Christopher and Columbus by Countess Elizabeth Von Arnim

C >> Countess Elizabeth Von Arnim >> Christopher and Columbus

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The Open Arms

in medieval letters painted on it, all he said was, "Guess we've run it
to earth."

Miss Heap sat with her hands in her lap, staring. Mrs. Ridding, her mind
blocked by aspic, wasn't receiving impressions. She gazed with heavy
eyes straight in front of her. There she saw cars. Many cars. All
stopped at this particular spot. With a dull sensation of fathomless
fatigue she dimly wondered at them.

"Looks as though it's a hostelry," said Mr. Ridding, who remembered his
Dickens; and he blinked up, craning his head out, at the signboard, on
which through a gap in the branches of the pepper trees a shaft of
brilliant late afternoon sun was striking. "Don't see one, though."

He jerked his thumb. "Up back of the trees there, I reckon," he said.

Then he prepared to open the door and go and have a look.

A hand shot out of Miss Heap's lap at him. "Don't," she said quickly.
"Don't, Mr. Ridding."

There was a little green gate in the thick hedge that grew behind the
pepper trees, and some people he knew, who had been in the car in front,
were walking up to it. Some other people he knew had already got to it,
and were standing talking together with what looked like leaflets in
their hands. These leaflets came out of a green wooden box fastened on
to one of the gate-posts, with the words _Won't you take one_? painted
on it.

Mr. Ridding naturally wanted to go and take one, and here was Miss Heap
laying hold of him and saying "Don't."

"Don't what?" he asked looking down at her, his hand on the door.

"Hello Ridding," called out one of the people he knew. "No good getting
out. Show doesn't open till to-morrow at four. Can't get in to-day.
Gate's bolted. Nothing doing."

And then the man detached himself from the group at the gate and came
over to the car with a leaflet in his hand.

"Say--" he said,--"how are you to-day, Miss Heap? Mrs. Ridding, your
humble servant--say, look at this. Teapot Twist wasn't born yesterday
when it comes to keeping things dark. No mention of his name on this
book of words, but it's the house he was doing up all right, and it is
to be used as an inn. Afternoon-tea inn. Profits to go to the American
Red Cross. Price per head five dollars. Bit stiff, five dollars for tea.
Wonder where those Twinkler girls come in. Here--you have this, Ridding,
and study it. I'll get another." And taking off his hat a second time to
the ladies he went back to his friends.

In great agitation Miss Heap turned to Mrs. Ridding, whose mind,
galvanized by the magic words Twist and Twinkler, was slowly heaving
itself free of aspic. "Perhaps we had best go back to the hotel, Mrs
Ridding," said Miss Heap, her voice shaking. "There's something I wish
particularly to tell you. I ought to have done so this morning, directly
I knew, but I had no idea of course that this...." She waved a hand at
the signboard, and collapsed into speechlessness.

"Albert--hotel," directed Mrs. Ridding.

And Mr. Ridding, clutching the leaflet, his face congested with
suppressed emotions, obediently handed on the order through the
speaking-tube to the chauffeur.

CHAPTER XXXI

"It's _perfect_," said the twins, looking round the tea-room.

This was next day, at a quarter to four. They had been looking round
saying it was perfect at intervals since the morning. Each time they
finished getting another of the little tables ready, each time they
brought in and set down another bowl of flowers they stood back and
gazed a moment in silence, and then said with one voice, "It's
_perfect_."

Mr. Twist, though the house was not, as we have seen, quite as sober,
quite as restrained in its effect as he had intended, was obliged to
admit that it did look very pretty. And so did the Annas. Especially the
Annas. They looked so pretty in the sea-blue frocks and little Dutch
caps and big muslin aprons that he took off his spectacles and cleaned
them carefully so as to have a thoroughly uninterrupted view; and as
they stood at a quarter to four gazing round the room, he stood gazing
at them, and when they said "It's _perfect_," he said, indicating them
with his thumb, "Same here," and then they all laughed for they were all
very happy, and Mrs. Bilton, arrayed exactly as Mr. Twist had pictured
her when he engaged her in handsome black, her white hair beautifully
brushed and neat, crossed over to the Annas and gave each of them a
hearty kiss--for luck, she said--which Mr. Twist watched with an odd
feeling of jealousy.

