idle ideas in 1905-第2节

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certain　celebrated　authoress；　she　had　changed　her　place　at　the　last
moment　so　as　to　avoid　sitting　next　to　another　lady　novelist；　whom　she
hated。

One　has　to　shift　oneself；　sometimes；　on　these　occasions。　　A　newspaper
man　came　up　to　me　last　Ninth　of　November　at　the　Mansion　House。

〃Would　you　mind　changing　seats　with　me？〃　he　asked。　　〃It's　a　bit
awkward。　　They've　put　me　next　to　my　first　wife。〃

I　had　a　troubled　evening　myself　once　long　ago。　　I　accompanied　a　young
widow　lady　to　a　musical　At　Home；　given　by　a　lady　who　had　more
acquaintances　than　she　knew。　　We　met　the　butler　at　the　top　of　the
stairs。　　My　friend　spoke　first：

〃Say　Mrs。　Dash　and〃

The　butler　did　not　wait　for　morehe　was　a　youngish　manbut　shouted
out：

〃Mr。　and　Mrs。　Dash。〃

〃My　dear！　how　very　quiet　you　have　kept！〃　cried　our　hostess　delighted。
〃Do　let　me　congratulate　you。〃

The　crush　was　too　great　and　our　hostess　too　distracted　at　the　moment
for　any　explanations。　　We　were　swept　away；　and　both　of　us　spent　the
remainder　of　the　evening　feebly　protesting　our　singleness。

If　it　had　happened　on　the　stage　it　would　have　taken　us　the　whole　play
to　get　out　of　it。　　Stage　people　are　not　allowed　to　put　things　right
when　mistakes　are　made　with　their　identity。　　If　the　light　comedian　is
expecting　a　plumber；　the　first　man　that　comes　into　the　drawing…room
has　got　to　be　a　plumber。　　He　is　not　allowed　to　point　out　that　he
never　was　a　plumber；　that　he　doesn't　look　like　a　plumber；　that　no　one
not　an　idiot　would　mistake　him　for　a　plumber。　　He　has　got　to　be　shut
up　in　the　bath…room　and　have　water　poured　over　him；　just　as　if　he
were　a　plumbera　stage　plumber；　that　is。　　Not　till　right　away　at　the
end　of　the　last　act　is　he　permitted　to　remark　that　he　happens　to　be
the　new　curate。

I　sat　out　a　play　once　at　which　most　people　laughed。　　It　made　me　sad。
A　dear　old　lady　entered　towards　the　end　of　the　first　act。　　We　knew
she　was　the　aunt。　　Nobody　can　possibly　mistake　the　stage　auntexcept
the　people　on　the　stage。　　They；　of　course；　mistook　her　for　a　circus
rider；　and　shut　her　up　in　a　cupboard。　　It　is　what　cupboards　seem　to
be　reserved　for　on　the　stage。　　Nothing　is　ever　put　in　them　excepting
the　hero's　relations。　　When　she　wasn't　in　the　cupboard　she　was　in　a
clothes　basket；　or　tied　up　in　a　curtain。　　All　she　need　have　done　was
to　hold　on　to　something　while　remarking　to　the　hero：

〃If　you'll　stop　shouting　and　jumping　about　for　just　ten　seconds；　and
give　me　a　chance　to　observe　that　I　am　your　maiden　aunt　from
Devonshire；　all　this　tomfoolery　can　be　avoided。〃

That　would　have　ended　it。　　As　a　matter　of　fact　that　did　end　it　five
minutes　past　eleven。　　It　hadn't　occurred　to　her　to　say　it　before。

In　real　life　I　never　knew　but　of　one　case　where　a　man　suffered　in
silence　unpleasantness　he　could　have　ended　with　a　word；　and　that　was
the　case　of　the　late　Corney　Grain。　　He　had　been　engaged　to　give　his
entertainment　at　a　country　house。　　The　lady　was　a　nouvelle　riche　of
snobbish　instincts。　　She　left　instructions　that　Corney　Grain　when　he
arrived　was　to　dine　with　the　servants。　　The　butler；　who　knew　better；
apologised；　but　Corney　was　a　man　not　easily　disconcerted。　　He　dined
well；　and　after　dinner　rose　and　addressed　the　assembled　company。

