Evening star., 1925-06-14
BY STEPHEN LEACOCK.

EFT me admit, as / start to
write, that the whole thing is
my own fault. / should never
IL have come. I knew better. I
have known better for years.
I have known that 1t is sheer madness
to go and pay visits in other peoples
houses.
Yet in a moment of insanity l have
let myself in for 1t. And here l am.
There Is no hope, no outlet now till
the first of July when my visit is to
terminate. Either that or death.
do not greatly care which
/ write this, where no human eye
can see me, down by the pond-they
call 1t lake-at the foot of Beverly
Jones estate. 1t is 6 O'Clock in the
morning. No one Is up. For a brief
hour or 80 there is peace. But pres
emily Miss Larkspur-the jolly Eng
Hsh girl who arrived last week-wilI
throw open her easement window and
call across the lawn. "Hullo every.
body! What ripping morningw-and
young poppleton will call back in a
Swiss yodel from somewhere in the
shrubbery, and Beverly-Jones will ap-
pear on the piazza with big towels
round his neck and shout, Who's
coming for an early dip?" And so the
days fun and jollity-Heaven help
me-will begin again.
Presently they will all come troop
ing In to breakfast, in colored blazers
and fancy blouses, laughing and grab
bing at the food with mimic rudeness
and gales of hilarity. And to think
that l might have been breakfasting
at my club with the morning paper
propped against the coffee-pot, in a
silent room in the quiet of the city!
l repeat that 1t is my own fault
that l am here.
For many years it had been
principle of my life to visit nobody
/ had long since learned that visit
ing only brings misery. If i got a
card or telegram that said, Wont
you run up to the Adirondacks and
spend the weekend with us?" l sent
back word: mo, not unless the Adj
rondacks can run faster than 1 can"
If the owner of a country house
wrote TO me: Our man will meet you
with trap any afternoon that you
care eto to name. me, l an answered, in sub
unless he has a bear-trap." If any
fashionable lady friend wrote to me
in the peculiar jargon that they use:
can you give us from July the
twelfth at half-afterthree till the
fourteenth at four?" l replied:
Madam. take the whole month-take
year--but leave me in peace"
+ X
OUCH at least was the spirit of my
answers TO invitations. In prac-
tice | used to find it sufficient to send
a telegram that read: Crushed with
work, impossible to get away" and
then stroll back into the reading
room of the club and fall asleep again.
But my coming here was my own
fault. 1t resulted from one of those
unhappy moments of expansiveness
such as occur, | imagine to everybody.
That at any rate was the kind of
mood that ] was In when / met Bev-
erly-Jones and when he asked me
here.
In shaking hands at leaving, he
said Il do wish, old chap. that you
could run up to our Summer place
and give us the whole of June" and
l answered, as l shook him warmly
by the hand: MY dear fellow. I'd
simply love to- BY CAD. then. it's
| a go!' he said. You must come up
for June. and wake us all up"
Wake them up. Ye gods, Me,
wake them up!
One hour later | was repenting of
my folly. Then l clung TO the hope
that Beverly-Jones would forget.
But no. In due time his wife wrote
to me. They were looking forward
so much, she said. to my visit; they
felt-she reneated her husl<nd' s