The Lull

by H.H. Munro (SAKI)

　　

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I've asked Latimer Springfield to spend Sunday withus and stop the night," announced Mrs. Durmot at thebreakfast-table."I thought he was in the throes of an election,"remarked her husband."Exactly; the poll is on Wednesday, and the poor manwill have worked himself to a shadow by that time.Imagine what electioneering must be like in this awfulsoaking rain, going along slushy country roads andspeaking to damp audiences in draughty schoolrooms, dayafter day for a fortnight. He'll have to put in anappearance at some place of worship on Sunday morning,and he can come to us immediately afterwards and have athorough respite from everything connected with politics.I won't let him even think of them. I've had the pictureof Cromwell dissolving the Long Parliament taken downfrom the staircase, and even the portrait of LordRosebery's 'Ladas' removed from the smoking-room. AndVera," added Mrs. Durmot, turning to her sixteen-year-oldniece, "be careful what colour ribbon you wear in yourhair; not blue or yellow on any account; those are therival party colours, and emerald green or orange would bealmost as bad, with this Home Rule business to the fore.""On state occasions I always wear a black ribbon inmy hair," said Vera with crushing dignity.Latimer Springfield was a rather cheerless, oldishyoung man, who went into politics somewhat in the spiritin which other people might go into half-mourning.Without being an enthusiast, however, he was a fairlystrenuous plodder, and Mrs. Durmot had been reasonablynear the mark in asserting that he was working at highpressure over this election. The restful lull which hishostess enforced on him was decidedly welcome, and yetthe nervous excitement of the contest had too great ahold on him to be totally banished."I know he's going to sit up half the night workingup points for his final speeches," said Mrs. Durmotregretfully; "however, we've kept politics at arm'slength all the afternoon and evening. More than that wecannot do.""That remains to be seen," said Vera, but she saidit to herself.Latimer had scarcely shut his bedroom door before hewas immersed in a sheaf of notes and pamphlets, while afountain-pen and pocket-book were brought into play forthe due marshalling of useful facts and discreetfictions. He had been at work for perhaps thirty-fiveminutes, and the house was seemingly consecrated to thehealthy slumber of country life, when a stifled squealingand scuffling in the passage was followed by a loud tapat his door. Before he had time to answer, a much-encumbered Vera burst into the room with the question; "Isay, can I leave these here?""These" were a small black pig and a lusty specimenof black-red gamecock.Latimer was moderately fond of animals, andparticularly interested in small livestock rearing fromthe economic point of view; in fact, one of the pamphletson which he was at that moment engaged warmly advocatedthe further development of the pig and poultry industryin our rural districts; but he was pardonably unwillingto share even a commodious bedroom with samples ofhenroost and stye products."Wouldn't they be happier somewhere outside?" heasked, tactfully expressing his own preference in thematter in an apparent solicitude for theirs."There is no outside," said Vera impressively,"nothing but a waste of dark, swirling waters. Thereservoir at Brinkley has burst.""I didn't know there was a reservoir at Brinkley,"said Latimer."Well, there isn't now, it's jolly well all over theplace, and as we stand particularly low we're the centreof an inland sea just at present. You see the river hasoverflowed its banks as well.""Good gracious! Have any lives been lost?""Heaps, I should say. The second housemaid hasalready identified three bodies that have floated pastthe billiard-room window as being the young man she'sengaged to. Either she's engaged to a large assortmentof the population round here or else she's very carelessat identification. Of course it may be the same bodycoming round again and again in a swirl; I hadn't thoughtof that.""But we ought to go out and do rescue work, oughtn'twe?" said Latimer, with the instinct of a Parliamentarycandidate for getting into the local limelight."We can't," said Vera decidedly, "we haven't anyboats and we're cut off by a raging torrent from anyhuman habitation. My aunt particularly hoped you wouldkeep to your room and not add to the confusion, but shethought it would be so kind of you if you would take inHartlepool's Wonder, the gamecock, you know, for thenight. You see, there are eight other gamecocks, andthey fight like furies if they get together, so we'reputting one in each bedroom. The fowl-houses are allflooded out, you know. And then I thought perhaps youwouldn't mind taking in this wee piggie; he's rather alittle love, but he has a vile temper. He gets that fromhis mother - not that I like to say things against herwhen she's lying dead and drowned in her stye, poorthing. What he really wants is a man's firm hand to keephim in order. I'd try and grapple with him myself, onlyI've got my chow in my room, you know, and he goes forpigs wherever he finds them.""Couldn't the