IV
"I never in all my life," said Sissie, "saw you eat so much, dad. And Ithink it's a great compliment to my cooking. In fact I'm bursting withmodest pride."
"Well," replied Mr. Prohack, who had undoubtedly eaten rather too much,"take it how you like. I do believe I could do with a bit more of thisstuff that imitates an omelette but obviously isn't one."
"Oh! But there isn't any more!" said Sissie, somewhat dashed.
"No more! Good heavens! Then have you got some cheese, or anything ofthat sort?"
"No. I don't keep cheese in the place. You see, the smell of it in theselittle flats--"
"Any bread? Anything at all?"
"I'm afraid we've finished up pretty nearly all there was, exceptOzzie's egg for breakfast to-morrow morning."
"This is serious," observed Mr. Prohack, tapping enquiringly thesuperficies of his digestive apparatus.
"Arthur!" cried Eve. "Why are you such a tease to-night? You're onlytrying to make the child feel awkward. You know you've had quite enough.And I'm sure it was all very cleverly cooked--considering. You'll be illin the middle of the night if you keep on, and then I shall have to getup and look after you, as usual." Eve had the air of defending herdaughter, but something, some reserve in her voice, showed that she wasdefending, not her daughter, but merely and generally the whole race ofhouse-wives against the whole race of consuming and hypercritical males;she was even defending the Eve who had provided much-criticised meals inthe distant past. Such was her skill that she could do this whileimplying, so subtly yet so effectively, that Sissie, the wicked,shameless, mamma-scorning bride, was by no means forgiven in the secretheart of the mother.
"You are doubtless right, lady," Mr. Prohack agreed. "You always couldjudge better than I could myself when I had had enough, and what wouldbe the ultimate consequences of my eating. And as for your lessons inmanners, what an ill-bred lout I was before I met you, and what animpossible person I should have been had you not taken me in hand nightand day for all these years! It isn't that I'm worse than the averagehusband; it is merely that wives are the sole repositories of thecivilising influence. Were it not for them we should still be tearingsteaks to pieces with our fingers. I daresay I have eaten enough--anyhowI've had far more than anybody else--and even if I hadn't, it would notbe at all nice of me not to pretend that I hadn't. And after all, if theworst comes to the worst, I can always have a slice of cold beef and aglass of beer when I get home, can't I?"
Sissie, though blushing ever so little, maintained an excellent front.She certainly looked dainty and charming,--more specifically so than shehad ever looked; indeed, utterly the young bride. She was in morningdress, to comply with her own edict against formality, and also to markher new, enthusiastic disapproval of the modern craze for luxuriousdisplay; but it was a delightful, if inexpensive, dress. She had takenconsiderable trouble over the family dinner, devising, concocting,cooking, and presiding over it from beginning to end, and beingconsistently bright, wise, able, and resourceful throughout--an apostleof chafing-dish cookery determined to prove that chafing-dish cookerycombined efficiency, toothsomeness and economy to a degree never beforeknown. And she had neatly pointed out more than once that waste wasimpossible under her system and that, servants being dispensed with, thegreat originating cause of waste had indeed been radically removed. Shehad not informed her guests of the precise cost in money of theunprecedentedly cheap and nourishing meal, but she had come near todoing so; and she would surely have indicated that there had beenneither too much nor too little, but just amply sufficient, had not herabsurd and contrarious father displayed a not uncharacteristic lack oftact at the closing stage of the ingenious collation.
Moreover, she seemed, despite her generous build, to have somehow fittedherself to the small size of the flat. She did not dwarf it, as clumsierwomen are apt to dwarf their tiny homes in the centre of London. On thecontrary she gave to it the illusion of spaciousness; and beyondquestion she had in a surprisingly short time transformed it from abachelor's flat into a conjugal nest, cushiony, flowery, knicknacky, andperilously seductive to the eye without being too reassuring to thelimbs.
