detailing certain prudential measures taken during the panic incident to a late threatened invasion
i hope,” said mrs albert, “that i am as free to admit my errors in judgment as another. evidently there has been a mistake in this matter, and it is equally obvious that i am the one who must have made it. i did not need to have this pointed out to me, dudley. what i looked to you for was advice, counsel, sympathy. you seem not to realise at all how important this is to me. a false step now may ruin everything—and you simply sit there and grin!”
“my dear sister,” replied uncle dudley, smoothing his face, “the smile was involuntary. it shall not recur. i was only thinking of albert’s enthusiasm for the——”
“yes, i know!” put in mrs albert; “for that girl with the zouave jacket——”
“and the scarlet petticoat,” prompted uncle dudley.
“and the crinoline,” said the lady.
“o, he did not insist upon that. i recall his exact words. ‘whether this under-garment,’ he said, ‘be made of some stiff material like horsehair, or by means of steel hoops, is a mere question of detail.’ no, albert expressly kept an open mind on that point.”
“i agree with you,” remarked mrs albert coldly, “to the extent that he certainly does keep his mind on it. he has now reverted to the subject, i should think, at least twenty times. i am not so blind as you may imagine. i notice that that mr labouchere also keeps on referring, every week, to another girl in her zouave jacket, whom he remembers with equal fondness, apparently.”
“yes,” put in uncle dudley, “those words about the ‘stiff material like horsehair’ were in truth. i daresay albert simply read them there, and just unconsciously repeated them. we often do inadvertent, unthinking things of that sort.”
mrs albert shook her head. “it is nothing to me, of course,” she said, “but i cannot help feeling that the middle-aged father of a family might concentrate his thoughts upon something nobler, something higher, than the recollection of the charms of a red petticoat, thirty years ago. that is so characteristic of men. they cannot discuss a question broadly——”
“think not?” queried uncle dudley, with interest. “you should listen at the keyhole sometime, after you have led the ladies out from dinner.”
“i mean personally, in a general way. they always particularise. albert, for example, allows all his views on this very important question to be coloured by the fact that when he was a young man he admired some girl in a short red balmoral petticoat. whenever conversation touches upon any phase of the whole subject of costume, out he comes with his tiresome adulation of that particular garment. of course, i ask no questions—i should prefer not to be informed—i try not even to draw inferences—but i notice that ermyntrude is beginning to observe the persistency with which her father——”
“my good emily,” urged uncle dudley, consolingly, “far back in the sixties we all liked that girl; we couldn’t help ourselves—she was the only girl there was. and we think of her fondly still—we old fellows—because for us she was also the last there was! when she went out, lo and behold! we too had gone out, not to come back any more. when albert and i babble about a scarlet petticoat, it is only as a symbol of our own far-away youth. o delicious vision!—the bright, bright red, the skirt that came drooping down over it, not hiding too much that pretty little foot and ankle, the dear zouave jacket moulding itself so delicately to the persuasive encircling arm——”
“dudley! i really must recall you to yourself,” said mrs albert. “we were speaking of quite another matter. i am in a very serious dilemma. first of all, as i explained to you, to please the hon. mrs coon-alwyn i became one of the vice-presidents of the friendly divided skirt association. you know how useful she can be, in helping to bring ermyntrude out successfully. and of course everybody knew that, even if we did have them made, we should never wear them. that was quite out of the question.”
“and then?” asked uncle dudley.
“well, then, let me see—yes, next came the neo-dress-improver league. i never understood what the object was, precisely; it was a kind of secession from the other, led by the countess of wimps, and i needn’t tell you that she is of the utmost importance to us, and there was simply nothing for me to do but to become a lady patroness of that. you were in extremely nice company—there were seven or eight ladies of title among the patronesses, our names all printed together in beautiful little gilt letters—and you really weren’t committed to anything that i could make out. no—that was all right. i should do the same thing again, under the circumstances. no, the trouble came with the amalgamated anti-crinoline confederacy. that was where i was too hasty, i think.”
“that’s the thing with the protesting post-cards, isn’t it?” inquired uncle dudley.
“that very feature of it alone ought to have warned me,” mrs albert answered with despondency. “my own better sense should have told me that post-cards were incompatible with selectness. but you see, the invitations were sent out by the authoress of the street-sprinkler’s secret, and that gave me the impression that it was to be literary—to represent culture and the arts, you know; and that appealed to me, of course, very strongly.”
“i have always feared that your literary impulses would run away with you,” uncle dudley declared gravely.
“it is my weak side; i don’t deny it,” replied his sister. “where letters and authorship, and that sort of thing, you know, are concerned, it is my nature to be sympathetic. and besides, the dowager lady thames-ditton was very pronounced in favour of the movement, and i couldn’t fly in the face of that, could i? i must say, though, that i had my misgivings almost from the first. miss wallaby told the rev. mr grayt-scott that a lady she knew had looked over quite a peck or more of the post-cards which came in one day, and they were nine-tenths of them from earl’s court.”
“yes,” remarked uncle dudley, “i think i have heard that the post-card reaches its most luxuriant state of literary usefulness in that locality. it was from that point that they tried to rush the laureateship, you know.”
“well, you can imagine how i felt when i heard it. it is all well enough to be literary—nobody realises that more than i do—and it is all very well to be loyal—of course! but one draws the line at earl’s court—at least, that part of it. i say frankly that it serves me right. i should have known better. one thing i cannot be too thankful for—ermyntrude did not send a post-card. some blessed instinct prompted me to tell her there was no hurry about it—that i did not like to see young girls too forward in such matters. and now—why—who knows—dudley! i have an idea! ermie shall join the crinoline defence league!”
“i see—the family will hedge on the crinoline issue. capital!”
“you know, after all, we may have to wear them. it’s quite as likely as not. the old duchess of west ham is president of the league, and she is very influential in the highest quarters. her grace, i understand, is somewhat bandy, but she has always maintained the strictest christian respectability, and her action in this matter will count for a great deal. just think, if she should happen to take a fancy to ermyntrude! that miss wallaby has thrust herself forward till she is actually a member of the council, and she is going to deliver an address on ‘the effect of modesty on national morals.’ she told our curate that at one of the meetings of the council she came within an ace of being introduced to the duchess herself. now surely, if she can accomplish all this, ermie ought to be able to do still more. tell me, dudley, what do you think?”
“i think,” replied uncle dudley musingly, “i think that the scarlet petticoat, with the zouave jack——”
mrs albert interrupted him with sternness. “don’t you see,” she demanded, “that if it does come, the dear girl will share in the credit of bringing it in, and if it doesn’t come, i shall have the advantage of having helped to stave it off. whichever side wins, there we are.”
uncle dudley rose, and looked thoughtfully out upon the fog, and stroked his large white moustache in slow meditation. “yes—undoubtedly,” he said at last, “there we are.”
