Part 40 (2/2)

”Or T. O. E. C. O.,” said Coote.

”Or T. O. E. C. O.,” said Kipps, a.s.sisting his poor head by nodding it at each letter.

”Toe Company like,” he said in his efforts to comprehend.

When Kipps was clear what an anagram meant, Coote came to the second heading, the Tea. Kipps gathered there might be from thirty to sixty people present, and that each one would have an anagram pinned on. ”They give you a card to put your guesses on, rather like a dance programme, and then, you know, you go around and guess,” said Coote. ”It's rather good fun.”

”Oo rather!” said Kipps, with simulated gusto.

”It shakes everybody up together,” said Coote.

Kipps smiled and nodded....

In the small hours all his painful meditations were threaded by the vision of that Anagram Tea; it kept marching to and fro and in and out of all his other troubles, from thirty to sixty people, mostly ladies and callers, and a great number of the letters of the alphabet, and more particularly P. I. K. P. S. and T. O. E. C. O., and he was trying to make one word out of the whole interminable procession....

This word, as he finally gave it with some emphasis to the silence of the night, was _”Demn!”_

Then, wreathed as it were in this lettered procession, was the figure of Helen as she had appeared at the moment of ”words”; her face a little hard, a little irritated, a little disappointed. He imagined himself going around and guessing under her eye....

He tried to think of other things, without lapsing upon a still deeper uneasiness that was wreathed with yellow sea poppies, and the figures of Buggins, Pierce and Carshot, three murdered Friends.h.i.+ps, rose reproachfully in the stillness and changed horrible apprehensions into unspeakable remorse. Last night had been their customary night for the banjo, and Kipps, with a certain tremulous uncertainty, had put old Methuselah amidst a retinue of gla.s.ses on the table and opened a box of choice cigars. In vain. They were in no need, it seemed, of _his_ society. But instead Chitterlow had come, anxious to know if it was all right about that syndicate plan. He had declined anything but a very weak whiskey and soda, ”just to drink,” at least until business was settled, and had then opened the whole affair with an effect of great orderliness to Kipps. Soon he was taking another whiskey by sheer inadvertency, and the complex fabric of his conversation was running more easily from the broad loom of his mind. Into that pattern had interwoven a narrative of extensive alterations in the Pestered b.u.t.terfly--the neck and beetle business was to be restored--the story of a grave difference of opinion with Mrs. Chitterlow, where and how to live after the play had succeeded, the reasons why the Hon. Thomas Norgate had never financed a syndicate, and much matter also about the syndicate now under discussion. But if the current of their conversation had been vortical and crowded, the outcome was perfectly clear. Kipps was to be the chief partic.i.p.ator in the syndicate, and his contribution was to be two thousand pounds. Kipps groaned and rolled over and found Helen, as it were, on the other side. ”Promise me,” she had said, ”you won't do anything without consulting me.”

Kipps at once rolled back to his former position, and for a s.p.a.ce lay quite still. He felt like a very young rabbit in a trap.

Then suddenly, with extraordinary distinctness, his heart cried out for Ann, and he saw her as he had seen her at New Romney, sitting amidst the yellow sea poppies with the sunlight on her face. His heart called out for her in the darkness as one calls for rescue. He knew, as though he had known it always, that he loved Helen no more. He wanted Ann, he wanted to hold her and be held by her, to kiss her again and again, to turn his back forever on all these other things....

He rose late, but this terrible discovery was still there, undispelled by c.o.c.kcrow or the day. He rose in a shattered condition, and he cut himself while shaving, but at last he got into his dining-room and could pull the bell for the hot const.i.tuents of his multifarious breakfast.

And then he turned to his letters. There were two real letters in addition to the customary electric belt advertis.e.m.e.nt, continental lottery circular and betting tout's card. One was in a slight mourning envelope and addressed in an unfamiliar hand. This he opened first and discovered a note:

MRS. RAYMOND WACE

Requests the pleasure of

MR. KIPPS'

Company at Dinner

on Tuesday, September 21st, at 8 o'clock

With a hasty movement Kipps turned his mind to the second letter. It was an unusually long one from his Uncle, and ran as follows:

”MY DEAR NEPHEW:

”We are considerably startled by your letter though expecting something of the sort and disposed to hope for the best. If the young lady is a relation to the Earl of Beaupres well and good but take care you are not being imposed upon for there are many who will be glad enough to snap you up now your circ.u.mstances are altered--I waited on the old Earl once while in service and he was remarkably close with his tips and suffered from corns. A hasty old gent and hard to please--I daresay he has forgotten me altogether--and anyhow there is no need to rake up bygones. To-morrow is bus day and as you say the young lady is living near by we shall shut up shop for there is really nothing doing now what with all the visitors bringing everything with them down to their very children's pails and say how de do to her and give her a bit of a kiss and encouragement if we think her suitable--she will be pleased to see your old uncle--We wish we could have had a look at her first but still there is not much mischief done and hoping that all will turn out well yet I am

”Your affectionate Uncle ”EDWARD GEORGE KIPPS.

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