Arthur m. Jensen endorsed by the following professors of English
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- THE CARDS By BARRY PAIN
[ˈdrɛsɪŋˌteɪbl] minutes, she'd be handed over to the police." “Well, you don't have to take the old lady's money, do you?” “Of course not. As if I would think of such a thing! But I might break some of the old lady's best cups and saucers, or forget an order, or something might go wrong with the dinner on some occasion
He paused. “Thinking what?” said Mrs. Harvey eagerly. “Well, you say I never give any confidence. I've been thinking whether it wouldn't pay me to leave.” “What! With that money coming to you? You must be mad. Besides, a more comfortable place you'll never find. And you can't say that you have too much to do.” “No, that was not what I had in my mind. Of course, life here is not at all interesting. It's all routine, and I'm sick of it. But as I told you, I have a cousin in Exeter, and –” Sick = tired An electric bell rang twice, sharply. “Evening prayers,” said Mrs. Harvey, “and just as you were beginning to open out a little.” Open out = “Yes,” said Mr. Jobson, as he took off his light tell about jacket and put on his evening coat, “just one thing oneself after another, isn't it? All routine!” M rs. Jardine, a slight figure, much too a row of chairs at one end of the dining-room. Mr. Jobson, looking very solemn, placed a large bible on the dining-room table, opened at the appointed place. Mrs. Jardine, a slight figure, much too small glasses for the large chair in which she sat, read without the [ˈglɑːsɪz] aid of glasses, in the voice which she only used when reading from the Bible. When prayers were over, Mrs. Jardine skid good-night to the servants, and then remembered something. “Jobson,” she said, “I'd forgotten. The Fonseca '96 for to-morrow night, please.” Fonseca [foʊnˈsɛkə] “Very good, madam,” said Jobson. = kind of 2. wine Mrs. Jardine loved system and method. If any- body had been rude enough to tell her that she was old-fashioned. she would not have become angry. On the contrary she would have taken it as a compliment. She had a very low opinion of the present generation. Her nearest neighbour, Lady Sinden, who was young, pretty, and far from serious, came to her one Sunday afternoon. Sinden [sindən] "I wonder if you could help me,” said Lady Sinden. “Could you possibly let me have three stamps? Nobody in my house has got a stamp.” Mrs. Jardine smiled pleasantly, and sup- plied the visitor with tea and stamps, and her opiion of the clergyman's sermon that morning. Later she wrote in her diary: “Lady S. called. Featherheaded fool.” Mrs. Jardine was never without stamps or anything else that she was likely to require, and she always had the time-table for the month, and the clocks in her house never stopped. But she could Tell = feel, tell that she was not able to remember things as well notice as she had been. It was her age, of course. She could still remember perfectly the events of her young days, but she sometimes forgot the events of yesterday. She had nearly forgotten to tell Jobson which port he was to decant. Mrs. Jardine, like most people who have a knowledge of wine and a good taste, did not drink very much. She drank a little port after dinner every night, and when she was alone, one bottle lasted one week. The wine was decanted in the cellar after breakfast, and a piece of paper was decanter laid over the mouth of the decanter to keep out dust. [dɪˈkæntə] In many ways Mrs. Jardine knew how to live. She was interested in her cellar. It contained far more wine than she would ever drink, and she was still adding to it from time to time. Her family believed in good wine. She had inherited wine from her father and her brother, and she intended that others should inherit from her. She bought wine for her grandchildren to drink, that so she might not be forgotten by them. Mrs. Jardine arose early and read family prayers at eight in the morning. She had a dislike for old ladies who breakfasted in bed. After breakfast came a very careful talk with the cook, for Mrs. Jardine was an epicure. And then there was always something in the garden or the house which required her attention. This morning she decided that it was time she examined the cellar. Alone = only Mrs. Jardine and her butler alone had keys to the cellar, and the door locked automatically when one closed it. Mrs. Jardine opened the door with her own key ,and turned on the light. On a shelf was everything necessary for the tasting and decanting of the wine. On the table stood a decanter of port with a piece of paper over the mouth of it. Mrs. Jardine took the decanter and held it up to the light. Yes, a beautiful colour and perfectly clear. Everything was quite correct. Jobson, as he