No More Learning

"

"Never mind. Is your three hundred a year safe? "

"It's in Consols. "

"Very well. If any one comes to you and recommends a better
investment,--even if I should come to you,--don't you listen. Never
shift the money for a minute, and never lend a penny of it,--even to the
red-haired girl. "

"Don't scold me so! I'm not likely to be foolish. "

"The earth is full of men who'd sell their souls for three hundred a
year; and women come and talk, and borrow a five-pound note here and
a ten-pound note there; and a woman has no conscience in a money debt.
Stick to your money, Maisie, for there's nothing more ghastly in the
world than poverty in London. It's scared me. By Jove, it put the fear
into me! And one oughtn't to be afraid of anything. "

To each man is appointed his particular dread,--the terror that, if he
does not fight against it, must cow him even to the loss of his manhood.
Dick's experience of the sordid misery of want had entered into the
deeps of him, and, lest he might find virtue too easy, that memory stood
behind him, tempting to shame, when dealers came to buy his wares. As
the Nilghai quaked against his will at the still green water of a lake
or a mill-dam, as Torpenhow flinched before any white arm that could cut
or stab and loathed himself for flinching, Dick feared the poverty he
had once tasted half in jest. His burden was heavier than the burdens of
his companions.

Maisie watched the face working in the moonlight.

"You've plenty of pennies now," she said soothingly.

"I shall never have enough," he began, with vicious emphasis. Then,
laughing, "I shall always be three-pence short in my accounts. "

"Why threepence? "

"I carried a man's bag once from Liverpool Street Station to
Blackfriar's Bridge. It was a sixpenny job,--you needn't laugh; indeed
it was,--and I wanted the money desperately. He only gave me threepence;
and he hadn't even the decency to pay in silver. Whatever money I make,
I shall never get that odd threepence out of the world. "

This was not language befitting the man who had preached of the sanctity
of work. It jarred on Maisie, who preferred her payment in applause,
which, since all men desire it, must be of the right. She hunted for her
little purse and gravely took out a threepenny bit.

"There it is," she said. "I'll pay you, Dickie; and don't worry any
more; it isn't worth while. Are you paid? "

"I am," said the very human apostle of fair craft, taking the coin. "I'm
paid a thousand times, and we'll close that account. It shall live on my
watch-chain; and you're an angel, Maisie. "

"I'm very cramped, and I'm feeling a little cold. Good gracious! the
cloak is all white, and so is your moustache! I never knew it was so
chilly. "

A light frost lay white on the shoulder of Dick's ulster. He, too, had
forgotten the state of the weather. They laughed together, and with that
laugh ended all serious discourse.

They ran inland across the waste to warm themselves, then turned to look
at the glory of the full tide under the moonlight and the intense black
shadows of the furze bushes. It was an additional joy to Dick that
Maisie could see colour even as he saw it,--could see the blue in the
white of the mist, the violet that is in gray palings, and all things
else as they are,--not of one hue, but a thousand. And the moonlight
came into Maisie's soul, so that she, usually reserved, chattered of
herself and of the things she took interest in,--of Kami, wisest of
teachers, and of the girls in the studio,--of the Poles, who will kill
themselves with overwork if they are not checked; of the French, who
talk at great length of much more than they will ever accomplish; of
the slovenly English, who toil hopelessly and cannot understand that
inclination does not imply power; of the Americans, whose rasping
voices in the hush of a hot afternoon strain tense-drawn nerves to
breaking-point, and whose suppers lead to indigestion; of tempestuous
Russians, neither to hold nor to bind, who tell the girls ghost-stories
till the girls shriek; of stolid Germans, who come to learn one thing,
and, having mastered that much, stolidly go away and copy pictures for
evermore. Dick listened enraptured because it was Maisie who spoke. He
knew the old life.

