by A. A. Milne
WINTER SPORT
I.--AN INTRODUCTION
"I had better say at once," I announced as I turned over the wine list,"that I have come out here to enjoy myself, and enjoy myself I shall.Myra, what shall we drink?"
"You had three weeks' honeymoon in October," complained Thomas, "andyou're taking another three weeks now. Don't you ever do any work?"
Myra and I smiled at each other. Coming from Thomas, who spends his busyday leaning up against the wireless installation at the Admiralty, theremark amused us.
"We'll have champagne," said Myra, "because it's our opening night.Archie, after you with the head-waiter."
It was due to Dahlia, really, that the Rabbits were hibernating at theHotel des Angeliques, Switzerland (central-heated throughout); for shehad been ordered abroad, after an illness, to pull herself together alittle, and her doctor had agreed with Archie that she might as well doit at a place where her husband could skate. On the point that Petershould come and skate too, however, Archie was firm. While admittingthat he loved his infant son, he reminded Dahlia that she couldn'tpossibly get through Calais and Pontarlier without declaring Peter, andthat the duty on this class of goods was remarkably heavy. Peter,therefore, was left behind. He had an army of nurses to look after him,and a stenographer to take down his more important remarks. With adaily bulletin and a record of his table-talk promised her, Dahlia wasprepared to be content.
As for Myra and me, we might have hesitated to take another holiday sosoon, had it not been for a letter I received one morning at breakfast.
"Simpson is going." I said. "He has purchased a pair of skis."
"That does it," said Myra decisively. And, gurgling happily to herself,she went out and bought a camera.
For Thomas I can find no excuses. At a moment of crisis he left hiscountry's Navy in jeopardy and, the Admiralty yacht being otherwiseengaged, booked a first return from Cook's. And so it was that at fouro'clock one day we arrived together at the Hotel des Angeliques, andsome three hours later were settling down comfortably to dinner.
"I've had a busy time," said Archie. "I've hired a small bob, a luge anda pair of skis for myself, a pair of snow-shoes and some skates forDahlia, a--a tricycle horse for Simpson, and I don't know what else. Allin French."
"What _is_ the French for a pair of snow-shoes?" asked Myra.
"I pointed to them in French. The undersized Robert I got at a bargain.The man who hired it last week broke his leg before his fortnight wasup, and so there was a reduction of several centimes."
"I've been busy too," I said. "I've been watching Myra unpack, andtelling her where not to put my things."
"I packed jolly well--except for the accident."
"An accident to the boot-oil," I explained. "If I get down to my lastthree shirts you will notice it."
We stopped eating for a moment in order to drink Dahlia's health. It wasDahlia's health which had sent us there.
"Who's your friend, Samuel?" said Archie, as Simpson caught somebody'seye at another table and nodded.
"A fellow I met in the lift," said Simpson casually.
"Samuel, beware of elevator acquaintances," said Myra in her most solemnmanner.
"He's rather a good chap. He was at Peterhouse with a friend of mine. Hewas telling me quite a good story about a 'wine' my friend gave thereonce, when----"
"Did you tell him about your 'ginger-beers' at Giggleswick?" Iinterrupted.
"My dear old chap, he's rather a man to be in with. He knows thePresident."
"I thought nobody knew the President of the Swiss Republic," said Myra."Like the Man in the Iron Mask."
"Not _that_ President, Myra. The President of the Angeliques SportsClub."
"Never heard of it," we all said.
Simpson polished his glasses and prepared delightedly to give anexplanation.
"The Sports Club runs everything here," he began. "It gives you prizesfor fancy costumes and skating and so on."
"Introduce me to the President at once," cooed Myra, patting her hairand smoothing down her frock.
"Even if you were the Treasurer's brother," said Archie, "you wouldn'tget a prize for skating, Simpson."
"You've never seen him do a rocking seventeen, sideways."
Simpson looked at us pityingly.
"There's a lot more in it than that," he said. "The President willintroduce you to anybody. One might see--er--somebody one rather likedthe look of, and--er---- Well, I mean in an hotel one wants to enterinto the hotel life and--er--meet other people."
"Who is she?" said Myra.
"Anybody you want to marry must be submitted to Myra for approvalfirst," I said. "We've told you so several times."
Simpson hastily disclaimed any intention of marrying anybody, and helpedhimself lavishly to champagne.
It so happened that I was the first of our party to meet the President,an honour which, perhaps, I hardly deserved. While Samuel was seekingtortuous introductions to him through friends of Peterhouse friends ofhis, the President and I fell into each other's arms in the most naturalway.
