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148
The Diary of a Nobody
·
George Grossmith Weedon Grossmith
17
APRIL
26.—
Got
some
more
red
enamel
paint
(red,
to
my
mind,
being
the
best
colour),
and
painted
the
coal-scuttle,
and
the
backs
of
our
Shakspeare,
the
binding
of
which
had
almost
worn
out.
APRIL
27.—
Painted
the
bath
red,
and
was
delighted
with
the
result.
Sorry
to
say
Carrie
was
not,
in
fact
we
had
a
few
words
about
it.
She
said
I
ought
to
have
consulted
her,
and
she
had
never
heard
of
such
a
thing
as
a
bath
being
painted
red.
I
replied:
“It’s
merely
a
matter
of
taste.”
Fortunately,
further
argument
on
the
subject
was
stopped
by
a
voice
saying,
“May
I
come
in?”
It
was
only
Cummings,
who
said,
“Your
maid
opened
the
door,
and
asked
me
to
excuse
her
showing
me
in,
as
she
was
wringing
out
some
socks.”
I
was
delighted
to
see
him,
and
suggested
we
should
have
a
game
of
whist
with
a
dummy,
and
by
way
of
merriment
said:
“You
can
be
the
dummy.”
Cummings
(I
thought
rather
ill-naturedly)
replied:
“Funny
as
usual.”
He
said
he
couldn’t
stop,
he
only
called
to
leave
me
the
Bicycle
News,
as
he
had
done
with
it.
Another
ring
at
the
bell;
it
was
Gowing,
who
said
he
“must
apologise
for
coming
so
often,
and
that
one
of
these
days
we
must
come
round
to
him.”
I
said:
“A
very
extraordinary
thing
has
struck
me.”
“Something
funny,
as
usual,”
said
Cummings.
“Yes,”
I
replied;
“I
think
even
you
will
say
so
this
time.
It’s
concerning
you
both;
for
doesn’t
it
seem
odd
that
Gowing’s
always
coming
and
Cummings’
always
going?”
Carrie,
who
had
evidently
quite
forgotten
about
the
bath,
went
into
fits
of
laughter,
and
as
for
myself,
I
fairly
doubled
up
in
my
chair,
till
it
cracked
beneath
me.
I
think
this
was
one
of
the
best
jokes
I
have
ever
made.
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