Punch: Punch (101.1891)

172

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVAEI.

[October 10, 1891.

THE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS.

No. X.

SCENE—A flight of steps by the lake in the grounds of the Insel
Hotel, Constance. Time, late afternoon. A small boat, con-
taining three persons, is Just visible far out on the glassy grey-
green water. Bob Prexdekgast and Podbury are perched side
bp side on a parapet, smoking disconsolately.

Poibury. Do they look at all as if they meant to come in ? I tell
tou what, Bob, I vote we row out to them and tell them they '11 be
late for table d'hote. Eh? [He knocks out his pipe.

Prendergast {phlegmatically). Only be late for it ourselves if we do.
They '11 come in when they want to.

Podb. It's not safe for your sister,—I'm handed if it is—going-
out in a boat with a duffer like Culchard ! He '11 upset her as sure
as eggs.

Prend. {ioith fraternal serenity). With pin-oars? Couldn't if he
tried ! And they've a man with them, too. The less I see of that
chap Culchard the better. I did hope we'd choked him off at
Nuremberg-. I hate the sight of his supercilious old mug-!

Podb. You can't hate it more than I do—but what can I do ?
[Pathetically.) I've tried rotting him, but somehow he always

materially affected the harvest prospects at home; they say there
will be little or no fodder for the cattle this year. I saw somewhere
—I forget where it was exactly—a suggestion to feed cows on
chickweed.

Podb. [at the bookcase). Capital thing for them too, Sir. Know a
man who never gives his cattle anything else.

The Curate. Oh, really ? And does he find the experiment

answer ?

Podb. They take to it like birds. And—curious thing—after he'd
tried it a month, all the cows turned yellow and went about chirping
and twittering and hopping. Fact, I assure you!

The Curate. Dear me—i should scarcelv have-■

{He gradually comes to the conclusion that he is being trifled with,
and after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, gets up and
quits the room with dignify.
Podb. {to himself). One of 'em gone! Now if I can only clear
these old tabbies out, I can tackle Culchard. {Aloud, to Chaplain's
Wife.) You don't happen to know if there's a good doctor here, I
suppose ? A lady was saying in the Musik-saal—the lady with the
three daughters who came this afternoon — that she was afraid they
were in for bad feverish colds or something, and asking who there
was to call in.

The C.'sW. Oh, I've no belief in foreign doctors. I always find a few
manages to get the best of it in the end. I never drops of aconite or Pulsatilla,-1 have my homceo-

saw such a beggar to hang on ! jff^V pathic case with me now. Perhaps, if I went and had

Prend. What on earth made you ask him to come r^pi jjkj^ atalkwith herlcould-[She goes out energetically.

on here, after he declared he wouldn't ? fjM/ Podb. Another gone! {To the Old Maids.) So

Podb. I! I ask him? He settled it all with oJ®-~ you ain't going down to the Cloisters to-night ? I'm

your sister. How could I help it ? Pi^^v ^old there's to be some fun there—Hide-and-seek,

Prend. I'd do something. Why can't you tell or something—first-rate place for it, especially now

him right out he ain't wanted? I would—like a (&0$m*$>! the moon'sup!

shot! BmwmBfc^ First Old Maid. Nobody told us a word about it.

Podb. It'snot so easy to tell him as you think. ^^^^^^^V. Hide-and-seek—and in those quaint old Cloisters

We haven't been on speaking terms these three J^^^i'^^^,/^ too—It sounds delightful! What do you say,

days. And, after all {feebly) we're supposed to be ^^^Mji^M^) Tabitha. Shall we just-? Only to look on, you

travelling together, don't you know! You might Wl^^mi^S^- know. We needn't play, unless-

drop him a hint now. ^^mMml^^^L^ [The Two old Maids withdraw in a pleased

Prend. Don't see how I can very well—not on ^^rMwl^P%j flutter. Podbury crosses to Culchard.

my own hook. Might lead to ructions with Hypatia, Podb. {with determination). Lookhere, Culchard,

too. WmLjjli*^ I'd Jus^ like to know what you mean by the way

Podb. {anxiously). Bob, you — you don't think iPll^S^ you're going on.

your sister really-eh ? ^^^^^ Culch I thought we were both agreed that

Prend. Hypatia's a rum girl—always was. She JsgSci&^St discussions of this kind

certainly don't seem to object to your friend Cul- j<t*^^^^^^i Podb. It's all bosh our travelling together if

chard. What the dickens she can see in him, I J^^mSrWl^^^K we're not to have any discussions. You've born

don't know !—but it's no use my putting my oar xiire^-k on the sulk long enough. And I '11 thank you to

in. She'd only jump on me, y'know! TM^o. inform me what you 're after here, going about alone

