CHAPTER XXV

I ASSIST AT TWO WEDDINGS AND HAVE THE BEST OPPORTUNITY FOR CONTRASTING THE GRAVE AND GAY

Life has just been varied by two weddings--two: one serious and the other most distinctly the reverse. I attended both.

The first wedding was that of Alf Pinto and Bonnie Birdie Twist; the second--but let us take them in order.

Bonnie Birdie Twist, as her name may suggest, is in the profession too, a sprightly lady vocalist with a high kick and a wink of such calibre that it can carry with deadly effect to the uttermost standing-room.

She has not long entered her kingdom, but is firmly established there now, hardly less profitably than Alf himself. Her particular line of song is the confidential, involving responses from an audience only too ready to oblige, her latest success being entitled, "Is there room in your lap for me?"--a question that produces in every Hall where she sings an Everlasting Yea that lifts the roof.

Such a lady would hardly have an ordinary wedding; and the ceremony to which I was invited by Mrs. Duckie, and from which I felt I could not abstain without hurting that good woman's feelings, was as far removed from the ordinary as a naphtha lamp is removed from an altar candle.

The wedding was I can hardly say solemnised but achieved under difficulty by a patient and tenacious Islington Registrar in the Maltravers Assembly Rooms, which had been taken for the occasion by Birdie's father. That gentleman, who is now a thriving publican and a very assiduous racing man, was once a heavy-weight champion boxer, while Mrs. Twist, whose plush gown sent the thermometer up five degrees, had her triumphs years ago as Polly Pearl the Coster Queen.

The Assembly Rooms were crowded with warm-hearted professionals in every kind of clothes but the expected, and jovial bookmakers and licensed victuallers--all accompanied by their ladies, and all very gay from the moment they arrived, and gayer still as the day advanced, and the ceremony became more vivacious, and the ex-bruiser's generous flow of wine got to work, and appropriate excerpts from Alf and Birdie's repertoires rose in chorus: so appropriate indeed, that it seemed as if they had been singing all their lives only by way of preparation for this exuberant festival.

Birdie's bridesmaids were her own sisters, both of whom are budding soubrettes, and four other friends with yellow hair. Be-trice had been implored by Alf to serve too, but she declined, partly on an impulse of natural prudence and partly because the legitimate drama, to which she is affiliated, must not be too friendly with the variety stage.

Alf's best men were a pair of famous knockabouts who took their duties very seriously, and, to the exquisite enjoyment of the father-in-law, insisted on treating Alf as a boxer in need of minute and exhaustive seconding. They fanned him with red handkerchiefs as he sat back in a state of hilarious exhaustion, and every one else within reach offered him refreshments from a black bottle, and generally and genially did all they could to relieve matrimony from the stigma of holiness.

The Registrar at first seemed a little scandalised, but after a while he resigned himself to the tide of facetiousness and was carried along upon its bosom as buoyantly as any.

The only uncomfortable people there were Mr. and Mrs. Duckie and myself: but it was easy for me, being a mere spectator, to retire into the background, whereas they, simple, affectionate creatures, were perforce in the very forefront of the battle.

Poor Mrs. Duckie was, I fear, more than uncomfortable, she was shocked and sorrowful. The marriage of her eldest son, I doubt not, had been in her thoughts these many years: and in her visions she had been present with dignity and pride, Mr. Duckie beside her in his very best, and Be-trice so captivating as to make the possibility of the second wedding--the wedding that grows from a wedding, as of course one always should--a certainty. The reality, in which she found herself an alien in a new world (but her son's) of light-hearted laxity, must have been very disturbing.

Mr. Duckie's discomfiture, as charming duettists and dashing serios with gamboge locks patted his cheeks and pulled his whiskers and complimented him on his new daughter-in-law, was more physical, and was another proof of the importance to their importance of important persons keeping to their own natural environment. Here was the autocrat of the Fleet Street grill-room and countless City dinners visibly abashed in broad day. There is, I suppose, no potentate so powerful that skilful transplantation could not make small.

