A Damsel in Distress

The following day was a Thursday and on Thursdays, as has been

stated, Belpher Castle was thrown open to the general public between

the hours of two and four. It was a tradition of long standing, this

periodical lowering of the barriers, and had always been faithfully

observed by Lord Marshmoreton ever since his accession to the title.

By the permanent occupants of the castle the day was regarded with

mixed feelings. Lord Belpher, while approving of it in theory, as he

did of all the family traditions--for he was a great supporter of

all things feudal, and took his position as one of the hereditary

aristocracy of Great Britain extremely seriously--heartily disliked

it in practice. More than once he had been obliged to exit hastily

by a further door in order to keep from being discovered by a drove

of tourists intent on inspecting the library or the great

drawing-room; and now it was his custom to retire to his bedroom

immediately after lunch and not to emerge until the tide of invasion

had ebbed away.

Keggs, the butler, always looked forward to Thursdays with

pleasurable anticipation. He enjoyed the sense of authority which

it gave him to herd these poor outcasts to and fro among the

surroundings which were an every-day commonplace to himself. Also

he liked hearing the sound of his own voice as it lectured in

rolling periods on the objects of interest by the way-side. But

even to Keggs there was a bitter mixed with the sweet. No one was

better aware than himself that the nobility of his manner,

excellent as a means of impressing the mob, worked against him when

it came to a question of tips. Again and again had he been harrowed

by the spectacle of tourists, huddled together like sheep, debating

among themselves in nervous whispers as to whether they could offer

this personage anything so contemptible as half a crown for himself

and deciding that such an insult was out of the question. It was

his endeavour, especially towards the end of the proceedings, to

cultivate a manner blending a dignity fitting his position with a

sunny geniality which would allay the timid doubts of the tourist

and indicate to him that, bizarre as the idea might seem, there was

nothing to prevent him placing his poor silver in more worthy

hands.

Possibly the only member of the castle community who was absolutely

indifferent to these public visits was Lord Marshmoreton. He made

no difference between Thursday and any other day. Precisely as

usual he donned his stained corduroys and pottered about his

beloved garden; and when, as happened on an average once a quarter,

some visitor, strayed from the main herd, came upon him as he

worked and mistook him for one of the gardeners, he accepted the

error without any attempt at explanation, sometimes going so far as

to encourage it by adopting a rustic accent in keeping with his

appearance. This sort thing tickled the simple-minded peer.