'Why, it's my friend the stationmaster! said Philbrick.
'We are the silver band the Lord bless and keep you, said the stationmaster in one breath, 'the band that no one could beat whatever but two indeed in the Eisteddfod that for all North Wales was look you.
'I see, said the Doctor; 'I see. That's splendid. Well, will you please go into your tent, the little tent over there.
'To march about you would not like us? suggested the stationmaster; 'we have a fine yellow flag look you that embroidered for us was in silks.
'No, no. Into the tent!
The statiomnaster went back to consult with his fellow-musicians. There was a baying and growling and yapping as of the jungle at moonrise, and presently he came forward again with an obsequious, sidelong shuffle.
'Three pounds you pay us would you said indeed to at the sports play.
'Yes, yes, that's right, three pounds. Into the tent!
'Nothing whatever we can play without the money first, said the stationmaster firmly.
'How would it be, said Philbrick, 'if I gave him a clout on the ear?
'No, no, I beg you to do nothing of the kind. You have not lived in Wales as long as I have. He took a note‑case from his pocket, the sight of which seemed to galvanize the musicians into life; they crowded round, twitching and chattering. The Doctor took out three pound notes and gave them to the stationmaster. 'There you are, Davies! he said. 'Now take your men into the tent. They are on no account to emerge until after tea; do you understand?
The band slunk away, and Paul and the Doctor turned back towards the Castle.
'The Welsh character is an interesting study, said Dr Fagan. 'I have often considered writing a little monograph on the subject, but I was afraid it might make me unpopular in the village. The ignorant speak of them as Celts, which is of course wholly erroneous. They are of pure Iberian stock ‑ the aboriginal inhabitants of Europe who survive only in Portugal and the Basque district. Celts readily intermarry with their neighbours and absorb them. From the earliest times the Welsh have been looked upon as an unclean people. It is thus that they have preserved their racial integrity. Their sons and daughters rarely mate with human-kind except their own blood relations. In Wales there was no need for legislation to prevent the conquering people intermarrying with the conquered. In Ireland that was necessary, for there intermarriage was a political matter. In Wales it was moral. I hope, by the way, you have no Welsh blood?
'None whatever, said Paul.
'I was sure you had not, but one cannot be too careful. I once spoke of this subject to the sixth form and learned later that one of them had a Welsh grandmother. I am afraid it hurt his feelings terribly, poor little chap. She came from Pembrokeshire, too, which is of course quite a different matter. I often think, he continued, 'that we can trace almost all the disasters of English history to the influence of Wales. Think of Edward of Caernarvon, the first Prince of Wales, a perverse life, Pennyfeather, and an unseemly death, then the Tudors and the dissolution of the Church, then Lloyd George, the temperance movement, Noncomformity, and lust stalking hand in hand through the country, wasting and ravaging. But perhaps you think I exaggerate? I have a certain rhetorical tendency, I admit.
'No, no, said Paul.
'The Welsh, said the Doctor, 'are the only nation in the world that has produced no graphic or plastic art, no architecture, no drama. They just sing, he said with disgust, 'sing and blow down wind instruments of plated silver. They are deceitful because they cannot discern truth from falsehood, depraved because they cannot discern the consequences of their indulgence. Let us consider, he continued, 'the etymological derivations of the Welsh language….
But here he was interrupted by a breathless little boy who panted down the drive to meet them. 'Please, sir, Lord and Lady Circumference have arrived sir. They're in the library with Miss Florence. She asked me to tell you.
'The sports will start in ten minutes, said the Doctor. 'Run and tell the other boys to change and go at once to the playing‑fields. I will talk to you about the Welsh again. It is a matter to which I have given some thought, and I can see that you are sincerely interested. Come in with me and see the Circumferences.
Flossie was talking to them in the library.
'Yes, isn't it a sweet colour? she was saying. 'I do like something bright myself. Diana made it for me; she does knit a treat, does Diana, but of course I chose the colour, you know, because, you see, Diana's taste is all for wishy-washy greys and browns. Mournful, you know. Well, here's the dad. Lady Circumference was just saying how much she likes my frock what you said was vulgar, so there!
A stout elderly woman dressed in a tweed coat and skirt and jaunty Tyrolean hat advanced to the Doctor. 'Hullo! she said in a deep bass voice, 'how are you? Sorry if we're late. Circumference ran over a fool of a boy. I've just been chaffing your daughter here about her frock. Wish I was young enough to wear that kind of thing. Older I get the more I like colour. We're both pretty long in the tooth, eh? She gave Dr Fagan a hearty shake of the hand, that obviously caused him acute pain. Then she turned to Paul.
'So you're the Doctor's hired assassin, eh? Well, I hope you keep a firm hand on my toad of a son. How's he doin'?
'Quite well, said Paul.
'Nonsense! said Lady Circumference. 'The boy's a dunderhead. If he wasn't he wouldn't be here. He wants beatin' and hittin' and knockin' about generally, and then he'll be no good. That grass is shockin' bad on the terrace, Doctor; you ought to sand it down and re‑sow it, but you'll have to take that cedar down if you ever want it to grow properly at the side. I hate cuttin' down a tree ‑ like losin' a tooth ‑ but you have to choose, tree or grass; you can't keep 'em both. What d'you pay your head man?
As she was talking Lord Circumference emerged from the shadows and shook Paul's hand. He had a long fair moustache and large watery eyes which reminded Paul a little of Mr. Prendergast.
'How do you do? he said.
'How do you do? said Paul.
'Fond of sport, eh? he said. 'I mean these sort of sports?
'Oh, yes, said Paul. 'I think they're so good for the boys.
'Do you? Do you think that, said Lord Circumference very earnestly: 'you think they're good for the boys?
'Yes, said Paul; 'don't you?
'Me? Yes, oh yes. I think so, too. Very good for the boys.
'So useful in the case of a war or anything, said Paul.
'Do you think so? D'you really and truly think so? That there's going to be another war, I mean?
'Yes, I'm sure of it; aren't you?
'Yes, of course. I'm sure of it too. And that awful bread, and people coming on to one's own land and telling one what one's to do with one's own butter and milk, and commandeering one's horses! Oh, yes all over again! My wife shot her hunters rather than let them go to the army. And girls in breeches on all the farms! All over again! Who do you think it will be this time?
'The Americans, said Paul stoutly.
'No, indeed, I hope not. We had German prisoners on two of the farms. That wasn't so bad, but if they start putting Americans on my land, I'll just refilse to stand it. My daughter brought an American down to luncheon the other day, and, do you know…?
'Dig it and dung it, said Lady Circumference. 'Only it's got to be dug deep, mind. Now how did your calceolarias do last year?
'I really have no idea, said the Doctor. 'Flossie, how did our calceolarias do?
'Lovely, said Flossie.
'I don't believe a word of it, said Lady Circumference. 'Nobody's calceolarias did well last year.
'Shall we adjourn to the playing‑fields? said the Doctor. 'I expect they are all waiting for us.
Talking cheerfully, the party crossed the hall and went down the steps.