Christopher Morley

“ I do!” He was a burly full-blooded blond, extravagantly facetious in convivial moments, and a mournful brooder in solitude. King, better known as “The Goblin,” was a dark, whimsical elf in thick spectacles, much loved in the 'varsity dramatic society for his brilliant impersonations. The Goblin said nothing as he sipped his coffee and gazed at the fire.
“There you go again, Falstaff!” exclaimed Forbes to Carter, as he unlocked a corner cupboard and drew out a bottle of port. “The universal enthusiast! I believe you'll be enthusiastic about the examiners that plough you!” ”

“ But when one has a daughter one must expect her to grow up, and become the heroine of serial stories. I trust that that story is not to be published—I can ask that, at least!”
“Our intention,” said Blair, “was to give the manuscript to Miss Kent as a token of our united admiration.”
“Well,” said Mr. Kent, “make my apologies to the other conspirators. I take it that that dreadful Eliza Thick was one of them. I hope our cook will be back to-morrow. Upon my word, those stuffed eggs were indescribable! Joe, my dear, suppose you let me take you up to see your aunt. ”

“ But within the athletic and straightforward flapper Forbes thought he saw the fluttering of deeper womanhood; the maiden soul erecting a barrier of abrupt common sense about itself to conceal the shy and sensitive feelings that were beginning to blossom. ”

“ Kathleen laughed, a girlish bubbling of pure mirth, which was dreadful torment to the jealous masquerader. She departed, leaving the cook a prey to savage resolve. “Well,” thought Eliza, “if the supper is bad enough I guess she'll just have to come down and help me. Thank goodness Blair and Carter are both coming; they'll cut each other's throats, and perhaps the stuffed eggs will win after all. As for that gas-man, he won't get into this house unless it's over my dead body!” ”

“ Kathleen unsuspectingly pushed the fruit up the dumb waiter and meanwhile it took no more than an instant for Eliza to take the curate by the arm, motion him to silence, and push him toward the cellar door.
“He's down there,” she whispered, and Carter innocently followed his fellow Scorpion. Again Eliza closed the door and turned the key.
“Well, Eliza,” said Kathleen, “I don't think you're much of a cook, but you're a willing worker.”
“Miss Kathleen,” said the cook, who was now more anxious than ever to cleanse her bosom of much perilous stuff, “are you very down on practical jokes?” ”

“ Blair, you have taken up history with true American efficiency! I do wish that our young men had the same zeal. I am happy to say, however, that I am expecting a young cleric this evening, a protege of the Bishop of Oxford, who is, I believe, also interested in these matters.”
Blair's heart sank, but he had no time to ponder, for at this moment Mrs. Kent and Kathleen came in.
“My dear, this is Mr. Blair, Joe's friend from Oxford. We are great cronies already. My wife, Mr. Blair, and my daughter Kathleen.” ”

“ There's a defenceless high-church curate in the cellar with him. Mary, show the way downstairs.”
Blair poured out a glass of water for Mrs. Kent.
“Don't you think I had better go down, too?” he asked.
“Oh, please don't go!” begged Mrs. Kent, faintly. “Stay here, in case he should escape upstairs. I believe we shall all be murdered in our beds!”
“Come, come,” said Mr. Kent. “We mustn't let all this spoil Mr. Blair's supper. Have another glass of wine. The policeman will attend to the gas-man. We don't often get a chance to talk to a genuine antiquarian. ”

“ Kent, “my wife was embarrassed this morning by strange happenings in the domestic department. Our cook, usually very faithful, did not turn up, and sent a substitute who has caused her—well, mingled annoyance and amusement. I have not seen the woman myself: my rheumatism has kept me pretty close to the fire this damp weather; but by all accounts the creature is very extraordinary. Well, well, you are not interested in that, of course. It is very pleasant to meet a fellow antiquarian. How did you happen to visit Wolverhampton? ”

“ The kitchen classes in England have great reverence for young 'varsity men.
The Goblin was a canny man, and he had brought with him a wig and certain other properties. He hunted out a little tea shop, where he meditated over three cups of pekoe and hot buttered toast. Then he made his way to the Public Library, where he spent several hours over a cook-book. He was complimenting himself on having shaken the other Scorpions off his trail when Blair looked over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of the stuffed-eggs recipe to which the Goblin was addressing himself for the fourth time. ”

