Beasts and Super-Beasts

by Saki

  FUR

  “You look worried, dear,” said Eleanor.

  “I am worried,” admitted Suzanne; “not worried exactly, but anxious. Yousee, my birthday happens next week—”

  “You lucky person,” interrupted Eleanor; “my birthday doesn’t come tillthe end of March.”

  “Well, old Bertram Kneyght is over in England just now from theArgentine. He’s a kind of distant cousin of my mother’s, and soenormously rich that we’ve never let the relationship drop out of sight.Even if we don’t see him or hear from him for years he is always CousinBertram when he does turn up. I can’t say he’s ever been of much soliduse to us, but yesterday the subject of my birthday cropped up, and heasked me to let him know what I wanted for a present.”

  “Now I understand the anxiety,” observed Eleanor.

  “As a rule when one is confronted with a problem like that,” saidSuzanne, “all one’s ideas vanish; one doesn’t seem to have a desire inthe world. Now it so happens that I have been very keen on a littleDresden figure that I saw somewhere in Kensington; about thirty-sixshillings, quite beyond my means. I was very nearly describing thefigure, and giving Bertram the address of the shop. And then it suddenlystruck me that thirty-six shillings was such a ridiculously inadequatesum for a man of his immense wealth to spend on a birthday present. Hecould give thirty-six pounds as easily as you or I could buy a bunch ofviolets. I don’t want to be greedy, of course, but I don’t like beingwasteful.”

  “The question is,” said Eleanor, “what are his ideas as topresent-giving? Some of the wealthiest people have curiously crampedviews on that subject. When people grow gradually rich theirrequirements and standard of living expand in proportion, while theirpresent-giving instincts often remain in the undeveloped condition oftheir earlier days. Something showy and not-too-expensive in a shop istheir only conception of the ideal gift. That is why even quite goodshops have their counters and windows crowded with things worth aboutfour shillings that look as if they might be worth seven-and-six, and arepriced at ten shillings and labelled seasonable gifts.’”

  “I know,” said Suzanne; “that is why it is so risky to be vague when oneis giving indications of one’s wants. Now if I say to him: ‘I am goingout to Davos this winter, so anything in the travelling line would beacceptable,’ he might give me a dressing-bag with gold-mounted fittings,but, on the other hand, he might give me Baedeker’s Switzerland, or‘Skiing without Tears,’ or something of that sort.”

  “He would be more likely to say: ‘She’ll be going to lots of dances, afan will be sure to be useful.’”

  “Yes, and I’ve got tons of fans, so you see where the danger and anxietylies. Now if there is one thing more than another that I really urgentlywant it is furs. I simply haven’t any. I’m told that Davos is full ofRussians, and they are sure to wear the most lovely sables and things.To be among people who are smothered in furs when one hasn’t any oneselfmakes one want to break most of the Commandments.”

  “If it’s furs that you’re out for,” said Eleanor, “you will have tosuperintend the choice of them in person. You can’t be sure that yourcousin knows the difference between silver-fox and ordinary squirrel.”

  “There are some heavenly silver-fox stoles at Goliath and Mastodon’s,”said Suzanne, with a sigh; “if I could only inveigle Bertram into theirbuilding and take him for a stroll through the fur department!”

  “He lives somewhere near there, doesn’t he?” said Eleanor. “Do you knowwhat his habits are? Does he take a walk at any particular time of day?”

  “He usually walks down to his club about three o’clock, if it’s a fineday. That takes him right past Goliath and Mastodon’s.”

  “Let us two meet him accidentally at the street corner to-morrow,” saidEleanor; “we can walk a little way with him, and with luck we ought to beable to side-track him into the shop. You can say you want to get ahair-net or something. When we’re safely there I can say: ‘I wish you’dtell me what you want for your birthday.’ Then you’ll have everythingready to hand—the rich cousin, the fur department, and the topic ofbirthday presents.”

  “It’s a great idea,” said Suzanne; “you really are a brick. Come roundto-morrow at twenty to three; don’t be late, we must carry out our ambushto the minute.”

  At a few minutes to three the next afternoon the fur-trappers walkedwarily towards the selected corner. In the near distance rose thecolossal pile of Messrs. Goliath and Mastodon’s famed establishment.The afternoon was brilliantly fine, exactly the sort of weather to tempta gentleman of advancing years into the discreet exercise of a leisurelywalk.

