Frivolities, Especially Addressed to Those Who Are Tired of Being Serious

Ninepence!

I had gone in to get a glass of ale-into the four-ale bar. The place was pretty full. Scarcely had I begun to absorb my liquid when a gentleman of the nondescript sort, having a remnant of a red handkerchief tied about his neck, favoured me with this inquiry:

"If a party what you knew nothink at all about, and never seed afore in all your dyes, was to ask you to lend 'im ninepence, would you lend it 'im?"

As I thought it possible that the party in question might be himself, I lost no time whatever in replying, "Certainly not."

He turned to a friend with sandy hair and a suit of clothes which, unless he had decreased to half his size since first he had them, must originally have been somebody else's.

"That is what I says. Isn't that what I says? I says I wouldn't. No more I wouldn't."

The friend tilted his cap over his eyes, and he dug the knuckles of his right hand into the back of his head. I have not the faintest notion why. And he held forth thus:

"It was like this here. I was in the bar, yer know, along with some other parties, yer know, as it might be me and you in 'ere, when 'e comes in."

"Who come in?"

"Why this 'ere bloke. He says to me, 'If this ain't a pretty start, what is?' I says, 'What's up now?' He says, 'Just cast your eyes round me.' And he lifts up the tails of 'is coat-'e 'ad a tail-coat on, leastways it 'ad been a tail-coat once-and 'e says, 'Them's trousers.' I says, 'They don't look it.' 'E says, 'They don't. And that's 'ow I'll lose a fortune.' I says, ''Ow do you make that out?' 'E says, 'I'll tell yer, seeing as 'ow you're a friend.'"

"Was 'e a friend of yourn? I thought yer said yer'd never seed 'im afore?"

"More I 'adn't. 'E draws the back of 'is 'and acrost 'is mug, and 'e says, 'I suppose you couldn't spare a sup?' Well, I let 'im 'ave a drop, and 'e pretty nearly drained me. 'I'll tell you all about it,' 'e says. 'It's like this-like this 'ere. I'm a hartist, that's what I am-a profeshunal-yes. And I've got a hingagement to-night at one of the fust music-'alls in London-the very fust. I'm going to do my hextra speshul turn. It'll be worth to me every farden of 'arf-a-quid-yes. And now it's orf.' I says, ''Ow do yer make that out?' 'E pulls up the tails of 'is coat, ''Cause of them. Speaking, as it might be, as one hartist to another hartist, as a hartist, 'ow would you like to go on to do a hextra speshul turn in one of the fust music-'alls in London in them for trousers? And, mind you, mine's a drawin'-room entertainment, and no lies-that's what mine is. Yes, straight.' 'Well,' I says, 'I shouldn't.' 'E says, 'Of course you wouldn't; you couldn't. Why, they'd 'oot at yer. Yes. So I've got to chuck it.' I says, 'That's 'ard.' 'E says,' It is 'ard; it's bitter 'ard-cruel 'ard.' 'E leans agin the counter, and he takes 'old, casual like, of a pewter what belonged to a chap as was be'ind 'im, and 'e lifts it to 'is lips, as if 'e didn't know what 'e was a-doing of. But the chap as the pewter belonged to, 'e grabs 'old of it, and 'e says, 'Excuse me, who's a-payin'?' And this bloke says, seemin' quite took aback-like, 'I beg your pardon, sir. It was a haccident.' And the chap, 'e says, 'We'll call it a haccident,' and he drains the pewter right off, so as to make sure. And this 'ere bloke what I'm a-telling you of, he wipes his mouth agin, and he looks at me. But I wasn't a-taking any. So 'e says, 'And what makes it all the 'arder is what I'm going to tell yer-you bein' a friend o' mine.'"

"I thought you says 'e wasn't a friend o' yourn."

"More 'e wasn't. 'Ow could he be? Don't I tell yer I never saw 'im afore?"

"Well, 'e 'ad got a nerve, 'e 'ad. Some of 'em does 'ave."