"I'd like to do that," he thought, filled with a sudden desire to hug.
Then he said it out loud. "I'd like to do that," he said boldly. And
added, "As it's the opening day."

"I don't think it would afford you any permanent satisfaction," said
Anna-Felicitas placidly. "There's nothing really to be gained, we think,
by kissing. Of course," she added politely to Mrs. Bilton, "we like it
very much as an expression of esteem."

"Then why not in that spirit--" began Mr. Twist.

"We don't hold with kissing," said Anna-Rose quickly, turning very red.
Intolerable to be kissed _en famille_. If it had to be done at all,
kissing should be done quietly, she thought. But she and Anna-Felicitas
didn't hold with it anyhow. Never. Never. To her amazement she found
tears in her eyes. Well, of all the liquid idiots.... It must be that
she was so happy. She had never been so happy. Where on earth had her
handkerchief got to....

"Hello," said Mr. Twist, staring at her.

Anna-Felicitas looked at her quickly.

"It's merely bliss," she said, taking the corner of her beautiful new
muslin apron to Christopher's eyes. "Excess of it. We are, you know,"
she said, smiling over her shoulder at Mr. Twist, so that the corner of
her apron, being undirected, began dabbing at Christopher's perfectly
tearless ears, "quite extraordinarily happy, and all through you.
Nevertheless Anna-R." she continued, addressing her with firmness while
she finished her eyes and began her nose, "You may like to be reminded
that there's only ten minutes left now before all those cars that were
here yesterday come again, and you wouldn't wish to embark on your
career as a waitress hampered by an ugly face, would you?"

But half an hour later no cars had come. Pepper Lane was still empty.
The long shadows lay across it in a beautiful quiet, and the crickets in
the grass chirruped undisturbed. Twice sounds were heard as if something
was coming up it, and everybody flew to their posts--Li Koo to the
boiling water, Mrs. Bilton to her raised desk at the end of the room,
and the twins to the door--but the sounds passed on along the road and
died away round the next corner.

At half-past four the _personnel_ of The Open Arms was sitting about
silently in a state of increasing uneasiness, when Mr. Ridding walked
in.

There had been no noise of a car to announce him; he just walked in
mopping his forehead, for he had come in the jitney omnibus to the
nearest point and had done the last mile on his own out-of-condition
feet. Mrs. Ridding thought he was writing letters in the smoking-room.
She herself was in a big chair on the verandah, and with Miss Heap and
most of the other guests was discussing The Open Arms in all its
probable significance. He hadn't been able to get away sooner because of
the nap. He had gone through with the nap from start to finish so as not
to rouse suspicion. He arrived very hot, but with a feeling of
dare-devil running of risks that gave him great satisfaction. He knew
that he would cool down again presently and that then the consequences
of his behaviour would be unpleasant to reflect upon, but meanwhile his
blood was up.

He walked in feeling not a day older than thirty,--most gratifying
sensation. The _personnel_, after a moment's open-mouthed surprise,
rushed to greet him. Never was a man more welcome. Never had Mr. Ridding
been so warmly welcomed anywhere in his life.

"Now isn't this real homey," he said, beaming at Anna-Rose who took his
stick. "Wish I'd known you were going to do it, for then I'd have had
something to look forward to."

"Will you have tea or coffee?" asked Anna-Felicitas, trying to look very
solemn and like a family butler but her voice quivering with eagerness.
"Or perhaps you would prefer frothed chocolate? Each of these beverages
can be provided either hot or iced--"

"There's ice-cream as well," said Anna-Rose, tumultuously in spite of
also trying to look like a family butler. "_I'd_ have ice-cream if I
were you. There's more body in it. Cold, delicious body. And you look so
hot. Hot things should always as soon as possible be united to cold
things, so as to restore the proper balance--"

"And there's some heavenly stuff called cinnamon-toast--hot, you know,
but if you have ice-cream at the same time it won't matter," said
Anna-Felicitas, hanging up his hat for him. "I don't know whether you've
studied the leaflets," she continued, "but in case you haven't I feel I
oughtn't to conceal from you that the price is five dollars whatever you
have."

