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Updated: June 28, 2025
Benjamin she told Harry he must be named; Benji she always called him. Huggo and Doda and Benji! Her children! Her darling ones, her lovely ones! Children!
A week ago, inimical to this advent, injurious; now, in this advent's presence, and with this resolution gladly dedicated to it, only and wholly glorious. This one! Come after connection, come in contrition, come to call her back when she should need to be called, the little tiny one, the belovedest one, the Benjamin one her Benji! Those children were brought up with every modern advantage.
"Always to find you here!" he would cry, in the first weeks of the new life, coming home to tea and coming in to her in the drawing-room where she would be, all ready for him, with Doda and with Benji. "Always to leave you here!" he would say, taking leave of her in the morning, and she and Doda and Benji coming with him to the hall door to see him off.
I've never known a brother so devoted. You ought to think of Benji sometimes, Doda." "Well, I can't be always thinking of Benji. I'm surely entitled to be with my own friends sometimes. I don't ask Benji to be devoted to me." She's strangely given to expressions like that: "I didn't ask for" whatever circumstance or obligation it might be that was irksome to her. "Not traditions precedents!"
He's won all those prizes. She's holding two and Harry's holding three, and there he goes to take the Heriot Gold Medal. All the great hall is simply cheering Benji! The Head is saying that he's the youngest boy that's ever won the Heriot. Look, there's the Bishop handing it, and shaking Benji by the hand, and patting Benji on the back, and saying something to him.
Harry never could bear Benji out of his sight when Benji was home. In the affliction that had come upon them, he seemed to cling to Benji. Rosalie had persuaded him that evening to go with Benji to a concert. Harry said the idea of anything like that was detestable to him, but Rosalie had pleaded with him. Just a little chamber concert was different.
But it was just that the child wasn't demonstrative of her affections. None of them were. Even Benji not really what you would call demonstrative. How beautiful the child was! Her Doda! How little she ever saw of her! She called her again. Doda opened her eyes. "Hullo, mother." Just that. No more. They were different, the children. She sat down on Doda's bed and began to talk to her. Tidiness!
Doda is sometimes glimpsed, no more, with Benji, always putting off or chilling off her brother for her friends; sometimes she's seen with Huggo, meeting him and he her, more like an acquaintance of their sets than like fruit of the same parents; familiar, apparently, with one another's lives: referring to places of amusement by both frequented, as had been done, in instance, on that night of Huggo's announcement of his marriage when with a note that rung sinister he had bantered Doda and she had turned and run upstairs.
That is his tally which, come up, he will present to you. Well, best perhaps to take that tally stick to try by it to show the pace at which the thing now went. Her thoughts first hovering: There's Huggo and there's Doda and there's Benji! Her children! Her darling ones! Her lovely ones!
She then said to Huggo, her voice very low, "Darling, run now to see everything is in your playbox. Doda, help him. Take Benji, darlings. Benji, go and see the lovely playbox things." When they had gone she was seen by Harry to be working with her fingers at her key-ring. In one hand she held the ring, in the other a key that she seemed to be trying to remove. It was obstinate. She wrestled at it.
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