Mr. Bird's Umbrella

a - tat - tat - a -tat- Bang! There was a pause, and a long enough pause to give me the impression that I had been dreaming of earfchquakes, or of the lombardnient of the British museum, or of a volcanic eruption in Kussell square, to oonvinee me even forclbly that I must hare been dreamiug, as 1 sat up in bed, and rubbed my eyes and listonad. Then - Bang! bang! bang! - rat-a-tat-a-At-a-tat-a-tat-a-tut-a - tut - Bang ! Yes, there was somebody evidently knocking at the Street door, hanging by the street door knokker, and throwing his whole soul into the instrument - the house was on flre perhaps, or we were wantod next door at Brian's or a lunatio had eseaped, and was clamoring for admittance, straight waistcoat and all, or else the up stairs lodgers had come back prematurely trom their visit to Tunbridge, and were anxious to get iu out of the rain, wliich was coming down with a vehemence that was certainly startling. I could surmise nothing more at a moment's notiee and at 2:30 in the morniug. We all slept very soutidly in No. 10 Prossiter street, Prossiter place, Russell square, Bloomsbury, for we worked very hard at No. 10, and the house was a large one. It was a house of many lodgers- parlor floor, first floor and second floor - and all coinfortably let, and those lodgers who were at home were all fast asleep, or else waiting for me, the poor, weakly proprietor of the establishment (Jane Neild, at your service, gentle reader, age 22, and an orphan with an establishment on her mind, and a living to get out of the establishment) , to cali to the servants (Bridget, able bodied, "general," aged 40, and a frightful temper, and Sarah, aged 13, child with a ehronie cold and a red nose, but handy as a help to Bridget) to get up and see what was the matter at No. 10, or with the party outside No. 10 who was "kicking up such a deuce of a row." That was the way it was put at last by Capt. Choppers, my drawing room floor, an irritable oíd gentleman - not to say violent when roused - who came out on the landing at last in an attire which Bridget told me afterwards was far from decorous, and began bawling vociferously up the staircase the names of each of my maids in turn, eoncluding with my own name in a shriek of sheer despair. "Miss Neild - here, I say - is everybody dead? Miss N-e-e-e-ild !" "Bless my soul, captain, what is it nowï" 1 cried through the crack in my door. "Don't you hear that infernal noise down stairs, madam ! Who the deuce is it at this time of night, who the - what do you say, madam?" "I'm going to open the window and inquire unless you" "It's no business of mine, Miss Neild," bawled the captain. "I don't expect anybody - I'm not going into the drawing room at this time of night, with my cold. I'm disturbed enough, as it is, through your being all so diabolically deaf. I shall leave this day week, ma'am. There!" And slam went the back drawing room door, and crick crack went the key in the irasciblo captain's lock. I was in my dressing room, with a flannel garment, which I take the liberty here of calling a "muffler," wrapped round my head and shoulders ; and, as I went toward the window, trembling, I must say, in every liinb, the knoeking was repeated for the third time, and with a three fold vigor, born of the delay and irritation to past summonses. I waited until there was silence again, or nearly silence - for I could distinctly hear Capt. Choppers loading all his firearms - and then opened the wklow, and peered into the damp, shiny street, which the wind and rain had all to themselves, with the exceptioirof a dark figure on my top step, whose nat I could see was as shiuy as the pavement. "What is it?" I inquired; but the wind whisked my voice into Museum street, and I had to repeat the inquiry in a shrill falsetto. The man below paused with his hand to the knocker again - for he was just going to begin afresh- listened, and thon ran down the steps and stool on the edge of the curbstone, with his hands behind him, looking up at me at last. I could make nothing of him in the darkness from my point of view. "What do you want, sir?" I asked, now that I had secured the attention of this individual. "What are you making such a noise for at this time of nighti" "I'm very sorry to disturb you, lady" "So it seems," I said, acrimoniously; butho did not hear me, and perhaps it was as well he did not. I have not a reputation for being severe in my remark?, but then this was an exceptional proceeding, and deserved rebuke. "The fact