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"While you sleep? Nol If you don't come with me, I shall spread
your newest frock on my
'rickshaw-bow, and when any one asks me what I am doing, I shall
say that I am going to
Phelps's to get it let out. I shall take care that ~irs. MacNamara
sees me. Put your things on,
there's a good girl."

Mrs. Mallowe groaned and obeyed, and the two went off to the
Library, where they found Mrs.
Delville and the man who went by the nickname of The Dancing
Master. By that time Mrs
Mallowe was awake and eloquent.

"That is the Creature!" said Mrs Hauksbee, with the air of one
pointing out a slug in the road.

"No," said Mrs. Mallowe. "The man is the Creature. Ugh!
Good-evening, Mr. Bent. I thought
you were coming to tea this evening."

"Surely it was for to-morrow, was it not?" answered The Dancing
Master. "I understood . - . I
fancied .
I'm so sorry . How very unfortunate!" .

But Mrs. Mallowe had pass~d on.

"For the practiced equivocator you said he was," murmured Mrs.
Hauksbee, "he strikes me as a
failure. Now wherefore should he have preferred a walk with The
Dowd to tea with us? Elective
affinities, I suppos~both grubby. Polly, I'd never forgive that
woman as long as the world rolls."

"I forgive every woman eve"ything,"

222
WORKS OF RUDYARD KIPLING

said Mrs. Mallowe. "He will be a sufficient punishment for her.
What a common voice she has!"

Mrs. Delville's voice was not pretty, her carriage was even less
lovely, and her raiment was
strikingly neglected. All these things Mrs. Mallowe noticed over
the top of a magazine.

"Now what is there in her?" said Mrs. Hauksbee. "Do you see what
I meant about the clothes
falling off? If I were a man I would perish sooner than be seen
with that rag-bag. And yet, she
has good eyes, but~h!"

"What is it?"

"She doesn't know how to use them! On my Honor, she does not.
Look! Oh look! Untidiness I
can endure, but ignor~1ce never! The woman's a fool."

"Hsh! She'll hear you."

"All the women in Simla are fools. She'll think I mean some one
else. Now she's going o~t. What
a thoroughly objectionable couple she and The Dancing Master
make! Which reminds me. Do
you suppose they'll ever dance together?"

"Wait and see. I don't envy ber the conversation of The Dancing
Master-loathly man~ His wife
ought to be up here before long."

"Do you know anything about him?"

"Only what he told me. It may be a11 a fiction. He married a girl
bred in the country, I think,
and, being an honorable, chivalrous soul, told me that he repented
his bargain and sent her to her
mother as often as possible'~a person who has lived in the Doon
since the memory of man and
goes to Mussoorie when other people go Home. The wife is with
her at present. So he says."

'Babies?'

"One only, but he talks of his wife in a revolting way. I hated him
for it. He thought he was being
epigrammatic and brilliant."

"That is a vice peculiar to men. I dislike him because he is
generally in the wake of some girl,
disappointing the Eligibles. He will persecute May Holt no more,
unless I am much mistaken."

"No. I think Mrs. Delville may occupy his attention for a while."

"Do you suppose she knows that he is the head of a family?"

"Not from his lips. He swore me to eternal secrecy. Wherefore I
tell you. Don't you know that
type of man?"

"Not intimately, thank goodness! As
a general rule, when a man begins to
abuse his wife to me, I find that the
Lord gives me wherewith to answer him
according to his folly; and we part with
a coolness between us. I laugh."

"I'm different. I've no sense of humor."

"Cultivate it, then. It has been my mainstay for more years than I
care to think about. A
well-educated sense of Humor will save a woman when Religion,
Training, and Home
influences fail; and we may all need salvation sometimes."

"Do you suppose that the Delville woman has humor?"

"Her dress bewrays her. How can a Thing who wears a supplement
under her left arm have any
notion of the fitness of things-much less their folly? If she discards
The Dancing Maste~ after
having once seen him dance, I may respect her, Otherwise -"But
are we not both assuming a
great deal too much, dear? You sa" the woman at Peliti's-half an
hour

A SECOND-RATE WOMAN
223

liter you saw her walking with The Dancing Master-an hour later
you met her here at the
Library."

