Oliver Onions

“ I replied. “No, Bassishaw, the soldier’s watchword is singleness. He is as great a solitary as that other one, who devotes his life to writing. The soldier knows he is doing some good—the writer takes the risk.”
“But writers often——” began Bassishaw.
“And soldiers——” said Carrie at the same time.
“Both cut themselves off in a voluntary abnegation,” I replied. “They scorn the smaller comforts; the one worships his art, the other his duty. Look at Loring and his wife, there. They look happy, and comfortable, and pretty; they have gentle, domestic pleasures. ”

“ I smiled at the description as applied to Bassishaw, whose fluency was not remarkable, and Caroline looked coldly before her.
“You refer to the stage, Mr. Macquoid?” she asked.
“I refer to modern love-making,” he replied rashly. “We have no romantic methods left. It has become a business and a bore. When we do get it out it’s one kiss and thank Heaven it’s over.” ”

“ Loring’s one desire was that that presence of mine—fat, hang her impudence!—should hold decently together through a marriage service, and run to seedy corpulence immediately afterwards for all she cared. But Millicent vindicated me nobly.
“If Rollo Butterfield, Mollie, was prepared to marry me to keep me in countenance with all the people we know, I’d never let him propose to me—which he hasn’t done, by the way. But you don’t understand him a little bit. He’s not much fatter, my dear, saving your presence, than Loring; and, any way, he’ll be a young man when Loring’s—you understand me. ”

“ Kit, how could you? But there—you’re all alike. They’re not in the least interested in you, Carrie, my dear. It’s just a wedding. A woman and a bridecake——”
“What do you know about it?” Mrs. Carmichael said disdainfully.
“Madame,” I replied, “the exultation of your sex in all that pertains to a wedding is barely fit for the contemplation of a bachelor. Cannot you disguise your interest in some seemly manner?” ”

“ Kit Carmichael’s bell. It wanted a good hour to calling time, and I was sure to arrive in that embarrassing period of the afternoon when morning attire is being exchanged for the tea-gown, and the indiscreet visitor is left to meditate on the hollowness of social obligations in an empty drawing-room. It is an hour I take a peculiar delight in. I like to see the piano before Schubert’s songs have replaced the thumbed exercise-book, and to divine midday practisings, scarcely over, by young ladies lanky in stocking, with surreptitious chewing-gum in their pockets. ”

“ THREE’S COMPANY I had been told nothing about it, but I would have wagered my boot-trees that Carrie and Bassishaw had had a tiff. In the first place, Carrie had invited me to accompany them to the opera when she knew that my acceptance was possible, which was contrary to her usual practice. My presence on such occasions had of late been not indispensable; and these young people had gone about together with an aggressive air of sufficiency in each other’s company that had insulated them from my attentions and led me to muse on the thanklessness of youth. ”

“ Millicent Dixon came to the rescue.
“Carrie, dear,” she said, “you are the only one who has any influence over that irrepressible man. Do gag him for a few minutes;” and passed over a plate of gaufrettes, which Carrie brought to me.
I held the plate to Mrs. Loring Chatterton, who, a reminiscence of fun still in her eyes, accepted the peace-offering with a warning shake of her head.
“Mr. Butterfield,” she said, “you never were anything but mischievous, and it’s my opinion you never will be. Oh, I wish I could get you off my hands. There are plenty of nice girls. ”

“ The luxury of seeing them was almost enough for him, and when it came to the intimacies of conversation the little warrior’s embarrassment was as delightful as young Ted Carmichael’s.
“Gad, Butterfield,” he said, as we threaded Piccadilly one evening, “this is home, you know! It’s like one big family—you feel as if you can speak to any of them!” ”

“ Bassishaw didn’t seem to see it at all. He fumbled with his fork.
“I expect you’ve had your fancies, of course,” he replied. “But I don’t mean just fancies—that’s only flirting.”
The man who cannot flirt never sees that the power to do so is a gift of the gods. Arthur held by negative constancy.
“Flirtation,” I replied, “is not the simple affair you think, Arthur. It is not necessarily a matter of twilights and conservatories, and does not even always demand privacy. For a flirtation with zest there is nothing like having an audience. Is that not so, Millicent?” ”

