FullReads

‘Of course, he’s getting old. One can’t expect to remain young for ever’–she was a woman who frequently said profound things–‘and I’ve known all along he wasn’t the sort of man to make old bones. He’s never had the go in him that I have. Why, I’d make two of him.’

The Griffiths were not so well-to-do as before. As Blackstable became a more important health resort, a regular undertaker opened a shop there; and his window, with two little model coffins and an arrangement of black Prince of Wales’s feathers surrounded by a white wreath, took the fancy of the natives, so that Mr Griffith almost completely lost the most remunerative part of his business. Other carpenters sprang into existence and took away much of the trade.

‘I’ve no patience with him,’ said Mrs Griffith, of her husband. ‘He lets these newcomers come along and just take the bread out of his hands. Oh, if I was a man, I’d make things different, I can tell you! He doesn’t seem to care.’…

* * * * *

At last, one day George came to his mother in a state of tremendous excitement.

‘I say, mother, you know the pantomime they’ve got at Tercanbury this week?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, the principal boy’s Daisy.’

Mrs Griffith sank into a chair, gasping.

‘Harry Ferne’s been, and he recognised her at once. It’s all over the town.’

Mrs Griffith, for the first time in her life, was completely at a loss for words.

‘To-morrow’s the last night,’ added her son, after a little while, ‘and all the Blackstable people are going.’

‘To think that this should happen to me!’ said Mrs Griffith, distractedly. ‘What have I done to deserve it? Why couldn’t it happen to Mrs Garman or Mrs Jay? If the Lord had seen fit to bring it upon them–well, I shouldn’t have wondered.’

‘Edith wants us to go,’ said George–Edith was his wife.

‘You don’t mean to say you’re going, with all the Blackstable people there?’

‘Well, Edith says we ought to go, just to show them we don’t care.’

‘Well, I shall come too!’ cried Mrs Griffith.

IX

Next evening half Blackstable took the special train to Tercanbury, which had been put on for the pantomime, and there was such a crowd at the doors that the impresario half thought of extending his stay. The Rev. Charles Gray and Mrs Gray were there, also James, their nephew. Mr Gray had some scruples about going to a theatre, but his wife said a pantomime was quite different; besides, curiosity may gently enter even a clerical bosom. Miss Reed was there in black satin, with her friend Mrs Howlett; Mrs Griffith sat in the middle of the stalls, flanked by her dutiful son and her daughter-in-law; and George searched for female beauty with his opera-glass, which is quite the proper thing to do on such occasions….

The curtain went up, and the villagers of Dick Whittington’s native place sang a chorus.

‘Now she’s coming,’ whispered George.

All those Blackstable hearts stood still. And Daisy, as Dick Whittington, bounded on the stage–in flesh-coloured tights, with particularly scanty trunks, and her bodice–rather low. The vicar’s nephew sniggered, and Mrs Gray gave him a reproachful glance; all the other Blackstable people looked pained; Miss Reed blushed. But as Daisy waved her hand and gave a kick, the audience broke out into prolonged applause; Tercanbury people have no moral sense, although Tercanbury is a cathedral city.

Daisy began to sing,–

I’m a jolly sort of boy, tol, lol,

And I don’t care a damn who knows it.

I’m fond of every joy, tol, lol,

As you may very well suppose it.

Tol, lol, lol,

Tol, lol, lol.

Then the audience, the audience of a cathedral city, as Mr Gray said, took up the refrain,–