“An Elemental—what is that?” I asked.
“Oh, a sort of half ghost, half reptile, a hideous animal—or even a too frightful vegetable! Germans call them ‘House devils.’ They are the most modern and fashionable article, and have entirely cut out the old sheeted spectre and clanking chains business.”
“And what do they do?”
“All manner of hateful tricks; for instance, supposing you’ve laid down a book or an umbrella for a moment, you turn about, and it’s gone! After a protracted search and considerable loss of time and temper, behold it once more before your eyes! Say you have discovered something important in a newspaper and particularly wish to show it to a friend, you may hunt the paper through and through until you’re nearly crazy, and there’s not a sign of it. That’s the work of an Elemental. When you have written, with painful labour, a most particular letter and tip over the ink—Elemental again! Or when you are late and in a terrific hurry, and your only collar stud jumps out of your hand, rolls away and falls into a hole in the floor, you tear your hair, and delight the Elemental! Some go so far as to say that bruises and pinches for which we cannot account come from the same quarter.”
“Horrible!” I said. “I’d a thousand times sooner have to deal with a banshee.”
“Well, yes,” he replied, “they only sit outside the window and howl and wail; but they will never wail for you, as you are not Irish.”
“No,” I said, “I rather wish I were.”
“Do you, my dear girl?” said Mrs. Soames. “How very amusing!”
“They are an attractive nation, a most happy-go-lucky lot,” resumed my partner. “I sometimes go over there to hunt with a friend. The very last time I crossed I told the porter to label my luggage for Bristol. Luckily, I caught him just in time as he was pasting on ‘London.’ I asked him what the dickens he meant? ‘Shure, yer honour,’ he replied quite calmly, ‘I’m bound to put something on—and these is the only ones I have!’ He seemed to think he was doing his duty, and looked so genial and so pleased with me that I believe I gave him sixpence.”
“It’s wonderful how you get Captain Falkland to talk,” said Mrs. Mills when we forgathered in the drawing-room; “with me he is generally as dumb as a fish.”