“Perfectly distracting,” said she. “And yet it only seems yesterday that they were long-legged creatures in short white socks.”
By the dispensation of the powers George Betterton took in his hostess, Cheriton took in the wife of the Vicar, the Vicar took in Mrs. Lascelles, Jim took in Miss Burden, and the Miss Perrys took in one another.
Jim Lascelles never remembered a meal that he enjoyed less, except in after-years when—but we must not overrun our story. For the greater part of the conversation was confined to one theme, and the theme was heroism. Cheriton claimed the respectful indulgence of the table while Muffin furnished her thrilling narrative with all the latest embellishments. It is true that she suffered occasional contradiction in the course of it from her muddle-headed but tenacious sister Goose, but her testimony remained substantially unshaken. Mr. James Lascelles was a hero, no doubt about that.
When the dessert stage was reached, Cheriton pledged Jim’s health in felicitous terms and in some excellent madeira. Jim responded with a vehement denial of the charges brought against him.
“Why,” said Cheriton, “the young fellow will deny his genius next.”
“Yes,” said Jim’s mother, “he would, only he knows it is no use.”
After dinner there was music. Caroline Crewkerne had an ingrained dislike of music which amounted to detestation, but on this occasion it was permitted as a concession to the Church. The Vicar’s wife had a light soprano voice, and sang very pleasantly, although rather nervous at first. The Vicar’s rendering of the “Bay of Biscay” was justly admired. Jim’s mother interpreted Chopin with such refinement and delicacy that Caroline Crewkerne was able to get a short nap. But quite one of the most admired achievements of the evening was George Betterton’s rendering of what he called his “one horse,” a technical term which baffled everybody as to its meaning, including Cheriton himself, that veritable encyclopedia of human information.
George Betterton’s “one horse” was “We’ll all go a-hunting to-day,” with chorus. This he rendered with the most resolute disregard of time and tune, and in the most dogged and sonorous manner. The Vicar’s wife accompanied him and finished three bars in front of George, and so “won as she pleased,” in the judgment of Cheriton, who, in addition to his other accomplishments, was a critic of the art of music. However, Muffin and Jim Lascelles were heard to such advantage in the chorus that there was no doubt about its success. They were importuned upon this revelation of their talent to sing a solo apiece. They contrived to evade this penalty on the plea that they had never sung in public before, although Goose declared that Muffin had sung by herself twice in Slocum Magna parish church with great distinction.
“But that wasn’t in public,” said Muffin, staunchly. “Besides, it was after dearest papa had preached his sermon.”
“I am afraid, my dear Miss Muffin,” said Cheriton, “that the point is too subtle for the lay intelligence.”