The cause of this little disturbance was that we often stayed at the Wests' until eleven or past eleven o'clock at night.
Now that I have you to take care of me, Chris,' said Jessie, we need not be so particular.'
'You had better live with your new friends altogether,' observed uncle Bryan.
'I will, if you wish me to,' replied Jessie indignantly; 'I know that I'm a burden to you.'
'No, no, my dear,' interposed my mother; 'uncle Bryan does not mean what he says.'
And indeed uncle Bryan was silent, and retired from the contest. These little quarrels were always smoothed over by my mother, and Jessie herself not unfrequently played the penitent, and atoned indirectly to uncle Bryan for the sharp words she used. It is needless to say that I took sides with Jessie in the sometimes noisy, but more often quiet warfare, which existed between her and uncle Bryan. As I grew older, I recognised the helplessness of her position in uncle Bryan's house, and I found bitter fault with him for his manner towards her. It was wanting not only in tenderness, but in chivalry, and were it not for the respect and consideration he showed for my mother, I have no doubt I should have quarrelled with him openly. As it was, I looked forward to the time when I should be able to offer my mother a home of my own, where she and Jessie and I could live together in harmony. With the Wests I became a great favourite. My talent as an artist contributed to this result, and I drew innumerable sketches of them in their various capacities. Miss West's Christian name was Josey (short for Josephine), and by that familiar title she insisted that I should address her. So it was Jessie and Josey, and Turk and Brinsley and Chris, with us in a very short time, as though we had been on the most intimate terms for years. The walls of all the rooms in the house, with the exception of the kitchen, were soon adorned with portraits and character sketches, with the artist's initials, C. C., in the corner. The portrait of Josey West, as the Witch of the Blasted Heath, as played by her &c. &c.; the portrait of little Sophy West, as Celandine, in the Fairy Dell, as played by her &c. &c.; the portrait of Augustus West, as Claude Melnotte (I would not take him as Orlando), as played by him &c. &c.; the portrait of Brinsley West, as Tom Shuffleton, as played by him &c. &c.; the portrait of Turk West, as The Thug, as played by him &c. &c.; and numberless others, were shown to admiring visitors, and contemplated by the admiring originals, to the glory of 'the eminent young artist,' as Miss West called me. It is necessary to add that in most of the superscriptions at the foot of the pictures the word 'eminent' did good service. It was the eminent tragedian, the eminent comedian, the eminent character actor; and so on. Certainly the name of the West family was legion. Three of them were married, and seemed from appearances to be emulative of the example of their parents in the matter of children. Sometimes on a Sunday evening the entire family would be assembled in the one house, and as the married folk brought their broods with them--the youngest three of which invariably were babies in arms--the total number of brothers and sisters and uncles and aunts was something alarming. The house was overrun with them.
'If we go on like this for a hundred years,' Miss West said to me, in confidence, 'we shall become an institution. Sheridan has seven already, and his wife is quite a young woman; J. H. has five, and Clarance four--and more coming, my dear!'
That was the chronic condition of the wives. There were always more coming. Sheridan, J. H., and Clarance were the eldest of Josey West's brothers, and were well known to the British theatrical public in our quarter of London. In the commencement of our intimacy the constant introduction of members of the family, of whose existence I had been previously ignorant, was very confusing to me, especially as Miss West, without preliminary explanation, spoke of all her relatives by their Christian names, and placed me on a footing of personal intimacy with them. I used to write lists of the names, with descriptions appended, and privately study them, so that I might not make mistakes in addressing them, but some of them were always in a tangle in my mind. The Sunday-night suppers were things to remember; every available article of crockery in the house was pressed into service, and as even the youngest members of the family were accustomed to late hours and late suppers, the result may be imagined. Those for whom there was no room at the table had their supper on chairs, on stools, or on their laps as they sat on the ground. It was very rough and undignified, but it was delightfully enjoyable. The chatter, the laughter, the ringing voices of one and another trying to make themselves heard, the good humour, the free-handed and free-hearted hospitality of those merry meetings are present to me, as I recall the reminiscence. There was always plenty to talk about, and plenty of words spoken that were worth listening to. A theatre in which one of the family was engaged was doing a bad business, and the actors were compelled to work on half salaries; one or two others were going on a provincial tour; another was out of an engagement; a manager had failed and the theatre was closed; and so on, and so on.
'There's always something,' said Miss West. Directly one saves a bit of money--it's precious little one has the opportunity of saving--something happens that sucks it up. But, bless your heart! what else can be expected with such swarms of children as we've got in the family!'
'If a legitimate actor,' said Turk moodily, 'could be certain of a regular engagement, it would be all right; but the public taste is vitiated--vitiated! They want novelty; they're not satisfied with legitimate business. Why, if any one of us had happened to be born covered from head to foot with red pimples, with a green sprout sticking in the middle of each of them, he could command his fifty pound a week, while a man of sterling talent is compelled to vegetate on a paltry fifty bob!'