Short Cruises Read online

  MR. WILLIAM JOBLING leaned against his door-post, smoking. The eveningair, pleasant in its coolness after the heat of the day, caressed hisshirt-sleeved arms. Children played noisily in the long, dreary street,and an organ sounded faintly in the distance. To Mr. Jobling, who hadjust consumed three herrings and a pint and a half of strong tea, thescene was delightful. He blew a little cloud of smoke in the air, andwith half-closed eyes corrected his first impression as to the tunebeing played round the corner.

  "Bill!" cried the voice of Mrs. Jobling, who was washing-up in the tinyscullery.

  "'Ullo!" responded Mr. Jobling, gruffly.

  "You've been putting your wet teaspoon in the sugar-basin, and--well, Ideclare, if you haven't done it again."

  "Done what?" inquired her husband, hunching his shoulders.

  "Putting your herringy knife in the butter. Well, you can eat it now; Iwon't. A lot of good me slaving from morning to night and buying goodfood when you go and spoil it like that."

  Mr. Jobling removed the pipe from his mouth. "Not so much of it," hecommanded. "I like butter with a little flavor to it. As for yourslaving all day, you ought to come to the works for a week; you'd knowwhat slavery was then."

  Mrs. Jobling permitted herself a thin, derisive cackle, drownedhurriedly in a clatter of tea-cups as her husband turned and lookedangrily up the little passage.

  "Nag! nag! nag!" said Mr. Jobling.

  He paused expectantly.

  "Nag! nag! nag! from morning till night," he resumed. "It begins in themorning and it goes on till bedtime."

  "It's a pity--" began Mrs. Jobling.

  "Hold your tongue," said her husband, sternly; "I don't want any of yourback answers. It goes on all day long up to bedtime, and last night Ilaid awake for two hours listening to you nagging in your sleep."

  He paused again.

  "Nagging in your sleep," he repeated.

  There was no reply.

  "Two hours!" he said, invitingly; "two whole hours, without a stop."

  "I 'ope it done you good," retorted his wife. "I noticed you did wipeone foot when you come in to-night."

  Mr. Jobling denied the charge hotly, and, by way of emphasizing hisdenial, raised his foot and sent the mat flying along the passage. Honorsatisfied, he returned to the door-post and, looking idly out on thestreet again, exchanged a few desultory remarks with Mr. Joe Brown, who,with his hands in his pockets, was balancing himself with great skill onthe edge of the curb opposite.

  His gaze wandered from Mr. Brown to a young and rather stylishly-dressedwoman who was approaching--a tall, good-looking girl with a slight limp,whose hat encountered unspoken feminine criticism at every step. Theireyes met as she came up, and recognition flashed suddenly into bothfaces.

  "Fancy seeing you here!" said the girl. "Well, this is a pleasantsurprise."

  She held out her hand, and Mr. Jobling, with a fierce glance at Mr.Brown, who was not behaving, shook it respectfully.

  "I'm so glad to see you again," said the girl; "I know I didn't thankyou half enough the other night, but I was too upset."

  "Don't mention it," said Mr. Jobling, in a voice the humility of whichwas in strong contrast to the expression with which he was regarding theantics of Mr. Brown, as that gentleman wafted kisses to the four windsof heaven.

  There was a pause, broken by a short, dry cough from the parlor window.The girl, who was almost touching the sill, started nervously.

  "It's only my missis," said Mr. Jobling.

  The girl turned and gazed in at the window. Mr. Jobling, with the stemof his pipe, performed a brief ceremony of introduction.

  "Good-evening," said Mrs. Jobling, in a thin voice. "I don't know whoyou are, but I s'pose my 'usband does."

  "I met him the other night," said the girl, with a bright smile; "Islipped on a piece of peel or something and fell, and he was passing andhelped me up."

  Mrs. Jobling coughed again. "First I've heard of it," she remarked.

  "I forgot to tell you," said Mr. Jobling, carelessly. "I hope you wasn'thurt much, miss?"

  "I twisted my ankle a bit, that's all," said the girl; "it's painfulwhen I walk."

  "Painful now?" inquired Mr. Jobling, in concern.

  The girl nodded. "A little; not very."

