Perkupp sent for me and told me that my position would be that of one of the senior clerks.  I was more than overjoyed.  Mr. Perkupp added, he would let me know to-morrow what the salary would be.  This means another day’s anxiety; I don’t mind, for it is anxiety of the right sort.  That reminded me that I had forgotten to speak to Lupin about the letter I received from Mr. Mutlar, senr.  I broached the subject to Lupin in the evening, having first consulted Carrie.  Lupin was riveted to the Financial News, as if he had been a born capitalist, and I said: “Pardon me a moment, Lupin, how is it you have not been to the Mutlars’ any day this week?”

Lupin answered: “I told you!  I cannot stand old Mutlar.”

I said: “Mr. Mutlar writes to me to say pretty plainly that he cannot stand you!”

Lupin said: “Well, I like his cheek in writing to you.  I’ll find out if his father is still alive, and I will write him a note complaining of his son, and I’ll state pretty clearly that his son is a blithering idiot!”

I said: “Lupin, please moderate your expressions in the presence of your mother.”

Lupin said: “I’m very sorry, but there is no other expression one can apply to him.  However, I’m determined not to enter his place again.”

I said: “You know, Lupin, he has forbidden you the house.”

Lupin replied: “Well, we won’t split straws—it’s all the same.  Daisy is a trump, and will wait for me ten years, if necessary.”

January 5.—I can scarcely write the news.  Mr. Perkupp told me my salary would be raised £100!  I stood gaping for a moment unable to realise it.  I annually get £10 rise, and I thought it might be £15 or even £20; but £100 surpasses all belief.  Carrie and I both rejoiced over our good fortune.  Lupin came home in the evening in the utmost good spirits.  I sent Sarah quietly round to the grocer’s for a bottle of champagne, the same as we had before, “Jackson Frères.”  It was opened at supper, and I said to Lupin: “This is to celebrate some good news I have received to-day.”  Lupin replied: “Hooray, Guv.!  And I have some good news, also; a double event, eh?”  I said: “My boy, as a result of twenty-one years’ industry and strict attention to the interests of my superiors in office, I have been rewarded with promotion and a rise in salary of £100.”

Lupin gave three cheers, and we rapped the table furiously, which brought in Sarah to see what the matter was.  Lupin ordered us to “fill up” again, and addressing us upstanding, said: “Having been in the firm of Job Cleanands, stock and share-brokers, a few weeks, and not having paid particular attention to the interests of my superiors in office, my Guv’nor, as a reward to me, allotted me £5 worth of shares in a really good thing.  The result is, to-day I have made £200.”  I said: “Lupin, you are joking.”  “No, Guv., it’s the good old truth; Job Cleanands put me on to Chlorates.”

January 21.—I am very much concerned at Lupin having started a pony-trap.  I said: “Lupin, are you justified in this outrageous extravagance?”  Lupin replied: “Well, one must get to the City somehow.  I’ve only hired it, and can give it up any time I like.”  I repeated my question: “Are you justified in this extravagance?”  He replied: “Look here, Guv., excuse me saying so, but you’re a bit out of date.  It does not pay nowadays, fiddling about over small things.  I don’t mean anything personal, Guv’nor.  My boss says if I take his tip, and stick to big things, I can make big money!”  I said I thought the very idea of speculation most horrifying.  Lupin said “It is not speculation, it’s a dead cert.”  I advised him, at all events, not to continue the pony and cart; but he replied: “I made £200 in one day; now suppose I only make £200 in a month, or put it at £100 a month, which is ridiculously low—why, that is £1,250 a year.  What’s a few pounds a week for a trap?”

I did not pursue the subject further, beyond saying that I should feel glad when the autumn came, and Lupin would be of age and responsible for his own debts.  He answered: “My dear Guv., I promise you faithfully that I will never speculate with what I have not got.  I shall only go on Job Cleanands’ tips, and as he is in the ‘know’ it is pretty safe sailing.”  I felt somewhat relieved.  Gowing called in the evening and, to my surprise, informed me that, as he had made £10 by one of Lupin’s tips, he intended asking us and the Cummings round next Saturday.  Carrie and I said we should be delighted.

