Produced by Suzanne Shell, Denis Pronovost and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
THE
COMPLEAT BACHELOR
'_When the Rain raineth and the Goose winketh,_ _Little wots the Gosling what the Goose thinketh._'
THE COMPLEAT BACHELOR
BY Oliver Onions
NEW YORK
Frederick A. Stokes Company Publishers
_Copyright, 1900_ _by Harper & Brothers_
_Copyright, 1901_ _by Frederick A. Stokes Co._
TO
FRANK GELETT BURGESS
THESE UNPREMEDITATIONS WERE AND ARE INSCRIBED
EPISODES.
PAGE I. SUGAR AND LEMON 1 II. A HYPOTHETICAL CASE 10 III. A MILITARY MANOEUVRE 21 IV. A CHILDREN'S PARTY 32 V. THE IDEAL IN PERIL 47 VI. A CORNER IN TREACLE 58 VII. THREE'S COMPANY 69 VIII. A VETERAN RECRUIT 81 IX. THE ETHICS OF ANGLING 97 X. AN UNDRESS REHEARSAL 109 XI. QUEEN OF LOVE AND BEAUTY 122 XII. A MODERN SABINE 137 XIII. POT LUCK 150 XIV. THE THINGS THAT ARE CAESAR'S 165 XV. SETTLING DAY 179
THE COMPLEAT BACHELOR
I
SUGAR AND LEMON
"Perhaps, Rollo," said my sister (Caroline Butterfield, spinster), "youwould like to go on to your club, and call for me in an hour or so.There will only be women, I expect."
"Carrie," I replied, "your consideration does you credit; but no companythat you may enter is too bad for me. I insist on accompanying you. Itis my first duty as a brother."
Carrie laughed.
"I believe you like it, Rol," she said. "Molly Chatterton says Loringsays you never go to a club if you can have tea with a married woman."
"It is the one reward of a blameless reputation," I replied; "but thatLoring Chatterton should say so is rank ingratitude, considering his ownante-nuptial record. Rank ingratitude."
We dismounted together at Millicent Dixon's door, and were admitted tothe hall. Carrie gave my necktie an attentive little tug, slapped mycheek (Carrie is justly proud of her middle-aged brother, and likes toshow him off to advantage), and preceded me into Millie Dixon'sdrawing-room. Some half-dozen ladies were engaged in the usualfive-o'clock flirtation with tea and cake, and contributing to thefeminine hum which didn't subside in the least as we entered.
"He _would_ come, Millie," said Caroline, after a cross-over kiss onboth cheeks, "but you can lean him up in a corner and give him some teato keep him quiet."
This from my own flesh and blood!
Millie Dixon gave me a laughing nod over her shoulder, and busiedherself preparing the cup that should have the effect Carrie suggested.I sat down, and composed myself to listen to the restful chatter thatwas supposed not to interest me. Mrs. Loring Chatterton, at my side, wasrippling gently on the subject of a School of Art Needlework Exhibition,while Carrie and Mrs. Carmichael talked Marshall and Snelgrove to CicelyVicars and Mrs. Julian Joyce. I have no disdain for ladies' babble--itis quite as entertaining as starting-price and stock-exchange gossip,and much prettier. But I couldn't get Chatterton's remark out of mymind.
"Cream or lemon, Mr. Butterfield?" called Miss Dixon from the other sideof the room.
"Yes, if you please," I answered absently, while Miss Dixon looked adeprecating query as to when I _should_ be sensible. I roused, andturned to Mrs. Loring Chatterton.
"Where is Loring to-day?" I asked.
"Oh, I don't know," she replied. "I told him I shouldn't want him thisafternoon, so he said he would count the dreary hours till joy returned.I expect he went to count them at some club."
"Loring always was ardent," I remarked, looking meditatively into mycup. "I seem to remember that kind of thing from Loring before. Longbefore you knew him, Mrs. Chatterton."
"What do you mean, Mr. Butterfield?"
"Nothing, my dear Mrs. Chatterton," I replied. "Nothing out of the way.But you don't suppose that Loring had the good fortune to happen on theperfect gem without--what shall I say?--preliminary prospecting?"
Mrs. Chatterton and I are old friends. She laughed.
"Do you think you can make me inquisitive, Mr. Butterfield? I know allabout that. Why, I made Loring tell me every----"
It was my turn to laugh.