  Mr. Jobling hesitated; the contortions of Mr. Brown's face as he stroveto make a wink carry across the road would have given pause to a bolderman; and twice his wife's husky little cough had sounded from thewindow.

  "I s'pose you wouldn't like to step inside and rest for five minutes?"he said, slowly.

  "Oh, thank you," said the girl, gratefully; "I should like to. It--itreally is very painful. I ought not to have walked so far."

  She limped in behind Mr. Jobling, and after bowing to Mrs. Jobling sankinto the easy-chair with a sigh of relief and looked keenly round theroom. Mr. Jobling disappeared, and his wife flushed darkly as he cameback with his coat on and his hair wet from combing. An awkward silenceensued.

  "How strong your husband is!" said the girl, clasping her handsimpulsively.

  "Is he?" said Mrs. Jobling.

  "He lifted me up as though I had been a feather," responded the girl."He just put his arm round my waist and had me on my feet before I knewwhere I was."

  "Round your waist?" repeated Mrs. Jobling.

  "Where else should I put it?" broke in her husband, with suddenviolence.

  His wife made no reply, but sat gazing in a hostile fashion at the bold,dark eyes and stylish hat of the visitor.

  "I should like to be strong," said the latter, smiling agreeably over atMr. Jobling.

  "When I was younger," said that gratified man, "I can assure you Ididn't know my own strength, as the saying is. I used to hurt peoplejust in play like, without knowing it. I used to have a hug like abear."

  "Fancy being hugged like that!" said the girl. "How awful!" she added,hastily, as she caught the eye of the speechless Mrs. Jobling.

  "Like a bear," repeated Mr. Jobling, highly pleased at the impression hehad made. "I'm pretty strong now; there ain't many as I'm afraid of."

  He bent his arm and thoughtfully felt his biceps, and Mrs. Joblingalmost persuaded herself that she must be dreaming, as she saw the girllean forward and pinch Mr. Jobling's arm. Mr. Jobling was surprised too,but he had the presence of mind to bend the other.

  "Enormous!" said the girl, "and as hard as iron. What a prize-fighteryou'd have made!"

  "He don't want to do no prize-fighting," said Mrs. Jobling, recoveringher speech; "he's a respectable married man."

  Mr. Jobling shook his head over lost opportunities. "I'm too old," heremarked.

  "He's forty-seven," said his wife.

  "Best age for a man, in my opinion," said the girl; "just entering hisprime. And a man is as old as he feels, you know."

  Mr. Jobling nodded acquiescence and observed that he always felt abouttwenty-two; a state of affairs which he ascribed to regular habits, anda great partiality for the company of young people.

  "I was just twenty-two when I married," he mused, "and my missis wasjust six months--"

  "You leave my age alone," interrupted his wife, trembling with passion."I'm not so fond of telling my age to strangers."

  "You told mine," retorted Mr. Jobling, "and nobody asked you to do that.Very free you was in coming out with mine."

  "I ain't the only one that's free," breathed the quivering Mrs. Jobling."I 'ope your ankle is better?" she added, turning to the visitor.

  "Much better, thank you," was the reply.

  "Got far to go?" queried Mrs. Jobling.

  The girl nodded. "But I shall take a tram at the end of the street," shesaid, rising.

  Mr. Jobling rose too, and all that he had ever heard or read aboutetiquette came crowding into his mind. A weekly journal patronized byhis wife had three columns regularly, but he taxed his memory in vainfor any instructions concerning brown-eyed strangers with sprainedankles. He felt that the path of duty led to the tram-lines. In asomewhat blundering fashion he p
roffered his services; the girl acceptedthem as a matter of course.

  Mrs. Jobling, with lips tightly compressed, watched them from the door.The girl, limping slightly, walked along with the utmost composure, butthe bearing of her escort betokened a mind fully conscious of thescrutiny of the street.

  He returned in about half an hour, and having this time to run thegauntlet of the street alone, entered with a mien which caused hiswife's complaints to remain unspoken. The cough of Mr. Brown, aparticularly contagious one, still rang in his ears, and he sat for sometime in fierce silence.

  "I see her on the tram," he said, at last. "Her name's Robinson--MissRobinson."