Podb. {rising). Then I must. If that's what f$~*-f lH| with Miss Prendergasi like this, m the Museum

he's really after, I think 1 can stop his Little game. j\Y w§SEm with her all the morning, and on the lake again this

I '11 try, at any rate. It's a long worm that has no iplfiy afternoon,—it won't do, you know!

turning, and I've had about enough of it. The ^tlfey fg^$s Culch. If she happens to prefer my society to

first chance I get, I'11 go for him. ^^|/ |$ < y.-urs and Ikt brother's, I presume you have no

Prend. Good luck to you, old chop. There, ^*®!||^y/ Jip^H claim to interfere,

they 're coming in now. We'd better go in and _3 , ...^^P Podb. I don't know about that. How about Miss

change, eh ? We've none too much time. "^=~ r-£?A ^ftX Trotter?

[They go in-. J'-1 Culch. If I remember rightly, you yourself were

In the Lese-zimmer, a small gaslit room, with glazed « n.etg ^ -ts the room not insensible to Miss Trotter's—er—attractions ?

doors opening upon the Musik-saal. Around a b Pc dignity." Podb. Perhaps not; but I am not engaged to her

table piled with German and English periocli- ° ' ' —you are. You cold me so in the train.

cals, a mild_ Curate, the Wife of the English Chaplain, and I Culch. You entirely misunderstood me. There was no definite
two Old Maids are seated, reading and conversing. Cclchard is , understanding between us—nothing of the sort or kind. In fact, it

was merely a passing caprice. Since I have had the privilege of
knowing Miss Prendergast, I see clearly-

on a central ottoman, coyiscientiously deciphering the jokes in
" Fliegende Blatter." Podbury is at the bookcase, turning over
odd Tauchnttz volumes.
The Chaplain's Wife {to the Curate, a new arrival). Oh, you will
very soon get into all our little ways. The hours here are most con-
venient—breakfast {table d'hote) with choice of eggs or fish and coffee
—really admirable coffee—from eight to nine ; midday dinner at one.
Supper at nine. Then, if you want to write a letter, the post for
England goes out at—[fyc, 8fc.) And on Sundays, eleven o'clock

service (Evangelical, of course.') at the-(#c, fyc.) My husband

-(eye, &e-.)

First Old Maid {looking up from a four days old " Telegraph").
I see they are still continuing that very interesting correspondence
on '_' Our Children's Mouths—and are they widening ? " One letter
attributes it to the habit of thumb - sucking in infancy—which
certainly ought to be checked. Now I never would allow any-

The Chaplain's Wife. Nor I. But corals are quite as bad. Only
this afternoon I was telling a Lady in this hotel that her little boy
would be much happier with a rubber ring. You get them at a shop
in the Hoch-strasse I can take you to it at any time, or if you like
to mention my name-(^-c, tyc.)

Second O. 31. One correspondent thought the practice of eating
soup with table-spoons tended to enlarge the mouth. I really believe
there may be something in it. [A pause.

The Curate. The weather we have been having seems to have

Podb. Then you mean to propose to her, eh ?
Culch. That Is certainly my intention; have you any objection to
offer ?

Podb. Only that I mean to propose too. I daresay my chances are
as good as yours—even now.

Culch. I doubt it, my dear fellow; however, don't let me dis-
courage vou.

Podb. I don't intend to. (The figure of Miss Prendergast is seen
to pass the glazed doors, and move sloivly aci-oss the Musik-saal;
both rush to the door, and look after her.) She's gone out into the
balcony. 'Jove, I Tl go, too, and get it over !

Culch. I should not advise you to do so. It is possible she may
have gone there with the—er—expectation of being joined by—by
somebody else. [He smiles complacently.

Podb. You mean she'gave you a rendezvous there ? I don't believe it!

Culch. I did not say so. But I am not prepared to deny that I
have been waiting here with some such expectation.

Podb. {holding the door). If you go, I go too—that's all.

Culch. Don't be absurd. You will only be de trop, I assure you.

Podb. De trop or not, I mean going—she shall choose between us.

Culch. [turning pale). I suppose you intend to enlighten her as to
my—er—little flirtation (before I knew her) with Miss Trotter ?
Do it, Podbury, do it—if you think you '11 gain any good by it!