slightest intention of ever leading the unnatural and frightful life you describe. So what you say doesn’t apply to me.”
“Quite so,” replied Oliver. “That wasn’t the moral of my discourse. The habit of mind engendered in the wilds applies to me. Just as I could never think of Duck-Eyed Joe as George Wilkinson, so you, James Marmaduke Trevor, will live imperishably in my mind as Doggie. I was making a sort of apology, old chap, for my habit of mind.”
“If it is an apology – ” said Marmaduke.
Oliver, laughing, clapped him boisterously on the shoulder. “Oh, you solemn comic cuss!” He strode to a rose-bowl and knocked the ashes of his pipe into the water – Doggie trembled lest he might next squirt tobacco juice over the ivory curtains. “You don’t give a fellow a chance. Look here, tell me, as man to man, what are you going to do with your life? I don’t mean it in the high-brow sense of people who live in unsuccessful plays and garden cities, but in the ordinary common-sense way of the world. Here you are, young, strong, educated, intelligent – ”
“I’m not strong,” said Doggie.
“Oh, shucks! A month’s exercise would make you as strong as a mule. Here you are – what the blazes are you going to do with yourself?”
“I don’t admit that you have any right to question me,” said Doggie, lighting a cigarette.
“Peggy has given it to me. We had a heart to heart talk this morning, I assure you. She called me a swaggering, hectoring barbarian. So I told her what I’d do. I said I’d come here and squeak like a little mouse and eat out of your hand. I also said I’d take you out with me to the Islands and give you a taste for fresh air and salt water and exercise. I’ll teach you how to sail a schooner and how to go about barefoot and swab decks. It’s a life for a man out there, I tell you. If you’ve nothing better to do than living here snug like a flea on a dog’s back, until you get married, you’d better come.”
Doggie smiled pityingly, but said politely:
“Your offer is very kind, Oliver; but I don’t think that kind of life would suit me.”
“Oh yes it would,” said Oliver. “It would make you healthy, wealthy – if you took a fancy to put some money into the pearl fishery – and wise. I’d show you the world, make a man of you, for Peggy’s sake, and teach you how men talk to one another in a gale of wind.”
The door opened and Peddle appeared.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Oliver – but your man – ”
“Yes? What about him? Is he misbehaving himself? Kissing the maids?”
“No, sir,” said Peddle – “but none of them can get on with their work. He has drunk two quart jugs of beer and wants a third.”
“Well, give it to him.”
“I shouldn’t like to see the man intoxicated, sir,” said Peddle.
“You couldn’t. No one has or ever will.”
“He is also standing on his head, sir, in the middle of the kitchen table.”
“It’s his great parlour-trick. You just try to do it, Peddle – especially after two quarts of beer. He’s showing his gratitude, poor chap – just like the juggler of Notre-Dame in the story. And I’m sure everybody’s enjoying themselves?”
“The maids are nearly in hysterics, sir.”
“But they’re quite happy?”
“Too happy, sir.”
“Lord!” cried Oliver, “what a lot of stuffy owls you are! What do you want me to do? What would you like me to do, Doggie? It’s your house.”
“I don’t know,” said Doggie. “I’ve had nothing to do with such people. Perhaps you might go and speak to him.”
“No, I won’t do that. I tell you what, Peddle,” said Oliver brightly. “You lure him out into the stable yard with a great hunk of pie – he adores pie – and tell him to sit there and eat it till I come. Tell him I said so.”
“I’ll see what can be done, sir,” said Peddle.
“I don’t mean to be inhospitable,” said Doggie, after the butler had gone, “but why do you take this extraordinary person about with you?”
“I wanted him to see Durdlebury and Durdlebury to see him. Do it good,” replied Oliver. “Now, what about my proposition? Out there of course you’ll be my guest. Put yourself in charge of Chipmunk and me for eight months, and you’ll never regret it. What Chipmunk doesn’t know about ships and drink and hard living isn’t knowledge. We’ll let you down easy – treat you kindly – word of honour.”
Doggie being a man of intelligence realized that Oliver’s offer arose from a genuine desire to do him some kind of service. But if a friendly bull out of the fullness of its affection invited you to accompany him to the meadow and eat grass, what could you do but courteously decline the invitation? This is what Doggie did. After a further attempt at persuasion, Oliver grew impatient, and picking up his hat stuck it on the side of his head. He was a simple-natured, impulsive man. Peggy’s spirited attack had caused him to realize that he had treated Doggie with unprovoked rudeness; but then, Doggie was such a little worm. Suddenly the great scheme for Doggie’s regeneration had entered his head, and generously he had rushed to begin to put it into execution. The pair were his blood relations after all. He saw his way to doing them a good turn. Peggy, with all her go – exemplified by the manner in which she had gone for him – was worth the trouble he proposed to take with Doggie. It really was a handsome offer. Most fellows would have jumped at the prospect of being shown round the Islands with an old hand who knew the whole thing backwards, from company promoting to beach-combing. He had not expected such a point-blank, bland refusal. It made him angry.
“I’m really most obliged to you, Oliver,” said Doggie finally. “But our ideals are so entirely different. You’re primitive, you know. You seem to find your happiness in defying the elements, whereas I find mine in adopting the resources of civilization to circumvent them.”
He smiled, pleased with his little epigram.
“Which means,” said Oliver, “that you’re afraid to roughen your hands and spoil your complexion.”
“If you like to put it that way – symbolically.”
“Symbolically be hanged!” cried Oliver, losing his temper. “You’re an effeminate little rotter, and I’m through with you. Go on and wag your tail and sit up and beg for biscuits – ”
“Stop!” shouted Doggie, white with sudden anger which shook him from head to foot. He marched to the door, his green silk dressing-gown flapping round his legs, and threw it wide open. “This is my house. I’m sorry to have to ask you to get out of it.”
Oliver looked intently for a few seconds into the flaming little dark eyes. Then he said gravely:
“I’m a beast to have said that. I take it all back. Good-bye!”
“Good day to you,” said Doggie; and when the door was shut he went and threw himself, shaken, on the couch, hating Oliver and all his works more than ever. Go about barefoot and swab decks! It was Bedlam madness. Besides being dangerous to health, it would be excruciating discomfort. And
