Ships Company | Page 4

thoughtfully.
"Picking your teeth with your finger is wrong, too," said Mr. Jobson, taking a breath. "Food should be removed in a--a--un-undemonstrative fashion with the tip of the tongue."
"I wasn't," said Gladys.
"A knife," pursued her father--"a knife should never in any circumstances be allowed near the mouth."
"You've made mother cut herself," said Gladys, sharply; "that's what you've done."
"I thought it was my fork," said Mrs. Jobson. "I was so busy listening I wasn't thinking what I was doing. Silly of me."
"We shall all do better in time," said Mr. Jobson. "But what I want to know is, what about the gravy? You can't eat it with a fork, and it don't say nothing about a spoon. Oh, and what about our cold tubs, mother?"
"Cold tubs?" repeated his wife, staring at him. "What cold tubs?"
"The cold tubs me and Bert ought to 'ave," said Mr. Jobson. "It says in the book that an Englishman would just as soon think of going without his breakfus' as his cold tub; and you know how fond I am of my breakfus'."
"And what about me and the gals?" said the amazed Mrs. Jobson.
"Don't you worry about me, ma," said Gladys, hastily.
"The book don't say nothing about gals; it says Englishmen," said Mr. Jobson.
"But we ain't got a bathroom," said his son.
"It don't signify," said Mr. Jobson. "A washtub'll do. Me and Bert'll 'ave a washtub each brought up overnight; and it'll be exercise for the gals bringing the water up of a morning to us."
"Well, I don't know, I'm sure," said the bewildered Mrs. Jobson. "Anyway, you and Bert'll 'ave to carry the tubs up and down. Messy, I call it.
"It's got to be done, mother," said Mr. Jobson cheerfully. "It's only the lower orders what don't 'ave their cold tub reg'lar. The book says so."
He trundled the tub upstairs the same night and, after his wife had gone downstairs next morning, opened the door and took in the can and pail that stood outside. He poured the contents into the tub, and, after eyeing it thoughtfully for some time, agitated the surface with his right foot. He dipped and dried that much enduring member some ten times, and after regarding the damp condition of the towels with great satisfaction, dressed himself and went downstairs.
"I'm all of a glow," he said, seating himself at the table. "I believe I could eat a elephant. I feel as fresh as a daisy; don't you, Bert?"
Mr. Jobson, junior, who had just come in from the shop, remarked, shortly, that he felt more like a blooming snowdrop.
"And somebody slopped a lot of water over the stairs carrying it up," said Mrs. Jobson. "I don't believe as everybody has cold baths of a morning. It don't seem wholesome to me."
Mr. Jobson took a book from his pocket, and opening it at a certain page, handed it over to her.
"If I'm going to do the thing at all I must do it properly," he said, gravely. "I don't suppose Bill Foley ever 'ad a cold tub in his life; he don't know no better. Gladys!"
"Halloa!" said that young lady, with a start.
"Are you--are you eating that kipper with your fingers?"
Gladys turned and eyed her mother appealingly.
"Page-page one hundred and something, I think it is," said her father, with his mouth full. "'Manners at the Dinner Table.' It's near the end of the book, I know."
"If I never do no worse than that I shan't come to no harm," said his daughter.
Mr. Jobson shook his head at her, and after eating his breakfast with great care, wiped his mouth on his handkerchief and went into the shop.
"I suppose it's all right," said Mrs. Jobson, looking after him, "but he's taking it very serious--very."
"He washed his hands five times yesterday morning," said Dorothy, who had just come in from the shop to her breakfast; "and kept customers waiting while he did it, too."
"It's the cold-tub business I can't get over," said her mother. "I'm sure it's more trouble to empty them than what it is to fill them. There's quite enough work in the 'ouse as it is."
"Too much," said Bert, with unwonted consideration.
"I wish he'd leave me alone," said Gladys. "My food don't do me no good when he's watching every mouthful I eat."
Of murmurings such as these Mr. Jobson heard nothing, and in view of the great improvement in his dress and manners, a strong resolution was passed to avoid the faintest appearance of discontent. Even when, satisfied with his own appearance, he set to work to improve that of Mrs. Jobson, that admirable woman made no complaint. Hitherto the brightness of her attire and the size of her hats had been held to atone for her lack of figure and the roomy comfort of her boots, but Mr. Jobson, infected with