Читать книгу Lady Jim of Curzon Street - Fergus Hume - Страница 6

"And very pleasant they are, my dear man."

"It is people such as you and your husband who make the poor discontented," insisted the curate.

"I'm sure I don't see why the poor should be," murmured Lady Jim, vaguely; "there are lots of shelters and soup-kitchens and workhouses. And I always put ten shillings into the plate on Hospital Sunday, not to speak of the way in which I've danced and sung at performances--got up to help people who don't need the money so much as I do."

"Nero fiddling, while Rome burned."

"Well, and what else could the poor man have done?" retorted Leah. "There were no fire-brigades in those days, were there?"

Lionel felt helpless. "You don't understand!"

"Oh yes, I do. You mean to be nasty. If I were a vindictive woman I would drop you into the river, car and all"--they were crossing Westminster Bridge by this time--"but I always like to be nice. Being nasty brings wrinkles, and makes one so old. But about our trouble," she went on, determined to have her own way. "Lady Canvey won't help us, and no one else either. There's the Duke----"

"He has done enough for you."

"Not at all," Lady Jim assured him coolly. "He's kept us on bread and water--that's all."

"Oh!" Lionel was shocked at this ungrateful speech. "And you prefer pâté de foie gras and champagne?"

"Naturally! Not that I like pâté de foie gras. They torture the geese to get it, I believe, and it seems cruel to eat it."

"You have a tender heart," said Kaimes, sarcastically.

"It has been my ruin. But this trouble----" She harked back again to the one subject which occupied her thoughts. "Will you see the Duke, and ask him to give us--say--er--er--well, two thousand pounds?"

"No, I won't. You'll only waste it."

"That's so like you parsons," said Lady Jim snappishly: "we ask for bread, and you give us a stone."

"Two thousand pounds' worth of bread is a trifle too much to ask for."

"Not at all, I always ask for twice what I hope to get. But here we are on the other side of the water. I can't take the machine into your dirty little slums. Get down."

Lionel did so, and stepped on to the pavement. "Thank you for the drive," said he, lifting his soft hat.

Lady Jim nodded vaguely. "Won't you speak to the Duke?"

Kaimes hesitated. He did not wish to appear churlish; yet it seemed useless to interfere. "The Duke is very independent," he explained; "I don't think he'll listen to me."

"Oh yes, he will. You're a parson, and he is old enough to be afraid of the next world. Tell him we're cleaned out, and get Jim and me a thousand. And I tell you what," added Leah, generously. "If you do, I'll give you a ten-pound note for your charities, though I don't believe in helping paupers myself."

"Yet you ask help on that ground."

"Oh, I mean the unwashed paupers you're so fond of."

Lionel ruminated. "Do you and Jim go down to Firmingham for Christmas?"

"Yes. It will be horribly dull. The Duke is so fond of that old-fashioned Dickens Christmas, with its holly and mistletoe rubbish; but we must keep in with him. What of it?"

"Why not explain your position, and----?"

"Oh, we've explained it a dozen times. But the Duke doesn't seem to understand. Now, you can put the thing to him nicely."

"Well," said the curate, slowly. "I go to Firmingham at Christmas to preach, so I'll speak to the Duke."

"You're a brick," cried Lady Jim, holding out her hand. "I'll come and hear you preach when we're in Firmingham."

"I hope it will do you good," said Lionel, shaking hands. "You think me a prig, Lady James, but I assure you----"

"I know you do," said Leah, dreading further sermons; "but I must get home to dress. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," echoed Lionel, hopelessly, and saw the car glide away into the fog between the lines of blurred lights. "Poor woman!" he thought, turning towards his lodgings. "How terribly sad her spiritual position is! I trust she will get home safely, seeing she is so worldly."

He need not have troubled. Lady Jim reached Curzon Street in safety, and in very good spirits. Did not a peacock's feather adorn one of the motor-car lamps?