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Deepak Vohra
BIRMINGHAM - MUMBAI
Java EE Development with Eclipse
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ISBN 978-1-78216-096-0
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About the Author
He has been working for more than 25 years in the computer programming
field. He started his career as a freelance consultant and writer for some Italian
computer magazines, while at the same time offering freelance consultancies in
the first years that banking and insurance companies were starting to move away
from mainframes in order to implement their business.
In the last four years, he's been involved in redesigning from scratch the entire
information system of a banking institution in an SOA fashion, in studying ways
to apply Semantic Web technologies to address Enterprise Architecture and
Knowledge Management problems for some Italian large banking and insurance
companies, and an European project (Cloud4SOA – www.cloud4soa.eu) that
attempts, through the use of semantics, to address the portability of applications
and data between different PaaS providers.
Phil Wilkins has spent nearly 25 years in the software industry working with both
multinationals and software startups. He started out as a developer and has worked
his way up through technical and development management roles. The last 12 years
have been primarily in Java based environments. He now works as an architect with
an enterprise wide technical remit within the IT group for a global optical healthcare
manufacturer and retailer.
When not immersed in work and technology, he spends his down time pursing his
passion for music and time with his wife and two boys.
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[ ii ]
Table of Contents
[ iii ]
Table of Contents
[ iv ]
Preface
Java Platform, Enterprise Edition (Java EE) 6 is the industry standard for enterprise
Java computing. Eclipse IDE for Java EE developers is the most commonly used Java
IDE for Java EE development. Eclipse IDE for Java EE developers supports Java EE 5
completely and also supports several features from Java EE 6.
The Oracle WebLogic Server product line is the industry's most comprehensive
platform for developing, deploying, and integrating enterprise applications. Oracle
Enterprise Pack for Eclipse provides a set of plugins (project facets) for Eclipse
development with WebLogic Server.
While a number of books are available on Eclipse IDE for Java Developers, none or
very few are available on Eclipse IDE for Java EE Developers. In this book, we shall
discuss Java EE development in Eclipse IDE for Java EE developers. While it is not
feasible to cover all of the more than 30 technologies in the Java EE stack (http://
www.oracle.com/technetwork/java/javaee/tech/index.html), we shall discuss
the most commonly used Java EE technologies, especially the ones Eclipse IDE
for Java EE developers (or Oracle Enterprise Pack for Eclipse) provides Project for
Facets. Oracle Enterprise Pack for Eclipse is just an enhancement of Eclipse IDE for
Java EE developers with integrated support for Oracle WebLogic Server.
Preface
The objective of the book is to discuss how a developer would develop Java EE
applications using commonly used Java EE technologies and frameworks in
Eclipse IDE for Java EE developers. The book covers all aspects of application
development including:
Chapter 2, O/X Mapping with JAXB 2.x discusses the Object/XML (O/X) bi-directional
mapping provided by the JAXB framework. We discuss the advantages of JAXB 2.x
over JAXB 1.0. We create a JAXB web project using the JAXB project facet. We use
the EclipseLink 2.4 persistence provider. We create an XML Schema and generate
JAXB classes from the XML Schema using JAXB schema compilation. Subsequently,
we marshall an XML document from a Java Document Object Model (DOM)
document object, and also unmarshall an XML document using the compiled Java
classes. We map an annotated Java class to an XML document using the annotations
API. We also demonstrate the support for mapping Java classes to an XML Schema.
Chapter 3, Developing a Web Project for JasperReports demonstrates the use of the
Oracle Enterprise Pack for Eclipse's integrated support for Oracle WebLogic Server
to deploy and run any web application that requires an application server. First, we
configure an Oracle database data source in WebLogic Server. We create and deploy
a web application for JasperReports to the WebLogic Server, and subsequently run
the web application to create PDF and Excel reports.
[2]
Preface
Chapter 4, Creating a JSF Data Table discusses how to use the JavaServer Faces project
facet to create a JSF data table. First, we create a web project. Subsequently, we create
a managed bean, create a JSF page, add a JSF data table to the JSF page, and run the
JSF web application on the integrated WebLogic Server to create a JSF data table.
Chapter 6, Creating Apache Trinidad User Interfaces discusses the Trinidad project
facet. Trinidad was formerly Oracle ADF Faces and provides a set of user interface
components. First, we create a web project and add the Trinidad project facet to it.
Subsequently, we create JSPs to create and find a catalog entry in Oracle database.
We add Trinidad components to the JSP pages. We run the Trinidad application in
the integrated WebLogic Server.
