.  When  they 
are  ready  George  writes  hers  up,  and  Christina 
types  them,  and  it  all  goes  in  together.  He  once 
reviewed  a  batch  of  bad  ones  under  the  heading  of 
Darnel,  and  people  thought  him  clever  but  malicious. 

Papa  doesn't  know  it,  but  Ariadne  has  an  under- 
study too.  She  lets  the  novels  out  to  me,  and  gives 
me  twopence  a  head.  I  must  say  that  she  has  no 
idea  of  beating  one  down.  I  read  them  as  carefully 


n8          THE   CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

as  I  have  time  for — it  depends  on  how  many  Ariadne 
gives  me — and  then  when  she  is  doing  her  hair,  I  sit 
beside  her,  and  tell  her  the  plots.  The  more  im- 
proper ones  she  keeps  to  herself,  but  I  read  those  for 
pleasure,  not  work,  so  it's  all  right. 

Ariadne  knows  about  a  dozen  useful  phrases  that 
she  didn't  invent,  but  found  ready  made.  "  Up  to 
the  level  of  this  author's  reputation"  is  one;  "marks 
a  distinct  advance,"  "breezy,"  "strong,  or  convinc- 
ing," and  the  opposites,  "  unconvincing,"  "  weak," 
"  morbid,"  "  effete,"  are  useful  ones.  She  uses  all 
these  turn  and  turn  about,  and  always  mentions  "  a 
fine  sense  of  atmosphere  "  if  she  honestly  can. 

She  has  great  fun  sometimes,  when  she  meets  the 
authors  in  society.  She  flirts  with  them  till  they 
get  confidential,  and  tell  her  about  their  books,  and 
how  totally  they  have  been  misunderstood  by  the 
press,  and  what  a  crassly  ignorant  set  reviewers 
are !  They  explain  to  her  that  not  one  of  the  whole 
d — d  crew  has  the  slightest  sense  of  responsi- 
bility, especially  The  Bittern,  which  has  got  the 
most  God-forsaken  staff  that  ever  paper  went  to  the 
devil  with  !  Ariadne  is  amused  at  all  this  and  gives 
them  another  chance  of  conversation,  and  then  they 
go  on  to  quote  her  own  words  to  her  ! 

Once,  though,  she  got  caught,  and  George  very 
nearly  took  all  the  reviewing  away  from  her,  for  he 
had  to  stand  the  racket  himself,  of  course.  She  had 
actually  said  at  the  end  of  the  review  that  it  was  a 
pity  Mr. I  forget  the  author's  name — did  not  re- 
lieve our  anxiety  as  to  the  perpetrator  of  the  hellish 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME          119 

crime,  which  to  the  very  end  he  allowed  to  remain 
shrouded  in  obscurity.  Well,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
there  was  a  hanging  scene  and  dying  confession  in 
the  last  chapter  but  one,  but  Ariadne  unfortunately 
burnt  that  before  she  had  got  to  it.  She  was  using 
the  novel  as  a  screen  to  keep  the  draught  off  the 
flame  for  heating  her  tongs,  and  so  she  never  read 
that  part,  and  had  to  make  up  her  own  end.  The 
editor  of  The  Bittern  had  to  acknowledge  the  error 
and  apologize  in  a  footnote,  because  the  author 
threatened  a  libel  action.  Ariadne  doesn't  care 
about  meeting  that  man  in  society  ! 

It  is  fairer  at  any  rate  for  Ariadne  to  review  books 
than  George,  because  she  doesn't  write  them.  People 
who  write  books  shouldn't  have  the  right  to  say 
what  they  think  of  other  people's  ;  it  is  like  a 
mother  listening  to  tales  in  the  nursery,  and  putting 
one  child  in  the  corner  to  please  another.  I  once 
went  into  the  study  and  saw  George  walking  up  and 
down,  and  throwing  light  bits  of  furniture  about. 

"  D — m  the  fellow  !  He's  stolen  the  babe  unborn 
of  an  excellent  plot  of  mine,  and  mauled  it  and 
ruined  it,  beyond  recognition  !  " 

It  was  no  use  my  putting  in  my  word,  and  saying, 
"  Well,  then,  George,  you  can  use  it  again."  He 
went  on  fuming  and  fussing,  loudly  dictating  a 
regular  corker  of  a  review. 

"  I'll  let  him  have  it !  Go  on,  please,  Miss  Mander. 
'  The  signal  ineptitude  of  this  author's '  ' 

I  am  sure  that  was  going  to  be  a  very  unpleasant 
review  to  read,  though  I  never  saw  it  in  print. 


120          THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

Ariadne  is  sentimental,  and  doesn't  care  for 
realistic  novels  at  all,  which  is  a  pity,  as  George's 
greatest  friend,  and  the  person  who  comes  oftenest 
to  this  house,  is  a  realist,  and  wrote  a  novel  called 
The  Laundress.  He  lived  in  Shoreditch  in  a  tene- 
ment dwelling  for  a  whole  year  to  learn  how  to  write 
it  from  the  laundresses  themselves, — he  went  to  tea 
with  a  different  laundress  every  afternoon  ?  The 
one  he  wrote  about  had  three  diamond  rings  and 
three  husbands  to  match.  He  himself  wore  flannel 
shirts  then,  not  nice  frock-coats  such  as  he  has  now, 
but  the  flannel  shirts  weren't  because  he  was  poor, 
but  so  as  not  to  frighten  the  laundresses  by  looking 
too  smart.  Then  the  book  came  out,  and  there  was 
a  great  fuss  about  it,  and  it  was  published  at  six- 
pence, and  our  cook  bought  it,  and  it  lies  on  the 
kitchen-table  beside  the  cookery-book. 

That  is  the  reason  Mr.  Aix,  being  a  realist,  makes 
more  money  than  Papa,  who  is  an  idealist.  You  see, 
Duchesses  and  Countesses  want  to  hear  all  about 
laundresses,  just  as  much  as  cooks  do,  but  though 
Duchesses  and  Countesses  are  interested  in  mediaeval 
knights  and  maidens,  cooks — nor  yet  laundresses — 
aren't. 

"  The  suburbs  do  not  appreciate  me  as  they  do 
you,  old  man  !  "  he  says  sometimes.  "  If  I  was 
proper,  they  wouldn't  even  look  at  me  !  " 

"  Ay  !  the  suburbs  ?  "  George  says  dreamily  ; 
"  the  kind,  the  mild,  the  tenderly  trustful  suburbs. 
I  manipulate  them  freely.  I  have  taught  Peckham 
Rye  and  Clapham  that  there  are  stranger  things  in 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME          121 

Pall  Mall  and  Piccadilly  than  are  dreamt  of  in  their 
simple  philosophy " 

"  You  have  tickled  the  Philistines,  not  smitten 
them  !  "  says  Mr.  Aix. 

"  I  have  shocked  them — they  love  being  shocked  ! 
I  have  startled  them — that  does  them  good.  I  have 
puzzled  them — not  altogether  unpleasantly.  I  have 
inured  them  to  Dukes  and  familiarized  them 
with  Duchesses,  as  the  butcher  hardens  his  pony 
to  a  motor-car.  I  reduce  to  a  common,  romantic 
denominator " 

"  You  are  like  those  useful  earthworms  of  le  pere 
Darwin,  bringing  up  soil  and  interweaving  strata," 
said  Mr.  Aix  wearily. 

George  accepted  the  worm  reluctantly,  and  went 
on.  "  Yes,  I  dominate  the  lower  strata,  they  dote 
on  any  topsy-turvy  upper-class  gospel  I  chose  at  the 
moment  to  formulate  for  their  crass  benefit.  Miss 
Mander,  did  you  ever  envisage  Peckham  ?  " 

"  I  lived  there  and  sold  matches  once,"  said  she, 
"  and,  moreover,  I've  kept  a  Home  for  distressed 
female — authors  in  the  Isle  of  Dogs." 

"  Is  there  anything  you  haven't  done  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Aix,  quite  jealous  of  a  woman  interfering  in  his 
own  line.  He  always  makes  a  point  of  living  among 
his  raw  material.  When  he  was  writing  The  Serio- 
Comic,  in  order  to  get  the  serious  atmosphere — which 
I  should  have  thought  gin  would  have  done  for 
well  enough — he  went  every  night  of  his  life  to  some 
music  hall  or  other,  and  went  behind  and  talked  to 
them,  and  fastened  their  frocks  at  the  back  for 


122          THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

them,  and  put  in  hair-pins  when  they  stuck  out  just 
as-  they  were  going  on.  Then  he  stood  them  drinks, 
and  didn't  preach  for  his  life,  for  if  he  had,  the  serio- 
comics  wouldn't  have  told  him  anything  or  shown 
him  the  secret  of  their  inner  life.  He  had  to  pretend 
that  he  thought  them  and  their  life  all  that  was 
perfect.  Christina  calls  this  novel  "  The  Sweetmeat 
in  the  Gutter,"  and  loves  it,  though  George  says  it 
is  as  broad  as  it's  long,  and  that  ladies  shouldn't 
read  it.  But  Christina  has  been  to  Klondike  and 
seen  the  seamy  side,  so  it  doesn't  matter.  /  have 
read  The  Serio-Comic,  and  I  can't  see  anything 
wrong.  There's  more  seriousness  than  fun  in  it. 
Miss  Deucie  Dulcimer's  real  name  is  Frances  Haggles, 
and  she's  the  mother  of  five  in  the  course  of  three 
hundred  and  fifty  pages,  and  there's  a  brandy-and- 
soda  in  every  chapter. 

Mr.  Aix  is  forty,  but  he  looks  like  a  boy.  He  has 
a  snub  soft  nose  like  Lady  Scilly's  pug,  with  wrinkles 
on  the  bridge  of  it.  He  wears  spectacles  because  of 
his  weak  eyes,  and  he  always  says  "  Quite  so,"  as  if 
he  were  good-natured  enough  to  agree  with  Provi- 
dence in  everything.  He  is  the  opposite  of  George, 
who  is  proud  to  be  considered  cat-like.  Perhaps 
that  is  why  they  are  friends.  If  Mr.  Aix  were  a 
dog,  he  would  knock  over  everything  with  his  tail. 
He  has  no  tact.  He  never  drinks  anything  but 
water,  and  does  calisthenics  before  breakfast  with 
an  exerciser  on  a  door.  He  is  the  kind  of  man  who 
would  put  stops  in  a  telegram — so  very  punctilious. 
His  eyes  are  wall,  and  look  different  ways,  and 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME          123 

Aunt  Gerty  says  that  once  at  a  dance  he  asked  two 
girls  for  the  same  polka,  and  they  both  accepted, 
because  he  looked  at  them  both  at  the  same 
time. 

He  is  about  the  only  person  who  doesn't  think 
Ariadne  pretty,  so  Ariadne  naturally  dislikes  him. 
She  can't  help  it.  If  we  didn't  let  her  think  she 
was  pretty,  she  would  have  jaundice,  or  something 
lingering  of  that  sort.  She  snubs  Mr.  Aix,  but 
somehow  he  won't  consider  himself  snubbed.  It 
comes  of  having  no  sense  of  decency,  as  the  reviews 
say  of  him.  Christina  chaffs  him,  and  teases  him 
about  his  next  novel,  and  asks  him  if  it  is  to  be 
called  The  Dustman  or  The  General,  and  what  the 
locale  is  to  be,  the  scullery  or  the  collecting-places 
just  outside  London  ? 

I  have  an  idea  that  it  will  be  called  The  Seamstress, 
for  he  has  lately  taken  to  coming  up  into  the  little 
entresol  on  the  stairs  where  we  sit  and  stitch,  and 
make  our  frocks,  and  asking  us  to  teach  him  to  sew. 
He  puts  out  a  hand  like  a  sheaf  of  bananas,  Ariadne 
fits  a  needle  into  one  of  them,  and  he  cobbles  away 
quite  painstakingly  for  an  hour. 

Once  he  came  up  when  Ariadne  was  awfully  tired, 
and  could  hardly  keep  her  eyes  open,  as  she  always 
is  after  a  dance. 

"  I  have  often  wondered,"  he  began,  "  what  must 
be  the  sensations  of  a  young  girl  on  entering  on  her 
kingdom  of  the  ball-room.  Is  she  dazzled,  is  she 
obfuscated  by  the  twinkling  repetition  of  the  lights  ? 
are  her  senses  stunned  or  stimulated  by  the  pon- 


124          THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

derous  beat  of  the  time,  relentless  under  its  top- 
dressing  of  melody,  like  despair  underlying  frivolity  ? 
Is  She ?  " 

He  would  have  gone  on  for  ever  if  I  had  not 
interrupted — 

"  I  can  tell  you.  She's  thinking  all  the  time, 
'  Is  there  a  hairpin  sticking  out  ?  Is  the  tip  of  my 
nose  shiny  ?  Is  my  dress  too  short  in  front,  and  is 
it  properly  fastened  at  the  back,  and  what  does 

Mr. it  depends  which  Mister  is  there  that  evening 

—think  of  it  all  ?  " 

"  Don't,  Tempe  !  "  said  Ariadne. 

"  No,  no,  Miss  Tempe,  go  on,  I  beg  of  you.  Go  on 
being  indiscreet.  Tell  me  some  more  things  about 
women." 

"  Do  you  know  why  women  always  sit  on  one  side 
when  they  are  alone  in  a  hansom  ?  " 

"  No,  I  have  no  idea.  Some  charmingly  morbid 
reason,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  can  call  it  morbid,  if  you  like,"  I  said. 
"  It  is  only  because  there  happens  to  be  a  looking- 
glass  there." 

George  and  Mr.  Aix  have  different  publishers,  but 
the  same  literary  agent.  A  publisher  once  took 
them  both  to  the  top  of  a  high  hill  in  Surrey  and 
tempted  them — to  sell  him  the  rights  of  every  novel 
they  did  for  ten  years,  and  be  kept  in  luxury  by  him. 
But  they  both  shook  their  heads  and  said,  "  You 
must  go  to  Middleman  !  "  Then  he  took  them  to  a 
London  restaurant  and  made  them  drunk,  and  still 
they  shook  their  heads  and  sent  him  to  Middleman, 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME          125 

who  makes  all  their  bargains  for  them,  but  he  can't 
control  all  the  reviews. 

One  morning  Mr.  Aix  came  in  to  see  George,  with 
a  blue  press-cutting  in  his  hand  ;  I  was  in  the  study 
then,  as  it  happened,  and  I  did  not  go.  George 
never  minds  our  hearing  everything,  he  says  it  is  too 
much  of  an  effort  to  be  a  hero  to  one's  typewriter, 
or  one's  daughter. 

"  I  am  in  a  rage  !  "  Mr.  Aix  said,  and  so  I  suppose 
he  was,  though  he  looked  more  like  a  white  goose- 
berry than  ever.  "  Just  let  me  get  hold  of  this 
fellow  they  have  got  on  The  Bittern,  and  see  if  I 
don't  wring  his  neck  for  him  !  " 

George  didn't  say  anything,  and  so  I  asked — 
somebody  had  to — "  What  has  The  Bittern  man 
done,  please  ?  " 

"  Done  !  He  has  dammed  me  with  faint  praise, 
that's  all !  I'd  have  the  fellow  know  that  I'm  read 
in  every  pothouse,  every  kitchen  in  England !  Here, 
George,  take  it,  and  read  it,  the  infamous  thing  !  " 

George  read  it — at  least  he  ran  his  eyes  over  it. 
He  didn't  seem  to  want  to  see  it  particularly,  and 
gave  it  back  as  if  it  bit  him,  saying — 

"  Well,  my  dear  fellow,  you  must  take  the  rough 
with  the  smooth — one  can  always  learn  something 
from  criticism,  or  so  I  find  !  " 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  suppose  I  am  to  learn 
from  an  incompetent  paste-and-scissors  under- 
strapper like  that  ?  He  wants  a  good  hiding,  that's 
what  he  wants,  and  I  for  one  would  have  no  objection 
to  giving  it  him  !  " 


126          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

"  Well,  it  wasn't  me  wrote  it,  Mr.  Aix,"  I  said, 
"  nor  Ariadne  !  "  He  isn't  supposed  to  know  that 
George  farms  out  his  reviews. 

Mr.  Aix  laughed,  and  left  off  being  cross.  The 
odd  thing  was,  that  it  had  only  just  missed  being 
Ariadne  or  me,  for  the  book  certainly  came  in  for 
review.  Most  likely  George  wrote  it,  or  else  why 
didn't  he  trouble  to  read  it,  when  it  was  given  him 
to  read  ?  It  looks  as  if  he  were  growing  a  little 
tiny  bit  of  a  conscience,  for  he  knows  he  ought  to 
have  said  to  The  Bittern  editor,  "  Avaunt !  Don't 
tempt  an  author  to  review  his  friend's  book,  when 
he  knows  he  cannot  speak  well  of  it  for  so  many 
reasons  !  "  That  is  my  idea  of  literary  morality. 


CHAPTER    XI 

GEORGE  came  back  from  his  yachting  tour  with 
the  Stilly s  very  brown  and  cheerful,  having  col- 
lected enough  sunshine  for  a  new  book,  and  Christina 
is  typing  it  at  his  dictation. 

George  is  a  cranky  dictator,  and  it  takes  her  all  her 
time  to  keep  in  touch  with  him.  I  have  watched 
her  at  it.  Sometimes  he  stops  and  can't  for  the  life 
of  him  find  the  right  word,  and  I  can  tell  by  her 
eyes  that  she  knows  it,  and  is  too  polite  to  give  it 
him  ;  just  the  way  one  longs  to  help  out  a  stutterer. 
But  I  have  seen  her  put  the  word  down  out  of  her 
own  head  long  before  George  has  shouted  it  at  her, 
as  he  does  in  the  end.  She  picks  and  chooses,  too, 
a  little,  for  George  is  a  tidy  swearer,  as  the  cabman 
said.  I  suppose  he  learned  it  in  the  high  society  he 
goes  among  !  He  does  it  all  the  time  he  is  compos- 
ing ;  it  relieves  the  tension,  he  says,  and  she  doesn't 
mind.  She  manages  him.  George  pretends  he 
knows  he  is  being  managed,  which  shows  that  he 
doesn't  really  think  he  is.  I  asked  her  once  why 
she  didn't  marry,  but  she  said  the  profession  of 
typewriting  was  not  so  binding  as  the  other,  for  you 
could  get  down  off  your  high  stool  if  you  wanted. 

Christina  always  says  rude  things  about  epigrams 
127 


128          THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

and  marriage.  She  is  not  very  old,  only  thirty  ;  but 
she  says  she  has  outgrown  them  both.  Of  course  in 
this  house  epigrams  are  the  same  as  bread-and- 
butter,  hers  and  ours,  for  George  pays  her  a  good 
salary  for  typing  those  that  he  makes  ready  for 
print.  As  for  epigrams,  she  says  she  can  make  them 
herself,  and  here  are  some  I  found  written  out  in 
her  handwriting  on  a  china  memorandum  tablet.  I 
expect  she  keeps  a  separate  tablet  for  her  remarks 
on  Marriage. 

1.  Man  cannot  live  by  epigram  alone. 

2.  Epigrams   are  like  the  paper-streamers  they 
fling  out  of  the  boxes  at  a  bal  masqud  at  the  Opera. 
They  flat  fall  immediately  afterwards. 

3.  An  epigram  is  like  the  deadly  Upas  Tree,  and 
blights  everything  in  the  shape  of  conversation  that 
grows  near  it. 

4.  Reverse  an  epigram  and  you  get  a  platitude. 

5.  The  savage,  sour,  and  friendless  epigram. 
The  last  sounds  to  me  all  wrong,  for  it  has  no  verb. 

But  I  give  it  as  I  find  it. 

George's  new  novel  is  to  be  called  The  Senior 
Epigrammatist,  and  the  scene  is  laid  in  the  Smart 
Sea  Islands. 

"Our  well-known  blend,"  said  Mr.  Aix,  "of 
opaline  sea  and  crystal  epigram  knocks  the  public 
every  time  !  But  mark  me,  Christina  dear,  this 
sunlight  soap  won't  wash  clothes.  It  isn't  for  home 
consumption.  It  gladdens  publishers'  offices,  but 
leaves  the  domestic  hearth  cold.  The  fires  of 
passion " 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          129 

"  Don't  talk  to  me  of  passion,"  said  Christina. 
"  I  just  detest  the  word.  Passion  is  piggish  !  It's 
a  perfect  disgrace  to  have  primitive  instincts,  and  I 
wouldn't  be  seen  dead  with  a  temperament,  in  these 
days." 

She  was  putting  a  new  ribbon  into  her  typewriter 
and  trying  it.  She  typed  something  like  this — 

Christina  x  x  x  Ball  x  x  C.B.  x  x  ( )  C.  Ball 

BB 

"  Who  is  Ball  ?  "  said  Mr.  Aix  anxiously. 

Christina  answered  as  if  she  meant  to  bite  his 
head  off. 

*  "  A  man  who  never  made  an  epigram  in  his  life, 
and  stands  six  foot  six  in  his  shoes." 

"  The  noble  savage,  eh  ?  Well,  well,  I  wish  him 
luck  !  " 

I  knew  who  Ball  was;  it  is  Peter  Ball,  and  Christina 
likes  him.  She  hasn't  said  or  typed  anything 
against  marriage  since  she  knew  him. 

It  was  at  a  concert  that  some  friends  of  hers 
gave  in  Queen's  Gate,  that  she  first  met  him.  I  was 
with  her,  and  we  all  sat  in  rows  on  rout  seats,  that 
skidded  and  flew  off  like  shirt-buttons  across  the 
room  whenever  you  got  up  suddenly.  Peter  Ball 
sat  next  us,  and  his  legs  were  long,  though  his  feet 
were  small.  He  had  a  golden  beard,  which  I  hate, 
and  so,  I  thought,  did  Christina.  She  had  always 
said  there  was  one  thing  she  would  not  marry,  and 
that  was  a  beard. 

He  wished  out  loud  that  he  hadn't  got  let  in  for 
the  sitting-down  seats,  so  that  he  could  not  make  a 


130          THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

clean  bolt  of  it  when  he  had  had  enough  of  Miss 
Squallini.  There  was  not  any  Miss  of  that  name  on 
the  programme,  so  though  he  said  loud,  no  one 
could  be  offended.  A  Maddle.  Xeres  told  us  quite 
slyly,  lifting  her  eyebrows  up  and  down,  that  "  she 
knew  a  bank  !  "  as  if  she  had  got  up  early  like  the 
worm,  and  found  it  all  by  herself.  After  that,  one 
of  the  spare  hostesses  came  wandering  by  and  in- 
troduced him  to  us.  He  began  to  talk  to  Christina 
without  looking  at  her,  and  gradually  he  forgot  his 
legs  and  put  one  under  the  rout  seat  in  front  of  him 
and  lifted  it  up  without  thinking.  The  lady  on  it 
looked  round  indignantly  and  Christina  smiled. 
After  that  he  talked  to  us  all  through  the  programme 
though  people  shoo'd  him,  and  then  he  stopped  for 
a  little  and  apologized,  and  went  on  again. 

"  I  don't  often  turn  up  at  this  sort  of  function, 
do  you  ?  "  he  asked  Christina. 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  she  replied,  "  I  have  too  much 
to  do  as  a  general  thing." 

"  And  stay  at  home  and  do  it,"  said  he ;  "  you're 
wise." 

"  I  have  to  !  "  said  Christina.  "  Oh,"  she  sighed, 
"  I  am  so  dreadfully  hot." 

It  was  June. 

"  Why  do  you  wear  that  bag  ?  "  he  said,  meaning 
her  motor  tulle  veil,  which  was  absurdly  thick  and 
made  her  look  as  if  she  had  small-pox.  But  every 
one  else  apparently  had  a  different  form  of  the  same 
disease,  shown  by  a  different  size  in  spots.  She  said 
SO,  and  that  she  wore  a  veil  like  every  one  else. 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          131 

"  Get  out  of  it,  can't  you,  and  let  me  take  care  of 
it  for  you,  and  that  boa  thing  you  have  got  round 
your  neck."  j, 

She  took  it  off,  anolhe  boa,  and  gave  them  to  him. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  drop  the  boa,  and  let  the 
veil  work  under  the  seat,"  she  said  in  a  fright,  as  he 
nipped  them  both  in  one  great  hand.  So  he  pinned 
them,  boa,  veil,  and  all,  to  his  grey  speckled  trousers 
with  her  hat-pin,  and  sat  all  through  the  rest  of  the 
concert,  looking  at  the  bunch  at  his  knee.  I  never 
saw  a  man  like  that  before,  he  didn't  seem  at  all 
like  the  people  who  come  to  Cinque  Cento  House.  I 
didn't  seem  to  see  him  there,  and  I  rather  thought 
I  should  like  to.  Why,  he  would  make  George 
straighten  his  back ! 

"  I  say,"  he  said  presently,  "  do  you  like  gramo- 
phones ?  " 

"  I  love  them,"  said  Christina,  and  I  knew  it  was 
a  lie. 

"  My  people  have  a  perfectly  splendid  one  !  "  said 
he,  and  his  whole  face  lighted  up.  "I  wish  you 
could  hear  it." 

Christina  wished  she  could,  and  he  said — 

"  Oh,  then,  we  will  manage  it  somehow." 

When  the  concert  was  over  he  didn't  bolt  as  he 
had  said  he  wanted  to,  but  gave  us  ices,  Christina 
one,  me  two,  and  then  Christina  put  the  bag  on 
again. 

"  If  you  were  in  my  motor  in  that  thing  in  a 
shower  you'd  get  drowned,"  said  he.  "  Why,  it 
would  hold  the  water.  I  should  like  to  drive  you 


132          THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

in  my  motor  all  the  same.  I  say,  can't  I  call  on 
you  ?  " 

Christina  told  him  very  nicely  that  she  was  private 
secretary  to  the  author,  Mr.  George  Vero-Taylor, 
and  hadn't  much  time  for  herself.  She  seemed  to 
say  that  this  made  a  call  impossible. 

"  Ah,  I  see  !  Live  in,  do  you  ?  Well,  I'll  call 
there,  drop  my  pasteboard,  all  straight  and  formal, 
you  know,  and  then  there  can  be  no  objection  to  my 
giving  you  a  spin  in  the  motor.  Right  you  are  ! 
Sinky  Cento  House.  What  a  rum  name  !  Suggests 
drains  !  Never  mind,  I'll  be  there,  and  then  when 
I've  made  the  acquaintance  of  your  chaperon,  she'll 
allow  you  to  come  to  tea  with  my  mater,  and  make 
the  acquaintance  of  the  gramophone.  My  mater's 
too  old  to  go  out.  It's  a  ripper,  the  gramophone,  I 
mean,  like  some  other  people  I  am  thinking  of  !  " 

"  What  a  breezy  man  !  "  said  Christina,  on  the 
way  home.  "  He  reminds  me  of  The  Northman  I 
used  to  draw  at  South  Kensington.  I  broke  him, 
and  had  to  pay  seven-and-six  for  him."  Then  she 
began  to  think — I  believe  it  was  about  Peter  Ball. 
He  was  handsome,  for  he  had  blue  eyes  and  a  little 
short,  straight  nose  like  the  Sovereigns  in  Madame 
Tussaud's. 

"Isn't  he  exactly  like  Harold  of  England?"  I  said 
to  Christina.  "  I  hope  George  won't  snub  him  when 
he  comes  to  see  you  ?  " 

"  He  won't  come,"  said  she  ;  "  but  if  he  did  he 
wouldn't  know  he  was  being  snubbed." 

"  No,  he  would  say  to  George,  '  Keep  your  snubs 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  133 

for  a  man  of  your  own  size.'  But,  Christina  dear, 
I  always  thought  you  hated  both  marriage  and 
gramophones." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  about  gramophones,"  said  she. 
"  Perhaps  a  very  big  one ?  " 

"  A  six-footer,  like  Mr.  Peter  Ball,  eh  ?  " 

She  was  quite  moody  and  absent  in  the  'bus  going 
home,  and  wouldn't  go  on  top  to  please  me.  Then 
I  accidentally  stuck  my  umbrella  in  over  the  top  of 
her  shoe  as  I  walked  beside  her,  and  then  she  was 
too  cross  to  speak  at  all.  I  respected  her  mood. 
That  is  why  I  am  beloved  in  the  home  circle.  But 
I  have  my  own  ideas,  and  they  keep  me  amused. 

I  was  unfortunately  out  of  the  way  when  Mr. 
Peter  Ball  did  call,  three  days  later.  Mother  and 
Christina  were  in,  and  Ariadne,  who  gave  me  a  true 
account  of  it  all.  She  says  the  first  thing  he  said  to 
Christina  was,  "  I  hope  you  don't  think  I  have  been 
too  precipitate  ?  "  I  suppose  he  meant  in  calling  ? 
He  stared  about  him  a  good  deal  at  first,  and  she 
thought  that  George's  queer  furniture  made  him 
feel  shy,  and  that  he  thought  the  ivory  figure  of 
Buddha  quite  indecent.  She  was  sure  he  didn't 
admire  her  (Ariadne),  but  only  Christina,  because 
Christina  is  a  "  tailor-made  "  girl,  that  men  like. 
Mother  made  the  tea  very  strong  that  afternoon, 
so  as  to  make  him  feel  at  home,  and  then  after 
all  he  didn't  touch  tea.  She  kindly  offered  him 
a  brandy-and-soda  and  he  declined  that,  but  I 
expect  it  was  only  because  it  would  have  seemed 
disrespectful  to  Christina.  All  men  are  alike,  and 


134          THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

prone  to  a  b.  and  s.  if  they  can  get  it  without 
disgrace.  Mother  was  sure  that  he  had  fallen 
head-over-ears  in  love  with  Christina,  and  she  with 
him  at  the  very  first  sight.  She  told  me  so,  and 
said  she  meant  to  help  it  on. 

"It  is  because  Christina  is  so  used  to  seeing 
George  every  day,"  said  I.  "  Peter  Ball  is  very 
different,  isn't  he  ?  " 

Mother  said  that  there  was  no  accounting  for 
tastes,  and  that  for  her  part  she  considered  George's 
type  was  the  nicest.  But  whatever  we  did,  she 
said,  we  were  not  to  chaff  Christina  about  it,  and 
put  her  off  a  very  good  match.  A  girl  of  Christina's 
sort  never  took  kindly  to  chaff,  and  though  she 
should  be  sorry  to  lose  Christina  as  a  secretary  to 
George,  it  being  impossible  to  tell  what  sort  of  minx 
he  might  engage  in  her  place,  she  for  one  wouldn't 
like  any  personal  consideration  whatever  to  interfere 
with  Christina's  establishment  in  life.  Peter  Ball  is 
a  landed  gentry.  He  is  M.F.H.  in  the  county  of 
Northumberland  to  the  Rattenraw  Hunt,  and  a 
capital  shot  and  first-rate  angler.  When  his  old 
mother  dies  he  will  be  richer,  but  he  is  a  good  son, 
and  often  stays  with  her  in  Leinster  Gardens  where 
he  has  asked  me  and  Christina  to  go  to  tea  next 
week. 

I  promised  not  to  chaff,  but  if  she  had  only  known, 
it  would  have  taken  a  steam-crane  to  put  Christina 
off  that  particular  thing.  She  talked  lots  about 
Peter.  He  was  the  "  finest  specimen  of  humanity 
she  had  ever  come  across  !  "  "  Such  a  contrast  to 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          135 

the  little  anaemic,  effete,  ambisextrous  (I  hope  I  have 
got  it  right  ?)  creatures  that  haunt  Cinque  Cento 
House,  who  are  all  trying  to  get  more  out  of  their 
heads  than  is  in  them  !  "  "  Greek  in  his  simplicity, 
a  sort  of  mixture  of  John  Bull  and  Antinous  !  "  I 
say,  just  wait  till  you  see  his  mother ;  nice  men's 
mothers  are  sometimes  sad  eye-openers,  and  Peter 
Ball  is  always  talking  about  his.  Also  it  is  quite 
on  the  cards  that  she  may  not  like  Christina,  and 
then  I  am  sure  he  will  never  propose  to  her.  He  is 
an  admirable  son.  I  believe  he  keeps  a  gramophone 
just  to  attract  the  girls  he  admires  into  his  mother's 
cave,  and  give  her  the  opportunity  of  looking  over 
them,  and  making  up  her  mind  if  they  are  fit  to  be 
her  Peter's  wife  or  no. 

When  the  eventful  day  came,  Christina  was  on 
thorns.  She  didn't  know  how  to  dress.  She  finally 
left  off  the  chiffon  bag  and  wore  a  fringe-net,  and 
her  best-cut  "  tailor-made,"  and  took  out  her 
ear-rings  lest  they  should  damn  her  in  his  mother's 
eyes.  Then  at  exactly  five  minutes  to  four  we  rang 
the  bell  in  1000  Leinster  Square. 

A  proud  butler  opened  the  door.  George  will 
only  let  us  have  maids,  although  he  could  afford  ten 
butlers. 

The  house  was  beautiful,  and  not  a  bit  like  ours. 
"  Early  Victorian,"  Christina  whispered  me.  She 
was  dreadfully  nervous,  and  made  me  too.  I  dropped 
my  umbrella  in  the  rack  with  such  a  clatter  that  she 
blushed  and  scolded  me.  Then  a  palm-leaf  tickled 
my  head  as  I  went  by,  and  I  begged  its  pardon, 


I36          THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

thinking  some  one  behind  was  trying  to  attract  my 
attention.  We  were  taken  into  a  big  room  with 
pedestal  things  in  gold  and  stucco  set  down  at 
intervals,  and  a  clock  with  a  bare  pendulum  which 
looks  simply  undressed  to  me,  and  a  bronze  Father 
Time  with  his  sickle  lying  lazily  across  the  top.  On 
another  clock  there  was  a  gilt  man  in  a  gilt  cart 
whipping  up  two  gilt  horses.  The  carpet  had  large 
bouquets  of  roses  on  it,  and  I  thought  what  a  good 
game  it  would  be  to  pretend  they  were  islands  and 
hop  across  from  one  to  the  other.  I  began,  but  she 
stopped  me.  In  a  corner  was  the  gramophone,  like 
a  great  brass  ear  put  out  to  hear  what  you  were 
saying.  It  was  playing  when  we  went  in,  like  an 
old  man  with  a  wheeze,  and  in  came  Peter  Ball 
looking  as  if  he  had  just  got  out  of  a  bath,  and 
said,  "How-do-you-do!  it  is  playing  '  Coppelia.'  " 
Then  it  played  "  Valse  Bleue  "  and  "  Casey  at  the 
Wake,"  and  "Casey  as  Doctor,"  and  "When 
other  Lips,"  and  then  Peter  Ball  said  his  mother 
was  ready. 

Into  another  room  we  went,  full  of  Berlin  wool- 
work chairs,  and  screens  of  Potiphar  and  his  wife, 
and  the  curtains  were  of  green  rep  with  ropes  of  silk 
to  tie  them  back  and  gilt  festoons  to  hide  their 
beginnings,  and  an  old  old  lady  in  a  big  arm-chair 
and  a  lace  cap  with  nodding  bugles  was  in  a  corner, 
just  like  another  and  older  bit  of  furniture. 

We  were  introduced ;  she  was  very  deaf  and  very 
blind,  and  I  am  not  sure  she  didn't  think  /  was  the 
girl  Peter  wanted  to  marry.  However  that  might 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  137 

be,  she  seemed  pleased  with  us,  and  we  talked  of  her 
son  and  the  house.  Christina,  who  used  to  say  she 
preferred  a  Che*ret  poster  to  a  Titian,  and  plain 
deal  to  mahogany,  admired  everything  freely.  The 
rosewood  wheelbarrow  with  silver  fittings  given  to 
Peter  Ball's  father  when  he  laid  a  first  stone  some- 
where, she  said  was  superb  and  so  graceful ;  the 
picture  of  old  Mrs.  Ball  by  Ingres  in  a  poke  bonnet 
and  short  waist  she  said  was  far  superior  to  anything 
by  Burne  Jones. 

"  Who  is  Burne  Jones  ?  "  said  the  old  lady,  and 
Christina  denied  Burne  Jones  cheerfully.  I  thought 
of  my  favourite  piece  of  poetry — 

"See,  ye  Ladies  that  are  coy, 
What  the  mighty  Love  can  do ! " 

Then  we  had  tea  (the  cake  in  a  silver  basket  on  a 
fringed  mat,  if  you  please  !),  and  after  we  had  talked 
a  little  more,  we  said  good-bye,  and  Peter  took  us 
out.  He  had  rushed  out  of  the  room  just  five 
minutes  before,  when  the  first  symptoms  of  leave- 
taking  manifested  themselves,  and  we  saw  why, 
when  we  passed  out  though  the  first  room  where 
the  gramophone  was.  It  played  us  out  with  "  The 
Wedding  March,"  surely  a  graceful  thought  of  Peter 
Ball's  ! 

"  He's  very  nice,  but  what  a  pity  he  hasn't  got 
taste  !  "  I  said  as  we  came  away.  You  see,  I  am 
used  to  Cinque  Cento  House,  and  I  have  always 
been  told  that  there  is  only  one  taste,  and  that  ours 
is  it. 


138          THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

"  Taste  !  "  Christina  mooned,  as  we  got  into  a 
'bus.  "  There's  so  much  of  it  about,  isn't  there  ? 
On  my  word,  it  will  soon  be  quite  chic  to  be 
vulgar." 

It  was  not  difficult  to  tell  which  way  the  wind 
was  blowing  after  that.  It  was  about  this  time 
that  Mr.  Aix  found  Christina  typing  her  own  name 
and  Peter's  on  a  sheet  of  III  Imperial.  •  He  hadn't 
even  set  eyes  on  Peter  Ball  then,  but  he  did  a  few 
days  later,  when  Peter  Ball  came  to  tea,  holding 
his  grey  kid  gloves  in  his  hand.  George,  luckily, 
was  out  again,  really  out,  not  pretending  to  be  in 
his  study,  and  Mr.  Aix  it  was  who  opened  the 
front-door  for  Peter  when  he  went  away  at 
seven. 

"  A  man  !  "  he  said,  when  he  came  back  to  us 
all  in  the  winter  garden,  and  Christina  was  just 
going  out — escaping  to  her  own  room  to  think  over 
Peter  Ball,  I  dare  say — and  she  said  as  she  passed 
him — 

"  I  could  hug  you  for  saying  that,  Mr.  Aix." 

"  No,  you  couldn't,"  said  he.  "  I  am  popularly 
supposed  to  be  repellent.  A  lady  said  I  was  like  a 
white  stick  of  celery  grown  in  a  dark  cellar.  Another, 
of  music-hall  celebrity,  compared  me  to  a  blasted 
pipe-stem.  I  do  not  look  for  success  with  your  sex. 
It  was  kind  of  you  to  think  of  it,  though." 

Peter  Ball  meant  business,  or  else  we  could  not 
have  all  spoken  of  it  so  openly.  George  was  awfully 
cross  at  the  idea  of  having  to  find  a  new  secretary. 
Lady  Scilly  said  she  thought  he  could  do  better  than 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          139 

Christina,  who  was  too  forward  (and  too  pretty). 
She  tried  very  hard  to  flirt  with  Peter  herself,  but 
perhaps  Peter  thought  he  could  do  better,  and 
wouldn't.  She  looked  into  his  face  and  said,  "  You 
great  big  beauty  !  "  She  told  him  "  high  "  stories, 
as  Christina  and  I  call  them,  and  he  wouldn't  laugh. 
She  asked  him  right  out  why  he  wouldn't,  and  he 
answered  equally  right  out,  "  Because  I  disapprove 
of  all  jesting  with  regard  to  the  relations  of  the 
sexes  !  " 

Lady  Scilly  looked  disgusted,  and  left  him  severely 
alone,  as  he  meant  her  to. 

For  weeks  after  this  he  was  like  a  full  pail  of 
water  one  is  afraid  to  carry  without  spilling.  At 
last  he  slopped  over,  and  asked  Christina  to  be  his 
wife.  I  wasn't  in  the  room,  of  course,  but  Christina 
was  nice  and  told  us  afterwards.  He  went  on  his 
knees,  she  says,  and  I  believe  her,  because  I  found 
a  cushion  on  the  floor  immediately  after,  before  the 
housemaid  had  tidied  the  room,  and  I  think  he  had 
managed  to  put  it  under  his  knees  without  her  seeing. 
Our  floor  is  bony. 

"  The  very  moment,"  she  said,  "  he  had  got  me 
to  say  yes,  he  jumped  up  and  rushed  out  without 
his  hat,  to  send  a  telegram  to  his  mother  with  the 
good  news  !  " 

She  thought  this  so  nice  of  him  and  so  flattering, 
as  showing  that  he  hadn't  made  quite  sure  of  her. 
For  though  we  all  knew  she  meant  to  take  him,  he 
was  not  supposed  to  be  aware  of  it.  Considering 
that  Christina  is  grown  up,  she  ought  to  be  able  to 


140          THE   CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

make  a  man  think  exactly  what  she  wishes  him  to 
think  about  her.  Such  power  comes,  or  should 
come,  with  advancing  years,  and  is  one  of  its  com- 
pensations. Ariadne,  of  course,  isn't  old  enough 
to  have  left  off  being  quite  transparent,  and  regrets 
it  deeply  in  some  of  her  poetry. 

Christina  was  married  to  Peter  Ball  almost 
directly,  and  Ariadne  and  I  were  her  bridesmaids. 
Mrs.  Mander  gave  us  our  dresses  and  hats.  They 
were  quite  fashionable  ;  she  would  have  no  nonsense 
or  necklaces.  Ariadne  looked  smart  and  like  other 
people,  for  once.  She  didn't  look  so  pretty,  but  it 
is  a  mistake  to  want  to  go  about  the  streets  looking 
like  a  picture.  Prettiness  isn't  everything,  and  the 
really  smartest  people  would  disdain  to  look  simply 
ready  for  an  artist  to  paint  them. 

Simon  Hermyre,  Lady  Scilly's  best  friend,  was 
Peter  Ball's  best  man.  He  had  met  Ariadne  at  the 
Scillys',  but  at  Christina's  wedding  he  said  that  he 
should  not  have  known  her  again.  He  began  to 
take  some  notice  of  her.  She  at  once  asked  him  to 
call,  and  it  was  a  great  mistake,  for  he  never  did. 
It  is  awkward  for  Ariadne,  I  admit,  for  Mother  not 
going  out,  and  George  being  perfectly  useless  as  a 
father,  she  has  to  do  all  her  own  asking. 

That  can't  be  helped,  but  Ariadne  is  always  hasty 
and  strikes  while  the  iron  is  too  hot.  Simon  Her- 
myre did  rather  like  her,  but  he  wasn't  quite  sure 
that  he  actually  wanted  to  take  her  on,  and  all  that 
that  means — and  whether  he  liked  her  enough  to  risk 
making  Lady  Scilly  angry  about  it,  as  of  course  she 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          141 

would  be.  At  all  events  he  didn't  come — his  chief 
kept  him  in  till  six  o'clock  every  day,  or  some  excuse 
of  that  sort.  As  if  a  man  couldn't  always  manage 
a  call  if  he  wanted  to,  even  if  he  were  third  secretary 
to  some  one  in  the  planet  Mars  ! 


CHAPTER    XII 

WE  never  used  to  go  away  for  more  than  a  week 
every  summer  to  Brighton  or  Herne  Bay,  but  now 
that  we  live  in  the  heart  of  the  town,  as  of  course  St. 
John's  Wood  is,  it  has  been  decided  that  we  want  a 
whole  month  at  the  sea.  This  year  Mother  and  Aunt 
Gerty  chose  Whitby  in  Yorkshire.  It  is  convenient 
for  Aunt  Gerty — something  about  a  company  that 
she  is  thinking  of  joining  in  the  autumn.  George 
didn't  care  where  we  went,  as  he  isn't  to  be  with  us. 
He  just  forks  out  the  money  as  Mother  asks  for  it ; 
he  trusts  her  implicitly  not  to  waste  it,  and  to  do 
things  as  cheap  as  they  can  be  done  and  yet  decently, 
because  after  all  we  are  his  family,  and  everybody 
knows  that  now. 

I  sometimes  think  he  would  come  with  us  himself, 
if  Aunt  Gerty  wasn't  so  much  about. 