pig go in the bathroom?" asked Latimerfaintly, wishing that he had taken up as determined astand on the subject of bedroom swine as the chow had."The bathroom?" Vera laughed shrilly. "It'll befull of Boy Scouts till morning if the hot water holdsout.""Boy Scouts?""Yes, thirty of them came to rescue us while thewater was only waist-high; then it rose another threefeet or so and we had to rescue them. We're giving themhot baths in batches and drying their clothes in the hot-air cupboard, but, of course, drenched clothes don't dryin a minute, and the corridor and staircase are beginningto look like a bit of coast scenery by Tuke. Two of theboys are wearing your Melton overcoat; I hope you don'tmind.""It's a new overcoat," said Latimer, with everyindication of minding dreadfully."You'll take every care of Hartlepool's Wonder,won't you?" said Vera. "His mother took three firsts atBirmingham, and he was second in the cockerel class lastyear at Gloucester. He'll probably roost on the rail atthe bottom of your bed. I wonder if he'd feel more athome if some of his wives were up here with him? Thehens are all in the pantry, and I think I could pick outHartlepool Helen; she's his favourite."Latimer showed a belated firmness on the subject ofHartlepool Helen, and Vera withdrew without pressing thepoint, having first settled the gamecock on hisextemporised perch and taken an affectionate farewell ofthe pigling. Latimer undressed and got into bed with alldue speed, judging that the pig would abate itsinquisitorial restlessness once the light was turned out.As a substitute for a cosy, straw-bedded sty the roomoffered, at first inspection, few attractions, but thedisconsolate animal suddenly discovered an appliance inwhich the most luxuriously contrived piggeries werenotably deficient. The sharp edge of the underneath partof the bed was pitched at exactly the right elevation topermit the pigling to scrape himself ecstaticallybackwards and forwards, with an artistic humping of theback at the crucial moment and an accompanying gurgle oflong-drawn delight. The gamecock, who may have fanciedthat he was being rocked in the branches of a pine-tree,bore the motion with greater fortitude than Latimer wasable to command. A series of slaps directed at the pig'sbody were accepted more as an additional and pleasingirritant than as a criticism of conduct or a hint todesist; evidently something more than a man's firm handwas needed to deal with the case. Latimer slipped out ofbed in search of a weapon of dissuasion. There wassufficient light in the room to enable the pig to detectthis manoeuvre, and the vile temper, inherited from thedrowned mother, found full play. Latimer bounded backinto bed, and his conqueror, after a few threateningsnorts and champings of its jaws, resumed its massageoperations with renewed zeal. During the long wakefulhours which ensued Latimer tried to distract his mindfrom his own immediate troubles by dwelling with decentsympathy on the second housemaid's bereavement, but hefound himself more often wondering how many Boy Scoutswere sharing his Melton overcoat. The role of SaintMartin malgre lui was not one which appealed to him.Towards dawn the pigling fell into a happy slumber,and Latimer might have followed its example, but at aboutthe same time Stupor Hartlepooli gave a rousing crow,clattered down to the floor and forthwith commenced aspirited combat with his reflection in the wardrobemirror. Remembering that the bird was more or less underhis care Latimer performed Hague Tribunal offices bydraping a bath-towel over the provocative mirror, but theensuing peace was local and short-lived. The deflectedenergies of the gamecock found new outlet in a sudden andsustained attack on the sleeping and temporarilyinoffensive pigling, and the duel which followed wasdesperate and embittered beyond any possibility ofeffective intervention. The feathered combatant had theadvantage of being able, when hard pressed, to takerefuge on the bed, and freely availed himself of thiscircumstance; the pigling never quite succeeded inhurling himself on to the same eminence, but it was notfrom want of trying.Neither side could claim any decisive success, andthe struggle had been practically fought to a standstillby the time that the maid appeared with the early morningtea."Lor, sir," she exclaimed in undisguisedastonishment, "do you want those animals in your room?"Want!The pigling, as though aware that it might haveoutstayed its welcome, dashed out at the door, and thegamecock followed it at a more dignified pace."If Miss Vera's dog sees that pig - !" exclaimed themaid, and hurried off to avert such a catastrophe.A cold suspicion was stealing over Latimer's mind;he went to the window and drew up the blind. A light,drizzling rain was falling, but there was not thefaintest trace of any inundation.Some half-hour later he met Vera on the way to thebreakfast-room."I should not like to think of you as a deliberateliar," he observed coldly, "but one occasionally has todo things one does not like.""At any rate I kept your mind from dwelling onpolitics all the night," said Vera.Which was, of course, perfectly true.

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