“ I shall lie there in mute agony until I'm carried indoors.”
“I say, now, that's no fair!” cried Forbes. “I discovered her! Just because you've got a motor bike you mustn't take an advantage!”
“Look here,” said the Goblin, mildly, speaking from a blue cloud of Murray's Mixture, “we must all sign a protocol, or a mandamus or a lagniappe or whatever you law men call it, not to steal a march. I think we'd all like to meet the real Kathleen. But we must give a bond to start fair and square, and nobody do anything that isn't authorized by the whole club.” ”

“ A gentleman from America is going to be here and we must put our best foot forward.”
Eliza's face was a study in painful emotion.
“Excuse me, Miss,” she said, “but is that American gentleman called Mr. Blair?”
“Yes,” said Kathleen. “Really, Eliza, you are most extraordinary. How did you know?”
“I've heard of him,” said Eliza. “I think I ought to warn you against him, miss. He's—he's a counterfeiter.”
“Nonsense, Eliza. What notions you do have! He's an antiquarian, and he's coming to see my father about archaeology. He's a friend of Miss Josephine, from Oxford. ”

“ How one little pronoun can destroy a man! In his agony he saw Mrs. Kent and Kathleen sit down on the big couch, and painfully found his way to a chair.
“I—I beg your pardon?” he stammered. “I didn't just catch—”
“The mad girl has sent us three telegrams,” said Mrs. Kent, “in which there was only one sensible thing, the reference to yourself. Her other remarks, about cooks and soccer and injured limbs, were quite over our heads.”
With a dull sense of pain Blair felt Kathleen's bright eyes on him.
“Yes, Mr. Blair, is she ragging us? Or have the girls at Maggie Hall taken up soccer?” ”

“ He'd love to walk you out to Tettenhall and Boscobel, to see his burial mounds.”
“How very interesting!” said Blair. “A kind of private family cemetery?”
“Oh, dear no,” declared Kathleen in amazement. “Antiquities, you know, where the Danes buried themselves.”
“Of course, of course. How I wish I could see them! Are you fond of walking?”
“Yes, when it isn't too muddy. It's been too wet lately to go out with Fred. He loves a good long walk, but he's getting old and his rheumatism bothers him.” ”

“ Kent and Miss Kathleen were upstairs sewing; and the master was confined to his study with his rheumatism. They invited the photographer into the kitchen.
It is a psychological fact well known to housekeepers that there is a vacant hour in the middle of the afternoon when Satan sometimes finds a joint in the protective armour of the domestic servant. After the luncheon dishes are washed and put away, and before five-o'clock tea and toast are served, cook and housemaid enjoy a period of philosophic contemplation or siesta. ”

“ Curiously enough, only this afternoon we had two wires from our cousin Joe in Oxford, one of which mentioned your being here. That gives us additional reason for looking forward to making your acquaintance.
Mrs. Kent wants you to come to lunch with us to-morrow, at one o'clock. Unfortunately I myself am laid up with rheumatism, but some of the family will be delighted to take you to see the quite surprising relics in this vicinity. Joe has probably told you all about Fred, who is really quite one of the family. The poor fellow needs exercise dreadfully ”

“ The door closed behind him, and again Eliza turned the key.
“What does all this mean?” demanded Kathleen, angrily. “Has everybody gone daft? Eliza, ever since you came into the house, there has been nothing but turmoil. I wish you would explain. Why have you sent the policeman into the cellar?”
“There's three dangerous counterfeiters down there, Miss,” said Eliza. “I want to tell you the truth about this, Miss Kathleen, before that American gets down here—he's bound to be here soon. ”

“ The young Oxonian suffered one of the most severe heart contusions known in the history of the human race. It was a positive vertigo of admiration. This was indeed the creature he had seen on the railway platform: a dazzling blend of girl and woman. ”

“ Carter's disclaimers,” said Blair. “I have heard of his papers before the Oxford Historical Society. He has a very sound antiquarian instinct. I think you would find his ideas of great interest.”
“We were speaking of the battle with the Danes at Tettenhall,” observed Mr. Kent, turning to Blair. “I think that if Kathleen could arrange to take you out there you would find the burial mounds of unusual interest. My dear, could you walk out there with Mr. Blair to-morrow morning?”
Kathleen assented, but Blair noticed that she was not eating her soup. ”

