CHAPTER VIII
MR. ROSENBAUM'S SIX DAUGHTERS
In the meantime Mr. Ely was dreaming of his love. It soundscontradictory at first, bearing in mind that he was not a man ofsentiment; but the fact was that in his case absence made the heartgrow distinctly fonder. By the time he reached Ryde Miss Truscottoccupied his thoughts to the exclusion of all else; he never eventroubled himself about the purchase of a paper--which was fortunate,for at that hour none had yet arrived from town, and to him the localprints were loathsome. All the way on the boat he dreamed--yes,literally dreamed--of the girl he left behind him. More than once,incredible though it may appear, he sighed.
"She don't care for me a snap, not a single rap, by Jove she don't!"
He sighed when he said this, for, for some occult reason, the idea didnot seem to amuse him so much as it had done last night.
"I don't know why she shouldn't, though. Perhaps she thought I didn'twant her. More I didn't then, though I don't see why she shouldn't ifI did. I know how to make a girl like me as well as any man--look atthe Rosenbaums!"
He sighed again. It was "look at the Rosenbaums," indeed! When hethought of those six young women, with their well-developed noses andthe fringe of hair upon their upper lips, and of their twice-hammeredfather, and then of Miss Truscott, that vision of a fair woman, withher noble bearing, her lovely face, and her wondrous eyes, thecontrast went deeply home. He felt that he was a lucky--and yet notaltogether a lucky--man.
"She's going to be my wife, that's one thing, anyhow."
The Isle of Wight is a great place for honeymoons. It lends itselfnaturally to couples in a certain phase of their existence. Such acouple were on board the boat with Mr. Ely. Their demeanour was tendertowards each other.
"Couple of idiots!" said Mr. Ely to himself as he observed this pair;"it makes a man feel ill to look at them!"
She was a pretty girl, and he was not an ugly man; she hung upon hisarm and looked into his eyes. It was plain the honeymoon was not yetdone for them. In spite of his disgust, Mr. Ely found himselfthinking, almost unconsciously, of another figure and of another pairof eyes--of that other figure hanging upon his arm, and of that otherpair of eyes looking into his. He sighed again.
"She doesn't care for me a snap, by Jove!"
Instead of amusing him, it seemed that this reflection began to givehim pain. The little man looked quite disconsolate.
"I'll make her, though! I will! If--if it costs me a thousand pounds!"
He had been on the point of stating the cost he was willing to incurat a much higher sum than this. He had been on the very verge ofsaying that he would make her care for him if it cost him every pennyhe had. But prudence stepped in, and he limited the amount to besquandered to a thousand pounds, which was not so bad for a man whodid not believe in sentiment. But a singular change had come over himbetween Shanklin and Stokes Bay.
The change was emphasised by a little encounter which he had with afriend in the train. He had taken his seat in the corner of acarriage, when the door was darkened by a big, stout man, who was allhair and whiskers and gorgeous apparel.
"What, Ely! My boy, is it bossible it is you!
"Rosenbaum! What the devil brings you here?"
"Ah! what the teffel is it brings you?"
Mr. Rosenbaum spoke with a decidedly German accent. He settled himselfin the seat in front of Mr. Ely, and beamed at him, all jewellery andsmiles. It was as though some one had applied a cold douche to thesmall of Mr. Ely's back. He was dreaming of the sweetest eyes, and histoo-friendly six-daughtered friend--the man who had been hammeredtwice!--appeared upon the scene. It was a shock. But Mr. Rosenbaumseemed beamingly unconscious of anything of the kind. The trainstarted, and he began a conversation--which rather hung fire, by theway.
"It is some time since we have seen you in Queen's Gate."
Queen's Gate was where Mr. Rosenbaum resided. After each"hammering"--mysterious process!--he had moved into a larger house. Ithad been first Earl's Court, then Cromwell Road, and now Queen's Gate.
"Been so much engaged."
Mr. Rosenbaum was smoking a huge cigar, and kept puffing out greatclouds of smoke. Mr. Ely was engaged on a smaller article, whichscarcely produced any smoke at all. They had the compartment tothemselves; Mr. Ely would rather have seen it full. He knew hisfriend.
"Miriam has missed you."
Miriam was the eldest of the six: the one whose nose and moustachewere most developed; a sprightly maiden of thirty or thirty-one. "Sohas Leah."
Leah was a year or so younger than her sister, and quite as keen.
Mr. Ely drew in his lips. He had once played cards with Miss LeahRosenbaum, and detected her in the act of cheating. He admired thewoman of business, but regretted his eighteenpence.
"I've no doubt she has."
"That's a fine girl, Leah! A smart girl, too." Mr. Ely had not theslightest doubt of her "smartness," not the least. "She'll be afortune to any man. She's very fond of you."
Mr. Ely was certainly not fond of her, but he could scarcely say so toher father's face. So he kept still.
"Rachel, she miss you too."
Silence. Mr. Ely saw plainly that he was going to be missed by all thesix. Since he could not escape from the train while it was travellingat the rate of forty miles an hour, the only course open was to sitstill and say as little as he could. He knew his friend too well tosuppose that anything he could say would induce him to turn theconversation into other channels. The fond father went blandly on.
"She say you gave her a little gift, eh? That so?"
"Never gave her anything in my life."
"No! She says you gave her a lock of your hair; it was little to you,it was much to her. Rachel, she treasures up these little things. Sheshow it me one day; she says she keep it here."
