A Voyage Of Consolation by Sara Jeannette Duncan (rm book recommendations .txt) 📕

Repute,

And Presently The Hansom Drew Up Before It,  In Piccadilly. We Went About

As A Family In One Hansom For Sociability.

 

"Look Here,  Driver," Said Poppa Through The Roof,  "Have We Got There?"

 

The Cabman,  In a Dramatic And Resentful Manner,  Pointed Out The Number

With His Whip.

 

"There'S The Address As Was Given To _Me_,  Sir."

 

"Well,  There'S Nothing To Get Mad About," Said Poppa Sternly. "I'M

Looking For Marcus Trippit,  Tailor And Outfitter."

 

"It'S All Right,  Sir. All On The Brass Plite On The Door,  Sir. I Can See

It Puffickly From 'Ere."

 

The Cabman Seemed Appeased,  But His Tone Was Still Remonstrative.

 

We All Looked At The Door With The Brass Plate. It Was Flanked On One

Side By The Offices Of A House Agent,  On The Other By A Superior Looking

Restaurant.

 

"There Isn'T The Sign Of A Tailor About The Premises," Said Poppa,

"Except His Name. I Don'T Like The Look Of That."

 

"Perhaps," Suggested Momma,  "It'S His Private Address."

 

"Well,  I Guess We Don'T Want To Call On Marcus,  Especially As We'Ve Got

No Proper Introduction. Driver,  That Isn'T Mr. Trippit'S Place Of

Business. It'S His Home."

 

We All Craned Up At The Hole In The Roof At Once,  Like Young Birds,  And

We All Distinctly Saw The Driver Smile.

 

"No,  Sir,  I Don'T Think 'E'D Put It Up Like That That 'E Was A Tyler,

Not On 'Is Privit Residence,  Sir. I Think You'Ll Find The Business

Premises On The Fust Or Second Floor,  Likely."

 

"Where'S His Window?" The Senator Demanded. "Where'S His Display? No,  I

Don'T Think Marcus Will Do For Me. I'M Not Confiding Enough. Now,  _You_

Don'T Happen To Be Able To Recommend A Tailor,  Do You?"

 

"Yes,  Sir,  I Can Take You To A Gentleman That'Ll Turn You Out As

'Andsome As Need Be. Out 'Ampstead Way,  '_E_ Is."

 

The Senator Smiled. "About A Three-And-Sixpenny Fare,  Eh?" He Said.

 

"Yes,  Sir,  All Of That."

 

"I Thought So. I Don'T Mind The Three And Sixpence. You Can'T Do Much

Driving Where I Come From Under A Dollar; But We'Ve Only Got About

Twenty-Four Hours For The British Capital Altogether,  And I Can'T Spare

The Time."

 

"Suppose He Drives Along Slowly," Suggested Momma.

 

"Just So. Drive Along Slowly Until You Come To A Tailor That Has A Shop,

Do You See? And A Good-Sized Window,  With Waxwork Figures In It To Show

Off The Goods. Then Let Me Hear From You Again."

 

The Man'S Expression Changed To One Of Cheerfulness And Benignity.

"Right You Are,  Sir," He Said,  And Shut Down The Door In a Manner That

Suggested Entire Appreciation Of The Circumstances.

 

"I Think We Can Trust Him," Said Poppa. Inside,  Therefore,  We Gave

Ourselves Up To Enjoyment Of What Momma Called The Varied Panorama

Around Us; While,  Outside,  The Cabman Passed In critical Review Half The

Gentleman'S Outfitters In London. It Was Momma Who Finally Brought Him

To A Halt,  And The Establishment Which Inspired Her With Confidence And

Emulation Was Inscribed In Neat,  White Enamelled Letters,  _Court

Tailors_.

 

As We Entered,  A Person Of Serious Appearance Came Forward From The

Rear,  By No Means Eagerly Or Inquiringly,  But With A Grave Step And A

Great Deal Of Deportment. I Fancy He Looked At Momma And Me With Slight

Surprise; Then,  With His Hands Calmly Folded And His Head A Little On

One Side,  He Gave His Attention To The Senator. But It Was Momma Who

Broke The Silence.

 

"We Wish," Said Momma,  "To Look At Gentlemen'S Suitings."

 

"Yes,  Madam,  Certainly. Is It For--For----" He Hesitated In The

Embarrassed Way Only Affected In The Very Best Class Of Establishments,

And I Felt At Ease At Once As To The Probable Result.

 

"For This Gentleman," Said Momma,  With A Wave Of Her Hand.

 

The Senator,  Being Indicated,  Acknowledged It. "Yes," He Said,  "I'M Your

Subject. But There'S Just One Thing I Want To Say. I Haven'T Got Any Use

For A Court Suit,  Because Where I Live We Haven'T Got Any Use For

Courts. My Idea Would Be Something Aristocratic In Quality But

Democratic In cut--The Sort Of Thing You Would Make Up For A Member Of

Mr. Gladstone'S Family. Do I Make Myself Clear?"