himself had said, knew his work. Mrs. Jardine now went to examine the cellar itself. There she remained for about twenty minutes. Here, too, she found everything correct. The Chambertin Chambertin would probably have to have new corks. Even if it [ʃɑ̃;mbɛrˈtɛ̃n] did not require them immediately, it was better to be on the safe side. She would speak to Jobson about it. Returning to the table she took off her rings and washed the dust from her fingers in the wash-basin. She then went upstairs again to write an order to her wine-merchant, which her visit to the wine cellar had suggested to her. As she was writing, she got the idea that there was something wrong. She felt uncomfortable, al- cork most as if she had forgotten some duty. And then [kɔ:rk] her eyes glanced at her hands, and she realized what was wrong. She had left her rings downstairs on the table in the cellar. She rose to ring the bell, and then paused. She could, of course, send Jobson to fetch the rings for her, but she did not want to admit to him that she had shown so little care. Not once, but many times had she said very seriously to her servants: “To forget a thing 1s not an excuse. You can remember if you wish to remember.” It would, no doubt, be wiser if she fetched the rings herself, and said nothing about it. She had worn five rings that day. She found four of them on the table by the decanter. The fifth she could not find at all.
Mrs. Jardine's servants took coffee and breadand-cheese at eleven in the morning. Mr. Jobson took his 'coffee' from a bottle which was labelled 'Stout'. Mrs. Harvey, the cook, found him busy with it. “There you are,” she said. “All the morning I've been wanting to get a word with you. You remember what you told me last night - some nonsense about your going to leave?" “That's right,” said Jobson. “I am. I shall be in Exeter to-night.” “Now, do take a word of advice,” said Mrs. Harvey, “and don't be so foolish. Think what you're giving up. Even if it's not very exciting here, it can't be very much longer that you will have to stay. Besides, what excuse can you make to the old lady? You've not even given notice yet.” Give notice = say that you “Shan't have to. I'm going to get the sack, I will no am.” longer work “Not you,” said Mrs. Harvey. “She'd never let for a person you go. What are you going to get the sack for?” “Oh, for not being honest-for being a thief.” “You're trying to have a bit of fun with me, I suppose. What have you stolen?” “Nothing,” said the man of mystery; “but I'm going to get the sack for it all the same, A= however ll the same and I'm going to do it because it suits me. And that's all you need to know about it at present. Ah, there's my bell.” At present = Mrs. Jardine had remembered a fact, which now could only have one meaning. On her first visit to the cellar not only had she forgotten her ring, she had also forgotten to re-place the piece of paper on the mouth of the decanter. Of this she felt perfectly certain. Yet, on her second visit to the cellar she had found the piece of paper replaced. Jobson must have been in the cellar in the meantime. He did not deny. Asked if he had started betting, he said that he sometimes had a bet on a horse. He suggested that the ring might possibly have been caught in some part of Mrs. Jardine's dress, and she said that she would not have sent for him till she had made absolutely sure that this was not the case. She expressed surprise that a man who had been for ten years in her service, and knew that it would pay him to remain in it, should give up all this in such a foolish way. "I do not suppose,” said Mrs. Jardine, "that the ring is worth more than ten or twelve pounds. I fail to understand how you could have been such a fool.” “I did not take the ring, and I have not got it,” said Jobson. “Then perhaps you can offer some explanation as to where it is.” It was evident that Jobson could not. He said very little, only repeating now and then that he had not got the ring. At last Mrs. Jardine said that on account of his previous good service she should not give the matter to the police, but that he must pack up his things and go at once. Mr. Jobson said as he left that he felt absolutely certain that some day the truth would come out, and that she would find that her opinion of him had been wrong. It had been his experience that truth always pre-vailed in the end. In view of what had happened, Mrs. Jardine al- In view of = lowed herself no less than one and a half glasses of because of Fonseca '96 after dinners. She had decided with regret not to have a manservant again. A maid would probably never in her life become as expert and useful as Job- Give way = son was, but men were all the same. Sooner or later give up the they could not restrain themselves and gave