Chapter 8, Creating a JAX-WS Web Service discusses how to use the Java API for XML
web services (JAX-WS) to create a web service. First, we create a web service project,
which has the Oracle WebLogic web service project facet associated with it. We
test the web service on the server and generate a WSDL, which we test in the web
explorer. We create a client class for the web service and package, then deploy and
test the web service on the WebLogic Server.
[3]
Preface
Chapter 9, RESTful Web Services Using the JAX-RS API discusses RESTful web services
using Java API for RESTful web services (JAX-RS), which are specified in the JSR
311 specification. We use the JAX-RS project facet for the RESTful web service. We
create a Resource class, which is exposed as a URI path using the @PATH annotation.
Subsequently, we create a Jersey Client API to test the web service.
Chapter 10, Spring discusses how to create a Spring framework application using
the Spring project facet. We discuss method interception with a method interceptor
and a Spring client. We also discuss Aspect Oriented Programming (AOP) in
combination with JSF. We discuss creating a Spring bean, a bean
definition file, and an AOP JavaBean.
[4]
Preface
Conventions
In this book, you will find a number of styles of text that distinguish between
different kinds of information. Here are some examples of these styles, and an
explanation of their meaning.
Code words in text are shown as follows: "The catalog.xsd Schema gets parsed
and compiled."
When we wish to draw your attention to a particular part of a code block, the
relevant lines or items are set in bold:
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<xsd:schema xmlns:xsd="http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema"
targetNamespace="http://www.example.org/catalog"
xmlns:catalog="http://www.example.org/catalog"
elementFormDefault="qualified">
<xsd:element name="catalog" type="catalog:catalogType" />
New terms and important words are shown in bold. Words that you see on the
screen, in menus or dialog boxes for example, appear in the text like this: "clicking
the Next button moves you to the next screen".
[5]
Preface
Reader feedback
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[6]
Preface
Piracy
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Copyright Credits
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Network and http://home.java.net/. They are republished with the permission
of Oracle Corporation.
[7]
EJB 3.0 Database
Persistence
EJB's entity beans are the most common technology for database persistence.
Developing entity EJBs requires a Java IDE, an application server, and a relational
database. Eclipse 3.7 provides wizards for developing entity beans and session
facades. In this chapter, we shall develop EJB 3.0 entity beans including session
facades. We shall deploy the EJB application to WebLogic Server 12c (12.1.1) and
test database persistence with the Oracle database 11g XE.
In this chapter, we shall learn the following:
[ 10 ]
Chapter 1
In Create a New JDBC Data Source, specify a data source name and JNDI Name
(for example, jdbc/OracleDS) for the data source. The database shall be accessed
using JNDI Name lookup in the Creating a session bean facade section. Select
Database Type as Oracle and click on Next as shown in the following screenshot:
[ 11 ]
EJB 3.0 Database Persistence
In JDBC Data Source Properties, select Database Driver as Oracle's Driver (Thin
XA). Another JDBC driver may also be selected based on requirements. Refer to
the Selection of the JDBC Driver document available at http://docs.oracle.com/
cd/E14072_01/java.112/e10590/keyprog.htm#i1005587 for selecting a suitable
JDBC driver. Click on Next as shown in the following screenshot:
By default, an XA JDBC driver supports global transactions and uses the Two-Phase
Commit global transaction protocol. Global transactions are recommended for EJBs
using container managed transactions for relation between the JDBC driver (XA or
non-XA) transactionality and EJB container managed transactions. Click on Next as
shown in the following screenshot. (for more information on global transactions, refer
http://docs.oracle.com/cd/E23943_01/web.1111/e13737/transactions.htm):
[ 12 ]
Chapter 1
Specify Database Name as XE, Host Name as localhost, Port as 1521, Database User
Name and Password as OE, and click on Next as shown in the following screenshot:
[ 13 ]
EJB 3.0 Database Persistence
The Driver Class Name textbox and connection URL textbox get configured. Click
on the Test Configuration button to test the database connection. If a connection gets
established the message Connection test succeeded. gets displayed. Click on Next as
shown in the following screenshot:
In Select targets, select the AdminServer option and click on Finish. A data source
gets added to the data sources table. The data source configuration may be modified
by clicking on the data source link as shown in the following screenshot:
[ 14 ]
Chapter 1
As Oracle database does not support the autoincrement of primary keys, we need
to create sequences for autoincrementing, one for each table. Create sequences
CATALOG_SEQ, EDITION_SEQ, SECTION_SEQ, and ARTICLE_SEQ with the following
SQL script.