"It was only 'is kid, you know. 'E says, 'I've got one of the finest pair of trousers there is in all England-straight, I have. 'Well,' I says, 'if I was you I'd put 'em on.' 'E says, 'They're spouted. I was just a-going to get 'em out when I come in 'ere.' 'Why don't you 'urry,' I says, 'and get 'em out?' 'I can't.' 'Why can't you?' 'Sold the ticket.' 'What for?' 'Tuppence.' 'Can't yer buy it agin?' ''Aven't got the tuppence.' 'I can't make you out,' I says. 'Fust yer say you're going to get your trousers out o' pawn, then yer say you've sold the ticket, then yer say you haven't got the tuppence to buy it back agin. Where do you think you're going to get the tuppence from?' 'E says, 'That's what I want to know. Where am I?' I says, ''Ow much is there on the trousers?' 'E says, 'Sevenpence.' 'What,' I says, 'sevenpence on the finest pair of trousers there is in all England! They must be odd 'uns.' 'I might 'ave 'ad an 'eap o' money,' 'e says, 'an 'eap, but I didn't want it. That's where it was.' 'Was you in funds when you pawned your trousers?' 'Of course I was.' I says, 'I don't see no of course about it.' 'E says, 'Where else was I to put 'em?'

"I says,' Wasn't there your legs? Was yer legs in pawn?' 'E says, 'That's different. I wasn't speakin' about that.' I says,' Well, then, I am.' 'E leans back agin the counter, and 'e looks up at the ceiling, and 'e says, 'Ninepence between me and fortune. Every farden of 'arfa-quid. Perhaps several 'arf-a-quids. If any lady or gentleman'-'e spoke like a reading book-'was to advance me the loan of ninepence for to enable me to clothe my legs with a pair of trousers as was suited to one of the fust music-'alls in London, and as would do credit to any hartist on the boards, I shall not cease for to remember the haction while the breath remains within my body. That is hall I 'ave to say. I say no more.' But 'e'd said enough. You should 'ave 'eard 'im-done yer good. Of course, that 'ushed the patter. No one wasn't going to say nothing after that. Not 'ardly. Presently one woman says, 'I'll give a penny if anyone else will.' This 'ere bloke took off 'is 'at. 'Madam, I thank you; as a hartist I thank you.' Then a lady what was with this other lady says, 'Susan, if you'll give a penny, I'll give a penny too.' Then this 'ere bloke's 'at come off again. Then there was a whip round. But it hung fire a bit. Nobody didn't quite ketch on. So this 'ere other lady, she says, 'It seems 'ard that a man can't earn 'is daily bread 'cause he ain't got no trousers to earn it in, don't it, Susan?' And Susan says, 'It do seem hard.' And this 'ere bloke, 'e says, 'It's cruel 'ard.' Then one chap says, 'I'll give a pennyworth.' And another chap give a pennyworth. And presently there was the ninepence."

"Did you give a pennyworth?"

"Not me."

"Why didn't yer?"

"'Cause I hadn't got it."

"Would yer if yer 'ad?"

"Not me."

"Why wouldn't yer?"

"'Cause 'e was only a kiddin'."

"'Ow d'ye know 'e was only a kiddin'?"

"Anyone could tell 'e was."

"Them other parties couldn't tell 'e was."

"That's their look out."

"'Ere's a bloke what's going to earn 'arfa-quid-"

"'E warn't going to earn no 'arf-a-quid no more than you are."

"If I wanted yer to lend me ninepence, would yer lend it me?"

"No."

"Why wouldn't yer?"

"'Cause I 'aven't got it."

"You never don't seem to 'ave nothink."

"I 'ave as much as you, perhaps, once in a while."

"I've just stood yer 'arf a pint."

"And I've stood you 'arf a pint more than once, and more than twice."

"I don't say you 'aven't." The original speaker turned to me. "If a friend was to ask you to lend 'im ninepence, wouldn't you lend it 'im?

"That would depend on whether I had it."

"You, being a gentleman, of course you would have it."

I had finished my ale. I sidled towards the door.

"I fear that does not necessarily follow."

The man advanced.

"Look 'ere, if I was to ask you to lend me ninepence-"

"Excuse me. I'm afraid I must be off."

And I was off.

I have a moral conviction that if I had stayed much longer that man would have tried to wriggle ninepence out of me.

A Battlefield Up-to-Date

I said to Nowell at the time that I didn't altogether like the notion. He seemed astonished.

"I thought you stipulated for something both novel and surprising?"

"Yes," I admitted, "I did. But I do not want the roof blown off. I don't want either the novelty or the surprise to go so far as that. This is an evening party, Nowell. The persons present will be friends of mine."

Nowell was sarcastic-almost rude. He appeared to be of opinion that "A Battlefield Up-to-Date, with Realistic Illustrations and Experiments," was just the theme for a drawing-room lecture.

