Delphi Complete Works of Jerome K. Jerome (Illustrated) (Series Four) (292 page)

Also the people. They were so good and kind and round. Malvina for the present was staying with — accepting the protection, was how she put it, of the wise and learned Christopher. The “habitation” could be seen from where they stood, its chimneys peeping from among the trees. The twins exchanged a meaning glance. Had they not all along suspected the Professor! His black skull cap, and his big hooked nose, and the yellow-leaved, worm-eaten books — of magic: all doubts were now removed — that for hours he would sit poring over through owlish gold-rimmed spectacles!

Victor’s French was coming back to him. He was anxious to know if Malvina had ever met Sir Launcelot—”to talk to.”

A little cloud gathered upon Malvina’s face. Yes, she had known them all: King Uthur and Igraine and Sir Ulfias of the Isles. Talked with them, walked with them in the fair lands of France. (It ought to have been England, but Malvina shook her head. Maybe they had travelled.) It was she who had saved Sir Tristram from the wiles of Morgan le Fay. “Though that, of course,” explained Malvina, “was never known.”

The twins were curious why it should have been “of course,” but did not like to interrupt again. There were others before and after. Most of them the twins had never heard of until they came to Charlemagne, beyond which Malvina’s reminiscences appeared to fade.

They had all of them been very courteous to her, and some of them indeed quite charming. But...

One gathers they had never been to Malvina more than mere acquaintances, such as one passes the time with while waiting — and longing.

“But you liked Sir Launcelot,” urged Victor. He was wishful that Malvina should admire Sir Launcelot, feeling how much there was in common between that early lamented knight and himself. That little affair with Sir Bedivere. It was just how he would have behaved himself.

Ah! yes, admitted Malvina. She had “liked” him. He was always so — so “excellent.”

“But he was not — none of them were my own people, my own dear companions.” The little cloud had settled down again.

It was Bruno who recalled the three of them to the period of contemporary history.

Polley the cowman’s first duty in the morning was to let Bruno loose for a run. He arrived panting and breathless, and evidently offended at not having been included in the escapade. He could have given them both away quite easily if he had not been the most forgiving of black-and-tan collies. As it was, he had been worrying himself crazy for the last half-hour, feeling sure they had forgotten the time. “Don’t you know it’s nearly six o’clock? That in less than half an hour Jane will be knocking at your doors with glasses of hot milk, and will probably drop them and scream when she finds your beds empty and the window wide open.” That is what he had intended should be his first words, but on scenting Malvina they went from him entirely. He gave her one look and flopped down flat, wriggling towards her, whining and wagging his tail at the same time. Malvina acknowledged his homage by laughing and patting his head with her foot, and that sent him into the seventh heaven of delight. They all four descended the hill together and parted at the orchard gate. The twins expressed a polite but quite sincere hope that they would have the pleasure of seeing Malvina again; but Malvina, seized maybe with sudden doubts as to whether she had behaved with discretion, appears to have replied evasively. Ten minutes later she was lying asleep, the golden head pillowed on the round white arm; as Mrs. Muldoon on her way down to the kitchen saw for herself. And the twins, fortunate enough to find a side door open, slipped into the house unnoticed and scrambled back into their beds.

It was quarter past nine when Mrs. Arlington came in herself and woke them up. She was short-tempered with them both and had evidently been crying. They had their breakfast in the kitchen.

During lunch hardly a word was spoken. And there was no pudding. Mr. Arlington, a stout, florid gentleman, had no time for pudding. The rest might sit and enjoy it at their leisure, but not so Mr. Arlington. Somebody had to see to things — that is, if they were not to be allowed to go to rack and ruin. If other people could not be relied upon to do their duty, so that everything inside the house and out of it was thrown upon one pair of shoulders, then it followed as a natural consequence that that pair of shoulders could not spare the necessary time to properly finish its meals. This it was that was at the root of the decay of English farming. When farmers’ wives, to say nothing of sons and daughters old enough one might imagine to be anxious to do something in repayment for the money and care lavished upon them, had all put their shoulders to the wheel, then English farming had prospered. When, on the other hand, other people shirked their fair share of labour and responsibility, leaving to one pair of hands...

