The Diary of a Nobody

I was feeling my way out of the room, when I suddenly received a hard intentional punch at the back of my head.  I said loudly: “Who did that?”  There was no answer; so I repeated the question, with the same result.  I struck a match, and lighted the gas.  They were all talking and laughing, so I kept my own counsel; but, after they had gone, I said to Carrie; “The person who sent me that insulting post-card at Christmas was here to-night.”

December 29.—I had a most vivid dream last night.  I woke up, and on falling asleep, dreamed the same dream over again precisely.  I dreamt I heard Frank Mutlar telling his sister that he had not only sent me the insulting Christmas card, but admitted that he was the one who punched my head last night in the dark.  As fate would have it, Lupin, at breakfast, was reading extracts from a letter he had just received from Frank.

I asked him to pass the envelope, that I might compare the writing.  He did so, and I examined it by the side of the envelope containing the Christmas card.  I detected a similarity in the writing, in spite of the attempted disguise.  I passed them on to Carrie, who began to laugh.  I asked her what she was laughing at, and she said the card was never directed to me at all.  It was “L. Pooter,” not “C. Pooter.”  Lupin asked to look at the direction and the card, and exclaimed, with a laugh: “Oh yes, Guv., it’s meant for me.”

I said: “Are you in the habit of receiving insulting Christmas cards?”  He replied: “Oh yes, and of sending them, too.”

In the evening Gowing called, and said he enjoyed himself very much last night.  I took the opportunity to confide in him, as an old friend, about the vicious punch last night.  He burst out laughing, and said: “Oh, it was your head, was it?  I know I accidentally hit something, but I thought it was a brick wall.”  I told him I felt hurt, in both senses of the expression.

December 30, Sunday.—Lupin spent the whole day with the Mutlars.  He seemed rather cheerful in the evening, so I said: “I’m glad to see you so happy, Lupin.”  He answered: “Well, Daisy is a splendid girl, but I was obliged to take her old fool of a father down a peg.  What with his meanness over his cigars, his stinginess over his drinks, his farthing economy in turning down the gas if you only quit the room for a second, writing to one on half-sheets of note-paper, sticking the remnant of the last cake of soap on to the new cake, putting two bricks on each side of the fireplace, and his general ‘outside-halfpenny-‘bus-ness,’ I was compelled to let him have a bit of my mind.”  I said: “Lupin, you are not much more than a boy; I hope you won’t repent it.”

December 31.—The last day of the Old Year.  I received an extraordinary letter from Mr. Mutlar, senior.  He writes: “Dear Sir,—For a long time past I have had considerable difficulty deciding the important question, ‘Who is the master of my own house?  Myself, or your son Lupin?’  Believe me, I have no prejudice one way or the other; but I have been most reluctantly compelled to give judgment to the effect that I am the master of it.  Under the circumstances, it has become my duty to forbid your son to enter my house again.  I am sorry, because it deprives me of the society of one of the most modest, unassuming, and gentlemanly persons I have ever had the honour of being acquainted with.”

I did not desire the last day to wind up disagreeably, so I said nothing to either Carrie or Lupin about the letter.

A most terrible fog came on, and Lupin would go out in it, but promised to be back to drink out the Old Year—a custom we have always observed.  At a quarter to twelve Lupin had not returned, and the fog was fearful.  As time was drawing close, I got out the spirits.  Carrie and I deciding on whisky, I opened a fresh bottle; but Carrie said it smelt like brandy.  As I knew it to be whisky, I said there was nothing to discuss.  Carrie, evidently vexed that Lupin had not come in, did discuss it all the same, and wanted me to have a small wager with her to decide by the smell.  I said I could decide it by the taste in a moment.  A silly and unnecessary argument followed, the result of which was we suddenly saw it was a quarter-past twelve, and, for the first time in our married life, we missed welcoming in the New Year.  Lupin got home at a quarter-past two, having got lost in the fog—so he said.

CHAPTER XIV

Begin the year with an unexpected promotion at the office.  I make two good jokes.  I get an enormous rise in my salary.  Lupin speculates successfully and starts a pony-trap.  Have to speak to Sarah.  Extraordinary conduct of Gowing’s.

January 1.—I had intended concluding my diary last week; but a most important event has happened, so I shall continue for a little while longer on the fly-leaves attached to the end of my last year’s diary.  It had just struck half-past one, and I was on the point of leaving the office to have my dinner, when I received a message that Mr. Perkupp desired to see me at once.  I must confess that my heart commenced to beat and I had most serious misgivings.

