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Updated: June 13, 2025
One does not know where it will end." She yawned a little after this, and Lord Tilchester shuffled up and sat down in the corner of the sofa near her. He has the manner of an awkward school-boy. "You are taking away every one's character, as usual, I suppose, Babykins," he chuckled. "What will Mrs. Gurrage think of it all, I wonder?"
He was disappointed, however, if so, as I remained silent. Presently I discovered he was our host. Lady Tilchester was busy being gushed at by Augustus. A little woman with light hair came and sat down at the other side of me. She looks like a young, fluffy chicken, and has a lisp and an infantile voice, and wears numbers of trinkets, and her name, "Babykins," spelled in a brooch of diamonds.
All pronounced the effect excellent, and Rosy Posy clapped her little fat hands in glee. "Mine's the prettiest present!" she said. "Mine's the booflest!" "Yes, Babykins," said Kitty, "yours is the booflest, but they're all lovely." The Farewell Feast included all of Kitty's favorite dishes, and as most of them were also favorites with the other children, it was satisfactory all round.
"Because propriety is their god from one generation to another. You can almost overcome nature with a god sometimes. Babykins has a theory that the food we eat makes a difference in the ways of our class, but I don't believe that. It is because we hunt and shoot and live lives of inclination, not compulsion, like the middle classes, and so we get back nearer to nature."
And he tried to go back and I shut the door and then he crouched down beside it and worried babykins an' tore holes in her an' whined an' growled an' trembled as if he was most scared to death. Now, wasn't it queer and strange, Miss Harry?" Billikins had stopped eating and was looking up into their faces as if he understood what they were talking about.
"Who for?" laughed Lord Tilchester, in his rough, gruff way. "The recipients of the letters, who would certainly receive them in the wrong envelopes," said Sir Antony. "I think, Tilchester, you had better persuade Babykins to stay in England, for the sake of the peace of many respectable and innocent families." "How wicked you are to me," flashed Babykins.
Early next day they had come by the Scotch mail Lord and Lady Tilchester arrived with Babykins. Lady Grenellen appeared just before lunch. "I have ordered a brougham to meet the one-thirty train, Berty," she said, "to bring my Americans up. They will be here in a minute. Come into the hall with me to receive them." The Duke accompanied her reluctantly.
"I do not like her," I said. "Oh, you will presently. We all love Babykins. She acts as a sort of moral mosquito in a big party. She flies around stinging every one, and then we compare our bites and tear and scratch the irritated places together. You will meet her everywhere she is the only person Tilchester takes a serious interest in."
Although the salon is immense, the ten or twelve women all crowded around the fireplace. It was a damp, chilly evening. They all seemed to know one another very well, and called each other by their Christian names, so until Babykins again gave me some information I did not realize who people were. The purple lady is Lady Grenellen; her husband is at the war. She is most attractive.
"There, that will do," she laughed as he sprang to her lap, and thence to her shoulder and testified his overflowing affection with voice and tongue. "Get down now and take care of your babykins!" "I must go now," she declared, and, rising, began putting on hat and coat. "I'll just run upstairs and kiss mother good-bye again.
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