The Travelling Companions: A Story in Scenes

Guide. I dell it you. (He tells it; Podbury falls into gloomy abstraction.) … And inschdantly she vind a grade pig soasage at de end of her noâse. So de ole voman —

Podb. (wearily). Oh, I've heard all that. What's this one about?

Guide. Dis is galled "De lasht Gannon." You see de vigure of Ceevilization flodderin up viz de vings, vile Brogress preaks asonder de lasht gon, and in a gorner a Genius purns de vrontier bosts.

Podb. (captiously). What's he doing that for?

Guide. I ton't know. I subbose begause dey are bosts, or (dubiously) begause he is a Genius.

Culch. (touching Podbury's arm as he goes out). Oh – er – Podbury, I'm off. Going to lunch somewhere with the – ah – Trotters. See you at table d'hôte this evening, I suppose? Good-bye.

Podb. (savagely). Oh, ta-ta! (To himself.) And that's the fellow who said he wanted to keep out of making friends! How the dickens am I going to get through the time by myself? (To Guide.) Here, that's enough for one day.

Guide. If you vandt to puy som real Prussels lace for your sweedardt, I —

Podb. (grimly). I've no occasion for any at present, thank you.

[He pays and dismisses him, and stands forlornly in the Gallery, while the Imperfectly Educated Daughter goes on spelling out the Catalogue for her Parents' edification.

CHAPTER V.

Culchard has the Best of it

Scene —Upper deck of the Rhine Steamer, König Wilhelm, somewhere between Bonn and Bingen. The little tables on deck are occupied by English, American, and German tourists, drinking various liquids, from hock to Pilsener beer, and eating veal cutlets. Mr. Cyrus K. Trotter is on the lower deck, discussing the comparative merits of the New York hotels with a fellow countryman. Miss Maud S. Trotter is seated on the afterdeck in close conversation with Culchard. Podbury is perched on a camp-stool in the forward part. Near him a British Matron, with a red-haired son, in a green and black blazer, and a blue flannel nightcap, and a bevy of rabbit-faced daughters, are patronising a tame German Student in spectacles, who speaks a little English.

The British Matron. Oh, you ought to see London; it's our capital – chief city, you know. Very grand – large – four million inhabitants! [With pride, as being in some way responsible for this.

A Rabbit-faced Daughter (with a simper). Quite a little world!

[She looks down her nose, as if in fear of having said something a little too original.

The Germ. Stud. No, I haf not yet at London peen. Ven I vill pedder Englisch learn, I go.

The Blazer. You read our English books, I suppose? Dickens, you know, and Homer, eh? About the Trojan War – that's his best work!

The Stud. (Ollendorffically). I haf not read Diggins; but I haf read ze bapers by Bigvig. Zey are vary indereshtin, and gurious.

A Patriotic Young Scot (to an admiring Elderly Lady in a blackmushroom hat). Eh, but we just made a pairrty and went up Auld Drachenfels, and when we got to th' tope, we danced a richt gude Scots reel, and sang, "We're a' togither an' naebody by," concluding – just to show, ye'll understan', that we were loyal subjics – wi' "God Saveth' Queen." The peasants didna seem just to know what to mak' of us, I prawmise ye!

The Black Mushroom. How I wish I'd been one of you!

The Young Scot (candidly). I doot your legs would ha' stood such wark.

[Podbury becomes restless, and picks his way among the campstools to Culchard and Miss Trotter.

Podbury (to himself). Time I had a look in, I think. (Aloud.) Well, Miss Trotter, what do you think of the Rhine, as far as you've got?

Miss T. Well, I guess it's navigable, as far as I've got.

Podb. No, but I mean to say – does it come up to the mark in the scenery line, you know?

Miss T. I cannt answer that till I know whereabouts it is they mark the scenery-line. I expect Mr. Culchard knows. He knows pretty well everything. Would you like to have him explain the scenery to you going along? His explanations are vurry improving, I assure you.

Podb. I dare say; but the scenery just here is so flat that even my friend's remarks won't improve it.

Culch. (producing his note-book ostentatiously). I do not propose to attempt it. No doubt you will be more successful in entertaining Miss Trotter than I can pretend to be. I retire in your favour. [He scribbles.

Podb. Is that our expenses you're corking down there, Culchard, eh?

Culch. (with dignity). If you want to know, I am "corking down," to adopt your elegant expression, a sonnet that suggested itself to me.

Podb. Much better cork that up, old chap – hadn't he, Miss Trotter?

[He glances at her for appreciation.

Miss T. That's so. I don't believe the poetic spirit has much chance of slopping over so long as Mr. Podbury is around. You have considerable merit as a stopper, Mr. Podbury.

Podb. I see; I'd better clear out till the poetry has all gurgled out of him, eh? Is that the idea?

Miss T. If it is, it's your own, so I guess it's a pretty good one.

[Podbury shoulders off.

Culch. (with his pathetic stop on). I wish I had more of your divine patience! Poor fellow, he is not without his good points; but I do find him a thorn in my flesh occasionally, I'm afraid.

Miss T. Well, I don't know as a thorn in the flesh is any the pleasanter for having a good point.

Culch. Profoundly true, indeed. I often think I could like him better if there were less in him to like. I assure you he tries me so at times that I could almost wish I was back at work in my department at Somerset House!

Miss T. I dare say you have pretty good times there, too. Isn't that one of your leading dry goods stores?

Culch. (pained). It is not; it is a Government Office, and I am in the Pigeonhole and Docket Department, with important duties to discharge. I hope you didn't imagine I sold ribbons and calico over a counter?

Miss T. (ambiguously). Well, I wasn't just sure. It takes a pretty bright man to do that where I come from.

An Old Lady (who is sitting next to Podbury, and reading a homeletter to another Old Lady). "Dear Maria and dear Madeline are close by, they have taken very comfortable lodgings in Marine Crescent. Dear Madeline's frame is expected down next Saturday."

Second Old Lady. Madeline's frame! Is anything wrong with the poor girl's spine?

First Old Lady. I never heard of it. Oh, I see, it's fiancé, my dear. Caroline does write so illegibly. (Continuing.) "Um – um, – suppose you know she will be maimed – " (perhaps it is her spine after all – oh, married, to be sure), "very slowly" (is it slowly or shortly, I wonder?), um, um, "very quiet wedding, nobody but dear Mr. Wilkinson and his hatter."

Second O. L. The idea of choosing one's hatter for one's best man! I'm surprised Maria should allow it!

First O. L. Maria always was peculiar – still, now I come to look, it's more like "brother," which is certainly much more suitable. (Continuing.) "She will have no – no bird's-marks …" (Now, what does that – should you think that meant "crows-feet"? Oh, no, how stupid of me —bridesmaids, of course!) – "and will go to the otter a plain guy" – (Oh, Caroline really is too …) – "to the altar in plain grey! She has been given such quantities of pea-nuts" – (very odd things to give a girl! Oh, presents! um, um) – "Not settled yet where to go for their hangman" – (the officiating clergyman, I suppose – very flippant way of putting it, I must say! It's meant for honeymoon, though, I see, to be sure!) &c. &c.

Culch. (to Miss T.). I should like to be at Nuremberg with you. It would be an unspeakable delight to watch the expansion of a fresh young soul in that rich mediæval atmosphere!

Miss T. I guess you'll have opportunities of watching Mr. Podbury's fresh young soul under those conditions, any way.