January 22.—I don’t generally lose my temper with servants; but I had to speak to Sarah rather sharply about a careless habit she has recently contracted of shaking the table-cloth, after removing the breakfast things, in a manner which causes all the crumbs to fall on the carpet, eventually to be trodden in.  Sarah answered very rudely: “Oh, you are always complaining.”  I replied: “Indeed, I am not.  I spoke to you last week about walking all over the drawing-room carpet with a piece of yellow soap on the heel of your boot.”  She said: “And you’re always grumbling about your breakfast.”  I said: “No, I am not; but I feel perfectly justified in complaining that I never can get a hard-boiled egg.  The moment I crack the shell it spurts all over the plate, and I have spoken to you at least fifty times about it.”  She began to cry and make a scene; but fortunately my ’bus came by, so I had a good excuse for leaving her.  Gowing left a message in the evening, that we were not to forget next Saturday.  Carrie amusingly said: As he has never asked any friends before, we are not likely to forget it.

January 23.—I asked Lupin to try and change the hard brushes, he recently made me a present of, for some softer ones, as my hair-dresser tells me I ought not to brush my hair too much just now.

January 24.—The new chimney-glass came home for the back drawing-room.  Carrie arranged some fans very prettily on the top and on each side.  It is an immense improvement to the room.

January 25.—We had just finished our tea, when who should come in but Cummings, who has not been here for over three weeks.  I noticed that he looked anything but well, so I said: “Well, Cummings, how are you?  You look a little blue.”  He replied: “Yes! and I feel blue too.”  I said: “Why, what’s the matter?”  He said: “Oh, nothing, except that I have been on my back for a couple of weeks, that’s all.  At one time my doctor nearly gave me up, yet not a soul has come near me.  No one has even taken the trouble to inquire whether I was alive or dead.”

I said: “This is the first I have heard of it.  I have passed your house several nights, and presumed you had company, as the rooms were so brilliantly lighted.”

Cummings replied: “No!  The only company I have had was my wife, the doctor, and the landlady—the last-named having turned out a perfect trump.  I wonder you did not see it in the paper.  I know it was mentioned in the Bicycle News.”

I thought to cheer him up, and said: “Well, you are all right now?”

He replied: “That’s not the question.  The question is whether an illness does not enable you to discover who are your true friends.”

I said such an observation was unworthy of him.  To make matters worse, in came Gowing, who gave Cummings a violent slap on the back, and said: “Hulloh!  Have you seen a ghost?  You look scared to death, like Irving in Macbeth.”  I said: “Gently, Gowing, the poor fellow has been very ill.”  Gowing roared with laughter and said: “Yes, and you look it, too.”  Cummings quietly said: “Yes, and I feel it too—not that I suppose you care.”

An awkward silence followed.  Gowing said: “Never mind, Cummings, you and the missis come round to my place to-morrow, and it will cheer you up a bit; for we’ll open a bottle of wine.”

January 26.—An extraordinary thing happened.  Carrie and I went round to Gowing’s, as arranged, at half-past seven.  We knocked and rang several times without getting an answer.  At last the latch was drawn and the door opened a little way, the chain still being up.  A man in shirt-sleeves put his head through and said: “Who is it?  What do you want?” I said: “Mr. Gowing, he is expecting us.”  The man said (as well as I could hear, owing to the yapping of a little dog): “I don’t think he is.  Mr. Gowing is not at home.”  I said: “He will be in directly.”

With that observation he slammed the door, leaving Carrie and me standing on the steps with a cutting wind blowing round the corner.

Carrie advised me to knock again.  I did so, and then discovered for the first time that the knocker had been newly painted, and the paint had come off on my gloves—which were, in consequence, completely spoiled.

I knocked at the door with my stick two or three times.

The man opened the door, taking the chain off this time, and began abusing me.  He said: “What do you mean by scratching the paint with your stick like that, spoiling the varnish?  You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

I said: “Pardon me, Mr. Gowing invited—”

He interrupted and said: “I don’t care for Mr. Gowing, or any of his friends.  This is my door, not Mr. Gowing’s.  There are people here besides Mr. Gowing.”

The impertinence of this man was nothing.  I scarcely noticed it, it was so trivial in comparison with the scandalous conduct of Gowing.

At this moment Cummings and his wife arrived.  Cummings was very lame and leaning on a stick; but got up the steps and asked what the matter was.

