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.”
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’
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!”
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.
May 13.—A terrible misfortune has happened: Lupin is discharged
from Mr. Perkupp’s office; and I scarcely know how I am writing
my diary. I was away from office last Sat., the first time I have
been absent through illness for twenty years. I believe I was
poisoned by some lobster. Mr. Perkupp was also absent, as Fate
would have it; and our most valued customer, Mr. Crowbillon, went to
the office in a rage, and withdrew his custom. My boy Lupin not
only had the assurance to receive him, but recommended him the firm
of Gylterson, Sons and Co. Limited. In my own humble judgment,
and though I have to say it against my own son, this seems an act of
This morning I receive a letter from Perkupp, informing me that Lupin’s
services are no longer required, and an interview with me is desired
at eleven o’clock. I went down to the office with an aching
heart, dreading an interview with Mr. Perkupp, with whom I have never
had a word. I saw nothing of Lupin in the morning. He had
not got up when it was time for me to leave, and Carrie said I should
do no good by disturbing him. My mind wandered so at the office
that I could not do my work properly.
As I expected, I was sent for by Mr. Perkupp, and the following conversation
ensued as nearly as I can remember it.
Mr. Perkupp said: “Good-morning, Mr. Pooter! This is
a very serious business. I am not referring so much to the dismissal
of your son, for I knew we should have to part sooner or later.
I am the head of this old, influential, and much-respected firm;
and when I consider the time has come to revolutionise the business,
I will do it myself.”
I could see my good master was somewhat affected, and I said: “I
hope, sir, you do not imagine that I have in any way countenanced my
son’s unwarrantable interference?” Mr. Perkupp rose
from his seat and took my hand, and said: “Mr. Pooter, I would
as soon suspect myself as suspect you.” I was so agitated
that in the confusion, to show my gratitude I very nearly called him
a “grand old man.”
Fortunately I checked myself in time, and said he was a “grand
old master.” I was so unaccountable for my actions that
I sat down, leaving him standing. Of course, I at once rose, but
Mr. Perkupp bade me sit down, which I was very pleased to do.
Mr. Perkupp, resuming, said: “You will understand, Mr. Pooter,
that the high-standing nature of our firm will not admit of our bending
to anybody. If Mr. Crowbillon chooses to put his work into other
hands—I may add, less experienced hands—it is not for us
to bend and beg back his custom.” “You shall
not do it, sir,” I said with indignation. “Exactly,”
replied Mr. Perkupp; “I shall not do it. But I was
thinking this, Mr. Pooter. Mr. Crowbillon is our most valued client,
and I will even confess—for I know this will not go beyond ourselves—that
we cannot afford very well to lose him, especially in these times, which
are not of the brightest. Now, I fancy you can be of service.”
I replied: “Mr. Perkupp, I will work day and night to serve
Mr. Perkupp said: “I know you will. Now, what I should
like you to do is this. You yourself might write to Mr. Crowbillon—you
must not, of course, lead him to suppose I know anything about your
doing so—and explain to him that your son was only taken on as
a clerk—quite an inexperienced one in fact—out of the respect
the firm had for you, Mr. Pooter. This is, of course, a fact.
I don’t suggest that you should speak in too strong terms of your
own son’s conduct; but I may add, that had he been a son of mine,
I should have condemned his interference with no measured terms.
That I leave to you. I think the result will be that Mr. Crowbillon
will see the force of the foolish step he has taken, and our firm will
neither suffer in dignity nor in pocket.”
I could not help thinking what a noble gentleman Mr. Perkupp is.
His manners and his way of speaking seem to almost thrill one with respect.
I said: “Would you like to see the letter before I send it?”
Mr. Perkupp said: “Oh no! I had better not. I am
supposed to know nothing about it, and I have every confidence in you.
You must write the letter carefully. We are not very busy; you
had better take the morning to-morrow, or the whole day if you like.
I shall be here myself all day to-morrow, in fact all the week, in case
Mr. Crowbillon should call.”
I went home a little more cheerful, but I left word with Sarah that
I could not see either Gowing or Cummings, nor in fact anybody, if they
called in the evening. Lupin came into the parlour for a moment
with a new hat on, and asked my opinion of it. I said I was not
in the mood to judge of hats, and I did not think he was in a position
to buy a new one. Lupin replied carelessly: “I didn’t
buy it; it was a present.”
