The Travelling Companions Part 2

MR. T. Well, I don't see how I should ever strike that fair for myself, and I guess if there's anything to be seen we're bound to _see_ it, so me and my darter--allow me to introduce my darter to you--Maud, this gentleman is Mr.--I don't think I've caught your name, Sir--Podbury?--Mr. Podbury, who's kindly volunteered to conduct us round.

MISS T. _I_ should have thought you'd want to leave the gentleman some say in the matter, father--not to mention me!

PODB. (_eagerly_). But won't you come? Do. I shall be awfully glad if you will!

MISS T. If it makes you so glad as all that, I believe I'll come. Though what you could say different, after Poppa had put it up so steep on you, _I_ don't know. I'll just go and fix myself first. [_She goes._

MR. T. (_to_ PODBURY). My only darter, Sir, and a real good girl. We come over from the States, crossed a month ago to-day, and seen a heap already. Been runnin' all over Scotland and England, and kind of looked round Ireland and Wales, and now what _we've_ got to do is to see as much as we can of Germany and Switzerland and It'ly, and get some idea of France before we start home this fall. I guess we're both of us gettin' pretty considerable homesick already. My darter was sayin' to me on'y this evening at _table d'hote_, "Father," she sez, "the vurry first thing we'll do when we get home is to go and hev a good square meal of creamed oysters and clams with buckwheat cakes and maple syrup." Don't seem as if we _could_ git along without maple syrup _much_ longer.

(MISS TROTTER _returns._) You never mean going out without your gums?

[Ill.u.s.tration: "WANTED TO KNOW IF YOU WERE MY TUTOR!"]

[_He roars._

MISS T. I guess it's not damp here--any. (_To_ PODBURY.) Now you're going to be _Mary_, and father and I have got to be the little lambs and follow you around.

[_They go out, leaving_ CULCHARD _annoyed with himself and everybody else, and utterly unable to settle down to his sonnet again._

IN AN UPPER CORRIDOR TWO HOURS LATER.

CULCH. (_coming upon_ PODBURY). So you've got rid of your Americans at last, eh?

PODB. _I_ was in no hurry, I can tell you. She's a ripping little girl--tremendous fun. What do you think she asked me about _you_?

CULCH. (_stiff, but flattered_). I wasn't aware she had honoured me by her notice. What _was_ it?

PODB. Said you had a sort of schoolmaster look, and wanted to know if you were my tutor. My tutor! [_He roars._

CULCH. I hope you--ah--undeceived her?

PODB. Rather! Told her it was t'other way round, and I was looking after _you_. Said you were suffering from melancholia, but were not absolutely dangerous.

CULCH. If that's your idea of a joke, all I can say is----

[_He chokes with rage._

PODB. (_innocently_). Why, my dear chap, I thought you wanted 'em kept out of your way!

[CULCHARD _slams his bedroom door with temper, leaving_ PODBURY _outside, still chuckling._

CHAPTER III.

_Culchard comes out of his Sh.e.l.l._

SCENE--_On the Coach from Braine l'Alleud to Waterloo. The vehicle has a Belgian driver, but the conductor is a true-born Briton._ MR. CYRUS K. TROTTER _and his daughter are behind with_ PODBURY. CULCHARD, _who is not as yet sufficiently on speaking terms with his friend to ask for an introduction, is on the box-seat in front._

MR. TROTTER. How are you getting along, Maud? Your seat pretty comfortable?

MISS TROTTER. Well, I guess it would be about as luxurious if it hadn't got a chunk of wood nailed down the middle--it's not going to have any one confusing it with a bed of roses _just_ yet. (_To_ PODB.) Your friend mad about anything? He don't seem to open his head more'n he's obliged to. I presume he don't approve of your taking up with me and father--he keeps away from us considerable, I notice.

PODB. (_awkwardly_). Oh--er--I wouldn't say that, but he's a queer kind of chap rather, takes prejudices into his head and all that. I wouldn't trouble about him if I were you--not worth it, y' know.

MISS T. Thanks--but it isn't going to shorten my existence any.