  "Indeed!" said his wife.

  "Seems a nice sort o' girl," said Mr. Jobling, carelessly. "She's tookquite a fancy to you."

  "I'm sure I'm much obliged to her," retorted his wife.

  "So I--so I asked her to give you a look in now and then," continued Mr.Jobling, filling his pipe with great care, "and she said she would.It'll cheer you up a bit."

  Mrs. Jobling bit her lip and, although she had never felt more fluent inher life, said nothing. Her husband lit his pipe, and after a rapidglance in her direction took up an old newspaper and began to read.

  He astonished Mrs. Jobling next day by the gift of a geranium in fullbloom. Surprise impeded her utterance, but she thanked him at last withsome warmth, and after a little deliberation decided to put it in thebedroom.

  Mr. Jobling looked like a man who has suddenly discovered a flaw in hiscalculations. "I was thinking of the front parlor winder," he said, atlast.

  "It'll get more sun upstairs," said his wife.

  She took the pot in her arms, and disappeared. Her surprise when shecame down again and found Mr. Jobling rearranging the furniture, andeven adding a choice ornament or two from the kitchen, was too elaborateto escape his notice.

  "Been going to do it for some time," he remarked.

  Mrs. Jobling left the room and strove with herself in the scullery. Shecame back pale of face and with a gleam in her eye which her husband wastoo busy to notice.

  "It'll never look much till we get a new hearthrug," she said, shakingher head. "They've got one at Jackson's that would be just the thing;and they've got a couple of tall pink vases that would brighten up thefireplace wonderful. They're going for next to nothing, too."

  Mr. Jobling's reply took the form of uncouth and disagreeable growlings.After that phase had passed he sat for some time with his hand placedprotectingly in his trouser-pocket. Finally, in a fierce voice, heinquired the cost.

  Ten minutes later, in a state fairly evenly divided between pleasure andfury, Mrs. Jobling departed with the money. Wild yearnings for couragethat would enable her to spend the money differently, and confront thedismayed Mr. Jobling in a new hat and jacket, possessed her on the way;but they were only yearnings, twenty-five years' experience of herhusband's temper being a sufficient safeguard.

  Miss Robinson came in the day after as they were sitting down to tea.Mr. Jobling, who was in his shirt-sleeves, just had time to disappear asthe girl passed the window. His wife let her in, and after five remarksabout the weather sat listening in grim pleasure to the efforts of Mr.Jobling to find his coat. He found it at last, under a chair cushion,and, somewhat red of face, entered the room and greeted the visitor.

  Conversation was at first rather awkward. The girl's eyes wandered roundthe room and paused in astonishment on the pink vases; the beauty of therug also called for notice.

  "Yes, they're pretty good," said Mr. Jobling, much gratified by herapproval.

  "Beautiful," murmured the girl. "What a thing it is to have money!" shesaid, wistfully.

  "I could do with some," said Mr. Jobling, with jocularity. He helpedhimself to bread and butter and began to discuss money and how to spendit. His ideas favored retirement and a nice little place in the country.

  "I wonder you don't do it," said the girl, softly.

  Mr. Jobling laughed. "Gingell and Watson don't pay on those lines," hesaid. "We do the work and they take the money."

  "It's always the way," said the girl, indignantly; "they have all theluxuries, and the men who make the money for them all the hardships. Iseem to know the name Gingell and Watson. I wonder where I've seen it?"

  "In the paper, p'r'aps," said Mr. Jobling.

  "Advertising?" asked the girl.

  Mr. Jobling shook his head. "Robbery," he replied, seriously. "It was inlast week's paper. Somebody got to the safe and got away with ninehundred pounds in gold and bank-notes."

  "I remember now," said the girl, nodding, "Did they catch them?"

  "No, and not likely to," was the reply.

  Miss Robinson opened her big eyes and looked round with an air of prettydefiance. "I am glad of it," she said.

  "Glad?" said Mrs. Jobling, involuntarily breaking a self-imposed vow ofsilence. "Glad?"

  The girl nodded. "I like pluck," she said, with a glance in thedirection of Mr. Jobling; "and, besides, whoever took it had as muchright to it as Gingell and Watson; they didn't earn it."

