And daffadown dillies
All helped with the gentleman’s rent.”
Here, you see, was humour combined with satire. But the peculiarity of the poem held in the case of this verse, as it did in all the others. While everybody else thought it good, Mr. Bent considered it vulgar and didn’t like it in the least, because of the ironic allusion to raffles.
He never asked me to see his garden again, though I entered for raffle after raffle of his choice exotics and once won four fine gardenias, at the ridiculous cost of a penny, and took them home to Aunt Augusta.
VII
In course of time Mr. Travers informed me that I was elected an active member of the L.A.C. These magic letters stand for the London Athletic Club, easily the most famous athletic club in the world. I had been there as one of the public on several occasions, and already knew by sight such giants of the arena as Phillips and George and Cowie and other most notable men, all historically famous. In fact George soon joined the professional ranks, as we say, and the day was coming when he would run a mile faster than anybody in the world had ever run it.
The first time I went to Stamford Bridge it so happened that a most sad misfortune fell on my friend Dicky Travers.
He had entered for a two-mile walking race and trained very carefully for it—as well he might, because, such was his universal fame at this distance, that he was handicapped to give all the other competitors a lot of start. Some had actually as much as a minute start; but Dicky started from scratch. He told me in the morning of the day that he felt very well and expected to get pretty near fourteen minutes for the two miles. I lunched with him on the day, and, as it was an evening meeting at the L.A.C. and he would not be racing before six o’clock, he ate a steak and some bread and cheese; but he drank nothing but water; because experience had shown him that beer was no use before a great struggle of this sort.
In due time, after the first heats of a “sprint” and a half-mile race, the walking competition came on, and I was very glad to hear several spectators cheer Travers when he appeared on the cinder path. I also did the same. He wore black drawers and vest; but the rest of him was, of course, entirely bare, save for his feet, which were encased in walking shoes which he had made expressly to his directions. In each hand he carried an oblong cork, and his face had a cheerful and calm expression which little indicated the great ordeal before him.
Eight men had entered for the race, and the limit man went off at such a great pace that it seemed absurd to suppose Travers could ever get near him. Others started quickly after each other according to the handicap, and then a man called Forrester started. He was next to Travers and received only ten seconds start from him. But such was his speed that he had gone about forty yards before Dicky was told to go.