Trouble sharpens the vision. In our moments of distress we can seeclearly that what is wrong with this world of ours is the fact thatMisery loves company and seldom gets it. Toothache is an unpleasantailment; but, if toothache were a natural condition of life, if allmankind were afflicted with toothache at birth, we should notnotice it. It is the freedom from aching teeth of all those withwhom we come in contact that emphasizes the agony. And, as withtoothache, so with trouble. Until our private affairs go wrong, wenever realize how bubbling over with happiness the bulk of mankindseems to be. Our aching heart is apparently nothing but a desertisland in an ocean of joy.
George, waking next morning with a heavy heart, made this discoverybefore the day was an hour old. The sun was shining, and birds sangmerrily, but this did not disturb him. Nature is ever callous tohuman woes, laughing while we weep; and we grow to take hercallousness for granted. What jarred upon George was the infernalcheerfulness of his fellow men. They seemed to be doing it onpurpose--triumphing over him--glorying in the fact that, howeverFate might have shattered him, they were all right.
People were happy who had never been happy before. Mrs. Platt, forinstance. A grey, depressed woman of middle age, she had seemedhitherto to have few pleasures beyond breaking dishes and relatingthe symptoms of sick neighbours who were not expected to livethrough the week. She now sang. George could hear her as sheprepared his breakfast in the kitchen. At first he had had a hopethat she was moaning with pain; but this was dispelled when he hadfinished his toilet and proceeded downstairs. The sounds sheemitted suggested anguish, but the words, when he was able todistinguish them, told another story. Incredible as it might seem,on this particular morning Mrs. Platt had elected to belight-hearted. What she was singing sounded like a dirge, butactually it was "Stop your tickling, Jock!" And. later, when shebrought George his coffee and eggs, she spent a full ten minutesprattling as he tried to read his paper, pointing out to him anumber of merry murders and sprightly suicides which otherwise hemight have missed. The woman went out of her way to show him thatfor her, if not for less fortunate people, God this morning was inHis heaven and all was right in the world.
Two tramps of supernatural exuberance called at the cottage shortlyafter breakfast to ask George, whom they had never even consultedabout their marriages, to help support their wives and children.
Nothing could have been more care-free and _debonnaire_ than thedemeanour of these men.
And then Reggie Byng arrived in his grey racing car, more cheerfulthan any of them.
Fate could not have mocked George more subtly. A sorrow's crown ofsorrow is remembering happier things, and the sight of Reggie inthat room reminded him that on the last occasion when they hadtalked together across this same table it was he who had been in aFool's Paradise and Reggie who had borne a weight of care. Reggiethis morning was brighter than the shining sun and gayer than thecarolling birds.
"Hullo-ullo-ullo-ullo-ullo-ullo-ul-Lo! Topping morning, isn't it!"observed Reggie. "The sunshine! The birds! The absolutewhat-do-you-call-it of everything and so forth, and all that sortof thing, if you know what I mean! I feel like a two-year-old!"George, who felt older than this by some ninety-eight years,groaned in spirit. This was more than man was meant to bear.
"I say," continued Reggie, absently reaching out for a slice ofbread and smearing it with marmalade, "this business of marriage,now, and all that species of rot! What I mean to say is, what aboutit? Not a bad scheme, taking it big and large? Or don't you thinkso?"George writhed. The knife twisted in the wound. Surely it was badenough to see a happy man eating bread and marmalade without havingto listen to him talking about marriage.
"Well, anyhow, be that as it may," said Reggie, biting jovially andspeaking in a thick but joyous voice. "I'm getting married today,and chance it. This morning, this very morning, I leap off thedock!"George was startled out of his despondency.
"What!""Absolutely, laddie!"George remembered the conventions.
"I congratulate you.""Thanks, old man. And not without reason. I'm the luckiest fellowalive. I hardly knew I was alive till now.""Isn't this rather sudden?"Reggie looked a trifle furtive. His manner became that of aconspirator.
"I should jolly well say it is sudden! It's got to be sudden.
Dashed sudden and deuced secret! If the mater were to hear of it,there's no doubt whatever she would form a flying wedge and bust upthe proceedings with no uncertain voice. You see, laddie, it's MissFaraday I'm marrying, and the mater--dear old soul--has other ideasfor Reginald. Life's a rummy thing, isn't it! What I mean to sayis, it's rummy, don't you know, and all that.""Very," agreed George.
"Who'd have thought, a week ago, that I'd be sitting in this jollyold chair asking you to be my best man? Why, a week ago I didn'tknow you, and, if anybody had told me Alice Faraday was going tomarry me, I'd have given one of those hollow, mirthless laughs.""Do you want me to be your best man?""Absolutely, if you don't mind. You see," said Reggieconfidentially, "it's like this. I've got lots of pals, of course,buzzing about all over London and its outskirts, who'd be gladenough to rally round and join the execution-squad; but you knowhow it is. Their maters are all pals of my mater, and I don't wantto get them into trouble for aiding and abetting my little show, ifyou understand what I mean. Now, you're different. You don't knowthe mater, so it doesn't matter to you if she rolls around and putsthe Curse of the Byngs on you, and all that sort of thing. Besides,I don't know." Reggie mused. "Of course, this is the happiest dayof my life," he proceeded, "and I'm not saying it isn't, but youknow how it is--there's absolutely no doubt that a chappie does notshow at his best when he's being married. What I mean to say is,he's more or less bound to look a fearful ass. And I'm perfectlycertain it would put me right off my stroke if I felt that somechump like Jack Ferris or Ronnie Fitzgerald was trying not togiggle in the background. So, if you will be a sportsman and comeand hold my hand till the thing's over, I shall be eternallygrateful.""Where are you going to be married?""In London. Alice sneaked off there last night. It was easy, as ithappened, because by a bit of luck old Marshmoreton had gone totown yesterday morning--nobody knows why: he doesn't go up toLondon more than a couple of times a year. She's going to meet meat the Savoy, and then the scheme was to toddle round to thenearest registrar and request the lad to unleash the marriageservice. I'm whizzing up in the car, and I'm hoping to be able topersuade you to come with me. Say the word, laddie!"George reflected. He liked Reggie, and there was no particularreason in the world why he should not give him aid and comfort inthis crisis. True, in his present frame of mind, it would betorture to witness a wedding ceremony; but he ought not to let thatstand in the way of helping a friend.
"All right," he said.
"Stout fellow! I don't know how to thank you. It isn't putting youout or upsetting your plans, I hope, or anything on those lines?""Not at all. I had to go up to London today, anyway.""Well, you can't get there quicker than in my car. She's a hummer.
By the way, I forgot to ask. How is your little affair comingalong? Everything going all right?""In a way," said George. He was not equal to confiding his troublesto Reggie.
"Of course, your trouble isn't like mine was. What I mean is, Maudloves you, and all that, and all you've got to think out is ascheme for laying the jolly old family a stymie. It's apity--almost--that yours isn't a case of having to win the girl,like me; because by Jove, laddie," said Reggie with solemnemphasis, "I could help you there. I've got............