I.

There is an undefinable character and distinctiveness about Sunday

morning which is not possessed by any other day of the week.

Not that the remaining six are lacking in individuality. Monday is a

depressed and reluctant individual; Tuesday is a full-blooded and

energetic citizen; Wednesday a cheerful and contented gentleman who does

not intend to overwork himself to-day,--this is probably due to the fact

that we used to have a half-holiday on Wednesdays at school; and when I

got into Parliament I found that the same rule held there; Thursday I

regard as one who ploughs steadily on his way, lacking enthusiasm but

comfortably conscious of a second wind; Friday is a debilitated but

hopeful toiler, whose sole joy in his work lies in anticipating its

speedy conclusion; and Saturday is a radiant fellow with a straw hat and

a week-end bag.

Still, one week-day is very like another at waking time. My mental

vision, never pellucid, is in its most opaque condition in the early

grey of the morning; and at Oxford, I remember, I found it necessary to

instruct my scout to rouse me from slumber in some such fashion as this:

"Eight o'clock on Thursday mornin', sir!" (as if I had slept since

Monday at least), or "'Alf-past nine, slight rain, and a Toosday, sir!"

However, no one was ever yet needed to inform me that it was Sunday

morning. This is perhaps natural enough in town, where the silence of

the streets and the sound of bells proclaim the day; but why the same

phenomenon should occur in the middle of a Highland moor, where every

day is one glorious open-air Sabbath, passes my comprehension.

I discussed the problem after breakfast as I sat and smoked my pipe in

the heathery garden of Strathmyrtle, a shooting-lodge at which we were

being hospitably entertained by Kitty's uncle, Sir John Rubislaw, a

retired Admiral of the Fleet, whose forty years' official connection

with Britannia's realm betrayed itself in a nautical roll, syncopated by

gout, and what I may describe as a hurricane-deck voice. My three

companions in the debate were my host, Master Gerald, and another guest

in the house, one Dermott, an officer in a Highland regiment.

The Admiral ascribed my Sabbath intuition to the working of some inward

and automatic monitor; while Dermott, among whose many sterling

qualities delicate fancy was not included, put it down to the smell of

some special dish indigenous to Sunday breakfast. My brother-in-law's

contribution to the debate was an unseemly and irreverent parallel

between Saturday night potations and Sunday morning "heads."

To us entered Dolly and Phillis.

Our hostess, together with Kitty and the other girl of the party--an

American young lady of considerable personal attractions--had driven off

to church in what is locally called a "machine." The duties of escort

had been voluntarily undertaken by an undergraduate named Standish, who

was the latest recruit to the American young lady's army of worshippers.

The rest of us had stayed at home--the Admiral because he not

infrequently did so; I because I was expecting Robin back by the

"machine" (which was to pick him up at a wayside station, where he had

been sitting on his portmanteau ever since six o'clock that morning,

having been dropped there by the night mail from London), and was

anticipating two or three hours' solid work with him; Gerald because he

had succeeded in evading his eldest sister's eye during the search for

church recruits; Dolly to look after Phillis; and Captain Dermott for

reasons not unconnected with Dolly.

It was Phillis's birthday, but out of consideration for Scottish views

on Sabbath observance the festivities in connection with that

anniversary had been postponed until the morrow. However, this did not

prevent my daughter from demanding (and obtaining) various special

privileges of an unofficial character this hot Sunday morning.

Consequently a spiritually willing but carnally incompetent band,

consisting of one jovial but arthritic baronet, one docile but

self-conscious warrior, one indulgent but overheated parent, and

Dolly--Gerald stood scornfully aloof--were compelled to devote the next

two hours to a series of games, stage-plays, and allegories of an

innocuous but exhausting description.

We began by joining hands and walking in a circle, solemnly chanting a

ditty of the "I-saw-a-ship-a-sailing" variety, which culminated in the

following verse--

"Then three times round went that gallant ship,

Then three times round went she;

Then three times round went that gallant ship--

(Here we were commanded by the mistress of the revels, in a hoarse and

hurried stage whisper, to be ready to fall down)

--And sank to the bottom--of--the--sea!"

"Now all fall down!" screamed Phillis.