  Mrs. Jobling, appalled at such ideas, glanced at her husband to see howhe received them. "The man's a thief," she said, with great energy, "andhe won't enjoy his gains."

  "I dare say--I dare say he'll enjoy it right enough," said Mr. Jobling,"if he ain't caught, that is."

  "I believe he is the sort of man I should like," declared Miss Robinson,obstinately.

  "I dare say," said Mrs. Jobling; "and I've no doubt he'd like you. Birdsof a--"

  "That'll do," said her husband, peremptorily; "that's enough about it.The guv'nors can afford to lose it; that's one comfort."

  He leaned over as the girl asked for more sugar and dropped a spoonfulin her cup, expressing surprise that she should like her tea so sweet.Miss Robinson, denying the sweetness, proffered her cup in proof, andMrs. Jobling sat watching with blazing eyes the antics of her husband ashe sipped at it.

  "Sweets to the sweet," he said, gallantly, as he handed it back.

  Miss Robinson pouted, and, raising the cup to her lips, gazed ardentlyat him over the rim. Mr. Jobling, who certainly felt not more thantwenty-two that evening, stole her cake and received in return a rapfrom a teaspoon. Mr. Jobling retaliated, and Mrs. Jobling, unable toeat, sat looking on in helpless fury at little arts of fascination whichshe had discarded--at Mr. Jobling's earnest request--soon after theirmarriage.

  By dint of considerable self-control, aided by an occasional glance fromher husband, she managed to preserve her calm until he returned fromaccompaning the visitor to her tram. Then her pent-up feelings foundvent. Quietly scornful at first, she soon waxed hysterical over his ageand figure. Tears followed as she bade him remember what a good wife shehad been to him, loudly claiming that any other woman would havepoisoned him long ago. Speedily finding that tears were of no avail, andthat Mr. Jobling seemed to regard them rather as a tribute to his worththan otherwise, she gave way to fury, and, in a fine, but unpunctuatedpassage, told him her exact opinion of Miss Robinson.

  "It's no good carrying on like that," said Mr. Jobling, magisterially,"and, what's more, I won't have it."

  "Walking into my house and making eyes at my 'usband," stormed his wife.

  "So long as I don't make eyes at her there's no harm done," retorted Mr.Jobling. "I can't help her taking a fancy to me, poor thing."

  "I'd poor thing her," said his wife.

  "She's to be pitied," said Mr. Jobling, sternly. "I know how she feels.She can't help herself, but she'll get oyer it in time. I don't supposeshe thinks for a moment we have noticed her--her--her liking for me, andI'm not going to have her feelings hurt."

  "What about my feelings?" demanded his wife.

  "You have got me," Mr. Jobling reminded her.

  The nine points of the law was Mrs. Jobling's only consolation for thenext few days. Neighboring matrons, exchanging sympathy for information,wished, strangely enough, that Mr. Jobling was their husband. Failingthat they offered Mrs. Jobling her choice of at least
a hundred plansfor bringing him to his senses.

  Mr. Jobling, who was a proud man, met their hostile glances as he passedto and from his work with scorn, until a day came when the hostilityvanished and gave place to smiles. Never so many people in the street,he thought, as he returned from work; certainly never so many smiles.People came hurriedly from their back premises to smile at him, and, ashe reached his door, Mr. Joe Brown opposite had all the appearance of ahuman sunbeam. Tired of smiling faces, he yearned for that of his wife.She came out of the kitchen and met him with a look of sly content. Theperplexed Mr. Jobling eyed her morosely.

  "What are you laughing at me for?" he demanded.

  "I wasn't laughing at you," said his wife.

  She went back into the kitchen and sang blithely as she bustled over thepreparations for tea. Her voice was feeble, but there was a triumphanteffectiveness about the high notes which perplexed the listener sorely.He seated himself in the new easy-chair--procured to satisfy thesupposed aesthetic tastes of Miss Robinson--and stared at the window.

  "You seem very happy all of a sudden," he growled, as his wife came inwith the tray.

  "Well, why shouldn't I be?" inquired Mrs. Jobling. "I've got everythingto make me so."

