three men on the bummel-第8章

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get　up。〃

You　return　to　bed；　and　lie　listening　to　somebody　being　dragged
upstairs；　evidently　against　their　will。　　By　a　thoughtful
arrangement　the　spare　rooms　at　〃Beggarbush〃　are　exactly　underneath
the　nurseries。　　The　same　somebody；　you　conclude；　still　offering　the
most　creditable　opposition；　is　being　put　back　into　bed。　　You　can
follow　the　contest　with　much　exactitude；　because　every　time　the
body　is　flung　down　upon　the　spring　mattress；　the　bedstead；　just
above　your　head；　makes　a　sort　of　jump；　while　every　time　the　body
succeeds　in　struggling　out　again；　you　are　aware　by　the　thud　upon
the　floor。　　After　a　time　the　struggle　wanes；　or　maybe　the　bed
collapses；　and　you　drift　back　into　sleep。　　But　the　next　moment；　or
what　seems　to　be　the　next　moment；　you　again　open　your　eyes　under
the　consciousness　of　a　presence。　　The　door　is　being　held　ajar；　and
four　solemn　faces；　piled　one　on　top　of　the　other；　are　peering　at
you；　as　though　you　were　some　natural　curiosity　kept　in　this
particular　room。　　Seeing　you　awake；　the　top　face；　walking　calmly
over　the　other　three；　comes　in　and　sits　on　the　bed　in　a　friendly
attitude。

〃Oh！〃　it　says；　〃we　didn't　know　you　were　awake。　　I've　been　awake
some　time。〃

〃So　I　gather；〃　you　reply；　shortly。

〃Pa　doesn't　like　us　to　get　up　too　early；〃　it　continues。　　〃He　says
everybody　else　in　the　house　is　liable　to　be　disturbed　if　we　get　up。
So；　of　course；　we　mustn't。〃

The　tone　is　that　of　gentle　resignation。　　It　is　instinct　with　the
spirit　of　virtuous　pride；　arising　from　the　consciousness　of　self…
sacrifice。

〃Don't　you　call　this　being　up？〃　you　suggest。

〃Oh；　no；　we're　not　really　up；　you　know；　because　we're　not　properly
dressed。〃　　The　fact　is　self…evident。　　〃Pa's　always　very　tired　in
the　morning；〃　the　voice　continues；　〃of　course；　that's　because　he
works　hard　all　day。　　Are　you　ever　tired　in　the　morning？〃

At　this　point　he　turns　and　notices；　for　the　first　time；　that　the
three　other　children　have　also　entered；　and　are　sitting　in　a　semi…
circle　on　the　floor。　　From　their　attitude　it　is　clear　they　have
mistaken　the　whole　thing　for　one　of　the　slower　forms　of
entertainment；　some　comic　lecture　or　conjuring　exhibition；　and　are
waiting　patiently　for　you　to　get　out　of　bed　and　do　something。　　It
shocks　him；　the　idea　of　their　being　in　the　guest's　bedchamber。　　He
peremptorily　orders　them　out。　　They　do　not　answer　him；　they　do　not
argue；　in　dead　silence；　and　with　one　accord　they　fall　upon　him。
All　you　can　see　from　the　bed　is　a　confused　tangle　of　waving　arms
and　legs；　suggestive　of　an　intoxicated　octopus　trying　to　find
bottom。　　Not　a　word　is　spoken；　that　seems　to　be　the　etiquette　of
the　thing。　　If　you　are　sleeping　in　your　pyjamas；　you　spring　from
the　bed；　and　only　add　to　the　confusion；　if　you　are　wearing　a　less
showy　garment；　you　stop　where　you　are　and　shout　commands；　which　are
utterly　unheeded。　　The　simplest　plan　is　to　leave　it　to　the　eldest
boy。　　He　does　get　them　out　after　a　while；　and　closes　the　door　upon
them。　　It　re…opens　immediately；　and　one；　generally　Muriel；　is　shot
back　into　the　room。　　She　enters　as　from　a　catapult。　　She　is
handicapped　by　having　long　hair；　which　can　be　used　as　a　convenient
handle。　　Evidently　aware　of　this　natural　disadvantage；　she　clutches
it　herself　tightly　in　one　hand；　and　punches　with　the　other。　　He
opens　the　door　again；　and　cleverly　uses　her　as　a　battering…ram
against　the　wall　of　those　without。　　You　can　hear　the　dull　crash　as
her　head　enters　among　them；　and　scatters　them。　　When　the　victory　is
complete；　he　comes　back　and　resumes　his　seat　on　the　bed。　　There　is
no　bitterness　about　him；　he　has　forgotten　the　whole　incident。

