“Now, Mother, now, don’t get all into a fuss. The result of all this will be that you are knocked up. I can see that.”
Mr. Merry had not meant his words for the general ear, but had been more occupied with the feelings which prompted them, than caution in their utterance.
“Now, Mother, it is all right, Mother. You are just a little overdone. That is what it is. We know what it is. We don’t think anything of anything.” Mr. Merry referred in this way to the fact that Mrs. Merry was in tears. “It is just because you look after us all too well. That is what it is.”
“Well, Mr. Merry,” said another father. “And what have you to say for those two boys of mine?”
“Ah, the little fellows! My wife, she has a soft spot in her heart for them.”
“And how do they do at their books? John is a scatterbrain, I am afraid. I suppose these long holidays nowadays are a good thing?”
“Ah, little John! Well, some boys haven’t the brains to scatter. And all work and no play, you know!”
“He would not like to be called little John,” said a grown-up sister, who was with the father.
“Wouldn’t he?” said Emily. “Not when we only keep them until they are fourteen! But the young are cruel.”
“Ah, Miss Herrick, you will talk in your way to us,” said Mr. Merry. “You know Miss Basden, do you not, Mr. Bentley?”
“No, I think not,” said Mr. Bentley, simply.
“Why, she is always here, Father. Every year,” said the daughter. “How are you, Miss Basden?”
“She is always here. Every year here with us,” said Mr. Merry, lifting his hands on and off Miss Basden’s shoulders. “Always here, so that people don’t notice her any more than they do one of ourselves. Because she is one of ourselves, if she will be, aren’t you, Miss Basden?”
“You see the difference between ordinary people and Mr. Merry,” said Emily to Bumpus. “And you said you did not know Miss Basden. You rank with the ordinary people.”
“I always suspected it,” said Bumpus.
“Mr. Herrick is just bringing out another book, is he not?” said Mr. Bentley. “Is it on any subject that the boys could get any—be interested in now, I mean?”
“Oh well, well, you know, if Mr. Herrick wrote on a subject, then the book would not be his own. And that would not do for Mr. Herrick. And writing for boys! Well, we could not expect that from him. But there is our atmosphere; our thing that we have to give, that other schools don’t give. And that only Mr. Herrick can do for us. Ah, and he does it for us. I wish I had had it in my young days. Then I might not have been the schoolmaster now. I might have been the other thing. And I hope your laddies will be it. I do hope it. And, bless them, I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Mr. Merry wrung Mr. Bentley’s hand.
“Well, Mr. Burgess, so you are going about, are you, Mr. Burgess? Now what about this theory that we don’t want long holidays? That is not quite on your line, is it?”
“Well, I dare say there is something in it, Mr. Merry. When I first became a schoolmaster, I thought I should never get used to the breaks from work. But I confess I am becoming reconciled. That is the way of schoolmasters, I fear.”
“Oh, well, that is one kind of talk, Mr. Burgess. But what would you have done, now, if you had not become a schoolmaster?”
“Oh, you are off the point, Mr. Merry.”
“Not at all, not at all. What would you have done, now, if you had not taken up schoolmastering?”
“No, no, off the point, Mr. Merry.”
“Mr. Burgess seems deeply attached to the point,” said Miss Basden.
“It should attract even the humblest educationist, Miss Basden,” said Mr. Burgess, bowing.
“Well, Mr. Merry is an educationist, I suppose you will admit?” said Miss Basden.
“Surely,” said Mr. Burgess.
“Ah, we understand each other, don’t we, Mr. Burgess?” said Mr. Merry. “With your kind help, Miss Basden, and all you do for all of us.”
“Well, it wasn’t quite so degrading as usual, was it?” said Emily, as the four settled into Herrick’s study. “Nobody spoke to me like an employer. Did anybody to you, Nicholas?”
“It went off admirably,” said Herrick. “Admirably. I quite enjoyed it. I should feel quite proud of the school, as I thought a school a thing to be proud of. And Merry surpassed himself.”
“I saw you enjoying it,” said Emily. “I saw you being proud of the school, too. That was charming of you. But I followed the workings of Mr. Merry’s mind too sensitively for enjoyment. A great mind on the rack would be a dreadful thing to enjoy. And he did not always surpass himself. He was really indefinite with Mr. Bentley about his boys.”
“Oh, only with that kind of fellow,” said Herrick.
“How can you be so reckless?” said Bumpus. “Or is that the attitude that makes for success?”
“With Merry behind, it will do,” said Herrick.
“We shall have to propitiate Mr. Bentley,” said Emily. “I am afraid it will not do, darling. Mr. Bentley isn’t so fond of your having Mr. Merry behind as you think.”
“How will you do that?” said Bumpus. “By having Merry qualify?”
“By asking Mr. Bentley to dinner,” said Emily. “Being for an evening with Nicholas teaches people better than anything. And it is difficult for them to behave like employers when they have been our guests. We ought to have him while the house is disarranged; and we will ask the Fletchers too.”
“Is a disarranged house better for a dinner?” said Masson.
“Yes,” said Emily. “This room has to be regarded as the drawing-room, and a classroom made into the dining-room, and the boys’ basement dining-room suppressed, to have anything at all. And Mrs. Merry can’t be asked to do that often.”
“No, no,” said Herrick.
“You will have to ask her about the dinner, darling,”
