The Gentle Art of Judging

It is generally admitted by exhibitors of fruit and vegetables that, with rare exceptions, the pointed judges are constitutionally incapable of intelligent decisions, and the members of our Horticultural Society whose exhibits had been ignored were fully agreed on this point. Having given their despised apples and onions a commiserating pat, they discovered with considerable joy that they had an opportunity to get their own back. 

By some bright inspiration of the stewards, the table decorations were not submitted to the obviously imbecile expert, but were to be judged by popular vote. Hastily the members left their exhibits and gathered round the row of tables in the centre of the hell, cards in their hands. Now at last they had the opportunity of showing that fairness, that impartiality, which had been so lacking when their own produce was under consideration.

 Two elderly ladies conferred over a table bright with dahlias.

"Now what do you think of this one?" asked the younger, deferentially. 

“That, my dear,” said the other, firmly, "is a matter on which I must say nothing. You see, I have an entry in this class" 

"Really?" cried the firsts admiringly and looked a little doubtful at the dahlias. The other followed her glance and made an emphatic denial. 

"But not pink, of course. Mine is an autumn-tinted table. So much more appropriate to the time of year, I think."

 Without further comment they passed up the room to where Tables 9 and 10 showed bronze chrysanthemums. Knowing that she was on very thin ice, the younger lady gazed at number 9 and murmured vaguely: 

"Should you say now… a little heavy?" 

“Far too heavy!" came the firm reply, and with a quick glance down the room to ensure that she had missed no other possible autumn-tinted table, the younger lady took up a rapturous pose in front of number 10.

“But this is charming!" she cried. “Far the best; I must certainly vote for this." 

"So shall I," said the other, with deliberation, as she drew a cross on her Card. 

As they passed down the aisle to the ballot box, the elder lady threw an aggrieved look at a row of mammoth leeks. 

"That fool of a judge only gave me a Highly Commended,” she snorted, “If the ordinary exhibits could only have been decided by popular vote, the results would have been much more satisfactory."