HOW IT'S DONE.
(A Handbook to Honesty.)
No. VI.—"AN ALARMING SACRIFICE"—SOMEWHERE!
SCENE I.—A Suburban Drawing-room, old-fashionedly furnished; brightly-bound books scattered about a solid, sombre-covered table; oil portraits of elderly, stiffly attitudinising couple on the walls; a general atmosphere of simple, pietistic propriety. Present, EDWIN and ANGELINA, a modest, but deeply-enamoured pair, shortly about to be married.
Edwin (after the regulation ceremonial). My dearest ANGELINA, I have something here which I think will greatly simplify the business of house-furnishing, that has so deeply occupied us lately.
Angelina (flushing tenderly). Oh, EDWIN, have you? How nice, dear! And what is it?
Edwin (eagerly). Quite providential, I call it. You know, dearest, I've saved three hundred pounds for the express purpose; and here is an advertisement, according to which, for about that sum, we can secure a complete fit-out for our little villa, which, I think, will exactly suit us. Quite an exceptional chance, as the advertiser says. A gentleman, lately arrived in this country from India, is unexpectedly compelled to return immediately. Consequently he is obliged to dispose at once of his lately-purchased house of furniture, at a great sacrifice. It is as good as new, in fact, has hardly been used at all; is elegant and substantial, and can be seen any day at Vamp Villa, Barnsbury, upon presentation of visiting-card. Suppose, dearest ANGY, we run over to-morrow afternoon, and have a look at it? Such a chance—in the very nick of time, too—may never occur again!
Angelina. Oh, EDWIN, how fortunate! Should it suit us, what a lot of trouble it will save!
Edwin. And money, too, darling, for the prices seem to be very low. I'm so glad you agree, dear.
Angelina (with effusion). Of course I do, EDWIN. And (with tender glance at one of the oil pictures) how delighted dear Mamma will be! [Osculation, appointment, and exit.
SCENE II.—Mysterious-looking Villa at Barnsbury, permeated by strong smell of French-polish and fusty straw. Large "House to Let" boards and posters prominently disposed. Present. EDWIN and ANGELINA, and a blandly loquacious person, in black broadcloth, with a big foolscap-paper Inventory, and a blunt-pointed pencil.
Loquacious Person (fluently). Why you see, Madam, Mr. PAWNEE LIVERLESS 'ad to leave for Bombay early yesterday mornin', and was therefore obliged to leave the sale of his furniture in our hands. But he is an old client of ours, Mr. LIVERLESS is, and he has given us carte blanche as regards the disposition of his effects. Only they must be sold at once. A retired Colonel at Notting Hill, who seemed very sweet on the bargain, promised me a decided answer by twelve o'clock to-day. It has not come, and I am free to negotiate with the next comer for the furniture as it stands, provided an immediate settlement can be arrived at. Wait I cannot, but in any other pertikler I shall be only too 'appy to meet your views.
Edwin. I see the furniture is quite new?
L.P. (with cheery candour). Well, no Sir, not quite. Oh, I'll not deceive you! It has been in use a few months, and, as you see, is none the worse for that. Better, if anything, being fully tested as to seasoning. I need 'ardly tell you, Sir, that new furniture nowadays is a ticklish thing to invest in. Such tricks, my dear Sir, such nefarious dodges and artful fakements! (Sighs.) But—(taking up a chair and banging it vigorously but adroitly on the floor)—this is stuff you can depend on, and 'll be better three years hence than it is to-day. This saddle-bag sweet, Madam, is simply luxurious, good enough for any doocal dinin'-room; the carpets throughout are as elegantly hesthetick in design, as they are substantial in fabric, whilst the—ahem! sleeping apartments, are perfect pickters of combined solidity and chaste elegance. I always say, that as a real gentleman is known by his linen, so the 'ome of a party of true taste may be tested by the bed-rooms. You'll excuse me, Madam—(smirks)—but such are my sentiments, not as a salesman, but as a family man.
[L.P. takes EDWIN and ANGELINA the round of the house, expatiating glowingly but discreetly as he goes, and ultimately effects sale of the "furniture as it stands" for a liberally proffered "ten-pun note off the advertised sum tottle."
SCENE III.—Interior of Greengage Villa. ANGELINA (now Mrs. CANOODLE) discovered in tears over the wreck of a "Saddlebag" Sofa, very shaky as to legs, and shabby as to "pile."
Angelina (sobbing). And to think that dear EDWIN should have spent his long savings on such wretched stuff as this! Oh, that talkative but treacherous tout at Vamp Villa! Why, 'tis only six months since we were married—(bohoo!)—and there's scarcely a thing in the house that's not either shaky, or shabby, or both!
[Breaks down.
Edwin (entering with a flushed face, and clenched fists). ANGY, my darling, don't waste your tears over that vile combination of unseasoned timber and devil's-dust. Rather pluck up a spirit and pitch into me, who was fool enough to be tricked by a plausible advertisement, a scheming vendor of shoddy furniture, a hired villa, a verbose villain, and the thrice-told tale of a mythical "Indian gentleman," an imaginary "emergency," and a purely supposititious "sacrifice." [Left lamenting.