_ CHAPTER II
Halfpenny Hole lay in the bottom of a slope seven miles from Dilborough. Dilborough was almost the same distance from Halfpenny Hole. Jawbones was, I think we must say, an old-world house, and had the date 1623 carved over the doorway. Luke Sharper had carved it himself. A little further down the road there was--there's no other word for it--an old-world bridge with--I'm afraid we must have it once more--an old-world stream running underneath it. It gave one the impression that it had always been like that. Always the stream under the bridge. Never the bridge under the stream. But now that the Garden Settlement had come things might be very different. Houses were going up; Mr. Doom Dagshaw's Mammoth Circus was going up; even the rates were going up.
At the end of his honeymoon Luke Sharper went to see a man about a dog, and left his wife to prepare Jawbones for his accommodation. She was a good housekeeper, and Luke acknowledged it. Whenever he thought about her at all, he always added "but she
is a good housekeeper." He was desperately fair.
"This," said Mabel, opening a door, as Luke began his visit of inspection, "this is your den."
Luke's ears moved. He kissed her twice. "But, you know, I cannot bear it. There are some words which I am unable to endure, such as salt-cellar, tuberculosis, tennis-net and den."
"Very well," said Mabel, a little coldly, "we'll call it your cage. And just look. There is a pair of my father's old slippers that I have brought for you. Size thirteen. You've got none quite like that, have you?"
He put one arm round her waist.
"Where did you say the dustbin was?" he asked.
"But," she said amazed, "you don't mean to say----Surely you wear slippers?"
"I never was," he replied firmly. Nor did he.
"And now," said Mabel, "come into the kitchen and see the two maids that I have engaged. Two nice respectable sisters named Morse--Ellen Morse and----"
"There isn't an 'l' in Morse," he said gloomily.
"And Kate Morse," Mabel continued.
She opened the door into the spotless kitchen, and the two maids sprang instantly to attention. One of them was cleaning silver, the other was still lingering over tea. The first was very long, and the second very short.
Luke slapped his leg enthusiastically. "Oh, by Jove," he said, "this is ripping. Morse. Don't you see? Dot and Dash. Dot and Dash."
He howled with laughter. Dash dropped the tea-pot. Dot had hysterics.
"I think," said Mabel, without a smile, "we had better go into the garden."
Everything in the garden was lovely.
"Luke," said Mabel, "I did not quite like what you said in the kitchen just now. It was just a teeny-weeny----"
"Funny, wasn't it?" said Luke. "You must admit it was funny. Seemed to come to me all of a flash. I'll bet that nothing more amusing has been said in this house since the day it was built. Dot and Dash! Dot and Dash! Oh, help!"
He rolled about the path in uncontrollable laughter.
Mabel looked sadder and sadder. He said that made it all the funnier, and laughed more.
After dinner he wrote the joke out carefully. It seemed a pity that
Punch should not have it. Mabel yawned, and said she would go up to bed.
"Tired?" asked Luke.
"A little. There's something about you, Luke, that makes one feel tired. By the way, did you ever know Mr. Mark Sabre?"
"God forbid--I mean, no."
"Well, he called one of his maids High Jinks and the other Low, but it turned out later in the story that the one that was first Low became High, while High became Low. I thought I'd just mention it to you as a warning."
"Right-o. I'll be very careful. I may as well come up to bed myself. The editor of
Punch will be a happy man to-morrow morning."
At intervals that night Mabel was awakened by screams of laughter. Once she enquired what the cause was.
"Dot and Dash," he replied, chuckling. "Too good for words! Oh, can't you see it?"
"Good-night again," said Mabel.
On the following night, when he returned from business, Mabel met him in the hall.
"Darling," she said, "we've had trouble with the sink in the scullery."
"What did you do about it?"
"I sent for the plumber. He seemed such a nice, intelligent man."
"Have you kept him to dine with us?"
"No. Why on earth should I? He had a glass of beer in the kitchen."
"People dine with me sometimes," said Luke, "who are neither nice nor intelligent. Oh, can't you see, Mabel, that we are all equal in the sight of Heaven?"
"Yes," said Mabel, "but you're not in sight of Heaven--not by a long way. I don't suppose you ever will be. Besides, if he had stayed, the dinner could not have gone on."
Luke's ears twitched convulsively. "I can't see that," he said. "It is unthinkable. How can you say that?"
"Well," said Mabel, "one of the vegetables we are to eat to-night happens to be leeks. And, of course, he, being a plumber, would have stopped them."
Luke did not swear. He simply went up to his bedroom in silence. There he began ticking certain subjects off on his finger. Number One, Den. Number Two, Slippers. Number Three, Dot and Dash. Number Four, Plumber. She would never see. She would never understand. And he was married to it. He put up both hands and pushed his ears back into position.
(I had fully intended to divide this chapter into sections and to number them in plain figures. Careless of me. Thoughtless. Have a shot at it in the next chapter? I think so. Yes, almost ...) _