It was the eldest Arlington girl’s quite audible remark that pa could have eaten two helpings of pudding while he had been talking, that caused Mr. Arlington to lose the thread of his discourse. To put it quite bluntly, what Mr. Arlington meant to say was this: He had never wanted to be a farmer — at least not in the beginning. Other men in his position, having acquired competency by years of self-sacrificing labour, would have retired to a well-earned leisure. Having yielded to persuasion and taken on the job, he was going to see it through; and everybody else was going to do their share or there would be trouble.

Mr. Arlington, swallowing the remains of his glass in a single gulp, spoilt a dignified exit by violently hiccoughing, and Mrs. Arlington rang the bell furiously for the parlourmaid to clear away. The pudding passed untouched from before the very eyes of the twins. It was a black-currant pudding with brown sugar.

That night Mrs. Arlington appears to have confided in the twins, partly for her own relief and partly for their moral benefit. If Mrs. Arlington had enjoyed the blessing in disguise of a less indulgent mother, all might have been well. By nature Mrs. Arlington had been endowed with an active and energetic temperament. “Miss Can’t-sit-still-a-minute,” her nurse had always called her. Unfortunately it had been allowed to sink into disuse; was now in all probability beyond hope of recovery. Their father was quite right. When they had lived in Bayswater and the business was in Mincing Lane it did not matter. Now it was different. A farmer’s wife ought to be up at six; she ought to see that everybody else was up at six; servants looked after, kept up to the mark; children encouraged by their mother’s example. Organisation. That was what was wanted. The day mapped out; to every hour its appointed task. Then, instead of the morning being gone before you could turn yourself round, and confusion made worse confounded by your leaving off what you were doing and trying to do six things at once that you couldn’t remember whether you had done or whether you hadn’t...

Here Mrs. Arlington appears to have dissolved into tears. Generally speaking, she was a placid, smiling, most amiable lady, quite delightful to have about the house provided all you demanded of her were pleasant looks and a sunny disposition. The twins appear to have joined their tears to hers. Tucked in and left to themselves, one imagines the problem being discussed with grave seriousness, much whispered conversation, then slept upon, the morning bringing with it ideas. The result being that the next evening, between high tea and supper, Mrs. Muldoon, answering herself the knock at the door, found twin figures standing hand in hand on the Professor’s step.

They asked her if “the Fairy” was in.

V. HOW IT WAS TOLD TO MRS. MARIGOLD.

There was no need of the proverbial feather. Mrs. Muldoon made a grab at the settle but missed it. She caught at a chair, but that gave way. It was the floor that finally stopped her.

“We’re so sorry,” apologised Victor. “We thought you knew. We ought to have said Mademoiselle Malvina.”

Mrs. Muldoon regained her feet, and without answering walked straight into the study.

“They want to know,” said Mrs. Muldoon, “if the Fairy’s in.” The Professor, with his back to the window, was reading. The light in the room was somewhat faint.

“Who wants to know?” demanded the Professor.

“The twins from the Manor House,” explained Mrs. Muldoon.

“But what? — but who?” began the Professor.

“Shall I say ‘not at home’?” suggested Mrs. Muldoon. “Or hadn’t you better see them yourself.”

“Show them in,” directed the Professor.

They came in, looking a little scared and still holding one another by the hand. They wished the Professor good evening, and when he rose they backed away from him. The Professor shook hands with them, but they did not let go, so that Victoria gave him her right hand and Victor his left, and then at the Professor’s invitation they sat themselves down on the extreme edge of the sofa.

“I hope we do not disturb you,” said Victor. “We wanted to see Mademoiselle Malvina.”

“Why do you want to see Mademoiselle Malvina?” inquired the Professor.

“It is something very private,” said Victor.

“We wanted to ask her a great favour,” said Victoria.

“I’m sorry,” said the Professor, “but she isn’t in. At least, I don’t think so.” (The Professor never was quite sure. “She slips in and out making no more noise than a wind-driven rose leaf,” was Mrs. Muldoon’s explanation.) “Hadn’t you better tell me? Leave me to put it to her.”