"It hasn't changed much," he said. "Do they still steal colours at
lunch-time? "

"Not steal. Attract is the word. Of course they do. I'm good--I only
attract ultramarine; but there are students who'd attract flake-white. "

"I've done it myself. You can't help it when the palettes are hung up.
Every colour is common property once it runs down,--even though you
do start it with a drop of oil. It teaches people not to waste their
tubes. "

"I should like to attract some of your colours, Dick. Perhaps I might
catch your success with them. "

"I mustn't say a bad word, but I should like to. What in the world,
which you've just missed a lovely chance of seeing, does success or want
of success, or a three-storied success, matter compared with----No, I
won't open that question again. It's time to go back to town. "

"I'm sorry, Dick, but----"

"You're much more interested in that than you are in me. "

"I don't know, I don't think I am. "

"What will you give me if I tell you a sure short-cut to everything you
want,--the trouble and the fuss and the tangle and all the rest? Will
you promise to obey me? "

"Of course. "

"In the first place, you must never forget a meal because you happen
to be at work. You forgot your lunch twice last week," said Dick, at a
venture, for he knew with whom he was dealing.

"No, no,--only once, really. "

"That's bad enough. And you mustn't take a cup of tea and a biscuit in
place of a regular dinner, because dinner happens to be a trouble. "

"You're making fun of me! "

"I never was more in earnest in my life. Oh, my love, my love, hasn't
it dawned on you yet what you are to me? Here's the whole earth in a
conspiracy to give you a chill, or run over you, or drench you to the
skin, or cheat you out of your money, or let you die of overwork and
underfeeding, and I haven't the mere right to look after you. Why, I
don't even know if you have sense enough to put on warm things when the
weather's cold. "

"Dick, you're the most awful boy to talk to--really! How do you suppose
I managed when you were away? "

"I wasn't here, and I didn't know. But now I'm back I'd give everything
I have for the right of telling you to come in out of the rain. "

"Your success too? "

This time it cost Dick a severe struggle to refrain from bad words.

"As Mrs. Jennett used to say, you're a trial, Maisie! You've been cooped
up in the schools too long, and you think every one is looking at you.
There aren't twelve hundred people in the world who understand pictures.
The others pretend and don't care. Remember, I've seen twelve hundred
men dead in toadstool-beds. It's only the voice of the tiniest little
fraction of people that makes success. The real world doesn't care a
tinker's--doesn't care a bit. For aught you or I know, every man in the
world may be arguing with a Maisie of his own. "

"Poor Maisie! "

"Poor Dick, I think. Do you believe while he's fighting for what's
dearer than his life he wants to look at a picture? And even if he did,
and if all the world did, and a thousand million people rose up and
shouted hymns to my honour and glory, would that make up to me for the
knowledge that you were out shopping in the Edgware Road on a rainy day
without an umbrella? Now we'll go to the station. "

"But you said on the beach----" persisted Maisie, with a certain fear.

Dick groaned aloud: "Yes, I know what I said. My work is everything I
have, or am, or hope to be, to me, and I believe I've learnt the law
that governs it; but I've some lingering sense of fun left,--though
you've nearly knocked it out of me. I can just see that it isn't
everything to all the world. Do what I say, and not what I do. "

Maisie was careful not to reopen debatable matters, and they returned to
London joyously. The terminus stopped Dick in the midst of an eloquent
harangue on the beauties of exercise. He would buy Maisie a horse,--such
a horse as never yet bowed head to bit,--would stable it, with a
companion, some twenty miles from London, and Maisie, solely for her
health's sake should ride with him twice or thrice a week.

"That's absurd," said she. "It wouldn't be proper. "

"Now, who in all London tonight would have sufficient interest or
audacity to call us two to account for anything we chose to do? "

Maisie looked at the lamps, the fog, and the hideous turmoil. Dick was
right; but horseflesh did not make for Art as she understood it.

"You're very nice sometimes, but you're very foolish more times. I'm not
going to let you give me horses, or take you out of your way tonight.
I'll go home by myself. Only I want you to promise me something. You
won't think any more about that extra threepence, will you? Remember,
you've been paid; and I won't allow you to be spiteful and do bad work
for a little thing like that. You can be so big that you mustn't be
tiny. "

This was turning the tables with a vengeance. There remained only to put
Maisie into her hansom.

"Goodbye," she said simply. "You'll come on Sunday. It has been a
beautiful day, Dick. Why can't it be like this always? "

"Because love's like line-work: you must go forward or backward; you
can't stand still. By the way, go on with your line-work. Good night,
and, for my--for my sake, take care of yourself. "

He turned to walk home, meditating. The day had brought him nothing that
he hoped for, but--surely this was worth many days--it had brought him
nearer to Maisie. The end was only a question of time now, and the prize
well worth the waiting. By instinct, once more, he turned to the river.