Mr. Rosenbaum patted his waistcoat in the region where his heart mightanatomically be supposed to be.
"I tell you what it is, Rosenbaum, your girls are like their father,smart."
"We're not fools," admitted Mr. Rosenbaum.
"One night, when I was asleep on the couch in that back room of yoursin Cromwell Road--before you failed last time"--it is within the rangeof possibility that this allusion was meant to sting, but Mr.Rosenbaum smoked blandly on--"that girl of yours cut off some of myhair, and drew blood in doing it, by George!"
"Ah! she says you give it her--from sympathy, my friend. She admireyou very much, that girl."
Mr. Ely kept silence. If there was any one of the six he disliked morethan the others it was the young lady whom her father said admired himvery much--Miss Rachel Rosenbaum. Some fathers, if they had had thenames of three of their daughters received in this rather frigid way,would have changed the subject perhaps. But if Mr. Rosenbaum had notbeen a persevering man, his address would not have been Queen's Gate.Besides, Mrs. Rosenbaum was dead, and he had to act the parts ofmother and father too. And there were six.
"Judith, she miss you too."
This was the fourth; there still were two to follow. Mr. Ely resolvedto have a little plunge upon his own account.
"Doing anything in Unified?"
Mr. Rosenbaum looked at him, puffed out a cloud of smoke, and smiled."I say, Judith, she miss you too."
"And I said, 'Doing anything in Unified?'"
Mr. Rosenbaum leaned forward and laid his great, fat, jewelled hand onMr. Ely's knee. "Now, my friend, there is a girl for you; plump,tender--what an eye!"
"And what a nose! And a moustache!" was on Mr. Ely's lips, but herefrained.
"That girl just twenty-four, and she weigh a hundred and seventypound--she do credit to any man. And, my goodness, how she is fond ofyou, my boy!"
A vision passed before Mr. Ely's mental eye of the girl whom he hadleft behind. And then he thought of the young lady whose chiefqualification was that she weighed a hundred and seventy pounds attwenty-four.
"She not a worrying girl, that Judith; that's the sort of wife for
aman to have who wants to live an easy life. She let him do just whathe please, and never say a word."
Mr. Ely fidgeted in his seat. "I say, Rosenbaum, I wish you'd try someother theme."
Mr. Rosenbaum held up his fat forefinger, with its half a dozen rings,and wagged it in Mr. Ely's face. "But the great point is Sarah, mygood friend; there is something between you and she."
"What the dickens do you mean?"
"Oh! you know what I mean. What passed between you on the river thatfine day?"
"What fine day?"
"What fine day! So there has been more than one! That I did not know;the one it was enough for me."
"And upon my word, with all due respect to Miss Sarah Rosenbaum, itwas enough for me."
"You did not kiss her, eh? You did not kiss her that fine day?"
"I don't know if I kissed her or she kissed me. I say, Rosenbaum,those girls of yours don't seem to keep many secrets from theirfather."
"That is as good a girl as ever lived; you will do justice to her,eh?"
"I hope I should do justice to every girl."
"So! That is it! You would marry half a dozen, perhaps!"
"By George, I don't believe you'd offer any objection if I wanted to!"
Mr. Rosenbaum sat back in his seat. Apparently this observation did gohome. He appeared to reflect, but he showed that he was by no meansbeaten by suddenly discovering a fresh attack.
"My good friend, you think you are a clever man. I allow you are nofool, but you have met your match in me."
In his secret heart Mr. Ely was quite willing to allow the fact.
"You have played with my six daughters--very good! You have trifledwith their hearts. I say not any word, but there is one of them youmust marry, and Ruth is she."
Mr. Ely was silent. He kept his eyes cast down. Mr. Rosenbaum, on theother hand, kept his eyes fixed upon his good friend's face.
"Come, I am her father. When is it to be?"
Then Mr. Ely did look up. The two friends' glances met; Mr. Elycertainly did not flinch.
"It won't do; try some other lay."
"What you mean--try some other lay?"
"Mean what I say."
"You never asked her to marry you?"
"I swear I never did."
"You never gave her to understand that you wished her for your wife,eh?"
"I'm not responsible for her understanding."
"So--that is it!--I see! Griffith of Tokenhouse Yard is yoursolicitor--not so?"
Mr. Rosenbaum took out a note-book and a pencil-case.
"What's it matter to you?"
"My good friend, it matters this. Before we reach Waterloo you tell methe day on which you marry Ruth, or to-morrow a writ issues for breachof promise."
"Issue fifty writs for all I care."
"You have played hanky-panky with my six daughters, but we have you onthe last; at least, we'll see."
"I guess we will. Take my advice, Rosenbaum, and don't you be a fool.I never asked your daughter in my life to marry me."
"We'll talk of that a little later on. There is a letter and someother little things which will make a sensation when they are producedin Court. You understand that it is my duty to see that you do notbreak my daughter's heart."
"Which of them? All six?"
"At present it is with Ruth we are concerned."
"Oh, Ruth be hanged!"
With that observation the conversation closed. The remainder of thejourney passed in silence. But when they reached Waterloo Mr.Rosenbaum remarked--
"Well, my friend, what is it to be? Will you name the day?"
"Name your grandmother!" Mr. Ely courteously rejoined. And with thatcourteous rejoinder he left the train.