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outing I had was when your father attended a seance, and I was knocked up in the middle of the night. But I did not enjoy my holiday in the least ; the indignity of having to move the furniture made the blood boil in my veins as in a spirit-lamp, and exposed me to the malicious badinage of my circle on my return. I protested that I did not care a rap, but I was mightily rejoiced when I learnt that your father had denounced the proceedings as a swindle, and was resolved never to invite me to his table again. When you were born I thought you were born to trouble, as the sparks fly upwards from our dwelling-place ; but I was mistaken. Up till now your life has been a long summer afternoon."

" Yes, but now the shades are falling," I said grimly. "It looks as if my life he nee forwards will be a long holiday — for you."

He shook his wig mournfully.

" No, I am only out on parole. I have had to give my word of honour to try to set you on your legs again as soon as possible."

"You couldn't have come at a more opportune moment," I cried, remembering how he had found me. "You are a good as well as a great-grandfather, and I am proud of my descent. Won't you have a cigar? "

"Thank you, I never smoke — on earth," said the spirit hurriedly, with a flavour of bitter in his accents. " Let us to the point. You have been reduced to the painful neces- sity of earning your living."

I nodded silently, and took a sip of lemon-squash. A strange sense of salvation lulled my soul.

" How do you propose to do it?" asked my great-grand- father.

"Oh, I leave that to you," I said confidingly.

" Well, what do you say to a literary career? "


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"Eh? What?" I gasped.

"A literary career," he repeated. "What makes you so astonished ? "

" Well, for one thing it's exactly what Tom Addlestone, the leader-writer of the Hurrygraph, was recommending to me this morning. He said : ' John, my boy, if I had had your advantages ten years ago, I should have been spared many a headache and supplied with many a dinner. It may turn out a lucky thing yet that you gravitated so to literary society, and that so many press men had free passes to your suppers. Consider the number of men of letters you have mixed drinks with ! Why, man, you can succeed in any branch of literature you please.' "

My great-grandfather's face was radiant. Perhaps it was only the setting sun that touched it.

"A chip of the old block," he murmured. "That was I in my young days. Johnson, Goldsmith, Sheridan, Burke, Hume, I knew them all — gay dogs, gay dogs ! Except that great hulking brute of a Johnson," he added, with a sudden savage snarl that showed his white teeth.

" I told Addlestone that I had no literary ability whatever, and he scoffed at me for my simplicity. All the same, I think he was only poking fun at me. My friends might puff me out to bull-size ; but I am only a frog, and I should very soon burst. The public might be cajoled into buying one book ; they could not be duped a second time. Don't you think I was right? I haven't any literary ability, have I?"

" Certainly not, certainly not," replied my great-grand- father with an alacrity and emphasis that would have seemed suspicious in a mere mortal. " But it does seem a shame to waste so great an opportunity. The ball that Addlestone waited years for is at your foot, and it is grievous to think

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that there it must remain merely because you do not know how to kick it."

" Well, but what's a man to do? "

" What's a man to do?" repeated my great-grandfather contemptuously. " Get a ghost, of course."

" By Jove ! ' I cried with a whistle. " That's a good idea ! Addlestone has a ghost to do his leaders for him when he's lazy. I've seen the young fellow myself. Tom pays him six guineas a dozen, and gets three guineas apiece himself. But of course Tom has to live in much better style, and that makes it fair all round. You mean that I am to take advantage of my influence to get some other fellow work, and take a commission for the use of my name? That seems feasible enough. But where am I to find a ghost with the requisite talents? "

" Here," said my great-grandfather.

"What! You?"

" Yes, I," he replied calmly.

" But you couldn't write — "

" Not now, certainly not. All I wrote now would be burnt."

'•' Then how the devil — ? " I began.

" Hush ! " he interrupted nervously. " Listen, and I will a tale unfold. It is called The Learned Pig. I wrote it in my forty-fifth year, and it is full of sketches from the life of all the more notable personages of my time, from Lord Chesterfield to Mrs. Thrale, from Peg Woffington to Adam Smith and the ingenious Mr. Dibdin. I have painted the portrait of Sir Joshua quite as faithfully as he has painted mine. Of course much of the dialogue is real, taken from conversations preserved in my note-book. It is, I believe, a complete picture of the period, and being the only book I ever wrote or intended to write, I put my whole self into it, as well as all my friends."


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" It must be, indeed, your masterpiece," I cried enthusi- astically. " But why is it called The Learned Pig, and how has it escaped publication?"

" You shall hear. The learned pig is Dr. Johnson. He refused to take wine with me. I afterwards learnt that he had given up strong liqueurs altogether, and I went to see him again, but he received me with epigrams. He is the pivot of my book, all the other characters revolving about him. Naturally, I did not care to publish during his life- time ; not entirely, I admit, out of consideration to his feel- ings, but because foolish admirers had placed him on such a pedestal that he could damn any book he did not relish. I made sure of surviving him, so many and diverse were his distempers ; whereas my manuscript survived me. In the moment of death I strove to tell your grandfather of the hiding-place in which I had bestowed it ; but I could only make signs to which he had not the clue. You can imagine how it has embittered my spirit to have missed the aim of my life and my due niche in the pantheon of letters. In vain I strove to be registered among the ' hidden treasure ' spirits, with the preambulatory privileges pertaining to the class. I was told that to recognise manuscripts under the head of ' treasures ' would be to open a fresh door to abuse, there being few but had scribbled in their time and had a good conceit of their compositions to boot. I could offer no proofs of the value of my work, not even printers' proofs, and even the fact that the manuscript was concealed behind a sliding panel availed not to bring it into the coveted cate- gory. Moreover, not only did I have no other pretext to call on my descendants, but both my son and grandson were too respectable to be willingly connected with letters and too flourishing to be enticed by the prospects of profit. To you, however, this book will prove the avenue to fresh fortune."


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" Do you mean I am to publish it under your name? "

" No, under yours."

"But, then, where does the satisfaction come in?"

"Your name is the same as mine."

"I see; but still, why not tell the truth about it? In a preface, for instance."

"Who would believe it? In my own day I could not credit that Macpherson spoke truly about the way Ossian came into his possession, nor to judge from gossip I have had with the younger ghosts did anyone attach credence to Sir Walter Scott's introductions."

"True," I said musingly. "It is a played-out dodge. But I am not certain whether an attack on Dr. Johnson would go down nowadays. We are aware that the man had porcine traits, but we have almost canonised him."

"The very reason why the book will be a success," he replied eagerly. " I understand that in these days of yours the best way of attracting attention is to fly in the face of all received opinion, and so in the realm of history to white- wash the villains and tar and feather the saints. The sliding panel of which I spoke is just behind the picture of me. Lose no time. Go at once, even as I must."

The shadowy contours of his form waved agitatedly in the wind.

"But how do you know anyone will bring it out?" I said doubtfully. "Am I to haunt the publishers' offices till — "

"No, no, I will do that," he interrupted in excitement. " Promise me you will help me."

"But I don't feel at all sure it stands a ghost of a chance," I said, growing colder in proportion as he grew more en- thusiastic.

" It is the only chance of a ghost," he pleaded. " Come, give me your word. Any of your literary friends will get


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you a publisher, and where could you get a more promising ghost?"

" Oh, nonsense!" I said quietly, unconsciously quoting Ibsen. "There must be ghosts all the country over, as thick as the sand of the sea."

I was determined to put the matter on its proper footing, for I saw that under pretence of restoring my fortunes he was really trying to get me to pull his chestnuts out of the fire, and I resented the deceptive spirit that could put for- ward such tasks as favours. It was evident that he cherished a post-mortem grudge against the great lexicographer, as well as a posthumous craving for fame, and wished to use me as the instrument of his reputation and his revenge. But I was a man of the world, and I was not going to be rushed by a mere phantom.

" I don't deny there are plenty of ghosts about," he answered with insinuative deference. " Only will any of the others work for nothing?"

He saw he had scored a point, and his eyes twinkled.

"Yes, but I don't know that I approve of black-legs," I answered sternly. "You are taking the bread and butter out of some honest ghost's mouth."

The corners of his own mouth drooped ; his eyes grew misty ; he looked fading away. " Most true," he faltered ; " but be pitiful. Have you no great-grand-filial feelings? "

" No, I lost everything in the crash," I answered coldly. "Suppose the book's a frost? "

" I shan't mind," he said eagerly.

" No, I don't suppose you would mind a frost," I retorted witheringly. " But look at the chaff you'd be letting me in for. Hadn't you better put off publication for a century or two?"

No, no," he cried wildly; " our mansion will pass into

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strange hands. I shall not have the right of calling on the new proprietors."

" Phew ! " I whistled ; " perhaps that's why you timed your visit now, you artful old codger. I have always heard appearances are deceptive. However, I have ever been a patron of letters ; and although I cannot approve of post- mundane malice, and think the dead past should be let bury its dead, still, if you are set upon it, I will try and use my influence to get your book published."

" Bless you ! " he cried tremulously, with all the effusive- ness natural to an author about to see himself in print, and trembled so violently that he dissipated himself away.

I stood staring a moment at the spot where he had stood, pleased at having out-manoeuvred him ; then my chair gave way with another crash, and I picked myself up painfully, together with the dead stump of my cigar, and brushed the ash off my trousers, and rubbed my eyes and wondered if I had been dreaming. But no ! when I ran into the cheer- less dining-room, with its pervading sense of imminent auction, I found the sliding panel behind the portrait by Reynolds, which seemed to beam kindly encouragement upon me, and, lo ! The Learned Pig was there in a mass of musty manuscript.

As everybody knows, the book made a hit. The Acadceum was unusually generous in its praise : " A lively picture of the century of farthingales and stomachers, marred only by numerous anachronisms and that stilted air of faked-up archaeological knowledge which is, we suppose, inevitable in historical novels. The conversations are particularly artificial. Still, we can forgive Mr. Halliwell a good deal of inaccuracy and inacquaintance with the period, in view of the graphic picture of the literary dictator from the novel point of view of a contemporary who was not among the


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worshippers. It is curious how the honest, sterling character of the man is brought out all the more clearly from the incapacity of the narrator to comprehend its greatness — to show this was a task that called for no little skill and subtlety. If it were only for this one ingenious idea, Mr. Halliwell's book would stand out from the mass of abortive attempts to resuscitate the past. He has failed to picture the times, but he has done what is better — he has given us human beings who are alive, instead of the futile shadows that flit through the Walhalla of the average historical novel."

