Reginald

by H.H. Munro (SAKI)

　　

---

I did it--I who should have known better. I persuadedReginald to go to the McKillops' garden-party against hiswill.We all make mistakes occasionally."They know you're here, and they'll think it so funny if youdon't go. And I want particularly to be in with Mrs.McKillop just now.""I know, you want one of her smoke Persian kittens as aprospective wife for Wumples--or a husband, is it?"(Reginald has a magnificent scorn for details, other thansartorial.) "And I am expected to undergo social martyrdomto suit the connubial exigencies" -"Reginald! It's nothing of the kind, only I'm sure Mrs.McKillop Would be pleased if I brought you. Young men ofyour brilliant attractions are rather at a premium at hergarden-parties.""Should be at a premium in heaven," remarked Reginaldcomplacently."There will be very few of you there, if that is what youmean. But seriously, there won't be any great strain uponyour powers of endurance; I promise you that you shan't haveto play croquet, or talk to the Archdeacon's wife, or doanything that is likely to bring on physical prostration.You can just wear your sweetest clothes and moderatelyamiable expression, and eat chocolate-creams with theappetite of a blase parrot. Nothing more is demanded ofyou."Reginald shut his eyes. "There will be the exhaustingly up-to-date young women who will ask me if I have seen San Toy:a less progressive grade who will yearn to hear about theDiamond Jubilee--the historic event, not the horse. With alittle encouragement, they will inquire if I saw the Alliesmarch into Paris. Why are women so fond of raking up thepast? They're as bad as tailors, who invariably rememberwhat you owe them for a suit long after you've ceased to wearit.""I'll order lunch for one o'clock; that will give you two anda half hours to dress in."Reginald puckered his brow into a tortured frown, and I knewthat my point was gained. He was debating what tie would gowith which waistcoat.Even then I had my misgivings.* * *During the drive to the McKillops' Reginald was possessedwith a great peace, which was not wholly to be accounted forby the fact that he had inveigled his feet into shoes a sizetoo small for them. I misgave more than ever, and havingonce launched Reginald on to the McKillops' lawn, Iestablished him near a seductive dish of marrons glaces, andas far from the Archdeacon's wife as possible; as I driftedaway to a diplomatic distance I heard with painfuldistinctness the eldest Mawkby girl asking him if he had seenSan Toy.It must have been ten minutes later, not more, and I had beenhaving quite an enjoyable chat with my hostess, and hadpromised to lend her The Eternal City and my recipe forrabbit mayonnaise, and was just about to offer a kind homefor her third Persian kitten, when I perceived, out of thecorner of my eye, that Reginald was not where I had left him,and that the marrons glaces were untasted. At the samemoment I became aware that old Colonel Mendoza was essayingto tell his classic story of how he introduced golf intoIndia, and that Reginald was in dangerous proximity. Thereare occasions when Reginald is caviare to the Colonel."When I was at Poona in '76" -"My dear Colonel," purred Reginald, "fancy admitting such athing! Such a give-away for one's age! I wouldn't admitbeing on this planet in '76." (Reginald in his wildestlapses into veracity never admits to being more than twenty-two.)The Colonel went to the colour of a fig that has attainedgreat ripeness, and Reginald, ignoring my efforts tointercept him, glided away to another part of the lawn. Ifound him a few minutes later happily engaged in teaching theyoungest Rampage boy the approved theory of mixing absinthe,within full earshot of his mother. Mrs. Rampage occupies aprominent place in local Temperance movements.As soon as I had broken up this unpromising tete-a-tete andsettled Reginald where he could watch the croquet playerslosing their tempers, I wandered off to find my hostess andrenew the kitten negotiations at the point where they hadbeen interrupted. I did not succeed in running her down atonce, and eventually it was Mrs. McKillop who sought me out,and her conversation was not of kittens."Your cousin is discussing Zaza with the Archdeacon's wife;at least, he is discussing, she is ordering her carriage."She spoke in the dry, staccato tone of one who repeats aFrench exercise, and I knew that as far as Millie McKillopwas concerned, Wumples was devoted to a lifelong celibacy."If you don't mind," I said hurriedly, "I think we'd like ourcarriage ordered too," and I made a forced march in thedirection of the croquet-ground.I found everyone talking nervously and feverishly of theweather and the war in South Africa, except Reginald, who wasreclining in a comfortable chair with the dreamy, far-awaylook that a volcano might wear just after it had desolatedentire villages. The Archdeacon's wife was buttoning up hergloves with a concentrated deliberation that was fearful tobehold. I shall have to treble my subscription to herCheerful Sunday Evenings Fund before I dare set foot in herhouse again.At that particular moment the croquet players finished theirgame, which had been going on without a symptom of finalityduring the whole afternoon. Why, I ask, should it havestopped precisely when a counter-attraction was so necessary?Everyone seemed to drift towards the area of disturbance, ofwhich the chairs of the Archdeacon's wife and Reginald formedthe storm-centre. Conversation flagged, and there settledupon the company that expectant hush that precedes the dawn--when your neighbours don't happen to keep poultry."What did the Caspian Sea?" asked Reginald, with appallingsuddenness.There were symptoms of a stampede. The Archdeacon's wifelooked at me. Kipling or someone has described somewhere thelook a foundered camel gives when the caravan moves on andleaves it to its fate. The peptonised reproach in the goodlady's eyes brought the passage vividly to my mind.I played my last card."Reginald, it's getting late, and a sea-mist is coming on."I knew that the elaborate curl over his right eyebrow was notguaranteed to survive a sea-mist."Never, never again, will I take you to a garden-party.Never . . . You behaved abominably . . . What did the Caspiansee?"A shade of genuine regret for misused opportunities passedover Reginald's face."After all," he said, "I believe an apricot tie would havegone better with the lilac waistcoat."

---

---