“We might let them picnic in the grounds,” I suggested doubtfully.
“With lemonade and cake,” Pelleas submitted.
“Lemonade and cake!” I retorted with superiority; “the servants of to-day expect lobster and champagne.”
“Ah, well,” Pelleas defiantly maintained, “I believe they will like your cream tarts anyway.” He meditated for a moment and then burst out daringly: “Etarre! Would Avis care? Of course she could never do it herself; but do you think she would care if we let them all come up that night and dance in the great hall?”
I stared at Pelleas aghast.
“But they wouldn’t like it, Pelleas!” I cried; “servants, in this day, are different. That butler now—O, Pelleas, he’d never do it.”
“Indeed he would,” Pelleas returned confidently; “he’s a fine Scot with a very decent bagpipe in his clothes closet. I’ve seen it. I’ll get him to bring it!” Pelleas declared with assurance.
“But why—” I quavered momentarily; “and why not?” I instantly went on; “the very thing!” I ended, as triumphantly as if I had thought the matter out quite for myself. “And, if you like, Pelleas, I’ll oversee the making of the cream tarts for the whole company!” I added, not to be outdone.
It is amazing what pleasant incredulities become perfectly possible when once you attack them as Nichola attacks her Guinea goats, beginning at the horns.
So that was why, having broached the subject to those concerned as delicately as if we had been providing entertainment for a minister of state; having been met with the enthusiasm which such a minister might exhibit as diplomacy; and having myself contributed to the event by the preparation of a mountain of my chef d’œuvre, the frozen cream tarts which Pelleas appears to think would be fitting for both thrones and ministers assembled, he and I stood together at half after eight on the evening of our golden-wedding day and, in the middle of our lordly sitting room, looked at each other with tardy trembling. Now that the occasion was full upon us it seemed a Titanic undertaking. I was certain that far from being delighted the servants were alarmed and derisive and wary of our advances; that “Reddie” would at the last moment refuse to play upon his borrowed fiddle for the dancing; and that the haughty Scotch butler would be bored to extinction.