Bonnie Birdie Twist, so soon to be Bonnie Birdie Pinto, or rather Duckie, had a smile for every one, and she continued to recognise her friends, with appropriate greetings, such as "Cheer-O Alice!" "What-ho, Bill!" even while the Registrar was reciting the most compromising of his sentences, which he did to a muffled rendering by most of the company of Alf's famous chorus, adapted by a quick-witted colleague:--

"Mr. Right! Mr. Right! Our Birdie and he have met; So cheer up, girls, and wish them lots of luck, And there'll soon be..."

but I must not transcribe further.

Could there be a scene more different from that provided on similar occasions by the Establishment?--and yet, I daresay, the knot will last as long and be as honourably respected as if it had tied under even episcopal auspices. Certainly it could not last a shorter time than many that date from the chancel steps.

After the formality what fussing and congratulations! There was room for a few minutes on every one's lap for the bride; and room on hers for every one. Alf meanwhile was not idle, embracing and being embraced; while funny men flung their arms round Mrs. Duckie's neck and reduced her to a mass of scarlet confusion. Mr. Duckie meanwhile was finding his bearings at the buffet; Be-trice was the centre of an admiring circle of lion comiques; and Ern was becoming the firm friend of a boy contortionist (known to the world as Ernesto, the Human Serpent), and rapidly losing his hold on the allurements of chauffing.

I moved among these strange impulsive confident creatures with the deepest interest. All were jolly, all were ready to give and take chaff, there was no faltering in repartee even if there was no subtlety. And all were fairly hard-working honest-living folk, whose efforts were mainly directed to keeping the ball of pleasure rolling; that is to say, all were in a way unnecessary. I refer particularly to the professionals and the bookmakers; for I suppose that the licensed victuallers, even in times of great national stress, when one can imagine music halls closing all around and race meetings neglected, would still be busy in their shirt sleeves.

Whether the professionals, the bookmakers, or the publicans interested me most, I cannot say; but all were a very curious society, living completely within their own boundaries, so very differently from ordinary persons, and to the casual observer so lawlessly, and yet obeying their own laws too; wholly independent of religion, and yet getting through life with certainly no less kindliness and forgiveness and practical generosity to their names than professedly religious people, if not more; all English, and yet so thoroughly un-English; all busy, or at any rate living fatiguing lives, making money easily and spending it easily, living practically only for to-day. I was glad that I went; I was equally glad to escape.

I moved outside as soon as it seemed time for the couple to leave. They were to be driven off in a taxi-cab, with a comic driver and a string of boots trailing behind it like the tail of a kite. The ordinary bridegroom is careful to remove such appendages as soon as he can. It will give a vivid idea of the character of the Pinto-Twist wedding when I say that Alf spent some time in helping to fix this one to the cab.

Among the crowd outside I perceived Miss Wagstaff, who, seeing me, joined me, and we chatted together for awhile.

"What do you think of it all?" I asked, as her mouth curled sarcastically at the sight of the string of old boots and the comic men on the Assembly Room steps affecting to faint with grief into each other's arms.

"Very little," she said bitterly. "They're too much alike. A quieter kind of girl would have done him more good."

I stole a glance at her. Had she been nursing a tenderness for Alf herself? One knows so little of one's fellow-creatures.

"And I'm tired of weddings anyhow," she said.

At this point the crowd raised three cheers and then again broke into the chorus of Alf's great song, but in its original form:--

"Mr. Right! Mr. Right! He may not have knocked just yet; But, cheer up, girls, he's putting on his boots, And he'll soon be here, you bet!"

This they followed with Bonnie Birdie Twist's phenomenal success:--

"Is there room in your lap for me?"

to which Alf replied by thrusting his head out of the window with a thundering "No!"--and so bride and bridegroom disappeared from view.

The point of Miss Wagstaff's nose soared higher in the air as we took a last look of the scene, and we then turned away together.

