Chapter XXVIII: The "rob" Room

I asked John if he was writing to you and he grinned and said perhaps I had better write. The fact is, he has not been behaving very well, and is, I suspect, rather ashamed of himself--at least, I hope he is!

We came to Windsor and put up at what John insisted upon calling the "Purple Sow," though it is really the "White Heifer."

The next morning we went to St. George's Chapel, which seemed to me the most beautiful church I had ever seen, and where the music would have filled your heart with joy. By some ill chance, it was one of the days when they sing the Athanasian Creed, and, to my horror, John refused to stand up! He said it was "blasphemous," and I felt like asking, like the man at Barchester: "If you once begin, where will you end?" But thought it best to let him alone.

The same afternoon we were shown over the castle with a horde of sightseers. John was perfectly quiet until we came to the room in which the trophies are displayed. As we were standing before one of the glass cases in which are splendid swords and cups of gold and jewels from India and China, and "the uttermost parts of the sea"--a record of the least admirable page in English history--John, I could see by the expression of his face, was _thinking_. I could only hope he would not "start" anything! But he is like Benny Joyce, who, when he was asked in Sunday School if he had any faults, replied that he thought he could say he was without any, except when his brother Tony provoked him!

Well, John's "brother Tony" was near at hand, in the person of the typical English shop-keeper.

Turning to John, he said, in a tone half-ashamed and half-exultant:

"I say, we have collared a lot of things, have we not?"

"Yes," replied John, "that is why it is called the 'Rob' room!"

I must say, while I wished he had said nothing, I do think this was awfully quick!

The man looked puzzled for a moment, and then replied: "I suppose you mean the Robe Room." But as he received no answer he evidently thought it over, and then burst out with:

"Oh, I say! That's awfully good. I see, 'Rob' room! Would you mind if I told that to my wife?"

John grimly remarked that he would be delighted. So he trotted off to the other side of the room and began talking with evident glee to a woman with a most uncompromising face. Apparently her reaction was not what he had expected, and his countenance fell. He returned to John, and in a most truculent tone, remarked:

"You are an American, aren't you?"

To which John, in an equally aggressive tone answered: "I thank God I am."

"I thought so," he replied. "And, if you don't mind my saying so, my wife thinks, and I quite agree with her, that your remark was a most objectionable one."

Did you ever hear of anything more absurd? I am glad to say John had the good sense not to make a scene. So we withdrew--but not with the honors of war! Do you wonder he does not feel like writing to you?

We had intended going west from here and resuming our interrupted journey, but a letter from Lady Groves, who is a friend of Maud's, asking us to spend the night with them at their place, near Reading, delayed us again.

We did not arrive this time for tea as there was something the matter with the car--ignition trouble, I believe--but fortunately it was put right in time for us to reach our destination for dinner.

How can one express the charm of a welcome to an English house? These people, who seem so "standoffish," when one does not know them, expand into the most winning cordiality when they receive one into their own homes. So that one feels that an "Englishman's house is not alone his castle, but also a hospice!"

The bedroom, to which I was shown, called the "Bird" room, because of the pattern of the paper and the chintz, was filled with real "Sheriton," which had never even heard of Grand Rapids! There was a dressing-room for John, equally attractive, but more "manly."

John, as usual, declined to give up his keys to the footman, and threw his things around everywhere, in what looked like hopeless confusion, but in a way which, as he said, enables him to "find things."

There were but two guests besides ourselves at dinner, a Mr. and Miss Buckthorne. Sir William took me in and Mr. Buckthorne Lady Groves, so Miss Buckthorne fell to John.

It seems the Buckthornes had one of the finest private collections of "Sir Joshua's" in England, but they are "land-poor" and so have been obliged to sell most of them. I thought it might interest Miss Buckthorne to hear about one of them, which Mr. Frazer bought, and began to explain how it was hung in his new gallery.

Perhaps it was not tactful to speak of it at all, at any rate she was not in the least interested, and from her manner I thought John was not likely to have a good time.

Her brother, on the other hand, was a most interesting person, so much so that I listened so intently to his conversation that I forgot all about John and his partner. When, however, I did look at him, I found that there was an ominous silence on his side of the table. When we went upstairs I inquired how he had enjoyed himself. He was delighted with his host and hostess, and said that he found Mr. Buckthorne one of the best-informed men he had ever talked with, but rudely remarked that "she," meaning, I gathered, Miss Buckthorne, "was the limit."

I said: "I noticed you did not have much to say to one another."

"I had plenty to say to her," he growled, "but after the first course she never spoke to me."

"Oh, John," I said, "tell me just what happened."

"Well," he said, looking rather sheepish, "we did not hit it off."

"I hope you did not criticise England?"

"Certainly not," he indignantly replied. "Well, I will tell you just what happened. As we were going into the dining-room she said to me, in that wooden voice of hers: 'How do you manage in America, about precedence, having no aristocracy?'

"I said, 'We are greatly troubled about it, and I fear will never find a solution of the problem until we become again an English colony.''

"John," I cried, "how could you?"

"Well, she looked so melancholy that I thought I would jolly her up a bit."

"Yes," I retorted, "but haven't you been here long enough to learn that what you call 'jollying' the English call 'ragging,' and leave it to schoolboys, and do not indulge in it at dinner-parties?"

"Well, I learned to-night," he replied. Seemingly that was the end of the matter, but I knew better, and insisted upon knowing all, so he continued: "She asked what we were doing in the meantime, and I said: 'Oh, we are just experimenting.'

"'How do you mean "experimenting,"' she said.

"Well, at one house the butler, when he announced dinner, said: 'The oldest lady present will please go in first.' Of course, no one would move; so that night we had no dinner. The next dinner we went to, he said: 'This evening it is requested that the most beautiful lady present will lead the way.' And as they all rushed together, several people were injured, and again the dinner had to be given up. And, when I left, I found that every one was standing as near the door as possible, so as to slip in first and get the best seat at table."

She gasped, and exclaimed, "How extraordinary!" and never spoke another word during the dinner. I do not know now whether she is thinking it over, or whether she suspects that I was engaged in that interesting pastime of "pulling her leg," though from the glimpse I caught-- But I spare you!