"And she understood at once," he said, looking at the water. "She found
out my pet besetting sin on the spot, and paid it off. My God, how she
understood! And she said I was better than she was! Better than she
was! " He laughed at the absurdity of the notion. "I wonder if girls
guess at one-half a man's life. They can't, or--they wouldn't marry us. "
He took her gift out of his pocket, and considered it in the light of a
miracle and a pledge of the comprehension that, one day, would lead to
perfect happiness. Meantime, Maisie was alone in London, with none to
save her from danger. And the packed wilderness was very full of danger.

Dick made his prayer to Fate disjointedly after the manner of the
heathen as he threw the piece of silver into the river. If any evil were
to befal, let him bear the burden and let Maisie go unscathed, since
the threepenny piece was dearest to him of all his possessions. It was
a small coin in itself, but Maisie had given it, and the Thames held it,
and surely the Fates would be bribed for this once.

The drowning of the coin seemed to cut him free from thought of Maisie
for the moment. He took himself off the bridge and went whistling to his
chambers with a strong yearning for some man-talk and tobacco after his
first experience of an entire day spent in the society of a woman.
There was a stronger desire at his heart when there rose before him an
unsolicited vision of the Barralong dipping deep and sailing free for
the Southern Cross.



CHAPTER VIII

And these two, as I have told you,
Were the friends of Hiawatha,
Chibiabos, the musician,
And the very strong man, Kwasind.
--Hiawatha

Torpenhow was paging the last sheets of some manuscript, while the
Nilghai, who had come for chess and remained to talk tactics, was
reading through the first part, commenting scornfully the while.

"It's picturesque enough and it's sketchy," said he; "but as a serious
consideration of affairs in Eastern Europe, it's not worth much. "

"It's off my hands at any rate. . . . Thirty-seven, thirty-eight,
thirty-nine slips altogether, aren't there? That should make between
eleven and twelve pages of valuable misinformation. Heigh-ho! " Torpenhow
shuffled the writing together and hummed--

'Young lambs to sell, young lambs to sell,
If I'd as much money as I could tell,
I never would cry, Young lambs to sell! '"

Dick entered, self-conscious and a little defiant, but in the best of
tempers with all the world.

"Back at last? " said Torpenhow.

"More or less. What have you been doing? "

"Work. Dickie, you behave as though the Bank of England were behind you.
Here's Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday gone and you haven't done a line.
It's scandalous. "

"The notions come and go, my children--they come and go like our
'baccy," he answered, filling his pipe. "Moreover," he stooped to thrust
a spill into the grate, "Apollo does not always stretch his----Oh,
confound your clumsy jests, Nilghai! "

"This is not the place to preach the theory of direct inspiration,"
said the Nilghai, returning Torpenhow's large and workmanlike bellows to
their nail on the wall. "We believe in cobblers' wax. La! --where you sit
down. "

"If you weren't so big and fat," said Dick, looking round for a weapon,
"I'd----"

"No skylarking in my rooms. You two smashed half my furniture last time
you threw the cushions about. You might have the decency to say How
d'you do? to Binkie. Look at him. "

Binkie had jumped down from the sofa and was fawning round Dick's knee,
and scratching at his boots.

"Dear man! " said Dick, snatching him up, and kissing him on the black
patch above his right eye. "Did ums was, Binks? Did that ugly Nilghai
turn you off the sofa? Bite him, Mr. Binkie. " He pitched him on the
Nilghai's stomach, as the big man lay at ease, and Binkie pretended to
destroy the Nilghai inch by inch, till a sofa cushion extinguished him,
and panting he stuck out his tongue at the company.

"The Binkie-boy went for a walk this morning before you were up, Torp. I
saw him making love to the butcher at the corner when the shutters were
being taken down--just as if he hadn't enough to eat in his own proper
house," said Dick.

"Binks, is that a true bill? " said Torpenhow, severely. The little dog
retreated under the sofa cushion, and showed by the fat white back of
him that he really had no further interest in the discussion.

