Part 6

"But you must, dear. I can't let you kill yourself with work, and Mrs. Watson says it is very cheap. She got the rooms for eight pounds and ten pounds, but she thinks it might be twelve pounds for August, only if we stayed on we might get it in September for six pounds, and then there's a great saving. You know when she was at Luss last year she paid about thirty shillings to get her luggage taken to the house, and then she had to pay for the cartage of the coals--I forget how much, but we would save all that because the farmer would send a cart, and that all helps to reduce the rent, you know."

"Well, we can't go there this month, and that's all about it. I don't care much where we go, but I must get into business every morning, and as you're on the economical tack, we can get the place cheaper in September. Now there's North Berwick; I know several fellows who come into town every morning, and we can all come together; in fact, I was told of a house close to the links--to the station; and then you know"--he added with more than his usual consideration--"it'll not be so lonely for you, as you'll meet a lot of your lady friends, and I can easily spare the Saturdays."

Mrs. M'Cranky was very reluctant to give up the dream of driving about the country without having to think of the cost per hour for a trap. Still she felt business must not be neglected, and September is often a nice month. M'Cranky was in a bad humour with himself. The idea of going to North Berwick had been a week in his head, and he was annoyed that he had not spoken of it before Mrs. Watson called, as he would have simply said, as he intended, that he would take a house there, for the sake of the golf. Now, he had, without thinking of the result, pretended that his object in going there was in order to be able to attend to business. He must now, however, keep up the deception.

"Is there any use putting in your knickerbockers," said Mrs. M'Cranky, the night before they were leaving.

"I dare say you may," said M'Cranky; "I may get a round in the evenings, you know"; and immediately he had spoken he was annoyed that he had not had courage to say he intended having more than a round in the evenings; it made him feel that he was afraid of his wife, though he would not admit to himself that such a thing was possible. It was just the way the thing had come about, but he would let her know soon, though, like most people, he put off the evil day of confession till too late.

"There's no use going in to town to-day," he said on the first morning. "I'll stay and see the things unpacked, and they know to write or wire if there's anything important. Where's my knickerbockers?"

Mrs. M'Cranky was pleased with her husband's thoughtfulness, knowing that he hated to be asked even to untie a rope; but he had little intention of ruffling his temper with the hated work. He was looking at his watch every few minutes, and asking if breakfast wasn't ready.

"Hurry up," he said to the girl; "just bring in whatever you have ready. I smell ham; if it's not ready, I couldn't take any--I mean I don't wish ham this morning, unless it's--; look sharp with whatever you have."

Mrs. M'Cranky was still in the bedroom, and he was hurrying with his breakfast as if he had only a few minutes to catch the morning train, so that he had just about finished when she entered.

"You haven't finished already?" she said, as he rose from the table.

"Yes; you've been a long time of dressing. Just help yourself to the ham, and I'll go out and have a saunter."

He had great difficulty in keeping his hands from his watch, and in restraining himself to walk slowly out of the room with the necessary aimlessness of one who has nothing to do. In the lobby he was careful not to make a noise in lifting the clubs, and though a door in the back garden opened to the Links, he walked out by the front, as the dining-room window commanded a view of the back garden; and no sooner had he got away from the house than he doubled his pace, making up his mind that he wouldn't sneak away in that manner again, but just say he was going to golf--not thinking how much easier it is to get into deceit than to get out of it.

"What's kept you?" said his friend Macfarlane at the teeing ground; "our number has been called."

"Well, there's a lot of things to unpack, you know."

This was literally true, but M'Cranky felt that his expression of it was fallacious, and, as he remembered reading at school, very nearly related to falsehood. It was humiliating, but he would put it all right to-morrow morning, and he might have acted up to his intentions if he had been able to adopt the proverb of thinking twice before speaking once; but when, next morning, Mrs. M'Cranky said, "You're not going to town in your knickerbockers, are you?" he hastily said:

"Oh, I don't know; there's nobody in town you know; but, in fact, I wasn't thinking----"

"Oh yes, keep them on. I like you in knickerbockers. I wish everybody wore them--gentlemen, I mean."

The interruption was unfortunate for poor M'Cranky's resolution; he was screwing himself up to say that he wasn't thinking of going to town, and giving up the pretence of not being able to get away from business. He did not like the idea of going round the Links, continually looking about him in fear of meeting his wife; but she had no suspicion, as he walked out without clubs, having told his caddie to keep them for him; and when she said, "You're not going to town with these clumsy boots on? Put on your brown shoes; they are much neater," he mumbled something about hurting his feet when he had thick stockings on.

