Part 13 (1/2)
”Yes, vaguely.”
”Well, Austria has sent an ultimatum to Servia about it,” he said, ”which Servia cannot possibly accept. Hugo told me. I met him this afternoon going back to the Foreign Office.”
”With a red despatch-box which was brought to him at the Carlton,” said Dodo. ”How small the world is.”
”Big enough. There's a meeting of the Cabinet to-morrow morning.”
”Oh, then they'll have a nice long talk and settle it all,” said Dodo optimistically.
CHAPTER VI
A WATERLOO BALL
On this Sunday evening, the day before her ball, Dodo had been engaged to dine at the German Emba.s.sy, but just as she was on her way upstairs to dress, a message had come, putting off the dinner owing to the Amba.s.sador's sudden indisposition. Jack was dining elsewhere, so Dodo, not at all ill-pleased to have an evening at home, secured Edith Arbuthnot to keep her company. She had caught Edith on her return from her golf at Mid-Surrey, and she soon arrived in large boots with three golf-b.a.l.l.s and a packet of peppermint bull's-eyes in her pocket, and an amazing appet.i.te. As Dodo had not waited to hear her Ma.s.s at St. Paul's that morning, Edith consoled her after dinner by playing the greater part of it on the piano, singing solo pa.s.sages in a rich hoa.r.s.e voice that ranged from treble to baritone, with a bull's-eye tucked away in her cheek where it looked like some enormous abscess on a tooth. When no solo was going on she imitated the sounds of violin and ba.s.soon and 'cello with great fidelity, and when it was over she arranged round her cigarettes, bull's-eyes and a mug of beer, put her feet up on a chair of Genoese brocade and lamented the frivolous complications of life. She took as her text the insane multiplicity of b.a.l.l.s; since the beginning of June they had been like the stars on a clear night for mult.i.tude, and every evening from Monday till Friday three or four had bespangled the firmament. In spite of her general modernity, Edith was laudably Victorian in regard to her maternal duties, and considered it inc.u.mbent on her to chaperone her daughter wherever she went. As Madge was a firm, tireless girl, who got no more fatigued with revolving than does the earth, and as Edith wanted to marry her off wisely and well as soon as possible, she had of late seen as many dawns as the driver of a night-express.
”The whole thing is insane,” she said. ”We take a girl to b.a.l.l.s every night in order that as many young men as possible may see her and give her lobster-salad and put their arms round her waist in the hopes that one of them may want to marry her and take her away from her mother.”
”You leave out the dancing,” interrupted Dodo. ”Dancing takes place at b.a.l.l.s.”
”To a small extent, but the other is the real reason of them. Besides you can't call it dancing when everybody merely strolls backwards and forwards and yawns. It would be far more sensible to have a well-conducted marriage-market at the Albert Hall, under the supervision of a bishop and a countess of unimpeachable morals. The girls would sit in rows mending socks and making puddings, with tickets round their necks shewing what they asked and offered by way of marriage settlements, also their age and a medical certificate as to their general health and temper. Then the boys would go round and each would taste their puddings and see how they sewed and have a little conversation, and look at the ticket and find out if Miss Anna Maria was within his means. Those are the qualities that really make for happy marriages, pleasant talk and cooking and needlework. The market would be open from ten to one every day except perhaps Sat.u.r.day. Instead of which,” concluded Edith indignantly, ”I have to sit up till dawn every night with a host of weary hags, who are all longing to take off their tiaras and their hair, and tumble into bed.”
”Have a chaperone-strike instead,” said Dodo. ”You'll never get boys to go to the Albert Hall in the morning. Besides, no one ever got engaged in cold blood. But I really should recommend a chaperone-strike. It isn't as if chaperones were the smallest good; no girl who wants to flirt is the least incommoded by her chaperone, nor does the chaperone take her away till she feels inclined to go. Get up an influential committee, and arrange a procession to Hyde Park, with banners embroidered with 'We won't go to more than five b.a.l.l.s a week' and 'Shorter night-s.h.i.+fts for mothers.' 'We will go home before morning.'
I'll join that, for I do the work of half a dozen mothers who haven't so fine a sense of duty as you. Or why shouldn't fathers take their turn and chaperone boys instead? Girls don't want any chaperoning nowadays, boys are much more defenceless. In a few years chaperones will be as extinct as--as Dodos.”
Edith refreshed herself in various ways, finis.h.i.+ng up with a cras.h.i.+ng peppermint.
”I shall revolt next year,” she said, ”for I won't go through another season like this. Dodo, does it ever strike you that we're all mad this year? We're behaving as we behave when the ice is breaking up, and we will have one minute more skating. Thank goodness your ball to-morrow is the last, and there positively isn't another one the same night. There were to have been two so I thought I should have had to take Madge to three, but they have both been cancelled. I suppose it was found that everyone would stop all night at yours.”
”I hope so,” said Dodo greedily. ”It's delicious to make other compet.i.tors scratch on your reputation.”
Edith pointed an accusing finger at her.
”Now you've said compet.i.tors,” she announced. ”What's the compet.i.tion?
What's this insane will-o'-the-wisp that's being hunted?”
Dodo considered this direct and simple question.
”Oh, it's an art,” she said. ”It's a compet.i.tion to see who can give most pleasure to the greatest number of people. That sounds as if it were something to do with a fine moral quality, but I don't claim that for it. It's partly a compet.i.tion in success too, and Grantie, the sour old angel, would say that it is a compet.i.tion in imbecile expenditure, and just for two minutes I should agree with her.”
Dodo gave a great sigh, and s.h.i.+fted the subject of the conversation a little.
”And it concerns burning candles at both ends and in the middle,” she said, ”and seeing how many candles you can keep alight. It's squeezing things in, and don't you know what a joy that always is, even when it concerns nothing more than packing a bag and squeezing in something extra which your maid says won't go in anyhow, my lady?”
”My maid never says that,” remarked Edith. ”I'm a plain ma'am.”
”The principle is the same, darling, however plain you are. Life in London is like that. We are all trying to squeeze something else into it, and to extract the last drop of what life has to give. You are just the same, with your bull's-eyes and your beer and your golfing-boots and your cigarettes. You're making the most of it, too. What will our luggage look like when it comes to be unpacked at the other end?”