The Diary of a Nobody by George Grossmith (interesting books to read for teens .txt) 📖

he is glad it is off.  I wish he would not go to so many music-halls, but one dare not say anything to him about it.  At the present moment he irritates me by singing all over the house some nonsense about “What’s the matter with Gladstone?  He’s all right!  What’s the matter with Lupin?  He’s all right!”  I don’t think either of them is.  In the evening Gowing called, and the chief topic of conversation was Daisy’s marriage to Murray Posh.  I said: “I was glad the matter was at an end, as Daisy would only have made a fool of Lupin.”  Gowing, with his usual good taste, said: “Oh, Master Lupin can make a fool of himself without any assistance.”  Carrie very properly resented this, and Gowing had sufficient sense to say he was sorry.

March 21.—To-day I shall conclude my diary, for it is one of the happiest days of my life.  My great dream of the last few weeks—in fact, of many years—has been realised.  This morning came a letter from Mr. Perkupp, asking me to take Lupin down to the office with me.  I went to Lupin’s room; poor fellow, he seemed very pale, and said he had a bad headache.  He had come back yesterday from Gravesend, where he spent part of the day in a small boat on the water, having been mad enough to neglect to take his overcoat with him.  I showed him Mr. Perkupp’s letter, and he got up as quickly as possible.  I begged of him not to put on his fast-coloured clothes and ties, but to dress in something black or quiet-looking.

Carrie was all of a tremble when she read the letter, and all she could keep on saying was: “Oh, I do hope it will be all right.”  For myself, I could scarcely eat any breakfast.  Lupin came down dressed quietly, and looking a perfect gentleman, except that his face was rather yellow.  Carrie, by way of encouragement said: “You do look nice, Lupin.”  Lupin replied: “Yes, it’s a good make-up, isn’t it?  A regular-downright-respectable-funereal-first-class-City-firm-junior-clerk.”  He laughed rather ironically.

In the hall I heard a great noise, and also Lupin shouting to Sarah to fetch down his old hat.  I went into the passage, and found Lupin in a fury, kicking and smashing a new tall hat.  I said: “Lupin, my boy, what are you doing?  How wicked of you!  Some poor fellow would be glad to have it.”  Lupin replied: “I would not insult any poor fellow by giving it to him.”

When he had gone outside, I picked up the battered hat, and saw inside “Posh’s Patent.”  Poor Lupin!  I can forgive him.  It seemed hours before we reached the office.  Mr. Perkupp sent for Lupin, who was with him nearly an hour.  He returned, as I thought, crestfallen in appearance.  I said: “Well, Lupin, how about Mr. Perkupp?”  Lupin commenced his song: “What’s the matter with Perkupp?  He’s all right!”  I felt instinctively my boy was engaged.  I went to Mr. Perkupp, but I could not speak.  He said: “Well, Mr. Pooter, what is it?”  I must have looked a fool, for all I could say was: “Mr. Perkupp, you are a good man.”  He looked at me for a moment, and said: “No, Mr. Pooter, you are the good man; and we’ll see if we cannot get your son to follow such an excellent example.”  I said: “Mr. Perkupp, may I go home?  I cannot work any more to-day.”

My good master shook my hand warmly as he nodded his head.  It was as much as I could do to prevent myself from crying in the ’bus; in fact, I should have done so, had my thoughts not been interrupted by Lupin, who was having a quarrel with a fat man in the ’bus, whom he accused of taking up too much room.

In the evening Carrie sent round for dear old friend Cummings and his wife, and also to Gowing.  We all sat round the fire, and in a bottle of “Jackson Frères,” which Sarah fetched from the grocer’s, drank Lupin’s health.  I lay awake for hours, thinking of the future.  My boy in the same office as myself—we can go down together by the ’bus, come home together, and who knows but in the course of time he may take great interest in our little home.  That he may help me to put a nail in here or a nail in there, or help his dear mother to hang a picture.  In the summer he may help us in our little garden with the flowers, and assist us to paint the stands and pots.  (By-the-by, I must get in some more enamel paint.)  All this I thought over and over again, and a thousand happy thoughts beside.  I heard the clock strike four, and soon after fell asleep, only to dream of three happy people—Lupin, dear Carrie, and myself.

CHAPTER XVIII

Trouble with a stylographic pen.  We go to a Volunteer Ball, where I am let in for an expensive supper.  Grossly insulted by a cabman.  An odd invitation to Southend.

April 8.—No events of any importance, except that Gowing strongly recommended a new patent stylographic pen, which cost me nine-and-sixpence, and which was simply nine-and-sixpence thrown in the mud.  It has caused me constant annoyance and irritability of temper.  The ink oozes out of the top, making a mess on my hands, and once at the office when I was knocking the palm of my hand on the desk to jerk the ink down, Mr. Perkupp, who had just entered, called out: “Stop that knocking!  I suppose that is you, Mr. Pitt?”  That young monkey, Pitt, took a malicious glee in responding quite loudly: “No, sir; I beg pardon, it is Mr. Pooter with his pen; it has been going on all the morning.”  To make matters worse, I saw Lupin laughing behind his desk.  I thought it wiser to say nothing.  I took the pen back to the shop and asked them if they would take it back, as it did not act.  I did not expect the full price returned, but was willing to take half.  The man said he could not do that—buying and selling were two different things.  Lupin’s conduct during the period he has been in Mr. Perkupp’s office has been most exemplary.  My only fear is, it is too good to last.

