The Garden Party, and Other StoriesMansfield, Katherine
General
The Garden Party, and Other Stories
Mansfield, Katherine
New Zealand -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, New Zealand
“Oh, Aunt Josephine, must we go on?” groaned Cyril desperately.
“It’s quite all right, dear boy,” said Aunt Josephine, as though he and
she were at the dentist’s together. “He’ll understand in a minute.” And
she whispered to Cyril, “He’s getting a bit deaf, you know.” Then she
leaned forward and really bawled at Grandfather Pinner, “Cyril only
wanted to tell you, father dear, that _his_ father is still very fond
of meringues.”
Colonel Pinner heard that time, heard and brooded, looking Cyril up and
down.
“What an esstrordinary thing!” said old Grandfather Pinner. “What an
esstrordinary thing to come all this way here to tell me!”
And Cyril felt it _was_.
“Yes, I shall send Cyril the watch,” said Josephine.
“That would be very nice,” said Constantia. “I seem to remember last
time he came there was some little trouble about the time.”
X
They were interrupted by Kate bursting through the door in her usual
fashion, as though she had discovered some secret panel in the wall.
“Fried or boiled?” asked the bold voice.
Fried or boiled? Josephine and Constantia were quite bewildered for the
moment. They could hardly take it in.
“Fried or boiled what, Kate?” asked Josephine, trying to begin to
concentrate.
Kate gave a loud sniff. “Fish.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so immediately?” Josephine reproached her
gently. “How could you expect us to understand, Kate? There are a great
many things in this world you know, which are fried or boiled.” And
after such a display of courage she said quite brightly to Constantia,
“Which do you prefer, Con?”
“I think it might be nice to have it fried,” said Constantia. “On the
other hand, of course, boiled fish is very nice. I think I prefer both
equally well.... Unless you.... In that case—”
“I shall fry it,” said Kate, and she bounced back, leaving their door
open and slamming the door of her kitchen.
Josephine gazed at Constantia; she raised her pale eyebrows until they
rippled away into her pale hair. She got up. She said in a very lofty,
imposing way, “Do you mind following me into the drawing-room,
Constantia? I’ve got something of great importance to discuss with
you.”
For it was always to the drawing-room they retired when they wanted to
talk over Kate.
Josephine closed the door meaningly. “Sit down, Constantia,” she said,
still very grand. She might have been receiving Constantia for the
first time. And Con looked round vaguely for a chair, as though she
felt indeed quite a stranger.
“Now the question is,” said Josephine, bending forward, “whether we
shall keep her or not.”
“That is the question,” agreed Constantia.
“And this time,” said Josephine firmly, “we must come to a definite
decision.”
Constantia looked for a moment as though she might begin going over all
the other times, but she pulled herself together and said, “Yes, Jug.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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