Mr. Prohack was accepting a cigarette, having been told that Ozzie neversmoked cigars, when there was a great ring which filled the entire flatas the last trump may be expected to fill the entire earth, and Mr.Prohack dropped the cigarette, muttering:
"I think I'll smoke that afterwards."
"Good gracious!" the flat mistress exclaimed. "I wonder who that can be.Just go and see, Ozzie, darling." And she looked at Ozzie as if to say:"I hope it isn't one of your indiscreet bachelor friends."
Ozzie hastened obediently out.
"It may be Charlie," ventured Eve. "Wouldn't it be nice if he called?"
"Yes, wouldn't it?" Sissie agreed. "I did 'phone him up to try to gethim to dinner, but naturally he was away for the day. He's always asinvisible as a millionaire nowadays. Besides I feel somehow this placewould be too much, too humble, for the mighty Charles. Buckingham Palacewould be more in his line. But we can't all be speculators andprofiteers."
"Sissie!" protested their mother mildly.
After mysterious and intriguing noises at the front-door had finished,and the front-door had made the whole flat vibrate to its bang, Ozziepuffed into the room with three packages, the two smaller being piledupon the third.
"They're addressed to you," said Ozzie to his father-in-law.
"Did you give the man anything?" Sissie asked quickly.
"No, it was Carthew and the parlourmaid--Machin, is her name?"
"Oh!" said Sissie, apparently relieved.
"Now let us see," said Mr. Prohack, starting at once upon the packages.
"Don't waste that string, dad," Sissie enjoined him anxiously.
"Eh? What do you say?" murmured Mr. Prohack, carefully cutting string onall sides of all packages, and tearing first-rate brown paper intouseless strips. He produced from the packages four bottles of champagneof four different brands, a quantity of pate de foie gras, a jar ofcaviare, and several bunches of grapes that must have been grown underthe most unnatural and costly conditions.
"What ever's this?" Sissie demanded, uneasily.
"Arthur!" said Eve. "Whatever's the meaning of this?"
"It has a deep significance," replied Mr. Prohack. "The only fault Ihave to find with it is that it has arrived rather late--and yetperhaps, like Bluecher, not too late. You can call it a wedding presentif you choose, daughter. Or if you choose you can call it simplycaviare, pate de foie gras, grapes and champagne. I really have not hadthe courage to give you a wedding present," he continued, "knowing howparticular you are about ostentation. But I thought if I sent somethingalong that we could all join in consuming instantly, I couldn't possiblydo any harm."
"We haven't any champagne glasses," said Sissie coldly.
"Champagne glasses, child! You ought never to drink champagne out ofchampagne glasses. Tumblers are the only thing for champagne. Sometumblers, Ozzie. And a tin-opener. You must have a tin-opener. I feelconvinced you have a tin-opener. Upon my soul, Eve, I was right afterall. I _am_ hungry, but my hunger is nothing to my thirst. I'm beginningto suspect that I must be the average sensual man."
"Arthur!" Eve warned him. "If you eat any of that caviare you're boundto be ill."
"Not if I mix it with pate de foi gras, my pet. It is notorious thatthey are mutual antidotes, especially when followed by the grape cure.Now, ladies and Ozzie, don't exasperate me by being coy. Fall to!Ingurgitate. Ozzie, be a man for a change." Mr. Prohack seemed tointimidate everybody to such an extent that Sissie herself went off tosecure tumblers.
"But why are you opening another bottle, father?" she asked in alarm onher return. "This one isn't half empty."
"We shall try all four brands," said Mr. Prohack.
"But what a waste!"
"Know, my child," said Mr. Prohack, with marked and solemnsententiousness. "Know that in an elaborately organised society, wastehas its moral uses. Kno
w further that nothing is more contrary to thetruth than the proverb that enough is as good as a feast. Know stillfurther that though the habit of wastefulness may have its dangers, itis not nearly so dangerous as the habit of self-righteousness, or as thehabit of nearness, both of which contract the soul until it's more likea prune than a plum. Be a plum, my child, and let who will be a prune."
It was at this moment that Eve showed her true greatness.
