himself up, when he was angry or displeased, and sharp, snip-snap
came his words, rather like scissors.
"But how is it--" he attacked Arthur Witham--"that the gas isn't
connected with the main yet? It was to be ready yesterday."
"We've had to wait for the fixings for them brackets," said Arthur.
"_Had_ to _wait_ for _fixings_! But didn't you know a fortnight ago
that you'd want the fixings?"
"I thought we should have some as would do."
"Oh! you thought so! Really! Kind of you to think so. And have you
just thought about those that are coming, or have you made sure?"
Arthur looked at him sullenly. He hated him. But Mr. May's sharp
touch was not to be foiled.
"I hope you'll go further than _thinking_," said Mr. May. "Thinking
seems such a slow process. And when do you expect the fittings--?"
"Tomorrow."
"What! Another day! Another day _still!_ But you're strangely
indifferent to time, in your line of business. Oh! _Tomorrow!_
Imagine it! Two days late already, and then _tomorrow!_ Well I hope
by tomorrow you mean _Wednesday_, and not tomorrow's tomorrow, or
some other absurd and fanciful date that you've just _thought
about_. But now, _do_ have the thing finished by tomorrow--" here he
laid his hand cajoling on Arthur's arm. "You promise me it will all
be ready by tomorrow, don't you?"
"Yes, I'll do it if anybody could do it."
"Don't say 'if anybody could do it.' Say it shall be done."
"It shall if I can possibly manage it--"
"Oh--very well then. Mind you manage it--and thank you _very_ much.
I shall be _most_ obliged, if it _is_ done."
Arthur was annoyed, but he was kept to the scratch. And so, early in
October the place was ready, and Woodhouse was plastered with
placards announcing "Houghton's Pleasure Palace." Poor Mr. May could
not but see an irony in the Palace part of the phrase. "We can
guarantee the _pleasure_," he said. "But personally, I feel I can't
take the responsibility for the palace."
But James, to use the vulgar expression, was in his eye-holes.
"Oh, father's in his eye-holes," said Alvina to Mr. May.
"Oh!" said Mr. May, puzzled and concerned.
But it merely meant that James was having the time of his life. He
was drawing out announcements. First was a batch of vermilion
strips, with the mystic script, in big black letters: Houghton's
Picture Palace, underneath which, quite small: Opens at Lumley on
October 7th, at 6:30 P.M. Everywhere you went, these vermilion and
black bars sprang from the wall at you. Then there were other
notices, in delicate pale-blue and pale red, like a genuine theatre
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