GEORGE SHAW - Collected Works

“You’re not bound to answer that, you know,” said the inspector, a little put out by Agatha’s taking advantage of her irresponsible unofficial position to come so directly to the point. “You may if you like, though. If you’ve done any harm, you’d better hold your tongue. If not, you’d better say so.”

“I will set the young lady’s mind at rest respecting her honorable sister,” said Smilash. “When the young lady caught sight of me she fainted. Bein’ but a young man, and not used to ladies, I will not deny but that I were a bit scared, and that my mind were not open to the sensiblest considerations. When she unveils her orbs, so to speak, she ketches me round the neck, not knowin’ me from Adam the father of us all, and sez, ‘Bring me some water, and don’t let the girls see me.’ Through not ‘avin’ the intelligence to think for myself, I done just what she told me. I ups with her in my arms—she bein’ a light weight and a slender figure—and makes for the canal as fast as I could. When I got there, I lays her on the bank and goes for the water. But what with factories, and pollutions, and high civilizations of one sort and another, English canal water ain’t fit to sprinkle on a lady, much less for her to drink. Just then, as luck would have it, a barge came along and took her aboard, and—”

“To such a thing,” said Wickens’s boy stubbornly, emboldened by witnessing the effrontery of one apparently of his own class. “I sor you two standin’ together, and her a kissin’ of you. There worn’s no barge.”

“Is the maiden modesty of a born lady to be disbelieved on the word of a common boy that only walks the earth by the sufferance of the landlords and moneylords he helps to feed?” cried Smilash indignantly. “Why, you young infidel, a lady ain’t made of common brick like you. She don’t know what a kiss means, and if she did, is it likely that she’d kiss me when a fine man like the inspector here would be only too happy to oblige her. Fie, for shame! The barge were red and yellow, with a green dragon for a figurehead, and a white horse towin’ of it. Perhaps you’re color-blind, and can’t distinguish red and yellow. The bargee was moved to compassion by the sight of the poor faintin’ lady, and the offer of ‘arf-a-crown, and he had a mother that acted as a mother should. There was a cabin in that barge about as big as the locker where your ladyship keeps your jam and pickles, and in that locker the bargee lives, quite domestic, with his wife and mother and five children. Them canal boats is what you may call the wooden walls of England.”

“Come, get on with your story,” said the inspector. “We know what barges is as well as you.”

“I wish more knew of ‘em,” retorted Smilash; “perhaps it ‘ud lighten your work a bit. However, as I was sayin’, we went right down the canal to Lyvern, where we got off, and the lady she took the railway omnibus and went away in it. With the noble openhandedness of her class, she gave me sixpence; here it is, in proof that my words is true. And I wish her safe home, and if I was on the rack I could tell no more, except that when I got back I were laid hands on by these here bobbies, contrary to the British constitooshun, and if your ladyship will kindly go to where that constitooshun is wrote down, and find out wot it sez about my rights and liberties—for I have been told that the working-man has his liberties, and have myself seen plenty took with him—you will oblige a common chap more than his education will enable him to express.”

“Sir,” cried Mr. Jansenius suddenly, “will you hold up your head and look me in the face?”

Smilash did so, and immediately started theatrically, exclaiming, “Whom do I see?”

“You would hardly believe it,” he continued, addressing the company at large, “but I am well beknown to this honorable gentleman. I see it upon your lips, governor, to ask after my missus, and I thank you for your condescending interest. She is well, sir, and my residence here is fully agreed upon between us. What little cloud may have rose upon our domestic horizon has past away; and, governor,”—-here Smilash’s voice fell with graver emphasis—“them as interferes betwixt man and wife now will incur a heavy responsibility. Here I am, such as you see me, and here I mean to stay, likewise such as you see me. That is, if what you may call destiny permits. For destiny is a rum thing, governor. I came here thinking it was the last place in the world I should ever set eyes on you in, and blow me if you ain’t a’most the first person I pops on.”

“I do not choose to be a party to this mummery of—”

“Asking your leave to take the word out of your mouth, governor, I make you a party to nothink. Respecting my past conduct, you may out with it or you may keep it to yourself. All I say is that if you out with some of it I will out with the rest. All or none. You are free to tell the inspector here that I am a bad ‘un. His penetrating mind have discovered that already. But if you go into names and particulars, you will not only be acting against the wishes of my missus, but you will lead to my tellin’ the whole story right out afore everyone here, and then goin’ away where no one won’t never find me.”

“I think the less said the better,” said Mrs. Jansenius, uneasily observant of the curiosity and surprise this dialogue was causing. “But understand this, Mr.—”

“Smilash, dear lady; Jeff Smilash.”

“Mr. Smilash, whatever arrangement you may have made with your wife, it has nothing to do with me. You have behaved infamously, and I desire to have as little as possible to say to you in future! I desire to have nothing to say to you—nothing,” said Mr. Jansenius. “I look on your conduct as an insult to me, personally. You may live in any fashion you please, and where you please. All England is open to you except one place—my house. Come, Ruth.” He offered his arm to his wife; she took it, and they turned away, looking about for Agatha, who, disgusted at the gaping curiosity of the rest, had pointedly withdrawn beyond earshot of the conversation.

Miss Wilson looked from Smilash—who had watched Mr. Jansenius’s explosion of wrath with friendly interest, as if it concerned him as a curious spectator only—to her two visitors as they retreated. “Pray, do you consider this man’s statement satisfactory?” she said to them. “I do not.”

“I am far too common a man to be able to make any statement that could satisfy a mind cultivated as yours has been,” said Smilash, “but I would ‘umbly pint out to you that there is a boy yonder with a telegram trying to shove hisself through the ‘iborn throng.”

“Miss Wilson!” cried the boy shrilly.

She took the telegram; read it; and frowned. “We have had all our trouble for nothing, ladies and gentlemen,” she said, with suppressed vexation. “Mrs. Trefusis says here that she has gone back to London. She has not considered it necessary to add any explanation.”

There was a general murmur of disappointment.

“Don’t lose heart, ladies,” said Smilash. “She may be drowned or murdered for all we know. Anyone may send a telegram in a false name. Perhaps it’s a plant. Let’s hope for your sakes that some little accident—on the railway, for instance—may happen yet.”

Miss Wilson turned upon him, glad to find someone with whom she might justly be angry. “You had better go about your business,” she said. “And don’t let me see you here again.”

“This is ‘ard,” said Smilash plaintively. “My intentions was nothing but good. But I know wot it is. It’s that young varmint a-saying that the young lady kissed me.”

“Inspector,” said Miss Wilson, “will you oblige me by seeing that he leaves the college as soon as possible?”