three men on the bummel-第11节

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I　overtook　George　and　Harris；　they　were　also　running。　　In　their
caseso　Harris　informed　me；　jerkily；　while　we　trotted　side　by
sideit　was　the　new　kitchen　stove　that　was　to　blame。　　This　was　the
first　morning　they　had　tried　it；　and　from　some　cause　or　other　it
had　blown　up　the　kidneys　and　scalded　the　cook。　　He　said　he　hoped
that　by　the　time　we　returned　they　would　have　got　more　used　to　it。

We　caught　the　train　by　the　skin　of　our　teeth；　as　the　saying　is；　and
reflecting　upon　the　events　of　the　morning；　as　we　sat　gasping　in　the
carriage；　there　passed　vividly　before　my　mind　the　panorama　of　my
Uncle　Podger；　as　on　two　hundred　and　fifty　days　in　the　year　he　would
start　from　Ealing　Common　by　the　nine…thirteen　train　to　Moorgate
Street。

From　my　Uncle　Podger's　house　to　the　railway　station　was　eight
minutes'　walk。　　What　my　uncle　always　said　was：

〃Allow　yourself　a　quarter　of　an　hour；　and　take　it　easily。〃

What　he　always　did　was　to　start　five　minutes　before　the　time　and
run。　　I　do　not　know　why；　but　this　was　the　custom　of　the　suburb。
Many　stout　City　gentlemen　lived　at　Ealing　in　those　daysI　believe
some　live　there　stilland　caught　early　trains　to　Town。　　They　all
started　late；　they　all　carried　a　black　bag　and　a　newspaper　in　one
hand；　and　an　umbrella　in　the　other；　and　for　the　last　quarter　of　a
mile　to　the　station；　wet　or　fine；　they　all　ran。

Folks　with　nothing　else　to　do；　nursemaids　chiefly　and　errand　boys；
with　now　and　then　a　perambulating　costermonger　added；　would　gather
on　the　common　of　a　fine　morning　to　watch　them　pass；　and　cheer　the
most　deserving。　　It　was　not　a　showy　spectacle。　　They　did　not　run
well；　they　did　not　even　run　fast；　but　they　were　earnest；　and　they
did　their　best。　　The　exhibition　appealed　less　to　one's　sense　of　art
than　to　one's　natural　admiration　for　conscientious　effort。

Occasionally　a　little　harmless　betting　would　take　place　among　the
crowd。

〃Two　to　one　agin　the　old　gent　in　the　white　weskit！〃

〃Ten　to　one　on　old　Blowpipes；　bar　he　don't　roll　over　hisself　'fore
'e　gets　there！〃

〃Heven　money　on　the　Purple　Hemperor！〃a　nickname　bestowed　by　a
youth　of　entomological　tastes　upon　a　certain　retired　military
neighbour　of　my　uncle's；a　gentleman　of　imposing　appearance　when
stationary；　but　apt　to　colour　highly　under　exercise。

My　uncle　and　the　others　would　write　to　the　Ealing　Press　complaining
bitterly　concerning　the　supineness　of　the　local　police；　and　the
editor　would　add　spirited　leaders　upon　the　Decay　of　Courtesy　among
the　Lower　Orders；　especially　throughout　the　Western　Suburbs。　　But
no　good　ever　resulted。

It　was　not　that　my　uncle　did　not　rise　early　enough；　it　was　that
troubles　came　to　him　at　the　last　moment。　　The　first　thing　he　would
do　after　breakfast　would　be　to　lose　his　newspaper。　　We　always　knew
when　Uncle　Podger　had　lost　anything；　by　the　expression　of
astonished　indignation　with　which；　on　such　occasions；　he　would
regard　the　world　in　general。　　It　never　occurred　to　my　Uncle　Podger
to　say　to　himself：