I have such terrible suspicions of Lupin now that I scarcely like
to ask him questions, as I dread the answers so. He, however,
saved me the trouble.
He said: “I met a friend, an old friend, that I did not quite
think a friend at the time; but it’s all right. As he wisely
said, ‘all is fair in love and war,’ and there was no reason
why we should not be friends still. He’s a jolly, good,
all-round sort of fellow, and a very different stamp from that inflated
fool of a Perkupp.”
I said: “Hush, Lupin! Do not pray add insult to injury.”
Lupin said: “What do you mean by injury? I repeat, I
have done no injury. Crowbillon is simply tired of a stagnant
stick-in-the-mud firm, and made the change on his own account.
I simply recommended the new firm as a matter of biz—good old
I said quietly: “I don’t understand your slang, and at
my time of life have no desire to learn it; so, Lupin, my boy, let us
change the subject. I will, if it please you, try and be
interested in your new hat adventure.”
Lupin said: “Oh! there’s nothing much about it, except
I have not once seen him since his marriage, and he said he was very
pleased to see me, and hoped we should be friends. I stood a drink
to cement the friendship, and he stood me a new hat—one of his
I said rather wearily: “But you have not told me your old friend’s
Lupin said, with affected carelessness: “Oh didn’t I?
Well, I will. It was Murray Posh.”
May 14.—Lupin came down late, and seeing me at home all the
morning, asked the reason of it. Carrie and I both agreed it was
better to say nothing to him about the letter I was writing, so I evaded
Lupin went out, saying he was going to lunch with Murray Posh in
the City. I said I hoped Mr. Posh would provide him with a berth.
Lupin went out laughing, saying: “I don’t mind wearing
Posh’s one-priced hats, but I am not going to sell them.”
Poor boy, I fear he is perfectly hopeless.
It took me nearly the whole day to write to Mr. Crowbillon.
Once or twice I asked Carrie for suggestions; and although it seems
ungrateful, her suggestions were none of them to the point, while one
or two were absolutely idiotic. Of course I did not tell her so.
I got the letter off, and took it down to the office for Mr. Perkupp
to see, but he again repeated that he could trust me.
Gowing called in the evening, and I was obliged to tell him about
Lupin and Mr. Perkupp; and, to my surprise, he was quite inclined to
side with Lupin. Carrie joined in, and said she thought I was
taking much too melancholy a view of it. Gowing produced a pint
sample-bottle of Madeira, which had been given him, which he said would
get rid of the blues. I dare say it would have done so if there
had been more of it; but as Gowing helped himself to three glasses,
it did not leave much for Carrie and me to get rid of the blues with.
May 16.—I told Mr. Perkupp the contents of the letter in a
modified form, but Mr. Perkupp said: “Pray don’t discuss
the matter; it is at an end. Your son will bring his punishment
upon himself.” I went home in the evening, thinking of the
hopeless future of Lupin. I found him in most extravagant spirits
and in evening dress. He threw a letter on the table for me to
To my amazement, I read that Gylterson and Sons had absolutely engaged
Lupin at a salary of £200 a year, with other advantages.
I read the letter through three times and thought it must have been
for me. But there it was—Lupin Pooter—plain enough.
I was silent. Lupin said: “What price Perkupp now?
You take my tip, Guv.—‘off’ with Perkupp and freeze
on to Gylterson, the firm of the future! Perkupp’s firm?
The stagnant dummies have been standing still for years, and now are
moving back. I want to go on. In fact I must go off,
as I am dining with the Murray Poshs to-night.”
In the exuberance of his spirits he hit his hat with his stick, gave
a loud war “Whoo-oop,” jumped over a chair, and took the
liberty of rumpling my hair all over my forehead, and bounced out of
the room, giving me no chance of reminding him of his age and the respect
which was due to his parent. Gowing and Cummings came in the evening,
and positively cheered me up with congratulations respecting Lupin.
Gowing said: “I always said he would get on, and, take my word,
he has more in his head than we three put together.”
Carrie said: “He is a second Hardfur Huttle.”
