The Matador of the Five Towns

The Matador of the Five Towns and Other?by Arnold Bennett

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Stories, by Arnold Bennett
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Title: The Matador of the Five Towns and Other Stories
Author: Arnold Bennett
Release Date: July 22, 2004 [eBook #12995]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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THE MATADOR OF THE FIVE TOWNS AND OTHER STORIES
by
ARNOLD BENNETT
1912

BY THE SAME AUTHOR
NOVELS
A MAN FROM THE NORTH ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS LEONORA A GREAT MAN SACRED AND PROFANE LOVE WHOM GOD HATH JOINED BURIED ALIVE THE OLD WIVES' TALE THE GLIMPSE HELEN WITH THE HIGH HAND CLAYHANGER HILDA LESSWAYS THE CARD
FANTASIAS
THE GRAND BABYLON HOTEL THE GATES OF WRATH TERESA OF WATLING STREET THE LOOT OF CITIES HUGO THE GHOST THE CITY OF PLEASURE
SHORT STORIES
TALES OF THE FIVE TOWNS THE GRIM SMILE OF THE FIVE TOWNS
BELLES-LETTRES
JOURNALISM FOR WOMEN FAME AND FICTION HOW TO BECOME AN AUTHOR THE TRUTH ABOUT AN AUTHOR THE REASONABLE LIFE HOW TO LIVE ON TWENTY-FOUR HOURS A DAY THE HUMAN MACHINE LITERARY TASTE THE FEAST OF ST FRIEND
DRAMA
POLITE FARCES CUPID AND COMMON SENSE WHAT THE PUBLIC WANTS THE HONEYMOON
(In Collaboration with EDEN PHILLPOTTS)
THE SINEWS OF WAR: A ROMANCE THE STATUE: A ROMANCE

CONTENTS
TRAGIC
THE MATADOR OF THE FIVE TOWNS MIMI THE SUPREME ILLUSION THE LETTER AND THE LIE THE GLIMPSE
FROLIC
JOCK-AT-A-VENTURE THE HEROISM OF THOMAS CHADWICK UNDER THE CLOCK THREE EPISODES IN THE LIFE OF MR COWLISHAW, DENTIST CATCHING THE TRAIN THE WIDOW OF THE BALCONY THE CAT AND CUPID THE FORTUNE-TELLER THE LONG-LOST UNCLE THE TIGHT HAND WHY THE CLOCK STOPPED HOT POTATOES HALF-A-SOVEREIGN THE BLUE SUIT THE TIGER AND THE BABY THE REVOLVER AN UNFAIR ADVANTAGE

THE MATADOR OF THE FIVE TOWNS

I
Mrs Brindeley looked across the lunch-table at her husband with glinting, eager eyes, which showed that there was something unusual in the brain behind them.
"Bob," she said, factitiously calm. "You don't know what I've just remembered!"
"Well?" said he.
"It's only grandma's birthday to-day!"
My friend Robert Brindley, the architect, struck the table with a violent fist, making his little boys blink, and then he said quietly:
"The deuce!"
I gathered that grandmamma's birthday had been forgotten and that it was not a festival that could be neglected with impunity. Both Mr and Mrs Brindley had evidently a humorous appreciation of crises, contretemps, and those collisions of circumstances which are usually called "junctures" for short. I could have imagined either of them saying to the other: "Here's a funny thing! The house is on fire!" And then yielding to laughter as they ran for buckets. Mrs Brindley, in particular, laughed now; she gazed at the table-cloth and laughed almost silently to herself; though it appeared that their joint forgetfulness might result in temporary estrangement from a venerable ancestor who was also, birthdays being duly observed, a continual fount of rich presents in specie.
Robert Brindley drew a time-table from his breast-pocket with the rapid gesture of habit. All men of business in the Five Towns seem to carry that time-table in their breast-pockets. Then he examined his watch carefully.
"You'll have time to dress up your progeny and catch the 2.5. It makes the connection at Knype for Axe."
The two little boys, aged perhaps four and six, who had been ladling the messy contents of specially deep plates on to their bibs, dropped their spoons and began to babble about grea'-granny, and one of them insisted several times that he must wear his new gaiters.
"Yes," said Mrs Brindley to her husband, after reflection. "And a fine old crowd there'll be in the train--with this football match!"
"Can't be helped!... Now, you kids, hook it upstairs to nurse."
"And what about you?" asked Mrs Brindley.
"You must tell the old lady I'm kept by business."
"I told her that last year, and you know what happened."
"Well," said Brindley. "Here Loring's just come. You don't expect me to leave him, do you? Or have you had the beautiful idea of taking him over to Axe to pass a pleasant Saturday afternoon with your esteemed grandmother?"
"No," said Mrs Brindley. "Hardly that!"
"Well, then?"
The boys, having first revolved on their axes, slid down from their high chairs as though from horses.
"Look here," I said. "You mustn't mind me. I shall be all right."
"Ha-ha!" shouted Brindley. "I seem to see you turned loose alone in this amusing town on a winter afternoon. I seem to see you!"
"I could stop in and read," I said, eyeing the multitudinous books on every wall of the dining-room. The house was dadoed throughout