"Still with The Dancing Master, remember."

"Still with The Dancing Master, I admit, but why on the strength of
that should you imagine"-"I
imagine nothing. I have no imagination. I am only convinced that
The Dancing Master is
attracted to The Dowd because he is objectionable in every way
and she in every other. If I know
the man as you have described him, he holds his wife in slavery at
present."

"She is twenty years younger than he."

"Poor wretch! And, in the end, after le has posed and swaggered
and lied-he has a mouth under
that ragged moustache simply made for lies-he will be rswarded
according to his merits."

"I wonder what those really are," said Mrs. Mallowe.

But Mrs. Hauksbee, her face close to 'he shelf of the new books,
was humming softly: "What
shall he have who killed the Deer!" She was a lady of unfettered
speech.

One month later, she announced her intention of calling upon Mrs.
Delville. Both Mrs. Hauksbee
and Mrs. Mallowe were in morning wrappers, and there was a
great peace in the land.

"I should go as I was," said Mrs. Mallowe. "It would be a delicate
compliment to her style."

Mrs. Hauksbee studied herself in the glass.

"Assuming for a moment that she ever darkened these doors, I
should put on this robe, after all
the others, to show
her what a morning wrapper ought to be. It might enliven her. As
it is, I shall go in the
dove-colored-sweet emblem of youth and innocence~and shall put
on my new gloves."

"If you really are going, dirty tau would be too good; and you know
that dove-color spots with
the rain."

"I care not. I may make her envious. At least I shall try, though one
cannot expect very much
from a woman who puts a lace tucker into her habit."

"Just Heavens! When did she do that?"

"Yesterday-riding with The Dancing Master. I met them at the
back of Jakko, and the rain had
made the lace lie down. To complete the effect, she was wearing
an unclean terai with the
elastic under her chin. I felt almost too well content to take the
trouble to despise her."

"The Hawley Boy was riding with you. What did he think?"

"Does a boy ever notice these things? Should I like him if he did?
He stared in the rudest way,
and just when I thought he had seen the elastic, he said, 'There's
something very taking about that
face.' I rebuked him on the spot. I don't approve of boys being
taken by faces."

"Other than your own. I shouldn't be in the least surprised if the
Hawley Boy immediately went
to call."

"I forbade him. Let her be satisfied with The Dancing Master, and
his wife when she comes up.
I'm rather curious to see Mrs. Bent and the Delville woman
together."

Mrs. Hauksbee departed and, at the end of an hour, returned
slightly flushed.

"There is no limit to the treachery of

124
WORKS OF RUDYARD KIPLING

t'outh! I ordered the Hawley Boy, as 'se valued my patronage, not
to call. The first person I
stumble over-literally stumble over-in her poky, dark, jittle
drawing-room is, of course, the
ilawley Boy. She kept us waiting ten ruinutes, and then emerged
as though ~e had been tipped
out of the dirtyr.lothes basket. You know my way, dear, when I
am all put out. I was Superior,
crrrushingly Superior! 'Lifted my eyes to Heaven, and had heard of
nothing-'dropped my eyes on
the carpet and 'really didn't know'-'played wita my cardcase and
'supposed so.' The Hawley Boy
giggled like a girl, and I had to freeze him with scowls between the
sentences."

"And she?"

"She sat in a heap on the edge of a couch, and managed to convey
the impression that she was
suffering from stomach-ache, at the very least. It was aH I could do
not to ask after her
symptoms. When I rose she grunted just like a buffalo in the
water-too lazy to move."

"Are you certain?"-"Am I blind, Polly? Laziness, sheer
laziness, nothing else-or her garments were only constructed for
sitting down
in. I stayed for a quarter of an hour trying to penetrate the gloom,
to guess what her
surroundings were like, while she stuck out her tongue."

'~Lu~cy!"

"Well-I'll withdraw the tongue,
though I'm ~ure if she didn't do it when
I was in the room, she did the minute
I was outside. At any rate, she lay in
a lump and grunted. Ask the Hawley
Boy, dear. I believe the grunts were
meant for sentences. but she spoke so
indistinctly that I can't swear to it."