[ 15 ]
EJB 3.0 Database Persistence
We also need to create join tables between tables. Create join tables using the
following SQL script:
CREATE TABLE CATALOGEDITIONS(catalogId INTEGER, editionId INTEGER);
CREATE TABLE EditionCatalog(editionId INTEGER, catalogId INTEGER);
CREATE TABLE EditionSections (editionId INTEGER, sectionId INTEGER);
CREATE TABLE SectionEdition (sectionId INTEGER, editionId INTEGER);
CREATE TABLE SectionArticles(sectionId INTEGER, articleId INTEGER);
CREATE TABLE ArticleSection(articleId INTEGER, sectionId INTEGER);
[ 16 ]
Chapter 1
Specify a Project name and click on New Runtime to configure a target runtime
for Oracle WebLogic Server 12c if not already configured, as shown in the
following screenshot:
In New Server Runtime Environment, select the Oracle WebLogic Server 12c
(12.1.1) server, tick Create a new local server checkbox, and then click on
Next as shown in the following screenshot:
[ 17 ]
Random documents with unrelated
content Scribd suggests to you:
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mrs. Harter
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United
States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away
or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License
included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you
are not located in the United States, you will have to check the
laws of the country where you are located before using this
eBook.
Author: E. M. Delafield
Language: English
Publishers
Harper & Brothers
New York and London
Mrs. Harter
Copyright, 1925
By E. M. Delafield
Printed in the U. S. A.
First Edition
c-z
To Phyllida
Mrs. Harter
Mrs. Harter
Chapter One
Most of us, at Cross Loman, have begun to forget about Mrs. Harter
and Captain Patch, and those of us who still remember—and after
all, it was only last summer—hardly ever speak their names.
I know that Mary Ambrey remembers, just as I do. Sometimes we
talk about it to each other, and exchange impressions and
conjectures. Conjectures more than anything, because neither of us
has the inside knowledge that alone could help one to a real
understanding of what happened. Mary goes by intuition a good
deal, and after all she did see something of Mrs. Harter. Personally, I
know less than anybody. Bill Patch was my junior by many years
and, though I saw him very often, we were never anything more
than acquaintances. And Diamond Harter, oddly enough, I scarcely
spoke to at all. And yet I have so vivid an impression of her strange
personality that I feel as though I understood her better than
anyone now living can ever do.
It is partly to rid myself of the obsession that she is to me that I
have set myself to reconstruct the affair of last summer. It is said
that antiquarians can reconstruct an entire monster from a single
bone. Perhaps, as an amateur psychologist, I can reconstruct a
singularly enigmatic personality from—well, more than a single fact,
perhaps, but not much more. Impressions, especially other people’s
impressions, are not facts. Besides, the most curious thing of all, to
my mind, is that they all saw her quite differently. The aspect that
she wore to Mary Ambrey, for instance, was not that in which Claire,
my wife, saw her.
And yet Claire—about whom I intend to write with perfect frankness
—is not devoid of insight, although she exaggerates everything.
Claire lives upon the edge of a volcano.
This is her own metaphor, and certainly represents quite accurately
the state of emotional jeopardy in which her days are passed—
indeed, it would be truer still to say that she lives upon the edge of a
hundred volcanoes, so that there can never be a complete absence
of eruptions.
She has really undergone a certain amount of suffering in her life,
and is, I think, all but entirely unaware that most of it was avoidable.
Her powers of imagination, although in the old days they helped to
constitute her charm, are, and always were, in excess of her self-
control, her reason, and her education. There are few combinations
less calculated to promote contentment in the possessors of them.
She is really incapable now of concentrating upon any but a personal
issue. Yet she expresses her opinion, with passionate emphasis,
upon a number of points.
“An atheist,” says Claire, frequently, “is a fool. Now an agnostic is not
a fool. An agnostic says, humbly, ‘I don’t know.’ But an atheist, who
denies the existence of a God, is a fool.”
It is perhaps needless to add that Claire considers herself an
agnostic.
She generally speaks in capital letters.
When she dislikes the course of action, as reported in the Times,
taken by any politician—and she has a virulent and mutually
inconsistent set of dislikes—Claire is apt to remark vivaciously:
“All I can say is that So-and-so ought to be taken out and hung. Then
he wouldn’t talk so much nonsense.”
Claire is, of course, an anti-prohibitionist because “just look at
America—it’s a perfect farce”—and an anti-feminist because “women
can exercise all the influence they want to at home. I should like to
see the woman who can’t make her husband vote as she wants him
to vote!”
Socialism, in which Claire includes the whole of the Labor Party, the
Bolsheviks in Russia, and a large number of entirely non-political
organizations, she condemns upon the grounds that “it is nonsense
to pretend that things could ever be equal. Place everyone upon the
same footing in every respect, and in a week some people would
have everything and others nothing.”
Upon the question of birth control, so freely discussed by our
younger relatives, her views might be epitomized (though not by
herself, since Claire never epitomizes anything, least of all views of
her own).
