The Brother of Daphne | Page 4

Dornford Yates
their clothing. At the first blush- I use the word advisedly- it would seem that, like the fruit from which they take their name- "
"I thought you'd better do some tricks," said Daphne, throwing a dark look in my direction.
"Of course," I said; "the very thing. I've always been so good at tricks."
"I mean it," said Daphne.
"Of course you do. What about the confidence trick? Can any lady oblige me with a public-house?"
"She means trick-cycling, stupid," said Berry. "Riding backwards on one wheel while you count the ball-bearings."
"Look here," I said, "if Berry could have come and smoked a cigarette, I wouldn't have minded trying to flick the ash off it with a hunting-whip."
"Pity about that golf," mused Berry. "And you might have thrown knives round me afterwards. As it is, you'll have to recite."
In a few telling sentences I intimated that I would do nothing of the kind.
"I will appear," I said at last, "I will appear and run round generally, but I promise nothing more."
"Nonsense," said my sister. "I have promised, and I'm not going to let you break my word. You are going to do something definite."
"Desperate?"
"Definite. You have three days in which to get ready. There's Jill calling me. We're going to run over to Barley to whip up the Ashton crowd. D'you think we've enough petrol?"
"I don't even care," said I.
Daphne laughed softly. Then: "I must go," she said, getting up. "Give me a cigarette and tell me if you think this dress'll do. I'm going to change my shoes."
"If," said I, producing my cigarette-case, "if you were half as nice as you invariably look- "
"That's a dear," she said, taking a cigarette. "And now, good-bye."
I watched her retreating figure gloomily.
Berry began to recite 'We are Seven.'

Thursday morning broke cloudless and brilliant. I saw it break. Reluctantly, of course; I am not in the habit of rising at cock-crow. But on this occasion I rose because I could not sleep. When I went to bed on Wednesday night, I lay awake thinking deeply about what I was to do on the morrow. Daphne had proved inexorable. My brain, usually so fertile, had become barren, and for my three days' contemplation of the subject I had absolutely nothing to show. It was past midnight before I fell into a fitful slumber, only to be aroused three hours and a half later by the sudden burst of iniquity with which two or more cats saw fit to shake the silence of the rose-garden.
As I threw out the boot-jack, I noticed the dawn. And as further sleep seemed out of the question, I decided to dress and go out into the woods.
When I slipped out of Knight's Bottom into the sunlit road to find myself face to face with a Punch and Judy show, I was not far from being momentarily disconcerted. For a second it occurred to me that I might be dreaming, but, though I listened carefully, I could hear no cats, so I sat down on the bank by the side of the road and prepared to contemplate the phenomenon.
When I say 'Punch and Judy show' I am wrong. Although what I saw suggested the proximity of a Punch and a Judy, to say nothing of the likelihood of a show, I did not, as a matter of fact, descry any one of the three. The object that presented itself to my view was the tall, rectangular booth, gaudy and wide-mouthed, with which, until a few years ago, the streets of London were so familiar. Were! Dear old Punch and Judy, how quickly you are becoming a thing of the past! How soon you will have gone the way of Jack-i'-the Green, Pepper's Ghost, the Maypole, and many another old friend! Out of the light into the darkness. The old order changeth, yielding place to new, and in a little space men shall be content to wonder at your ancient memory as their grandfathers marvelled at that of the frolics of my Lord of Misrule. However.
There was the booth. But that was all. It stood quite alone at the side of the white road. I walked round it. Nothing. I glanced up and down the road, but there was no one in sight. I had been feeling hungry, for it was seven o'clock; but this was better than breakfast, and I returned to the bank. The little red curtains fluttered, as a passing breeze caught them, and I marked how bright and new they looked. It was certainly in good condition- this booth.
"Well?" said a voice.
"Well?" said I.
A pause. A girl's voice it was: coming from within the booth.
"You seem rather surprised," said the voice.
"No, no," I said, "not really surprised. Only a little staggered. You see, I know so few booths."
"What are you doing
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