I took a walk round the garden three or four times, feeling the need of fresh air. On returning Gowing noticed I was not smoking: offered me another cigar, which I politely declined. Gowing began his usual sniffing, so, anticipating him, I said: "You're not going to complain of the smell of paint again?" He said: "No, not this time; but I'll tell you what, I distinctly smell dry rot." I don't often make jokes, but I replied: "You're talking a lot of DRY ROT yourself." I could not help roaring at this, and Carrie said her sides quite ached with laughter. I never was so immensely tickled by anything I have ever said before. I actually woke up twice during the night, and laughed till the bed shook.
April 13. - An extraordinary coincidence: Carrie had called in a woman to make some chintz covers for our drawing-room chairs and sofa to prevent the sun fading the green rep of the furniture. I saw the woman, and recognised her as a woman who used to work years ago for my old aunt at Clapham. It only shows how small the world is.
April 14. - Spent the whole of the afternoon in the garden, having this morning picked up at a bookstall for fivepence a capital little book, in good condition, on GARDENING. I procured and sowed some half-hardy annuals in what I fancy will be a warm, sunny border. I thought of a joke, and called out Carrie. Carrie came out rather testy, I thought. I said: "I have just discovered we have got a lodging-house." She replied: "How do you mean?" I said: "Look at the BOARDERS." Carrie said: "Is that all you wanted me for?" I said: "Any other time you would have laughed at my little pleasantry." Carrie said: "Certainly - AT ANY OTHER TIME, but not when I am busy in the house." The stairs looked very nice. Gowing called, and said the stairs looked ALL RIGHT, but it made the banisters look ALL WRONG, and suggested a coat of paint on them also, which Carrie quite agreed with. I walked round to Putley, and fortunately he was out, so I had a good excuse to let the banisters slide. By-the-by, that is rather funny.
April 15, Sunday. - At three o'clock Cummings and Gowing called for a good long walk over Hampstead and Finchley, and brought with them a friend named Stillbrook. We walked and chatted together, except Stillbrook, who was always a few yards behind us staring at the ground and cutting at the grass with his stick.
As it was getting on for five, we four held a consultation, and Gowing suggested that we should make for "The Cow and Hedge" and get some tea. Stillbrook said: "A brandy-and-soda was good enough for him." I reminded them that all public-houses were closed till six o'clock. Stillbrook said, "That's all right - BONA-FIDE travellers."
We arrived; and as I was trying to pass, the man in charge of the gate said: "Where from?" I replied: "Holloway." He immediately put up his arm, and declined to let me pass. I turned back for a moment, when I saw Stillbrook, closely followed by Cummings and Gowing, make for the entrance. I watched them, and thought I would have a good laugh at their expense, I heard the porter say: "Where from?" When, to my surprise, in fact disgust, Stillbrook replied:
"Blackheath," and the three were immediately admitted.
Gowing called to me across the gate, and said: "We shan't be a minute." I waited for them the best part of an hour. When they appeared they were all in most excellent spirits, and the only one who made an effort to apologise was Mr. Stillbrook, who said to me:
"It was very rough on you to be kept waiting, but we had another spin for S. and B.'s." I walked home in silence; I couldn't speak to them. I felt very dull all the evening, but deemed it advisable NOT to say anything to Carrie about the matter.
April 16. - After business, set to work in the garden. When it got dark I wrote to Cummings and Gowing (who neither called, for a wonder; perhaps they were ashamed of themselves) about yesterday's adventure at "The Cow and Hedge." Afterwards made up my mind not to write YET.
April 17. - Thought I would write a kind little note to Gowing and Cummings about last Sunday, and warning them against Mr.
Stillbrook. Afterwards, thinking the matter over, tore up the letters and determined not to WRITE at all, but to SPEAK quietly to them. Dumfounded at receiving a sharp letter from Cummings, saying that both he and Gowing had been waiting for an explanation of MY (mind you, MY) extraordinary conduct coming home on Sunday. At last I wrote: "I thought I was the aggrieved party; but as I freely forgive you, you - feeling yourself aggrieved - should bestow forgiveness on me." I have copied this VERBATIM in the diary, because I think it is one of the most perfect and thoughtful sentences I have ever written. I posted the letter, but in my own heart I felt I was actually apologising for having been insulted.
April 18. - Am in for a cold. Spent the whole day at the office sneezing. In the evening, the cold being intolerable, sent Sarah out for a bottle of Kinahan. Fell asleep in the arm-chair, and woke with the shivers. Was startled by a loud knock at the front door. Carrie awfully flurried. Sarah still out, so went up, opened the door, and found it was only Cummings. Remembered the grocer's boy had again broken the side-bell. Cummings squeezed my hand, and said: "I've just seen Gowing. All right. Say no more about it." There is no doubt they are both under the impression I have apologised.
While playing dominoes with Cummings in the parlour, he said: "By- the-by, do you want any wine or spirits? My cousin Merton has just set up in the trade, and has a splendid whisky, four years in bottle, at thirty-eight shillings. It is worth your while laying down a few dozen of it." I told him my cellars, which were very small, were full up. To my horror, at that very moment, Sarah entered the room, and putting a bottle of whisky, wrapped in a dirty piece of newspaper, on the table in front of us, said:
"Please, sir, the grocer says he ain't got no more Kinahan, but you'll find this very good at two-and-six, with twopence returned on the bottle; and, please, did you want any more sherry? as he has some at one-and-three, as dry as a nut!"