"You are incorrigible, simply."

"I am not! Treat me civilly, give me peace with honor, don't put
the only available seat facing
the window, and a child may eat jam in my lap before Church. But
I resent being grunted at.
Wouldn't you? Do you suppose that she communicates her views
on life and love to The
Dancing Master in a set of modulated 'Grmphs'?"

"You attach too much importance to The Dancing Master."

"He came as we went, and The Dowd grew almost cordial at the
sight of him. He smiled
greasily, and moved about that darkened dog-kennel in a
suspiciously familiar way."

"Don't be uncharitable. Any sin but that I'll forgive."

"Listen to the voice of History. I am only describing what I saw.
He entered, the heap on the
sofa revived slightly, and the Hawley Boy and I came away
together. He is disillusioned, hut I
felt it my duty to lecture him severely for going there. And that's
all."

'~Now for Pity's sake leave the wretched creature and The
Dancing Master alone. They never
did you any harm."

"No harm? To dress ~s an example ~nd a stumbling-block for half
Simla, and then to find this
Person who is dressed by the hand of God-not that I wish to
disparage Him for a moment, but
you know the tikka dhurzie way He attires those lilies of the
field-this Person draws the eyes of
men-and some of them nice men? It's almost enough ~o make one
discard clothing. I tohI the
Hawley Boy so."

A SECOND-RATE WOMAN
22~


"And what did that sweet youth do?"

"Turned shell-pink and looked across the far blue hills like a
distressed cherub. Am I talking
wildly, Polly? Let me say my say, and I shall be calm. Otherwise I
may go abroad and disturb
Simla with a few original reflections. Excepting always your own
sweet self, there isn't a single
woman in the land who understands me when I am-what's the
word?"

"Tete-Fa7~e," suggested Mrs. Mallowe.

"Exactly! And now let us have tiffin. The demands of Socie~y are
~xhausting, and as Mrs.
Delville says"-Here Mrs. Hauksbee, to the horror of the
khU.motgars, lapsed into a series of
grunts, while Mrs. Mallowe stared in lazy surprise.

'God gie us a gude conceit of oorselves,'" said Mrs. Hauksbee,
piously, returning to her natural
speech. "Now, in any other woman tha would have been vulgar. I
am consumed with curiosity
to see Mrs. Bent. I expect complications."

"Woman of one idea," said Mrs. Mallowe, shortly; "all
complications are a~ old as the hills! I
have lived through or near all~ll-ALL!"

"And yet do not understand that mcii and women never behave
twice ~like. I am old who was
young-if ever I put my head in your lap, you dear, big sceptic, you
will learn that my parting is
gauz~but never, no never have I lost my interest in men and
women. Polly, I shall see this
business Out to the bitter end."

"I am going to sleep," said Mrs. Mallowe, calmly. "I never
interfere with men or women unless I
am compelled,"
and she retired with dignity to her own room.

Mrs. Hauksbee's curiosity was not long left ungratified, for Mrs.
Bent came up to Simla a fe~
days after the conversation faithfully reported above, and
pervaded the Mall by her husband's
side.

"Behold!" said Mrs. Hauksbee, thoughtfully rubbing her nose.
"That is the last link of the
chain, if we omit the husband of the Delville, whoever he may be.
Let me consider. The Bents
and the Delvilles inhabit the same hotel; and the Delville is
detested by the Waddy-do you know
the Waddy?
-who is almost as big a dowd. The Waddy also abominates the
male Bent, for which, if her other
sins do not weigh too heavily, she will ev~tually go to Heaven."

"Don't be irreverent," said Mrs. Mallowe. "I like Mrs. Bent's
face."

"I am discussing the Waddy," returned Mrs. Hauksbee, loftily.
"The Waddy will take the female
Bent apart, atter having borrowed-yes !~everything that she can,
from hairpins to babies'
bottles. Such, my dear, is life in a hotel. Tlic Waddy will tell the
female Bent facts and fictions
about The Dancing Master and The Dowd."

"Lucy, I should like you better if you were not always looking into
people's back-bed-rooms."

