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"Do have a cigarette," said Tussie, delighted. "I never smoke, young man." "Something to drink, then?" "I never drink, young man." "If I decide to let you have these cottages if I do," said Lady Shuttleworth, divided between astonishment at everything about Fritzing and blankest amazement at her son's behaviour, "you will understand that I only do it because my son seems to wish it."
What would have happened to her there if she had been discovered by Tussie I do not know, but I imagine it would have been something bad. She was saved, however, by his being in bed, clutched by the throat by a violent cold; and there he lay helpless, burning and shivering and throbbing, the pains of his body increased a hundredfold by the distraction of his mind about Priscilla.
"A gentleman wishes to see you on business, my lady," said the servant. "Mr. Neumann-Schultz?" read out Lady Shuttleworth in an inquiring voice. "Never heard of him. Where's he from?" "Baker's Farm, my lady." At that magic name Tussie's head went up with a jerk. "Tell him to go to Mr. Dawson," said Lady Shuttleworth. The servant disappeared. "Why do you send him away, mother?" asked Tussie.
Poor Tussie. Aloud she said freezingly, "Did you say something?" "Yes," said Tussie, his eyes on her mouth surely a mouth only made for kindness and gentle words. "I was wondering whether you were staying at the vicarage." "No," said Priscilla, "we're staying at Baker's Farm." And at the mention of that decayed lodging the friendly Schultz expression crept back, smiling into her eyes.
But what of that? Priscilla could not see that it mattered, when Tussie drew her attention to it. Both Fritzing's and her front door opened straight into their sitting-rooms; both their staircases walked straight from the kitchens up into the rooms above. They had meant to have a door knocked in the dividing wall downstairs, but had been so anxious to get away from Baker's that there was no time.
"Oh he hasn't done anything that I know of, except make a sort of doll or baby of me. Why should I be put into my clothes and taken out of them again as though I hadn't been weaned yet?" Now all this was very bad, but the greatest blow for Lady Shuttleworth fell when Tussie declared that he would not come of age.
"Well, that's terrifically true," mused Tussie, reflecting ruefully on the size and weight of the money-bags that were dragging him down into darkness. Then he added suddenly, "Will you have a small bed a little iron one put in my bedroom?" "A small bed? But there's a bed there already, dear." "That big thing's only fit for a sick woman. I won't wallow in it any longer."
Priscilla sighed, and stood drooping and penitent by the dresser while he went down the room to where Robin still leaned against the wall. "Sir," said Fritzing he never called Robin young man, as he did Tussie "my niece tells me you are unable to distinguish truth from parable." "What?" said Robin staring.
Here was a young man full of the noblest spirit of helpfulness, and who had besides the invaluable gift of seeing no difficulties anywhere. Even Fritzing, airy optimist, saw more than Tussie, and whenever he expressed a doubt it was at once brushed aside by the cheerfullest "Oh, that'll be all right."
"Look, mother, look " he cried, gasping, "my beautiful one my dear and lovely one my darling she's crying I've made her cry now never tell me I'm not a brute again see, see what I've done!" "Oh" murmured Priscilla, in great distress and amazement. Was the poor dear delirious? And she tried to get her hands away. But Tussie would not let them go.
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