way to fight something or other. If it was not betting, it would be something else. They only thought of themselves, not of their duties towards society. But she had doubts. She felt that Jobson's bags should have been searched before he left, but she could not possibly have brought the police in to do it. However, nothing else seemed to be missing, except the ring. Hand = side Then, on the other hand, she was not perfectly satisfied about her theory of Jobson. She supposed that he had had to pay some debt in connection with his betting, and had given way at the sight of the ring. But really it looked to her more as if the man were mad. And what would the poor man do? Would he ever get another place? As she drank the last half-glass of port, she was filled with pathetic thoughts of the man who had decanted it. However, Jobson was not a betting man. One Christmas, Lady Sinden had given him a tip, and had laughingly told him to put the money on a certain horse. Now Jobson's opinion of Lady Sinden was exactly the same as Mrs. Jardine's, but he knew that Sir Charles Sinden was an owner of racehorses, and might know something. He put the money on the horse, won, and never made a bet again. 3. Mr. Herbert Holt received a telegram that afternoon to say that his cousin, Mr. George Jobson, might be expected in the evening. Mr. Holt went upstairs to the sitting-room over the shop to tell Mrs. Holt the news. “And,” said Herbert, “perhaps you'd better get busy. Supper, you know. George is used to good living, and- “You don't need to tell me anything about that. What I want to know is, what does it mean?” “Well, my dear, it probably means that he is coming into the business with us, or, if not, that he is seriously thinking about it.” “You won't make the terms too easy for him, will you? Look how well the business Jump at = has done these last three years. Why, he ought accept at to jump at the chance.” once “Well,” said Herbert, “I know what I'm doing. You can leave it to me. George doesn't do much jumping. I've got the figures worked out all right, and if he can't see his own advantage, I shall find somebody else who can. But I'd rather have George.” George was well received by his cousin, and conversation was limited to general subjects until after supper. Mrs. Holt retired early, having first seen that a decanter was placed upon the table. Herbert Holt lit his pipe, and began cheerfully to lead up to the subject of business. “Well, George,” said Herbert, “I'm very glad you've managed to get away for a day.” “Yes," said Mr. Jobson, “I managed to getaway.” “Mrs. Jardine well, I hope? You left her all right?” “Yes, I left her all right. I may possibly stop here a few days, if you can find room for me." "Well, there's the spare room, and we shall be glad to have you. I suppose this means that you have decided at last to come in with us." “No, Herbert, not at the moment,” said Mr. Jobson. “I may be able to let you know in a week. First, there'll be the telegram.” “What telegram?” asked Herbert. “The one I'm expecting,” said the man of mystery; “and after that there must be time for letters to come and go.” Herbert stopped himself from asking what letters. He knew his cousin well. “But,” Mr. Jobson continued,” the consequent delay will not mean time wasted. I can begin tomorrow to go through the books.” “Well,” said Herbert, “you can do that if you like. I sent you the figures for the last three years, and I should have thought that would have been enough. Besides, do you understand book-keeping?” “If I didn't, I shouldn't want to see the books.” Mrs. Holt was awake when her husband came up to bed. “Well,” she said eagerly, "landed him?" Land = get “No, and shan't do for a week. I don't see catch any reason for the delay, and he doesn't seem to want to explain it. But he's interested there's no doubt about that.” Four evenings afterwards Mrs. Jardine thought, after she had finished her first glass of port, that possibly another half-glass might be alReach out = lowed. She reached out her hand to the decanter, put out and as it passed under the light Mrs. Jardine saw something. She rose from her place and examined it carefully by a better light. Then she pit down the decanter, and sat back in her chair, astonished. For at the bottom of the decanter, in a beautiful bath of Fonseca '96, was a gold ring with a single diamond. She thought carefully. The ring had always been a little too large for her. It might have slipped in when she first examined the decanter, or afterwards when she was removing her rings. She could not say which. She rang the bell and told the maid to send Mrs. Harvey at once. Mrs. Harvey was not accustomed to being called at such a time. The least she expected to hear was that the old lady was not going to leave