English fiction -- 20th century; Humorous stories, English; Short stories, English
We had lunch. Thomas had it in the only dry things he had brought
with him--an ulster and a pair of Vardon cuffs, and sat as near the
fire as possible. It was still raining in torrents after lunch, and
Thomas, who is not what I call keen about golf, preferred to remain
before the fire. Perhaps he was right. I raked up an old copy of
Strumers with the Niblick for him, and read bits of the Telephone
Directory out aloud.
After tea his proper clothes were dry enough in places to put on,
and as it was still raining hard, and he seemed disinclined to come
out again, I ordered a cab for us both.
"It's really rotten luck," said Thomas, as we prepared to leave,
"that on the one day when I take a holiday, it should be so
beastly."
"Beastly, Thomas?" I said in amazement. "The ONE day? I'm afraid you
don't play inland golf much?"
"I hardly ever play round London."
"I thought not. Then let me tell you that to-day's was the best
day's golf I've had for three weeks."
"Golly!" said Thomas.
AN INFORMAL EVENING
DINNER was a very quiet affair. Not a soul drew my chair away from
under me as I sat down, and during the meal nobody threw bread
about. We talked gently of art and politics and things; and when the
ladies left there was no booby trap waiting for them at the door. In
a word, nothing to prepare me for what was to follow.
We strolled leisurely into the drawing-room. A glance told me the
worst. The ladies were in a cluster round Miss Power, and Miss Power
was on the floor. She got up quickly as we came in.
"We were trying to go underneath the poker," she explained. "Can you
do it?"
I waved the poker back.
"Let me see you do it again," I said. "I missed the first part."
"Oh, I can never do it. Bob, you show us."
Bob is an active young fellow. He took the poker, rested the end on
the floor, and then twisted himself underneath his right arm. I
expected to see him come up inside out, but he looked much the same
after it. However, no doubt his organs are all on the wrong side
now.
"Yes, that's how I should do it," I said hastily.
But Miss Power was firm. She gave me the poker. I pressed it hard on
the floor, said good-bye to them all, and dived. I got half-way
round, and was supporting myself upside down by one toe and the
slippery end of the poker, when it suddenly occurred to me that the
earth was revolving at an incredible speed on its own axis, and
that, in addition, we were hurtling at thousands of miles a minute
round the sun. It seemed impossible in these circumstances that I
should keep my balance any longer; and as soon as I realized this,
the poker began to slip. I was in no sort of position to do anything
about it, and we came down heavily together.
"Oh, what a pity!" said Miss Power. "I quite thought you'd done it."
"Being actually on the spot," I said, "I knew that I hadn't."
"Do try again."
"Not till the ground's a little softer."
"Let's do the jam-pot trick," said another girl.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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