 

"Certainly,  Sir. Ordinary Morning Dress,  Sir,  Or Is It Evening Dress,  Or

Both? Will You Kindly Step This Way,  Sir?"

 

"We Will All Step This Way," Said Momma.

 

"It Would Be A Morning Coat And Waistcoat Then,  Sir,  Would It Not? And

Trousers Of A Different--Somewhat Lighter----"

 

"Well,  No," The Senator Replied. "Something I Could Wear Around Pretty

Much All Day."

 

My Calm Regard Forbade The Gentleman'S Outfitter To Smile,  Even In The

Back Of His Head.

 

"I Think I Understand,  Sir. Now,  Here Is Something That Is Being A Good

Deal Worn Just Now. Beautiful Finish."

 

"Nothing Brownish,  Thank You," Said Momma,  With Decision.

 

"No,  Madam? Then Perhaps You Would Prefer This,  Sir. More On The Iron

Gray,  Sir."

 

"That Would Certainly Be More Becoming," Said Momma. "And I Like That

Invisible Line. But It'S Rather Too Woolly. I'M Afraid It Wouldn'T Keep

Its Appearance. What Do You Think,  Mamie?"

 

"Oh,  There'S No _Wool_Liness,  Madam." The Gentleman'S Outfitter'S Tone

Implied That Wool Was The Last Thing He Would Care To Have Anything To

Do With. "It'S The Nap. And As To The Appearance Of These Goods"--He

Smiled Slightly--"Well,  We Put Our Reputation On Them,  That'S All. I

Can'T Say More Than That. But I Have The Same Thing In a Smooth Finish,

If You Would Prefer It."

 

"I Think I Would Prefer It. Wouldn'T You,  Mamie?"

 

The Man Brought The Same Thing In a Smooth Finish,  And Looked

Interrogatively At Poppa.

 

"Oh,  I Prefer It,  Too," Said He,  With A Profound Assumption Of

Intelligent Interest. "Were You Thinking Of Having The Pants Made Of The

Same Material,  Augusta?"

 

The Gentleman'S Outfitter Suddenly Turned His Back,  And Stood Thus For

An Instant Struggling With Something Like A Spasm. Knowing That If

There'S One Thing In The World Momma Hates It'S The Exhibition Of

Poppa'S Sense Of Humour,  I Walked To The Door. When I Came Back They

Were Measuring The Senator.

 

"Will You Have The American Shoulder,  Sir? Most Of Our Customers Prefer

It."

 

"Well,  No. The English Shoulder Would Be More Of A Novelty On Me. You

See I Come From The United States Myself."

 

"Do You Indeed,  Sir?"

 

The Manners Of Some Tailors Might Be Emulated In england.

 

"Tails Are A Little Longer Than They Were,  Sir,  And Waistcoats Cut A

Trifle Higher. Not More Than Half An Inch In both Cases,  Sir,  But It

Does Make A Difference. Now,  With Reference To The Coat,  Sir; Will You

Have It Finished With Braid Or Not? Silk Braid,  Of Course,  Sir."

 

"Augusta?" Demanded The Senator.

 

"Is Braid _De Nouveau_?" Asked Momma.

 

"Not Precisely,  Madam,  But The Prince Certainly Has Worn It This Season

While He Didn'T Last."

 

"Do You Refer To Wales?" Asked Poppa.

 

"Yes,  Sir. He'S Very Generally Mentioned Simply As 'The Prince.' His

Royal Highness Is Very Conservative,  So To Speak,  About Such Things,  So

When He Takes Up A Style We Generally Count On Its Lasting At Least

Through One Season. I Can Assure You,  Sir,  The Prince Has Appeared In

Braid. You Needn'T Be Afraid To Order It."

 

"I Think," Put In Momma,  "That Braid Would Make A Very Neat Finish,

Love."

 

Poppa Walked Slowly Towards The Door,  Considering The Matter. With His

Hand On The Knob He Turned Round.

 

"No," He Said,  "I Don'T Think That'S Reason Enough For Me. We'Re Both

Men In Public Positions,  But I'Ve Got Nothing In common With Wales. I'Ll

Have A Plain Hem."

 

 

Chapter 4

"If There'S One Thing I Hate," Said Senator Wick Several Times In The

Discussion Of Our Plans,  "It'S To See A Citizen Of The United States

Going Round Advertising Himself. If You Analyse It,  It'S A Mean Thing To

Do,  For It'S No More A Virtue To Be Born American Than A Fault To Be

Born Anything Else. I'M Proud Of My Nationality And My Income Is A

Source Of Satisfaction To Me,  But I Don'T Intend To Brandish Either Of

Them In The Face Of Europe."