It occurred like this. There was a dance after dinner; and Myra, notsatisfied with my appearance, sent me upstairs to put some gloves on.(It is one of the penalties of marriage that one is always being sentupstairs.) With my hands properly shod I returned to the ball-room, andstood for a moment in a corner while I looked about for her. Suddenly Iheard a voice at my side.
"Do you want a partner?" it said.
I turned, and knew that I was face to face with the President.
"Well----" I began.
"You are a new-comer, aren't you? I expect you don't know many people.If there is anybody you would like to dance with----"
I looked round the room. It was too good a chance to miss.
"I wonder," I said. "That girl over there--in the pink frock--justputting up her fan----"
He almost embraced me.
"I congratulate you on your taste," he said. "Excellent! Come with me."
He went over to the girl in the pink dress, I at his heels.
"Er--may I introduce?" he said. "Mr.--er--er--yes, this isMiss--er--yes. H'r'm." Evidently he didn't know her name.
"Thank you," I said to him. He nodded and left us. I turned to the girlin the pink frock. She was very pretty.
"May I have this dance?" I asked. "I've got my gloves on," I added.
She looked at me gravely, trying hard not to smile.
"You may," said Myra.
II.--THE OPENING RUN
With a great effort Simpson strapped his foot securely into a ski andturned doubtfully to Thomas.
"Thomas," he said, "how do you know which foot is which?"
"It depends whose," said Thomas. He was busy tying a large rucksack oflunch on to himself, and was in no mood for Samuel's ball-room chatter.
"You've got one ski on one foot," I said. "Then the other ski goes onthe foot you've got over. I should have thought you would have seenthat."
"But I may have put the first one on wrong."
"You ought to know, after all these years, that you are certain to havedone so," I said severely. Having had my own hired skis fixed on by the_concierge_ I felt rather superior. Simpson, having bought his inLondon, was regarded darkly by that gentleman, and left to his owndevices.
"Are we all ready?" asked Myra, who had kept us waiting for twentyminutes. "Archie, what about Dahlia?"
"Dahlia will join us at lunch. She is expecting a letter from Peter bythe twelve o'clock post and refuses to start without it. Also shedoesn't think she is up to ski-ing just yet. Also she wants to have aheart-to-heart talk with the girl in red, and break it to her thatThomas is engaged to several people in London already."
"Come on," growled Thomas, and he led the way up the hill. We followedhim in single file.
It was a day of colour, straight from heaven. On either side thedazzling whiteness of the snow; above, the deep blue of the sky; infront of me the glorious apricot of Simpson's winter suiting. Londonseemed a hun
dred years away. It was impossible to work up the leastinterest in the Home Rule Bill, the Billiard Tournament, or the state ofSt. Paul's Cathedral.
"I feel extremely picturesque," said Archie. "If only we had a wolf ortwo after us, the illusion would be complete. The Boy Trappers, orHalf-Hours among the Rocky Mountains."
"It is a pleasant thought, Archie," I said, "that in any wolf troublethe bachelors of the party would have to sacrifice themselves for us.Myra dear, the loss of Samuel in such circumstances would draw us veryclose together. There might be a loss of Thomas too, perhaps--for ifthere was not enough of Simpson to go round, if there was a hungry wolfleft over, would Thomas hesitate?"
"No," said Thomas, "I should run like a hare."
Simpson said nothing. His face I could not see; but his back lookedexactly like the back of a man who was trying to look as if he had beenbrought up on skis from a baby and was now taking a small party ofenthusiastic novices out for their first lesson.
"What an awful shock it would be," I said, "if we found that Samuelreally did know something about it after all; and, while we weretumbling about anyhow, he sailed gracefully down the steepest slopes. Ishould go straight back to Cricklewood."
"My dear chap, I've read a _lot_ about it."
"Then we're quite safe."
"With all his faults," said Archie, "and they are many--Samuel is agentleman. He would never take an unfair advantage of us. Hallo, here weare!"
We left the road and made our way across the snow to a little wooden hutwhich Archie had noticed the day before. Here we were to meet Dahliafor lunch; and here, accordingly, we left the rucksack and such garmentsas the heat of the sun suggested. Then, at the top of a long snow-slope,steep at first, more gentle later, we stood and wondered.
"Who's going first?" said Archie.
"What do you do?" asked Myra.
"You don't. It does it for you."
"But how do you stop?"
"Don't bother about that, dear," I said. "That will be arranged for youall right. Take two steps to the brink of the hill and pick yourself upat the bottom. Now then, Simpson! Be a man. The lady waits, Samuel.The---- Hallo! Hi! Help!" I cried, as I began to move off slowly. It wastoo late to do anything about it. "Good-bye," I called. And then thingsmoved more quickly....