〃I　like　the　morning；〃　he　says；　〃don't　you？〃

〃Some　mornings；〃　you　agree；　〃are　all　right；　others　are　not　so
peaceful。〃

He　takes　no　notice　of　your　exception；　a　far…away　look　steals　over
his　somewhat　ethereal　face。

〃I　should　like　to　die　in　the　morning；〃　he　says；　〃everything　is　so
beautiful　then。〃

〃Well；〃　you　answer；　〃perhaps　you　will；　if　your　father　ever　invites
an　irritable　man　to　come　and　sleep　here；　and　doesn't　warn　him
beforehand。〃

He　descends　from　his　contemplative　mood；　and　becomes　himself　again。

〃It's　jolly　in　the　garden；〃　he　suggests；　〃you　wouldn't　like　to　get
up　and　have　a　game　of　cricket；　would　you？〃

It　was　not　the　idea　with　which　you　went　to　bed；　but　now；　as　things
have　turned　out；　it　seems　as　good　a　plan　as　lying　there　hopelessly
awake；　and　you　agree。

You　learn；　later　in　the　day；　that　the　explanation　of　the　proceeding
is　that　you；　unable　to　sleep；　woke　up　early　in　the　morning；　and
thought　you　would　like　a　game　of　cricket。　　The　children；　taught　to
be　ever　courteous　to　guests；　felt　it　their　duty　to　humour　you。
Mrs。　Harris　remarks　at　breakfast　that　at　least　you　might　have　seen
to　it　that　the　children　were　properly　dressed　before　you　took　them
out；　while　Harris　points　out　to　you；　pathetically；　how；　by　your　one
morning's　example　and　encouragement；　you　have　undone　his　labour　of
months。

On　this　Wednesday　morning；　George；　it　seems；　clamoured　to　get　up　at
a　quarter…past　five；　and　persuaded　them　to　let　him　teach　them
cycling　tricks　round　the　cucumber　frames　on　Harris's　new　wheel。
Even　Mrs。　Harris；　however；　did　not　blame　George　on　this　occasion；
she　felt　intuitively　the　idea　could　not　have　been　entirely　his。

It　is　not　that　the　Harris　children　have　the　faintest　notion　of
avoiding　blame　at　the　expense　of　a　friend　and　comrade。　　One　and　all
they　are　honesty　itself　in　accepting　responsibility　for　their　own
misdeeds。　　It　simply　is；　that　is　how　the　thing　presents　itself　to
their　understanding。　　When　you　explain　to　them　that　you　had　no
original　intention　of　getting　up　at　five　o'clock　in　the　morning　to
play　cricket　on　the　croquet　lawn；　or　to　mimic　the　history　of　the
early　Church　by　shooting　with　a　cross…bow　at　dolls　tied　to　a　tree；
that　as　a　matter　of　fact；　left　to　your　own　initiative；　you　would
have　slept　peacefully　till　roused　in　Christian　fashion　with　a　cup
of　tea　at　eight；　they　are　firstly　astonished；　secondly　apologetic；
and　thirdly　sincerely　contrite。　　In　the　present　instance；　waiving
the　purely　academic　question　whether　the　awakening　of　George　at　a
little　before　five　was　due　to　natural　instinct　on　his　part；　or　to
the　accidental　passing　of　a　home…made　boomerang　through　his　bedroom
window；　the　dear　children　frankly　admitted　that　the　blame　for　his
uprising　was　their　own。　　As　the　eldest　boy　said：

〃We　ought　to　have　remembered　that　Uncle　George　had　a　long　day；
before　him；　and　we　ought　to　have　dissuaded　him　from　getting　up。　　I
blame　myself　entirely。〃

But　an　occasional　change　of　habit　does　nobody　any　harm；　and
besides；　as　Harris　and　I　agreed；　it　was　good　training　for　George。
In　the　Black　Forest　we　should　be　up　at　five　every　morning；　that　we
had　determined　on。　　Indeed；　George　himself　had　suggested　half…past
four；　but　Harris　and　I　had　argued　that　five　would　be　early　enough
as　an　average；　that　would　enable　us　to　be　on　our　machines　by　six；
and　to　break　the　back　of　our　journey　before　the　heat　of　the　day　set
in。　　Occasionally　we　might　start　a　little　earlier；　but　not　as　a
habit。

I　myself　was　up　that　morning　at　five。　　This　was　earlier　than　I　had
intended。　　I　had　said　to　myself　on　going　to　sleep；　〃Six　o'clock；
sharp！〃