"So that," said Anna-Rose, "you needn't bother about trying to save, for
you can't."

"Then I'll have tea to start with and see how I get on," said Mr.
Ridding, sitting down in the chair Anna-Felicitas held for him and
beaming up at her.

She flicked an imaginary grain of dust off the cloth with the corner of
her apron to convey to him that she knew her business, and hurried away
to give the order. Indeed, they both hurried away to give the order.

"Say--" called out Mr. Ridding, for he thought one Anna would have been
enough for this and he was pining to talk to them; but the twins weren't
to be stopped from both giving the very first order, and they
disappeared together into the pantry.

Mrs. Bilton sat in the farthest corner at her desk, apparently absorbed
in an enormous ledger. In this ledger she was to keep accounts and to
enter the number of teas, and from this high seat she was to preside
over the activities of the _personnel_. She had retired hastily to it on
the unexpected entrance of Mr. Ridding, and pen in hand was endeavouring
to look as if she were totting up figures. As the pages were blank this
was a little difficult. And it was difficult to sit there quiet. She
wanted to get down and go and chat with the guest; she felt she had
quite a good deal she could say to him; she had a great itch to go and
talk, but Mr. Twist had been particular that to begin with, till the room
was fairly full, he and she should leave the guests entirely to the
Annas.

He himself was going to keep much in the background at all times, but
through the half-open door of his office he could see and hear; and he
couldn't help thinking, as he sat there watching and observed the
effulgence of the beams the old gentleman just arrived turned on the
twins, that the first guest appeared to be extraordinarily and
undesirably affectionate. He thought he had seen him at the
Cosmopolitan, but wasn't sure. He didn't know that the Annas, after
their conversation with him there, felt towards him as old friends, and
he considered their manner was a little unduly familiar. Perhaps, after
all, he thought uneasily, Mrs. Bilton had better do the waiting and the
Annas sit with him in the office. The ledger could be written up at the
end of the day. Or he could hire somebody....

Mr. Twist felt worried, and pulled at his ear. And why was there only
one guest? It was twenty minutes to five; and this time yesterday the
road had been choked with cars. He felt very much worried. With every
minute this absence of guests grew more and more remarkable. Perhaps he
had better, this beings the opening day, go in and welcome the solitary
one there was. Perhaps it would be wise to elaborate the idea of the inn
for his edification, so that he could hand on what he had heard to those
others who so unaccountably hadn't come.

He got up and went into the other room; and just as Anna-Felicitas was
reappearing with the teapot followed by Anna-Rose with a tray of cakes,
Mr. Ridding, who was sitting up expectantly and giving his tie a little
pat of adjustment, perceived bearing down upon him that fellow Teapot
Twist.

This was a blow. He hadn't run risks and walked in the afternoon heat to
sit and talk to Twist. Mr. Ridding was a friendly and amiable old man,
and at any other time would have talked to him with pleasure; but he had
made up his mind for the Twinklers as one makes up one's mind for a
certain dish and is ravaged by strange fury if it isn't produced.
Besides, hang it all, he was going to pay five dollars for his tea, and
for that sum he ought to least to have it under the conditions he
preferred.

"Glad to meet you, Mr. Twist," he nevertheless said as Mr. Twist
introduced himself, his eyes, however, roving over the ministering
Annas,--a roving Mr. Twist noticed with fresh misgivings.

It made him sit down firmly at the table and say, "If you don't mind,
Mr.--"

"Ridding is my name."

"If you don't mind, Mr. Ridding, I'd like to explain our objects to
you."