May 30.—I don’t know why it is, but I never anticipate
with any pleasure the visits to our house of Mrs. James, of Sutton.
She is coming again to stay for a few days. I said to Carrie this
morning, as I was leaving: “I wish, dear Carrie, I could like
Mrs. James better than I do.”
Carrie said: “So do I, dear; but as for years I have had to
put up with Mr. Gowing, who is vulgar, and Mr. Cummings, who is kind
but most uninteresting, I am sure, dear, you won’t mind the occasional
visits of Mrs. James, who has more intellect in her little finger than
both your friends have in their entire bodies.”
I was so entirely taken back by this onslaught on my two dear old
friends, I could say nothing, and as I heard the ’bus coming,
I left with a hurried kiss—a little too hurried, perhaps, for
my upper lip came in contact with Carrie’s teeth and slightly
cut it. It was quite painful for an hour afterwards. When
I came home in the evening I found Carrie buried in a book on Spiritualism,
called There is no Birth, by Florence Singleyet. I need
scarcely say the book was sent her to read by Mrs. James, of Sutton.
As she had not a word to say outside her book, I spent the rest of the
evening altering the stair-carpets, which are beginning to show signs
of wear at the edges.
Mrs. James arrived and, as usual, in the evening took the entire
management of everything. Finding that she and Carrie were making
some preparations for table-turning, I thought it time really to put
my foot down. I have always had the greatest contempt for such
nonsense, and put an end to it years ago when Carrie, at our old house,
used to have séances every night with poor Mrs. Fussters (who
is now dead). If I could see any use in it, I would not care.
As I stopped it in the days gone by, I determined to do so now.
I said: “I am very sorry Mrs. James, but I totally disapprove
of it, apart from the fact that I receive my old friends on this evening.”
Mrs. James said: “Do you mean to say you haven’t read
There is no Birth?” I said: “No, and I have
no intention of doing so.” Mrs. James seemed surprised and
said: “All the world is going mad over the book.”
I responded rather cleverly: “Let it. There will be one
sane man in it, at all events.”
Mrs. James said she thought it was very unkind, and if people were
all as prejudiced as I was, there would never have been the electric
telegraph or the telephone.
I said that was quite a different thing.
Mrs. James said sharply: “In what way, pray—in what way?”
I said: “In many ways.”
Mrs. James said: “Well, mention one way.”
I replied quietly: “Pardon me, Mrs. James; I decline to discuss
the matter. I am not interested in it.”
Sarah at this moment opened the door and showed in Cummings, for
which I was thankful, for I felt it would put a stop to this foolish
table-turning. But I was entirely mistaken; for, on the subject
being opened again, Cummings said he was most interested in Spiritualism,
although he was bound to confess he did not believe much in it; still,
he was willing to be convinced.
I firmly declined to take any part in it, with the result that my
presence was ignored. I left the three sitting in the parlour
at a small round table which they had taken out of the drawing-room.
I walked into the hall with the ultimate intention of taking a little
stroll. As I opened the door, who should come in but Gowing!
On hearing what was going on, he proposed that we should join the
circle and he would go into a trance. He added that he knew
a few things about old Cummings, and would invent a few about
Mrs. James. Knowing how dangerous Gowing is, I declined to let
him take part in any such foolish performance. Sarah asked me
if she could go out for half an hour, and I gave her permission, thinking
it would be more comfortable to sit with Gowing in the kitchen than
in the cold drawing-room. We talked a good deal about Lupin and
Mr. and Mrs. Murray Posh, with whom he is as usual spending the evening.
Gowing said: “I say, it wouldn’t be a bad thing for Lupin
if old Posh kicked the bucket.”
My heart gave a leap of horror, and I rebuked Gowing very sternly
for joking on such a subject. I lay awake half the night thinking
of it—the other hall was spent in nightmares on the same subject.
June 3.—The laundress called, and said she was very sorry about
the handkerchiefs, and returned ninepence. I said, as the colour
was completely washed out and the handkerchiefs quite spoiled, ninepence
was not enough. Carrie replied that the two handkerchiefs originally
only cost sixpence, for she remembered bring them at a sale at the Holloway
Bon Marché. In that case, I insisted that threepence
buying should be returned to the laundress. Lupin has gone to
stay with the Poshs for a few days. I must say I feel very uncomfortable
about it. Carrie said I was ridiculous to worry about it.