"Steingard," he observed, "is an enthusiast-a man in a million. Think of the kudos it will bring you to have the ideas of a man like that first given to the world upon your premises-your party'll be immortal. Steingard's theories will revolutionise the art of warfare-they'll amaze you."

Steingard was the individual who was going to lecture. I never saw him before that fatal night-and I've never seen him since. He had better let me catch him.

I did not mention to my wife what was to be the lecturer's theme until the actual morning of the appointed day-I had had my qualms all through. She at once remarked that the party would have to be postponed-or the lecture. She was not going to have cannons let off in her drawing-room-nor dynamite either. Was I insane? or was I merely a senseless idiot? Did I not know that the mere explosion of a pistol at the theatre brought her to the verge of hysterics? Did I or did anyone else suppose that machine-guns discharging two thousand shots a minute could be fired with impunity at her guests? Was that my notion of an evening party? If so, perhaps I had better let the people know before they came.

I assured her that there would not be any machine-guns nor dynamite-nor, indeed, anything of the kind. Nowell had given me his word of honour that there would be no explosives of any sort. What there would be I did not know, but I had obtained a distinct guarantee that there would be nothing to "go off." Still, I went to Nowell to tell him I thought that perhaps after all the lecture had better be put off. Only as he turned out to be out of town, and I didn't know Steingard's address, I felt that all I could do would be to hope for the best.

If I had had the faintest shadow of a notion of what that best would be!

As soon as the guests began to arrive I perceived that the little programme I had arranged to open the evening with was not altogether relished.

"Well, Mr. Parker," asked Mrs. Griffin, as I met her at the door, "what are you going to give us this time to amuse us till the dancing begins? Your ideas are always so original. Last year you gave us that beautiful little play."

"And this year I am going to give you something novel and surprising. The distinguished scientist, Steingard, will give you a vivid impressionistic picture of a battle up-to-date, as it will exist under conditions created by himself."

"Oh!" She looked a trifle blank. "And where is he going to give it us-in here?"

She glanced round the room, as if she felt that, for an exhibition of that particular kind, space was a little restricted. I admitted to myself that the apartment was getting filled. My wife's mother became quite excited directly she heard what was about to take place.

"My goodness gracious, Henry," she exclaimed, "whatever do you mean? You know I am so sensitive that I cannot bear the slightest allusion to war and bloodshed. I shall insist on remaining in Louisa's bedroom till all is over."

And she did insist-showing herself to be wiser than she supposed. As I gradually became conscious that others would have insisted had they not feared the appearance of rudeness, I felt that Nowell had been an ass in supposing that such a subject would fitly usher in a little dance, and that I had been another in not snubbing him upon the spot. So, as Steingard was behind his time, I decided that when he did come I would ask him to stop and join the party and have a bit of supper, and just casually as it were put off the lecture to some future occasion.

But I was not prepared for the kind of man Steingard proved himself to be.

Directly he arrived I ran out into the street and found him getting out of a four-wheeled cab, the top of which was covered with large wooden cases.

"You are Mr. Steingard? Delighted to meet you. You are a little late; so, as we're just beginning dancing, I think we'll have the lecture some time next week. But of course you'll stop and join the-eh-festive throng?"

"Your name is Barker?"

I explained that my name was Parker. He spoke with a strong foreign accent, and in a tone of voice which I instinctively disliked. He was about six and a half feet high, and had a moustache which stood out three inches on either side of his face; not at all the sort of looking person with whom one would care to quarrel.

"I have not come to be made a fool of," he remarked. "I have come to give a lecture, and that lecture I will give!"

And he gave it. It is all very well to say that when I saw what sort of man he was I ought not to have let him into the house. But he was invited, and I have the instincts of a gentleman. So they hauled four great wooden cases up the stairs. It took six strong men to do it; they broke the banisters and knocked pieces out of the wall as they went. When the cases were opened they proved to be full of bottles of all sorts, shapes, sizes, and colours.

"Reminds you of the old Polytechnic. Do you remember the Leyden jars they used to have?"

When George Foster said that in a sort of whisper I thought of Edison's ideas of the dreadful part which electricity might be made to play in modern warfare. I did not require any illustrations of electrocution in my house, so I asked the lecturer a question.

"I suppose it has nothing to do with electricity?"