Ariadne  and  Aunt  Gerty  haven't  got  an  ounce  of 
country  fibre  in  them.  They  get  at  loggerheads  with 
the  country  at  once.  The  mildest  cows  chase  them, 
they  manage  to  nearly  drown  themselves  in  the 
tiniest  ditches,  the  quietest  old  pony  rears  if  they 
drive  him.  If  they  pick  a  mushroom  it  is  sure  to  be 
a  toadstool;  if  they  bite  into  a  pear  there's  a  wasp 
142 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          143 

inside  it ;  if  they  take  hold  of  a  village  baby  they  are 
sure  to  drop  it.  They  haven't  country  good  manners, 
they  leave  gates  open,  they  trample  down  grass,  they 
entice  dogs  away,  they  startle  geese  and  set  hens 
running,  and  offend  everybody  all  round. 

So  they  weren't  particularly  happy  in  the  first 
rooms  we  took,  at  a  farm  just  out  of  Whitby.  There 
was  one  stuffy  little  best  parlour,  sealed  up  like  a 
bottle  of  medecine,  and  one  mouldy  geranium  looking 
as  if  it  couldn't  help  it  on  the  window-sill,  and  the 
"  Seven  Deadly  Sins  "  in  chromo  on  the  walls,  and 
Rebecca  at  a  well  of  Berlin  wools  over  the  mantel- 
piece. They  covered  the  family  Bible  with  an 
antimacassar,  and  Aunt  Gerty's  theatrical  photos 
without  which  she  never  travels,  and  suppressed 
the  frosty  ornament  in  a  glass  case  of  one  of  Mrs. 
Wilson's  wedding-cakes.  Mrs.  Wilson  married  early, 
she  says,  and  I  say  she  married  often,  for  there  are 
three  of  them !  It  was  uncomfortable.  Mother 
didn't  complain,  Aunt  Gerty  did.  She  had  no- 
where to  hang  up  her  dresses  ;  they  were  all  getting 
spoilt ;  she  couldn't  see  to  do  her  hair  in  the  wretched 
little  scrap  of  looking-glass,  and  the  room  was  so 
small  that  she  twice  set  fire  to  her  bed-curtains, 
curling  her  hair,  which  she  did  twenty  times  a  day, 
for  there  was  always  wind  or  rain  or  something. 
The  walls  were  so  thin  that  she  could  hear  every  word 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilson  said  to  each  other  in  the  next 
room,  quarrelling  and  arranging  the  bill  and  so  on. 
She  couldn't  sleep  with  the  window  shut,  and  all  sorts 
of  horrid  buggy  things  came  in  if  you  left  it  open. 


144          THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

It  was  so  dreadfully  lonely  here,  and  she  had  never 
"  seen  so  much  land  "  in  her  life. 

Aunt  Gerty  has  been  on  tour  often  enough  to  get 
used  to  uncomfortable  lodgings,  lodgings  not  chosen 
by  herself,  very  likely,  and  her  luggage  all  fetched 
away  the  day  before  she  leaves  by  the  baggage  man  ! 
But  it  is  in  a  town,  and  that  makes  all  the  difference. 
Give  her  a  strip  of  mirror  in  the  door  of  her  wardrobe, 
and  a  gas-jet  ready  to  set  fire  to  her  window-curtains, 
and  a  row  of  shops  outside  to  cheer  her  up,  and  she 
won't  think  of  grumbling. 

The  landlady  didn't  consider  us  a  particularly 
good  "  let."  I  used  to  hear  her  in  bed  in  the  mornings 
explaining  to  Mr.  Wilson,  who  is  a  railway  porter, 
how  glad  she  would  be  to  be  "  shot "  of  us  if  it 
wasn't  for  the  money.  "  Ay,  lass !  "  he  would 
answer,  and  then  I  used  to  hear  him  turning  over 
in  bed  and  going  to  sleep  again. 

"  They're  better  to  keep  a  week  than  a  fortnight ! " 
she  used  to  say.  "  What  with  their  late  dinners 
and  breakfasts  in  bed,  and  their  black  coffee,  and 
all  sitting  down  for  an  hour  o'  mornings  polishing 
up  them  ondacent  brown  boots — they  darsen't  trust 
the  help,  no,  not  since  she  went  and  rubbed  them 
with  lard — poor  girl,  she  meant  well, — and  she  fit 
to  rive  her  legs  off  answering  the  parlour  bell  every 
minute  !  Well,  the  sooner  I  see  their  backs,  the 
better  pleased  I  shall  be  !  " 

We  took  the  hint  and  gave  up  the  rooms,  and  got 
some  nicer  ones  in  town  on  the  quay.  Aunt  Gerty 
left  off  bothering  Mother  to  have  late  dinner  and 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME          145 

strong  coffee,  and  we  lived  on  herrings  and  cream 
cheeses,  the  cheapest  things  in  Whitby.  I  mean 
the  herrings.  When  they  have  a  good  catch,  they 
sell  them  at  a  halfpenny  each  on  the  quay-side, 
or  slap  their  children  with  them,  or  shy  them  at 
strangers.  Anything  to  keep  the  market  up  ! 

Mrs.  Bennison,  our  new  landlady,  isn't  a  Whitby 
woman,  but  her  husband  is,  and  owns  a  boat,  and 
takes  Ben  out  sailing,  and  tries  to  make  a  man  of 
him.  We  hardly  ever  see  him,  so  we  know  he  is 
happy.  Mother  and  Aunt  Gerty  sit  one  on  each 
side  of  the  bow  window  the  greater  part  of  the  day, 
and  make  blouses,  and  read  at  the  same  time.  George 
would  throw  their  books  into  the  harbour  if  he 
caught  them  in  their  hands  ;  they  are  the  sort  he 
disapproves  of.  I  won't  say  who  the  authors  of 
these  are,  as  being  a  literary  man's  daughter  it 
might  give  offence,  but  they  are  by  women  mostly. 
George  vetoes  women's  books  too,  for  they  are 
generally  bad,  and  if  they  are  good,  they  have  no 
business  to  be. 

Just  now,  George  isn't  here  to  object,  he  is  at 
Homburg,  doing  a  cure.  He  always  gets  brain  fag 
towards  the  end  of  the  season  like  his  other  friends. 
It  seems  to  me  the  smartest  illness  to  have,  except 
appendicitis.  The  moment  Goodwood  is  over,  they 
all  troop  off  to  Germany  or  Switzerland  and  pay 
pounds  to  some  doctor  who  only  makes  them  leave 
off  eating  and  drinking  too  much,  and  go  to  bed  a 
little  before  daylight.  It  is  kill  and  then  cure  with 
the  smart  set,  every  year.  George  does  what  is 


146          THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

right  and  usual — bathes  in  champagne  at  Wiesbaden, 
and  drinks  the  water  rotten  eggs  have  been  boiled 
in  at  Homburg.  He  does  it  in  good  company,  to 
take  the  taste  away.  Mr.  Aix  drew  us  a  picture  of 
George  and  a  Duchess  walking  up  and  down  a  parade, 
with  a  glass  tube  connected  with  a  tumbler,  in  their 
mouths,  talking  about  emulating  "  The  Life  of  the 
Busy  Bee  "  as  they  went  along. 

About  the  middle  of  August  we  heard  he  had  come 
back  to  England  and  was  paying  his  usual  round 
of  visits  to  Barefront,  and  Baddeley  and  Fylingdales 
Tower.  Nearly  all  these  places  have  real  battle- 
ments and  ghosts.  Fylingdales  Tower  is  near  here. 
Mother  and  I  and  Aunt  Gerty  joined  a  cheap  trip 
to  it,  the  other  day,  and  were  taken  all  over  the 
house  for  a  shilling.  I  don't  even  believe  The  Family 
was  away,  but  stowed  away  pro  tern,  and  staring  at 
us  through  some  chink  and  loathing  us.  I  did 
manage  to  persuade  Aunt  Gerty  not  to  throw  away 
her  sandwich  paper  in  the  grate  of  the  fire-place  of 
the  room  where  Edward  the  Third  had  slept  on  his 
way  to  Alnwick,  but  kindly  keep  it  till  we  were  got 
into  the  Park.  But  she  was  very  irreverent  all 
the  same,  and  insisted  on  setting  her  hat  straight 
in  the  glass  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  portrait,  and  that 
was  the  only  picture  she  looked  at  at  all.  I  don't 
care  for  pictures  much.  I  like  the  house,  which 
is  old  and  grey  and  bleached,  as  if  it  never  got  a  good 
night's  sleep.  Too  many  spirits  to  break  its  rest. 
I  don't  believe  in  ghosts  really,  but  I  often  wonder 
what  are  the  white  things  one  sees  ?  I  don't  see 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT    HOME          147 

so  many  as  I  did  when  I  was  quite  a  child.  Aunt 
Gerty  shivered  and  went  Brr  !  She  hated  it  all,  she 
is  so  very  modern.  She  admitted  that  she  only  went 
with  us  because  she  had  hoped  George  might  be 
actually  staying  there,  and  would  see  his  own  sister- 
in-law  among  the  trippers  and  get  a  nasty  jar. 
Mother  is  a  lady,  and  knew  quite  well  that  he  wasn't 
there,  or  else  she  would  not  have  let  Aunt  Gerty 
go,  or  gone  herself,  even  incog.  George  had  been 
there  recently,  though,  for  the  black-satin  house- 
keeper said  so,  and  that  she  read  his  books  herself 
when  she  had  time,  or  a  headache.  "  He's  quite 
a  pet  of  her  ladyship's,"  she  told  Aunt  Gerty,  who 
had  spotted  one  of  George's  books  on  a  table  and 
asked  questions.  She  was  dying  to  tell  the  old  thing 
that  we  were  relations  of  the  great  Mr.  Vero-Taylor, 
but  dursn't,  for  Mother's  eye  was  on  her.  Mother 
looked  as  pleased  as  Punch  though,  and  gazed  at 
the  chairs  (behind  plush  railings)  that  her  husband 
had  sat  on,  and  at  the  portrait  in  Greek  dress,  by 
Sir  Alma  Tadema,  of  the  lady  who  "  made  a  pet  of 
him." 

George  had  written  from  Homburg  once  or  twice 
to  me,  and  I  used  to  read  his  letters  out  to  Mother, 
who  naturally  wanted  to  hear  his  news.  She  was 
a  little  annoyed  because  he  didn't  mention  if  he  was 
wearing  the  thicker  vests  as  the  weather  was  getting 
chilly,  and  begged  me  to  ask  him  to  be  explicit  in 
my  next,  but  I  did  not,  because  it  might  have  shamed 
him  in  the  eyes  of  his  countesses  if  he  left  the  letter 
about,  as  of  course  he  would.  George  respects  the 


148          THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

sanctity  of  private  communication  so  much,  that 
he  never  tore  up  a  letter  in  his  life  ;  the  housemaid 
collects  them  when  she  is  doing  his  room,  and  brings 
them  to  Mother,  who  hasn't  time  to  read  them,  any 
more  than  the  housemaid  has. 

The  third  week  in  August  George  wrote  to  me, 
and  told  me  to  engage  him  rooms  in  Fylingdales 
Crescent  on  the  East  Cliff.  You  might  have  knocked 
me  down  with  a  feather  ! 

Mother  was  hurt  at  George's  having  written  to 
me,  not  her,  on  such  a  pure  matter  of  business,  until 
I  explained  that  he  merely  did  it  to  please  the  child  ! 
One  doesn't  mind  making  oneself  out  a  baby  to 
avoid  hurting  a  mother's  feelings.  I  don't  know  if 
Mother  quite  accepted  this  explanation,  but  she 
said  no  more  about  it,  and  told  Mr.  Aix  the  good 
news.  He  is  in  lodgings  here,  to  be  near  us — Aunt 
Gerty  thinks  it  is  to  be  near  her,  and  he  lets  her  think 
anything  she  likes.  He  looks  forward  to  George's 
coming  with  great  interest,  and  says  he  will  look 
like  some  rare  exotic  on  the  beach,  such  as  a  hum- 
ming-bird or  a  gazelle.  Aunt  Gerty  at  once  got 
hold  of  the  visitors'  list. 

"  Let's  see  which  of  his  little  lot  is  coming  to 
Whitby  ?  "  she  said,  and  hunted  carefully  through 
three  columns  till  she  found  that  Adelaide  Countess 
of  Fylingdales,  Mr.  Sidney  Robinson,  nurse  baby 
and  suite,  were  at  the  Fylingdales  Hotel,  on  the 
East  Cliff.  Lord  Fylingdales,  her  eldest  son,  is  the 
widower  of  a  Gaiety  girl  who  actually  died  after  she 
had  been  a  Countess  a  year,  poor  dear  !  Aunt  Gerty 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          149 

knew  her.     He  is  Lord  of  the  Manor  here,  and  his 
portrait  is  all  over  the  place. 

"  Old  Adelaide's  a  shocking  frump,  Lucy ;  you 
needn't  distress  yourself  about  her ! "  said  Aunt 
Gerty  consolingly  to  Mother. 

"  I  am  not  distressing  myself  about  her,  Gertrude," 
replied  my  Mother,  and  she  didn't  look  at  all  dis- 
tressed in  her  neat  short  blue  serge  seaside  dress, 
and  shady  hat.  She  looked  ten. 

"  I  know  her  son,"  Aunt  Gerty  went  on.  "A 
fish  without  a  backbone.  I  very  nearly  had  the 
privilege  of  leading  him  astray  myself.  It  is  Irene 
Lauderdale  now,  I  hear." 

"  I  wish  you'd  stow  your  theatrical  recollections, 
Gerty,"  said  Mother.  "  Come,  Tempe,  get  your 
things  on,  we  will  go  and  take  rooms  for  your  father 
and  my  husband." 

"  Brava  !  "  said  Mr.  Aix.     "  Capital  accent  there." 

"  Oh,  you  go  along !  "  said  Mother,  and  we  went 
off  at  once  and  engaged  George's  rooms.  We  got 
very  nice  large  ones,  with  dark  green  outside 
shutters  to  the  windows,  and  took  a  great  deal  of 
trouble  to  explain  George's  little  ways  to  them, 
for  their  sake  as  well  as  his.  Ben  will  valet  him. 
Mother  told  the  people  that  he  is  bringing  his  man, 
who  will,  however,  sleep  out.  George  never  gets 
up  till  twelve,  French  fashion. 

Poor  Ben,  he  may  as  well  make  himself  useful, 
for  he  certainly  isn't  ornamental  just  now.  He 
can't  speak,  he  can  only  croak,  and  though  he  isn't 
very  big,  he  seems  to  have  the  power  of  burrowing 


150          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

inside  himself  and  bringing  up  a  great  voice  like  a 
steam-roller.  He  is  not  a  manly  man,  yet,  but  he 
certainly  is  a  boily  boy.  He  has  got  some  spots  on 
his  face  that  he  thinks  much  bigger  than  they  really 
are,  and  he  keeps  them  and  himself  out  of  sight  as 
much  as  possible.  He  says  just  now  he  doesn't  care 
at  all  what  he  does,  he  doesn't  even  mind  playing 
servant  for  a  bit,  if  George  would  like  it.  Mother 
tells  him  he  is  a  good  boy  and  the  comfort  of  her  life, 
and  that  if  she  can  manage  it,  she  will  get  him  sent 
to  college  after  this,  only  he  had  better  please  the 
mammon  of  unrighteousness  all  he  can.  So  he 
means  to  be  a  good  valet  to  the  Mammon. 

The  Fylingdales  Hotel  is  in  the  best  part  of  the 
town,  on  the  East  Cliff,  and  they  dine  late  there 
every  evening,  and  don't  pull  the  blinds  down,  and 
the  townspeople  walk  backwards  and  forwards,  and 
watch  the  people  dining  at  seven-thirty,  dressed  in 
their  nudity.  I  think  evening  dress  looks  quite 
wrong  at  the  seaside.  Aunt  Gerty  and  Mother  put 
on  a  different  blouse  every  evening,  and  look  nice 
and  cosy  and  comfortable,  though  George  does  say 
sarcastic  things  about  the  tyranny  of  the  blouse, 
and  the  way  Aunt  Gerty  will  call  it  Blowse.  I  wash 
my  face,  that  is  all  the  dressing  /  do.  Ben  puts  on 
an  old  smoker  of  George's,  and  flattens  out  his  hair 
to  support  the  character  of  being  the  only  gentleman 
of  the  party,  unless  Mr.  Aix  is  there  to  supper,  and 
the  less  said  about  Mr.  Aix's  clothes  the  better. 

Ben  makes  boats  all  day,  when  he  isn't  in  one,  and 
Ariadne  makes  poetry.  Her  one  idea,  having  come 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          151 

to  the  sea  for  her  health,  is  to  avoid  it,  and  seek  the 
rather  scrubby  sort  of  woods  which  is  all  you  can 
expect  at  the  seaside.  So  every  afternoon  nearly 
we  take  a  donkey  to  Ruswarp  or  to  Cock  Mill,  and 
"  ride  and  tie."  We  used  to  pick  out  a  very  smart 
donkey,  but  a  very  naughty  one.  He  was  called 
Bishop  Beck,  perhaps  for  that  reason,  and  he  went 
slow, — that  was  to  be  expected,  but  when  he  stopped 
quite  still  and  wouldn't  move  for  an  hour  or  more 
in  the  middle  of  Cock  Mill  Wood,  long,  long  after 
one  had  stopped  beating  him  (for  he  looked  at  us 
and  made  us  feel  ridiculous),  Ariadne  said  she 
would  rather  do  without  adventitious  aid  of  this 
kind,  for  it  interfered  with  her  afflatus. 

She  walks  up  and  down  in  the  wood  paths,  finding 
rhymes,  which  seems  the  hardest  part  of  poetry. 

"  Dreams — streams — gleams — "  she  goes  on. 

"  Breams  ?  "  I  suggest. 

"  Not  a  poetical  image  !  " 

"  It  isn't  an  image,  it  is  a  fish." 

"  It  won't  do.  Am  I  writing  this  poem  or  are 
you  ?  " 

I  don't  argue.  It  doesn't  really  matter  much  how 
Ariadne's  poems  turn  out.  Being  Papa's  daughter 
she  is  sure  to  find  a  hearty  reception  for  her  initial 
volume  of  verse. 

We  used  to  stay  out  till  what  Ariadne  called 
Dryad  time.  She  thought  she  saw  white  figures 
hiding  behind  the  trees  in  the  dusk.  Little  pellets 
made  of  nuts  and  acorns  and  dead  leaves,  and  so  on, 
used  to  fall  on  us  out  of  the  thickets,  and  Ariadne 


152          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

said  it  was  the  Dryads  pelting  us.  She  thinks  trees 
are  alive,  and  that  one  of  the  reasons  you  hear 
ghosts  in  all  old  houses,  is  the  wood  creaking  be- 
cause in  the  night  it  remembers  it  was  once  a  tree. 
I  prefer  to  believe  in  ordinary  solid  ghosts  instead 
of  rational  explanations  like  that.  But  still  Ariadne's 
funny  ideas  make  a  walk  quite  interesting.  Of 
course  we  never  talk  of  such  things  at  home,  among 
materialists  and  realists  like  Aunt  Gerty  and  Mother 
and  George.  George  makes  plenty  of  use  of  birds 
in  his  books,  but  he  once  came  home  from  a  visit 
to  St.  John's  College  at  Cambridge,  and  told  us  that 
he  had  been  kept  awake  all  night  by  a  beastly 
nightingale  under  his  window.  Now  I  have  never 
heard  this  much-vaunted  bird,  but  I  am  sure,  from 
Matthew  Arnold's  poem  where  he  calls  it  Eugenia, 
it  must  be  a  heavenly  sound,  quite  worth  while 
being  kept  awake  by. 

Ariadne  and  I  stay  out  very  late  till  it  is  getting 
dark,  hoping  to  hear  it,  in  Cock  Mill  Wood,  and 
then  we  go  home  and  race  through  supper,  and  then 
go  out  again,  on  the  quays  and  piers  this  time. 
We  don't  know  or  care  what  George  and  his  friends 
are  doing,  up  above  us,  in  the  smart  hotel  on  the 
cliff.  What  I  should  just  love  would  be  for  some 
of  them  and  George  to  come  down  for  a  walk  in  the 
dark  and  perhaps  meet  us,  and  for  George  to  say, 
"  Who  are  those  little  wandering  vagabonds  flitting 
about  like  bats  ?  Why  doesn't  their  father  or 
mother  keep  them  at  home  in  the  evenings  ?  "  It 
would  be  so  nice,  and  Arabian  Nightish  ! 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          153 

At  very  high  tides,  we  stay  out  very  late,  and 
take  a  shawl,  and  sit  on  a  capstan  and  tuck  it  round 
us,  and  listen  for  a  certain  noise  we  love.  It  is  when 
the  water  gets  into  a  little  corner  in  the  heap  of 
stones  by  the  Scotch  Head,  and  gets  sucked  in 
among  them  somehow,  and  then  we  hear  a  sort  of 
sob  that  is  better  than  any  ghost.  Ariadne  and  I 
put  our  heads  under  the  shawl  when  we  hear  it, 
but  not  quite,  so  as  to  prevent  us  hearing  properly. 

The  harbour  smells  at  low  water,  and  the  town 
children  yell  and  scream,  and  it  isn't  poetical  then. 
So  Ariadne  and  I  like  to  go  away  on  the  Scaur 
and  put  our  fingers  in  anemones'  mouths,  and  pop 
seaweed  purses,  and  pretend  we  are  lovers  cut  off 
by  the  tide,  as  they  are  in  novels.  In  the  afternoons 
when  the  harbour  is  full  we  sit  on  the  mound  above 
the  Khyber  Pass,  and  watch  the  water  filling  up  the 
hole  between  the  opposite  cliff  and  the  cliff  ladder. 
It  is  all  quite  quiet  then.  We  don't  hear  any  town 
cries,  for  the  children  that  make  the  noise  are  turned 
out  of  their  playground,  and  their  mothers  out  of 
their  good  drying-ground,  and  the  boats  begin  to  go 
out  of  the  harbour  in  a  long,  soft,  slow  procession — 

And  the  stately  ships  go  on 
To  their  haven  under  the  hill. 

I  am  sure  Tennyson  meant  Whitby  when  he  wrote 
that. 

One  night  we  could  not  sleep  because  the  woman 
next  door  had  had  her  "  man  "  drowned,  and  cried 
and  moaned  for  hours.  He  was  a  fisherman,  and 


154          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

we  had  seen  his  boat  go  out  third  in  the  row  the  day 
before.  He  is  supposed  to  have  fallen  overboard 
in  the  night  ?  Next  day,  Mother  went  in  and  gave 
her  five  shillings  and  she  stopped  crying. 

Mr.  Aix  had  a  try  to  paint  the  view  in  front  of 
our  windows.  At  least  he  said  there  was  no  such 
thing  in  nature  as  a  "  view,"  and  left  out  the  Church 
and  the  Abbey,  because  they  "  conventionalized  " 
things  so.  He  belongs,  he  said,  to  the  Impres- 
sionist School,  if  any.  He  got  quite  excited  about 
his  drawing,  and  at  last  went  and  borrowed  a  station 
truck  to  sit  on  ;  it  raised  him  a  little.  One  day  a 
chance  lady  sat  down  on  one  of  the  handles,  and 
over  he  went.  It  served  him  right  for  leaving  out 
the  two  best  things  in  Whitby. 

When  George  came,  Ariadne  and  I  used  to  take 
turns  to  go  and  lunch  with  him  at  his  breakfast, 
where  we  had  French  cookery.  There  were  leathery 
omelets  that  bounced  up  like  the  stick  in  the  boys' 
game  when  you  touched  the  end  of  them  with  a 
spoon,  and  fillets  that  you  wouldn't  have  conde- 
scended to  have  for  a  pillow,  but  still,  it  was 
French. 

We  were  dressed  nicely  and  took  our  clean  gloves 
in  our  hands,  and  George  wasn't  ashamed  of  us,  and 
introduced  us  to  his  friends.  Lady  Fylingdales' 
Mr.  Sidney  Robinson  said  I  was  like  George — that 
I  had  his  nose.  I  went  to  bed  that  night  with  a 
clothes-peg  out  of  the  yard  on  it,  to  improve  its 
shape.  But  the  old  lady  was  half  blind,  and  all 
made  of  manner.  I  also  saw  the  Lord  Aunt  Gerty 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          155 

might  have  led  astray,  and  he  hadn't  a  manner  of 
any  sort,  and  his  nose  wanted  to  run  away  with  his 
chin. 

George  had  no  fault  whatever  to  find  with  the 
arrangements  Mother  had  made  for  his  comfort, 
and  he  told  her  so,  the  first  time  he  saw  her,  in 
Baxter  Gate,  coming  out  of  the  Post  Office.  The 
first  place  George  flies  to  in  a  town  is  the  Post  Office, 
to  send  telegrams.  He  corresponds  entirely  by 
telegram  with  some  people ;  he  says  it  is  paying  five- 
pence  more  for  the  privilege  of  saying  less.  We  had 
been  shopping.  George  spotted  us,  and  Mother 
thought  he  had  rather  not  be  recognized,  but  he 
was  good  that  day  and  he  actually  left  Mr.  Sidney 
Robinson — a  commoner,  married  to  a  countess,  and 
that  exactly  describes  him,  Aunt  Gerty  says — to 
say  a  word  to  his  own  wife.  It  was  market  day, 
and  we  had  bought  several  things  in  the  Hall  across 
the  water.  A  pound  of  blackberries  and  a  cream 
cheese,  and  a  chicken  and  a  cabbage,  each  from  a 
different  old  woman  with  a  covered  basket.  Mother 
had  a  net  and  I  a  basket  to  put  them  in.  I  was  glad 
that  George  did  not  offer  to  "  relieve  "  us  of  them, 
like  the  young  men  Aunt  Gerty  picks  up  here  ;  but 
he  stopped  and  talked  to  us  quite  nicely  for  a  long 
time.  He  and  Mother  seemed  to  have  a  great  deal 
to  say  to  each  other,  and  the  basket-handle  began 
to  cut  my  arm  in  half.  Also  it  was  a  very  hot  day. 
George  had  on  a  white  linen  suit,  and  a  straw  hat 
from  Panama.  He  looked  quite  cool,  and  like 
Lohengrin  or  the  Baker's  man.  Mother  didn't.  She 


156          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

looked  hot.  I  touched  her  elbow,  not  so  much 
because  of  my  arm  that  ached,  but  because  she 
looked  like  that,  nor  did  I  think  it  looks  well  to 
stand  talking  in  the  street  to  gentlemen,  even  if  it 
is  your  own  husband. 

"  Well,  George,"  she  said,  taking  my  hint  at  once, 
"  we  must  be  going  on.  The  butter  is  melting  and 
the  chicken  grilling  and  the  cabbage  wilting  while 
I  stand  here  talking  to  you." 

"  Charming  !  "  said  George,  but  he  wasn't  think- 
ing of  us,  but  of  Mr.  Robinson,  who  was  champing  a 
few  yards  away.  We  said  "  Good-bye "  without 
shaking  hands.  George,  I  think,  might  have  lifted 
his  hat.  I  have  read  of  fine  gentlemen  who  lifted 
their  hat  to  an  apple-woman,  let  alone  their  wife 
and  child. 

George  and  his  friend  walked  off  together.  I 
suppose  the  Robinson  man  was  too  well-bred  to  ask 
George  who  his  lady-friend  was,  as  any  of  Aunt 
Gerty's  men  would  do,  but  he  certainly  stared  a  good 
deal.  Of  course  he  knows  who  we  are,  everybody 
in  Whitby  does,  I  should  think,  and  they  most  likely 
conclude  that  it  is  less  unkindness  than  the  eccen- 
tricity of  genius.  If  you  haven't  got  that  blasted 
thing  called  genius,  I  suppose  you  can  bear  to  live 
in  the  same  house  with  your  wife  ! 

We  walked  slowly  home  with  our  purchases. 
Mother  had  a  headache  all  dinner,  and  lay  down  in 
the  afternoon. 

"  I  met  your  father,  Ben,"  she  said  at  supper. 
"  His  boots  want  a  little  attention." 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  157 

"I  don't  believe,"  said  Ben  crossly,  "that  any  one 
ever  had  a  more  tiresome  man  to  valet.  He  will 
wear  his  clothes  all  wrong,  and  then  is  always 
ragging  and  jawing  at  a  fellow  because  they  don't 
look  nice." 

"  Hush,  Ben,  he  is  your  father." 

"  Hah,  I  was  forgetting  !  "  said  Ben,  and  gave 
one  of  his  great  laughs,  as  if  you  were  breaking  up 
coal,  or  something.  Ben  is  now  so  changeable  and 
nervous  that  you  never  know  where  to  have  him. 
He  is  growing  up  all  wrong,  but  what  can  you 
expect  of  a  boy  brought  up  by  women  ?  He  never 
sees  a  boy  of  his  own  position,  though  I  know  that 
in  London  he  has  some  low  companions  he  daren't 
bring  to  the  house.  The  Hitchings  are  his  only 
respectable  friends,  but  they  live  such  a  long  way 
off  now.  Jessie  Hitchings  is  devoted  to  Ben,  but 
she  is  only  a  girl  like  Ariadne  and  me.  Mr.  Hitch- 
ings told  mother,  years  ago,  that  the  boy  was 
being  ruined,  and  Mother  cried  and  said  she  knew 
it,  but  could  do  nothing,  for  his  father  was  by  way 
of  educating  him  at  home  till  something  could  be 
settled.  Snaps  of  Latin,  and  snacks  of  Greek,  that 
is  all  George  gives  the  poor  boy  when  he  has  a 
moment,  and  that  is  never. 

This  is  the  only  grievance  Mother  has,  although 
Aunt  Gerty  is  always  trying  to  persuade  her  she 
has  several,  and  putting  her  back  up.  Mother  ends 
by  getting  cross  with  her. 

"  For  goodness'  sake,  you  Job's  comforter,  you, 
leave  off  your  eternal  girding  at  George.  Can't  you 


158          THE   CELEBRITY    AT   HOME 

see,  that  as  long  as  a  man  has  his  career  to  establish — 
his  way  to  make " 

"  His  blessed  thoroughfare  is  made  long  ago,  or 
ought  to  be.  That  is  what  I  can't  get  over " 

"  You  aren't  asked  to  get  over  it.  It  is  not  your 
funeral,  it  is  mine,  so  shut  up.  A  man  like  George, 
who  is  dependant  on  the  public  favour,  needs  to  be 
most  absurdly  particular,  and  careful  what  he  does 
lest  he  injure  his  prestige.  Look  at  yourself !  You 
know  very  well  in  your  own  profession  how  very 
damaging  it  is  for  an  actor  to  be  married  ;  that  if 
an  actress  marries  her  manager,  he  has  to  pay  dear 
for  it  in  the  receipts.  She  had  better  not  figure  as 
his  wife  in  the  bills,  if  she  wants  him  to  get  on. 
You  can't  eat  your  cake — I  mean  your  title — and 
have  it.  No,  it's  bound  to  be  Miss  Gertrude  Jen- 
nynge  on  the  bills,  even  if  it  is  Mrs.  What-do-you- 
call-it  in  the  lodgings,  with  a  ring  on  her  finger, 
and  every  right  to  call  herself  a  married  woman. 
The  public  don't  care  for  spliced  idols.  An  artist 
has  to  stand  clear,  and  preserve  his  individuality, 
such  as  it  is  !  " 

"  And  run  straight  all  the  time.  I'll  give  George 
credit  for  that.  But  there,  whatever's  the  good  of 
it  to  you  ?  A  man  can  make  a  woman  pretty  fairly 
miserable,  even  if  he  is  stone-faithful  to  her.  It's 
then  it  seems  all  wrong  somehow,  and  doesn't 
give  her  a  chance  of  paying  him  in  his  own 
coin  !  " 

I  think  Aunt  Gerty  is  the  reason  why  George 
fights  so  shy  of  his  family.  He  hates  her  style, 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          159 

and  yet  he  can  hardly  forbid  Mother  seeing  as  much 
as  she  likes  of  her  own  sister.  The  trail  of  the  stage 
is  over  us  all.  Not  that  I  see  anything  a  bit  wicked 
about  the  stage  myself !  I  have  never  noticed  any- 
thing at  all  wrong,  and  actors  and  actresses  are 
the  kindest  people  in  the  world  !  But  there  is  a 
queer,  worn,  threadbare,  rough,  second-rate  feeling 
about  them.  Off  the  stage — and  I  have  never  seen 
them  on — they  are  tired  and  slouchy  and  easy-going. 
Aunt  Gerty  is  most  good-tempered  and  will  do  any- 
thing to  help  a  pal,  and  takes  things  as  they  come  ; 
those  are  her  good  points.  But  she  talks  such  a  lot 
about  herself,  and  never  opens  a  book  that  isn't  a 
novel,  and  wears  cheap  muslins  and  beaded  slippers 
in  the  street,  and  lots  of  chains  that  seem  to  be 
always  getting  caught  on  men's  buttons.  She  calls 
men  "  fellows."  She  is  always  going  to  play  Juliet 
at  one  of  the  London  houses.  Meantime  she  puts 
up  with  provincial  companies.  She  makes  the  best 
of  it,  and  she  tells  us  she  is  going  to  play  Nerissa 
in  the  Bacon  Company,  as  if  she  had  got  engaged 
for  a  parlourmaid  in  a  good  house,  and  discusses 
Ariel  as  if  Ariel  were  a  tweeny  or  up-and-down 
girl  between  the  sky  and  the  earth,  and  Puck  a 
smart  clever  Buttons.  She  speaks  of  her  nice 
legs  as  a  workman  might  of  his  bag  of  tools. 
She  can  sing  and  dance,  when  she  isn't  asked  to  act. 
She  has  cut  all  her  hair  short  to  make  it  easier  for 
wigs.  Her  great  extravagance  is  in  wigs.  She  calls 
them  "  sliding  roofs "  for  convenience  in  talking 
about  them  in  trains  and  omnibuses.  When  she 


160          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

did  wear  her  own  hair  she  dyed  it,  so  I  like  the  wigs 
better,  as  there's  no  deception. 

If  Mother  was  ever  an  actress,  which  I  don't  some- 
how believe,  though  Jessie  Hitchings  said  once  that 
she  had  heard  people  say  so,  it  has  all  been  knocked 
out  of  her.  She  dresses  very  well,  always  in  simpler 
things  than  Aunt  Gerty.  She  left  off  her  waist 
years  ago,  to  please  George,  and  now  that  it  is  the 
fashion  not  to  have  one,  she  is  in  the  right  box — I 
mean  stays.  Her  hair  is  brown,  and  she  mayn't 
frizzle  it,  so  it  is  soft  and  pretty  like  a  baby's.  She 
generally  wears  black,  over  lovely  white  frilled 
petticoats  that  she  gets  up  herself  to  keep  the  bills 
down.  She  has  such  little  hands  that  she  can  pick 
her  gloves  out  of  the  five-and-a-half  boxes  at  sales, 
which  are  always  much  reduced.  So  few  people 
have  small  hands.  She  may  not  wear  high  heels, 
and  that  is  a  grief  to  her,  as  she  isn't  very  tall,  but 
hers  are  very  pretty  feet,  and  she  can  dance. 

George  doesn't  know  that  she  can  dance.  I  do. 
Once  Mr.  Aix  asked  her  to  dance  for  him  when  I 
was  in  the  room.  Aunt  Gerty  played  on  the  tin- 
kettle  piano.  Mother  danced  a  cake-walk,  which 
I  thought  very  ugly,  and  then  a  queer  step  that  a 
friend  had  taught  her  when  she  was  a  child.  In 
one  part  of  it  she  was  dancing  on  her  hands  and  her 
feet  at  the  same  time.  It  was  the  queerest  thing, 
and  she  left  her  dress  down  for  that  and  it  lay  in 
swirls  about  the  carpet.  Mr.  Aix  said  it  was  the 
dance  that  Salome  must  have  danced  before  Herod, 
and  he  quite  understood  John  the  Baptist,  and 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME          161 

where  did  she  get  it  ?  But  Mother  wouldn't  tell 
him.  She  said  it  was  a  memory  of  her  stormy 
youth  in  the  East  End. 

Mr.  Aix  said  that  she  could  make  her  fortune 
doing  it  as  a  turn  at  a  Society  music  hall,  as  it  would 
be  something  quite  new  and  decadent.  That  is 
just  what  Society  wants — the  slight,  morbid  flavour ! 
Then  Mother  put  on  her  short  skirt  and  did  the 
ordinary  vulgar  kind  of  dance  they  teach  now,  and 
I  liked  it  best.  She  was  everywhere  at  once,  smart 
and  spreading  out  in  all  directions,  like  spun  glass 
on  a  Christmas  card.  Her  eyes  danced  too.  Ben 
said  he  couldn't  have  believed  she  was  his  mother ! 

Then  Aunt  Gerty  performed,  and  she  is  profes- 
sional. But  it  was  not  the  same  thing.  Aunt 
Gerty's  legs  are  thick,  and  compared  with  Mother's 
like  forced  asparagus  to  the  little  pretty,  thin,  field- 
grown  kind.  Mother's  dancing  was  emphatically 
dramatic,  Mr.  Aix  said. 

I  asked  him  if  Mother  could  act,  and  he  answered, 
"  My  dear  child,  your  mother  can  do  anything  she 
has  a  mind  to." 

"  Then  why  doesn't  she  have  a  mind  ?  "  I  at  once 
said,  forgetting  how  it  would  upset  our  household 
and  George  if  she  were  to  go  on  the  stage.  Mother 
naturally  remembers  this,  and  stays  domestic  out 
of  virtue. 

"  I  wish  you  would  write  a  play  for  me,  Mr.  Aix," 
said  Aunt  Gerty,  "  and  I  would  get  a  millionaire  to 
run  it.  I  wonder,  now,  what  one  could  do  with 
Mr.  Bowser  ?  " 

M 


162  THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

She  went  off  in  a  brown  study,  and  Mr.  Aix  said 
rudely,  "  I  will  write  a  play  for  Lucy  sooner," 
looking  at  Mother,  who  was  sitting  fanning  herself 
with  her  pocket-handkerchief.  "  She  has  got  the 
stuff  in  her,  I  do  believe.  Gad  !  What  a  chance ! 
What  a  lever  !  What  a  facer—  !  " 

And  he  dropped  off  into  a  brown  study  too  ! 
Mother  went  and  mended  Ben's  blazer. 

Mr.  Aix  isn't  staying  with  us,  we  have  no  room 
in  our  house ;  he  has  a  room  over  the  coast-guard's 
wife,  but  he  comes  in  to  us  for  his  meals.  I  don't 
believe  George  realizes  this,  or  he  would  tell  him 
he  is  throwing  himself  away,  and  losing  a  good 
chance  of  advertising  his  books.  Mr.  Aix's  books 
seem  to  go  without  advertising,  more  than 
George's  do — I  suppose  it  is  because  they  are  so 
improper. 

At  any  rate,  he  prefers  to  throw  in  his  lot  with 
us.  One  day  we  were  all  having  a  picnic-tea  at 
Cock  Mill.  The  party  consisted  of  Mother,  me  and 
Ariadne,  Aunt  Gerty  and  Mr.  Aix,  and  an  actor 
friend  of  hers  and  his  wife,  who  was  acting  for  a 
week  at  the  Saloon  Theatre.  Mr.  Bowser,  whom 
Aunt  Gerty  wants  either  to  marry  or  get  a  theatre 
out  of,  was  with  us  too.  They  call  him  the  King 
of  Whitby,  because  he  owns  so  many  plots  in  it, 
and  is  going  to  stand  for  it  in  the  brewing  interest 
next  election.  We  had  secured  the  nicest  table,  the 
one  nearest  the  stream,  and  had  just  tucked  our  legs 
neatly  under  it,  when  a  carriage  drove  up.  Aunt 
Gerty  and  the  King  of  Whitby  were  at  that  moment 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          163 

in  the  old  woman's  cottage  who  gives  us  the  hot 
water,  toasting  tea-cakes. 

The  Fylingdales'  party  got  out  of  that  carriage, 
and  George  got  slowly  down  off  the  box.  They 
trooped  into  the  enclosure,  and  Mr.  Sidney  Robinson, 
trying  to  be  funny,  asked  the  old  woman  if  she 
could  see  her  way  to  giving  them  some  tea. 

"  Here  o'  puppose,  Sir  !  "  said  she,  as  of  course 
she  is.  She  pointed  out  the  table  that  was  left  and 
that  led  them  past  us. 

If  Aunt  Gerty  had  been  there  with  Mr.  Bowser  she 
would  certainly  have  claimed  George  as  a  relation 
and  said  something  awkward,  but  she  was  luckily 
toasting  tea-cakes,  and  had  perhaps  not  even  seen 
them.  I  saw  George  just  look  at  Mother,  and  I 
saw  her  smile  a  very  little,  and  make  him  a  sign 
that  he  was  to  go  right  past  us,  and  not  speak  or 
seem  to  know  us  before.  Of  course  Mr.  Aix  never 
spoils  any  one's  game,  not  even  George's.  So  he 
went  on  talking  hard  to  the  actor's  wife,  though  I 
saw  his  lip  curl.  I,  of  course,  never  need  be  given 
a  cue  twice,  so  I  kicked  Mother  hard  under  the 
table  for  sympathy,  but  preserved  a  calm  superior. 

Aunt  Gerty  and  Mr.  Bowser  came  out  with  plates 
full  of  tea-cakes  they  had  cooked,  and  I  didn't 
know  if  it  was  the  fire  or  Mr.  Bowser  had  made 
Aunt  Gerty 's  cheeks  so  red — I  hoped  the  latter  for 
her  sake.  They  had  no  idea  of  what  had  happened 
while  they  had  been  toasting  and  flirting,  it  ap- 
peared from  their  manners,  which  were  bad.  Aunt 
Gerty  always  puts  an  extra  polish  on  hers  when 


164          THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

George  is  present,  and  even  Mr.  Bowser  would  have 
added  a  frill  or  so  to  suit  the  aristocracy. 

Our  party  was  very  gay.  Actors  all  can  make 
you  laugh  if  they  can  do  nothing  else,  and  our 
shrieks  of  laughter  must  have  made  the  other  party 
quite  envious,  for  they  were  as  quiet  as  a  mouse 
and  as  dull  as  the  stream  all  overshadowed  with 
nut-bushes  and  alders  that  grew  over  it  just  there. 

Suddenly  George  got  up,  and  left  them,  and  came 
over  to  us,  and  Aunt  Gerty  swallowed  her  tea  the 
wrong  way  round,  and  had  to  have  her  shoulder 
thumped. 

George  took  no  notice  of  her,  but  put  his  hand 
on  Mr.  Aix's  shoulder  and  said  something  to  him 
in  a  low  voice. 

"  Not  if  I  know  it !  "  Mr.  Aix  answered,  quite 
violently,  adding,  "  Many  thanks,  old  fellow,  I  am 
happier  where  I  am." 

George  looked  awfully  put  out.  Of  course  I  knew 
what  he  wanted.  Those  smart  people  up  at  the 
other  table  had  expressed  a  wish  to  see  Mr.  Aix. 
He  is  a  successful  though  painfully  realistic  novelist, 
and  George  had  told  them  he  was  actually  sitting 
at  the  next  table,  and  had  promised  to  bring  him 
over  to  them  to  be  introduced.  In  his  disappoint- 
ment; he  glared  at  us  all,  especially  the  actor,  who 
ddn't  care  a  brass  farthing  for  George's  displeasure, 
and  went  on  eating  tea-cake  ad  nauseam. 

"  Oh,  all  right ! "  said  George,  to  cover  his 
vexation,  "  if  you  prefer  to  bury  yourself  in  a " 

"  Easy  all !  "  Mr.  Aix  said.     "  Leave  everybody 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          165 

to  enjoy  themselves  in  their  own  way.  And  we  are 
depriving  your  delightful  friends  of " 

George  had  turned  and  gone  back  to  his  delightful 
friends  long  before  Mr.  Aix  had  finished  his  sentence, 
and  Aunt  Gerty  patted  the  poor  man  on  the  back 
till  he  wriggled. 

"  Loyal  fellow  !  "  she  said  several  times.  She  had 
got  well  on  to  it  now,  and  she  started  a  fit  of  giggles 
that  lasted  all  the  rest  of  the  time  we  were  there. 
It  didn't  matter  much,  for  we  were  all  quite  drunk 
on  weak  tea  and  laughter. 

But  we  turned  as  silent  as  mice  as  the  Fylingdales' 
party,  having  had  enough  of  their  dull  tea,  streamed 
past  us,  and  got  into  their  carriage,  and  rolled  away. 
George  was  not  with  them.  I  dare  said  he  had  got 
over  the  hedge  and  gone  round  to  meet  the  break 
by  the  road,  not  wanting  to  walk  past  our  party 
again,  and  to  avoid  unpleasantness.  I  supposed  he 
had  paid  for  the  tea ;  but  no,  this  grand  party  forgot 
to  do  that,  so  that  in  the  end  Mr.  Aix  paid  for  their 
refreshment  for  the  old  woman's  sake  that  she 
should  not  suffer. 

