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THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL
everybody else in the house is liable to be disturbed if we get up。 So； of
course； we mustn't。〃
The tone is that of gentle resignation。 It is instinct with the spirit of
virtuous pride； arising from the consciousness of self… sacrifice。
〃Don't you call this being up？〃 you suggest。
〃Oh； no； we're not really up； you know； because we're not properly
dressed。〃 The fact is self…evident。 〃Pa's always very tired in the
morning；〃 the voice continues； 〃of course； that's because he works hard all
day。 Are you ever tired in the morning？〃
At this point he turns and notices； for the first time； that the three other
children have also entered； and are sitting in a semi… circle on the floor。
From their attitude it is clear they have mistaken the whole thing for one
of the slower forms of entertainment； some comic lecture or conjuring
exhibition； and are waiting patiently for you to get out of bed and do
something。 It shocks him； the idea of their being in the guest's
bedchamber。 He peremptorily orders them out。 They do not answer
him； they do not argue； in dead silence； and with one accord they fall upon
him。 All you can see from the bed is a confused tangle of waving arms and
legs； suggestive of an intoxicated octopus trying to find bottom。 Not a
word is spoken； that seems to be the etiquette of the thing。 If you are
sleeping in your pyjamas； you spring from the bed； and only add to the
confusion； if you are wearing a less showy garment； you stop where you
are and shout commands； which are utterly unheeded。 The simplest plan
is to leave it to the eldest boy。 He does get them out after a while； and
closes the door upon them。 It re…opens immediately； and one； generally
Muriel； is shot back into the room。 She enters as from a catapult。 She
is handicapped by having long hair； which can be used as a convenient
handle。 Evidently aware of this natural disadvantage； she clutches it
herself tightly in one hand； and punches with the other。 He opens the
door again； and cleverly uses her as a battering…ram against the wall of
those without。 You can hear the dull crash as her head enters among
them； and scatters them。 When the victory is complete； he comes back
and resumes his seat on the bed。 There is no bitterness about him； he has
forgotten the whole incident。 〃I like the morning；〃 he says； 〃don't you？〃
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THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL
〃Some mornings；〃 you agree； 〃are all right； others are not so peaceful。〃
He takes no notice of your exception； a far…away look steals over his
somewhat ethereal face。
〃I should like to die in the morning；〃 he says； 〃everything is so
beautiful then。〃
〃Well；〃 you answer； 〃perhaps you will； if your father ever invites an
irritable man to come and sleep here； and doesn't warn him beforehand。〃
He descends from his contemplative mood； and becomes himself
again。
〃It's jolly in the garden；〃 he suggests； 〃you wouldn't like to get up and
have a game of cricket； would you？〃
It was not the idea with which you went to bed； but now； as things
have turned out； it seems as good a plan as lying there hopelessly awake；
and you agree。
You learn； later in the day； that the explanation of the proceeding is
that you； unable to sleep； woke up early in the morning； and thought you
would like a game of cricket。 The children； taught to be ever courteous
to guests； felt it their duty to humour you。 Mrs。 Harris remarks at breakfast
that at least you might have seen to it that the children were properly
dressed before you took them out； while Harris points out to you；
pathetically； how； by your one morning's example and encouragement； you
have undone his labour of months。
On this Wednesday morning； George； it seems； clamoured to get up at
a quarter…past five； and persuaded them to let him teach them cycling
tricks round the cucumber frames on Harris's new wheel。 Even Mrs。 Harris；
however； did not blame George on this occasion； she felt intuitively the
idea could not have been entirely his。
It is not that the Harris children have the faintest notion of avoiding
blame at the expense of a friend and comrade。 One and all they are
honesty itself in accepting responsibility for their own misdeeds。 It
simply is； that is how the thing presents itself to their understanding。
When you explain to them that you had no original intention of getting up
at five o'clock in the morning to play cricket on the croquet lawn； or to
mimic the history of the early Church by shooting with a cross…bow at
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THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL
dolls tied to a tree； that as a matter of fact； left to your own initiative； you
would have slept peacefully till roused in Christian fashion with a cup of
tea at eight； they are firstly astonished； secondly apologetic； and thirdly
sincerely contrite。 In the present instance； waiving the purely academic
question whether the awakening of George at a little before five was due
to natural instinct on his part； or to the accidental passing of a home…made
boomerang through his bedroom window； the dear children frankly
admitted that the blame for his uprising was their own。 As the eldest boy
said：
〃We ought to have remembered that Uncle George had a long day；
before him； and we ought to have dissuaded him from getting up。 I
blame myself entirely。〃
But an occasional change of habit does nobody any harm； and besides；
as Harris and I agreed； it was good training for George。 In the Black Forest
we should be up at five every morning； that we had determined on。
Indeed； George himself had suggested half…past four； but Harris and I had
argued that five would be early enough as an average； that would enable
us to be on our machines by six； and to break the back of our journey
before the heat of the day set in。 Occasionally we might start a little
earlier； but not as a habit。
I myself was up that morning at five。 This was earlier than I had
intended。 I had said to myself on going to sleep； 〃Six o'clock； sharp！〃
There are men I know who can wake themselves at any time to the
minute。 They say to themselves literally； as they lay their heads upon the
pillow； 〃Four…thirty；〃 〃Four…forty…five；〃 or 〃Five… fifteen；〃 as the case may
be； and as the clock strikes they open their eyes。 It is very wonderful this；
the more one dwells upon it； the greater the mystery grows。 Some Ego
within us； acting quite independently of our conscious self； must be
capable of counting the hours while we sleep。 Unaided by clock or sun；
or any other medium known to our five senses； it keeps watch through the
darkness。 At the exact moment it whispers 〃Time！〃 and we awake。 The
work of an old riverside fellow I once talked with called him to be out of
bed each morning half an hour before high tide。 He told me that never
once had he overslept himself by a minute。 Latterly； he never even
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THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL
troubled to work out the tide for himself。 He would lie down tired； and
sleep a dreamless sleep； and each morning at a different hour this ghostly
watchman； true as the tide itself； would silently call him。 Did the man's
spirit haunt through the darkness the muddy river stairs； or had it
knowledge of the ways of Nature？ Whatever the process； the