People who know us both have often expressed a doubt as to whether
Charles or myself is the more absent-minded and unobservant. I wish to
set the matter at rest once and for all.
We were discussing William's wedding, which had just taken place,
romantically enough, in the very heart of Herts--one of those quaint
little villages where no sound seems to disturb the silence of the
long summer day but the gentle bleating of horn to horn and the murmur
of innumerable tyres. Both of us had been there, and Charles came
round to talk to me about it a few evenings afterwards.
"I do hope the poor dear fellow will be happy," he said, lighting his
fifth match and pulling away vigorously at an ugly-looking briar.
"It really goes much better with tobacco in it," I said, passing him
my pouch. "Why on earth shouldn't William be happy? It seemed a very
pretty wedding. Did you notice how the rays of the sun coming through
the window lit up the best man's boots?"
"I daresay, I daresay," he replied. "As a matter of fact I couldn't
see the church part of it very well: I came late and was behind a
pillar at the back."
"Well, it all went beautifully," I told him. "Everybody stood up and
sat down in the wrong places as usual, and the friends of the bride
looked with extreme _hauteur_ at the friends of the bridegroom, and
_vice versa_. I suppose you went to the reception afterwards. I never
saw you at all except for a moment on the platform going back. You
must have shaken hands with the happy pair and examined the presents?"
"I went to the house," said Charles. "I went in a motor-car on a seat
that took two men to hold down, and that hit me hard when I tried to
stand up. I caught a glimpse of William, but I couldn't find the room
where the presents were set out, so I went through almost at once
into the garden, where the feasting was going on. Do tell me about the
gifts. Was my little pepper-castor hung on the line?"
"I didn't notice that," I said, "but my butter-dish was doing itself
proud. It had sneaked up to a magnificent toast-rack with stabling
accommodation for about eight pieces, given by somebody with a title.
And you ought to have seen the fish-slices. The fish-slices wore
gorgeous. I expect William will spend a great part of his married
life in slicing fish. It will be a great change from golf-balls. But I
think you really ought to have said a few hearty and well-chosen words
to the young people."
"That's just it," replied Charles in a mournful voice. "I did. I
talked to the bride."
"Hang it, so did I!" I exclaimed rather indignantly. "Directly I got
in I went up to William and her and said to her, 'How glad you must be
it's all over!' and then quite suddenly it struck me that that wasn't
really the best thing to say in the circumstances, so I blushed and
trod on William's toe and passed on. What did you do in the garden?"
"Well, I wandered about on the lawn where there were lots and lots of
people," said Charles. "I didn't seem to meet anyone I knew, but the
flower-beds were most beautifully kept. I have seldom seen such a
display of cress sandwiches and champagne. After a bit I strolled down
through the shrubberies, went through a little wooden gate and found
myself amongst the raspberry canes. About a quarter of an hour later,
after a little fruity refreshment, whom should I meet walking along a
quiet shady path but the bride herself, all alone."
"Stealing away to get one last raspberry at the dear old home," I
said. "How romantic! What did you do? Hide?"
"No," answered Charles bitterly. "I only wish I had. I felt that now
or never was the time. I went straight up to her, and, feeling that
to talk about the weather or the theatres on such an occasion would be
rather footling, in spite of the fact that we'd never been introduced,
I plunged straight into it. 'You've never seen me before in your
life,' I said earnestly, 'because you haven't got eyes in the back of
your head, and I've never seen you because I can't look through stone.
What's more, I'm only a little silver pepper-castor, an insignificant
item in your cruet. But I must tell you how delighted I am to have a
chance of speaking to you.'"
"What did she say to that?" I asked.
"Well, you'd never believe it, but the girl looked quite nervous and
frightened, and positively began to walk away from me. I supposed I'd
begun on the wrong tack, so I hurried after her and started again.
'Marriage is a state full of the most serious responsibilities,' I
said, 'but one glance at you shows me that you are fully competent to
shoulder them all.'"
"That sounds as if you thought she looked a trifle statuesque," I
said. "Did she seem annoyed?"
"Worse," replied Charles. "She hurried on again without speaking a
word. 'Stop,' I cried, 'stop! I am a friend of the fairy prince;' and
just then we came out on to a piece of lawn, and she gave a little
shriek and actually ran away, leaving me standing where I was. I was
so ashamed and exhausted that I slunk back through the little gate and
had some more raspberries. When I had partially recovered I returned
to the upper part of the garden again, had two cups of tea in the big
tent, and made my way back to the station, where I saw you. If you
hadn't got into another carriage I should have told you about it at
the time."
"Then you never saw them going away at all?" I said.
"No," replied Charles; "did you?"
"Did I not?" said I. "You wouldn't believe the amount of rice I
started their married life with. About two milk puddings' worth, I
should say. And so you are not quite satisfied with William's choice?"
"Well, she seems to me to be rather an unresponsive and timid sort
of person," said Charles. "Not tactful, nor likely to make what the
newspapers call a charming hostess. I should have liked dear William
to marry someone who would be a social success."