When  they  had  gone,  we  felt  relieved  ;  but  it 
sobered  us  somehow.  Aunt  Gerty  and  the  gentle- 
men smoked  quietly,  and  we  were  so  still  that  we 
could  hear  the  little  beck  bubbling  over  the  loose 
stones  beside  us.  Then  Aunt  Gerty  was  persuaded 
to  recite  something,  and  she  did  "  Loraine,  Loraine, 
Loree  !  "  in  a  shy,  modest  voice.  You  see  these 
were  all  her  real  bosses,  and  she  valued  their  ap- 
proval, and  the  actor's  wife  is  considered  very 


166          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

stiff  in  the  profession.  She  herself  sang  "  The 
banks  of  Allan  Water  "  very  sadly  and  solidly,  and 
Aunt  Gerty  cried.  To  cheer  us  all  up  again  the 

actor— rather  a  famous  one,  Mr.  D —  L ,  did  one 

of  his  humorous  recitations  out  of  his  London 
repertory  for  us,  so  that  we  nearly  died  with  laugh- 
ing, and  Aunt  Gerty  dried  her  tears,  and  whispered 
to  me  that  trying  to  laugh  like  a  lady  was  so  pain- 
ful that  she  longed  to  take  a  short  cut  out  of  her 
stays. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

LADY  SCILLY  came  to  Whitby  and  took  a  big 
house  in  St.  Hilda's  Terrace. 

"  They  can't  be  parted  long,  poor  things  !  "  Aunt 
Gerty  said,  and  Mother  hushed  her.  She  brought 
her  great  friend  Miss  Irene  Lauderdale  with  her, 
for  a  good  blow,  before  she  went  to  America. 

Then  all  the  shops  came  out  with  portraits  of 
Irene,  in  "  smalls  "  as  Dick  Turpin,  and  Irene  as 
"  The  Pumpeydore,"  and  Irene  as  Greek  Slave, 
and  Irene  in  Venus.  They  had  her  on  picture  post- 
cards too  in  all  the  principal  stationers'  windows. 
I  should  have  thought  she  would  have  been  ashamed 
to  walk  down  the  street,  hung  with  her  own  likeness 
like  a  row  of  looking-glasses  that  reflected  her.  But 
these  very  languid — what  Aunt  Gerty  calls  "  la-di- 
dah  "  sort  of  people — can  stand  anything,  so  long 
as  it's  public. 

When  she  wasn't  dressed  up  as  Turpin  or  Pompa- 
dour or  Venus,  she  was  just  a  tall,  thin,  and  ragged- 
looking  woman.  She  had  red  lips  that  stuck  out 
a  long,  long  way,  and  crinkly  red  hair,  and  large  eyes 
like  two  gig-lamps  coming  at  you  down  the  street. 
She  generally  had  a  dog  with  her,  and  its  lead  kept 

167 


168          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

getting  twisted  round  the  wheels  of  carts,  and  round 
my  father's  legs  as  he  walked  along  Skinner  Street 
beside  her.  He  wouldn't  have  stood  that  from 
any  one  but  a  popular  favourite. 

I  was  walking  along  behind  them  a  few  days  after 
she  came,  with  Aunt  Gerty.  They  stopped  at  True- 
love's  and  looked  at  the  picture-postcards.  She 
became  very  serious  all  at  once. 

"  I  must  go  in  and  procure  Myself  !  "  she  said 
to  George,  sniggling.  In  they  went,  and  Aunt  Gerty 
and  I  walked  in  after  them.  Mrs.  Truelove's  shop 
and  library  are  very  dark.  As  for  the  morality  of  it, 
we  had  as  good  a  right  to  buy  picture  postcards  as 
they,  and,  as  I  had  ascertained  from  other  rencounters 
of  this  kind,  George  knows  very  well  how  to  ignore 
his  family  when  needful  for  his  policy.  I  do  not 
resent  it,  for  one  never  knows  how  a  daughter's 
presence  may  interfere  with  a  father's  plans  and 
arrangements,  and  I  am  sure  I  don't  want  to  injure 
his  sales  ! 

Irene  turned  over  all  the  cards,  including  the 
Venus  set,  and  did  not  approve  of  them,  especially 
of  the  ones  where  she  is  turning  away  her  face 
altogether. 

"  The  blighted  idiot !  "  she  said,  meaning  I  sup- 
pose the  photographer,  "  has  completely  missed  my 
beautiful  Botticelli  back  !  The  effect  is  decidedly 
meretricious.  I  am  a  very  good  woman.  Ah, 
these  are  better  !  " 

She  had  got  hold  of  some  of  herself  in  a  spoon 
bonnet  and  long  jacket,  and  she  sang  out  loud,  while 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          169 

Aunt  Gerty's  open  mouth  betrayed  her  shock  at  her 
audacity — 

"Oh,  I'm  Contrition  Eliza, 

And  she's  Salvation  Jane. 
We  once  were  wrong,  we  now  are  right, 
We'll  never  go  wrong  again." 

"  I  can't  quite  promise  that,  alas  !  My  friends 
won't  let  me.  I  will  send  Salvation  Jane  to  Lord 

R y,  a  very  dear  old  friend  of  mine.  A  dozen 

dozen,  please;  isn't  that  a  gross?  Oh,  what  a  naughty 
word  !  Will  you  pay,  Mr.  Vero-Taylor  ?  " 

"  Good  business  !  "  said  my  Aunt.  "  Let  me  see  ? 
How  much  has  she  rooked  him  ?  " 

"  Please  don't  ask  me  to  do  sums,"  said  I.  "  Be- 
sides, George  has  a  perfect  right  to  do  as  he  pleases 
with  his  own  money  !  " 

George  paid  cheerfully,  and  then  asked  for  some 
cards  with  cats  on  them. 

"  Whatever  do  you  want  them  for  ?  "  asked  Irene. 
(He  never  lets  me  say  whatever.) 

"  To  send  to  my  children." 

"  Ah,  yes,  your  sweet  children  !  Where  are 
they  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  In  the  nursery,"  was  George's  answer,  as  if  he 
cared  whether  we  were  in  the  copper  or  the  stock- 
pot  !  It  saved  him  from  having  to  say  Whitby, 
however. 

"  And  now,"  she  said,  "  do  me  a  great  kindness. 
Buy  me  your  last  great  book." 

"  There  ought  to  be  some  of  my  work  here,"  George 
replied  gravely,  and  made  a  move  in  our  direction, 


170          THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

where  Mrs.  Truelove  was.  Mrs.  Truelove  sings  in 
the  choir  at  the  Church  upon  the  Hill,  and  so  loud 
she  would  bring  the  roof  off  nearly,  but  in  her  own 
shop  she  is  as  mild  as  a  lamb.  George  asked  her  for 
Dewlaps  (of  which  the  heroine  is  a  Tuscan  cow),  and 
The  Pretty  Lady,  of  which  Lady  Scilly  is  the  heroine, 
and  The  Light  that  was  on  Land  and  Sea,  and  Simple 
Simon,  of  which  the  hero  really  was  a  pieman,  only 
an  Italian  one.  Poor  Mrs.  Truelove  looked  blank. 

"  I  am  afraid,  Sir,  we  do  not  stock  them,  but  I  can 
order " 

George  interrupted  her.  "  Such  is  Fame  !  I  have 
no  doubt,  Belle  Irene,  that  if  you  were  to  ask  for  any 
one  of  Aix's  books — The  Dustman,  or  The  Laundress, 
or  Slackbaked  I  you  would  be  offered  a  plethora  of 
them." 

Irene  took  her  cue.  "  But,"  she  drawled,  "  it 
is  extraordinary !  Impossible!  Inconceivable!  Books 
like  yours,  that  rejoice  the  thirsty  soul,  that  re- 
frigerate the  arid  body,  that  bring  God's  great  gift 
of  sunshine  down  into  our  too  gloomy  grey  homes  ! 
I  always  say  this,  dear,  dear  Mr.  Vero-Taylor,  that 
you,  of  all  men,  have  caught  the  secret  of  imprisoning 
the  jolly  sunbeams.  Every  page  of  yours  is  instinct 
with  light " 

It  sounded  like  an  advertisement  of  some  new  kind 
of  soap.  Aunt  Gerty  didn't  like  it  at  all,  and  in  a 
rage  with  George  she  put  out  her  hand  suddenly 
and  spilt  a  vase  of  flowers  in  water. 

"  Brute  !  "  she  said,  and  the  assistant  who  mopped 
up  the  water  kept  saying,  "  Not  at  all !  "  not  thinking 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          171 

Aunt  Gerty  meant  the  gentleman  who  had  just  left 
the  shop  in  haste,  but  as  apologizing  for  her  own 
stupidity  in  upsetting  the  water. 

"  Who  was  that  lady  ?  "  I  asked  Aunt  Gerty  as 
we  went  home,  though  I  knew  well  enough. 

"  Izzie  Lawder,  a  lady  !  I  remember  her — well, 
perhaps  I  hadn't  better  say  what  I  remember  her  ! 
She  and  I — she  had  got  on  a  bit  ahead  of  me  even 
then — played  together  at  the  *  Lane '  in  '  Devil 
Darling  ! '  ten  years  ago.  She  has  got  on  since. 
Everybody  to  give  her  a  leg  up  !  You  know  the 
sort — dyed  hair  and  interest !  She  soon  left  nice 
honest  me  behind." 

"  Hadn't  you  the  interest,  Aunt  Gerty  ?  "  I  knew 
she  had  the  other  thing. 

"  Don't  be  impertinent,  Miss.  Let  us  get  home 
and  tell  Lucy.  Won't  she  be  electrified !  " 

But  Mother  wasn't  a  bit  electrified. 

"  All  in  the  way  of  business,  my  dear  girl !  "  she 
said  to  Aunt  Gerty,  who  chattered  about  Irene  all 
the  rest  of  that  day.  "  Do  subside  about  my 
wrongs,  if  you  don't  mind.  I  dare  say  he  wants 
to  get  her  to  play  lead  in  the  drama  he  is  writing 
with  Lady  Scilly,  and  that  is  why  he  is  so  civil  to 
her." 

"  Another  ill-bred  amateur !  What  will  they  make 
of  it  ?  "  snorted  Aunt  Gerty. 

"  Irene  Lauderdale  is  Lady  Scilly's  best  friend." 

"  Best  enemy,  you  mean.  However,  it  is  the 
same  thing.  These  unnatural  friendships  between 
Society  women  and  actresses  sicken  me  !  Always 


172          THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

in  each  other's  pockets  !  It  is  a  bad  advertisement 
for  them  both,  and  there  she  was,  plastering  George 
up  with  compliments  about  his  books,  that  I  don't 
believe  she  has  ever  read  a  single  one  of.  Sunshine 
indeed  !  He  may  well  put  sunshine  into  his  novels  ; 
he  has  taken  pretty  good  care  to  take  it  all  out  of 
one  poor  woman's  life  !  " 

"  I  am  perfectly  happy,  Gertrude.  I  look  happy, 
I  am  sure." 

"  You  sham  it." 

"  That  is  the  next  best  thing  to  being  it." 

"  A  wretched  skim -milk  substitute  !  You  are  a 
right  good  sort,  Lucy,  and  have  got  a  husband  that 
doesn't  come  within  a  hundred  miles  of  appreciating 
you." 

"  Yes,  he  does,  and  at  my  true  value,  I  suspect. 
I  am  good  for  what  I  do  ;  I  know  my  place  and  I 
fill  it.  I  should  only  hamper  George  if  I  insisted 
on  sharing  his  life  and  knowing  his  friends.  I  am 
too  low  for  some  of  them,  I  admit ;  but  I  am  too  high 
for  Irene  Lauderdale.  I  wouldn't  condescend  to 
have  anything  to  do  with  her.  I  despise  and  scorn 
her !  "  said  Mother  quite  loudly  for  her,  and  suddenly 
too,  as  she  began  so  mild. 

I  thought  what  a  good  actress  she  would  have 
made.  I  believe  Aunt  Gerty  thought  so  too,  for 
she  screamed  out,  "  Bravo,  Luce  !  "  Mother  burst 
into  tears.  I  don't  think  it  is  nice  for  a  daughter  to 
see  a  mother's  tears,  so  I  left  the  room  and  went  into 
the  back  room  where  Ben  was  messing  at  something 
as  boys  will.  I  told  him  on  no  account  whatever 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          173 

to  go  into  the  front  room  to  Mother  till  half-an-hour 
had  elapsed.  I  thought  that  was  enough  law  to  give 
her.  Ben  naturally  asked  why,  and  hit  me  over  the 
head,  not  hard — Ben  is  a  gentleman  and  always 
tempers  the  blow  to  the  shy  sister,  but  still  I  preferred 
taking  a  whack  to  giving  Mother  away. 

A  few  days  after  that  Mother  went  up  to  Fy ling- 
dales  Crescent  to  see  George  on  business,  and  found 
him  in  bed  with  a  bad  cold.  You  see  these  Society 
people,  who  are  only  getting  their  amusement  cheap 
out  of  George,  don't  understand  the  constitution  of 
their  toy,  and  he  doesn't  like  to  let  them  see  that 
he  is  only  a  mortal  author,  and  that  it  is  death  to 
him  to  be  without  his  hat  for  a  minute  or  his  coat 
for  half-an-hour.  He  has  got  a  very  sensitive 
mucous  membrane  and  catches  cold  in  no  time.  I 
sometimes  think  it  is  the  opposite  of  Faith-healing 
with  him — George  believes  himself  into  his  colds. 
He  says  that  the  sensitive  mucous  is  the  invariable 
concomitant  of  the  artistic  temperament,  which  he 
has.  Mr.  Aix  says  he  hasn't  that,  what  he  has  is 
the  bilio-lymphatic  one,  and  that  makes  George 
very  angry.  However  this  may  be,  the  tiniest  bit 
of  swagger  costs  him  a  cold  in  the  head,  and  that  is 
what  he  has  now.  He  had  already  altered  his  will 
and  begun  to  talk  of  flying  to  the  South  to  be  extin- 
guished there  gently,  when  Mother  came  to  him. 
"  My  dear  boy,  no  !  "  Mother  said,  and  George 
groaned  as  he  always  does  when  she  calls  him  boy, 
but  invalids  can't  be  choosers  of  phrases.  "  You 
aren't  going  to  die  just  yet."  She  went  on,  kindly 


174          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

banging  his  pillows  about — "  I  shall  have  to  stay 
here  with  you  a  little,  though,  I  fancy,  to  look  after 
you.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  they  didn't  make 
objections  in  the  house.  There  will  be  a  bit  of  a 
fuss." 

"  Who  will  make  a  fuss,  Mother  ?  "  I  asked,  "  and 
why  should  they  ?  " 

"  Don't  ask  questions  about  what  you  don't  under- 
stand," Mother  said  sharply,  though  what  else  really 
should  I  ask  questions  about  ?  "  Run  home  and  tell 
your  Aunt  that  I  am  going  to  get  a  room  here  for  a 
night  or  two,  and  that  she  is  to  send  my  things,  just 
what  I'll  want  for  a  couple  of  nights." 

"  Night-gown  and  toothbrush,"  said  I.  As  I 
left  George  put  out  his  hand  to  Mother  and  said 
quite  nicely — 

"  You  are  very  good  to  me,  dear.  And  can  you 
really  stay  and  soothe  the  sick  man's  pillow  ?  " 

Mother  sat  down  and  put  the  blanket  in  its  proper 
place,  not  grazing  his  cheek,  and  gave  him  a  drink, 
and  read  to  him  out  of  Anatole  France.  She  kept 
saying,  "  I  know  they'll  think  I  am  not  respectable." 

The  thought  seemed  to  amuse  her  very  much,  and 
George  too,  and  I  left  them,  and  went  home  and  gave 
Aunt  Gerty  her  directions.  Aunt  Gerty  chuckled 
as  Mother  had  said  she  would,  and  said — 

"  This  will  clear  up  George's  ideas  a  little  !  No- 
thing like  an  ugly  illness  for  letting  a  man  know  who 
his  true  friends  are  !  Looks  lovely,  don't  he  ?  Is 
its  blessed  poet's  nose  a  good  deal  swollen  ?  " 

I  said  no,  George  looked  very  nice  in  bed,  a  mixture 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          175 

of  the  Pope  and  Napoleon  combined.  I  left  her  and 
went  back  to  Mother  with  her  things.  George  by 
that  time  was  arranged.  He  had  a  silk  handkerchief 
tied  over  his  forehead.  He  said  he  did  that  to  keep 
his  brain  from  being  too  active,  like  the  British 
workman  girds  his  loins  with  a  belt  before  he  begins 
to  dig.  He  looked  very  happy  and  quite  stupid. 
I  took  our  cat  Robert  the  Devil  up  with  me  and  put 
him  on  George's  chest  to  soothe  him.  It  did,  and 
he  played  with  my  hair. 

"  I  am  an  angel  when  I  am  ill,"  he  said ;  "  don't 
you  find  me  so  ?  Strong  natures  like  mine " 

Mother  then  came  in  with  a  great  bunch  of  roses, 
— seaside  roses  always  look  coarse,  I  think — and  a 
Jot  of  cards. 

"  Lord  and  Lady  Scilly  and  Lady  Fylingdales  and 
Mr.  Sidney  Robinson  and  Lord  John  Daman  have 
called  to  inquire,  and  Miss  Irene  Lauderdale  has 
left  these  flowers  for  you,  George.  Look  at  them 
and  be  done  with  it,  for  I  don't  mean  to  have  them 
left  messing  about  in  my  sick-room,  exhausting  the 
air.  Tempe  can  take  them  home  when  you  have 
smelt  them,  though  I  don't  suppose  you  can  smell 
anything  just  now." 

She  put  them  to  his  nose  and  he  smelt.  Irene's 
card  was  on  the  top.  It  had  a  monogram  in  one 
corner — a  gold  skull  and  crossbones.  I  never  heard 
of  people  having  their  monogram  on  their  visiting- 
card  before,  but  one  lives  and  learns. 

"  I  don't,  of  course,  expect  you  to  admire  The 
Lauderdale  as  a  woman,"  George  said,  "  But  what, 


176          THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

as  a  dramatic  authority,  do  you  think  of  her  as  an 
actress  ?  " 

"  I  consider  that  dear  old  Ger  could  do  quite  as 
well  if  she  had  one  half  her  chances,"  Mother  said 
eagerly. 

"  No  doubt,  no  doubt !  The  cleverness  lies  in 
laying  hold  of  the  chances  !  Irene  has  a  genius  for 
advertisement." 

"  Look  after  the  '  ads,'  "  said  my  Mother,  "  and 
the  acts  will  take  care  of  themselves." 

"  Good  !  "  said  George,  "  I  should  like  to  have 
said  that  myself." 

"  I  dare  say  you  will,  George,"  said  Mother  quite 
nicely,  "  when  once  I  get  you  well  again." 

I  do  think  Mother  is  rather  fond  of  George  :  she 
got  him  cured  in  less  than  a  week,  but  she  didn't 
let  him  out  once  during  that  time,  and  had  him  all 
to  herself.  It  was  great  fun,  seeing  all  his  friends 
wandering  about  Whitby  bored  to  death  because 
Vero-Taylor  was  confined  to  the  house.  They  used 
to  get  hold  of  me  and  Ariadne,  and  ask  us  how  long 
they  were  going  to  be  deprived  of  the  pleasure  of 
his  society  ?  They  knew  who  we  were  by  this  time 
and  made  pets  of  us,  as  much  as  we  would  let  them. 
I  was  too  proud,  but  Ariadne's  decision  was  compli- 
cated by  a  hopeless  attachment  she  had  started. 
"  Love  is  enough  !  "  she  used  to  say,  "  and  I  must 
go  to  Saltergate  with  the  Scillys,  for  Simon  is 
going  !  " 


CHAPTER    XIV 

THE  young  man  that  Ariadne  loves  is  a  more  than 
friend  of  Lady  Scilly,  and  I  knew  him  first.  He 
was  there  that  day  I  lunched  for  the  first  time. 
On  rice-pudding,  I  remember.  Ariadne  hardly 
knew  him  till  we  came  here,  though  they  had  both 
taken  part  in  Christina's  wedding.  He  had  just 
noticed  her  then ;  for  once  she  was  well  turned  out. 
On  the  strength  of  that  notice  she  asked  him  to  call, 
and  he  didn't ;  he  would  call  now  if  she  asked  him, 
but  we  don't  want  him  coming  to  the  house  on  the 
quay,  for  we  couldn't  insulate  Aunt  Gerty. 

He  stays  with  Lady  Scilly  in  the  house  she  has 
taken  in  St.  Hilda's  Terrace.  Irene  Lauderdale  is 
there.  He  hates  Irene,  and  contrives  never  to  be 
in  her  company  more  than  he  can  help  !  That's 
one  to  us. 

His  own  family  lives  up  in  the  dales,  Pickering 
way.  George  stayed  there  once,  when  Lady  Her- 
myre  was  alive,  and  builds  a  sort  of  little  recitation 
on  what  he  observed  in  his  friend's  house.  What- 
ever isn't  ormolu  is  buhl.  There  are  six  Portland 
vases  along  the  cornice  of  the  house  containing  the 
ashes  of  the  family.  Portraits  of  stiff  horses  and 

177  N 


1/8          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

squat  owners  all  the  way  up-stairs.  Everything, 
including  the  butler,  excessively  collet  montt,  except- 
ing the  portraits  of  the  ladies  of  the  family,  frowning 
ascetically  over  their  own  bodices  decollete  a  entrance. 
Sir  Frederick  is  one  of  the  most  prominent  racing 
men  of  Yorkshire,  and  the  stables  are  model,  but  the 
house  isn't.  Prayers,  bed  at  ten,  no  bridge,  and 
early  breakfast,  and  prayers  again.  I  don't  think 
George  will  ever  be  asked  again,  but  I  don't  wonder 
Lady  Scilly  was  able  to  get  hold  of  Simon.  She 
doesn't  frown  over  her  decollete  bodices,  and  she  is 
amusing  in  her  silly  way.  Simon  hangs  round  like 
one  of  those  young  fox-hound  puppies  "  at  walk  " 
that  one  sees  in  the  villages,  and  Lord  Scilly  looks 
after  his  future  and  got  him  into  the  Foreign  Office. 
I  believe,  though,  Lord  Scilly  twigs  about  Ariadne 
caring  for  him,  that  Lady  Scilly  doesn't,  or  else 
she  would  not  let  him  out  so  freely.  She  would  be 
like  most  teachers  and  insist  on  her  pupil's  finishing 
his  term.  A  wise  woman  would  not  have  brought 
Irene  Lauderdale  down  here,  to  preoccupy  her.  It 
will  take  her  all  her  time  to  keep  Simon  away  from 
Ariadne,  if  once  I  give  my  mind  to  it.  I  do.  Ariadne 
and  Simon  don't  make  appointments,  but  they  keep 
them.  I  am  generally  there,  but  I  don't  count. 
There  is  the  Geological  Museum  on  the  Quay,  which 
is  never  used  for  anything  but  casual  appointments, 
and  the  old  Library,  where  they  have  all  the  three- 
volume  people,  Mrs.  Gaskell  and  Miss  Jewsbury 
and  Mrs.  Oliphant.  Ariadne  and  I  read  three  a  day 
regularly.  We  sometimes  meet  Simon  on  the  quay, 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          179 

when  we  are  carrying  a  whole  hodful,  and  Ariadne 
won't  let  him  carry  them  for  her,  she  doesn't  like 
him  to  know  that  she  is  reading  all  about  Love. 

Simon  doesn't  really  want  to  find  out.  He  never 
wants  very  much  anything.  He  never  fights  any 
point.  That  is  what  I  like  about  him,  and  hate 
about  Bohemians.  They  never  glide  or  slip  over 
things,  they  always  scrape  and  drag  and  insist. 
But  people  who  have  got  their  roots  in  the  country, 
as  Simon  has,  are  simple  and  not  fussy  and  have  no 
fads.  I  wonder  what  Simon  thinks  of  George  ?  It 
is  the  last  thing  he  would  tell  me  or  Ariadne.  He 
likes  Mr.  Aix,  rather,  but  he  would  not,  perhaps, 
if  he  had  read  any  of  his  novels  ?  Mr.  Aix  makes 
him  laugh,  and  I  like  to  hear  his  nice  little  curly 
laugh.  If  only  Simon's  eyes  were  bigger,  he  really 
would  be  very  handsome.  Ariadne's,  however,  are 
big  enough  for  two. 

This  is  the  first  time  she  has  ever  been  in  love, 
she  says,  and  it  hurts — women.  It  doesn't  hurt  a 
man  who  loves  in  vain,  only  clears  up  his  ideas  a 
little,  and  shows  him  the  kind  of  girl  he  really  does 
want  when  the  first  choice  refuses  him.  A  refusal 
from  first  choice  only  sends  him  straight  off  with  his 
heart  in  his  mouth  to  second  choice,  who  is  waiting 
for  the  chance  of  him.  I  am  sure  that  is  the  way 
most  marriages  are  made — hearts  on  the  rebound. 
The  first  girl  is  a  true  benefactor  to  her  species,  and 
gets  her  fun  and  her  practice  into  the  bargain. 
Ariadne  has  now  reduced  this  to  a  system,  from 
novels.  In  refusing,  you  must  remember  to  hope 


i8o          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

after  you  have  said  that  it  can  never  be,  that  you 
will  at  least  always  be  friends.  With  regard  to 
accepting,  she  thinks  and  I  think,  that  the  nicest 
way  is  to  hide  your  burning  face  on  the  lapel  of  his 
coat  and  say  nothing,  and  then  when  you  come  up 
again  the  rough  stuff  of  his  coat  has  made  you 
blush,  a  thing  neither  Ariadne  nor  I  have  ever  been 
able  to  manage  for  ourselves. 

Novels  tell  you  all  sorts  of  things,  for  instance, 
when  and  what  to  resent,  otherwise  you  might  say 
thank  you  !  for  what  is  really  an  affront.  Out  on 
the  Cliff  Walk  the  other  day,  it  came  on  to  rain,  and 
a  man  offered  to  lend  Ariadne  his  umbrella,  and  see 
her  to  her  own  door.  A  harmless,  nay  useful  pro- 
posal. But  my  sister  knew — from  novels — that 
that  sort  of  thing  leads  to  all  sorts  of  wickedness, 
and  that  she  must  unconditionally,  absolutely  refuse. 
She  was  broken-hearted  at  having  to  sacrifice  her 
best  hat,  but  bravely  bowed  and  refused  his  offer, 
and  went  off  in  the  rain,  feeling  his  disappointed 
eyes  right  through  the  back  of  her  head,  and  hearing 
the  plop-plop  of  the  rain-drops  on  the  crown  of  her 
hat  all  the  way  home.  But  she  had  behaved  well. 
That  was  her  consolation. 

Aunt  Gerty  took  that  man  on  afterwards — she 
met  him  turning  out  of  the  reading-room  at  the 
saloon,  and  he  offered  the  very  same  umbrella  ! 
Aunt  Gerty  accepted  it,  and  hopes  to  accept  the 
owner  too  some  day,  for  it  was  Mr.  Bowser. 

Ariadne  goes  the  wrong  way  to  work.  Her  one 
idea  when  she  gets  on  at  all  with  any  man — and 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          181 

she  does  get  on  with  Simon,  that  is  certain — is  to 
collar  him,  to  curtail  his  liberty,  and  give  him  as 
many  opportunities  of  being  alone  with  her  as  she 
can.  She  says  it  is  an  universal  feminine  instinct. 
Very  well,  if  she  chooses  to  be  guided  by  this  wretched 
feminine  instinct,  she  will  muff  the  whole  thing. 
She  should  let  the  idea  of  being  alone  with  her  come 
from  him,  lead  him  on  to  propose  it,  and  manage 
it  himself,  and  then — squash  it ! 

Men  are  very  easily  put  off  or  frightened  ;  a  race- 
horse isn't  in  it  with  them.  To  feel  at  ease,  they 
must  be  made  to  think  that  it  is  all  quite  casual, 
that  nobody  has  arranged  anything,  and  that  as 
for  themselves,  though  there  is  no  harm  in  them, 
no  one  particularly  wants  them.  If  they  can  get 
it  into  their  heads  that  they  won't  be  conspicuous 
by  their  absence,  they  buck  up  immediately,  and 
want  to  be  in  your  pocket.  When  one  is  at  a  theatre, 
one  is  quite  comforted  by  the  sight  of  Extra  Exit 
stuck  up  here  and  there,  although  I  dare  say  if  you 
came  to  thump  at  those  doors  in  despair  you  would 
find  it  no  go  ! 

So  when  Ariadne  makes  a  face  at  me  to  leave  her, 
I  don't  see  it.  I  sit  tight,  wherever  we  are,  knowing 
that  young  men  adore  vbeing  chaperoned.  And 
at  parties,  if  you  notice,  the  one  woman  they  never 
throw  a  word  to  is  the  woman  they  adore,  and  mean 
to  secure.  They  want  to  marry  her,  not  talk  to  her. 
The  casual  Society  girl  will  do  for  that.  Ariadne 
sometimes  comes  back  from  a  party  quite  dis- 
consolate, because  so-and-so  hasn't  said  a  word 


182          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

more  than  was  strictly  necessary  for  politeness  to 
her. 

"  Excelsior  !  "  I  said.  "  I  do  reaUy  believe  he 
is  thinking  of  it." 

Simon  always  seems  to  have  plenty  of  pocket- 
money,  and  gives  to  beggars  in  the  street.  Yet 
his  eyes  are  little,  and  Cook  always  said  that  that 
goes  with  meanness.  Anyway  they  are  very  bright, 
like  an  animal  that  you  come  on  suddenly  in  a  clump 
of  green  in  a  wood,  perhaps  I  mean  a  hare  ?  He 
always  sees  jokes  first,  and  looks  up  and  laughs.  He 
is  very  keen  on  hunting,  and  singing,  but  his 
father  snubs  him,  and  says  he  doesn't  ride  as  straight 
as  Almeria,  and  has  no  more  voice  than  an  old  cock- 
sparrow.  He  would  see  better  to  ride  if  he  wasn't 
short-sighted,  anyway.  I  don't  believe  he  ever 
reads,  except  Mr.  Sponge's  Tour  and  Mr.  Jorrocks' 
something  or  other,  and  books  in  the  Badminton 
Library.  He  knows  a  little  history,  about  St.  Hilda 
and  the  Abbey,  and  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  to  hear 
that  he  thought  she  was  some  sort  of  ancestress  of 
his,  and  that  Caedmon  was  a  stable-boy  about  his 
Aunt  Fylingdales'  estate. 

I  feel  quite  like  a  mother  to  him,  and  Ariadne 
loves  him  passionately,  and  is  leaving  off  eating  for 
his  sake.  Not  on  purpose  exactly,  but  because  she 
is  so  worried  about  him.  He  is  awfully  nice  to  her, 
but  he  never  gets  any  nicer.  He  is  nice  to  anybody; 
it  is  only  because  Ariadne  is  the  only  girl  in  the  set 
here  about  his  own  age,  that  it  seems  as  if  it  would 
be  neat  and  right  that  he  should  fall  in  love  with  her. 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  183 

I  am  not  quite  sure  that  Simon  can  fall  in  love,  it 
is  the  dull  men  who  do  that  best,  not  the  universal 
favourites.  But  if  Simon  has  any  love  latent,  I 
am  anxious  to  get  it  all  for  Ariadne. 

She  hates  herrings  now/and  doesn't  care  for  cream. 
She  lives  principally  on  jam- tarts  and  cheese-cakes. 
It  is  the  proper  thing  to  go  about  eleven  in  the  morn- 
ing to  that  shop  on  the  quay  and  eat  tarts  and  cheese- 
cakes standing,  and  watch  people  pass,  and  the 
bridge  opening  and  shutting  to  let  tall  funnels  go 
through.  Ariadne  sometimes  has  to  wade  through 
half-a-dozen  tarts  before  Simon  and  Lady  Scilly 
and  the  dogs  and  the  rest  of  them  come  round  the 
corner  of  Flowergate,  and  surely  it  is  a  pity  to  spoil 
your  complexion  for  the  sake  of  any  young  man  in 
the  world  ?  No  digestion  could  stand  the  way 
Ariadne  treats  hers  for  long.  She  plays  it  very  low 
down  on  her  constitution  generally.  She  won't 
go  to  bed  till  awfully  late,  but  sits  by  the  window 
telling  her  sorrow  to  the  sea  and  the  stars,  and  writing 
poems  to  the  harbour-bar,  that  never  moans  that 
I  know  of.  Luckily,  as  yet,  it  doesn't  show  in  her 
face  that  she  has  been  burning  the  midnight  oil, 
or  candles.  She  burns  three  short  fours  a  night 
sometimes  that  she  buys  herself.  She  has  made 
three  pounds  altogether  by  writing  poems  that  Mr. 
Aix  puts  in  an  American  paper  for  her.  She  doesn't 
let  Simon  know  that  she  publishes,  for  it  would 
discredit  her  in  his  eyes.  He  says  there's  no  harm 
in  girls  scribbling  if  they  like,  but  he  is  jolly  well 
glad  his  sister  doesn't. 


184          THE  CELEBRITY    AT  HOME 

Simon  is  proud  of  his  sister  Almeria,  and  thinks 
her  a  "  splendid  girl."  She  lives  at  their  place  with 
her  widowed  father,  eight  miles  inland,  and  only 
comes  to  Whitby  when  rough  weather  and  wrecks 
are  expected.  Then  every  one  walks  up  and  down 
the  pier,  and  hopes  that  a  hapless  barque  will  come 
drifting  to  their  very  feet.  I  don't  mean  we  actually 
want  there  to  be  a  wreck,  but  if  it  has  to  be,  it  may 
as  well  be  where  one  can  see  it.  For  Ariadne  has 
a  tender  heart,  and  when  Aunt  Gerty  put  the  loaf 
upside  down  on  the  trencher  the  other  day,  Ariadne 
at  once  kindly  put  it  on  its  right  end  again,  for  a 
loaf  upside  down  always  betokens  a  wreck,  and  she 
knows  all  the  superstitions  there  are. 

The  two  piers  here  are  so  awkwardly  placed  that 
in  rough  weather  the  poor  boats  can't  always  clear 
them.  So  it  is  a  regular  party  on  the  pier  when  the 
South  Cone  is  hoisted  at  the  coastguard-station. 
Irene  Lauderdale  wears  a  little  shawl  over  her  head 
like  a  factory  girl.  It  can't  blow  away,  she  says. 
She  has  been  photographed  like  that,  with  Lord 
Fylingdales.  They  say  she  is  going  to  marry  him, 
and  do  what  Aunt  Gerty  refused  to  do. 

I  don't  know  if  they  are  a  very  united  family,  but 
certainly  his  sisters  chaperon  him  most  carefully, 
and  have  taken  care  to  be  great  friends  with  Irene, 
so  as  to  have  an  excuse  for  being  always  with  her. 
Lord  Fylingdales  never  gets  a  chance  of  seeing  her 
alone.  Dear  Emily  (Lady  Fenton)  and  dear  Louisa 
(Mrs.  Hugh  Gore)  are  devoted  to  dear  Irene,  and 
she  thinks  it  is  because  she  is  so  nice,  so  good  form, 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          185 

not  because  she  is  so  nasty.  They  perfectly  loathe 
and  detest  her.  I  heard  Lady  Fen  ton  abusing  her 
to  some  one,  talking  in  the  same  breath  of  Almeria 
Hermyre  as  "  one  of  us."  The  sisters  would  prefer 
Lord  Fylingdales  to  marry  his  cousin  Almeria,  of 
course,  but  her  get-up  is  simply  appalling.  She 
wears  plain  skirts  and  pea-shooter  caps,  and  no 
fringe.  George  says  she  has  the  most  uncom- 
promising forehead  he  ever  saw — a  front  candide  with 
a  vengeance  !  I  should  think  she  soaps  it  well  every 
morning,  it  looks  like  that. 

Her  father  is  about  as  queer  as  an  old  family  can 
make  him.  I  wish  some  one  would  tell  me  why  if 
you  came  in  with  the  Conqueror  you  are  generally 
queer,  or  without  a  chin  ?  Why  do  you  always 
marry  your  near  relations  ?  Do  you  get  queerer 
as  you  go  on  ?  No  one  ever  answers  these  questions. 
Sir  Frederick  Hermyre  has  acres  of  stubbly  chin, 
true,  but  he  takes  it  out  in  queerness.  He  always 
wears  white  duck  trousers,  like  the  pictures  of 
Wellington,  whom  he  is  rather  like.  He  says  "  what 
is  the  good  of  being  a  gentleman  if  you  can't  wear 
a  shabby  coat  ?  "  and  does  wear  it.  His  house  at 
Highsam  is  a  show  house,  only  they  don't  show  it. 
They  are  too  careless,  and  too  untidy,  and  too  mean 
in  the  shape  of  housekeepers.  One  day  some  Whitby 
tourists  went  over  to  Saltergate  in  a  break,  and 
strolled  up  his  drive  to  look  at  the  Jacobean  Front, 
and  met  Sir  Frederick,  as  shabby  as  usual ;  he  had 
been  working  in  a  stone  quarry  he  has  there,  I 
believe. 


i86          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

"  Did  you  wish  to  see  me  ?  "  he  asked  the  front 
tourist  politely. 

"  Thanks,  old  cock,  any  extra  charge  ?  "  said 
the  tourist.  It  was  of  course  all  the  fault  of  those 
old  trousers  and  linen  coat,  and  I  have  heard  that 
Sir  Frederick  was  not  so  very  angry,  and  stood  the 
man  a  glass  of  beer.  He  is  a  Liberal  in  spite  of 
owning  land.  Simon  is  a  Conservative.  Eldest  sons 
are  always  different  politics  to  their  fathers.  We 
never  see  the  old  man  hardly  except  on  these  stormy 
pier  parties,  and  then  he  stalks  up  and  down  the  pier 
with  his  daughter  among  us  all,  and  though  he  isn't 
exactly  rude  to  anybody,  he  never  seems  to  hear  or 
care  to  hear  what  anybody  is  saying.  Blood  tells. 
Lady  Scilly  has  given  him  up  in  disgust  long  ago ; 
he  simply  answered  her  straight  as  long  as  he  could, 
and  when  he  didn't  understand  her,  he  just  shook 
his  head  and  grinned  and  turned  away. 

Simon  stood  by,  looking  rather  like  a  little 
whipped  dog.  He  is  awfully  afraid  of  his  father, 
who  isn't  proud  of  him,  but  of  Almeria,  who  he 
says  has  got  all  the  brains  of  the  family,  and  ought 
to  have  been  the  boy. 

Simon  tried  introducing  Ariadne  to  Almeria,  but 
Ariadne's  fringe  proved  an  insuperable  barrier.  As 
for  Ariadne,  Almeria' s  naked  forehead  made  her  feel 
quite  shy,  she  said,  such  a  double-bedded  kind  of 
forehead  as  that  needed  covering.  I  said,  all  the 
same,  she  was  an  idiot  not  to  make  friends  with 
Simon's  sister,  for  he  had  obviously  a  great  respect 
for  the  girl's  opinion.  She  might  have  plenty  of 


THE   CELEBRITY  AT   HOME          187 

sense  in  spite  of  her  bald  forehead  and  dumpers  of 
boots!  But  it  was  no  use,  they  stood  glaring  at 
each  other  like  two  Highland  cattle,  while  Simon 
was  trying  to  invent  a  mutual  bond  between 
them. 

"  My  sister  writes  a  little,"  he  said. 

"  Only  for  nothing  in  the  Parish  Magazine,"  said 
Almeria,  witheringly. 

— "  And  goes  about,"  he  went  on,  "  with  a 
hammer  collecting " 

"  Bedlamites  and  Amorites,"  said  I,  to  make 
them  laugh. 

They  didn't  laugh,  and  Simon  continued — 

"  And  pebbling  and  mossing  and  growing  sea 
anemones  in  basins." 

Then  I  got  excited,  and  as  Ariadne  stood  mum, 
I  supported  the  conversation. 

"  And  isn't  it  funny  to  feel  them  claw  your  finger 
if  you  put  it  in  their  mouth — well,  they  are  all  mouth, 
aren't  they  ?  " 

"  And  stomach  !  "  said  Almeria,  turning  away 
politely. 

Ariadne  had  hardly  said  a  word,  but  had  left  the 
conversation  to  me.  But  any  one  could  see  that 
these  two  never  could  get  on.  Ariadne  looked  as 
she  stood  on  the  pier,  plucking  at  bits  of  hair  that 
would  get  loose,  just  like  a  pale  butterfly  caught  in 
the  rain,  while  Almeria  stood  as  fast  as  a  capstan 
and  as  stumpy.  And  the  abominable  thing  was, 
that  Almeria  was  not  in  the  least  rude.  She  was 
always  civil,  perfectly  civil — but  civility  is  the 


i88          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

greatest  preserver  of  distances  there  is  if  people 
only  knew. 

Simon  gave  her  up  as  far  as  Ariadne  was  con- 
cerned. He  stuck  to  Ariadne,  but  did  not  neglect 
other  girls  or  any  one  else  for  her  sake,  and  so  com- 
promise her.  He  has  got  a  lot  of  tact.  Ariadne 
hasn't  any,  but  she  is  gentle  and  easily  led,  and 
Simon  is  the  kind  of  boy  who  is  going  to  grow 
masterful,  and  likes  a  girl  who  gives  him  the  chance 
of  standing  up  for  her  and  managing  for  her.  Per- 
haps he  is  a  little  bit  sorry  for  her.  Not  because 
she  is  so  dreadfully  in  love  with  him  ;  he  isn't 
conceited  enough  to  see  that,  or  Ariadne  would  have 
shown  him  long  ago.  He  is  sorry  for  her  because 
she  gives  herself  away  so  in  so  many  ways,  looking 
pretty  all  the  time.  That  is  important,  for  it  is  no 
good  looking  pathetic,  unless  you  look  pretty  as 
well.  He  chaffs  her  about  her  fluffy  hats  that  go 
all  limp  in  the  salt  sea-spray,  and  her  pretty  thin 
shoes  that  let  the  water  in,  and  her  hair  that  never 
will  stay  where  she  wants  it.  She  has  got  into  the 
way  of  continually  arranging  herself,  patting  a  bow 
here,  pulling  her  sleeves  down  over  her  wrist,  and 
arranging  her  hair.  "  Always  at  work  !  "  he  says 
suddenly,  and  Ariadne's  guilty  hands  go  down  like 
clockwork.  It  isn't  rude,  the  way  he  says  it.  He 
looks  at  her  kindly,  not  cheekily.  It  is  that  kind 
sort  of  fatherly  look  that  I  like,  and  that  makes  me 
think  he  is  fond  of  Ariadne. 

She  is  different  from  Lady  Scilly,  whom  he  is 
beginning  slightly  to  detest.  Sometimes  he  looks 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          189 

quite  glum  when  she  is  ordering  him  about,  but  he 
obeys.  What  do  married  women  do  to  men  to  make 
them  their  slaves  as  they  do,  and  yet  one  can  see 
by  their  eyes  that  they  don't  want  to  ?  And  why 
are  the  women  themselves  the  last  to  see  that  the 
servant  wants  to  give  notice  and  would  willingly 
forfeit  a  month's  wages  to  be  allowed  to  leave  at 
once  ?  Lady  Scilly  is  just  like  a  mistress  who  avoids 
going  down  into  her  own  kitchen  to  order  dinner, 
at  a  time  when  relations  are  strained,  lest  the  cook 
takes  the  chance  of  giving  her  warning.  Lady  Scilly 
is  the  least  bit  afraid  of  Simon's  cooling  off,  and 
just  now  prefers  to  give  him  his  orders  from  a 
distance. 

