Mr Buggins was rather shocked at this travesty of painting, but was nevertheless obliged to admit that there was a great deal of force in the pictures, while the Monteaths, when the first sensation of surprise had left them, pronounced themselves in raptures.
Albert was evidently in a state of nerves and hardly listened to what was said, but went from picture to picture, adjusting the feathers of The Absinthe Drinker at a slightly less-tipsy angle, retying one of Child with Doll’s hair-ribbons and borrowing Jane’s comb with which to tidy its hair. Finally, he ran round combing all the hair and beards that he could find.
The others stood about rather gloomily wishing that the party would begin. Albert’s nervousness had imparted itself to them and especially to Jane, who was terrified that the pictures (much as she personally admired them) might be a most dreadful failure.
If this happened, she thought selfishly, a gloom would certainly be cast over their whole wedding.
Albert, from having always before been perfectly indifferent as to what people might think of his work, now that the pictures were about to be exhibited had become almost childishly anxious for them to have a success.
The first guest appeared in the shape of Ralph, who was received with exaggerated cries of joy.
‘Ralph dear, how nice of you to come so early! We were hoping someone would come soon. You will try and make the party go, Ralph, won’t you? We’re all simply terrified, and it’s sure to be sticky at first, so promise to help?’
Ralph smiled sadly.
‘So these are your pictures, Albert,’ he said, and very slowly walked round the Gallery, carefully examining each one from various angles. Having completed the tour he went up to Albert and said earnestly, ‘Go on painting, Albert. I mean that. Go on with it and one day you will be a very considerable artist indeed. Good-bye, my dears, I must go home to bed.’
‘Don’t go!’ they cried in disappointed voices; but he took no notice of their protestations and left the Gallery.
Albert wiped his eyes. He was more than touched and flattered by this attitude of Ralph’s, and followed his friend out into the street to tell him so.
Jane broke rather an awkward silence by wondering who the next visitor would be. It was felt that Ralph had not exactly proved the life and soul of the party.
‘I think this is quite awful,’ said Walter. ‘I’m not easily frightened myself, but the beginning of a party is always apt to upset me; and now in addition to the social fear I’m suffering, there is this enormous empty room with Albert’s terrifying pictures. The whole atmosphere is painful to a degree. Not that I don’t think the pictures very clever, mind you, Jane, because I do, and they will certainly cause a great sensation, but you must admit that they are terrifying, specially for that child. Sally, darling, I beg you won’t look at it for too long, because if Morris-Minerva even faintly resembles it I shall commit infanticide on the spot.’
Sally now had a brainwave.
‘Why don’t we begin the cocktails?’
This brilliant idea was immediately acted upon, and when Albert came back a more cheerful atmosphere was pervading the whole place. He felt glad of a drink himself after an emotional scene with Ralph in the street.
The next arrival was Admiral Wenceslaus, who came in rather jauntily, saying:
‘And don’t offer me a cocktail; I never touch the things. How are you? How are you all?’
He took the cocktail which Albert was rather diffidently holding out towards him and drank it off at a single gulp.
‘My dear Gates, I have brought back your trousers which I have had well pressed for you. They needed it. And also a little wedding present in the shape of a book which I thought you might read on your honeymoon. It is by an old friend of my own, Admiral Sir Bartelmass Jenks, and is entitled The Prize Courts and Their Functions or The Truth About Blockade. The prize courts, my dear Gates, as you know, investigate the case of ships captured in times of war …’
At this moment, as so often happens at parties, about twenty people all came in a lump together and the admiral, deprived of his audience, settled down to some more cocktails.
Soon the room was buzzing and humming with talk. The pictures, as Walter had foreseen, were causing a real sensation. People were, for the most part, very guarded in their criticism, asking each other rather anxiously what they thought about them.
Not so, however, Lady Prague, who, imposing but dowdy in a coat of Paisley pattern with brown fur, was accompanied by General Murgatroyd and Lady Brenda Chadlington.
She walked round the Gallery rather flat-footedly, pausing here and there to inspect the more outstanding pictures rather closely with her nose almost touching them, and then at an exaggerated distance (a trick she had learnt while visiting the Royal Academy).
When she had completed this tour she turned to Lady Brenda.
‘Of course, Brenda, I expect it’s my own fault, but I really think these pictures are very ugly. Not the sort of thing I should care to have in a drawing-room at all. In fact, I don’t see that you could call this Art. I mean, when you think of those wonderful Dutch pictures we saw last year. These are so terribly out of drawing. And then, all that hair! Well, I suppose they’re very clever, but –’
Lady Brenda said, ‘Ssh! they will hear you,’ and General Murgatroyd said loudly and angrily that it was another art hoax and that he was not the least taken in by it.
‘If you want to see some really good pictures,’ he said, ‘go to the Army and Navy Stores. There’s one I saw yesterday – some sheep going into a little birch wood with a mist – early morning, I should
