TAXIS AND TALK.
Conversation in the streets of London has never been easy; not, at any rate, until the small hours, when the best of it is done. But it becomes even more complex when one of the talkers is pressed for time and wants a taxi, and disengaged taxis are as rare as new jokes in a revue.
Let the following dialogue prove it. I leave open the question whether or not I have reported the real terms of our conversation, merely reminding you that two men together, removed from the frivolity of women, tend, even in the street and when the thermometer is below freezing-point, to a high seriousness rare when the sexes are mingled.
Imagine us facing a wind from the east composed of steel filings and all uncharity. We are somewhere in Chelsea, and for some reason or other, or none at all, I am accompanying him.
He (looking at his watch). I've got to be at Grosvenor Gardens by half-past one and there's not a taxi anywhere. We must walk fast and perhaps we'll meet one. Dash this War anyhow. (He said, as a matter of fact, "damn," but I am getting so tired of that word, in print that I shall employ alternatives every time. Someone really must institute a close season for "damns" or they won't any longer be funny on the stage; and, since to laugh in theatres has become a national duty, that, in the present state of the wit market, would be privation indeed.)
I (submerged by brain wave). Perhaps we'll meet one.
He. Keep a sharp look out, won't you? I 've got to be there by half-past one, and I hate to be late.
I. Those tailors you were asking me about—I think you'll find them very decent people. They——
He (excitedly). Here comes one. Hi! Hi!
[A taxi, obviously full of people, approaches and passes, the driver casting a pitying glance at my poor signalling friend.
He. I thought it was free.
I. The flag was down.
He. I couldn't be sure. What were you saying? Sorry.
I. Oh, only about those tailors. If you really want to change, you know, I could——
He. Do you mind walking a little faster?
I (mendaciously). Not at all. I could give you my card, don't you know. But of course you might not like them. Tastes differ. To me they seem to be first-rate, as tailors go.
He (profoundly—though he is not more profound than I am). Of course, as tailors go.
I. They 're best at——
He (excited again). Here's another. Hi! Hi! Taxi. No, it's engaged.
I (with a kind impulse). If you'll ask me, I'll tell you whether the flags are up or not. I think I must be able to see farther than you.
He. Do.
I. I was always rather famous for long sight. It's——
He (turning round)). Isn't that one behind us? Is that free?
I. I can't tell yet.
He. Surely the flag's up.
[He steps into the road and waves his stick.
I. It's a private car.
He. Hang the thing! so it is. They ought to be painted white or something. Life is not worth living just now.
I. They're best for trousers, I should say. Their overcoats——
He (pointing up side-street). Isn't that one there? Hi, taxi! Good heavens, that other fellow's got it. We really must walk faster. If there isn't one on the rank in Sloane Square, I'm done. If there's one thing I hate it's being late. Besides, I'm blamed hungry. When I'm hungry I'm miserable till I eat. No good to anyone.
I. As I was saying——
He. What I want to know is, where are the taxis? They're not on the streets, anyway; then where are they? One never sees a yard full of them, but they must be somewhere. It's a scandal—a positive outrage.
I. Their overcoats can be very disappointing. I don't know how it is, but they don't seem to understand overcoats. But they're so good in other ways, you know, that really if you are thinking——
He. Here's one, really empty. Hi! Hi! Taxi! Hi! Hi!
[The flag is up but the driver shakes his head, makes a noise which sounds like "dinner" and glides serenely on.
He. Well, I'm blamed! Did you ever see anything like it? What's that he said?
I. It sounded like "dinner."
He. Dinner! Of all the something cheek! Dinner! What's the world coming to?
I (brilliantly). Perhaps he's hungry.
He. Hungry! Greedy, you mean. Hansom drivers never refused to take you because they were hungry. It's monstrous. Bless the War, anyway. (Looking at his watch) I say, we must put a spurt on. You don't mind, do you?
I (more mendaciously, and wondering why I'm so weak). Oh, no.
[We both begin to scuttle, half run and half walk.
I (panting). As I was saying, they're not A1 at overcoats, but they've a first-class cutter for everything else. Just tell me if you want to change and I'll introduce you, and then you'll get special treatment. There's nothing they wouldn't do for me.
He (breathlessly). Ah! There's the rank. There's just one cab there. How awful if it were to be taken before he saw us. Run like Heaven.
I (running like Heaven). I think I'll leave you here.
He (running still more like Heaven, a little ahead). Oh no, come on. I want to hear about those tailors. Hi! Hi! Wave your stick like Heaven!
[We both wave our sticks like Heaven.
He (subsiding into a walk). Ah! it's all right. He's seen us. (Taking out his watch) I've got four minutes. We shall just do it. Good-bye.
[He leaps into the cab and I turn away wondering where I shall get lunch.
He (shouting from window). Let me know about those tailors some day; if they're any good, you know.
"ARE YE WOUNDED, TERENCE?"
"I AM THAT, MICHAEL; 'TIS IN THE FUT."
"BAD CESS TO THIM BODY-SHIELDS! I NIVER HAD MUCH FAITH IN THIM!"
"'The best people are still wearing their own clothes,' said Mr. Williams."—Star.
With all respect, Mr. WILLIAMS, the best people are wearing the KING'S.
"DONKEYS.—Wanted to purchase 100 reasonable. Apply M.S." Advt. in Colonial Paper.
We have never met this kind of donkey ourselves, but we wish M.S. the best of luck.