A Duet, with an Occasional Chorus, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle [reading books for 5 year olds txt] 📗

don't know what a cruller is, Frank.'

'No, I don't.'

'Neither do I. But I could look it up and learn. Here it is-- paragraph 2847. It is a sort of pancake, you see. That's how you learn things.'

Frank Crosse took the book and dropped it. It fell with a sulky thud upon the floor.

'Nothing that it can teach you, dear, can ever make up to me if it makes you cry, and bothers you.--You bloated, pedantic thing!' he cried, in sudden fury, aiming a kick at the squat volume. 'It is to you I owe all those sad, tired looks which I have seen upon my wife's face. I know my enemy now. You pompous, fussy old humbug, I'll kick the red cover off you!'

But Maude snatched it up, and gathered it to her bosom. 'No, no, Frank, I don't know what I should do without it. You have no idea what a wise old book it is. Now, sit there on the footstool at my feet, and I will read to you.'

'Do, dear; it's delightful.'

'Sit quiet, then, and be good. Now listen to this pearl of wisdom: "As with the commander of an army, so it is with the mistress of a house. Her spirit will be seen through the whole establishment, and, just in proportion as she performs her duties thoroughly, so will her domestics follow in her path."'

'From which it follows,' said her husband, 'that Jemima must be a perfect paragon.'

'On the contrary, it explains all Jemima's shortcomings. Listen to this: "Early rising is one of the most essential qualities. When a mistress is an early riser, it is almost certain that her house will be orderly and well managed."'

'Well, you are down at nine--what more do you want?'

'At nine! I am sure that Mrs. Beeton was always up at six.'

'I have my doubts about Mrs. B. Methinks the lady doth protest too much. I should not be very much surprised to learn that she had breakfast in bed every morning.'

'O Frank! You have no reverence for anything.'

'Let us have some more wisdom.'

'"Frugality and Economy are home virtues without which no household can prosper. Dr. Johnson says, 'Frugality may be termed--'"

'Oh, bother Dr. Johnson! Who cares for a man's opinion. Now, if it had been Mrs. Johnson--!'

'Johnson kept house for himself for years--and a queer job he made of it.'

'So I should think.' Maude tossed her pretty curls. 'Mrs. Beeton is all right, but I will not be lectured by Dr. Johnson. Where was I? Oh yes--"'We must always remember that to manage a little well, is a great merit in housekeeping."'

'Hurrah! Down with the second vegetable! No pudding on fish days. Vive la biere de Pilsen!'

'What a noisy boy you are!'

'This book excites me. Anything more?'

"Friendships should not be hastily formed, nor the heart given at once to every newcomer--"'

'Well, I should hope not! Don't let me catch you at it! You don't mind my cigarette? Has Mrs. Beeton a paragraph about smoking in bedrooms?'

'Such an enormity never occurred to her as a remote possibility. If she had known you, dear, she would have had to write an appendix to her book to meet all the new problems which you would suggest. Shall I go on?'

'Please do!'

'She next treats conversation. "In conversation, trifling occurrences such as small disappointments, petty annoyances, and other everyday incidents, should never be mentioned to friends. If the mistress be a wife, never let a word in connection with her husband's failings pass her lips--"'

'By Jove, this book has more wisdom to the square inch than any work of man,' cried Frank, in enthusiasm.

'I thought that would please you. "Good temper should be cultivated by every mistress, as upon it the welfare of the household may be said to turn."'

'Excellent!'

'"In starting a household, it is always best in the long-run to get the very best articles of their kind."'

'That is why I got you, Maude.'

'Thank you, sir. We have a dissertation then upon dress and fashion, another upon engaging domestics, another about daily duties, another about visiting, another about fresh air and exercise--'

'The most essential of any,' cried Frank, jumping up, and pulling his wife by the arms out of her low wicker-chair. 'There is just time for nine holes at golf before it is dark, if you wilt come exactly as you are. But listen to this, young lady. If ever again I see you fretting or troubling yourself about your household affairs--'

'No, no, Frank, I won't!'

'Well, if you do, Mrs. Beeton goes into the kitchen-fire. Now remember?'

'You are sure you don't envy Mr. Beeton?'

'I don't envy a man upon earth.'

'Then why should I try to be Mrs. Beeton?'

'Why indeed?'

'O Frank, what a load off my mind! Those sixteen hundred pages have just lain upon it for months. Dear old boy! come on!'

And they clattered downstairs for their golf-clubs.