Very quickly....
Suddenly there came a moment when I realized that I wasn't keeping upwith my feet....
I shouted to my skis to stop. It was no good. They went on....
I decided to stop without them....
The ensuing second went by too swiftly for me to understand rightly whathappened. I fancy that, rising from my sitting position and travellingeasily on my head, I caught my skis up again and passed them....
Then it was their turn. They overtook me....
But I was not to be beaten. Once more I obtained the lead. This time Itook the inside berth, and kept it....
There seemed to be a lot more snow than I really wanted.... I struggledbravely with it....
And then the earthquake ceased, and suddenly I was in the outer air. Myfirst ski-run, the most glorious run of modern times, was over.
"Ripping!" I shouted up the hill to them. "But there's rather a nastybump at the bottom," I added kindly, as I set myself to the impossiblebusiness of getting up....
"Jove," said Archie, coming to rest a few yards off, "that's splendid!"He had fallen in a less striking way than myself, and he got to his feetwithout difficulty. "Why do you pose like that?" he asked, as he pickedup his stick.
"I'm a fixture," I announced. "Myra," I said, as she turned a somersaultand arrived beaming at my side, "I'm here for some time; you'll have tocome out every morning with crumbs for me. In the afternoon you canbring a cheering book and read aloud to your husband. Sometimes I shalldictate little things to you. They will not be my best little things;for this position, with my feet so much higher than my head, is not theone in which inspiration comes to me most readily. The flow of blood tothe brain impairs reflection. But no matter."
"Are you really stuck?" asked Myra in some anxiety. "I should hate tohave a husband who lived by himself in the snow," she said thoughtfully.
"Let us look on the bright side," said Archie. "The snow will havemelted by April, and he will then be able to return to you. Hallo,here's Thomas! Thomas will probably have some clever idea for restoringthe family credit."
Thomas got up in a businesslike manner and climbed slowly back to us.
"Thomas," I said, "you see the position. Indeed," I added, "it isobvious. None of the people round me seems inclined--or, it may be,able--to help. There is a feeling that if Myra lives in the hotel alonewhile I remain here--possibly till April--people will talk. You know howready they are. There is also the fact that I have only hired the skisfor three weeks. Also--a minor point, but one that touches merather--that I shall want my hair cut long before March is out. Thomas,imagine me to be a torpedo-destroyer on the Maplin Sands, and tell mewhat on earth to do."
"Take your skis off."
"Oh, brilliant!" said Myra.
"Take my skis off?" I cried. "Never! Is it not my duty to be the last toleave my skis? Can I abandon---- Hallo! is that Dahlia on the sky-line?Hooray, lunch! Archie, take my skis off, there's a good fellow. Wemustn't keep Dahlia waiting."
III.--A TYPICAL MORNING
"You take lunch out to-day--no?" said Josef, the head-waiter, in hisinvariable formula.
Myra and I were alone at breakfast, the first down. I was just puttingsome honey on to my seventh roll, and was not really in the mood forlight conversation with Josef about lunch. By the way, I must say Iprefer the good old English breakfast. With eggs and bacon and porridgeyou do know when you want to stop; with rolls and honey you hardlynotice what you are doing, and there seems no reason why you should notgo on for ever. Indeed, once ... but you would never believe me.
"We take lunch out to-day, _yes_, Josef. Lunch for--let me see----"
"Six?" suggested Myra.
"What are we all going to do? Archie said something about skating. I'moff that."
"But whatever we do we must lunch, and it's much nicer outdoors. Six,Josef."
Josef nodded and retired. I took my eighth roll.
"Do let's get off quickly to-day," I said. "There's always so much chatin the morning before we start."
"I've just got one swift letter to write," said Myra, as she got up,"and then I shall be pawing the ground."
Half an hour later I was in the lounge, booted, capped, gloved, andputteed--the complete St. Bernard. The lounge seemed to be entirely fullof hot air and entirely empty of anybody I knew. I asked for letters;and, getting none, went out and looked at the thermometer. To mysurprise I discovered that there were thirty-seven degrees of frost. Alittle alarmed, I tapped the thing impatiently. "Come, come," I said,"this is not the time for persiflage." However, it insisted on remainingat five degrees below zero. What I should have done about it I cannotsay, but at that moment I remembered that it was a Centigradethermometer with the freezing point in the wrong place. Slightlydisappointed that there were only five degrees of frost (Centigrade) Ireturned to the lounge.
"Here you are at last," said Archie impatiently. "What are we all goingto do?"