her any money after all, or, perhaps, that she had no further need of her services. She entered the dining-room looking guilty of all the crimes she had never committed. Look = seem “I have made a mistake,” said Mrs. Jardine quietly. “I find that Jobson was not guilty of taking the ring for which I sent him away. I wish him to be cleared at once. You will inform the other servants of this, please. That is all, thank you.” “Very good, madam,” said Mrs. Harvey. As she passed through the door, she was not quite sure whether she was more surprised at the news or pleased that she had not lost her situation. With the help of a long needle Mrs. Jardine got the ring out of the decanter, dried it care-fully, and placed it on her finger. There was no doubt about it at all. It was certainly too loose. She should have had it altered before. She never had that extra half-glass. She had dismissed a butler for taking a ring which now sat quite safely on her finger. She had told the servants at family prayers that the butler had been dismissed as a thief. He would probably go to law about it. She was so troubled about it that, at evening prayers that night, instead of beginning at verse eight and ending at verse forty-one, she began in a grave voice at verse one and ended at verse eight, which was the cause of much pleasure to the maids. As soon as the telegraph office was open next morning, Mrs. Jardine herself wrote out and sent the following message to Jobson: “Ring found. Very deepest regrets for my mistake. Am writing you to-day” Later in the morning she drove to her solicitor’s office and had a long talk with the senior member of the firm. It was evident that he intended to comfort her as much as possible, but in reality, he filled her with apprehension. He admitted the possibility that Jobson might now give her trouble. “And if he does,” said the solicitor, “then I think you'd better leave him to me. You would probably not wish to have the matter taken to law.” "Most certainly not,” said Mrs. Jardine. “Well, I shall go into it with him, and try to arrange the matter as cheaply as I can.” “I'm not sure, said Mrs. Jardine, “that I want you to arrange it as cheaply as possible. People who do things too quickly, and as a result make mistakes, should be punished for it and make good any harm they may have done. That is my opinion. On her return home Mrs. Jardine wrote a letter to Jobson. It was a letter which her solicitor would never have agreed to sending. In that letter she admitted quite simply that she had been altogether in the wrong. She told where the ring had been found, and gave her own theory of the way in which it had got there. If Jobson cared to return to his situation, it would, of course, be open to him. Or, if he were seeking a situation elsewhere, he should have the highest possible recommendation and all the assistance she could give. In any case, she had decided she would not be happy until she had done something to make good the wrong she had done. Jobson would remember that she had mentioned to him that if he were in her service at the time of her death, he would receive an amount of money. This amount was to have been £ 250. What she proposed was to double this sum and to pay it to him immediately, if he would accept it in full payment of any claim he might have against her. To this letter Mr. Jobson sent the following not quite truthful reply: Madam, I was most surprised and glad to hear that the ring had been found. Truth, as I said t you, has prevailed in the end. I should never have thought that the ring could have been in the decanter. On leaving your house I went to stay with my cousin, Herbert Holt, who had been asking me to Join = take join him in business. I found it necessary to tell him part with that I had been dismissed from your service as a thief. He was kind enough to believe that I was not guilty, but insisted that I should take the matter to law in order to clear my character. He said he could not afford to go into business with a man who had been dismissed in this way. To this I replied that things had looked very black against me; that for ten years I had received nothing but kindness from you; and that nothing on earth would make me take the matter to law. I would prefer to leave for Australia, and start life again on the small sum I have been able to save from my wages. However, I have shown my cousin your telegram and the very kind letter which followed it, and although he still wished me to take the matter to law, I have managed to make him see that this is no longer necessary. Your offer will help me to buy my share in the business, which I think to be a very good one. I do not feel that I could return to service at your house, because I should always think that my presence might perhaps trouble you. Nor, having once been in service with you, should I ever care to take a place elsewhere. I, therefore, accept with thanks your very kind offer in full payment of any claim that I may have against you. I am, Madam, your respectful servant, George Jobson. 