is, madam, the wind has blown my umbrella clean out of my hand into your área. I would not mind so muoh," he condescended to explain still further, at the top of his voiee, "but it's an umbrella I set great store by. Besides, it's raining tremendously." "I really cannot come down at this hour and get your umbrella," I said, severely; "you must cali to-morrow for it." "Isn't there any one in the house - any man - - who can get ití" "The house is locked up for the night." "It's such a very deep area or I would drop over and get it myself. But then I don't see how to get out again," he said. "I can't help you, sir; I am very sorry," ] replied, "but I can't go down to-night for it." "I should be a brute to ask you, ma'am," he said, politely now ; and here I could see heraised his hattome; "of eourse I could not teil who was in the house, or whether it might not be easy to get my umbrella - which I really value very rnuch, I assure you ; it's an umbrella which - but I am very sorry to have disturbed you. I will cali in the morning- thank you; good night." And away the gentleman strode, turning up the collar of his coat abovo his ears as he went on down the street. I closed the window, I set my "muffler" aside, and in another moment I should have been in my humble couch again, when Rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tata-tat-a-tat-a-tat - Bang! once more aroused the echoes of the neighborhood, but brought no policeman to the rescue, or any anxious inquirei-s to the windows, exeept myself, who, once more enwrapped, and this time trembling with indignation, was a minute afterward in my old position facing the dangers and inconveniences of the gale, and looking down once more at the figure below me, standing in his old position on the brink of the deep gutter in the roadway. "I beg your pardon again very much, I am awf ully sorry to be such a nuisanee, but I really don't know wbere I am,'? he oried, rattling on with great volubility. "I haven't the least idea, and the streets are all alike, and I am quite a stranger to this part of the world, and I am afraid I shan't kuow this house from any other in the daylight. Might I just trouble you for the address?" "Prossiter street," I called down to him. "I thank you very mueh. Boshington street." "Prossiter street," I sereamed. "Prossiter - a thousand thanks and apologies. And what number, ma'ain, may I ask?" "No. 10." "I am very much obliged to you," he bawled forth, "I am exceedingly indebted. I would not have troubled you in this way if the umbrella had not been" But I would not listen to any further explanation; he had already said that he set great store by the umbrella, and I did not want to hear that fact again with the rain coming down like a waterspout, and the wind blowing every way at once. I cloeed the window summarily and cut short his volubility, and the instant afterward I heard him running along towards New Oxford street as if to make up for lost time, or to overtake a passing cab of which he had probably caught sight. It was some time before I could get to sleep after so lengthy a discussion under such peculiar circumstances. I was annoyed at the man's pertinacity concerning his trumpery umbrella, his indifference to time, and the personal inconvenience to which he exposed people by his unseasouable request, and I lay in considerable fear of his third return and another series of questions at the top of his lungs. But he came not again, and I dropped off to sleep at last, and was troubled by dreams of tempesta and tornadoes, and white squalls carrying away whole grosses of umbrellas, until Sarah knocked at the panels of my door with her customary information that it was 6:30 o'clock. I was perforce an early riser. There was a great deal to superintend, and my parlor floor was a gentleman connected with the railway goods trafBc department who was always getting up early and going out to business ana letting himself in again with his latch key about 7 in the morning, when he expected breakfast ready, and ate it walking about the room, as a rule, preparatory to running away again in hot haste. I should have considered Mr. Goode an irritable lodger if it had not been for the angelic contrast that he afforded to Capt. Choppers. As it was, he seemed only a little bit fussy and precise, which was attributable chiefly to his lot in life. Mr. Goode was a widower with two sons at boarding school, and if those boys had lived and died at boarding school, instead of coming home twice a year for the