Something Occurred

Preface

This story was written in a holiday humor last summer in Cromer, and our happiest evenings were those when I read to my family what I had prepared during the day. " Darling Edwina " became house hold words among us, and I am not without hopes that the dear girl will be loved in many other homes. If the hearty laughter (and sometimes, but more rarely, the tears) of my wife and children may be accepted in a critical sense, I may look forward with confidence to the reception the story will meet with at the hands of the professional critic and the general public, to whom honest fun and innocent fancy are always welcome. B. L. FARJEON. T, MY WIFE AND CHILDREN AND TO ALL WHO LOVE HONEST FUN AND HUMAN TENDERNESS £ JUrHiratr MY FIRST LONG HUMOROUS STORY CONTENTS CHAP, PAGE I. LIFE IS NOT ALTOGETHER A JAR OF HONEY ...

I II. A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS . . . .14 III. THE GENIUS OF THE UTTERLY ABSURD . . . 2j IV. MOST EXTRAORDINARY ....... 37 V. EACH OTHER'S HEADS 4S VI. PRISCILLA DOES NOT KNOW WHAT TO MAKE OF IT . j8 VII. HAROLD THINKS OF AN INGENIOUS PLAN . . -71 VIII. CRUMBS GETS INTO TROUBLE, AND EDWINA SMOKES HER FIRST CIGAR 84 IX. AFTER THE TRANSFORMATION SCENE . . . -99 X. CONSTABLE 317, X DIVISION 112 XI. THANKSGIVING DAY 120 XII. MRS. CRUMBS OPENS HER SHOP I36 XIII. HAROLD AND EDWINA TAKE THE SECOND PINCH . . I48 XIV. MRS. MARKLEBY'S BALL ....... 163 XV. CRUMBS GIVES HAROLD AND EDWINA SOME DISAGREEABLE NEWS . . , iyg XVI. AUNT PLUMMER SPEAKS HER MIND 186 XVII. AN EXCITING DAY 200 I CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE XVIII. AUNT PLUMMER AND THE DOLL 213 XIX. MORE STARTLING THAN EVER ...... 223 XX. AUNT PLUMMER HAS ANOTHER ADVENTURE . . . 236 XXI.

AN ENTERTAINMENT IN THE KITCHEN .... 249 XXII. A DAY OF DELIGHT . 266 XXIII. UNTO THESE, AND SUCH AS THESE .... 276 XXIV. THE LAST PINCH OF SNUFF ...... 287 XXV. HOW CURIOUS ! 296 XXVI. CONSTABLES 317'S OPINION OF OGRES .... 314 XXVII. IN WHICH EVERYBODY IS HAPPY FOR EVER AFTER .

Chapter I. Life Is Not Altogether

A JAR OF HONEY. Edwina and Harold had been married just one day short of a year, and if their happiness was not perfect it ought to have been. They had everything in their favor — youth, good health, a moderate fortune, and as pretty a home as heart could wish. Theirs was a love match, and no cloud had dimmed the sweetness of courtship and honeymoon, which latter they declared was not yet over and never would be over, their firm belief being that it would last as long as they lived. Talk of the course of true love never running smooth ! Here was a conspicuous instance of the absurdity of the proverb ; but, to be sure, there is many another proverb quite as false and ridiculous. The young couple were quoted by friends and acquaintances as shining examples of connubial bliss. " Look at Edwina and Harold," said their intimate friends ; " did you ever see such constancy, such devotion ?

" " Look at Mr. and Mrs. Sparling," said others not so intimate. " There's a pattern for you ! " In the entire circle of their acquaintance there were probably A only three persons who did not agree with this verdict. One was Mr. Reginald Paradox, another was Miss Elizabeth Mixture, the third was Aunt Plummer ; but as Mr. Paradox was said to be desperately in love with Edwina before she became engaged to Harold, and as Miss Mixture was said to be breaking her heart for Harold before he became engaged to Edwina, their opinions were open to sus picion. As for Aunt Plummer, it was well known what she was ; there were people who declared her to be "a caution," so you may guess what her opinion was worth. " The happiest couple in the world," everybody else said. And yet, and yet — Yes, that is always the way.