"Where's Dahlia?" asked Myra. "Let's wait till she comes and then we canall talk at once."
"Here she is. Dahlia, for Heaven's sake come and tell us thearrangements for the day. Start with the idea fixed in your mind thatMyra and I have ordered lunch for six."
Dahlia shepherded us to a quiet corner of the lounge and we all satdown.
"By the way," said Simpson, "are there any letters for me?"
"No; it's your turn to write," said Archie.
"But, my dear chap, there _must_ be one, because----"
"But you never acknowledged the bed-socks," I pointed out. "She can'twrite till you---- I mean, it was rather forward of her to send them atall; and if you haven't even----"
"Well," said Dahlia, "what does anybody want to do?"
Thomas was the first to answer the question. A girl in red came in fromthe breakfast-room and sat down near us. She looked up in our directionand met Thomas's eye.
"Good morning," said Thomas, with a smile, and he left us and movedacross to her.
"That's the girl he danced with all last night," whispered Myra. "Ican't think what's come over him. Is this our reserved Thomas--Thomasthe taciturn, whom we know and love so well? I don't like the way shedoes her hair."
"She's a Miss Aylwyn," said Simpson in a loud voice. "I had one dancewith her myself."
"The world," said Archie, "is full of people with whom Samuel has hadone dance."
"Well, that washes Thomas out, anyway. He'll spend the day teaching hersomething. What are the rest of us going to do?"
There was a moment's silence.
"Oh, Archie," said Dahlia, "did you get those nails put in my boots?"
I looked at Myra ... and sighed.
"Sorry, dear," he said. "I'll take them down now. The man will do themin twenty minutes." He walked over to the lift at the same moment thatThomas returned to us.
"I say," began Thomas, a little awkwardly, "if you're arranging what todo, don't bother about me. I rather thought of--er--taking it quietlythis morning. I think I overdid it a bit yesterday."
"We warned you at the time about the fourth hard-boiled egg," I said.
"I meant the ski-ing. We thought of--I thought of having lunch in thehotel, but, of course, you can have my rucksack to carry yours in.Er--I'll go and put it in for you."
He disappeared rather sheepishly in the direction of the dining-room.
"Now, Samuel," said Myra gently.
"Now what, Myra?"
"It's your turn. If you have a headache, tell us her name."
"My dear Myra, I want to ski to-day. Where shall we go? Let's go to theold slopes and practise the Christiania Turn."
"What you want to practise is the ordinary Hampstead Straight," I said."A medium performance of yours yesterday, Samuel."
"But, my dear old chap," he said eagerly, "I told you it was the faultof my skis. They would stick to the snow. Oh, I say," he added, "thatreminds me. I must go and buy some wax for them."
He dashed off. I looked at Myra ... and sighed.
"The nail-man won't be long," said Archie to Dahlia, on his return. "I'mto call for them in a quarter of an hour."
"Can't you wear some other boots, Dahlia, or your bedroom slippers orsomething? It's half-past eleven. We really must get off soon."
"But we haven't settled where we're going yet."
"Then for 'eving's sake let's do it. Myra and I thought we might go upabove the wood at the back and explore. We can always ski down. It mightbe rather exciting."
"Remember," said Dahlia, "I'm not so expert as you are."
"Of course," said Myra, "we're the Oberland mixed champions."
"You know," said Archie, "I was talking to the man who's doing Dahlia'sboots and he said the snow would be bad for ski-ing to-day."
"If he talked in French, no doubt you misunderstood him," I said, alittle annoyed. "He was probably asking you to buy a pair of skates."
"Talking about that," said Archie, "why shouldn't we skate this morning,and have lunch at the hotel, and then get the bob out this afternoon?"
"Here you are," said Thomas, coming up with a heavy rucksack. "Lunch forsix, so you'll have an extra one."
"I'd forgotten about lunch," said Archie. "Look here, just talk it overwith Dahlia while I go and see about my skates. I don't suppose Josefwill mind if we do stay in to lunch after all. What about Simpson?"
I looked at Myra ... and sighed.
"What about him?" I said.
. . . . .
Half an hour later two exhausted people--one of them with lunch for sixon his back--began the ascent to the wood, trailing their skis behindthem.
"Another moment," said Myra, "and I should have screamed."
IV.--THOMAS, AND A TURN
Myra finished her orange, dried her hands daintily on my handkerchief,and spoke her mind.
"This is the third time," she said, "that Thomas has given us the slip.If he gets engaged to that girl in red I shall cry."
"There are," I said, idly throwing a crust at Simpson and missing him,"engagements and Swiss engagements--just as there are measles and Germanmeasles. It is well known that Swiss engagements don't count."
