FullReads

He came downstairs again like Solomon in all his glory. It really was a lovely suit. No–seriously, I’m not joking. It was a dream. He was very shy in it. I must say men are funny. Even when they really like having new clothes and cutting a figure, they simply hate putting them on for the first time. Ellis is that way. I don’t know how many suits that boy hasn’t got–sheer dandyism!–and yet he’ll keep a new suit in the house a couple of months before wearing it! Now that’s the sort of thing that I call “interesting.” So curious, isn’t it? Ellis wouldn’t keep that suit on. No; as soon as we’d done admiring it he disappeared and changed it.

Now I’d gone that day to ask Ellis to escort me to Llandudno the week after. He likes going about with his auntie, and his auntie likes to have him. And of course she sees that it doesn’t cost him anything. But his father has to be placated first. There’s another funny thing! His father is always grumbling that Ellis is absolutely no good at all at the works, but the moment there’s any question of Ellis going away for a holiday–even if it’s only a week-end–then his father turns right round and wants to make out that Ellis is absolutely indispensable. Well, I got over his father. I always do, naturally. And it was settled that Ellis and I should go on the next Saturday.

I said to Ellis:

“You must be sure to bring that suit with you.”

And then–will you believe me?–he stuck to it he wouldn’t! Truly I was under the impression that I could argue either Ellis or his father into any mortal thing. But no! I couldn’t argue Ellis into agreeing to bring that suit with him to Llandudno. He said he should wear whites. He said it was a September suit. He said that everybody wore blue at Llandudno, and he didn’t want to be mistaken for a schoolmaster! Imagine him being mistaken for a schoolmaster! He even said there were some things I didn’t understand! I told him there was a very particular reason why I wanted him to take that suit. And there was. He said:

“What is the reason?”

But I wouldn’t tell him that. I wasn’t going to knuckle down to him altogether. So it ended that we didn’t either of us budge. However, I didn’t mean to be beaten by a mere curly-headed boy. I can do what I please with his mother, though she is my eldest sister-in-law. And before he started in the dogcart to meet me at the station on our way to Llandudno she gave Ellis a bonnet-box to hand to me, and told him to take great care of it. He handed it over to me, and I also told him to take great care of it. Of course he became very curious to know what was in it. I said to him:

“You may see it on the pier on Monday. In fact, I believe you will.”

He said: “It’s heavy for a hat.”

So I informed him that hats were both heavy and large this summer.

He said, “Well, I pity you, auntie!”

Naturally it was his blue suit that was in the box. His mother had burgled it after he’d done his packing, while he was having lunch.

I was determined he should wear that suit. And I felt pretty sure that when he saw my reason for asking him to bring it he’d be glad at the bottom of his heart that I’d brought it in spite of him. There is one good thing about Ellis–he can see a joke against himself…. Have another cake. Well, I will, then…. Yes, I’m coming to the reason.

II

A girl, you say? Well, of course. But you mustn’t look so proud of yourself. A body needn’t be anything like so clever as you are to be able to guess that there’s a girl in it. Do you suppose I should have imagined for a moment that it would interest you if there hadn’t been a girl in it? Not exactly! Well, it’s a girl from Winnipeg. Came to England in June with her parents. Or rather, perhaps, her parents came with her. I’d never seen any of the three before–didn’t know them from Adam and Eve. But my husband had made friends with them out there last year–great friends. And they wanted to make the acquaintance of my husband’s wife. I’d gathered from Harry that they were quite my sort…. What is my sort? You know perfectly well what my sort is. There are only two sorts of people–the decent sort and the other sort. Well, they were doing England–you know, like Colonial people do–seriously, leaving nothing out. By the way, their name was only “Smith,” without even a “y” in it or an “e” at the end. They wished to try a good seaside place, so I wrote to them and suggested Llandudno as a fair specimen, and it was arranged that we should meet there and spend at least a week together, and afterwards they were to come to the Five Towns. I suggested we should all stay at Hawthornden’s … Hawthornden’s? Don’t you know–it’s easily the best private hotel in Llandudno. Lift and a French chef and all kinds of things; but surely you must have seen all about it in the papers!