Berry And Co. by Dornford Yates

BAG. Hang it all, you know what a bag is?”
    “Rather,” said I heartily. “What you put nuts in. An uncle of mine had one.”
    The vehemence with which the unknown subscriber replaced his receiver was terrible to hear.
    Ten minutes later Fitch entered the room.
    “Can you get to the Albert Hall tonight, Fitch?” said Daphne.
    “I think so, madam. If we go slow.”
    “Can you get back from the Albert Hall tomorrow afternoon?” said Berry.
    “If I can get there, sir, I can get back.”
    “How long, will it take?”
    “I ought to do it in ’alf an hour, sir. I can push along in the Park, where it’s all straight going. It’s getting along the streets as’ll take the time. It’s not that I won’t find me way, but it’s the watchin’ out for the hother vehicles, so as they don’t run into you.”
    “Bit of an optimist, aren’t you?”
    “I don’t think so, sir.”
    “Thank you, Fitch,” said Daphne hastily. “Half-past nine, please.”
    “Very good, madam.”
    He bowed and withdrew.
    Triumphantly my sister regarded her husband.
    “At making a mountain out of a molehill,” she said, “no one can touch you.”
    Berry returned her gaze with a malevolent stare. Then he put a thumb to his nose and extended his fingers in her direction.
     
    The unfortunate incident occurred in the vicinity of Stanhope Gate.
    So far we had come very slowly, but without incident, and, in spite of the fact that we were insufficiently clad, we were nice and warm. For this, so far as Berry and I were concerned, two footwarmers and a pair of rugs were largely responsible, for the elaborate nature of our costumes put the wearing of overcoats out of the question. A high-collared Italian cloak of the shape that was seen in the time of Elizabeth made it impossible for me to wear a surtout of any description, and I was reduced to wrapping a muffler about my neck and holding a woollen shawl across my chest, while Berry, in that puffed and swollen array, which instantly remembers Henry the Eighth, derived what comfort he could from an enormous cloak of Irish frieze which, while it left his chest uncovered, succeeded in giving him a back about four feet square.
    Hitherto we had encountered little or no traffic, and an excellent judgment, coupled with something akin to instinct, on the part of Fitch had brought us surely along the streets; but here, almost before we knew it, there were vehicles in front and on either side. Hoarse directions were being shouted, lanterns were being waved, engines were running, and a few feet away frantic endeavours were being made to persuade a pair of horses to disregard twin headlights whose brilliancy was adding to the confusion. Berry lowered the window.
    “What about it, Fitch?”
    “Well, sir, I’m just opposite the gate, but it’s rather awkward to slip across, in case I meet somethin’. If I ’as to pull up ’alf-way, we might be run into.”
    “Which means that one of us must guide you over?”
    “It’d be safer, sir.”
    By a majority of three it was decided that Berry should enact the role of conducting officer. Jonah had a cold, and was sitting on the back seat between the girls. I had no coat, and required the services of both hands if I was to hold my shawl in position. Only my brother-in-law remained. He did not go down without a struggle, but after a vigorous but vain appeal “to our better natures,” he compared himself to a lion beset by jackals, commented bitterly upon “the hot air which is breathed about self-sacrifice,” and, directing that after death his veins should be opened in the presence of not less than twelve surgeons, as a preliminary to his interment in the Dogs’ Cemetery, opened the door and stepped sideways into the roadway.
    His efforts to remove the offside oil lamp, which was hot to the touch, were most diverting, and twice he returned to the window to ask us to make less noise. At last, however, with the assistance of Fitch, the lamp was unhooked,