The Travelling Companions: A Story in Scenes. Anstey F.

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.

      Culch. It would not be at all the same thing – even if he – but you do think you're coming to Nuremberg, don't you?

      Miss T. Well, it's this way. Poppa don't want to get fooling around any more one-horse towns than he can help, and he's got to be fixed up with the idea that Nuremberg is a prominent European sight before he drops everything to get there.

      Culch. I will undertake to interest him in Nuremberg. Fortunately, we are all getting off at Bingen, and going, curiously enough, to the same hotel. (To himself.) Confound that fellow Podbury, here he is again!

      Podb. (to himself, as he advances). If she's carrying on with that fellow, Culchard, to provoke me, I'll soon show her how little I – (Aloud.) I say, old man, hope I'm not interrupting you, but I just want to speak to you for a minute, if Miss Trotter will excuse us. Is there any particular point in going as far as Bingen to-night, eh?

      Culch. (resignedly). As much as there is in not going farther than somewhere else, I should have thought.

      Podb. Well, but look here – why not stop at Bacharach, and see what sort of a place it is?

      Culch. You forget that our time is limited if we're going to stick to our original route.

      Podb. Yes, of course; mustn't waste any on the Rhine. Suppose we push on to Maintz to-night, and get the Rhine off our hands then? (With a glance at Miss Trotter.) The sooner I've done with this steamer business the better!

      Miss T. Well, Mr. Podbury, that's not a vurry complimentary remark to make before me!

      Podb. We've seen so little of one another lately that it can hardly make much difference – to either of us – can it?

      Miss T. Now I call that real kind, you're consoling me in advance!

      The Steward (coming up). De dickets dat I haf nod yed seen! (examining Culchard's coupons). For Bingen – so?

      Culch. I am. This gentleman gets off – is it Bacharach or Maintz, Podbury?

      Podb. (sulkily). Neither, as it happens. I'm for Bingen, too, as you won't go anywhere else. Though you did say when we started, that the advantage of travelling like this was that we could go on or stop just as the fancy took us!

      Culch. (calmly). I did, my dear Podbury. But it never occurred to me that the fancy would take you to get tired of a place before you got there!

      Podb. (as he walks forwards). Hang that fellow! I know I shall punch his head some day. And She didn't seem to care whether I stayed or not. (Hopefully.) But you never can tell with women!

      [He returns to his camp-stool and the letter-reading Old Ladies.

      CHAPTER VI.

      Culchard makes a little Miscalculation

      Scene. —Garden of the Hotel Victoria at Bingen, commanding a view of the Rhine and the vine-terraced hills, which are bathed in warm afternoon sunlight. Under the mopheaded acacias, Culchard and Podbury are sitting smoking. At a little distance from them, are a Young Married Couple, whose honeymoon is apparently in its last quarter.

      The Bridegroom (lazily, to Bride, as she draws another chair towards her for a foot-rest). How many more chairs do you want?

      Bride (without looking at him). I should think you could spare me one – you can hardly sit on three at once!

      [After this interchange of amenities, they consider themselves absolved from any further conversational efforts.

      Podb. (to Culch., resuming a discussion). I know as well as you do that we are booked for Nuremberg; but what I say is – that's no earthly reason why we should go there!

      Culch. No reason why you should go, unless you wish it, certainly. I intend to go.

      Podb. Well, it's beastly selfish, that's all! I know why you're so keen about it, too. Because the Trotters are going.

      Culch. (colouring). That's an entire mistake on your part. Miss Trotter has nothing to do with it. I don't even know whether she's going or not – for certain.

      Podb. No, but you've a pretty good idea that she is, though. And I know how it will be. You'll be going about with her all the time, and I shall be shunted on to the old man! I don't see it, you know! (Culch. remains silent. A pause. Podbury