Of Tea...and Things

Scandals Various

"I really must congratulate you," said the fifty-ninth matron of the evening to My Lady as the Public swarmed into the foyer of his Lordship's Lending Library to see the Scandal of the Season for themselves, continued she, "this is a work of pure genius and therefore must rise above the simple moral plane set by the Standards and find ample footing amongst the greatest works of art and achievement known to mankind!"

So it was the Scandal was deemed a flop, for it wasn't a scandal at all, but the Library was an immediate success, so much so that the Queen was forced to make it a National Monument and therefore sacrosanct and safe from the predations of morality and social outrage, at least on the human front, but there were worse Things than affronted human sensibilities to be overcome, but happily this was an enemy the founders of the Institution for Literary Exchange were very capable of fighting.

It was an unfortunate name, but as Iris so sensibly said, "if one merely comes up with an idea of genius and implements it with all efficiency, quality, and sense, there will no doubt come innumerable challenges on any number of fronts from well-meaning but benighted individuals in the name of Social Justice or Decency or the Common Good, or other such vaporous ideals with grandiose names but no substance. Instead, if one proposes a ridiculous and grandiose name and takes it quite seriously, so too must your potential naysayers, who must then choose between taking offense at an equally silly ideal and risk exposing their own, or approving of it without the least knowledge of what it truly involves upon the theory that something so inanely named cannot be bad, for so too is their own dearest cause."

So it was the ridiculous moniker was roundly approved by all and sundry and likewise the institution itself. And it set such a precedent in social circles that the fad of reading serious literature was quite modish for almost a full month before something else replaced it, save amongst the most serious students or those whose imaginations were piqued by a brief taste, thus establishing a lifelong habit, which eccentricity they passed along to the succeeding generations.

"It was just as you predicted," said the Innkeeper joyously but a week into the phenomenon, "a grand success! I see no reason to fret over the future of your little library, my friends, indeed I do not."

Mulligan was in nowise so easy about the future of the literary arts in the City, "perhaps on the Social front, things are well in hand, but there are other Things that must be dealt with, for there are many others who will be furious over our success here and they will not long abide it without trying to destroy it and us."

"Things," said the merry host thoughtfully, "now do you mean Things or Things?"

"The residents of the Fairywood could care less about our little establishment," replied Mulligan, "I speak of Things of a far darker and more menacing nature."

"What is to be done?" said the innkeeper glumly.

"There are those who can stand against such Things," said Mulligan thoughtfully, "though I wonder who among them would wish to do so in such a role as this?"

"There is always a person for the job," remarked Mildred, coming in as if she owned the conversation, but there was no one foolish enough to contest her on the matter so therefore she must.

The Innkeeper knew an Aunt when he saw one, a Great Aunt at that, and was in nowise so silly as to dismiss her out of hand or underestimate her abilities, though he as of yet knew nothing of her rather uncanny nature. Asked Mulligan blandly, "you have a person in mind, milady?"

"What has our fine host to say upon the matter?" asked she.

"Well," said he, "to be honest, I've hardly had time to mind matters at the inn, what with helping out around here."