Ships Company | Page 4

slowly, "I didn't know before that it
was wrong to blow your tea; and as for drinking it out of a saucer, the
book says it's a thing that is only done by the lower orders."
"If you're in a hurry?" demanded Mr. Bert Jobson, pausing with his
saucer half way to his mouth.
"If you're in anything," responded his father. "A gentleman would
rather go without his tea than drink it out of a saucer. That's the sort o'
thing Bill Foley would do."
Mr. Bert Jobson drained his saucer 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