April 9.—Gowing called, bringing with him an invitation for Carrie and myself to a ball given by the East Acton Rifle Brigade, which he thought would be a swell affair, as the member for East Acton (Sir William Grime) had promised his patronage.  We accepted of his kindness, and he stayed to supper, an occasion I thought suitable for trying a bottle of the sparkling Algéra that Mr. James (of Sutton) had sent as a present.  Gowing sipped the wine, observing that he had never tasted it before, and further remarked that his policy was to stick to more recognised brands.  I told him it was a present from a dear friend, and one mustn’t look a gift-horse in the mouth.  Gowing facetiously replied: “And he didn’t like putting it in the mouth either.”

I thought the remarks were rude without being funny, but on tasting it myself, came to the conclusion there was some justification for them.  The sparkling Algéra is very like cider, only more sour.  I suggested that perhaps the thunder had turned it a bit acid.  He merely replied: “Oh! I don’t think so.”  We had a very pleasant game of cards, though I lost four shillings and Carrie lost one, and Gowing said he had lost about sixpence: how he could have lost, considering that Carrie and I were the only other players, remains a mystery.

April 14, Sunday.—Owing, I presume, to the unsettled weather, I awoke with a feeling that my skin was drawn over my face as tight as a drum.  Walking round the garden with Mr. and Mrs. Treane, members of our congregation who had walked back with us, I was much annoyed to find a large newspaper full of bones on the gravel-path, evidently thrown over by those young Griffin boys next door; who, whenever we have friends, climb up the empty steps inside their conservatory, tap at the windows, making faces, whistling, and imitating birds.

April 15.—Burnt my tongue most awfully with the Worcester sauce, through that stupid girl Sarah shaking the bottle violently before putting it on the table.

April 16.—The night of the East Acton Volunteer Ball.  On my advice, Carrie put on the same dress that she looked so beautiful in at the Mansion House, for it had occurred to me, being a military ball, that Mr. Perkupp, who, I believe, is an officer in the Honorary Artillery Company, would in all probability be present.  Lupin, in his usual incomprehensible language, remarked that he had heard it was a “bounders’ ball.”  I didn’t ask him what he meant though I didn’t understand.  Where he gets these expressions from I don’t know; he certainly doesn’t learn them at home.

The invitation was for half-past eight, so I concluded if we arrived an hour later we should be in good time, without being “unfashionable,” as Mrs. James says.  It was very difficult to find—the cabman having to get down several times to inquire at different public-houses where the Drill Hall was.  I wonder at people living in such out-of-the-way places.  No one seemed to know it.  However, after going up and down a good many badly-lighted streets we arrived at our destination.  I had no idea it was so far from Holloway.  I gave the cabman five shillings, who only grumbled, saying it was dirt cheap at half-a-sovereign, and was impertinent enough to advise me the next time I went to a ball to take a ’bus.

Captain Welcut received us, saying we were rather late, but that it was better late than never.  He seemed a very good-looking gentleman though, as Carrie remarked, “rather short for an officer.”  He begged to be excused for leaving us, as he was engaged for a dance, and hoped we should make ourselves at home.  Carrie took my arm and we walked round the rooms two or three times and watched the people dancing.  I couldn’t find a single person I knew, but attributed it to most of them being in uniform.  As we were entering the supper-room I received a slap on the shoulder, followed by a welcome shake of the hand.  I said: “Mr. Padge, I believe;” he replied, “That’s right.”

I gave Carrie a chair, and seated by her was a lady who made herself at home with Carrie at once.

There was a very liberal repast on the tables, plenty of champagne, claret, etc., and, in fact, everything seemed to be done regardless of expense.  Mr. Padge is a man that, I admit, I have no particular liking for, but I felt so glad to come across someone I knew, that I asked him to sit at our table, and I must say that for a short fat man he looked well in uniform, although I think his tunic was rather baggy in the back.  It was the only supper-room that I have been in that was not over-crowded; in fact we were the only people there, everybody being so busy dancing.

I assisted Carrie and her newly-formed acquaintance, who said her name was Lupkin, to some champagne; also myself, and handed the bottle to Mr. Padge to do likewise, saying: “You must look after yourself.”  He replied: “That’s right,” and poured out half a tumbler and drank Carrie’s health, coupled, as he said, “with her worthy lord and master.”  We all had some splendid pigeon pie, and ices to follow.

The waiters were very attentive, and asked if we would like some more wine.  I assisted Carrie and her friend and Mr. Padge, also some people who had just come