English essays -- 20th century; Short stories, English
I hope that His Majesty, the Lord Chamberlain, the late Dr. Bull, or
whoever is most concerned, will sympathize with me when I say that this
time I remained seated. I have my living to earn.
From that day Johnny has interpreted Dr. John Bull's favourite
composition nine times every morning. As this has been going on for
three months, and as the line I mentioned has two special rehearsals
to itself before coming out right, you can easily work out how many
send-him-victoriouses Johnny and I have collaborated in. About two
thousand.
Very well. Now, you ask yourself, why did I not send a polite
note to Johnny's father asking him to restrain his little boy from
over-composition, begging him not to force the child's musical genius too
quickly, imploring him (in short) to lock up the piano and lose the key?
What kept me from this course? The answer is "Patriotism." Those deep
feelings for his country which one man will express glibly by rising nine
times during the morning at the sound of the National Anthem, another
will direct to more solid uses. It was my duty, I felt, not to discourage
Johnny. He was showing qualities which could not fail, when he grew up,
to be of value to the nation. Loyalty, musical genius, determination,
patience, industry--never before have these qualities been so finely
united in a child of six. Was I to say a single word to disturb the
delicate balance of such a boy's mind? At six one is extraordinarily
susceptible to outside influence. A word from his father to the effect
that the gentleman above was getting sick of it, and Johnny's whole life
might be altered.
No, I would bear it grimly.
And then, yesterday, who should write to me but Johnny's father himself.
This was the letter:
"Dear Sir--I do not wish to interfere unduly in the affairs of the other
occupants of these flats, but I feel bound to call your attention to the
fact that for many weeks now there has been a flow of water from your
bathroom, which has penetrated through the ceiling of my bathroom,
particularly after you have been using the room in the mornings. May I
therefore beg you to be more careful in future not to splash or spill
water on your floor, seeing that it causes inconvenience to the tenants
beneath you?
"Yours faithfully, Jno. McAndrew."
You can understand how I felt about this. For months I had been suffering
Johnny in silence; yet, at the first little drop of water from above,
Johnny's father must break out into violent abuse of me. A fine reward!
Well, Johnny's future could look after itself now; anyhow, he was doomed
with a selfish father like that.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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