"_We_ got engaged in Kent. A bit of luck."
"I have nothing against Miss Aylwyn----" I went on.
"Except the way she does her hair."
"--but she doesn't strike me as being the essential Rabbit. We cannotadmit her to the--er--fold."
"The covey," suggested Myra.
"The warren. Anyhow, she---- Simpson, for goodness' sake stop foolingabout with your bearded friend and tell us what you think of it all."
We were finishing lunch in the lee of a little chalet, high above thehotel, and Simpson had picked up an acquaintance with a goat, which hewas apparently trying to conciliate with a piece of chocolate. The goat,however, seemed to want a piece of Simpson.
"My dear old chap, he won't go away. Here--shoo! shoo! I wish I knewwhat his name was."
"Ernest," said Myra.
"I can't think why you ever got into such a hirsute set, Simpson. Heprobably wants your compass. Give it to him and let him withdraw."
Ernest, having decided that Simpson was not worth knowing, withdrew, andwe resumed our conversation.
"When we elderly married folk have retired," I went on, "and you gayyoung bachelors sit up over a last cigar to discuss your conquests, hasnot Thomas unbent to you, Samuel, and told you of his hopes and fears?"
"He told me last night he was afraid he was going bald, and he said hehoped he wasn't."
"That's a bad sign," said Myra. "What did you say?"
"I said I thought he was."
With some difficulty I got up from my seat in the snow and buckled on myskis.
"Come on, let's forget Thomas for a bit. Samuel is now going to show usthe Christiania Turn."
Simpson, all eagerness, began to prepare himself.
"I said I would, didn't I? I was doing it quite well yesterday. This isa perfect little slope for it. You understand the theory of it, don'tyou?"
"We hope to after the exhibition."
"Well, the great thing is to lean the opposite way to the way you thinkyou ought to lean. That's what's so difficult."
"You understand, Myra? Samuel will lean the opposite way to what hethinks he ought to lean. Tell Ernest."
"But suppose you think you ought to lean the _proper_ way, the way theydo in Christiania," said Myra, "and you lean the opposite way, then whathappens?"
"That is what Samuel will probably show us," I said.
Simpson was now ready.
"I am going to turn to the left," he said. "Watch carefully. Of course,I may not bring it off the first time."
"I can't help thinking you will," said Myra.
"It depends what you call bringing it off," I said. "We have every hopeof--I mean we don't think our money will be wasted. Have you got theopera-glasses and the peppermints and the programme, darling? Then youmay begin, Samuel."
Simpson started down the slope a little unsteadily. For one moment Ifeared that there might be an accident before the real accident, but herecovered himself nobly and sped to the bottom. Then a cloud of snowshot up, and for quite a long time there was no Simpson.
"I knew he wouldn't disappoint us," gurgled Myra.
We slid down to him and helped him up.
"You see the idea," he said. "I'm afraid I spoilt it a little at thatend, but----"
"My dear Samuel, you improved it out of all knowledge."
"But that actually _is_ the Christiania Turn."
"Oh, _why_ don't we live in Christiania?" exclaimed Myra to me."Couldn't we possibly afford it?"
"It must be a happy town," I agreed. "How the old streets must ring andring again with jovial laught
er."
"Shall I do it once more?"
"_Can_ you?" said Myra, clasping her hands eagerly.
"Wait here," said Samuel, "and I'll do it quite close to you."
Myra unstrapped her camera.
Half an hour later, with several excellent films of the scene of thecatastrophe, we started for home. It was more than a little steep, butthe run down was accomplished without any serious trouble. Simpson wentfirst to discover any hidden ditches (and to his credit be it said thathe invariably discovered them); Myra, in the position of safety in themiddle, profited by Samuel's frequent object-lessons; while I, at theback, was ready to help Myra up, if need arose, or to repel anyavalanche which descended on us from above. On the level snow at thebottom we became more companionable.
"We still haven't settled the great Thomas question," said Myra. "Whatabout to-morrow?"
"Why bother about to-morrow? _Carpe diem._ Latin."
"But the great tailing expedition is for to-morrow. The horses areordered; everything is prepared. Only one thing remains to settle. Shallwe have with us a grumpy but Aylwynless Thomas, or shall we let himbring her and spoil the party?"
"She can't spoil the party. I'm here to enjoy myself, and all Thomas's_fiancees_ can't stop me. Let's have Thomas happy, anyway."
"She's really quite a nice girl," said Simpson. "I danced with heronce."
"Right-o, then. I'll tell Dahlia to invite her."