All the leading critics were at one as to the cleverness with which the great soul of Dr. Johnson was made to stand out on the background of detraction, and the public was universally agreed that this was the only readable historical novel published for many years, and that the anachronisms didn't matter a pin. I don't know what I had done to Tom Addlestone ; but when everybody was talking about me, he went about saying that I kept a ghost. I was annoyed, for I did not keep one in any sense, and I openly defied the world to produce him. Why, I never saw him again myself — I believe he was too disgusted with the fillip he had given Dr. Johnson's reputation, and did not even take advantage of the Christmas Bank Holiday. But Addlestone's libel got to Jenny Grant's ears, and she came to me indignantly, and said : " I won't have it. You must either give up me or the ghost."

"To give up you would be to give up the ghost, darling," I answered soothingly. "But you, and you alone, have a right to the truth. It is not my ghost at all, it is my great- grandfather's."

" Do you mean to say he bequeathed him to you? ' ;

" It came to that."


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{|style="width:100%; border-bottom:2px solid black; text-align:right" strained by the applicable provisions of State water law. Water can be appropriated and applied only to a beneficial use recognized by the State of Wyoming, and though a considerable number of water rights have been approved by the Wyoming State Engineers Office, there is no formal list of approved or defined beneficial uses in Wyoming (Wyoming Joint Venture Steering Committee 2010). Without formal recognition of wildlife habitat creation, maintenance, enhancement, or management as a beneficial use in the State of Wyoming, the rulings for water appropriation can be inconsistent and can lead to wetland habitat loss that would directly affect wetland-dependent wildlife populations. As fragmentation increases, remaining habitats become geographically isolated and wildlife populations with limited dispersal abilities may potentially become genetically and spatially isolated.
 * Chapter 3—Threats to and Status of Resources27
 * }
 * }

Climate change has become one of the paramount conservation issues and management challenges. The term “climate” refers to the mean and variability of different types of weather conditions over time, with 30 years being a typical period for such measurements, although shorter or longer periods also may be used (Parry et al. 2007). The term “climate change” refers to a change in the mean or variability of one or more measures of climate (such as temperature or precipitation) that persists for an extended period, typically decades or longer, whether the change is because of natural variability, human activity, or both (Parry et al. 2007). Various types of climate change can have direct or indirect effects on species. These effects may be positive, neutral, or negative, and may change over time, resulting in different effects on species and associated habitats (Parry et al. 2007).

Mountain ecosystems in the western United States are expected to be especially sensitive to climate change. Data shows that many places in the Rocky Mountains have experienced three times the global average temperature increase over the past century. The magnitude of warming in the northern Rocky Mountains has been particularly significant, as shown by an 8-day advance in the appearance of spring phenological indicators since the 1930s (Cayan et al. 2001). The hydrologic regime in the northern Rockies has also changed in response to the shift in global climate, and is projected to experience further changes (Bartlein et al. 1997, Cayan et al. 2001, Stewart et al. 2004). Under global climate change scenarios, the mountainous areas of northwest Wyoming may eventually experience milder, warmer, wetter winters and drier summers (Bartlein et al. 1997). Furthermore, the pattern of snowmelt runoff may change, with a reduction in spring snowmelt (Cayan et al. 2001) and an earlier peak runoff (Stewart et al. 2004), resulting in relatively lower annual discharge during spring and summer.

There is no available information on the potential threats of climate change on the Wyoming toad, and there is no evidence of direct effects to the species at this time (USFWS 2013). Many species that are already listed as endangered or threatened may be particularly vulnerable to changes in climate; it is also recognized that, for some listed species, the likely effects may be positive or neutral. However, some studies have predicted that amphibians will be even more susceptible to climate change than bird or mammal populations because of their physiology; dependence on microhabitats and predictable hydrological regimes; limited dispersal abilities (Blaustein et al. 1994); and susceptibility to diseases that may be intensified by climate change (Pounds et al. 2006). Some models predict substantially larger changes in amphibian populations than in birds or mammals, based primarily on potential future range contractions and expansions. This multitude of projected impacts could exacerbate the current population declines of many amphibian species (Stuart et al. 2004). Many wetland and riparian habitats, such as those found within the boundary of the conservation area, are dependent on snowmelt from surrounding high-mountain ecosystems and are therefore expected to be more acutely affected by changes in runoff amount, timing, and quality than other habitats (Parry et al. 2007). Because the snowpack in high-elevation montane ecosystems directly affects the phenology of lower elevation watersheds, species associated with these systems may be more acutely affected than species in more temperate ecotypes.

For amphibians and reptiles, the timing of key ecological events is influenced by environmental conditions such as air and water temperatures and precipitation patterns. The timing of breeding, egg laying, metamorphosis, dispersal, and migration may shift in response to higher temperatures and changes in rainfall (Beebee 1995). As temperatures warm and the water in aquatic habitats becomes more variable, amphibians are likely to experience lower rates of survival to metamorphosis. Temperatures outside of their thermal optima can also cause physiological stresses (Gibbons et al. 2000). Because of their affinities to aquatic habitats and their small size, amphibians typically have relatively small home ranges and low dispersal rates (Duellman and Trueb 1994, Wells 2007), making them more vulnerable to changes in their environment. The Wyoming toad, in particular, is a glacial relict that is adapted to a cool montane climate with a reliably high spring runoff. As climate


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I then told her the truth, and showed how in any case the profits of my ancestor's book rightfully reverted back- wards to me. So we were married on them, and Jenny, fired by my success, tried her hand on a novel, and published it, truthfully enough, under the name of J. Halliwell. She has written all my stories ever since, including this one ; which, if it be necessarily false in the letter, is true in the spirit.


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That every man has a romance in his life has always been a pet theory of mine, so I was not surprised to find the immaculate Dorking smoking a clay pipe in Cable Street (late Ratcliff Highway) at half-past eight of a winter's morning. Nor was I surprised to find myself there, because, as a romancer, I have a poetic license to go anywhere and see everything. Viscount Dorking had just come out of an old clo' shop, and was got up like a sailor. Under his arm was a bundle. He lurched against me without recognising me, for I, too, was masquerading in my shabbiest and roughest attire, and the morning was bleak and foggy, the round red sun flaming in the forehead of the morning sky like the eye of a cyclop. But there could be no doubt it was Dorking—even if I had not been acquainted with the sedate Viscount (that paradox of the peerage, whose treatises on pure mathematics were the joy of Senior Wranglers) I should have suspected something shady from the whiteness of my sailor's hands.

Dorking was a dapper little man, almost dissociable from gloves and a chimney-pot. The sight of him shambling along like one of the crew of H. M. S. Pinafore gave me a pleasant thrill of excitement. I turned, and followed him along the narrow yellow street. He made towards the Docks, turning down King David Lane. He was apparently without any instrument of protection, though I, for my part, was glad to feel the grasp of the old umbrella that walks


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always with me, hand in knob. Hard by the Shadwell Basin he came to a halt before a frowsy coffee-house, reflectively removed his pipe from his mouth, and whistled a bar of a once popular air in a peculiar manner. Then he pushed open the bleared glass door, and was lost to view.

After an instant's hesitation I pulled my sombrero over my eyes and strode in after him, plunging into a wave of musty warmth not entirely disagreeable after the frigid street. The boxes were full of queer waterside characters, among whom flitted a young woman robustly beautiful. The Viscount was already smiling at her when I entered. " Bring us the usual," he said, in a rough accent.

" Come along, Jenny, pint and one," impatiently growled a weather-beaten old ruffian in a pilot's cap.

" Pawn your face ! " murmured Jenny, turning to me with an enquiring air.

" Pint and one," I said boldly, in as husky a tone as I could squeeze out.

Several battered visages, evidently belonging to habitues of the place, were bent suspiciously in my direction ; per- haps because my rig-out, though rough, had no flavour of sea-salt or river-mud, for no one took the least notice of Dorking, except the comely attendant. I waited with some curiosity for my fare, which turned out to be nothing more mysterious than a pint of coffee and one thick slice of bread and butter. Not to appear ignorant of the prices ruling, I tendered Jenny a sixpence, whereupon she returned me fourpence-halfpenny. This appeared to me so ridiculously cheap that I had not the courage to offer her the change as I had intended, nor did she seem to expect it. The pint of coffee was served in one great hulking cup such as Gargantua might have quaffed. I took a sip, and found it of the flavour of chalybeate springs. But it was. hot, and I made


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shift to drink a little, casting furtive glances at Dorking, three boxes off across the gangway.

My gentleman sailor seemed quite at home, swallowing stolidly as though at his own breakfast-table. I grew impa- tient for him to have done, and beguiled the time by study- ing a placard on the wall offering a reward for information as to the whereabouts of a certain ship's cook who was wanted for knifing human flesh. And presently, curiously enough, in comes a police-sergeant on this very matter, and out goes Dorking (rather hastily, I thought), with me at his heels.

No sooner had he got round a corner than he started run- ning at a rate that gave me a stitch in the side. He did not stop till he reached a cab-rank. There was only one vehicle on it, and the coughing, red-nosed driver, unpleas- antly suggesting a mixture of grog and fog, was climbing to his seat when I came cautiously and breathlessly up, and Dorking was returning to his trousers' pocket a jingling mass of gold and silver coins, which he had evidently been exhib- iting to the sceptical cabman. He seemed to walk these regions with the fearlessness of Una in the enchanted forest. I had no resource but to hang on to the rear, despite the alarums of "whip behind," raised by envious and inconsid- erate urchins.

