第25章

At last, after a quarter of an hour or so of saying, "Are you there?" "Yes, I'm here," "Well?" the young lady at the Exchange asks what you want.

"I don't want anything," you reply.

"Then why do you keep talking?" she retorts; "you mustn't play with the thing."This renders you speechless with indignation for a while, upon recovering from which you explain that somebody rang you up.

"WHO rang you up?" she asks.

"I don't know."

"I wish you did," she observes.

Generally disgusted, you slam the trumpet up and return to your chair.The instant you are seated the bell clangs again; and you fly up and demand to know what the thunder they want, and who the thunder they are.

"Don't speak so loud, we can't hear you.What do you want?" is the answer.

"I don't want anything.What do you want? Why do you ring me up, and then not answer me? Do leave me alone, if you can!""We can't get Hong Kongs at seventy-four.""Well, I don't care if you can't."

"Would you like Zulus?"

"What are you talking about?" you reply; "I don't know what you mean.""Would you like Zulus--Zulus at seventy-three and a half?""I wouldn't have 'em at six a penny.What are you talking about?""Hong Kongs--we can't get them at seventy-four.Oh, half-a-minute"(the half-a-minute passes)."Are you there?""Yes, but you are talking to the wrong man.""We can get you Hong Kongs at seventy-four and seven-eights.""Bother Hong Kongs, and you too.I tell you, you are talking to the wrong man.I've told you once.""Once what?"

"Why, that I am the wrong man--I mean that you are talking to the wrong man.""Who are you?"

"Eight-one-nine, Jones."

"Oh, aren't you one-nine-eight?"

"No."

"Oh, good-bye."

"Good-bye."

How can a man after that sit down and write pleasantly of the European crisis? And, if it were needed, herein lies another indictment against the telephone.I was engaged in an argument, which, if not in itself serious, was at least concerned with a serious enough subject, the unsatisfactory nature of human riches;and from that highly moral discussion have I been lured, by the accidental sight of the word "telephone," into the writing of matter which can have the effect only of exciting to frenzy all critics of the New Humour into whose hands, for their sins, this book may come.

Let me forget my transgression and return to my sermon, or rather to the sermon of my millionaire acquaintance.

It was one day after dinner, we sat together in his magnificently furnished dining-room.We had lighted our cigars at the silver lamp.The butler had withdrawn.

"These cigars we are smoking," my friend suddenly remarked, a propos apparently of nothing, "they cost me five shillings apiece, taking them by the thousand.""I can quite believe it," I answered; "they are worth it.""Yes, to you," he replied, almost savagely."What do you usually pay for your cigars?"We had known each other years ago.When I first met him his offices consisted of a back room up three flights of stairs in a dingy by-street off the Strand, which has since disappeared.We occasionally dined together, in those days, at a restaurant in Great Portland Street, for one and nine.Our acquaintanceship was of sufficient standing to allow of such a question.

"Threepence," I answered."They work out at about twopence three-farthings by the box.""Just so," he growled; "and your twopenny-three-farthing weed gives you precisely the same amount of satisfaction that this five shilling cigar affords me.That means four and ninepence farthing wasted every time I smoke.I pay my cook two hundred a year.Idon't enjoy my dinner as much as when it cost me four shillings, including a quarter flask of Chianti.What is the difference, personally, to me whether I drive to my office in a carriage and pair, or in an omnibus? I often do ride in a bus: it saves trouble.It is absurd wasting time looking for one's coachman, when the conductor of an omnibus that passes one's door is hailing one a few yards off.Before I could afford even buses--when I used to walk every morning to the office from Hammersmith--I was healthier.

It irritates me to think how hard I work for no earthly benefit to myself.My money pleases a lot of people I don't care two straws about, and who are only my friends in the hope of making something out of me.If I could eat a hundred-guinea dinner myself every night, and enjoy it four hundred times as much as I used to enjoy a five-shilling dinner, there would be some sense in it.Why do I do it?"I had never heard him talk like this before.In his excitement he rose from the table, and commenced pacing the room.

"Why don't I invest my money in the two and a half per cents?" he continued."At the very worst I should be safe for five thousand a year.What, in the name of common sense, does a man want with more?

I am always saying to myself, I'll do it; why don't I?

"Well, why not?" I echoed.