The whole subject is disgusting. All those who write or speak of it
are actuated by motives of indecency, and all those who read their
writings or listen to their speeches do so from unhealthy curiosity.
God Himself has definitely pronounced against any and every form
of birth control.
Of this last, Claire seems to be especially positive, but I have never
been able to find out from her exactly where this revelation of the
Almighty’s attitude of mind is to be found.
It need scarcely be added that, to Claire, all pacifists are unpatriotic
and cowardly, all vegetarians cranks, and all spiritualists either
humbugs or hysterical women.
Sometimes, but not often, she and I discuss these things. But when
I object to sweeping generalities, Claire, unfortunately, feels that I
am being something which she labels as “always against” her, and
she then not infrequently bursts into tears.
Few of our discussions ever survive this stage.
It is very curious now to think that fifteen years ago I was madly in
love with Claire Ambrey. She refused to marry me until I was
smashed up in a flying experiment in America.
Then she wrote and said that she loved me and had always loved
me and would marry me at once. I suppose I believed this because
at the moment I so wanted to believe it, and because also, at the
moment she so intensely believed it herself.
The generosity and the self-deception were both so like Claire. Her
emotional impulses are so violent and her capacity for sustained
effort so small.
It would be ungracious, to say the least of it, to dwell upon the
failure that we both know our married life to be. It is sufficient to
say that, in tying herself to a semi-cripple, with a too highly
developed critical faculty and a preference for facing facts stark and
undecorated, Claire, in a word—and a vulgar word at that—bit off
more than she could chew.
We have lived at Cross Loman Manor House ever since my father’s
death. The Ambreys, Claire’s cousins, are our nearest neighbors, but
they have been at the Mill House only for the last seven years, and
Cross Loman looks upon them as newcomers. The Kendals have
been eighteen years at Dheera Dhoon, which is the name unerringly
bestowed by General Kendal on their big stucco villa at the outskirts
of the town. Nancy Fazackerly was born at Loman Cottage, lived
there until she married, and came back there, a few years afterward,
widowed—and so on. It is just the same with the tradespeople and
the farmers. Applebee was always the baker, and when he died,
Emma Applebee, his daughter, remained on in the business. A boy,
whom Emma Applebee has always strenuously impressed upon us all
as “my little nephew,” will succeed Emma.
Halfway up Cross Loman Hill is the church, with the rectory just
below it. Bending has been there for thirty years. Lady Annabel
Bending, who was the widow of a colonial governor when the Rector
married her, has been among us only for the last two years.
We all meet one another pretty frequently, but I seldom care to take
my wheel chair and my unsightly crutch outside the park gates, and
so my intercourse is mostly with the people who come to the house.
Mary Ambrey and her children come oftenest. Claire’s feelings, on
the whole, are less often hurt by Mary than by most other people.
Claire neither likes, admires, nor approves of Sallie and Martyn
Ambrey, but she is at the same time genuinely and pathetically fond
of them—a contradiction as painful to herself as it is probably
irksome to Martyn and Sallie.
Martyn has always been her favorite because he is a boy.
Throughout his babyhood she invariably spoke of him as “little-
Martyn-God-bless-his-dear-chubby-little-face,” and she unconsciously
resents it, now that little Martyn has grown up and has ceased to be
chubby—which he did long before she ceased to call him so. As for
the formula of benediction, I think Claire feels that God, in all
probability, experiences exactly the same difficulty as herself in
viewing Sallie and Martyn as real people at all.
On the whole, Martyn and Sallie do not behave well toward Claire.
They are cold and contemptuous, both of them conscious of being
logical, impersonal, and supremely rational, where their cousin is
none of these things, but rather the exact contrary to them.
Martyn is twenty-one and at Oxford.
Sallie is a year younger, a medical student at London University.
Neither of them has ever been heard to utter the words “I’m sorry”
after hurting anyone’s feelings. Claire noted this long ago—but she
has never realized that it is simply because they are not sorry that
they omit the use of the time-honored formula.
They are both of them clever and both of them good-looking. But I
often find it strange that they should be Mary Ambrey’s children.
She, too, is clever and good-looking, but in thinking of her one
substitutes other adjectives. Mary is gifted, sensitive, intelligent,
gracious, and beautiful, and pre-eminently well bred.
The description reminds me of the game we called “Sallie’s game”
that she invented last summer. It was that afternoon, incidentally, on
which I first heard Mrs. Harter’s name.
The Ambreys had come up to the Manor House on the first day of
the long vacation. There was the slight constraint that is always
perceptible when Claire is present, unless she is being made the
center of the conversation. One felt the involuntary chafing of her
spirit.
