Meet Teddy Finsworth, an old schoolfellow. We have a pleasant and quietdinner at his uncle’s, marred only by a few awkward mistakes on my partrespecting Mr. Finsworth’s pictures. A discussion on dreams.

APRIL 27.—Kept a little later than usual at the office, and as I washurrying along a man stopped me, saying: “Hulloh! That’s a face I know.”I replied politely: “Very likely; lots of people know me, although I maynot know them.” He replied: “But you know me—Teddy Finsworth.” So itwas. He was at the same school with me. I had not seen him for yearsand years. No wonder I did not know him! At school he was at least ahead taller than I was; now I am at least a head taller than he is, andhe has a thick beard, almost grey. He insisted on my having a glass ofwine (a thing I never do), and told me he lived at Middlesboro’, where hewas Deputy Town Clerk, a position which was as high as the Town Clerk ofLondon—in fact, higher. He added that he was staying for a few days inLondon, with his uncle, Mr. Edgar Paul Finsworth (of Finsworth andPultwell). He said he was sure his uncle would be only too pleased tosee me, and he had a nice house, Watney Lodge, only a few minutes’ walkfrom Muswell Hill Station. I gave him our address, and we parted.

In the evening, to my surprise, he called with a very nice letter fromMr. Finsworth, saying if we (including Carrie) would dine with themto-morrow (Sunday), at two o’clock, he would be delighted. Carrie didnot like to go; but Teddy Finsworth pressed us so much we consented.Carrie sent Sarah round to the butcher’s and countermanded our half-legof mutton, which we had ordered for to-morrow.

APRIL 28, Sunday.—We found Watney Lodge farther off than we anticipated,and only arrived as the clock struck two, both feeling hot anduncomfortable. To make matters worse, a large collie dog pounced forwardto receive us. He barked loudly and jumped up at Carrie, covering herlight skirt, which she was wearing for the first time, with mud. TeddyFinsworth came out and drove the dog off and apologised. We were showninto the drawing-room, which was beautifully decorated. It was full ofknick-knacks, and some plates hung up on the wall. There were severallittle wooden milk-stools with paintings on them; also a white woodenbanjo, painted by one of Mr. Paul Finsworth’s nieces—a cousin of Teddy’s.

Mr. Paul Finsworth seemed quite a distinguished-looking elderlygentleman, and was most gallant to Carrie. There were a great manywater-colours hanging on the walls, mostly different views of India,which were very bright. Mr. Finsworth said they were painted by “Simpz,”and added that he was no judge of pictures himself but had been informedon good authority that they were worth some hundreds of pounds, althoughhe had only paid a few shillings apiece for them, frames included, at asale in the neighbourhood.

There was also a large picture in a very handsome frame, done in colouredcrayons. It looked like a religious subject. I was very much struckwith the lace collar, it looked so real, but I unfortunately made theremark that there was something about the expression of the face that wasnot quite pleasing. It looked pinched. Mr. Finsworth sorrowfullyreplied: “Yes, the face was done after death—my wife’s sister.”

I felt terribly awkward and bowed apologetically, and in a whisper said Ihoped I had not hurt his feelings. We both stood looking at the picturefor a few minutes in silence, when Mr. Finsworth took out a handkerchiefand said: “She was sitting in our garden last summer,” and blew his noseviolently. He seemed quite affected, so I turned to look at somethingelse and stood in front of a portrait of a jolly-looking middle-agedgentleman, with a red face and straw hat. I said to Mr. Finsworth: “Whois this jovial-looking gentleman? Life doesn’t seem to trouble himmuch.” Mr. Finsworth said: “No, it doesn’t. _He is dead too_—mybrother.”

I was absolutely horrified at my own awkwardness. Fortunately at thismoment Carrie entered with Mrs. Finsworth, who had taken her upstairs totake off her bonnet and brush her skirt. Teddy said: “Short is late,”but at that moment the gentleman referred to arrived, and I wasintroduced to him by Teddy, who said: “Do you know Mr. Short?” Ireplied, smiling, that I had not that pleasure, but I hoped it would notbe long before I knew Mr. _Short_. He evidently did not see my littlejoke, although I repeated it twice with a little laugh. I suddenlyremembered it was Sunday, and Mr. Short was perhaps _very particular_.In this I was mistaken, for he was not at all particular in several ofhis remarks after dinner. In fact I was so ashamed of one of hisobservations that I took the opportunity to say to Mrs. Finsworth that Ifeared she found Mr. Short occasionally a little embarrassing. To mysurprise she said: “Oh! he is privileged you know.” I did not know as amatter of fact, and so I bowed apologetically. I fail to see why Mr.Short should be privileged.

Another thing that annoyed me at dinner was that the collie dog, whichjumped up at Carrie, was allowed to remain under the dining-room table.It kept growling and snapping at my boots every time I moved my foot.Feeling nervous rather, I spoke to Mrs. Finsworth about the animal, andshe remarked: “It is only his play.” She jumped up and let in afrightfully ugly-looking spaniel called Bibbs, which had been scratchingat the door. This dog also seemed to take a fancy to my boots, and Idiscovered afterwards that it had licked off every bit of blacking fromthem. I was positively ashamed of being seen in them. Mrs. Finsworth,who, I must say, is not much of a Job’s comforter, said: “Oh! we are usedto Bibbs doing that to our visitors.”

Mr. Finsworth had up some fine port, although I question whether it is agood thing to take on the top of beer. It made me feel a little sleepy,while it had the effect of inducing Mr. Short to become “privileged” torather an alarming extent. It being cold even for April, there was afire in the drawing-room; we sat round in easy-chairs, and Teddy and Iwaxed rather eloquent over the old school days, which had the effect ofsending all the others to sleep. I was delighted, as far as Mr. Shortwas concerned, that it did have that effect on him.

We stayed till four, and the walk home was remarkable only for the factthat several fools giggled at the unpolished state of my boots. Polishedthem myself when I got home. Went to church in the evening, and couldscarcely keep awake. I will not take port on the top of beer again.

APRIL 29.—I am getting quite accustomed to being snubbed by Lupin, and Ido not mind being sat upon by Carrie, because I think she has a certainamount of right to do so; but I do think it hard to be at once snubbed bywife, son, and both my guests.

Gowing and Cummings had dropped in during the evening, and I suddenlyremembered an extraordinary dream I had a few nights ago, and I thought Iwould tell them about it. I dreamt I saw some huge blocks of ice in ashop with a bright glare behind them. I walked into the shop and theheat was overpowering. I found that the blocks of ice were on fire. Thewhole thing was so real and yet so supernatural I woke up in a coldperspiration. Lupin in a most contemptuous manner, said: “What utterrot.”

Before I could reply, Gowing said there was nothing so completelyuninteresting as other people’s dreams.

I appealed to Cummings, but he said he was bound to agree with the othersand my dream was especially nonsensical. I said: “It seemed so real tome.” Gowing replied: “Yes, to _you_ perhaps, but not to _us_.”Whereupon they all roared.

Carrie, who had hitherto been quiet, said: “He tells me his stupid dreamsevery morning nearly.” I replied: “Very well, dear, I promise you I willnever tell you or anybody else another dream of mine the longest day Ilive.” Lupin said: “Hear! hear!” and helped himself to another glass ofbeer. The subject was fortunately changed, and Cummings read a mostinteresting article on the superiority of the bicycle to the horse.