Before Mr. Councilor Penney, an acknowledged light of the a priori school of criticism, ventured to express an opinion he winged a glance at Nurseryman Jennings. And that glance, in the technical language of experts, conveyed a clear request for “the office.”
“The office” was given sotto voce behind the adroit hand of Jennings, “Mester Munt—Twenty-one, Sixteen—Bill Hollis.”
Thereupon Mr. Councilor Penney closed one eye and proceeded to examine the competing blooms. “Well, Mester Munt,” he said solemnly, “I am bound to say, to my mind Twenty-one ’as it.”
The impetuous president had a short way with the Councilor Penneys of the earth. “Have you no eyes, man! Twenty-one can’t live beside Sixteen. Not the same class. Look at the color—look at the shape—look at the size——”
It was realized now that it had become necessary to warn the President. And the situation must be grappled with at once. The deeper the President floundered, the more perilous the job of extrication. Rescue was a man’s work, but finally in response to a mute appeal from the pusillanimous Jennings, Mr. Councilor Penney took his courage in his hands. “Mr. Munt,” he said warily, “don’t you know that Twenty-one was sent in by Joe Mellers, your own gardener?”
It was the best that Mr. Councilor Penney could muster in the way of tact. But at all times a very great deal of tact was needed to handle the President. Clearly the shot was not a lucky one. “Nowt to do with it, Penney.” The great man nearly bit off his head. “Ought to know that. Sixteen’s the best bloom on the bench.”
“Sixteen’s that Hollis!” It was an act of pure valor on the part of Mr. Councilor Penney. Nurseryman Jennings held his breath.
“That Hollis!” The President repeated the words calmly. For a moment it was not certain that human dignity could accept their implication. But there was a world of meaning in the nervous frown of Mr. Councilor Penney, in the tense furtiveness of Nurseryman Jennings.
Was it possible?... Was it possible that the little skunk had dared?... Had dared to compete at this show of all shows?... Had dared to win honestly that prize of all prizes?...
The story of Bill Hollis and Melia Munt was a commonplace with every member of the Committee. They were familiar with all the circumstances; and though there might be those among them who felt privately that their august President carried family pride rather far, even these could not help admiring the rigidity of his attitude. It meant enormous strength of character; and character in the shrine at which the true Briton worships. But now that the Committee was up against the problem Bill Hollis had raised they keenly regretted that they had not taken steps to disqualify him from the outset, or had not apprised the President beforehand of the state of the case.