Mr. Perkupp was in his room writing, and he said: “Take a seat, Mr. Pooter, I shall not be a moment.”

I replied: “No, thank you, sir; I’ll stand.”

I watched the clock on the mantelpiece, and I was waiting quite twenty minutes; but it seemed hours.  Mr. Perkupp at last got up himself.

I said: “I hope there is nothing wrong, sir?”

He replied: “Oh dear, no! quite the reverse, I hope.”  What a weight off my mind!  My breath seemed to come back again in an instant.

Mr. Perkupp said: “Mr. Buckling is going to retire, and there will be some slight changes in the office.  You have been with us nearly twenty-one years, and, in consequence of your conduct during that period, we intend making a special promotion in your favour.  We have not quite decided how you will be placed; but in any case there will be a considerable increase in your salary, which, it is quite unnecessary for me to say, you fully deserve.  I have an appointment at two; but you shall hear more to-morrow.”

He then left the room quickly, and I was not even allowed time or thought to express a single word of grateful thanks to him.  I need not say how dear Carrie received this joyful news.  With perfect simplicity she said: “At last we shall be able to have a chimney-glass for the back drawing-room, which we always wanted.”  I added: “Yes, and at last you shall have that little costume which you saw at Peter Robinson’s so cheap.”

January 2.—I was in a great state of suspense all day at the office.  I did not like to worry Mr. Perkupp; but as he did not send for me, and mentioned yesterday that he would see me again to-day, I thought it better, perhaps, to go to him.  I knocked at his door, and on entering, Mr. Perkupp said: “Oh! it’s you, Mr. Pooter; do you want to see me?”  I said: “No, sir, I thought you wanted to see me!”  “Oh!” he replied, “I remember.  Well, I am very busy to-day; I will see you to-morrow.”

January 3.—Still in a state of anxiety and excitement, which was not alleviated by ascertaining that Mr. Perkupp sent word he should not be at the office to-day.  In the evening, Lupin, who was busily engaged with a paper, said suddenly to me: “Do you know anything about chalk pits, Guv.?”  I said: “No, my boy, not that I’m aware of.”  Lupin said: “Well, I give you the tip; chalk pits are as safe as Consols, and pay six per cent. at par.”  I said a rather neat thing, viz.: “They may be six per cent. at par, but your pa has no money to invest.”  Carrie and I both roared with laughter.  Lupin did not take the slightest notice of the joke, although I purposely repeated it for him; but continued: “I give you the tip, that’s all—chalk pits!”  I said another funny thing: “Mind you don’t fall into them!”  Lupin put on a supercilious smile, and said: “Bravo!  Joe Miller.”

January 4.—Mr. Perkupp sent for me and told me that my position would be that of one of the senior clerks.  I was more than overjoyed.  Mr. Perkupp added, he would let me know to-morrow what the salary would be.  This means another day’s anxiety; I don’t mind, for it is anxiety of the right sort.  That reminded me that I had forgotten to speak to Lupin about the letter I received from Mr. Mutlar, senr.  I broached the subject to Lupin in the evening, having first consulted Carrie.  Lupin was riveted to the Financial News, as if he had been a born capitalist, and I said: “Pardon me a moment, Lupin, how is it you have not been to the Mutlars’ any day this week?”

Lupin answered: “I told you!  I cannot stand old Mutlar.”

I said: “Mr. Mutlar writes to me to say pretty plainly that he cannot stand you!”

Lupin said: “Well, I like his cheek in writing to you.  I’ll find out if his father is still alive, and I will write him a note complaining of his son, and I’ll state pretty clearly that his son is a blithering idiot!”

I said: “Lupin, please moderate your expressions in the presence of your mother.”

Lupin said: “I’m very sorry, but there is no other expression one can apply to him.  However, I’m determined not to enter his place again.”

I said: “You know, Lupin, he has forbidden you the house.”

Lupin replied: “Well, we won’t split straws—it’s all the same.  Daisy is a trump, and will wait for me ten years, if necessary.”