[CULCH. _overhears all this, with feelings that may be imagined._

BELGIAN DRIVER (_to his horses_). Pullep! Allez vite! Bom-bom-bom!

Alright!

CONDUCTOR (_to_ CULCHARD). 'E's very proud of 'is English, _'e_ is.

'Ere, Jewls, ole feller, show the gen'lm'n 'ow yer can do a swear.

(_Belgian Driver utters a string of English imprecations with the utmost fluency and good-nature._) 'Ark at 'im now! Bust my frogs! (_Admiringly, and not_ _without a sense of the appropriateness of the phrase._) But he's a caution, Sir, ain't he? _I_ taught him most o' what he knows!

A FRENCH Pa.s.sENGER (_to_ CONDUCTOR). Dis donc, mon ami, est-ce qu'on peut voir d'ici le champ de bataille?

COND. (_with proper pride_). It ain't no use your torkin _to me_, Mossoo; I don't speak no French myself. (_To_ CULCHARD.) See that field there, Sir?

CULCH. (_interested_). On the right? Yes; what happened _there_?

COND. Fine lot o' rabbits inside o' there--big fat 'uns. (_To another Pa.s.senger._) No, Sir, that ain't Belly Lions as you see from 'ere; that's Mon Sin Jeean, and over there Oogymong, and Challyroy to the left.

ON THE TOP OF THE MOUND.

CULCHARD, _who has purchased a map in the Waterloo Museum as a means of approaching_ MISS TROTTER, _is pounced upon by an elderly Belgian Guide in a blue blouse, from whom he finds it difficult to escape._

THE GUIDE (_fixing_ CULCHARD _with a pair of rheumy eyes and a gnarled forefinger_). You see vere is dat schmall voodt near de vite 'ouse? not dere, along my shdeek--so. Dat is vare Peecton vas kill, Inglis Officer, Peecton. Two days pefore he was voundet in de ahum. 'E say to his sairvan', "You dell ennipoddies, I keel you!" He vandt to pe in ze bataille: he _vas_ in ze bataille--seven lance troo 'im, seven; Peecton, Inglis Officer. (CULCHARD _nods his head miserably._) Hah, you 'ave de shart dere--open 'im out vide, dat de odder shentilmans see. (CULCHARD _obeys, spell-bound._) Vare you see dat blue gross, Vaterloo s.h.i.+rshe, vere Loart Uxbreedge lose 'is laig. Zey cot 'im off and pury him in ze cottyardt, and a villow grow oudt of 'im. 'E com 'ere to see the villow growing oudt of his laig.

CULCH. (_abandoning his map, and edging towards_ MISS TROTTER). Hem--we are gazing upon one of the landmarks of our national history--Miss Trotter.

MISS T. That's a vurry interesting re-mark. I presume you must have studied up some for a reflection of that kind. Mr. Podbury, your friend has been telling me----, [_She repeats_ CULCHARD'S _remark_.

PODB. (_with interest_). Got any _more_ of those, old fellow?

[CULCHARD _moves away with disgusted hauteur_.

THE GUIDE (_re-capturing him_). Along dat gross vay, Vellainton meet Blushair. Prussian general, Blushair. Vellainton 'e com hier. I see 'im.

Ven 'e see ze maundt, 'e vos vair angri. 'E say, "Eet is no ze battle-fiel' no more--I com back nevare!" Zat aidge is vere de Scots Greys vas. Ven they dell Napoleon 'oo zey are, 'e say, "Fine mens--splendid mens, I feenish dem in von hour!" Soult 'e say, "Ah, Sire, you do not know dose dairible grey 'orses!" Napoleon 'e _not_ know dem. Soult 'e meet dem at de Peninsulaire--'_e_ know dem. In dat s.h.i.+rsh, dventy, dirty dablets to Inglis officers. Napoleon 'e coaled op 'is laift vink, zey deploy in line, vair you see my shdeek--ha, ze shentelman is gone avay vonce more!

MISS T. (_to_ CULCHARD, _who has found himself unable to keep away_).

You don't seem to find that old gentleman vurry good company?

CULCH. The fact is that I much prefer to receive my impressions of a scene like this in solitude.