There is always a "but," or a "yet," or a something else of the cold water order to block the road, even with the best and most favored of mortals, and to this rule Edwina and Harold were not an exception. It had nothing whatever to do with their feelings for each other, which were as tender and fond as it is possible for feelings to be. But the fact is, they were not good managers. There was no pretence before hand ; no deception had been practised, and there had been no sailing under false colors. Said Edwina to Harold in the days of their courtship, " I am afraid you will be disappointed with me when I am all your own." " When you are all my own, darling," Harold replied, " I shall be wedded to perfection." Her head lying in a convenient position, she whispered in his ear, in the tone of a child ruefully confessing a fault, " Harold, dear, I am not perfection.

I am very, very ignorant. I don't know anything about butcher's meat ; you will have to tell me." " Of course I will tell you, love," said Harold ; and as he knew as much about butcher's meat as she did, you may imagine what a fine time their butcher had of it. In this connection it may be said that they wallowed in fat, though they both detested it. Neither of these innocent creatures could tell whether a joint set before them was lamb, or beef, or mutton, or whether it was a leg or a shoulder ; and as for ribs and fore-quarters, the less said about them the better. They made wild guesses, it is true, and invariably came to grief. Harold was a most extraordinary and original carver. Carving knife and fork in hand he would look at the meat with amiable sternness, as much as to say, " I'm not going to stand any of vour nonsense, you know," and then he would turn to the maid who was waiting to hand the plates, and say in a gentle, persuasive voice : " Priscilla, don't let us keep you from your work.

You must have a great deal to do downstairs." Upon which Priscilla, thoroughly understanding the matter, would demurely step to the door and close it behind her. The moment she was gone, Harold would glide to the door and turn the key, very quietly, so that the sound should not be heard in the passage. Resuming his place at the table, he would consult Edwina, and they would study the joint and have discussions of a most amusing nature which it was a pity the editor of Punch was not present to hear. During these dis cussions Harold would make experiments upon the joint, trying first one end, then the other, then the middle, then the back, then the front, until the table cloth was a perfect lake of gravy. They were sometimes so embarrassed by the result (which, by the way, did not in the least affect their appetites) that, for the sake of appearances, they would wrap bits of the mangled remains in newspapers and secretly get rid of them, burying them in the garden when the servants had gone to bed, or taking a walk in the evening and dropping them in secluded places when nobody was looking — hurrying from the spot very quickly when the deed was done, and conversing in light tones about the weather to deceive the passers by.

The disappearance of so many pounds of meat caused remarks in the kitchen, especially when Edwina and Harold were so forgetful as to dispose of large bones in the same manner. Their embarrassment, however, did not prevent them from deriving a great deal of enjoyment from their blunders ; in the midst of her confusion and her sympathy for Harold, Edwina would go into shrieks of laughter, and he would follow suit. Anybody not accustomed to their peculiar ways might have supposed that they were really proud of their ignorance. So that you will not be surprised to hear that their domestic life was full of fun, and that they got along beautifully together, never finding fault with each other, and never having the nearest approach to a difference. Had it not been for that "And yet," their nest would have been simply a heavenly bower.

The truth was that they found that their moderate fortune, which had been left to them by Edwina's good-natured Uncle Theophilus, was just a trifle too moderate to gratify all their modest wishes. It is always so. When you are settled in a house you could always do with another room, and if you have a thousand a-year you feel that a couple of hundred more would enable you to live as you ought to live. If your income were five thousand instead of one it would be precisely the same. There is ever some thing wanting in this life of ours. How is it, I wonder ? The good-natured uncle could have left them more than a freehold house and seven hundred a-year because he had more to leave, but he entertained a theory that young people can have too much, and that they ought to employ their time in doing something useful.

