Sketches in Lavender, Blue and Green [52]
information it might possess concerning his wife's uncle, from whom he had not heard for months, and that apparently was its idea of an address.
The fame of Whibley's Spirit became noised abroad, with the result that Whibley was able to command the willing service of more congenial assistants, and Jobstock and myself were dismissed. But we bore no malice.
Under these more favourable conditions the Spirit plucked up wonderfully, and talked everybody's head off. It could never have been a cheerful companion, however, for its conversation was chiefly confined to warnings and prognostications of evil. About once a fortnight Whibley would drop round on me, in a friendly way, to tell me that I was to beware of a man who lived in a street beginning with a "C," or to inform me that if I would go to a town on the coast where there were three churches I should meet someone who would do me an irreparable injury, and, that I did not rush off then and there in search of that town he regarded as flying in the face of Providence.
In its passion for poking its ghostly nose into other people's affairs it reminded me of my earthly friend Poppleton. Nothing pleased it better than being appealed to for aid and advice, and Whibley, who was a perfect slave to it, would hunt half over the parish for people in trouble and bring them to it.
It would direct ladies, eager for divorce court evidence, to go to the third house from the corner of the fifth street, past such and such a church or public-house (it never would give a plain, straightforward address), and ring the bottom bell but one twice. They would thank it effusively, and next morning would start to find the fifth street past the church, and would ring the bottom bell but one of the third house from the corner twice, and a man in his shirt sleeves would come to the door and ask them what they wanted.
They could not tell what they wanted, they did not know themselves, and the man would use bad language, and slam the door in their faces.
Then they would think that perhaps the Spirit meant the fifth street the other way, or the third house from the opposite corner, and would try again, with still more unpleasant results.
One July I met Whibley, mooning disconsolately along Princes Street, Edinburgh.
"Hullo!" I exclaimed, "what are you doing here? I thought you were busy over that School Board case."
"Yes," he answered, "I ought really to be in London, but the truth is I'm rather expecting something to happen down here."
"Oh!" I said, "and what's that?"
"Well," he replied hesitatingly, as though he would rather not talk about it, "I don't exactly know yet."
"You've come from London to Edinburgh, and don't know what you've come for!" I cried.
"Well, you see," he said, still more reluctantly, as it seemed to me, "it was Maria's idea; she wished--"
"Maria!" I interrupted, looking perhaps a little sternly at him, "who's Maria?" (His wife's name I knew was Emily Georgina Anne.)
"Oh! I forgot," he explained; "she never would tell her name before you, would she? It's the Spirit, you know."
"Oh! that," I said, "it's she that has sent you here. Didn't she tell you what for?"
"No," he answered, "that's what worries me. All she would say was, 'Go to Edinburgh--something will happen.'"
"And how long are you going to remain here?" I inquired.
"I don't know," he replied. "I've been here a week already, and Jobstock writes quite angrily. I wouldn't have come if Maria hadn't been so urgent. She repeated it three evenings running."
I hardly knew what to do. The little man was so dreadfully in earnest about the business that one could not argue much with him.
"You are sure," I said, after thinking a while, "that this Maria is a good Spirit? There are all sorts going about, I'm told. You're sure this isn't the spirit of some deceased lunatic, playing the fool with you?"
"I've thought of that," he admitted. "Of course that might be so. If nothing happens soon I shall almost begin to suspect it."
"Well, I should certainly make
The fame of Whibley's Spirit became noised abroad, with the result that Whibley was able to command the willing service of more congenial assistants, and Jobstock and myself were dismissed. But we bore no malice.
Under these more favourable conditions the Spirit plucked up wonderfully, and talked everybody's head off. It could never have been a cheerful companion, however, for its conversation was chiefly confined to warnings and prognostications of evil. About once a fortnight Whibley would drop round on me, in a friendly way, to tell me that I was to beware of a man who lived in a street beginning with a "C," or to inform me that if I would go to a town on the coast where there were three churches I should meet someone who would do me an irreparable injury, and, that I did not rush off then and there in search of that town he regarded as flying in the face of Providence.
In its passion for poking its ghostly nose into other people's affairs it reminded me of my earthly friend Poppleton. Nothing pleased it better than being appealed to for aid and advice, and Whibley, who was a perfect slave to it, would hunt half over the parish for people in trouble and bring them to it.
It would direct ladies, eager for divorce court evidence, to go to the third house from the corner of the fifth street, past such and such a church or public-house (it never would give a plain, straightforward address), and ring the bottom bell but one twice. They would thank it effusively, and next morning would start to find the fifth street past the church, and would ring the bottom bell but one of the third house from the corner twice, and a man in his shirt sleeves would come to the door and ask them what they wanted.
They could not tell what they wanted, they did not know themselves, and the man would use bad language, and slam the door in their faces.
Then they would think that perhaps the Spirit meant the fifth street the other way, or the third house from the opposite corner, and would try again, with still more unpleasant results.
One July I met Whibley, mooning disconsolately along Princes Street, Edinburgh.
"Hullo!" I exclaimed, "what are you doing here? I thought you were busy over that School Board case."
"Yes," he answered, "I ought really to be in London, but the truth is I'm rather expecting something to happen down here."
"Oh!" I said, "and what's that?"
"Well," he replied hesitatingly, as though he would rather not talk about it, "I don't exactly know yet."
"You've come from London to Edinburgh, and don't know what you've come for!" I cried.
"Well, you see," he said, still more reluctantly, as it seemed to me, "it was Maria's idea; she wished--"
"Maria!" I interrupted, looking perhaps a little sternly at him, "who's Maria?" (His wife's name I knew was Emily Georgina Anne.)
"Oh! I forgot," he explained; "she never would tell her name before you, would she? It's the Spirit, you know."
"Oh! that," I said, "it's she that has sent you here. Didn't she tell you what for?"
"No," he answered, "that's what worries me. All she would say was, 'Go to Edinburgh--something will happen.'"
"And how long are you going to remain here?" I inquired.
"I don't know," he replied. "I've been here a week already, and Jobstock writes quite angrily. I wouldn't have come if Maria hadn't been so urgent. She repeated it three evenings running."
I hardly knew what to do. The little man was so dreadfully in earnest about the business that one could not argue much with him.
"You are sure," I said, after thinking a while, "that this Maria is a good Spirit? There are all sorts going about, I'm told. You're sure this isn't the spirit of some deceased lunatic, playing the fool with you?"
"I've thought of that," he admitted. "Of course that might be so. If nothing happens soon I shall almost begin to suspect it."
"Well, I should certainly make