4. “So he's agreed at last!” said Mrs. Holt happily. “To be honest, my dear, I didn't have much to do with it. He took a look at my books, and said nothing. He went all over the new buildings, and said nothing about them either. He's been firing questions at me ever since his arrival, and he never put a question that a fool would have put. But if ever I put a question to him, he seemed to be thinking about something else. When the telegram came, I said I hoped it was not bad news. He just put it in his pocket and said, “Not particularly.” “To-day he suddenly said, when we were talking about something else, that he would join me if we could arrange terms. I'd asked him a little more than I expected to get, but he only offered what I thought he would. Then he took off another five pounds, which he said he would have to pay Mrs. Jardine for leaving without notice. We're just back from my solicitor's, and the whole thing will be signed to-morrow." In business Mr. Jobson had no secrets from his cousin and discussed everything connected the business openly and freely. He never said a word about his private life. A year later, during which time the business had been very successful, Mr. Jobson and his cousin spent the afternoon with an excellent bottle of Fonseca '96. They were talking about luck, and the high prices received for goods and services given. “I'll tell you a thing,” said Herbert Holt, “that I wouldn't tell everybody. I once got five pounds for a bottle of whisky. It was nine o'clock on a Sun- Pretty = day night, during the war. The chap rang, and I rather came down to the door myself. I knew him pretty well, or I wouldn't have taken the risk. He'd got a small bag in his hand, and he opened it. There was a five- pound note in it, and nothing more. ‘Mr. Holt,' he says, 'I want to give you a present.' And he handed me the five-pound note. 'And,' he says, ‘if you care to give me a present, the thing I want most on earth, at the present moment, is a bottle of whisky, and I may tell you that I can keep my mouth shut.’ “Give me that bag” I said, and I brought it back to him with the bottle of whisky inside. But that was a risk I'd never take again." “Ah,” said George Jobson, I have done better than that in my time - a lot better." “What was it?” asked Mr. Holt. “If I told you, you wouldn't believe it.” “Give me your word that it's true, and I'll certainly believe it." “Yes, but you would worry me with a lot of questions about it afterwards.” Not a single “I'll not ask you a single question.” = not one “Very well,” said George. “I once got five hundred pounds for dropping a ring in a decanter of port.” “A very smart piece of work,” said Herbert. “If you had not given me your word, I should find it rather difficult to believe.” THE CARDS By BARRY PAIN
“Of course not,” she said. “I should not dream of such a thing!” She spoke a little angrily. “Why do you say 'of course not'?” I replied quietly. “Visiting cards are, I believe, in common use among ladies and gentlemen” She said she did not see what that had to do with it. “It has just this much to do with it,” I answered, “that I do not intend to go without visiting cards another day!” “What's the use?” she asked. “We never call on anybody, and nobody ever calls on us.” Call on = visit “Is Miss Sakers nobody?” “Well, she's never left a card here, and Sakers [ seɪkəz]
THE CARDS I just walked straight out of the house, went down to Amrod's and ordered those cards. When the time comes for me to put my foot down, I can generally put it down as well as most people. No one could be easier to live with than I am, and I am sure Eliza has found it so; but what I say is, if a man is not master in his own house, then where is he? Amrod printed the cards while I waited. I suggested some little decoration - a leaf in the corner, or a curved line under the name - but Amrod was against this. He seemed to think that it was quite unnecessary, and it would have cost extra, and also he had nothing of the kind in stock. So I let that pass. The cards looked very well as they were, a little plain and formal, perhaps, but very clean (except in the case of a few where the ink was not quite dry), and very satisfying to one's natural self-respect. That evening I took a small box, and packed in it very carefully some of the nicest flowers from the garden, and one of our cards. On the card I wrote, “With kindest love F rom,” just above the names, and posted it to Eliza's mother.
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