She  calls  Lord    Scilly  "Silly-Billy,"   and  "my 
harmless,  necessary  husband."     He  is  not  dangerous, 
and  he  certainly  is  useful,  for  she  really  could  not 
go  about  alone  wearing  the  hats  she  does.     She  has 
one  made  of  a  whole  parrot,  and  a  coat  made  of 
leopard  skins.     I  like  Lord  Scilly.     He  is  rather  fat, 
and  knows  it.     He  has  a  hoarse  sort  of  voice,  and 
yet  I  don't  think  he  drinks  much.     Perhaps  it  is 
the  open-air  life  that  he  leads  among  horses  and 
dogs  and  grooms  ;  at  Summer  Meetings  and  Don- 
caster,  and  so  on.     He  is  well  known  as  a  fearless 
rider,  and  risks  his  neck  with  the  greatest  pleasure. 
If  I  were  Lady  Scilly,  I  should  much  prefer  him  to 
George,  though  not  to  Simon.     His  chest  is  broader 
than  George's,  and  he  is  taller  than  Simon,  but  then 
she  isn't  married  to  either  of  those.     Marriage  is  like 
the  rennet  you  put  into  the  junket — it  turns  it ! 


igo          THE   CELEBRITY    AT   HOME 

He  seems  quite  used  to  the  kind  of  wife  he  has  got. 
He  isn't  at  all  anxious  to  change  her.  He  hardly 
ever  talks  about  her — even  to  me.  That  is  manners. 
Even  George  has  got  that  sort  of  manners,  so  that 
half  these  smart  people  don't  realize  that  my  father 
has  got  a  wife,  or  ever  had  one  !  They  might,  if 
they  liked,  and  after  all,  if  Mother  doesn't  choose 
to  know  his  friends,  he  cannot  force  her  !  She  won't 
go  out  with  him,  though  she  makes  no  difficulties 
about  our  going.  She  likes  us  to  go,  as  it  opens  our 
eyes  and  gives  us  chances.  Her  business  is  to  see 
that  we  are  clean  and  have  nice  hair  not  to  disgrace 
him,  and  we  don't,  or  he  would  soon  chuck  us. 

Lord  Scilly  always  insists  on  our  being  asked  to 
the  picnics  and  parties  they  give.  He  likes  us.  He 
takes  more  notice  of  us  than  she  does.  I  think  he 
is  a  very  lonely  man,  and  quite  glad  of  a  little  notice 
and  attention  even  from  a  child.  He  is  very  ob- 
servant too,  I  don't  believe  much  goes  past  his  eye. 
He  thinks  of  everything  from  the  racing  point  of 
view.  Once  when  Lady  Scilly  and  Ariadne  were 
both  standing  on  either  side  of  Simon,  receiving 
about  an  equal  share  of  his  attention,  or  so  it  seemed, 
Lord  Scilly  suddenly  chuckled  and  said — 

"  I  back  the  little  'un  !  " 

He  always  talks  of  and  to  Ariadne  as  if  she  were 
very  young  indeed,  and  it  is  the  surest  way  to  rile 
her.  She  never  forgave  Mrs.  Ptomaine  a  notice  of 
hers  on  the  dresses  at  some  Private  View  or  other, 
when  she  alluded  to  Ariadne's  frock  as  worn  by 
"  a  very  young  girl."  Lord  Scilly  thinks  a  girl 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          191 

ought  to  be  able  to  stand  chaff,  and  is  always  testing 
her. 

Ariadne  had  a  birthday  while  we  were  at  Whitby, 
and  it  fell  on  the  day  fixed  for  a  picnic  to  Robin 
Hood's  Bay.  Simon  sent  her  a  present  by  the  first 
post  in  the  morning,  a  fan  that  he  had  written  all 
the  way  to  London  for,  in  payment  of  some  bet  or 
other  he  had  invented — I  suppose  he  did  not  think 
it  right  to  give  an  unmarried  girl  a  present  without 
some  excuse  like  that  ? — and  of  course  Mother  and 
Aunt  Gerty  and  I  gave  her  something,  and  even 
George  forked  out  a  sovereign.  That  was  all  she 
expected,  and  not  even  that. 

However,  all  the  way  driving  to  the  picnic,  Lord 
Scilly  kept  telling  her  that  he  was  going  to  give  her 
something  as  well ;  I  was  sure  he  was  only  teasing 
her,  for  there  are  no  shops  worth  mentioning  in 
Robin  Hood's  Bay,  so  I  advised  her  to  brace  herself 
for  a  disappointment. 

The  moment  he  got  to  Robin  Hood's  Bay,  he  was 
off  by  himself,  and  away  quite  ten  minutes,  coming 
back  with  a  showy  paper  parcel.  At  lunch  he  gave 
it  her  with  a  great  deal  of  ceremony,  so  that  every- 
body was  looking.  It  was  worse  than  I  even  had 
thought,  a  hideous  china  mug  with  "  A  Present  for  a 
Good  Girl  "  on  it  in  gilt  letters.  Ariadne  has  it  now, 
only  the  servants  have  washed  off  the  gilt  lettering, 
using  soda  as  they  will.  The  baby  was  christened 
in  it.  But  I  am  anticipating. 

I  had  my  eye  on  her  as  she  untied  the  parcel, 
hoping  and  wondering  if  she  would  stay  a  lady  in 


IQ2          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

her  great  disappointment  ?  She  did.  She  thanked 
him  quite  formally  and  prettily  for  his  charming 
present,  though  I  saw  her  lip  tremble  a  very  little. 
I  was  awfully  pleased  with  her,  and  so  was  Simon 
Hermyre,  for  I  saw  he  particularly  noticed  her  be- 
haviour. As  for  the  Scillys,  their  nasty  little  joke 
fell  rather  flat  in  consequence  of  Ariadne's  discretion. 

It  was  a  most  fearfully  hot  day.  We  all  sat  on 
the  cliff  in  tiers,  and  talked  about  the  delightful 
golden  weather  which  was  so  oppressive  and  beastly 
that  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  lie  about  and  smoke. 
So  they  did.  The  men  mopped  their  foreheads 
when  they  thought  no  one  was  looking,  and  the 
women  used  papier  poudree  slyly  in  their  handker- 
chiefs. Only  Ariadne  had  none  to  use,  and  kept 
cool  by  sheer  force  of  will.  I  was  all  right,  being 
only  a  child. 

Ariadne  was  sitting  a  little  apart,  with  me,  and 
she  was  writing  a  Poem  to  the  sea,  and  she  told  me 
in  a  whisper  as  far  as  she  had  got — 

"The  patient  world  about  their  feet 
Lay  still,  and  weltered  in  the  heat.'' 

"  What  else  could  it  do  but  lie  still  ?  "  I  said, 
and  suddenly  just  then  Simon  got  up — 

"  I  say  !  I'm  going  to  take  the  kids  for  a  sail ! 
Bring  your  new  mug,  Missy,  and  take  your  tiny 
sister  by  the  hand,  so  that  she  doesn't  fall  and  break 
her  nose  on  the  cliff  steps." 

After  the  mug  incident  I  don't  see  how  anybody 
could  have  objected,  or  tried  to  prevent  Ariadne 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          193 

from  taking  the  advantages  of  being  treated  as  a 
baby,  and  I  expect  that  was  what  Simon  thought. 
Anyhow,  Ariadne  got  up,  and  went  with  Simon 
and  me  as  bold  as  any  lion.  It  is  a  well-known 
fact  that  Lady  Scilly  can't  stand  the  sea  in  small 
quantities  like  what  you  get  in  a  boat,  though  of 
course  she  goes  yachting  cheerfully.  None  of  the 
others  were  enough  interested  in  Simon  to  care  to 
move,  and  take  any  exercise  in  this  heat.  George 
gave  her  an  approving  little  nod  as  she  passed  him. 

We  had  a  lovely  sail  of  a  whole  hour's  duration. 
We  had  an  old  boatman  wearing  his  whiskers  stiffened 
with  tallow,  who  told  us  he  had  been  a  smuggler, 
and  treated  Ariadne  and  Simon  as  if  they  were  an 
engaged  couple,  out  for  a  spree,  with  me  thrown  in 
for  a  make-weight.  It  came  on  to  blow  a  little, 
and  got  much  cooler.  Ariadne  lost  her  hat,  and  had 
to  borrow  a  red  silk  handkerchief  of  Simon's  and 
tie  a  knot  in  it  at  all  four  corners  and  wear  it  so. 
She  looked  most  proud  and  happy,  as  if  she  had  on 
a  crown,  not  a  hat. 

When  Lady  Scilly  saw  the  latest  thing  in  hats, 
she  cried  out,  "  Oh,  my  poor  Ariadne  !  "  and  helped 
her  to  hide  herself  more  or  less  in  the  waggonette 
going  home.  I  didn't  know  before  how  becoming 
the  cap  was  ! 


CHAPTER   XV 

WHEN  George  came,  he  took  out  a  family  sub- 
scription to  the  weekly  balls  at  the  Saloon,  and  we 
go,  Ariadne  and  I.  Mother  will  not  and  Aunt 
Gerty  may  not.  Mother  expressly  stipulates  that 
she  shall  refrain  from  doing  as  she  wishes  in  this  one 
particular,  and  as  Aunt  Gerty  is  mother's  guest,  she 
has  to  please  her  hostess.  She  grumbles  a  good 
deal  at  George's  bearishness  to  her,  in  depriving  her 
of  any  source  of  amusement  in  this  dull  place,  but 
as  a  matter  of  fact  she  is  very  much  taken  up  with 
Mr.  Bowser.  He  was  Ariadne's  umbrella  man.  The 
Umbrella  dodge  came  off  with  Aunt  Gerty,  and  this 
unpoetical  two  became  fast  friends  on  the  cliff-walk 
one  rainy  day.  Mr.  Bowser  is  a  rich  brewer,  and 
very  much  mixed  up  with  the  politics  of  this  place. 
He  owns  three  blocks  of  lodging-houses  on  the 
Front.  Of  course  Simon  Hermyre's  peoplewon't  have 
anything  to  do  with  him.  It  would  be  awkward 
if  Ariadne  married  Simon  and  Bowser  had  previ- 
ously married  Ariadne's  legal  aunt.  If  Aunt  Gerty 
does  marry  Mr.  Bowser,  then  I  do  think  George 
would  be  justified  in  cutting  himself  off  from  us  all. 
To  be  the  brother-in-law  of  Mr.  Bowser  would  be 

194 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME  195 

the  ruin  of  him.  Well,  chay  Sarah,  Sarah !  as 
George  says  sometimes.  At  any  rate  we  have  no 
right  to  interfere  with  Aunt  Gerty  trying  to  do  the 
best  she  can  for  herself.  She  is  awfully  kind  to  us 
and  very  loyal,  Mother  says,  and  she  never  gets  a 
good  word  from  George  to  make  her  anxious  to 
please  him.  Mother  gives  her  plenty  of  rope  in  the 
Bowser  business,  on  condition  she  doesn't  try  to 
squeeze  herself  into  the  Saloon  dancing  set  where 
George's  friends  go. 

The  dancing  at  the  Saloon  is  very  poor.  The 
balls  are  only  an  excuse  for  going  out  on  the  Parade 
and  watching  the  sea  with  a  man.  I  like  to  watch 
it  best  myself,  without  a  man.  I  like  to  see  the 
whole  dark  sheet  of  water  far  away,  and  the  thin 
white  line  near  by  that  is  all  there  is  to  tell  one 
where  the  little  waves  are  lying  flattened  out  on  the 
shore.  The  tide  slips  in  so  softly,  minding  its  own 
business  through  the  long  evening  while  the  idiots 
above  galumph  about  and  dance  polkas  in  the  great 
hall  inside,  with  flags  from  the  Crimea  on  the  walls 
that  flap  in  the  draught  of  the  North  wind,  and 
remind  us  constantly  that  we  are  hung  over  the  sea. 

There  is  a  nice  boy  I  like — he  is  twelve,  quite 
young,  and  doesn't  need  conversing  with.  I  simply 
take  him  about  with  me  to  prevent  people  meeting 
me  and  saying,  the  way  they  do,  "  What,  child,  all 
alo-one  by  yourself  ?  "  which  is  so  irritating. 

He  never  interferes,  he  trusts  me,  he  likes  me. 
He  is  the  son  of  Sir  Edward  Fynes  of  Barsom,  and 
they  keep  horses.  I  might  say  they  eat  horses  and 


ig6          THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

drink  horses  and  sleep  on  horses  there.  Ernie 
wants  me  to  like  him,  so  he  brought  me  a  list  of 
his  father's  yearlings,  with  their  names  and  weights 
and  what  they  fetched  at  the  sale  written  out  in 
his  own  hand.  It  interested  him,  so  he  thought  it 
would  interest  me.  It  must  have  taken  him  hours 
to  do,  and  when  he  put  it  into  my  hand,  and  ran 
away,  what  amusement  do  you  think  I  could  get 
out  of  this  sort  of  thing  ? 

Witch,  ch.  f.  (H.B.),  2  yrs.,     Mr.  Brooks,         21  guins. 

Milkmaid  (h.h.),  3  yrs.,       ,,    Wingate,       30  guins. 

Sappho  (H.B.  +ch.  f.),   Foal,  6  yrs.,     Lord  Manham,     35  guins. 

And  so  on  for  a  page  of  foolscap.  Rather  an  odd 
sort  of  love-letter,  but  I  saw  he  meant  it,  and  didn't 
tease  him. 

Ernie  and  I  moon  about  all  the  evening  and 
watch  the  others.  It  is  not  etiquette  to  interfere 
with  a  lady  who  has  her  own  cavalier,  and  that  is 
why  I  annex  Ernie,  as  Lady  Scilly  does  Simon.  We 
don't  dance.  I  don't  care  to  begin  the  dance 
racket  till  I  am  out  and  forced,  not  I,  nor  do  I  sup- 
pose the  grown-ups  want  a  couple  of  children  getting 
into  their  legs  and  throwing  them  down.  No,  I 
watch  them,  and  Ernie  watches  me. 

Simon  Hermyre  and  Lady  Scilly  dance  half  the 
time  together.  I  suppose  it  is  de  rigueur.  And  when 
they  are  not  dancing  they  are  talking  of  money.  I 
have  heard  them.  I  don't  mind  listening,  for,  of 
course,  money  isn't  private.  And  I  think  it  re- 
volting to  talk  business  on  moonlight  nights  by  the 
sea.  They  argue  about  bulls  and  bears  and  berthas, 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME          197 

which  puzzled  me  at  first,  till  Ernie  told  me  they 
did  not  mean  either  animals  or  women.  Simon  is 
not  at  all  interested  in  any  of  them.  Ernie  (who 
is  at  Eton)  says  it  is  because  he  has  nothing  on, 
and  only  talks  about  stocks  to  please  her. 

Simon  does  not  talk  about  dirty  money  when  he 
is  with  my  sister,  he  does  not  talk  much  about 
anything,  and  yet  they  seem  to  be  enjoying  them- 
selves. Perhaps  Ariadne  is  a  rest  after  Lady  Scilly  ? 

One  damp  evening,  Ariadne  and  he  came  out  of 
the  big  hall  together,  but  before  she  sat  down  in 
her  white  dress  on  one  of  the  iron  seats  outside, 
Simon  carefully  wiped  it  with  his  handkerchief, 
though  it  hadn't  been  raining.  Then,  without 
thinking  apparently,  he  put  it  up  to  his  own  fore- 
head. 

"  Phew  !  I'm  hot,"  he  said.  "  It's  a  weary  old 
world  !  Hope  I  die  soon  !  " 

Simon  talks  broad  Yorkshire,  I  notice.  Lady 
Scilly  had  been  Simon's  partner  before  Ariadne, 
and  I  had  passed  with  my  boy — that's  what  the 
grown-up  women  always  call  their  special  men  ! — 
just  as  Simon  had  taken  out  his  nice  gold-backed 
pocket-book  with  his  initials  in  diamonds  that  I 
envy  him  so. 

"  Blow  these  wretched  figures !  They  won't 
come  !  "  I  heard  him  say. 

"  On  they  come  fast  enough,  not  single  spies,  but 
in  battalions,"  Lady  Scilly  had  answered  pettishly ; 
"  what  I  complain  of  is  that  they  won't  go  !  See 
if  you  can't  pull  me  through,  dear  boy." 


igS          THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

I  thought  it  indecent  of  her  to  make  poor  Simon 
do  her  sums  for  her,  on  a  heavenly  night  like  this, 
when  the  tide  is  fully  in,  and  all  you  can  see  through 
the  white  rails  of  the  Esplanade  is  a  soft  creeping 
heap  of  dark  water,  like  a  pailful  of  ink.  Simon  now 
got  up  and  looked  down  into  it,  and  his  forehead 
became  one  mass  of  wrinkles,  like  a  Humphrey's 
iron  building. 

And  Ariadne  got  up  too,  and  looked  into  the  water 
with  him,  but  she  said  nothing.  I  know  her  pretty 
well,  and  that  it  was  because  she  had  nothing  to  say, 
and  as  he  evidently  didn't  want  her  to  say  it,  it 
didn't  matter.  She  had  put  her  hand  on  the  railing, 
and  it  looked  very  nice  and  white  in  the  moonlight 
somehow,  quite  like  a  novel  heroine's,  so  she  is 
repaid  for  her  trouble  and  expense  in  almond  paste- 
balls.  Simon  Hermyre  looked  at  it,  as  I  used  to 
stand  and  look  at  a  peach  or  an  apple  on  the  wall 
when  I  was  little.  He  would  have  liked  to  pick  it, 
as  I  would  the  apple  or  peach,  and  hold  it  tight  in 
his  own  hand,  I  thought,  but  he  didn't,  but  sighed 
instead  and  said — 

"  I  wish  I  had  a  mother ! "  That  wretched 
Ernie  boy  began  to  giggle.  I  nearly  smothered  him, 
for  I  wanted  to  hear  what  Ariadne  would  say. 

"  Do  you  ?  "  she  said.     "  I  have." 

Did  any  one  ever  hear  anything  so  stupid  and 
obvious  ?  Yet  Simon  seemed  to  like  it,  for  the  next 
thing  he  said  was — 

"  Why  don't  I  know  your  mother  ?  I  expect  she 
is  gentle  and  sweet  like  you." 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          199 

I  have  no  doubt  Ariadne  would  have  been  im- 
becile enough  to  answer  Yes,  not  seeing  the  pitfall 
there  was  hidden  in  the  words,  but  at  that  very 
moment  George  and  Lady  Scilly  came  out  with  a  lot 
of  other  people.  They  came  drifting  along  to  the 
balustrade  where  we  were,  and  Lady  Scilly  put  her 
hand  on  Simon's  shoulder  very  lightly,  and  George 
put  his  heavily  on  Ariadne's. 

Simon  whisked  away  his  shoulder  and  wriggled 
as  much  as  he  dared.  Ariadne  of  course  could  not 
move  at  all.  She  said  afterwards  she  felt  as  if  it 
was  her  own  marriage-service,  and  that  George  was 
"  giving  this  woman  away  "  quite  naturally.  He 
likes  to  see  her  with  Simon  and  shows  it,  it  is  the 
only  times  in  his  life  that  he  is  what  they  call 
fatherly. 

Lady  Scilly  gave  Simon  two  taps.  "  I  love  this 
thing,  you  know,"  she  said  to  George.  Then,  going 
a  little  way  back — "  Just  look  at  them  !  Isn't  it 
idyllic  ?  Romeo  and  Juliet  spooning  on  a  balcony 
over  the  sea  instead  of  over  a  garden,  and  with  a 
squawking  gull  instead  of  a  nightingale  to  listen  to. 
And  I — poor  I — am  Romeo's  deserted  Rosaline. 
Did  Rosaline  take  on  Mercutio,  I  wonder,  when  she 
had  had  enough  of  Romeo  ?  " 

She  glared  up  at  George,  and  the  moonlight  caught 
her  face  the  wrong  way  and  made  her  look  old. 
All  the  same,  she  would  not  have  dared  to  say  all 
this  if  she  hadn't  felt  sure  of  Simon,  and  it  proved 
that  he  hadn't  been  silly  enough  to  make  her  think 
it  worth  while  to  be  jealous  of  Ariadne. 


200          THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

"  I  always  thought  Mercutio  by  far  the  most  in- 
teresting character  in  the  piece.  Come,  good  Mer- 
cutio !  Romeo,  fare — I  mean  flirt  well !  " 

They  turned  away  and  left  Simon  grinding  his 
little  pearly  teeth. 

"  I  consider  all  that  in  beastly  taste  !  "  he  said, 
whacking  the  rail  with  Ariadne's  fan.  Of  course  it 
broke,  and  Ariadne  cried  out  like  a  baby  when  you 
have  smashed  its  favourite  toy. 

Simon  was  thoroughly  out  of  temper  with  all  the 
world,  Ariadne  included.  Lady  Scilly  had  called 
him  Romeo;  well,  he  was  jealous  of  Mercutio  !  Such 
is  man — and  boy !  He  spoke  quite  crossly  to 
Ariadne. 

"  I'll  give  you  a  new  one.  I'll  give  you  twenty 
new  ones.  Let  us  go  in  and  dance — dance  like 
the  devil !  " 

Ernie  told  me  a  great  deal  about  Lady  Scilly  after 
they  had  all  gone  in.  He  knows  a  lot  about  her, 
through  his  father,  who  has  a  place  near  the  Scillys 
in  Wiltshire.  He  says  his  father  says  that  at  this 
present  moment  she  hasn't  got  a  cent  to  call  her 
own  ;  what  with  gambling,  and  betting,  she  is  fairly 
broke.  I  wish,  then,  she  would  try  to  borrow  money 
off  George — just  once — for  that  would  choke  him  off 
her  soonest  of  anything,  and  then  he  would  perhaps 
be  nicer  to  mother  ? 

Ariadne  would  not  go  to  bed  at  all  that  night. 
She  sat  in  the  window,  eating  dried  raisins,  just  to 
keep  soul  and  body  together.  And  all  the  time  her 
affairs  were  progressing  most  favourably.  She 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          201 

vexed  because  she  saw  that  Lady  Scilly  did  not 
consider  her  worth  being  jealous  of.  I  told  her  she 
was  never  nearer  getting  Simon  than  now  when  he 
was  bringing  a  heart  that  Lady  Scilly  had  bruised 
by  sordid  monetary  considerations  to  her,  to  stroke 
arid  make  well  by  her  soothing  ways.  And  Ariadne 
is  soothing,  she  can  do  the  silence  dodge  well.  She 
is  a  regular  walking  rest-cure,  I  tell  her,  for  those 
that  like  it. 

Simon  was  unusually  nice  to  her  all  the  next 
week,  just  as  I  prophesied  he  would  be.  Then  an 
untoward  event  happened. 

There  were  dances  at  the  Saloon  only  once  a  week. 
Next  night  a  conjuror  came  to  the  Saloon  Hall, 
called  Dapping,  and  Aunt  Gerty  took  us,  paying 
one  shilling  each  for  us.  There  were  worse  seats, 
only  sixpence,  but  there  were  also  better,  viz.  the 
first  four  rows  were  three  shillings.  The  Scilly 
party  with  Irene  Lauderdale  were  in  them,  and  on 
the  other  side,  very  obviously  keeping  themselves 
to  themselves,  there  was  Sir  Frederick  Hermyre  and 
Almeria,  and  a  severe  woman  aunt,  and  Simon  in 
attendance.  The  Hermyres  were  staying  all  night 
at  the  hotel,  and  he  had  to  be  with  them  for 
once,  waiting  on  his  father,  not  on  Lady  Scilly. 
It  couldn't  have  been  as  amusing  for  him  as  her 
party,  that  laughed  and  joked,  but  still  Simon  as 
usual  looked  quite  happy  as  he  was.  He  would  have 
thought  it  rude  to  look  bored,  and  he  did  look  so 
nice  and  clean,  with  his  little  retrouss6  nose  next 
to  his  father's  beak,  and  Almeria's  large  knuckle- 


202  THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

duster  of  a  proboscis  framing  them.  I  don't  suppose 
Simon  even  knew  Ariadne  and  I  were  there,  for  we 
were  a  long  way  behind,  and  he  doesn't  love  Ariadne 
enough  yet  to  scent  her  everywhere.  Next  us  was 
Mr.  Bowser,  Aunt  Gerty's  mash,  as  she  calls  him. 
I  believe  she  had  told  him  we  were  to  be  there. 
Ariadne  and  I  were  disgusted  at  being  mixed  with 
Bowser,  and  tried  to  make  believe  we  were  a  separate 
party,  and  talked  hard  to  ourselves  all  the  time. 
Ariadne  was  in  a  white  muslin  she  had  made  herself 
— window-curtain  stuff  from  Equality's  sale.  It 
was  pretty,  but  casual.  She  never  will  have  patience 
to  overcast  the  seams  or  settle  which  side  they  are 
to  be  on,  definitely.  She  had  made  her  hat  too,  of 
chiffon  with  a  great  trail  of  ivy  leaves  over  the  crown. 
I  wished  she  had  been  dressed  more  soberly,  con- 
sidering the  company  we  were  in. 

I  wasn't  attending  very  much,  but  presently  I 
heard  Mr.  Dapping  with  Mr.  Bowser,  who  as  a 
leading  citizen  had  gone  on  the  stage,  planning  out 
a  sort  of  trick.  Dapping  was  first  blindfolded,  and 
Bowser  was  to  go  into  the  body  of  the  hall  and  pre- 
tend to  murder  some  one,  and  Dapping  would  tell 
him  afterwards  whom  he  had  murdered.  Dapping 
even  went  off  the  platform  so  as  to  be  quite  sure 
not  to  see,  and  Mr.  Bowser  came  down  the  gangway 
in  the  middle,  shaking  his  snub  head  about  as  he 
selected  a  victim — and  he  had  actually  the  cheek  to 
choose  Ariadne  ! 

He  didn't  ask  Aunt  Gerty  or  Ariadne  either,  if 
he  might  take  this  liberty,  but  just  seized  Ariadne 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          203 

by  her  thin  muslin  shoulder,  and  pretended  to  drive 
a  knife  into  her  back.  It  all  happened  before  she 
had  time  to  stop  him.  She  wriggled,  but  of  course 
they  thought  she  was  acting  up.  Then  he  sat  down, 
quite  pleased  with  himself,  beside  Aunt  Gerty,  and 
Mr.  Dapping  was  released  and  his  eyes  unbandaged, 
and  he  came  plunging  down  the  gangway  till  he 
came  to  our  row.  He  was  intensely  excited  and 
puffing  like  a  steam-engine,  very  disagreeable  to 
hear. 

He  seized  Ariadne  by  the  same  shoulder  Bowser 
had  murdered  her  at,  and  shook  her,  saying,  "  This 
is  the  victim  !  " 

It  made  Ariadne  horribly  common,  Aunt  Gerty 
said  afterwards,  though  she  might  easily  have  pre- 
vented it  and  told  Bowser  to  hit  one  of  his  own 
class  !  Anyhow,  poor  Ariadne  turned  all  the  colours 
of  the  rose  and  the  rainbow,  and  nearly  cried  for 
shame.  She  might  as  well  have  been  on  the  stage, 
for  she  was  just  as  public.  All  the  Scilly  party  had 
of  course  turned  round  and  were  staring  with  all 
their  eyes.  Sir  Frederick  and  Almeria  never  moved 
at  all.  Poor  Simon  did, — just  once — and  I  saw  his 
scared,  disgusted  face  looking  over  his  shoulder.  I 
had  never  seen  him  look  like  that  before.  It  was 
awful ! 

The  conjuror  went  calmly  on  to  the  next  trick, 
but  poor  Ariadne  had  been  thoroughly  upset.  She 
whispered  to  me,  "  I  can't  stand  any  more  of  this. 
I  believe  I  shall  faint !  " 

That  wasn't  true,  I  knew,  she  can't  faint  if  she 


204          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

tries,  but  still  any  one  could  see  that  she  was  feeling 
very  uncomfortable. 

I  said  to  my  aunt,  "  We  are  going,  Ariadne  and 
I.  You  can  stay  behind  if  you  like." 

And  we  got  up  and  passed  out  amid  a  row  of 
sympathetic — that  was  the  worst  of  it — faces.  Of 
course  Aunt  Gerty  followed  us  out  presently,  and 
scolded  Ariadne  all  the  way  home  for  allowing  herself 
to  be  made  a  victim  of.  Ariadne  never  spoke,  till 
we  got  in  and  up  in  our  room.  Then  she  burst  out 
crying. 

"  He  will  never  speak  to  me  again.  I  know  he 
won't.  He  is  very  proud,  and  I  have  disgraced  him 
— disgraced  him  before  his  order  !  " 

"  You  can't  disgrace  that  until  you  are  married 
to  him,  I  suppose,  and  now  you  never  will  be." 

"  No,"  Ariadne  said,  meekly,  "  I  am  unworthy  of 
him." 

"  You  are  very  weak ! "  said  I,  "  but  on  the  whole 
I  consider  it  was  Aunt  Gerty's  fault.  Brewing  away 
like  that  and  not  attending  to  her  charges  !  " 

Ariadne  cried  and  hocketed,  as  the  cook  used  to 
say,  all  night,  and  I  tried  to  comfort  her  and  tell 
her  that  Simon  would  probably  come  to  call  next 
day  to  show  that  noblesse  oblige,  and  that  he  didn't 
think  anything  of  it.  Of  course  when  I  remem- 
bered his  face,  I  didn't  suppose  he  would  ever  care 
to  see  a  girl  who  had  been  pummelled,  first  by 
Bowser  and  then  by  Dapping,  again. 

All  next  day  Ariadne  would  not  go  out.  She  said 
she  could  not  meet  the  eye  of  Whitby.  It  rained 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          205 

luckily.  Next  day  she  still  wouldn't,  and  as  it  was 
one  of  the  best  days  we  have  had,  I  began  to  think 
that  she  was  going  too  far  with  her  remorse,  and 
was  quite  cross  with  her. 

"  No  one  ever  remembers  anything  that  happened 
to  some  one  else,"  I  said  ;  "  and  they  can't  see  that 
your  shoulder  is  black  and  blue  under  your  gown." 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  publicly  flogged,  and  I 
had  on  my  white  muslin  too,"  she  moaned,  though 
I  don't  know  what  she  meant,  that  it  had  made  a 
more  conspicuous  object,  or  was  bad  for  the  dress, 
or  what. 

"  I  know  one  thing,"  she  gulped.  "  Aunt  Gerty 
or  no  Aunt  Gerty,  I  shall  cut  Mr.  Bowser  next  time 
I  see  him — cut  him  dead." 

"  Why  not  ?     He  murdered  you." 

I  think  this  was  Ariadne's  first  sorrow,  and  lasted 
quite  a  week.  She  would  only  go  out  after  dark, 
to  hide  her  shame  from  every  eye.  Mother  en- 
couraged her,  and  said  she  knew  how  she  must  feel. 
To  Aunt  Gerty  she  said  several  times,  "  Never 
again  !  "  which  is  the  most  awful  thing  to  say  to 
any  one.  It  meant  that  Aunt  Gerty  wasn't  to  be 
trusted  with  girls,  and  especially  George's  girls. 
Mother  gave  it  her  well. 

"  You  should  have  prevented  Ariadne  from  letting 
herself  down  like  that !  I  shall  never  hear  the  end 
of  it  from  George." 

"  George  indeed  !  Why  wasn't  George  looking 
after  his  own  precious  kids  then  ?  I  don't  think 
he's  got  any  need  to  talk  !  My  Lord  Scilly  will  be 


206          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

having  a  word  with  him  some  of  these  days,  or  I 
shall  be  very  much  surprised  !  " 

"  You  hold  your  wicked,  lying  tongue  !  "  was  all 
Mother  said  to  her.  Mother,  somehow,  hasn't  the 
heart  to  be  hard  on  Aunt  Gerty. 

I  could  have  told  Aunt  Gerty  that  Lord  Scilly 
was  keeping  quite  calm.  He  can  manage  Lady 
Scilly  well  enough.  I  have  heard  him  say  so. 
"  Paquerette  knows  the  side  her  bread  is  buttered 
as  well  as  any  woman  living  !  She  is  a  right  good 
sort,  is  Paquerette,  only  she  likes  to  kick  her  heels 
a  bit !  She  and  I  understand  each  other  !  " 

He  talks  like  this,  as  if  they  were  like  Darby  and 
Joan,  but  Lady  Scilly  doesn't  agree  with  him,  or 
says  she  doesn't.  "  Scilly  and  I,"  she  once  said  to 
Ariadne,  "  are  an  astigmatic  couple."  She  meant, 
she  explained,  that  they  are  like  two  eyes  whose 
sight  is  different.  I  fancy  his  is  the  long-sighted 
eye. 

Well,  this  little  row  was  soon  over  as  far  as  Mother 
and  Aunt  Gerty  were  concerned.  George's  scolding 
was  short  and  sweet,  Aunt  Gerty  said,  and  she 
couldn't  possibly  dislike  him  more  than  she  did 
already.  But  Ariadne  could  not  get  over  her  dis- 
grace for  ages.  She  still  wouldn't  stir  out  of  the 
house,  but  I  went  out  regularly  and  policed  Lady 
Scilly  and  Simon.  Of  course  this  contretemps  to 
Ariadne  has  had  the  effect  of  throwing  them  into 
each  other's  arms  worse  than  ever.  They  became 
inseparable.  If  Lady  Scilly  had  only  known  it, 
Simon's  being  near  her  made  her  look  quite  old  and 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME          207 

anxious,  whereas  she  made    him  look  young  and 
bored. 

One  morning  I  stood  and  watched  them  leaning 
over  the  wooden  rail  of  the  quay.  Everybody  leans 
there  in  the  mornings,  it's  fashionable,  and  if  you 
lean  a  little  forward  or  backward  you  can  either  see 
or  not  be  seen  by  the  person  who  is  hanging  over 
it  a  few  yards  further  on.  The  boats  were  as  usual 
unloading  their  big  haul  of  herrings,  and  the 
sleepy-eyed  sailors  (they  have  been  up  all  night !) 
were  sitting  smoking  lazily  on  the  edges  of  the  boats  % 
Lady  Scilly  was  in  white  linen,  so  awfully  pure  and 
angelic-looking  that  the  little  boys  dabbed  her 
with  fish-scales  as  they  passed  her.  She  was  talking 
to  Simon  about  money  earnestly,  and  took  no  notice. 
She  was  telling  him  that  Lord  Scilly  likes  money 
so  much  that  he  didn't  ever  like  to  let  it  out  of  his 
hands.  What  business  of  Simon  Hermyre's  is  it,  I 
should  like  to  know,  what  Lord  Scilly  chooses  to  do 
with  his  money  ?  Everybody  seems  to  think  Simon 
is  going  to  be  rich,  because  he  is  the  son  of  Sir 
Frederick  Hermyre,  but  that  is  no  criterion.  He 
always  seems  to  have  plenty  of  pocket-money,  but 
I  still  think  it  mean  of  a  full-grown  woman  to 
borrow  money  of  a  boy. 

"  Do  let  me  have  the  pleasure,"  he  kept  saying, 
and  "  Do  let  me  !  "  and  goodness  knows  why,  for 
she  seemed  to  be  in  no  hurry  to  prevent  him  !  I 
suppose  it  is  why  people  like  Simon  so  much,  that 
he  always  seems  to  be  trying  to  do  what  they  want 
in  spite  of  themselves. 


208          THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

"  Then  that  is  settled,  thank  the  Lord  !  "  I  heard 
him  say  at  last."  (My  sailor  buffer  between  me  and 
her  had  begun  to  talk  to  a  man  below,  and  rather 
drowned  their  conversation.)  "  Just  look  at  that 
sheet  of  silver  on  the  floor  of  the  boat — all  one 
night's  haul !  Suppose  it  was  shillings  and  half- 
crowns  ? " 

"  Yes,  only  suppose  !  And  the  sailors  treading 
carelessly  about  in  it,  as  you  might  in  the  train  of 
one  of  my  silver-embroidered  dresses  !  It  is  very 
like  a  full  court-train,  isn't  it,  the  one  you  are  going 
to  have  the  privilege  of  paying  for  ?  " 

Simon  said  yes  it  was,  but  he  didn't  seem  to  like 
her  quite  so  much  as  he  did  since  she  gave  in  and 
let  him  pay  her  bill.  He  seemed  to  have  grown  a 
little  bit  older  all  of  a  sudden,  he  had  a  sort  of  aged, 
pinched  look  come  over  his  face. 

Then  I  saw,  I  positively  saw,  the  thought  of  my 
sister  Ariadne  come  there  and  make  him  handsome 
and  boyish  again,  and  I  wriggled  past  my  sailor  and 
came  round  behind  her  and  said,  "  How  do  you 
do?" 

Lady  Scilly  having  done  with  Simon  for  the 
moment,  left  him  and  went  to  speak  to  Mr.  Sidney 
Robinson  and  George,  who  had  just  come  up  from 
their  bathe. 

"  How  is  your  sister  ?  "  Simon  asked  me. 

"  Very  well,  thank  you — at  least  I  mean  not  very 
well " 

"  I  don't  wonder.  I  was  so  sorry  for  her  the 
other  night." 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          209 

"  Did  you  loathe  her  ?  Your  face  looked  as  if 
you  did." 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind  !     But  if  I  ever  get  a  chance 

of  doing  that  brute  Bowser  some  injury  I'll 

And  the  people  she  was  with ?     I  beg  your 

pardon,  but  that  young  lady  who  was  in  charge 
of  you  both — wasn't  it  her  business  to  prevent 
Miss  Vero-Taylor's  good-nature  being  imposed 
upon  ?  " 

He  meant  Aunt  Gerty,  of  course.  I  made  up  my 
mind  in  a  second  what  was  best  to  do  for  the  best 
of  all. 

"  Oh,  that  person,"  said  I.  "  She  wasn't  anything 
to  do  with  us.  Miss  Gertrude  Jenynge,  playing  at 
the  Saloon  Theatre,  I  believe  ?  " 

"  I  think  that  your  sister  should  not  be  allowed 
to  go  to  places  like  that  alone." 

"  Why,  I  was  with  her  !  " 

"  What  earthly  good  are  you,  you  small  elf  ?  " 
asked  Simon  seriously  and  kindly,  smiling  down  at 
me.  "  I  wish  to  goodness  my  sister " 

I  know  what  he  meant.  That  he  wished  he  could 
persuade  Almeria  to  take  to  Ariadne  and  boss  her 
about.  But  he  didn't  say  it.  He  is  so  prim  and 
reserved  about  his  family.  He  simply  asked  to  be 
remembered  to  Ariadne,  and  that  he  was  going  to 
stay  with  some  people  at  a  place  called  Henderland 
in  Northumberland. 

"  Henderland,"  said  I,  "  that's  near  where  Chris- 
tina lives." 

"  Who  is  Christina  ?  " 

p 


210          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

"  Why,  George's  old  secretary.  She  is  a  Mrs. 
Ball  now.  You  were  her  best  man." 

"Peter  Ball's!  Good  old  Ball !  So  I  was.  Bless 
me.  l  Have  you  forgotten,  love,  so  soon — Thai  church 
in  June  ? '  Yes,  of  course  I  used  to  call  her  the 
Woman  who  Would — marry  the  good  Ball,  I  mean. 
I  shall  be  over  there  some  time  next  month  shooting. 
She  gave  me  a  general  invitation." 

He  wouldn't  say  when  he  was  likely  to  be  at 
Rattenraw,  it  is  a  little  way  men  have  of  defending 
themselves  against  girls  like  Ariadne.  Now  Ariadne 
and  I  had  a  particular  invitation  to  go  and  stay 
with  Christina  for  a  fortnight,  as  it  happened,  and 
if  Ariadne  had  been  having  this  talk  instead  of  me, 
she  would  have  told  him,  and  tried  to  pin  him  down 
to  a  time,  but  I  was  wiser.  I  said  "  Good-bye"  quite 
shortly,  as  if  I  wasn't  at  all  interested  in  his  move- 
ments, and  went  home.  I  was  a  little  ashamed  of 
one  thing,  I  had  told  a  lie  about  Aunt  Gerty  and 
denied  her  before  men,  as  the  Scripture  says.  But 
it  was  not  for  my  own  sake.  Fifty  Aunt  Gerty s 
can't  hurt  me,  but  one  can  do  Ariadne  lots  of  harm 
and  ruin  her  social  prestige.  On  the  way  home  I 
thought  what  I  would  do,  and  did  it  at  lunch. 

"  Please,  Aunt  Gerty,"  I  said,  "  if  you  meet  me 
on  the  quays  or  anywhere  when  I  am  talking  to 
Mr.  Simon  Hermyre,  I  must  beg  of  you  not  to  be 
familiar  with  me,  for  I  have  told  him  that  you  were 
no  relation,  and  I  gave  him  your  stage  name  when 
he  asked  me  who  you  were." 

"  Oh,  did  he  ask  ?  "  said  Aunt  Gerty,  jumping 


THE   CELEBRITY  AT  HOME          211 

about.  "  He  must  have  seen  me  somewhere.  In 
Trixy's  Trust  perhaps  ?  I  made  a  hit  there.  Well, 
child,  you  may  as  well  bring  us  together.  Use  my 
professional  name,  of  course." 

"  All  right,"  said  I.  I  did  not  tell  her  Simon  was 
off  to-morrow.  Now  don't  you  call  that  eating 
your  cake  and  having  it ! 


CHAPTER    XVI 

WE  all  hoped  that  Mr.  Bowser  would  find  he  liked 
Aunt  Gerty  well  enough  to  wish  to  relieve  us  of  her, 
but  we  evidently  wished  it  so  strongly  that  he  did 
not  see  his  way  to  obliging  us.  These  things  get 
into  the  air  somehow,  and  put  people  off.  Of  course 
Aunt  Gerty  herself  wished  it  more  than  anybody, 
and  she  was  feeling  considerably  annoyed  as  she 
completed  the  arrangements  for  a  rather  seedy  sort 
of  autumn  tour,  which  she  would  not  have  had  to 
do  if  she  could  have  pulled  it  off  with  the  brewer. 
She  wreaked  her  vexation  on  us,  us  and  Mother, 
who  was  very  patient,  knowing  what  poor  Aunt 
Gerty  was  feeling.  But  Ariadne,  who  was  feeling 
very  much  the  same  way,  and  had  to  suffer  in 
silence,  resented  it,  and  when  Aunt  Gerty  hustled 
her,  hustled  back  in  spite  of  her  broken  heart. 

George  left  for  Scotland.  He  says  he  is  going  to 
shoot  with  the  Scillys.  I  don't  know  why,  but  I 
have  a  fancy  he  has  gone  to  Ben  Rhydding,  all 
alone,  to  cure  his  gout.  It  didn't  matter.  It  was 
settled  that  we  were  to  go  to  stay  with  Christina 
in  Northumberland. 

Ariadne  didn't  like  going  straight  on  from  Whitby, 

212 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME          213 

because  she  would  have  preferred  to  get  her  country 
outfit  in  London  ;  but  of  course  the  difference  on 
fares  made  that  impossible.  It  is  one  of  the  curious 
things  about  Finance,  that  George  should  make  so 
much  money,  and  we  should  still  have  to  think  of 
a  beggarly  three  hundred  miles  or  so  at  a  penny  a 
mile.  That  is  what  it  costs  third-class,  as  of  course 
we  go.  The  all-the-y ear-round  conservatory  at 
Cinque  Cento  House  costs  George  three  hundred  a 
year  alone  to  keep  up,  and  the  Hall  of  Arms  (as  it 
is  written  up  over  the  door)  at  the  back  of  the  house 
must  be  done  up  every  few  months.  It  is  all  white 
(five  coats  !)  to  set  off  George's  black  velvet  fencing 
costume  and  his  neat  legs. 

George  has  so  much  taste.  He  simply  lives  at 
Christie's.  He  cannot  help  buying  cabinets  and 
chairs  at  a  few  hundred  pounds  apiece.  He  says 
they  are  realizable  property.  Ariadne  and  I  would 
like  to  realize  them. 

The  great  point  with  Ariadne  was  how  to  dress 
suitably  for  Christina's.  I  said  same  as  London, 
only  shorter  and  plainer.  Ariadne  hankered  after 
a  proper  bond  fide  shooting  toilette.  She  had  the 
sovereign  George  gave  her  for  her  birthday,  and 
two  pounds  she  had  made  by  a  poem,  and  another 
Mother  gave  her.  She  looks  much  best  dressed 
quietly,  nothing  mannish  or  exact  suits  her,  for  it  at 
once  brings  out  the  out-of-drawing-ness  of  her  face, 
which  is  of  the  Burne- Jones  type.  She  has  grown 
to  that,  being  trained  up  in  it  from  her  earliest 
years.  All  types  can  be  acquired.  In  the  face  of 


214          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

this,  she  went  out  and  bought  a  Miriam's  Home 
Journal,  and  selected  a  pattern  of  Stylish  Dress  for 
the  Moors,  and  got  a  cheap  tailor  in  the  town  to 
make  it  up  for  her.  Ye  Gods,  as  Aunt  Gerty  says  ! 
I  used  to  go  with  her  to  be  fitted.  It  was  a  heart- 
breaking business.  They  took  her  in  and  let  her 
out,  kneeling  about  her  with  their  mouths  full  of 
pins  so  that  you  couldn't  scold  them  lest  you  gave 
them  a  shock  and  drove  all  the  pins  down  their 
throat,  and  the  little  tailor  kept  saying,  "  A  pleat 
here  would  be  beneficial  to  it,  Madam,"  or  to  his 
assistant,  "  Remove  that  fulness  there  !  "  till  there 
wasn't  a  straight  seam  left  in  it,  it  was  all  bias  and 
bulge. 

