The Blower of Bubbles Part 29

"This King Convention," he said, after a thoughtful pause, "said that men could do a lot of things that women could not, which made the women very angry. Now the king had a jester named Shaw."

"What is a jester?"

"A man who makes jokes that people may laugh."

"Why do they laugh at jokes?"

"Well, in England--especially on the stage--it is from the pleasure of meeting old friends. As a race, we are rather sentimental about our jests, and don't take kindly to new ones."

She sipped some tea, holding the cup in both hands, but with considerable daintiness.

"Tell me an English joke," she said.

He stroked his faded little mustache.

"The House of Lords," he ventured, after some thought.

"_He!_ Is that funny?"

"Very."

"I do not laugh. Tell me another."

He broke a corner off a piece of toast.

"One of the richest bits of humor in England," he said, "is the idea that children born into wealthy or t.i.tled families are superior clay to their fellows."

Pippa thought tremendously.

"I think, monsieur, I know why you look so sad. It is because of what you have to laugh at in your country.... But please go on and tell me what happened to--how say you it?--the jester."

"Ah yes. Well, G. B. Shaw----"

"What is this--G. B.?"

"Those are his names--Gor' Blime Shaw."

Pippa sighed. It was very difficult to become interested in people of such strange nomenclature.

"What did he, then, this Gor Shaw?" she asked, feeling that the story must end sometime.

"Well, as a matter of fact, he was rather a poor jester, because his only joke was to stand on his head. At first every one laughed; but after a while they thought that it was his natural position, and paid no attention to him. It was really pretty hard on the poor chap, because he was too old to learn any new tricks, and he used to become dizzy from being upside-down so much. Finally he grew furious at the king for not laughing, and urged all the women who did not like Convention to murder him. When the war came along they saw their chance. The men went away, and the real women of England were too busy helping them to bother about anything else. You see, Pippa, in our country we have the noisy, chattering, selfish women who do good by lime-light and find their reward in the ill.u.s.trated journals. But there are also those, the unrecognized and unthanked ones, who share others'

griefs, but suffer alone. It is the unseen, unheard women of Britain who are really wonderful."

The girl said nothing, but her face, so suggestive of color in its elusive change of expression, softened to a tender mood that left her eyes very dark and somber, and her lips curved slightly into a smile that was full of sympathy.

The young Canadian subaltern looked directly at her and compressed his lower lip with his teeth.

"What's the matter, dearie?" croaked the woman beside him; but he returned no answer.

The two t.i.ttering girls stopped their staccato giggling for a moment, then resumed with a steadfastness of purpose that somehow robbed the effect of spontaneity. The young woman with the over-firm mouth took in the tableau of the airman and his little charge, and turned to her mother with some sarcastic comment that was strangely belied by the look of hunger in her eyes. The artist, still with his air of graceful insouciance, sat with half-closed eyelids and visualized Pippa as a subject for canvas. "What a Psyche she would make!" he muttered. The orchestra was just going to play, when the leader, who had been idly gazing at the throng of guests, made a gesture of dissent.

"We shall not do 'Oh, that Opium Rag,'" he said. "You see that girl there, with the dark curls and the sweet little face? For her let us play Mendelssohn's 'Spring Song.'"

Quite unaware of their interested audience, the flying-man and his companion continued their excursion into the realm of fables, while untouched toast and half-emptied cups stood by in neglected array.

"That is practically all the story," he said. "When the war came on, they murdered poor old Convention."

"Oh!"

"Slaughtered him," he said gloomily; "though all his bad courtiers escaped. For a long time it was feared that the king's son, Courtesy, and his niece, Charm (who were very much in love with each other), had also been done to death, but there are rumors that they have been seen in remote parts of England. So, Pippa, that is why these young women look and act alike. They are the murderers of Convention."

"Monsieur, I am frightened."

He produced his pipe, received a horrified look from a gorgeous waiter, and hurriedly replaced it in his pocket. "The first thing the women did," he went on, "was to place Vulgarity and his Queen, Stupidity, on the throne; but there are signs that their reign will be brief. When the men come back and the quiet women speak, I think we shall see another Revolution that will put Courtesy and Charm in the place of Vulgarity and Stupidity. So, after all, my dear"--he grew quite cheerful at the thought--"poor old Shaw may have done some good in inciting the murder of Convention. Perhaps, though the thought would annoy him frightfully, he may yet go down to history as a martyr--the reformer who stood on his head!"

But she was not listening to him. She was silently enjoying, for the first time, the fragrance of Mendelssohn's Melody of Spring, which found immediate response in her nature, so attuned to the delicate things of life. It had a somewhat contrary effect on the others, whose conversation, which had begun to lag, took on fresh impetus with the sound of the orchestra.

"Tell me," she whispered, vastly puzzled, "why do they talk so loud when there is music?"

He shook his head. "I don't know," he answered. "It is said that music soothes the savage breast--it certainly loosens the civilized tongue."

The charming setting to the happiness of Spring-time, written by a composer who really never grew up, came to an end, and in sheer delight the French girl clapped her hands twice. The leader acknowledged the compliment by bowing. She did not know that it was for her alone he had chosen it.

The airman examined his watch. "Little one," he said, "I am afraid our day is nearly over. In half-an-hour we must catch a train back to 'The Plough and Crown,' where we shall have dinner and a little rest. At eight o'clock two friends of mine from the aerodrome here will bring the machine--you understand that taking young ladies from France to England has not been officially authorized by the Air Ministry. As soon as the stars are out we shall start for home."

They rose to go.

She smiled shyly at the orchestra, and once more the leader bowed. With the daintiest of gestures she raised her hand and waved to him; then, feeling for her protector's arm, she started for the door, her eyes timidly glancing about her from beneath sheltering, downcast eyelashes.

Without the least embarra.s.sment, the tanned airman with the strangely light moustache and eyebrows walked beside her, experiencing an indefinable sense of possession that proved most agreeable.

The artist toyed with an unlit cigarette. "With such a model," he muttered, "if I could only indicate that swift rhythm of expression, I should be great."

The t.i.ttering girls kept up their chatter. They had long since learned that nothing stifles thought like meaningless conversation--and they were afraid their thoughts might be unpleasant.

The young woman with the over-firm mouth drew back as the airman and his companion pa.s.sed her table, but her eyes clung to the French girl's face as though its winsomeness and purity held the answer to her troubles. Swift as imagination itself, her mind leaped to France, picturing a young fellow who, if he did come back unmaimed, would have to begin all over again.

"Mother," she said, with hot resentment in her voice, "I am ent.i.tled to my own life. I have seen too many tragedies in material marriages to dread one of love."

"You are a fool," said the other; and because she was the stronger of the two, she prevailed.

The woman who looked as Louis did when he caught a mouse turned on the Canadian boy, who had followed Pippa with a far-away, dreamy stare.

"What's the matter, dearie?" she queried, with the tedious endearment of her cla.s.s.

He brought himself from the reveries that had strangely blended the French girl's face with the faces of two other women across the sea; then he looked into his companion's with its leering comeliness. With a quick, decisive movement he rose to his feet, and, feeling for his pocket-book, placed a pound-note on the table.

"Pay for what we've had," he said, his jaw stiffening, but his voice shaking oddly.