But he couldn't help wondering what he would do if there were several
tables with roving-eyed guests at them, it being clear that there
wouldn't be enough of him in such a case to go round.

Mr. Ridding, for his part, couldn't help wondering why the devil Teapot
Twist sat down unasked at his table. Five dollars. Come now. For that a
man had a right to a table to himself.

But anyhow the Annas wouldn't have stayed talking for at that moment a
car stopped in the lane and quite a lot of footsteps were heard coming
up the neatly sanded path. Mr. Ridding pricked up his ears, for from the
things he had heard being said all the evening before and all that
morning in Acapulco, besides most of the night from the lips of that
strange old lady with whom by some dreadful mistake he was obliged to
sleep, he hadn't supposed there would be exactly a rush.

Four young men came in. Mr. Ridding didn't know them. No class, he
thought, looking them over; and was seized with a feeling of sulky
vexation suitable to twenty when he saw with what enthusiasm the
Twinklers flew to meet them. They behaved, thought Mr. Ridding crossly,
as if they were the oldest and dearest friends.

"Who are they?" he asked curtly of Mr. Twist, cutting into the long
things he was saying.

"Only the different experts who helped me rebuild the place," said Mr.
Twist a little impatiently; he too had pricked up his ears in
expectation at the sound of all those feet, and was disappointed.

He continued what Mr. Ridding, watching the group of young people,
called sulkily to himself his rigmarole, but continued more
abstractedly. He also was watching the Annas and the experts. The young
men were evidently in the highest spirits, and were walking round the
Annas admiring their get-up and expressing their admiration in laughter
and exclamations. One would have thought they had known each other all
their lives. The twins were wreathed in smiles. They looked as pleased,
Mr. Twist thought, as cats that are being stroked. Almost he could hear
them purring. He glanced helplessly across to where Mrs. Bilton sat, as
he had told her, bent pen in hand over the ledger. She didn't move. It
was true he had told her to sit like that, but hadn't the woman any
imagination? What she ought to do now was to bustle forward and take
that laughing group in charge.

"As I was telling you--" resumed Mr. Twist, returning with an effort to
Mr. Ridding, only to find his eyes fixed on the young people and catch
an unmistakably thwarted look in his face.

In a flash Mr. Twist realized what he had come for,--it was solely to
see and talk to the twins. He must have noticed them at the
Cosmopolitan, and come out just for them. Just for that. "Unprincipled
old scoundrel," said Mr. Twist under his breath, his ears flaming. Aloud
he said, "As I was telling you--" and went on distractedly with his
rigmarole.

Then some more people came in. They had motored, but the noise the
experts were making had drowned the sound of their arrival. Mr. Ridding
and Mr. Twist, both occupied in glowering at the group in the middle of
the room, were made aware of their presence by Anna-Felicitas suddenly
dropping the pencil and tablets she had been provided with for writing
down orders and taking an uncertain and obviously timid step forward.

They both looked round in the direction of her reluctant step, and saw
a man and two women standing on the threshold. Mr. Twist, of course,
didn't know them; he hardly knew anybody, even by sight. But Mr. Ridding
did. That is, he knew them well by sight and had carefully avoided
knowing them any other way, for they were Germans.

Mr. Ridding was one of those who didn't like Germans. He was a man who
liked or disliked what his daily paper told him to, and his daily paper
was anti-German. For reasons natural to one who disliked Germans and yet
at the same time had a thirstily affectionate disposition, he declined
to believe the prevailing theory about the Twinklers. Besides, he didn't
believe it anyhow. At that age people were truthful, and he had heard
them explain they had come from England and had acquired their rolling
r's during a sojourn abroad. Why should he doubt? But he refrained from
declaring his belief in their innocence of the unpopular nationality,
owing to a desire to avoid trouble in that bedroom he couldn't call his
but was obliged so humiliatingly to speak of as ours. Except, however,
for the Twinklers, for all other persons of whom it was said that they
were Germans, naturalized or not, immediate or remote, he had,
instructed by his newspaper, what his called a healthy instinctive
abhorrence.