They looked at one another. It would never do to offend the wise and learned Christopher. Besides, a magician, it is to be assumed, has more ways than one of learning what people are thinking.

“It is about mamma,” explained Victoria. “We wondered if Malvina would mind changing her.”

The Professor had been reading up Malvina. It flashed across him that this had always been her speciality: Changing people. How had the Arlington twins discovered it? And why did they want their mother changed? And what did they want her changed into? It was shocking when you come to think of it! The Professor became suddenly so stern, that if the twins could have seen his expression — which, owing to the fading light, they couldn’t — they would have been too frightened to answer.

“Why do you want your mother changed?” demanded the Professor. Even as it was his voice alarmed them.

“It’s for her own good,” faltered Victoria.

“Of course we don’t mean into anything,” explained Victor.

“Only her inside,” added Victoria.

“We thought that Malvina might be able to improve her,” completed Victor.

It was still very disgraceful. What were we coming to when children went about clamouring for their mothers to be “improved”! The atmosphere was charged with indignation. The twins felt it.

“She wants to be,” persisted Victoria. “She wants to be energetic and to get up early in the morning and do things.”

“You see,” added Victor, “she was never properly brought up.”

The Professor maintains stoutly that his only intention was a joke. It was not even as if anything objectionable had been suggested. The Professor himself had on occasions been made the confidant of both.

“Best woman that ever lived, if only one could graft a little energy upon her. No sense of time. Too easy-going. No idea of keeping people up to the mark.” So Mr. Arlington, over the nuts and wine.

“It’s pure laziness. Oh, yes, it is. My friends say I’m so ‘restful’; but that’s the proper explanation of it — born laziness. And yet I try. You have no idea, Professor Littlecherry, how much I try.” So Mrs. Arlington, laughingly, while admiring the Professor’s roses.

Besides, how absurd to believe that Malvina could possibly change anybody! Way back, when the human brain was yet in process of evolution, such things may have been possible. Hypnotic suggestion, mesmeric influence, dormant brain cells quickened into activity by magnetic vibration. All that had been lost. These were the days of George the Fifth, not of King Heremon. What the Professor was really after was: How would Malvina receive the proposal? Of course she would try to get out of it. A dear little thing. But could any sane man, professor of mathematics...

Malvina was standing beside him. No one had remarked her entrance. The eyes of the twins had been glued upon the wise and learned Christopher. The Professor, when he was thinking, never saw anything. Still, it was rather startling.

“We should never change what the good God has once fashioned,” said Malvina. She spoke very gravely. The childishness seemed to have fallen from her.

“You didn’t always think so,” said the Professor. It nettled the Professor that all idea of this being a good joke had departed with the sound of Malvina’s voice. She had that way with her.

She made a little gesture. It conveyed to the Professor that his remark had not been altogether in good taste.

“I speak as one who has learned,” said Malvina.

“I beg your pardon,” said the Professor. “I ought not to have said that.”

Malvina accepted the Professor’s apology with a bow.

“But this is something very different,” continued the Professor. Quite another interest had taken hold of the Professor. It was easy enough to summon Dame Commonsense to one’s aid when Malvina was not present. Before those strange eyes the good lady had a habit of sneaking away. Suppose — of course the idea was ridiculous, but suppose — something did happen! As a psychological experiment was not one justified? What was the beginning of all science but applied curiosity? Malvina might be able — and willing — to explain how it was done. That is, if anything did happen, which, of course, it wouldn’t, and so much the better. This thing had got to be ended.

“It would be using a gift not for one’s own purposes, but to help others,” urged the Professor.

“You see,” urged Victor, “mamma really wants to be changed.”

“And papa wants it too,” urged Victoria.

“It seems to me, if I may so express it,” added the Professor, “that really it would be in the nature of making amends for — well, for — for our youthful follies,” concluded the Professor a little nervously.

Malvina’s eyes were fixed on the Professor. In the dim light of the low-ceilinged room, those eyes seemed all of her that was visible.