Читать книгу Lost Voices of the Edwardians: 1901–1910 in Their Own Words - Max Arthur, Max Arthur - Страница 173

Usually, Kingy, too, spent Easter at Biarritz, and gradually I came to realise that Tweedledum, Sir Ernest Cassel, was quite easily distinguishable from Kingy – Tweedledee. For one thing, Tweedledee laughed more easily and, as I already knew, he could enter into nursery games with unassumed enthusiasm. Always, he was accompanied by his dog, Caesar, who had a fine disregard for the villa's curtains and chair-legs.

Beach parties and parties with other children took up our time, and one Easter Sunday, Kingy, ourselves and a host of others set forth for a mammoth picnic. Kingy liked to think of these as impromptu parties, and little did he realise the hours of preliminary hard work they had entailed.

First, his car led the way, followed by others containing the rest of the party. Then the food, guarded by at least two footmen, brought up the rear. Kingy spied out the land for a suitable site and, at his given word, we all stopped, and the footmen set out the lunch. Chairs and a table appeared, linen table-cloths, plates, glasses, silver. Every variety of cold food was produced, spiced by iced cup in silver-plated containers. Everything was on a high level of excellence, except the site chosen. For some unfathomed reason, Kingy had a preference for picnicking by the side of the road. On Easter Day, inevitably, this was packed with carriages and the first motor cars, all covered with dust, and when we parked by the roadside, most of the traffic parked with us.