The principal girl — Themes and Context

endering a signal service to the Public; and in consequence the Public did not thank him for his interference. To be sure, it was the first time in his life that he had been guilty of such an indiscretion. This was his first single-handed attempt to render a service to society at large; and, as was only to be expected, society at large was not making itself very pleasant about it.

There could be no doubt that at this moment the great Proconsul was the most unpopular man in London. Old ladies in ermine tippets scowled at him as he passed along Park Lane; and a hostess of mark, famous for her wealth and her humanity, had already crossed him out of her dinner list.

TOUCHES UPON A MATTER OF GRAVE PUBLIC IMPORTANCE

OF what crime, do you suppose, has S. of P. been guilty? It was merely that in a public print he had ventured to ask why the payment of the nominal sum of seven and sixpence per annum conferred upon the dogs of London certain privileges in respect of its pavements which society at large, for some little time past, has ceased to claim.

The resources of civilization were ranged already against Shelmerdine of Potterhanworth. Nice-minded women in point lace refused to meet the self-constituted champion of public amenity; the black-velveted mistresses of the Flossies and the Fidos thought the state of his mind must be unpleasant; he was an object of contumely where all that was fair and of good report held sway in the life of the metropolis.

It was a pretty quarrel, and both sides were sustaining it with spirit. The Pro-Darlings, with Verax and a Lover of Animals at their head, had rejoined with mannerly vituperation to the polished sarcasm of the Anti-Darlings. What is your remedy? had inquired the Friends of Fido with a rather obvious sneer. Banish the dumb creation from the pavements of great cities, had replied Inspired Commonsense.

And for our own poor part, Commissioners of the Office of Works, we think that reply is worth a statue.

Verax was making merry though at the expense of a public ornament, and the occupant of Messrs. Maple’s best hearthrug, who remembered Verax perfectly well as a grubby infant at his private school, had already formed the pious resolve of putting the fear of God into Verax.

S. of P., having pondered long, sat down at his writing-table; dipped his quill with a certain inherent natural grandeur, and started out on his crushing reply:--“Sir, I have read with amazement the diatribe against my humble and unworthy self which appears under the signature of Verax, to which you have extended the generous hospitality of your columns.”

At this point S. of P. bit his quill with such violence that a large blot was shaken from the end of it upon the monogram which decorated the communication.

“The problem as I envisage it”--S. of P. took a small gold pencil out of his waistcoat pocket and made a note on his blotting pad. “The problem as I envisage it”--but the problem that he did envisage was the Suffolk Colthurst, who at that moment entered the room.

The Suffolk Colthurst was large and blonde--so large and so blonde that to a profane mind she rather conveyed the suggestion of a particularly well-grown cauliflower.

“Wally, _please_, don’t let me spoil your morning. Don’t let me interrupt you, _please_.”

The voice of the Suffolk Colthurst was really quite agreeable, although a little light in the upper register. You might even call it flutelike if you cared to indulge in metaphor.

“Not at all, Agatha,” said S. of P. with excellent chest resonance. “I am merely envisaging the problem of the--ah--”

“_Don’t_, Wally.” The voice of the Suffolk Colthurst was perhaps a shade less flutelike if history really calls for these _nuances_. “You are making yourself ridiculous. Please drop the subject.”

“No, Agatha.” The sun setting over Africa might be compared to the brow of the great Proconsul. “Man in _The Thunderer_ most impertinent. Signs himself Verax. Suspect it’s that fellow--”

“Wally.” The Suffolk Colthurst roared here a little less gently than usual. “I will not uphold you! Everybody thinks it is most injudicious.”

“Paul and Millicent consider--”

“Public health, Agatha, public dec--”

“Wally, once for all, I absolutely refuse to discuss the subject. I will not have you make yourself ridiculous.”

The Suffolk Colthurst, with an approximation to natural majesty, put on a pair of gold-rimmed eyeglasses which were suspended round her neck by a cord, and took the Leading Morning Journal off the First Baron’s table.

“Impertinent, certainly. Sarcasm, I suppose.”