TAKING STOCK
Beatrice has been spring-cleaning me to-day, or rather my clothes. I said, wasn't it rather early for it, as none of the birds were singing properly yet, and she had much better wait till next year; but no, she would do it now. Beatrice is my sister-in-law, and she said—— Well, I forget what she did say, but she took a whole bundle of things away with her in a cab; and I know John will be wearing that purple shirt of mine to-morrow. As a matter of fact, it was a perfectly new one, and I was only waiting till Lent was over.
Beatrice said the things were all lying about anyhow, and how I ever found anything to put on she didn't know; but I could have told her that they were all arranged on a symmetrical plan of my own. Beatrice doesn't understand the symmetry of a bachelor's mind. I like a collar in each drawer, and then, whatever drawer you open, there's a collar ready for you. Beatrice puts them all in one drawer, and then if you're in a hurry, and open the wrong drawer by mistake, you probably go up to the office in two waistcoats and no collar at all. That would be very awkward.
Beatrice actually wanted a braces drawer (if she hadn't married John I should never let her talk to me about braces), but I explained that I had only one pair, and was wearing those, so that it would be absurd. I expect she wanted me to think that John had two pairs. All I can say, is, that, if he has, he ought to be above taking my best shirt....
I don't think the waistcoat drawer will be a success. There are twenty-three of them, and some of them don't blend at all well. Twenty-three in one drawer—you know there are bound to be disputes. I see William has got to the top already. Ah! he was a fine fellow, the first I ever had. I don't quite know how to describe him, but in colour he was emerald green, with bits of red silk peeping through. Sort of open-work, you know, only where you would expect to see me there was more of William. I wore him at Beatrice's wedding. He would come. Only he wouldn't let me into the vestry. I wanted to sign my name; all the others were. I have never worn him since that day, but Beatrice has fished him out, and now he lies on the very top of the drawer.
Of course it's awfully good of Beatrice to take so much trouble about my clothes, and I'm extremely grateful, and after all she did marry my brother John; but I think sometimes she—— Well, here's a case. You know, when you have twenty-three waistcoats you perhaps run a bit short of—of other things. So, naturally, the few you have got left, you—— Well, Beatrice took them all away, and said that as I couldn't possibly wear them again she'd cut them up for house-cloths. And really—half-way between winter and summer is a very awkward time for restocking. But I suppose it is going to be warmer now?
House-cloths! I bet John has a go at them first.
Beatrice found what they call in the profession a "morning-coat and vest" under the bed, and said that she would take it away and sell it for me. I like the way she "finds" things which I have been keeping for years under the bed. It is absurd to talk about "finding" anything in a small flat, because, of course, it's there all the time: but Beatrice thought that I ought to be grateful to her for the discovery, so I pretended I was. She said she would get at least half-a-crown for it; but I said I would rather have the coat. However, it turned out that I wasn't even to have had the half-crown....
I used to have thirty pairs of old white gloves in a drawer. I would take them out sometimes, and stroke them affectionately, and say, "Ah, yes, those were the ones I wore at that absolutely ripping dance when I first met Cynthia, and we had supper together. You can see where I spilt the ice pudding." Or—"This was that Hunt Ball, when I knew nobody and danced with Hildegarde all the time. She wore black; just look at them now." Well, Beatrice had that drawer out pretty quick. And now they are on their way to Perth or Paris, or wherever it is; except Hildegarde's pair, which will just do for the girl when she cleans the grates. I expect she really will get them you know; because John doesn't dance.
You know, you mustn't make too much fun of Beatrice; she has ripping ideas sometimes. She filled a "summer-trunk" for me—a trunk full of all the clothes I am going to want in the summer. She started with a tennis-racquet (which, strictly speaking, isn't clothes at all), and went on with some of the jolliest light waistcoats you ever saw; it made me quite hot to look at them. Well, now, that's really a good idea so far as it goes. But what will happen when the summer does come? Why, we shall have to go through the whole business all over again. And who'll arrange the winter-trunk? Beatrice. And who'll get the pink pyjamas and the green socks that there's really no room for, dear? Why, John.
Yet I am sorry for John. He was once as I am. What a life is his now. Beatrice is a dear, and I will allow no one to say a word against her, but she doesn't understand that trousers must be folded, not hung; that a collar which has once been a collar can never be opened out and turned into a cuff (supposing one wore cuffs); and that a school eleven blazer, even if it happens to be pink, must not be cut down into a dressing-jacket for the little one. Poor John! Yes, I am glad now that he has that shirt of mine. It is perhaps a little too bright for his complexion, perhaps he has not quite the air to carry it off; but I am glad that it is his. Now I think of it I have a tie and a pair of socks that would go well with it; and even William—can I part with William?—yes, he shall have William. Oh, I see that I must be kind to John.
Dear Beatrice! I wonder when I shall have everything straight again.