We hurried on to the hotel; but as we passed the rink the Presidentstopped me for a chat. He wanted me to recite at a concert that evening.Basely deserted by Myra and Samuel, I told him that I did not recite;and I took the opportunity of adding that personally I didn't thinkanybody else ought to. I had just persuaded him to my point of view whenI noticed Thomas cutting remarkable figures on the ice. He pickedhimself up and skated to the side.
"Hallo!" he said. "Had a good day?"
"Splendid. What have you been doing?"
"Oh--skating."
"I say, about this tailing expedition to-morrow----"
"Er--yes, I was just going to talk about that."
"Well, it's all right. Myra is getting Dahlia to ask her to come withus."
"Good!" said Thomas, brightening up.
"You see, we shall only be seven, even with Miss Aylwyn, and----"
"Miss _Aylwyn_?" said Thomas in a hollow voice.
"Yes, isn't that the name of your friend in red?"
"Oh, _that_ one. Oh, but that's quite--I mean," he went on hurriedly,"Miss Aylwyn is probably booked up for to-morrow. It's Miss Cardew whois so keen on tailing. That girl in green, you know."
For a moment I stared at him blankly. Then I left him and dashed afterMyra.
V.--A TAILING PARTY
The procession prepared to start in the following order:--
(1) A brace of sinister-looking horses.
(2) Gaspard, the Last of the Bandits; or "Why cause a lot of talk bypushing your rich uncle over the cliff, when you can have him stabbedquietly for one franc fifty?" (If ever I were in any vendetta business Ishould pick Gaspard first.)
(3) A sleigh full of lunch.
(4) A few well-known ladies and gentlemen (being the cream of the Hoteldes Angeliques) on luges; namely, reading from left to right (which isreally the best method--unless you are translating Hebrew), Simpson,Archie, Dahlia, Myra, me, Miss Cardew, and Thomas.
While Gaspard was putting the finishing knots to the luges, I addresseda few remarks to Miss Cardew, fearing that she might be feeling a littlelonely amongst us. I said that it was a lovely day, and did she thinkthe snow would hold off till evening? Also had she ever done this sortof thing before? I forget what her answers were.
Thomas meanwhile was exchanging badinage on the hotel steps with MissAylwyn. There must be something peculiar in the Swiss air, for inEngland Thomas is quite a respectable man ... and a godfather.
"I suppose we _have_ asked the right one," said Myra doubtfully.
"His young affections are divided. There was a third girl in pink withwhom he breakfasted a lot this morning. It is the old tradition of thesea, you know. A sailor--I mean an Admiralty civilian has a wife atevery wireless station."
"Take your seats, please," said Archie. "The horses are sick ofwaiting."
We sat down. Archie took Dahlia's feet on his lap, Myra took mine, MissCardew took Thomas's. Simpson, alone in front, nursed a guide-book.
"_En avant!_" cried Simpson in his best French-taught-in-twelve-lessonsaccent.
Gaspard muttered an oath to his animals. They pulled bravely. The ropesnapped--and they trotted gaily down the hill with Gaspard.
We hurried after them with the luges....
"It's a good joke," said Archie, after this had happened three times,"but, personally, I weary of it. Miss Cardew, I'm afraid we've broughtyou out under false pretences. Thomas didn't explain the thing to youadequately. He gave you to understand that there was more in it thanthis."
Gaspard, who seemed full of rope, produced a fourth piece and tied aknot that made even Simpson envious.
"Now, Samuel," I begged, "do keep the line taut this time. Why do yousuppose we put your apricot suit right in the front? Is it, do yousuppose, for the sunset effects at eleven o'clock in the morning, or isit that you may look after the rope properly?"
"I'm awfully sorry, Miss Cardew," said Simpson, feeling that somebodyought to apologize for something and knowing that Gaspard wouldn't, "butI expect it will be all right now."
We settled down again. Once more Gaspard cursed his horses, and oncemore they started off bravely. And this time we went with them.
"The idea all along," I explained to Miss Cardew.
"I rather suspected it," she said. Apparently she has a suspicious mind.
After the little descent at the start, we went uphill slowly for acouple of miles, and then more rapidly over the level. We had drivenover the same road in a sleigh, coming from the station, and had beenbitterly cold and extremely bored. Why our present position should be somuch more enjoyable I didn't quite see.
"It's the expectation of an accident," said Archie. "At any momentsomebody may fall off. Good."
