# The Book of Betty Barber/Chapter 3

CHAPTER III
MAJOR C GOES A-VISITING
The Major reached home much troubled in his mind. For the first time in his life he really looked at the houses which stood so close to his own.
There were twelve houses in one street—seven on one side, five on the other. Twelve narrow houses, for there were no rooms in them, only two long flights of stairs in each house.
The Major had never been inside any house but his own. The children kept him so busy going up and down his own flights of stairs, that when he had any spare time he was glad to go right away from them.
Now he looked up and down the street curiously. He examined his own house carefully; then he compared it with Major G’s, the house next door. They were very much alike. Major G had more steps in front of his doors, and Major G had a door-plate—a door-plate with queer lines on it. Major C marched up the steps to look at the door-plate more closely, There were four lines on it, one pair crossing the other pair.
“Seems as if he wanted to play noughts and crosses all the time,” said Major C, as he went down the steps again. He looked at the house next door but one. Major D had a door-plate with more lines on it. Major C examined one house after the other. Every house had a door-plate, only his was without.
As he walked to his own house he seemed to hear Minora’s voice, “I wish we had a door-plate. Why haven’t we a door-plate?”
​Minora, the Major’s ward, lived with the Major, and Minora was not one of the happiest and most cheerful persons in the world. She was supposed to be very much afraid of her guardian, but she wasn’t a bit; and, though she had a back staircase of her own, she was very often to be found on the Major’s, for she liked some one to talk to and grumble at. She tried sometimes to stir him up and make him discontented too; but that was not easy to do, for before he had seen the Book of Betty Barber, he was a very contented, easy-going old gentleman.
When he opened the front door, however, Minora saw that something was wrong.
He sank down on the first staircase and began.
“Minora,” said the Major, “I want to consult you. Take a seat and listen to me. Do you know the Sharps?”
“Well,” said Minora, dismally, “and a fine bother they are.”
“Do you know the Flats?” asked the Major.
“No, I don’t know anything about flats,” said Minora decidedly, “I prefer a whole house myself, and I’m quite certain a flat would never suit you. No staircase at all, and you with your passion for going up and down. No, if you want to make a change, and very desirable it is, too, that you should make some change:———”
“Minora,” said the Major, “you are labouring under a misapprehension. I did not say a flat, I said the Flats, the family of Flats.”
“Oh, they live over the way,” said Minora. “I believe there is more than one family, and each house has a door-plate. Now, don’t you think we might have a door-plate?”
“Minora,” said the Major, “we’ll see about that door-plate by-and-by. At the present moment I wish to talk to you about the Flats and the Sharps. I am thinking of paying a few visits to my relatives.”
“And about time, too,” said Minora. ‘I shall begin to enjoy myself at last. How often have I tried to persuade you to go about a bit! It would do you good, and it would do me good.”
“I must find out about these Sharps and Flats,” said the Major. ​ “I myself think my house is very charming, very comfortable. The stairs are so clean, so white, so even.”
“And so dull,” said Minora. “I never saw a duller house.”
“There are those who seem to think the house dull,” said the Major. “Minora, come along. We will start at once and visit these Sharps and Flats.”
The Major opened the door, and stepped outside briskly. Minora followed him, looking more cheerful than she had ever done in her life. Once in the street, however, the poor old Major looked quite bewildered. Minora was quite equal to the occasion.
“We’ll go and call on the Flats first,” she said, taking his arm. “Come across the road. We’ll look at the door-plates and go into the house which has most of those quaint-looking sixes on the plate.”
“Sixes on the plate?” murmured the Major. “Oh, I see, that door-plate has no cross-lines on it.”
“Of course not,” said Minora, “lines mean Sharps. Even I know that, and troublesome things Sharps are. Why, sometimes one of my Sharps.” then she hesitated and looked at the Major, “but I daresay you don’t notice, you never come up my staircase, do you?”
The Major was not listening to her. Minora talked so much that the Major rarely listened to her.
“Three sixes,” he said, “then that means three Flats.”
“We will go to the last house of all,” said Minora. “I believe there are five Flats living there.”
“My dear Minora,” said the Major, “how uncomfortably crowded the stairs must be. The Major, his ward, and five Flats! Why, they will scarcely be able to move.”
“Let us come and see how they manage,” said Minora, and she boldly tapped at the door.
A military gentleman opened it. He saluted promptly, and the Major bowed politely; but Minora, the doleful, dismal, grumbling Minora, began to giggle.
