Elizabeth Higginbottom

By V. SACK

VILLE-WEST.

ELIZABETH HIGGINBOTTOM attained the age of 1J forty before romance entered her life. Outivardly a severe and serious person, engrossed in an office from nine-thirty to six, she had, nevertheless, continuously hankered after romance, while flattering herself that no observer however shrewd could suspect her of so humiliating a weakness—an illusion which she probably Shaied With 50 per cent. of her colleagues. Even towards herself she was guilty of some deceit, liking to think that she indulged herself in the day-dreams of romance entirely on account of her name ; for romance, to her observation; frequently ended in marriage, and Marriage—. for a woman—inevitably involved a change of name ; and a change of name, for Elizabeth Higginbottom, would have equalled the removal of a splinter from a festering finger.. In the matter of a Christian name, her parents had certainly done their best to repair their initial mistake : Elizabeth was as magnificent a name as anybody could desire, recalling queens and battle ships ; but as for Higginbottom, the less said the better. Elizabeth knew not whether most to blame her father for having 'involuntarily inherited such a name, or her mother for having voluntarily linked her destinies to it. On the fWhole, the Voluntary error seemed the nitr2 heinous ; but what was a girl to do if she fell in love with somebody called Higginbottom ? It was unfortu- nate, certainly, but should true love admit of such impediments ? True love had not admitted of them in the ease of Mr. and Mrs. Higginbottom ; and their daughter Elizabeth, conceived no doubt in a moment of ecstasy irrespective of nomenclature, was left' to pay the penalty. Higginbottom she was born willy-nilly, and (which - was worse) Higginbottom she willy-nilly remained. . . .

Featherstonchaugh and ChaMpion de Crespigny floated across her mind as substitutes. She practised signatures in odd moments on the office blotting-paper, which she was careful to obliterate, even though it ruined her pen. Elizabeth Champion de Crespigny—E. C. de C.--how well it looked ! Sometimes she tried a foreign name. Elisabeth de la Tour d'Auvergne. And then she fell madly, hopelessly, in love with a young man in her own office, called Seroggs.

She thought Scroggs the most beautiful young man she had ever seen. He was, in • fact, remarkably good- looking. PlasiiY, with Wavy black hair and an olive complexion. Some people, greatly to Elizabeth's indig- nation, said he looked like a dago. But she did not very much care what they -said, since she was convinced she knew better : he was as handsome as a god. All the anguish of jealousy became known to Elizabeth. She imagined him surrounded nightly by lovely, eager young women, taking them to dances, escorting them to cinemas. No one had ever taken Elizabeth to a dance is her life ; as for cinemas, she and Miss Jones from the office sometimes went together on Saturday afternoon, But Seroggs'! She made herself a picture of his life. which was really not very far from the truth. And she suffered atrociously.

He first noticed her because she had a little bunch of spring flowers.. in a. glass on her table. Anemones and four freesias:- She had bought those because she knew they lasted longest, though as a matter of fact she should not have afforded the luxury of flowers at all. Seroggs, passing through her room with some papers in his hand, stoopttd to smell the freesiaS. " You like flowers, Miss hottorn? " he Said._ He had an irresistible smile After that:, they stopped to speak to each other when- ever they met on the stairs or in the passage. Only a few words did they ever exchange, but a little sprig of friendship _grew up between them. Seroggs, had she but known it, was drawn to Miss Higginbottom entirely because she had a name as horrible as his own. Ile Wondered whether she minded as much as he did.

It was not a question one could ask anybody, he thought, yet one evening he did ask it of her. It came about quite easily. They had met by chance in the Underground station, when all the world above ground was warm and sun-rayed and pulsating with spring. Seroggs had an assignation with a particularly pretty girl, and was in an unusually good humour. Miss Higginbottom seemed flustered when he carne up to her, and dropped her ticket. " Mustn't lose that, you know, Miss Higginbottom ! " he said as he restored it to her.

