These people, and, I imagine, all other
summer people, seem to be trying to live in a perpetual
joke. Everything, all day, has to be taken in a mood of
uproarious fun.
However, I can speak of it all now in quiet retrospect
and without bitterness. It will soon be over now. Indeed,
the reason why I have come down at this early hour to
this quiet water is that things have reached a crisis.
The situation has become extreme and I must end it.
It happened last night. Beverly-Jones took me aside while
the others were dancing the fox-trot to the victrola on
the piazza.
"We're planning to have some rather good fun to-morrow
night," he said, "something that will be a good deal more
in your line than a lot of it, I'm afraid, has been up
here. In fact, my wife says that this will be the very
thing for you."
"Oh," I said.
"We're going to get all the people from the other houses
over and the girls"--this term Beverly-Jones uses to mean
his wife and her friends--"are going to get up a sort of
entertainment with charades and things, all impromptu,
more or less, of course--"
"Oh," I said. I saw already what was coming.
"And they want you to act as a sort of master-of-ceremonies,
to make up the gags and introduce the different stunts
and all that.
Pages:
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75