I asked John if he was writing to you and he grinned and said perhaps
I had better write. The fact is, he has not been behaving very well,
and is, I suspect, rather ashamed of himself--at least, I hope he is!
We came to Windsor and put up at what John insisted upon calling the
"Purple Sow," though it is really the "White Heifer."
The next morning we went to St. George's Chapel, which seemed to me
the most beautiful church I had ever seen, and where the music would
have filled your heart with joy. By some ill chance, it was one of
the days when they sing the Athanasian Creed, and, to my horror, John
refused to stand up! He said it was "blasphemous," and I felt like
asking, like the man at Barchester: "If you once begin, where will
you end?" But thought it best to let him alone.
The same afternoon we were shown over the castle with a horde of
sightseers. John was perfectly quiet until we came to the room in
which the trophies are displayed. As we were standing before one of
the glass cases in which are splendid swords and cups of gold and
jewels from India and China, and "the uttermost parts of the sea"--a
record of the least admirable page in English history--John, I could
see by the expression of his face, was _thinking_. I could only hope
he would not "start" anything! But he is like Benny Joyce, who, when
he was asked in Sunday School if he had any faults, replied that he
thought he could say he was without any, except when his brother Tony
provoked him!
Well, John's "brother Tony" was near at hand, in the person of the
typical English shop-keeper.
Turning to John, he said, in a tone half-ashamed and half-exultant:
"I say, we have collared a lot of things, have we not?"
"Yes," replied John, "that is why it is called the 'Rob' room!"
I must say, while I wished he had said nothing, I do think this was
awfully quick!
The man looked puzzled for a moment, and then replied: "I suppose you
mean the Robe Room." But as he received no answer he evidently
thought it over, and then burst out with:
"Oh, I say! That's awfully good. I see, 'Rob' room! Would you mind
if I told that to my wife?"
John grimly remarked that he would be delighted. So he trotted off
to the other side of the room and began talking with evident glee to
a woman with a most uncompromising face. Apparently her reaction was
not what he had expected, and his countenance fell. He returned to
John, and in a most truculent tone, remarked:
"You are an American, aren't you?"
To which John, in an equally aggressive tone answered: "I thank God I
am."
"I thought so," he replied. "And, if you don't mind my saying so, my
wife thinks, and I quite agree with her, that your remark was a most
objectionable one."
Did you ever hear of anything more absurd? I am glad to say John had
the good sense not to make a scene. So we withdrew--but not with the
honors of war! Do you wonder he does not feel like writing to you?
We had intended going west from here and resuming our interrupted
journey, but a letter from Lady Groves, who is a friend of Maud's,
asking us to spend the night with them at their place, near Reading,
delayed us again.
We did not arrive this time for tea as there was something the matter
with the car--ignition trouble, I believe--but fortunately it was put
right in time for us to reach our destination for dinner.
How can one express the charm of a welcome to an English house?
These people, who seem so "standoffish," when one does not know them,
expand into the most winning cordiality when they receive one into
their own homes. So that one feels that an "Englishman's house is
not alone his castle, but also a hospice!"
The bedroom, to which I was shown, called the "Bird" room, because of
the pattern of the paper and the chintz, was filled with real
"Sheriton," which had never even heard of Grand Rapids! There was a
dressing-room for John, equally attractive, but more "manly."
John, as usual, declined to give up his keys to the footman, and
threw his things around everywhere, in what looked like hopeless
confusion, but in a way which, as he said, enables him to "find
things."
There were but two guests besides ourselves at dinner, a Mr. and Miss
Buckthorne. Sir William took me in and Mr. Buckthorne Lady Groves,
so Miss Buckthorne fell to John.
It seems the Buckthornes had one of the finest private collections of
"Sir Joshua's" in England, but they are "land-poor" and so have been
obliged to sell most of them. I thought it might interest Miss
Buckthorne to hear about one of them, which Mr. Frazer bought, and
began to explain how it was hung in his new gallery.
Perhaps it was not tactful to speak of it at all, at any rate she was
not in the least interested, and from her manner I thought John was
not likely to have a good time.
Her brother, on the other hand, was a most interesting person, so
much so that I listened so intently to his conversation that I forgot
all about John and his partner. When, however, I did look at him, I
found that there was an ominous silence on his side of the table.
When we went upstairs I inquired how he had enjoyed himself. He was
delighted with his host and hostess, and said that he found Mr.
Buckthorne one of the best-informed men he had ever talked with, but
rudely remarked that "she," meaning, I gathered, Miss Buckthorne,
"was the limit."