Mr. Posh was very fond of Lupin, who, after all, was only a mere boy.
In the evening we had another séance, which, in some respects,
was very remarkable, although the first part of it was a little doubtful.
Gowing called, as well as Cummings, and begged to be allowed to join
the circle. I wanted to object, but Mrs. James, who appears a
good Medium (that is, if there is anything in it at all), thought there
might be a little more spirit power if Gowing joined; so the five of
us sat down.
The moment I turned out the gas, and almost before I could get my
hands on the table, it rocked violently and tilted, and began moving
quickly across the room. Gowing shouted out: “Way oh! steady,
lad, steady!” I told Gowing if he could not behave himself
I should light the gas, and put an end to the séance.
To tell the truth, I thought Gowing was playing tricks, and I hinted
as much; but Mrs. James said she had often seen the table go right off
the ground. The spirit Lina came again, and said, “WARN”
three or four times, and declined to explain. Mrs. James said
“Lina” was stubborn sometimes. She often behaved like
that, and the best thing to do was to send her away.
She then hit the table sharply, and said: “Go away, Lina; you
are disagreeable. Go away!” I should think we sat
nearly three-quarters of an hour with nothing happening. My hands
felt quite cold, and I suggested we should stop the séance.
Carrie and Mrs. James, as well as Cummings, would not agree to it.
In about ten minutes’ time there was some tilting towards me.
I gave the alphabet, and it spelled out S P O O F. As I have heard
both Gowing and Lupin use the word, and as I could hear Gowing silently
laughing, I directly accused him of pushing the table. He denied
it; but, I regret to say, I did not believe him.
Gowing said: “Perhaps it means ‘Spook,’ a ghost.”
I said: “You know it doesn’t mean anything of
Gowing said: “Oh! very well—I’m sorry I ‘spook,’”
and he rose from the table.
No one took any notice of the stupid joke, and Mrs. James suggested
he should sit out for a while. Gowing consented and sat in the
The table began to move again, and we might have had a wonderful
séance but for Gowing’s stupid interruptions. In
answer to the alphabet from Carrie the table spelt “NIPUL,”
then the “WARN” three times. We could not think what
it meant till Cummings pointed out that “NIPUL” was Lupin
spelled backwards. This was quite exciting. Carrie was particularly
excited, and said she hoped nothing horrible was going to happen.
Mrs. James asked if “Lina” was the spirit. The
table replied firmly, “No,” and the spirit would not give
his or her name. We then had the message, “NIPUL will be
Carrie said she felt quite relieved, but the word “WARN”
was again spelt out. The table then began to oscillate violently,
and in reply to Mrs. James, who spoke very softly to the table, the
spirit began to spell its name. It first spelled “DRINK.”
Gowing here said: “Ah! that’s more in my line.”
I asked him to be quiet as the name might not be completed.
The table then spelt “WATER.”
Gowing here interrupted again, and said: “Ah! that’s
not in my line. Outside if you like, but not inside.”
Carrie appealed to him to be quiet.
The table then spelt “CAPTAIN,” and Mrs. James startled
us by crying out, “Captain Drinkwater, a very old friend of my
father’s, who has been dead some years.”
This was more interesting, and I could not help thinking that after
all there must be something in Spiritualism.
Mrs. James asked the spirit to interpret the meaning of the word
“Warn” as applied to “NIPUL.” The alphabet
was given again, and we got the word “BOSH.”
Gowing here muttered: “So it is.”
Mrs. James said she did not think the spirit meant that, as Captain
Drinkwater was a perfect gentleman, and would never have used the word
in answer to a lady’s question. Accordingly the alphabet
was given again.
This time the table spelled distinctly “POSH.”
We all thought of Mrs. Murray Posh and Lupin. Carrie was getting
a little distressed, and as it was getting late we broke up the circle.
We arranged to have one more to-morrow, as it will be Mrs. James’
last night in town. We also determined not to have Gowing
Cummings, before leaving, said it was certainly interesting, but
he wished the spirits would say something about him.