And in this manner, defiantly dodging the cabman, who several times struck me unfairly behind his back, I drove through a labyrinth of sordid streets to the Bethnal Green Museum. Here we alighted, and the Viscount strolled about outside the iron railings, from time to time anxiously scrutinising the church clock and looking towards the foun- tain which only performs in the summer, and was then wear- ing its winter night-cap. At last, as if weary of waiting, he walked with sudden precipitation towards the turnstile,


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and was lost to view within. After a moment I followed him, but was stopped by the janitor, who, with an air of astonishment, informed me there was sixpence to pay, it being a Wednesday. I understood at once why the Vis- count had selected this day, for there was no one to be seen inside, and it was five minutes ere I discovered him. He was in the National Portrait Gallery, before one of Sir Peter Lely's insipid beauties, which to my surprise he was copying in pencil. Evidently he was trying to while away the time. At eleven o'clock to the second he scribbled something underneath the sketch, folded it up carefully, picked up his bundle and walked unhesitatingly downstairs into the second gallery, where, after glancing about to assure himself that the policeman's head was turned away, he deposited the paper between two bottles of tape-worms, and stole out through the back door. Feverishly seizing the sketch, I followed him, but the policeman's eye was now upon me, and I had to walk with dignified slowness, though I was in agonies lest I should lose my man. My anxiety was justi- fied ; when I reached the grounds, the Viscount was no- where to be seen. I ran hither and thither like a madman, along the back street and about the grounds, hacking my shins against a perambulator, and at last sank upon a frigid garden seat, breathless and exhausted. I now bethought me of the paper clenched in my fist, and, smoothing it out, deciphered these words faintly pencilled beneath a caricature of the Court beauty : —

" Not my fault you missed me. If you are still set on your folly, you will find me lunching at the Chingford Hotel."

I sprang up exultant, new fire in my veins. True, the mystery was darkening, but it was the darkness that precedes the dawn.


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" Cherchez la femme! " I muttered, and darting down Three Colts Lane I reached the Junction, only to find the barrier dashed in my face. But half-a-crown drove it back, and I sprang into the guard's van on his very heels. A shil- ling stifled the oath on his lips, and transferred it to mine when I discovered I had jumped into the Enfield Fast. Before I really got to Chingford it was long past noon. But I found him.

The Viscount was toying with a Chartreuse in the dining- room. The waiters eyed me suspiciously, for I was shabby and dusty and haggard-looking. To my surprise Dorking had doffed the sailor, and wore a loud checked suit ! He looked up as I entered, but did not appear to recognise me. There was no one with him. Still I had found him. That was the prime thing.

Becoming conscious I was faint with hunger, I took up the menu, when to my vexation I saw the Viscount pay his bill, and don an overcoat and a billy-cock, and ere I could snatch bite or sup I was striding along the slimy forest paths, among the gaunt, fog-wrapped trees, following the Viscount by his footprints whenever I lost him for a moment among the avenues. Dorking marched with quick, decisive steps. In the heart of the forest, by a great oak, whose roots sprawled in every direction, he came to a standstill. Hidden behind some brushwood, I awaited the sequel with beating heart.

The Viscount took out a great coloured handkerchief, and spread it carefully over the roots of the oak ; then he sat down on the handkerchief, and whistled the same bar of the same once popular air he had whistled outside the coffee-house. Immediately a broken-nosed man emerged from behind a bush, and addressed the Viscount. I strained my ears, but could not catch their conversation, but I heard


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Dorking laugh heartily, as he sprang up and clapped the man on the shoulder. They walked off together.

I was now excited to the wildest degree ; I forgot the pangs of baffled appetite ; my whole being was strung to find a key to the strange proceedings of the mathematical Viscount. Tracking their double footsteps through the mist, I found them hobnobbing in a public-house on the forest border. After peeping in, I ran round to another door, and stood in an adjoining bar, where, without being seen, I could have a snack of bread and cheese, and hear

all.

" Could you bring her round to my house to-night?" said Dorking, in a hoarse whisper. " You shall have the money down."

" Right, sir ! " said the man. And then their pewters clinked.

To my chagrin this was all the conversation. The Vis- count strode out alone — except for my company. The fog had grown deeper, and I was glad to be conducted to the station. This time we went to Liverpool Street. Dorking lingered at the book-stall, and at last enquired if they had yesterday's Times. Receiving a reply in the negative, he clucked his tongue impatiently. Then, as with a sudden thought, he ran up to the North London Railway book-stall, only to be again disappointed. He took out the great coloured handkerchief, and wiped his forehead. Then he entered into confidential conversation with an undistin- guished stranger, fat and foreign, who had been looking eagerly up and down at the extreme end of the platform. Re-descending into the street, he jumped into a Charing Cross 'bus. As he went inside I had no option but to go outside, though the air was yellow and I felt chilled to the bone.


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340 Alighting at Charing Cross, he went into the telegraph office, and wrote a telegram. The composition seemed to cause him great difficulty. Standing outside the door, I saw him discard two half-begun forms. When he came out I made a swift calculation of the chances, and determined

to secure the two forms, even at the risk of losing him. Neither had an address. One read: "If you are still set on your fol—"; the other: "Come to-night if you are still—" Bolting out with these precious scraps of evidence, that only added fuel to the flame of curiosity that was consuming me, I turned cold to find the Viscount swallowed up in the crowd. After an instant's agonised hesitation, I hailed a


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hansom, and drove to his flat in Victoria Street. The valet told me the Viscount was ill in bed, and could not see me. I read in his face that it was a lie. I resolved to loiter outside the building till Dorking's return.

I had not long to wait. In less than ten minutes a hansom discharged him at my feet. Had I not been prepared for anything, I should not have recognised him again in his red whiskers, white hat, and blue spectacles. He rang the bell, and enquired of his own valet if Viscount Dorking was at home. The man said he was ill in bed.

" Oh, we'll soon put him on his legs again," interrupted Dorking, with a professional air, and pushed his valet aside. In that moment the solution dawned upon me. Dorking zuas mad! Nothing but insanity would account for his day's vagaries. I felt it was my duty, as a fellow-creature, to look to him. I followed him, to the open-eyed conster- nation of the valet. Suddenly he turned upon me, and seized me savagely by the throat. I felt choking. My worst fear was confirmed.

" No further, my man," he cried, flinging me back. " Now go, and tell her ladyship how you have earned your fee ! "

"Dorking! are you mad?" I gasped. "Don't you remember me — Air. Pry — from the Bachelor's Club?"

" Great heavens, Paul ! " he cried. Then he fell back on an ottoman, and laughed till the whiskers ran down his sides. He always had a sense of humour, I remembered.

We explained the situation to each other. Dorking had an eccentric aunt who wished to leave her money to him. Suddenly Dorking learnt from his valet, who was betrothed to her ladyship's maid, that she had taken it into her head he could not be so virtuous and so devoted to pure mathe- matics as he appeared, and so she had commissioned a


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342 342 VAGARIES OF A VISCOUNT.

private detective agency to watch her nephew, and discover how deep the still waters ran. Incensed at the suspicion, he had that day started a course of action calculated to bam- boozle the agency, and having no other meaning whatever.

When he caught sight of me gazing at him so curiously he mistook me for one of its minions, and determined to lead me a dance ; the mistake was confirmed by my patient obedience to his piping.

The broken-nosed man was an accident. Anticipating his value as a beautiful false clue, Dorking laughed uproar- iously at the sight of him, and readily agreed to buy a French poodle.


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 NCE upon a time there was a Queen who unexpectedly gave birth to three Princes. They were all so exactly alike that after a moment or two it was impossible to remember which was the eldest or which was the youngest. Any two of them, sort them how you pleased, were always twins. They all cried in the same key and with the same comic grimaces. In short, there was not a hair's-breadth of difference between them—not that they had a hair's-breadth between them, for, like most babies, they were prematurely bald.


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344 344 THE QUEEN'S TRIPLETS.

The King was very much put out. He did not mind the expense of keeping three Heir Apparents, for that fell on the country, and was defrayed by an impost called "The Queen's Tax." But it was the consecrated custom of the kingdom that the crown should pass over to the eldest son, and the absence of accurate knowledge upon this point was perplexing. A triumvirate was out of the question ; the multiplication of monarchs would be vexa- tion to the people, and the rule of three would drive them mad.

The Queen was just as annoyed, though on different grounds. She felt it hard enough to be the one mother in the realm who could not get the Queen's bounty, without having to suffer the King's reproaches. Her heart was broken, and she died soon after of laryngitis.

To distinguish the triplets (when it was too late) they were always dressed one in green, one in blue, and one in black, the colours of the national standard, and naturally got to be popularly known by the sobriquets of the Green Prince, the Blue Prince, and the Black Prince. Every year they got older and older till at last they became young men. And every year the King got older and older till at last he became an old man, and the fear crept into his heart that he might be restored to his wife and leave the kingdom embroiled in civil feud unless he settled straightway who should be the heir. But, being human, notwithstanding his court laureates, he put off the disagreeable duty from day to day, and might have died without an heir, if the envoys from Paphlagonia had not aroused him to the necessity of a decision. For they announced that the Princess of Paphlagonia, being suddenly orphaned, would be sent to him in the twelfth moon that she might marry his eldest son as covenanted by ancient treaty. This was the last straw. " But I don't


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Rh know who is my eldest son!" yelled the King, who had a vast respect for covenants and the Constitution.

In great perturbation he repaired to a famous Oracle, at that time worked by a priestess with her hair let down her back. 'The King asked her a plain question: "Which is my eldest son?"

After foaming at the mouth like an open champagne bottle, she replied:—

"The eldest is he that the Princess shall wed."

The King said he knew that already, and was curtly told that if the replies did not give satisfaction he could go elsewhere. So he went to the wise men and the magicians, and


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346 held a levée of them, and they gave him such goodly counsel that the Chief Magician was henceforth honoured with the privilege of holding the Green, Black, and Blue Tricolour over the King's head at mealtimes. Soon after, it being the

twelfth moon, the King set forward with a little retinue to meet the Princess of Paphlagonia, whose coming had got abroad; but returned two days later with the news that the Princess was confined to her room, and would not arrive in the city till next year.