"Aiiybody can look into their front drawing-rooms; and remember
whatever I do, and whatever I
look, I never talk
-as the Waddy will. Let us hope that The Dancing Master's greasy
smile and manner of the
pedagogue will soften the heart of that cow, his wife. If mouths
speak truth, I should think that

226
WORKS OF RUDYARD KIPLING

little Mrs. Bent could get very angry on occasion.

"But what reason has she for being angry?"

"What reason! The Dancing Master in himself is a reason. How
does it go? 'If in his life some
trivial errors fall, Look in his face and you'll believe them all~' I
am prepared to credit any evil of
The Dancing Master, because I hate him so. And The Dowd is so
disgustingly badly
dressed"-"That she, too, is capable of e~ery
iniquity? I always prefer to believe the best of everybody. It saves
so much trouble."

"Very good. I prefer to believe the "orst. It saves useless
expenditure of sympathy. And you may
be quite certain that the Waddy believes with me."

Mrs. Mallowe sighed and made no answer.

The conversation was holden after dinner while Mrs. Hauksbee
was dressing for a dance.

"I am too tired to go," pleaded Mrs. Mallowe, and Mrs. Hauksbee
left her in peace till two in the
morning, when she was aware of emphatic knocking at her door.

"Don't be very angry, dear," said Mrs. Hauksbee. "My idiot of an
ayah has gone home, and, as I
hope to sleep to-night, there isn't a soul in the place to unlace me."

"Oh, this is too bad!" said Mrs. Mallowe sulkily.

"'Can't help it. I'm a lone, lorn grass-widow, dear, but I will not
sleep in my stays. And such
news, too! Oh, do unlace me, there's a darling! The Dowd-The
Dancing Master-I and the
Hawley Boy- You know the Nortb veranda?"

"How can I do anything if you spin round like this?" protested Mrs.
Mallowe, fumbling with the
knot of the laces.

"Oh, I forget. I must tell my tale without the aid of your eyes. Do
you know you've lovely eyes,
dear? Well to begin with, I took the Hawley Boy to a kalo'
juggak."

"Did he want much taking?"

"Lots! There was an arrangement of loose-boxes in kanats, and she
was in the next one talking to
him."

"Which? How? Explain."

"You know what I mean-The Dow(1 and The Dancing Master. We
could hear every word and
we listened shamelessly-'specially the Hawley Boy. Polly, I quite
love that woman!"

"This is interesting. There! Now turn round. What happened?"

"One moment. Ah-h! Blessed relief. I've been looking forward to
taking them off for the last
half-hour-which is ominous at my time of life. But, as I was
saying, we listened and heard The
Dowd drawl worse than ever. She drops her final g's like a barmaid
or a blue-blooded
Aide-de-Camp. 'Look he-ere, you're gettin' too fond 0' me,' she
said, and The Dancing Master
owned it was so in language that nearly made me i" The Dowd
reflected foi a while. Then we
heard her say, 'Look he-ere, Mister Bent, why are you such an
aw-ful liar?' I nearly exploded
while The Dancing Master denied the charge. It seems that he
never told her he wa." a married
man."

"I said he wouldn't."

'~And she had taken this to heart, o,~

A SECOND-RATE WOMAN
22S


"And what did that sweet youth do?"

"Turned shell-pink and looked across the far blue hills like a
distressed cherub. Am I talking
wildly, Polly? Let me say my say, and I shall be calm. Otherwise I
may go abroad and disturb
;5imla with a few original reflections. Excepting always your own
sweet self, there isn't a single
woman in the land who understands me when I am-what's the
word?"

"Tete-F~e~," suggested Mrs. MalLowe.

"Exactly! And now let us have tiffin. The demands of Society are
exhausting, and as Mrs.
Delville says"-Here Mrs. Hauksbee, to the horror of the
khitmatgars, lapsed into a series of
grunts, while Mrs. Mallowe stared in lazy surprise.

'God gie us a gude conceit of oorselves,' " said Mrs. Hauksbee,
piously, returning to her natural
speech. ".Now, in any other woman tha would have been vulgar. I
am consuroed with curiosity
to see Mrs. Bent. I expect complications."