CHAPTER XII--MR. SAMUEL PEPYS


There were few things which Maude liked so much as a long winter evening when Frank and she dined together, and then sat beside the fire and made good cheer. It would be an exaggeration to say that she preferred it to a dance, but next to that supreme joy, and higher even than the theatre in her scale of pleasures, were those serene and intimate evenings when they talked at their will, and were silent at their will, within their home brightened by those little jokes and endearments and allusions which make up that inner domestic masonry which is close-tiled for ever to the outsider. Five or six evenings a week, she with her sewing and Frank with his book, settled down to such enjoyment as men go to the ends of the earth to seek, while it awaits them, if they will but atune their souls to sympathy, beside their own hearthstones. Now and again their sweet calm would be broken by a ring at the bell, when some friend of Frank's would come round to pay them an evening visit. At the sound Maude would say 'bother,' and Frank something shorter and stronger, but, as the intruder appeared, they would both break into, 'Well, really now it WAS good of you to drop in upon us in this homely way.' Without such hypocrisy, the world would be a hard place to live in.

I may have mentioned somewhere that Frank had a catholic taste in literature. Upon a shelf in their bedroom--a relic of his bachelor days--there stood a small line of his intimate books, the books which filled all the chinks of his life when no new books were forthcoming. They were all volumes which he had read in his youth, and many times since, until they had become the very tie-beams of his mind. His tastes were healthy and obvious without being fine. Macaulay's Essays, Holmes' Autocrat, Gibbons' History, Jefferies' Story of my Heart, Carlyle's Life, Pepys' Diary, and Borrow's Lavengro were among his inner circle of literary friends. The sturdy East Anglian, half prize-fighter, half missionary, was a particular favourite of his, and so was the garrulous Secretary of the Navy. One day it struck him that it would be a pleasant thing to induce his wife to share his enthusiasms, and he suggested that the evenings should be spent in reading selections from these old friends of his. Maude was delighted. If he had proposed to read the rig-vedas in the original Sanskrit, Maude would have listened with a smiling face. It is in such trifles that a woman's love is more than a man's.

That night Frank came downstairs with a thick well-thumbed volume in his hand.

'This is Mr. Pepys,' said he solemnly.

'What a funny name!' cried Maude. 'It makes me think of indigestion. Why? Oh yes, pepsine, of course.'

'We shall take a dose of him every night after dinner to complete the resemblance. But seriously, dear, I think that now that we have taken up a course of reading, we should try to approach it in a grave spirit, and endeavour to realise--Oh, I say, don't!'

'I AM so sorry, dear! I do hope I didn't hurt, you!'

'You did--considerably.'

'It all came from my having the needle in my hand at the time--and you looked so solemn--and--well, I couldn't help it.'

'Little wretch--!'

'No, dear; Jemima may come in any moment with the coffee. Now, do sit down and read about Mr Pepys to me. And first of all, would you mind explaining all about the gentleman, from the beginning, and taking nothing for granted, just as if I had never heard of him before.'

'I don't believe--'

'Never mind, sir! Be a good boy and do exactly what you are told. Now begin!'

'Well, Maude, Mr. Pepys was born--'

'What was his first name?'

'Samuel.'

'Oh dear, I'm sure I should not have liked him.'

'Well, it's too late to change that. He was born--I could see by looking, but it really doesn't matter, does it? He was born somewhere in sixteen hundred and something or other, and I forget what his father was.'

'I must try to remember what you tell me.'

'Well, it all amounts to this, that he got on very well in the world, that he became at last a high official of the navy in the time of Charles the Second, and that he died in fairly good circumstances, and left his library, which was a fine one, to one of the universities, I can't remember which.'

'There is an accuracy about your information, Frank--'

'I know, dear, but it really does not matter. All this has nothing to do with the main question.'

'Go on, then!'

'Well, this library was left as a kind of dust-catcher, as such libraries are, until one day, more than a hundred years after the old boy's death, some enterprising person seems to have examined his books, and he found a number of volumes of writing which were all in cipher, so that no one could make head or tail of them.'

'Dear me, how very interesting!'

'Yes, it naturally excited curiosity. Why should a man write volumes of cipher? Imagine the labour of it! So some one set to work to solve the cipher. This was about the year 1820. After three years they succeeded.'

'How in the world did they do it?'

'Well, they say that human ingenuity never yet invented a cipher which human ingenuity could not also solve. Anyhow, they did succeed. And when they had done so, and copied it all out clean, they found they had got hold of such a book as was never heard of before in the whole history of literature.'

Maude laid her sewing on her lap, and looked across with her lips parted and her eyebrows raised.

'They found that it was an inner Diary of the life of this man, with all his