" Life is not altogether a jar of honey," he said to Edwina and Harold shortly before his death. " There are lessons to learn, and you must learn them." " Yes, Uncle Theophilus," they replied, " of course we will learn them. That is why we are going to get married." He smiled and patted Edwina's cheek and repeated (twice) thoughtfully, " Not altogether a jar of honey, not altogether a jar of honey. The sun does not shine every day. Love is the soul of existence, but the body must be looked after. Take me for an example. Did my fortune drop into my pockets from the clouds ? No — I had to work for it. I am not preaching a sermon, you know." " No, dear uncle," said Edwina, with delightful simplicity, " sermons are only preached on Sundays, and this is Thursday." " All work and no play," continued Uncle Theophi lus, "makes Jack a dull boy; and all play and no work makes Jack a silly boy.

Remember that." In his will he devised to them the freehold house and the piece of ground around it, to which little estate he had given the pretty name of Rosamund Bower, and seven hundred a-year, and he so tied up the principal that they could not touch it. " I wish my dear niece Edwina and dear Harold," he said in his will, " to bear in mind that life is not altogether a jar of honey, and that work is the greatest blessing the Creator has bestowed upon man." The balance of his fortune, amounting to twenty thousand pounds, he left to an Institution for Crippled Children. Edwina and Harold shed tears over his grave, and blessed him for his kindness and generosity. Now, you will say that upon seven hundred a-year and no rent to pay, our turtle doves ought to have got along very well. My reply to this is, look at home.

Do you get along very well upon your income ? Do you not wish that you had just a couple of hundred a year more ? If you deny that this is the case I shall only smile at you, so you know what you may expect. Edwina and Harold often talked about that saying of Uncle Theophilus, that life was not altogether a jar of honey. They did not agree with him. Their wedded life was to be one perpetual, inexhaustible jar of honey into which they would dip and dip till they became quite old people. " With crutches and spectacles," said Edwina, making a face. " Dear me ! It won't bear thinking of." " I am afraid we must grow old, darling," said Harold. "Very well, dearest," was her response, "but we will not think of it. Harold, I command you not to think of it." " I will never think of it," he said. And yet, though she had banished the subject, she proposed that very evening that they should play " old people."

She dressed herself in an old-fashioned gown that had been worn by her grandmother, and she powdered her hair, and put on a pair of spectacles. She made Harold dress in an old-fashioned suit that had been worn by her grandfather, knee breeches, buckled shoes, knitted stockings, flowered waistcoat, and long slim-tailed coat, and she put horn spectacles on his nose, and clapped on his head a hat several sizes too large for him, and she got out a couple ot crutch sticks. Thus accoutred, they hobbled about the room (with the door locked, so that the servants should not pop in upon them unexpectedly), and in piping voices discussed the crops and various matters which they knew as much about as they did about butcher's meat ; they recalled imaginary reminiscences of the days when they were young, and cackled and sighed over them ; and finally they fell on the floor and made the room resound with their laughter.

Suddenly they stopped and clutched each other in comic alarm. There was a knock at the door, and a servant's voice calling to them. " Did you ring, ma'am ? " " No Priscilla,'' said Edwina ; and in a whisper to Harold, " We are right over the kitchen." " We thought you wanted something, ma'am." " No, Priscilla, we don't want anything, thank you." And in a whisper to Harold, " What would she think if she saw us ? " She had to bury her pretty face in Harold's waistcoat to stifle her laughter. They listened to Priscilla's footsteps as she went down to the basement, and then— assuring themselves first that the coast was clear — they crept upstairs to their bedroom, and attired themselves in the fashion of 1892. I wish some eminent painter had seen them in their garments of a byegone time, for he certainly would have made a picture of them which would have been engraved and hung in numberless homes.

