Ben Sees It Through. J. Farjeon Jefferson

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       2

       Two in a Taxi

      If you had found yourself in Ben’s position, you would very soon have ended it. You would not have submitted to the will of a strange young man who, however fair his promises, lugged you rapidly round corners, thrust you into a taxi-cab, invested the simple operation of buying a cap with queer significance, and burst, for no apparent reason, into sudden perspiration. You would have required some explanation of these things, or you would have contrived some means of leaving him.

      But, after all, you could not have found yourself in Ben’s position. As Ben himself would have told you, ‘The kind o’ persishuns I gits in ain’t mide fer nobody helse!’ And in this argument lies the reason of Ben’s inactivity.

      Things always happened to him. They always had, and they always would. If you tried to stop one thing, you’d only walk into another, so why waste energy? And, so far, Ben’s present position was mild compared with others that lay behind him, and others that lay ahead of him.

      Wherefore he did not comment upon his companion’s perspiration. He did not comment upon the speed with which they drove away from the hat-shop (the driver had clearly received an instruction to hurry), or upon the number of other hat-shops that were passed without pausing. And when, at last, the taxi made its second halt, he did not protest on receiving, once more, the injunction to stay where he was while fresh headgear was being obtained.

      ‘I ain’t payin’ fer the cap,’ he reflected, philosophically, ‘so if I looks like a pea-nut hunder it, it ain’t fer me ter compline!’

      But he did wonder, when he saw the young man emerge from the shop with a small parcel, why the young man did not return immediately to the taxi-cab.

      ‘’E was in a ’urry afore,’ thought Ben, as the young man walked leisurely round a corner, ‘but time don’t seem nothink ter ’im now!’

      A minute went by. Two. Three. An unpleasant theory began to develop in Ben’s brain. Was this the catch? Had the young man gone off, leaving Ben to pay the fare?

      Apparently this theory was being developed also on the driver’s seat. The taximan descended, and poked his head through the window.

      ‘Where’s he gone?’ inquired the taximan.

      ‘I dunno,’ replied Ben.

      ‘But you’re with him,’ objected the taximan.

      ‘Then ’e carn’t be gorn,’ Ben pointed out.

      This was beyond the taximan, who returned with a grunt to his seat. But after another three minutes had gone by, he descended again, and once more poked his head through the window.

      ‘I suppose he is coming back?’ he frowned.

      ‘I s’pose ’e is,’ replied Ben.

      ‘Suppose he don’t?’ said the taximan.

      ‘Then ’e won’t,’ answered Ben.

      The taximan’s frown grew, and focused itself directly on Ben.

      ‘I’m going to get my fare,’ he declared, with a hint of a threat.

      ‘That’s orl right,’ nodded Ben. ‘I’ll sendjer a cheque.’

      During the next three minutes the young man returned, and a crisis was averted. He gave an instruction to the driver, entered the taxi, and the journey was resumed.

      ‘We thort we’d lorst yer,’ said Ben.

      ‘I had to go to another shop,’ explained the young man, with no trace of apology, ‘and while I was there I met a friend.’

      ‘I see. And ’ad one,’ replied Ben. ‘And where are we goin’ now?’

      ‘To the station.’

      Ben opened his eyes wide.

      ‘Wot for?’ he demanded.

      ‘For the job,’ answered the young man. ‘There’s a train at 6.22, and you can just catch it.’

      ‘Me?’

      ‘You!’

      ‘Yus, but—’ Ben paused. There was a rather disturbing sense in all this of being shoved about. ‘Ain’t you goin’, too?’

      ‘Never mind about me. Now, listen. The train goes at 6.22, and gets into London in a couple of hours. Waterloo. Do you know Waterloo? Your peculiarly pleasant accent suggests a knowledge of London. I hope you know your way about?’

      ‘Wot! Lunnon?’

      ‘Even so. Lunnon.’

      ‘Without me,’ said Ben, ‘Lunnon ain’t Lunnon.’

      ‘Really! One of the sights?’

      ‘Didn’t yer know? When them Americans come hover, if I ain’t there they turns rahnd and goes back agine.’

      ‘Upon my soul, I’m honoured to have met you!’ laughed the young man, and Ben found himself counting his teeth. ‘I hope, in the circumstances, you won’t feel above travelling third-class?’

      ‘Well—jest СКАЧАТЬ