〃Well；　now；　my　good　friends；〃　said　Corney；　〃if　we　have　all　finished；
and　if　you　are　all　agreeable；　I　shall　be　pleased　to　present　to　you　my
little　show。〃

The　servants　cheered。　　The　piano　was　dispensed　with。　　Corney
contrived　to　amuse　his　audience　very　well　for　half…an…hour　without
it。　　At　ten　o'clock　came　down　a　message：　　Would　Mr。　Corney　Grain　come
up　into　the　drawing…room。　　Corney　went。　　The　company　in　the　drawing…
room　were　waiting；　seated。

〃We　are　ready；　Mr。　Grain；〃　remarked　the　hostess。

〃Ready　for　what？〃　demanded　Corney。

〃For　your　entertainment；〃　answered　the　hostess。

〃But　I　have　given　it　already；〃　explained　Corney；　〃and　my　engagement
was　for　one　performance　only。〃

〃Given　it！　　Where？　　When？〃

〃An　hour　ago；　downstairs。〃

〃But　this　is　nonsense；〃　exclaimed　the　hostess。

〃It　seemed　to　me　somewhat　unusual；〃　Corney　replied；　〃but　it　has
always　been　my　privilege　to　dine　with　the　company　I　am　asked　to
entertain。　　I　took　it　you　had　arranged　a　little　treat　for　the
servants。〃

And　Corney　left　to　catch　his　train。

Another　entertainer　told　me　the　following　story；　although　a　joke
against　himself。　　He　and　Corney　Grain　were　sharing　a　cottage　on　the
river。　　A　man　called　early　one　morning　to　discuss　affairs；　and　was
talking　to　Corney　in　the　parlour；　which　was　on　the　ground　floor。　　The
window　was　open。　　The　other　entertainerthe　man　who　told　me　the
storywas　dressing　in　the　room　above。　　Thinking　he　recognised　the
voice　of　the　visitor　below；　he　leant　out　of　his　bedroom　window　to
hear　better。　　He　leant　too　far；　and　dived　head　foremost　into　a　bed　of
flowers；　his　bare　legsand　only　his　bare　legsshowing　through　the
open　window　of　the　parlour。

〃Good　gracious！〃　exclaimed　the　visitor；　turning　at　the　moment　and
seeing　a　pair　of　wriggling　legs　above　the　window　sill；　〃who's　that？〃

Corney　fixed　his　eyeglass　and　strolled　to　the　window。

〃Oh；　it's　only　What's…his…name；〃　he　explained。　　〃Wonderful　spirits。
Can　be　funny　in　the　morning。〃



SHOULD　WOMEN　BE　BEAUTIFUL？



Pretty　women　are　going　to　have　a　hard　time　of　it　later　on。　　Hitherto；
they　have　had　things　far　too　much　their　own　way。　　In　the　future　there
are　going　to　be　no　pretty　girls；　for　the　simple　reason　there　will　be
no　plain　girls　against　which　to　contrast　them。　　Of　late　I　have　done
some　systematic　reading　of　ladies'　papers。　　The　plain　girl　submits　to
a　course　of　〃treatment。〃　　In　eighteen　months　she　bursts　upon　Society
an　acknowledged　beauty。　　And　it　is　all　done　by　kindness。　　One　girl
writes：

〃Only　a　little　while　ago　I　used　to　look　at　myself　in　the　glass　and
cry。　　Now　I　look　at　myself　and　laugh。〃