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348 somewhere in the great seas that engirdle our dominion, somewhere beyond the Ultimate Thule, there rangeth a vast monster, intolerable, not to be borne. Every ninth moon this creature approacheth our coasts, deluging the land with an inky vomit. This plaguy Serpent cannot be slain, for

the soothsayers aver it beareth a charmed life, but it were a mighty achievement, if for only one year, the realm could be relieved of its oppression. Are ye willing to set forth separately upon this knightly quest?"

Then the three Princes made enthusiastic answer, entreating to be sped on the journey forthwith, and a great


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349 THE QUEEN'S TRIPLETS. 349

gladness ran through the Presence Chamber, for all had suffered much from the annual incursions of the monster. And the King's heart was fain of the gallant spirit of the Princes.

" Tis well," said he. "To-morrow, at the first dawn of the new year, shall ye fare forth together ; when ye reach the river ye shall part, and for eight moons shall ye wander whither ye will ; only, when the ninth moon rises, shall ye return and tell me how ye have fared. Hasten now, there- fore, and equip yourselves as ye desire, and if there be aught that will help you in the task, ye have but to ask for it."

Then, answering quickly before his brothers could speak, the Black Prince cried : " Sire, I would crave the magic boat which saileth under the sea and destroyeth mighty armaments."

" It is thine," replied the King.

Then the Green Prince said : " Sire, grant me the magic car which saileth through the air over the great seas."

The Black Prince started and frowned, but the King answered, " It is granted." Then, turning to the Blue Prince, who seemed lost in meditation, the King said : " Why art thou silent, my son? Is there nothing I can give thee? "

"Thanks, I will take a little pigeon," answered the Blue Prince abstractedly.

The courtiers stared and giggled, and the Black Prince chuckled, but the Blue Prince was seemingly too proud to back out of his request.

So at sunrise on the morrow the three Princes set forth, journeying together till they came to the river where they had agreed to part company. Here the magic boat was floating at anchor, while the magic car was tied to the trunk of a plane-tree upon the bank, and the little pigeon, fastened by a thread, was fluttering among the branches.


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350 P,oO THE QUEEN'S TRIPLETS.

Now, when the Green Prince saw the puny pigeon, he was like to die of laughing.

"Dost thou think to feed the Serpent with thy pigeon?"

he sneered. "I fear me thou wilt not choke him off thus."

, " And what hast thou to laugh at?" retorted the Black

Prince, interposing. " Dost thou think to find the Serpent

of the Sea in the air?"

" He is always in the air," murmured the Blue Prince, inaudibly.

" Nay," said the Green Prince, scratching his head dubiously. " But thou didst so hastily annex the magic boat, I had to take the next best thing."

"Dost thou accuse me of unfairness?" cried the Black Prince in a pained voice. " Sooner than thou shouldst say that, I would change with thee."

"Wouldst thou, indeed?" enquired the Green Prince eagerly.

" Ay, that would I," said the Black Prince indignantly. " Take the magic boat, and may the gods speed thee." So saying he jumped briskly into the magic car, cut the rope, and sailed aloft. Then, looking down contemptuously upon the Blue Prince, he shouted : " Come, mount thy pigeon, and be off in search of the monster."

But the Blue Prince replied, " I will await you here."

Then the Green Prince pushed off his boat, chuckling louder than ever. " Dost thou expect to keep the creature off our coasts by guarding the head of the river ? " he scoffed.

But the Blue Prince replied, " I will await you both here till the ninth moon."

No sooner were his brothers gone than the Blue Prince set about building a hut. Here he lived happily, fishing his meals out of the river or snaring them out of the sky. The pigeon was never for a moment in danger of being eaten.


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351 THE QUE EX'S TRIPLETS. 351

It was employed more agreeably to itself and its master in operations which will appear anon. Most of the time the Blue Prince lay on his back among the wild flowers, watch- ing the river rippling to the sea or counting the passing of the eight moons, that alternately swelled and dwindled, now showing like the orb of the Black Prince's car, now like the Green Prince's boat. Sometimes he read scraps of papyrus, and his face shone.

One lovely starry night, as the Blue Prince was watching the heavens, it seemed to him as if the eighth moon in dying had dropped out of the firmament and was falling upon him. But it was only the Black Prince come back. His garments were powdered with snow, his brows were knitted gloomily, he had a dejected, despondent aspect.

"Thou here !" he snapped.

" Of course," said the Blue Prince cheerfully, though he seemed a little embarrassed all the same. " Haven't I been here all the time ? But go into my hut, I've kept sapper hot for thee."

" Has the Green Prince had his? "

" No, I haven't seen anything of him. Hast thou scotched the Serpent? "

" No, I haven't seen anything of him," growled the Black Prince. "I've passed backwards and forwards over the entire face of the ocean, but nowhere have I caught the slightest glimpse of him. What a fool I was to give up the magic boat ! He never seems to come to the surface."

All this while the Blue Prince was dragging his brother with suspicious solicitude towards the hut, where he sat him down to his own supper of ortolans and oysters. But the host had no sooner run outside again, on the pretext of seeing if the Green Prince was coming, than there was a disturbance and eddying in the stream as of a rally of


text: The Recluse (Cook)/Supernatural Horror in Literature


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Dear Friends: We have met in the presence of the most high God; we have come to do business for Jehovah. Let us do it well. We shall meet again in eternity. Let us be very solemn. God’s reporter is taking note of every thought, every action here tonight, of those who are against Him and those who are for Him. So let us turn our minds from the fleetings of life, the things that are passing away, and be shut in with God this hour.

The message the Lord has brought before us tonight will be found in the 12th chap. of. Matt., verses 31 and 32.

“Wherefore I say unto you, all manner of sin and blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men: but the blasphemy against the Holy Ghost shall not be forgiven unto men. And whosoever speaketh a word against the Son of Man, it shall be forgiven him; but whosoever speaketh against the Holy Ghost, it shall not be forgiven him, neither in this world, neither in the world to come.” This message comes to us from Jesus tonight as much as if He was standing here. Hear the eternal word from the lips of the Son of God now reigning in glory. The words are just as powerful as when from His lips if they go out by the power of the Holy Ghost. This subject is considered one of the deepest in the word of God. You have often heard the question asked, “What is the unpardonable sin?” And some people are very much concerned about having committed it. John says: There is a sin unto death. I do not say that you shall pray for it, but other sins are not unto death, and through prayer God will wash them all out.

Blasphemy against God and all kinds of sin against Him and against mankind will be blotted out, but whosoever speaks against the Holy Ghost hath no forgiveness neither in this world

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352


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353 THE QUE EX'S TRIPLETS. 353

have I caught the slightest glimpse of him. What a fool I was to give up the magic car ! From a height I could have commanded an ampler area of ocean. Perhaps he was up the river."

" No, I haven't seen anything of him," replied the Blue Prince hastily. " But go into my hut, thy supper must be getting quite cold." He hurried his verdant brother into the hut, and gave him some chestnuts out of the oven (it was the best he could do for him), and then rushed outside again, on the plea of seeing if the Serpent was coming. But he seemed to expect him to come from the sky, for, leaning against the trunk of the plane-tree by the river, he resumed his anxious scrutiny of the constellations. Presently there was a gentle whirring in the air, and a white bird became visible, flying rapidly downwards in his direction. Almost at the same instant he felt himself pinioned by a rope to the tree-trunk, and saw the legs of the alighting pigeon neatly prisoned in the Black Prince's fist.

"Aha !" croaked the Black Prince triumphantly. "Now we shall see through thy little schemes."

. He detached the slip of papyrus which dangled from the pigeon's neck.

"How darest thou read my letters?" gasped the Blue Prince.

" If I dare to rob the mail, I shall certainly not hesitate to read the letters," answered the Black Prince coolly, and went on to enunciate slowly (for the light was bad) the following lines : —

" Heart-sick I watch the old moon's ling'ring death, And long upon my face to feel thy breath; I burn to see its final flicker die, And greet our moon of honey in the sky."


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354 "What is all this moonshine?" he concluded in bewilderment.

Now the Blue Prince was the soul of candour, and seeing that nothing could now be lost by telling the truth, he answered:—

"This is a letter from a damsel who resideth in the Tower of Telifonia, on the outskirts of the capital; we are engaged. No doubt the language seemeth to thee a little overdone, but wait till thy turn cometh."

"And so thou hast employed this pigeon as a carrier between thee and this suburban young person?" cried the Black Prince, feeling vaguely boiling over with rage.

"Even so," answered his brother, "but guard thy tongue. The lady of whom thou speakest so disrespectfully is none other than the Princess of Paphlagonia."

"Eh? What?" gasped the Black Prince.

"She hath resided there since the twelfth moon of last year. The King received her the first time he set out to meet her."

"Dost thou dare say the King hath spoken untruth?"

"Nay, nay. The King is a wise man. Wise men never mean what they say. The King said she was confined to her room. It is true, for he had confined her in the Tower with her maidens for fear she should fall in love with the


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355 THE QUEEN'S TRIPLETS. 355

wrong Prince, or the reverse, before the rightful heir was discovered. The King said she would not arrive in the city till next year. This also is true. As thou didst rightly ob- serve, the Tower of Telifonia is situated in the suburbs. The King did not bargain for my discovering that a beauti- ful woman lived in its topmost turret."

" Nay, how couldst thou discover that? The King did not lend thee the magic car, and thou certainly couldst not see her at that height without the magic glass ! "

" I have not seen her. But through the embrasure i often saw the sunlight flashing and leaping like a thing of life, and I knew it was what the children call a i Johnny Noddy.' Now a 'Johnny Noddy' argueth a mirror, and a mirror argueth a woman, and frequent use thereof argueth a beautiful woman. So, when in the Presence Chamber the King told us of his dilemma as to the hand of the Princess of Paphlagonia, it instantly dawned upon me who the beau- tiful woman was, and why the King was keeping her hidden away, and why he had hidden away his meaning also. Wherefore straightway I asked for a pigeon, knowing that the pigeons of the town roost on the Tower of Telifonia, so that I had but to fly my bird at the end of a long string like a kite to establish communication between me and the fair captive. In time my little messenger grew so used to the journey to and fro that I could dispense with the string. Our courtship has been most satisfactory. We love each other ardentlv, and — "

" But you have never seen each other ! " interrupted the Black Prince.

