‘There is a great deal about grown-up people that children cannot understand,’ said Miss Ridley.
‘And a great deal that they can,’ said Fabian. ‘That is where the danger lies.’
‘I don’t think there is much to understand about Father,’ said Megan. ‘When he is unhappy himself, he wants other people to be.’
‘You cannot judge human beings as simply as that,’ said Miss Ridley. ‘They are complex creatures with many conflicting qualities.’
‘Ah, your father never wants you to be unhappy, my little one,’ said Cassius, quickening his pace. ‘It is true that he is sometimes unhappy and uncertain, but he never wants to hurt his children. And it was a beautiful poem; it has made him proud of you. And if it shows you read poetry yourself, he is even prouder. But he has his own troubles. You must not expect him always to hide it. Miss Ridley is right that we have different qualities.’
‘I think there is generally one chief one,’ said Megan.
‘Well, tell us the chief ones of the people you know,’ said Miss Ridley, in an easy tone.
‘Yours is wanting to learn all you can, as long as you do what is right. Bennet’s is kindness; I think that is the best. Mater’s is fairness to everyone and a sort of cleverness in herself. Fabian’s is anger because he hasn’t his real mother. I don’t think Guy has his yet. Toby’s is wanting the best of things for himself, and I think it always will be.’
‘And what is Megan’s?’ said Cassius. ‘A power of insight into the human heart?’
‘There was a lot that was true in what she said,’ said Henry. ‘And none of them is really a happy quality.’
‘Oh, dear, oh, dear!’ said his father.
‘Yes,’ said Henry, meeting his eyes. ‘That is what ought to be said. But people don’t like you to say it.’
‘If they did, they would get a good deal of pleasure from you. As it is, they get something else. There is not so much difference between you and me, if what you think of me is true.’
‘You should not have heard what we said.’
‘Of course I should. It was my duty to hear it. A father has to know his children, in order to make his plans for them. I shall have to think of mine for you.’
‘You are threatening to take revenge.’
‘Revenge? On whom and for what?’ said Cassius, throwing up his brows. ‘Oh, you are the object for it, are you?’
‘Now come indoors,’ said Miss Ridley. ‘You are too fond of the sound of your own voices. It seems that this afternoon will never end.’
When Henry and Megan entered the nursery, their faces cleared at the sight that met them. Bennet and Eliza were seated at the table, and Toby, in his chair and reconciled to the position, was murmuring in a satisfied way to himself.
‘Ashes and ashes. Dust and dust. Poor little mole have dear little hands! Smaller than Toby’s; very small hands. Poor mole buried very deep. But very nice box and wake up again tomorrow. William come to church; yes, poor William! Bennet give Toby some first. Not Megan; Toby!’
His voice rose to a shriek and Bennet supplied him at once, an order of precedence that his brother and sister did not question.
Chapter 4
AINGER strode across the kitchen and pulled his chair from the table.
‘Well, we have reached a parting of the ways. There is to be a crossing of our threshold.’
‘In what shape?’ said the upper housemaid.
‘Ah, Kate, that is asking a question.’
‘So it is,’ said Mrs Frost, the cook.
‘And do you expect me to answer it?’ said Ainger, leaning back.
‘Yes,’ said Mrs Frost.
‘Well, I will not disappoint you. I will specify the shape, as Kate expresses it. It is to be that of the former mistress.’
‘So she is to be allowed access?’ said Kate.
‘That is the word,’ said Ainger, in sympathy with it.
‘And what a word!’ said the general man, finding himself less so. ‘So this is what education does for you.’
‘It might have done more for us,’ said Kate’s assistant. ‘We might be in houses of our own.’
‘The damp and cramp would be your own too,’ said Halliday. ‘They wouldn’t be anyone else’s. Look at Mrs Frost, presiding at her table as if she were under her own roof.’
‘Must you look at me?’ said the latter, with her eyes down.
Mrs Frost was a short woman of fifty-eight, with a figure that expanded from shoulders to hips, a flat-featured, ruddy face, and large, shallow-set, hazel eyes, that seemed to fall before they revealed their expression. Thomas Halliday was a lean, wiry man over sixty, with a long, scraggy neck, cheeks at once leathery and pendulous, indignant, greenish eyes and a habit of throwing back his head in token of disgust. He had been in the household for nearly fifty years, and had advanced from page-boy to general man and advanced no further. There was something about him that disqualified him for personal attendance on the family. Mrs Frost had been asked if she knew what it was, and had replied simply that she did.
‘Your place was given you out of esteem for your parents,’ he said to the under-housemaid. ‘You were fortunate to get it.’
‘But was it a mark of esteem for me?’ said Madge.
‘Esteem may come,’ said Ainger. ‘Personally I have no complaint.’
‘And the family did not know you apart from any other lad.’
‘They did not, Halliday. But they know me now. I think they would say so.’ Ainger leant back in his chair and threw one leg over the other in the manner of his master.
‘I am content to be what I am,’ said Halliday. Would not you say the same, Mrs Frost?’
‘No,’ said the latter.
‘And a contented mind is a continual feast.’
‘And the only feast you will get,’ said Madge. ‘So it is as well to be satisfied with it.’
‘A continual feast,’ murmured Mrs Frost, glancing at the stove behind her. ‘I should have a contented mind.’
‘What more do I want?’ said Halliday.
‘You don’t want anything more,’ said Madge. ‘That may be why you don’t have it.’
‘What better work is there than ours? What kind is more respectable or accorded more respect?’
‘Most kinds,’ said Mrs Frost.
‘What kind accords more respect to other people?’ said Madge.
‘I do not grudge it,’ said Ainger. ‘If you think I do, you mistake my attitude.’
Madge gave a laugh that seemed to be meant to be heard, and turned her eyes about her. Her large, blue eyes and full-coloured face seemed more insistent than herself, and she was more aware of them. Her figure was short and ungainly, but of this she did not allow herself to be aware. Her superior had a tall, trim form, small, in consistent features, small, round, dark eyes and an air of general acceptance of things. Madge was thirty and Kate forty-six, and both looked about their age. They were companions rather than friends, and would have parted without distress.
‘Well, has the master one wife or two?’ said Madge. ‘It seems that the higher you are, the more you can have. Solomon had hundreds.’
‘And was said to be the wisest man,’ said Kate, in a serious tone. ‘But I doubt if the master is wise in transcending the number.’
‘The higher you are, the more you can have of a good many things,’ said Ainger.
‘Always wanting more, more, more!’ said Halliday.
‘I cannot imagine you a wife, Mrs Frost,’ said Kate.
‘Neither can I.’
‘Haven’t you ever been one?’
‘You can see what I have been.’
‘Are you ashamed of not being one?’ said Madge, laughing.
‘Yes,’ said Mrs Frost.
‘Mr Halliday ought to propose to you.’