The Astonishing History of Troy Town | Page 2

READER IS MADE ACQUAINTED WITH A
STATE OF INNOCENCE; AND THE MEANING OF THE WORD
"CUMEELFO".
"Any news to-night?" asked Admiral Buzza, leading a trump.
"Hush, my love," interposed his wife timidly, with a glance at the Vicar.
She liked to sit at her husband's left, and laid her small cards before
him as so many tributes to his greatness.
"I will not hush, Emily. I repeat, is there any news to-night?"
Miss Limpenny, his hostess and vis-a-vis, finding the Admiral's eye
fierce upon her, coughed modestly and announced that twins had just
arrived to the postmistress. Her manner, as she said this, implied that,
for aught she knew, they had come with the letters.

The Vicar took the trick and gathered it up in silence. He was a portly,
antique gentleman, with a fine taste for scandal in its proper place, but
disliked conversation during a rubber.
"Twins, eh?" growled the Admiral. "Just what I expected. She always
was a wasteful woman."
"My love!" expostulated his wife. Miss Limpenny blushed.
"They'll come to the workhouse," he went on, "and serve him right for
making such a marriage."
"I have heard that his heart is in the right place," pleaded Miss
Limpenny, "but he used--"
"Eh, ma'am?"
"It's of no consequence," said Miss Limpenny, with becoming
bashfulness. "It's only that he always used, in sorting his cards, to sit
upon his trumps--that always seemed to me--"
"Just so," replied the Admiral, "and now it's twins. Bless the man! what
next?"
It was in the golden age, before Troy became demoralised, as you shall
hear. At present you are to picture the drawing-room of the Misses
Limpenny arranged for an "evening": the green rep curtains drawn, the
"Book of Beauty" disposed upon the centre table, the ballad music on
the piano, and the Admiral's double-bass in the corner. Six wax candles
were beaming graciously on cards, tea-cakes and ratafias; on the
pictures of "The First Drive," and "The Orphan's Dream," the
photographic views of Troy from the harbour, the opposite hill, and one
or two other points, and finally the noted oil-painting of Miss
Limpenny's papa as he appeared shortly after preaching an assize
sermon. Above all, the tea-service was there--the famous set in real
silver presented to the late Reverend Limpenny by his flock, and Miss
Priscilla--she at the card-table--wore her best brooch with a lock of his
hair arranged therein as a fleur-de-lys.

I wish I could convey to you some of the innocent mirth of those
"evenings" in Troy--those noctes Limpennianae when the ladies
brought their cap-boxes (though the Buzzas and Limpennys were but
semi-detached neighbours), and the Admiral and his wife insisted on
playing against each other, so that the threepenny points never affected
their weekly accounts. Those were happy days when the young men
were not above singing the "Death of Nelson," or joining in a glee, and
arming the young ladies home afterwards. In those days "Hocken's
Slip" had not yet become the "Victoria Quay," and we talked of the
"Rope Walk" where we now say "Marine Parade." Alas! our tastes have
altered with Troy.
Yet we were vastly genteel. We even had our shibboleth, a verdict to be
passed before anything could hope for toleration in Troy. The word to
be pronounced was "CUMEELFO," and all that was not Cumeelfo was
Anathema.
So often did I hear this word from Miss Limpenny's lips that I grew in
time to clothe it with an awful meaning. It meant to me, as nearly as I
can explain, "All Things Sanctioned by the Principles of the Great
Exhibition of 1851," and included as time went on--
Crochet Antimacassars. Art in the style of the "Greek Slave." "Elegant
Extracts," and the British Poets as edited by Gilfillan. Corkscrew Curls
and Prunella Boots. Album Verses. Quadrille-dancing, and the
Deux-temps. Popular Science. Proposals on the bended Knee.
Conjuring and Variety Entertainments. The Sentimental Ballad. The
Proprieties, etc., etc., etc.
The very spirit of this word breathed over the Limpenny drawing-room
to-night, and Miss Priscilla's lips seemed to murmur it as she gazed
across to where her sister Lavinia was engaged in a round game with
the young people. These were Admiral Buzza's three daughters, Sophy,
Jane, and Calypso--the last named after her father's old ship--and young
Mr. Moggridge, the amusing collector of customs. They were playing
with ratafias for counters (ratafias were cumeelfo), and peals of
guileless laughter from time to time broke in upon the grave silence of
the whist-table.

For always, on such occasions, in the glow of Miss Limpenny's wax
candles, Youth and Age held opposite camps, with the centre table as
debatable ground; nor, until the rubber was finished, and the round
game had ended in a seemly scramble for ratafias, would the two
recognise each other's presence, save