The Oversight

by H.H. Munro (SAKI)

　　

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"It's like a Chinese puzzle," said Lady Prowche resentfully, staring at ascribbled list of names that spread over two or three loose sheets ofnotepaper on her writing-table. Most of the names had a pencil markrunning through them. "What is like a Chinese puzzle?" asked Lena Luddleford briskly; sherather prided herself on being able to grapple with the minor problems oflife. "Getting people suitably sorted together. Sir Richard likes me to have ahouse party about this time of year, and gives me a free hand as to whomI should invite; all he asks is that it should be a peaceable party, withno friction or unpleasantness." "That seems reasonable enough," said Lena. "Not only reasonable, my dear, but necessary. Sir Richard has hisliterary work to think of; you can't expect a man to concentrate on thetribal disputes of Central Asian clansmen when he's got social feudsblazing under his own roof." "But why should they blaze? Why should there be feuds at all within thecompass of a house party?" "Exactly; why should they blaze or why should they exist?" echoed LadyProwche; "the point is that they always do. We have been unlucky;persistently unlucky, now that I come to look back on things. We havealways got people of violently opposed views under one roof, and theresult has been not merely unpleasantness but explosion." "Do you mean people who disagree on matters of political opinion andreligious views?" asked Lena. "No, not that. The broader lines of political or religious differencedon't matter. You can have Church of England and Unitarian and Buddhistunder the same roof without courting disaster; the only Buddhist I everhad down here quarrelled with everybody, but that was on account of hisnaturally squabblesome temperament; it had nothing to do with hisreligion. And I've always found that people can differ profoundly aboutpolitics and meet on perfectly good terms at breakfast. Now, Miss LarborJones, who was staying here last year, worships Lloyd George as a sort ofwingless angel, while Mrs. Walters, who was down here at the same time,privately considers him to be--an antelope, let us say." "An antelope?" "Well, not an antelope exactly, but something with horns and hoofs andtail." "Oh, I see." "Still, that didn't prevent them from being the chummiest of mortals onthe tennis court and in the billiard-room. They did quarrel finally,about a lead in a doubled hand of no-trumps, but that of course is athing that no account of judicious guest-grouping could prevent. Mrs.Walters had got king, knave, ten, and seven of clubs--" "You were saying that there were other lines of demarcation that causedthe bother," interrupted Lena. "Exactly. It is the minor differences and side-issues that give so muchtrouble," said Lady Prowche; "not to my dying day shall I forget lastyear's upheaval over the Suffragette question. Laura Henniseed left thehouse in a state of speechless indignation, but before she had reachedthat state she had used language that would not have been tolerated inthe Austrian Reichsrath. Intensive bear-gardening was Sir Richard'sdescription of the whole affair, and I don't think he exaggerated." "Of course the Suffragette question is a burning one, and lets loose themost dreadful ill-feeling," said Lena; "but one can generally find outbeforehand what people's opinions--" "My dear, the year before it was worse. It was Christian Science. SelinaGoobie is a sort of High Priestess of the Cult, and she put down allopposition with a high hand. Then one evening, after dinner, ClovisSangrail put a wasp down her back, to see if her theory about the non-existence of pain could be depended on in an emergency. The wasp wassmall, but very efficient, and it had been soured in temper by being keptin a paper cage all the afternoon. Wasps don't stand confinement well,at least this one didn't. I don't think I ever realised till that momentwhat the word 'invective' could be made to mean. I sometimes wake in thenight and think I still hear Selina describing Clovis's conduct andgeneral character. That was the year that Sir Richard was writing hisvolume on 'Domestic Life in Tartary.' The critics all blamed it for alack of concentration." "He's engaged on a very important work this year, isn't he?" asked Lena. "'Land-tenure in Turkestan,'" said Lady Prowche; "he is just at work onthe final chapters and they require all the concentration he can givethem. That is why I am so very anxious not to have any unfortunatedisturbance this year. I have taken every precaution I can think of tobring non-conflicting and harmonious elements together; the only twopeople I am not quite easy about are the Atkinson man and Marcus Popham.They are the two who will be down here longest together, and if they aregoing to fall