"Strikes me that another disreputable dog went for a walk, too," said
the Nilghai. "What made you get up so early? Torp said you might be
buying a horse. "

"He knows it would need three of us for a serious business like that.
No, I felt lonesome and unhappy, so I went out to look at the sea, and
watch the pretty ships go by. "

"Where did you go? "

"Somewhere on the Channel. Progly or Snigly, or some watering-place was
its name; I've forgotten; but it was only two hours' run from London and
the ships went by. "

"Did you see anything you knew?
"

"Only the Barralong outwards to Australia, and an Odessa grain-boat
loaded down by the head. It was a thick day, but the sea smelt good. "

"Wherefore put on one's best trousers to see the Barralong? " said
Torpenhow, pointing.

"Because I've nothing except these things and my painting duds. Besides,
I wanted to do honour to the sea. "

"Did She make you feel restless? " asked the Nilghai, keenly.

"Crazy. Don't speak of it. I'm sorry I went. "

Torpenhow and the Nilghai exchanged a look as Dick, stooping, busied
himself among the former's boots and trees.

"These will do," he said at last; "I can't say I think much of your
taste in slippers, but the fit's the thing. " He slipped his feet into a
pair of sock-like sambhur-skin foot coverings, found a long chair, and
lay at length.

"They're my own pet pair," Torpenhow said. "I was just going to put them
on myself. "

"All your reprehensible selfishness. Just because you see me happy for a
minute, you want to worry me and stir me up. Find another pair. "

"Good for you that Dick can't wear your clothes, Torp. You two live
communistically," said the Nilghai.

"Dick never has anything that I can wear. He's only useful to sponge
upon. "

"Confound you, have you been rummaging round among my clothes, then? "
said Dick. "I put a sovereign in the tobacco-jar yesterday. How do you
expect a man to keep his accounts properly if you----"

Here the Nilghai began to laugh, and Torpenhow joined him.

"Hid a sovereign yesterday! You're no sort of financier. You lent me a
fiver about a month back. Do you remember? " Torpenhow said.

"Yes, of course. "

"Do you remember that I paid it you ten days later, and you put it at
the bottom of the tobacco? "

"By Jove, did I? I thought it was in one of my colour-boxes. "

"You thought! About a week ago I went into your studio to get some
'baccy and found it. "

"What did you do with it? "

"Took the Nilghai to a theatre and fed him. "

"You couldn't feed the Nilghai under twice the money--not though you
gave him Army beef. Well, I suppose I should have found it out sooner or
later. What is there to laugh at? "

"You're a most amazing cuckoo in many directions," said the Nilghai,
still chuckling over the thought of the dinner. "Never mind. We had both
been working very hard, and it was your unearned increment we spent, and
as you're only a loafer it didn't matter. "

"That's pleasant--from the man who is bursting with my meat, too. I'll
get that dinner back one of these days. Suppose we go to a theatre now. "

"Put our boots on,--and dress,--and wash? " The Nilghai spoke very
lazily.

"I withdraw the motion. "

"Suppose, just for a change--as a startling variety, you know--we, that
is to say we, get our charcoal and our canvas and go on with our work. "

Torpenhow spoke pointedly, but Dick only wriggled his toes inside the
soft leather moccasins.

"What a one-ideaed clucker that is! If I had any unfinished figures on
hand, I haven't any model; if I had my model, I haven't any spray, and I
never leave charcoal unfixed overnight; and if I had my spray and twenty
photographs of backgrounds, I couldn't do anything tonight. I don't feel
that way. "

"Binkie-dog, he's a lazy hog, isn't he? " said the Nilghai.

"Very good, I will do some work," said Dick, rising swiftly. "I'll fetch
the Nungapunga Book, and we'll add another picture to the Nilghai Saga. "

"Aren't you worrying him a little too much? " asked the Nilghai, when
Dick had left the room.

