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Authors: Dornford Yates

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BOOK: Berry And Co.
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The old fellow laughed.

“I’ve seen the coaches, m’m, and I’ve seen the motors, an’ they can’t neither of them do without the road, m’m. As it was in the beginnin’, so ever it shall be. Soon I’ll pass, but the road’ll go on, an’ others’ll break for ’er. For she must needs be patched, you know, m’m, she must needs be patched…”

We gave him money, and he rose and uncovered and pulled his white forelock with the antique courtesy of his class. As we turned away, I pinched Daphne’s arm.

“I’ll bet no man’s ever done that to you before.”

She shook her head, smiling.

“I don’t think so. It was very nice of him.”

“What would you call him?” said Jill. “A stonebreaker?”

I raised my eyebrows.

“I suppose so. Or roadman.”

“I know,” said Agatha softly. “He’s a Gentleman of the Road.”

“Good for you,” said I. “The title never became a highwayman one half so well.”

As I spoke, the Rolls stole up alongside. We climbed in, Jill and I sitting behind for a change. With a foot on the step, Daphne looked at her husband.

“Did you get very hot?” she said.

“I did,” said Berry. “Every pore in my body has been in action. I always think it’s so nice to start a day like that.”

“How would you like to break stones,” said I, “for seventy-nine years?”

Jonah let in the clutch.

“I perceive,” said Berry, “that you are under the influence of drink. At the present moment I am more interested in the breaking of backs. Have you ever jacked up a car?”

“Often. You must stoop to conquer.”

“Stoop? You must have a comic spine. My trunk kept getting in the way. And my nether limbs were superfluous. To do it properly you should be severed below the armpits.”

“The correct way,” said I, “is to face the jack, and then bend backwards till you face it again. Then it’s simplicity itself. You work, as it were, between your own legs.”

My brother-in-law sighed.

“I used to do my boots up like that, when an agent in Germany. In that way no one could assault me from behind. Those detailed to stab me in the back were nonplussed and in several cases shot for incompetence.”

A quarter of an hour later we slid over Magdalen Bridge.

 

The venerable city was unchanged. That same peculiar dignity, which no impertinence can scathe, that same abiding peace, the handiwork of labouring centuries, that immemorial youth, which drains the cups of Time and pays no reckoning – three wonders of the world, rose up to meet us visitors.

Oxford has but two moods.

This day she was
allegro
. The Sunshine Holyday of Spring had won her from her other soberer state, and Mirth was in all her ways. Her busy streets were bright, her blistered walls glowed and gave back the warmth vouchsafed them, her spires and towers were glancing, vivid against the blue: the unexpected green, that sprawled ragged upon scaly parapets, thrust boldly out between the reverend mansions and smothered up the songs of architects, trembled to meet its patron: the blowing meadows beamed, gates lifted up their heads, retired quadrangles smiled in their sleep, the very streams were lazy, and gardens, walks, spaces and alleyed lanes were all betimes a-Maying.

Perhaps because it was St George’s Day, ghosts that the grey old stones can conjure up, at Fancy’s whim came thronging. The state of Kings rode by familiar, shrewd virgin Majesty swayed in a litter down the roaring streets, and the unruly pomp of a proud cardinal wended its scarlet way past kneeling citizens. Cavaliers ruffled it in the chequered walks, prelates and sages loaded the patient air with discourse, and phantom tuck of drum ushered a praise-God soldiery to emptied bursaries. With measured tread statesmen and scholars paced sober up and down the flags, absorbed in argument, poets roamed absent by, and Law and bustling Physic, learned and gowned and big with dignity, swept in and out the gates of colleges whose very fame, that spurred their young intent, they lived to magnify.

After a random drive about the city, in the course of which we visited St John’s and Magdalen, we put the car in a garage and repaired to
The Mitre
for lunch.

Such other spectacles as we proposed to view lay more or less close together, and could be inspected more conveniently without the car, which claimed the constant vigilance of one of us just at the very times we least could spare it.

Fortified by the deference shown him by his scout, whom we had encountered while visiting his old rooms overlooking the Deer Park, my brother-in-law had in some measure succeeded – so far as Jill and Agatha were concerned – in investing his sojourn at Magdalen with an ill-merited dignity; and Daphne, Jonah and I were quite justifiably delighted when a prosperous-looking individual, with a slip in his waistcoat and a diamond ring, left his table and laid a fat hand familiarly upon Berry’s shoulder.