The　letter　is　accompanied　by　two　photographs　of　the　young　lady。　　I
should　have　cried　myself　had　I　seen　her　as　she　was　at　first。　　She　was
a　stumpy；　flat…headed；　squat…nosed；　cross…eyed　thing。　　She　did　not
even　look　good。　　One　virtue　she　appears　to　have　had；　however。　　It　was
faith。　　She　believed　what　the　label　said；　she　did　what　the　label　told
her。　　She　is　now　a　tall；　ravishing　young　person；　her　only　trouble
being；　I　should　say；　to　know　what　to　do　with　her　hairit　reaches　to
her　knees　and　must　be　a　nuisance　to　her。　　She　would　do　better　to　give
some　of　it　away。　　Taking　this　young　lady　as　a　text；　it　means　that　the
girl　who　declines　to　be　a　dream　of　loveliness　does　so　out　of
obstinacy。　　What　the　raw　material　may　be　does　not　appear　to　matter。
Provided　no　feature　is　absolutely　missing；　the　result　is　one　and　the
same。

Arrived　at　years　of　discretion；　the　maiden　proceeds　to　choose　the
style　of　beauty　she　prefers。　　Will　she　be　a　Juno；　a　Venus；　or　a
Helen？　　Will　she　have　a　Grecian　nose；　or　one　tip…tilted　like　the
petal　of　a　rose？　　Let　her　try　the　tip…tilted　style　first。　　The
professor　has　an　idea　it　is　going　to　be　fashionable。　　If　afterwards
she　does　not　like　it；　there　will　be　time　to　try　the　Grecian。　　It　is
difficult　to　decide　these　points　without　experiment。

Would　the　lady　like　a　high　or　a　low　forehead？　　Some　ladies　like　to
look　intelligent。　　It　is　purely　a　matter　of　taste。　　With　the　Grecian
nose；　the　low　broad　forehead　perhaps　goes　better。　　It　is　more
according　to　precedent。　　On　the　other　hand；　the　high　brainy　forehead
would　be　more　original。　　It　is　for　the　lady　herself　to　select。

We　come　to　the　question　of　eyes。　　The　lady　fancies　a　delicate　blue；
not　too　pronounced　a　colourone　of　those　useful　shades　that　go　with
almost　everything。　　At　the　same　time　there　should　be　depth　and
passion。　　The　professor　understands　exactly　the　sort　of　eye　the　lady
means。　　But　it　will　be　expensive。　　There　is　a　cheap　quality；　the
professor　does　not　recommend　it。　　True　that　it　passes　muster　by
gaslight；　but　the　sunlight　shows　it　up。　　It　lacks　tenderness；　and　at
the　price　you　can　hardly　expect　it　to　contain　much　hidden　meaning。
The　professor　advises　the　melting；　Oh…George…take…me…in…your…arms…
and…still…my…foolish…fears　brand。　　It　costs　a　little　more；　but　it
pays　for　itself　in　the　end。

Perhaps　it　will　be　best；　now　the　eye　has　been　fixed　upon；　to　discuss
the　question　of　the　hair。　　The　professor　opens　his　book　of　patterns。
Maybe　the　lady　is　of　a　wilful　disposition。　　She　loves　to　run　laughing
through　the　woods　during　exceptionally　rainy　weather；　or　to　gallop
across　the　downs　without　a　hat；　her　fair　ringlets　streaming　in　the
wind；　the　old　family　coachman　panting　and　expostulating　in　the　rear。
If　one　may　trust　the　popular　novel；　extremely　satisfactory　husbands
have　often　been　secured　in　this　way。　　You　naturally　look　at　a　girl
who　is　walking　through　a　wood；　laughing　heartily　apparently　for　no
other　reason　than　because　it　is　rainingwho　rides　at　stretch　gallop
without　a　hat。　　If　you　have　nothing　else　to　do；　you　follow　her。　　It
is　always　on　the　cards　that　such　a　girl　may　do　something　really
amusing　before　she　gets　home。　　Thus　things　begin。

To　a　girl　of　this　kind；　naturally　curly　hair　is　essential。　　It　must
be　the　sort　of　hair　that　looks　better　when　it　is　soaking　wet。　　The
bottle　of　stuff　that　makes　this　particular　hair　to　grow　may　be