"After a wedding, a funeral," she said. "I'm going to see how old Glendinning is. He was so bad on Monday that they had to take him to the hospital. That means getting another cataloguer, I suppose."

"Can't he recover?" I asked.

"Recover! There's nothing to recover on. He's just skin and bone. He's eaten nothing for years; nothing but gin."

I went with her to the hospital, and we were allowed to see the old man. By an extraordinary chance, one of the staff had been a pupil of his in the days of his prosperity as a schoolmaster, and there had been a recognition. The circumstance had turned Mr. Glendinning's thoughts again to that happier period. He was voluble, but quite unconscious of his surroundings.

Miss Wagstaff, with a tenderness of which I had not suspected her, sat by his side and held his hand. He did not recognise her, but called her Ellen and stroked her hair. Where was the real Ellen, I wondered. Never to see him again or be seen by him; that was certain.

As he became more delirious he identified himself more and more with his old post of authority. The weak tremulous lip of the tippler took on a firmness, his watery eye almost flashed. At one moment he was in class construing Xenophon, at another at the nets; but everywhere the instructor in command. "Don't shift your feet!" he cried to an imaginary batsman. "The ball won't hurt you!" So the old man had been a cricketer too!

We left him still raving, as the nurse called it, but to my thinking happier and nearer his right mind than he had been for many a long year.

And the other wedding?

For that, I must go back a little into time. I told you about old Mrs. Wynne's efforts to find Drusilla a husband among the eligible young men of Ludlow and district. In vain. But a capricious chance can do on its head, as Dollie would say, that which not all the old ladies in Shropshire can compass with bell, book, and candle.

Drusilla, her visit ended, returned to London with a glad heart. She took her place in the express at Shrewsbury, in a third-class compartment with three other persons in it, and settled down to her novel, on excellent terms with herself and the world. She had done her duty and might now do something pleasant--a perfect foundation for peace of mind.

At Wolverhampton two of the three other passengers left, and no other coming in, Drusilla found herself sitting opposite a clean-shaven, grey-eyed young man of determined but agreeable aspect, who was reading _The British Medical Journal_.

Being merely a man, and not obviously a male reformer, this creature naturally had no possible interest for Drusilla, or should not have had; but our little Drusilla, although still veneered with Purpose and Campaign and all the rest of it, was yet akin to the old Eve too; and, after all, his eyes really were very clear and direct, and his mouth was at once firm and tender, and his hands looked strong and capable and were not wholly shapeless either. There had been worse hands at the Slade, where hands were supposed to mean so much.

It was easy to observe these, for they were holding up _The British Medical Journal_ before his face.

Drusilla's thoughts left her novel.

It is a pity that Socialists have such indifferent tailors.

Why should they?

Surely it is possible to be interested in the higher ideals, and also go to a good barber and keep one's knees from bagging?

At any rate, every one knows that there are exceptions to every rule.

No one would read _The British Medical Journal_ unless he had some kind of intellect, even if one of the papers on the seat beside him was rather violently pink.

At Leamington the unexpected happened. A Japanese spaniel fell down between the train and the platform just before they stopped, and had a paw crushed by the wheel of Drusilla's carriage. She uttered a cry of anguish as she learned of the accident, and her companion leaped out and, extricating the little animal, examined the wound and comforted its owner.

Drusilla loved dogs, and the incident led to conversation. He was a doctor at Thomas's. They talked all the way to London.

Where and when Drusilla met her doctor again I do not know, but she lost no time in doing so on our return from Venice, and electrified the family one evening very shortly after by announcing that she was giving up art and intended to be a hospital nurse.

It is an ordeal which many families have to undergo, and it brings forth in most the same blend of resignation, admiration, impatience, and satire. Naomi, who suspected nothing, defended and supported her sister; Alderley was vexed, in part, I think, at the conventionality of the decision from such an independent girl as his second daughter, and in part at the sacrifice of her painting lessons; Mrs. Wynne took it as it came, and hoped for the best, liking moreover the old-fashionedness of a step that seemed to involve a little drudgery and self-sacrifice; while Lionel said something about the uniform--"Not quite so fetching perhaps as the Salvation Army bonnet, but a jolly sight prettier than dingy Slade greens and browns."