The deception had been going on for about a fortnight, and M'Cranky was getting hardened in it, when his friend said, "Mrs. Macfarlane was telling me she had asked Mrs. M'Cranky along to supper to-night, and I was to bring you along with me."

"Thank you," said M'Cranky, with an idea that exposure was imminent. Would he ask his friend not to allude to golf? No; that would be a confession that he was afraid of his wife, and he would have no one think that. He must trust to luck. It would be bad enough for his wife to find it out, but worse if before other people. That was his least enjoyable day; and as golf requires all one's attention, and M'Cranky's thoughts were wandering, he played a bad game. He was wishing the night safely over, and he would certainly put an end to the deceit next day.

"Aren't our husbands looking well?" said Mrs. Macfarlane to Mrs. M'Cranky. "But no wonder they are brown; the two of them are never off the----"

"You have a fine view here," M'Cranky interrupted, trying to change the subject.

"Yes; I suppose you haven't been as far east before? You men never think of anything but the Links; you never think of taking out your wives."

"Well, you know, Mr. M'Cranky hasn't much time just now, and I know he is the better of any exercise he can get. However, next month we are going to Crieff, and he'll have no business to worry him; but when one has to go in to business every day, it just spoils the----"

"May we have a smoke?" said M'Cranky perspiring with excitement. "We might go outside"; and the two women were left to have a talk by themselves.

"Does your wife think you go in to town every morning?" Macfarlane asked, laughing, when they got outside.

"Oh, I don't think so," said M'Cranky, with assumed carelessness. "You see, she wanted to go to Crieff this month, and I--eh--didn't see my way at the time, and--eh--perhaps I didn't say anything about it after. She's always late for breakfast, and, in fact, I never thought anything about it."

The two ladies laughed when their husbands returned; and when Mrs. Macfarlane said, "There's not one better than another; men were deceivers ever," M'Cranky felt that the secret was out. "He has been telling his wife," he thought; "some men can't keep anything from their wives." Still he felt that he was only trying to excuse himself, and that he was in the wrong--a bitter admission for him to have to admit even to himself. And what was the cause of all his deceit? Simply that Davidson had asked him to have a day at Kinghorn, and had beaten him; and he had determined to have a month's practice, and challenge him again. "I could easily beat Davidson," he said, when asked how they got on; "he has a bad style of addressing the ball, and only takes a half swing."

Davidson, however, had been practising too, and has beaten him again in the return match, and now M'Cranky has not even the satisfaction of feeling that his subterfuge and humiliation have been compensated.

MRS. M'CRANKY AT THE INTERNATIONAL FOOTBALL MATCH...

"You don't require uour ulster to-day, dear," said Mrs. M'Cranky on Saturday afternoon, seeing her husband preparing to go out; "it's quite mild, and your ulster's so shabby at any rate, and you've got your heavy shoes on too--are you going to golf?"

"No, I was thinking of going to the football match."

This was said as if his mind had not been made up on the subject, though he had bought two tickets for the stand the week before, one of which he had forgotten to give to the friend for whom he intended it.

"Is that where all the people are going? They were going down Queensferry Street in crowds just now when I came along. I wonder you can be bothered going to such a thing. May I come with you?"

"You'll be tired; you've just been out; and you don't think it will be worth seeing."

"I'll not be tired if I'm with you, and I don't care what it is as long as I'm beside you. I was at the Exhibition."

"Come along, then; we must hurry up to get a good seat."

"What a crowd of people!" said Mrs. M'Cranky, as they were entering the gate. "What do they charge for admission?"

"A shilling," said Mr. M'Cranky, truthfully, but fallaciously, handing over two tickets for which he had paid 3_s._ 6_d._ each.

"There's nothing to be seen but people. What are these men doing at that table?"

"These are the reporters."

"Is it so interesting as that? Will people read about it?"

"I should think so; it's the first thing a lot of fellows look at."

"But what is the game? What do they try to do?"

"Well, you see, the match to-day is between Scotland and Wales. The Scotch will try to drive the ball one way, and the Welsh the other; and if they kick it over that bar, that's a goal, and counts five."

"And do you mean to say that men will come all the way from Wales to kick a ball over a post?"

"Yes, and crowds will come with them to see it."

"Well, I didn't think men could be so stupid."

"Wait till you see them at it, and you'll understand. Here they come! I hear the people shouting. There they are! That's Wales!"

"They look very nice in their red jerseys. I hope they'll win."

"I hope not, by jingo! or I'll lose half a--eh; why do you hope they'll win? Wouldn't you be better pleased if Scotland won?"

"No; I think if they are at the trouble to come all this length, it would be only kindness of our side to let them win, and then they would go home pleased."

