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"`It may be said that there are three well-marked types of the disease, attacking respectively the respiratory, the digestive, and the nervous system. Well, I should say I'd had 'em all three. `As a rule the attack " Thus he went on. Janet made a moue at Edwin, who returned the signal. These youngsters were united in good-natured forbearing condescension towards Mr Orgreave.
When they had crossed the windy space of Saint Luke's Square and reached the top of the Sytch Bank, Mr Orgreave stopped an instant in front of the Sytch Pottery, and pointed to a large window at the south end that was in process of being boarded up. "At last!" he murmured with disgust.
"Steady on!" he protested uncouthly. And then, with the most naïve ingenuousness: "Mrs. Orgreave better?" But Osmond Orgreave was not in a merciful mood. A moment later he was saying: "Has she told you she wants to go over a printing-works?" "No," Clayhanger answered, with interest. "But I shall be very pleased to show her over ours, any time."
These houses had their main fronts on the street; they were quite as commodious as the Clayhangers', but much inferior in garden-space; their bits of flower-plots lay behind them. And away behind their flower-plots, with double entrance-gates in another side street, stretched the grounds of Osmond Orgreave, his house in the sheltered middle thereof.
"It's a dreadful thing." "I should thing it was!" Hilda agreed fervently. "Oh! Do you know, on the way from Shawport, I saw a procession of the men, and anything more terrible " "It's the children I think of!" said Mrs. Orgreave softly. "Pity the men don't!" Mr. Orgreave murmured, without raising his head. "Don't what?" Hilda asked defiantly. "Think of the children."
Dignified and brilliantly clever as Osmond Orgreave had the reputation of being in the town, he was somehow outshone in cleverness at home, and he never put the bar of his dignity between himself and his children. Thus he could only keep the upper hand by allowing hints to escape from him of the secret amusement roused in him by the comicality of the spectacle of his filial enemies.
Nearly the last of the entanglements in his father's business, the Orgreave matter was straightened and closed now; and the projected escapade to London would bury it deep, might even restore agreeable illusions. And Edwin was incapable of nursing malice. The best argument of all was that he had a right to go to London.
"She never calls us darling," said Johnnie, affecting disgust. "She will, as soon as you've left home," said Janet, ironically soothing. "I do, I often do!" Mrs Orgreave asserted. "Much oftener than you deserve." "Sit down, Teddy," Charlie enjoined. "Oh! I'm all right, thanks," said Edwin. "Sit down!" Charlie insisted, using force. "Do you talk to your poor patients in that tone?"
Every one was glad and relieved, but every one took the change as a matter of course; the attitude of every one to the youth was: "Well, it's not too soon!" No one saw a romantic miracle. "I suppose you haven't got `The Light of Asia' in stock?" began Janet Orgreave, after she had greeted the youth kindly. "I'm afraid we haven't, miss," said Stifford. This was an understatement.
But Stifford was not deceived. Safe within his lair, Edwin was conscious of quite a disturbing glow. He smiled to himself a little self-consciously, though alone. Then he scribbled down in pencil "Light of Asia. Miss J. Orgreave." Darius came heavily, and breathing heavily, into the little office.
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