All innocently I put my foot into it by saying that I hoped that her Hospital would be Bart's, because I had an uncle who used to be on the staff there, and the circumstance had given me a kind of proprietary interest in the place; but Drusilla declared for Thomas's, and Thomas's alone, so emphatically as almost to give away her secret.

Lionel, who, for a thoughtless youth, has diabolical luck in his sharpshooting, went on to remark that girls who wished to be hospital nurses had always marked down their doctor first. Naomi told him not to be unkind; but Drusilla's cheeks confessed his accuracy.

As it happened, however, Drusilla never donned the uniform. There was no need.

By an odd chance I was the first person to whom she confided her secret. I say odd chance, because, although we have been happy enough together, I am not exactly a favourite with her. But young women in love when they want a thing done can make exceptions; and, as it happened, I was in the way of being useful to her conquering Adonis.

It seemed that suddenly, out of a clear sky, had dropped the offer of a medical post in Buenos Ayres, at a high salary, the condition being that it was accepted at once. To me, therefore, as an old Argentinian, came Drusilla to ask if I advised it, and what was the hospital like, and would I give introductions if it was accepted--speaking vaguely of some one she was interested in, a friend of a friend, and so on: mystifications so time-worn as to wear every sign-manual of truth.

I disguised my divination of her secret and advised in favour of her friend's friend accepting the appointment, and promised to write any number of letters of introduction if she would tell me what name to call him by.

She blushed and was silent for a minute, and then she told me all and expressed their intention, contingent apparently upon my opinion being favourable, of being married at once, as she had resolved to bear him company to the new post as his wife.

"Very well," I said, "but kindly let me know when the bomb is to be exploded in the family circle, and I will be careful to dine elsewhere."

If I smiled a little as she told her story, Heaven forgive me, for I would not willingly wound a young and ardent heart; but to have Drusilla's altruistic zeal to be a hospital nurse so suddenly laid bare was more than flesh and blood--at any rate the flesh and blood of my tell-tale lips--could stand. She took it very well, though, as we can take things when we are preoccupied or they make us happy.

Mrs. Duckie came in just as I was ready for Drusilla's wedding, and looked me over approvingly.

"It will be a nicer wedding than ours the other day," she said a little wistfully. "I can't forget those comic men. The idea of comicalities at a wedding! But there, one never knows what the world's coming to! I shan't get my peace of mind back till Be-trice goes off. No comicalities then, I promise you. I mean to write to Canon Lyme to ask him as a great favour to oblige. His wedding sermons are beautiful. Not a dry eye."

The good woman, she is quite right. Weddings are for tears: only those guests who can cry really enjoy them.

I did not myself cry at Drusilla's,--at least I produced no tears,--but it was a melancholy occasion. Such was the haste that the two families had had no time to become acquainted, and we seemed to be engaged rather in some ceremony of hostility than of fusion. We fell naturally into sides, Montagus, almost, and Capulets.

To add to the difficulty, the father and mother of the bridegroom were so much like several other members of their party that slights were of constant occurrence; but this is a common experience at weddings, where the newness of clothes cancels personality.

However, even weddings come to an end, and by four o'clock we were cheering a departing brougham on its way to Waterloo for Southhampton and South America. There was no singing of "Mr. Right," but I felt very little uneasiness as to Drusilla's future. None the less, the more I revolved the matter that evening the more did I wonder that affectionate parents can ever give their consent to their children's marriage at all. I can understand a father having no particular objection to his son's wife, and a mother to her daughter's husband; but how a father can ever even tolerate his daughter's husband or a mother the wife of her son, that is beyond my imagination. And that night as I watched Alderley's gallant efforts to be gay at dinner I realised my perplexity more than ever. Life can be very hard on parents.