“Hullo, Pleydell, old man. How’s things? Don’t remember me, I suppose. Lewis.” He mentioned the name of the minor college he had once adorned. “You were at Magdalen, weren’t you?”

Taken completely by surprise, Berry hesitated before replying in a tone which would have chilled a glacier.

“Er – yes. I’m afraid my memory’s not as good as yours. You must excuse me.”

“That’s all right,” said the other, with a fat laugh. “I was one of the quiet little mice,” he added archly, “and you were always such a gay dog.” To our indescribable delectation he actually thrust a stubby forefinger into his victim’s ribs.

“Er – yes,” said Berry, moving his chair as far from his tormentor as space would permit. “I suppose you were. One of the mice, I think you said. You know, I still don’t seem to remember your face or name. You’re quite sure…”

“Anno Domini,” was the cheerful reply. “We’re both older, eh? Don’t you remember the night we all – But p’r’aps I oughtn’t to tell tales out of school, ought I, old bean?” Again the forefinger was employed, and its owner looked round expectantly. Beads of perspiration became visible upon Berry’s forehead, and Jonah and I burst into a roar of laughter.

Greatly encouraged by our mirth, Mr Lewis beamed with geniality, and, slapping Berry upon the back with the diamond ring, commended the good old times, observed that the undergraduates of today were of a very different class to “me and you,” and added that England was in such a rotten state that, if the Coal Controller had not personally begged him to “carry on,” he would have “up stick and cleared out to Australia long ago.”

At his concluding words Daphne sat up as if she had been shot. Then, administering to me a kick, which she afterwards explained had been intended for Berry, she smiled very charmingly.

“I suppose you’re just up for the day, Mr Lewis. As we are,” she inquired.

With an elaborate bow Mr Lewis agreed, and in a moment the two were carrying on an absurd conversation, to which Jonah and I contributed by laughing unfeignedly whenever a remark justified an expression of mirth. Jill and Agatha were on the edge of hysteria, and Berry sat sunk in a condition of profound gloom, from which he occasionally emerged to fix one or other of us with a stare of such malevolence as only served to throw us into a fresh paroxysm of laughter.

Had Mr Lewis for one moment appreciated the true cause of our amusement, he would have been a broken man. Happily his self-confidence was sublime, and, when Daphne finally bowed and remarked with a dazzling smile that no doubt he and her husband would like to have a little chat after luncheon, he retired in a perfect ecstasy of gratification.

When he was out of earshot—

“Why not ask him to come and live with us?” said Berry. “He could go to the Loganberrys’ ball on Tuesday, and Jonah and I can put him up for the Club. He might even stay for Ascot.”

“I think he’s a topper,” said I.

“Old college pal, I suppose,” said Jonah. “Let’s call the Stilton after him.”

“Listen,” said Daphne. “Didn’t you hear him say he was something to do with coal? Well, the moment he said it, I thought of what I’ve been trying to remember ever since yesterday morning. We’ve got three hundredweight left, and we’ve had more than our ration already. For goodness’ sake, get him to do something for us.”

“You wicked woman,” said Berry. “You wicked, deceitful woman.”

“Nonsense,” said Daphne. “It’s just a stroke of luck. Of course, he mayn’t be able to help, but it’s worth trying. If you want to do without a hot bath – let alone fires – for the next three months, I don’t.”

“And I am to be the cat’s-paw?” said Berry. “I’m to have the felicity of hobnobbing with that poisonous bounder—”

“You’ve done it before,” said I. “He remembers it perfectly.”

“Vermin,” said Berry, “you lie. My association with that little pet was confined to the two solitary occasions upon which I was so misguided as to be the guest of a club of which he was not a member, but which was, nevertheless, an institution of the college which he adorned. After dinner it was customary to pay a short but eventful visit to the rooms of the most unpopular man in college. On each occasion Mr Lewis’ rooms were unanimously selected.”

“Nemesis,” said I. “He’s getting his own back.”

“I rejoice to think,” said my brother-in-law, “that it was I who conceived the idea of secreting Chinese figs in every pair of his boots and shoes that could be found. If I remember, we used the best part of two boxes.”

“I depend upon you,” said Daphne. “Be civil to him for five minutes, and we’ll – we’ll wait for you between St Mary’s and The Radcliffe.”

