The Philanthropist and the Happy Cat

by H.H. Munro (SAKI)

　　

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Jocantha Bessbury was in the mood to be serenely andgraciously happy. Her world was a pleasant place, and itwas wearing one of its pleasantest aspects. Gregory hadmanaged to get home for a hurried lunch and a smokeafterwards in the little snuggery; the lunch had been agood one, and there was just time to do justice to thecoffee and cigarettes. Both were excellent in their way,and Gregory was, in his way, an excellent husband.Jocantha rather suspected herself of making him a verycharming wife, and more than suspected herself of havinga first-rate dressmaker."I don't suppose a more thoroughly contentedpersonality is to be found in all Chelsea," observedJocantha in allusion to herself; "except perhaps Attab,"she continued, glancing towards the large tabby-markedcat that lay in considerable ease in a corner of thedivan. "He lies there, purring and dreaming, shiftinghis limbs now and then in an ecstasy of cushionedcomfort. He seems the incarnation of everything soft andsilky and velvety, without a sharp edge in hiscomposition, a dreamer whose philosophy is sleep and letsleep; and then, as evening draws on, he goes out intothe garden with a red glint in his eyes and slays adrowsy sparrow.""As every pair of sparrows hatches out ten or moreyoung ones in the year, while their food supply remainsstationary, it is just as well that the Attabs of thecommunity should have that idea of how to pass an amusingafternoon," said Gregory. Having delivered himself ofthis sage comment he lit another cigarette, bade Jocanthaa playfully affectionate good-bye, and departed into theouter world."Remember, dinner's a wee bit earlier to-night, aswe're going to the Haymarket," she called after him.Left to herself, Jocantha continued the process oflooking at her life with placid, introspective eyes. Ifshe had not everything she wanted in this world, at leastshe was very well pleased with what she had got. She wasvery well pleased, for instance, with the snuggery, whichcontrived somehow to be cosy and dainty and expensive allat once. The porcelain was rare and beautiful, theChinese enamels took on wonderful tints in the firelight,the rugs and hangings led the eye through sumptuousharmonies of colouring. It was a room in which one mighthave suitably entertained an ambassador or an archbishop,but it was also a room in which one could cut outpictures for a scrap-book without feeling that one wasscandalising the deities of the place with one's litter.And as with the snuggery, so with the rest of the house,and as with the house, so with the other departments ofJocantha's life; she really had good reason for being oneof the most contented women in Chelsea.From being in a mood of simmering satisfaction withher lot she passed to the phase of being generouslycommiserating for those thousands around her whose livesand circumstances were dull, cheap, pleasureless, andempty. Work girls, shop assistants and so forth, theclass that have neither the happy-go-lucky freedom of thepoor nor the leisured freedom of the rich, came speciallywithin the range of her sympathy. It was sad to thinkthat there were young people who, after a long day'swork, had to sit alone in chill, dreary bedrooms becausethey could not afford the price of a cup of coffee and asandwich in a restaurant, still less a shilling for atheatre gallery.Jocantha's mind was still dwelling on this themewhen she started forth on an afternoon campaign ofdesultory shopping; it would be rather a comfortingthing, she told herself, if she could do something, onthe spur of the moment, to bring a gleam of pleasure andinterest into the life of even one or two wistful-hearted, empty-pocketed workers; it would add a good dealto her sense of enjoyment at the theatre that night. Shewould get two upper circle tickets for a popular play,make her way into some cheap tea-shop, and present thetickets to the first couple of interesting work girlswith whom she could casually drop into conversation. Shecould explain matters by saying that she was unable touse the tickets herself and did not want them to bewasted, and, on the other hand, did not want the troubleof sending them back. On further reflection she decidedthat it might be better to get only one ticket and giveit to some lonely-looking girl sitting eating her frugalmeal by herself; the girl might scrape acquaintance withher next-seat neighbour at the theatre and lay thefoundations of a lasting friendship.With the Fairy Godmother impulse strong upon her,Jocantha marched into a ticket agency and selected withimmense care an upper circle seat for the "YellowPeacock," a play that was attracting a considerableamount of discussion and criticism. Then she went forthin search of a tea-shop and philanthropic adventure, atabout the same time that Attab sauntered into the gardenwith a mind attuned to sparrow stalking. In a corner ofan A.B.C. shop she found an unoccupied table, whereat shepromptly installed herself, impelled by the fact that atthe next table was sitting a young girl, rather plain offeature, with tired, listless eyes, and a general air ofuncomplaining forlornness. Her dress was