Voces Populi Part 3

C. O. G. Not that I grudge it--a good education is a fortune in itself, and as I've always told my boys, they must make the best of it, for it's all they'll get. They're good enough lads, but I've had a deal of trouble with them one way and another--a _deal_ of trouble. (_Pauses for some expression of sympathy--which does not come--and he continues_:) There are my two eldest sons--what must they do but fall in love with the same lady--the same lady, Sir! (_No one seems to care much for these domestic revelations--possibly because they are too_ _obviously addressed to the general ear_). And, to make matters worse, she was a married woman--(_his princ.i.p.al hearer looks another way uneasily_)--the wife of a G.o.dson of mine, which made it all the more awkward, y'know.

(HIS OPPOSITE NEIGHBOUR _giving no sign, the_ C. O. G. _tries one Pa.s.senger after another_.) Well, I went to him--(_here he fixes an old Lady, who immediately pa.s.ses up coppers out of her glove to the_ CONDUCTOR)--I went to him, and said--(_addressing a smartly dressed young Lady with a parcel who giggles_)--I said, "You're a man of the world--so am I. Don't you take any notice," I told him--(_this to a callow young man, who blushes_)--"they're a couple of young fools," I said, "but you tell your dear wife from me not to mind those boys of mine--they'll soon get tired of it if they're only let alone." And so they would have, long ago, it's my belief, if they'd met with no encouragement--but what can _I_ do--it's a heavy trial to a father, you know. Then there's my third son--he must needs go and marry--(_to a Lady at his side with a reticule, who gasps faintly_)--some young woman who dances at a Music-hall--nice daughter-in-law that for a man in my position, eh? I've forbidden him the house of course, and told his mother not to have any communication with him--but I know, Sir,--(_violently, to a Man on his other side, who coughs in much embarra.s.sment_)--I _know_ she meets him once a week under the eagle in Orme Square, and _I_ can't stop her! Then I'm worried about my daughters--one of 'em gave me no peace till I let her have some painting lessons--of course, I naturally thought the drawing-master would be an elderly man--whereas, as things turned out,----

A QUIET MAN IN A CORNER. I 'ope you told all this to the Policeman, Sir?

THE C. O. G. (_flaming unexpectedly_). No, Sir, I did _not_. I am not in the habit--whatever _you_ may be--of discussing my private affairs with strangers. I consider your remark highly impertinent, Sir.

[_Fumes in silence for the rest of the journey._

THE YOUNG LADY WITH THE PARCEL (_to her friend--for the sake of vindicating her gentility_). Oh, my dear, _I_ do feel so funny, carrying a great brown-paper parcel, in a bus, too! Any one would take me for a shop-girl!

[Ill.u.s.tration: "GO 'OME, DIRTY d.i.c.k!"]

A GRIM OLD LADY OPPOSITE. And I only hope, my dear, you'll never be taken for any one less respectable.

[_Collapse of_ GENTEEL Y.L.

FIRST HUMOROUS 'ARRY (_recognising a friend on entering_). Excuse me stoppin' your kerridge, old man, but I thought you wouldn't mind givin'

me a lift, as you was goin' my way.

SECOND H. 'A. Quite welcome, old chap, so long as you give my man a bit when you git down, yer know.

FIRST H. 'A. Oh, o' course--that's expected between gentlemen.

(_Both look round to see if their facetiousness is appreciated, find it is not and subside._)

THE CONDUCTOR. Benk, benk! (_he means "Bank"_) 'Oborn, benk! 'Igher up there, Bill, can't you?

A DINGY MAN SMOKING, IN A VAN. Want to block up the ole o' the road, eh?

That's right!

THE CONDUCTOR (_roused to personality_). Go 'ome, Dirty d.i.c.k! syme old soign, I see,--"Monkey an' Poipe!" (_To Coachman of smart brougham which is pressing rather closely behind._) I say old man, don't you race after my bus like this--you'll only tire your 'orse.

[_The Coachman affects not to have heard._

THE CONDUCTOR (_addressing the brougham horse, whose head is almost through the door of the omnibus_). 'Ere, _'ang_ it all!--step insoide, if yer want to!

[_Brougham falls to rear--triumph of_ CONDUCTOR _as Scene closes_.

At a Sale of High-Cla.s.s Sculpture.

SCENE--_An upper floor in a City Warehouse; a low whitewashed room, dimly lighted by dusty windows and two gas-burners in wire cages. Around the walls are ranged several statues of meek aspect, securely confined in barred wooden cases, like a sort of marble menagerie. In the centre, a labyrinthine grove of pedestals, surmounted by busts, groups, and statuettes by modern Italian masters. About these pedestals a small crowd--consisting of Elderly Merchants on the look out for a "neat thing in statuary" for the conservatory at Croydon or Muswell Hill, Young City Men who have dropped in after lunch, Disinterested Dealers, Upholsterers' Buyers, Obliging Brokers, and Grubby and Mysterious men--is cautiously circulating._

OBLIGING BROKER (_to_ AMIABLE SPECTATOR, _who has come in out of curiosity, and without the remotest intention of purchasing sculpture_).

