PART II.
A WEDDING.
At one time my proposed expedition seemed threatened with extinction, for my family strongly objected to my running about the East End with no more efficient protector than Belinda Ann—on a bank holiday too! In vain I painted her character in glowing colours; in vain I cited my hostess of the club as an authority that I should come to no harm. The family were obdurate. Either I must find someone to go with me who could look after me properly, or I must give up the idea.
I was loath to do the latter so I set about the former, and by great good luck discovered a lady who spent most of her time amongst Belinda Ann and her friends and knew the bride and her family intimately.
I admit it robbed the expedition of some of its fun to thus have a chaperon tacked on to me, and there was a lurking doubt in my mind as to how Belinda Ann herself would regard the innovation. When, after a long, hot omnibus ride, we arrived at the place where we had appointed to meet her we caught sight of her waiting, my eyes anxiously sought her face to judge from its expression whether or no she would resent the unexpected addition to the party. Luckily she both knew and liked the lady in question (who shall be called Miss H.), and though for a moment her face clouded over, it soon brightened again, and, with a great air of importance, she bustled us off to the tram.
On the way I had time to note that she had evidently bestowed great pains on her person, for the straight fringe was elaborately curled and surmounted by a wonderful crimson plush hat, à la Gainsborough, adorned with a profusion of feathers to match shaded off to palest pink.
“That must have cost her a lot of money,” I whispered to Miss H.; but the latter replied, “She belongs to a feather club, of course.”
I did not understand what she meant, and there was no opportunity of then asking; but I resolved to inquire into this at some future period.
Meanwhile Belinda Ann, by means of a dexterous application of her thin sharp elbows and a running fire of chaff, secured us an entrance into the tram which was already inconveniently crowded in my opinion; but everyone was so heartily good-natured, no one could possibly show temper at being a little squeezed.
Belinda Ann ensconced herself near the door, where she kept a lively look-out for every fresh arrival, whom she greeted with some choice specimen of wit which, if replied to in the proper spirit, afforded her unbounded satisfaction.
During this period of waiting I was able to study, from the window of the tram, the fashionable hand-shake as practised by a lady with a market-basket taking leave of another matron on the pavement. There was a sort of perpendicular and horizontal movement combined about it which was very difficult to catch but most effective, and I could not but admire the elegance with which it was done. It is, I believe, sacred to trams.
Presently the tram moved off, rather to my relief, for it was decidedly warm waiting in the sun, and we rolled smoothly along, Miss H. ever and anon pointing out objects of interest on the route.
“There’s the bridegroom!” she whispered presently, clutching my arm; and, looking in the direction of her glance, I espied a well set-up young man emerging from a barber’s shop.
Belinda Ann caught sight of him at the same time, and in a sarcastic undertone remarked, “My! Ain’t ’e done ’isself proper?”
I suppose I looked mystified, and, indeed, it was Greek to me until Miss H. silently pointed to the sign over the door—“Shaving done here. Fresh water for every person.” And even then I didn’t quite see it till she explained that the latter was by no means a sine quâ non, but that the bridegroom on this important occasion evidently thought it incumbent on him to do the thing in style!
Next we passed a church with an inscription outside to the effect that parties could be married there for sevenpence halfpenny.
I was still lost in wonder at this legend when a wedding-party emerged and made a wild rush for the tram. The bride came inside and the bridegroom went outside, and I felt grieved to think they should be separated so soon after their sevenpence-halfpennyworth. Judging from the bride’s apparent age, I concluded that the youthful bridesmaid of ten was her eldest daughter.
At this moment a man plumped down next to me carrying a trio of remarkably lively puppies, and the remainder of the drive was rendered extremely hilarious by the antics of the small doggies, who persisted in swarming on to the floor ever other minute, and then abjectly licking our boots.
“They don’t allow live-stock inside the trams on Sundays,” remarked Miss H., as she hauled up a puppy for the twentieth time and handed it over to its rightful owner. “Still,” she added meditatively, “a man may get in holding a sack, not by the neck, but round the loins, so to speak, and if he lets go to get his fare or his handkerchief, you see the sack wriggle!”
I had not done laughing at this graphic description when Belinda Ann, who had been keeping a sharp look-out all this time, gave us the signal to dismount, which we did in a breathless scramble owing to the tram starting on again before we were well off the step.
I found there was still some little distance to walk before we arrived at the house, but everything was so new to me that I did not mind.
Thus, passing a second-hand clothier’s window, my eye was at once caught by a white dress in the window labelled, “A boon to young ladies about to marry! Let out by the day!”
It was made of some soft silky material in the prevailing fashion and thoughtfully cut large enough to accommodate any figure, as of course any superfluity could be pinned over should the hirer happen to be of a sylph-like form!
“I s’pose I shall come ter that if any chap ever says ‘Chairs’ ter me!” remarked Belinda Ann, with a last glance at it as we tore ourselves away.
“Says what?” I inquired, not very elegantly, I fear.
“Chairs!” she replied shortly, for she took the surprise in my voice to imply a doubt of her ever wanting a wedding-dress.
“What in all the world has that to do with it?” I asked, after a moment’s puzzled silence.
She surveyed me for a second with a sort of pitying scorn for my ignorance, and then proceeded to enlighten me.
“Why, yer see, yer may walk out with a feller fer months an’ never get no forrader, so ter speak, or yer may chynge about with another feller an’ no one think any harm of it; but if any on ’em mentions ‘furniture’ to yer, it’s a sign that he means bizness, an’ yer can begin ter think about yer trossax.”