"Come along, Sissie," said she, after an assaying glance at her husbandand another at her daughter. "Let's humour him. It isn't often he's insuch good spirits, is it?"
Sissie's face cleared, and with a wisdom really beyond her years sheaccepted the situation, the insult, the reproof, the lesson. As for Mr.Prohack, he felt happier, more gay, than he had felt all day,--not asthe effect of champagne and caviare, but as the effect of therealisation of his prodigious sagacity in having foreseen that Sissie'shospitality would be what it had been. He was glad also that hisdaughter had displayed commonsense, and he began to admire her again,and in proportion as she perceived that he was admiring her, so sheconsciously increased her charm; for the fact was, she was very young,very impressionable, very anxious to do the right thing.
"Have another glass, Ozzie," urged Mr. Prohack.
Ozzie looked at his powerful bride for guidance.
"Do have another glass, you darling old silly," said the bride.
"There will be no need to open the other two bottles," said Mr. Prohack."Indeed, I need only have opened one.... I shall probably call hereagain soon."
At this point there was another ring at the front-door.
"So you've condescended!" Sissie greeted Charles when Ozzie brought himinto the room, and then, catching her father's eye and being anxious torest secure in the paternal admiration, she added: "Anyway it was verydecent of you to come. I know how busy you are."
Charles raised his eyebrows at this astonishing piece of sisterliness.His mother kissed him fondly, having received from Mr. Prohack duringthe day the delicatest, filmiest hint that perhaps Charlie was not atthe moment fabulously prospering.
"Your father is very gay to-night," said she, gazing at Charlie asthough she read into the recesses of his soul and could see a martyrdomthere, though in fact she could not penetrate any further than the boy'seyeballs.
"I beg you to note," Mr. Prohack remarked. "That as the glasses haveonly been filled once, and three of them are at least a quarter full,only the equivalent of two and a half champagne glasses has actuallybeen drunk by four people, which will not explain much gaiety. If theold gentleman is gay, and he does not assert that he is not, the truereason lies in either the caviare or the pate de foie gras, or in hiscrystal conscience. Have a drink, Charles?"
"Finish mine, my pet," said Eve, holding forth her tumbler, and Charlieobeyed.
"A touching sight," observed Mr. Prohack. "Now as Charlie has managed tospare us a few minutes out of his thrilling existence, I want to have afew words with him in private about an affair of state. There's nothingthat you oughtn't to hear," he addressed the company, "but a great dealthat you probably wouldn't understand--and the last thing we desire isto humiliate you. That's so, isn't it, Carlos?"
"It is," Charles quickly agreed, without a sign of self-consciousness.
"Now then, hostess, can you lend us another room,--boudoir,morning-room, smoking-room, card-room, even ball-room; anything will dofor us. Possibly Ozzie's study...."
"Father! Father!" Sissie warned him against an excess of facetiousness."You can either go into our bedroom or you can sit on the stairs, andtalk."
As father and son disappeared together into the bedroom, whichconstituted a full half of the entire flat, Mr. Prohack noticed on hiswife's features an expression of anxiety tempered by an assuredconfidence in his own wisdom and force. He knew indeed that he had madequite a favourable sensation by his handling of Sissie's tendency to ahard austerity.