July 1.—I find, on looking over my diary, nothing of any consequence
has taken place during the last month. To-day we lose Lupin, who
has taken furnished apartments at Bayswater, near his friends, Mr. and
Mrs. Murray Posh, at two guineas a week. I think this is most
extravagant of him, as it is half his salary. Lupin says one never
loses by a good address, and, to use his own expression, Brickfield
Terrace is a bit “off.” Whether he means it is “far
off” I do not know. I have long since given up trying to
understand his curious expressions. I said the neighbourhood had
always been good enough for his parents. His reply was: “It
is no question of being good or bad. There is no money in it,
and I am not going to rot away my life in the suburbs.”
We are sorry to lose him, but perhaps he will get on better by himself,
and there may be some truth in his remark that an old and a young horse
can’t pull together in the same cart.
Gowing called, and said that the house seemed quite peaceful, and
like old times. He liked Master Lupin very well, but he occasionally
suffered from what he could not help—youth.
July 3, Sunday.—In the afternoon, as I was looking out of the
parlour window, which was open, a grand trap, driven by a lady, with
a gentleman seated by the side of her, stopped at our door. Not
wishing to be seen, I withdrew my head very quickly, knocking the back
of it violently against the sharp edge of the window-sash. I was
nearly stunned. There was a loud double-knock at the front door;
Carrie rushed out of the parlour, upstairs to her room, and I followed,
as Carrie thought it was Mr. Perkupp. I thought it was Mr. Franching.—I
whispered to Sarah over the banisters: “Show them into the drawing-room.”
Sarah said, as the shutters were not opened, the room would smell musty.
There was another loud rat-tat. I whispered: “Then show
them into the parlour, and say Mr. Pooter will be down directly.”
I changed my coat, but could not see to do my hair, as Carrie was occupying
Sarah came up, and said it was Mrs. Murray Posh and Mr. Lupin.
This was quite a relief. I went down with Carrie, and Lupin
met me with the remark: “I say, what did you run away from the
window for? Did we frighten you?”
I foolishly said: “What window?”
Lupin said: “Oh, you know. Shut it. You looked
as if you were playing at Punch and Judy.”
On Carrie asking if she could offer them anything, Lupin said: “Oh,
I think Daisy will take on a cup of tea. I can do with a B. and
I said: “I am afraid we have no soda.”
Lupin said: “Don’t bother about that. You just
trip out and hold the horse; I don’t think Sarah understands it.”
They stayed a very short time, and as they were leaving, Lupin said:
“I want you both to come and dine with me next Wednesday, and
see my new place. Mr. and Mrs. Murray Posh, Miss Posh (Murray’s
sister) are coming. Eight o’clock sharp. No one else.”
I said we did not pretend to be fashionable people, and would like
the dinner earlier, as it made it so late before we got home.
Lupin said: “Rats! You must get used to it. If
it comes to that, Daisy and I can drive you home.”
We promised to go; but I must say in my simple mind the familiar
way in which Mrs. Posh and Lupin addressed each other is reprehensible.
Anybody would think they had been children together. I certainly
should object to a six months’ acquaintance calling my
wife “Carrie,” and driving out with her.
July 4.—Lupin’s rooms looked very nice; but the dinner
was, I thought, a little too grand, especially as he commenced with
champagne straight off. I also think Lupin might have told us
that he and Mr. and Mrs. Murray Posh and Miss Posh were going to put
on full evening dress. Knowing that the dinner was only for us
six, we never dreamed it would be a full dress affair. I had no
appetite. It was quite twenty minutes past eight before we sat
down to dinner. At six I could have eaten a hearty meal.
I had a bit of bread-and-butter at that hour, feeling famished, and
I expect that partly spoiled my appetite.
We were introduced to Miss Posh, whom Lupin called “Little
Girl,” as if he had known her all his life. She was very
tall, rather plain, and I thought she was a little painted round the
eyes. I hope I am wrong; but she had such fair hair, and yet her
eyebrows were black. She looked about thirty. I did not
like the way she kept giggling and giving Lupin smacks and pinching
him. Then her laugh was a sort of a scream that went right through
my ears, all the more irritating because there was nothing to laugh
at. In fact, Carrie and I were not at all prepossessed with her.
