The Freaks of MayfairBenson, E. F. (Edward Frederic)
General
The Freaks of Mayfair
Benson, E. F. (Edward Frederic)
England -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction; Humorous stories, English; Short stories, English
Now simple as this procedure appeared, it had the simplicity of genius
about it, not the simplicity of the fool. As far as houses went, she did
not care whether she had Lady Newgate’s house or a house in Newgate.
What she was going for was Lady Newgate. It was possible, of course,
that on receiving this message, Lady Newgate would simply say, ‘What on
earth does she want to see me for? She can settle it through the agent.’
If that was the case, it was not likely that Lady Newgate would be any
good to her. But it was quite possible that Lady Newgate might say,
‘Hullo: here is _the_ Mrs. Whitehand going about looking for a house,
and probably unchaperoned.’ Anyhow there was a chance of this, and
since Sarah Whitehand had nothing to lose, she took it. For there might
be something to gain, and these are the best chances to take.
Now the price asked for this fortress of marble and cedar-wood was an
extremely high one, and the Newgates would have been perfectly willing
to take about half of the sum named, after a little genteel and lofty
bargaining. Consequently the prospect of immediately obtaining the full
price, not for three months only, but for six, including August and
September, when an aged caretaker usually had it for nothing, was
irresistibly attractive. Toby Newgate, it is true, momentarily demurred
against his wife’s waiting upon the peremptory Yankee at the Ritz, but
she had seen much further than him with her forget-me-not coloured eyes.
She had seen in fact just as far as Mrs. Whitehand.
‘My dear, it’s flying in the face of Providence to neglect such a
chance,’ she said, ‘and if she’d told me to wait at the bottle entrance
of the Elephant and Castle I should have gone.’
He shuffled about the room a little.
‘Don’t like your being whistled to by the wife of the manufacturer of
hardware, just for six months’ rent,’ he said.
She laughed.
‘My dear Toby, it isn’t only six months’ rent that’s at stake,’ she
said. ‘I’m not going to be landlady only, I expect, but godmother.’
‘Godmother?’
‘Yes, dear, and you godfather to Mr. Hardware, if he is here. But you
needn’t buy any presents. Good American godchildren give the presents
themselves.’
Toby had some vague sense of her position, she only the necessity of his
poverty.
‘You mean you’re going to trot them round?’ he asked.
‘Yes, if possible. I think her message means that. Why else should she
want to see me, or take the house for August and September? It’s a
bribe, a hint, a signal.’
The interview between the two ladies was extremely satisfactory, as is
usually the case when there is no nonsense about the conversationalists,
and each of them is willing and even eager to give exactly what the
other wants. The business of the house was very soon relegated to a firm
of solicitors, and the godmotherly aspect began to show through the form
of the landlady, as in some cunning transformation scene, faintly at
first but with increasing distinctness.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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