The Complete Works. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW
I believe; and at all events it was given up some time ago. I think there will be a little money too, John. And I fancy from her manner that she was struck with you.” Mr Phipson winked at his wife, and laughed.
“I don’t know about that,” said Hoskyn; “but I am out-and-out struck with her. As to money, that needn’t stand in the way, though I shan’t object to take whatever is going.”
“You are so particularly well suited to a girl who cares for nothing but fine art crazes of which you don’t even know the names,” said Mrs Phipson sourly, “that she will jump at your offer, no doubt. It is no wonder for her to be shortsighted, she reads so much. And she knows half the languages of Europe.”
“I should think so,” said Hoskyn. “You can see intellect in her face. That’s the sort of woman I like. None of your empty headed wax dolls. I’m not surprised that you don’t approve of her, Nanny. You are sharp enough, but you never knew anything, and never will.”
“I don’t pretend to be clever. And I don’t disapprove of her; but I disapprove of you, at your age, thinking of a girl who is, in every way, unfit for you.”
“We shall see all about that. I am quite content to take my chance, if she is. She can’t live on high art, and I expect she is sensible enough in everyday matters. Besides, I shall not interfere with her. The more she paints and sings, the better pleased I shall be.”
“Hear, hear,” said Mr Phipson. “Let us about a license at once. The season will be over in three weeks and, of course, you Would prefer to be married before then.”
“ Chaff away,” said Hoskyn, rising. “I must be off now. You may expect to see me pretty soon again, and if you don’t hear people wondering ring next season how Johnny Hoskyn managed to get such a clever wife — why, I shall be worse disappointed than you. Good night.”
CHAPTER XIV
During the remaining weeks of the season, Mary witnessed a series of entertainments of a kind quite new to her. Since her childhood she had never visited the Crystal Palace except for the Saturday afternoon classical concerts. Now she spent a whole day there with Mr Hoskyn, his sister, and the children, and waited for the display of fireworks. She saw acrobats, conjurers, Christy Minstrels, panoramas, and shows of cats, goats, and dairy implements; and she felt half ashamed of herself for enjoying them. She went for the first time in her life to a circus, to a music hall, and to athletic sports at Lillie Bridge. After the athletic sports, she went up the river in a cheap excursion steamer to Hampton Court, where she hardly looked at the pictures, and occupied herself solely with the other objects of interest, which she had neglected on previous visits. Finally she went to Madame Tussaud’s.
Hoskyn had proposed all these amusements on behalf of the children; and it was supposed that Mary and Mrs Phipson, on going to them, were goodnaturedly co-operating with Uncle Johnny to make the little Phipsons happy. In the character of Uncle Johnny, Hoskyn frequented the house in Cavendish Square at all hours, and was soon on familiar terms with Mary. He was goodhumored, and apparently quite satisfied with himself. In arranging excursions, procuring and paying for vehicles, spying out and pushing his way to seats left accidentally vacant in the midst of packed audiences, looking after the children, and getting as much value as possible for his money on every occasion, he was never embarrassed or inefficient. He was very inquisitive, and took every opportunity of entering into conversation with railway officials, steamboat captains, cab-men, and policemen, and learning from them all about their various occupations. When this habit of his caused him to neglect Mary for a while, he never pestered her with apologies, and always told her what he had learnt without any doubt that it would interest her. And it did interest her more than she would have believed beforehand, although sometimes its interest arose from the obvious mendacity of Hoskyn’s informants: he being as credulous of particulars extracted bu casual pumping as he was sceptical of any duly authorized and published statement. In his company Mary felt neither the anxiety to appear at her best with which Herbert’s delicate taste and nervous solicitude for her dignity had always inspired her, nor the circumspection which she had found necessary to avoid offending the exacting temper of Jack. In their different ways, both men had humbled her. Hoskyn admired her person, and held her acquirements to awe, without being himself in the least humbled, although he exalted her without stint. She began to feel too, that she, by her apprenticeship to the two artists, had earned the right to claim rank as an adept in modern culture before such men as Hoskyn. When they went to the Academy, he was quite delighted to find that she despised all the pictures he preferred. In about an hour, however, both had had enough of picture seeing and they finished the day by the trip to Hampton Court.
When the season was over, it was arranged that Mr Phipson should take his family to Trouville for the month of August. Hoskyn, who was to accompany them, never doubted that Mary would be one of the party until she announced the date of her departure for Sir John Porter’s country seat in Devonshire. She had accepted Lady Geraldine’s invitation a month before. Hoskyn listened in dismay, and instead of proposing some excursion to pass away the time, moped about the house during the remainder of the afternoon. Shortly after luncheon he was alone in the drawing room, staring disconsolately out of window, when Mary entered. She sat down without ceremony, and opened a book.
“Look here,” he said presently. “This is a regular sell about Trouville.”
“How so? Has anything happened?”
“I mean your not coming.”
“But nobody ever supposed that I was coming. It was arranged long ago that I should go to Devonshire.”
“I never heard a word about Devonshire until you mentioned it at lunch. Couldn’t you make some excuse — tell Lady Porter that you have been ordered abroad for your health, or that Nanny will be offended if you don’t go with her, or something of that sort?”
“But why? I want to go to Devonshire and I don’t want to go to Trouville.”
“Oh! In that case I suppose you will leave us.”
“Certainly. I hope you are not going to make a grievance of my desertion.”
“Oh no. But it knocks all the fun of the thing on the head.”
“What a pity!”
“I am quite in earnest, you know.”
“Nobody could doubt it, looking at your face. Can nothing be done to console you?”
“Poking fun at me is not the way to console me. Why do you want to go to Devonshire. It’s about the worst climate in England for anyone with a weak chest: muggy, damp and tepid.”
“I have not a weak chest, I am glad to say. Have you ever been in Devonshire?”
“No. But I have heard about it from people who lived there for years and had to leave it at last.”
“I am going for a month only.”
Hoskyn began to twirl the cord of the blind round his forefinger. When he had dashed the tassel twice against the pane Mary interfered.
“Would it not be better to open the window if you wish to let in the fresh air?”
“All I can say is,” said he, dropping the tassel, “that you really might come with us.”
“Very true, but there are many things I really might do, which I really won’t do. And one of them is to disappoint Lady Geraldine.”
“Hang Lady Geraldine. At least, not if she is a friend of yours, but I wish she had invited you at any other time.”
“I think you have now made quite enough fuss about my going away. I am flattered, Mr Hoskyn, and feel how poignantly you will all miss me. So let us drop the subject.”
“When shall I see you again, then?”
“Really