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Contents (65)
  1. THE CHRONICLES OF CLOVIS
  2. * * *
  3. SAKI
  4. *
  5. Contents
  6. *
  7. Introduction
  8. *
  9. Esmé
  10. *
  11. The Match-Maker
  12. *
  13. Tobermory
  14. *
  15. Mrs. Packletide's Tiger
  16. *
  17. The Stampeding of Lady Bastable
  18. *
  19. The Background
  20. *
  21. Hermann the Irascible—A Story of the Great Weep
  22. *
  23. The Unrest-Cure
  24. *
  25. The Jesting of Arlington Stringham
  26. *
  27. Sredni Vashtar
  28. *
  29. Adrian
  30. *
  31. The Chaplet
  32. *
  33. The Quest
  34. *
  35. Wratislav
  36. *
  37. The Easter Egg
  38. *
  39. Filboid Studge, the Story of a Mouse that Helped
  40. *
  41. The Music on the Hill
  42. *
  43. The Story of St. Vespaluus
  44. *
  45. The Way to the Dairy
  46. *
  47. The Peace Offering
  48. *
  49. The Peace of Mowsle Barton
  50. *
  51. The Talking-Out of Tarrington
  52. *
  53. The Hounds of Fate
  54. *
  55. The Recessional
  56. *
  57. A Matter of Sentiment
  58. *
  59. The Secret Sin of Septimus Brope
  60. *
  61. "Ministers of Grace"
  62. *
  63. The Remoulding of Groby Lington
  64. *
  65. * * *

The Recessional

*

Clovis sat in the hottest zone but two of a Turkish bath, alternately inert in statuesque contemplation and rapidly manoeuvring a fountain-pen over the pages of a note-book.

"Don't interrupt me with your childish prattle," he observed to Bertie van Tahn, who had slung himself languidly into a neighbouring chair and looked conversationally inclined; "I'm writing deathless verse."

Bertie looked interested.

"I say, what a boon you would be to portrait painters if you really got to be notorious as a poetry writer. If they couldn't get your likeness hung in the Academy as 'Clovis Sangrail, Esq., at work on his latest poem,' they could slip you in as a Study of the Nude or Orpheus descending into Jermyn Street. They always complain that modern dress handicaps them, whereas a towel and a fountain-pen—"

"It was Mrs. Packletide's suggestion that I should write this thing," said Clovis, ignoring the bypaths to fame that Bertie van Tahn was pointing out to him. "You see, Loona Bimberton had a Coronation Ode accepted by the NEW INFANCY, a paper that has been started with the idea of making the NEW AGE seem elderly and hidebound. 'So clever of you, dear Loona,' the Packletide remarked when she had read it; 'of course, anyone could write a Coronation Ode, but no one else would have thought of doing it.' Loona protested that these things were extremely difficult to do, and gave us to understand that they were more or less the province of a gifted few. Now the Packletide has been rather decent to me in many ways, a sort of financial ambulance, you know, that carries you off the field when you're hard hit, which is a frequent occurrence with me, and I've no use whatever for Loona Bimberton, so I chipped in and said I could turn out that sort of stuff by the square yard if I gave my mind to it. Loona said I couldn't, and we got bets on, and between you and me I think the money's fairly safe. Of course, one of the conditions of the wager is that the thing has to be published in something or other, local newspapers barred; but Mrs. Packletide has endeared herself by many little acts of thoughtfulness to the editor of the SMOKY CHIMNEY, so if I can hammer out anything at all approaching the level of the usual Ode output we ought to be all right. So far I'm getting along so comfortably that I begin to be afraid that I must be one of the gifted few."

"It's rather late in the day for a Coronation Ode, isn't it?" said Bertie.

"Of course," said Clovis; "this is going to be a Durbar Recessional, the sort of thing that you can keep by you for all time if you want to."

"Now I understand your choice of a place to write it in," said Bertie van Tahn, with the air of one who has suddenly unravelled a hitherto obscure problem; "you want to get the local temperature."