There are few of my friends whom I hold in higher respect than the
Fladworths. Fladworth is a prosperous accountant, quite in the front
rank of his profession, and for the last three years an indefatigable
War-worker. His two sons joined up on the day War was declared; his
three daughters are all nursing, and for the last two years their
town house has been a convalescent home. Mrs. Fladworth is a saint of
hospitality, and their country house is always full for the week-end
with people who want a rest. And one can accept this hospitality with
a good conscience, because they can afford it. It does not involve
the painful self-sacrifice shown by some people, of whom it has been
happily said that, when their supplies are short, they will insist on
your staying for a meal, "even if they have to kill a rabbit with a
Christian name."
The Fladworths are charming hosts, but they have a weakness--a passion
for intellectual games, serious variants, for the most part, on
"Consequences," and a most trying ordeal for persons who cannot spell
or are ignorant of history or general information. Moreover, to add to
the strain, Fladworth is always inventing new games, "so that all may
start fair." This happened on the occasion of my last visit, when he
introduced the company to "Experiences." Every one, having contributed
sixpence to the pool, was expected to describe the most interesting
or exciting event in his or her life. One of the party, who did not
compete, then decided which was the best experience, and the winner
pocketed the pool.
I cannot remember all the episodes recounted, though they were for
the most part serious and impressive. Mrs. Fladworth had heard Mr.
GLADSTONE read the lessons in church; Fladworth had heard TENNYSON
recite "Come into the Garden, Maud" at a friend's house in the Isle
of Wight; a young invalid airman, who was known to have had the most
thrilling adventures, but, after the manner of his kind, never talked
of his own achievements, told us how frightened he had been by the
giant in his first pantomime. My turn came last, but I was not in
the least helped by having had the longest time to prepare. I have
a wonderful memory for futilities, and when called on could think of
nothing better than my recollection of the arrival of _Hiawatha_ at
the Channel Islands and the delirium of the populace.
You can imagine my feelings when old Mr. Fladworth, _æt._ eighty-four
and rather deaf, who was acting as judge, awarded me the prize on the
ground that nothing was more interesting than the effect of poetry
on the masses. I hadn't the courage to explain that it was not
LONGFELLOW'S poem, but that terrible tarantellating American tune
which electrified the Channel Islanders some ten years back. As none
of the company was able or disposed to correct him there was nothing
left for me to do but to rake in the sixpences. After all, the
total only amounted to five and sixpence, and I compounded with my
conscience by putting it in the plate on the following morning.
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