January 5.—I can scarcely write the news.  Mr. Perkupp told me my salary would be raised £100!  I stood gaping for a moment unable to realise it.  I annually get £10 rise, and I thought it might be £15 or even £20; but £100 surpasses all belief.  Carrie and I both rejoiced over our good fortune.  Lupin came home in the evening in the utmost good spirits.  I sent Sarah quietly round to the grocer’s for a bottle of champagne, the same as we had before, “Jackson Frères.”  It was opened at supper, and I said to Lupin: “This is to celebrate some good news I have received to-day.”  Lupin replied: “Hooray, Guv.!  And I have some good news, also; a double event, eh?”  I said: “My boy, as a result of twenty-one years’ industry and strict attention to the interests of my superiors in office, I have been rewarded with promotion and a rise in salary of £100.”

Lupin gave three cheers, and we rapped the table furiously, which brought in Sarah to see what the matter was.  Lupin ordered us to “fill up” again, and addressing us upstanding, said: “Having been in the firm of Job Cleanands, stock and share-brokers, a few weeks, and not having paid particular attention to the interests of my superiors in office, my Guv’nor, as a reward to me, allotted me £5 worth of shares in a really good thing.  The result is, to-day I have made £200.”  I said: “Lupin, you are joking.”  “No, Guv., it’s the good old truth; Job Cleanands put me on to Chlorates.”

January 21.—I am very much concerned at Lupin having started a pony-trap.  I said: “Lupin, are you justified in this outrageous extravagance?”  Lupin replied: “Well, one must get to the City somehow.  I’ve only hired it, and can give it up any time I like.”  I repeated my question: “Are you justified in this extravagance?”  He replied: “Look here, Guv., excuse me saying so, but you’re a bit out of date.  It does not pay nowadays, fiddling about over small things.  I don’t mean anything personal, Guv’nor.  My boss says if I take his tip, and stick to big things, I can make big money!”  I said I thought the very idea of speculation most horrifying.  Lupin said “It is not speculation, it’s a dead cert.”  I advised him, at all events, not to continue the pony and cart; but he replied: “I made £200 in one day; now suppose I only make £200 in a month, or put it at £100 a month, which is ridiculously low—why, that is £1,250 a year.  What’s a few pounds a week for a trap?”

I did not pursue the subject further, beyond saying that I should feel glad when the autumn came, and Lupin would be of age and responsible for his own debts.  He answered: “My dear Guv., I promise you faithfully that I will never speculate with what I have not got.  I shall only go on Job Cleanands’ tips, and as he is in the ‘know’ it is pretty safe sailing.”  I felt somewhat relieved.  Gowing called in the evening and, to my surprise, informed me that, as he had made £10 by one of Lupin’s tips, he intended asking us and the Cummings round next Saturday.  Carrie and I said we should be delighted.

January 22.—I don’t generally lose my temper with servants; but I had to speak to Sarah rather sharply about a careless habit she has recently contracted of shaking the table-cloth, after removing the breakfast things, in a manner which causes all the crumbs to fall on the carpet, eventually to be trodden in.  Sarah answered very rudely: “Oh, you are always complaining.”  I replied: “Indeed, I am not.  I spoke to you last week about walking all over the drawing-room carpet with a piece of yellow soap on the heel of your boot.”  She said: “And you’re always grumbling about your breakfast.”  I said: “No, I am not; but I feel perfectly justified in complaining that I never can get a hard-boiled egg.  The moment I crack the shell it spurts all over the plate, and I have spoken to you at least fifty times about it.”  She began to cry and make a scene; but fortunately my ’bus came by, so I had a good excuse for leaving her.  Gowing left a message in the evening, that we were not to forget next Saturday.  Carrie amusingly said: “As he has never asked any friends before, we are not likely to forget it.”

January 23.—I asked Lupin to try and change the hard brushes, he recently made me a present of, for some softer ones, as my hair-dresser tells me I ought not to brush my hair too much just now.

January 24.—The new chimney-glass came home for the back drawing-room.  Carrie arranged some fans very prettily on the top and on each side.  It is an immense improvement to the room.

January 25.—We had just finished our tea, when who should come in but Cummings, who has not been here for over three weeks.  I noticed that he looked anything but well, so I said: “Well, Cummings, how are you?  You look a little blue.”  He replied: “Yes! and I feel blue too.”  I said: “Why, what’s the matter?”  He said: “Oh, nothing, except that I have been on my back for a couple of weeks, that’s all.  At one time my doctor nearly gave me up, yet not a soul has come near me.  No one has even taken the trouble to inquire whether I was alive or dead.”

I said: “This is the first I have heard of it.  I have passed your house several nights, and presumed you had company, as the rooms were so brilliantly lighted.”

