The Stampeding of Lady Bastable

by H.H. Munro (SAKI)

　　"It would be rather nice if you would put Clovis up for anothersix days while I go up north to the MacGregors'," said Mrs.Sangrail sleepily across the breakfast-table. It was herinvariable plan to speak in a sleepy, comfortable voice whenevershe was unusually keen about anything; it put people off theirguard, and they frequently fell in with her wishes before they hadrealized that she was really asking for anything. Lady Bastable,however, was not so easily taken unawares; possibly she knew thatvoice and what it betokened--at any rate, she knew Clovis.She frowned at a piece of toast and ate it very slowly, as thoughshe wished to convey the impression that the process hurt her morethan it hurt the toast; but no extension of hospitality onClovis's behalf rose to her lips."It would be a great convenience to me," pursued Mrs. Sangrail,abandoning the careless tone. "I particularly don't want to takehim to the MacGregors', and it will only be for six days."It will seem longer," said Lady Bastable dismally."The last time he stayed here for a week--""I know," interrupted the other hastily, "but that was nearly twoyears ago. He was younger then.""But he hasn't improved," said her hostess; "it's no use growingolder if you only learn new ways of misbehaving yourself."Mrs. Sangrail was unable to argue the point; since Clovis hadreached the age of seventeen she had never ceased to bewail hisirrepressible waywardness to all her circle of acquaintances, anda polite scepticism would have greeted the slightest hint at aprospective reformation. She discarded the fruitless effort atcajolery and resorted to undisguised bribery."If you'll have him here for these six days I'll cancel thatoutstanding bridge account."It was only for forty-nine shillings, but Lady Bastable lovedshillings with a great, strong love. To lose money at bridge andnot to have to pay it was one of those rare experiences which gavethe card-table a glamour in her eyes which it could neverotherwise have possessed. Mrs. Sangrail was almost equallydevoted to her card winnings, but the prospect of convenientlywarehousing her offspring for six days, and incidentally savinghis railway fare to the north, reconciled her to the sacrifice;when Clovis made a belated appearance at the breakfast-table thebargain had been struck."Just think," said Mrs. Sangrail sleepily; Lady Bastable has verykindly asked you to stay on here while I go to the MacGregors'."Clovis said suitable things in a highly unsuitable manner, andproceeded to make punitive expeditions among the breakfast disheswith a scowl on his face that would have driven the purr out of apeace conference. The arrangement that had been concluded behindhis back was doubly distasteful to him. In the first place, heparticularly wanted to teach the MacGregor boys, who could wellafford the knowledge, how to play poker-patience; secondly, theBastable catering was of the kind that is classified as a rudeplenty, which Clovis translated as a plenty that gives rise torude remarks. Watching him from behind ostentatiously sleepylids, his mother realized, in the light of long experience, thatany rejoicing over the success of her manoeuvre would bedistinctly premature. It was one thing to fit Clovis into aconvenient niche of the domestic jig-saw puzzle; it was quiteanother matter to get him to stay there.Lady Bastable was wont to retire in state to the morning-roomimmediately after breakfast and spend a quiet hour in skimmingthrough the papers; they were there, so she might as well gettheir money's worth out of them. Politics did not greatlyinterest her, but she was obsessed with a favourite forebodingthat one of these days there would be a great social upheaval, inwhich everybody would be killed by everybody else. "It will comesooner than we think," she would observe darkly; a mathematicalexpert of exceptionally high powers would have been puzzled towork out the approximate date from the slender and confusinggroundwork which this assertion afforded.On this particular morning the sight of Lady Bastable enthronedamong her papers gave Clovis the hint towards which his mind hadbeen groping all breakfast time. His mother had gone upstairs tosupervise packing operations, and he was alone on the ground-floorwith his hostess--and the servants. The latter were the key tothe situation. Bursting wildly into the kitchen quarters, Clovisscreamed a frantic though strictly non-committal summons: "PoorLady Bastable! In the morning-room! Oh, quick!" The next momentthe butler, cook, page-boy, two or three maids, and a gardener whohad happened to be in one of the outer kitchens were following ina hot scurry after Clovis as he headed back for the morning-room.Lady Bastable was roused from the world of newspaper lore byhearing a Japanese screen in the hall go down with a crash. Thenthe door leading from the hall flew open and her young guest toremadly through the room, shrieked at her in passing, "Thejacquerie! They're on us!" and dashed like an escaping hawk outthrough the French window. The scared mob of servants burst in onhis heels, the gardener still clutching the sickle with which hehad been trimming hedges, and the impetus of their headlong hastecarried them, slipping and sliding, over the smooth parquetflooring towards the chair where their mistress sat in panic-stricken amazement. If she had had a moment granted her forreflection she would have behaved, as she afterwards explained,with considerable dignity. It was probably the sickle whichdecided her, but anyway she followed the lead that Clovis hadgiven her through the French window, and ran well and far acrossthe lawn before the eyes of her astonished retainers.. . . . . . . . .Lost dignity is not a possession which can be restored at amoment's notice, and both Lady Bastable and the butler found theprocess of returning to normal conditions almost as painful as aslow recovery from drowning. A jacquerie, even if carried outwith the most respectful of intentions, cannot fail to leave sometraces of embarrassment behind it. By lunch-time, however,decorum had reasserted itself with enhanced rigour as a naturalrebound from its recent overthrow, and the meal was served in afrigid stateliness that might have been framed on a Byzantinemodel. Halfway through its duration Mrs. Sangrail was solemnlypresented with an envelope lying on a silver salver. It containeda cheque for forty-nine shillings.The MacGregor boys learned how to play poker-patience; after all,they could afford to.