holidays, I think Bridget and Sarah would have rejoiced exceedingly. I remember Mr. Goode asked Sarah that morning if he could speak with Miss Neild before ho left, and I went up stairs at once to see him. He was walking about with his mouth f uil and a slice of bread and butter in his hand. "That was a dreadful noise last night, Miss Neild," he began; "I couldn't get a wink of sleep. The captain, I suppose, again? I must certainly ask you in my name to present my compliments to him, and" - - "It was not Capt. Choppers." "Indeed? No. Well, I thought I heard his voice," said Mr. Goode, very much disappointed. There was no homogeneousness between Mr. Goode and Capt. Choppers- I may say even that there were times when they hated and loathed each other. "He's a beggarly upstart civilian, madam," the captain would roar in excited moments; and "He a captain!" Mr. Goode would say, with withering contempt. "Captain of a penny steamboat, perhaps, nothing more." But to my stranjje story. "A gentleman dropped his umbrella down the area and knocked me up for it," I explained, with a little acrimonious emphasis. "Well, of all the eonfounded impertinence!" erclaimed Mr. Goode; "I should like to treat that party to a bit of my mind. You never got up and gave it to him?" "No, I did not." "I am glad to hear that. For you must take care of yourself , Miss Neild, and keep strong. You are not looking well," he said, regarding me with his head on one side, as if he had a troublesome wen on the other whieh he was anxious to keep clear of the edge of his shirt collar, "upon my word you are not. You are palé and fragüe looking. A little change at the seaside now would do you a world of good.'" "Yes, I daré say it would." "This large house is a trial to you- and that captain, with his absurd fancies and his ridiculous tempers, would worry the life out of a saint - and you are really looking extremely pale this morning. And - good gracious, I had no idea it was so late!" Mr. Goode swallowed the last portion of his bread and butter whole, and dashed like a harlequin out of the front door. When he had gone I surveyed myself in his parlor glass and wondered if I was looking very ill, or whether, being a dismal man, he was trying to frighten me, and I arrived at the conclusión I was looking about the same as usual - a prim, pale, pert little puss, as my dear oíd dad called me once, when I was arguing with him on the housekeeping expenses, and how the weekly money would never hold out if he would continually ask the lodgers in to supper and a game at cribbagö afterward. Poor dad ; he died next year and left me sole propriotor of the lease and furniture of the house in Prossiter street, and there were no late suppers and cribbage any more. I was 17 when he died, and I had had five years' charge of No. 10 since - "getting quite an old maid, Lily Brian.who lived next door, said ; but then Lily was f our years younger than I, and assumed upon her youth, as girls will. A nice girl was Lily Brian, and my one friend and confldante, but perhaps too fond of laughing at everything, although that showed she was happy and had a keen sense of humor and a fine set of teeth. Well, perhap3 I was a trifle paler, was my second conclusión after the flrst flve minutes, and with a tinge of redness - a mere tinge - about the no-se, just as if I was breeding a cold, as Bridget put it. And this was not remarkable, eonsidering last nighfs experiences, and sure enough the cold was bred before my early dinuer hour, when the sneezing stage had set in with considerable forcé. Thisreminded me once more of the umbrella which had been dropped into the area last night, and I asked Bridget to bring it to me. "The what, m'mi" asked Bridget, with a wild stare. "The umbrella." "Umbereller, and down our airy, did ye say, m'mí There's not a scrap of umbereller down our airy. I've been in and out twenty toimes, and must have seen it," continued Bridget. "Bridget, there must be an umbrella," I said; "go and see." Bridget departed, and returned with the informatiou that there was no umbrella in the area, and then I went and looked for myself, and, os it was still drizzling with rain, I cpught another cold on top of the flrst one, and was at fever heat ere twenty-four hours had ensued. But before then the gentleman had called for his property, and I had met facs to face the individual who had rendered last night hideous. H came at 3 in tli afternoon. sending in his carJ by way of preliminar}' nnnouneement that he had arrived. I