"Electricity? It is not electricity which kills men like flies, do not believe it. It is what I have in here."

He waved his hand towards his bottles. His manner was not reassuring.

"And of course there's nothing explosive?"

"Explosive? What have I to do with explosives? – ask of yourself. It is not dynamite, it is not melinite, it is not cordite which destroys millions. It is noding of the kind. The Great Death is in these bottles."

He said this in a way which made me quite uncomfortable-it was most unsuited to an evening party. Every moment I liked the fellow less and less, towards his bottles I felt an absolute aversion. I own that my impulse would have been to have sneaked out into the street and strolled round the square till the lecture was finished. But as I occupied the position of host I was in duty bound to see it through. And I did. Shall I ever forget it? Anything more monstrous than Nowell's idea of what was a fitting prelude to a little party I never yet encountered.

The lecturer commenced. He was as grave as a judge. It gave you the creeps to hear him. There was nothing humorous about him; he was a dreadful man. His accent was peculiar.

"In modern warfare de battle is not to de soldier, it is to de ghemist. I will prove it to you very easily. I have here dree bottles. They are little bottles" – they were, quite small-"yet I have only to take de stoppers out and you will know it as certainly as if I had exploded dree dynamite bombs."

I am sure the people paled, it was enough to make them.

"De first bottle will make you cough, de second will affect your eyesight, and de dird bottle will make you ill. I will soon show to you dat I am not lying. From de first bottle I will now take de stopper."

He did, before anyone could stop him; in fact, before I, for one, had any idea of what it was that he was driving at. Directly he did so the atmosphere of the room became impregnated with an acrid odour which had a most irritating effect on the tonsils of the throat. Whether the man was a maniac or not, to this hour I have not certainly decided; but there he stood, the stopper in his hand, the atmosphere growing worse and worse, my guests staring at him with scared faces, every second increasing their sense of discomfort. One person began to cough, then another, then another, until presently everyone was coughing as I doubt if they had ever coughed before. It was a horrid spectacle. As for me-my throat is uncomfortably sensitive-I expected every moment I should choke.

"Did I not say," observed the scoundrel Steingard, "dat de first bottle would make you cough? I will now replace de stopper."

He replaced it. By degrees that peculiar acrid quality in the air became less prominent. People began to recover-just in time. It is my belief that if they had continued to cough much longer something serious would have happened. As it was several of them were too exhausted to be able to give expression to their feelings in audible speech.

"I will now remove de stopper from de second bottle."

Had I been able to do so I should have prevented him, even at the risk of a scene-I am sure I should, I don't care who denies it. But the truth is I was so shaken that it was all I could do to stand, and before I was sufficiently recovered to allow of my interference the miscreant had worked his wicked will. He had unstoppered bottle No. 2, and for the former acrid odour there was substituted a pungent something which affected one like an unusual kind of smelling-salts. One's eyes not only began to water, they continued to water. They watered more and more. The tears trickled down our noses. We had to use our pocket-handkerchiefs to mop them up with. The more we mopped the more they flowed. It was ludicrous. We were literally blinded by our tears. Nothing could have been more out of place in a jovial gathering. For my part my lachrymal ducts were acted on to such an extraordinary extent that I could see nothing. I endured the acme of discomfort.

"Did I not say," remarked the experimental Steingard-he spoke as if he were uttering the merest commonplace! – "dat de second bottle would affect de eyesight? Did I choose, de mere continuation of de stopper out of de bottle in de end would make you blind. But for our purpose to-night it is not necessary to go so far as dat. We will now pass on to de dird bottle."

"Pardon me, sir-excuse me for one moment!" The interruption came from General Wheeler, and evinced considerable presence of mind. Steingard paused with his hand upon the stopper. The General went on. "Did I understand you to say that the effect of unstoppering that other bottle will be to make us ill?"

"Yes, my friend, dat is so. I am now about to show it to you."

"You needn't, it is unnecessary. I'm ill already. So ill, indeed, that I shall send for a physician the instant I reach home. And I'm going home at once. If this is a party it's the first I've ever been to, and I'll take my oath it shall be the last. Now, Mrs. Wheeler! Now, Augusta! Philippa! Mary! Matilda! Lucy! you girls! George! Frederic! Ferdinand! you boys, put your things on and come away with me at once. We're not going to stop here to be slaughtered by way of illustrating a murderous lecture on warfare up-to-date."