PLAYING ’EM IN
I
They were seated on the basket trunk marked, “Trampy Wheel-Pad,” in big black letters. The steamer had left Harwich and was making for Holland. The English coast was disappearing in the mist. On the deck, a heap of luggage and parcels made a sort of nest for them. Trampy, with his dear little wife by his side, was thinking of the future ... so many things which he had flashed before Lily’s eyes and which he could not give her ... not directly, at least ... but, pooh, she’d get used to it by degrees. The great thing, to Trampy, was that he had his Lily! He was going to stuff himself to the throat with love and, first of all, to seek a shelter for his sweet wife and himself. England was no place for them. Pa was prowling round and Jimmy, too. Once their anger was over and they found themselves face to face with the irreparable, everything would calm down; meantime, the wisest thing for Trampy and Lily was to be prudent and run away as fast as they could. Trampy had his plan, he had seen the agents: Holland and Belgium first; then a performance at Ludwig’s Concert House, in Hamburg, and a brilliant first appearance before a hall filled with managers. Already he saw himself in the famous little room of the Café Grüber, where so many contracts were signed during the few days that the hearing-season lasted, and then he would have the whole continent, from St. Petersburg to Lisbon, make heaps of money, treat Lily like the little peach she was and cover her with diamonds, by Jove! Trampy, meanwhile, was none too easy in his mind: funds were low; the two pounds paid at the registrar’s office had lightened his purse still more. Fortunately, the fire-escape had not had his seven-and-six-pence: that was so much saved.
“A poor consolation,” thought Trampy. “The price of a dog-license.”
But he was gay, nevertheless, in his wife’s company. He forgot his thirty-six girls. He told Lily stories, made her squirm with laughter, played with her, dazzled her with the champagne suppers ... which they would have later on. Or else, like the consummate mummer that he was, he put on the gloomy countenance of a man about to reveal the secret of his heart:
“I’m a wretch,” he muttered, while Lily, in her innocence—Lily, who had been living on tenter-hooks since her flight from home a few days before—turned her frightened eyes upon him. “A miserable wretch ... married. Yes, it’s true; I’m married, Lily.”
“It’s true what they said? You’re married?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Oh, I knew it!” said Lily, in despair. “But then ... if you are ... I’m not!”
“You silly little thing!” said Trampy, kissing her and taking her on his knee. “Yes, I’m married; yes; and no one shall separate us. Haven’t I the prettiest little wife—here, on my knee—my little Lily?”