"Woman of one idea," said Mrs. Mallowe, shortly; "all
complications are a~ old as the hills! I
have lived through or near all~li-ALL?"

"And yet do not understand that mcii and worren never behave
twice ~like. I am old who was
young-if ever I put my head in your lap, you dear, big sceptic, you
will learn that my parting is
gaua~but never, no never have I lost my interest in men and
women. Polly, I shall see this
business Out to the bitter end."

"I am going to sleep," said Mrs. Mallowe, calmly. "I never
interfere with men or women unless I
am compelled,"
and she retired with dignity to her own room.

Mrs. Hauksbee's curiosity was not long left ungratified, for Mrs.
Bent came up to Simla a few
days after the conversation faithfully reported above, and
pervaded the Mall by her husband's
side.

"Behold!" said Mrs. Hauksbee, thoughtfully rubbing her nose.
"That is the last link of the
chain, if we omit the husband of the Delville, whoever he may be.
Let me consider. The Bents
and the Delvilles inhabit the same hotel; and the Delville is
detested by the Waddy-do you know
the Waddy?
-who is almost as big a dowd. The Waddy also abominates the
male Bent, for which, if her other
sins do not weigh too heavily, she will eve~tually go to Heaven."

"Don't be irrrverent," said Mrs. Mall3we. "I like Mrs. Bent's face."

"I am discussing the Waddy," returned Mrs. Hauksbee, loftily.
"The Waddy will take the female
Bent apart, atter having borrowed-yes -everything that she can,
from hairpins to babies' bottles.
Such, my dear, is life in a hotel. The Waddy will tell the female
Bent facts and fictions about
The Dancing Master and The Dowd."

"Lucy, I should like you better if you were not always looking into
people's back-bed-rooms."

"Aiiybody can look into their front drawing-rooms; and remember
whatever I do, and whatever I
look, I never talk
-as the Waddy will. Let us hope that The Dancing Master's greasy
smile and manner of the
pedagogue will soften the heart of that cow, his wife. If mouths
speak truth, I should think that

226
WORKS OF RUDYARD KIPLING

little Mrs. Bent could get very angry on occasion."

"But what reason has she for being angry?"

"What reason! The Dancing Master in himself is a reason. How
does it go? 'If in his life some
trivial errors fall, Look in his face and you'll believe them all.' I am
prepared to credit any evil of
The Dancing Master, because I hate him so. And The Dowd is so
disgustingly badly
dressed"-"That she, too, is capable of e~ery
iniquity? I always prefer to believe the best of everybody. It saves
so much trouble."

"Very good. I prefer to believe the Worst. It saves useless
expenditure of sympathy. And you
may be quite certain that the Waddy believes with me."

Mrs. Mallowe sighed and made no answer.

The conversation was holden after dinner while Mrs. Hauksbee
was dressing for a dance.

"I am too tired to go," pleaded Mrs. Mallowe, and Mrs. Hauksbee
left her in peace till two in the
morning, when she was aware of emphatic knocking at her door.

"Don't be very angry, dear," said Mrs. Hauksbee. "My idiot of an
ayah has gone home, and, as I
hope to sleep to-night, there isn't a soul in the place to unlace me."

"Oh this is too bad!" said Mrs. Mallowe sulkily.

"'Can't help it. I'm a lone, lorn grass-widow, dear, but I will not
sleep in my stays. And such
news, too! Oh, do unlace me, there's a darling! The Dowd-The
Dancing Master-I and the
Ilawley Boy- You know the North veranda?"

"How can I do anything if you spin round like this?" protested Mrs.
Mallowe, fumbling with the
knot of the laces.

"Oh, I forget. I must tell my tale without the aid of your eyes. Do
you know you've lovely eyes,
dear? Well to begin with, I took the Hawley Boy to a kalo juggah."

"Did he want much taking?"

"Lots! There was an arrangement of loose-boxes in kanats, and she
was in the next one talking to
him."

"Which? How? Explain."

"You know what I mean-The Dow(1 and The Dancing Master. We
could hear every word and
we listened shamelessly~' specially the Hawley Boy. Polly, I quite
love that woman!"