Cummings replied: “No!  The only company I have had was my wife, the doctor, and the landlady—the last-named having turned out a perfect trump.  I wonder you did not see it in the paper.  I know it was mentioned in the Bicycle News.”

I thought to cheer him up, and said: “Well, you are all right now?”

He replied: “That’s not the question.  The question is whether an illness does not enable you to discover who are your true friends.”

I said such an observation was unworthy of him.  To make matters worse, in came Gowing, who gave Cummings a violent slap on the back, and said: “Hulloh!  Have you seen a ghost?  You look scared to death, like Irving in Macbeth.”  I said: “Gently, Gowing, the poor fellow has been very ill.”  Gowing roared with laughter and said: “Yes, and you look it, too.”  Cummings quietly said: “Yes, and I feel it too—not that I suppose you care.”

An awkward silence followed.  Gowing said: “Never mind, Cummings, you and the missis come round to my place to-morrow, and it will cheer you up a bit; for we’ll open a bottle of wine.”

January 26.—An extraordinary thing happened.  Carrie and I went round to Gowing’s, as arranged, at half-past seven.  We knocked and rang several times without getting an answer.  At last the latch was drawn and the door opened a little way, the chain still being up.  A man in shirt-sleeves put his head through and said: “Who is it?  What do you want?” I said: “Mr. Gowing, he is expecting us.”  The man said (as well as I could hear, owing to the yapping of a little dog): “I don’t think he is.  Mr. Gowing is not at home.”  I said: “He will be in directly.”

With that observation he slammed the door, leaving Carrie and me standing on the steps with a cutting wind blowing round the corner.

Carrie advised me to knock again.  I did so, and then discovered for the first time that the knocker had been newly painted, and the paint had come off on my gloves—which were, in consequence, completely spoiled.

I knocked at the door with my stick two or three times.

The man opened the door, taking the chain off this time, and began abusing me.  He said: “What do you mean by scratching the paint with your stick like that, spoiling the varnish?  You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

I said: “Pardon me, Mr. Gowing invited—”

He interrupted and said: “I don’t care for Mr. Gowing, or any of his friends.  This is my door, not Mr. Gowing’s.  There are people here besides Mr. Gowing.”

The impertinence of this man was nothing.  I scarcely noticed it, it was so trivial in comparison with the scandalous conduct of Gowing.

At this moment Cummings and his wife arrived.  Cummings was very lame and leaning on a stick; but got up the steps and asked what the matter was.

The man said: “Mr. Gowing said nothing about expecting anyone.  All he said was he had just received an invitation to Croydon, and he should not be back till Monday evening.  He took his bag with him.”

With that he slammed the door again.  I was too indignant with Gowing’s conduct to say anything.  Cummings looked white with rage, and as he descended the steps struck his stick violently on the ground and said: “Scoundrel!”

CHAPTER XV

Gowing explains his conduct.  Lupin takes us for a drive, which we don’t enjoy.  Lupin introduces us to Mr. Murray Posh.

February 8.—It does seem hard I cannot get good sausages for breakfast.  They are either full of bread or spice, or are as red as beef.  Still anxious about the £20 I invested last week by Lupin’s advice.  However, Cummings has done the same.

February 9.—Exactly a fortnight has passed, and I have neither seen nor heard from Gowing respecting his extraordinary conduct in asking us round to his house, and then being out.  In the evening Carrie was engaged marking a half-dozen new collars I had purchased.  I’ll back Carrie’s marking against anybody’s.  While I was drying them at the fire, and Carrie was rebuking me for scorching them, Cummings came in.

He seemed quite well again, and chaffed us about marking the collars.  I asked him if he had heard from Gowing, and he replied that he had not.  I said I should not have believed that Gowing could have acted in such an ungentlemanly manner.  Cummings said: “You are mild in your description of him; I think he has acted like a cad.”

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when the door opened, and Gowing, putting in his head, said: “May I come in?”  I said: “Certainly.”  Carrie said very pointedly: “Well, you are a stranger.”  Gowing said: “Yes, I’ve been on and off to Croydon during the last fortnight.”  I could see Cummings was boiling over, and eventually he tackled Gowing very strongly respecting his conduct last Saturday week.  Gowing appeared surprised, and said: “Why, I posted a letter to you in the morning announcing that the party was ‘off, very much off.’”  I said: “I never got it.”  Gowing, turning to Carrie, said: “I suppose letters sometimes miscarry, don’t they, Mrs. Carrie?”  Cummings sharply said: “This is not a time for joking.  I had no notice of the party being put off.”  Gowing replied: “I told Pooter in my note to tell you, as I was in a hurry.  However, I’ll inquire at the post-office, and we must meet again at my place.”  I added that I hoped he would be present at the next meeting.  Carrie roared at this, and even Cummings could not help laughing.