" Thou forgettest we are both royal personages," said the Blue Prince in astonished reproof.

" But this is gross treachery — what right hadst thou to make these underhand advances in our absence?"


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356 350 THE QUEEN'S TRIPLETS.

"Thou forgettest I had to scotch the Serpent," said the Blue Prince in astonished reproof. "Thou forgettest also that she can only marry the heir to the throne."

"Ah, true !" said the Black Prince, considerably relieved. "And as thou hast chosen to fritter away the time in making love to her, thou hast taken the best way to lose her."

"Thou forgettest I shall have to marry her," said the Blue Prince in astonished reproof. " Not only because I have given my word to a lady, but because I have promised the King to do my best to scotch the Serpent of the Sea. Really thou seemest terribly dull to-day. Let me put the matter in a nutshell. If he who scotches the Sea Serpent is to marry the Princess, then would I scotch the Sea Serpent by marrying the Princess, and marry the Princess to scotch the Sea Serpent. Thou hast searched the face of the sea, and our brother has dragged its depths, and nowhere have ye seen the Sea Serpent. Yet in the ninth moon he will surely come, and the land will be covered with an inky vomit as in former years. But if I marry the Princess of Paphlagonia in the ninth moon, the Royal Wedding will ward off the Sea Serpent, and not a scribe will shed ink to tell of his advent. Therefore, instead of ranging through the earth, I stayed at home and paid my addresses to the — "

" Yes, yes, what a fool I was ! " interrupted the Black Prince, smiting his brow with his palm, so that the pigeon escaped from between his fingers, and winged its way back to the Tower of Telifonia as if to carry his words to the Princess.

"Thou forgettest thou art a fool still," said the Blue Prince in astonished reproof. " Prithee, unbind me forth- with."

" Nay, I am a fool no longer, for it is I that shall wed the Princess of Paphlagonia and scotch the Sea Serpent, it is I


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Rh that have sent the pigeon to and fro, and unless thou makest me thine oath to be silent on the matter I will slay thee and cast thy body into the river."

"Thou forgettest our brother, the Green Prince," said the Blue Prince in astonished reproof.

"Bah! he hath eyes for naught but the odd ortolans and oysters I sacrificed that he might gorge himself withal, while I spied out thy secret. He shall be told that I returned to exchange my car for thy pigeon even as I exchanged my boat for his car. Come, thine oath or thou diest." And a jewelled scimitar shimmered in the starlight.

The Blue Prince reflected that though life without love was hardly worth living, death was quite useless. So he swore and went in to supper. When he found that the Green Prince had not spared even a baked chestnut before he fell asleep, he swore again. And on the morrow when the Princes approached the Tower of Telifonia, with its flashing "Johnny Noddy," they met a courier from the King, who, having informed himself of the Black Prince's success, ran ahead with the rumour thereof. And lo! when the


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358 358 THE QUEEN'S TRIPLETS.

Princes passed through the city gate they found the whole population abroad clad in all their bravery, and flags flying and bells ringing and roses showering from the balconies, and merry music swelling in all the streets for jov of the prospect of the Sea Serpent's absence. And when the new moon rose, the three Princes, escorted by flute-players, hied them to the Presence Chamber, and the King embraced his sons, and the Black Prince stood forward and explained that if a Prince were married in the ninth moon it would prevent the monster's annual visit. Then the King fell upon the Black Prince's neck and wept and said, "My son ! my son ! my pet ! my baby ! my tootsicums ! my popsy-wopsy ! "

And then, recovering himself, and addressing the courtiers, he said : " The gods have enabled me to discover my youngest son. If they will only now continue as propitious, so that I may discover the elder of the other two, I shall die not all unhappy."

But the Black Prince could repress his astonishment no longer. "Am I dreaming, sire?" he cried. "Surely I have proved myself the eldest, not the youngest ! "

"Thou forgettest that thou hast come off successful," replied the King in astonished reproof. " Or art thou so ignorant of history or of the sacred narratives handed down to us by our ancestors that thou art unaware that when three brothers set out on the same quest, it is always the youngest brother that emerges triumphant? Such is the will of the gods. Cease, therefore, thy blasphemous talk, lest they overhear thee and be put out."

A low, ominous murmur from the courtiers emphasised the King's warning.

" But the Princess — she at least is mine," protested the unhappy Prince. " We love each other — we are engaged."

"Thou forgettest she can only marry the heir," replied


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Rh the King in astonished reproof. "Wouldst thou have us repudiate our solemn treaty?"

"But I wasn't really the first to hit on the idea at all!"

cried the Black Prince desperately. "Ask the Blue Prince! he never telleth untruth."

"Thou forgettest I have taken an oath of silence on the matter," replied the Blue Prince in astonished reproof. "The Black Prince it was that first hit on the idea," volun-


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360 360 THE QUEEN'S TRIPLETS.

teered the Green Prince. " He exchanged his boat for the car and the car for the pigeon."

So the three Princes were dismissed, while the King took counsel with the magicians and the wise men who never mean what they say. And the Court Chamberlain, wearing the orchid of office in his buttonhole, was sent to interview the Princess, and returned saying that she refused to marry any one but the proprietor of the pigeon, and that she still had his letters as evidence in case of his marrying anyone else.

"Bah!" said the King, " she shall obey the treaty. Six feet of parchment are not to be put aside for the whim of a girl five foot eight. The only real difficulty remaining is to decide whether the Blue Prince or the Green Prince is the elder. Let me see — what was it the Oracle said ? Per- haps it will be clearer now : —

" 'The eldest is he that the Princess shall wed.'

No, it still seems merely to avoid stating anything new."

" Pardon me, sire," replied the Chief Magician ; " it seems perfectly plain now. Obviously, thou art to let the Princess choose her husband, and the Oracle guarantees that, other things being equal, she shall select the eldest. If thou hadst let her have the pick from among the three, she would have selected the one with whom she was in love — the Black Prince to wit, and that would have interfered with the Oracle's arrangements. But now that we know with whom she is in love, we can remove that one, and then, there being no reason why she should choose the Green Prince rather than the Blue Prince, the deities of the realm undertake to inspire her to go by age only."

"Thou hast spoken well," said the King. "Let the


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Princess of Paphlagonia be brought, and let the two Princes return."

So after a space the beautiful Princess, preceded by trum- peters, was conducted to the Palace, blinking her eyes at the unaccustomed splendour of the lights. And the King and all the courtiers blinked their eyes, dazzled by her loveliness. She was clad in white samite, and on her shoulder was perched a pet pigeon. The King sat in his moire robes on the old gold throne, and the Blue Prince stood on his right hand, and the Green Prince on his left, the Black Prince as the youngest having been sent to bed early. The Princess courtesied three times, the third time so low that the pigeon was flustered, and flew off her shoulder, and, after circling about, alighted on the head of the Blue Prince.

" It is the Crown," said the Chief Magician, in an awe- struck voice. Then the Princess's eyes looked around in search of the pigeon, and when they lighted on the Prince's head they kindled as the grey sea kindles at sunrise.

An answering radiance shone in the Blue Prince's eyes, as, taking the pigeon that nestled in his hair, he let it fly towards the Princess. But the Princess, her bosom heaving as if another pigeon fluttered beneath the white samite, caught it and set it free again, and again it made for the Blue Prince.

Three times the bird sped to and fro. Then the Princess raised her humid eyes heavenward, and from her sweet lips rippled like music the verse : —

" Last night I watched its final flicker die."

And the Blue Prince answered : —

" Xow greet our moon of honey in the sky."


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363 THE QUEEN'S TRIPLETS. 363

Halt" tainting with rapture the Princess fell into his arms, and from all sides of the great hall arose the cries, " The Heir ! The Heir ! Long live our future King ! The eldest-born ! The Oracle's fulfilled ! "

Such was the origin of lawn tennis, which began with people tossing pigeons to each other in imitation of the Prince and Princess in the Palace Hall. And this is why love plays so great a part in the game, and that is how the match was arranged between the Blue Prince and the Prin- cess of Paphlagonia.


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came home, anxious and perturbed. For the first time since his return from their honeymoon he crossed the threshold of the tiny house without a grateful sense of blessedness.

"What is it, Robert?" panted Mary, her sweet lips cold from his perfunctory kiss.

"He is going blind," he said in low tones.

"Not your father!" she murmured, dazed.

"Yes, my father! I thought it was nothing, or rather I scarcely thought about it at all. The doctor at the Eye Hospital merely asked him to bring some one with him next time; naturally he came to me." There was a touch of bitterness about the final phrase.

"Oh, how terrible!" said Mary. Her pretty face looked almost wan.

"I don't see that you're called upon to distress yourself so much, dear," said Robert, a little resentfully. "He hasn't even been a friend to you."

"Oh, Robert! how can you think of all that now? If he did try to keep you from marrying a penniless, friendless girl, if he did force you to work long years for me, was it not all for the best? Now that his fortune has been swept away, where would you be without money or occupation?"

"Where would Providence be without its women-defenders?" murmured Robert. "You don't understand finance,


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dear. He might easily have provided for me long before the crash came."

" Never mind, Robert. Are we not all the happier for having waited for each other?" And in the spiritual ec- stasy of her glance he forgot for a while his latest trouble.