"This is interesting. There! No~ turn round. What happened?"

"One moment. Ah-h! Blessed reJief. I've been looking forward to
takmg them off for the last
half-hour-which is ominous at my time of life. But, as I was
saying, we listened and heard The
Dowd drawl worse than ever. She drops her final g's like a barmaid
or a blue-blooded
Aide-de-Camp. 'Look he-ere, you're gettin' too fond 0' me,' she
said, and The Dancing Master
owned it was so in language that nearly made me ~V The Dowd
reflected foi a while. Then ~e
heard her say, 'Look he-ere, Mister Bent, why are you such an
aw-ful liar?' I nearly exploded
while The Dancing Master denied the charge. It seems that he
never told her he wa.~ a married
man."

'~I said he wouldn't."

"And she had taken this to heart, o~

A SECOND-RATE WOMAN
22~

~ersonal grounds, I suppose. She drawled along for five
minutes, reproaching him with his
perfidy and grew quite motherly. 'Now you've got a nice little wife
of your own-you have,' she
said. 'She's ten times too good for a fat old man like you, and, look
he-ere, you never told me a
word about her, and I've been thinkin' about it a good deal, and I
think you're a liar.' Wasn't that
delicious? The Dancing Master maundered and raved till the
Hawley Boy suggested that he
should burst in and heat him. His voice runs up into an
impassioned squeak when he is afraid.
The Dowd must be an extraordinary woman. She explained that
had he been a bachelor she
might not have objected to his devotion; but since he was a
married man and the father of a very
nice baby, she considered him a hypocrite, and this she repeated
twice. She wound up her drawl
with: 'An I'm tellin' you this because your wife is angry with me,
an' I hate quarrellin' with any
other woman, an' I like your wife. You know how you have
behaved for the last six weeks. You
shouldn't have done it, indeed you shouldn't. You're too old an' fat.'
Can't you imagine how The
Dancmg Master would wince at that! 'Now go away,' she said. 'I
don't want to tell you what I
think of you, because I think you are not nice. I'll stay he-ere till
the next dance begins.' Did you
think that the creature had so much in her?"

"I never studied her as closely as you did. It sounds unnatural.
What happened?"

"The Dancing Master attempted blandishment, reproof, jocularity,
and the style of the Lord High
Warden, and I
had almost to pinch the Hawley Boy to make him keep quiet. She
grunted at the end of each
sentence and, in the end he went away swearing to himself, quite
like a man in a novel. He
looked more objectionable than ever. I laughed. I love that
woman-in spite of her clothes. And
now I'm going to bed. What do you think of it?"

"I sha'n't begin to think till the morning," said Mrs. Mallowe,
yawning "Perhaps she spoke the
truth. They do fly into it by accident sometimes."

Mrs. Hauksbee's account of her eavesdropping was an ornate one
but trutliful in the main. For
reasons best known to herself, Mrs. "Shady" Delville had turned
upon Mr Bent and rent him
limb from limb, casting him away limp and disconcerted ere she
withdrew the light of her eyes
from him permanently. Being a man of resource, and anything but
pleased in that he had been
called both old and fat1 he gave Mrs. Bent to understand that he
had, during her absence in the
Doon1 been the victim of unceasing persecution at the hands of
Mrs. Delville, and he told the
tale so often and with such eloquence that he ended in believing it,
while his wife marvelled at
the manners and customs of "some women." When the situation
showed signs of languishing,
Mrs. Waddy was always on hand to wake the smouldering fires of
suspicion in Mrs. Bent's
bosom and to contribute generally to the peace and comfort of the
hotel. Mr. Bent's life was not
a happy one, for if Mrs. Waddy's story were true, he was, argued
his wife, untrustworthy to the
last degree. If his own statement was true, his charms of manner
and conversation were so

128
WORKS OF RUDYARD KIPLING

great that he needed constant surveillance. And he received it, till
he repented genuinely of his
marriage and neglected his personal appearance. Mrs. Delville
alone in the hotel was unchanged.
She removed her chair some six paces toward the head of the
table, and occasionally in the
twilight ventured on timid overtures of friendship to Mrs. Bent,
which were repulsed.

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