TOUCHES UPON A MATTER OF GRAVE PUBLIC IMPORTANCE
OF what crime, do you suppose, has S. of P. been guilty? It was merely
that in a public print he had ventured to ask why the payment of the
nominal sum of seven and sixpence per annum conferred upon the dogs of
London certain privileges in respect of its pavements which society at
large, for some little time past, has ceased to claim.
The resources of civilization were ranged already against Shelmerdine
of Potterhanworth. Nice-minded women in point lace refused to meet
the self-constituted champion of public amenity; the black-velveted
mistresses of the Flossies and the Fidos thought the state of his mind
must be unpleasant; he was an object of contumely where all that was
fair and of good report held sway in the life of the metropolis.
It was a pretty quarrel, and both sides were sustaining it with spirit.
The Pro-Darlings, with Verax and a Lover of Animals at their head,
had rejoined with mannerly vituperation to the polished sarcasm of
the Anti-Darlings. What is your remedy? had inquired the Friends of
Fido with a rather obvious sneer. Banish the dumb creation from the
pavements of great cities, had replied Inspired Commonsense.
And for our own poor part, Commissioners of the Office of Works, we
think that reply is worth a statue.
Verax was making merry though at the expense of a public ornament, and
the occupant of Messrs. Maple’s best hearthrug, who remembered Verax
perfectly well as a grubby infant at his private school, had already
formed the pious resolve of putting the fear of God into Verax.
S. of P., having pondered long, sat down at his writing-table; dipped
his quill with a certain inherent natural grandeur, and started out
on his crushing reply:--“Sir, I have read with amazement the diatribe
against my humble and unworthy self which appears under the signature
of Verax, to which you have extended the generous hospitality of your
columns.”
At this point S. of P. bit his quill with such violence that a large
blot was shaken from the end of it upon the monogram which decorated
the communication.
“The problem as I envisage it”--S. of P. took a small gold pencil out
of his waistcoat pocket and made a note on his blotting pad. “The
problem as I envisage it”--but the problem that he did envisage was the
Suffolk Colthurst, who at that moment entered the room.
The Suffolk Colthurst was large and blonde--so large and so blonde
that to a profane mind she rather conveyed the suggestion of a
particularly well-grown cauliflower.
“Wally, _please_, don’t let me spoil your morning. Don’t let me
interrupt you, _please_.”
The voice of the Suffolk Colthurst was really quite agreeable, although
a little light in the upper register. You might even call it flutelike
if you cared to indulge in metaphor.
“Not at all, Agatha,” said S. of P. with excellent chest resonance. “I
am merely envisaging the problem of the--ah--”
“_Don’t_, Wally.” The voice of the Suffolk Colthurst was perhaps a
shade less flutelike if history really calls for these _nuances_. “You
are making yourself ridiculous. Please drop the subject.”
“No, Agatha.” The sun setting over Africa might be compared to the brow
of the great Proconsul. “Man in _The Thunderer_ most impertinent. Signs
himself Verax. Suspect it’s that fellow--”
“Wally.” The Suffolk Colthurst roared here a little less gently than
usual. “I will not uphold you! Everybody thinks it is most injudicious.”
“Everybody, Agatha?”
“Paul and Millicent consider--”
“Public health, Agatha, public dec--”
“Wally, once for all, I absolutely refuse to discuss the subject. I
will not have you make yourself ridiculous.”
The Suffolk Colthurst, with an approximation to natural majesty, put on
a pair of gold-rimmed eyeglasses which were suspended round her neck
by a cord, and took the Leading Morning Journal off the First Baron’s
table.
“Impertinent, certainly. Sarcasm, I suppose.”
“Suspect it’s that fellow Huffham, because I declined to propose him
under Rule Two.”
“Certainly you do appear to have laid yourself open, but the letter is
most ill-natured.”
“As though I should be likely to propose him. Known the man all my
life.”
The Suffolk Colthurst gathered her majestic inches for the ultimatum.
“Wally, you must listen to me. This matter has already gone too far.
Let it drop. It is the first time I have known you go out of your way
to make yourself ridiculous.”
“Public health, Agatha, public decency.”
“Leave it to the County Council.”
“They are not competent to envisage such a problem as this. And I am
determined, in the face of that letter--”
“Paul says that no man can afford to make himself a public
laughing-stock.”
“Paul’s a coward.”
“Paul says they are certain to make you an Apostle.”
“Eh?”
“If you don’t make a fool of yourself.”
“Paul said that! Why, pray, should they make me an Apostle?”
“Because there’s nobody else; and people will say the race has already
passed its zenith if the vacancy is not filled up at once.”
“I will say this for Paul--he is well-informed as a rule.”
“Wait, Wally, until you are an Apostle.”
“Very well then, with the greatest possible reluctance I yield the
point for the present. Verax shall wait until--Tell me, Agatha, what
have you to say to me?”
The good, the noble--forgive our fervor, O ye Liberal organs of
opinion, even if _your_ bosoms be not thrilled by this whole-souled
devotion to the public weal--the good and noble Shelmerdine of
Potterhanworth flung the offending print upon Messrs. Maple’s expensive
carpet in a sudden uncontrollable access of private pique.
“Agatha.” The accents of the great Proconsul were choked with emotion.
“Tell me, Agatha, what you have to say to me?”
“Wally,” said the Suffolk Colthurst, “what I have to say to you is
this.”