They all smoked cigarettes after dinner, including Miss Posh, who startled
Carrie by saying: “Don’t you smoke, dear?” I
answered for Carrie, and said: “Mrs. Charles Pooter has not arrived
at it yet,” whereupon Miss Posh gave one of her piercing laughs
Mrs. Posh sang a dozen songs at least, and I can only repeat what
I have said before—she does not sing in tune; but Lupin
sat by the side of the piano, gazing into her eyes the whole time.
If I had been Mr. Posh, I think I should have had something to say about
it. Mr. Posh made himself very agreeable to us, and eventually
sent us home in his carriage, which I thought most kind. He is
evidently very rich, for Mrs. Posh had on some beautiful jewellery.
She told Carrie her necklace, which her husband gave her as a birthday
present, alone cost £300.
Mr. Posh said he had a great belief in Lupin, and thought he would
make rapid way in the world.
I could not help thinking of the £600 Mr. Posh lost over the
Parachikka Chlorates through Lupin’s advice.
During the evening I had an opportunity to speak to Lupin, and expressed
a hope that Mr. Posh was not living beyond his means.
Lupin sneered, and said Mr. Posh was worth thousands. “Posh’s
one-price hat” was a household word in Birmingham, Manchester,
Liverpool, and all the big towns throughout England. Lupin further
informed me that Mr. Posh was opening branch establishments at New York,
Sydney, and Melbourne, and was negotiating for Kimberley and Johannesburg.
I said I was pleased to hear it.
Lupin said: “Why, he has settled over £10,000 on Daisy,
and the same amount on ‘Lillie Girl.’ If at any time
I wanted a little capital, he would put up a couple of ‘thou’
at a day’s notice, and could buy up Perkupp’s firm over
his head at any moment with ready cash.”
On the way home in the carriage, for the first time in my life, I
was inclined to indulge in the radical thought that money was not
On arriving home at a quarter-past eleven, we found a hansom cab,
which had been waiting for me for two hours with a letter. Sarah
said she did not know what to do, as we had not left the address where
we had gone. I trembled as I opened the letter, fearing it was
some bad news about Mr. Perkupp. The note was: “Dear Mr.
Pooter,—Come down to the Victoria Hotel without delay. Important.
Yours truly, Hardfur Huttle.”
I asked the cabman if it was too late. The cabman replied that
it was not; for his instructions were, if I happened to be out,
he was to wait till I came home. I felt very tired, and really
wanted to go to bed. I reached the hotel at a quarter before midnight.
I apologised for being so late, but Mr. Huttle said: “Not at all;
come and have a few oysters.” I feel my heart beating as
I write these words. To be brief, Mr. Huttle said he had a rich
American friend who wanted to do something large in our line of business,
and that Mr. Franching had mentioned my name to him. We talked
over the matter. If, by any happy chance, the result be successful,
I can more than compensate my dear master for the loss of Mr. Crowbillon’s
custom. Mr. Huttle had previously said: “The glorious ‘Fourth’
is a lucky day for America, and, as it has not yet struck twelve, we
will celebrate it with a glass of the best wine to be had in the place,
and drink good luck to our bit of business.”
I fervently hope it will bring good luck to us all.
It was two o’clock when I got home. Although I was so
tired, I could not sleep except for short intervals—then only
I kept dreaming of Mr. Perkupp and Mr. Huttle. The latter was
in a lovely palace with a crown on. Mr. Perkupp was waiting in
the room. Mr. Huttle kept taking off this crown and handing it
to me, and calling me “President.”
He appeared to take no notice of Mr. Perkupp, and I kept asking Mr.
Huttle to give the crown to my worthy master. Mr. Huttle kept
saying: “No, this is the White House of Washington, and you must
keep your crown, Mr. President.”
We all laughed long and very loudly, till I got parched, and then
I woke up. I fell asleep, only to dream the same thing over and
July 10.—The excitement and anxiety through which I have gone
the last few days have been almost enough to turn my hair grey.
It is all but settled. To-morrow the die will be cast. I
have written a long letter to Lupin—feeling it my duty to do so,—regarding
his attention to Mrs. Posh, for they drove up to our house again last