Dance and Skylark by John Moore Read Free Book Online

maggots for eels. Born of the sunshine and the buttercups, it had concerned flowers: let every cottage garden at Festival-time put on a special display, let every street corner blossom its welcome to the visitors from afar! When he began to elaborate this pretty notion, his thoughts naturally turned to roses, red roses and white, the favours of Lancaster and York. The ancient borough should be embowered in roses! The Council, in a mood of midsummer madness, had approved the idea and passed a resolution asking every gardener to plant roses where they could be seen from the streets. More daring still, it had even voted a halfpenny rate as a contribution towards the cost. The imaginative gesture had earned the town a good deal of free publicity, including a neatly-turned fourth leader in
The Times;
and the only protests had come from Miss Foulkes, who wrote to Mr. Runcorn pointing out that the workers couldn’t eat roses, and from Mr. Gurney, who unkindly drewattention to the fact that Councillor Noakes was in business as a nurseryman and florist.
    But now Mr. Handiman’s innocent suggestion about a free dollop of muck for the roses seemed to cause some embarrassment to the Mayor, who at last had to admit that Councillor Noakes regularly took away the horse-manure “under a long-standing arrangement.” Stephen was aware of deep currents stirring as Mr. Gurney demanded “What does he pay for it?” and Councillor Noakes shouted “I protest!” The argument went on for quite a long time, with the Mayor patiently explaining that there were only two old horses which pulled the dust-carts “so the amount involved is really very small,” and Mr. Gurney muttering something about “wheels within wheels.”
    â€œThe next item on the agenda,” said the Mayor swiftly, “is headed ‘Sideshows.’” And at once there rose up a large lady in furs and feathers who observed—and Stephen could hardly believe his ears—that she was the President of the Fur and Feather League, and what about an exhibition of chinchilla rabbits? During the subsequent silence Stephen took pleasure in watching the expression on Lance’s face; for the young poet, whose bright new world was brimming over with fascinating absurdities, was delighting in the discovery of a new one, and had plainly taken the furry lady to his heart. He stared at her in an ecstasy of wonder, oblivious of Robin, who had a simpler sense of fun and was poking him in the ribs with a pencil.
    â€œI’m not absolutely certain,” murmured the Mayor, “although of course we want to encourage all local activities, whether
rabbits
… But perhaps you’ll have aword with Mr. Tasker about it afterwards?” And with a kindly glance at Stephen he passed on to the next item, which concerned the unveiling of a statue of Dame Joanna, poetess and prioress, in the Pleasure Gardens.
    Stephen, who had been growing steadily more apprehensive about the Festival for several weeks, felt that the prospect of a rabbit show justified his worst fears. Already it had been decided that the Women’s Institute would be allowed to tell fortunes, that the Rowing Club should bring Bloody Mary ashore in a decorated barge, and that the Master of Foxhounds should gallop with his pack past the grandstand tally-hoing an imaginary fox. “What am I but a hack?” Stephen asked himself miserably. “The Town Hack, and a poor, ineffectual, useless one at that?” He was sick and tired of the whole business already; it could end only in ridicule, of which he would be the principal butt. There would be four more of these dreadful Committee Meetings before the Festival achieved its consummation in farce or shame or a ghastly mixture of the two; and this one was by no means over. His knee was hurting so badly that he was quite unable to concentrate on the proceedings; but fortunately he had no responsibility for the statue