Voces Populi Part 8

THE J. OF H. Quite, my dear fellow. (_As, for that matter, he has done from the first._)

THE c.o.c.kNEY GROOM (_alluding to a man who is riding at the gate_).

'Ere's a rough 'un this bloke's on! (_Horse rises at gate; his rider shouts "Hoo, over!" and the gate falls amidst general derision._) Over?

Ah, I should just think it _was_ over!

THE SATURNINE STABLEMAN (_as horseman pa.s.ses_). Yer needn't ha' "Hoo'd"

for that much!

[_The Small Boy, precariously perched on an immense animal, follows; his horse, becoming unmanageable, declines the gate, and leaps the hurdle at the side._

THE S. S. Ah, you're a _artful_ lad, you are--thought you'd take it where it was easiest, eh?--you'll 'ev to goo back and try agen you will.

CHORUS OF SYMPATHETIC BYSTANDERS. Take him at it again, boy; _you're_ all right!... Hold him in tighter, my lad.... Let out your reins a bit!

Lor, they didn't ought to let a boy like that ride.... He ain't no more 'old on that big 'orse than if he was a fly on him!... Keep his 'ed straighter next time.... Enough to try a boy's nerve! &c., &c.

[_The Boy takes the horse back, and eventually clears the gate amidst immense and well-deserved applause._

THE MORBID MAN (_disappointed_). Well, I fully expected to see _'im_ took off on a shutter.

THE DESCRIPTIVE MAN. It's the water-jump next--see; that's it in the middle; there's the water, underneath the hedge; they'll have to clear the 'ole of that--or else fall in and get a wetting. They've taken all the horses round to the other entrance--they'll come in from that side directly.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "HE EXPECTED THERE WOULD HAVE BEEN MORE TO SEE."]

[_One of the Judges holds up his stick as a signal; wild shouts of "Hoy-hoy! Whorr-oos.h.!.+" from within, as a Compet.i.tor dashes out and clears hedge and ditch by a foot or two. Deafening applause. A second horseman rides at it, and lands--if the word is allowable--neatly in the water. Roars of laughter as he scrambles out._

THE MORBID MAN. Call that a brook! It ain't a couple of inches deep--it's more mud than water! No fear (_he means "no hope"_) of any on 'em getting a ducking over that!

[_And so it turns out; the horses take the jump with more or less success, but without a single saddle being vacated. The proceedings terminate for the afternoon amidst demonstrations of hearty satisfaction from all but_ THE MORBID MAN, _who had expected there would have been "more to see."_

At a Dance.

THE HOSTESS _is receiving her Guests at the head of the staircase_; _a_ CONSCIENTIOUSLY LITERAL MAN _presents himself_.

HOSTESS (_with a gracious smile, and her eyes directed to the people immediately behind him_). _So_ glad you were able to come--how do you _do_?

THE CONSCIENTIOUSLY LITERAL MAN. Well, if you had asked me that question this afternoon, I should have said I was in for a severe attack of malarial fever--I had all the symptoms--but, about seven o'clock this evening, they suddenly pa.s.sed off, and--

[_Perceives, to his surprise, that his Hostess's attention is wandering, and decides to tell her the rest later in the evening._

MR. CLUMPSOLE. How do you do, Miss Thistledown? Can you give me a dance?

MISS THISTLEDOWN (_who has danced with him before_--once). With pleasure--let me see, the third extra after supper? Don't forget.

MISS BRUSKLEIGH (_to Major Erser_). Afraid I can't give you anything just now--but if you see me standing about later on, you can come and ask me again, you know.

MR. BOLDOVER (_glancing eagerly round the room as he enters, and soliloquising mentally_). She ought to be here by this time, if she's coming--can't see her though--she's certainly not dancing. There's her sister over there with the mother. She _hasn't_ come, or she'd be with them. Poor-looking lot of girls here to-night--don't think much of this music--get away as soon as I can, no _go_ about the thing!... Hooray!