Robert's father lived in a little room on a small allowance made him by his outcast son. Broken by age and mis- fortune, he pottered about chess-rooms and debating forums, garrulous and dogmatic, and given to tippling. But now the consciousness of his coming infirmity crushed him, and he sat for days on his bed brooding, waiting in terror for the darkness, and glad when day after day ended only in the shadows of eve. Sometimes, instead of the dreaded dark- ness, sunlight came. That was when Mary dropped in to cheer him up, and to repeat to him that the hospital took a most hopeful view of his case, was only waiting for the dark- ness to be thickest to bring back the dawn. It took four months before the light faded utterly, and then another month before the film was opaque enough to allow the cata- ract to be couched. The old man was to go into the hospital for the operation. Robert hired a lad to be with him during the month of waiting, and sometimes sat with him in the evenings, after business, and now and then the landlady looked in and told him her troubles, and the attendant was faithful and went out frequently to buy him gin. But it was only Mary who could really soothe him now, for the poor old creature's soul groped blindly amid new apprehensions — a nervous dread of the chloroforming, the puncturing, the strange sounds of voices of the great blank hospital, where he felt confusedly he would be lost in an ocean of unfathomable night, incapable even of divining, from past experience, the walls about him or the ceiling over his head, and withal a paralysing foreboding that the operation would


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be a failure, that he would live out the rest of his days with the earth prematurely over his eyes.

" I am very glad to see you, my dear," he would say when Mary came, and then he fell a- maundering self- pitifully.

Mary went home one day and said, " Robert, dear, I have been thinking."

"Yes, my pet," he said encouragingly, for she looked timid and hesitant.

" Couldn't we have the operation performed here? "

He was startled ; protested, pointed out the impossibility. But she had answers for all his objections. They could give up their own bedroom for a fortnight — it would only be a fortnight or three weeks at most — turn their sitting-room into a bedroom for themselves. What if infinite care would be necessary in regulating the " dark room," surely they could be as careful as the indifferent hospital nurses if they were only told what to do, and as for the trouble, that wasn't worth considering.

" But you forget, my foolish little girl," he said at last, " if he comes here we shall have to pay the expenses of the operation ourselves."

"Well, would that be much?" she asked innocently.

" Only fifty guineas or so, I should think," he replied crushingly. " What with the operating fee, and the nurse, and the subsequent medical attendance."

But Mary was not altogether crushed. " It wouldn . ~>e all our savings," she murmured.

" Are you forgetting what we shall be needing our savings for?" he said with gentle reproach, as he stroked her soft hair.

She blushed angelically. " No, but surely there will be enough left and — and I shall be making all his things


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myself — and by that time we shall have put by a little more."

In the end she conquered. The old man, to whom no faintest glimmer now penetrated, was installed in the best bedroom, which was darkened by double blinds and strips of cloth over every chink and a screen before the door ; and a nurse sat on guard lest any ray or twinkle should find its way into the pitchy gloom. The great specialist came with two assistants, and departed in an odour of chloroform, conscious of another dexterous deed, to return only when the critical moment of raising the bandage should have arrived. During the fortnight of suspense an assistant replaced him, and the old man lay quiet and hopeful, rous- ing himself to talk dogmatically to his visitors. Mary gave him such time as she could spare from household duties, and he always kissed her on the forehead (so that his band- age just grazed her hair), remarking he was very glad to see her. It was a strange experience, these conversations carried on in absolute darkness, and they gave her a feeling of kinship with the blind. She discovered that smiles were futile, and that laughter alone availed in this uncanny inter- course. For compensation, her face could wear an anxious expression without alarming the patient. But it rarely did, for her spirits mounted with his. Before the operation she had been terribly anxious, wondering at the last moment if i f n» nld not have been performed more safely at the hospital, ana ready to take upon her shoulders the responsibility for a failure. But as day after day went by, and all seemed going well, her thoughts veered round. She felt sure they would not have been so careful at the hospital. It was owing to this new confidence that one fatal night, carrying her candle, she walked mechanically into her bedroom, for- getting it was not hers. The nurse sprang up instantly.


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rushed forward, and blew out the light. Mary screamed, the screen fell with a clatter, the blind old man awoke and shrieked nervously — it was a terrible moment.

After that Mary went through agonies of apprehension and remorse. Fortunately the end of the operation was very near now. In a day or two the great specialist came to remove the bandage, while the nurse carefully admitted a feeble illumination. If the patient could see now, the rest was a mere matter of time, of cautious gradation of light in the sick chamber, so that there might be no relapse. Mary dared not remain in the room at the instant of supreme crisis ; she lingered outside, overwrought. Slowly, with in- finite solicitude, the bandage was raised.

" Can you see anything? " burst from Robert's lips.

" Yes, but what makes the window look red ? " grumbled the old man.

" I congratulate you," said the great specialist in loud, hearty accents.

" Thank God ! " sobbed Mary's voice outside.

When her child was born it was blind.


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everybody calls her "Flutter-Duck "now, there was a time when the inventor had exclusive rights in the nickname, and used it only in the privacy of his own apartment. That time did not last long, for the inventor was Flutter-Duck's husband, and his apartment was a public work-room among other things. He gave her the name in Yiddish—Flatterkatchki—a descriptive music in syllables, full of the flutter and quack of the farm-yard. It expressed his dissatisfaction with her airy, flighty propensities, her love of gaiety and gadding. She was a butterfly, irresponsible. off to balls and parties almost once a month, and he, a self-conscious ant, resented her. From the point of view of piety she was also sadly to seek, rejecting wigs in favour of the fringe. In the weak moments of early love her husband had acquiesced in the profanity, but later all the gain to her soft prettiness did not compensate for the twinges of his conscience.


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Flutter-Duck's husband was a furrier — a master- furrier, for did he not run a workshop ? This workshop was also his living-room, and this living-room was also his bedroom. It was a large front room on the first floor, over a chandler's shop in an old-fashioned house in Montague Street, White- chapel. Its shape was peculiar — an oblong stretching streetwards, interrupted in one of the longer walls by a square projection that might have been accounted a room in itself (by the landlord), and was, indeed, used as a kitchen. That the fireplace had been built in this corner was thus an advantage. Entering through the door on the grand staircase, you found yourself nearest the window with the bulk of the room on your left, and the square recess at the other end of your wall, so that you could not see it at first. At the window, which, of course, gave on Montague Street, was the bare wooden table at which the " hands " — man, woman, and boy — sat and stitched. The finished work — a confusion of fur caps, boas, tippets, and trimmings — hung over the dirty wainscot between the door and the recess. The middle of the room was quite bare, to give the workers freedom of movement, but the wall facing you was a back- ground for luxurious furniture. First — nearest the window — came a sofa, on which even in the first years of marriage Flutter- Duck's husband sometimes lay prone, too unwell to do more than superintend the operations, for he was of a consumptive habit. Over the sofa hung a large gilt-framed mirror, the gilt protected by muslin drapings, in the corners of which flyblown paper flowers grew. Next to the sofa was a high chest of drawers crowned with dusty decanters, and after an interval filled up with the Sabbath clothes hanging on pegs and covered by a white sheet ; the bed used up the rest of the space, its head and one side touching the walls, and its foot stretching towards the kitchen fire. On


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the wall above this fire hung another mirror, — small and narrow, and full of wavering, watery reflections, — also framed in muslin, though this time the muslin served to conceal dirt, not to protect gilt. The kitchen-dresser, decorated with pink needle-work paper, was at right angles to the fireplace, and it faced the kitchen table, at which Flutter-Duck cleaned fish, peeled potatoes, and made meat kosher by salting and soaking it, as Rabbinic law demanded.

By the foot of the bed, in the narrow wall opposite the window, was a door leading to a tiny inner room. For years this door remained locked ; another family lived on the other side, and the furrier had neither the means nor the need for an extra bedroom. It was a room made for esca- pades and romances, connected with the back-yard by a steep ladder, up and down which the family might be seen going, and from which you could tumble into a broken- headed water-butt, or, by a dexterous back-fall, arrive in a dustbin. Jacob's ladder the neighbours called it, though the family name was Isaacs.

And over everything was the trail of the fur. The air was full of a fine fluff — a million little hairs floated about the room covering everything, insinuating themselves every- where, getting down the backs of the workers and tickling them, getting into their lungs and making them cough, get- ting into their food and drink and sickening them till they learnt callousness. They awoke with " furred " tongues, and they went to bed with them. The irritating filaments gathered on their clothes, on their faces, on the crockery, on the sofa, on the mirrors (big and little), on the bed, on the decanters, on the sheet that hid the Sabbath clothes — an impalpable down overlaying everything, penetrating even to the drinking-water in the board-covered zinc bucket, and


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covering " Rebbitzin," the household cat, with foreign fur. And in this room, drawing such breath of life, they sat — man, woman, boy — bending over boas bewitching young ladies would skate in ; stitch, stitch, from eight till two and from three to eight, with occasional overtime that ran on now and again far into the next day ; till their eyelids would not keep open any longer, and they couched on the floor on a heap of finished work ; stitch, stitch, winter and summer, all day long, swallowing hirsute bread and butter at nine in the morning, and pausing at tea-time for five o'clock fur. And when twilight fell the gas was lit in the crowded room, thickening still further the clogged atmosphere, charged with human breaths and street odours, and wafts from the kitchen corner and the leathery smell of the dyed skins ; and at times the yellow fog would steal in to contribute its clammy vapours. And often of a winter's' morning the fog arrived early, and the gas that had lighted the first hours of work would burn on all day in the thick air, flaring on the Oriental figures w r ith that strange glamour of gas-light in fog, and throwing heavy shadows on the bare boards ; glazing with satin sheen the pendent snakes of fur, illuming the bowed heads of the workers and the master's sickly face under the tasselled smoking-cap, and touching up the faded fineries of Flutter-Duck, as she flitted about, chattering and cooking.

Into such an atmosphere Flutter-Duck one day introduced a daughter, the " hands " getting an afternoon off, in honour not of the occasion but of decency. After that the crying of an infant became a feature of existence in the furrier's workshop ; gradually it got rarer, as little Rachel grew up and reconciled herself to life. But the fountain of tears never quite ran dry. Rachel was a passionate child, and did not enjoy the best of parents.


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Every morning Flutter- Duck, who felt very grateful to Heaven for this crowning boon, — at one time bitterly du- bious, — made the child say her prayers. Flutter- Duck said them word by word, and Rachel repeated them. They were in Hebrew, and neither Flutter- Duck nor Rachel had the least idea what they meant. For years these prayers preluded stormy scenes.

"Mediant/" Flutter-Duck would begin.

