July 31.—Carrie was very pleased with the bangle, which I left
with an affectionate note on her dressing-table last night before going
to bed. I told Carrie we should have to start for our holiday
next Saturday. She replied quite happily that she did not mind,
except that the weather was so bad, and she feared that Miss Jibbons
would not be able to get her a seaside dress in time. I told Carrie
that I thought the drab one with pink bows looked quite good enough;
and Carrie said she should not think of wearing it. I was about
to discuss the matter, when, remembering the argument yesterday, resolved
to hold my tongue.
I said to Carrie: “I don’t think we can do better than
‘Good old Broadstairs.’” Carrie not only, to
my astonishment, raised an objection to Broadstairs, for the first time;
but begged me not to use the expression, “Good old,” but
to leave it to Mr. Stillbrook and other gentlemen of his type.
Hearing my ’bus pass the window, I was obliged to rush out of
the house without kissing Carrie as usual; and I shouted to her: “I
leave it to you to decide.” On returning in the evening,
Carrie said she thought as the time was so short she had decided on
Broadstairs, and had written to Mrs. Beck, Harbour View Terrace, for
August 2.—Mrs. Beck wrote to say we could have our usual rooms
at Broadstairs. That’s off our mind. Bought a coloured
shirt and a pair of tan-coloured boots, which I see many of the swell
clerks wearing in the City, and hear are all the “go.”
August 11.—Although it is a serious matter having our boy Lupin
on our hands, still it is satisfactory to know he was asked to resign
from the Bank simply because “he took no interest in his work,
and always arrived an hour (sometimes two hours) late.”
We can all start off on Monday to Broadstairs with a light heart.
This will take my mind off the worry of the last few days, which have
been wasted over a useless correspondence with the manager of the Bank
August 13.—Hurrah! at Broadstairs. Very nice apartments
near the station. On the cliffs they would have been double the
price. The landlady had a nice five o’clock dinner and tea
ready, which we all enjoyed, though Lupin seemed fastidious because
there happened to be a fly in the butter. It was very wet in the
evening, for which I was thankful, as it was a good excuse for going
to bed early. Lupin said he would sit up and read a bit.
August 20.—I am glad our last day at the seaside was fine,
though clouded overhead. We went over to Cummings’ (at Margate)
in the evening, and as it was cold, we stayed in and played games; Gowing,
as usual, overstepping the mark. He suggested we should play “Cutlets,”
a game we never heard of. He sat on a chair, and asked Carrie
to sit on his lap, an invitation which dear Carrie rightly declined.
After some species of wrangling, I sat on Gowing’s knees and
Carrie sat on the edge of mine. Lupin sat on the edge of Carrie’s
lap, then Cummings on Lupin’s, and Mrs. Cummings on her husband’s.
We looked very ridiculous, and laughed a good deal.
Gowing then said: “Are you a believer in the Great Mogul?”
We had to answer all together: “Yes—oh, yes!” (three
times). Gowing said: “So am I,” and suddenly got up.
The result of this stupid joke was that we all fell on the ground, and
poor Carrie banged her head against the corner of the fender.
Mrs. Cummings put some vinegar on; but through this we missed the last
train, and had to drive back to Broadstairs, which cost me seven-and-sixpence.