The man said: “Mr. Gowing said nothing about expecting anyone.  All he said was he had just received an invitation to Croydon, and he should not be back till Monday evening.  He took his bag with him.”

With that he slammed the door again.  I was too indignant with Gowing’s conduct to say anything.  Cummings looked white with rage, and as he descended the steps struck his stick violently on the ground and said: “Scoundrel!”



CHAPTER XV



Gowing explains his conduct.  Lupin takes us for a drive, which we don’t enjoy.  Lupin introduces us to Mr. Murray Posh.


February 8.—It does seem hard I cannot get good sausages for breakfast.  They are either full of bread or spice, or are as red as beef.  Still anxious about the £20 I invested last week by Lupin’s advice.  However, Cummings has done the same.

February 9.—Exactly a fortnight has passed, and I have neither seen nor heard from Gowing respecting his extraordinary conduct in asking us round to his house, and then being out.  In the evening Carrie was engaged marking a half-dozen new collars I had purchased.  I’ll back Carrie’s marking against anybody’s.  While I was drying them at the fire, and Carrie was rebuking me for scorching them, Cummings came in.

He seemed quite well again, and chaffed us about marking the collars.  I asked him if he had heard from Gowing, and he replied that he had not.  I said I should not have believed that Gowing could have acted in such an ungentlemanly manner.  Cummings said: “You are mild in your description of him; I think he has acted like a cad.”

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when the door opened, and Gowing, putting in his head, said: “May I come in?”  I said: “Certainly.”  Carrie said very pointedly: “Well, you are a stranger.”  Gowing said: “Yes, I’ve been on and off to Croydon during the last fortnight.”  I could see Cummings was boiling over, and eventually he tackled Gowing very strongly respecting his conduct last Saturday week.  Gowing appeared surprised, and said: “Why, I posted a letter to you in the morning announcing that the party was ‘off, very much off.’”  I said: “I never got it.”  Gowing, turning to Carrie, said: “I suppose letters sometimes miscarry, don’t they, Mrs. Carrie?”  Cummings sharply said: “This is not a time for joking.  I had no notice of the party being put off.”  Gowing replied: “I told Pooter in my note to tell you, as I was in a hurry.  However, I’ll inquire at the post-office, and we must meet again at my place.”  I added that I hoped he would be present at the next meeting.  Carrie roared at this, and even Cummings could not help laughing.

February 10, Sunday.—Contrary to my wishes, Carrie allowed Lupin to persuade her to take her for a drive in the afternoon in his trap.  I quite disapprove of driving on a Sunday, but I did not like to trust Carrie alone with Lupin, so I offered to go too.  Lupin said: “Now, that is nice of you, Guv., but you won’t mind sitting on the back-seat of the cart?”

Lupin proceeded to put on a bright-blue coat that seemed miles too large for him.  Carrie said it wanted taking in considerably at the back.  Lupin said: “Haven’t you seen a box-coat before?  You can’t drive in anything else.”

He may wear what he likes in the future, for I shall never drive with him again.  His conduct was shocking.  When we passed Highgate Archway, he tried to pass everything and everybody.  He shouted to respectable people who were walking quietly in the road to get out of the way; he flicked at the horse of an old man who was riding, causing it to rear; and, as I had to ride backwards, I was compelled to face a gang of roughs in a donkey-cart, whom Lupin had chaffed, and who turned and followed us for nearly a mile, bellowing, indulging in coarse jokes and laughter, to say nothing of occasionally pelting us with orange-peel.

Lupin’s excuse—that the Prince of Wales would have to put up with the same sort of thing if he drove to the Derby—was of little consolation to either Carrie or myself.  Frank Mutlar called in the evening, and Lupin went out with him.

February 11.—Feeling a little concerned about Lupin, I mustered up courage to speak to Mr. Perkupp about him.  Mr. Perkupp has always been most kind to me, so I told him everything, including yesterday’s adventure.  Mr. Perkupp kindly replied: “There is no necessity for you to be anxious, Mr. Pooter.  It would be impossible for a son of such good parents to turn out erroneously.  Remember he is young, and will soon get older.  I wish we could find room for him in this firm.”  The advice of this good man takes loads off my mind.  In the evening Lupin came in.