" Mediani!" little Rachel would lisp in her piping voice. It was two words, but Flutter-Duck imagined it was one. She gave the syllables in recitative, the dni just two notes higher than the medi i and she accented them quite wrongly. When Rachel first grew articulate, Flutter-Duck was so overjoyed to hear the little girl echoing her, that she would often turn to her husband with an exclamation of " Thou hearest, Lewis, love?"

And he, impatiently : " Nee, nee, I hear."

Flutter-Duck, thus recalled from the pleasures of mater- nity to its duties, would recommence the prayer. " Medi- am!

Which little Rachel would silently ignore.

" Mediani! ' Flutter- Duck's tone would now be impera- tive and ill-tempered.

Then little Rachel would turn to her father querulously. " She thayth it again, Mediani, father ! "

And Flutter-Duck, outraged by this childish insolence, would exclaim, "Thou hearest, Lewis, love?" and incon- tinently fall to clouting the child. And the father, annoyed by the shrill ululation consequent upon the clouting : " Nee, nee, I hear too much." Rachel's refusal to be coerced into giving devotional over-measure was not merely due to her sense of equity. Her appetite counted for more. Prayers were the avenue to breakfast, and to pamper her feather-


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headed mother in repetitions was to put back the meal. Flutter- Duck was quite capable of breaking down, even in the middle, if her attention was distracted for a moment, and of trying back from the very beginning. She would, for example, get as far as " Hear — my daughter — the in- struction — of thy mother," giving out the words one by one in the sacred language which was to her abracadabra.

And little Rachel, equally in the dark, would repeat obe- diently, "Hear — my daughter — the instruction of — thy mother." Then the kettle would boil, or Flutter-Duck would overhear a remark made by one of the " hands," and interject: "Yes, I'd give him !' or, "A fat lot she knows about it," or some phrase of that sort ; after which she would grope for the lost thread of prayer, and end by ejac- ulating desperately : —

"Medidnif"

And the child sternly setting her face against this flip- pancy, there would be slapping and screaming, and if the father protested, Flutter-Duck would toss her head, and rejoin in her most dignified English : " If I bin a mother, I bin a mother ! "

To the logical adult it will be obvious that the little girl's obstinacy put the breakfast still further back ; but then, ob- stinate little girls are not logical, and when Rachel had been beaten she would eat no breakfast at all. She sat sullenly in the corner, her pretty face swollen by weeping, and her great black eyes suffused with tears. Only her father could coax her then. He would go so far as to allow her to nurse " Rebbitzin," without reminding her that the creat- ure's touch would make her forget all she knew, and convert her into a " cat's-head." And certainly Rachel always for- got not to touch the cat. Possibly the basis of her father's psychological superstition was the fact that the cat is an


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unclean animal, not to be handled, for he would not touch puss himself, though her pious title of " Rebbitzin," or Rabbi's wife, was the invention of this master of nicknames. But for such flashes no one would have suspected the stern little man of humour. But he had it — dry. He called the cat " Rebbitzin " ever since the day she refused to drink milk after meat. Perhaps she was gorged with the meat. But he insisted that the cat had caught religion through living in a Jewish family, and he developed a theory that she would not eat meat till it was kosher, so that in its earlier stages it might be exposed without risk of feline larceny.

Cats are soothing to infants, but they ceased to satisfy Rachel when she grew up. Her education, while it gratified Her Majesty's Inspectors, was not calculated to eradicate the domestic rebel in her. At school she learnt of the existence of two Hebrew words, called Moudeh am, but it was not till some time after that it flashed upon her that they were closely related to Mediant, and the discovery did not improve her opinion of her mother. She was a bonny child, who promised to be a beautiful girl, and her teachers petted her. They dressed well, these teachers, and Rachel ceased to consider Flutter-Duck's Sabbath shawl the stand- ard of taste and splendour. Ere she was in her teens she grumbled at her home surroundings, and even fell foul of the all-pervading fur, thereby quarrelling with her bread and butter in more senses than one. She would open the win- dow — strangely fastidious — to eat her bread and butter off the broad ledge outside the room, but often the fur only came flying the faster to the spot, as if in search of air ; and in the winter her pretentious queasiness set everybody re- monstrating and shivering in the sudden draught.

Her objection to fur did not, however, embrace the prep-


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376 376 FLUT TER-D UCK.

aration of it, for after school hours the little girl sat patiently stitching till late at night, by way of apprenticeship to her future, buoyed up by her earnings, and adding strip to strip, with the hair going all the same way, till she had made a great black snake. Of course she did not get anything near three-halfpence for twelve yards, like the real " hands," but whatever she earnt went towards her Festival frocks, which she would have got in any case. Not knowing this, she was happy to deserve the pretty dresses she loved, and was least impatient of her mother's chatter when Flutter- Duck dinned into her ears how pretty she looked in them. Alas ! it is to be feared Lewis was right, that Flutter- Duck was a rattle-brain indeed. And the years which brought Flutter-Duck prosperity, which emancipated her from personal participation in the sewing, and gave Rachel the little bedroom to herself, did not bring wisdom. When Flutter-Duck's felicity culminated in a maid-servant (if only one who slept out), she was like a child with a monkey-on-a-stick. She gave the servant orders merely to see her arms and legs moving. She also lay late in bed to enjoy the spectacle of the factotum making the nine o'clock coffee it had been for so many years her own duty to pre- pare for the " hands." How sweetly the waft of chicory came to her nostrils ! At first her husband remonstrated.

"It is not beautiful," he said. "You ought to get up before the ' hands ' come."

Flutter-Duck flushed resentfully. " If I bin a missis, I bin a missis," she said with dignity. It became one of her formulae. When the servant developed insolence, as under Flutter-Duck's fostering familiarity she did, Flutter-Duck would resume her dignity with a jerk.

" If I bin a missis," she would say, tossing her flighty head haughtily, " I bin a missis."


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CHAPTER II.

A MIGRATORY BIRD,

" There strode a stranger to the door, And it was windy weather."

— Tennyson: The Goose.

One day, when Rachel was nineteen, there came to the workshop a handsome young man. He had been brought by a placard in the window of the chandler's shop, and was found to answer perfectly to its wants. He took his place at the work-table, and soon came to the front as a wage- earner, wielding a dexterous needle that rarely snapped, even in white fur. His name was Emanuel Lefkovitch, and his seat was next to Rachel's. For Rachel had long since entered into her career, and the beauty of her early-blos- soming womanhood was bent day after day over strips of rabbit-skin, which she made into sealskin jackets. For compensation to her youth Rachel walked out on the Sabbath elegantly attired in the latest fashion. She ordered her own frocks now, having a banking account of her own, in a tin box that was hidden away in her little bedroom. Her father honourably paid her a wage as large as she would have got elsewhere — otherwise she would have gone there. Her Sabbath walks extended as far as Hyde Park, and she loved to watch the fine ladies cantering in the Row, or lolling in luxurious carriages. Sometimes she even peeped into fashionable restaurants. She became the admir- ing disciple of a girl who worked at a Jewish furrier's in Regent Street, and whose occidental habitat gave her a halo of aristocracy. Even on Friday nights Rachel would disap- pear from the sacred domesticity of the Sabbath hearth, and


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Flutter- Duck suspected that she went to the Cambridge Music Hall in Spitalfields. This led to dramatic scenes, for Rachel's frovvardness had not decreased with age. If she had only gone out with some accredited young man, Flutter-Duck could have borne the scandal in view of the joyous prospect of becoming a grandmother. But no ! Rachel tolerated no matrimonial advances, not even from the most seductive of SJiadchanim, though her voluptuous figure and rosy lips marked her out for the marriage- broker's eye. Her father had grown sterner with the growth of his malady, and though at the bottom of his heart he loved and was proud of his beautiful Rachel, the words that rose to his lips were often as harsh and bitter as Flutter-Duck's own, so that the girl would withdraw sullenly into herself and hold no converse with her parents for days. Nevertheless, there were plenty of halcyon intervals, especially in the busy season, when the extra shillings made the whole work-room brisk and happy, and the furriers gossiped of this and that, and told stories more droll than decorous. And then, too, every day was a delightfully inevitable sweep towards the Sabbath, and every Sabbath was a spoke in the great revolving wheel that brought round to them picturesque Festivals, or solemn Fasts, scarcely less enjoyable. And so there was an undercurrent of poetry below the sordid prose of daily life, and rifts in the grey t'o^, through which they caught glimpses of the azure vast- ness overarching the world. And the advent of Emanuel Lefkovitch distinctly lightened the atmosphere. His hand- some face, his gay spirits, were like an influx of ozone. Rachel was perceptibly the brighter for his presence. She was gentler to everybody, even to her parents, and chatted vivaciously, and walked with an airier step ! The sickly master-furrier's face lit up with pleasure as from his sofa he


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watched Emanuel's assiduous attentions to his girl in the way of picking up scissors and threading needles, and he frowned when Flutter-Duck hovered about the young man, chattering and monopolising his conversation.

But one fine morning, some months after Emanuel's arrival, a change came over the spirit of the scene. There was a knock at the door, and an ugly, shabby woman, in a green tartan shawl, entered. She scrutinised the room sharply, then uttered a joyful cry of " Emanuel, my love ! " and threw herself upon the handsome young man with an affectionate embrace. Emanuel, flushed and paralysed, was a ludicrous figure, and the workers tittered, not unfamiliar with marital contretemps.

" Let me be," he said sullenly at last, as he untwined her dogged arms. " I tell you I won't have anything to do with you. It's no use."

" Oh no, Emanuel, love, don't say that ; not after all these months?"

" Go away ! " cried Emanuel hoarsely.

"Be not so obstinate," she persisted, in wheedling accents, stroking his flaming cheeks. " Kiss little Joshua and little Miriam."

Here the spectators became aware of two woe-begone infants dragging at her skirts.

" Go away ! " repeated Emanuel passionately, and pushed her from him with violence.

The ugly, shabby woman burst into hysterical tears.