〃I　am　a　careless　old　man。　　I　lose　everything：　　I　never　know　where　I
have　put　anything。　　I　am　quite　incapable　of　finding　it　again　for
myself。　　In　this　respect　I　must　be　a　perfect　nuisance　to　everybody
about　me。　　I　must　set　to　work　and　reform　myself。〃

On　the　contrary；　by　some　peculiar　course　of　reasoning；　he　had
convinced　himself　that　whenever　he　lost　a　thing　it　was　everybody
else's　fault　in　the　house　but　his　own。

〃I　had　it　in　my　hand　here　not　a　minute　ago！〃　he　would　exclaim。

From　his　tone　you　would　have　thought　he　was　living　surrounded　by
conjurers；　who　spirited　away　things　from　him　merely　to　irritate
him。

〃Could　you　have　left　it　in　the　garden？〃　my　aunt　would　suggest。

〃What　should　I　want　to　leave　it　in　the　garden　for？　　I　don't　want　a
paper　in　the　garden；　I　want　the　paper　in　the　train　with　me。〃

〃You　haven't　put　it　in　your　pocket？〃

〃God　bless　the　woman！　　Do　you　think　I　should　be　standing　here　at
five　minutes　to　nine　looking　for　it　if　I　had　it　in　my　pocket　all
the　while？　　Do　you　think　I'm　a　fool？〃

Here　somebody　would　explain；　〃What's　this？〃　and　hand　him　from
somewhere　a　paper　neatly　folded。

〃I　do　wish　people　would　leave　my　things　alone；〃　he　would　growl；
snatching　at　it　savagely。

He　would　open　his　bag　to　put　it　in；　and　then　glancing　at　it；　he
would　pause；　speechless　with　sense　of　injury。

〃What's　the　matter？〃　aunt　would　ask。

〃The　day　before　yesterday's！〃　he　would　answer；　too　hurt　even　to
shout；　throwing　the　paper　down　upon　the　table。

If　only　sometimes　it　had　been　yesterday's　it　would　have　been　a
change。　　But　it　was　always　the　day　before　yesterday's；　except　on
Tuesday；　then　it　would　be　Saturday's。

We　would　find　it　for　him　eventually；　as　often　as　not　he　was　sitting
on　it。　　And　then　he　would　smile；　not　genially；　but　with　the
weariness　that　comes　to　a　man　who　feels　that　fate　has　cast　his　lot
among　a　band　of　hopeless　idiots。

〃All　the　time；　right　in　front　of　your　noses！〃　　He　would　not
finish　the　sentence；　he　prided　himself　on　his　self…control。

This　settled；　he　would　start　for　the　hall；　where　it　was　the　custom
of　my　Aunt　Maria　to　have　the　children　gathered；　ready　to　say　good…
bye　to　him。

My　aunt　never　left　the　house　herself；　if　only　to　make　a　call　next
door；　without　taking　a　tender　farewell　of　every　inmate。　　One　never
knew；　she　would　say；　what　might　happen。

One　of　them；　of　course；　was　sure　to　be　missing；　and　the　moment　this
was　noticed　all　the　other　six；　without　an　instant's　hesitation；
would　scatter　with　a　whoop　to　find　it。　　Immediately　they　were　gone
it　would　turn　up　by　itself　from　somewhere　quite　near；　always　with
the　most　reasonable　explanation　for　its　absence；　and　would　at　once
start　off　after　the　others　to　explain　to　them　that　it　was　found。
In　this　way；　five　minutes　at　least　would　be　taken　up　in　everybody's
looking　for　everybody　else；　which　was　just　sufficient　time　to　allow
my　uncle　to　find　his　umbrella　and　lose　his　hat。　　Then；　at　last；　the
group　reassembled　in　the　hall；　the　drawing…room　clock　would
commence　to　strike　nine。　　It　possessed　a　cold；　penetrating　chime
that　always　had　the　effect　of　confusing　my　uncle。　　In　his
excitement　he　would　kiss　some　of　the　children　twice　over；　pass　by
others；　forget　whom　he　had　kissed　and　whom　he　hadn't；　and　have　to
begin　all　over　again。　　He　used　to　say　he　believed　they　mixed
themselves　up　on　purpose；　and　I　am　not　prepared　to　maintain　that
the　charge　was　altogether　false。　　To　add　to　his　troubles；　one　child
always　had　a　sticky　face；　and　that　child　would　always　be　the　most
affectionate。