"And she's got it too," he thought, much gratified at this bond between
them, as he noted Anna-Felicitas's hesitating and reluctant advance to
meet the new guests. "There's proof that people are wrong."

But what Anna-Felicitas had got was stage-fright; for here were the
first strangers, the first real, proper visitors such as any shop or
hotel might have. Mr. Ridding was a friend. So were the experts friends.
This was trade coming in,--real business being done. Anna-Felicitas
hadn't supposed she would be shy when the long-expected and prepared-for
moment arrived, but she was. And it was because the guests seemed so
disconcertingly pleased to see her. Even on the threshold the whole
three stood smiling broadly at her. She hadn't been prepared for that,
and it unnerved her.

"Charming, charming," said the newcomers, advancing towards her and
embracing the room and the tables and the Annas in one immense inclusive
smile of appreciation.

"Know those?" asked Mr. Ridding, again cutting into Mr. Twist's
explanations.

"No," said he.

"Wangelbeckers," said Mr. Ridding briefly.

"Indeed," said Mr. Twist, off whose ignorance the name glanced
harmlessly. "Well, as I was telling yous--"

"But this is delicious--this is a conception of genius," said Mr.
Wangelbecker all-embracingly, after he had picked up Anna-Felicitas's
tablets and restored them to her with a low bow.

"Charming, charming," said Mrs. Wangelbecker, looking round.

"Real cunning," said Miss Wangelbecker, "as they say here." And she
laughed at Anna-Felicitas with an air of mutual understanding.

"Will you have tea or coffee?" asked Anna-Felicitas nervously. "Or
perhaps you would prefer frothed chocolate. Each of these beverages can
be--"

"Delicious, delicious," said Mrs. Wangelbecker, enveloping
Anna-Felicitas in her smile.

"The frothed chocolate is very delicious," said Anna-Felicitas with a
kind of grave nervousness.

"Ah--charming, charming," said Mrs. Wangelbecker, obstinately
appreciative.

"And there's ice-cream as well," said Anna-Felicitas, her eyes on her
tablets so as to avoid seeing the Wangelbecker smile. "And--and a great
many kinds of cakes--"

"Well, hadn't we better sit down first," said Mr. Wangelbecker genially,
"or are all the tables engaged?"

"Oh I _beg_ your pardon," said Anna-Felicitas, blushing and moving
hastily towards a table laid for three.

"Ah--that's better," said Mr. Wangelbecker, following closely on her
heels. "Now we can go into the serious business of ordering what we
shall eat comfortably. But before I sit down allow me to present myself.
My name is Wangelbecker. An honest German name. And this is my wife. She
too had an honest German name before she honoured mine by accepting
it--she was a Niedermayer. And this is my daughter, with whom I trust
you will soon be friends."

And they all put out their hands to be shaken, and Anna-Felicitas shook
them.

"Look at that now," said Mr. Ridding watching.

"As I was telling you--" said Mr. Twist irritably, for really why should
Anna II. shake hands right off with strangers? Her business was to wait,
not to get shaking hands. He must point out to her very plainly.

"Pleased to meet you Miss von Twinkler," said Mrs. Wangelbecker; and at
this Anna-Felicitas was so much startled that she dropped her tablets a
second time.

"As they say here," laughed Miss Wangelbecker, again with that air of
mutual comprehension.

"But they don't," said Anna Felicitas hurriedly, taking her tablets from
the restoring hand of Mr. Wangelbecker and forgetting to thank him.

"What?" said Mrs. Wangelbecker. "When you are both so charming that for
once the phrase must be sincere?"

"Miss von Twinkler means she finds it wiser not to use her title," said
Mr. Wangelbecker. "Well, perhaps--perhaps. Wiser perhaps from the point
of view of convenience. Is that where you will sit, Guestchen? Still, we
Germans when we are together can allow ourselves the refreshment of
being ourselves, and I hope to be frequently the means of giving you the
relief, you and your charming sister, of hearing yourselves addressed
correctly. It is a great family, the von Twinklers. A great family. In
these sad days we Germans must hang together--"

Anna-Felicitas stood, tablets in hand, looking helplessly from one
Wangelbecker to the other. The situation was beyond her.

