The Brother of Daphne | Page 4

I play golf?"
"I know," said Berry; "because- "
"Miserable man!" said Daphne.
"Who?" said her husband.
"You."
Berry turned to me. "You hear?" he said. " Vulgar abuse. And why? Simply because a
previous engagement denies to me the opportunity of subscribing to this charitable
imposition. Humble as would have been my poor assistance, it would have been rendered

with a willing heart. But there!" he sighed- " It may not be. The Bananas will never know,
never realize how- By the way, who are the Bananas?"
"The Bananas?" said I. "Surely you know the- "
"Weren't at Ascot, were they?"
"Not in the Enclosure. No. The bold, bad Bananas are in many ways an engaging race.
Indeed, some of the manners and customs which they affect are of a quite peculiar
interest. Let us look, brother, for a moment, at 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,