After our little supper, he said: “My dear parents, I have some news, which I fear will affect you considerably.”  I felt a qualm come over me, and said nothing.  Lupin then said: “It may distress you—in fact, I’m sure it will—but this afternoon I have given up my pony and trap for ever.”  It may seem absurd, but I was so pleased, I immediately opened a bottle of port.  Gowing dropped in just in time, bringing with him a large sheet, with a print of a tailless donkey, which he fastened against the wall.  He then produced several separate tails, and we spent the remainder of the evening trying blindfolded to pin a tail on in the proper place.  My sides positively ached with laughter when I went to bed.

February 12.—In the evening I spoke to Lupin about his engagement with Daisy Mutlar.  I asked if he had heard from her.  He replied: “No; she promised that old windbag of a father of hers that she would not communicate with me.  I see Frank Mutlar, of course; in fact, he said he might call again this evening.”  Frank called, but said he could not stop, as he had a friend waiting outside for him, named Murray Posh, adding he was quite a swell.  Carrie asked Frank to bring him in.

He was brought in, Gowing entering at the same time.  Mr. Murray Posh was a tall, fat young man, and was evidently of a very nervous disposition, as he subsequently confessed he would never go in a hansom cab, nor would he enter a four-wheeler until the driver had first got on the box with his reins in his hands.

On being introduced, Gowing, with his usual want of tact, said: “Any relation to ‘Posh’s three-shilling hats’?”  Mr. Posh replied: “Yes; but please understand I don’t try on hats myself.  I take no active part in the business.”  I replied: “I wish I had a business like it.”  Mr. Posh seemed pleased, and gave a long but most interesting history of the extraordinary difficulties in the manufacture of cheap hats.

Murray Posh evidently knew Daisy Mutlar very intimately from the way he was talking of her; and Frank said to Lupin once, laughingly: “If you don’t look out, Posh will cut you out!”  When they had all gone, I referred to this flippant conversation; and Lupin said, sarcastically: “A man who is jealous has no respect for himself.  A man who would be jealous of an elephant like Murray Posh could only have a contempt for himself.  I know Daisy.  She would wait ten years for me, as I said before; in fact, if necessary, she would wait twenty years for me.”



CHAPTER XVI



We lose money over Lupin’s advice as to investment, so does Cummings.  Murray Posh engaged to Daisy Mutlar.


February 18.—Carrie has several times recently called attention to the thinness of my hair at the top of my head, and recommended me to get it seen to.  I was this morning trying to look at it by the aid of a small hand-glass, when somehow my elbow caught against the edge of the chest of drawers and knocked the glass out of my hand and smashed it.  Carrie was in an awful way about it, as she is rather absurdly superstitious.  To make matters worse, my large photograph in the drawing-room fell during the night, and the glass cracked.

Carrie said: “Mark my words, Charles, some misfortune is about to happen.”

I said: “Nonsense, dear.”

In the evening Lupin arrived home early, and seemed a little agitated.  I said: “What’s up, my boy?”  He hesitated a good deal, and then said: “You know those Parachikka Chlorates I advised you to invest £20 in?  I replied: “Yes, they are all right, I trust?”  He replied: “Well, no!  To the surprise of everybody, they have utterly collapsed.”

My breath was so completely taken away, I could say nothing.  Carrie looked at me, and said: “What did I tell you?”  Lupin, after a while, said: “However, you are specially fortunate.  I received an early tip, and sold out yours immediately, and was fortunate to get £2 for them.  So you get something after all.”

I gave a sigh of relief.  I said: “I was not so sanguine as to suppose, as you predicted, that I should get six or eight times the amount of my investment; still a profit of £2 is a good percentage for such a short time.”  Lupin said, quite irritably: “You don’t understand.  I sold your £20 shares for £2; you therefore lose £18 on the transaction, whereby Cummings and Gowing will lose the whole of theirs.”

February 19.—Lupin, before going to town, said: “I am very sorry about those Parachikka Chlorates; it would not have happened if the boss, Job Cleanands, had been in town.  Between ourselves, you must not be surprised if something goes wrong at our office.  Job Cleanands has not been seen the last few days, and it strikes me several people do want to see him very particularly.”