​ “My ward, Minora,” said the Major, staring in astonishment at that young lady, and giving her arm a shake. “I am Major C.”
“Major D Flat, at your service,” said the owner of the house.
“Look at his face,” whispered Minora, as Major D Flat stepped aside to allow the strangers to enter. “He’s forgotten to wash it.”
And, indeed, the Major’s face was quite black.
“Come in, come in,” he said cheerfully. “I am pleased to see you. Can I do anything for you?”
Major C looked at the staircase. It was nearly as black as its owner’s face.
“I wanted.” he began.
“Well, you must know,” interrupted Minora, “he has very sensibly come to the conclusion that his own staircase is a bit dull.”
“Minora, be quiet,” said Major C.
“Would you walk up my staircase?” said the black-faced Major pleasantly.
Major C put one foot on the first step, up sprang a little black head. The Major stepped back in astonishment, right on the top of Minora, and down they tumbled together.
“Only one of my Flats,” said Major D Flat, “I’m so sorry; I hope you are not hurt.”
“Not much,” said Major C politely. “Might we perhaps sit on your third step?”
Major D Flat said, “Certainly.” But to reach the third step, which looked so white and inviting, they had to pass the second, and as soon as Major C’s foot touched it, up sprang a second little black head, and once more down slipped the Major. He rolled over and over, and once more arrived on the top of Minora, knocking her right down.
“I’m going home,” said Minora, “I’m sorry I came, you’ve hurt me.”
​ “I really think,” said Major C, rubbing his arms and legs, “we won’t go further.”
“Just as you please,” said Major D Flat haughtily, “You don’t seem accustomed to Flats.”
“Indeed, he doesn’t,” called a small voice.
“I believe he’s broken my toe,” called another.
“Let’s pelt him,” called other voices.
It seemed to the Major as if black heads appeared on every step.
Major D Flat opened the door hastily. “I think, if you don’t mind,” he said, “you had better go.” And he almost pushed Minora and Major C out of the door and down the steps.
“Well, well, well,” said Major C, “if this is visiting, and if those are Flats:———”
“I’m going home,” said Minora. “It is all your fault. You would spoil anything. Anybody would have thought that, whatever you couldn’t do, at least you ought to be able, after all the practice you’ve had, to walk upstairs.”
“Minora,” said Major C, “go home.”
And Minora went rather quickly.
The Major stood still, thinking.
“I begin to think,” he said, “that Betty Barber’s fondness for the Sharps and Flats is a great mistake. But I have not yet visited the Sharps, perhaps that was an unfortunate beginning. I will try again.” And Major C marched across to the other side of the road. The door of the last house stood ajar, and the Major walked up the steps and tapped gently.
There was no answer, so the Major peeped in. The staircase looked every bit as black as the one on the opposite side of the road, and the Major felt very much inclined to turn round and go away; but he heard footsteps on the stairs, so he pulled himself together and coughed twice. At once the door was flung wide open; black heads appeared on the staircase, and a black maiden stood before him.
“You want to see Major F Sharp,” said the black maiden. ​ “Well, he’s out, and if you take my advice you won’t wait until he comes home.”
“You won’t indeed,” shouted the little black Sharps.
“He’s never in a good temper,” said the black maiden.
“Never, never, never,” screamed the Sharps.
“We’re none of us in good tempers in this house,” said the maiden, “and it is the children’s fault. They tumble up and down this staircase.”
“Step on your toes,” shouted one of the Sharps.
“And fingers,” screamed another.
“All day long,” said the black maiden, “the nasty little things.”
“The children are dear little things,” said the Major indignantly. “If you hadn’t so many of these black things about to crowd your staircase they wouldn’t tumble up it. If you will allow me to give you a bit of advice———”
“We won’t,” screamed the Sharps.
“They won’t,” said the maiden. “Sometimes they won’t even allow me to speak.”
“She has to be quiet sometimes,”’ said one of the Sharps.
“And you are Sharps?” said the Major.
“We are indeed,” shouted the Sharps.
“Then you are every bit as bad as Flats,” said the Major. “I wonder your master can stand you. No wonder his temper is bad!”
But his voice was drowned in a chorus of shouts and screams and yells.
“Bite him, pelt him, turn him out!”
In a moment Major C was surrounded. He was pinched, poked, beaten, and pushed down the steps, and the Sharps were following him out into the street, when there was a cry from the black maiden of “He’s coming, I can see him.” In a moment every Sharp ran inside the house, the black maiden vanished, and the door was shut.