After tea, she suddenly suggested that we should play paper games.
“I’ve invented a new paper game,” Sallie said, joyously, her eyes
dancing. “It’s called Portraits, and there are two ways of playing it.
Either we each write down five adjectives applicable to some person
we all know, and then guess whom it’s meant for, or else we all
agree on the same person and then write the portraits and compare
them.”
(“This,” thought I, “is the sort of game that ends in at least one
member of the party getting up and leaving the room, permanently
offended.”)
“Let’s try it,” said Claire, eagerly.
Personalities always appeal to her, until they are directed against
herself. But it is a part of her curious pathos that she never really
expects them to be directed against herself. I looked at Mary
Ambrey, and she looked back at me with the faintest hint of resigned
amusement in her hazel eyes.
Just as Martyn had finished distributing pencils and strips of paper
the Misses Kendal were announced.
It was the twins, Dolly and Aileen.
They wear their hats on the backs of their heads, and their skirts a
little longer behind than in front, as do all the Kendals, but they are
nice-looking girls in a bovine way. It is hard on them to compare
them with Sallie, who is ten years their junior, as slim and as straight
as a wand, and whose clothes invariably produce a peculiarly
dashing effect.
No Kendals are ever dashing.
“You’re just in time to learn a new game,” said Martyn, proceeding to
explain.
“We’re no good at this sort of thing,” said the Kendals, with cheerful
contempt for those who were.
“We shall be thoroughly out of it all, but we’ll try and struggle along
somehow.”
The Kendal reaction to life is a mixture of self-depreciation, self-
assertion, and a thorough-going, entirely unvenomous pessimism in
regard to past, present, and future. There are four sisters, and one
brother, who is always spoken of by his family as “poor old Ahlfred.”
Inquiries after Alfred, who is in business and comes home only for
week-ends, always elicit the assurance that he is “struggling along
somehow.”
General Kendal, known as Puppa, and Mrs. Kendal—Mumma—also
“struggle along somehow.”
When they were told about Sallie’s new game, Dolly and Aileen
Kendal looked horribly distrustful.
“How can one ever guess who it’s meant for, I should like to know. It
would be impossible,” said Aileen.
“Would it?” Sallie remarked, dryly.
She caught her mother’s eye and relented.
“Of course, you can take a public character for your portrait, if you
like.”
“That would be much easier,” declared the Kendals in a breath.
We all wrote on our pieces of paper, and bit the ends of our pencils,
and finally folded up the papers and threw them into a bowl.
“Here goes,” said Dolly Kendal, recklessly.
“It’ll be all the same a hundred years hence,” Aileen added, with her
air of philosophical resignation.
The first slip read aloud by Martyn was my own.
“Kind-hearted, Indomitable, Pathetic, Unscrupulous, Cheerful.”
“Nancy Fazackerly,” said Mary, instantly.
“But why indomitable?” I heard Dolly ask, in a puzzled way.
“Excellent. Now here’s someone you’ll all guess,” said Martyn, with a
glance at his sister. “Rational, Sympathetic, Intelligent, Reserved,
Elusive.”
“Elusive is very good,” said Sallie.
“You’ve got it?” her brother asked.
“Of course.”
“Wait a minute,” said Claire. “Read it again.”
Martyn read it again, refraining from glancing at his mother.
“Queen Mary,” Aileen Kendal suddenly suggested, brightly.
Martyn considered her gravely.
“What makes you think it might be?” he inquired at last, evidently
honestly curious.
“Oh, I don’t know. You said we might take public characters, and
she was the first one I thought of.”
“It might be me, I suppose,” Claire said, thoughtfully, “only it leaves
out a good deal. I mean, I don’t think those characteristics are the
most salient ones.”
“Besides, some of them wouldn’t apply, Cousin Claire,” said Sallie,
ruthlessly. “For one thing, I should never call you in the least—”
“Tell me who it is, Sallie,” her mother interrupted her.
“You, of course. I guessed it directly and so did Cousin Miles.”
“It’s good, I think,” said Martyn. “Elusive is the very word I’ve been
looking for to describe mother’s sort of remoteness.”
I saw the Kendals exchange glances with one another.
Certainly, it is quite inconceivable that in the family circle at Dheera
Dhoon Mumma should ever be thus described, in her own presence,
by her progeny.
“Read the next one,” said Claire, coldly.
The Kendals had each of them selected a member of the royal family
for analysis, and the adjectives that they had chosen bore testimony
rather to a nice sense of loyalty than to either their powers of
discernment or any appreciation of the meaning of words.
Then came the catastrophe that Mary and I, at least, had grimly
foreseen from the start.