In the evening Lupin was just on the point of going out to avoid a collision with Gowing and Cummings, when the former entered the room, without knocking, but with his usual trick of saying, “May I come in?”

He entered, and to the surprise of Lupin and myself, seemed to be in the very best of spirits.  Neither Lupin nor I broached the subject to him, but he did so of his own accord.  He said: “I say, those Parachikka Chlorates have gone an awful smash!  You’re a nice one, Master Lupin.  How much do you lose?”  Lupin, to my utter astonishment, said: “Oh!  I had nothing in them.  There was some informality in my application—I forgot to enclose the cheque or something, and I didn’t get any.  The Guv. loses £18.”  I said: “I quite understood you were in it, or nothing would have induced me to speculate.”  Lupin replied: “Well, it can’t be helped; you must go double on the next tip.”  Before I could reply, Gowing said: “Well, I lose nothing, fortunately.  From what I heard, I did not quite believe in them, so I persuaded Cummings to take my £15 worth, as he had more faith in them than I had.”

Lupin burst out laughing, and, in the most unseemly manner, said: “Alas, poor Cummings.  He’ll lose £35.”  At that moment there was a ring at the bell.  Lupin said: “I don’t want to meet Cummings.”  If he had gone out of the door he would have met him in the passage, so as quickly as possible Lupin opened the parlour window and got out.  Gowing jumped up suddenly, exclaiming: “I don’t want to see him either!” and, before I could say a word, he followed Lupin out of the window.

For my own part, I was horrified to think my own son and one of my most intimate friends should depart from the house like a couple of interrupted burglars.  Poor Cummings was very upset, and of course was naturally very angry both with Lupin and Gowing.  I pressed him to have a little whisky, and he replied that he had given up whisky; but would like a little “Unsweetened,” as he was advised it was the most healthy spirit.  I had none in the house, but sent Sarah round to Lockwood’s for some.

February 20.—The first thing that caught my eye on opening the Standard was—“Great Failure of Stock and Share Dealers!  Mr. Job Cleanands absconded!”  I handed it to Carrie, and she replied: “Oh! perhaps it’s for Lupin’s good.  I never did think it a suitable situation for him.”  I thought the whole affair very shocking.

Lupin came down to breakfast, and seeing he looked painfully distressed, I said: “We know the news, my dear boy, and feel very sorry for you.”  Lupin said: “How did you know? who told you?”  I handed him the Standard.  He threw the paper down, and said: “Oh I don’t care a button for that!  I expected that, but I did not expect this.”  He then read a letter from Frank Mutlar, announcing, in a cool manner, that Daisy Mutlar is to be married next month to Murray Posh.  I exclaimed, “Murray Posh!  Is not that the very man Frank had the impudence to bring here last Tuesday week?”  Lupin said: “Yes; the ‘Posh’s-three-shilling-hats’ chap.”

We all then ate our breakfast in dead silence.

In fact, I could eat nothing.  I was not only too worried, but I cannot and will not eat cushion of bacon.  If I cannot get streaky bacon, I will do without anything.

When Lupin rose to go I noticed a malicious smile creep over his face.  I asked him what it meant.  He replied: “Oh! only a little consolation—still it is a consolation.  I have just remembered that, by my advice, Mr. Murray Posh has invested £600 in Parachikka Chlorates!”



CHAPTER XVII



Marriage of Daisy Mutlar and Murray Posh.  The dream of my life realised.  Mr. Perkupp takes Lupin into the office.


March 20.—To-day being the day on which Daisy Mutlar and Mr. Murray Posh are to be married, Lupin has gone with a friend to spend the day at Gravesend.  Lupin has been much cut-up over the affair, although he declares that he is glad it is off.  I wish he would not go to so many music-halls, but one dare not say anything to him about it.  At the present moment he irritates me by singing all over the house some nonsense about “What’s the matter with Gladstone?  He’s all right!  What’s the matter with Lupin?  He’s all right!”  I don’t think either of them is.  In the evening Gowing called, and the chief topic of conversation was Daisy’s marriage to Murray Posh.  I said: “I was glad the matter was at an end, as Daisy would only have made a fool of Lupin.”  Gowing, with his usual good taste, said: “Oh, Master Lupin can make a fool of himself without any assistance.”  Carrie very properly resented this, and Gowing had sufficient sense to say he was sorry.

