I hope William likes it, for he brought it on himself. As soon as the
sad event was announced to me I discussed the matter most seriously
with Araminta. "A situation of unparalleled gravity has arisen,"
I said, "with regard to the wedding of William. It is going to be
carried out at Whittlehampton in top-hats. Picture to yourself the
scene. Waterloo Station full of lithe young athletes of either sex
arrayed for sports on flood and field, carrying their golf-clubs,
their diabolo spools and their butterfly nets, and there, in the midst
of them, me with my miserable coat-tails, the June sun glaring on
my burnished topper, and in my hands the silver asparagus-server or
whatever it is that I am going to buy for William. I tell you it isn't
done. They will come round and mock me. They will titter at me through
their tennis-racquets."
"Couldn't you wear a common or Homburg hat and carry your other in a
hat-box?" she suggested in that bright helpful way they have.
"Amongst the severe economic consequences of the recent great war,"
I replied coldly, "was, if you will take the trouble to remember, the
total loss of my top-hat box."
"Well, why not a white cardboard box, then?"
"No power on earth shall induce me to stand on Waterloo Station
platform dandling a white cardboard box," I cried. "Waterloo indeed!
It would be my Austerlitz, my Jena. I should never dare to read the
works of 'Man about Town' again. Besides, what about my morning-coat?"
"Well, I could pin the tails of it up inside if you like. Or what
about wearing an overcoat?"
"Your first suggestion makes me despair of women's future position in
the economic sphere. The second I would consider if I could settle the
hat problem."
And still thinking hard I rang up William.
"I suppose you couldn't possibly cancel this wedding of yours?" I
asked when I had explained the _impasse_. Self-centred as usual, he
flatly declined.
"Honestly, I don't see the difficulty at all," he went on. "I expect
you'll look a bit of a mug anyhow, and probably there'll be lots of
people on the platform dressed in morning-coats and top-hats."
"Nobody leaves London on a Saturday morning wearing top-hats," I
assured him, "nobody. If I were coming _in_ to London it would be
quite a different matter. I might be an officer in the Guards, or
M. KRASSIN proceeding to a deputation in Downing Street; but going
out--no. Look here, why not make it a simple country wedding--sports
coats and hayseed in the hair, and all that sort of thing?"
"Spats and white vest-slips will be worn by all the more prominent
guests," he replied firmly.
"Well, hang it, have the thing in London, then," I implored, "and
I'll promise to add the price of the return-fare to the cost of your
wedding present."
"The bride's parents reside at Whittlehampton, and the wedding will
take place from the home of the bride," he answered.
"You got that little bit out of _The Morning Post_," I said. "Couldn't
you persuade the bride's parents to take a house in London? There's
one just opposite us at only about thirty pounds a week. Stands in its
own grounds, it does, and there's a stag's head in the hall. There's
nothing like a stag's head for hanging top-hats on."
It was no good. You know what these young lovers are. Immersed in
their own petty affairs, they can pay no proper attention to the
troubles of their friends.
William rang off and left me once more a prey to harrowing despair.
There were only three nights before the calamity took place, and I had
terrible nightmares on two of them. In one I attended the wedding in
a bowler hat and pyjamas, with carpet slippers and spats. In the other
my top-hat was on my head and my vest-slip was all right, but I tailed
off into khaki breeches and trench boots. On the third day a gleam of
light broke and I rang up William again.
"I haven't quite settled that little hat problem I was talking to you
about," I told him. "Look here--can you lend me your old top-hat-box?"
"Haven't got one," he replied. "In the chaos consequent upon
Armageddon it somehow disappeared."