Читать книгу Clayhanger - Arnold Bennett - Страница 56

Then Mr. Enoch Peake appeared. He was a short, stout old man, with fat hands, a red, minutely wrinkled face, and very small eyes. Greeted with the respect due to the owner of Cocknage Gardens, a sporting resort where all the best foot-racing and rabbit-coursing took place, he accepted it in somnolent indifference, and immediately took off his coat and sat down in cotton shirt-sleeves. Then he pulled out a red handkerchief and his tobacco-box, and set them on the table. Big James motioned to Edwin.

“Evening, Mr. Peake,” said Big James, crossing the floor, “and here’s a young gent wishful for two words with you.”

Mr. Peake stared vacantly.

“Young Mr. Clayhanger,” explained Big James.

“It’s about this card,” Edwin began, in a whisper, drawing the wedding-card sheepishly from his pocket. “Father had to go to Manchester,” he added, when he had finished.

Mr. Enoch Peake seized the card in both hands, and examined it; and Edwin could hear his heavy breathing.

Mrs. Louisa Loggerheads, a comfortable, smiling administrative woman of fifty, showed herself at the service-door, and nodded with dignity to a few of the habitués.

“Missis is at door,” said Big James to Mr. Peake.

“Is her?” muttered Mr. Peake, not interrupting his examination of the card.

One of the serving-women, having removed Mr. Peake’s coat, brought a new church warden, filled it, and carefully directed the tip towards his tight little mouth: the lips closed on it. Then she lighted a spill and applied it to the distant bowl, and the mouth puffed; and then the woman deposited the bowl cautiously on the bench. Lastly, she came with a small glass of sloe gin. Mr. Peake did not move.

At length Mr. Peake withdrew the pipe from his mouth, and after an interval said—

“Aye!”

He continued to stare at the card, now held in one hand.

“And is it to be printed in silver?” Edwin asked.

Mr. Peake took a few more puffs.

“Aye!”

When he had stared further for a long time at the card, his hand moved slowly with it towards Edwin, and Edwin resumed possession of it.

Mrs. Louisa Loggerheads had now vanished.

“Missis has gone,” said Big James.

“Has her?” muttered Mr. Peake.

Edwin rose to leave, though unwillingly; but Big James asked him in polite reproach whether he should not stay for the first song. He nodded, encouraged; and sat down. He did not know that the uppermost idea in Big James’s mind for an hour past had been that Edwin would hear him sing.

Mr. Peake lifted his glass, held it from him, approached his lips towards it, and emptied it at a draught. He then glanced round and said thickly—

“Gentlemen all, Mester Smallrice, Mester Harracles, Mester Rampick, and Mester Yarlett will now oblige with one o’ th’ ould favourites.”

There was some applause, a few coats were removed, and Mr. Peake fixed himself in a contemplative attitude.