“ You recall that the Etheling Ethelwold, the son of Alfred's brother Ethelred, took sides with the Danes. To stem the invasion, Edward and his sister Ethelfled—”
“Ethel fled, that's just the trouble,” interposed Mrs. Kent. “Kathleen, my dear, do run downstairs and see what's wrong in the kitchen. I'm afraid Eliza is in difficulties again. Mr. Blair, you and Mr. Carter must excuse this irregularity. Our substitute cook is a very strange person.” ”

“ Someone else suggested dressing up as a plumber or gas-man, and going there to fix some imaginary leak. Knowing that the Kents were not fools, I imagined it wouldn't be long before they'd get wise to the fact that that bunch of dreadnoughts was picketing the house. Probably they'd put the police on them. Also, there's nobody harder to disguise than an English 'varsity man. He gives himself away at every turn. ”

“ I 'ave taken a number of orders at the nicest 'ouses along Bancroft Road. I thought maybe you would like to 'ave a photo of yourself taken, to send to your young man.” And he opened his case, exhibiting a sheaf of appropriate photos.
It was a slender chance, but the pedlar had a wheedling eye and a genteel demeanour, and Mary hesitated. She called the cook, a stout, middle-aged person, who came to the door to see what was up. The pedlar rapidly showed the best items of his collection, which he had selected with great care in a photographer's studio in Oxford. ”

“ There was also a tray of coffee cups and a huge silver coffee pot bearing the college arms, flanked by a porcelain jug of hot milk. De Reszke cigarettes, whiskey and soda, and a new tin of John Cotton smoking mixture completed the spread—which would be faithfully reflected in Forbes's “battels,” or weekly bills, later on. Young men at Oxford do themselves well, and this was a typical lay-out for an undergraduate evening.
Hinton, a ruddy old man with iron-gray hair and a very red and bulby nose, was a garrulous servant, and after a tentative cough made an attempt at small talk. ”

“ The dish was stuffed eggs. His mind reverted to the Public Library the evening before. Was it possible that the Goblin—?
He determined that the first thing to be done was to get Carter so firmly engaged with Mr. Kent that the wolf in cleric's clothing could not withdraw. Then perhaps he himself could frame some excuse for seeing what was going on downstairs.
“Mr. Kent,” he said, “you should draw out Mr. Carter concerning his views on amending the liturgy of the Established Church. He has some very advanced ideas on that subject which have attracted much attention at Oxford. ”

“ He's the worst of the lot.”
“Open that door at once!” said Kathleen, stamping her foot. “I don't know what on earth you mean by counterfeiters, but if there are any down there, let's have them up, and see what they have to say.”
The dining-room bell rang, and Mary instinctively hurried upstairs. At the same moment Blair ran down, three steps at a time, and bounded into the kitchen. He started when he saw Eliza.
“Are you all right, Miss Kent?” he asked, anxiously. “I've been so worried about you. Is that gas-man still here? I think I can smell gas escaping. Can I help in any way?” ”

“ Kent, rubbing his hands with pleasure. “Magnificent! Well, well, it is certainly a delight to hear you say so. After supper we will dismiss the ladies and have a good crack. There are some really startling things to be learned about Wolverhampton in Anglo-Saxon times. You know the town lay along the frontier that was much harried by the Danes, and Edward the Elder won a conspicuous victory over the invaders at Tettenhall, which is a village very near here.”
“Yes,” said Blair, “I walked out there this afternoon.” ”

“ She had on a blue tam-o' shanter. Loveliest figure I ever saw, perfect ankle, but the usual heavy brogues on her feet. Why do English girls always wear woollen stockings? Was so taken with her I almost missed the train. She got into a third-class compartment farther up the train. The others were all bickering in the smoking carriage, so they didn't see her.
I scored over the rest of the crowd when we got to Wolvers. They had all brought heavy portmanteaus, containing all their vacation baggage. My idea was, go light when chasing the Grail. ”

