THE BAZAAR 235 



The bazaar had its hand upon the countryside 

 for miles round. The church, calhng for new 

 choir stalls, had sent the Httle children into the 

 woods to pick flowers for sale ; the farmers' wives 

 to their dairies to make butter; the farmers' 

 daughters answered the call with crewel- work and 

 pin-cushions; even the cottagers were not behind 

 with gifts. There was something so pleasant in 

 this response from the fields and the hedgerows, 

 as it were, that it made one almost forget the 

 snobbishness, small-mindedness and pride of the 

 prime movers in the affair. For the Fantodds, 

 who hved at Mill House, were snobbish, and would 

 rout out trade in your family tree, even if the 

 disease were hidden deep and forgotten at its 

 roots ; and not only rout it out, but sniff and snort 

 over it. Colonel Bingham — I think I called him 

 General before, but we will reduce him for punish- 

 ment to the rank of colonel — Colonel Bingham 

 was an army snob ; a well-born, kindly and hand- 

 some old gentleman, but still a snob. The Creeps 

 were puffed up with pride ; a drunken baronet who 

 had married a cousin of Colonel Creeps acted in 

 this family just as a grain of soda acts in a mass 

 of dough, leavening the lump. The Smith- 

 Jacksons, the Dorian-Grays (most unfortunate 

 name, assumed in the seventies), the Prosser- 

 Jones, all suffered from this perfectly superfluous 

 disease. 



The schoohoom, when they reached it, was 

 having a last finishing touch put to the decorations 