March 21.—To-day I shall conclude my diary, for it is one of the happiest days of my life.  My great dream of the last few weeks—in fact, of many years—has been realised.  This morning came a letter from Mr. Perkupp, asking me to take Lupin down to the office with me.  I went to Lupin’s room; poor fellow, he seemed very pale, and said he had a bad headache.  He had come back yesterday from Gravesend, where he spent part of the day in a small boat on the water, having been mad enough to neglect to take his overcoat with him.  I showed him Mr. Perkupp’s letter, and he got up as quickly as possible.  I begged of him not to put on his fast-coloured clothes and ties, but to dress in something black or quiet-looking.

Carrie was all of a tremble when she read the letter, and all she could keep on saying was: “Oh, I do hope it will be all right.”  For myself, I could scarcely eat any breakfast.  Lupin came down dressed quietly, and looking a perfect gentleman, except that his face was rather yellow.  Carrie, by way of encouragement said: “You do look nice, Lupin.”  Lupin replied: “Yes, it’s a good make-up, isn’t it?  A regular-downright-respectable-funereal-first-class-City-firm-junior-clerk.”  He laughed rather ironically.

In the hall I heard a great noise, and also Lupin shouting to Sarah to fetch down his old hat.  I went into the passage, and found Lupin in a fury, kicking and smashing a new tall hat.  I said: “Lupin, my boy, what are you doing?  How wicked of you!  Some poor fellow would be glad to have it.”  Lupin replied: “I would not insult any poor fellow by giving it to him.”

When he had gone outside, I picked up the battered hat, and saw inside “Posh’s Patent.”  Poor Lupin!  I can forgive him.  It seemed hours before we reached the office.  Mr. Perkupp sent for Lupin, who was with him nearly an hour.  He returned, as I thought, crestfallen in appearance.  I said: “Well, Lupin, how about Mr. Perkupp?”  Lupin commenced his song: “What’s the matter with Perkupp?  He’s all right!”  I felt instinctively my boy was engaged.  I went to Mr. Perkupp, but I could not speak.  He said: “Well, Mr. Pooter, what is it?”  I must have looked a fool, for all I could say was: “Mr. Perkupp, you are a good man.”  He looked at me for a moment, and said: “No, Mr. Pooter, you are the good man; and we’ll see if we cannot get your son to follow such an excellent example.”  I said: “Mr. Perkupp, may I go home?  I cannot work any more to-day.”

My good master shook my hand warmly as he nodded his head.  It was as much as I could do to prevent myself from crying in the ’bus; in fact, I should have done so, had my thoughts not been interrupted by Lupin, who was having a quarrel with a fat man in the ’bus, whom he accused of taking up too much room.

In the evening Carrie sent round for dear old friend Cummings and his wife, and also to Gowing.  We all sat round the fire, and in a bottle of “Jackson Frères,” which Sarah fetched from the grocer’s, drank Lupin’s health.  I lay awake for hours, thinking of the future.  My boy in the same office as myself—we can go down together by the ’bus, come home together, and who knows but in the course of time he may take great interest in our little home.  That he may help me to put a nail in here or a nail in there, or help his dear mother to hang a picture.  In the summer he may help us in our little garden with the flowers, and assist us to paint the stands and pots.  (By-the-by, I must get in some more enamel paint.)  All this I thought over and over again, and a thousand happy thoughts beside.  I heard the clock strike four, and soon after fell asleep, only to dream of three happy people—Lupin, dear Carrie, and myself.



CHAPTER XVIII



Trouble with a stylographic pen.  We go to a Volunteer Ball, where I am let in for an expensive supper.  Grossly insulted by a cabman.  An odd invitation to Southend.


April 8.—No events of any importance, except that Gowing strongly recommended a new patent stylographic pen, which cost me nine-and-sixpence, and which was simply nine-and-sixpence thrown in the mud.  It has caused me constant annoyance and irritability of temper.  The ink oozes out of the top, making a mess on my hands, and once at the office when I was knocking the palm of my hand on the desk to jerk the ink down, Mr. Perkupp, who had just entered, called out: “Stop that knocking!  I suppose that is you, Mr.