Читать книгу General Impressions - Edmée Elizabeth Monica Dashwood - Страница 9
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Recrudescence of Auntie and her troop, most of whom are now in tears; and all of them in an advanced state of exhaustion.
AUNTIE (more in sorrow than in anger). And all I can say, Joan, is that if this is the way you behave when you're taken for such a lovely treat, you'd better stay outside while the rest of us go and look at the snakes. There's one of them sixteen feet long, and one touch of its fang is poison—and deadly poison, too....
General Impression that the thought of missing this fascinating sight will prove only less agonizing than the prospect of beholding it.
AUNTIE. And what about the buns for the elephants, now?
Answer comes there none.
Painful General Impression gradually gains ground, that the Buns have been eaten by Willie and Co.
Scene closes in as this distressing discovery dawns upon Auntie, who is by this time far too worn out by two hours of solid walking to endure it with equanimity.
GENERAL IMPRESSION OF A TENNIS PARTY
First, practically invariable, General Impression that with any Luck the Rain will Keep off till Later. Second General Impression that It's only Spitting, third General Impression that This isn't going to be Anything Much, or, alternatively, that The Harder it comes down at first, the sooner it'll be over.
Dramatic appearance of a young player in a sleeveless frock, with a green shade over her eyes.
AN ONLOOKER. My dear, look at Helen Wills!
A WIT ON THE COURT. Hallo, is this Helen Wills?
A FRIEND OF THE Y. P.'S. My dear, you look exactly like Helen Wills!
A NEW ONLOOKER (aside). Do tell me who that is. Does she think she's Helen Wills, or what?
General Impression that this highly original comparison will continue to be made, throughout the afternoon, by more or less everybody present.
As, indeed, happens; varied only by an occasional murmur about Suzanne, alternatively referred to as Longlong, Lenglenn, and Langlan.
Just Before a Sett.
A YOUNG GENTLEMAN IN FLANNELS THAT APPARENTLY REQUIRE PERPETUAL HITCHING, TO A YOUNG LADY IN MAUVE STRIPES. I'm afraid I'm fearfully rotten.
THE MAUVE STRIPES. Oh, I'm putrid.
On the Other Side of the Net, a BANDANNA HANDKERCHIEF is remarking to a WHITE WASHING SILK that he is Absolutely the World's Rabbit. To which the W. W. S. returns:
Oh, so'm I, never hit a ball in my life, except sometimes into the net.
After which encouraging preliminaries they settle down to a perfectly good game.
Just After a Sett.
A HOSTESS. Now let me see—who hasn't played? Will you play, and you, and—let me see—you haven't played at all yet, have you, Margery?
MARGERY (with two racquets, a bandeau, and all the appearance of being a tournament champion). Oh, I'm quite happy looking on. In fact, I really would rather. What about Mrs. Jones?
MRS. J. (quite obviously blue with cold from prolonged sitting still). Oh no, no, really not. I'm so dreadfully bad—do play instead of me. I'll play later, if I may, when everyone else has had a turn.
GENERAL CHORUS. Oh, do play instead of me ... do let me look on for a little while ... yes, really, I'd so much rather.... (Until one longs to know why any of them have troubled to bring racquets or shoes at all, if the only thing they really want to do is to sit still and look on....)
THE HOSTESS (after seven or eight minutes of this contest in unselfishness). Then, Mrs. Brown, if you'll play with Captain Jones, and Mrs. Jones with the Rector, I think that ought to be quite a good sett.
General Impression that she does not really think this, nor indeed does anybody else, but has merely selected, in despair, the four people whose resistance is most nearly worn down.
MRS. BROWN}
MRS. JONES}I'm afraid you'll find me frightfully CAPTAIN JONES }feeble, partner. THE RECTOR}
Or words to that effect, as they hasten on to the court, which has been empty for the last twenty minutes or so.
A PLAYER WHO LIKES TO WIN. Send that girl as many back-handers as possible, partner—she simply hates them. And when you're serving to the Rector, I should pitch them rather short, if I were you—he can't get across the court very quickly.
At Tea.
THE MOTHER OF A DAUGHTER.... And as I said to her, it really is ridiculous to talk of not having enough to do down here, when there's tennis in the summer, and the Girl Guides, and any number of garden fętes and Jumble Sales and so on, going on practically the whole time, besides the dances and things at Christmas....
General Impression that We'd better go out on to the lawn again, perhaps, as they'll have finished that sett now—a movement encouraged by the Hostess, who knows that a fresh supply of Plates and another Kettle are waiting to be rushed on for the second instalment of Tea.