You may wonder where they got their old-fashioned clothes from. Well, Edwina's grandfather had left his wife's wardrobe and his own to Edwina's mother, and she, in her turn, had left them to Edwina. There were two large hair-covered trunks filled with them, which were now in the attics, and you shall see presently how a portion of their contents came in very useful in the course of some extraordinary experiences in the lives of the fond couple. Such a collection of family relics is rarely to be seen now-adays, the old clo' men having played sad havoc with memorials of this description which are certainly as interesting as the broken pieces of hideous china for which fabulous prices are paid in fashionable auction rooms. Such furbelows, and caps, and capes, and boas, and tippets — such knee breeches, and silk stockings, and buckles, and funny shoes — such mittens, and gloves, and scarves, and hats, and bonnets — such flower-patterned gowns, and cocked hats, and tail coats, and waistcoats — and what was perhaps in Edwina's eyes more precious than all the rest, such oddments of old lace, which, upon Edwina's own person, made her lady friends stare with envy and admiration !

Neither she nor Harold knew exactly what the trunks contained, for they had never emptied them and gone through the contents ; only now and then Edwina would spend a few minutes on her knees before them, and would fish out a piece or two of the aforementioned old lace. There were other articles of dress in the chests which had once been worn by happy children, and afterwards carefully preserved by their devoted parents. There was something sacred in these memorials, and Edwina felt the touch of their spiritual influence. They had been worn by those of her blood when they were children, when they were young lovers, when they were old men and women ; they were links between her and those who had mouldered to dust — a sacred chain that united the living and the dead in tenderness and love. Often had Edwina thought that if she were blessed with children the mementoes should go down to them as they had come to her, with the injunction that they should be kept always in the family.

She was not given to solemn moods, but she had her tender moments of memory apart from her adored Harold, and through her sympathetic nature, the most impressive notes in which had not yet been touched, it is quite likely that she would be led through the coming years to a sweet and even dignified old age. But this was in the future, in the sunset of life. Our business is with the fu'l glow and sunshine of her early marriage. Rosamund Bower was situated in Fulham, where there are two or three houses I could point out to you which are so secluded and have such charming grounds that you might fancy yourself scores and scores of miles away from the bustling life of the great city, whereas, instead of being in any spot so distant, a bus will take you in half an hour to Charing Cross. London is fortunate in its suburbs.

Look, for instance, at St. John's Wood. " Delightful " is the only word that can be applied to it. Edwina and Harold, then, had the sweetest house in Fulham, standing in its own grounds. There was a little history' attached to it. When Uncle Theophilus was a middle-aged man he had fallen in love, and he had bought this tiny estate, and had improved and beautified it and named it Rosamund Bower, with the intention of residing in it with his wife. But he never arrived at the stage of wedded bliss. The object of his affections jilted him and gave herself to " another " who had a larger fortune and a larger estate, and Uncle Theophilus was such a good fellow that the fickle young woman richly deserved it if she found out when it was too late that she had made a mistake. Uncle Theophilus's disappointment was a windfall to Edwina and Harold, who would not have come into possession of Rosamund Bower if he had married, and would not have inherited their little fortune — in which case this story would never have been written.

They had not a large establishment, having no need for one. They had a cook, Mrs. Lavender, who was not only a good cook but was not too proud and conservative to make herself generally useful. They had Crumbs, a boy of fourteen, who cleaned the knives and boots, ran errands, washed the steps, did wonders in the garden, and wore a page's uniform when his rough work was done — a thoroughly willing boy, one in a thousand, though he was given to tricks and helped himself to the gooseberries before they were half ripe. They had a housemaid, Priscilla, who could wait at table. And there they were. None of these retainers gave them any trouble, and Mrs. Lavender was a treasure. She managed the house for them. All that Edwina and Harold had to do was to pay the bills. They were sitting together on the night before the first anniversary of their wedding day.

