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Updated: May 5, 2025
Oldrieve was content to talk about the weather, and what Zora and Emmy used to like to eat when they were little girls: subjects interesting in themselves but not conducive to discussion. Cousin Jane was nothing if not argumentative. She held views, expounded them, and maintained them. Nothing short of a declaration from Jehovah bursting in glory through the sky could have convinced her of error.
"Not the slightest," said Zora; "but I'll do it if you like." So the telegram was dispatched to "Septimus Dix, Boulogne Boat, Folkestone," and Mrs. Oldrieve took a brighter view of the situation. "We have done what we can, at any rate," she said by way of self-consolation.
The end of the Mordaunt Prince story is that he soon grew too much for the widow, who has pensioned him off, and now he is drinking himself to death in Naples." "Emmy Oldrieve! Good God, is it possible?" cried Sypher, absently pushing aside the dish the waiter handed him. Rattenden carefully helped himself to partridge and orange salad. "It's not only possible, but unquestionable fact.
Oldrieve, on whom there occasionally flashed an eternal verity. "I hate men. I hate the touch of them the very sight of them. I'm going to have nothing more to do with them for the rest of my natural life. My dear mother!" and her voice broke, "haven't I had enough to do with men and marriage?" "All men aren't like Edward Middlemist," Mrs. Oldrieve argued as she counted the rows of her knitting.
Untidiness followed in Zora's steps, as it does in those of the physically large, and Cousin Jane disapproved of her thoroughly. But Mrs. Oldrieve often sighed for Cousin Jane as she had never sighed for Zora, Emily, or her husband. She was more than content with the prospect of her companionship.
"Yes; the great statesman. He's going to be a member of Parliament, you know." "Oh," said Zora, moving slowly on. "His mother says it's after the lame donkey on the common. We used to call it William. He hasn't changed a bit since you left." "So the baby's full name is " said Zora, ignoring the donkey. "William Octavius Oldrieve Dix. It's so helpful to a child to have a good name."
"I hope she won't marry one of those dreadful creatures with lassos," said Mrs. Oldrieve, whose hazy ideas of California were based on hazier memories of Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show which she had seen many years ago in London. "I hope Mrs. Middlemist won't marry at all," said Sypher, in a tone of alarm. "Why?" asked Cousin Jane. She shot the question at him with almost a snarl.
I know you're right. When are you coming to see Penton Court? I will give a housewarming You say that Dix has settled down here. I'll look him up. I'll be glad to see the muddle-headed seraph again. I'll ask him to come, too, so there will be you and he and perhaps your sister will honor me, and your mother, Mrs. Oldrieve?" "Mother doesn't go out much nowadays," said Zora.
People who marry in that way generally do. It serves her right." So spoke Cousin Jane, whom Sypher found, in a sense, an unexpected ally. She made his task easier. Mrs. Oldrieve remained unconvinced. "And the baby just a month or so old. Poor little thing! What's to become of it?" "Emmy will have to come here," said Cousin Jane firmly, "and I'll bring it up. Emmy isn't fit to educate a rabbit.
"But Emmy will no doubt be delighted to come." "I have a surprise for you," said Sypher. "It's a brilliant idea have had it in my head for months you must tell me what you think of it." The entrance of Mrs. Oldrieve and Emmy put an end to further talk of an intimate nature, and as Mrs. Oldrieve preferred the simple graces of stereotyped conversation, the remainder of Sypher's visit was uneventful.
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