To his dismay and astonishment, the eyes she turned on him were full of tears. (" Poor old thing," he thought, " how plain she looks.") She put her hand on his arm. " Oh, please, please," she said, " don't call me that. My name is Elizabeth."

He stared. " By jove," he said, " do you mind, too ? It's rotten for us, isn't it ? Well, look here tit for tat, you know—my name's Sylvester."

" I know," said Miss Higginbottom with deep feeling, as though she were saying " Amen."

He tried to laugh it off. " Almost as had as Seroggs, isn't it, only in a different way ? Sylvester Scroggs. My God ! What were my godfathers and godmothers thinking of ? But I say, I never knew you minded. How funny ! I often wondered if you did." lie knew that he was being very boyish and attractive ; the adoration in Miss Higginbottom's eyes told him that. And Peggy would come in a inoment. " Let's walk up and down,'' he said, " till your train comes in. I'm meeting somebody here, but she's sure to be late."

They walked up and down. Miss Higginbottom in such an agony of conflicting emotions that she could scarcely utter a word. Not that. that mattered, for Sylvester did all the talking. He talked easily, persuasively, intimately. He was really very charming, and didn't sec why he shouldn't give the poor old thing a little pleasure when he had five minutes to spare. Besides, he could talk to her about his name. That gave him a curiously comforting relief. It, was probably the only thing he really minded, in a butterfly life. Peggy and the others teased him about it ; Scniggy, they called him, or Froggy, or Scraggy, or any other absurdity that came into their heads, and he laughed with them, but underneath their joint laughter he winced. Poor old Higginbottom—she was dreadfully solemn. but he could give her a moment's pleasure, and he could talk to her about their beastly names. So, why not ? Peggy, when she did finally consent to arrive,hint . would twit hi nicely about his companion. "I sec you found a substitute for me," she would say, if she saw them still walking up and down. And he would laugh, and would not tell her what they had been talking about. He felt that he had quite an understanding with Higginbottom, of a another kind than he had with Peggy and her like. He took Higginbottom's arm. She pressed it gently against her side.

" But it's different for a woman," lie was saying. even before he realized the tactlessness of the remark ; " a woman can marry and change her name, • whereas I'm Seroggs for life. Besides, what woman would marry a Scroggs ? " he hastily added, trying to put himself- into the same unmarriageable boat as herself. He waited then for Higginbottom to make the expected reply, " Surely, any woman would marry you ? " As the reply was not forthcoming, he repeated, rather crossly, " What woman, I ask you, would marry a Scroggs ? "

Higginbottom looked at him then, and though her tongue remained dumb her eyes were eloquent. Satisfied, he gave another little laugh, very confidential this time, and returned the pressure of her arm. At that moment he caught sight of Peggy, looking very seductive in a belted coat and scarlet cap. " I say," he said, disen- tangling his hand from her arm and not quite able to bring himself to call her Elizabeth, " you wouldn't come to a movie with me to-morrow night, would you ? " It was a sop to his conscience.

Would she ! " You don't really mean it ? " she said, gazing at him—they were almost the first words that she had uttered. But of course he meant it, he ex- claimed, anxious to join Peggy. Well, then, she said, very hesitating, very uncertain how she ought to conduct this affair, would he come and have some supper first in her rooms ? Yes, yes, he said impatiently, wondering what on earth the old thing was driving at ; yes, he'd come back with her after they left the office. They'd have some supper, and then they'd go to the pictures. Anything to get away to join Peggy. Seven o'clock, then, she said, and gave him her address. Seven o'clock, he shouted back reassuringly, hurrying down the platform.

She woke with a sense of something marvellous impending. It took her some exquisite seconds before she remembered what that something was. Sylvester ! Scmggs . . . but what did Scroggs matter ? Sylvester and Elizabeth ; that was all that mattered. One's Christian name was one's own ; one's paternal name was merely an accident. To each other they would be Sylvester and Elizabeth, and the rest only on envelopes. Mrs. Sylvester Scroggs—for her innocent mind foresaw only one eventual outcome. She gave one great gulp, and swallowed it. It was the greatest renunciation she could make, but for his sake she would make it joyfully.

