‘On the contrary,’ said Bobby, ‘I think it will ginger things up top-hole. I expect that Philadelphia already begins to look on Uncle Ernest in a new and far more fascinating light, don’t you, Delphie? I must say I’m looking forward to some very matey doings this Christmas.’
‘Bobby!’ said his mother sharply, ‘you are not to talk like that. Please get on with your food; we are all waiting for you. Silly little schoolboys like you can’t be expected to understand these things, but it is unnecessary and not in the least clever to make flippant remarks about them. Mr Fisher, I am sure, will agree with me.’
‘Yes, indeed I do,’ said Paul fervently. ‘I can’t think of a single one of my aunts whom I wouldn’t sooner be dead than married to.’
‘That, if I may be allowed to say so, is very much beside the point, Mr Fisher. In any case, I don’t feel at all certain that aunts are allowed. I rather fancy it is uncles only. Why they want to pass such filthy laws I cannot imagine, but there, it’s so like the Government. They waste their time over useless and even harmful measures of that sort, and do absolutely nothing to wipe out Bolshevism. I said as much to our member, Sir Joseph Jenkins, last time he was here, and he quite agreed with me. A very sound man, Sir Joseph,’ she added, turning to Paul; ‘very much interested in all questions of drainage, sanitation, and so on – in fact, I believe he is nearly always chairman of drains committees in the House.’
‘Ah,’ said Paul.
There was a silence. Bobby began to giggle, but was fortunately able to conceal this fact from his mother, as there was a large bowl of holly on the table between them. Paul looked self-consciously into space, wondering whether or not he should mention passing angels, and Philadelphia took a second large helping of steamed pudding with hot plum jam. Presently Lady Bobbin spoke again.
‘By the way, children, I went over to see Florence Prague this afternoon. She has quite recovered from that nasty little toss she took, but poor old Sagrada strained a ligament and has had to be put down.’
Bobby and Philadelphia made suitable comments upon this piece of news, and Lady Bobbin continued:
‘Florence and I had a long chat about your holidays, and we agreed that as there is to be no hunt ball this winter it would be a good idea for me to give a little dance here for you both. I had been thinking of it for some time, but I thought that perhaps it would be wrong, in view of the present crisis, to spend money on pure amusement. Florence, however, says very sensibly that so long as we have neither champagne nor a proper band there could be no great harm in it, and of course it would give an immense amount of pleasure.’
‘Not, I may say, to me,’ remarked Bobby sourly. ‘My dear Mother, I really don’t know what you can be thinking of. How can you possibly have a dance without either champagne or a band?’
‘Of course you can, perfectly well. There is a young man in Woodford, the butcher’s son, who plays dance music very nicely; he would play all night, I am told, for thirty shillings, and I suppose even in these days everyone likes a good cider cup. The truth is, Roderick, that you are too disgustingly spoilt for words. It is perfectly sickening trying to make plans for your amusement, because one knows quite well beforehand that nothing will be right and that you will grumble unceasingly at whatever is arranged. I said so to Florence Prague this afternoon. I said: “Now, Florence, you’ll see I shall get no thanks for all this from Roderick, nothing but complaints.” But all the same I see no reason why, just because you happen to have these large ideas, Philadelphia and all the other young people in the neighbourhood should be deprived of their fun. I’m afraid, my boy, that you will soon find out that nowadays it’s a question between taking what is offered in the way of amusement and going without it. Very few people now can afford unlimited champagne, and even if they could such extravagance would be most harmful and unpatriotic, just the very sort of thing that breeds Socialism in the country.’
Everyone now looked embarrassed. Bobby turned crimson with annoyance, but did not dare answer back, and Paul said, helpfully but tactlessly: ‘Why not have champagne cocktails instead? They are very economical, because you need only buy the cheapest sort of champagne, to which you add a little brandy and sugar, and people do seem to like them most awfully.’
‘No, Mr Fisher, no cocktails in this house, thank you. I regard the cocktail habit as a most pernicious and disgusting one. Besides, people get rowdy enough on champagne alone, without adding brandy to it. Why, last year, at Lady Jenkins’ party, the most disgraceful things happened. I actually saw that awful Hood boy, at supper, cramming a sausage down his ear, for a bet, I suppose. Perfectly revolting, we don’t want that sort of behaviour at Compton Bobbin. No, we will have good British beer and cider cup, quite sufficient for young people. Nobody need be half drunk before they can enjoy themselves, or at least I should very much hope not.’
And Lady Bobbin rose with majesty to leave the dining-room. It will be noticed that during this entire meal Philadelphia Bobbin never once opened her mouth to speak. She was a silent girl.
7
After dinner it was quite kindly indicated to Paul that he was expected to retire to the schoolroom, which he did with alacrity, most willing to exchange the physical presence of Gloria Lady Bobbin for the intellectual proximity of her predecessor. He knew that the thoughtful Bobby, who showed him