February 10, Sunday.—Contrary to my wishes, Carrie allowed Lupin to persuade her to take her for a drive in the afternoon in his trap.  I quite disapprove of driving on a Sunday, but I did not like to trust Carrie alone with Lupin, so I offered to go too.  Lupin said: “Now, that is nice of you, Guv., but you won’t mind sitting on the back-seat of the cart?”

Lupin proceeded to put on a bright-blue coat that seemed miles too large for him.  Carrie said it wanted taking in considerably at the back.  Lupin said: “Haven’t you seen a box-coat before?  You can’t drive in anything else.”

He may wear what he likes in the future, for I shall never drive with him again.  His conduct was shocking.  When we passed Highgate Archway, he tried to pass everything and everybody.  He shouted to respectable people who were walking quietly in the road to get out of the way; he flicked at the horse of an old man who was riding, causing it to rear; and, as I had to ride backwards, I was compelled to face a gang of roughs in a donkey-cart, whom Lupin had chaffed, and who turned and followed us for nearly a mile, bellowing, indulging in coarse jokes and laughter, to say nothing of occasionally pelting us with orange-peel.

Lupin’s excuse—that the Prince of Wales would have to put up with the same sort of thing if he drove to the Derby—was of little consolation to either Carrie or myself.  Frank Mutlar called in the evening, and Lupin went out with him.

February 11.—Feeling a little concerned about Lupin, I mustered up courage to speak to Mr. Perkupp about him.  Mr. Perkupp has always been most kind to me, so I told him everything, including yesterday’s adventure.  Mr. Perkupp kindly replied: “There is no necessity for you to be anxious, Mr. Pooter.  It would be impossible for a son of such good parents to turn out erroneously.  Remember he is young, and will soon get older.  I wish we could find room for him in this firm.”  The advice of this good man takes loads off my mind.  In the evening Lupin came in.

After our little supper, he said: “My dear parents, I have some news, which I fear will affect you considerably.”  I felt a qualm come over me, and said nothing.  Lupin then said: “It may distress you—in fact, I’m sure it will—but this afternoon I have given up my pony and trap for ever.”  It may seem absurd, but I was so pleased, I immediately opened a bottle of port.  Gowing dropped in just in time, bringing with him a large sheet, with a print of a tailless donkey, which he fastened against the wall.  He then produced several separate tails, and we spent the remainder of the evening trying blindfolded to pin a tail on in the proper place.  My sides positively ached with laughter when I went to bed.

February 12.—In the evening I spoke to Lupin about his engagement with Daisy Mutlar.  I asked if he had heard from her.  He replied: “No; she promised that old windbag of a father of hers that she would not communicate with me.  I see Frank Mutlar, of course; in fact, he said he might call again this evening.”  Frank called, but said he could not stop, as he had a friend waiting outside for him, named Murray Posh, adding he was quite a swell.  Carrie asked Frank to bring him in.

He was brought in, Gowing entering at the same time.  Mr. Murray Posh was a tall, fat young man, and was evidently of a very nervous disposition, as he subsequently confessed he would never go in a hansom cab, nor would he enter a four-wheeler until the driver had first got on the box with his reins in his hands.

On being introduced, Gowing, with his usual want of tact, said: “Any relation to ‘Posh’s three-shilling hats’?”  Mr. Posh replied: “Yes; but please understand I don’t try on hats myself.  I take no active part in the business.”  I replied: “I wish I had a business like it.”  Mr. Posh seemed pleased, and gave a long but most interesting history of the extraordinary difficulties in the manufacture of cheap hats.

Murray Posh evidently knew Daisy Mutlar very intimately from the way he was talking of her; and Frank said to Lupin once, laughingly: “If you don’t look out, Posh will cut you out!”  When they had all gone, I referred to this flippant conversation; and Lupin said, sarcastically: “A man who is jealous has no respect for himself.  A man who would be jealous of an elephant like Murray Posh could only have a contempt for himself.  I know Daisy.  She would wait ten years for me, as I said before; in fact, if necessary, she would wait twenty years for me.”