"Perhaps, but I know what he can turn out if he likes. It makes me
savage to hear him praised for past work when I know what he ought to
do. You and I are arranged for----"

"By Kismet and our own powers, more's the pity. I have dreamed of a good
deal. "

"So have I, but we know our limitations now. I'm dashed if I know what
Dick's may be when he gives himself to his work. That's what makes me so
keen about him. "

"And when all's said and done, you will be put aside--quite rightly--for
a female girl. "

"I wonder. . . Where do you think he has been today? "

"To the sea. Didn't you see the look in his eyes when he talked about
her? He's as restless as a swallow in autumn. "

"Yes; but did he go alone? "

"I don't know, and I don't care, but he has the beginnings of the
go-fever upon him. He wants to up-stakes and move out. There's no
mistaking the signs. Whatever he may have said before, he has the call
upon him now. "

"It might be his salvation," Torpenhow said.

"Perhaps--if you care to take the responsibility of being a saviour. "

Dick returned with the big clasped sketch-book that the Nilghai knew
well and did not love too much. In it Dick had drawn all manner of
moving incidents, experienced by himself or related to him by the
others, of all the four corners of the earth. But the wider range of the
Nilghai's body and life attracted him most. When truth failed he
fell back on fiction of the wildest, and represented incidents in the
Nilghai's career that were unseemly,--his marriages with many African
princesses, his shameless betrayal, for Arab wives, of an army corps to
the Mahdi, his tattooment by skilled operators in Burmah, his
interview (and his fears) with the yellow headsman in the blood-stained
execution-ground of Canton, and finally, the passings of his spirit into
the bodies of whales, elephants, and toucans. Torpenhow from time to
time had added rhymed descriptions, and the whole was a curious piece of
art, because Dick decided, having regard to the name of the book which
being interpreted means "naked," that it would be wrong to draw the
Nilghai with any clothes on, under any circumstances. Consequently the
last sketch, representing that much-enduring man calling on the War
Office to press his claims to the Egyptian medal, was hardly delicate.
He settled himself comfortably on Torpenhow's table and turned over the
pages.

"What a fortune you would have been to Blake, Nilghai! " he said.
"There's a succulent pinkness about some of these sketches that's
more than life-like. 'The Nilghai surrounded while bathing by the
Mahdieh'--that was founded on fact, eh? "

"It was very nearly my last bath, you irreverent dauber. Has Binkie come
into the Saga yet? "

"No; the Binkie-boy hasn't done anything except eat and kill cats.
Let's see. Here you are as a stained-glass saint in a church. Deuced
decorative lines about your anatomy; you ought to be grateful for being
handed down to posterity in this way. Fifty years hence you'll exist in
rare and curious facsimiles at ten guineas each. What shall I try this
time? The domestic life of the Nilghai? "

"Hasn't got any. "

"The undomestic life of the Nilghai, then. Of course. Mass-meeting of
his wives in Trafalgar Square. That's it. They came from the ends of the
earth to attend Nilghai's wedding to an English bride. This shall be an
epic. It's a sweet material to work with. "

"It's a scandalous waste of time," said Torpenhow.

"Don't worry; it keeps one's hand in--specially when you begin without
the pencil. " He set to work rapidly. "That's Nelson's Column. Presently
the Nilghai will appear shinning up it. "

"Give him some clothes this time. "

"Certainly--a veil and an orange-wreath, because he's been married. "

"Gad, that's clever enough! " said Torpenhow over his shoulder, as Dick
brought out of the paper with three twirls of the brush a very fat back
and labouring shoulder pressed against stone.

"Just imagine," Dick continued, "if we could publish a few of these dear
little things every time the Nilghai subsidises a man who can write, to
give the public an honest opinion of my pictures. "

"Well, you'll admit I always tell you when I have done anything of that
kind. I know I can't hammer you as you ought to be hammered, so I give
the job to another. Young Maclagan, for instance----"

"No-o--one half-minute, old man; stick your hand out against the dark of
the wall-paper--you only burble and call me names. That left shoulder's
out of drawing. I must literally throw a veil over that. Where's my
pen-knife? Well, what about Maclagan? "

"I only gave him his riding-orders to--to lambast you on general
principles for not producing work that will last. "

"Whereupon that young fool,"--Dick threw back his head and shut one
eye as he shifted the page under his hand,--"being left alone with an
ink-pot and what he conceived were his own notions, went and spilt them
both over me in the papers. You might have engaged a grown man for the
business, Nilghai. How do you think the bridal veil looks now, Torp? "

"How the deuce do three dabs and two scratches make the stuff stand away
from the body as it does? " said Torpenhow, to whom Dick's methods were
always new.