did not associate him with the umbrella - indeed I was feeling drowsy and "out of sorts," with pains at the back of my head, when a huge glazed card was presented to rae bearing the inscription in large, fancy letters, of "Geoffry Bird, earvcr and gilder and pieture frame maker, 907 Goswell road, Islington, N." "I don't want any picture frames, Sarah,' I said to my small help, wearily. "It's the gentleman about his umbrella, mum," said Sarah. "Good heavensl Oh, indeed. Well. ask him to step in, then." My sitting room was a small apartment at the end of the long passage, the only little room I had to myself and my day dreams - yes, my day dreams ! - when the house was full, whieh it had been all these years, for they were the same lodgers who had livci with us in father's time - odd, ineonsiderate queer tempered lodgers enough, but faithfu to my house, and keeping an old promise to my father, too, "to stand by the little womai a bit when he was gone." Mr. Bird was ushered into my presence and he came in with a low bow and with a trifle too mueh of a smile to wholly please me, although it suggested itself to me some what quaintly that he would not have much to smile at presently. Mr. Bird was a slin and somewhat short young man, who wore his black hair long enough for a violinist and had upon the smallest of hands the red dest and most prominent of knuckles. He was rather a good looking young man, with brown eyes and black bushy eyebrows, anc with a habit of shaking his head suddenly as if to get the hair back from his forehead or as if he had just come out of water. He was fairly well dressed, might have passed even for a gentleman if it had not been for his red knuckles and that very obtrusive smile. "Good afternoon, Miss Neild - for I under stand your name is Neild," he began; "I am very sorry for the third time in my Ufe to be such a complete nuisance to you. But ] think I am in the right this time, being here by invitation." "Yes; I asked you to cali at a more sea sonable hour, I remember," I replied "but" 'Andloweyou no end of apologies," he added, "for the noise I made last night. ] was in too much of a hurry- I am naturally impulsive, in fact- and when the winc caught my umbrella and blew it clean out o! my hands into your área my first impulse was to run up the steps and knock." "Yes, I heard you knook," I said, quietly. "No, I'm sure you didn't," he said, flatly contradicting me here; "you couldnt .have heard me the first time, for I waiteda reasonable period before I knocked again. It was a tremendous while to wait with a fellow drenched to the skin all the time. By George, I was never out in such a rain. I shall catct a nice cold, I am afraid. You have a bac cold, young ladyf' "I caught cold last night." "Not - not at that windowT' '■Yes, at that window." "Oh, come, I am awfully sorry for that,' Mr. Bird cried; "I didn't think of that. I thought some gentleman, or servant, or porter might be up, for there was a light burning over the hall door, and it wouldnt be a great deal of trouble and save my getting wet through. Why, I would much rather have lost my umbrella altogether than have given you cold, although it's an umbrella which I would not take L30 for- no, nor L50 either." "Is it a very valuable umbrella?" "Oh, no, not at all; but, as you know now, it's my best umbrella in every sense of the word," he said laughing, "my very best umbrella, don't you see?" But I did not see; neither the application nor the umbrella was apparent to me, and my heart quite sank at the news which I had to impart to him. The man was so enwrapped in his umbrella- speaking figuratively - that I feit it was necessary to break the news gently. "I'm sorry to say I don't see," I replied, "for the fact is" Yes, he was impulsivo, and dashed to conclusions; and the smile did leave his face as suddenly and eompletely as if somebody had pulled it away by a string, and a settled look of horror, and for an instant open mouthed idiocy, took its place. "The fact is," he repeated, very slowly at last; "go on, please." "That there was no umbrella down our areaatall." "Ohl that wont do," he exclaimed, so abruptly and rudely that I feit the color coming upall over me; "that won't do at anyprice." 