If Winter Don't Part 4

"And what does this mean? Chops and tomato sauce? Chops! Gracious Heavens! And tomato sauce."

"It's just a joke. Silly, no doubt."

"It might be an allusion to your complexion at the present moment. It might be a mere subst.i.tute for some endearing word or promise, agreeably to a preconcerted system of correspondence."

He had an uneasy feeling that he had heard or read all this before somewhere.

"Merely a joke," he pleaded. "And what does it matter?"

"She's a cat, anyhow. She'd better keep off the gra.s.s, and I'll tell her so. What did she say when she saw you this morning?"

"Hardly anything. Her husband was with her. I say, how on earth did you know?"

"Her husband was not with her when I met her. But do you know what this sudden return of yours means? This unusual desire to apologize for your manners, and to take me out for the day? Guilty conscience.

I'm going into the garden to cut flowers for the luncheon table."

"Let me come with you and hold the scissors?"

"If you hold the scissors, how the d.i.c.kens am I going to cut the flowers? You're really too trying."

No, it was not going well. More self-control would be needed. A happy idea struck him.

"Didn't you say that Mrs. Smith had a stable sole--I mean, a sable stole, in church or somewhere?"

"And you don't try that on either."

"I don't suppose I should look well in it," he said brightly.

He followed her into the garden. The flowers were cut, and subsequently arranged, in complete silence. He had the feeling that anything he said might not be taken down, but would certainly be used in evidence against him.

And then, in the hall, was heard the voice of Mr. Doom Dagshaw, the proprietor of the Mammoth Circus at the Garden Settlement.

"Lunch ready? So it ought to be. Don't announce me. Waste of time. I know my way about in this house."

He entered. He was a young man of sulky, somewhat dictatorial expression. His dress had something of the clerical appearance, an effect at which he distinctly aimed.

"Hallo," he said, and sat down on the table and yawned. Then he caught sight of Luke.

"You here?" he said. "What for?"

"Just a little holiday," said Luke nervously, "a little treat for me.

You don't mind?"

Doom Dagshaw did not answer him, but turned to Mabel.

"Lunch is ready," he said, "let's get on to it."

They pa.s.sed into the dining-room. Luke observing salmon at one end of the table, and cutlets at the other, asked, with a smile, if those two sentences generally ran concurrently.

"Oh, hold your jaw," said Dagshaw.

"That's the way to talk to him," said Mabel approvingly.

"Yours, too," Dagshaw added, turning to Mabel. "I'll do any talking that has to be done. I'm here to talk about my circus. Yes, and to eat ham. Isn't any? Ought to be. Give me three of those cutlets. You don't realize what a circus is, you people. It's a church. It's a cathedral.

It's more."

"I hope," said Luke, "that it's getting on nicely, and will be a great success."

"Bound to be. Can't help it. When I bought the land from the Garden Settlement Syndicate I made it a condition that there should be a clause in every lease granted that a year's season ticket should be taken for the Mammoth Circus."

"I don't quite see," said Mabel, "how it's like a church."

"The circus has a ring. The ring is a circle. The circle is the symbol of eternity. Will anybody be able to see my highly-trained chimpanzee in the trapeze act without realizing as he has never realized before, the meaning of the word uplift? Think of the stars in their program.

And by what strenuous discipline and self-denial they have reached their high position."

"'Per ardua ad astra,'" quoted Luke.

"Hold your jaw. Three more cutlets. Think of the clowns. They tumble over, they fall from horses, they fail to jump through the rings. They are lashed by the whip of the ring-master. What a lesson in reverence is here. People who jeer, people who make fun, people who parody great works of fiction always and invariably come to a bad end. It will be not only a mammoth circus but a moral circus. It will be the greatest ethical inst.i.tution in this part of the world. Its work will be more subtle than that of any other. Its appeal will be to the unconscious rather than to the conscious mind. Freud never thought of that. I did it myself. I am a genius. Potatoes."

After lunch it was suggested that Mr. Doom Dagshaw should take Mabel up to the Garden Settlement to see the progress that was being made in the building of the Mammoth Circus.

"You won't care to come?" said Mabel to her husband. And it seemed less like a question than a command.

"No, not in my line," said Luke, still doing his best. "Hope you'll enjoy yourselves."

When they had gone, Luke retired to his study-bedroom. There was a tap at the door. It was Dot who entered.

"She's out," said Dot. "Boats?"

"Right-o. Gorgeous," said Luke.

Normally dinner was at half-past seven. But Mabel did not get back till a quarter to eight. It was eight o'clock before they began. Mabel offered no explanation beyond saying that there really had been a great deal of architectural detail to examine. Luke had prepared a series of six pleasant and gratifying things to say about Mr. Doom Dagshaw and the Mammoth Circus. He found himself absolutely unable to say any of them. He could say other things. He could say "Windmill, watermill" ten times over, very quickly, without a mistake. But somehow he could not say Mammoth Circus.

Well, at any rate, he might be bright and amusing. At this time it was customary--perhaps too customary--to ask if you had read a certain book by a certain author, the name of the author being artfully arranged so as to throw some light on the t.i.tle of the book. Luke remembered three of these which had been told him at the office.

Unfortunately they were all of them far too improper for general use.

So he just said any bright thing that came into his mind. Mabel looked very tired. She admitted she was tired. She said she had walked about a thousand miles.

"And then I come back to this kind of thing," she said.

The rest of the dinner, which was brief, pa.s.sed in complete silence.

Then Mabel went into the drawing-room, and Luke remained behind and lit a cigarette.

"This will never do," he said to himself. "I must keep it up. I must be pleasant. I must say number one of those six sentences about Doom Dagshaw and the Mammoth Circus, even it if splits my palate and my tongue drops out."

He threw down his cigarette, walked firmly into the drawing-room, and closed the door. "Mabel," he said, "I hope you enjoyed your visit to the Doom Circus with Mr. Mammoth Dagshaw."