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The Wormers

(By George I. Joseph.)

Whether regarded as subtle satire or merely as a genuine laugh-getter, Mr. Joseph's story of “The Wormers” will be found most refreshing in these often prosaic times.—Ed.

You have probably never heard of the profession of “worming.” Yet there are “Wormers’ Agencies” all over the country. It is only the most zealous sales’ patron, the keenest football fan, the most enthusiastic theatre goer who is aware of the existence of that mysterious sect known as “the wormers.” You have, at least once in your life, been jammed in a crowd, trying to force your way into a bargain sale, a football or cricket match or a theatre, unable to move forward or backward, paralysed in the midst of a solid mass of humanity, unable almost to breathe. It is the province of the “wormers” to obviate this inconvenience.

Say, for example, that you are desirous of attending a bargain sale. You know that hours and even days (the chronicles of the “wormers” show that this has happened) before the scheduled moment when the doors will be flung open to the eager bargain seekers, there will be a struggling mass of some thousands swaying and struggling outside. If you know your way in “Bargaindom” you will approach a reliable firm of “wormers” and engage the services of one of their staff. You will then be able to arrive at your sale a few minutes before the opening hour and yet be assured of being one of the first to rush into the emporium when the doors are opened. The procedure is as follows:—

The “wormer” stands on the fringe of the crowd and you stand close behind him, holding his coat tails, or in the case of the higher grade “wormer,” a short leather strap attached to his belt, known in the parlance of the profession, as a “hanger.” You yourself, become his “clinger.” Soon your “wormer” begins unobtrusively to “worm.” He wriggles his shoulders, sways his hips, jerks his body as though it were indiarubber, and gradually creeps through the crowd with yourself in close attendance. A good “wormer” can have you right up at the head of a multitude in an inconceivably short time and with no inconvenience on your part. Then having delivered you thus, with scarce a ripple to mark his path, he “worms” his way out again, perhaps to conduct some other client to the front rank of the crowd.

Now, Oswald Swivel was a “wormer.” For generations before him, his ancestors had been “wormers,” and it was a family tradition that a Swivel had “wormed” his way to the front at the beheading of Charles I. with a Roundhead as a “clinger.” It was at Sandman's Annual Remnant Sale on the Quay that Oswald found Romance. He had just “wormed” his way right up against the door of the great emporium with his “clinger” in close attendance, when he saw her. She was standing next to him, a little rotund woman handcuffed to her “hanger” in the latest fashion. Oswald smiled at her and received a shy acknowledgment.

“What Agency?” he whispered.

“Pushers’ Incorporated,” said the lady “wormer” proudly.

“A good one,” approved Oswald. “I'm chief ‘wormer’ to Shuve and Gettin.”

The girl's eyes became respectful, for Oswald's Agency was the oldest in the Dominion. Oswald read her glance, flushed, and was lost. Simultaneously they unbuckled their “hangers” and thus released their respective “clingers.” The girl from Pushers’ Incorporated turned and began to move through the closely packed crowd. Oswald watched her breathlessly. She left scarce a ripple behind her as she wriggled, twisted and jerked her way through the bargain hunters. Oswald sighed at this exhibition of flawless technique. In a moment, he too, had begun to “worm.” With infinite grace and ease he moved through the heaving mass of humanity. As he arrived at the fringe of the crowd, the girl from Pushers’ was re-entering the solid phalanx of bargain hunters, another client “clinging” in close attendance.

A day elapsed before Oswald met the female “wormer” again. It was at a pantomine premiere at the Opera House. The pride of Shuve and Gettin had just arrived with his “clinger” at the ticket box when he turned and looked into the worshipping eyes of the lady from Pushers'.

“Hello,” greeted Oswald flushing.

“Good evening,” whispered the girl.

“I saw you getting back at Sandman's Sale, and your work was A1,” said Oswald.

“Thanks,” said the female “wormer.” “I saw you at work yesterday at the Athletic Park. Your technique is great.”

Oswald flushed again. He was beginning to like this girl more and more.

“I see that you use the left-shoulder-wriggle,” said Oswald. “Do you find that it gets results?”

“Always,” said the other firmly. “I notice that you use the right-hip-heave a good deal.

I find it unsatisfactory.”

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Oswald was a little affronted.

“My father, and his father before him, always said that the right-hip-heave was the ultimate finesse in ‘worming,'” said Oswald, a little heatedly. “My maternal grandfather, Barnabas Bunter, wrote that handbook, ‘The Right-Hip-Heave and why I prefer it to the Elbow Twist.'”

“I have read that book,” said the girl. “It is a classic.”

Oswald beamed on the female “wormer” again, and the language became most technical. Thus did love come into the hearts of the girl from Pushers’ and the pride of Shuve and Gettin.

They met next day by appointment at Belman's Great Annual Sale. Oswald noticed her several yards away, and with a little judicious use of the double-right-elbow-twist, he gradually drew up next to her.

“Hello, Lettice,” he greeted, for he had learnt that her name was Lettice Battlethwaite.

“Oh, hello Oswald,” flushed the girl.

There was a silence.

“Listen, Lettice,” gulped Oswald; “I've something to tell you.”

He was interrupted by a little man who was trying to force his way in front of him. With a measuring glance Oswald saw that he was not of the brotherhood, and with a quick left-elbow-jab, impressed upon the intruder that he had better stay where he was. Lettice nodded her head approvingly.

“Well, Oswald,” she prompted softly.

The pride of Shuve and Gettin gulped again.

“What about getting married, Lettice?” he whispered. “Just think of it, dear. We could revolutionise ‘worming.’ ‘Worming’ in double harness—a thing unknown to modern ‘worming’ could be introduced. A husband and wife could go to a premiere together, ‘wormed’ by us. Just think of it, dear. You and I could make ‘worming’ history.”

The girl caught her breath in a gasp and looked adoringly at Oswald. A slight squeeze of the hand gave him his answer, and something within the “wormer” surged with joy. For the rest of the day, both of them “wormed” in the air.

They fixed an early day for the wedding. Invitations were sent out to all the “wormers,” and it was a great event for the profession. When the day dawned, the church was packed with “wormers,” while the public was excluded by the skill of the professional. The non-“wormer” invitees thronged the entrance and fought for a glimpse of the bridal pair.

When the magic words were spoken which bound them closer than a “hanger,” Oswald smiled into the eyes of his beloved. The organ began to play Mendelssohn's Wedding March, and arm in arm the pair began to walk down the aisle. Oswald gazed into the closely packed mass of “wormers” and suddenly caught his breath. His wife's eyes were shining with excitement, for already she understood the workings of Oswald's intelligence.

“Shall we try it, dear?” he whispered tensely.

“Yes,” replied Lettice, clutching his arm.

To the surprise of the assembled guests, the bridal pair suddenly dived into the crowd and were lost to view. Arm in arm they “wormed,” with every twist, jerk, roll or sway known to the profession. As they passed through their guests, where passage seemed an impossibility, scarce a ripple in their wake, an admiring gasp went up from the assembled “wormers,” for they knew technique when they saw it. Once outside, passage through the non-“wormers” was easy. They halted on the kerb and smiled into each other's eyes. Oswald's brilliantined hair was unruffled, and his wife was as fresh as when a few moments ago she had taken her solemn vows. The admiring gasp of the assembled “wormers” swelled into a mighty roar of acclamation as the pair were seen.

“Our system works,” whispered Lettice thrillingly.

“A new era has dawned for ‘worming,'” breathed Oswald, his eyes shining as they gazed into the future.

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