Confessions of a Young Lady Part 34

"Did you notice a woman who, just as we were leaving the hall, came up and shook hands with me in rather an effusive way?"

"A good-looking, well-dressed woman, with rather an effusive smile? I wondered who she was."

"She's a Mrs Bennett-Lamb. The weight-carrying man who was standing at her side was Mr Bennett-Lamb. Perhaps you know the name. She and her husband have been the owners of a good deal of the public-house property in London which is worth owning. They're the proud possessors of some of it still. They've made a heap of money. Some of it they've spent in buying a place near here--Oakdene. It's on the cards that their daughter--they've only one, and she's an uncommonly pretty girl--will make a first-rate match. In which case, no doubt, they'll try to graduate for county honours."

He flicked off another sc.r.a.p of ash before he spoke again.

"It was Mrs Bennett-Lamb who found the money with which to start the firm. The way in which she found it was curious. It's a queer story.

I'll tell it you, if you like. It's a rather good one."

I lit another cigar; and smoked it while Ferguson told his story.

At that time Mrs Bennett-Lamb was a chorus girl at the Frivolity Theatre. In those days only pretty girls were allowed to appear on the Frivolity stage. The management's standard of beauty was a high one.

It drew all London. And the prettiest of the whole crowd was Ailsa Lorraine. Whether Ailsa Lorraine was or was not her real name I am unable to tell you; I have reason to know that nowadays her husband calls her Peggy; but that was the name by which she was known on the programme. Miss Lorraine was engaged to be married--to Joe Lamb. Where the "Bennett" comes from Mr and Mrs Bennett-Lamb only know. It is certain that then the present J. Bennett-Lamb, Esquire, was plain Joe Lamb. Not to put too fine a point upon it, Joe Lamb was a grocer's a.s.sistant--and not a flourishing specimen of his kind. In fact, the more he considered his position and future prospects the more despondent he became.

One Sunday afternoon he went to tea at Miss Lorraine's. While they were enjoying the meal he gave utterance to the feelings which filled his bosom.

"We've been engaged for more than two years," he began.

"Two years!" the tone in which she echoed his words were intended to indicate surprise. "It doesn't seem anything like so long as that, does it, Joe?"

"It does to me. It seems every bit as long. In fact, I don't mind telling you that it seems longer."

Neither the words nor the manner in which they were spoken suggested a compliment, as the lady appeared to think. There was a rueful look upon her pretty face and a mist dimmed her eyes as she asked him a question in return.

"Does that mean that it has seemed so long because you're tired of being engaged to me?"

"It does; that's just exactly what it does mean."

"Joe!"

"Now don't jump up like that! You nearly upset the tray, and I've hardly touched my third cup of tea. What are you up to? Crying?"

"I'm sure, Mr Lamb, if you wish to release me you're perfectly at liberty to do so at once; and you need never see nor speak to me again. There's no fear of my bringing an action against you for breach of promise of marriage."

"Whatever are you talking about?"

"I'm sure if you'd even dropped so much as the slightest hint you'd have seen the last of me long enough ago; and I certainly wouldn't have worried you to come to tea."

"What have I said or done to start you off like this?--just as I was beginning on a fresh round of toast!"

"How dare you say you were tired of being engaged to me!"

"So I am."

"Joe--Joe Lamb!"

"It's gospel truth. I want you for my wife; that's what I want."

The lady's face perceptibly brightened. The tone of her voice was altered also.

"Joe! What extraordinary ways you have of expressing yourself. Will you kindly explain exactly what it is you mean?"

"I've been engaged to you more than two years, and you're no nearer being my wife than you were at the beginning. If anything, you're further off. And I'm sick and tired of waiting; that's what I mean."

"If you'd only said so at first."

"I did; didn't I?"

"I thought you meant something quite different."

"I can't help what you thought. I know what I meant."

"Poor Joe! So you want us to be quick and get married, do you?"

"Of course I do; what else do you suppose I got engaged for? But we can't marry on ten bob a week."

"Hardly."

"And that's all I get, living in. I asked the governor yesterday to give me thirty bob and let me live out. He said all he'd give me was a week's notice."

"The wretch!"

"As for bettering myself; I dare say I've spent five shillings on paper, stamps and envelopes, and nothing's come of it. We don't want to get married and have you keep on the stage."

"We certainly don't. I have a voice in that matter. When I marry I leave the stage for good; I don't marry until I do. I hate the theatre; that is, I don't mind being in front of the curtain, looking on; but I hate being behind. I only go there because I don't know any other way of earning two pounds a week. I've no delusions about the stage like some of the girls have. But, tell me, Joe, can't you think of any way of earning more?"

"There's one way."

"What's that?"

"Emigrating."

As she repeated the word again the expression on the lady's face grew rueful.

"Emigrating!"

"Going to Africa or Canada or one of those places where a fellow has a chance."

"But you'd have to leave me behind."

"That's the worst of it."

"We mightn't see each other again for years."

"We mightn't."