“My dear chap,” he said, “you spend all your spare time at the theatre; you are studying for the stage, and you have an immense natural aptitude for the art; therefore, if you are not good enough to review the efforts of a purely amateur crowd of this sort, you ought to be.”
So I imitated Brightwin’s slightly scornful view of the Macreadies of Clapham, and felt that, if I could keep up this haughty spirit through the actual performance, all might possibly be well.
XI
I was now quite one of the busiest men in London. Every moment of my time was occupied, and I felt it a bore to have to go to bed at all and waste precious hours in the arms of Morpheus.
First there was, of course, the office; then my elocution and stage-gesture work for the drama; then running at the L.A.C.; then cricket matches on Saturday afternoons, which were very refreshing to me, especially as I was doing fairly well in them; then literature, in the shape of an order from Mr. Bulger to go and criticise the amateurs of Clapham; and lastly an idea for another poem—but not about the grey-eyed girl. One lived in a regular maelstrom, if the word may be pardoned; and, as though all this were not enough, Mr. Westonshaugh suddenly sent for me and told me that I must appear on the following Monday morning at the West-End Branch of the Apollo!
“I have selected you, Mr. Corkey,” he said, “to help our branch during the usual quarterly rush of work. At these times the branch stands in need of assistance, and the experience will be very desirable. Be at No. 7 Trafalgar Square, sharp at ten o’clock on Monday next, and let me hear my confidence is not displaced.”
On telling Mr. Blades of this event, he said that it was an excellent thing for me, and would introduce me to some of the leaders in the Apollo Fire Office.
“You will be in the hands of Mr. Bright and Mr. Walter,” he said, “and they are two of the most original and delightful men in London. I have the pleasure of knowing them personally, and you can tell them that you are a friend of mine, which will interest them in you.”
I thanked Mr. Blades for this further example of his unwavering kindness to me, and he gave me a brief description of the men who were to command my services in the West End of London.
“Bright is the best all-round man in the A.F.O.,” said Mr. Blades, meaning, of course, the Apollo Fire Office. “He is a good sportsman, and was also a volunteer in his time. He is the champion of the office at billiards, and in his leisure he is a County Councilor and a keen politician. There are great stories told about him in his earlier days in the City. He was a dare-devil man then and took frightful risks. I don’t mean insurance risks,” added Mr. Blades, “but sporting risks, involving danger to life and limb. For a wager he once walked round that narrow ledge that surrounds the top of the gallery outside this department. You know the place. One false step would have dashed him to instant death; but he didn’t care. He didn’t make the false step. It is a record. We haven’t got any chaps like that now.”