Ariadne  cried  over  the  way  that  skirt  hung  for  an 
hour  when  it  came  home.  "  Too  much  of  bias  hast 
thou,  poor  Ariadne,"  I  said  to  her,  imitating  the 
pompous  tailor  ;  but  although  I  chaffed  her  I  went 
to  him  and  made  him  take  ten  shillings  off  the  bill. 

I  couldn't  help  thinking  of  a  real  country  girl  like 
Almeria  Hermyre,  when  Ariadne  put  this  confection 
on  for  the  first  time  in  the  privateness  of  our  bed- 
room. It  was  brown  tweed  turned  up  with  "  real 
cow  "  as  Ben  said  ;  there  is  even  a  piece  of  leather 
stitched  on  to  her  shoulder  where  she  is  to  rest  her 
gun.  Ariadne,  who  once  pulled  one  leg,  that  I  dare- 
say he  could  easily  spare,  off  a  daddy-long-legs,  and 
considered  herself  little  better  than  a  murderer  ! 

Ben,  who  was  present  at  this  private  view,  did  not 
like  her  in  it,  and  told  her  so.  He  is  so  truthful 
that  he  never  waits  to  be  asked  his  opinion.  So 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          215 

long  as  he  didn't  tease  her  about  Simon  Hermyre, 
it  did  not  matter,  but  he  is  quite  a  gentleman, 
though  rough.  Indeed,  nobody  mentioned  Simon, 
though  I  could  not  help  thinking  of  him  a  good  deal 
in  connection  with  Ariadne's  new  dress.  I  was  sure 
we  should  see  him  somewhere  in  Northumberland. 
It  isn't  as  big  as  America,  and  where  there  is  even 
a  faint  will  there  is  generally  a  way.  Ariadne  was 
thinking  of  him  when  she  bought  a  billycock  hat  on 
purpose  to  stick  in  a  moorcock's  wing  Simon  had 
once  given  her  that  he  had  shot.  I  did  not  interfere, 
for  I  thought  if  he  saw  her  in  it  he  might  think  some 
other  fellow  had  given  her  a  moorcock's  feather ; 
there  are  plenty  of  them  about,  and  plenty  of  fools 
to  shoot  them. 

I  myself  did  not  make  much  preparation.  Just 
a  new  elastic  to  my  hat,  and  new  laces  to  my  boots 
How  delightful  it  is  to  care  for  no  man  !  How  it 
simplifies  life  !  All  this  bother  about  Ariadne  has 
choked  me  off  love  for  a  long  while  to  come.  I 
don't  care  if  it  never  comes  my  way  at  all.  But  I 
am  only  fourteen,  and  have  not  got  the  place  in  my 
head  ready  for  it  yet,  anyway.  I  don't  believe  that 
Love  is  a  woman's  whole  existence  any  more  than 
it  is  a  man's.  We  are  like  ships,  made  in  water- 
tight compartments,  so  that  if  something  goes 
wrong  with  one  compartment  the  whole  concern 
isn't  done  for.  Until  I  am  old  enough  to  set  a  whole 
compartment  aside  for  Love,  I  can  be  easy  and  watch 
the  others  wallowing.  Life  is  one  huge  party  to  me, 
and  the  girls  who  are  not  out  yet  watching  it  through 


216          THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

the  bannisters  and  getting  a  taste  of  the  ices  now 
and  then. 

I  don't  study  dinners  at  home,  we  have  never 
given  one  in  Cinque  Cento  House.  George  enter- 
tains a  good  deal  at  the  Club,  when  he  can  get  Lady 
Scilly  or  some  one  like  that  to  play  hostess  and  give 
the  signal  to  rise  for  him,  a  thing,  somehow,  that 
no  man  ever  seems  capable  of  doing  for  himself. 

Mother  and  Aunt  Gerty  saw  us  off  for  Morpeth,  at 
Whitby  station.  Aunt  Gerty  looked  far  more  ex- 
cited than  just  seeing  a  couple  of  nieces  off  could 
make  her,  and  I  soon  saw  the  reason  of  it,  Mr. 
Bowser  was  leaving  by  the  same  train  !  He  went 
first-class  of  course,  which  was  annoying  for  Aunt 
Gerty,  as  that  made  him  be  at  the  other  end  of  the 
train,  too  far  off  to  see  how  prettily  she  kissed  her 
nieces  good-bye,  and  bought  them  Funny  Bits  and 
chocolate  creams.  We  got  the  creams  anyhow. 
Children  often  profit  by  their  elders'  foolish  fancies. 

Mother  wouldn't  even  let  us  kiss  her  out  of  the 
carriage-window  for  fear  the  train  started  and  we 
got  dragged  out,  and  sure  enough  we  did  go  on 
suddenly,  in  that  slidy,  masterful  way  trains  have. 
I  have  a  particular  affinity  to  trains.  My  great- 
grandfather built  an  engine  and  had  it  called  after 
him.  When  he  was  dying,  he  was  taken  in  his  chair 
to  where  the  Great  Northern  trains  pass  every  day, 
and  drew  his  last  breath  as  the  Scotch  Express 
rattled  by. 

To  return.  I  noticed  that  Aunt  Gerty  looked 
awfully  pleased  about  something,  and  kept  sticking 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME          217 

her  hip  out  in  an  engaging  way  she  has,  and  I  con- 
cluded that  Mr.  Bowser  had  at  last  spotted  her  and 
thrown  her  an  encouraging  nod,  perhaps  blown  her 
a  kiss,  only  he  is  perhaps  not  quite  low  enough  for 
that  ?  But  whatever  it  was,  it  made  her  happy. 
Oh,  if  they  only  could  all  get  the  man  they  want 
at  the  time  they  want  him,  what  a  nice  place  the 
world  would  be,  for  children  at  any  rate  !  All  grown- 
up people's  tempers  come  because  they  can't  get 
what  they  want.  And  here  was  I,  boxed  up  with 
one  who  hadn't  got  what  she  wanted,  for  a  whole 
blessed  day  !  She  was  simply  weltering  in  love, 
if  I  may  say  so.  She  had  a  penny  note-book  ready 
to  write  poetry  in,  and  meant  to  dream  and  write 
and  cry  for  four  hours.  I  had  a  nice  improper  six- 
penny of  my  Aunt  Gerty's,  but  I  scarcely  hoped 
that  Ariadne  would  allow  me  to  enjoy  it. 

Of  course  not.  She  soon  began  bothering.  As 
soon  as  we  were  properly  started,  she  pulled  up  her 
thousand  times  too  thick  veil,  badly  put  on — 
Ariadne  is  too  simple  ever  to  learn  to  put  on  a  veil 
properly  as  other  women  do — and  looked  hard  at 
herself  in  her  pocket  looking-glass,  and  sighed  and 
settled  her  loose  tendril  and  unsettled  it,  and  pinched 
her  cheek  to  massage  it  and  restore  the  subcutaneous 
deposit  the  doctor  had  told  her  about.  She  seemed 
hopeless  and  sad,  for  presently  she  said — 
"  No,  I  am  not  looking  beautiful  to-day  !  " 
A  pretty  white  tear,  like  a  pearl  button,  shook 
on  her  eyelashes,  and  I  wondered  how  long  she 
could  keep  it  hanging  there  ?  I  do  believe  she  was 


2i8  THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

anxious  to  look  nice  because  she  had  an  idea  she 
might  see  Simon  at  Morpeth.  But  one  never  does 
see  people  at  stations,  and  personally,  I  think  that 
Ariadne  would  be  far  prettier  if  she  didn't  know 
she  was  pretty.  It  is  most  unkind  and  inconsiderate 
of  her  so-called  friends  to  keep  telling  her  so.  It  is 
just  like  our  horrid  lot.  In  Simon's  set,  they  would 
die  sooner  than  pay  a  girl  a  compliment  to  her  face. 
But  she  has  got  so  hardened  to  it  that  I  always 
have  to  take  her  down  gently,  so  as  not  to  hurt  her, 
same  as  one  does  with  invalids. 

"  It  doesn't  matter  how  you  look,"  I  said,  **  there 
is  nobody  but  porters  to  see  you,  and  you  don't 
want  to  mash  them  and  distract  them  from  their 
work  and  make  them  get  the  points  all  wrong.  I 
should  have  thought  you  preferred  being  alone. 
You  can  write  in  your  book.  Let  us  do  George's 
dodge,  and  stand  at  the  window  whenever  we 
come  into  a  station  and  look  as  repulsive  as  we 
can." 

George  likes  to  keep  the  carriage  all  to  himself, 
and  taught  us  what  to  do  to  secure  it,  the  only  time 
he  ever  travelled  with  us.  We  made  a  prominent 
object  of  Ben,  very  sticky  with  lollipops, and  managed 
to  be  by  ourselves  all  the  way. 

Ariadne  was  unwilling  to  do  this  now.  She  sat 
still  in  her  corner  and  brooded,  and  that  did  j  ust  as 
well,  for  the  would-be  passengers  looked  in  and  saw 
her,  and  made  up  their  minds  that  she  was  recover- 
ing from  scarlet  fever,  or  at  least  measles.  I  stood 
in  the  window,  squarely,  and  looked  ugly  for  two. 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          219 

I  was  interested  in  the  country.  It  is  quite  hideous 
between  Whitby  and  Morpeth.  The  reason  is  that 
it  is  an  industrial  centre.  I  began  to  wish  that 
our  eating  (kitchen  boilers)  and  keeping  warm  (coal) 
didn't  mean  so  many  people  having  to  live  black, 
and  whole  counties  in  a  blanket  of  smoke.  I  don't 
think  I  approve  of  civilization,  if  this  is  what  it 
comes  out  of  ? 

When  the  train  slowed  down  at  Morpeth,  I  could 
not  help  calling  out  to  Ariadne,  "  I  told  you  so  !  " 
for  there  was  Christina  Ball  in  a  muslin  dress,  with 
a  soft  floppy  chiffon  hat  and  no  veil  at  all.  She 
was  sitting  in  a  little  pony-cart,  with  an  ugly  child 
that  couldn't  be  hers ;  we  saw  her  from  the  train. 
It  was  a  shock  to  Ariadne,  and  she  was  wild  to  get 
our  box  into  the  cloak-room  first  and  unlock  it  and 
get  out  one  of  her  old  dresses.  But  how  could  she 
dress  in  the  waiting-room  ?  And  besides,  she  would 
be  certain  to  muddle  the  next  thing  I  told  her  (and 
so  she  did). 

We  got  out  of  the  station  and  into  the  trap. 
Christina  had  a  new  pony  and  couldn't  get  down — 
and  it  was  arranged  that  our  luggage  was  to  come 
on  by  carrier,  as  our  wicker  trunk  would  be  sure  to 
scratch  the  smart  new  dog-cart. 

Off  we  went,  I  thought,  and  I  am  sure  Ariadne 
thought,  a  little  too  like  the  wind.  But  Ariadne 
wanted  to  appear  at  ease,  and  casual  and  countrified, 
so  she  pretended  to  take  an  interest  in  the  scenery, 
and  said  to  Christina,  "  Look  at  the  lovely  tone  of 
that  verdigris  on  the  pond  !  " 


220          THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

The  ugly  child  twitched  her  feet  under  the  rug 
beside  me  ;  she  said  nothing,  but  looked  it. 

"  Oh,  the  duck- weed  !  "  said  Christina,  who  knows 
Ariadne  too  well  to  be  amused  by  anything  she 
says.  "  Miss  Emerson  Tree  here — allow  me  to  in- 
troduce Peter's  American  niece,  Miss  Jane  Emerson 
Tree — calls  it  the  '  stagnance.'  ' 

The  ugly  child  still  didn't  say  anything,  though 
"  stagnance  "  was  just  as  absurd  a  word  for  mildew 
on  a  pond  as  verdigris,  and  I  began  to  be  quite 
afraid  of  one  who,  though  so  young,  didn't  seem  to 
want  to  fly  out.  She  turned  half  round  though, 
and  seemed  to  be  staring  hard  at  the  body  of 
Ariadne's  shooting  dress  with  its  patch  on  the  left 
shoulder.  Christina  went  on  enlightening  us  about 
the  country  and  telling  us  the  sort  of  things  we 
were  likely  to  ask  and  make  fools  of  ourselves  about. 
I  do  believe  she  was  afraid  of  our  saying  something 
specially  silly  before  Jane  Emerson  Tree,  and  wanted 
to  save  us  from  ourselves. 

It  came  at  last,  and  Ariadne  nearly  toppled  out 
of  the  cart.  The  ugly  child  spoke  in  the  most 
strong  American  accent,  and  the  way  she  leant 
upon  the  last  syllable  of  the  word  despise  was  the 
nastiest  thing  I  ever  heard. 

"  Oh,  I  do  just  despise  your  waist  !  "  she  said  to 
Ariadne  ;  "  I've  been  looking  at  it  all  the  way  we've 
come." 

Christina  absently  took  hold  of  her  whip  and  then 
rattled  it  back  in  its  socket.  She  then  scolded 
Jane  till  I  should  have  thought  any  ordinary  child 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME          221 

couldn't  have  gone  on  sitting  up,  but  this  one  did, 
never  saying  a  word,  but  pursed  her  mouth  in  till 
there  was  hardly  a  line  to  be  seen.  Then  Christina 
began  to  tell  us  how  dull  she  had  found  it  living  in 
the  country,  and  how  difficult  to  get  acclimatized  at 
first. 

"  But  in  the  end,  the  country  rubs  off  on  one," 
she  sighed,  "  and  a  good  thing  too.  Oh,  the  mis- 
takes I  made  at  first !  You  know  that  Peter  and 
I  have  both  been  staying  with  the  dear  Bishop  of 
Guyzance." 

"  Oh,  Christina,  you  have  changed !  "  said  I. 

"  I  know,  dear,  three  services  on  Sunday  and  a 
shilling  for  the  offertory.  So  different  from  Newton 
Hall  and  Farm  Street.  As  I  was  saying,  I  came 
back  from  Lale  Castle  the  day  before  yesterday, 
post  haste,  to  hatch  some  chickens " 

"  I  thought  a  hen  did  that  ?  "  ventured  Ariadne. 

"  Right  you  are  !  I  pretended  to  Peter  that  it 
was  an  insane  desire  to  kiss  the  baby,  but  I  was  an 
hour  in  the  house  before  I  even  thought  of  the  child. 
The  hen  was  due  to  hatch  fifteen.  I  interviewed 
her  every  hour,  much  to  her  disgust.  At  last, 
crack  ! — one  came  out " 

"  You  mean  chipped  the  shell,"  said  Ariadne 
primly. 

"  Right  again  !  I  put  it  in  a  basket  by  the 
kitchen  fire,  the  servants  shunted  it  for  dinner,  it 
got  cold,  it  died  in  the  night.  Yesterday  five  more 
happened,  I  popped  them  in  the  mild  oven  for  a 
minute,  just  then  some  one  pinched  my  baby — he 


222          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

screamed,  and  went  on  screaming  like  an  electric- 
bell  gone  wrong.  I  had  to  go  and  look  after  him — 
cook  made  a  blazing  fire,  do  you  see  ? — I  have  only 
saved  five  out  of  that  brood." 

"  How  very  funny  !  "  said  Ariadne,  who  wasn't  a 
bit  amused. 

I  was.  Christina  told  us  of  a  little  hen  Peter  had 
before,  who  had  been  used  to  be  set  to  ducks,  and 
who  had  learned  to  march  them  all  down  to  the 
nearest  pond.  The  first  lot  of  chickens  had  been 
driven  to  a  watery  and  unfamiliar  death. 

"  Would  you  like  to  go  and  be  photographed 
to-morrow  ?  "  she  asked  Ariadne,  and  Ariadne  was 
on  the  qui  vive  at  once.  "  They  all  think  one  an 
unnatural  parent  here,  if  one  doesn't  take  one's 
brood  to  be  perpetuated  at  Oldfort  every  year. 
But  the  trains  there  are  so  awkward  for  us.  I  am 
fighting  the  railway  authorities  tooth  and  nail, 
trying  to  persuade  them  to  put  on  a  slip  carriage. 
They  do  it  for  Keiller  and  his  marmalade,  so  why 
not  for  me  ?  Say  !  I  am  on  the  pony's  neck  ! 
I  am  going  to  put  the  seat  back,  take  the  reins  a 
minute !  " 

Ariadne  didn't  of  course  like  her  giving  them  to 
me,  but  everybody  always  sees  at  once  that  I  am 
the  practical  one. 

When  the  seat  was  arranged  she  went  bubbling  on. 

"  Next  week  is  our  Harvest  Festival  and  School 
feast,  and  Ball  in  the  school-house.  The  gaieties  of 
this  Parish  !  I  haven't  had  tea  with  myself  for  a 
whole  week,  J  am  a  very  hard  worker,  you  don't 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME          223 

know  !  Peter  says  I  lie  awake  at  nights  thinking 
of  stodgy  moral  books  to  recommend  for  the  Village 
Library.  I  recommend  some,  not  all,  of  my  late 
patron's,  your  father's,  works.  The  Vicar  here  is 
a  dear  old  dodderer,  and  was  so  shocked  when  I 
recommended  him  The  Road  to  Rome  /  It's  a  book 
of  travel,  you  know.  We  have  a  young  man  here, 
too,  quite  an  eligible,  he  told  me  so.  He  is  so 
shy,  you  see,  he  says  the  wrong  thing.  I  wonder 
whether  you'll  make  anything  of  him  ?  To  a  flirt, 
all  things  are  possible." 

"  I  am  not  a  flirt — now,"  said  Ariadne. 

She  was  nearly  giving  the  whole  thing  away, 
only  the  pony  bolted,  at  least  Christina  said  it  was 
an  attempt  at  bolting.  "  My  God,  pony  !  "  she  said 
to  it,  and  it  stopped,  shocked  at  her  swearing,  I 
suppose. 

"  And  there's  Simon  Hermyre  in  the  neighbour- 
hood. Henderland  is  not  more  than  ten  miles  off." 

Ariadne  at  once  sat  tight — too  tight.  It  was 
almost  painful,  and  showed  in  her  face  too. 

Just  as  we  were  driving  in  at  the  gate  of  Ratten- 
raw,  Jane  Emerson  Tree  spoke  again,  and  actually 
about  Ariadne's  body. 

"  Any  way,  it's  on  all  crooked,"  she  said,  as  if  she 
was  continuing  the  previous  discussion.  Peter  came 
out  to  meet  us,  and  she  was  lifted  down.  They 
couldn't,  I  suppose,  leave  her  sitting  and  just  put 
her  away  in  the  coach-house  all  night.  That  is 
what  I  should  have  done,  and  cooled  her  hot  blood. 
f?ut  I  saw  how  it  was  when  we  got  in  and 


224          THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

having  tea.  She  had  hers  "  laced  " — I  mean  brandy 
in  it.  Peter  is  awfully  proud  of  her  and  thinks  she 
will  be  a  great  actress  and  astonish  the  world  some 
day.  She  certainly  mimicked  Peter  to  his  face.  I 
will  let  her  know  if  I  catch  her  mimicking  Ariadne  ! 
Peter  enjoyed  it.  The  moment  a  child  is  really 
rude,  people  think  it  is  going  to  do  great  things.  I 
have  noticed  that.  Now  I  would  no  sooner  think 
of  criticizing  a  grown-up  person's  things  to  her  face 
as  I  would  of — kissing  Emerson  Tree's  very  ugly 
mug,  though  I  wouldn't  tell  her  so,  otherwise  than 
by  my  reluctance  to  embrace  her.  Peter  calls  her 
"  the  little  witch." 

"  The  little  witch,"  he  says,  "  was  being  neglected, 
or  thought  she  was,  at  lunch  the  other  day,  and  in 
a  trice  she  called  out  to  the  butler,  '  I  say,  Holmes, 
old  man,  look  alive  with  those  potatoes,  will  you  t ' 
You  should  have  seen  the  old  boy's  face  !  " 

I  did  see  the  old  boy's  face.  He  was  waiting  at 
tea. 

Christina  told  us  stories  about  her  all  tea-time  ; 
she  listened  quietly  as  she  munched  buns.  How 
when  she  saw  the  new  baby  she  said,  "  Dash  it  all ! 
why  it's  bald  !  "  How  one  rainy  day  she  was  lost, 
and  they  found  her  with  six  of  her  village  friends 
walking  in  a  straight  line  down  to  the  pond,  bare- 
footed and  bareheaded  and  their  mouths  open, 
quacking,  and  to  catch  the  rain-drops  like  ducks  do. 
How  she  has  done  all  the  absurd  things  children 
do  in  books,  such  as  aspinalling  the  cat — as  if  a  cat 
ever  stayed  to  be  aspinalled  ! — and  gunpowder  into 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          225 

ovens,  and  frogs  into  boots,  and  hedgehogs  into 
beds.  (She  says  so,  but  I  believe  she  put  the  clothes- 
brush,  and  Peter  mistook  it  with  his  feet  in  the 
dark  !)  And  once  when  a  noted  Socialist  man  had 
been  staying  there  and  rashly  talked  before  her,  she 
had  given  away  the  furniture. 

"  She  went  solemnly  down  the  village,"  said 
Christina,  "  making  presents  of  the  unearned  in- 
crement in  the  shape  of  things  she  didn't  want  and 
I  did.  Missing  tensions  of  sewing-machines  and 
valves  of  cycles  and  stray  door-knobs  and  other 
bits  of  rolling  stock — all  disappeared.  When  it 
came  to  the  spare  sugar-tongs  and  my  best  silver 
scissors,  however,  I  had  to  scold  her.  Oh,  she'll  be 
a  great  actress  some  day." 

We  listened,  and  I  am  sure  no  one  could  tell  from 
my  face  how  I  disapproved  ojf  it  all, — unless  Duse 
the  second,  who,  after  all,  was  a  child  too,  twigged 
how  ridiculous  they  were  making  her  look  ?  Any- 
how, after  she  had  made  three  usual  scenes  and  one 
extraordinary  one  because  we  were  there,  and  had 
been  noisily  taken  off  to  bed,  they  left  off  discussing 
her  and  took  up  a  perfectly  safe  subject ;  "  shoots  " 
and  who  to  have.  Christina  teases,  she  always  did, 
even  in  the  days  when  she  used  to  put  us  head  first 
down  rabbit-holes. 

"  Has  he  a  wife  ?  "  she  asks,  whenever  Peter 
proposes  a  man. 

"  My  dear,  I  haven't  the  slightest  idea.  All  I 
know  is  he  is  a  capital  shot,  and  brings  down  his 
pheasants  in  good  style  !  " 

Q 


226          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

"  These  good  shots  bring  down  such  bad  wives — 
I  mean  from  the  house-party  point  of  view,"  she 
says.  "  To  look  at  their  choice,  they  would  always 
seem  to  have  fired  recklessly  into  the  brown  and  got 
pot  luck.  You  see  I  am  boxed  up  with  your  friends' 
bad  shots  all  day.  I  can't  possibly  make  my  house- 
wifely duties  last  all  the  morning,  and  I  object  to 
have  Jane  brought  down  in  her  best  frock  and  her 
worst  behaviour  to  make  sport  for  idle  women.  And 
she  hates  grown-up  ladies,  and  has  the  wit  to  come 
in  with  segments  of  the  Wanny  Crag  on  her  boots 
and  her  hair  full  of  straws,  so  as  to  be  sent  out  of 
the  drawing-room  to  '  muck  herself  up.' ' 
"  I  don't  like  that  phrase,  Christina  !  " 
"  Don't  be  so  aggressively  pure,  Peter  t  " 
Ariadne  and  I  have  called  him  "  Pure  Peter  " 
ever  since,  but  he  is  not  bad,  really.  It  is  a  mercy 
when  one's  friends  show  a  little  consideration  in 
their  marriage,  and  one  mustn't  be  too  particular,  for 
the  world  is  full  of  bounders  one  might  have  got, 
and  had  to  be  civil  to.  Peter  Ball  talks  about 
"  Vickings  "  and  keeps  a  chart  of  the  weather,  but 
except  for  fussy  ways  like  that,  he  is  quite  a 
gentleman. 


CHAPTER    XVII 

ARIADNE  got  fatter  at  Rattenraw,  which  is 
humiliating  enough  to  a  girl  in  her  position.  I 
can't  say  that  she  kept  that  up  at  all  well,  beyond 
looking  sad,  sometimes  when  she  wasn't  thinking, 
or  at  meals.  She  has  to  pretend  to  be  distraite, 
for  really  she  is  very  all  there,  and  likes  her  dinner. 
Peter  Ball,  carving  the  roast  red  beef,  holds  his 
knife  up  in  the  air  to  tease  her,  and  says  to  her, 
when  she  won't  answer  his  question  whether  she 
wants  some  more  ? — "  Thinking  of  the  old  'un, 
what  ?  "  He  doesn't  know  how  near  the  truth  he 
is,  except  in  age.  He  knows  nothing  of  Ariadne's 
affairs,  he  prefers  not  to  know,  but  takes  her  word 
for  it  that  she  has  a  secret  sorrow  connected  with  a 
member  of  his  sex. 

Jane  Emerson  Tree  doesn't  take  any  notice  of 
Ariadne  or  of  me  either  ;  she  is  put  out  at  not  being 
allowed  to  say  rude  things  about  us.  She  is  a  free- 
born  American  citizen.  Christina  has  made  Ariadne 
rip  the  leather  patch  off  the  shoulder  of  the  waist 
Jane  Emerson  objected  to, and  has  lent  her  a  common 
straw  sailor  hat,  which  suits  her  better  than  the 
billycock.  A  sailor  hat,  you  see,  isn't  a  hat,  it  is 
a  tile,  and  so  can't  either  become  or  unbecome. 

227 


228          THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

Simon  Hermyre  might  have  been  at  Henderland, 
or  at  Lord  Manham's,  or  at  Barsom,  Sir  Edward 
Fynes'   place  ;  neither  places  are  more  than   ten 
miles  or  so  off ;  but  he  made  no  sign,  nor  did  he 
answer  a  letter  Christina  wrote  to  him,  so  Ariadne 
was  practically  forced  to  flirt  with  the  only  other 
man  of  her  own  rank  in  the  village,  besides  Peter. 
He  is  the  Squire  of  Rattenraw,  and  lives  in  the  old 
Hall,  and  plays  the  fiddle,  and  keeps  only  one  servant. 
Yet  he  came  in  before  the  Conquest.    That  is  what 
becomes  of  all  our  old  families.     He  isn't  old,  but 
very  wrinkled.     That  comes  of  so  frequently  meeting 
the  wind  and  exposure.     His  corduroy  velvet  coat 
and  his  skin  are  much  of  a  muchness.     He  is  shy 
and  wild,  as  Peter  remarked  of  the  grouse  this  year. 
As  I  said,  he  is  all  there  is,  here,  till  Christina's 
"  shoots  "  come  off,  and  Ariadne  egged  him  on — the 
amount  of  egging  on  a  shy  man  takes  ! — to  ask  her, 
and  then  accepted  to  go  out  fishing  with  him.     She 
sat  all  the  afternoon  on  a  bank  near  by,  in  a  biting 
North-west  wind  straight  down  from  the  Wanny 
Crags,  that  blew  the  egg   off  the  sandwiches  and 
the  froth  off  the  ginger-beer.     He  asked  her  if  she 
felt  chilly  ("  Chilly  !  "  she  thought)  about  sixteen 
times,  and  said  By  Gosh  when  he  didn't  catch  any- 
thing, which  was  frequent,  and  "What  in  thunder's 
got  'em  ?  "  alluding  to  the   trout,  when  at  last  in 
despair  they  packed  up  to  go  home.     Ariadne  got 
back  to  tea  chilled  to  the  bone  and  disappointed  at 
the  heart  to  find  him  so  coarse  without  being  in- 
teresting.    She  thinks  all  local  farmers  and  squires 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME          229 

ought  to  be  like  Mr.  Heathcliff  in  Wuthering  Heights 
and  hide  a  burning  lava  of  passion  under  their 
upper  crust  of  cold  indifference.  Squire  Rochester 
is  good  and  dull.  He  does  admire  Ariadne,  I  dare- 
say, though  I  am  not  up  in  the  country  signs  of 
love,  and  it  seems  the  least  he  could  do  for  a  real 
London  beauty  who  is  good  enough  to  sit  on  a 
sticky  and  muddy  bank  bald  of  grass  and  full  of 
worm-holes,  and  some  of  them  protruding  disgust- 
ingly as  she  said,  for  a  whole  afternoon  watching 
him  not  catching  fish  ! 

He  leaves  vegetable  marrows  and  nosegays  as  big 
as  cabbages  "  for  the  ladies  "  at  the  back-door,  be- 
cause he  is  so  shy.  He  squeezes  all  Christina's 
rings  into  her  hands  whenever  he  meets  her,  but 
these  are  as  much  signs  of  love  for  Christina  as  for 
Ariadne,  and  Peter  Ball  says  Ariadne  must  take 
care  and  not  to  be  like  "  Miss  Baxter  (whoever 
she  was)  who  refused  a  gent  before  he  asked 
her." 

Christina  thinks  he  is  a  bit  attracted,  and  that 
it  is  a  good  thing  for  Ariadne  to  have  a  man  to  play 
with,  in  her  forlorn  condition,  and  that  whatever 
the  Squire  gets,  even  a  hopeless  passion,  that  he 
will  be  able  to  get  over  it.  She  considers  that  men 
have  a  thicker  sort  of  skin  than  women,  and  if  they 
are  unhappy,  can  turn  up  their  shirt-sleeves  and  get 
very  hot  and  throw  it  off.  The  Squire  keeps  lots  of 
cattle  and  is  by  way  of  being  butcher  to  the  village. 
Christina  buys  a  whole  sheep  of  him  sometimes. 
He  has  plenty  of  distractions,  and  she  always  takes 


230          THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

the  side  of  the  woman— esprit  de  corpse,  I  think 
they  call  it.  I  myself  think  there  should  be  the 
same  law  for  men  as  for  women,  and  I  have  a  great 
mind  to  tell  the  Squire  to  save  his  nosegays,  for 
Ariadne  is  in  love  with  Simon.  I  even  threatened 
her  with  this  exposk,  and  she  turned  round  on  me, 
and  said  I  should  be  a  liar,  for  she  wasn't  in  love 
with  Simon.  Then,  I  said,  she  might  as  well  leave 
off  taking  the  biggest  half  of  the  bed  at  night  and 
all  the  looking-glass  in  the  morning  and  first  go 
at  the  bath,  and  other  special  privileges  she  has 
sneaked,  because  she  is  supposed  to  be  unhappy. 
I  am  willing  to  make  every  allowance  for  one  so 
persecuted  by  fate,  but  not  for  a  woman  who  enjoys 
all  the  usual  pleasures  of  her  age  and  sex,  as  if 
nothing  was  the  matter.  Then  she  cried,  and  said 
I  was  unkind,  that  she  wanted  all  the  comfort  she 
could  get,  and  went  off  fishing  with  the  Squire  to 
spite  me,  that  very  afternoon  !  What  can  one  do 
with  a  weathercock  like  that ! 

Then  Church  decorating  came  on,  and  Ariadne 
could  do  without  the  Squire.  We  worked  all  day, 
and  in  the  evening  we  doctored  our  cuts  and  the 
places  where  the  Lord  had  let  us  get  bruised  and 
scratched  in  smartening  up  His  Church  for  His  Har- 
vest Festival.  Ariadne  had  a  big  brown  bruise 
done  by  a  jagged  pew  on  her  upper  leg  shaped  like 
a  tortoise,  and  so  we  called  it,  so  to  be  able  to  allude 
to  it  at  all  times  and  seasons. 

At  lunch,  Christina  used  to  ask  Ariadne  how  her 
tortoise  was,  and  Ariadne  answered  demurely  that 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          231 

it  was  getting  a  nice  pea-green,  or  a  good  strong 
blue,  till  Peter  and  the  Squire  were  so  much  puzzled, 
that  they  teased  Ariadne  till  she  let  it  out,  and  then 
Peter  teased  her  worse  than  ever. 

Two  local  ladies  hindered  us  at  decoration  and 
we  could  not  get  rid  of  them,  as  they  had  pulled 
their  gardens  about  to  give  us  flowers.  But  we  had 
to  make  a  rule  that  we  wouldn't  allow  gentlemen  in 
the  church  during  decorations.  It  upset  Miss  Weeks 
so  that  she  hammered  her  fingers  instead  of  the 
nails,  and  put  flowers  into  the  men's  button-holes 
instead  of  threading  them  into  the  altar-rails,  in  fits 
of  absence.  Miss  Day,  the  other  young  lady,  agreed 
with  Christina  that  one  must  really  keep  a  firm  hand 
on  Miss  Weeks,  and  that  she  herself  didn't  care  for 
so  many  men-folk  about,  talking  their  nonsense,  and 
interfering  with  steady  work,  but  she  was  sorry, 
her  sailor  cousin  had  just  come  home  and  she  reely 
could  not  spare  more  than  half-an-hour  every  other 
day  away  from  him  !  We  were  only  decorating  for 
three  days. 

During  the  half-hour  she  did  come,  however,  she 
and  Miss  Weeks  got  on  very  badly,  finding  they 
could  not  work  together,  and  they  had  it  out  in  the 
middle  aisle  every  five  minutes  or  so.  Christina 
and  Ariadne  had  taken  the  chancel,  while  these  two 
were  responsible  for  the  font,  so  we  did  not  get 
mixed  up  so  very  much.  But  when  Miss  Weeks 
boxed  Miss  Day's  ears  with  a  Scarborough  lily,  and 
Miss  Day  retorted  with  a  double  dahlia,  the  Vicar 
interposed,  and  ordered  them  out  of  his  church 


232          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

just  as  the  cook  orders  me  out  of  her  kitchen, 
and  it  is  about  as  much  their  own,  in  either 
case. 

Then  we  had  some  peace,  and  the  Vicar  used  to 
come  himself  (he  has  no  wife),  and  worked  very 
hard  at  handing  flowers  to  Ariadne,  who  did  not 
look  half  bad  on  top  of  a  ladder,  a  little  weak  and 
tottery,  so  that  she  had  to  be  steadied  by  a  strong 
hand  now  and  then. 

At  home  there  was  cooking  to  be  done,  cakes  and 
pies  and  things  for  the  village  ball  and  tea-treat. 
We  both  cooked.  Christina  says  there  is  a  want  of 
concentration  about  us,  and  that  the  trail  of  the 
flour-bin  is  all  over  her  best  chairs.  She  says  it 
to  callers  to  amuse  them  and  to  make  them  think 
her  witty.  Though  really,  Ariadne's  untidiness  is 
trying.  We  find  baking-powder  in  our  workboxes, 
and  currants  as  book-markers,  and  butter — well, 
everywhere  but  in  the  butter-dish  !  Ariadne  goes 
about  with  white  hair,  and  Peter  Ball  complains 
that  the  door-handles  are  sticky.  He  says  that 
Ariadne's  cakes,  when  made,  will  form  a  capital 
hunting  lunch,  sustaining  if  eaten,  and  capable  of 
breaking  the  nastiest  fall. 

Christina's  cook  (cooks  are  the  same,  I  see,  all 
over  the  world !)  gave  her  annual  notice  which  is 
never  taken  any  notice  of,  just  before  the  Festival, 
when  all  the  servants  are  so  overworked  that  they 
get  fractious.  Luckily  this  time  something  hap- 
pened to  put  them  in  a  tearing  good  temper  again. 
Farmer  Dale  died,  and  Christina  blessed  him  for 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          233 

giving  us  a  good  funeral  to  cheer  the  household  up 
a  bit.  So  the  status  was  preserved. 

On  the  Sunday  morning,  of  course,  we  all  at- 
tended Divine  Service.  Peter  Ball  came  too  and  read 
the  lessons.  He  is  called  one  of  the  pillars  of  the 
church.  He  once  spoke  to  some  men  who  were 
lounging  about  outside  while  the  service  was  pro- 
ceeding, and  told  them  that  'he  looked  to  them  to 
be  pillars  too.  They  sniggered,  because  they  felt 
ashamed,  and  one  of  them  said,  "  Ay,  Sir,  but 
aren't  we  men  the  buttresses  a-leaning  up  against 
it  and  propping  it  up  like  ?  "  Peter  was  only 
shocked. 

We  workers  could  not  attend  much  on  this  par- 
ticular occasion,  any  more  than  a  cook  can  enjoy 
the  dinner  she  has  cooked.  We  could  not  take  our 
eyes  off  our  own  special  rail  that  we  had  wreathed, 
and  kept  hoping  our  flowers  wouldn't  topple  sud- 
denly because  we  hadn't  tied  them  securely  enough, 
or  wilt  during  the  sermon.  I  noticed  a  curious  sort 
of  doll,  standing  on  the  altar-steps,  dressed  in  three 
tissue-paper  flounces  and  a  sash.  As  we  came  out 
I  asked  old  John  Peacock  what  it  was,  and  he  said, 
"  Why,  that  wor  t'  Kern  babby  !  "  I  was  no  wiser. 
But  Ariadne,  who  dotes  on  superstitions,  said  she 
would  ask  the  Vicar.  She  wrote  him  a  pretty  note 
in  her  all  backwards  hand,  and  said  she  felt  sure 
the  doll  on  the  altar-steps  was  a  heathen  survival 
of  some  sort.  This  was  his  answer ;  he  was 
pleased. 


234          THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

"  MY  DEAR  Miss  VERO-TAYLOR, 

"  Your  interest  in  the  study  of  folk-lore  is 
highly  commendable  in  one  so  young.  The  little 
mannikin — or  rather  womankin — is,  as  you  aptly 
conjecture,  a  remnant  of  a  custom  dating  from  a 
period  of  the  very  remotest  antiquity.  In  our 
Northumbrian  villages  it  is  the  custom,  the  moment 
the  sickle  is  laid  down,  for  the  villagers  to  dress  the 
last  sheaf  in  tawdry  finery  and  carry  it  through  the 
streets,  finally  when  it  presides  at  the  Harvest,  or 
Mell  Supper,  and  the  people  dance  round  it  singing  : 

*  Blest  be  the  day  that  Christ  was  born  ! 
We've  getten  Mell  of  Balfs  corn  ! 
It's  well  bun'  and  better  shorn  ! 
Hip  1  Hip  !  Hurray  ! ' 

"  This  custom  was  found,  however,  so  pre vocative 
of  disorderly  scenes  that  my  revered  predecessor 
here  decreed  that  in  future  the  Mell  Doll  (or  Kern 
baby)  should  be  simply  placed  on  the  altar-steps 
during  Divine  Service.  Is  it  not  wonderful  to  re- 
flect that  this  grotesque  image  prefigures  no  less  a 
personage  than  Ceres,  the  goddess  of  plenty,  the 
Frigga  of  the  Teutons,  sometimes  called  Freia, 
Frey,  conf .  Grimm's  Teutonic  Mythology,  passim — " 

"  Oh  yes,  pass  him,  pass  him  !  "  said  Peter  im- 
patiently, who  won't  however  let  any  one  else  make 
fun  of  the  church,  and  scolded  Christina  for  saying, 
"  Rather  a  come-down  for  a  goddess,  wasn't  it  ?  " 
"  Well,"  she  remarked  to  Ariadne  later  on,  "  you 
had  better  be  getting  up  your  mythology  "  (meaning 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME          235 

the  Bible,  only  Peter  didn't  twig  anything  so  wrapped 
up  as  this),  ''because you  will  be  sure  to  be  subpoena'd 
to  take  a  class  in  the  Sunday  school  after  you  have 
fished  for  it.  Nemo  Dodd  impune  lacessit !  " 

"  Can't  Dodd  lace  his  boots  with  impunity  ?  " 
I  asked  Peter.  I  knew  it  wasn't  that,  any  more 
than  Res  angusta  domi  means  "  Please  to  keep 
Augusta  at  home,"  and  some  others  like  that  I  have 
made. 

Sure  enough,  Mr.  Dodd  made  Ariadne  take  a 
class  in  his  Sunday  school,  and  Christina  chuckled. 
It  is  the  price  of  Mr.  Dodd's  admiration,  and  he 
admired  Ariadne  very  much.  She  is  not  really 
any  happier  for  it,  rather  bored  by  it  in  fact.  She 
spent  three  whole  days  getting  up  Sacred  History 
for  fear  the  school  children,  who  have  of  course  been 
properly  brought  up  and  grounded,  should  floor 
her,  a  poor  feckless  literary  man's  daughter.  Peter 
Ball  gave  her  a  little  arithmetic.  She  got  as  far  as 
Proportion  with  him.  There  was  one  sum  about 
how  many  men  it  would  take  to  build  a  wall  of  so 
many  feet  in  so  many  hours.  If  it  was  Inverse 
Proportion,  which  it  might  be,  and  then  again  it 
mightn't,  you  put  the  men  under  the  wall  and 
divide  by  the  hours ;  as  many  of  them  as  are  left 
after  such  treatment  is  the  answer.  It  came, 
stupidly  enough,  two-and-a-half,  so  I  suggested  to 
Ariadne,  as  I  was  helping  her,  to  put  Two  men  and 
a  boy.  Peter  said  she  didn't  repay  teaching,  and 
saw  nothing  to  laugh  at,  though  his  wife  seemed  to. 

Then  Ariadne  started  an  essay  club  with  prizes. 


236          THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

The  Squire  bought  those  for  her  in  Moipeth  when 
he  went  in  to  sell  pelts  and  hides.  Fancy  touching 
his  hand  after  that !  They  were  bits  of  his  poor 
beasts  that  he  had  killed!  Billy  Scott's  short  essay 
on  the  elephant,  "  an  animal  with  a  leg  at  each 
corner  and  a  tail  at  both  ends"  was  funny  ;  and 
Sally  Moscrop's  description  of  "  any  animal  she 
liked  to  choose"  She  invented  "  The  Proc"  a  beast 
with  four  legs,  "  two  of  whom  are  bigger  and  longer 
than  the  others,  for  the  Proc  lives  all  around  a  hill" 
Grace  Paterson's  essay  was  quite  long.  "  The  Pin  is 
an  exceedingly  useful  article.  It  has  saved  the  lives 
of  many  men,  many  women  and  many  children  by  not 
swatter  ing  of  them" 

Grace  is  fourteen  and  the  beauty  of  the  village. 
She  has  begun  a  tale  in  ten  chapters.  She  has  to 
write  it  up  in  the  apple-tree,  for  fear  her  father 
should  "  warm  "  her. 

She  and  Ariadne  were  the  two  belles  of  the  Ball 
in  the  Parish  Room  on  Monday  evening.  They 
both  danced  with  the  Squire,  who  said  he  was  in 
luck  to  get  two  literary  ladies  to  dance  with  him 
on  the  same  night.  But  Ariadne  walked  home  with 
him,  and  I  went  with  Christina.  Mr.  Rochester  had 
one  of  his  own  roses  Ariadne  had  given  him  back, 
in  his  button-hole.  She  is  so  unhappy  about  Simon 
that  she  doesn't  care  who  proposes  to  her.  That  is 
the  way  girls  take  it — a  very  selfish  way,  but  they  are 
selfish  all  through  when  they  are  in  love.  Ariadne 
actually  thinks  the  Squire  thinks  he  proposed  to  her 
going  home  that  night.  I  don't.  It  was  pitch  dark 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          237 

as  we  went  home,  the  village  is  not  lighted,  and  it 
is  a  very  wicked  village.  She  says,  long  arms  like 
tentacles  came  groping  out  from  the  wall  in  the 
dark,  and  the  Squire  dragged  her  past  them.  As 
the  village  young  men  couldn't  see,  they  thought 
her  one  of  their  own  sweethearts,  for  by  then  the 
party  had  broken  up  and  was  all  over  the  place. 
The  chucker-out  had  been  very  much  occupied  and 
had  found  the  brook  near  the  school-house  door  very 
handy. 