"There's Scotland coming in at the other end; hooray!"

"I hope they'll win too. They look very nice, but their jerseys are not so clean; they might have had them washed when they are receiving company. That's not a rough game. I've heard they were sometimes rough with each other."

"They haven't begun yet; that's only a bit fun to stretch themselves. There's a pigeon away."

"Where did it come from, dear?"

"The reporters; there, it's away to the office with a message."

"The dear, sweet, innocent thing; I hope it will find its way; it's flying round about, poor thing."

"Oh, it's all right. Scotland's lost the toss; they're kicking off."

"I wonder you can laugh, dear," said Mrs. M'Cranky a few minutes later; "didn't you see one of the Wales men knocked over, and his trousers are all mud, and the clumsy fellow who did it never stopped to apologise. No wonder the English think we're a set of savages. Hold your tongue, dear; don't shout like that. I wouldn't encourage them, and the people will hear you. There's another man down; it's perfectly disgraceful; and there's that stupid policeman looking on and pretending he doesn't see it. Now, if that were to happen in the street, he would take the man up quick enough. If I were these men from Wales, I would never come back."

"Well stopped, Cameron!" shouted M'Cranky.

"Oh, do you know them, dear? He's knocked down, I declare. The Welshmen are no better than ours. Is the little one Cameron?"

"Yes, yes; don't haver, it was well stopped."

"But that Welshman ought to be ashamed of himself; he's so much bigger than Cameron. Is he nice?--Cameron, I mean."

"Yes, a very nice fellow."

"Well, I think it's cruel to behave like that; he might have been hurt. What's the use of behaving like that? I don't understand what they're trying to do. What's the use of--look at that! I'm not going to stay here any longer; somebody is sure to get hurt. There was a man took another by the neck and deliberately threw him on the ground, just because he had the ball, I suppose. What's the use of fighting like that over a ball? Can they not take the other one--I saw them bring in two--and let each side use their own ball? Do you see any fun in that? Come away home, dear; you're shaking with cold."

M'Cranky was shaking, but it was with excitement.

"Not precious likely," he said. "I wouldn't miss this for anything. Pass! The idiot! why didn't he pass?"

"He couldn't get past, dear. You shouldn't speak like that. Didn't you see that man took a hold of him as if he had been a pickpocket? What are they doing now?"

"Scrimmage."

"I declare the people are all mad, shouting 'Scotland.' Can't they see the poor fellows are doing their best; and, besides, it's bad taste before the visitors. I can't understand you men; you wouldn't hurt a fly, and yet you laugh and shout 'well played' or something when a man throws another down and falls on the top of him. I didn't think you could be so cruel."

"Rubbish! Well saved again, Cameron! Played, MacGregor!"

"If you know the gentlemen, you should speak to them, dear; tell them not to be so rough, and I'm sure they would enjoy the game better. What will their mothers say when they go home with their clothes in such a mess! I wouldn't let them play if they were mine."

"Half-time. Well, the Scotch should do something next half, with what wind there is in their favour."

"Is it not finished, dear? I don't think we should stay. I'm sure you'll catch cold; you've just been shivering all the time. Is that slices of lemon they're getting? I think they should get some nice warm water to wash themselves, they are all so dirty; and I'm sure they would be the better of a cup of tea. It seems very difficult to do what they are trying, and no wonder; when any one got the ball and was running away, that gentleman with the flag blew a whistle and brought him back. What business has he to interfere?"

"He's referee, and it must have been thrown forward."

"Well, but one couldn't help that, if it's wrong. If I had the ball I would just run on, and pretend not to hear the whistle. He spoilt the game several times, and I'm sure they're all gentlemen, who wouldn't do anything unfair, though they are rough with each other."

"They're off again; Sco--otland!"

"Hold your tongue, dear; they're just working like slaves. I don't see how they can call that a game."

"D-- it, they're in! Isn't--that--most----"

"For shame, dear! You shouldn't speak like that. I don't see why you should pay to get in here, for you don't seem to have enjoyed it a bit. Has Wales won?"

"They've got a try--humbug!"

"Well, I'm very glad, after all their trouble coming here."

"Well played, Leggat! He's always on the spot when wanted."

"Now, isn't that simply disgraceful! They've torn a man's jersey. I believe the Welsh are just as bad as our fellows. Now, it's enough to give that poor fellow his death of cold, when he's heated; and the people are laughing, too, as if it was fun; but they seem to expect that sort of thing, for there's a man coming with another. I think they would require to keep a stock of wooden legs, if they go on that way. That's not the way gentlemen should behave."

"Our backs are weak," said M'Cranky to himself.

