GOT SOUP?

The Van Dyk's had a lovely grove of trees on their property, and as the pater familias was a good friend I spent quite some time there during summer.
There was a log underneath the largest tree which had the perfect bend for sitting, and you could read there for hours, with just the occasional buzzing insect, or a cheeky bird in the tall grass, as company.
Or the two squirrels who lived in the tree.
And indignant little Lucinda.
Mr. Van Dyk's daughter.
Who was angry at me.

It turns out that the bend in the log was where her Teddy Bear was supposed to sit. Her seat! Not mine!
And what, she demanded to know the first time she found me there, did I think I was doing?
Had I absolutely no respect for the proprieties? Was I an oaf?

I averred that I was indeed an oaf, and there was no law that said I could not sit there.
If that was the bear's favourite spot, she should have put her name on it.
And in any case, the bear was NOT reposing there when I came.
So, logically, it's now my seat. I'm sitting on it.

I'll share it with the bear, though. Provided she doesn't bite. Can't stand biting.

Grumblingly, the bear acceded to this quite reasonable suggestion.
I could tell that she really wanted to bite me, but she controlled herself.
Over the next few visits, I found out that the bear liked parties, and gay events.
Not because of the inevitable cake, which was of course excellent too, but because of the soup. A proper soirée has soup. Different kinds of soup, in nice porcelain tureens, with small elegant bowls. It was very festive.
Both the bear and Lucinda were surprised that I did not know this.
Obviously there was something wrong with my education.

In mid-August we celebrated mrs. Van Dyk's birthday. Like every year she was turning 34.
As befitted a festive occasion, there was cake, and also soup.
I helped out in the salon, placing the tureen on the table, then carrying in the cake, and Lucinda happily gloated that the bear had grabbed the seat out under the tree. Hah!
She would bring the bear some soup, so that I wouldn't have a chance to sit there while the bear enjoyed the party.
The bear was perfectly fine listening to the jollification from a distance, perhaps sharing her soup with the two squirrels. Humans were so clumsy - that's why the squirrels never attended parties, they were afraid that someone would step on them.
Or sit where they weren't supposed to!
That last, I feel, was probably directed at me.

When it started to rain, later that afternoon, Lucinda didn't remember the bear until a good ten or fifteen minutes into the thunderstorm.
It was my fault, you must understand.
As I was rubbing a towel over my sopping head after coming back in, I innocently asked about the ursine.
Lucinda was very distraught, the bear shouldn't catch a cold! Or pneumonia! Quick, we must go save the bear!
Unfortunately the big umbrella was nowhere to be found, and it was raining so hard that mrs. Van Dyk refused to allow Lucinda to go out.
Her father comforted her by explaining that bears could look after themselves, and in any case hardly any rain would penetrate the leaves of the tree. Why, the area underneath the tree was probably the driest spot of all.
As soon as the downpour lessens, we'll all go out to get the bear, okay?
The squirrels have probably offered her shelter, so please don't worry!

It didn't help much, but she was no longer panicking so. The moment the downpour became a mere summer rain, the little girl dashed out, followed by her father.
They came back in a few minutes.

It was the strangest thing. They had found the bear sitting quite at her ease on the log, completely dry. The reason why they hadn't been able to find the big umbrella earlier was because the bear had it. The bear also had a partially eaten piece of cake in front of her, with three forks. Apparently the cake was tasty, but she and the squirrels really preferred the soup. This was obvious because there were three empty bowls under the tree!
Lucinda was a bit confused, as she had only brought the bear one bowl.

I remarked that clearly the bear had come in at some point to get more soup. Squirrels also liked soup.
They followed the excellent example of the bear.
Without a doubt she didn't understand the complex world of bears and squirrels, she should pay more attention.

For the rest of the day, Lucinda regarded me with the utmost suspicion.

Probably envious at my profound understanding of bears and squirrels.


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