But  I  don't  myself  think  the  Squire  did  propose. 
He  offered  to  take  care  of  her,  past  the  tentacles, 
but  not  for  life.  I  think  if  a  girl  is  always  dreading 
proposals  and  thinking  of  how  men  will  feel  it  when 
refused,  proposals  never  come  to  them.  That  is 
what  Christina  said,  and  that  Peter  Ball  took  her 
entirely  by  surprise,  when  he  asked  her.  I  knew 
better,  for  I  had  chaperoned  that  affair.  She  says 
Peter  wears  very  well,  and  that  there's  some  gilt 
left  on  the  gingerbread  still.  The  gramophone  is 
still  in  all  its  glory,  and  when  she  was  ill  up-stairs, 
when  Jim  was  born,  Peter  used  to  send  up  a  message 
by  the  nurse  for  her  to  leave  the  door  of  her  room 
open  for  half-an-hour  before  dinner,  and  then  she 
would  hear  it.  The  nurse  always  forbade  it,  but 
Christina  always  insisted  on  it,  to  please  Peter,  and 
lay  with  her  ears  stopped  up  with  sheet  till  the  half- 
hour  was  over.  It  is  a  new  gramophone,  not  the 
one  he  had  in  Leinster  Gardens.  That  shouted  itself 
out,  I  suppose  ?  Christina  found  an  entry  in  his 
old  pocket-book — 


238          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

"  July  19 — a  memorable  year  in  my  life.  I  bought 
a  new  gramophone  and  I  got  married.  I  won't  say 
anything  about  my  wife  herey  but  the  gramophone 
was  a  beauty  when  she  was  new " 

Ariadne  was  disgusted.  She  doesn't  believe 
Simon  would  say  such  a  coarse  thing.  Well,  I  wish 
she  had  some  experience  on  the  subject,  what  Simon 
would  say,  that's  all ! 

When  Simon  did  come  over  to  shoot,  Ariadne 
hardly  spoke  to  him  during  the  three  days  he  was 
here.  No  one  did,  much.  He  is  so  fearfully  eligible 
that  all  the  nice  girls  feel  they  must  snub  him,  and 
he  hardly  gets  a  cup  of  tea.  If  Christina  hadn't 
known  nice  girls  only,  Ariadne  would  have  had  a 
better  chance.  What  is  the  good  of  being  a  nice 
modest  girl  among  other  nice  modest  girls  ?  And 
though  Ariadne  would  not  believe  it,  she  did  badly 
without  her  foil  Lady  Scilly,  who  showed  up  her 
niceness  and  made  Simon  draw  comparisons.  Then 
there  was  another  adverse  circumstance.  The 
Squire  came  and  followed  Ariadne  about  with  his 
eyes,  till  it  really  wasn't  safe  to  sit  in  a  line  with 
them  both.  That  put  Simon  off.  He  is  too  nice 
to  prefer  a  girl  because  another  man  is  making  him- 
self unhappy  about  her. 

Indeed  Simon  looked  most  uncomfortably  serious 
and  even  sad.  He  has  got  his  first  wrinkle  fixed 
between  his  eyebrows.  He  looks  at  Ariadne  often, 
but  in  a  puzzled  sort  of  way,  and  takes  himself  up 
with  a  jerk,  shaking  his  head,  that  the  curls  are  cut 
off  from  too  short  to  waggle. 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          339 

"  He  cares  for  me — yes,  he  cares  desperately," 
said  Ariadne  one  night,  just  as  she  was  arranging 
her  watch  and  her  handkerchief  on  the  chair  beside 
our  bed,  and  his  photograph  under  her  pillow.  I 
have  to  take  that  away  every  morning  lest  the 
housemaid  should  see  it  and  make  fun  of  her. 
Ariadne  forgets.  We  also  arrange  the  strap  of  our 
box  down  the  middle  of  the  bed  so  that  neither  of 
us  should  encroach  in  the  other's  part,  and  all  these 
arrangements  take  time.  Ariadne,  though  she  is 
so  gentle  and  so  in  love,  always  looks  sharply  to 
her  rights,  and  more  than  her  rights,  and  I  generally 
find  myself  lying  on  the  very  rim  of  the  bed.  She 
is  the  eldest,  unfortunately,  and  once  she  took  the 
strap  out  of  the  bed  to  me  when  I  objected. 

"  He  loves  me — oh,  he  does  !  "  she  moaned,  "  only 
he  is  not  free." 

"  He  is  in  the  power  of  a  wicked  witch,  like  the 
one  who  enchanted  Jorinde  and  Joringel  in  Grimm  !  " 
I  said,  and  tried  to  go  to  sleep  and  thought  a  little. 
Lady  Scilly  isn't  old,  like  the  German  witch,  but  I 
remember  what  the  Ollendorff  man  said  to  me  about 
her  being  a  "  fairy,''  and  I  know  there  is  some  con- 
nection between  them.  Fairies  are  those  who  would 
do  harm  if  they  had  the  power  ;  witches  have  the 
power,  but  only  because  they  are  old  and  don't  care 
for  the  things  they  cared  for  when  they  were  young. 
Ariadne  will  never  be  a  fairy  when  she  grows  up, 
she  will  always  be  too  silly,  and  get  put  upon  in 
society,  though  in  private  life  she  is  quite  up  to  her 
rights,  and  talks  as  loud  as  any  one  and  doesn't 


240          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

trouble  to  be  die-away.  Men  never  see  that  side  of 
girls,  mercifully  they  are  able  to  keep  it  out  of  sight 
till  they  are  at  least  married,  and  on  the  pig's  back, 
as  Peter  says.  It  is  the  unromantic  things  they 
are  ashamed  of.  Ariadne  wouldn't  mind  Simon 
knowing  she  had  appendicitis,  but  not  for  worlds 
that  she  had  a  corn  on  her  foot  and  had  to  have  it 
cut,  or  a  chilblain,  and  it  burst. 

Presently  she  woke  up  and  said,  "  Will  any  one 
tell  me  why  a  woman  like  that  should  be  allowed 
to  ruin  his  young  life  ?  " 

"  All  young  men  have  nine  lives  like  a  cat,  there 
will  be  eight  left  for  you  to  ruin,  when  you  get  him 
— but  you  never  will."  I  always  add  this  not  to 
raise  false  hopes.  "  And,  goodness  me,  you  can't 
expect  to  get  a  young  man  all  to  yourself,  as  fresh 
and  shining  as  a  new  pin  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  do  !  "  said  Ariadne  crossly.  "  I  want 
a  safety-pin  even.  I  am  a  new  pin  myself — I  have 
never  loved  anybody  but  Simon,  now  have  I  ?  " 

I  didn't  answer  that,  but  said  I  did  wish  we  might 
turn  over  and  go  to  sleep,  when  Christina  rapped 
on  the  wall  with  a  hairbrush  and  begged  us  to  be 
quiet. 

"  Yes.  All  right !  We  will !  "  I  yelled,  and  I 
certainly  wouldn't  have  said  another  word,  but 
Ariadne  began  again,  five  minutes  later. 

"  Tempe,  why  do  these  wretched  married  women 
— I'd  be  ashamed  to  be  one — always  want  every- 
body at  once  ?  She  has  got  Mr.  Pawky,  and " 

"Mr.  Pawky  is  only  for  money,"  I  said.     I  was 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME          241 

not  going  to  tell  her  about  her  dear  Simon  paying 
Lady  Stilly 's  bills  as  well  as  poor  Pawky. 

"  And  Simon's  for  love,  then — oh  dear  !  And 
George  for  literature.  I  am  prettier  than  her, 
Tempe  ?  Say  I  am — oh  say  I  am,  I  want  to  hear 
you  say  it." 

"  I  won't  say  it.  You  are  far  too  conceited 
already." 

"  That  is  the  same  as  saying  it,"  answered  Ariadne, 
and  got  calmer.  "  And  at  all  events  I  am  real,  and 
that's  more  than  she  can  say.  I  don't  have  to  peel 
off  my  charms  and  put  them  away  in  a  drawer  like 
she  has  to."  (Ariadne  is  able  to  put  her  poems  quite 
in  grammar,  but  I  suppose  she  thinks  it  unnecessary 
to  be  always  at  a  stretch.) 

"  I  don't  believe  realness  counts  at  all  with  young 
men,"  I  said.  "  I  believe  they  really  and  truly 
enjoy  kissing  paint,  and  groping  about  the  floor  for 
pin  curls  when  they've  done,  and  powder  on  their 
shoulders  when  they  go  out  into  the  street  from 
calling." 

"  Goodness  !  "  cried  Ariadne,  almost  shrieking, 
"  you  don't  suppose  Simon  ever  went  as  far  as 

kissing  her  ?     If  I  thought  that,  I'd " 

"  What  ?  " 

"  Never  let  him  kiss  me  again.  He  hasn't  of 
course,  yet  I  Oh,  Tempe,  I  wish  he  had  !  " 

"  There  you  go  !  "  I  cried  out,  sick  of  her  change 
ableness.     "  First  you  want  him  not  to,  then  you 
wish  he  had.     And  the  poor  thing  must  kiss  some- 
body— he's  got   no   mother,   and  kissing  Almeria 


242          THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

would  be  like  kissing  a  cactus  or  cuddling  a  porcu- 
pine. Do  please  keep  to  your  own  part  of  the  bed, 
you  don't  respect  the  strap  a  bit !  I  shall  be  on  the 
floor  in  a  minute.  I'm  lying  right  in  the  hem  of  the 
sheet  now." 

Ariadne  kindly  made  a  little  more  room  for  me 
as  I  was  patiently  listening  to  her,  and  went  on. 

"  Tempe,  I  have  learned  in  three  short  seasons 
some  of  the  bitter  truths  of  so-called  society " 

Just  then,  as  any  one  could  have  foretold  from 
the  noise  we  were  making,  Christina  walked  right 
into  the  room. 

"  Will  you  two  children  be  quiet !  Why  are  you 
crying,  Ariadne  ?  " 

Ariadne  said  she  wasn't  crying,  and  at  the  same 
time  asked  Christina  to  be  good  enough,  as  she  was 
up,  to  get  her  a  clean  pocket-handkerchief  out  of 
the  drawer,  one  of  those  tied  up  with  blue  ribbon, 
not  pink,  for  they  are  larger  and  plainer.  Christina 
got  it  and  then  came  and  sat  on  my  foot,  which  she 
could  scarcely  help  doing,  as  I  was  only  just  but 
tumbling  out  of  the  bed  altogether.  She  was  ex- 
ceedingly nice  and  sympathetic  and  agreed  that 
Lady  Scilly  ought  to  put  Simon  back,  for  he  was  too 
little  a  fish  for  her  to  hook,  being  only  twenty-four 
and  she  thirty-eight.  She  assured  Ariadne,  much 
as  Mother  used  to  assure  me,  that  there  were  no 
ghosts — then  if  there  aren't,  what  are  the  white 
things  one  sees  hanging  about  the  doors  of  rooms  ? — 
that  Simon  didn't  really  care  for  an  old  thing  like 
that,  and  that  if  he  did,  her  attraction  must  natur- 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          243 

ally  wear  out  in  the  course  of  ages,  and  that  Simon 
wouldn't  be  so  very  old  by  the  time  that  happened, 
and  would  know  a  nice  girl  when  he  saw  one,  with 
his  unjaundiced  eyes. 

She  also  thought  Ariadne  should  not  put  upon 
me  so,  and  should  give  me  a  bigger  piece  of 
bed. 

I  was  thinking  all  the  time  she  was  talking  of 
George,  and  how  Mother  too  as  well  as  Ariadne  was 
unhappy  because  of  this  evil  fairy.  I  wished  the 
Scilly  motor-car  might  upset  and  spoil  Lady  Scilly 
a  little  sooner,  and  that  Simon  mightn't  be  in  it 
when  that  happened. 

When  Christina  had  tucked  me  in,  and  kissed  us, 
and  gone  away,  I  made  Ariadne  make  me  a  solemn 
promise  that  come  what  would,  if  she  were  ever 
married  to  Simon  Hermyre,  or  indeed  to  any  one  else, 
that  she  would  let  all  the  others  alone  and  not 
poach  ;  for  even  if  a  young  man  seems  unattached, 
you  may  be  pretty  sure  there's  a  girl  worrying  about 
him  somewhere  in  the  background.  One  woman, 
one  man  !  That's  my  motto,  and  indeed  a  woman 
now-a-days  is  lucky  if  she  gets  a  whole  man  to  her- 
self as  Christina  has  Peter,  and  well  she  knows 
when  she  is  well  off,  and  only  laughs  when  her  Peter 
says,  as  he  did  at  breakfast,  when  she  offered  him 
Quaker  Oats,  "  Woman,  haven't  you  learnt  that 
my  constitution  clashes  with  cereals  ?  " 

Ariadne  woke  up  with  a  plan,  and  after  Simon 
had  gone  back  to  his  friends  at  Henderland  without 
proposing,  and  a  hearty  breakfast,  we  went  out 


244          THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

into  the  village  and  bought  sixpenny-worth  of  bees- 
wax, and  pinched  it  into  the  shape  of  a  skinny 
woman  like  Lady  Scilly  as  near  as  we  could.  Then 
we  laid  it  in  a  drawer  on  one  of  Ariadne's  best  silk 
ties,  and  we  stuck  a  pin  into  it  every  day.  I  don't 
know  if  it  did  Lady  Scilly  any  harm,  but  it  did 
Ariadne  a  great  deal  of  good.  She  looked  down  the 
columns  of  the  Morning  Post  every  day  to  see  if 
Lady  Scilly  was  ill,  or  perhaps  even  dead  ?  When 
we  left  Rattenraw  she  gave  the  waxen  image  to 
Christina,  and  asked  her  to  be  good  enough  to 
finish  up  the  boxful  of  best  short  whites  on  it. 
Christina  promised  faithfully  that  she  would,  and 
said  that  we  might  rely  on  her,  as  she  had  a  little 
private  spite  of  her  own  to  work  off  on  that  lady. 
I  knew  what  it  was,  *'.  e.  Lady  Scilly's  having 
tried  to  flirt  with  Peter,  or  at  least  Christina  thinks 
that  she  did.  Wives  always  think  that  only  let 
them  get  into  the  same  room  with  them,  other 
women  make  a  bee-line  for  their  own  particular 
dull  husbands  !  Christina  is  nice,  but  she  is  just 
like  another  wife  when  it  comes  to  preserving 
Peter. 

The  Squire  saw  us  off,  with  an  enormous  bouquet, 
that  we  put  under  the  seat,  having  started,  and 
forgot.  So  did  Ariadne  forget  the  Squire.  One  can 
only  hope  that  after  a  decent  interval  he  will  marry 
Grace  Paterson. 

She  is  a  substantial  farmer's  daughter,  in  spite  of 
her  thinking  she  can  write.  But  she  can  wring  a 
fowl's  neck,  and  make  butter,  two  things  that  Ariadne 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          245 

never  would  be  able  to  do,  the  one  from  disgust  and 
the  other  from  native  incompetence  and  a  hot  hand. 
As  regards  the  Squire's  position,  Grace  is  very  nearly 
a  lady,  and  he  is  very  nearly  not  a  gentleman,  so  it 
ought  to  turn  out  all  right. 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

LADY  SCILLY  has  had  three  nervous  chills  this 
autumn,  and  one  motor  spill  and  a  half,  so  I  think 
that  the  sixpence  was  well  spent  on  beeswax.  Chris- 
tina in  her  letter  to  us  said  that  she  had  stuck  the 
figure  so  full  of  pins  that  it  had  fallen  apart,  where- 
upon she  had  consumed  the  bits  before  a  slow  fire, 
muttering  incantations  the  while.  I  asked  her  what 
she  did  say,  afterwards,  and  she  said  that  "  Devil ! 
Devil !  Devil !  "  repeated  quite  steadily  till  it  melted, 
seemed  all  that  was  necessary,  and  that  the  simplest, 
strongest  incantations  were  the  best. 

Simon  Hermyre  comes  here  very  often  to  call  on 
Mother,  whom  he  likes,  if  possible,  better  than 
Ariadne.  He  says  that  she  is  like  Cigarette  in  a 
novel  of  Ouida's.  I  believe  Cigarette  was  a 
Vivandiere.  I  suppose  it  is  Mother's  neat  figure 
makes  him  think  of  her  as  Cigarette.  Simon  adores 
Ouida,  and  Dore  is  his  favourite  artist.  He  has 
"  that  beautiful  Pilate's  wife's  Dream  "  hung  over 
his  bed  at  home,  he  says.  I  always  think  it  looks 
like  a  woman  going  down  into  her  own  coal-cellar 
and  awfully  afraid  of  beetles  ! 

Christina  came  on  to  us  for  a  few  days  after  stay- 
246 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          247 

ing  with  her  mother-in-law,  and  brought  her  sewing- 
machine,  The  Little  Wanzer,  and  taught  Ariadne 
and  me  to  manage  that  wretched  tension  of  which 
one  hears  so  much.  She  nearly  lockstitched  one 
of  my  ears  to  the  table,  as  I  was  learning  with  all 
my  might,  but  it  was  worth  it,  and  to  Ariadne  it 
was  an  advent. 

Up  to  now,  she  has  always  thought  she  looked 
very  nice  in  her  bags  with  holes  in  them  for  the  arms, 
and  her  twenty  necklaces  on  at  once,  and  her  un- 
describable  colours.  Beautiful  colours  never  seem 
to  look  quite  clean,  do  you  know  ?  It  is  all  very 
well  for  George,  he  is  an  author  and  not  young,  but 
young  men  like  you  to  look  fresh,  and  well-groomed, 
and  above  all  to  have  a  waist.  Now  a  waist  is  not 
even  allowed  to  be  mentioned  in  our  house.  Mother 
left  off  hers,  and  her  ear-rings  too,  at  George's  re- 
quest, when  she  married  him,  and  as  she  never  goes 
anywhere,  she  does  not  feel  the  want  of  them,  but 
even  when  Ariadne  was  seventeen,  Elizabeth  Caw- 
thorne  said  that  it  was  time  that  she  began  to  see 
about  making  herself  a  waist,  and  although  George 
laughed  Ariadne  to  death  about  it  when  she  told 
him  what  the  cook  had  said,  yet  it  sank  in,  and  I 
used  to  wake  up  in  the  grey  winter  mornings  and 
find  Ariadne  sitting  up  in  bed  like  a  new  sort  of 
Penelope  taking  tucks  in  her  stays,  which  Mother 
made  her  take  out  again  in  the  daytime,  knowing 
how  George  would  disapprove  of  it. 

Ariadne  managed  to  "  sneak  "  a  waist,  and  George 
never  noticed.     That  is  the  odd  part  of  it ;  we  all 


248          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

think  that  that  inch  more  or  less  makes  such  a 
difference,  and  we  may  be  panting  with  uncom- 
fortableness  all  the  time,  and  to  the  outward  eye 
look  as  thick  as  ever  ! 

Ariadne's  figure  is  not  her  best  point.  Her  hair  is. 
It  is  well  to  find  out  one's  best  points  early  in  life 
and  stick  to  them,  as  they  say  of  friends.  Ariadne 
trains  hers  day  and  night  in  the  way  it  should  go, 
but  doesn't  want.  I  wonder  it  stands  it,  and  doesn't 
come  out  in  self-defence  !  It  is  what  they  call 
Burne- Jones  hair,  like  cocoanut  fibre,  /  think,  but 
Papa's  friends  admire  it,  and  she  gets  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  a  beauty  on  it  in  our  set. 

But  in  Lady  Scilly's  set,  that  is  Simon's  set  more 
or  less,  they  think  her  a  pretty  girl,  badly  turned 
out! 

"  Ah,  you  are  your  father's  daughter,  I  see ! " 
Christina  said  at  once  to  her,  when  she  caught  her 
sewing  a  black  boot-button  on  to  her  nightgown, 
because  she  couldn't  find  a  white  one.  I  did  not 
mention  that  I  myself  had  begun  to  sew  one  of 
Ariadne's  iron  pills  on  to  my  shoe,  and  only  stopped 
because  it  didn't  seem  to  have  any  shank.  But  I 
was  saying,  we  have  all  the  trouble  in  the  world  to 
tidy  up  Ariadne  before  she  goes  down  to  the  drawing- 
room  to  receive  Simon  when  he  calls.  Ariadne 
comes  out  of  her  room  half-dressed,  and  somebody 
catches  her  on  the  landing  and  buttons  her  frock, 
and  perhaps  the  housemaid  on  the  next  floor  points 
out  to  her  that  she  hasn't  got  on  any  waistband, 
and  another  in  the  hall  sticks  a  pin  in  somewhere, 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          249 

that  shines  in  the  sun,  when  she  gets  into  the  drawing- 
room,  and  Simon  puts  his  head  on  one  side  and 
looks  at  it  fixedly. 

"  DJgagee,  as  usual !  "  he  says  in  his  bad  French 
accent,  and  yet  he  was  two  years  at  a  crammer's  to 
get  him  into  the  Foreign  Office,  and  one  in  Germany 
to  get  polish,  all  before  we  knew  him.  He  has  got 
something  better  than  polish,  I  think,  and  that  is 
breeding.  He  is  not  the  least  shop-walkerish,  and 
yet  they  have  the  best  manners  in  the  world.  Simon 
says  the  most  awful  things,  rude  things,  natural 
things,  but  how  can  one  be  angry  with  him,  when 
he  says  them  with  his  head  on  one  side  ?  Not 
Ariadne,  certainly,  and  yet  she  can't  stand  chaff 
as  a  general  thing.  Peter  Ball  could  make  her 
cry  by  crooking  his  little  finger  at  her. 

Simon  has  curly  hair — not  at  all  neat — which  he 
can  neither  help  nor  disguise,  though  he  forces 
Truefitt  to  shingle  it  like  a  convict's  so  as  to  get  rid 
of  the  curly  ends,  which  are  his  greatest  beauty, 
in  mine  and  Ariadne's  estimation.  "  Can't  help 
it.  Couldn't  bear  to  look  like  one  of  those 
chaps." 

He  means  the  short-cuffed,  long-haired,  weepy- 
eyed  men  he  meets  here  sometimes  ;  not  so  often 
as  before  though,  for  George  is  revising  his  visiting- 
list.  Ariadne  hates  them  too,  she  hates  everything 
artistic  now.  She  can't  bear  our  ridiculous  house, 
all  entrances  and  vestibules,  and  no  bedrooms  and 
boudoirs  to  speak  of.  She  laughs  at  the  people  who 
come  to  describe  it  and  photograph  it  for  the  Art 


250          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

papers,  and  wonders  if  they  have  any  idea  how 
uncomfortable  it  is  inside,  and  how  different  from 
Highsam  that  Simon  is  always  telling  her  about. 
As  for  Simon,  he  seems  to  think  it  rather  a  disgraceful 
thing  to  get  into  the  papers  at  all,  as  bad  as  getting 
summoned  in  the  police  court.  His  father  won't 
let  Highsam  be  done  for  Rural  Life,  or  lend  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots'  cradle  to  the  New  Gallery.  Mr. 
Frederick  Cook  offered  to  put  Almeria's  portrait 
in  The  Bittern  with  her  prize  bull-dog,  Caspar,  but 
Almeria  wrote  him  such  a  letter,  almost  rude,  giving 
him  her  mind  about  interviewing.  She  has  a  mind 
on  most  subjects  and  never  drifts.  Simon  has 
the  greatest  respect  for  her  views.  On  stable 
matters  certainly,  I  grant  her  that,  but  what  can  a 
country  mouse,  however  high-toned,  know  of  the 
troubles  of  town  ?  Her  father  trusts  her  to  go  to 
Wrexham  and  buy  the  carriage  horses,  for  he  is 
no  judge  of  the  "  festive  gee  "  now,  he  says.  Almeria 
likes  art,  too,  and  buys  up  all  the  Christmas  numbers, 
and  frames  the  pictures  out  of  them  and  hangs  them 
on  the  walls  of  Highsam  Hall.  Simon  has  borrowed 
her  opinions  on  art,  and  dress  too,  and  they  aren't 
the  same  as  Ariadne's. 

"  Great  Scott !  "  he  said  to  Ariadne,  when  she 
came  down  to  see  him  one  afternoon  when  he  called, 
wearing  her  best  new  Medicean  dress  that  George 
had  specially  designed  for  her.  "  If  Almeria  saw 
you  in  that  frock,  with  your  sleeves  tied  up  with 
bootlaces  !  I  do  hope  you  won't  wear  that  absurd 
sort  of  fakement  at  my  Aunt  Meg's  on  the  twenty- 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          251 

fourth  !  If  you  do,  I  swear  I  won't  dance  with 
you  in  it !  " 

Of  course  he  didn't  mean  it  really,  he  would  have 
danced  with  Ariadne  in  her  chemise,  out  of  chivalry 
and  cheek,  but  still  Ariadne  took  it  seriously,  and 
set  to  work  to  quite  alter  her  style  of  dressing  to 
please  Simon.  The  invitations  to  Lady  Islington's 
dance  had  been  sent  out  a  whole  month  in  advance, 
so  you  had  to  accept  D.V.  Ariadne  had  time  to 
take  a  few  lessons  in  scientific  dressmaking,  and 
then  start  on  a  ball-dress.  Christina  and  I  both 
helped  her,  for  we  are  as  keen  on  her  marrying  Simon 
as  she  is,  and  that  is  saying  a  good  deal.  We  want 
her  in  a  county  family,  not  a  Bohemian  one. 

Ariadne  bought  some  grey  and  scarlet  Japanese 
stuff  that  only  cost  ninepence-halfpenny  a  yard  to 
make  her  ball-frock  without  consulting  either  of  us. 
Christina  said  Quern  Deus  vult — and  that  though 
you  might  look  Japanese  for  ninepence-halfpenny  a 
yard,  you  never  could  look  smart.  And  it  was  quite 
true.  Ariadne's  body  was  all  over  the  place,  with 
scientific  seams  meandering  where  they  shouldn't. 
When  it  was  basted  and  tried  on,  she  looked  ex- 
actly like  a  bagpipe  in  it.  We  were  working  in 
the  little  entresol  half-way  up-stairs,  and  though 
there  are  three  Empire  mirrors  in  that  room,  you 
can't  see  yourself  in  any  one  of  them,  so  we  had  to 
tell  her  it  didn't  do,  and  never  would  do. 

"  Take  the  beastly  thing  off  then  !  "  said  Ariadne, 
almost  crying,  and  pitching  the  body  across  the 
room  till  it  lighted  on  Amelia's  head.  (Amelia  is 


252          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

the  dummy,  and  the  only  good  figure  in  the  house.) 
"  I  won't  wear  anything  at  all !  " 

"  And  I  daresay  you  will  look  just  as  nice  like 
that !  "  I  said  to  tease  and  console  her,  but  she 
wouldn't  be,  and  she  left  the  body  clinging  to 
Amelia,  and  began  to  put  on  her  old  blue  bodice 
again,  and  it  was  a  good  thing  she  did,  for  the  door 
opened  and  George  and  Lady  Scilly  came  in. 

"  Dear  me  !  "  Lady  Scilly  said,  in  her  little  drawly 
voice,  that  comes  of  lying  in  bed  late.  "  You  look 
like  Burne- Jones'  Laus  Veneris — '  all  the  maidens, 
sewing,  lily-like  a-row.'  I  persuaded  your  father 
to  bring  me  up  to  have  a  look  at  you.  He  says  you 
are  so  clever,  Ariadne,  and  make  all  your  own 
dresses." 

So  George  had  taken  in  that  fact !  I  always 
thought  he  thought  dresses  grew,  for  he  has  cer- 
tainly never  been  plagued  with  dressmakers'  bills. 

"  The  eternal  feminine,  making  the  garment  that 
expresses  her,"  said  George. 

" Ninepence-halfpenny  isn't  going  to  express  me!" 
Ariadne  said,  under  her  breath.  "It  covers  me,  and 
that's  all !  " 

"  I  always  think,"  George  maundered,  "  that  the 
symbolic  note  struck  in  the  toilette  is  in  the  nature 
of  a  signal,  a  storm-signal  if  you  will,  of  the  prevail- 
ing wind  of  a  woman's  mood.  Her  moods  should  be 
variable.  She  should  be  a  violet  wail  one  day,  a 
peace-offering  in  blue  the  next,  some  mad  scarlet 
incoherent  thing  another — 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  are  going  to  do  all  that 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          253 

on  ninepence-half penny,"  Ariadne  said  again,  for 
George  was  too  busy  listening  to  himself  to  listen  to 
her  impertinence.  "  Why  you  can't  even  get  the 
colour  !  " 

"It  is  every  woman's  duty  to  set  an  example  of 
beautiful  dressing  without  extravagance  !  "  and  he 
looked  at  Lady  Scilly's  pretty  pink  fluffiness.  Paris, 
of  course.  I  hate  Paris,  where  we  never  go. 

"Oh,  this,"  she  said  very  contemptuously, looking 
down  at  it  as  if  it  was  dirt,  as  all  well-dressed 
women  do.  "  This  !  This  cost  nothing  at  all !  I 
have  a  clever  maid,  you  know  ?  " 

"  If  all  the  women  had  clever  maids  that  say  they 
have,"  Christina  whispered  to  me.  "  What  would 
become  of  Camille,  I  wonder  ?  " 

George  continued,  inventing  a  hobby  as  he  went 
on,  "  You  must  never  quit  an  old  dress  merely  be- 
cause it  has  become  unfashionable." 

"  My  dresses  quit  me,"  said  Ariadne,  dipping  her 
elbow  in  the  ink-pot,  so  that  the  hole  in  it  didn't 
show.  "  I'm  jealous  of  the  sofa !  It's  better 
covered  than  me." 

I  believe  Lady  Scilly  noticed  her  do  this,  and 
though  she  is  lazy,  she  is  kind,  and  she  asked 
Ariadne  when  she  intended  to  wear  "  this  creation." 

"  At  Lady  Islington's,"  Ariadne  answered  rather 
sulkily. 

"  Oh  yes,  I  know.  A  Cinderella.  It  is  far  too 
good  for  that  sort  of  romp,  my  dear  child.  I  have 
a  little  thing  at  home  I  could  lend  you  just  to  dance 
in — it  is  too  dttutantish  for  me,  and  I  do  wish  some 


254          THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

one  would  wear  it  for  me.  If  I  send  it  round,  will 
you  try  it  on  ?  And  if  it  will  do,  keep  it,  and  wear 
it  for  my  sake.  When  is  the  dance  ?  " 

"  The  day  after  to-morrow  !  "  I  answered  for 
Ariadne,  who  was  overcome  with  gratitude,  for  she 
knew  what  Lady  Scilly's  little  dresses  were  like. 
Camille's  "  little  "  would  beat  Ariadne's  biggest. 

"  Then  you  shall  have  it  to-morrow,  and  if  you 
can  wear  it,  do  ;  I  shall  be  so  much  obliged." 

Ariadne  said  "  thank  you,"  a  little  ashamed  to 
think  that  Simon  was  coming  to  tea,  and  that  the 
only  reason  she  cared  about  the  dress  was  to  dance 
with  Simon  in  it  ;  but  I  thought  the  settling  of 
Ariadne  in  life,  and  marrying  into  a  county  family, 
was  far  more  important  than  Lady  Scilly's  little 
jealousies,  and  wanting  to  keep  Simon  to  herself, 
when  she  got  so  many,  including  George,  so  I  told 
Lady  Scilly  she  was  a  brick  and  no  mistake,  and  I 
really  thought  so. 

But  Christina  thought  Ariadne  had  better  try  to 
pull  the  first  dress  into  some  sort  of  shape,  so  that 
she  could  wear  it  if  the  other  dress  didn't  come. 
"  Put  not  thy  trust  in  smart  women  !  "  she  said, 
and  as  it  happened,  she  was  right,  for  the  dress 
never  did  ! 

At  five  o'clock  on  the  very  day  of  the  dance,  there 
wasn't  a  sign  of  it,  and  Ariadne  hadn't  let  herself 
worry  over  it,  by  my  and  Christina's  advice.  We 
told  her  that  she  had  better  keep  all  the  looks  she 
had  to  carry  off  the  home-made  dress,  for  it  would 
require  them.  She  didn't  worry,  but  she  was  very 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          255 

angry  with  Lady  Stilly,  and  anger  made  her  eyes 
so  bright,  and  gave  her  such  a  pretty  colour,  that  I 
felt  sure  it  would  be  all  right.  The  dress  wasn't 
so  very  bad  either ;  we  had  given  up  all  attempt  at 
getting  it  to  fit,  and  that  was  better,  for  you  could 
tell  that  Ariadne  had  a  very  nice,  simple  girlish 
figure  underneath.  Elizabeth  Cawthorne  came  up 
to  see  her  "  girl  "  when  she  was  dressed,  she  nearly 
always  does,  and  she  thought  the  dress  sweet. 

"  That'll  get  him,  that'll  get  him,  Miss  Ariadne, 
you'll  see  !  "  she  kept  saying ;  it  was  very  vulgar, 
but  then,  poor  Ariadne  was  so  much  in  love  that  she 
couldn't  help  liking  it.  She  had  taken  particular 
care  of  her  hair,  and  when  she  lay  down  to  rest  in 
the  afternoon,  she  had  put  ten  curlers  in  to  make 
sure  of  it's  looking  nice.  And  it  did,  like  Moses  in 
the  burning  bush. 

At  nine  she  dressed  and  went,  and  Christina  gave 
her  a  kiss  for  luck,  and  I  went  to  bed,  for  it  was 
quite  ten  o'clock.  I  was  just  jumping  in  (I  always 
take  a  header  off  the  chest  of  drawers  to  stop  me 
getting  stiff  !)  when  I  heard  a  great  puffing  and 
panting  at  the  bedroom  door.  Elizabeth  Cawthorne 
is  getting  fat.  It  goes  with  good-nature  and  beer. 
And  she  is  learning  to  drop  her  h's  in  the  south. 

"  'Ere  !  "  she  said.  "  'Ere  !  "  and  shoved  a  great 
card-board  box  under  my  nose.  "  With  Lady 
Stilly? s  love  and  compliments" 

I  was  out  of  bed  again  in  two  twos,  and  Elizabeth 
and  I  unfastened  the  string,  and  there  was  a  ball- 
dress — the  ball-dress  ! 


256          THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME 

I  felt  inclined  to  burst  out  crying,  to  think  of  poor 
Ariadne — so  near  and  yet  so  far — dancing  away, 
perhaps,  and  losing  Simon  Hermyre's  affection  at 
every  step,  because  her  dress  hung  badly,  and  looked 
home-made,  and  here  was  a  perfect  dream  of  a  dress, 
lying  quite  useless  on  the  bed  in  my  room  at  home. 
Elizabeth  would  have  it  out  to  look  at;  I  indulged 
her,  keeping  her  rather  dark  fingers  off  it  as  well  as  I 
could.  It  was  all  white,  and  fluffy,  and  like  clotted 
cream,  and  I  do  believe  it  was  made  on  purpose  for 
Ariadne.  There  was  a  note  with  it,  addressed  to 
my  sister,  which  Elizabeth  opened  in  her  excitement. 
I  forgave  her.  It  said — 

"  DEAR  CHILD, 

"  My  frock,  I  found,  was  not  quite  suitable, 
your  young  waist  must  be  larger  than  mine.  So  I 
have  ordered  one  to  be  made  for  you,  and  I  do  hope 
it  will  fit  and  that  you  will  look  very  nice  in  it,  with 
my  love.  I  hope,  too,  that  your  father  will  approve 
of  my  taste. 

"  Ever  yours, 
"  PAQUERETTE  SCILLY." 

"  That's  all  she  cares  about — that  George  should 
think  her  -generous  !  But  if  she  had  wanted  me 
or  Ariadne  to  be  grateful  she  should  have  managed 
to  get  it  here  in  time.  I  don't  care  for  misplaced 
generosity." 

"  Suppose,  Miss,"  said  Elizabeth,  "  that  you  was 
to  take  a  cab  and  go  to  where  Miss  Ariadne  is,  and 
make  her  change  !  Better  late  than  never,  I  say." 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME          257 

"  My  sister  isn't  a  music-hall  artist,"  I  regret  to 
say  was  what  I  answered,  and  Elizabeth  agreed,  and 
added  too,  that  she  hadn't  altogether  lost  her  faith 
in  the  other  dress,  and  that  it  might  get  Ariadne  an 
offer  as  well  as  a  smarter.  So  then  she  went,  and  I 
laid  the  dress  out  on  Ariadne's  bed,  and  lay  down, 
and  tried  to  go  to  sleep  with  my  eyes  fixed  on  it, 
and  I  did  and  even  dreamed. 

I  was  woke  by  feeling  a  heavy  weight  on  my  chest. 
At  first  I  thought  it  was  indigestion,  but  as  I  began 
to  get  more  awake,  I  found  it  was  Ariadne,  who 
was  sitting  there  quite  still  in  the  dark.  I  joggled 
her  off,  and  then  I  began  to  remember  about  the 
dress,  but  thought  I  would  tease  her  a  little  first. 

"  Well,  did  you  have  a  good  time  ?  "  I  asked 
her. 

"  Fairly,"  answered  Ariadne. 

"  Did  you  have  any  offers — in  that  home-made 
dress  ?  Elizabeth  was  sure  you  would." 

"  I  believe  I  am  all  torn  to  bits  ?  "  said  Ariadne, 
walking  round  and  round  her  own  train  like  a  kitten 
round  its  tail,  and  not  intending  to  take  any  notice 
of  my  question. 

"  Now  don't  expect  me  to  help  you  to  mend  it. 
It  will  take  days  !  " 

Ariadne  said,  "  I  shall  not  touch  it.  I  don't 
mean  to  wear  it  again,  but  hang  it  in  a  glass  case 
and  sit  and  look  at  it.  It  is  a  wonderful  dress  !  " 

"  Don't  drivel !  "  I  said,  "  unless  there  is  really 
something  particular  about  the  dress  that  I  don't 

know." 

s 


258          THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

She  didn't  even  rise  to  that,  so  I  said,  "  I  wonder 
you  don't  light  up,  and  have  a  good  look  at  it." 

"  There  is  no  hurry,  is  there,  about  lighting  the 
candle  ?  "  Ariadne  said,  sitting  plump  down  on  a 
bureau,  and  looking  as  if  she  didn't  mean  to  go  to 
bed  at  all.  I  believe  she  smelt  Lady  Scilly's  dress 
on  her  bed,  and  was  keeping  calm  just  to  tease  me. 

"  Did  any  one  see  you  home  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  some  one  did,"  she  answered,  still  in  a  sort 
of  dream. 

"  Did  he  kiss  you  in  the  cab  ?  "  I  at  last  asked 
her,  thinking  that  if  anything  would  rouse  her,  that 
would.  She  was  sitting,  as  far  as  I  could  tell,  in  the 
cold  moonlight,  looking  fixedly  at  her  hand  as  if  she 
wanted  it  to  come  out  in  spots  like  Saint  Catherine 
Emmerich.  I  was  riled  to  extinction. 

"  Oh,  for  Goodness'  sake,  get  to  bed  !  "  I  cried. 
"  And  if  you  are  going  to  undress  in  the  dark,  to 
hide  your  blushes,  I  should  advise  you  to  get  into 
your  bed  very  very  carefully  !  " 

That  did  it. 

"  You  naughty  girl,"  she  said  quite  quickly. 
"  Have  you  been  putting  Lady  Castlewood  there 
with  her  new  lot  of  kittens  ?  It's  too  bad  of 
you !  " 

She  lit  the  candle,  and  then  I  noticed  that  her 
ears  were  quite  red.  She  saw  the  dress  at  the  same 
instant  and  went  across  and  fingered  it. 

"  So  you  have  come  ?  "  she  said,  talking  to  it  as 
if  it  were  a  person.  "  You  are  rather  pretty,  I 
must  say,  but  I  have  done  very  well  without  you." 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          259 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  you  are  condescending.  Who 
tore  your  skirt,  if  one  might  ask  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Hermyre." 

"  Mister  now  !  How  intimate  you  have  become 
to  be]afraid  of  his  name  !  Ha !  I  believe  she's  shy  ? 
How  often  did  you  dance  with  Mister  Hermyre  ?  " 

"  Oh,  don't  tease  me,  Tempe  dear.  As  often  as 
there  was,  I  am  afraid." 

"  Afraid  ?  Yes,  you  will  be  talked  about,  and 
he  will  have  to  marry  you,  there  !  " 

"  He  is  going  to,"  said  Ariadne,  quietly  letting 
down  her  hair.  I  didn't  know  my  own  Ariadne. 
She  had  turned  cheeky  in  a  single  night ! 

I  looked  about  for  something  to  take  her  down 
with,  and  I  found  it. 

"  Did  you — did  you  put  your  head  on  his  shoulder 
when  he  had  asked  you,  as  we  have  always  agreed 
you  would  ?  " 

"  I  may  have — I  don't  know — I  hope  not !  " 

"  You  hope  you  didn't,  but  you  know  you  did  ! 
Well,  I  wonder  it  did  not  run  into  him,  or  put  his 
eye  out  or  something  ?  " 

"  Beast,  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Only  that  you  have  got  a  haircurler  in  your 
hair,  near  the  left  side,  and  I  presume  it  has  been 
there  all  the  evening  !  " 

Ariadne  put  out  the  light  and  came  and  sat  on 
my  bed  after  that,  and  told  me  all  about  it  quite 
nicely. 

As  far  as  I  could  make  out,  Pique  had  begun  it. 
There  had  been  a  slight  difficulty  with  another  man 


26o          THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

who  was  not  a  gentleman  although  he  was  a  Count — 
fancy,  at  Lady  Islington's  ? — and  he  had  been  rude 
to  Ariadne  about  a  dance,  and  Ariadne  had  ap- 
pealed to  Simon  although  he  wasn't  so  near  her  as 
some  other  men,  and  Simon  had  at  once  insulted 
the  other  man,  and  had  danced  with  Ariadne  all  the 
rest  of  the  evening  to  spite  him  and  Lady  Scilly, 
who  had  brought  him,  and  whose  new  "  mash  "  he 
was.  I  believe  he's  the  German  chauffeur  I  saw 
in  her  car. 

But  Ariadne  would  have  it  that  it  was  the  fan 
business  that  had  brought  it  on — that  fan  he  gave 
her  at  Whitby  he  had  broken  at  Whitby,  and  he  had 
never  bought  her  a  new  one.  We  had  often  talked 
about  it,  but  of  course  never  mentioned  it  to  Simon. 

Lady  Islington  is  Simon's  Aunt  Meg,  and  he  is 
awfully  afraid  of  her.  After  the  row  with  the 
chauffeur  Count,  Ariadne  had  felt  quite  strange  and 
frightened — he  made  nasty  speeches,  as  not  gentle- 
men do  when  they  are  riled — and  Simon  had  taken 
her  to  a  window-seat  in  a  long  gallery  sort  of  stair- 
case. She  sat  beside  him  for  a  long  while  feeling 
as  if  she  could  not  breathe,  long  after  all  fear  of  the 
other  man  had  passed  away.  She  thought  it  could 
hardly  be  that  still,  and  yet  she  felt  as  if  a  cold  hand 
or  a  key,  like  when  your  nose  is  bleeding,  was  being 
put  down  her  spine,  though  of  course  there  was 
none.  Simon  didn't  say  anything,  he  seemed  to  be 
thinking,  but  she  dared  not  look  at  him  for  some 
reason  or  other.  But  she  said  she  wished,  as  she 
sat  there,  more  than  anything  else  she  had  ever 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME          261 

wished  in  the  world,  more  than  she  had  wished  I 
would  get  better  of  the  scarlet  fever  when  I  was  a 
baby — that  he  would  take  hold  of  her  hand  that 
was  lying  in  her  lap.  She  kept  on  staring  at  it, 
imagining  his  taking  hold  of  it,  "  willing  "  him  to 
do  it.  She  wanted  him  to  do  this  so  badly  that  she 
nearly  screamed  and  asked  him  right  out ;  but  no, 
it  would  have  been  no  good  unless  he  had  done  it  of 
his  own  free-will.  The  music  had  not  begun,  and 
she  seemed  to  fancy  it  would  not  begin  until  Simon 
had  done  that  silly  little  thing.  She  felt  somehow 
that  he  was  thinking  of  this  too,  or  something  like 
it — something  to  do  with  her,  at  any  rate. 

She  hated  explaining  all  this  to  me,  but  I  made 
her,  for  she  had  always  solemnly  promised  to  me 
she  would  tell  me  exactly  how  her  first  offer  took 
place. 

Then  the  music  began  and  the  people  on  the  stairs 
got  up,  and  some  of  them  were  sure  to  come  past 
where  they  were.  She  says  she  felt  Simon  take  a 
resolution  of  some  kind,  and  yet  all  he  said  was, 
"  Have  you  got  a  fan  ?  " 

Ariadne  didn't  know  in  the  least  what  he  meant, 
but  she  knew  it  was  all  part  of  the  thing  that  had 
to  happen  now,  and  at  once  answered  quite  truly — 

"  I  haven't  got  one.     You  broke  it." 