"Well, that one who had his jersey torn off has a very strong back; don't you think so? Now, there's one of the Welshmen hurt! I knew something would happen. It's perfectly disgraceful in a civilised country. Somebody should really write to the papers about it; and what are the policemen doing here if they allow that sort of conduct? They're taking off his stocking, poor fellow; I hope he'll have more sense than try football again, but there's not one better than another."

"Oh, he's all right; he's getting up again."

"Well, if I were him I would just say I wouldn't play; he's quite lame, poor fellow. I can't understand it; he's going to play again. Well, I hope it'll be a lesson to them all to be more careful; but I would like to go home, dear. I'm afraid some one will get hurt. You might come away; you know you're just exciting yourself for nothing. What do you say to having a cup of tea with----"

"Tea, be blowed! I'm not going to move. Scotland hasn't scored yet, and it's time they were hurrying up."

"I wonder you can be so cruel, dear. I think they have all more need of a rest."

"By jingo! there's Menzies in! No, he's brought back. Isn't that most----"

"Be careful, dear; people will hear you."

"Another try for Wales--well, I'm----"

"Hush, dear, we should really go away; you're getting quite cross."

"No wonder; it would make a saint swear--two tries to nothing!"

As Wales added a goal and a try to their score, M'Cranky got more excited, and his language waxed stronger; and when the game was over, he left in the worst of humours.

"I'm sure you haven't enjoyed it a bit," said Mrs. M'Cranky, "and I'm very glad, for you'll not go back again. I know I wouldn't sit again to see young men treat each other so roughly."

M'Cranky wished the game was to be played over again, and regretted there was not to be another International Match in Scotland this year; in any case, Mrs. M'Cranky won't be asked to go again.

MR. M'CRANKY

Mr. M'Cranky is not a bad sort of man--as long as things go smoothly, but he hasn't a morsel of patience, and gets out of temper if his wife can't find anything he wants at once.

One night at dinner he said: "By the by, I've got two tickets for the concert to-night; care to go? I'm not one of those fellows who never think of taking their wives anywhere; in fact, I think wives would be much cheerier to their husbands if they were taken out oftener."

"Oh, that will be delightful!" said Mrs. M'Cranky, "only I wish you had told me yesterday, so that I could have had my dress----"

"Had your dress turned or trimmed, or something; that's the worst of asking a woman to go anywhere; as much trouble about it."

M'Cranky settled down to the evening paper, in front of the fire, with his feet on the grate, and Mrs. M'Cranky bustled away to get out his dress suit, and put studs and links in his shirt, laying them all out, ready to put on.

When she was half dressed she cried: "It's time you were getting ready, dear."

"All right. I don't take an afternoon to dress; five minutes 'll do me."

After being called on about a dozen times, he went to dress, and found his wife struggling with a hook-and-eye at her back.

"Will you put in this hook, dear?" she said.

"H'm, you might be able to put on your own clothes by this time; con--found--" then he gave a tug, and his finger slipped and got scratched against the hook, and he said something that sounded like "damaged."

"Never mind, dear, I'll do it myself."

"Where's my shirt?"

"On the bed, dear."

"It isn't."

"I put everything out, ready for you; rise--oh! that's too bad, you've been sitting on it; your best one too, and look at it!"

"Never mind, gimme't. Hullo, as usual, no button on the back; you might manage to keep one button on a shirt; if I were a woman----"

"That's the new patent one you bought; it doesn't require a button."

"Oh, you just glue the collar to it, eh? or fix it with a screw-nail to the back of my neck? D'ye think I'm going with a collar up the back of my ears, like Sir Walter Raleigh? Gimme a one-button shirt."

"That's the one you got to--; it only requires a stud at the back; you said it was a 'great idea.'"

"See a stud, then."

"I haven't one, dear; didn't you get one with the shirt? Never mind, I'll fix it with a pin; it'll do for the night."

"All right, look alive. What are you--? You needn't pin it to my neck. Where's my tie? fasten it up."

"Can't you put on your own clothes yet, dear?" said Mrs. M'Cranky venturing on a mild retaliation.

"Smart, eh? where's my--. Oh, here it is. Now, hurry up; you're no further on than when I came into the room, and I'm nearly dressed."

"I've been attending to you, dear."

"Now, look here, we've only--. Hullo, my watch is standing."

"Perhaps you forgot to wind it up when you came home from that dinner last n--this morning."

"Where's the key? it's a strange thing women must dust everything out of sight. I've spoken till I'm tired, but you're all the same. Where is the key? I put it in the tray last night, and it's away. Can you not get it into that idiot's head to leave these things where she finds them?"