Nevertheless, when Charles shut the door of the chamber and they wereenclosed together, Mr. Prohack could feel his mighty heart beating in amanner worthy of a schoolgirl entering an examination room. The chamberhad apparently been taken bodily out of a doll's house and furnishedwith furniture manufactured for pigmies. It was very full, presentingthe aspect of a room in a warehouse. Everything in it was 'bijou,' inthe trade sense, and everything harmonised in a charming Japanese mannerwith everything else, except an extra truckle-bed, showing crude ironfeet under a blazing counterpane borrowed from a Russian ballet, whichsecond bed had evidently just been added for the purposes of conjugalexistence. The dressing-table alone was unmistakably symptomatic of awoman. Some of Ozzie's wondrous trousers hung from stretchers behind thedoor, and the inference was that these had been displaced from thewardrobe in favour of Sissie's frocks. It was all highly curious andsomewhat pathetic; and Mr. Prohack, contemplating, became anew aphilosopher as he realised that the tiny apartment was the trueexpression of his daughter's individuality and volition. She had imposedthis crowded inconvenience upon her willing spouse,--and there was thegrandiose Charles, for whom the best was never good enough, sitting downnonchalantly on the truckle-bed; and it appeared to Mr. Prohack only afew weeks ago that the two children had been playing side by side in thesame nursery and giving never a sign that their desires and destinieswould be so curious. Mr. Prohack felt absurdly helpless. True, he wasthe father, but he knew that he had nothing whatever to do, beyondtrifling gifts of money and innumerable fairly witty sermons--dividedabout equally between the pair, with the evolution of those mysteriousand fundamentally uncontrollable beings, his son and his daughter. Theenigma of life pressed disturbingly upon him, as he took the other bed,facing Charles, and he wondered whether Sissie in her feminine passionfor self-sacrifice insisted on sleeping in the truckle-contraptionherself, or whether she permitted Ozzie to be uncomfortable.
V
"I just came along," Charlie opened simply, "because Lady M. was sopositive that I ought to see you--she said that you very much wanted meto come. It isn't as if I wanted to bother you, or you could do anygood."
He spoke in an extremely low tone, almost in a whisper, and Mr. Prohackcomprehended that the youth was trying to achieve privacy in a domicilewhere all conversation and movements were necessarily more or lesspublic to the whole flat. Charles's restraint, however, showed little orno depression, disappointment, or disgust, and no despair.
"But what's it all about? If I'm not being too curious," Mr. Prohackenquired cautiously.
"It's all about my being up the spout, dad. I've had a flutter, and ithasn't come off, and that's all there is to it. I needn't trouble youwith the details. But you may believe me when I tell you that I shallbob up again. What's happened to me might have happened to anybody, andhas happened to a pretty fair number of City swells."
"You mean bankruptcy?"
"Well, yes, bankruptcy's the word. I'd much better go right through withit. The chit thinks so, and I agree."
"The chit?"
"Mimi."
"Oh! So you call her that, do you?"
"No, I never call her that. But that's how I think of her. I call herMiss Winstock. I'm glad you let me have her. She's been very useful, andshe's going to stick by me--not that there's any blooming sentimentalnonsense about her! Oh, no! By the way, I know the mater and Sis thinkshe's a bit harum-scarum, and you do, too. Nevertheless she was just asstrong as Lady M. that I should stroll up and confess myself. She saidit was _due_ to you. Lady M. didn't put it quite like that."
The truckle-bed creaked as Charlie shifted uneasily. They caught a faintmurmur of talk from the other room, and Sissie's laugh.
"Lady Massulam happened to tell me once that you'd been sellingsomething before you knew how much it would cost you to buy it. Ofcourse I don't pretend to understand finance myself--I'm only a civilservant on the shelf--but to my limited intelligence such a process ofputting the cart before the horse seemed likely to lead to trouble,"said Mr. Prohack, as it were ruminating.
"Oh! She told you that, did s
he?" Charlie smiled. "Well, the good ladywas talking through her hat. _That_ affair's all right. At least itwould be if I could carry it through, but of course I can't now. It'llgo into the general mess. If I was free, I wouldn't sell it at all; I'dkeep it; there'd be no end of money in it, and I was selling it toocheap. It's a combine, or rather it would have been a combine, of two ofthe best paper mills in the country, and if I'd got it, and could findtime to manage it,--my word, you'd see! No! What's done me in is a pureand simple Stock Exchange gamble, my dear father. Nothing but that! R.R.shares."
"R.R. What's that?"
"Dad! Where have you been living these years? Royal Rubber Corporation,of course. They dropped to eighteen shillings, and they oughtn't to havedone. I bought a whole big packet on the understanding that I shouldhave a fortnight to fork out. They were bound to go up again. Hadn'tbeen so low for eleven years. How could I have foreseen that old Samplerwould go and commit suicide and make a panic?"
