The Road to Mandalay | Page 8

were spacious, clean, and adequately
furnished; the food was plain but abundant. The double drawing-room
contained a fine piano, one or two sofas, and card tables; also a
sufficiency of sound and reliable chairs; but not an ornament, save two
clocks--not one paper fan, nor bunch of coloured grasses, nor a single
antimacassar, not even a shell! Such amazing restraint gave the
apartments an empty but dignified appearance.
Among its various advantages, "Malahide" was within a few minutes'
walk of "the Grove," and "Underground," a situation which appealed to
men in business and to women whose chief occupation was shopping.
Mrs. Shafto appreciated her present quarters for several excellent
reasons. Here she had no giggling young rivals and was, even at
forty-five, the best-looking and best-dressed of all the lady boarders.
Moreover, she had found a friend and admirer in her neighbour at
meals--a certain Mr. Manasseh Levison, a widower, with a stout figure,
a somewhat fleshy nose, and a pair of fine piercing black eyes. He was
the proprietor of a fashionable and flourishing antiquities and furniture
business in a well-known thoroughfare, and was considered one of the
best judges of old silver and china in the trade.
It exasperated Shafto to listen to his mother's "table talk," and he made
a point of sitting as far as possible from her vicinity. She liked to
impress Levison and other with highly-coloured reminiscences of her
grand acquaintances; even the Tremenheeres--with whom she had
quarrelled so bitterly--were dragged in and shown off as intimates.
More than once Shafto had felt his face burn, as exaggerations and
glorifications were unfolded in his parent's far-carrying and assertive
treble.

Besides Mr. Manasseh Levison, were the two Misses
Smith--twins--genteel, middle-aged spinsters, who, until the arrival of
the sprightly and attractive widow, had alternately cherished high hopes
of the wealthy Jew. Their chief energies were devoted to the task of
blowing one another's trumpets, thereby drawing attention to particular
virtues and modestly hidden accomplishments. For example, the elder
would say:
"Darling Ella is so clever at cooking, as good as any French chef, her
sauces and savouries are too wonderful."
They were!
And Ella, in repayment, assured her listeners that Jessie had a perfect
genius for gardening and housekeeping; and yet it was whispered that
this effusively fond couple, when alone, quarrelled and wrangled as
cruelly as the notorious Kilkenny cats.
Among other patrons at "Malahide" were two quiet, polite little
Japanese gentlemen, Mr. Den and Mr. Yabe; Madame Galli, a
shrivelled old woman in a cheap wig, with sharp rat's eyes that nothing
escaped, the soul of good nature, rich, miserly and incredibly
mischievous. There were several boarders who were in business in the
City, and Mr. Hutton, a careworn man of fifty, who spent his days
working in the British Museum. Next to him at table sat Douglas
Shafto, now a well set-up, self-possessed young fellow, who still
retained something of the cheery voice and manner of the Public
School boy. Thanks to his steadiness and fair knowledge of French and
German, he was drawing a salary of a hundred and fifty per annum.
His neighbour on the left happened to be his own cousin, Sandy
Larcher, older by three years, and in the same office, but receiving a
lower "screw," Sandy was of the "knut" tribe, a confident authority on
dress, noisy, slangy, and familiar; much given to cigarettes and
music-halls, a slacker at work, but remarkably active at play and, on the
whole, rather a good sort.
Sandy's mother, Mrs. Larcher, the widow of a cab proprietor, was Mrs.

Shafto's only sister, and in the days of that sister's glory had never
obtruded herself; but now that poor Lucilla had come down in the
world, she had advanced with open arms, and at "Monte Carlo," the
abode of the Larcher family, Mrs. Shafto occasionally spent a week end.
The "go-as-you-please" atmosphere, late hours, breakfast in bed, and
casual meals, recalled old, and not unhappy times. Mrs. Larcher, who
had never been a beauty, was now a fat woman past fifty, lazy,
good-natured, and absolutely governed by her children. Besides Sandy,
the dandy, she had two daughters, Delia and Cossie.
Delia was on the stage (musical comedy), petite, piquant, and very
lively; a true grasshopper, living only for the summer; a loud, reckless
but respectable young woman, who, having but thirty shillings a week
salary and to find her own "tights," was ever ready to accept motor
drives, dinners, or a smart hat, or frock, from any of her "boys." Cossie,
the stay-at-home, was round-faced and plump; a tireless talker and
tennis player. She managed the house, held the slender purse, accepted
her sister's cast-offs, and always had a "case" on with somebody.
Cossie was exceedingly anxious (being the eldest of the family) to
secure