LITMIR.BIZ

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land close to the spot at which the banquet was prepared.

Chapter IX.

       The Rivals

       Table of Contents

      There had been a pretence of fishing, but no fish had been caught. It was soon found that such an amusement would interfere with the ladies’ dresses, and the affairs had become too serious to allow of any trivial interruption. “I really think, Mr Cheesacre,” an anxious mother had said, “that you’d better give it up. The water off the nasty cord has got all over Maria’s dress, already.” Maria made a faint protest that it did not signify in the least; but the fishing was given up,—not without an inward feeling on the part of Mr Cheesacre that if Maria chose to come out with him in his boat, having been invited especially to fish, she ought to have put up with the natural results. “There are people who like to take everything and never like to give anything,” he said to Kate afterwards, as he was walking up with her to the picnic dinner. But he was unreasonable and unjust. The girls had graced his party with their best hats and freshest muslins, not that they might see him catch a mackerel, but that they might flirt and dance to the best advantage. “You can’t suppose that any girl will like to be drenched with sea-water when she has taken so much trouble with her starch,” said Kate. “Then she shouldn’t come fishing,” said Mr Cheesacre. “I hate such airs.”

      But when they arrived at the old boat, Mrs Greenow shone forth preeminently as the mistress of the occasion, altogether overshadowing Mr Cheesacre by the extent of her authority. There was a little contest for supremacy between them, invisible to the eyes of the multitude; but Mr Cheesacre in such a matter had not a chance against Mrs Greenow. I am disposed to think that she would have reigned even though she had not contributed to the eatables; but with that point in her favour, she was able to make herself supreme. Jeannette, too, was her servant, which was a great thing. Mr Cheesacre soon gave way; and though he bustled about and was conspicuous, he bustled about in obedience to orders received, and became a head servant. Captain Bellfield also made himself useful, but he drove Mr Cheesacre into paroxysms of suppressed anger by giving directions, and by having those directions obeyed. A man to whom he had lent twenty pounds the day before yesterday, and who had not contributed so much as a bottle of champagne!

      “We’re to dine at four, and now it’s half-past three,” said Mrs Greenow, addressing herself to the multitude.

      “And to begin to dance at six,” said an eager young lady.

      “Maria, hold your tongue,” said the young lady’s mother.

      “Yes, we’ll dine at four,” said Mr Cheesacre. “And as for the music, I’ve ordered it to be here punctual at half-past five. We’re to have three horns, cymbals, triangle, and a drum.”

      “How very nice; isn’t it, Mrs Greenow?” said Charlie Fairstairs.

      “And now suppose we begin to unpack,” said Captain Bellfield. “Half the fun is in arranging the things.”

      “Oh, dear, yes; more than half,” said Fanny Fairstairs.

      “Bellfield, don’t mind about the hampers,” said Cheesacre. “Wine is a ticklish thing to handle, and there’s my man there to manage it.”

      “It’s odd if I don’t know more about wine than the boots from the hotel,” said Bellfield. This allusion to the boots almost cowed Mr Cheesacre, and made him turn away, leaving Bellfield with the widow.

      There was a great unpacking, during which Captain Bellfield and Mrs Greenow constantly had their heads in the same hamper. I by no means intend to insinuate that there was anything wrong in this. People engaged together in unpacking pies and cold chickens must have their heads in the same hamper. But a great intimacy was thereby produced, and the widow seemed to have laid aside altogether that prejudice of hers with reference to the washerwoman. There was a long table placed on the sand, sheltered by the upturned boat from the land side, but open towards the sea, and over this, supported on poles, there was an awning. Upon the whole the arrangement was not an uncomfortable one for people who had selected so very uncomfortable a dining-room as the sand of the seashore. Much was certainly due to Mr Cheesacre for the expenditure he had incurred,—and something perhaps to Captain Bellfield for his ingenuity in having suggested it.

      Now came the placing of the guests for dinner, and Mr Cheesacre made another great effort. “I’ll tell you what,” he said, aloud, “Bellfield and I will take the two ends of the table, and Mrs Greenow shall sit at my right hand.” This was not only boldly done, but there was a propriety in it which at first sight seemed to be irresistible. Much as he had hated and did hate the captain, he had skilfully made the proposition in such a way as to flatter him, and it seemed for a few moments as though he were going to have it all his own way. But Captain Bellfield was not a man to submit to defeat in such a matter as this without an effort. “I don’t think that will do,” said he. “Mrs Greenow gives the dinner, and Cheesacre gives the wine. We must have them at the two ends of the table. I am sure Mrs Greenow won’t refuse to allow me to hand her to the place which belongs to her. I will sit at her right hand and be her minister.” Mrs Greenow did not refuse,—and so the matter was adjusted.

      Mr Cheesacre took his seat in despair. It was nothing to him that he had Kate Vavasor at his left hand. He liked talking to Kate very well, but he could not enjoy that pleasure while Captain Bellfield was in the very act of making progress with the widow. “One would think that he had given it himself; wouldn’t you?” he said to Maria’s mother, who sat at his right hand.

      The lady did not in the least understand him. “Given what?” said she.

      “Why, the music and the wine and all the rest of it. There are some people full of that kind of impudence. How they manage to carry it on without ever paying a shilling, I never could tell. I know I have to pay my way, and something over and beyond generally.”

      Maria’s mother said, “Yes, indeed.” She had other daughters there besides Maria, and was looking down the table to see whether they were judiciously placed. Her beauty, her youngest one, Ophelia, was sitting next to that ne’er-do-well Joe Fairstairs, and this made her unhappy. “Ophelia, my dear, you are dreadfully in the draught; there’s a seat up here, just opposite, where you’ll be more comfortable.”

      “There’s no draught here, mamma,” said Ophelia, without the slightest sign of moving. Perhaps Ophelia liked the society of that lanky, idle, useless young man.

      The mirth of the table certainly came from Mrs Greenow’s end. The widow had hardly taken her place before she got up again and changed with the captain. It was found that the captain could better carve the great grouse pie from the end than from the side. Cheesacre, when he saw this, absolutely threw down his knife and fork violently upon the table. “Is anything the matter?” said Maria’s mother.

      “Matter!” said he. Then he shook his head in grief of heart and vexation of spirit, and resumed his knife and fork. Kate watched it all, and was greatly amused. “I never saw a man so nearly brokenhearted,” she said, in her letter to Alice the next day. “Eleven, thirteen, eighteen, twenty-one,” said Cheesacre to himself, reckoning up in his misery the number of pounds sterling which he would have to pay for being illtreated in this way.

      “Ladies and gentlemen,” said Captain Bellfield, as soon as the eating was over, “if I may be permitted to get upon my legs for two minutes, I am going to propose a toast to you.” The real patron of the feast had actually not yet swallowed his last bit of cheese. The thing was indecent in the violence of its injustice.

      “If you please, Captain Bellfield,” said the patron, indifferent to the cheese in his throat, “I’ll propose the toast.”

      “Nothing on earth could be better, my dear fellow,” said the captain, “and I’m sure I should be the last man in the world to take the job out of the hands of one who would do it so much better than I can; but as it’s your health that we’re going to drink, I really don’t

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