She rose, then, an hour earlier than her usual time, and busied herself with setting her room to rights and putting out the plates for supper. Had she done wrong in asking him to supper in a bed-sitting-room ? and what on earth did men like to drink ? These problems chased perplexingly through her mind as she bustled about, dusting, polishing, twitching things straight, but in spite of her anxieties she sang an old music-hall song in an exceedingly untuneful voice, much to the astonishment of her landlady, who had never heard Miss Higginbottom sing before. " Lawks ! " she re- marked, as she proceeded downstairs with the slop-pail.

Elizabeth surveyed her room. It was clean, it was tidy. The folding-bed had disappeared behind its curtain. But she must have some flowers—were not flowers responsible for the first words Sylvester had ever spoken to her ?—and taking her purse she descended to catch a 'bus to Covent Garden. She just had time. " Tulips," she thought, hurrying along.

Covent Garden was as gay as a picture. Everything was gay this morning—the very 'buses seemed a brighter red, and people's faces seemed wreathed in benevolence. The flowers rioted in boxes and baskets, on stalls and barrows. The orange of marigolds, the purple of irises. the heavy trusses of lilac, the sprays of blossom, and the scent of flowers filling the air, warm and honeyed in the sun. The singing heart of Elizabeth Higginbottom hovered over -this coloured and scented market. She suddenly had the impression of being somewhere abroad, in Italy perhaps, or on the Riviera, where flowers were to be had for the asking and. people were merry and kindly.

She paused before a barrow. An enormous man in shirt-sleeves, with twinkling eyes and a tousled head, was smiling down at her. He had very white teeth, and looked like a Herculean gipsy. " Flowers, madam ? " he said. " Nice tulips ? " He held out a bunch, two bunches, putting his head on one side. as though to admire them.

How friendly he was, thought Elizabeth, as though really anxious that she should get something she liked— almost as though he had divined her secret. Certainly something extraordinary had happened to the world this morning.

" How much are they ? " she asked, taking out her purse.

" Two-and-three, madam—cheapest on the market. How many bunches, madam ? four ? six ? Let you have them a bit cheaper for six."

" I'll take six," said Elizabeth recklessly.

She could not afford it ; but never mind, she would go without lunch for two days, to make up.

" That'll be fifteen bob," said the man, handing her the sheaf wrapped in blue paper. She paid, rewarded him with a smile, and ran gladly down towards the Strand.

Sylvester meanwhile had been taken severely to task by Peggy, who was a decent sort. She had espied him with Miss Higginbottom on the Underground platform, and had grasped the situation shrewdly.. " It's not fair, Scroggy," she said ; " cut it out. Kinder to do it at once. Anybody can see the old thing's soppy about you."

Sylvester hesitated. Any conquest was acceptable to his vanity. Still, perhaps it really wasn't quite fair ; and besides, the old thing might become a bore. But with his weak good-nature he hated the idea of dis- appointing her.

" Much kinder to do it at once," said Peggy, watching him.

Thus it came about that an acutely embarrassed Scroggs paused before Miss Higginbottom's table, and bending down so that Miss Jones should not overhear, said hurriedly, " Oh, about to-night. . . . Stupid of me. I made a mistake. I remembered afterwards that I'd got another appointment. Should you mind very much if we put it off ? Another night, perhaps. . . . So sorry." He fled.

Miss Higginbottom went home alone. On the table she found the two places she had laid, the pressed beef and tinned salmon she had bought, the bottle of whisky and the syphon. She found also the tulips, carefully disposed about the room. It then occurred to her for the first time that the friendly-looking, gipsy-like man had cheated her. He had charged her fifteen bob when he should have said thirteen-and-six. She had been too happy and too careless to check his suill ; be had seemed so genuinely and smilingly anxious to please her. Up to that moment she had borne up in a drY, controlled sort of way ; now, with the realization of his petty perfidy, she laid her head down on the table and sobbed and sobbed.