"Then there is nothing more to say," I answered. "Loring is myfriend--he has claims upon me. He has, doubtless, given himself quiteaway, and half his bachelor friends into the bargain. I think I see himdoing it. Isn't that a pretty gown Carrie is wearing? I chose it forher."
"Loring told me a great deal," said Mrs. Chatterton musingly.
"The buttons are from her grandmother's wedding-gown."
"And he was so clumsy and boyish," she continued.
Words were superfluous. I smiled.
"Anyway," Mrs. Loring went on, "I don't think it fair. Men have half adozen flirtations before they are married their wives know nothingabout."
"And women, Mrs. Chatterton?" I asked.
"_Some_ women, Mr. Butterfield, may not be scrupulous. But----"
The unfinished sentence was a _resume_ of female virtue since the daysof Penelope.
"What are you two so interested in?" cried Mrs. Carmichael from a remotesofa. I had just caught her eye.
Mrs. Loring placed her hand beseechingly on my sleeve, but I hardened myheart.
"We were recalling the time, Mrs. Kit," I replied, "before your severalhusbands were enticed from the liberty of bachelor life; we werecommenting on the change in them."
"_You_ should be able to appreciate the difference, Mr. Butterfield,"returned Mrs. Carmichael. "You are just where they left you years andyears ago."
"Yes, ma'am," I replied, "I have not been able to bury my memory in thewedding-service, nor forget my past in a honeymoon. I am still asunregenerate as, say, Kit Carmichael was before he met you."
"You are a great deal worse," returned Mrs. Kit.
"You refuse a very pretty compliment, Mrs. Carmichael," I replied.
"Yes, at Kit's expense. It was you who made Kit as bad as he was. Hetold me so."
The perfidy of these married friends! Rol Butterfield, you have no usefor them when they sacrifice you on their nuptial altars. Their eyeslost their singleness with their hearts, and your reputation has gonefor a kiss. Well, you have your revenge on their wives, if you care touse it.
The spark of righteous war was kindled within me. I leaned forward, andspoke my speech with icy distinctness.
"So I am responsible for Carmichael's past, am I, Mrs. Kit? Listen tome. There was not a more abandoned and desperately wicked trio in Londonthan Kit Carmichael--your meek brother, M
iss Dixon--and Loring----"
Mrs. Chatterton endeavoured to stop me with a hot teaspoon laid on myhand, but I still testified.
"And Loring Chatterton. Not content with steeping their own souls ininfamy, they must needs go afield, and corrupt the spotless name ofone--oh, Carrie, Carrie, what your poor brother has suffered! And now tobe told in his old--his middle--age that he did it all!"
Mrs. Kit and Cicely Vicars had put their heads together, and wereendeavouring to put aside the damning testimony in mock admiration ofthe dramatic skill with which it was uttered. Cicely Vicars had best bevery careful. I was to be leaned up in a corner and given tea, was I?
"Doesn't Mr. Butterfield look well with the light behind him?" said Mrs.Vicars with a pretty gesture of her hand. Mrs. Vicars paints flowers,and asks her friends what they would really like for wedding presents.
"Mr. Butterfield may have the Light behind him, Mrs. Vicars," I replied,"but he has no regrets for a misspent youth. Charlie Vicars wasted hisyouth most shamefully. Mornings in the park, with a young lady in a pinkfrock--is that not so, Mrs. Loring?"
I turned to her suddenly.
"It was a green frock," said Mrs. Loring thoughtlessly; then turnedquite pink. It was a pretty situation. Loring might have treasured thatblush. I was avenged.
Millicent Dixon came to the rescue.
"Carrie, dear," she said, "you are the only one who has any influenceover that irrepressible man. Do gag him for a few minutes;" and passedover a plate of gaufrettes, which Carrie brought to me.
I held the plate to Mrs. Loring Chatterton, who, a reminiscence of funstill in her eyes, accepted the peace-offering with a warning shake ofher head.
"Mr. Butterfield," she said, "you never were anything but mischievous,and it's my opinion you never will be. Oh, I wish I could get you off myhands. There are plenty of nice girls. Look at Millie there," shewhispered.
"Mrs. Loring," I replied, "once upon a time there was a fox, who wascaught in a trap, and had his tail cut off. After that----"
"Ah well, I suppose you know your own mind. But, Mr. Butterfield"--sheleaned over, and spoke quite low--"I believe you make out your youngdays--and Loring's--to have been much worse than they were. Do you not,now?"
Mrs. Loring had a little beauty-spot on her conscience which she thoughtwas a stain.