The Angel and the Author | Page 4

the last six
weeks?" It was a bulky looking volume.
Yes, he answered, they were all recorded in the book.
[The Author tells of his Good Deeds.]
It was more for the sake of talking of his than anything else that I kept
up with him. I did not really doubt his care and conscientiousness, but
it is always pleasant to chat about one's self. "My five shillings
subscription to the Daily Telegraph's Sixpenny Fund for the

Unemployed--got that down all right?" I asked him.
Yes, he replied, it was entered.
"As a matter of fact, now I come to think of it," I added, "it was ten
shillings altogether. They spelt my name wrong the first time."
Both subscriptions had been entered, he told me.
"Then I have been to four charity dinners," I reminded him; "I forget
what the particular charity was about. I know I suffered the next
morning. Champagne never does agree with me. But, then, if you don't
order it people think you can't afford it. Not that I don't like it. It's my
liver, if you understand. If I take more--"
He interrupted me with the assurance that my attendance had been
noted.
"Last week I sent a dozen photographs of myself, signed, to a charity
bazaar."
He said he remembered my doing so.
"Then let me see," I continued, "I have been to two ordinary balls. I
don't care much about dancing, but a few of us generally play a little
bridge; and to one fancy dress affair. I went as Sir Walter Raleigh.
Some men cannot afford to show their leg. What I say is, if a man can,
why not? It isn't often that one gets the opportunity of really looking
one's best."
He told me all three balls had been duly entered: and commented upon.
"And, of course, you remember my performance of Talbot Champneys
in Our Boys the week before last, in aid of the Fund for Poor Curates,"
I went on. "I don't know whether you saw the notice in the Morning
Post, but--"
He again interrupted me to remark that what the Morning Post man said
would be entered, one way or the other, to the critic of the Morning

Post, and had nothing to do with me. "Of course not," I agreed; "and
between ourselves, I don't think the charity got very much. Expenses,
when you come to add refreshments and one thing and another, mount
up. But I fancy they rather liked my Talbot Champneys."
He replied that he had been present at the performance, and had made
his own report.
I also reminded him of the four balcony seats I had taken for the
monster show at His Majesty's in aid of the Fund for the Destitute
British in Johannesburg. Not all the celebrated actors and actresses
announced on the posters had appeared, but all had sent letters full of
kindly wishes; and the others--all the celebrities one had never heard
of--had turned up to a man. Still, on the whole, the show was well
worth the money. There was nothing to grumble at.
There were other noble deeds of mine. I could not remember them at
the time in their entirety. I seemed to have done a good many. But I did
remember the rummage sale to which I sent all my old clothes,
including a coat that had got mixed up with them by accident, and that I
believe I could have worn again.
And also the raffle I had joined for a motor-car.
The Angel said I really need not be alarmed, that everything had been
noted, together with other matters I, may be, had forgotten.
[The Angel appears to have made a slight Mistake.]
I felt a certain curiosity. We had been getting on very well together--so
it had seemed to me. I asked him if he would mind my seeing the book.
He said there could be no objection. He opened it at the page devoted to
myself, and I flew a little higher, and looked down over his shoulder. I
can hardly believe it, even now--that I could have dreamt anything so
foolish:
He had got it all down wrong!

Instead of to the credit side of my account he had put the whole bag of
tricks to my debit. He had mixed them up with my sins--with my acts
of hypocrisy, vanity, self-indulgence. Under the head of Charity he had
but one item to my credit for the past six months: my giving up my seat
inside a tramcar, late one wet night, to a dismal- looking old woman,
who had not had even the politeness to say "thank you," she seemed
just half asleep. According to this idiot, all the time and money I had
spent responding to these