Major C rubbed himself, shook himself, and tried to remember where he was and what had happened to him.
* “He was Pinched, Poked, Beaten, and Pushed down the Steps” (p. 28)
​ Then he felt himself touched on the shoulder, and turning round saw the master of the house, Major F Sharp.
“I hope my ward and my little Sharps were polite to you,” he said. “They are rather rough sometimes, and I have to scold them. The fact of the matter is, they have much to try their tempers, all the children are so very stupid. They tumble about on our staircase in the most careless way.”
“Stupid,” gasped Major C, “Stupid?”
“So very stupid,” said Major F Sharp.
“T’m going home,” said Major C, “I can’t talk to you; you make me so angry. Did you really mean to say the children are stupid? Why, the children are dear little things. It is you who are stupid, to have such a crowded staircase.”
“Come home, come home,” whispered a voice. It was Minora, and she took Major C’s arm.
“And you go home,” she said, turning on Major F Sharp, “and scold those Sharps of yours. Try to teach them how to behave. I’ll have them punished.”
“Thank you,” said Major F Sharp, “I’ll trouble you not to interfere with my household.”
“Come away,” said the Major, who was feeling very bruised, very sore, and very depressed.
“It is a shame,” said Minora. “Did they hurt you really?”
“Why were they so angry?” said the Major.
“It was those Flats over the way,” said Minora, “didn’t you see them?”
“See what?” said the Major.
“I was going home,” said Minora, “and I happened to turn round, I saw the Flats at the end house making signs to the Sharps, and one of them slipped across to the side door.”
“I didn’t see him,” said the Major.
“You were busy,” said Minora, “and he was very careful not to let you see him.”
“But why were the Flats angry with me?” asked the Major, “why should they want to pelt me?”
​ “You walked on their toes, and you tumbled over them and scolded them,” said Minora, “and, if you’ll excuse my mentioning it—well—you are heavy.”
“Poor Minora,” said the Major. “He tumbles over her and hurts her, and she thinks his house is dull; but she comes to help him when he is in trouble.”
“Of course,” said Minora. ‘I can’t help grumbling and groaning, that’s the way I’m made; but I’d help you any way I could any time, Major dear.”
“Well, I’ve quite made up my mind about one thing,” said the Major, “I’ll never have a Sharp or a Flat on my staircase. Whatever Betty Barber may say, I’ll have nothing to do with them.”
“They certainly were very rude and disagreeable this morning,” said Minora, “but sometimes they are quite pleasant. I have two.”
“Then keep them out of my way,” said the Major.
“Go and have a rest,” said Minora, for the Major spoke quite angrily, “you’ll feel better presently.”
“I’ll walk up and down my own clean white staircase,” he said, “that will make me feel better.”
And Minora heard him tramping up and down all that day. She did not go near him, but left him alone to get rested and forgethis troubles.
“It was a pity,” she said as she walked up her own staircase. “He began badly by hurting their feelings, and their toes, and their fingers; and they ended by hurting his feelings and his toes. He wouldn’t have minded his toes, but his feelings are serious, and when any one abuses the children his feelings are very much hurt.”
She found her own two Sharps on the way down her own staircase, and told them all about it.
“His staircase must be very dull,” said one of the Sharps, “I find this one dull sometimes, and have to run out and get a change.”
“I stop at home,” said the other. “I’m always comfortable; but I must say I shouldn’t be comfortable on Major C’s staircase.”
​ “You’d better keep out of his way,” said Minora, “He’ll never have a Sharp or a Flat on his staircase now. I don’t know what’s to be done. If Betty Barber thinks his staircase is dull, other children may think so too, and may keep away, and without the children he will never be happy.”
“He’ll do something, if he thinks the children would like it,” said one of the Sharps.
“Of course he will,” said the other, “he’s so fond of the children.”
“I must think about it,” said Minora, “perhaps I shall think of some plan.”
“You’ll think of something,” said the two Sharps in chorus.
“He’s not much quieter yet,” said Minora, “I can still hear him tramping up and down stairs, murmuring ‘Preposterous! Betty Barber! Sharps! Flats!’ What shall I do? I know, I’ll go and ask—of course I will, he’s sure to think of something. I’ll go this very minute.”
“Where are you going, Minora?” asked one of the Sharps.
“Let me come, too,” called the other.
Minora did not answer, and the side door banged.