Sallie, of course, was responsible. She really has very little sense of
decency.
“Imaginative, Temperamental, Unbalanced, Egotistical, Restless.”
There was a short, deathly silence.
“Did you mean it for Cousin Claire, Sallie?” said Martyn, at last.
One felt it was something that he should even have put it in the
form of a question.
“Yes, but there’s something missing,” Sallie said, bright and
interested and detached. She and her contemporaries dissect
themselves freely, I believe, and they are always bright and
interested and detached. “There were dozens of other things that I
wanted to put down, all just as descriptive.”
“My worst enemy could not call me egotistical,” said Claire, in a
trembling voice. “And it’s neither true nor respectful, Sallie, to say
such a thing. A game is a game, but you show me that I’m foolish to
allow myself to take part in this sort of amusement with you, as
though I were of your own age. You take advantage of it.”
“My mistake, Cousin Claire,” said Sallie, not at all sorry, but evidently
rather amused. “I just put what I really thought. It didn’t occur to
me that you’d mind.”
“Of course I don’t ‘mind,’ my child.” Claire’s voice had become a
rapid staccato. “It makes me smile, that’s all. What do you mean by
calling me ‘unbalanced?’ I suppose there isn’t a woman of my age
anywhere to whom that word is less applicable.”
“Hadn’t we better play at something else?” said Dolly Kendal. “I
knew before we began that if anyone put in real people it wouldn’t
be a success. That sort of thing always ends in somebody being
offended.”
“There’s no question of being offended,” said Claire, more offended
than ever.
“Mumma always made the rule, when we were children and used to
play games like Consequences: present company always excepted.”
“I should call that dull. But perhaps it was safe,” Sallie conceded.
“Shall we try the other game? Choose a person, and then each do
his or her portrait, and compare them afterwards.”
The Kendals looked as though they did not think this likely to be a
very great improvement upon Sallie’s last inspiration.
“Do me,” said Sallie, shamelessly.
“I think”—Mary’s gentle voice was unusually determined—“I think we
will adopt Mrs. Kendal’s rule this time.”
“Then let’s do that Mrs. Harter, who goes to tea with Mrs. Fazackerly.
We all know her, don’t we?”
“Only very slightly.”
“All the more interesting.”
“She really has personality,” said Claire, who had been silent, with
compressed lips and a look of pain in her big dark eyes. I think she
felt that no one was looking at her and so gave it up.
“But you’ve never seen Mrs. Harter, have you?” Mary asked me.
“No, but carry on. Who is Mrs. Harter?”
“Old Ellison’s daughter. You remember Ellison, the plumber?”
“Quite well. Is this the girl with the odd Christian name?”
“Diamond—yes. She married young and went out to the East about
five years ago. I don’t think she’s been to Cross Loman since. Now
she’s here for a year, I believe, having left the husband behind. The
children have met her with Nancy Fazackerly and Martyn introduced
her to me.”
“In the old days, of course, you’d have seen her behind a typewriter
in her father’s office?”
“Exactly.”
Mary smiled. The changes that the war has brought about in social
intercourse do not perturb her in the least.
She can afford to accept them.
“Mother,” said Sallie, “have you finished Mrs. Harter?”
“One minute.”
The portraits, when they were read aloud, struck me as forming
rather an interesting comment upon the person who had inspired
them. Of the writers, only the two Kendals were negligible as
observers of human nature.
“Bad-tempered, Determined, Intelligent, Pushing, Handsome.”
That was Martyn’s version.
“Handsome!” ejaculated Sallie. Her own paper began with the word
“Repellent” and went on with “Determined, Ambitious,
Straightforward, Common.”
“I’ve got her down as ‘Common,’ too,” said Claire. “Common, Self-
willed, Good-looking, Obstinate, and Hard.”
“What a pleasing aggregate!” said I. “Mary, what do you make of
Mrs. Harter?”
“Sincere, Unhappy, Reserved, Ill-tempered, Undisciplined.”
“It’s queer,” said Martyn. “We’ve all been impressed by that woman
more or less. And yet we’ve all noticed different things about her.”
“Two people said she was common,” Sallie pointed out.
“I don’t agree.”
“Well,” said Dolly Kendal, “it’s not a very nice thing to say about
anyone, is it?”
This comment did not materially add to the value of the discussion
and met with no rejoinder.
“Mrs. Harter is common,” said Claire, with that air of finality with
which she invests an assertion of her own opinion, particularly when
it is contrary to that held by other people. “But she has personality.
That’s why we’re all discussing her, I suppose—old Ellison’s
daughter!”
