Mundane Musings

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 258, 21 January 1928, Page 18

Mundane Musings

The Joke It was an excellent joke. I saw it; in a weekly illustrated paper, and the drawing, by a well-known artist, was as good as the joke. I laughed with that spontaneous, deep-springing laughter that is like a rush of fresh air through the mind. I said: “That’s splendid; that’s too utterly rich. I must show it to the others. It isn’t fair to keep a good thing like that to oneself. A joke must be shared to be enjoyed to the full. Besides, the impulse to communicate one’s sensations to others is always strong, and sometimes irresistible. * * * I found one of them sitting in the library, reading one of the books. (The other was still on the shelf.) I said: “Have you .heard this? Isn’t it lovely?” And I read out the joke to him. He looked up and said: “What did you say?” I read the" joke to him again. There was a long silence, lie said at last: “That’s absurd, you know. It simply couldn’t happen. For one thing, there’s no place that I know of called Puddleborough—l think you said it was the Rector of Puddleborough speaking? Besides, the rector wouldn’t go into the kitchen to speak to the servant. He would ring the bell for her. “Also I doubt very much whether any modern rector would employ the word ‘indubitably.* It’s an old-fash-ioned word, quite out of date. As a youngish man—l think you mentioned that his name was Newlywel, so it is reasonable to suppose he had been recently married, and was therefore a youngish man—he would be more or less au fait with the colloquialisms of his generation. “Anyway, it was his wife’s place to report tho matter, not his. And then—” * * * I tottered from the library to the blue drawing room. (The blue drawing room is on the rug at the end of the library.) There I found someone doing a crossword puzzle. I said, with a forced renewal of heartiness: “I say, do look at this. Isn’t it simply gorgeous?” I held out a paper to her. She said: “What paper it that?” I replied, “It’s this week’s ‘Mercurlal. And there’s a screamingly funny joke in it. Look here ...” I handed her the paper. She took it, and stared a long time at the page before her. I awaited anxiously the expected peals of mirth. At last she said, frowning: That s all rubbish. There’s nothing on this created earth that will take out inkstains. I’ve always said so, and I always will.” “Inkstains?” I falteifd, in a still, small voice. “I—l don’t remember anything about inkstains—” Why, wasn't that what you were showing me? The Woman’s Page? I saw something on the other side about a rector called Newlywed and a maidservant, but it seemed rather silly, so I didn’t think you meant me to look at it. By the way, where’s the screamingly funny joke you told me about?” I wandered dejectedly into the West Wing. The West Wing’s fireplace has been smoking recently, and someone was sitting beside an oil-stove, looking sadly into the fumes. I took a chair in the Haunted Parlour on the other side of the fumes and spoke to her. “Would you like,” I asked, anxiously, to see an awfully good joke? Look here . , . I showed her the page in the “Mercurial.’ * She gazed at it for a few seconds. Her face worked. All at once she burst into tears. “Life’s too hard!” she Sobbed. She buried her face in her hands: the “Mercurial” slipped to the ground. 1 took it up and fled. The East Wing, I knew, was temporarily closed; one of the legs had come off the chair, and it had gone to bo repaired. I rushed, therefore, into tho kitchen. ‘Jane!” I cried., wildly, “there’s a joke. Would you like to see it?” Jane removed her hands from a basin of flour, and took the “Mercurial” in one of them. read the joke, and then sho began to laugh. She laughed till the tears ran down her face. I laughed, for relief, till the tears ran down mine. She wiped hers away with a floury hand. I said hysterically: “It is a good joke, isn't it, Jane?” “Lor, miss,” she choked, “it’s the funniest thing I seen for a long time. Just fancy, miss, ’er name being Jane, too!” Modern architecture, short-sightedly, not providing dungeons, or moats, I retired to the Muscians’ Gallery, and began tearlessly to sort out the washing. -