"  And  didn't  I  give  you  a  new  one  ?  What  an 
objectionable  brute  I  am  !  Well,  then  we  must 
do  without.  I  only  hope  my  Aunt  Meg  doesn't 
see  me  ?  " 

And  he  kissed  her. 


262          THE  CELEBRITY  AT   HOME 

This  was  the  strangest  way  for  it  to  happen,  as 
Ariadne  and  I  agreed,  quite  different  from  all  our 
plans  and  expectations.  For  of  course  he  then  told 
her  he  loved  her,  and  wanted  to  marry  her.  It  was 
very  nearly  all  at  the  same  time,  but  yet  he  kissed 
her  first.  Nothing  can  alter  that  fact,  and  it  was 
in  the  wrong  order,  and  so  I  shall  always  say, 
except  that  Ariadne  has  made  me  promise  never  to 
allude  to  it  again.  And  of  course,  as  she  kept  her 
promise,  I  shall  keep  mine. 

Simon  Nevill  Hermyre  and  Ariadne  Florentina 
Vero-Taylor  are  to  be  married  in  three  months  at 
latest,  they  settled  it  that  very  night,  subject  to 
parents.  Sir  Frederick  may  raise  objections,  but 
Ariadne  was  able  to  assure  Simon  that  George  won't, 
he  doesn't  care  about  keeping  Ariadne  a  day  longer 
than  he  needs  to.  As  Mr.  Simon  Hermyre's  fiancee 
she  is  only  an  encumbrance  now,  not  an  advertise- 
ment, for  of  course  Simon  won't  let  her  do  Bohemian 
things  or  dress  queerly  any  more.  And  she  is  and 
will  be  as  dull  as  ditch-water  for  at  least  a  year, 
like  all  engaged  girls.  She  bores  me. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

DEAR  Simon  let  his  hair  grow  comparatively  long 
to  be  married  to  Ariadne  in,  to  please  me.  I  was 
chief  bridesmaid,  and  stood  next  Almeria;  Jane 
Emerson  Tree  was  third  bridesmaid,  and  behaved 
fairly  well,  though  I  am  told  she  did  bite  off  and  eat 
the  heads  of  the  best  flowers  in  her  bouquet  while 
the  service  was  going  on,  and  Jessie  Hitchings,  who 
stood  next  her,  couldn't  prevent  it,  for  she  hadn't 
a  single  pin  on  her  she  could  get  at.  I  expect 
Jane  Emerson  was  very  ill  after  all  that  stephanotis  ! 
I  treated  her  with  studied  contempt,  and  only 
asked  her  what  she  thought  of  Ariadne's  "  waist  " 
this  time,  and  didn't  she  wish  she  could  have  one 
as  above  reproach  when  she  was  married,  if  she  ever 
found  time  to  get  married  between  her  great  actings  ? 
Why,  Ariadne's  dress  was  made  by  Camille  !  I 
was  as  intimate  as  possible  with  Jessie  Hitchings, 
the  coal-agent's  daughter  from  Isleworth.  That  did 
Jane  Emerson  good.  Ariadne  asked  her  to  be  one 
of  her  bridesmaids  just  to  please  Ben,  who  adores 
her,  and  doesn't  see  that  she  is  a  bit  common.  Men 
in  love  never  do.  Still,  she  is  our  only  childhood's 
friend,  so  Simon  and  even  Almeria  didn't  make  the 

263 


264          THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

least  objection  to  have  her  included  in  the  proces- 
sion. They  are  not  snobs,  and  if  they  were,  are 
high  up  enough  to  be  able  to  afford  to  stoop,  and 
know  everybody.  As  for  Almeria,  she  came  out 
wonderfully,  and  I  really  don't  mind  her  at  all. 
As  the  bridesmaids'  hat  wouldn't  set  without  a 
bank  of  hair  or  something  on  the  forehead  for  it  to 
rest  on,  she  was  sensible  enough  to  buy  a  pin-curl 
at  the  Stores  and  stick  it  on  under  the  brim  for  the 
occasion.  Ariadne  was  very  much  softened  towards 
her  by  that,  and  I  promised  to  go  and  stay  with  her 
at  Highsam  later  on  and  learn  to  ride. 

George  gave  Ariadne  his  usual  present,  only  more 
so — a  set  of  his  own  works  beautifully  bound,  and 
some  of  the  old  jewellery  she  has  always  had  given 
out  to  her  to  wear,  to  take  away  for  her  very  own. 
Mother  gave  her  all  her  household  linen,  marked 
and  embroidered  by  herself.  Peter  Ball  gave  her 
a  gramophone,  Christina  a  type-writer.  The  Squire 
gave  her  his  mother's  best  salad-bowl.  Lord  Scilly 
gave  her  a  great  gold  cup  or  beaker.  I  believe  he 
was  trying  to  atone  for  the  low  joke  he  had  practised 
on  her  at  the  picnic.  It  was  awfully  good  and 
valuable,  Simon  said.  Lady  Scilly  gave  her  a 
Shakespeare  bound  in  calf.  I  believe  she  meant  a 
hint  about  calf  love,  just  the  kind  of  thing  she  would 
call  a  joke,  and  that  Punch  wouldn't  put  in ;  but 
Ariadne  never  noticed  and  was  grateful,  for  she 
happens  to  like  Shakespeare  for  himself.  To  Simon, 
I  heard,  Lady  Scilly  gave  a  queer  sort  of  scarf  or 
thumb  ring,  with  the  Latin  word  Donee  engraved 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME          265 

on  it.  I  did  not  know  what  that  meant,  and  Simon 
said  he  was  blest  if  he  did,  and  he  hung  it  on  his 
dog's  collar  afterwards. 

Simon  and  Ariadne  went  to  Venice  for  their 
honeymoon.  She  took  note-books,  etc.,  but  could 
not  write  any  poetry  in  Venice  somehow,  so  shopped 
all  the  time,  especially  bead  necklaces.  She  didn't 
care  for  her  own  hair  any  more  when  she  came  back, 
she  said  every  other  girl  in  Venice  had  it.  She  had 
put  back  her  fringe,  and  wets  it  every  morning  to 
make  it  keep  flat,  to  please  Sir  Frederick  Hermyre 
arid  Simon,  who  owned,  after  marriage,  to  a  weakness 
for  smooth  hair. 

They  are  to  live  in  Yorkshire  at  one  of  his  father's 
six  places.  He  has  given  it  to  Simon,  and  Simon 
is  now  the  youngest  J.P.  on  the  bench,  and  is  going 
to  breed  shorthorns.  I  am  to  go  and  stay  there 
after  Christmas. 

George  detests  Christmas  so  much  that  he  ignores 
it,  and  forces  us  all  to  do  the  same.  We  may  not 
put  up  holly  or  mistletoe,  or  make  a  plum-pudding 
or  mince-pies.  We  have  mince-pies  always  at 
Midsummer,  and  plum-pudding  on  May  Day,  so 
one  does  not  miss  them  altogether,  but  all  the 
same,  I  have  a  sort  of  Christmas  feeling  come  over 
me  at  the  right  time,  and  could  enjoy  a  Christmas 
stocking  or  Santa  Claus  as  much  as  any  ordinary 
Philistine  child.  So  could  Mother.  Elizabeth  says 
it  is  all  she  can  do  not  to  give  warning  than  stay  in 
such  a  God-forgotten  house  over  the  time,  and  she 
makes  a  small  plum-pudding  for  the  kitchen  and 


266          THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

gets  us  all  down,  except  George,  to  stir  it  on  the  sly. 
Up-stairs  no  one  dares  to  mention  Christmas.  If 
we  do,  we  are  fined  sixpence.  We  have  all  of  us 
to  pay  a  whole  shilling  if  a  pipe  bursts  ?  I  don't 
know  if  George  would  insist  on  money  down,  if  it 
happened,  but  it  is  an  odd  circumstance,  that  though 
of  course  if  they  do  burst,  it  is  nobody's  fault  but 
the  plumber's,  who  came  to  put  them  right  last  time 
and  carefully  left  something  wrong  ready  for  the 
next,  now  that  this  rule  has  been  made  the  pipes 
contain  themselves,  and  don't  burst  at  all. 

When  Ariadne  was  here,  she  always  contrived 
to  send  away  a  few  parcels,  and  we  received  some, 
of  course.  We  cannot  help  people,  who  respect 
Christmas,  being  kind  to  us  then.  George  came  in 
once  while  we  were  undoing  a  few,  and  damned 
"  this  whirling  season  of  string  and  brown  paper !  " 

"I  resent  the  maddening  appeals  of  an  over- 
wrought post-office  to  post  early.  Why  should  I 
post  early  ?  Why  should  I  post  at  all  ?  I  forbid  all 
mention  of  the  egregious  subject !  " 

And  he  went  out,  and  we  asked  Elizabeth  to  bring 
our  parcels  up  to  our  bedrooms  in  future. 

The  Christmas  after  Ariadne  left  us,  we  didn't 
mind  obeying  him,  we  were  so  sad  without  her.  I 
missed  having  some  one  to  bully.  George  missed 
having  two  to  bully  instead  of  one.  He  has  always 
sworn,  but  now  he  took  to  swearing  as  if  he  meant  it, 
and  saying  bitter  things  to  Mother,  and  poor  Ben's 
chances  of  school  are  farther  off  than  ever.  He  got 
quite  desperate,  did  poor  Ben,  and  asked  Mother 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          267 

to  make  some  arrangement  by  which  she  could  give 
him  less  to  eat  and  put  what  she  could  save  aside 
for  his  schooling.  He  said  he  was  willing  to  live  on 
skilly  if  only  he  might  go  to  school,  and  from  what 
he  heard,  he  wouldn't  get  much  better  there,  so  he 
might  as  well  get  used  to  it.  Mother  cried,  and  said 
no,  she  couldn't  save  off  his  keep,  that  she  must 
make  a  man  of  him  at  any  rate,  and  would  try  to 
save  money  some  other  way,  or  even  make  it  ?  She 
would  think  till  she  thought  of  a  plan.  Meantime 
she  would  buy  him  some  books,  and  Mr.  Aix  would 
look  over  his  exercises  if  Ben  went  regularly  to  his 
rooms  in  Pump  Court.  Ben  tried,  but  it  is  so 
awkward  for  him,  since  he  started  valeting  George 
at  Whitby.  George  can't  do  without  him,  and  calls 
for  him  at  all  sorts  of  times,  and  Ben  must  be  at 
call.  George  swears  at  his  sulky  expression  while 
folding  up  coats,  stretching  trousers,  etc.,  but  I  am 
afraid  Ben  will  have  the  melancholia  soon  if  he 
doesn't  get  what  he  has  set  his  heart  on.  If  Mother 
could  only  raise  the  money,  she  says  she  would  go 
straight  to  George  with  it,  and  tell  him  that  she 
meant  to  pay  the  cost  of  Ben's  education,  for  it  is 
money,  she  is  sure,  and  nothing  but  money,  which 
prevents  his  making  up  his  mind  which  school  ? 
Gracious  me  !  Schools  are  all  alike,  all  beastly,  and 
a  necessary  evil  for  the  sons  of  men. 

I  often  wonder  if  the  people  he  goes  among,  and 
stays  with — "  he  is  the  devil  for  country  houses  !  " 
Mr.  Aix  says,  "  he  has  got  them  in  the  blood," — I 
wonder  if  when  they  see  him  come  smiling  down  to 


268          THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

breakfast — he  has  to  come  down  to  breakfast  in  some 
houses,  never  at  home — they  realize  that  he  has  a 
wife  and  children  and  a  secretary,  and  three  cats 
depending  on  him  ?  For  I  believe  he  is  the  kind  of 
useful  guest  who  has  small  talk  for  breakfast,  which 
reminds  me  of  those  houses  where  the  cook  gets  up 
early  to  bake  the  little  hot  cakes  people  like,  and 
what  it  means  to  her,  no  one  imagines  !  George 
stokes  and  talks  at  the  same  time,  and  that  is  one 
reason  why  they  all  love  him  and  ask  him  madly 
for  Saturdays  to  Mondays  or  longer. 

George  is  not  well  just  now,  his  voice  is  all  in  his 
throat,  and  husky.  His  hair  is  getting  very  grey, 
and  suits  him ;  his  eyes  are  large,  like  a  sad  deer's. 
He  is  still  as  graceful.  Mr.  Aix  says  he  has  taken 
to  wearing  stays.  I  don't  believe  this.  I  am  the 
only  one  in  the  house  who  sticks  up  for  George. 
Ben  hates  him,  so  does  Aunt  Gerty.  Ben  will  go  on 
hating  him  till  he  is  allowed  to  go  to  school.  Mother 
never  speaks  of  him,  so  I  don't  know  how  she  feels 
about  him.  In  cold  weather  he  is  always  much 
nicer  to  her.  He  feels  the  cold  of  England.  He 
has  written  about  Italy  till  he  is  half  Italian.  He 
has  got  a  new  secretary,  a  "  singularly  colourless 
personage,"  whom  Mother  likes  very  much.  She 
isn't  half  so  amusing  as  Christina,  but  Lady  Scilly 
says  she  is  far  more  suitable. 

After  Christmas  was  over,  George  left  us  and  went 
to  "  The  Hutch,"  Lady  Solly's  place  in  Wiltshire. 
Her  novel  is  nearly  finished,  and  Ben  says  she  has 
piped  all  hands  on  deck — I  mean  all  the  people  who 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME          269 

are  helping  her  have  to  be  ready  with  their  help. 
There  is  a  lawyer  and  a  doctor  among  the  crew,  but 
George  is  master-skipper.  I  believe  that  she  will 
drop  them  all  when  once  the  book  is  done  ?  George 
too,  perhaps.  Though  I  am  not  sure  she  likes  him 
only  for  the  sake  of  the  novel  ?  He  can  be  fascinat- 
ing when  he  likes,  and  he  does  like  with  her.  It's 
such  a  good  old  title. 

I  think  I  am  right,  for  he  was  away  a  long  time, 
indeed  he  has  never  stayed  so  long  at  "  The  Hutch  " 
before.  He  has  his  own  suite  there,  and  all  the 
other  rooms  are  called  after  the  names  of  his  novels 
or  characters  in  them.  Could  any  one  pay  an  author 
a  greater  compliment  ? 

Mrs.  Ptomaine  was  not  staying  there — Never  no 
more  ! — but  she  has  a  lady  friend  who  was,  and  the 
friend  says  Lord  Scilly  is  beginning  to  get  "  restive." 

Mrs.  Ptomaine  comes  to  see  us,  at  least  to  see 
Aunt  Gerty,  a  good  deal ;  she  is  no  longer  all  in  all 
with  Lady  Scilly  since  the  Mr.  Pawky  episode. 

"  And  I  didn't  make  much  of  him,  after  all !  " 
she  told  Mother  and  Aunt  Gerty.  "  Lady  Scilly  had 
squeezed  him  nearly  dry.  He  didn't  trust  women 
any  more,  always  imagined  they  wanted  money. 
And  then  dangled  an  empty  purse  at  them,  meta- 
phorically. Poor  old  man,  it  is  a  shame  to  destroy 
any  one — even  a  millionaire's — confidence  in  human 
nature.  She  borrows  of  every  one,  even  the  masseuse 
and  the  charwoman,  my  dear,  it's  quite  awful ! 
That  poor,  pretty  young  Hermyre  !  I  was  quite 
pleased  when  your  sweet  innocent  daughter  rescued 


270          THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

him  from  the  wiles  of  Stilly,  and  perhaps  Charybdis 
— who  knows  ?  He  looked  weak  !  " 

"  And  so  secured  a  weak  child  to  look  after  him 
and  strengthen  his  hands  !  "  said  Mother.  It  is  no 
use  minding  Mrs.  Tommy,  she  isn't  "  quite  eighteen 
carat,"  Aunt  Gerty  says,  or  else  she  would  surely 
not  discuss  a  woman's  own  son-in-law  to  her  face. 
But,  she  is  a  journalist,  and  journalists  know  no 
laws  of  consanguinity  or  decency  even.  If  one  is 
to  get  any  good  whatever  out  of  the  press,  one  must 
accept  it  with  all  its  inconveniences,  and  Aunt 
Gerty  and  mother  think  everything  of  the  press  in 
these  days.  They  ask  Mrs.  Ptomaine  to  dinner 
continually,  and  Mr.  Freddy  Cook  to  meet  her. 
And  Mr.  Aix  as  a  standing  dish,  and  Aunt  Gerty  of 
course.  Then  they  make  a  lot  of  noise  and  smoke 
all  over  the  house  except  the  study.  Mother  won't 
let  them  go  in  there  at  all  while  George  is  away.  I 
hear  them  talking  between  the  puffs — 

:c  You  can  engage  to  work  so  and  so,  eh  ?  "  or 
"  Have  you  got  thingumbob  ?  " 

Mr.  Aix  is  writing  a  play.  He  brings  the  acts  over 
here  as  he  writes  them,  and  gets  Mother  to  speak 
the  woman's  part  for  him,  so  that  he  sees  how  it 
goes.  He  says  Mother  is  a  great  dear,  and  he 
tells  her  continually  how  she  helps  him,  how  she 
puts  the  right  interpretation  on  him  at  every  turn. 
I  never  should  have  thought  Mr.  Aix  difficult  to 
understand,  but  then  a  man  has  to  be  very  modest 
to  realize  that  he  takes  no  understanding  and  is  as 
plain  as  a  pike-staff.  And  as  Mr.  Aix  always  speaks 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME          271 

the  brutal  truth — he  can't  wrap  anything  up — he  is 
as  "  crude  as  the  day,"  so  George  often  says — I 
don't  see  Mother's  cleverness. 

They  talk  of  The  Play  as  if  it  was  a  baby.  * '  Mustn'  t 
christen  it  before  it  is  brought  into  the  world,"  and 
"  One  thing  you  can  confidently  predict  about  it, 
it  can't  be  born  prematurely  !  "  and  so  on.  They 
use  the  study  in  the  mornings,  and  Mr.  Aix  sits  in 
George's  swivel-chair,  and  Mother  takes  the  floor  in 
front  of  him.  She  reads  the  woman's  part  out 
aloud  and  he  criticises  her.  She  must  do  it  pretty 
well,  for  he  often  calls  out,  "  Oh,  you  darling  !  " 
when  she  has  said  a  particular  piece.  "  What  a 
divine  accent  you  give  it !  "  "  That  will  knock 
them  !  "  "  Wicked  to  hide  such  a  talent !  "  and 
praise  like  that.  He  never  asks  Aunt  Gerty  to  read 
any,  though  she  is  a  real  actress  and  sits  there  and 
criticises  Mother  all  the  time. 

"  Pooh,  pooh  !  "  says  Mr.  Aix,  "  leave  her  to  her 
intuitions  !  You  battered  professionals  don't  know 
the  value  of  a  new  note." 

So  I  see  that  Mother  never  was  a  Professional,  even 
before  George  married  her.  And  a  good  thing  too  ! 

Mr.  Aix  worked  very  hard  at  the  play,  and  pro- 
mised that  it  should  be  finished  one  day  next  week. 
When  George  came  home,  he  would  want  his  study 
of  course,  but  we  hadn't  the  remotest  idea  of  his 
arriving  when  he  did,  late  one  afternoon  just  before 
dinner-time. 

We  were  all  hard  at  it  in  the  study.  Aunt  Gerty 
was  making  a  pink  surah  blouse  all  over  the  study 


272          THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

table  and  being  prompter  as  well.  Mr.  Aix  was  in 
George's  swivel-chair,  and  Mother  standing  in  front 
of  him.  George  was  on  us  in  a  moment,  just  as 
Mr.  Aix  had  closed  the  manuscript  with  a  slap. 

"  Our  child  comes  on  bravely !  "  he  was  just 
saying  to  Mother,  as  George  appeared  in  the  door- 
way with  his  cigarette  in  his  mouth. 

Aunt  Gerty  whispered  to  Mother,  "  I'll  bet  you 
Lord  Scilly  has  had  him  kicked  out  of  the  house. 
Go  on  that  tack  !  "  and  bolted  into  the  hall,  for- 
getting her  pink  surah  spread  all  over  the  desk. 

"  Welcome  back,  old  fellow  !  "  said  Mr.  Aix,  turn- 
ing round  in  the  swivel-chair  and  putting  a  protect- 
ing paw  over  Aunt  Gerty's  blouseries.  They  would 
be  sure  to  irritate  George,  he  knew;  so  they  did. 
George  turned  quite  white  with  temper  and  flung 
his  coat  off,  and  Mother  caught  it  across  her  arm  as 
if  she  had  been  a  servant.  There  seemed  to  be  a 
great  noise  in  the  hall,  and  Polly  came  in  looking 
disgusted,  as  servants  always  do  when  it  is  a  question 
of  not  paying  one's  just  debts. 

She  began  "  If  you  please,  sir,  the  cabman " 

but  her  voice  was  quite  drowned  between  the  cabman 
relieving  his  mind  in  the  hall  outside  and  George 
inside.  He  seemed  bewildered,  but  able  to  swear 
all  the  time. 

"  Won't  you  pay  your  cab,  George  ?  "  said  Mother 
gently,  "  and  then  you  can  abuse  me  at  your 
leisure  !  " 

Mr.  Aix  went  to  pay  the  man,  and  I  thought  I 
had  better  get  out  of  the  room  with  him.  George, 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME          273 

was  sitting  bolt  upright  in  his  chair,  and  Mother 
like  a  little  school-girl  before  him.  I  don't  know 
what  they  said  to  each  other,  but  George  wouldn't 
come  out  to  dinner,  but  had  a  plate  sent  in. 

Mother  didn't  alter  her  habits,  but  went  to  the 
theatre  with  Mr  Aix. 

George's  plate  of  dinner  came  out  untouched. 
After  all  it  was  my  own  father,  and  he  had  come 
all  the  way  from  Wiltshire,  and  perhaps  had  been 
kicked  out  of  "  The  Hutch  "  as  Aunt  Gerty  said. 
I  knew  enough  of  Lady  Scilly  to  know  how  change- 
able she  is,  and  perhaps  it  was  only  her  novel  she 
cared  for.  I  went  to  him,  as  bold  as  a  lion. 

He  was  sitting  still  where  he  had  been  before 
dinner,  only  his  head  was  on  his  hands  among  Aunt 
Gerty 's  blouse  trimmings. 

"  Shall  I  take  these  away  ?  "  I  asked.  "  Don't 
they  make  you  angry  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  noticed." 

I  saw  he  was  ill,  not  to  mind  all  Aunt  Gerty 's 
horrid  pink  shape  all  over  his  papers  !  I  sat  down 
on  the  edge  of  the  table  and  he  didn't  even  scold 
me. 

"  Where  is  Lucy — my  wife  ?  "  he  asked  me 
presently. 

"My  Mother?"  said  I.  "She's  gone  to  the 
theatre." 

"  Is  that  usual  ?  " 

"  Quite  usual.  She  generally  goes  with  Mr.  Aix, 
but  to-night  Aunt  Gerty  has  gone  with  them." 

"  Chaperons  them,  eh  ?  " 

T 


274          THE   CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

I  didn't  like  to  hear  him  call  Mother  and  Mr. 
Aix  them  in  that  insulting  bracketting  way,  so  I 
said — 

"  Mother  has  stayed  in  all  her  life.  She  wanted 
a  change." 

"  Aix  ?  "  said  he,  "  for  a  change  !     God  !  " 

"  She's  collaborating  with  Mr.  Aix." 

"  Damn  him  and  his  play  too." 

"  Oh,  not  his  play,  George.  Mother  would  be  so 
grieved." 

Then  George  suddenly  pulled  a  paper  out  of  his 
pocket  and  said,  "  Read  that  aloud,  child." 

"  Is  it  a  bit  of  your  new  novel  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  bit  of  my  new  novel.     Read." 

I  did. 

"  We  talk  and  talk,  and  never  act.  Oh,  this  curse  of 

civilization  I  You  make  excuses  for  S ,  for  your 

bitter  enemy.  Magnanimous,  but  effete  !  He  is  behav- 
ing well,  but  so  unpicturesquely.  He  offers  a  woman 
no  excuse  for  staying  with  him.  Oh,  Italy  !  Italy  ! 
You,  magician,  have  made  me  long  for  the  life  of  Italy, 
the  silver  incandescent  sands,  the  passionate  brown  of 
the  olives — but  why  should  I  try  to  outdo  you  in  your 
own  imitable  manner  ?  " 

"  /wimitable,  you  mean,  don't  you,  child  ?  But 
no,  we  will  not  trust  this  white  devil  of  Italy.  Go 
and  fetch  me  a  plateful  of  cold  meat.  And  here 
are  the  keys  ;  go  down  to  the  cellar  and  get  a  bottle 
of  Burgundy.  Gorton  eighty-eight.  You'll  see  the 
label.  We  will  carouse." 

I  was  delighted.     George  and  I  finished  the  bottle 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME  275 

between  us,  and  he  ate  a  good  supper,  and  said  no 
more  of  Mr.  Aix,  or  Mother  either. 

I  almost  liked  George  just  then.  I  saw  why 
Lady  Stilly  liked  him.  He  is  funny  and  gentle.  I 
asked  him  to  choose  a  school  for  Ben,  and  he  said 
he  would  think  about  it.  It  is  the  oddest  feeling  to 
suddenly  become  "  pals  "  with  one's  own  father. 
I  had  never  known  it  before.  There  is  some  good 
in  George,  and  his  eyes  are  very  bright. 


CHAPTER   XX 

MY  mother  is  changed — not  horrid,  but  quite 
changed.  She  goes  out  nearly  every  morning  at  ten, 
with  Aunt  Gerty,  whose  manners  are  worse  than 
ever,  and  who  has  a  little  chuckling,  cheerful  way  of 
going  about  that  simply  irritates  me  to  death  ! 
There  is  a  secret,  evidently,  and  George  and  I  are 
out  of  it.  It  brings  us  together.  He  is  not  happy, 
no  more  than  I  am,  no  more  than  Mother  is.  She 
is  excited,  not  happy.  She  has  taken  to  wearing 
her  mouth  shut  lately ;  once  we  used  to  tease  her 
because  she  kept  it  open,  and  looked  always  just  as 
if  she  were  going  to  speak,  or  had  done  speaking. 
But  Mother  is  a  good  woman.  Although  she  gads 
about  so  much,  she  doesn't  neglect  her  household 
duties.  She  sees  after  George's  comfort  as  much 
as  ever,  and  keeps  all  onions  out  of  the  house  as 
usual.  The  more  she  fusses  over  him,  the  less  he 
likes  it.  He  shook  his  head  once,  when  Mother  had 
tidied  his  writing-table  for  him — it  took  her  two 
hours — and  then  he  said  half-laughing,  "  A  bad  sign, 
Tempe  !  Read  your  Balzac." 

I  don't  read  Balzac,  and  I  don't  know  what  George 
means.    I  don't  try,  and  I  find  that  is  the  best  sort 

276 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT   HOME          277 

of  sympathy  one  can  give.  At  any  rate,  he  likes  it, 
and  he  is  always  having  me  in  his  study,  and  teach- 
ing me  to  type- write,  and  saying  little  things,  like  that 
I  have  put  down,  under  his  breath.  He  mutters  a 
good  deal  to  himself,  not  to  me,  and  wants  not  so 
much  some  one  to  talk  to,  as  some  one  to  talk  at. 

We  hear  no  more  of  Lady  Scilly.  She  has  not 
been  here  since  Ariadne  was  married.  Ariadne 
was  an  excuse.  Mother  never  gave  her  an  excuse 
to  come  to  see  her,  she  had  never  accepted  her,  or 
been  rude  to  her  either.  She  simply  ignored  her. 
So  Lady  Scilly  not  having  Ariadne  to  come  and 
fetch,  had  no  particular  reason  for  coming  to  us, 
unless  she  came  to  see  George,  and  she  could  have 
seen  him  more  easily  at  "  The  Hutch "  or  her 
town-house,  till  quite  recently.  She  used  to  come 
here  about  her  novel,  but  most  uncomfortably,  for 
Christina  was  a  sad  dragon,  and  looked  down  her 
nose  at  her.  Christina  could  curl  her  nostril  really, 
which  very  few  women  can  do.  It  is  a  horrid  thing 
to  have  done  at  you,  and  withers  you  soonest  of 
anything.  Now  the  novel  is  finished,  and  the  type- 
written copy,  tied  up  like  Christmas  meat,  is  going 
the  social  round  of  all  the  literary  men  who  have 
been  asked  to ,  her  dinner-parties  with  a  view  to 
their  favourable  opinion.  I  know  that  Mr.  Frederick 
Cook  has  had  it,  and  written  her  a  polite  letter  about 
it,  though  that  won't  prevent  him  slating  it  in  The 
Bittern  if  he  wants  to.  So  Mrs.  Ptomaine  says. 

I  know  that  what  Aunt  Gerty  said  in  spite,  and 
to  give  Mother  a  stick  to  hit  George  back  with  when 


278          THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

he  came  and  found  us  doing  dressmaking  in  his 
sacred  study,  was  true.  Lord  Stilly  had  told  George 
not  to  go  to  his  house  any  more.  Perhaps  Lady 
Stilly  had  said  he  might  ?  Having  no  more  use  for 
George,  she  may  have  given  Lord  Stilly  a  free  hand 
with  him,  and  perhaps  a  free  foot,  who  knows  ?  I 
think  she  is  not  nice.  I  am  on  George's  side  now, 
as  far  as  outside  politics  go,  though  I  shall  never 
approve  of  the  way  he  treats  my  brother  Benvenuto. 

Lady  Stilly  came  to  Cinque  Cento  House  at  last, 
and  George  didn't  "  look  that  pleased  to  see  her," 
as  Elizabeth  Cawthorne  said  afterwards.  Elizabeth 
Cawthorne  has  no  opinion  of  her,  nor  of  the  way 
she  goes  on  with  that  German  fellow.  She  means 
the  man  who  was  so  rude  to  Ariadne  at  the  Isling- 
tons',  at  least  he  was  far  too  kind  for  politeness. 
He  was  a  Count  then,  but  he  is  also  Lady  Stilly 's 
chauffeur.  He  was  waiting  outside  on  her  motor 
at  this  very  moment,  quite  the  servant.  She  took 
him  to  her  aunt's  ball  for  the  fun  of  it,  I  suppose, 
and  it  was  easy  to  pretend  he  was  somebody,  for 
he  looks  quite  military  and  distinguished. 

Elizabeth  showed  her  into  the  study,  saying 
gruffly,  "  A  female  to  see  you,  sir." 

"  Paquerette  !  "  said  George,  in  real  amazement, 
as  she  floated  in,  and  when  the  door  had  closed  on 
Elizabeth  Cawthorne,  went  a  little  down  on  one 
knee  and  looked  up  into  George's  face,  saying,  as 
I  have  heard  the  French  do  to  their  professors  of 
painting  or  music, — "  Cher  maitre  !  " 

George  had  taught  her  to  do  this  in  the  days 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME          279 

when  he  was  really  her  professor,  and  she  wanted 
to  do  everything  as  Bohemians  do  in  the  Quartier 
Latin,  but  only  the  way  she  looked  at  him  as  she 
said  it  I  could  tell  that  she  had  no  further  use  for 
him. 

I  was  sitting  at  the  type- writer,  in  the  corner  of 
the  room,  as  if  I  were  in  my  castle,  and  I  stayed 
there.  It  was  getting  dark  and  they  didn't  think 
of  turning  on  the  electric  light.  Besides,  George 
had  at  first  made  me  a  little  sign  which  I  understood, 
because  of  the  entente  cordiale  we  had  had  for  some 
time,  to  stay  where  I  was,  and  I  like  doing  what 
people  seem  to  want,  especially  when  it  goes  with 
what  I  want  myself.  Then  he  forgot  me  altogether. 
Lady  Scilly,  I  believe,  never  saw  me  at  all,  for  she 
never  said  how-do-you-do,  or  looked  my  way,  and 
yet  we  had  not  quarrelled.  George  put  on  his 
"  pretty  woman  "  manner,  and  raised  her,  and  made 
her  sit  in  a  nice  high-backed  chair  that  suited  her. 

"  How  nice  of  you  to  come  !  My  wife  is  out. 
By  the  way,  I  may  as  well  tell  you,  she  is  leaving 
me." 

I  nearly  fell  off  my  chair.  Lady  Scilly  looked 
upset ;  for  she  hadn't  come  to  see  Mother,  and 
hadn't  thought  of  asking  whether  she  was  out  or 
not.  She  collected  herself,  and  said  to  George  with 
some  dignity — 

"  You  put  it  crudely." 

"  I  do.  I  never  mince  my  words,  except  in  books. 
It  is  as  I  say.  I  shall  not  oppose  it.  I  hope  that 
my  unhappy  partner  may  one  day  come  to  know 


280          THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

the  bourgeois  happiness  I  have  been  unable  to  give 
her.  Unlucky  fellow  that  I  am — cceur  de  cttibat, 
you  know  ;  an  Alastor  of  Fitz  John's  Avenue,  the 
Villon  of  Maresfield  Gardens " 

"  No  woman's  such  a  fool  as  to  leave  a  place  like 
this " 

"  What  does  Shelley  say  ?  Love  first  leaves  the 
well-built  nest " 

"  You  certainly  are  a  most  extraordinary  man  !  " 
she  mumbled.  George  puzzled  her  by  changing 
about  so. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  her,  smiling.  "  Come,  take 
off  your  furs  and  make  yourself  at  home.  Com- 
promise yourself  merrily.  I  suppose  now,  by  all  the 
rights  and  wrongs  of  it,  I  ought  to  invite  you  to 
bolt  with  me,  but  I  am  weak,  I  shall  not." 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  you  won't  be  stronger  by  the 
end  of  this  interview  ?  " 

"  Oh,  is  this  an  interview  ?  Ah,  why  be  formal 
and  boring  ?  Why  stable  the  steed  after  the  horse — 
I  mean  the  novel  is  out  ?  It  will  be  a  huge  success, 
so  your  enemies  predict.  Frederick  Cook  of  The 
Bittern  writes  me  that  this,  the  latest  output  of  a 
militant  aristocracy,  seeking  to  beat  us  with  our  own 
weapons,  is  chockful  of  cleverness  and  primitive 
woman.  What  more  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  D.  the  novel !  I  want  you  !  "  she  said,  stamp- 
ing her  foot. 

"  Oh,  throw  away  the  fugitive  husk  and  the  rind 
outworn — the  creed  forgotten — the  deed  forborne — 
how  does  it  go  ?  Give  a  poor  author  a  chance,  now 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME          281 

that  you  have  sucked  his  commonplace  book  dry, 
and  torn  the  heart  out  of  his  theories,  butchered 
him  to  make  a  literary  agent's  holiday." 

"  You  are  unkind." 

"  Don't  say  that.  It  is  unworthy  of  you.  Stale  ! 
like  the  plot  of  the  new  novel  you  propose  we  should 
work  out  together." 

"  I  am  prepared  to  go  all  lengths  to  assert " 

"  Your  powers  of  imagination.  I  don't  doubt  it. 
But  I  have  been  thinking  it  over,  and  I  find  it  a 
ghastly,  an  impossible  plot.  No,  it  would  never 
do,  not  even  if  we  made  a  motor-motif  of  it.  It 
won't  go  on  all  fours.  It  would  not  even  begin  to 
sell.  It  has  none  of  the  elements  of  popularity. 
To  begin  and  end  with,  there's  not  an  atom  of 
passion  about  it,  not  even  so  much  as  would  lie  on 
twenty  thousand  pounds  of  radium,  and  you  know 
how  much  that  is  !  " 

"  Don't  imply  that  I  am  incapable  of  passion 
in  that  insulting  way  !  "  she  said  quite  angrily.  "It 
shall  never  be  said " 

"  It  will  never  be  said,  unless  we  run  away  and 
apply  the  test  of  Boulogne  and  social  ostracism. 
Believe  me,  Paquerette,  things  are  best  as  they 
are — going  to  be.  There's  true  evolution  in  it. 
When  the  feast  is  over,  you  put  out  the  fluttering 
candles,  tear  down  the  wreaths,  open  the  windows. 
When  the  novel  is  done " 

"  I  hate  you  to  talk  like  this  !  "  said  she,  making 
a  cross  face. 

"  Women  hate  realism." 


282          THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

"  Women  hate  lukewarmness.  Pull  yourself  to- 
gether, George,  and  let  us  lay  our  heads  together 
to  make  Scilly — look  silly.  He's  mad  just  now,  but 
it  will  pass  off,  he  will  get  over  it,  and  you  will  come 
down  to  us  at  '  The  Hutch '  as  usual  and  more  so. 
Dear  old  Scilly  will  be  the  first  to  climb  down " 

George  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  no,  non  bis  in  idem.  Not  twice  in  the  same 
place."  (I  wasn't  sure  if  he  was  alluding  to  the 
kick  Lord  Scilly  had  given  him  or  not.)  "  Go  now, 
you  sweet  woman.  I  want  to  be  alone.  You  are 
staid  for." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  must  go.  You  remind  me.  The 
Count  will  be  so  deliciously  irritated.  Thanks  so 
much,  so  very,  very  much,  for  all  your  help  and 
timely  assistance,  your " 

"  Has  the  play  been  worth  the  scandal  ?  "  George 
asked  her,  while  he  was  kissing  her  hand  to  hide 
how  much  he  loathed  her,  and  was  glad  she  was 
going.  He  knew,  as  well  as  I  knew,  that  she  was 
the  kind  of  woman  who  kicks  away  the  ladder  she 
has  just  got  up  by  with  a  toss  of  her  fairy  foot, 
and  that  he  would  never  be  asked  to  "  The  Hutch  " 
again.  Mr.  Aix  would,  more  probably,  because  he 
may  chance  to  review  what  George  has  helped  her 
to  write.  And  it  seemed  to  me  that  she  has  been 
massaged  so  much  or  so  long  or  something,  that  her 
cheeks  are  like  flabby  oysters,  and  her  figure  brought 
out  in  all  the  wrong  places.  She  was  too  pretty  to 
last  kittenish  and  fluffy  as  she  was  when  I  saw  her 
come  out  of  the  public-house  that  first  day. 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME          283 

"  Good-bye — then — George!"  she  said,  with  some- 
thing between  a  sneer  and  a  sob.  "  We  meet  again 
— in  society,  not  under  the  clock  at  Charing  Cross." 
What  should  take  George  and  her  there  I  cannot 
imagine,  but  George  bowed,  and  led  her  out,  and  I 
followed  them.  There  was  her  chauffeur  in  the  car 
as  large  as  life — and  as  a  German.  Though  indeed 
he  is  very  good-looking. 

"  I  can  see  that  he  is  cross  in  every  line  of  his 
back,"  Lady  Scilly  whispered  to  George  as  she  left 
him  on  the  steps,  and  tripped  down  them,  and  got  in 
beside  her  crabstick  Count.  He  received  her  most 
coldly,  and  it  was  easy  to  see  he  was  her  master 
more  than  her  servant. 

George  grunted  as  he  fastened  the  door.  There 
was  an  east  wind  blowing,  and  he  was  afraid  of 
catching  cold  after  standing  there  bareheaded. 

"  She  will  probably  bolt  with  him  before  the  year 
is  out,"  he  said,  as  we  went  back  to  the  study 
shivering.  He  played  cat's-cradle  with  me  till 
dinner-time.  It  was  all  he  was  good  for,  he  said, 
and  as  the  game  appeared  to  amuse  him,  I  didn't 
mind  making  a  fool  of  myself  for  once. 

About  Mother's  going  away  that  he  spoke  of  to 
Lady  Scilly  !  I  believe  it  really  is  with  Mr.  Aix,  as 
George  is  so  very  civil  to  him.  I  don't  see  who  else 
it  could  be,  for  we  see  more  of  him  than  of  any  one 
else.  He  is  George's  greatest  friend,  as  well  as 
Mother's,  and  people  don't  run  away  with  perfect 
strangers,  as  a  rule. 
Mother  was  certainly  up  to  something,  for  her 


284          THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

eyes  were  as  bright  as  glass,  and  she  had  hysterics 
two  days  running.  Aunt  Gerty  used  to  say  while 
these  were  going  on,  slapping  Mother's  palms  and 
vinaigretting  her — "  It  is  natural,  you  know — the 
excitement."  The  excitement  of  running  away,  I 
suppose.  She  used  to  make  her  lie  down  a  great 
deal,  and  "  nurse  her  energy,"  for  she  "  would  want 
it  all !  "  Mother  was  by  far  the  most  important 
person  in  the  whole  house  in  these  days,  and  instead 
of  George  being  out  late,  and  needing  his  latch-key, 
it  was  Mother  who  was  always  on  the  go,  and  dining 
with  the  Press  every  other  night  of  her  life.  At 
least,  I  suppose  Mrs.  Ptomaine  and  Mr.  Freddy 
Cook  are  the  Press,  they  are  certainly  nothing  else 
of  importance.  Mother  joined  a  club,  and  stayed 
there  one  night  when  there  was  a  fog. 

George  never  asks  her  any  questions.  He  is  too 
proud,  and  of  course  he  knows  that  she  is  too.  She 
wouldn't  stand  having  her  movements  questioned, 
any  more  than  he  would.  But  he  began  to  look 
ragged  and  grey,  and  to  have  indigestion.  He 
lived  chiefly  in  his  study.  He  fenced  a  good  deal, 
with  Mr.  Aix.  He  asked  Mr.  Aix  to  leave  the  button 
off  his  foil,  but  Mr.  Aix  would  not.  George's  other 
distraction  is  Father  Mack,  who  comes  to  see  him  a 
good  deal,  and  when  George  goes  out  now,  which  he 
seldom  does,  it  is  to  see  Father  Mack.  Father  Mack 
is  not  oppressively  stiff.  Once  George  came  back 
from  confession  and  set  us  all  to  try  and  translate 
"  The  Survival  of  the  fittest "  into  French,  a  pro- 
blem Father  Mack  had  asked  him.  Father  Mack 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME          285 

also  gave  Mother  the  address  of  a  very  good  little 
dressmaker.  He  lent  George  the  Life  of  Saint 
Catherine  Emmerich,  a  lovely  book.  She  was  one  of 
those  women  who  can  think  so  hard  of  something 
that  it  comes  out  all  over  their  bodies,  in  spots. 
People  came  from  far  and  wide  to  look  at  her  and 
admire  her,  and  her  family  allowed  it,  instead  of 
getting  a  trained  nurse  at  five-and-twenty  shillings 
a  week,  and  giving  her  a  free  hand  till  Catherine  was 
cured.  It  is  my  belief  that  she  did  not  want  to  be 
cured,  she  liked  being  praised  for  having  so  many 
spots  that  you  could  fancy  it  was  all  in  the  shape 
of  a  crown  of  thorns.  Still  it  is  a  nice  romantic 
story,  and  the  poor  woman  meant  well. 

Aunt  Gerty  says  George  is  going  to  be  a  Vert,  and 
that  I  shall  have  to  be  baptized  over  again,  and  not 
buried  in  consecrated  ground  when  I  die.  She  said 
I  need  not  bother  to  go  on  with  preparing  for  my 
confirmation,  as  all  that  would  be  stopped.  I  was 
hemming  my  veil  and  I  went  on,  for  I  believed  she 
was  teasing.  And  as  for  Father  Mack,  he  is  quite 
a  nice  man,  and  George  doesn't  swear  half  so  badly 
since  he  came  under  his  influence. 

One  of  these  nights,  when  Mother  had  gone  off  to 
dine  at  some  restaurant  or  other,  with  a  merry 
party,  Aunt  Gerty  said,  I  had  a  talk  with  Ben. 
George,  as  usual  now,  dined  in  his  study  alone. 
Ben  told  me  some  things  Mother  had  been  saying 
to  him,  about  better  times  coming,  and  darkest 
before  dawn,  and  so  on.  He  wanted  me  to  explain 
her,  but  I  couldn't,  for  the  only  fact  I  knew,  viz. 


286          THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

her  going  to  Boulogne  with  Mr.  Aix,  would  not  do 
Ben  any  good  that  I  could  see  ?  It  is  really  no  use 
trying  to  find  out  what  grown-up  people  mean, 
sometimes,  it  is  like  trying  to  imagine  eternity  ; 
one  has  nothing  to  go  on. 