There　are　men　I　know　who　can　wake　themselves　at　any　time　to　the
minute。　　They　say　to　themselves　literally；　as　they　lay　their　heads
upon　the　pillow；　〃Four…thirty；〃　〃Four…forty…five；〃　or　〃Five…
fifteen；〃　as　the　case　may　be；　and　as　the　clock　strikes　they　open
their　eyes。　　It　is　very　wonderful　this；　the　more　one　dwells　upon
it；　the　greater　the　mystery　grows。　　Some　Ego　within　us；　acting
quite　independently　of　our　conscious　self；　must　be　capable　of
counting　the　hours　while　we　sleep。　　Unaided　by　clock　or　sun；　or　any
other　medium　known　to　our　five　senses；　it　keeps　watch　through　the
darkness。　　At　the　exact　moment　it　whispers　〃Time！〃　and　we　awake。
The　work　of　an　old　riverside　fellow　I　once　talked　with　called　him
to　be　out　of　bed　each　morning　half　an　hour　before　high　tide。　　He
told　me　that　never　once　had　he　overslept　himself　by　a　minute。
Latterly；　he　never　even　troubled　to　work　out　the　tide　for　himself。
He　would　lie　down　tired；　and　sleep　a　dreamless　sleep；　and　each
morning　at　a　different　hour　this　ghostly　watchman；　true　as　the　tide
itself；　would　silently　call　him。　　Did　the　man's　spirit　haunt
through　the　darkness　the　muddy　river　stairs；　or　had　it　knowledge　of
the　ways　of　Nature？　　Whatever　the　process；　the　man　himself　was
unconscious　of　it。

In　my　own　case　my　inward　watchman　is；　perhaps；　somewhat　out　of
practice。　　He　does　his　best；　but　he　is　over…anxious；　he　worries
himself；　and　loses　count。　　I　say　to　him；　maybe；　〃Five…thirty；
please；〃　and　he　wakes　me　with　a　start　at　half…past　two。　　I　look　at
my　watch。　　He　suggests　that；　perhaps；　I　forgot　to　wind　it　up。　　I
put　it　to　my　ear；　it　is　still　going。　　He　thinks；　maybe；　something
has　happened　to　it；　he　is　confident　himself　it　is　half…past　five；
if　not　a　little　later。　　To　satisfy　him；　I　put　on　a　pair　of　slippers
and　go　downstairs　to　inspect　the　dining…room　clock。　　What　happens
to　a　man　when　he　wanders　about　the　house　in　the　middle　of　the
night；　clad　in　a　dressing…gown　and　a　pair　of　slippers；　there　is　no
need　to　recount；　most　men　know　by　experience。　　Everything
especially　everything　with　a　sharp　cornertakes　a　cowardly　delight
in　hitting　him。　　When　you　are　wearing　a　pair　of　stout　boots；　things
get　out　of　your　way；　when　you　venture　among　furniture　in　woolwork
slippers　and　no　socks；　it　comes　at　you　and　kicks　you。　　I　return　to
bed　bad　tempered；　and　refusing　to　listen　to　his　further　absurd
suggestion　that　all　the　clocks　in　the　house　have　entered　into　a
conspiracy　against　me；　take　half　an　hour　to　get　to　sleep　again。
From　four　to　five　he　wakes　me　every　ten　minutes。　　I　wish　I　had
never　said　a　word　to　him　about　the　thing。　　At　five　o'clock　he　goes
to　sleep　himself；　worn　out；　and　leaves　it　to　the　girl；　who　does　it
half　an　hour　later　than　usual。

On　this　particular　Wednesday　he　worried　me　to　such　an　extent；　that
I　got　up　at　five　simply　to　be　rid　of　him。　　I　did　not　know　what　to
do　with　myself。　　Our　train　did　not　leave　till　eight；　all　our
luggage　had　been　packed　and　sent　on　the　night　before；　together　with
the　bicycles；　to　Fenchurch　Street　Station。　　I　went　into　my　study；　I
thought　I　would　put　in　an　hour's　writing。　　The　early　morning；
before　one　has　breakfasted；　is　not；　I　take　it；　a　good　season　for
literary　effort。　　I　wrote　three　paragraphs　of　a　story；　and　then
read　them　over　to　myself。　　Some　unkind　things　have　been　said　about
my　work；　but　nothing　has　yet　been　written　which　would　have　done
justice　to　those　three　paragraphs。　　I　threw　them　into　the　waste…
paper　basket；　and　sat　trying　to　remember　what；　if　any；　charitable
institutions　provided　pensions　for　decayed　authors。

To　escape　from　this　train　of　reflection；　I　put　a　golf…ball　in　my
pocket；　and　selecting　a　driver；　strolled　out　into　the　paddock。　　A
couple　of　sheep　were　browsing　there；　and　they　followed　and　took　a
keen　interest　in　my　practice。　　The　one　was　a　kindly；　sympathetic
old　party。　　I　do　not　think　she　understood　the　game；　I　think　it　was
my　doing　this　innocent　thing　so　early　in　the　morning　that　appealed
to　her。　　At　every　stroke　I　made　she　blea