"I never read the financial news, except the quotations of my own littlesavings, and I've never heard of old Sampler," said Mr. Prohack.
"Considering he was a front-page item for four days!" Charlie exclaimed,raising his voice, and then dropping it again. And he related in a fewbiting phrases the recent history of the R.R. "I wouldn't have minded somuch," he went on. "If your particular friend, Mr. Softly Bishop, wasn'tat the bottom of my purchase. His name only appears for some of theshares, but I've got a pretty good idea that it's he who's selling allof them to yours truly. He must have known something, and a rare finething he'd have made of the deal if I wasn't going bust, because I'msure now he was selling to me what he hadn't got."
Mr. Prohack's whole demeanour changed at the mention of Mr. Bishop'sname. His ridiculous snobbish pride reared itself up within him. Hesimply could not bear the idea of Softly Bishop having anything'against' a member of his family. Sooner would the inconsistent fellowhave allowed innocent widows and orphans to be ruined through Charlie'splunging than that Softly Bishop should fail to realise a monstrousprofit through the same agency.
"I'll see you through, my lad," said he, briefly, in an ordinary casualtone.
"No thanks. You won't," Charlie replied. "I wouldn't let you, even ifyou could. But you can't. It's too big."
"Ah! How big is it?" Mr. Prohack challengingly raised his chin.
"Well, if you want to know the truth, it's between a hundred and fortyand a hundred and fifty thousand pounds. I mean, that's what I shouldneed to save the situation."
"You?" cried the Terror of the departments in amaze, accustomed thoughhe was to dealing in millions. He had gravely miscalculated his son. Tenthousand he could have understood; even twenty thousand. But a hundredand fifty...! "You must have been mad!"
"Only because I've failed," said Charles. "Yes. It'll be a great affair.It'll really make my name. Everybody will expect me to bob up again, andI shan't disappoint them. Of course some people will say I oughtn't tohave been extravagant. Grand Babylon Hotel and so on. What rot! Aflea-bite! Why, my expenses haven't been seven hundred a month."
Mr. Prohack sat aghast; but admiration was not absent from hissentiments. The lad was incredible in the scale of his operations; hewas unreal, wagging his elegant leg so calmly there in the midst of allthat fragile Japanese lacquer--and the family, grotesquely unconsciousof the vastness of the issues, chatting domestically only a few feetaway. But Mr. Prohack was not going to be outdone by his son, howeverNapoleonic his son might be. He would maintain his prestige as a father.
"I'll see you through," he repeated, with studied quietness.
"But look here, dad. You only came into a hundred thousand. I can't haveyou ruining yourself. And even if you did ruin yourself--"
"I have no intention of ruining myself," said Mr. Prohack. "Nor shall Ichange in the slightest degree my mode of life. You don't knoweverything, my child. You aren't the only person on earth who can makemoney. Where do you imagine you get your gifts from? Your mother?"
"But--"
"Be silent. To-morrow morning gilt-edged, immediately saleablesecurities will be placed at your disposal for a hundred and fiftythousand pounds. I never indulge in wildcat stock myself. And let metell you there can be no question of _your_ permitting or notpermitting. I'm your father, and please don't forget it. It doesn'thappen to suit me that my infant prodigy of a son should make a mess ofhis career; and I won't have it. If there's any doubt in your mind as towhether you or I are the strongest, rule yourself out of the competitionthis instant,--it'll save you trouble in the end."
Mr. Prohack had never felt so happy in his life; and yet he had hadmoments of intense happiness in the past. He could feel the skin of hisface burning.
"You'll get it all back, dad," said Charlie later. "No amount ofsuicides can destroy the assets of the R.R. It's only that the marketlost its head and absolutely broke to pieces under me. In threemonths--"
"My poor boy," Mr. Prohack interrupted him. "Do try not to be an ass."And he had the pleasing illusion that Charles was just home from school."And, mind, not one word, not one word, to anybody whatever."