" My own husband, dear people," she sobbed, addressing the room. " My own husband — married to me in Poland five years ago. See, I have the Cesubah .' ' She half drew the marriage parchment from her bosom. " And he won't live with me ! Every time he runs away from me. Last time I saw him was in Liverpool, on the eve of Tabernacles.


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And before that I had to go and find him in Newcastle, and he promised me never to go away again — yes, you did, you know you did, Emanuel, love. And here have I been look- ing weeks for you at all the furriers and tailors, without bread and salt for the children, and the Board of Guardians won't believe me, and blame me for coming to London. Oh, Emanuel, love, God shall forgive you."

Her dress was dishevelled, her wig awry ; big tears streamed down her cheeks.

"How can I live with an old witch like that?" asked Emanuel, in brutal self-defence.

"There are worse than me in the world," rejoined the woman meekly.

" Nee, nee," roughly interposed the master-furrier, who had risen from his sofa in the excitement of the scene. " It is not beautiful not to live with one's wife." He paused to cough. " You must not put her to shame."

" It's she who puts me to shame." Emanuel turned to Rachel, who had let her work slip to the floor, and whose face had grown white and stern, and continued depre- catingly, " I never wanted her. They caught me by a trick."

" Don't talk to me," snapped Rachel, turning her back on him.

The woman looked at her suspiciously — the girl's beauty seemed to burst upon her for the first time. " He is my husband," she repeated, and made as if she would draw out the Cesubah again.

" Nee, nee, enough ! " said the master-furrier curtly. " You are wasting our time. Your husband shall live with you, or he shall not work with me."

" You have deceived us, you rogue ! " put in Flutter-Duck shrilly.


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" Did I ever say I was a single man?" retorted Emanuel, shrugging his shoulders.

" There ! He confesses it ! " cried his wife in glee. " Come, Emanuel, love," and she threw her arms round his neck, and kissed him passionately. " Do not be obstinate."

" I can't come now," he said, with sulky facetiousness. " Where are you living? "

She told him, and he said he would come when work was over.

" On your faith ? " she asked, with another uneasy glance at Rachel.

" On my faith," he answered.

She moved towards the door, with her draggle-tail of infants. As she was vanishing, he called shame-facedly to the departing children, —

" Well, Joshua ! Well, Miriam ! Is this the way one treats a father? A nice way your mother has brought you up ! "

They came back to him dubiously, with unwashed, pathetic faces, and he kissed them. Rachel bent down to pick up her rabbit-skin. Work was resumed in dead silence.

CHAPTER III.

FLIGHT.

"The goose flew this way and flew that, And filled the house with clamour."

— TENNYSON: The Goose.

Flutter-Duck could not resist rushing in to show the gorgeous goose she had bought from a man in the street — a most wonderful bargain. Although it was only a Wednes-


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day, why should they not have a goose? They were at the thick of the busy season, and the winter promised to be bit- ter, so they could afford it.

" Nee, nee ; there are enough Festivals in our religion already," grumbled her husband, who, despite his hacking cough, had been driven to the work-table by the plentifulness of work and the scarcity of " hands."

"Almost as big a goose as herself! " whispered Emanuel Lefkovitch to his circle. He had made his peace with his wife, and was again become the centre of the work-room's gaiety. " What a bargain ! " he said aloud, clucking his tongue with admiration. And Flutter-Duck, consoled for her husband's criticism, scurried out again to have her bar- gain killed by the official slaughterer.

When she returned, doleful and indignant, with the goose still in her basket, and the news that the functionary had re- fused it Jewish execution, and pronounced it tripha (un- clean) for some minute ritual reason, she broke off her denunciation of the vendor from a sudden perception that some graver misfortune had happened in her absence.

" Nee, nee," said Lewis, when she stopped her chatter. " Decidedly God will not have us make Festival to-day. Even you must work."

"Me?" gasped Flutter-Duck.

Then she learnt that Emanuel Lefkovitch, whom she had left so gay, had been taken with acute pains — and had had to go home. And work pressed, and Flutter-Duck must under-study him in all her spare moments. She was terribly vexed — she had arranged to go and see an old crony's daughter married in the Synagogue that afternoon, and she would have to give that up, if indeed her husband did not even expect her to give up the ball in the evening. She temporarily tethered the goose's leg to a bed-post by a long


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string, so that for the rest of the day the big bird waddled pompously about the floor and under the bed, unconscious to what or whom it owed its life, and blissfully unaware that it was trip ha.

" Nee, nee," sniggered Lewis, as Flutter-Duck savagely kicked the cat out of her way. " Don't be alarmed, Reb- bitzin won't attack it. Rebbitzin is a better judge of triphas than you."

It was another cat, but it was the same joke.

Flutter-Duck began to clean the fish with intensified viciousness. She had bought them as a substitute for the goose, and they were a constant reminder of her complex ill- hap. Very soon she cut her finger, and scoured the walls vainly in search of cobweb ligature. Bitter was her plaint of the servant's mismanagement ; when she herself had looked after the house there had been no lack of cobwebs in the corners. Nor was this the end of Flutter-Duck's mis- fortunes. When, in the course of the afternoon, she sent up to Mrs. Levy on the second floor to remind her that she would be wanting her embroidered petticoat for the evening, answer came back that it was the anniversary of Mrs. Levy's mother's death, and she could not permit even her petticoat to go to a wedding. Finally, the gloves that Flutter-Duck borrowed from the chandler's wife were split at the thumbs. And so the servant was kept running to and fro, spoiling the neighbours for the greater glory of Flutter-Duck. It was only at the eleventh hour that an embroidered petticoat was obtained.

Altogether there was electricity in the air, and Emanuel was not present to divert it down the rod of jocularity. The furriers stitched sullenly, with a presentiment of storm. But it held over all day, and there was hope the currents would pass harmlessly away.


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With the rising of Flutter-Duck from the work-table, however, the first rumblings began. Lewis did not attempt to restrain her from her society dissipation, but he fumed in- wardly throughout her toilette. More than ever he realised, as he sat coughing and bending over the ermine he was tufting with black spots, the incompatibility of this union between ant and butterfly, and occasionally his thought would shoot out in dry sarcasm. But Flutter-Duck had passed beyond the plane in which Lewis existed as her husband. All day she had talked freely, if a whit condescendingly, to her fellow-furriers, lamenting the mischances of the day ; but in proportion as she began to get clean and beautiful, as the muslins of the great mirror became a frame for a gorgeous picture of a lady, Flutter-Duck grew more and more aloof from workaday interests, felt herself borne into a higher world of radiance and elegance, into a rarefied atmosphere of gentility, that froze her to statue-like frigidity.

She was not Flutter-Duck then.

And when she was quite dressed for the wedding, and had put on the earrings with the coloured stones and the crowning glory of the chignon of false plaits, stuck over with little artificial white flowers, the female neighbours came crowding into the work-room boudoir to see how she looked, and she revolved silently for their inspection like a dress- maker's figure, at most acknowledging their compliments with monosyllables. She had invited them to come and admire her appearance, but by the time they came she had grown too proud to speak to them. Even the women of whose finery she wore fragments, and who had contributed to her splendour, seemed to her poor dingy creatures, whose contact would sully her embroidered petticoat. In grotesque contrast with her peacock-like stateliness, the big tripha goose began to get lively, cackling and flapping about within


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385 FLUTTER-DUCK. 385

its radius, as if the soul of Flutter- Duck had passed into its body.

The moment of departure had come. The cab stood at the street-door, and a composite crowd stood round the cab. In the Ghetto a cab has special significance, and Flutter-Duck would have to pass to hers through an avenue of polyglot commentators. At the last moment, adjusting her fleecy wrap over her head like any grande dame (from whom she differed only in the modesty of her high bodice and her full sleeves), Flutter-Duck discovered that there was a great rent in one part of the wrap and a great stain in another. She uttered an exclamation of dismay — this seemed to her the climax of the day's misfortunes.

"What shall I do? What shall I do?" she cried, her dignity almost melting in tears.

The by-standers made sympathetic but profitless noises.

" Oh, double it another way," jerked Rachel from the work-table. " Come here, I'll do it for you."

" Are you too lazy to come here ? " replied Flutter-Duck irritably. Rachel rose and went towards her, and rearranged the wrap.

" Oh no, that won't do," complained Flutter-Duck, attitudinising before the glass. " It shows as bad as ever. Oh, what shall I do?"

"Do you know what I'll tell you?" said her husband meditatively : " Don't go ! "

Flutter-Duck threw him a fiery look.

"Oh well," said Rachel, shrugging her shoulders and thrusting forward her lip contemptuously, " it'll have to do."

" No, it won't — lend me your pink one."

" I'm not going to have my pink one dirtied, too," grumbled Rachel.


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386 ; :s< I FL UTTER-D UCK.

" Do you hear what I say?" exclaimed Flutter-Duck, with increasing wrath. " Give me the pink wrap ! When the mother says is said ! " And she looked around the group of spectators, in search of sympathy with her trials and admiration for her maternal dignity.

" I can never keep anything for myself," said Rachel sullenly. " You never take care of anything."

"I took care of you," screamed Flutter-Duck, goaded beyond endurance by the thought that her neighbours were witnessing this filial disrespect. " And a fat lot of good it's done me."

" Yes, much care you take of me. You only think of enjoying yourself. It's young girls who ought to go out, not old women."

" You impudent face ! " And with an irresistible impulse of savagery, a reversion to the days of Medidni, Flutter- Duck swung round her arm, and struck Rachel violently on the cheek with her white-gloved harld.

The sound of the slap rang hollow and awful through the room.

The workers looked up and paused, the neighbours held their breath ; there was a dread silence, broken only by the hissings of the excited goose, and the half involuntary apologetic murmurings of Flutter-Duck's lips : " If I bin a mother, I bin a mother."

For an instant Rachel's face was a white mask, on which five fingers stood out in fire ; the next it was one burning mass of angry blood. She clenched her fist, as if about to strike her mother, then let the fingers relax ; half from a relic of filial awe, half from respect for the finery. There was a peculiar light in her eyes. Without a word she turned slowly on her heel and walked into her little room, emerging, after an instant of general suspense, with the pink wrap in