1 'I don't know what you mean by any price, sir," I said, drawing myself up to my full height, as the novelists say- and that height was exactly flve feet three inches and a half when fully drawn up and a little bit on tiptoe - "but you must take my word, sir, that I haven't set eyes on your umbrella." "No, Miss Neild, I don't suppose you have," he said, very quickly; "don't think that I think that you think - that - that - why, of course, I don't," he said, tumbling into another sentence as the first one became hopelessly involved, "and it'snotatalllikely; but it went down your area - I was perfectly sober - and the servante must have seen it in the morning. May I ask the servants?" "I have asked them." "Isn't there a page boy or somebody who comes early to clean something?" "No." "Who is the first to go into that area in the morning, Miss Neild?" he inquired; "somebody for coals, I suppose?" "Bridget or Sarah, certainly." "I should very much like to see Bridget and Sarah," he suggested, "if you would not object." "You must be content with my word, sir, that your umbrella Is not on the premises," I said, still loftily; "I eannot have my servauts subjected to a cross-exaniination on this question. I have already made every inqulry. " "They teil you they have not seen my urnbrella?" "They do." "And you believe them?" "Certainly." "Woll, I don't - and that's plata speaking," ho said frantically. "I'm aware of that." "Because, you see, it is quite impossible, unless there's anybody else in the house who gets up earlier than the servants. Is there anybody else?" he asked. "Yes, there's a gentleman who lodges in my front parlors, who leaves very early, but" "That's the man. Where is he?" cried Mr. Bird, with a f rantic dash in a new direction of suspicion. "I should like to see him." "He's a gentleman holding a high position on the railway, and is not at all likely to confíscate property that does not boloug to hiin," I said. "I don't say he bas eonfiscated it," answered Mr. Bird, less brusquely, "but ho muy have seen it this moruing, and put it asido for inquiries." "Mr. üoode is not in the habit of going into my area," I said; "I don't believe he has been in the area in the whole course of his Ufe." "Not before this morning, Miss Neild - ▼ery likely not, having nothing to go for, os ít were. But when há caught siht of au umbrella- aiid a very peculiar umbreüa - lying on the wet stones, I haven't the sligut est doubt" "He could nt get into the área, sir," I said; "Bridget takes up the key with her e.very night, and, besides, I told htm about the umbrella this morning." "What did he say to that?'1 "He said it was like your impertinenee - 'confounded impertinence,' I niay say, mn the actual words used," I answered, "to mako sueh a noi.se in the middlo of the night, and he should like to give you a piece of bis mind. ■' "Oh! he said that, did he?" ho remarked, biting his finger nails almost savagely. "Yes." "Then he's the man who's got my umbrella," he cried; "I see it all now. He'skeeping it back out of spite !" "Mr. Bird, this is absolutely unendurable." "I suppose he was the íellow bellowing about the house like a buil last night, trying to make somebody understand that I was knocking. I heard him." "No, he was not the fellow," I replied, severely; "that was Capt. Choppers." "Does Capt. Choppers get up early?' "No, he doesn't; he's e, very lato riser, indeed; I believe he'sin bed now." "That's his artfulness," said tho suspicious individual, ';just to make you fancy" - - But I would not allow him to proceed any further. I was íairly roused by this stranger's disparaging reflections. I rose, looked steadily and gravely at him, and said: "This interview is at an end, Mr. Bird. These gentlemen are my lodgers- I might say almost my friends- and I cannot listen to your cruel and uncalled for remarks against their cominon honesty." "Common honesty it may be, Miss Neild," he replied; "but you must allow there is very uncommon dishonesty somewhere iu your establishment." "I will allow nothing." "I don't mean I want you to allow me anything for the loss of my umbrella," he said, hurriedly. "Pray don't understand that to be my wish." "Of course not. The idea!'' "That's all right then; very likely I am a little put out - rade, in fact," he added, apologetically, "for I am uot a lady's man, and don't know anything about ladies; but, as I am quite prepared to take my oath the umbrella did go down your area, it's rather aggravating to be told you don't believe a word I say." "I never said that," I answered. "I shall fiiid it all out my own way, I dre say; I have got a habit of sifting to the bottom of things, they teil me- but I will not trouble you any more about it, Miss Neild. If I have been a bit rough," he said; "I'll ask you to forgive me, and to believe