On one or two occasions I had the honour of being consulted by Bill—of which I am very proud, for he did not consider any other man in the house able to teach him anything. I had always managed to satisfy him with my remarks, but when he approached me one night, with his grammar book in his hand, and asked me if I knew anything about the infinitive split, the question almost took my breath away. Certainly I had heard of it, heard enough to know that it was to be avoided as a subject of argument, or it would soon worry a man to a shadow. I told Bill at once that I could not enlighten him, and advised him not to worry over it. This advice was not taken, for he bought two more cheap second-hand grammar books, and still could not get on the track of the infinitive split. In less than three weeks his voice was low and weak, his face became haggard and thin, his hair lay uncombed on his forehead, and his bones began to show their shape under the skin. He was not even civil in those days, and no longer felt the importance of being consulted. He requested the lodgers not to bother him, that he had other things on his mind, and far more trouble than he could contend with.
Yes. Bill was a nice fellow when he first came to the house, modest and unassuming; he was also interesting to hear when he became confident and assertive; but after he fell foul of the infinitive split, he became a man to be avoided, and his curt answers made many a man frown.
XXXI
[Fallacies Concerning Beggars]
There are quite a number of fallacies, concerning beggars, which are sadly in need of contradiction, so that these much-misunderstood men may stand in their innocence before the public. They do not mark houses, as is commonly supposed; they do not spend the money of charity on drink; they do not possess hidden hoards; and they have as much dread of meeting women in lonely places as the latter have of meeting them.
In the first place, why should they mark houses? If you enter a common lodging-house in the country, you will find, on making enquiry, that two out of three beggars have been there before, and know from past experience one or more good houses; but they would rather share their spoils with you than show these houses, or explain their where-abouts. Beggars, however good-natured they may be in a lodging-house, are all selfish on this one point. They always live in expectation of future benefits from those houses, and it is not likely that they will risk spoiling them by giving information to others who may not approach them in a proper manner, or may even be impudent. If you ever see a house marked you may be sure that it is by one of a family, who are working different parts of the town, and who will change about on the following days. Private people seem to know more of this matter than beggars, for, after visiting more than a hundred lodging-houses, and hearing the conversation of thousands of beggars, I have not heard one whisper of a marked house.
Another belief is that beggars possess secret hoards. Because people in years of reading have seen two or three accounts of cases of this kind, they are under the impression that half the beggars that approach them are misers that would rather beg than buy. Now good beggars will still work on the public feeling with three or four shillings' worth of coppers in their pockets, but you could search the first thousand you met and be very unlikely to find gold. The most persistent beggars will often beg hard until they have saved a few shillings, after which they feel justified in taking a much-deserved rest, and are often to be seen idling for a couple of days in a town that is no good for begging, but where the accommodation of the lodging-house is excellent.
Another fallacy is that they are eager to molest women and children. It is a mystery how these charges can be made against them, for few cases of the kind get into the papers. The only way to account for this belief is that all undiscovered violence and petty crime is put down to be the work of tramps, and the papers are only too eager to take such a view. When a man fell from his bicycle, trying to avoid running over an old deaf tramp, the local press thought it would make better copy to say that the man was knocked off his bicycle by a vicious tramp, much to the surprise of the man himself.
Again, a tramp does not like to meet a woman in a lonely place, and he often whistles loudly so as to encourage her not to faint, and he never forgets to give her plenty of room to pass, and nothing annoys him more than to see timid children run into their houses at his approach. A tramp likes to have women answer the door to him, when they have the confidence of being surrounded by neighbours; but when it comes to the open air, women are a nuisance to him, and he would be glad if no women walked abroad. He can approach his own sex and speak, but he is afraid of being within ten feet of a woman's nerves.