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Updated: September 29, 2025
His niece looked just the same. So did Topper when he came. So did the plump sister when she came. So did every one when they came. Wonderful party, wonderful games, wonderful unanimity, won-der-ful happiness! But he was early at the office next morning. Oh, he was early there. If he could only be there first, and catch Bob Cratchit coming late! That was the thing he had set his heart upon.
Vivie noted with a little dismay that while she was wearing a Homburg hat all the men near her wore the black and glistening topper which has become or had, for the tyranny of custom has lifted a little since the War the conventional head-gear in which to approach both God and the King.
He began the second round with an impetuosity that kept me wholly on the defensive, and pressed me so hard that I gave back and failed to counter a blow that sent me spinning on to the hay behind. This afforded the others much satisfaction, and at the call of time, they encouraged Topper with a cry to give me a settler and have done with it. But this was his undoing.
The money-lender took his shiny topper, gave it a meditative polish with his sleeve, and actually went as bidden to the threshold of the porch; but I saw the suppression of a grin beneath the pendulous nose, a cunning twinkle in the inscrutable eyes, and it did not astonish me when the fellow turned to deliver a Parthian shot. I was only surprised at the harmless character of the shot.
Topper was there, however, and the plump sister in the lace tucker, and the game of Yes-and-No, the solution to which was, "It's your uncle Scro-o-o-o-oge!"
Through the marshy obscurities of his humiliation his conscience was building a path. With his two hands he crushed his topper back onto his head. The act had the vehemence of decision. In the doing of it he dropped the roses to the floor. There they lay forgotten so forgotten that he placed his foot on them without noticing. "Home! Best be going home," he muttered.
More than one came to thrust a soft muzzle over the door of the stall and with pointed ears and intelligent gaze seemed to ask if the pretty, brown-eyed girl had something nice in her pocket. "Hi, Miss!" croaked a hoarse voice behind her. "If you want to see a bang-hup 'orse a real topper come down 'ere."
"He's very clever, isn't he?" said Evie, who had met and detested Tibby at Oxford. "Yes, pretty well but I wonder what Helen's doing." "She is very young to undertake this sort of thing," said Mr. Wilcox. Margaret went out into the landing. She heard no sound, and Mr. Bast's topper was missing from the hall. "Helen!" she called. "Yes!" replied a voice from the library. "You in there?"
It had not needed this behaviour on her part to convince him that Lucille was a topper and a corker and one of the very best, for he had been cognisant of these facts since the first moment he had met her: but what he did feel was that she deserved to be rewarded in no uncertain manner. And it seemed a happy coincidence to him that her birthday should be coming along in the next week or so.
He supposed it was temperament quite a different thing! He laughed and had a look at a large and splendid photograph of Miss Mangan, that had been a sort of corollary of the Dublin trousseau. Tishy was all right. Tishy was a topper! He said it aloud, and, with that, another tune, the old nigger-tune, "Nelly was a Lady," fitted itself absurdly to the words. "Tishy was a topper!" he sang.
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