Punch, or the London Charivari | Page 5

they overtook a group of business men, youngsters of forty or so, untried colts that had never yet been run by Piggott or me. These suddenly took fright and bolted. Inextricably mingled with our pair the whole lot stampeded like a herd of mustangs. The station approach scintillated with the flashing of spats as the Field breasted the rise. It was a grand sight, though so many fouls occurred that it was obvious the race was off. But things became serious when the entire crowd attempted to pass simultaneously through the booking-hall doors. Speedwell sprained a pastern and Tiny Tim sustained a severe kick on the fetlock. Both will require a fortnight's rest before they can be raced again.
This will be a warning to us and to others too, I hope. Still, it will not deter us from racing in the future. Nor should it deter others, for the sport is a glorious one and I hope it may become universal in the outer suburbs. Piggott and I will be only too glad to give advice or any other assistance that lies in our power to those who contemplate starting local clubs in and around London.
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[Illustration: Old Dame (_to visitor who has been condoling with her on a recent misfortune_). "OCH, I'M GEY ILL. I'VE BEEN CRYIN' SIN' FOWER THIS MORNIN', AN' I'M JUST GAUN TAE START AGEN AS SOON'S I'VE SIPPIT THIS BICKER O' PARRITCH."]
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WEDDING PRESENTS.
All day long I had been possessed by that odd feeling that comes over one unaccountably at times, as of things being a little strange, interesting-- somehow different, so that I was not at all surprised to find the Fairy Queen waiting for me when I entered my flat.
It was a warm evening and she sat perched on the tassel of the blind, lightly swaying to and fro in the tiny breeze that came dancing softly over the house-tops.
I saw her at once--one is always aware of the presence of the Fairy Queen.
I made my very best curtsey and she acknowledged it a little absent- mindedly.
"I want your advice this time," she said.
I smiled and shook my head deprecatingly.
"But how ...?" I began.
"It's about Margery and Max," she continued.
I was much astonished.
"Margery and Max," I echoed slowly. "But surely there's no need to trouble about them. It's a most delightful engagement. They're blissfully happy. I saw Margery only yesterday ..."
"Oh, the engagement's all right," said the Queen. "As a matter of fact it was I who really arranged that affair. Of course they think they did it themselves--people always do--but it would never have come off without me. No, the trouble is I don't know what to give them for a wedding present. You see I'm particularly fond of Margery; I've always taken a great interest in her, and I do want them to have something they'll really like. But it's so difficult. They have all the essential things already: youth, health, good fortune, love of course; and I can't go giving them motor-cars and grandfather clocks and unimportant things of that kind. Now can I?"
I agreed. As it happened I was in a somewhat similar predicament myself, though from rather different causes.
"Can't you think of _anything_?" she asked a little petulantly, evidently annoyed at my inadequacy. I shook my head.
"I can't," I said. "But why not find out from them? It's often done. You might ask Margery what Max would like and then sound him about her."
The Queen brightened up. "What a good idea!" she said. "I'll go at once." She's very impulsive.
She was back again in half-an-hour, looking pleased and excited. Her cheeks were like pink rose-leaves.
"It's all right about Max," she said breathlessly. "Margery says the only thing he wants frightfully badly is a really smashing service. He's rather bothered about his. So I shall order one for him at once. I'm very pleased; it seems such a suitable thing for a wedding present. People often give services, don't they? And now I'll go and find Max." And she was off before I could utter a sound.
But this time when she returned it was evident that she had been less successful.
"It's absurd," she said, "perfectly absurd!" She stamped her foot, and yet she was smiling a little. "I told him I would bestow upon Margery anything he could possibly think of that she lacked. That any quality of mind or heart, any beauty, any charm that a girl could desire, should be hers as a gift. I assured him that there was nothing I could not and would not do for her. And what do you think? He listened quite attentively and politely--oh, Max has nice manners--and then he looked me straight in the eyes and 'Thank you very much,' he said; 'it's