foul of one another about any burning question, well, therewill be more unpleasantness." "Can't you find out anything about them? About their opinions, I mean." "Anything? My dear Lena, there's scarcely anything that I haven't foundout about them. They're both of them moderate Liberal, Evangelical,mildly opposed to female suffrage, they approve of the Falconer Report,and the Stewards' decision about Craganour. Thank goodness in thiscountry we don't fly into violent passions about Wagner and Brahms andthings of that sort. There is only one thorny subject that I haven'tbeen able to make sure about, the only stone that I have left unturned.Are they unanimously anti-vivisectionist or do they both uphold thenecessity for scientific experiment? There has been a lot ofcorrespondence on the subject in our local newspapers of late, and thevicar is certain to preach a sermon about it; vicars are dreadfullyprovocative at times. Now, if you could only find out for me whetherthese two men are divergently for or against--" "I!" exclaimed Lena; "how am I to find out? I don't know either of themto speak to." "Still you might discover, in some roundabout way. Write to them, underas assumed name of course, for subscriptions to one or other cause--or,better still, send a stamped type-written reply postcard, with a requestfor a declaration for or against vivisection; people who would hesitateto commit themselves to a subscription will cheerfully write Yes or No ona prepaid postcard. If you can't manage it that way, try and meet themat some one's house and get into argument on the subject. I think Millyoccasionally has one or other of them at her at-homes; you might have theluck to meet both of them there the same evening. Only it must be donesoon. My invitations ought to go out by Wednesday or Thursday at thelatest, and to-day is Friday. "Milly's at-homes are not very amusing, as a rule," said Lena, "and onenever gets a chance of talking uninterruptedly to any one for a couple ofminutes at a time; Milly is one of those restless hostesses who alwaysseem to be trying to see how you look in different parts of the room, infresh grouping effects. Even if I got to speak to Popham or Atkinson Icouldn't plunge into a topic like vivisection straight away. No, I thinkthe postcard scheme would be more hopeful and decidedly less tiresome.How would it be best to word them?" "Oh, something like this: 'Are you in favour of experiments on livinganimals for the purpose of scientific research--Yes or No?' That isquite simple and unmistakable. If they don't answer it will at least bean indication that they are indifferent about the subject, and that isall I want to know." "All right," said Lena, "I'll get my brother-in-law to let me have themaddressed to his office, and he can telephone the result of theplebiscite direct to you." "Thank you ever so much," said Lady Prowche gratefully, "and be sure toget the cards sent off as soon as possible." On the following Tuesday the voice of an office clerk, speaking throughthe telephone, informed Lady Prowche that the postcard poll showedunanimous hostility to experiments on living animals. Lady Prowche thanked the office clerk, and in a louder and more ferventvoice she thanked Heaven. The two invitations, already sealed andaddressed, were immediately dispatched; in due course they were bothaccepted. The house party of the halcyon hours, as the prospectivehostess called it, was auspiciously launched. Lena Luddleford was not included among the guests, having previouslycommitted herself to another invitation. At the opening day of a cricketfestival, however, she ran across Lady Prowche, who had motored over fromthe other side of the county. She wore the air of one who is notinterested in cricket and not particularly interested in life. She shookhands limply with Lena, and remarked that it was a beastly day. "The party, how has it gone off?" asked Lena quickly. "Don't speak of it!" was the tragical answer; "why do I always have suchrotten luck?" "But what has happened?" "It has been awful. Hyaenas could not have behaved with greatersavagery. Sir Richard said so, and he has been in countries where hyaenaslive, so he ought to know. They actually came to blows!" "Blows?" "Blows and curses. It really might have been a scene from one ofHogarth's pictures. I never felt so humiliated in my life. What theservants must have thought!" "But who were the offenders?" "Oh, naturally the very two that we took all the trouble about." "I thought they agreed on every subject that one could violently disagreeabout--religion, politics, vivisection, the Derby decision, the FalconerReport; what else was there left to quarrel about?" "My dear, we were fools not to have thought of it. One of them was Pro-Greek and the other Pro-Bulgar."

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