"But--" she began; then stopped. "Shall I bring you tea or coffee?" she
ended by asking again.

"Well now this is amusing," said Mr. Wangelbecker, sitting down
comfortably and leaning his elbows on the table. "Isn't it, Guestchen. To
see a von Twinkler playing at waiting on us."

"Charming, charming," said his wife.

"It's real sporting," said his daughter, laughing up at Anna-Felicitas,
again with comprehension,--with, almost, a wink. "You must let me come
and help. I'd look nice in that costume, wouldn't I mother."

"There is also frothed choc--"

"I suppose, now, Mr. Twist--he must be completely sympathy--"
interrupted Mr. Wangelbecker confidentially, leaning forward and
lowering his voice a little.

Anna-Felicitas gazed at him blankly. Some more people were coming in at
the door, and behind them she could see on the path yet more, and
Anna-Rose was in the pantry fetching the tea for the experts.

"Would you mind telling me what I am to bring you?" she asked. "Because
I'm afraid--"

Mr. Wangelbecker turned his head in the direction she was looking.

"Ah--" he said getting up, "but this is magnificent Guestchen, here are
Mrs. Kleinbart and her sister--why, and there come the Diederichs--but
splendid, splendid--"

"Say," said Mr. Ridding, turning to Mr. Twist with a congested face,
"ever been to Berlin?"

"No," said Mr. Twist, annoyed by a question of such wanton irrelevance
flung into the middle of his sentence.

"Well, it's just like this."

"Like this?" repeated Mr. Twist.

"Those there," said Mr. Ridding, jerking his head. "That lot there--see
'em any day in Berlin, or Frankfurt, or any other of their confounded
towns."

"I don't follow," said Mr. Twist, very shortly indeed.

"Germans," said Mr. Ridding.

"Germans?"

"All Germans," said Ridding.

"All Germans?"

"Wangelbeckers are Germans," said Mr. Ridding. "Didn't you know?"

"No," said Mr. Twist.

"So are the ones who've just come in."

"Germans?"

"All Germans. So are those behind, just coming in."

"Germans?"

"All Germans."

There was a pause, during which Mr. Twist stared round the room. It was
presenting quite a populous appearance. Then he said slowly, "Well I'm
damned."

And Mr. Ridding for the first time looked pleased with Mr. Twist. He
considered that at last he was talking sense.

"Mr. Twist," he said heartily, "I'm exceedingly glad you're damned. It
was what I was sure at the bottom of my heart you would be. Shake hands,
sir."

CHAPTER XXXII

That evening depression reigned in The Open Arms.

Mr. Twist paced up and down the tea-room deep in thought that was
obviously unpleasant and perplexed; Mrs. Bilton went to bed abruptly,
after a short outpour of words to the effect that she had never seen so
many Germans at once before, that her psyche was disharmonious to
Germans, that they made her go goose-fleshy just as cats in a room made
Mr. Bilton go goose-fleshy in the days when he had flesh to go it with,
that she hadn't been aware the inn was to be a popular resort and
rendezvous for Germans, and that she wished to speak alone with Mr.
Twist in the morning; while the twins, feeling the ominousness of this
last sentence,--as did Mr. Twist, who started when he heard it,--and
overcome by the lassitude that had succeeded the shocks of the
afternoon, a lassitude much increased by their having tried to finish up
the pailsful of left-over ices and the huge piles of cakes slowly
soddening in their own souring cream, went out together on to the
moonlit verandah and stood looking up in silence at the stars. There
they stood in silence, and thought things about the immense distance and
indifference of those bright, cold specks, and how infinitely
insignificant after all they, the Twinklers were, and how they would
both in any case be dead in a hundred years. And this last reflection
afforded them somehow a kind of bleak and draughty comfort.

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