“She doesn’t look like old Ellison’s daughter,” Martyn observed,
replying, perhaps, rather to the spirit than to the letter of Claire’s
assertion. “It was a stroke of genius on his part to have christened
his daughter Diamond.”
Sallie looked intelligently inquiring.
“Don’t you see how it suits her? The mixture of hardness and of
depth, and the slight tinge of vulgarity that one can’t help
associating with that sort of name—and, of course, the unusualness.
By the way, didn’t anyone put her down as unusual?”
Claire shook her head.
“She may be good-looking, but she’s as hard as nails, I should say—
and she’s common.”
I began to feel that I should be interested to meet Mrs. Harter.
Ellison, the plumber in Cross Loman, was a decent old fellow—he
died a few months ago—a very ordinary type of the tradesman class.
His wife had been dead many years and I knew nothing about her. I
could not remember anything about the daughter except that I had
always heard her spoken of by her full name—Diamond Ellison—and
that the singularity of it had remained somewhere in the background
of my memory. “I should like to see her,” I said.
“You can see her if you go to the concert at the Drill Hall on the
fourteenth,” Aileen Kendal told me. “She is singing.”
“She’s musical, is she?”
“I suppose so. Lady Annabel arranged it all.”
“Why is Lady Annabel having a concert at all?”
“Something to do with the Women’s Institute,” said Dolly. “You know
she is always doing things for them, and she has quite worried
Mumma about belonging, or letting us belong.”
Mrs. Kendal still “lets” or does not “let” her daughters, in the minor
as well as in the major affairs of life, although Blanche, the eldest,
must be thirty-seven.
“Mumma always says, ‘Be not the first by whom the new is tried,
Nor yet the last to lay the old aside,’” Aileen solemnly quoted. “She
says that Women’s Institutes are a new movement, and she wants
to know rather more about them before she gives them her
support.”
The Kendals are not naturally sententious, but when they quote
either Puppa or Mumma they become so to an unbearable degree.
Claire, who is patient neither of sententiousness nor of quotations
from other people, changed the subject.
“I’ve taken tickets, Miles, of course. Shall you want to come? It will
only be the usual kind of Cross Loman concert.”
“Everybody is going, as usual. Nancy Fazackerly is taking her paying
guest.”
“Has she got one?”
“Hadn’t you heard?” cried everybody except my wife and Mary
Ambrey.
“He is a man called Captain Patch—quite young—and he is coming
next week. Nancy Fazackerly told us all about it after church on
Sunday.”
“She is coming up here to-morrow, so we shall hear about it,” said
Claire.
“I shall go to the concert,” I said, decidedly, “if it’s only for the sake
of seeing Mrs. Harter and Captain Patch.”
It occurs to me now, as I write, that perhaps that was the first time
we heard their names thus coupled together—Mrs. Harter and
Captain Patch.
Chapter Two
Mrs. Fazackerly, whom we all call Nancy, lived with a very old father
at Loman Cottage, just on the outskirts of Cross Loman.
No one, in speaking of her behind her back to anybody unaware of
her history, is ever strong-minded enough to refrain from adding,
“Her husband threw plates at her head.” The first time that this was
said to Bill Patch, I remember, he inquired with interest if the late Mr.
Fazackerly had been a juggler. It was explained to him then that the
late Mr. Fazackerly had only been of a violent temper.
No one, however, has ever heard Nancy Fazackerly allude to the
conjugal missiles that tradition has associated with her dinner table.
She is, indeed, wholly silent about her short married life. She was
twenty-seven years old, or thereabouts, when she married and went
to live in London, and it was five years later when she came home,
widowed and childless, to Cross Loman again.
About everything else Mrs. Fazackerly talked freely. We all knew that
she and her father were entirely dependent upon his tiny pension,
and it was common talk in Cross Loman that Mrs. Fazackerly would
sell anything in the world if she could get cash payment for it.
Her astuteness over a bargain is only to be equalled by the
astonishing unscrupulousness with which she recommends her own
wares to possible or impossible purchasers.
Many people disapprove of her, but everyone is fond of her, perhaps
because it is a sort of constitutional inability in her to say anything
except the thing which her fatally reliable intuition tells her will be
most acceptable to her hearer.
When she came up to tell Claire about her paying guest, she
pretended that it was because she wanted to consult Claire upon the
business side of the question. Claire, being naturally unpractical, and
with far less business experience than Mrs. Fazackerly, was, of
course, susceptible to the compliment.
“I hope I have come to a satisfactory arrangement with him,” Nancy
said. “I think so. Of course, I couldn’t bargain with him, and I’m
afraid, being entirely new to this sort of thing, that I shan’t be up to
any of the tricks of the trade and may find myself making very little,
if anything at all, out of it. He is to have the little spare room, of
course. It’s delightfully warm, now that we’ve got the radiators,
though I don’t suppose anyone would want a radiator on in the
summer, but still, there it is, and so I thought I’d simply make an
inclusive charge for heating and lighting.”