“ Carmichael. “You don’t know what a responsibility children are, Mr. Butterfield.”
“I appreciate your feelings, madam,” I replied. “I remember in my youth I kept white mice. Now, white mice——”
“White fiddlesticks,” said Mrs. Kit. “A bachelor has absolutely no idea of what trouble children are. They take the whole of your time—they are constantly to be watched—you never know what mischief they are up to.”
“I kept four white mice, Mrs. Carmichael, with power to add. You have only one——”
“Oh, but Chris is so mischievous! He’s so full of spirits. ”

“ Butterfield?” she inquired, tying a knot in a red ribbon.
“It’s a pleasure,” I answered, “as much of the mind as of the body. I know of nothing more exciting than the suspense of the first nibble. The angler, male or female, has peculiar joys and fears of which the layman knows nothing.”
“Oh, I should so love it!” replied Miss Gibson, glancing down at a small shoe that protruded from the lacy hem of her skirts. I followed her glance, and knew in my soul that Mrs. Loring and Carrie were watching me. ”

“ But a tiff is the Compleat Bachelor’s opportunity, and in the invitation to Tristan I spied entertainment.
Carrie had sunk gently on my knee, and had placed a small finger through a buttonhole of my coat. Bassishaw had just called, dressed with the immaculate precision of one who has made up his mind to sulk in his stall, and had taken up a book on jurisprudence which I kept conscientiously on my table, an imposing reminiscence of my younger days. He watched Carrie furtively over the top of it. ”

“ Miss Millicent Dixon entered unannounced.
“My Dear Molly,” cried Miss Dixon, “if you love me, give me some tea. How do you do, Mr. Butterfield? Do you know, Moll, I have been rushing about for two mortal hours trying to find a wedding present for Madge Beaumont, and I haven’t got one! Do help me—Mr. Butterfield——”
“Oh, don’t ask him,” Mrs. Loring struck in; “Mr. Butterfield’s been getting sentimental. Between ourselves, Millie, he came dangerously near to a lucid interval. He’s been sighing over a misspent life, and wishing he were years younger.” ”

“ Eleanor Macquoid, spoke half over her shoulder, and condemned a great nation in Bassishaw’s defence.
“I don’t think very highly, Mr. Macquoid, of the Romans. I think that when they—that on that occasion at least—they were horrid, and—and—unnecessarily rough, and that nice people would never have done it. It may make good pictures, but one would rather be a pleasant person than an unpleasant picture. And I don’t care a bit what anybody says; soldiers are just as good as—anybody else.” ”

“ As I took a seat beside her I heard Ted whisper to Carrie that her brother was a brick.
“I hope you are having a good time, Nellie?” I said.
Nellie tossed her curls.
“Of course, real dances are more in your line,” I continued, “but you can spare an evening for the children now and then.”
Nellie bit her lip; she felt the point keenly.
“I don’t go to dances, Mr. Butterfield,” she said stiffly.
“No?” I inquired blandly. “Well, some people are prejudiced against dancing. But I see no wrong in it myself. Do you regard dancing as frivolous?” ”

“ Carrie laid her hand on my sleeve, and I turned to her.
“Rol,” she whispered, “do send Arthur for some coffee. I want to talk to you.”
Arthur was despatched to find a waiter, and I attended Carrie’s pleasure while she twisted her fingers nervously through the opera-glasses.
“Rol,” she said, “I’m so unhappy.”
“The Wings of Sorrow have brushed your life and left it an Arid Waste,” I replied sententiously, hugely amused. She didn’t divine the raillery.
“But surely, Rol, the heart is ripened through suffering,” she replied unconsciously.
“Yes,” I replied. “The Separation of Souls is not Eternal. ”

“ Ted looked doubtfully at it, and shook his head.
“No, thanks,” he said; “I don’t often smoke cigars. I’m very fond of a pipe now and then—after breakfast, you know; but cigars are a little too much for me. Light?”
He held me a light, and puffed elegantly at his cigarette. Then continued thoughtfully:
“The worst of women is,” he said, “they seem to grow up so awfully quick, you know. Why, Nellie Bassishaw there, you know—we used to be rather flames when we were young. A year or two since, that is. We’re not so very old yet, you know, Mr. Butterfield,” he added, with a slightly conscious laugh. ”