"My dear old chap," said Simpson, turning round to take part in theconversation, "why anybody _should_ fall off----"
We went suddenly round a corner, and quietly and without any fusswhatever Simpson left his luge and rolled on to the track. Luckily anypossibility of a further accident was at once avoided. There was nopanic at all. Archie kicked the body temporarily out of the way; afterwhich Dahlia leant over and pushed it thoughtfully to the side of theroad. Myra warded it off with a leg as she neared it; with both hands Ihelped it into the deep snow from which it had shown a tendency toemerge; Miss Cardew put a foot out at it for safety; and Thomas pattedit gently on the head as the end of the "tail" went past....
As soon as we had recovered our powers of speech--all except MissCardew, who was in hysterics--we called upon Gaspard to stop. Heindicated with the back of his neck that it would be dangerous to stopjust then; and it was not until we were at the bottom of the hill,nearly a mile from the place where Simpson left us, that the processionhalted, and gave itself up again to laughter.
"I hope he is not hurt," said Dahlia, wiping the tears from her eyes.
"He wouldn't spoil a good joke like that by getting hurt," said Myraconfidently. "He's much too much of a sportsman."
"Why did he do it?" said Thomas.
"He suddenly remembered he hadn't packed his safety-razor. He's half-wayback to the hotel by now."
Miss Cardew remained in hysterics.
Ten minutes later a brilliant sunset was observed approaching from thenorth. A little later it was seen to be a large dish of apricots andcream.
"He draws near," said Archie. "Now then, let's be stern with him."
At twenty yards' range Simpson began to talk. His trot had heated himslightly.
"I say," he said excitedly. "You----"
Myra shook her head at him.
"Not done, Samue
l," she said reproachfully.
"Not what, Myra? What not----"
"You oughtn't to leave us like that without telling us."
"After all," said Archie, "we are all one party, and we are supposed tokeep together. If you prefer to go about by yourself, that's all right;but if we go to the trouble of arranging something for the wholeparty----"
"You might have caused a very nasty accident," I pointed out. "If youwere in a hurry, you had only to say a word to Gaspard and he would havestopped for you to alight. Now I begin to understand why you keptcutting the rope at the start."
"You have sent Miss Cardew into hysterics by your conduct," said Dahlia.
Miss Cardew gave another peal. Simpson looked at her in dismay.
"I say, Miss Cardew, I'm most awfully sorry. I really didn't---- I say,Dahlia," he went on confidentially, "oughtn't we to do something aboutthis? Rub her feet with snow or--I mean, I know there's _something_ youdo when people have hysterics. It's rather serious if they go on. Don'tyou burn feathers under their nose?" He began to feel in his pockets. "Iwonder if Gaspard's got a feather?"
With a great effort Miss Cardew pulled herself together. "It's allright, thank you," she said in a stifled voice.
"Then let's get on," said Archie.
We resumed our seats once more. Archie took Dahlia's feet on his lap.Myra took mine. Miss Cardew took Thomas's. Simpson clung tight to hisluge with both hands.
"Right!" cried Archie.
Gaspard swore at his horses. They pulled bravely. The rope snapped--andthey trotted gaily up the hill with Gaspard.
We hurried after them with the luges....
VI.--A HAPPY ENDING
"For our last night they might at least have had a dance," said Myra,"even if there was no public presentation."
"As we had hoped," I admitted.
"What is a gymkhana, anyway?" asked Thomas.
"A few little competitions," said Archie. "One must cater for thechaperons sometimes. You are all entered for the Hat-making and theFeather-blowing--Dahlia thought it would amuse you."
"At Cambridge," I said reminiscently, "I once blew the feather 119 feet7 inches. Unfortunately I stepped outside the circle. My official recordis 2 feet."
"Did you ever trim a hat at Cambridge?" asked Myra. "Because you've gotto do one for me to-night."
I had not expected this. My view of the competition had been that _I_should have to provide the face and that _she_ would have to invent somesuitable frame for it.
"I'm full of ideas," I lied.
Nine o'clock found a small row of us prepared to blow the feather. Thepresidential instructions were that we had to race our feather across achalk-line at the end of the room, anybody touching his feather to bedisqualified.
"In the air or on the floor?" asked Simpson earnestly.
"Just as you like," said the President kindly, and came round with thebag.
I selected Percy with care--a dear little feather about half an inchlong and of a delicate whity-brown colour. I should have known him againanywhere.
"Go!" said the President. I was rather excited, with the result that myfirst blow was much too powerful for Percy. He shot up to the ceilingand, in spite of all I could do, seemed inclined to stay there.Anxiously I waited below with my mouth open; he came slowly down atlast; and in my eagerness I played my second just a shade too soon. Itmissed him. My third (when I was ready for it) went harmlessly over hishead. A frantic fourth and fifth helped him downwards ... and in anothermoment my beautiful Percy was on the floor. I dropped on my knees andplayed my sixth vigorously. He swirled to the left; I was after him likea shot ... and crashed into Thomas. We rolled over in a heap.
