Theatrical Index Wanted.—"The Way Out."
SOME NOTES AT STARMOUTH.
I must say they take rather a matter of course view here of my engagement. No one would suppose from their manner that there was anything at all unusual in a match between a Government official and a confectioner's assistant! Louise's Aunt, indeed, (whether sincerely, or from motives of policy, I hardly know,) does not conceal her regret that a certain Robert Ponking had not "spoken out" while he had the opportunity. Ponking is a rising salesman in the trimming department of some upholstering business, and doing, I understand, extremely well. Still, I do flatter myself—but one can't say these things, unfortunately!
A Cutter making for the Peer Head.
An encounter—which, but for Louise's exquisite common sense, might have been awkward—has just taken place. We met Ponking on the Pier. It struck me that the Aunt's surprise was a little overdone, but he was evidently unprepared for me. Louise perfectly composed, however; introduced me as "her intended" (a trifle bourgeois this, perhaps, but it is difficult to know what to say—I felt it myself.) Ponking allowed her to see he was fearfully cut up, and I am afraid she is reproaching herself a little, poor girl!
We have met him again; he has reached the saturnine and Byronic stage; Louise remonstrated with him for smoking so many cigars, which she was sure were bad for him (his cigars are bad for everybody else at all events!) and he replied gloomily that there was no one to care now what he did, and oversmoking was as pleasant a way of leaving the world as most. I can see this is depressing Louise; she is not nearly so bright when alone with me as she used to be—she does not even take much interest in my Drama! I do my best to comfort her by declaring that Ponking is only "posing," and has not the remotest idea of dying for love; but that only seems to irritate her—she has such a tender little heart.
As we are constantly meeting him about, I appeal to him privately to brighten up a little. He is much affected, says I must make some allowance for his position, and implores me not to forbid him Louise's society altogether. He will make an effort to be gayer in the future, he promises me, the mask shall only be dropped in private. After all, he is Alf's friend, and an especial favourite of the Aunt's. If he does not recognise the propriety of going, I can't send him away—we must see something of him. I should be sorry for him myself—if only he were not such an underbred beast!