“ Loring and Caroline mounted determined guard over me, one on each side, but didn’t speak. It was not until we were on the way home that the storm broke.
“Rollo Butterfield,” said Mrs. Loring icily, “I’m deeply surprised at you.”
“And why, my dear Mrs. Loring?” I asked blandly.
“Did you propose to that—that Gibson girl?”
“Proposal, Mrs. Loring,” I replied, “is an excitement that would be of more general indulgence but for the risk of acceptance. It is a valuable sensation, and I greatly regret its attendant danger.”
“You have no more perception than a child. ”

“ For you, too, the time shall come when ingratitude shall be your portion. You are a bachelor yourself—you drink cinder-tea, but the day shall arrive when you shall be told you know less about it than the hand that pours it out. Play while you can. Your least word is heeded now; but afterwards you shall cry wisdom in the nursery and shall not be regarded.”
Chris saw somehow that he was the subject of remark, and now, trimly toileted and elaborately combed, was ready for a story grim in giant and spiced with goblin. ”

“ Kit Carmichael. I was too old a friend of Carmichael’s, and could always make her tingle with curiosity by an artful hint of pre-nuptial reminiscence. Besides which, she herself was too much in my power. Distinctly, I had a right to rebuke her. I leaned back, and questioned her with forensic severity.
“Mrs. Carmichael,” I said, “you are young, but that is no excuse for ingratitude. Five years ago my advice was not superfluous. Whose experience was it selected you this little house, when Kit’s mind was too full of love to distinguish such details as sanitary arrangements?” ”

“ Carmichael always keeps up an appearance of formality, even with me.
“Mr. Butterfield, how dare you come into my nursery!”
“Mrs. Carmichael,” I replied, “I came to have a talk with your son in the matter of a certain giant in whom we are both interested. Perhaps you yourself would care——”
“Chris shall not hear any story till he has his pinafore on. It is as well you are a bachelor, Mr. Butterfield. You would spoil the best child in the world.”
“Unless I am mistaken, Mrs. Kit,” I answered, “you yourself were playing the part of a bear when I entered. Does one hunt bears without a pinafore?” ”

“ I rather took to Master Ted, and decided that Carrie and Bassishaw should not have all the fun out of the magic-lantern. I would willingly have prolonged the talk, but Ted was glancing nervously at the window, and thought we really should go in—the youngsters would need looking after.
We went in, in time to catch them playing some game with a closed door and a piece of mistletoe. I saw no necessity for Carrie and Arthur Bassishaw joining in, but join in they did, while Miss Nellie looked intelligently patronising. Ted was right—women did grow up quickly. ”

“ She rose gaily.
“This is all very well,” she said, “but it is a bad thing to have the fire at your back. Be good enough to put the screen up, Arthur.”
Arthur did so.
“But the story,” Caroline persisted impatiently—she wanted to get to the reconciliation with tears. “How does the story go on?”
“It went on,” I replied, “in much the same way. It is not quite finished yet.”
She looked a virtuous reproof.
“I am surprised, Rollo,” she said, “that you should have behaved in so indiscreet a fashion. I think that on that occasion it was just as well there was nobody there. ”

“ I greeted him with pleasure.
“And the match, Ted?” I asked, when he had sat down; “how do you feel?”—Ted was the youngest member of the Eton eleven, which was to meet Harrow in the annual match at Lord’s in a day or two.
A troubled look crossed his face.
“I don’t feel a bit up to it, Butterfield,” he replied. “I shall go and mess the confounded thing, I know I shall. A fellow who’s playing cricket shouldn’t have anything on his mind—that is——”
He paused, and flushed half angrily. ”

“ Butterfield, you are an unspeakable deception!”
That was my thanks. Carrie and I might conspire to do good by stealth—I might go out of my way to gather hints on pastry—and because, forsooth, this woman’s execution was not equal to the brilliance of the idea, I was to be branded as a fraud! The brown sugar was an original notion; and if, forsooth, like the Great Eastern, it turned out unmanageable in practice, that did not detract from the boldness of the conception. Women are so conservative; they lack the true inventor’s spirit. ”