Edwina was working a pair of slippers upon which she had been engaged for the last eleven months, and which, according to the progress she had made, would take only four years more to finish. Harold was engaged in accounts, with which the table was strewed, and which appeared to be giving him some trouble. Edwina, looking up from her work, saw him nibbling the end of his penholder and helplessly contem plating the figures he had written on the nicely-ruled paper. " What is the matter, darling ?" she inquired. " I can't make them come right," replied Harold. " Let me help you," said Edwina. Down went the slipper in her lap as she moved her chair close to the chair of her precious. It was a pleasant sight to see those young people so ready to apply themselves industriously and earnestly to the practical solution of a domestic conundrum.

They set about it in a business way. Their cheeks touched, he kissed her two or three times, perhaps more ; he passed his arm round her waist, her head dropped on his shoulder, and she ran her fingers through his hair and tumbled it about. " Darling Harold ! " " Dearest Edwina ! " " Did you ever see a distressed lion, Harold ?' "No, Edwina." " More did I. You look just like one, with your hair all over your eyes." She laughed a delicious little laugh, and he gave her some more kisses. Then there was a silence of ten or twelve minutes, at the end of which Harold felt himself equal to tackle the accounts again. " I have totted up this column seven times," he said, "and every time it comes different." " It ought to be ashamed of itself," said Edwina, gazing reproachfully at the ruled paper. " I'll tell you the best way."

" Do, sweet." " You know one of uncle's sayings, dear. Strike an average." Harold laughed, and asked, " How is it done ? " " O, it's easy. You put down a lot of figures, you add them up, and you divide them by something." She gave him a triumphant look. " I am afraid it wouldn't work, darling. Just add up this column and see what you make of it." She rumpled his hair, and took the pen from him. Shaking it reprovingly at the figures she proceeded with the task, while he toyed with her tresses and pulled out her hairpins. Her golden locks fell on her shoulders, and I should like you to tell me where I can see a prettier picture. " It comes to ninety-seven, dearest," she said presently, with an air of great confidence. " Add seven hairpins to it," said Harold, dreamily, " and what does it come to then ?

" " You foolish boy ! Be serious. Is it a shilling or pence column ? " " Pence. What do ninety-seven pence come to, darling ? " " In pounds, Harold ? " " No, dearest, in shillings." " Thirteen and a penny," she said promptly. " You darling little dunce ! It's nine and twopence." " It doesn't make a bit of difference, does it, now," she asked saucily, " whether it's one or the other ? " "Not a bit," he replied, with a comical doubt of his own arithmetic, " or whether it's anything else." "Well, then," she said, scattering the papers on the table all about, " what is the use of making your head ache over it ? Let us talk of something pleasant." She fell into a pensive mood. " To-morrow is our wedding day, dearest. We have been married just a year. How the time flies ! " " The happy, happy time !

" murmured Harold. "I am getting an old, old woman. Think of it ! A year gone already ! Yes, I am growing frightfully old. I can feel the wrinkles coming. It is very dreadful, Harold ! " Such an old woman as she looked, with her pretty face in a loose frame of golden locks, with a baby dimple in her cheek and the seriousness of a child in her beautiful brown eyes ! Such an old, old woman ! "My dear little wife," Harold ventured to observe, " is this talking of something pleasant ?" " I thought it was, Harold. We're talking of Me. Am I unpleasant ? " " What a question ! I didn't think of it in that light. Of course, of course, Go on, darling." "I am going to go on," said Edwina, and laughed at the phrase ; but she checked herself, and became grave. " We must talk of things in all lights ; it is our duty.

When we are considering a subject we must twist it round, turn it upside down, and inside out, so as to get at the heart of it. What do you think of that for logic ? " "Wonderful!" exclaimed Harold. " And now," continued Edwina, with a number of approving nods at herself, " having settled one subject we will go on to another. Harold," she spoke so energetically that he gave a jump, " there is something on your mind. What is it ? If you don't tell me I will not eat another chocolate cream for a month."

