"Mr Spencer appears desirous of associating me with a scrawl which he
calls a musical comedy. Will you request him to see that the manuscript
of the thing is entirely destroyed?"
"You hear, Mr Spencer?"
"Perfectly. I will do better than Miss Wilson asks. I will send the
'scrawl' in question with the two photographs. She will then be able to
do with it what she pleases. While apologising for any inconvenience
which Miss Wilson may have been occasioned, I would beg to be allowed
to add that I think that Miss Wilson is disposed to regard me with
almost undue severity. She forgets how hard up for amusement a fellow
may be in a place like this. My idea was to get her to join me in
playing off a joke on the aboriginals which wouldn't be forgotten for
years. I can only express my regret that she should have taken up the
point of view she has."
The impertinent young rascal walked off with his head in the air, and a
look on his face which nearly suggested that he was the injured party.
And, of course, George proceeded to lecture me.
"So this is your idea of taking part in amateur theatricals on behalf
of the parochial charities!"
"It's not my idea at all," I retorted. "You know very well it isn't."
But he refused to admit that he knew anything of the kind. He would
keep on making the most uncalled-for observations, instead of showing
me the sympathy of which I stood so much in need. We almost quarrelled.
Mr Spencer sent back the photographs and the musical comedy. I tore
that into shreds and burnt them every one. But I did not hear the last
of it for ages. It created quite a schism in the place. All sorts of
people were offended; I have not the faintest notion why. Although some
of them even went so far as to attempt to lay the blame on me. I have
been the victim of a good deal of injustice in my life, but that really
was the most unjustifiable injustice of all.