We did so, and lay on the grass in serried heaps. The remark which the

Admiral made when my left elbow descended upon his goutiest foot was

fortunately obscured by the fact that his face was inside his hat at the

moment.

After that we performed the "most lamentable comedy" of "The Three

Bears." Phillis assigned the parts, reserving for herself the _rôle_ of

Curly Locks and Stage Manager. Dolly was cast for Mother Bear, Captain

Dermott for Father Bear, and I for Baby Bear. The Admiral, at his own

urgent request, was allotted the comparatively unimportant part of Baby

Bear's bed, and sat nursing his foot and observing with keen relish the

preparations of the Bear family for their morning walk. We set out at

last, all three on our hands and knees, Dolly and Dermott crawling

amicably side by side, heroically regardless of white skirt and Sunday

sporran; I, as befitted my youth and station, bringing up the rear.

The Bears having vacated their domicile (the grass plot), Curly Locks,

after much furtive peeping round bushes, entered and advanced to the

rustic table, where she proceeded to test the contents of the various

porridge-bowls (represented by two tobacco-pouches and an ash-tray

respectively).

"Too hot!" she said, after sampling the first bowl.

"Too cold!" she continued, trying the next.

"A-a-ah!" she cried, coming to the third; and swallowed its contents

(some heather-tops) with every appearance of enjoyment.

After that came the inspection of the beds (two sofa-cushions and the

Admiral), and finally Curly Locks retired to rest on her grand-uncle's

knee.

Then the Three Bears came painfully back from the shrubbery, and Curly

Locks' acts of spoliation were revealed one by one. My assumption of

grief on the discovery of my empty porridge-bowl was so realistic that

the Stage Manager sat up in bed and commended me for it. Finally we went

the round of the furniture; Curly Locks was duly discovered; and I was

engaged in a life-and-death struggle for her shrieking person with the

bed itself, when there was a crunching of gravel, and the "machine"

drove up with Robin inside it.

After my secretary had greeted those of us whom he knew, and been

interrupted in the middle of a rapturous embrace from Phillis to be

introduced to those whom he did not, I took him off indoors for a meal,

through the breakfast-room window, and opened the portfolio of

correspondence which he had brought me from London.

"Hallo! Here is a letter for Dermott," I said. "I'll take it to him."

I stepped through the window and handed the letter to Dermott, who was

falling into line for a fresh game just outside.

"That envelope looks terribly official," said Dolly. "What does it all

mean?"

"I expect it means Aldershot," said Dermott ruefully. "However, I shan't

open it till lunch-time." And he stuffed the offending epistle into his

pocket, and returned to the game in hand with a zest and abandon that

betrayed ulterior motives in every antic.

We had seen a good deal of Captain Dermott that summer. Somehow he had

been in nearly every house we had visited; and his laborious expressions

of pleased surprise at meeting us there had now given way to specious

and transparent explanations of his own presence. The experts at

countless tea-tables and shooting-lunches were practically unanimous in

the opinion that Dolly could land her fish when she chose now; and as

the fish was a good fellow, and could offer her three thousand a-year

and the reflected glory of a D.S.O., it was generally conceded that my

youngest sister-in-law--have I ever mentioned that Dolly was the junior

Twin?--was about to do extremely well for herself.

I sat by Robin as he consumed his breakfast, and waded through my

correspondence. There was a good deal to sign and a good deal to digest,

and a good deal that was of no importance whatsoever. But the _clou_ of

the whole budget was contained in a private letter from my Chief. I read

it.

"My word, Robin!" I said. "There's to be a Dissolution in January."

There was no answer, and I looked up.

Robin was not listening. His attention had wandered to the game in

progress on the lawn. This was one of Phillis' most cherished pastimes,

and was called "Beckoning." The players, except the person who for the

time being filled the _rôle_ of "It," stood patiently in a row, until

"It," after mature consideration, beckoned invitingly to one of them to

approach. This invitation might or might not be a genuine one, for

sometimes the player on responding was received by the beckoner with

hisses and other symptoms of distaste, and fell back ignominiously on

the main body. But if you were the _real_ object of the beckoner's

affections, you were greeted with embraces and a cry of "I choose you!"

and succeeded to the proud post of "It."