No Catlog, Sir? 'Ere, allow me to orfer you mine--that's _my_ name in pencil on the top of it, Sir; and, if you _should_ 'appen to see any lot that takes your fancy, you jest ketch my eye. (_Rea.s.suringly._) I sha'n't be fur off. Or look 'ere, gimme a nudge--I shall know what it means.

[_The_ A. S. _thanks him profusely, and edges away with an inward vow to avoid his and the_ AUCTIONEER'S _eyes, as he would those of a basilisk_.

AUCTIONEER (_from desk, with the usual perfunctory fervour_). Lot 13, Gentlemen, very charming pair of subjects from child life--"_The p.r.i.c.ked Finger_" and "_The Scratched Toe_"--by Bimbi.

A STOLID a.s.sISTANT (_in shirtsleeves_). Figgers _'ere_, Gen'lm'n!

[_Languid surge of crowd towards them._

[Ill.u.s.tration: "FIGGERS _'ere_, GEN'L'M'N!"]

A FACETIOUS BIDDER. Which of 'em's the finger and which the toe?

AUCT. (_coldly_). I should have thought it was easy to identify by the att.i.tude. Now, Gentlemen, give me a bidding for these very finely-executed works by Bimbi. Make any offer. What will you give me for 'em? Both very sweet things, Gentlemen. Shall we say ten guineas?

A GRUBBY MAN. Give yer five.

AUCT. (_with grieved resignation_). Very well, start 'em at five. Any advance on five? (_To_ a.s.sIST.) Turn 'em round, to show the back view.

And a 'arf! Six! And a 'arf! Only six and a 'arf bid for this beautiful pair of figures, done direct from nature by Bimbi. Come, Gentlemen, come! Seven! Was that _you_, MR. GRIMES? (THE GRUBBY MAN _admits the soft impeachment_.) Seven and a 'arf. Eight! It's _against_ you.

MR. GRIMES (_with a supreme effort_). Two-and-six!

[_Mops his brow with a red cotton handkerchief._

AUCT. (_in a tone of grat.i.tude for the smallest mercies_).

Eight-ten-six. All done at eight-ten-six? Going ... gone! GRIMES, Eight, ten, six. Take money for 'em. Now we come to a very 'andsome work by Piffalini--"_The Ocarina Player_," one of this great artist's masterpieces, and an exceedingly choice and high-cla.s.s work, as you will all agree directly you see it. (_To_ a.s.sIST.) Now, then, Lot 14, there--look sharp!

STOLID a.s.sIST. "Hocarina Plier" eyn't arrived, Sir.

AUCT. Oh, hasn't it? Very well, then. Lot 15. "_The Pretty Pill-taker_,"

by Antonio Bilio--a really magnificent work of Art, Gentlemen.

(_"Pill-taker, 'ere.!" from the_ S. A.) What'll you give me for her?

Come, make me an offer. (_Bidding proceeds till the "Pill-taker" is knocked down for twenty-three-and-a-half guineas._) Lot 16, "_The Mixture as Before_," by same artist--make a charming and suitable companion to the last lot. What do you say, MR. MIDDLEMAN--take it at the same bidding? (Mr. M. _a.s.sents, with the end of one eyebrow_.) Any advance on twenty-three and a 'arf? None? Then,--MIDDLEMAN, Twenty-four, thirteen, six.

MR. MIDDLEMAN (_to the_ AMIABLE SPECTATOR, _who has been vaguely inspecting the "Pill-taker"_). Don't know if you noticed it, Sir, but I got that last couple very cheap--on'y forty-seven guineas the pair, and they are worth eighty, I solemnly declare to you. I could get forty a piece for 'em to-morrow, upon my word and honour, I could. Ah, and I know who'd _give_ it me for 'em, too!

THE A. S. (_sympathetically_). Dear me, then you've done very well over it.

MR. M. Ah, well ain't the word--and those two aren't the only lots I've got either. That "_Sandwich-Man_" over there is mine--look at the work in those boards, and the nature in his clay pipe; and "_The Boot-Black_," that's mine, too--all worth twice what _I_ got 'em for--and lovely things, too, ain't they?

THE A. S. Oh, very nice, very clever--congratulate you, I'm sure.

MR. M. I can see you've took a fancy to 'em, Sir, and, when I come across a gentleman that's a connysewer, I'm always sorry to stand in his light; so, see here, you can have any one you like out o' my little lot, or all on 'em, with all the pleasure in the wide world, Sir, and I'll on'y charge you five per cent. on what I gave for 'em, and be exceedingly obliged to you, into the bargain, Sir. (_The_ A. S. _feebly disclaims any desire to take advantage of this magnanimous offer_.) Don't say No, if you mean Yes, Sir. Will you _'ave "The Pill-taker,"_ Sir?

THE A. S. (_politely_). Thank you very much, but--er--I think _not_.

MR. M. Then perhaps you could do with "_The Little Boot-Black_," or "_The Sandwich-Man_," Sir?

THE A. S. Perhaps--but I could do still better _without_ them.

[_He moves to another part of the room._