She and I | Page 5

in their way.
His neatly-clad form and constant eye-glass were in great request at all
tea-parties and carpet dances that took place in the social circle to
which he belonged; but, beyond such slight beguilements of "life's dull
weary round," his existence was uneventful. His character altogether
might be said to have been a negative one, as the only speciality for
which he was particularly distinguished was for the variety of
intonation and meaning which he could give to his two favourite
exclamations, "Yaas," and "Bai-ey Je-ove!"--thus economising his
conversational powers to a considerable extent, which was a great
advantage for him--and others, too, as he might, you know, have had
little more to say.
Horner's principal amusement when at home on a Sunday, was to go to
church; that is, if he had not to go to town, which was sometimes the
case even on the great day of rest, through his diplomatic skill being
required in Downing Street. This was what he said, pleading his having
to adjust some nice and knotty point of difference between the valiant
King of Congo and the neighbouring and pugnacious Ja Ja, or else to
remonstrate, in firm and equable language, as Officialdom knows so
well how to do, against the repeated unjustifiable homicides of the
despot of Dahomey, in sacrifice to his gods, beneath the sheltering
shade of the tum-tum tree.
Well, what of that--you may pertinently remark--a most praiseworthy
proceeding, surely, on his part to go to church whenever he possibly

could? Granted; but then, Horner was prone to indulge in another
practice which might not be held quite so praiseworthy in some
people's view.
Quite contrary to his abnormal mode of progression, he would hasten
out of the sacred edifice immediately after the doxology; and, planting
himself easily and gracefully in a studied attitude some short distance
from the doors, would from that commanding position proceed to stare
at and minutely observe the congregation, collectively and severally, as
they came tripping forth from the porch after him. This was, really,
very indefensible; and yet, I do not think that Horner meant to commit
any deliberate wrong in so doing.
Be the motive what it may, such was his general habit.
He would always courteously acknowledge the passing salutations of
men- folk with an almost imperceptible nod, so as not to disarrange the
careful adjustment of his eye-glass, or disturb the poise of his beaver:
to ladies, on the contrary, he was all "effusion," as the French say,
dashing off his hat as if he metaphorically flung it at their feet for a
gage d'amour, not of battle--just like an Ethiopian minstrel striking the
gay tambourine on his knee in a sudden flight of enthusiasm. All in all,
Horner was essentially a ladies' man, his points lying in that way; and,
although what is popularly known as "harmless," he was not by any
means a bad sort of fellow on the whole, when judged by the more
exacting masculine standard, being very good-natured and obliging,
like most of us, when you did not put him out of his way or expect too
much from him.
To me at this crisis of my fate, he appeared for the nonce an angel in
human form. He would be just the person who could tell me in what
direction my unknown enchantress went. I would ask him.
Fiat.
"Hullo, Horner!" I said, tapping him at once on the shoulder, and
arresting him from the abstracted contemplation of two stylish girls in
pink, who were just turning the corner of the churchyard out of sight.

"Yaas, 'do?" he replied, moving his head round slowly, as if it worked
on a pivot which, wanted greasing, so as to confront me. He was as
mild and imperturbable as usual. An earthquake, I believe, would not
have quickened his movements.
"How d'ye do?" responded I to his mono-syllabical greeting. "I say, old
fellow," I continued, "did you chance to see which way two ladies went
who came out a minute or so before myself? One was middle-aged, or
thereabouts; the other young; both were dressed in half-mourning. They
looked strangers to the parish, I think: you must have seen them, I'm
sure, eh?"
"Bai-ey Je-ove! Two middle-aged ladies; one dwessed in
hawf-mawning?--"
"Nonsense, Horner!" said I, interrupting him; "what a mess you are
making of it! I said one lady was middle-aged; and both dressed in
half-mourning."
"Weally, now? No, Lorton, 'pon honah; didn't see 'em, I asshaw you.
Was it Baby Blake and her moth-ah, now, ah?" and he smiled
complacently, as if he had given me a fund of information.
"Baby Blake!" I ejaculated in disgust--"why, Horner, you're quite
absurd. Do you take me for a fool? I think I ought to know Baby Blake
as well