An Englishwoman's Home.

Timaru Herald, Volume XIIC, Issue 13880, 17 April 1909, Page 4 (Supplement)

An Englishwoman's Home.

(By Mrs George Norman.) Jt Ls 4.45 o'clock of a Sunday "afternoon in-Laiiy Bideford's gold and white drawing rooni. lue fashionably substantial tea ' table is laid ready for tea, -which is being brought in by butler and footmen, and Lady Bideford, a young woman with a reputation (in Society) for brains, and who has not long come in from a. Sunday luncheon, is seated on the big .Uouis XV. sofa behind the . tea-table, discoursing, animated!) upon- the latest play, " The Coming Invasion." •Lady B.: .'Of course, what dear Lord .Roberts said to me •[The door opens and the butler announces: Mrs Gervase Dempster, a young woman in the maximum 01 fashion, the.minimum of skirts.] " Lady. (struggling up from behind the.tea.table): Oh! how d'you do. Airs Dempster (sinking into the nearest chair): "What were you all talking about the play or th? Case :- Lady B.: Oh, the play. Have you seen it? - Mrs Dempster: Last night. It's too splendid. / Lady B.: I haven't had a free night yet Mrs Dempster: The only thing is it's about the most extraordinary people^—the sort of people who exist, but one doesn't'know they do. An Intelligent but Youthful Poet: Er . . ..but that hardly affects it as a play, does it? ■'".' Mrs. Dempster (who rarely listens to any voice but her own, continuing): The woman has the loudest voice, and she's too fearfully com., and the son's boots . . .well! Lady B. (soulfully): I don't see what that matters ..' . ' . in a play. After all, 'they're the backbone of England, all those, er. . . . (vaguely) sort of people. FEMININE WIT AND WISDOM. Mrs Dempster (taking a cup of tea handed her by a young man): 0 f course, it's too awful if we're all - to be invaded. ; No cream, thanks. A Society Bud (anxiously) : Oh! But it won't be before the Season, will it? The Poet (running his hand rather desperately through his hair): We hope not. Ladv Bideford (ladling tea out of a Jacobean tea eaddv): One can't imagine why we didn't think of it all before. '. , . I know we're not going down to Belst>trs for Easter, v . . Belstairs (looking round) is in Essex, you kn"w. and of course, they'd land in Essex. The Germans, I mean. (With penetration): Of course, it's the Germans they mean in the play. A Chorus of Feminine Voices: Oh, of course. ■ Mrs Dempster: How dreadful of you. Essex (reflectively); of course, it s opposite Germany. • No, no tenf oake. thanks. Lord Derrymore. I never eat tea-cake. We (addressing the company generally) go to 'isberger, ;the confectioner, you know,°and I'm sure now he's a German spy. . • ;■ Ladv Bideford: I know. That s what I feel—and there are so many German confectioners. m. Mrs Dempster (with animation): They say they?re all spies. I know Lord Roh<»-K told liady Bideford (to a still young but rather =ilent man on a perilously thin gilt-legged chair near her sofa): What is so awful, too, that rents are sure to go down. I mean in Essex. I'm sure the Belstairs tenants will want at least five per cent, off-- — . - The Voting Man (who is in the Diplomatic Service, with commendable gravity): But the Invasion isn't a certainty, you know. - • Mrs Dempster (interrupting .her own discourse at the other side of the room)":. Not a certainty! Why, dear Mr\Saftoris ... they say unless we can find three luiudred thousand men. isn't it? by May— — ' Ladv Bideford. (with intense nu\ lofty patriotism): And how can we find them when they spend every Saturday in the vear, when they might be drilling and manoeuvring and that, plaving in football matches. Mrs Dempster (eyeing, herself absently in nn old Venetian glass that stands. on the table next to her): I know. Disgraceful, isn't it? „, , The Diplomat (murmuring): On! . . . They can't all play, can they, and football only lasts a few months, Ladv Bideford (warmly, if lllogically): Oh, does" it? Well,- that makes it all'the worse. •-. . -Mrs Dempster (vainly searching m the depths of a monster forty-guinea sable muff for a microscopic halt<ruinea handkerchief, with vast sarcasm): And on the other Saturday, I suppose, they spend thensixpences, qn cricket■! 'A British Dowager .(who has been devoting herself with silent concentration- to an excellent tea): And then they talk about - the unemployed ! .. Mrs Dempster: I know. My' njajd my maid, if you please—really, one did think one's own maid's people were decent—has a brother who s a fixer or something. Lord Derrvmore (politely): A *""«• Mrs Dempster (with dignity): A fixer. He saws thingsLord Derrymore: Oh, a jomer Mrs - Dempster (rather ruffled) : Of course, that's what I meant, and he says he can't get any work. And Fellows—thats m'y maul —talks of nothing else. It quite gets on my nerves, so I sent him an aerosj tic out of the "Morning Inventor —if you solve them you get a free dinner —and he actually had the impertinence to say he'd rather have no dinner. . . The Bud (seeing an opening, brightly): Those acrostics are rather fan, you know; we did quite a lot at Stonemere, and old Lord Stonemere [There is a generally disapproving silence from the feminine and therefore leading section of the company at the introduction of a frivolous topic at such a moment. The Bud's voice sinks into silence. . . but Lord Denymore, a Celt with a twinkle in his eye, rises and crosses over to the settee on which she is 6eated.] A BRILLIANT IDEA. Ladv Bideford (in suddenly inspired tones): What you ought to do— I thought of it quite suddenly while I was waiting for the car before luncheon —as (she fixes her large soulful eves on a distant vast? .' of Lent lilies) to make all the un- , emploved into Recruits . . . that (triumphantly) would solve the < whole thing, wouldnt' it? (She ■ pauses, sugar tongs in hand, anil ■ survevs her now rather puzzled guests, while Lord Derrymore i catches the Bud's rye and looks ■ hastily away.) ; Mrs Dempster (doubtfully): Oh! you couldn't make them, could you'. > Lady Bideford : Well, they ought to. I ■ 'know Lord Roberts ' Mrs Dempster: But don't sold'crs h"vp ] to be tall? I'm strre the Life i Guards ,-, Lady Bideford (Inftilv): But not nil ] regiments, and. after all. when it's J a case of the Germans- 1 The Bud: Oh. Gprmans. Wouldn't it 1 be awful if they took London ? I > : eimply bated my German gover- < pess. / '

Lady Bideford (with still loftier sarcasm) : Oh! dear Rosemary, you know we shan't all he killed in our ' beds by German governesses. [The Bud, who feels she is scarcely a success, catches her mother's eye —the Dowager who has deposited her teacup. They rise.] The Dowager: Well, it's all very terrible, and we can't be sufficiently thankful they've found it out in time. ... Lady Bideford (who begins to feel like a second Mme. de Lieven, with a i wisdom-wearied air): No, indeed. And mercifully we have the Navy. The Company (generally brightening up): Oh, of course! One forgets the Navy! The Dowager (extending a valedictory hand): And that's really rather ungrateful, isn' it? ' Such charming fellows. Rosemary had a delight- > ful ball on dear Lord John's flagshiD last week. Good-bye, dear. Lady Bideford —such a delightful talk —so stimulating—but of course vou are so clever. Ladv Bideford (simplv): One has to try to think a little nowadays. ' . ' . . It's time- one did. For the nation. ...

[As the last of her visitors departs Lady Bideford sits down at her large ' gilt writing table and indites a hastv memo, of her scheme for the amalgamation of the TJ's (Unemployed) and the R's (Recruits) for the Defence of our Island Home.]