This tickled my fancy so much that I doubt if I should ever have stopped laughing if Belinda Ann had not shown signs of temper by remarking huffily, “In coorse I knows as ’ow toffs don’t manage it that wy; but yer arsked me about it, an’ it ain’t bad fer all that.”
“I think it’s a perfectly charming plan,” I put in hastily, smothering my mirth as well as I could; but I nearly went off again at the reflection that the innocent remark, “Can I get you a chair?” would be construed by an East End beauty into a proposal of marriage.
Belinda Ann did not quite recover her good humour till we arrived at the bride’s mansion, which fortunately was not far off, for once there her smiles returned in full force, and she quite forgot my ill-timed merriment.
We stepped straight from the court into the banqueting-hall, without even the formality of a doorstep, and the bride received us in person, her mother being busy in the back premises over her toilette.
The heroine of the occasion was of such colossal proportions she might almost have gone about in a show, and her complexion matched her gown, which was of a warm brickdusty red.
This was not, however, the wedding garment, for, after having greeted us, she disappeared with Belinda Ann and many apologies to reappear later on in a really elegant grey silk, presented by Miss H. and her sister in fulfilment of a very old promise.
She had rather spoilt the effect by hanging round her neck a string of iridescent beads, so large that they looked like homœopathic globules, and wearing the inevitable befeathered hat, this time of a crude violet hue; but otherwise she was all that could be desired, and was immensely admired.
Belinda Ann had added to her attire a huge lace collar and a silver chain, from which hung a locket to match about the size of a small warming-pan, and the party was completed by the bride’s mother, also dressed in an old gown of Miss H.’s.
Now Miss H. being tall and slim, while Mrs. Hogg was of the same generous proportions as her daughter, the dress proved somewhat too scanty, so she had taken some of the material from the waist to eke out the bodice, and to hide this theft had donned a black velvet apron. It looked a little odd, perhaps, but on the whole was pronounced very fair, and we set off for the church. Not on foot, although the edifice was just round the corner. That would, indeed, have been a serious breach of etiquette on such an occasion. No! Two four-wheeled cabs had been chartered for the drive, and into these we packed, the bride, her mother and father (who turned up at the last minute in a fearful state of heat and nervousness) going in the first, and Belinda Ann, Miss H., and I taking the second.
An enthusiastic crowd was hanging round the porch cheering wildly when we alighted, and at first I thought that Miss Hogg must be the most popular girl in the East End; but I was soon undeceived. She was not the only expectant bride of the occasion, for Bank Holiday is a favourite East End wedding-day, for obvious reasons.
The crowd inside was so great, although perfectly orderly and reverent, that I could see little or nothing of the actual ceremony, and was rather glad than not when, all formalities having been complied with, our party disentangled itself from the general mêlée, and we drove back in the same order as we had come, with the addition of the bridegroom, of course.
In our absence the table had been elegantly laid with wine-glasses of every shape, colour, and size, borrowed right and left for the occasion, each with half a sheet of clean notepaper stuck in it. I puzzled over these for some time, till I came to the conclusion that possibly this was in imitation of the serviettes placed in wine-glasses at restaurants.
As each guest appeared, he or she was hospitably pressed to say what he or she would take (“Give it a nyme!” was the general form of invitation), and he or she usually seemed quite prepared for the question and quite ready with an answer, for without any false delicacy they promptly replied, “Drop o’ port!” This was immediately handed them, and there they sat in a row, never opening their mouths except to empty into them the aforesaid “drop o’ port.”
I was sorely troubled as to what to do with mine, which I would have gladly refused only that I was warned that it was considered as great an insult as to refuse in the real East to drink the cup of black coffee offered at the threshold; so there I sat with the rest, occasionally raising it to my lips, till an opportunity offered to stick it behind a flower-pot, where it may remain to this day for all I know.
The honeymoon was to be spent on Hampstead Heath, and we were pressed to accompany the party, but excused ourselves as politely as possible and shortly after took leave, as everyone was obviously aching to be off, though far too polite to say so.
Our presence had added great éclat to the proceedings in the opinion of our hosts, and when we took leave the bridegroom insisted on presenting each of us with seven Tangerine oranges!
Now he was by profession a fruiterer, and a kind Providence had thoughtfully endowed him with hands so large that he could easily hold seven oranges (or anything else for the matter of that) in one. My hands, unluckily, are not on the same liberal scale; consequently when he dropped the seven oranges into them, about six were bound to fall on the ground in spite of all my efforts. Of course, they rolled into all sorts of inaccessible corners, after their perverse nature; but the company collected them with unfailing good-humour, and my secret hope that one or two of them at least might be irrevocably lost was not realised.
We left Belinda Ann behind to share the forthcoming trip, and soon found ourselves in an omnibus rolling westwards.
“I never refuse little gifts of this kind,” said Miss H., as she rescued an orange from bounding out of the door, “for it seems more friendly to accept. Besides, I know if they send or give me sixpennyworth of lemons, I can readily make it up to them later on by something costing half-a-crown.”
I assented, and then remarked dreamily, “Those hats are the most wonderful erections!”
“They may not be very artistic,” she replied, “but they are a sign of self-respect. The last thing a respectable woman parts with, as a rule, is her headgear, and the last thing a self-respecting man leaves off is having his boots cleaned. When you see a man with dirty boots, and a woman bareheaded, you may know they have touched the lowest depths.”
I was still meditating on this when the omnibus stopped with a jerk, precipitating all my oranges into the gutter, and thus settling once for all the vexed question of how I was to get them home.
[ABOUT PEGGY SAVILLE.]
By JESSIE MANSERGH (Mrs. G. de Horne Vaizey), Author of “Sisters Three,” etc.