I don't think.for an instant you know anything about it. Heaven forbid, with such a uice look as you've got" "Sir!" "I beg pardon. Don't mind me; I'm bothered," he ran on, with extraordinary volubility, "and this umbrella was my old father's last present - just three days before he died - when he was given up, and one would have thought he had had something more serious to consider than buying me an umbrella for my birthday. He died on my birthday, too, which is another odd part of the story," he ran on; "but, there, good day, madam, I am bothering you. I wish your cold better- good day." And away marched Mr. Geoffry Bird out of my room and down the long passage to the street door, swinging his arins wildly to and fro. H jumped the whoie flight of steps into the street and was gone, as l thought, for good. The next day I was very ill indeed - too ill to rise. I had caught cold at the open window and in the damp night air, and it had become absolutely necessary to send for the doctor, and to make what I al ways considerad was too much of a fuss over me. Lily Brian told me a week af terward, when I was able to sit up for the first time in my room, that I had been in a critical state, and there had been one night when everybody was anxious and excited, and even Capt. Choppers walked continuously up and down the stairs for two hours and a half, and said, "Poor girl, poor girl," and had a secret conference with Mr. Goode as to the advisability of having a physician in the morning at their mutual expense, "and say nothing about it, sir, to any one." But I was better the next morning; I changed for the better with the summer weather which came in, bright and fine and hot, and suggested holidays out of town and by the great green sea for the lucky folk who could afford to spend their money. Lily Brian and her mother and father, and two gawky brothers whom I did not like very much, and thirteen small members of the family, were all going out of town, and "Why not come with us?" Lily had said, kindly. My answer was a very old one, and very natural and very truthful, too. "Because I cannot afford it, Lily." "Oh, bother the money," said Lily. "That's what I often say myself." "It shall cost you next to nothing - hardly anything," Lily suggested. "Papa says you will ouly have to pay for a room somewhere, and you can board with us, and, oh, ilear, it will be awf ully jolly !" "It's very kind of your papa, and- and I'U think of it, Lily, at any rate. " ''And make up your mind and sa y 'yes,' " cried Lily- "won't you, Janei' "I don 't know." "That fright of a captain's goiug somewhere, I know," Lüysaid, ''and Mr. Goode has got a f ree pass down the line, you teil me, and he's sure to go into the country with so little to pay f or it ; it's just like him. And do think of it, Jane, there's a love!" I did think of it. Thought of Mr. Brian's large family, eighteen of thum altogether, and whether it was possiblo I eould intrudo gracefully upon them. Mr. Brian had retired frora a eoeoanut fiber and street door mat business in the Tottenhani Court road, and was pretty well off, with only a slight necessity of letting nis drawing room floor. lie was evidently not a rich man, and thero were a few struggles to "keep up an appearanee," although ho went out of town with his family for a month every summer, by express desire of Mrs. Brian, who required ehange every August, and regularly sallied forth, en familie, from hor large establishment in Prossiter street to a house down a back slum in High street, Márgate, where the rooms were small, and the children were tieaped together sardine fashion, and now and then came back with "something catehing" as a wind up to the season's enjoyment. And this particular August I was asked to join them. There was the sea, and "You nust take a little ehange," said the doctor, and Lily Brian was very pressiirg, and Capt. Shoppers had talked of going away for a week or two, and the boys Goode were comng home for the holidays, and I, Jane Neild, was able to pay- and would insist upon payng - my fair share for board with the Brians, having my little room out of the house, ;oo, for that peace and quietness which is not always found in large families. Yes, I would go down to Márgate when I was stroug- when I was well enough to bear the fatigue of the journey. This was a promise on tho day the Brians, with much formality of departure, left town or the season, aud I made up my mind to get well and strong as soou M possible, and join IContinufd (n onr nexU]