“Lighting?”
“We only have the humblest little oil lamps all over the house, as you
know, but I thought I’d move the blue china standard lamp into the
spare room, and then it will always be there, although, with daylight
saving, he will hardly use it, I imagine.”
“I see.” Something in Claire’s tone indicated that she was wondering
upon exactly what grounds Mrs. Fazackerly had contrived to base
her claims to payment for a radiator and a lamp that would be
required to perform no other functions than that of a diurnal acte de
présence.
“I believe it’s professional etiquette to have a few items that are
called ‘extras’,” pursued the prospective hostess. “So I explained that
the use of the bathroom—unlimited use—would be an extra, and
then little things like bootblacking, or soap, I believe one ought to
make a charge for. Laundry, of course, I wouldn’t undertake at all,
with my tiny establishment, but it can go into Cross Loman with
ours, and I can take all the trouble off his hands, and separate the
items, and go through his things when they come back. A very small
additional sum would cover all that, as I told him.”
“You seem to have thought of everything—”
“Well, one must, when one has no one to think for one,” said Mrs.
Fazackerly, with her pretty apologetic smile. “And I’m not very
practical and have had no previous experience, so that I do want to
be on the safe side.”
“I’ve very often wondered if I shouldn’t have done well as a business
woman, personally. I am really, in some ways, extraordinarily
practical,” mused Claire, following her usual methods.
“Yes, I’m sure you are.” Mrs. Fazackerly’s voice denoted admiration
and agreement. “I’ve always felt that about you. I shall come to you
for advice, if I may, once I’ve fairly started.”
Mrs. Fazackerly seldom goes to anyone for advice, but she has an
unequaled capacity for making her friends and acquaintances feel as
though she had done so.
“About meals, of course, he’ll have them with us—except when he’s
out, as I told him. I hope he’ll make simply heaps of friends here,
and be out as much as ever he pleases. There won’t be any
nonsense about people having to ask our leave before they invite
him to lunch or tea or dine out. We shall,” said Mrs. Fazackerly, I feel
sure with truth, “be only too delighted. And when he is in, I shall try
and have everything as nice as possible for him. Of course we live
very simply indeed, but I told him that. I felt it was much better to
be perfectly candid. And of course I know nothing about wine, so I
thought I’d simply make that an extra and have up what we’ve got
in the cellar. It’s doing nothing there, but I’m sure Father would take
some if it were actually on the table, and I expect it would do him
good.”
“How is your father?”
“He’s wonderful,” said Mrs. Fazackerly, with determined enthusiasm.
Her parent was then nearer eighty than seventy, and quite famous
locally for the strength and the irrationality of his violent prejudices,
but Mrs. Fazackerly gayly made the best of him.
It was her way to prepare strangers for an introduction to him by
declaring, brightly, “Dear Father is rather a personality, you know.”
“Is he quite ready to fall in with your scheme—as to the paying
guest, I mean?” Claire inquired, delicately.
“Oh, quite, I think,” Mrs. Fazackerly replied, in a slightly uncertain
tone that conveyed to anyone conversant with her methods that she
was adding yet another item to the long list of her deviations from
perfect straightforwardness.
“Of course, Father is not a young person, exactly, and one didn’t put
the whole thing before him quite as one might have done, say, a few
years earlier. But he took it all very well indeed, and Captain Patch is
so nice and such a thorough gentleman that I’m sure we shall have
no friction at all. And really, it’s impossible not to think what a relief
it will be to have anything—however little—coming in regularly once
a week toward the household books.”
“It ought to be a great help.”
“After all, it needn’t really cost more to feed five people than to feed
four. A joint is a joint, and we always have one a week—and
sometimes two. The amount of meat that even one maid can get
through is inconceivable, simply. I don’t grudge it to her for a
moment, of course,” said Mrs. Fazackerly, wistfully. She looked
thoughtful for a few minutes, and then said: “That does remind me
of one thing that I rather wondered about. What about second
helpings?”
“Second helpings?”
“I know that in boarding houses and places like that it’s an
understood thing that there are no second helpings. Especially meat.
But in the case of a paying guest, it seems to me that one really
couldn’t think of anything like that,” said Mrs. Fazackerly, evidently
thinking of it very earnestly indeed.
Claire, who is lavish alike by temperament and from a life-long
environment of plenty, was eloquent in her protestations, and Nancy
Fazackerly thanked her very gratefully indeed, and said what a help
it was to have someone to consult who always knew things.
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