Miss Buncle Married by D. E. Stevenson

Author:D. E. Stevenson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc.
Published: 2012-09-07T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

The Christmas Dinner Party

Sam spent Christmas with his mother, it was only right that he should; he would have enjoyed it more if he had not had to attend quite so many services in church. Sam liked church in moderation, but he did not like spending his entire holiday in the sacred edifice. He escaped as soon as was decent, and came down to The Archway House feeling more chastened than usual after his ordeal. Barbara was worried about Sam; he was not like himself at all. Unrequited love and too much church had worn out and subdued the gay young man out of all recognition. Barbara insisted on giving him breakfast in bed and Sam enjoyed it. He was in the mood for a little petting and pampering—somewhat tired, and not a little miserable. Barbara was a good soul.

The Abbotts had postponed their Christmas dinner for Sam’s benefit; it was to be a party. Barbara had wanted to invite the Marvells—to return their hospitality—but Arthur wouldn’t hear of it, so they had asked Jerry Cobbe and her brother (who was with her for the festive season) and Monkey Wrench.

The party took place the night following Sam’s arrival. Dr. Wrench rang up at about seven o’clock and left a message to say he had had an urgent call, but would come later if he could get away. The remaining five dined off turkey and plum pudding, and pulled crackers afterward. The dinner was excellent, and the party ought to have been a success, but, somehow or other, it fell rather flat. The host and hostess were the only people who really enjoyed it, and their enjoyment was tempered, unconsciously, by the fact that their guests were not in tune. Their guests were, in fact, thoroughly out of tune, not only with each other, but also with themselves.

Jerry and Archie Cobbe had just had a frightful row. They had actually had it on the way to the party, as they were driving over in Archie’s small car. The row was all the more frightful because it was a rare thing for them to quarrel. Jerry was a sweet-tempered person, as a rule; she was very fond of Archie, in spite of his delinquencies, and was tactful and soothing and indulgent by turns. But, tonight, she had been none of these things, and each had said enough to make it plain that they were completely at variance with each other upon the Ethics of Life. Jerry’s view of Life was that “you should be independent and stand on your own feet”; and Archie’s view was that your relations should “take an interest in you, especially if they have Plenty of the Needful, like Aunt Matilda.”

“Why should Aunt Matilda?” Jerry had inquired, and Archie had replied, “Why shouldn’t she? I’m her heir, aren’t I? You’d think the old brute would be glad to fork out a bit now, instead of keeping me hanging on, longing for her to pip.”

“Oh Archie!” Jerry had cried.

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