  “I say, dear, I wish you’d do something for me this evening,” saidEleanor to her companion; “just drop in after dinner on some pretext orother, and stay on to make a fourth at bridge with Adela and the aunts.Otherwise I shall have to play, and Harry Scarisbrooke is going to comein unexpectedly about nine-fifteen, and I particularly want to be free totalk to him while the others are playing.”

  “Sorry, my dear, no can do,” said Suzanne; “ordinary bridge atthree-pence a hundred, with such dreadfully slow players as your aunts,bores me to tears. I nearly go to sleep over it.”

  “But I most particularly want an opportunity to talk with Harry,” urgedEleanor, an angry glint coming into her eyes.

  “Sorry, anything to oblige, but not that,” said Suzanne cheerfully; thesacrifices of friendship were beautiful in her eyes as long as she wasnot asked to make them.

  Eleanor said nothing further on the subject, but the corners of her mouthrearranged themselves.

  “There’s our man!” exclaimed Suzanne suddenly; “hurry!”

  Mr. Bertram Kneyght greeted his cousin and her friend with genuineheartiness, and readily accepted their invitation to explore the crowdedmart that stood temptingly at their elbow. The plate-glass doors swungopen and the trio plunged bravely into the jostling throng of buyers andloiterers.

  “Is it always as full as this?” asked Bertram of Eleanor.

  “More or less, and autumn sales are on just now,” she replied.

  Suzanne, in her anxiety to pilot her cousin to the desired haven of thefur department, was usually a few paces ahead of the others, coming backto them now and then if they lingered for a moment at some attractivecounter, with the nervous solicitude of a parent rook encouraging itsyoung ones on their first flying expedition.

  “It’s Suzanne’s birthday on Wednesday next,” confided Eleanor to BertramKneyght at a moment when Suzanne had left them unusually far behind; “mybirthday comes the day before, so we are both on the look-out forsomething to give each other.”

  “Ah,” said Bertram. “Now, perhaps you can advise me on that very point.I want to give Suzanne something, and I haven’t the least idea what shewants.”

  “She’s rather a problem,” said Eleanor. “She seems to have everythingone can think of, lucky girl. A fan is always useful; she’ll be going toa lot of dances at Davos this winter. Yes, I should think a fan wouldplease her more than anything. After our birthdays are over we inspecteach other’s muster of presents, and I always feel dreadfully humble.She gets such nice things, and I never have anything worth showing. Yousee, none of my relations or any of the people who give me presents areat all well off, so I can’t expect them to do anything more than justremember the day with some little trifle. Two years ago an uncle on mymother’s side of the family, who had come into a small legacy, promisedme a silver-fox stole for my birthday. I can’t tell you how excited Iwas about it, how I pictured myself showing it off to all my friends andenemies. Then just at that moment his wife died, and, of course, poorman, he could not be expected to think of birthday presents at such atime. He has lived abroad ever since, and I never got my fur. Do youknow, to this day I can scarcely look at a silver-fox pelt in a shopwindow or round anyone’s neck without feeling ready to burst into tears.I suppose if I hadn’t had the prospect of getting one I shouldn’t feelthat way. Look, there is the fan co
unter, on your left; you can easilyslip away in the crowd. Get her as nice a one as you can see—she is sucha dear, dear girl.”

  “Hullo, I thought I had lost you,” said Suzanne, making her way throughan obstructive knot of shoppers. “Where is Bertram?”

  “I got separated from him long ago. I thought he was on ahead with you,”said Eleanor. “We shall never find him in this crush.”

  Which turned out to be a true prediction.

  “All our trouble and forethought thrown away,” said Suzanne sulkily, whenthey had pushed their way fruitlessly through half a dozen departments.

  “I can’t think why you didn’t grab him by the arm,” said Eleanor; “Iwould have if I’d known him longer, but I’d only just been introduced.It’s nearly four now, we’d better have tea.”

  Some days later Suzanne rang Eleanor up on the telephone.

  “Thank you very much for the photograph frame. It was just what Iwanted. Very good of you. I say, do you know what that Kneyght personhas given me? Just what you said he would—a wretched fan. What? Ohyes, quite a good enough fan in its way, but still . . .”

  “You must come and see what he’s given me,” came in Eleanor’s voice overthe ’phone.

  “You! Why should he give you anything?”

  “Your cousin appears to be one of those rare people of wealth who take apleasure in giving good presents,” came the reply.

  “I wondered why he was so anxious to know where she lived,” snappedSuzanne to herself as she rang off.

  A cloud has arisen between the friendships of the two young women; as faras Eleanor is concerned the cloud has a silver-fox lining.