 

It Was This Principle That Had Induced Poppa To Buy Tourist Tickets

Second Class By Rail,  First Class By Steamer,  All Through,  Like Ordinary

English People On Eight Or Nine Hundred A Year. Momma And I Thought It

Rather Noble Of Him And Resolved To Live Up To It If Possible,  But When

He Brought Forth A Large Packet Of Hotel Coupons,  Guaranteed To Produce

Everything,  Including The Deepest Respect Of The Proprietors,  At Ten

Shillings And Sixpence A Day Apiece,  We Thought He Was Making An

Unnecessary Sacrifice To The Feelings Of The Non-American Travelling

Public.

 

"Two Dollars And A Half A Day!" Momma Ejaculated. "Were There No More

Expensive Ones?"

 

"If There Had Been," Poppa Confessed,  "I Would Have Taken Them. But

These Were The Best They Had. And I Understand It'S A Popular,  Sensible

Way Of Travelling. I Told The Young Man That The One Thing We Wished To

Avoid Was Ostentation,  And He Said That These Coupons Would Be A

Complete Protection."

 

"There Must Be _Some_ Way Of Paying More," Said Momma Pathetically,

Looking At The Paper Books Of Tickets,  Held Together By A Quantity Of

Little Holes. "Do They Actually Include Everything?"

 

"Even Wine,  I Understand,  Where It Is The Custom Of The Hotel To Provide

It Without Extra Charge,  And In Switzerland Honey With Your Breakfast,"

The Senator Responded Firmly. "I Never Made A More Interesting Purchase.

There Before Us Lie Our Beds,  Breakfasts,  Luncheons,  Dinners,  Lights,

And Attendance For The Next Six Weeks."

 

"It Is Full Of The Most Dramatic Possibilities," I Remarked,  Looking At

The Packet.

 

"It Seems To Me A Kind Of Attempt To Coerce Providence," Said Momma,  "As

Much As To Say,  'Whatever Happens To The World,  I Am Determined To Have

My Bed,  Breakfast,  Luncheon,  Dinner,  Lights,  And Attendance For Six

Weeks To Come.' Is It Not Presumptuous?"

 

"It'S Very Reasonable," Said The Senator,  "And That'S The Principal

Thing You'Ve Got Against It,  Augusta. It'S Remarkably,  Pictorially

Cheap." The Senator Put The Little Books In Their Detachable Cover,

Snapped The Elastic Round Them And Restored The Whole To His Inside

Pocket.

 

"You Might Almost Say Enjoyably Cheap,  If You Know What I Mean. The

Inexpensiveness Of Europe," He Continued,  "Is Going To Be A Great Charm

For Me. I Intend To Revel In It."

 

I Am Always Discovering Points About Poppa The Existence Of Which I Had

Not Suspected. His Appreciation Of The Joy Of Small Prices Had Been

Concealed In Him Up To This Date,  And I Congratulated Him Warmly Upon

Its Appearance. I Believe It Is Inherent In Primitive Tribes And In all

Englishmen,  But Protective Tariffs And Other Influences Are Rapidly

Eradicating It In americans,  Who Should Be Condoled With On This Point,

More Than They Usually Are.

 

We Were On Our Way To Paris After A Miraculous Escape Of The Channel. So

Calm It Was That We Had Almost Held Our Breaths In Our Anxiety Lest The

Wind Should Rise Before We Got Over. Dieppe Lay Behind Us,  And Momma At

The Window Declared That She Could Hardly Believe She Was Looking Out At

Normandy. Momma At The Window Was Enjoying Herself Immensely In The

Midst Of Liberty Silk Travelling Cushions,  Supported By Her

Smelling-Bottle,  And Engaged Apparently In The Realisation Of

Long-Cherished Dreams.

 

"There They Are In a Row!" She Exclaimed. "How Lovely To See Them

Standing Up In That Stiff,  Unnatural Way Just As They Do In The

Pictures."

 

Poppa And I Rushed Raptly To The Window,  But Discovered Nothing

Remarkable.

 

"To See What,  Augusta?" Demanded He.

 

"The Normandy Poplars,  Love. Aren'T You Awfully Disappointed In Them?

I Am. So Wooden!"

 

 

Poppa Said He Didn'T Know That He Had Been Relying Much On The Poplar

Feature Of The Scenery,  And Returned To His Weary Search For American

Telegrams In a London Daily Paper.

 

"Dear Me," Momma Ejaculated,  "I _Never_ Supposed I Should See Them Doing

It! And Right Along The Line Of The Railway,  Too!"

 

"See Them Doing It!" I Repeated,  Searching The Landscape.

 

"The Women Working In The Fields,  Darling Love. Garnering The Grain,  All

In That Nice Moderate Shade Of Blue-Electric,  Shouldn'T You Call It?

There--There'S Another! No,  You Can'T See Her Now. France _Is_

Fascinating!"

 

Poppa Abruptly Folded The Newspaper. "I'Ve Learnt A