1938-04-14 — Page 5

CHINA MAIL

THURSDAY SUPPLEMENT. APRIL 14, 1938

BRITISH CONDUCT OF THE

R

Alfred Blossom, head-

Master of Pies Tarand

3

Feathers public house. in the pretty, old-world hamlet of Gib- bet End, often tells this story as an example of the solid, sterling worth of the British character. True, he is ready to admit that the dog Footpad was an excep- tional animal, but he holds the view that any other dog, provid- ed it was of British descent and registered at the Kennel Club, would have done the same in similar circumstances..

Footpad, a red retriever of ir reproachable antecedents. was the property of Rear-Admiral Hector Fortinbras, C.B., C.M.G., of the Towers, Gibbet End, and

was

his master's inseparable companion when he rode about the countryside -on his horse Hotspur.

One could often come on them by chance, about the hour of the evening sacrifice, wending their way homeward along a leafy lane.

"Footpad, come here, sir! Come to heel, confound you!" the Ad- miral would roar, and passers- by, hearing him, would be in- stantly aware that the gallant officer was on his way home to the Towers, where a whisky-and- soda would be brought to him by his man Parkinson, and the dog Footpad would lie panting at his feet, gazing up at him in- dumb adoration.

Admiral Fortinbras detested all new-fangled contraptions such as electric light, gas, the telephone, radio, and hikers, nor would he allow any of these things to be introduced into his house.

"Where," he would demand de- fiantly, if challenged is the sense in makin' ourselves un- comfortable for the sake of novelty? Solomon-and he was a dashed sound fellow, they tell me--said there was nothing new under the sun, and Solomon --wouldn't have sat up half the evening torturin' himself and his neighbours with tin-can music from a Kafir kraal, or allowed his wives to go stumpin' about the countryside in corduroy knickers, dammit!”

of and

The faithful Footpad, course, shared. this view, more than one girl hiker who had the temerity to call at the Towers for water to boil in her kettle carries to this day the trade- mark of his fangs in the fleshy part of her calf.

It was surely a coincidence that in the village of Gibbet End there should have been a house known as the Turret. Like its near neighbour, the Towers, it stood on gravel soil, facing south, with- in easy walking distance of the railway station and the Baptist chapel, and was equipped with the usual offices.

Jocelin Fortescue, a rising. young gossip writer, inherited the place from a cousin, but, prefer- ring the calm sequestered ease of an office in Fleet street to the roar and bustle of country life, continued to reside in rooms off the Gray's Inn-road and put the Turret in charge of his elderly and eccentric uncle, one General

-

DOG FOOTPAD

Fortescue. For a time all went well, and then the march of pro- gress began to make itself felt in

the village of Gibbet End. Gas was installed in the parish half, the vicarage, and the Baptist chapel, rumours of the innova- tion reached the ears of the young gossip-writer, and one day the London offices of the gas..company were invaded by a gorgeously apparelled youth with horn-rimmed spectacles and a compelling manner,

"Gentlemen," he explained to the clerks in the outer office, “you see before you no man of straw, but the owner of lordly acres in the heart of rural England. My is Fortescue, Jocelin Fortescue, and I am seized of

name

Short Story

four carucates

of land in the village of Gibbet End, vested in me by right of soccage, bootage, allage, and sewage”

"Quite, sir,” replied one of the clerks brightly, "gas incinerators are in our show-room on the first floor."

"You misunderstand me, com- rade,” said Jocelin, patiently. "I learn that your minions have already begun to lay gas-pipes along the main street of Gibbet End. It has been suggested to me that to have gas laid on to my ancestral home, the Turret, would increase its value.”

"Certainly, Mr. Forsyth," said the chief clerk, writing industri- ously on a scribbling-pad.. "The Towers, Gibbet End. It shall have our immediate attention.”

"Fortescue, not Forsyth,” amended the young man, “and the house is the Turret, not the Towers."

"Very good, sir," said the -clerk.

"There will have to be a gas - cooker in the kitchen, I suppose,"

went on Jocelin, “and a geyser for the hot water, which presum- ably you would put in the bath- TOOEL But I really haven't tîme to worry over these technical de- tails."

"You can safely leave all that to our people on the spot," the clerk assured him.

“Good. Oh, and one other thing. ought to warn you that my uncle, old General Fortescue, is at present living in the house. He is rather eccentric. the old boy may ake- hit of a fuss. when your people start putting In the as pipes. Tell them not to take any notice of him he's certain to use a lot of strong. language, but if he becomes vio- lent they'd better lock him up.”

a particular note of it, M veraham,” kaid the clerk. We shall begin work ́early next week. Good after-

noon.”"

"Good afternoon. And the

name is Fortescue, not Faver sham

It was about ten in the morn- ing on the Tuesday following Jocelin Fortescue's call on the gas company when an assault was begun on the home of that typical English Admiral Fortin- bras.

The Admiral, having eaten heartily of an Englishman's breakfast-porridge, fish, eggs and bacon-served to him with full ceremonial by Parkinson, his man, had set out for the stables, the dag Footpad at his heels, to supervise the grooming of the horse Hotspur. He had not gone far, however, when he became

By H. M. Raleigh

aware of hurrying footsteps, and.. turning, beneld Parkinson bear- ing down on him in a state of un- wonted perturbation.

yhat's wrong with man?” he demanded.

"I beg your pardon, sir,” pant- ed Parkinson. The fact is, a party of med with picks and shovels are engaged in digging a trench across the carriage sweep and the putting green. They state that it will be necessary for them to drill a hole through the library wall."

"What?" roared the Admiral, wheeling round in his tracks.

"They allege, sir, that they are employees of the gas company, acting on the

Fructions of the

owner of the house. When I at- tempted to expostulate with em, and said that I would call you, they laughed in a manner which I could only describe as sinis- ter.'

“Oh, they did, did they? And perhaps you'll have the goodness to explain why these boobies from the gas works are backin' up my grounds.”.

"I fancy it is their intention to lay on a gas supply to the house, sir."

Gas! The hideous word set all the Admiral's ganglions' quiver ing like harp-strings. Speaking in the harsh, resonant voice which had caused him to be known to the Lower Deck by the affectionate sobriquet of “Creak- ing Charlie," he expressed his view of the situation in no un- certain teams,

"By Gad, Parkinson, I won't stand it concluded the angry sea-dog. "Fetch me my huntin' crop from the hail”

The foreman in charge of the gas company's entrenching oper- ations was a young man of cour- age and resource, but even he was taken aback when he beheld a stout, dapper little man ad- vancing on him in a threatening attitude, flourishing a hunting- crop and bellowing imprecations.

"This must be the old geezer we was warned about, Bill,” said the foreman to one of his sub- ordinates. E seems to ave got something on 'is mind. Just start in on that there brick wall with "the" pneumatic drill, then we shan't ear what 'e says, see?"

"Hi, you lop-eared, jelly-bellied son of Belial," howled the Ad- miral, now purple in the face, “why in thunder can't you answer a civil question? Haven't any of you got tongues in your chuckle heads, dammit?”

Any reply that may have been vouchsafed by the foreman and his mates was drowned by a nerve-shattering roar, as the (Continued on Page 7)

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