The Brother of Daphne

CHAPTER I. Punch and Judy

PUNCH AND JUDY

"I said you'd do something," said Daphne, leaning back easily in her long chair.

I stopped swinging my legs and looked at her.

"Did you, indeed," I said coldly.

My sister nodded dreamily.

"Then you lied, darling. In your white throat," I said pleasantly.

"By the way, d'you know if the petrol's come?"

"I don't even care," said Daphne. "But I didn't lie, old chap. My word is--"

"Your bond? Quite so. But not mine. The appointment I have in Town that day--"

"Which day?" said Daphne, with a faint smile.

"The fete day."

"Ah!"

It was a bazaar fete thing. Daphne and several others--euphemistically styled workers--had conspired and agreed together to obtain money by false pretences for and on behalf of a certain mission, to wit the Banana. I prefer to put it that way. There is a certain smack about the wording of an indictment. Almost a relish. The fact that two years before I had been let in for a stall and had defrauded fellow men and women of a considerable sum of money, but strengthened my determination not to be entrapped again. At the same time I realized that I was up against it.

The crime in question was fixed for Wednesday or Thursday--so much I knew. But no more. There was the rub. I really could not toil up to Town two days running.

"Let's see," I said carelessly, "the fete's on--er--Wednesday, or Thursday, is it?"

"Which day are you going up to Town?" said Daphne. I changed my ground.

"The Bananas are all right," I said, lighting a cigarette.

"They only ate a missionary the other day," said my sister.

"That's bad," said I musingly. "To any nation the consumption of home produce is of vital--"

"We want to make sixty pounds."

"To go towards their next meal? How much do missionaries cost?"

"To save their souls alive," said Daphne zealously.

"I'm glad something's to be saved alive," said I.

Before she could reply, tea began to appear. When the footman had retired to fetch the second instalment of accessories, I pointed the finger of scorn at the table, upon which he had set the tray.

"That parody emanated from a bazaar," I said contemptuously.

"It does for the garden," said my sister.

"It'd do for anything," said I. "Its silly sides, its crazy legs-"

"Crazy?" cried Daphne indignantly. "It'd bear an elephant."

"What if it would?" I said severely. "It's months since we gave up the elephants."

"Is the kettle ready?"

"It boils not, neither does it sing."

"For which piece of irreverence you will do something on Thursday."

"My dear girl," I said hurriedly, "if it were not imperative for me to be in Town--"

"You will do something on Thursday." I groaned.

"And this," I said, "this is my mother's daughter! We have been nursed together, scolded together, dandled in the same arms. If she had not been the stronger of the two, we should have played with the same toys."

I groaned again. Berry opened his eyes.

"The value of a siesta upon a summer afternoon--" he began.

I cut in with a bitter laugh. "What's he going to do?" I said.

"Take a stall, of course," said Daphne.

"Is he?" said Berry comfortably. "Is he? If motoring with Jonah to Huntercombe, and playing golf all day, is not incompatible with taking a stall on Thursday, I will sell children's underwear and egg cosies with eclat. Otherwise--"

"Golf," I said, "golf! Why don't 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, 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.

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