Chapter II

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. The alarming threat compelled him to open his mind freely to her. "There is something on my mind," he said, "and it seems to crush me. Edwina, dear, we have seven hundred a-year. When we were married I had no capital worth mentioning to commence with — just a trifle of three hundred pounds or so to pay the expenses of our honeymoon trip to Switzerland and Italy " "Wait a moment, Harold : I want to think of it." She closed her eyes and thought of those blissful weeks spent on the mountains and lakes, of that holiday ramble in Paradise, where Alpine roses and forget-me-nots grow amid the ice, where hills are threaded with silver ribbons that run like living, laughing light from forests of pines and firs to verdant valleys and bountiful plains, where fairy waterfalls are blown into fantastic lines of beauty by the lightest breeze, and sublime torrents thunder from mountain tops, where the air is tremulous with soft strains of music, where the translucent waters of the lakes are jewelled with stars, and the flashing frosted track of moonlight stretches on and on until it is lost in a wonder-world of hidden joyous life, and where all nature sings to loving hearts the one eternal song of Love love love !

Smiles came to her lips and she stretched out her hand for Harold's. The reminiscences she called up played on her lovely face as sunlight plays on a fair English field of waving grass and fragrant clover, lighting it up with delicious harmonies. "Can you ever forget it, darling?" she asked presently. " Never, dearest ; it is an undying memory of joy. Where was I ? O, about the expenses of our trip. I found the three hundred pounds not enough, there were so many things we took a fancy to — bits of china, bits of olive wood, bits of haberdashery, bits of I don't know what. You brought home, I think, eleven dolls " " The sweetest dolls, Harold ! I will never, never part with one of them." " I had, therefore," continued Harold, rather dis tracted by these interruptions, " to encroach upon our income to the extent of a hundred pounds, and when, at the end of those ever-to-be-treasured fourteen weeks we returned home to settle in our nest here I had exactly six hundred pounds to go through the re mainder of the year with.

It went — I don't know how it went, but it went before the year was out. Last week I had no more than twenty pounds in my purse in golden sovereigns." "You gave me ten for a most particular purpose," said Edwina, thinking of the present she had bought for Harold in commemoration of their wedding-day, " and that is gone." " I kept ten for a most particular purpose," said Harold, thinking of the present he had bought for Edwina, " and that is gone. The happy anniversary to-morrow has been in my mind for a long time past, and I have been puzzling my head what to get you. I hope you will like it, love." "I have been doing just the same, and I hope you will like it, dear." " I am certain to. And now, Edwina, as we are in solemn consultation, you must prepare for a shock. Are you ready ? " She shut her eyes and squeezed them tight.

" Wait till I count six to myself, Harold." There was a pause. " Now ! " " Edwina, those twenty sovereigns was — I am not sure, dear, whether I ought not to say ' were,' but at such a moment as this we will not split hairs — those twenty sovereigns was (or were) all the money I had left in the world, and I shall not be able to get another shilling till the first of next month, when the half year's dividend is due — which, my poor wife, will not be for three weeks yet." " Harold," implored Edwina, with a tendency to little screams, " don't speak so lu — lu — what is the dreadful word I want ? " " Lugubriously, I think, dear." " Yes, I never could pronounce it. Such a word as that ought never to have been admitted into a respectable dictionary. Don't speak so lu-somethingly, or I shall go off, I know I shall.

It gives me the creeps. And Harold, if you will pour me out a glass of port, and take a glass yourself, and make your voice a trifle more cheerful, and say what you have to say all at once and not in driblets, I think, love, I could bear it better." The wine was poured out, and they clinked glasses and smilingly drank each other's health. "To continue," said Harold, drawing Edwina closer to him to strengthen her for what was coming. " There are here on the table a number of accounts from the tradesmen we deal with. We owe the butcher 2s. id., the baker ,£11 ios. 7d., the milkman £14. 18s. 6d., the wine merchant ,£25, my tailor 1 os., the water rate £3 18s. 4d., the gasman £6 2s. 6d., the fruiterer and florist, £2Q 19s., and a number of accounts to lesser tradesmen in the neighbourhood, which amount, so far as I can make out, to over .£30.