Basil was used to deal with. He was younger than the G.P.O. list. A game leg, stuck awkwardly askew, explained why he was not in uniform. He had got this injury in a motor race, he explained later to Basil. He had ginger hair and a ginger moustache and malevolent pinkish eyes. His name was Mr. Todhunter.
He was eating kidneys and eggs and sausages and bacon and an overcooked chop; his tea-pot stood on the hob. He looked like a drawing by Leech for a book by Surtees.
“Well,” he said, cautious but affable. “I know about you. You’re Mrs. Sothill’s brother at Malfrey. I don’t know Mrs. Sothill but I know all about her. I don’t know Captain Sothill but I know about him. What can I do for you?”
“I’m the billeting officer for this district,” said Basil.
“Indeed. I’m interested to meet you. Go on. You don’t mind my eating, I’m sure.”
Feeling a little less confident than usual, Basil went through his now stereotyped preface:…Getting harder to find billets, particularly since the anti-aircraft battery had come to South Grappling and put their men in the cottages there
important to stop the backwash to the towns…bad impression if the bigger houses seemed not to be doing their share… natural reluctance to employ compulsory powers but these powers were there, if necessary…three children who had caused some difficulty elsewhere…
Mr. Todhunter finished his breakfast, stood with his back to the fire and began to fill his pipe. “And what if I don’t want these hard cases of yours?” he said. “What if I’d sooner pay the fine?”
Basil embarked on the second part of his recitation:…Official allowance barely covered cost of food…serious hardship to poor families…poor people valued their household gods even more than the rich … possible to find a cottage where a few pounds would make all the difference between dead loss and a small and welcome profit…
Mr. Todhunter heard him in silence. At last he said, “So that’s how you do it. Thank you. That was most instructive, very instructive indeed. I liked the bit about household gods.”
Basil began to realize that he was dealing with a fellow of broad and rather dangerous sympathies; someone like himself. “In more cultured circles I say Lares et Penates.”
“Household gods is good enough. Household gods is very good indeed. What d’you generally count on raising?”
“Five pounds is the worst, thirty-five the best I’ve had so far.”
“So far? Do you hope to carry on long with this trade?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Don’t you? Well, I’ll tell you something. D’you know who’s billeting officer in this district? I am. Mrs. Sothill’s district ends at the main road. You’re muscling in on my territory when you come past the crossing. Now what have you got to say for yourself?”
“D’you mean to say that Grantley Green is yours?”
“Certainly.”
“How damned funny.”
“Why funny?”
“I can’t tell you,” said Basil. “But it is ? exquisitely funny.”
“So I’ll ask you to keep to your own side of the road in future. Not that I’m ungrateful for your visit. It’s given me some interesting ideas. I always felt there was money in this racket somehow, but I could never quite see my way to get it. Now I know. I’ll remember about the household gods.”
“Wait a minute,” said Basil. “It isn’t quite as easy as all that, you know. It isn’t just a matter of having the idea; you have to have the Connollies too. You don’t understand it, and I don’t understand it, but the fact remains that quite a number of otherwise sane human beings are perfectly ready to take children in; they like them; it makes them feel virtuous; they like the little pattering feet about the house ? I know it sounds screwy but it’s the truth. I’ve seen it again and again.”
“So have I,” said Mr. Todhunter. “There’s no sense in it, but it’s a fact ? they make household gods of them.”
“Now the Connollies are something quite special; no one could make a household god of them. Come and have a look.”
He and Mr. Todhunter went out into the circle of gravel in front of the porch, where Basil had left the car.
“Doris,” he said. “Come out and meet Mr. Todhunter. Bring Micky and Marlene too.”
The three frightful children stood in a line to be inspected.
“Take that scarf off your head, Doris. Show him your hair.”
In spite of himself Mr. Todhunter could not disguise the fact that he was profoundly moved. “Yes,” he said. “I give you that. They are special. If it’s not a rude question, what did you pay for them?”
“I got them free. But I’ve put a lot of money into them since ?fried fish and cinemas.”
“How did you get the girl’s hair that way?”
“She did it herself,” said Basil, “for love.”
“They certainly are special,” repeated Mr. Todhunter with awe.
“You haven’t seen anything yet. You should see them in action.”
“I can imagine it,” said Mr. Todhunter. “Well, what d’you want for them?”