“But how nice of you! I should hate to suggest that you were not taking any risks. Of course, a punt moored in midstream would be safer.”

“He might be worse,” said I. “I admit I could spare the diamond, but at least he’s not wearing a cummerbund and sand shoes.”

“Hush,” said Jonah. “He’s keeping them for Henley. You won’t catch him out on dress. Ah me,” he added with a sigh, “I love to see old chums meet again, don’t you?”

“There’s nothing so touching,” said I, “as a reunion of souls. To revive the memory of boyhood’s intimacy, of joys and troubles shared, of visits to the tuck-shop… If the truth were known, I expect they were always together, sort of inseparable, you know.”

“No doubt. Naturally, Berry’s a bit shy at first, but that’s often the way. Before the afternoon’s out, he’ll be calling him ‘ ’Erb’ again, and they’ll have changed hats.”

“This,” said Berry, “is intolerable. A little more and I shall burst into large pear-shaped tears. Let’s pay the bill, will you?” He rose to his feet. “And now I’m going to remember more things in five minutes than Mr Lewis has forgotten in thirteen years. Will two tons be enough?”

“Make it three,” said Daphne.

“And we are to reassemble between St Mary’s and The Radcliffe. Or was it between The Radcliffe and St Mary’s?”

“We shall wait five minutes and no more,” said I. “That gives you one minute forty seconds a ton, or five seconds a hundredweight. Keep the home fires burning.”

“Mathematician and imitation humorist,” said Berry. “Isn’t it wonderful? Don’t forget to let me know what the bill comes to. Just as a matter of interest.”

He sauntered in the direction of Mr Lewis, who was watching him with the air of a terrier that hopes to be taken out for a walk…

I called for the bill, and five minutes later the rest of us were strolling across the cobbles under the shadow of The Radcliffe Camera.

“As soon as he comes,” said Jonah, “we’ll go to New College. We can sit in the gardens there for a bit and suck soda-mints. When the process of digestion is completed, we can see the chapel and hall, and then one of us can borrow a gown, and we’ll look in at The Bodleian.”

The project seemed admirable, but, as has been frequently remarked, Man but proposes.

More than four minutes had elapsed, and we were casually sauntering towards The High, to see if Berry was in sight, when the latter swung round the corner of Brasenose with Mr Lewis stepping joyously by his side.

Instead of his grey Homburg, my brother-in-law was wearing a soft clerical hat which was too small for him. The ludicrous effect created by this substitution of headgear can be more easily imagined than described.

For a moment we wavered. Then Jill gave a shriek of laughter, and we broke and scattered something after the manner of a mounted reconnoitring patrol that has unexpectedly “bumped into” a battalion of the enemy. Our retreat, however, was not exactly precipitate, and we endeavoured to invest it with a semblance of hypocrisy not usually thought necessary in warfare; but it was in no sense dignified, and only a child, too young to differentiate between right and wrong, could have failed to recognize the true motive which prompted our withdrawal.

Seizing Agatha by the arm I turned left about, pointed vehemently to the dome of the Camera, and hurried her in the direction of the gate which admitted to that institution. Simultaneously Jonah wheeled right about and, apparently imparting information of a startling character concerning the east front of Brasenose to his sister and cousin, began to hustle them towards the entrance. To Berry’s repeated nominal exhortations we paid not the slightest attention. Coal or no coal, the combination of Mr Lewis and my brother-in-law – the latter in a mood which the assumption of so ridiculous a garb made it impossible to mistake – was too awful to contemplate. There are things which are worse than a cold bath.

I did not stop until we were safely on the leads of the Camera. Considerably out of breath, we leaned cautiously upon the balustrade, if possible from our eminence to observe the manoeuvres of our terror. Look where we would, there was no one to be seen.

“The brute must have followed the others into BNC,” I panted. “I’d love to see them come out.”

“I think he’s a scream,” said Agatha. “If he could only see himself in that hat…”

She dissolved into peals of laughter.

“I agree. But I’d rather watch from the stalls than assist him in one of his turns.”

“Stalls? This is more like the gallery.”

“True. But remember. ‘Who sups with the devil should hold a long spoon.’ All the same, if you can bear another proverb, ‘It’s an ill wind,’ etc. If I hadn’t been hard up for a refuge, I should never have thought of bringing you up here, and for any one to get an idea of Oxford it’s as good a place as I know.”

BOOK: Berry And Co.
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