  Mr. Jobling looked at her in undisguised amazement.

  "New easy-chair, new vases, and a new hearth-rug," explained his wife,looking round the room. "Did you order that little table you said youwould?"

  "Yes," growled Mr. Jobling.

  "Pay for it?" inquired his wife, with a trace of anxiety.

  "Yes," said Mr. Jobling again.

  Mrs. Jobling's face relaxed. "I shouldn't like to lose it at the lastmoment," she said. "You 'ave been good to me lately, Bill; buying allthese nice things. There's not many women have got such a thoughtfulhusband as what I have."

  "Have you gone dotty? or what?" enquired her bewildered husband.

  "It's no wonder people like you," pursued Mrs. Jobling, ignoring thequestion, and smiling again as she placed three chairs at the table."I'll wait a minute or two before I soak the tea; I expect Miss Robinsonwon't be long, and she likes it fresh."

  Mr. Jobling, to conceal his amazement and to obtain a little fresh airwalked out of the room and opened the front door.

  "Cheer oh!" said the watchful Mr. Brown, with a benignant smile.

  Mr. Jobling scowled at him.

  "It's all right," said Mr. Brown. "You go in and set down; I'm watchingfor her."

  He nodded reassuringly, and, not having curiosity enough to accept theother's offer and step across the road and see what he would get, shadedhis eyes with his hand and looked with exaggerated anxiety up the road.Mr. Jobling, heavy of brow, returned to the parlor and looked hard athis wife.

  "She's late," said Mrs. Jobling, glancing at the clock. "I do hope she'sall right, but I should feel anxious about her if she was my gal. It's adangerous life."

  "Dangerous life!" said Mr. Jobling, roughly. "What's a dangerous life?"

  "Why, hers," replied his wife, with a nervous smile. "Joe Brown told me.He followed her 'ome last night, and this morning he found out all abouther."

  The mention of Mr. Brown's name caused Mr. Jobling at first to assume anair of indifference; but curiosity overpowered him.

  "What lies has he been telling?" he demanded.

  "I don't think it's a lie, Bill," said his wife, mildly. "Putting twoand two--"

  "What did he say?" cried Mr. Jobling, raising his voice.

  "He said, 'She--she's a lady detective,'" stammered Mrs. Jobling,putting her handkerchief to her unruly mouth.

  "A tec!" repeated her husband. "A lady tec?"

  Mrs. Jobling nodded. "Yes, Bill. She--she--she----"

  "Well?" said Mr. Jobling, in exasperation.

  "She's being employed by Gingell and Watson," said his wife.

  Mr. Jobling sprang to his feet, and with scarlet face and clinched fistsstrove to assimilate the information and all its meaning.

  "What--what did she come here for? Do you mean to tell me she thinks Itook the money?" he said, huskily, after a long pause.

  Mrs. Jobling bent before the storm. "I think she took a fancy to you,Bill," she said, timidly.

  Mr. Jobling appeared to swallow something; then he took a step nearer toher. "You let me see you laugh again, that's all," he said, fiercely."As for that Jezzybill--"

  "There she is," said his wife, as a knock sounded at the door. "Don'tsay anything to hurt her feelings, Bill. You said she was to be pitied.And it must be a hard life to 'ave to go round and flatter old marriedmen. I shouldn't like it."

  Mr. Jobling, past speech, stood and glared at her. Then, with aninarticulate cry, he rushed to the front door and flung it open. MissRobinson, fresh and bright, stood smiling outside. Within easy distancea little group of neighbors were making conversation, while opposite Mr.Brown awaited events.

  "What d'you want?" demanded Mr. Jobling, harshly.

  Miss Robinson, who had put out her hand, drew it back and gave him aswift glance. His red face and knitted brows told their own story.

  "Oh!" she said, with a winning smile, "will you please tell Mrs. Joblingthat I can't come to tea with her this evening?"

  "Isn't there anything else you'd like to say?" inquired Mr. Jobling,disdainfully, as she turned away.

  The girl paused and appeared to reflect. "You can say that I am sorry tomiss an amusing evening," she said, regarding him steadily. "Good-by."

  Mr. Jobling slammed the door.

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