We  went  to  bed  early,  but  I  couldn't  sleep  ;  after 
what  Ben  had  said  I  felt  I  must  see  Mother  again 
that  night.  I  kept  awake  with  great  difficulty  till 
I  heard  the  swish  of  her  dress  on  the  stairs,  and 
then  I  slipped  out  of  bed  and  faced  her.  She  was 
too  tired  to  scold,  she  had  trodden  twice  in  the  hem 
of  her  dress  going  up-stairs.  When  we  got  into  her 
own  room,  she  let  her  cloak  slide  off  on  to  the  floor, 
and  came  out  of  it  like  a  flower,  and  looked  awfully 
nice  in  her  low  neck  and  bare  arms. 

"  Oh,  my  pretty  little  Mother,"  I  said.  "  I  do 
love  you." 

"  You  are  just  like  every  one  else,"  she  answered 
me  pettishly. 

"  I'm  not,"  I  said,  but  of  course  there  is  no  doubt 
about  it,  one  does  love  people  more  in  evening  dress 
and  less  in  a  nightgown. 

"  Did  George  ever  see  you  like  this  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Often.     Is  he  gone  to  bed  ?  " 

"  Yes,  with  a  headache." 

She  took  a  candle  and  we  went  on  tiptoe  to  his 
room,  Mother  first  taking  off  her  high-heeled  shoes, 
for  they  would  tap  on  the  parquet  and  make  a 
noise.  George  was  asleep.  He  had  eaten  one  of 
his  bananas,  and  the  other  was  still  by  the  side  of 
his  bed. 


THE   CELEBRITY   AT   HOME          287 

"  Hold  the  candle,  Tempe  !  "  Mother  said  quickly. 
It  was  that  she  might  go  down  on  her  knees  beside 
George.  She  then  buried  her  head  in  the  quilt  and 
cried. 

"  Oh,  George,  I  am  doing  it  for  the  best — I  am,  I 
am  !  For  my  poor  neglected  boy — my  poor  Ben." 

She  upset  and  puzzled  me  so  by  alluding  to  Ben, 
after  my  conversation  with  him  that  very  evening, 
that  I  dropped  a  blob  of  candle-grease  on  the  sheet 
near  George's  arm,  and  I  was  so  afraid  I  had  awak- 
ened him,  that  I  at  once  shut  the  stable-door — I 
mean  blew  out  the  candle  and  made  a  horrible  smell. 
Mother  jumped  off  her  knees  as  frightened  as  I  was 
— Father  Mack  hasn't  cured  George  quite  of  swear- 
ing ! — and  we  made  a  clean  bolt  of  it  back  to  her 
room,  where  she  re-lit  the  candle  and  began  to  get 
out  of  her  dress  as  quickly  as  she  could,  while  I 
sat  in  a  honeypot  on  the  floor,  and  kept  my  night- 
gown well  round  my  legs  not  to  catch  cold,  and 
talked  to  her  nicely,  so  as  not  to  startle  her. 

"  Of  course,  Mother  dear,  you  are  doing  it  for  the 
best,  even  if  it  is  to  run  away." 

"  Run  away !  Who  says  I  am  going  to  run 
away  ?  " 

"  George." 

"  He  told  you  ?  " 

"  He  told  Lady  Scilly." 

"  Did  he,  then  ?  He  deserves  that  I  should  make 
it  true."  She  laughed,  a  laugh  I  did  not  like  at  all. 
It  wasn't  her  laugh,  but  I  have  said  she  was  quite 
changed. 


288          THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

"  Oh,  Mother,  don't  laugh  like  that !  " 

"  You  are  like  the  good  little  girl  in  the  play,  who 
preaches  down  a  wicked  mother's  heart !  Well,  my 
dear,  I'll  promise  you  one  thing.  I  will  never  run 
away  without  you.  Will  that  be  all  right  ?  " 

"  That  will  be  all  right,"  I  answered,  much  re- 
lieved. For  although  I  am  so  much  more  "  pally  " 
with  George  and  sorry  for  him,  I  don't  want  to  be 
left  with  him.  Perhaps  I  shall  be  allowed  to  run 
over  in  the  Marguerite  from  Boulogne  sometimes  on 
a  visit  ?  Then  I  could  darn  and  mend  for  him, 
as  Mr.  Aix  would  not  be  able  to  spare  Mother  from 
doing  for  him.  I  did  not  mention  Mr.  Aix  to  her. 
I  thought  she  would  rather  tell  me  all  in  her  own 
time. 

I  often  wonder  if  we  three  will  be  happy  in 
Boulogne,  or  wherever  it  is  social  ostracism  takes 
you  to?  I  fancy  the  inconvenience  of  running  away 
is  chiefly  the  want  of  society. 

That  is  the  only  want  Mother  will  not  feel  after 
all  those  years  buried  away  in  Isleworth.  Ariadne 
is  now  happily  married,  so  it  won't  affect  her,  though 
I  suppose  that  if  this  had  happened  a  year  ago,  a 
mother-in-law  spending  her  days  in  social  ostracism 
would  not  have  suited  Simon's  stiff  relations.  It 
might  have  prevented  him  from  proposing.  I  see 
it  all ;  Mother  unselfishly  waited. 

One  thing  really  troubles  me.  Why  does  not 
Mother  do  some  packing  ?  I  hope  that  she  is  not 
going  to  run  away  in  that  uncomfortable  style  when 
you  only  throw  two  or  three  things  into  a  bag  ?  A 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME          289 

couple  of  bottles  of  eau-de-cologne,  and  some  hair- 
pins, like  Laura  in  To  Leeward  ?  I,  at  any  rate, 
have  some  personal  property,  and  I  shall  do  very 
badly  without  it  in  a  dull,  dead-alive  place  like 
Boulogne.  But  I  will  be  patient.  Whatever  Mother 
does  is  sure  to  be  right,  even  running  away,  which 
gets  so  dreadfully  condemned  in  novels. 

George's  new  secretary  is  quite  utilitarian  and 
devoted  to  him,  she  is  not  so  farouche  as  Christina, 
Mr.  Aix  says,  or  so  charming.  George  keeps  her 
hard  at  work  typing  his  autobiography,  and  doesn't 
go  to  see  Father  Mack  any  more.  I  asked  him  why 
he  was  "  off "  dear  Father  Mack,  and  he  says  last 
time  he  went  to  see  him  it  was  the  Father's  supper- 
time,  and  he  saw  a  horrid  sight.  He  could  not 
think,  he  says,  of  entrusting  his  salvation  to  a  man 
whom  he  had  seen  supping  with  the  utmost  relish 
off  a  plateful  of  bullock's  eyes.  Just  like  George 
to  be  put  off  his  salvation  by  a  little  thing  like  that ! 
Though  I  always  felt  myself  as  if  Father  Mack  was 
not  quite  ascetic  enough  for  a  real  right-down  sinner 
like  George. 

Tickets  have  come  to  George  for  the  first  night  of 
Mr.  Aix's  play.  George  calls  it  Ingomar,  which  vexes 
Aix,  because  Ingomar  is  a  certain  old-fashioned  kind 
of  play  that  only  needs  a  pretty  woman  who  can't 
act,  as  "  lead." 

"  Who's  your  Parthenia  ?  "  he  asked  him. 

Mr.  Aix  answered,  "  Oh,  a  little  woman  I  un- 
earthed for  myself  from  the  suburban  drama — the 

usual  way." 

u 


2QO          THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

"  Any  good  ?  "  asked  George  casually. 

"  I  am  telling  her  exactly  what  I  want  her  to  do, 
and  she  looks  upon  me  as  Shakespeare  and  the 
Angel  Gabriel  in  one,"  said  Mr.  Aix,  glancing  across 
at  Mother,  who  pursed  up  her  lips  and  laughed. 

"  I  will  take  Tempe  to  your  first  night,"  said 
George  suddenly. 

"  A  play  of  Jim  Aix's  for  the  child's  first  play  !  " 
cried  Mother  in  a  fright.  "  I  shouldn't  think  of  it." 

"  Children  never  see  impropriety,  or  ought  not 
to,"  George  said.  "  But  if  you  don't  wish  it,  I  will 
take  Lady  Scilly  and  the  Fylingdales  instead.  It 
will  do  the  play  good." 

"  It's  a  fond  delusion,"  said  Aix,  "  that  the  aris- 
tocracy can  even  damn  a  play." 

Of  course  I  understood  the  impropriety  blind. 
Mother  wanted  me  to  be  free  to  go  away  with  her, 
and  the  twenty-sixth  was  to  be  the  night,  after  all. 
I  thought  of  the  crossing  by  the  nine  o'clock  mail 
that  we  should  have  to  do,  and  that  I  only  know  of 
from  hearsay,  and  wondered  why  they  must  choose 
such  an  awkward  time  ?  Perhaps  we  should  not 
after  all  cross  that  night,  for  surely  Mr.  Aix  would 
want  to  come  before  the  curtain  if  called,  and  that 
wouldn't  possibly  be  till  about  ten  o'clock,  too  late 
for  the  train  ? 

Perhaps  we  should  stay  the  night  at  an  hotel  ? 
I  should  simply  love  that. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

"  SHALL  I  type  your  Good-bye  to  George  ?  "  I 
asked  Mother.  She  said,  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 
I  said,  "  The  one  you  will  leave  pinned  to  your  pin- 
cushion in  the  usual  place  ?  " 

She  laughed,  and  I  again  thought  her  most  fear- 
fully casual.  There  was  no  packing  done,  although 
one  would  have  thought  she  would  have  liked  her 
clothes  nice  and  fresh  and  lots  of  them,  so  that  she 
shouldn't  feel  shabby  at  Boulogne,  and  let  Mr.  Aix 
and  herself  down.  As  for  my  clothes — I  really  only 
had  one — one  dress  I  mean — and  it  was  hanging 
loose  where  it  shouldn't,  and  with  a  large  ink-spot 
in  front  nobody  had  troubled  to  take  out  with  salts 
of  lemon  or  anything. 

But  I  began  to  think  some  things  had  been  sent 
on  beforehand,  as  advance  luggage  or  so  forth,  for 
Mr.  Aix  came  in  one  evening,  and  when  Aunt  Gerty 
raised  her  eyebrows  at  him,  he  said  "  A  I  !  "  That 
I  fancied  was  the  ticket  number  for  the  luggage, 
so  I  felt  more  at  ease. 

One  eventful  evening,  after  Mother  had  been  lying 
down  all  day,  I  was  told  to  put  on  my  sun-ray 
pleated,  and  to  mend  it  if  it  wanted  it.  I  did  mend 

291 


292          THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

it  and  I  put  a  toothbrush  in  the  pocket  of  it,  and 
I  kissed  all  the  cats  until  they  hated  me.  Cats  don't 
like  kissing,  but  then  I  didn't  know  when  I  should 
see  them  again  ?  I  supposed  some  time,  for  running 
away  never  is  a  permanent  thing.  People  always 
come  back  and  take  up  housekeeping  again,  in  the 
long  run. 

The  funny  thing  was,  they  had  chosen  the  day  of 
Mr.  Aix's  first  night  to  run  away  on.  I  suppose  it 
was  in  case  he  was  boo-ed.  Then  the  manager 
could  come  on  and  say,  "  The  author  is  not  in  the 
house,  having  gone  to  Boulogne  with  a  lady  and 
little  girl,  by  the  nine  o'clock  mail !  "  That,  of 
course,  was  the  train  we  were  to  catch.  I  looked 
it  out,  I  am  good  at  trains. 

George  took  Lady  Scilly  to  dine  at  the  Paxton 
that  night,  and  on  to  the  theatre  where  some  others 
were  to  meet  them.  I  have  never  been  to  a  theatre 
myself,  only  music  halls.  At  six  o'clock  George 
went  off,  all  grin  and  gardenia.  The  grin  was  as 
forced  as  the  gardenia.  I  observed  that. 

Aunt  Gerty  badly  wanted  to  go  with  Mr.  Aix  and 
hold  his  hand,  as  he  was  as  nervous  as  a  cat.  But 
he  wouldn't  have  her  with  him,  and  I  don't  wonder. 
It  would  have  been  impossible  to  shake  her  off  by 
nine  o'clock,  and  he  would  have  missed  the  boat- 
train,  and  Mother  and  me. 

After  our  dinner,  Mother  went  up  to  her  room 
and  put  on  her  hat,  and  told  me  to  go  to  mine  and 
to  put  on  my  Shanter.  I  didn't  intrude  on  her 
privacy.  I  daresay  she  was  saying  a  long  good-bye 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME          293 

to  her  old  home,  as  I  was.  I  filled  my  pockets  with 
mementoes.  I  took  Ernie  Fynes'  list  of  horses — 
for  after  all  he  is  the  only  boy  I  ever  loved,  and  it 
is  my  only  love-letter.  I  wondered  what  Mother 
would  take  ?  However,  she  came  out  of  her  room 
smiling,  and  her  pockets  didn't  stick  out  a  bit. 
She  is  calm  in  the  face  of  danger  ;  just  as  she 
was  that  awful  day  when  I  supplied  a  fresh  lot  of 
methylated  to  a  dying  flame  under  our  tea-kettle 
straight  from  the  bottle,  and  she  had  to  put  out  the 
large  fire  I  had  started  unconsciously. 

"  Goodness,  child,  how  you  do  bulge  !  Empty 
your  pocket  at  once  !  " 

I  did  as  I  was  told.  We  must  buy  pencils  over 
there,  I  suppose,  but  I  held  on  to  the  tooth- 
brush. 

"Now  you  are  not  to  talk  all  the  way  there  and 
tire  me  !  "  Mother  said,  as  we  got  into  a  hansom. 

"  I  won't ;  but  do  tell  me  where  we  are  to  meet 
Mr.  Aix  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Aix  ?  I  am  sure  I  don't  know.  He  will  be 
about,  I  suppose,  unless  they  sit  on  his  head  to  keep 
him  quiet !  Don't  talk." 

She  put  her  hand  up  to  her  head,  not  because  she 
had  a  headache,  but  to  keep  her  hair  in  place,  as  it 
was  a  windy  night,  and  I  couldn't  help  thinking  of 
the  crossing  that  I  had  never  crossed,  only  heard 
what  Ariadne  said  about  it,  when  she  came  back 
from  her  wedding-tour.  Ariadne  tried  seven  cures, 
and  none  of  them  saved  her. 

It  was  ridiculously  early,  only  seven  o'clock.     As 


294          THE  CELEBRITY  AT  [HOME 

we  drove  on  and  on  I  began  to  hope  that  we  were 
going  to  lose  Mr.  Aix  and  go  alone.  But  it  was  no 
good.  We  stopped  at  a  door  that  certainly  wasn't 
the  door  of  a  station,  and  Mr.  Aix  came  out  to  meet 
us.  He  squeezed  our  hands,  and  his  hand  was  hot, 
while  his  face  was  as  white  as  a  table-cloth.  We 
went  in,  up  a  dirty  passage,  and  into  a  great  cellar 
where  there  seemed  to  be  building  constructions 
going  on,  for  I  noticed  lots  of  scaffolding  and  that 
sort  of  thing.  There  were  also  great  pieces  of  canvas 
stretched  on  wood,  and  one  very  big  bit  lying  there 
propped  against  the  wall  had  a  landscape  of  an 
orchard  on  it. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  I  asked  one  of  the  people  standing 
about — a  man  in  a  white  jacket. 

"  That,  Missie— that's  the  back  cloth  to  the  first 
scene,"  and  then  he  mumbled  something,  about  flies 
and  their  wings,  that  I  did  not  chose  to  show  I 
didn't  understand. 

"  Oh,  yes,  quite  so,"  I  said  to  the  dirty  man  in 
the  white  (it  had  once  been)  jacket,  and  got  hold 
of  Mr.  Aix,  who  was  mooning  about  in  evening  dress, 
quite  unsuitable  for  a  journey.  But  he  was  always 
an  untidy  sort  of  inappropriate  man. 

"  Where's  my  mother  ?  " 

"  Oh,  your  mother  !  Yes,  she's  gone  to  her  room. 
I'll  take  you  to  her." 

"But  are  you  going  to  make  us  live  here  ?  "  I 
asked ;  but  bless  the  man  !  he  was  too  nervous  to 
take  any  more  notice  of  me  and  my  remarks.  We 
muddled  along;  I  tumbled  over  a  lump  in  the  middle 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME          295 

of  the  floor  with  grass  sown  on  it,  and  caught  my 
foot  in  a  carpet,  made  of  the  same.  Mr.  Aix  quite 
forgot  me  and  I  lost  him. 

"  Mind  !  Mind  !  "  everybody  kept  saying,  and 
shouldering  past  me  with  bits  of  the  very  walls  in 
their  arms.  They  left  the  brick  perfectly  bare,  as 
bare  as  our  old  coal-cellar  at  Isleworth.  (The  one 
in  Cinque  Cento  House  is  panelled.)  I  saw  an 
ordinary  tree,  as  I  thought,  but  I  was  quite  upset 
to  find  it  was  flat,  like  a  free-hand  drawing.  My 
eyes  were  dazzled  with  electric  lights,  mounted  on 
strings,  like  a  necklace,  only  stiff,  that  they  pushed 
about  everywhere  they  liked.  There  were  things 
like  our  nursery  fire-guard  all  round  the  gas,  that 
was  there  as  well  as  electric.  I  noticed  a  girl  go 
and  look  through  a  hole  in  a  bit  of  canvas  or  tapestry 
that  took  up  all  one  side  of  the  wall,  and  went  near 
her. 

"  Pretty  fair  house  !  "  she  said.  She  was  a  funny- 
looking  little  thing,  with  hardly  enough  on,  and 
what  there  was  was  dirty,  or  dyed  a  dirty  colour. 
In  fact  no  two  persons  there  were  dressed  alike ;  it 
was  like  a  fancy-dress  party,  such  as  the  Hitchings 
have  at  their  Christmas-tree.  The  noise  was  deafen- 
ing, they  were  shoving  heavy  weights  about  here 
and  there,  without  knowing  particularly  or  caring 
where  they  were  going.  My  new  friend  had  an 
American  accent,  and  was  as  gentle  as  a  cat.  She 
went  a  little  way  back  from  the  curtain  with  me 
and  stood  by  a  man  she  seemed  rather  to  like, 
though  he  didn't  seem  to  like  her.  He  was  very 


296          THE   CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

tall  and  big,  and  when  she  had  been  talking  to  him 
a  little  while,  she  said  suddenly — 

"  Excuse  me  !  I  must  not  let  myself  get  stiff  !  " 
and  took  hold  of  a  great  leather  belt  he  wore,  and 
propped  herself  up  by  it  and  began  to  dip  up  and 
down,  opening  her  knees  wide.  The  man  didn't 
seem  to  like  it  much,  but  he  was  kind  and  chaffed 
her,  till  I  got  tired  of  her  see-sawing  up  and  down, 
and  talking  of  her  Greekness,  and  asked  one  or  the 
other  of  them  to  be  kind  enough  to  take  me  to  my 
mother. 

"  Certainly,  little  'un,"  said  the  man ;  "  kindly 
point  the  young  lady  out  to  me.  There's  so  many 
in  the  Greek  chorus  !  " 

"  It  is  Miss  Lucy  Jennings'  daughter,"  said  some- 
body near. 

"  I'll  take  you  to  her  after  my  dance,"  said  the 
girl.  "  Wait.  Watch  me  !  I  go  on  !  " 

It  was  a  sort  of  hop-skip-and-a-jump,  like  a  little 
spring  lamb  capering  about  the  fields  and  running 
races  with  the  others  as  they  do,  but  not  more  than 
that.  They  made  a  ring  for  her,  and  we  all  stood 
round  and  watched  her,  and  somebody  sang  while 
she  was  dancing.  She  had  no  stockings  at  all  on 
her  clean  manicured  feet,  but  a  kind  of  open-work 
boot  of  fancy  leather.  She  came  back  as  cool  as  a 
cucumber,  and  no  wonder,  for  she  had  nearly  stayed 
still,  not  so  much  exercise  as  an  ordinary  game  of 
blindman's-buff,  and  said  to  me,  "  Now,  pussy,  I 
will  escort  you  to  your  mommer." 

She  took  me  to  the  edge  of  the  wall  where  a  little 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME          297 

stairs  came  down,  and  on  the  way  we  passed  a  boy 
with  one  side  of  him  blue  and  the  other  green,  and 
another  man  with  wattles  like  a  turkey  hanging 
down  his  cheeks  and  a  baby's  rattle  in  his  hand.  I 
hated  them  all,  they  were  streaky  and  hot,  like  a 
nightmare,  and  simply  longed  for  my  nice,  clean, 
natural  mother. 

But  when  we  got  to  a  door  and  knocked,  a  woman 
like  a  nurse  came  and  answered  it,  and  through  her 
arm  I  could  see  my  mother,  standing  in  front  of  a 
looking-glass,  under  a  gas  globe  with  a  fender  over 
it,  and  she  was  streakier  than  anybody.  She  had 
a  queer  dress  on  too,  with  a  waistband  much  too 
low,  and  a  skirt,  shortish,  and  her  hair  was 
yellow  ! 

That  finished  me,  and  I  screamed,  "  Oh,  Mother, 
where  have  you  put  your  black  hair  ?  " 

Aunt  Gerty,  who  was  sitting  on  a  large  cane  dress- 
basket,  told  me  to  shut  my  mouth,  and  Mother 
turned  round  and  said — 

"It  is  only  a  wig,  dear,  and  the  paint  will  wash 
off,  and  then  I  will  kiss  you.  Meantime,  sit  down 
and  keep  still !  " 

So  I  did,  and  watched  the  nurse  arranging  Mother 
as  if  she  was  a  child,  nothing  more  or  less.  I  turned 
this  way  and  that,  trying  to  get  the  effect,  but  it 
was  no  use,  I  still  thought  she  looked  horrid. 

The  others  didn't  think  so.  Aunt  Gerty  kept 
saying,  "  Really,  Lucy,  I  wouldn't  have  believed 
it !  A  little  make-up  goes  a  long  way  with  us  poor 
women,  I  see.  More  on  the  left-hand  corner  of  the 


298          THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

cheek,  Kate.  The  lighting  is  rather  unkind  here,  I 
happen  to  know." 

So  Kate  put  more  on,  and  Mother  kept  taking 
more  off  with  a  shabby  bit  of  an  animal's  foot  she 
kept  in  her  hand.  She  never  looked  at  me  at  all, 
she  was  much  too  busy.  Then  suddenly  a  little 
scrubby  boy  came  and  said  something  at  the  door — 
"  Garden  scene  on  T'  and  went  away.  The  nurse 
called  Kate  threw  a  coat  over  Mother,  and  we  all 
three  went  out  and  down  the  stairs. 

Then  for  the  first  time  I  twigged  what  it  was — a 
Theatre!  The  people  were  acting  all  round  us.  I 
knew  acting  well  enough  when  I  saw  it,  but  what  I 
didn't  know  was  behind  the  scenes,  and  goodness 
me,  I  have  heard  Aunt  Gerty  talk  about  it  enough  ! 
I  was  ashamed  of  having  been  so  stupid,  and  terribly 
disillusioned  as  well. 

The  play  was  all  the  running  away  there  was  to 
be  !  Mother  was  going  to  be  no  more  to  Mr.  Aix 
than  taking  a  leading  part  in  his  play  amounted  to. 
My  toothbrush  literally  burned  in  my  pocket.  I 
had  been  made  a  fool  of. 

But  when  I  came  to  think  it  over  quietly,  I  did 
not  know  but  what  I  was  not  rather  glad.  It  would 
have  been  a  horrid  upset,  this  running-away  idea, 
and  I  believe  George  secretly  felt  it  very  much, 
though  he  did  swagger  so  and  pretend  he  didn't 
care.  The  only  thing  was,  perhaps  he  would  mind 
Mother  going  on  the  stage  even  worse  than  running 
away  ?  I  longed  to  see  him  and  hear  what  he  had 
to  say  about  it. 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME          299 

Mr.  Aix  was  standing  quite  near  us,  between  a 
flat  green  tree  and  the  wall  of  a  temple.  He  looked 
almost  handsome ;  I  suppose  it  was  the  aroma  of 
success,  for  certainly  this  was  a  success.  The  audi- 
ence seemed  delighted  with  Mr.  Bell,  a  great  fat 
actor  in  boots,  with  frilled  tops  like  an  ancient 
Roman,  who  stood  in  the  very  middle  of  the  stage 
raging  away  at  Mother  about  something  or  other 
she  had  done. 

"  Bell's  in  capital  form  to-night,"  said  Mr.  Aix, 
quite  loud.  "  I'm  pleased  with  him." 

"  I  hope  I  shall  content  you  too,"  said  Mother, 
who  was  shivering  all  over,  and  I  don't  wonder,  for 
the  draughts  in  this  place  were  terrific.  Kate 
handed  her  a  bottle  of  smelling-salts. 

"  Better  by  far  have  a  B.  and  S.,"  said  Mr.  Aix. 

"  No  Dutch  courage  for  me,  thank  you  !  "  said 
Mother.  "  Tell  me  at  once,  is  George  and  the  cat 
in  the  box  ?  " 

"  They  are,  and  Mr.  Sidney  Robinson  and  the 
Countess  of  Fylingdales.  You  must  buck  up,  little 
woman,  and  show  them  what  you  can  do  !  " 

"  And  what  you  can  do  !  "  she  answered  politely. 
"  I  shan't  forget  you  have  entrusted  me  with  your 
play." 

"  And,  by  Jove  !  you'll  bring  it  out  as  no  other 
woman  could.  You  can " 

"  I'm  on  !  "  said  Mother,  suddenly,  and  shunted 
the  shawl,  and  pushed  forward  and  began  to  act. 

They  clapped  her  at  first  and  nearly  drowned  her 
voice,  but  she  went  right  on  and  abused  Mr.  Bell 


300          THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME 

in  blank  verse.  I  was  glad  Mr.  Aix  hadn't  made 
her  a  laundress  or  a  serio,  but  something  nice  and 
Greek  and  respectable. 

I  stood  there  with  Kate  and  Mother's  shawl  and 
Aunt  Gerty,  and  never  knew  what  it  was  to  be  so 
excited  before  !  The  Greek  girl  came  up  to  me  and 
said — 

"  Say,  your  mommer  '11  knock  them  !  " 

Then  they  seemed  to  come  to  a  sort  of  proper 
place  to  stop,  and  the  curtain  began  to  rattle  down, 
and  Mother  and  Mr.  Bell  were  holding  each  other 
tight,  like  lovers,  only  I  heard  her  say  in  a  whisper, 
"  Mind  my  hair  !  " 

They  stayed  there  a  long  time  looking  stupid, 
even  while  the  curtain  was  down  and  people  were 
clapping  all  round.  Then  I  saw  why  they  did  it, 
for  it  went  up  again,  and  again,  and  then  they 
parted  and  took  hands  the  last  time,  and  looked 
straight  in  front  of  them  and  panted,  while  people 
shouted  their  names.  Then  the  curtain  came  down 
again  and  Mr.  Bell  limped  off,  for,  as  he  said, 
politely,  Mother  had  been  standing  all  the  while  on 
his  best  corn.  She  was  so  sorry,  and  he  said  it  didn't 
matter,  and  he  hoped  he  hadn't  disarranged  her  hair. 

Oddly  enough  the  clapping  began  again.  Aunt 
Gerty  jogged  Mother,  who  stood  near  me  looking 
quite  giddy,  and  said  "  Take  your  call,  silly  !  " 

Mr.  Bell  took  her  by  the  hand  and  made  her  walk 
along  in  front  of  the  curtain  that  a  man  held  back 
for  her  by  main  force,  and  then  we  heard  the  people 
roaring  again,  till  it  seemed  more  as  if  they  thirsted 


THE  CELEBRITY  AT  HOME          301 

for  their  blood  than  wanted  to  praise  them.  This 
happened  twice.  When  they  didn't  seem  inclined 
to  clap  any  more  she  went  off  to  her  room  with  Kate, 
while  Mr.  Aix  thanked  her  for  making  his  play. 

"  Come  and  look  at  them  !  "  said  Aunt  Gerty  to 
me,  and  we  went  and  looked  through  the  rent  in 
the  curtain,  for  that  was  the  hole  in  the  wall  the 
girl  looked  through.  There  was  George  and  Lady 
Scilly  talking  away  as  if  Mother  and  her  triumph 
hadn't  existed.  I  think  George  was  cross,  but  I 
really  couldn't  tell. 

Mother  wouldn't  have  me  in  her  room  at  all  this 
time,  and  I  lounged  about  with  Aunt  Gerty  till  it 
all  began  again.  Mother  didn't  do  this  next  act  so 
well,  at  least  Aunt  Gerty  said  not,  and  scolded  her. 

"I  can't  help  it,  Gertrude,"  Mother  said.  "I 
thought  George  would  have " 

"  Never  fear  !  He'll  hold  out  till  the  end  of  the 
play.  Then  he'll  be  round  here  bothering  as  sure 
as  my  name  is  Gertrude  Jenynge !  " 

And  her  name  is  Gertrude  Jennings,  which  is  pretty 
near,  and  in  the  third  piece  of  acting,  when  Mother 
was  not  on  much,  I  heard  George's  voice  asking  to 
be  taken  to  her. 

"  Miss  Jennings  left  word  she  was  not  to  be  dis- 
turbed this  wait." 

"  I'm  her  husband." 

"  Very  likely,  sir  !  "     The  man  sneered. 

He  didn't  get  in,  and  he  stood  there  neglected  by 
the  staircase  till  the  beginning  of  the  next  and  last 
act,  as  they  said  it  was.  I  dared  not  go  and  speak 


302          THE  CELEBRITY  AT   HOME 

to  him,  for  he  looked  so  cross,  and  I  was  also  afraid 
he  would  carry  me  away  to  the  box  with  Lady  Scilly, 
so  I  just  slipped  behind  a  bit  of  scenery  and  observed. 

Presently  Mother  came  softly  out  of  her  room 
and  passed  George  leaning  on  the  rail  of  the  staircase 
leading  to  her  dressing-room. 

She  nodded  and  laughed. 

"  Wait  for  me,  George,  please.  Kate,  take  this 
gentleman  to  my  room " 

And  she  went  gaily  on  to  the  stage. 

I  followed  George  and  Kate  to  Mother's  room, 
and  discovered  myself  to  him.  He  made  no  fuss, 
simply  looked  right  through  me,  and  began  walking 
up  and  down  while  Kate  sewed  a  button  on  to 
something. 

We  heard  the  clapping  from  the  front  quite  dis- 
tinctly. George  ground  his  teeth.  Then  Kate 
slipped  out  and  Mother  came  in  alone,  panting,  and 
took  hold  of  the  dressing-table  as  if  she  was  drowning. 

"I've  saved  the  piece  !  "  said  she  almost  to  herself, 
and  then  to  George,  "  I'm  an  artist.  Oh,  George, 
why  weren't  you  in  front  to  see  me  in  the  best 
moment  of  my  life  ?  " 

"  When  I  married  you,  Lucy "  George  stut- 
tered. 

"  Yes,  but  that  wasn't  nearly  such  an  occasion  ! 
Oh,  George,  forgive  me,  and  don't  spoil  all  my 
pleasure." 

"  Pleasure  !  "  said  George,  as  if  he  was  disgusted. 

"  Here  comes  Jim  Aix  to  congratulate  me.  Poor 
Aix,  he  is  so  pleased.  .  .  ." 


THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME          303 

She  burst  into  tears  as  Mr.  Aix  came  in.  He  took 
absolutely  no  notice  of  George,  but  just  caught 
hold  of  Mother's  hands  and  said  several  times 
over — 

"  Thank  you  !  Thank  you  !  Bless  you  !  Bless 
you  !  Good  God  !  You  are  crying " 

"It  is  my  husband  there,  who  grudges  me  my 
success !  He  does,  he  does !  Oh,  George,  for 
shame  !  I  did  it  for  Ben — for  our  son — to  be  able 
to  send  him  to  college.  I  have  made  a  hit — quite 
by  accident — and  you  grudge  it  me  !  " 

"  He  doesn't,  he  doesn't  grudge  you  your  artistic 
expansion  !  "  said  Mr.  Aix,  and  went  to  George 
and  put  his  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "  Old  George  is 
the  best  sort  in  the  world  at  the  bottom.  Pull  your- 
self together,  dear  old  man,  and  be  thankful  you 
have  a  clever  wife,  as  well  as  a  good  one.  She's  a 
genius — she's  better,  she's  a  brick.  I  can  tell  you 
she's  a  heaven-born  actress,  and  you  know  what 
sort  of  a  wife  she  has  been  to  you.  Speak  to  her, 
man,  don't  let  her  cry  her  heart  out  now,  in  the 
hour  of  her  triumph.  What's  a  triumph  ?  At  the 
best  but  short-lived  !  Don't  grudge  it  her  !  Con- 
gratulate her " 

George  came  out  of  his  corner  and  took  Mother's 
hand  and  kissed  it  nicely,  as  I  have  seen  him  kiss 
Lady  Scilly's  hand,  but  Mother's  never. 

"  One  can  only  beg  your  pardon,  Lucy,  for  this, 
and  everything  else.  Can  you  forgive  me  ?  " 

I  re-open  my  MS.  to  add  a  few  facts  of  interest. 


304          THE  CELEBRITY   AT  HOME 

1.  Ariadne  got   a  baby  in   June;   his  name  is 
Almeric  Peter  Frederick. 

2.  Aunt  Gerty  got  her  brewer,  and  Mrs.  Bowser 
has  left  the  stage. 

3.  Ben  was  sent  to  school,  and  they  say  he  is 
clever,  though  I  never  could  see  it. 

4.  Lady  Scilly  has  run  away  with  the  chauffeur 
and,  so  far,  hasn't  come  back. 

5.  I  am  going  to  stay  with  Ernie  Fynes'  mother, 
Lady  Fynes,  at  Barsom.     Ernie  will  be  away  at 
Eton,  but  he  loves  me. 


THE  END 


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AUTHORS  OF   "SHAKESPEARE'S  TOWN  AND  TIMES." 

With  a  Steel  Plate  Portrait  of  Dickens,  three  Photogravures,  and  nearly 
300  full-page  and  othir  Illustrations. 

Crown  4to.  10s.  6d.  net. 


PRESS  COMMENTS. 

Mr.  Robert  Barr,  in  The  Idler.—"  Mr.  H.  Snowden  Ward  is  probably  the 
greatest  living  authority  on  Dickens  localities." 

The  Standard,— "  The  work  has  never  been  done  so  thoroughly  and  com- 
prehensively as  in  'The  Real  Dickens  Land.'  " 

The  Field.—*"  A  wonderfully  complete,  painstaking,  and  accurate  survey  of 
every  corner  in  England  which  Dickens  visited  and  described." 

The  Daily  Telegraph, — "  A  very  charmingly  produced  book.  .  .  .  A  harvest 
of  fine  photographs,  many  of  which  will  be  of  enduring  interest.  The  sketch 
of  Dickens's  life  and  the  running  commentary  on  the  pictures  themselves  are 
excellently  done,  and  are  obviously  the  work  of  authors  genuinely  in  love  with 
their  subject  and  free  from  the  extravagance  of  undue  hero  worship." 

The  Sunday  Special. — "To  our  authors  we  owe  the  happy  thought  of  pre- 
serving, with  the  aid  of  their  cameras,  the  real  Dickens  land  as  it  exists  to-day, 
and  by  faithfully  following  the  footsteps  of  the  novelist  from  boyhood  up,  they 
have  succeeded  in  giving  us  an  invaluable  picture  gallery.  .  .  .  The  hand- 
some volume  forms  a  distinct  addition  to  Dickens  literature." 

The  Athenaeum. — "The  authors  have  made  excellent  use  of  the  many 
investigations  by  Mr.  Kitton  and  other  indefatigable  Dickensians  ;  they  have 
themselves  made  research  and  taken  photographs  ;  and  since  they  write  well, 
their  volume  is  a  model  of  its  kind.  The  illustrations  are  numerous  and 
excellent ;  the  index  is  first-rate,  and  the  events  of  Dickens's  life  are  skilfully 
woven  into  the  narrative." 

The  Norwich  Mercury. — "  In  short,  this  volume  is  without  a  peer  in  the 
matter  that  really  illustrates  Charles  Dickens's  life  and  works.  .  .  .  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Ward  have  hit  the  happy  mean,  so  that  the  book  is  not  a  bald  statement 
of  '  hard  facts,'  but  is  lightened  by  glimpses  of  art  and  nature  in  her  brightest 
moods  wherever  occasion  served.  ...  It  cannot  fail  to  be  a  favourite  half- 
guinea  Christmas  or  New  Year's  gift-book." 


LONDON:  CHAPMAN  AND   HALL,  LTD. 

vii 


MR.  H.  G.  WELLS'S  TWO  GREAT  WORKS 

MANKIND  IN  THE  MAKING 

Third  Large  Edition  now  ready.     Crown  8vo,  7s.  6d. 

A  FEW  PRESS  OPINIONS. 

11  Mr.  Wells's  4  Mankind  in  the  Making'  ...  is  a  book  to  read  and  to 
think  about,  and  one  which  obviously  proceeds  from  a  great  deal  of  honest 
and  stubborn  thinking  on  the  writer's  part.  It  both  challenges  the  stupid- 
ities of  clever  people  and  brings  into  sharp  question  the  lazy  conventions 
and  accepted  servilities  of  modern  English  life." — Westminster  Gazette. 

"  No  more  provocative  and  fascinating  volume  has  been  issued  of  recent 
years  than  this  '  Mankind  in  the  Making.'  Mr.  Wells  is  a  master  of  the 
suggestive  phrase  which  suddenly  opens  long  vistas  and  great  issues." — 
Speaker. 

14  *  Mankind  in  the  Making'  is  a  courageous  and  earnest  and  suggestive 
attempt  to  deal  with  the  all-important  problem  of  the  future  of  the  race, 
and  as  such  we  hope  it  will  be  widely  read." — Onlooker. 

"  Mr.  Wells  is  one  of  the  few,  very  few,  original  thinkers  of  the  present 
day,  and  the  result  is  that  we  have  a  book  .  .  .  which  stimulates  thought 
more  than  any  work  which  one  has  come  across  in  recent  years." — Graphic. 

ANTICIPATIONS 

AN  EXPERIMENT  IN  PROPHECY 

BY  H.  G.  WELLS 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  TIME  MACHINE,"  "WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES,'*  ETC. 

Seventh  Edition.     Crown  8vo,  ?s.  6d. 
Popular  and  Eighth  Edition.     Cloth,  y.  6d. ;  paper  covers,  6d. 

"'  Anticipations '  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  pieces  of  social  pro- 
phecy which  we  have  lately  read.  ...  In  Mr.  Wells  we  have  not  merely 
an  imaginative  writer  of  truly  original  power,  but  a  thinker  of  very  con- 
siderable calibre.  .  .  .  We  cannot  hesitate  to  recommend  this  book  to  our 
readers  as  one  of  the  most  suggestive  attempts  that  have  yet  been  made 
seriously  to  grapple  with  those  great  problems  of  the  near  future  which 
present  themselves  to  every  man.  .  .  .  Such  vividness  of  perception  and 
picturesque  wealth  of  detail  as  render  it  hard  for  the  most  unwilling  reader 
to  evade  its  spell  ...  a  most  bracing,  strenuous,  and  interesting  attempt 
to  foreshadow  the  trend  of  our  present  activities,  which  no  open-minded 
person  can  read  without  being  the  better  for  it. " — Spectator. 


LONDON;   CHAPMAN   AND   HALL,  LTD. 
via 


THE  WOMAN'S  LIBRARY 

EDITED  BY  ETHEL  M.  M.  M'KENNA 

With  Numerous  Illustrations. 

In  Six  Volumes.    Crown  8vo,  $s.  net  per  Volume. 

VOL.  I.    EDUCATION  AND  PROFESSIONS  FOR  WOMEN 

Containing  Articles  by 

Miss  JANET  HOGARTH  on  "  HIGHER  EDUCATION," 
Mrs.  KENDAL  on  "THE  STAGE." 
Mrs.  JOPLINO  on  "ART." 
Miss  BEATRICE  ORANGE  on  "  TEACHING." 
Miss  BILLINGTON  on  "  JOURNALISM.") 
Dr.  ETHEL  LAMPORT  on  "MEDICINE." 
Miss  MARGARET  IRWIN  on  "PUBLIC  WORK." 
Miss  MABYN  ARMOUR  on  "SANITARY  INSPECTING." 

VOL.  II.    NEEDLEWORK 

Profusely  Illustrated.    Including  Articles  on 
"EMBROIDERY."  by  Miss  RUTH  M.  DAY. 
"  DRESSMAKING,"  by  Miss  J.  E.  DAVIS,  of  the  Women's  Work  Department  of  the 

Manchester  Municipal  School  of  Technology. 
"  MILLINERY,"  by  Miss  CLARA  HILL,  Registered  Teacher  to  the  City  and  Guilds 

of  London  Institute. 
"  KNITTING  AND  CROCHET,"  by  Mrs.  and  Miss  TURNBULL. 

VOL.  III.    NURSERY  AND  SICK-ROOM 

Containing 

"ETHICAL  TRAINING  OF  CHILDREN,"  by  Lady  ISABEL  MARGESSON. 
"  PRACTICAL  CARE  OF  CHILDREN,"  by  ETHEL  LAMPORT. 
"NURSING,"  by  Miss  H.  F.  GETHEN. 

VOL.  IV.   SOME  ARTS  AND  CRAFTS 

With  Numerous  Illustrations.    Containing  Articles  on 
"FURNISHING   AND   DECORATION,"  by  Miss  MAY  CROMMELIN  and    Mrs. 

CAROLINE  SHAW. 
"  WOODCARVING,"  by  Miss  M.  E.  REEKS,  Assistant  Teacher  at  the  School  of  Art 

Woodcarving,  South  Kensington. 
"ENAMELLING,"  by  Miss  HALLE. 
"  DECORATIVE  WEAVING,"  by  Miss  CLIVE  BAYLEY,  Foundress  of  the  Bushey 

School  of  Weaving. 

"BOOKBINDING,"  by  ETHEL  M.  M.  M'KENNA. 
"ARTISTIC  PHOTOGRAPHY,"  by  ALICE  HUGHES. 

VOL.  V.   COOKERY  AND  HOUSEKEEPING 

By  Mrs.  PRAGA. 

VOL.  VI.   THE  LIGHTER  BRANCHES  OF  AGRICULTURE 

By  EDITH  BRADLEY  and  BERTHA  LA  MOTHE,  N.D.D. 
With  an  Introduction  by  Lady  WARWICK. 

Numerous  Illustrations. 

Containing  "MARKET  GARDENING  AND  FRUIT-GROWING,"  "POULTRY 
FARMING,"  "MARKETING,"  "WOMEN'S  SETTLEMENTS," 

"  DAIRYING,"   "  BEE-KEEPING." 

Mrs.  F.  A.  STEEL  in  the  Saturday  Review  says— "They  are  admirable  pieces  of 
work.  Carefully  compiled,  excellently  edited,  and  beautifully  issued.  No  fault  in 
matter  or  manner." 

T.  P.'s  Weekly  says — "An  interesting  series,  and  one  filling  a  definite  corner  in  the 
modern  maze  of  book-making." 

LONDON:  CHAPMAN   AND   HALL,  LTD. 

ix 


W.   H.   MALLOCK'S    WORKS 

THE  INDIVIDUALIST.    Third  Edition.   Crown 
8vo.    6s. 

THE  HEART  OF  LIFE.    Third  Edition.   Crown 
8vo.    6s. 

A    HUMAN    DOCUMENT.    Ninth  Edition. 

Crown  8vo.     3$.  6d. 

"Among  those  novelists  who  have  always  avoided  the  merely  artificial 

Slots  and  characters  of  commonplace  fiction,  and  have  endeavoured  to 
raw  their  subjects  and  personages  on  the  lines  of  actuality,  Mr.  W.  H. 
Mallock  must  certainly  be  numbered.  ...  A  novel  which  only  a  clever 
and  observant  man  could  have  written,  and  which  only  a  very  dull  man 
could  read  without  finding  much  to  divert  his  mind." — The  Morning  Post. 


ELLA   FULLER    MAITLAND'S   WORKS 

THE  SONG-BOOK  OF  BETHIA  HARD- 
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ducted  by  PETER   SALTONSTALL,  Esq.,  and  written  by 
Various  Hands.     Large  Crown  8vo.     7^.  6d. 


BY   FIONA   MACLEOD 

THE    DIVINE    ADVENTURE;    IONA; 

BY  SUNDOWN  SHORES.  Studies  in  Spiritual 
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of  the  Ford,"  "  The  Dominion  of  Dreams,"  etc.  Crown 
8vo.  6s. 

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