"It just depends on where you put 'em. If Maclagan had know that much
about his business he might have done better. "

"Why don't you put the damned dabs into something that will stay, then? "
insisted the Nilghai, who had really taken considerable trouble in
hiring for Dick's benefit the pen of a young gentleman who devoted most
of his waking hours to an anxious consideration of the aims and ends of
Art, which, he wrote, was one and indivisible.

"Wait a minute till I see how I am going to manage my procession of
wives. You seem to have married extensively, and I must rough 'em in
with the pencil--Medes, Parthians, Edomites. . . . Now, setting
aside the weakness and the wickedness and--and the fat-headedness of
deliberately trying to do work that will live, as they call it, I'm
content with the knowledge that I've done my best up to date, and I
shan't do anything like it again for some hours at least--probably
years. Most probably never. "

"What! any stuff you have in stock your best work? " said Torpenhow.

"Anything you've sold? " said the Nilghai.

"Oh no. It isn't here and it isn't sold. Better than that, it can't be
sold, and I don't think any one knows where it is. I'm sure I don't. . . .
And yet more and more wives, on the north side of the square. Observe
the virtuous horror of the lions! "

"You may as well explain," said Torpenhow, and Dick lifted his head from
the paper.

"The sea reminded me of it," he said slowly. "I wish it hadn't. It
weighs some few thousand tons--unless you cut it out with a cold
chisel. "

"Don't be an idiot. You can't pose with us here," said the Nilghai.

"There's no pose in the matter at all. It's a fact. I was loafing from
Lima to Auckland in a big, old, condemned passenger-ship turned into
a cargo-boat and owned by a second-hand Italian firm. She was a crazy
basket. We were cut down to fifteen ton of coal a day, and we thought
ourselves lucky when we kicked seven knots an hour out of her. Then
we used to stop and let the bearings cool down, and wonder whether the
crack in the shaft was spreading. "

"Were you a steward or a stoker in those days? "

"I was flush for the time being, so I was a passenger, or else I
should have been a steward, I think," said Dick, with perfect gravity,
returning to the procession of angry wives. "I was the only other
passenger from Lima, and the ship was half empty, and full of rats and
cockroaches and scorpions. "

"But what has this to do with the picture? "

"Wait a minute. She had been in the China passenger trade and her lower
decks had bunks for two thousand pigtails. Those were all taken down,
and she was empty up to her nose, and the lights came through the port
holes--most annoying lights to work in till you got used to them. I
hadn't anything to do for weeks. The ship's charts were in pieces and
our skipper daren't run south for fear of catching a storm. So he did
his best to knock all the Society Islands out of the water one by one,
and I went into the lower deck, and did my picture on the port side as
far forward in her as I could go. There was some brown paint and some
green paint that they used for the boats, and some black paint for
ironwork, and that was all I had. "

"The passengers must have thought you mad. "

"There was only one, and it was a woman; but it gave me the notion of my
picture. "

"What was she like? " said Torpenhow.

"She was a sort of Negroid-Jewess-Cuban; with morals to match. She
couldn't read or write, and she didn't want to, but she used to come
down and watch me paint, and the skipper didn't like it, because he was
paying her passage and had to be on the bridge occasionally. "

"I see. That must have been cheerful. "

"It was the best time I ever had. To begin with, we didn't know whether
we should go up or go down any minute when there was a sea on; and when
it was calm it was paradise; and the woman used to mix the paints
and talk broken English, and the skipper used to steal down every few
minutes to the lower deck, because he said he was afraid of fire.
So, you see, we could never tell when we might be caught, and I had a
splendid notion to work out in only three keys of colour. "

"What was the notion? "

"Two lines in Poe--

'Neither the angels in Heaven above nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul of the beautiful Annabel Lee. '

It came out of the sea--all by itself. I drew that fight, fought out in
green water over the naked, choking soul, and the woman served as the
model for the devils and the angels both--sea-devils and sea-angels,
and the soul half drowned between them. It doesn't sound much, but when
there was a good light on the lower deck it looked very fine and creepy.
It was seven by fourteen feet, all done in shifting light for shifting
light.