“ The maid reentered, whispered something to Mrs. Kent, and began to place the dishes for the next course.
“Kathleen begs to be excused,” said Mrs. Kent. “She thinks she had better stay in the kitchen to help Eliza.”
“Oh, I say,” cried the curate. “That's too bad. Do you think I could help, Mrs. Kent? I'm a very good cook. The Bishop himself has praised my—er—my—”
“Your what?” asked Blair.
“My ham and eggs,” retorted the cleric.
“Perhaps you will let me wash the dishes,” suggested Blair. “I should be only too happy to assist. ”

“ KATHLEEN
I
The Scorpions were to meet at eight o'clock and before that hour Kenneth Forbes had to finish the first chapter of a serial story. The literary society, named in accordance with the grotesque whim of Oxford undergraduates, consisted of eight members, and it was proposed that each one should contribute a chapter. Forbes was of a fertile wit, and he had been nominated the first operator. He had been allowed the whole Christmas vacation to prepare his opening chapter ”

“ Kent, “that will do. You must get on with the work as best you can. Judging by the coffee this morning, I don't think your cooking will have the same effect on us that it did on the students at Lady Margaret Hall. We were expecting a guest for lunch but I will have to put him off until supper. I have written out the menu for the day. Mary will give you any help she can.”
“If you please, ma'am?” said Eliza.
“Yes?”
“Cook gave me a message for Miss Kathleen, ma'am, which she asked me to deliver in person.” ”

“ We both laughed and looked it up together. The name at 318, Bancroft Road was Kent, Philip Kent, F.S.A., Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries, I suppose: the book put him down as an “antiquarian.” Kathleen's father, evidently.
Goblin disappeared in that noiseless way of his, and I lit a pipe and pondered.
The fellows had been full of wild suggestions as to what they would do when they got to 318, Bancroft Road. One was going to be a book agent and get into the house that way. Another said he would be the grocer's man and make friends with the cook. ”

“ Carter by reputation,” he said. “I have heard Joe speak of him in terms of great admiration.”
The curate looked worried, but tried to play safe.
“Oh, yes, Joe!” he said. “Splendid chap.”
Blair made haste to get back to the chair he coveted. He had no idea what mad schemes might lurk beneath Carter's episcopalian frock, and was determined to gain any headway he could.
“It seems funny your coming to Wolverhampton,” said Kathleen. “So few 'varsity men ever get here. But it's certainly a blessing for Dad. He'll talk antiquities with you as long as you like.” ”

“ Unfortunately she met Mrs. Kent on the stairs, who promptly ordered her back to her proper domain. Here Eliza found a disreputable-looking person trying to cozen Mary into admitting him to the house. He claimed to be an agent of the gas company, in search of a rumoured leak. Eliza immediately spotted Priapus, and indignantly ejected him by force of arms. In the scuffle a dish pan and several chairs were overturned. Mary, whose nerves were rather unstrung by the sustained comedy she was witnessing, uttered an obbligato of piercing yelps which soon brought Kathleen to the scene. ”

“ My friend John Blair of Trinity now in Wolverhampton for historical study staying at Blue Boar nice chap American may he call on you if so send him a line sorry can't write hurt hand playing soccer love to all. ”

“ He's a member of the 'varsity who writes poetry. Either it's published in some magazine or he sends it privately to her. The blighter has sent Kathleen a tie of some kind—probably a scarf with his college or club colours. He's got as far as the plaintive stage: he tells her that he is going without his tea just to write to her. (Probably half a dozen crumpets and four cups of tea were simmering inside of him as he wrote) . So much for Joe. I'll wager he's a Rhodes Scholar!
“2. Kathleen. I put her at seventeen, and (as Whitney says) she's a darling. She's at school still. She's adorably sane. ”

“ Joe.”
She bent down to the terrier which was standing affectionately at her feet.
“Well, Fred, old boy,” she said, patting him, “did Joe send you a telegram, heh?”
“Mrs. Philip Kent: Have found very good cook out of place am sending her to you earnestly recommend give her a trial reliable woman but eccentric name Eliza Thick will call Sunday morning. Joe.”
“My dear Kathleen,” said Joe, “you flatter me. I never sent any of those messages. Do you know any other Joes?”
“I beg your pardon, Miss Kent,” said Blair. “But I must tell you. ”