"So there was nothing for it but to will his departure."
"Will?"
"Yes. Concentrate our thoughts on his giving notice, and invite our
friends to do the same. I wrote scores of letters all round, impressing
this necessity, this absolute, sacred duty, on them. I asked them to
make a special effort on the night of March 18th, at eleven o'clock,
when we should all be free. It sounds rather dreadful, but I always hold
that the people who want a house most are best fitted to have it. One
can't be too nice in such matters."
"Well?" I asked.
"Well, you'll hardly believe it--and I shan't be a bit vexed if you
don't--but on the morning of the 20th of March I had a letter from Mr.
Broom saying that he had decided to leave, and we could have the first
call on his house. It was too wonderful. I don't mind confessing that I
felt a little ashamed. I felt it had been too easy."
"It is certainly a dangerous power," I said.
"Well," she continued, "I hurried round to see him before he could
change his mind. 'Do you really want to leave?' I asked him. 'Yes,' he
said. 'Why?' I asked. 'Well,' he said, 'I can't tell you why. I don't
know. All I know is that all of a sudden I have got tired and feel
vaguely that I want a change. I am quite sure I am making a mistake and
I'll never find so good a place; but there it is: I'm going.' I assure
you I felt for a moment inclined to back out altogether and advise him
to stay on. I was even half disposed to tell him the truth; but I pulled
myself together. And--well, here we are!"
"It's amazing," I said. "You must either have very strong-minded
friends, or the stars have played very oddly into your hands, or both."
"Yes," she said; "but there's a little difficulty. One has to be so
careful in this life."
"One has," I fervently agreed. "But what is it?"
"Some of my friends," she explained, "didn't quite play the game.
Instead of willing, as I explicitly indicated, that our Mr. Broom should
leave the Manor Farm, they willed merely that Mr. Broom should leave his
house, and the result is that all kinds of Mr. Brooms all over the
country have been giving notice. I heard of another only this morning.
In fact, our Mr. Broom's brother was one of them. It's a very perilous
as well as a useful gift, you see. But we've got the farm, and that's
the main thing."
She smiled the smile of a conqueror.
"But," remarked another of the guests, who had told us that she was
looking for a _pied-à-terre_, "there's a catch somewhere, isn't there?
Don't you see any weak point?"
Our hostess smiled less confidently. "How?" she asked uneasily.
"Well," the guest continued, "suppose.... It couldn't, I mean, be in
better hands. For the moment. But suppose some one else wanted it? Take
care. Willing is a game that two can play at."
"You don't mean----?" our hostess faltered.
"I do, most certainly," the guest replied. "Directly I go away from here
I shall make a list of my most really obstinate, pushful friends to help
me."
"But that would be most unfair," said our hostess.
"No one is fair when hunting the _pied-à-terre_," I reminded her.