of poormaterial, but aimed at being in the fashion, her hair waspretty, and her complexion bad; she was finishing amodest meal of tea and scone, and she was not verydifferent in her way from thousands of other girls whowere finishing, or beginning, or continuing their teas inLondon tea-shops at that exact moment. The odds wereenormously in favour of the supposition that she hadnever seen the "Yellow Peacock"; obviously she suppliedexcellent material for Jocantha's first experiment inhaphazard benefaction.Jocantha ordered some tea and a muffin, and thenturned a friendly scrutiny on her neighbour with a viewto catching her eye. At that precise moment the girl'sface lit up with sudden pleasure, her eyes sparkled, aflush came into her cheeks, and she looked almost pretty.A young man, whom she greeted with an affectionate"Hullo, Bertie," came up to her table and took his seatin a chair facing her. Jocantha looked hard at the new-comer; he was in appearance a few years younger thanherself, very much better looking than Gregory, ratherbetter looking, in fact, than any of the young men of herset. She guessed him to be a well-mannered young clerkin some wholesale warehouse, existing and amusing himselfas best he might on a tiny salary, and commanding aholiday of about two weeks in the year. He was aware, ofcourse, of his good looks, but with the shy self-consciousness of the Anglo-Saxon, not the blatantcomplacency of the Latin or Semite. He was obviously onterms of friendly intimacy with the girl he was talkingto, probably they were drifting towards a formalengagement. Jocantha pictured the boy's home, in arather narrow circle, with a tiresome mother who alwayswanted to know how and where he spent his evenings. Hewould exchange that humdrum thraldom in due course for ahome of his own, dominated by a chronic scarcity ofpounds, shillings, and pence, and a dearth of most of thethings that made life attractive or comfortable.Jocantha felt extremely sorry for him. She wondered ifhe had seen the "Yellow Peacock"; the odds wereenormously in favour of the supposition that he had not.The girl had finished her tea and would shortly be goingback to her work; when the boy was alone it would bequite easy for Jocantha to say: "My husband has madeother arrangements for me this evening; would you care tomake use of this ticket, which would otherwise bewasted?" Then she could come there again one afternoonfor tea, and, if she saw him, ask him how he liked theplay. If he was a nice boy and improved on acquaintancehe could be given more theatre tickets, and perhaps askedto come one Sunday to tea at Chelsea. Jocantha made upher mind that he would improve on acquaintance, and thatGregory would like him, and that the Fairy Godmotherbusiness would prove far more entertaining than she hadoriginally anticipated. The boy was distinctlypresentable; he knew how to brush his hair, which waspossibly an imitative faculty; he knew what colour of tiesuited him, which might be intuition; he was exactly thetype that Jocantha admired, which of course was accident.Altogether she was rather pleased when the girl looked atthe clock and bade a friendly but hurried farewell to hercompanion. Bertie nodded "good-bye," gulped down amouthful of tea, and then produced from his overcoatpocket a paper-covered book, bearing the title "Sepoy andSahib, a tale of the great Mutiny."The laws of tea-shop etiquette forbid that youshould offer theatre tickets to a stranger without havingfirst caught the stranger's eye. It is even better ifyou can ask to have a sugar basin passed to you, havingpreviously concealed the fact that you have a large andwell-filled sugar basin on your own table; this is notdifficult to manage, as the printed menu is generallynearly as large as the table, and can be made to stand onend. Jocantha set to work hopefully; she had a long andrather high-pitched discussion with the waitressconcerning alleged defects in an altogether blamelessmuffin, she made loud and plaintive inquiries about thetube service to some impossibly remote suburb, she talkedwith brilliant insincerity to the tea-shop kitten, and asa last resort she upset a milk-jug and swore at itdaintily. Altogether she attracted a good deal ofattention, but never for a moment did she attract theattention of the boy with the beautifully-brushed hair,who was some thousands of miles away in the baking plainsof Hindostan, amid deserted bungalows, seething bazaars,and riotous barrack squares, listening to the throbbingof tom-toms and the distant rattle of musketry.Jocantha went back to her house in Chelsea, whichstruck her for the first time as looking dull and over-furnished. She had a resentful conviction that Gregorywould be uninteresting at dinner, and that the play wouldbe stupid after dinner. On the whole her frame of mindshowed a marked divergence from the purring complacencyof Attab, who was again curled up in his corner of thedivan with a great peace radiating from every curve ofhis body.But then he had killed his sparrow.

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The Philanthropist and the Happy Cat was featured as TheShort Story of the Day on Mon, Feb 18, 2013

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