Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3812/An Error in Arcady

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Punch, Volume 147, Issue 3812 (July 29th, 1914)
An Error in Arcady by E. G. V. Knox
4257021Punch, Volume 147, Issue 3812 (July 29th, 1914) — An Error in ArcadyE. G. V. Knox

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 some-body with a title. And you ought to have seen the fish-slices. The fish-slices were 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 shrubberries, 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."

I smoked for some time in silence, and then I had an idea.

"How was the bride dressed when you saw her, Charles?" I asked.

"Do I know how women are dressed? She was in white, of course, and hadn't a hat on."

"But she had a train and a veil, I suppose. She hadn't a short skirt by any chance?"

"Goodness, how do I know?" he replied. "I didn't notice all that. Why do you ask?"

"Well, you only saw her once, you see," I said, "and you went through that little gate at the bottom of the garden, didn't you?"

"I did," said Charles. "What's that got to do with it?"

"Nothing, nothing. Only I know that there were some people playing tennis at the next house, and very likely the two gardens are connected, and I'm wondering whether that girl———"

"Good heavens," said Charles... "You haven't got such a thing as a hairpin about you, have you? This pipe's stopped up."