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Updated: June 15, 2025
It might have been a cheerless place enough, for one unintelligent Georgian Kingsmead had added to its austerity of church-like painted windows a very awful row of glossy marble pillars, that stood as if aware of their own ugliness, holding up a quite unnecessary and appallingly hideous gallery.
Two or three letters lay on the mat inside the door, a huge blue-bottle boomed at a window trying to get out. Lady Kingsmead lay down on Maidie Compton's Chesterfield and wept loudly. "Oh, Gerald, Gerald, how we loved each other," she wailed. "He would have died for me. He very nearly killed himself " Suddenly the foolish woman sat up and pointed an accusing finger at her daughter.
Lady Kingsmead burst into tears and hurried from the room, but Brigit wrote a telegram, as dictated by the old doctor who had brought the boy into the world, to a famous physician in London, and a groom was sent galloping to the station to send it. "Who is this person he always takes me for?" asked the doctor, polishing his glasses. "This morning he insisted on my on my playing for him.
Come, cheer up; this long wait has been all for the best. You are a wonderful deal stronger now." "But look here, Doctor Kingsmead," said the boy, earnestly; "am I really better and stronger, or are you saying that to comfort me?" "I am saying it because it is the simple truth."
It had not at all surprised him to hear that the reason given in the wire was utterly false, for, like other people, Kingsmead was bound by his horizon.
Lady Kingsmead, under the Duchess' influence, was suffering from one of her attacks of thinking Tommy "quaint," so, by the old lady's suggestion, the boy was allowed to sit at the foot of his own table, pretending, as he had told his sister he should find it necessary to do, to be as young as his mother's guests.
"Fish they is; but do you know how big some of 'em are?" "No." "Well, I do. There's some of 'em big enough to pull like donkeys. Now, jest s'pose as you hooks one." "Well, suppose I do? We'll have it out, and you shall cook it. Doctor Kingsmead said it would be nice to have a bit of fresh fish." "That's right enough, my lad; but let's go back to what I said. Suppose you hook one, what then?"
She knows I have come, though." "Some tea?" "If you please." So she lit the kettle and going to a cupboard produced two enchanting-looking white jars. "Marmalade or cherry jam?" "I think neither, please," returned Kingsmead, with an effort. "I am not hungry."
Lady Kingsmead, when told of the speedy jilting of the desirable Pontefract, and the subsequent acceptance of young Joyselle, had been disagreeable. "It is ridiculous, and everyone will say you are cradle-snatching," she had said. "When you are forty he will be thirty-seven almost a boy still." "Dearest mamma," returned the girl with a very unfilial lift of her upper lip, "forty is youth!"
This elucidation appeared plausible as well as interesting to Kingsmead, and he felt that in learning something of the habits of the genus knife-boy he had added to his stock of human information, which he undoubtedly had. Then at lunch there had been the little matter of Bicky's dressmaker's bill.
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