If　things　were　going　too　smoothly；　the　eldest　boy　would　come　out
with　some　tale　about　all　the　clocks　in　the　house　being　five　minutes
slow；　and　of　his　having　been　late　for　school　the　previous　day　in
consequence。　　This　would　send　my　uncle　rushing　impetuously　down　to
the　gate；　where　he　would　recollect　that　he　had　with　him　neither　his
bag　nor　his　umbrella。　　All　the　children　that　my　aunt　could　not　stop
would　charge　after　him；　two　of　them　struggling　for　the　umbrella；
the　others　surging　round　the　bag。　　And　when　they　returned　we　would
discover　on　the　hall　table　the　most　important　thing　of　all　that　he
had　forgotten；　and　wondered　what　he　would　say　about　it　when　he　came
home。

We　arrived　at　Waterloo　a　little　after　nine；　and　at　once　proceeded
to　put　George's　experiment　into　operation。　　Opening　the　book　at　the
chapter　entitled　〃At　the　Cab　Rank；〃　we　walked　up　to　a　hansom；
raised　our　hats；　and　wished　the　driver　〃Good…morning。〃

This　man　was　not　to　be　outdone　in　politeness　by　any　foreigner；　real
or　imitation。　　Calling　to　a　friend　named　〃Charles〃　to　〃hold　the
steed；〃　he　sprang　from　his　box；　and　returned　to　us　a　bow；　that
would　have　done　credit　to　Mr。　Turveydrop　himself。　　Speaking
apparently　in　the　name　of　the　nation；　he　welcomed　us　to　England；
adding　a　regret　that　Her　Majesty　was　not　at　the　moment　in　London。

We　could　not　reply　to　him　in　kind。　　Nothing　of　this　sort　had　been
anticipated　by　the　book。　　We　called　him　〃coachman；〃　at　which　he
again　bowed　to　the　pavement；　and　asked　him　if　he　would　have　the
goodness　to　drive　us　to　the　Westminster　Bridge　road。

He　laid　his　hand　upon　his　heart；　and　said　the　pleasure　would　be
his。

Taking　the　third　sentence　in　the　chapter；　George　asked　him　what　his
fare　would　be。

The　question；　as　introducing　a　sordid　element　into　the
conversation；　seemed　to　hurt　his　feelings。　　He　said　he　never　took
money　from　distinguished　strangers；　he　suggested　a　souvenira
diamond　scarf　pin；　a　gold　snuffbox；　some　little　trifle　of　that　sort
by　which　he　could　remember　us。

As　a　small　crowd　had　collected；　and　as　the　joke　was　drifting　rather
too　far　in　the　cabman's　direction；　we　climbed　in　without　further
parley；　and　were　driven　away　amid　cheers。　　We　stopped　the　cab　at　a
boot　shop　a　little　past　Astley's　Theatre　that　looked　the　sort　of
place　we　wanted。　　It　was　one　of　those　overfed　shops　that　the　moment
their　shutters　are　taken　down　in　the　morning　disgorge　their　goods
all　round　them。　　Boxes　of　boots　stood　piled　on　the　pavement　or　in
the　gutter　opposite。　　Boots　hung　in　festoons　about　its　doors　and
windows。　　Its　sun…blind　was　as　some　grimy　vine；　bearing　bunches　of
black　and　brown　boots。　　Inside；　the　shop　was　a　bower　of　boots。　　The
man；　when　we　entered