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Philiberta: A Novel

Chapter XXII. Harper Parkinsson

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Chapter XXII. Harper Parkinsson.

Three gentlemen were immediately ushered into the little drawing-room. The first was an extremely youthful-looking man, with a face almost girlish in its fairness of complexion. Short red curly hair and a moustache, positively scarlet in hue, redeemed the countenance from utter effeminacy. Of the two who accompanied him nothing need be said, as they are of no importance here.

'Why is Harper Parkinsson like a misfortune to-day?' inquired he of the scarlet moustache airily.

'I give it up. I detest conundrums,' said Miss Fitzroy, with impatience.

'Because he does not come alone,' said Mr. Parkinsson, laughing a silvery feminine laugh as he indicated his friends.

'Not a bad one, is it now?'

'I could have given you a much better answer,' said Miss Fitzroy.

'Then pray do, please do; it is not too late yet.'

'Repeat the riddle, then.'

'Why is Harper Parkinsson like a misfortune to-day?'

'Because I would very much rather be without him,' said Miss Fitzroy distinctly.

Philiberta looked up in surprise, the gentlemen at their hats in some confusion.

'Miss Morven and I were just going to lunch,' added Miss Fitzroy.

'"It is enough," as Dan White said when he saw the elephant,' observed Harper Parkinsson. 'Gentlemen, we will go.'

And with briefest adieux they went.

'You look surprised,' remarked Miss Fitzroy to Philiberta.

'I can't help feeling so—a little.'

'I dare say. It sounded rude, I know. But Harper Parkinsson must not try to make my house a restaurant for all his hungry friends to have a meal at gratis.'

'Do you mean to say they came here for a meal?'

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'Distinctly. Harper has made that experiment before, and failed. He ought to have more sense than to attempt it again.'

'But I do not understand,' said Philiberta. 'I am puzzled.'

'Hush. There he is again. I knew he would soon be back.'

Yes, there he was again, with his slight elegant figure, graceful gestures, frank caressing smile, and blue childlike eyes, and that remarkable scarlet line of moustache contrasting so startlingly with the fair white skin.

'Did I leave my cane here?' he said, with a deprecating smile, as if in apology for his return.

'No, you did not,' said Miss Fitzroy. 'You may stay to luncheon, Mr. Parkinsson.'

'If I thought it would not be an intrusion, Miss Fitzroy——'

'Come along. Himmons will be distracted at the delay. Pray be careful not to cause it again, Mr. Parkinsson.'

'I will remember,' he said, and then lunched like a desperately hungry man. He earned the meal, though, as Miss Fitzroy afterwards remarked, for he literally brimmed over with fun. After the second glass of wine, his jests, his quaint conceits, his ready witticisms àpropos of anything and everything, made him perfectly irresistible; and following everything was that ripple of silvery infectious laughter.

'The boy is a genius,' said Philiberta, when he had taken his departure.

Miss Fitzroy was going to tell her something, when Himmons interrupted with the announcement of more visitors. The afternoon was one long levee. All the visitors were gentlemen, none stayed beyond half an hour or so, few came empty-handed. A trinket, a vase, a book, a picture, a flower, all of which Miss Fitzroy accepted as she accepted the flattery—broad or delicate, according to the nature of the one administering it—with a careless grace and easy indifference.

Philiberta felt bewildered and not happy; she would have withdrawn at an early hour of the afternoon, but had no fair opportunity.

'You have not enjoyed yourself, I see,' said Miss Fitzroy, when they were alone together once more.

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Philiberta made no reply.

'Speak out,' said Miss Fitzroy; 'you have spent a miserable afternoon, have you not?'

'No,' said Philiberta, 'the study of so many different characters could not fail to interest one and keep one from being miserable, but—'

'Well?'

'Well, candidly, I think I should have liked better to spend the afternoon with you alone. Do people come every day like this?'

'Yes, except when I have a rare attack of solitariness, and bid Himmons deny me to everyone.'

'I should think you would have that kind of attack often.'

'But I do not. I am not fond of my own company. I need amusement.'

'There did not seem to be a great deal of that in to-day's experience. Putting aside the frivolity of the conversation of those men, there was a freedom—a familiarity—in their manner very distasteful to any woman, I imagine.'

'Now you are getting "preachy."'

'I beg your pardon, then, I am sure.'

'You need not. I like plain-speaking occasionally. It refreshes one after the doses of hypocrisy one generally gets. But the hypocrisy and the flattery have become like part of my daily food to me. I could not live without them.'

'Oh, I don't think those men were hypocritical to-day. Their compliments were true and genuine enough, I am sure.'

'Now you are going to the very extreme of flattery,' said Miss Fitzroy, laughing. 'What is it you object to in those men, then, if it is not their humbug?'

'Oh, did it not seem hateful,' said Philiberta, 'to be told so coarsely and plainly and fulsomely of your beauty?'

'No, dear, I can't say it did. I am hardened to it, I expect. It might strike me differently if I stopped to think, but I never do. I want pretty speeches and pretty presents, and to see men vie with each other to please me; and I hope I may die before I get so old and ugly that I cannot win these things.'

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'I don't believe a word of it,' said Philiberta earnestly; 'you are far too good and true a woman to make up your life with such poor pleasures.'