It was a simple but embarrassing game, calling for the exercise of

considerable tact when played by adults. At the present moment Phillis

was beckoner, while Dolly, Dermott, and the Admiral stood meekly in line

awaiting selection. Dolly and the Admiral were each called without being

chosen, and Phillis's final selection proved to be Dermott, who, having

received an enthusiastic salute from the retiring president, now stood

sheepishly on one leg surveying the expectant trio before him.

He began by beckoning to his host; and, having relieved that gentleman's

apprehensions by sibilant noises, waggled a nervous finger at Dolly.

Dolly advanced obediently.

"Choose her, if you like," said Phillis magnanimously.

Dermott's martial eye kindled, but he made no sign, and the game

faltered in its stride for a moment.

"Say," interpolated the prompter, "'I choose you!' and then k----"

But Dermott, hastily emitting a hiss which must have cost him a

heartrending effort, relegated the greatly relieved Dolly to the ranks,

and smoothed over the situation by "choosing" my daughter, to that young

person's undisguised gratification.

It was at this phase in the proceedings that Robin's attention began to

wander from the affairs of State, and I had to repeat my news of the

impending Dissolution to him twice before he grasped its full

significance. Even then he displayed about one-tenth of the excitement I

should have expected of him; and finally he admitted that he was

somewhat _dérangé_ after his night journey, and suggested a postponement

of business in favour of a little recreation on the lawn.

We accordingly added ourselves to the party, just in time to join the

cast of Phillis' next production. This was an ambitious but complicated

drama of an allegorical type, in which Robin appeared--not for the first

time, evidently--as a boy called Henry, and Phillis doubled the parts of

Henry's mother and a fairy. These two _rôles_ absorbed practically the

whole of what is professionally known as "the fat" of the piece, and the

other members of the company were relegated--to their ill-disguised

relief--to parts of purely nominal importance.

The curtain rose (if I may use the expression) upon Henry's humble home,

where Henry was discovered partaking of breakfast (fir-cones). He

complained bitterly to his mother of the hardship of _(a)_ early rising,

_(b)_ going to school, and _(c)_ enduring chastisement when he got

there. The next scene revealed him in class, where the schoolmaster

(Dolly, assiduously prompted by Phillis) asked him a series of

questions, which he answered so incorrectly as to incur the extreme

penalty of "the muckle tawse." (Here what textual critics term "internal

evidence of a later hand" peeped out unmistakably.) The punishment

having been duly inflicted by Dolly with a rug-strap, Henry retired,

suffused with tears, to "a mountain-top," where he gave vent to a series

of bitter reflections on the hardness of his lot and the hollowness of

life in general.

He must have "gagged" unduly here, for presently he was cut short by a

stern admonition to "wish for a fairy."

"I wish for a fairy," said Henry dutifully.

Phillis, given her cue at last, pirouetted before him with outstretched

skirts.

"Go on!" she whispered excitedly. "Say, 'I wish that all Pain was

Pleasure and all Pleasure Pain.'"

"Oh, sorry!" said Henry. "I wish that all Pain was Pleasure and Pleasure

Pain."

"Have then thy wish!" announced the fairy solemnly, and fluttered away.

The drama thereafter pursued a remorselessly logical and improving

course. Having got his wish, the luckless Henry found that his only

moments of pleasure were those during which he was enduring the tawse,

getting out of bed on a cold morning, or doing something equally

unpleasant. On the other hand, his comfortable bed had become so painful

that he could only obtain rest by filling it with stones; and his

matutinal porridge was only made palatable by the addition of a handful

of gravel.

After a fruitless interview with the family physician (Captain Dermott),

in which the patient's mother set forth her offspring's symptoms with

embarrassing frankness, Henry was compelled, as a last resort, to pay

one more visit to the mountain-top. The indulgent fairy kindly agreed to

put things right, but only under penalty of an improving homily on

contentment with one's lot and the fatuity of asking for what you do not

really want. This was only half finished when the party returned from

church, and Phillis, realising that the absolute despotism of the last

few hours would now be watered down by an unsentimental mother into a

limited monarchy at the best, retired within her shell and declared the

revels at an end.