"Sorry!" we apologized as we got back on to our hands and knees.
Thomas went on blowing.
"Where's my feather?" I said.
Thomas was now two yards ahead, blowing like anything. A terriblesuspicion darted through my mind.
"Thomas," I said, "you've got my feather."
He made no answer. I scrambled after him.
"That's Percy," I said. "I should know him anywhere. You're blowingPercy. It's very bad form to blow another man's feather. If it gotabout, you would be cut by the county. Give me back my feather, Thomas."
"How do you know it's your feather?" he said truculently. "Feathers arejust alike."
"How do I know?" I asked in amazement. "A feather that I've brought upfrom the egg? Of course I know Percy." I leant down to him."_P--percy_," I whispered. He darted forward a good six inches. "Yousee," I said, "he knows his name."
"As a matter of fact," said Thomas, "his name's _P--paul_. Look, I'llshow you."
"You needn't bother, Thomas," I said hastily. "This is mere trifling. I_know_ that's my feather. I remember his profile distinctly."
"Then where's mine?"
"How do I know? You may have swallowed it. Go away and leave Percy andme to ourselves. You're only spoiling the knees of your trousers bystaying here."
"Paul and I----" began Thomas.
He was interrupted by a burst of applause. Dahlia had cajoled herfeather over the line first. Thomas rose and brushed himself. "You can'ave him," he said.
"There!" I said, as I picked Percy up and placed him reverently in mywaistcoat pocket. "That shows that he was mine. If he had been your ownlittle Paul you would have loved him even in defeat. Oh, musical chairsnow? Right-o." And at the President's touch I retired from the arena.
We had not entered for musical chairs. Personally I should have likedto, but it was felt that, if none of us did, then it would be more easyto stop Simpson doing so. For at musical chairs Simpson is--I am afraidthere is only one word for it; it is a word that I hesitate to use, butthe truth must prevail--Simpson is _rough_. He _lets himself go_. Heplays _all he knows_. Whenever I take Simpson out anywhere I alwayswhisper to my hostess, "_Not_ musical chairs."
The last event of the evening was the hat-making competition. Each manof us was provided with five large sheets of coloured crinkly paper, apacket of pins, a pair of scissors, and a lady opposite to him.
"Have you any plans at all?" asked Myra.
"Heaps. Tell me, what sort of hat would you like? Something for thePark?" I doubled up a piece of blue paper and looked at it. "You know,if this is a success, Myra, I shall often make your hats for you."
Five minutes later I had what I believe is called a "foundation."Anyhow, it was something for Myra to put her head into.
"Our very latest Bond Street model," said Myra. "Only fifteenguineas--or three-and-ninepence if you buy it at our other establishmentin Battersea."
"Now then, I can get going," I said, and I began to cut out a whitefeather. "Yes, your ladyship, this is from the genuine bird on our ownostrich farm in the Fulham Road. Plucked while the ingenuous biped hadits head in the sand. I shall put that round the brim," and I pinned itround.
"What about a few roses?" said Myra, fingering the red paper.
"The roses are going there on the right." I pinned them on. "And ahumming-bird and some violets next to them.... I say, I've got a lot ofpaper over. What about a nice piece of cabbage ... there ... and a bunchof asparagus ... and some tomatoes and a seagull's wing on the left. Theback still looks rather bare--let's have some poppies."
"There's only three minutes more," said Myra, "and you haven't used allthe paper yet."
"I've got about one William Allan Richardson and a couple of canariesover," I said, after examining my stock. "Let's put it inside as lining.There, Myra, my dear, I'm proud of you. I always say that in a nicequiet hat nobody looks prettier than you."
"Time!" said the President.
Anxious matrons prowled round us.
"We don't know any of the judges," I whispered. "This isn't fair."
The matrons conferred with the President. He cleared his throat. "Thefirst prize," he said, "goes to----"
But I had swooned.
. . . . .
"Well," said Archie, "the Rabbits return to Eng
land with two cups won onthe snowfields of Switzerland."
"Nobody need know," said Myra, "_which_ winter-sport they were won at."
"Unless I have 'Ski-ing, First Prize' engraved on mine," I said, "as Ihad rather intended."
"Then I shall have 'Figure-Skating' on mine," said Dahlia.
"Two cups," reflected Archie, "and Thomas engaged to three charminggirls. I think it has been worth it, you know."
A BAKER'S DOZEN