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The Fool turn'd Critic; acted at the Theatre-Royal, 1678. Several of the characters of this play are borrowed; as Old-wine-love, Trim and Small-wit, seem to be taken from Senio Asotus, and Ballio, in Randolph's Jealous Lovers. Fond Husband, or the Plotting Sisters, a Comedy. Of this we have already given some account, in the words of Mr. Addison.
"That's Wilmot Edge Sir Randolph's brother." "Oh, the deuce it is. I thought he'd been pilled." Blackballs also were an embarrassing subject; Neeld sipped his Apollinaris nervously. You know the rest of the story. It was a near run for young Harry Tristram! How is the boy, Iver?" "The boy's very much of a man indeed; we don't talk about the near run before him." Southend laughed.
"He didn't leave the hotel that way of his own accord," he reasoned. "He would pay his bill and look after his baggage. It's for some outside reason that he didn't return to his hotel and answer Uncle Randolph's telegram." When Dick arrived at the college he put the motorcycle away and went directly to his room.
Indeed, Churchill was always so precocious that I cannot recall the time when he was young enough to be Lady Randolph's son; certainly, I cannot recall the time when she was old enough to be his mother. When first I knew him he had passed through Harrow and Sandhurst and was a second lieutenant in the Queen's Own Hussars. He was just of age, but appeared much younger.
Lady Randolph's ball was one of the first of the season, and as it was the first ball she had ever given, and both Lucy and her husband were favourites in society, it was looked forward to as the forerunner of much excitement and pleasure, and with a freshness of interest and anticipation which, unless in April, is scarcely to be expected in town.
Erica held out her hand and found it taken in a strong, firm clasp, which somehow conveyed much more than an ordinary handshake. "And, after all, you ARE too nice for a clergyman!" she thought to herself. Then, as a fresh idea crossed her mind, she suddenly exclaimed: "But you came to tell us about Mr. Randolph's roughs, did you not? How came you to care that we should know beforehand?"
Claudia Beaufort was accustomed to impatience in men, and she was inflexible as a hostess. "Well, of course, we couldn't begin without them, could we?" she asked. "There they come now, Father. William, you'd better help Major Prime." Randy was driving the fat mare, Rosalind. Nellie Custis, Randolph's wiry hound, loped along with flapping ears in the rear of the low-seated carriage.
Grandison had one day taken her and Peggy to see "Pollyanna"; of riding there in the big limousine and wearing the precious pink dresses! The afternoon sun was dropping. The concert had ended and the crowds were slowly moving away. John Randolph's face wore its far-away look as though he was dreaming things. His eyes, as he turned them upon Keineth, were very serious.
It was still an hour before noon when Randolph's phone rang. "Randolph, here," he said in the formality he'd adopted on an English visit and carefully kept. "Good morning," Oswald's voice was formal. "Good morning." There was a silence, while Randolph waited for the other to continue. Finally, Randolph said, "Good show, that. Must have cost a lot more than my price," he added.
Randolph's voice was a note belonging to another chord. "Daisy, it is your bedtime." "Yes, mamma." Mr. Randolph made no attempt to hinder his wife's arrangements this time. Daisy exchanged a very tender good-night with him and then went away. But she went away very happy. She thought she saw good days coming. There were good days that followed that one, for a while.
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