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"Mr Dubberley," said Robin, in a voice which made us all jump, "have you a bathroom in your house?" Even the Twins, who were growing a trifle lethargic under the technicalities of the subject, roused themselves at this fresh turn of the conversation. "Ah eh I beg your pardon?" said Dubberley, a trifle disconcerted. "A bathroom," repeated Robin "with a good long bath in it?" "Er yes."
Further conversation was prevented by the opening of the drawing-room door, where the butler appeared and announced "Mr Dubberley." Dubberley is a pillar of our party.
He leaned back and surveyed the bemused Dubberley with complete and obvious satisfaction. We all sat round breathless, feeling much as Sidney Smith must have felt when some one spoke disrespectfully of the Equator. Great was the fall of Dubberley. He moved, perhaps instinctively, in a society where he was seldom contradicted and never argued with. One does not argue with a gramophone.
Champion, who had been returned for his constituency by a thumping majority, had promised to come down and speak for me at a great meeting two nights before the election; and Dubberley, who had lost his seat, threatened to come and help me to lose mine.
There had been a good deal of talk in the papers of late about improving the means of transport throughout the country; and the nationalisation of railways and other semi-socialistic schemes had filled the air. Dubberley, it appeared, had out of his own gigantic intellect evolved a panacea for congestion of traffic, highness of rates, and railway mortality.
Robin had unconsciously dropped into what I may call his debating-society manner. His chin stuck out, and his large chest heaved, and he scooped the air, as if it had been the water of Dubberley's bath, with one of Kitty's priceless Worcester teacups. Dubberley sat completely demoralised, palpitating like a stranded frog.
They were conjuring up a joyous vision of Dubberley, in his shirt-sleeves, meekly refuting one of his own theories by means of a childish and sloppy experiment in practical hydrodynamics in his own bathroom. I give this incident as a fair example of Robin's point of view and methods of action on questions which I for one would never dream of debating.
"How long, Mr Dubberley," interpolated Robin, leaning forward "how long do you consider one would take to travel, say, a hundred miles by canal?" "Under our present antiquated system, sir," Dubberley rather prides himself on preserving the courtly fashions of address of a bygone age, "an impossibly long time.
"Well, Mr Dubberley, when you go home this afternoon, go upstairs and fill the bath with water. Then take a large bath-sponge something nearly as broad as the bath and sweep it along from end to end, about a foot below the surface, at a speed of fifteen miles per hour that will be twenty-two feet per second and see what happens!"
"What did you say to them, Robin?" "Say? I don't really know. I assured them that you must have some good reason for leaving in such a hurry, and persuaded them to keep quiet for a bit in case you came back. We put up a few more speakers, but the people got more and more out of hand; and finally, after about five minutes of Dubberley, they grew so riotous that we ended the meeting."
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