There she is, after all! Jolly waltz this is they're playing! How pretty she's looking--how pretty _all_ the girls are looking! If I can only get her to give me one dance, and sit out most of it somewhere! I feel as if I could talk to her to-night. By Jove, I'll try it!

[_Watches his opportunity, and is cautiously making his way towards his divinity, when he is intercepted._

MRS. GRAPPLETON. Mr. Boldover, I do believe you were going to _cut_ me!

(_MR. B. protests and apologises._) Well, _I_ forgive you. I've been wanting to have another talk with you for ever so long. I've been thinking so _much_ of what you said that evening about Browning's relation to Science and the Supernatural. Suppose you take me down stairs for an ice or something, and we can have it out comfortably together.

[_Dismay of Mr. B._, _who has entirely forgotten any theories he may have advanced on the subject, but has no option but to comply_; _as he leaves the room with_ MRS. GRAPPLETON _on his arm, he has a torturing glimpse of_ MISS ROUNDARM, _apparently absorbed in her partner's conversation_.

MR. SENIOR ROPPE (_as he waltzes_). Oh, you needn't feel convicted of extraordinary ignorance, I a.s.sure you, Miss Featherhead. You would be surprised if you knew how many really clever persons have found that simple little problem of nought divided by one too much for them. Would you have supposed, by the way, that there is a reservoir in Pennsylvania containing a sufficient number of gallons to supply all London for eighteen months? You don't quite realize it, I see. "How many gallons is that?" Well, let me calculate roughly--taking the population of London at four millions, and the average daily consumption for each individual at--no, I can't work it out with sufficient accuracy while I am dancing; suppose we sit down, and I'll do it for you on my s.h.i.+rt-cuff--oh, very well; then I'll work it out when I get home, and send you the result to-morrow, if you will allow me.

MR. CULDERSACK (_who has provided himself beforehand with a set of topics for conversation--to his partner, as they halt for a moment_).

Er--(_consults some hieroglyphics on his cuff stealthily_)--have you read Stanley's book yet?

MISS TABULA RAISER. No, I haven't. Is it interesting?

MR. CULDERSACK. I can't say. I've not seen it myself. Shall we--er--?

[_They take another turn._

[Ill.u.s.tration: "ER--" (CONSULTS SOME HIEROGLYPHICS ON HIS CUFF STEALTHILY).]

MR. C. I suppose you have--er--been to the (_hesitates between the Academy and the Military Exhibition--decides on latter topic as fresher_) Military Exhibition?

MISS T. R. No--not yet. What do you think of it?

MR. C. Oh--_I_ haven't been either. Er--do you care to--?

[_They take another turn._

MR. C. (_after third halt_). Er--do you take any interest in politics?

MISS T. R. Not a bit.

MR. C. (_much relieved_). No more do I. (_Considers that he has satisfied all mental requirements._) Er--let me take you down stairs for an ice.

[_They go._

MRS. GRAPPLETON (_re-entering with_ MR. BOLDOVER, _after a discussion that has outlasted two ices and a plate of strawberries_). Well, I thought you would have explained my difficulties better than _that_--oh, what a _delicious_ waltz! Doesn't it set you longing to dance?

MR. B. (_who sees_ MISS ROUNDARM _in the distance, disengaged_). Yes, I really think I must--. [_Preparing to escape._

MRS. GRAPPLETON. I'm getting such an old thing, that really I oughtn't to--but well, just this _once_, as my husband isn't here.

[MR. BOLDOVER _resigns himself to necessity once more_.

FIRST CHAPERON (_to second ditto_). How sweet it is of your eldest girl to dance with that absurd Mr. Clumpsole! It's really too _bad_ of him to make such an exhibition of her--one can't help smiling at them!

SECOND CH. Oh, Ethel never can bear to hurt any one's feelings--so different from some girls! By the way, I've not seen _your_ daughter dancing to-night--men who dance are so scarce nowadays--I suppose they think they have the right to be a little fastidious.