VI
The other three were still modestly chatting in the living-room when thetwo great mysterious men of affairs returned to them, but Sissie hadcleared the dining-room table and transformed the place into adrawing-room for the remainder of the evening. They were very feminine;even Ozzie had something of the feminine attitude of fatalisticattending upon events beyond feminine control; he had it, indeed, farmore than the vigorous-minded Sissie had it. They were cheerful, with acheerfulness that made up in tact what it lacked in sincerity. Mr.Prohack compared them to passengers on a ship which is in danger. With aword, with an inflection, he reassured everybody--and yet saidnaught--and the cheerfulness instantly became genuine.
Mr. Prohack was surprised at the intensity of his own feelings. He wasthoroughly thrilled by what he himself had done. Perhaps he had gone toofar in telling Charlie that the putting down of a hundred and fiftythousand pounds could be accomplished without necessitating any changein his manner of living; but he did not care what change might beinvolved. He had the sense of having performed a huge creative act, andof the reality of the power of riches,--for weeks he had not beenimaginatively cognisant of the fact that he was rich.
He glanced secretly at the boy Charles, and said to himself: "To thatboy I am like a god. He was dead, and I have resurrected him. He mayachieve an enormous reputation after all. Anyhow he is an amazing devilof a fellow, and he's my son, and no one comprehends him as I do." AndMr. Prohack became jolly to the point of uproariousness--withouttouching a glass. He was intoxicated, not by the fermentation of grapes,but by the magnitude and magnificence of his own gesture. He was themonarch of the company, and getting a bit conceited about it.
The sole creature who withstood him in any degree was Sissie. She hadfirmness. "She has married the right man,-" said Mr. Prohack to himself."The so-called feminine instinct is for the most part absurd, butoccasionally it justifies its reputation. She has chosen her husbandwith unerring insight into her needs and his. He will be happy; shewill have the anxieties of responsible power. But _I_ am not herhusband." And he spoke aloud, masterfully:
"Sissie!"
"Yes, dad? What now?"
"I've satisfactorily transacted affairs with my son. I will now try todo the same with my daughter. A few moments with you in thecouncil-chamber, please. Oswald also, if you like."
Sissie smiled kindly at her awaiting spouse.
"Perhaps I'd better deal with my own father alone, darling."
Ozzie accepted the decision.
"Look here. I think I must be off," Charlie put in. "I've got a lot ofwork to do."
"I expect you have," Mr. Prohack concurred. "By the way, you might meetme at Smathe and Smathe's at ten fifteen in the morning."
Charlie nodded and slipped away.
"Infant," said Mr. Prohack to the defiantly smiling bride who awaitedhim in the council chamber. "Has your mother said anything to you aboutour weddi
ng present?"
"No, dad."
"No, of course she hasn't. And do you know why? Because she daren't!With your infernal independence you've frightened the life out of thepoor lady; that's what you've done. Your mother will doubtless have atalk with me to-night. And to-morrow she will tell you what she hasdecided to give you. Please let there be no nonsense. Whatever the giftis, I shall be obliged if you will accept it--and use it, withouttroubling us with any of your theories about the proper conduct of life.Wisdom and righteousness existed before you, and there's just a chancethat they'll exist after you. Do you take me?"
"Quite, father."
"Good. You may become a great girl yet. We are now going home. Thanksfor a very pleasant evening."
In the car, beautifully alone with Eve, who was in a restful mood, Mr.Prohack said:
"I shall be very ill in a few hours. Pate de foi gras is the devil, butcaviare is Beelzebub himself."
Eve merely gazed at him in gentle, hopeless reproach. He prophesiedtruly. He was very ill. And yet through the succeeding crises he keptsmiling, sardonically.
"When I think," he murmured once with grimness, "that that fellowBishop had the impudence to ask us to lunch--and Charlie too! Charlietoo!" Eve, attendant, enquired sadly what he was talking about.
"Nothing, nothing," said he. "My mind is wandering. Let it."