Part 14 (2/2)
'Don't 'ee be a fool, Simon ... women be kittle cattle,' I says ...
some weepin' sort ... some bl.u.s.terin' ... but all masterful ... an'
costs a lot o' money ... awful lot o' money to keep up.... Went into 't wi' my eyes open ... oh yes; very cur'ous.... Come to think on 't ... dunno why I done it.”
”Don't worry, Mr. Higgins,” I said soothingly; ”many animals flourish splendidly in captivity, and if they miss their freedom they never say anything about it, but look quite sleek and contented. And I am sure you have secured a very capable and good-natured wife, and are to be heartily congratulated. Now fetch her in and I will be getting the camera ready.”
”Fetch her in?” he inquired.
”Yes, I shall be ready by the time you return, and it will be the work of only a moment or two to arrange you suitably.”
”But she isn't goin' to have 'er photygraph taken,” he said, with an emphatic shake of the head; ”only me.”
”Do you mean to tell me,” I remarked severely, ”that you will not be photographed together on your wedding day? Mr. Higgins, it is quite the customary thing, and I certainly never heard of such a procedure as you are suggesting. Besides, it costs no more.”
”Costs the same? ... for two as for one?”
”Certainly,” I replied.
”Taken separate, like?” he continued.
”No, if taken separately the cost would be doubled, but on wedding occasions the bride and bridegroom are almost invariably photographed together, and that involves no extra cost.”
He thought this over for half a minute and then made up his mind definitely.
”I'll be taken by myself,” he said, ”... to match this 'ere.”--He drew from his breast-pocket a rather faded photograph, cabinet size, which displayed a younger Mrs. Robertshaw in the fas.h.i.+on of a dozen years before.--”Maria got these ... just afore Robertsha' died ... has best part of a dozen on 'em .... gave Robertsha' 's away ... pity to waste these ... 'll do nicely.”
”But Mr. Higgins,” I protested, ”these photographs are faded, and they are not the Mrs. Higgins of to-day. n.o.body wears that style of dress now, and she has actually a fringe! Throw them away, and do as I propose.”
”I see nowt wrong wi' 't,” he replied, examining it critically. ”She's fatter now, an' isn't as good lookin' ... more wrinkles, like....
Makes a nicer pictur, this does ... plenty good enough for 'er.”
”Mr. Higgins!” I exclaimed indignantly.
”If--you--please--miss,” he said emphatically, ”it's me as gives the order ... one dozen, miss ... to match this 'ere.”
There was nothing more to be said, and I took two negatives of the wretched little man, in the first of which he is shown standing as erect as nature permits, with the silk hat fixed firmly upon his head, and one hand in his trousers' pocket, so that the white waistcoat might not be concealed; and in the second, sitting with one leg thrown over the other, and the silk hat upon his knee. It was in vain that I pointed out that neither pose would correspond with that of his wife, which was a mere vignetted head and shoulders; Barjona had made up his mind, and was not to be moved, and I felt thankful, with Mother Hubbard, that I was not Mrs. Higgins.
I went out to speak to her when the operation had been completed, and at our approach the neighbours who had been keeping her company smiled and drew back a little.
”Good-afternoon, Mrs. Higgins,” I said. ”I have already congratulated your husband; let me now wish you much happiness.”
”Well, now, to be sure, Miss Holden,” she replied, and accompanying the words with a most decided wink, ”that remains to be seen. But if he doesn't give me much, he'll 'ave less, I can tell you. I think we shall get on when we've settled down a bit; an' anyway, time won't hang as 'eavy on my 'ands, so to speak.”
”Come, la.s.s, we must be going,” interrupted Barjona, who had climbed up beside her.
”As soon as ever I've finished,” replied Mrs. Higgins, smiling upon him sweetly. Nevertheless, she tightened the reins and prepared to move.
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