Miss Fitzroy laughed again, but there was something of bitterness mingled with her mirth.

'You have a higher opinion of me than I have of myself,' she said. 'It might have been different with me if I had had different chances in life. Heaven knows. But I am quite satisfied to have things as they are.'

'I do not believe that either,' said Philiberta.

'But I am, I say. Women hate me, and are jealous of me, and I take a pride and delight in that. Men flatter me, and bring me pretty gifts; and thus two of my leading weaknesses, love of approbation and avariciousness, are gratified and encouraged. I know that the women are mere spiteful idiots and the men knaves, one and all; but it pleases me intensely to cause as much heartburning amongst them as I find possible. I know that every man that comes here has a base motive for coming, though it may be no worse than mere vanity; and I love to play upon them and disappoint them. I love to know that bank-clerks—like that hyper-genteel young man you saw whispering to me—have to pinch themselves or run in debt to afford me my daily bouquet And I love to let such a one as he whisper the most meaningless stuff in my ears so insinuatingly as to make others—like that fat man who brought yonder vase—jealous. Both the clerk and the fat man are married. I dare say they would be shocked at the mere mention of an introduction between me and their wives. Can't you understand how I hate and despise both them and their wives?'

'No,' said Philiberta, 'I cannot understand you at all.'

'Perhaps not, and perhaps it is lucky for you that you cannot.

But don't take a dislike to me because of all this, Miss Morven. I have conceived a strange liking for you, and it is a relief to me to speak as I feel sometimes. And, will you believe me? I have not a friend in the world.'

'Surely you are wrong there,' said Philiberta. 'Or, if you really have none, it is your own fault.'

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'Oh, I grant that I am not of the right disposition to win friends, and I take a malicious delight in making enemies.'

'I am sure you belie youself,' said Philiberta, who was really a good deal distressed by all this.

'No, I do not; I seldom speak of myself as I have spoken to you, because I seldom have such an opportunity. It is a relief to confess one's self occasionally, and to cry peccavi, and then make a fresh start against the world with hatred and all uncharitableness. And one feels at a glance that you are a woman to whom such confession will be sacred. And, bad as I am, Miss Morven, the people I come most in contact with are worse than I, and it does me good to brush against a good-souled uncorrupted woman like you.'

'I think I must go now,' said Philiberta, 'for I can't bear to hear you talk like this.'

'No, don't go yet; I won't say any more about myself, but I want to tell you about "Harper Parkinsson."'

'The boy with the scarlet moustache?'

'Yes, the boy with the scarlet moustache. The boy who wants to marry me for the sake of my home and my money.'

'Good gracious!'

'His history, as far as I know it, is most interesting. If ever I write a book, I shall put him in it. He came here from England or America about a year ago. He had some money, how procured I would never venture to guess. He lived at Menzies' till his money was done, and then he borrowed here and there till his friends were done. Then he pawned his clothes. Finally he was reduced to a state of pennilessness and one suit, and then a brilliant idea occurred to him. You noticed that he is clever and well educated. His eloquence in persuasion you have no conception of. Well, he started out (from a gas-pipe down by Queen's Wharf, I believe) early one morning, and before night he had canvassed the whole town successfully for advertisements in a new theatrical paper that he persuaded the public he was going to start. He kept faith with the people too, which is to me surprising, seeing that he had obtained numerous subscriptions in advance. He actually page 157paid most of the money received to a first-class printing office, and it published his paper in good style. "The Novel Notion" he called it, and it was an immense success. He edited it himself; his squibs and caricatures were splendid. There was a run upon it nightly, and he was on the high-road to prosperity. But he must needs want diamond rings, buggies and horses, and similar luxuries, to the extent of a duke's fortune; and to obtain them, borrowed money on the mortgage of his paper. Result: the "Novel Notion" changed hands in less than three months, became the property of the canny man who advanced the money, and is now a paper of intolerable dulness and inanity, that still pays, however, because it got such a splendid start. Behold Harper Parkinsson, then, again penniless. He shortly tried another scheme, and might have made it as successful as the first but for the innate idiocy that really makes him a paradox. He advertised under a fictitious name that he would supply anyone with "whisker-seed."'

'Whisker-seed!' ejaculated Philiberta.

'Yes. Hair and Whisker Propagator was the title he gave it A something guaranteed to make a fine crop of whiskers grow even on the back of your hand. The same stuff, taken internally, would cure rheumatism, he said. A child might drink it and take no harm. Oh, it was too funny! He advertised any number of testimonials, and the public took his bait easily. But the money did not come in rapidly enough; so he took a partner, borrowed a hundred pounds of him, and left him the whisker business, which the man, being a fool, could not manage at all. So there was a lawsuit and an exposure, and great fun in the court and newspapers, and Master Harper had a narrow escape from gaol. Now he is stranded again, and in sore need. He lunches here every day, and I believe that is the only meal he gets. I do not mind giving him that because he is so amusing; but when his good-natured audacity leads him into bringing other impecunious ones as he did today, then I have to check him. The forlorn hope he is living upon now is that he will tease me into marrying him. Read this letter of his.'

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'No,' said Philiberta, though she could not help being interested, 'I think it must be degrading to receive letters from such a man.'

'Oh, don't preach, there's a good girl. If you will not read it, I will read it to you.'