“I am sure we all feel about Harry. But he is not really ill. And it is hardly right to make a great trouble of a little one.”
“You are a self-satisfied young woman.”
“Self-satisfied? Oh, you do not know me, I think, Father. And I am sure I have no right to be self-satisfied. I am many things I should not be. I am quite conscious of that.”
“You are a wonderful young woman, to be conscious that you are not perfect.”
“I think we are all rather out of sorts, and strung up, so to speak, about it.”
“It is a great thing if Harry gets over this,” said Mr. Bentley. “It is hardly to be expected, I suppose, in such a case of neglect, though of course it is right to do everything as if we did expect it.”
There was silence.
“Well, upon my word, you all make life very hard for a man. I do not know what I have done, that I should be subjected to this. Here I have done my best for all these years, gone on doing all I could do; never lost patience; never dwelt upon what I might have had. And now, because I try to keep a wise and firm hand over people for their own good, and to prevent them from sinking down, down, down, for their own sakes—whose, if not for theirs, I should like to know?—to be given as much to bear as if I were a tyrant and a monument of selfishness, instead of … ! Oh, it will not bear discussing. Why should I discuss it? Some people have much from others, and some have nothing and give all. It is just that, I suppose.”
“There is John come in again from school,” said Delia. “I will go out and tell him not to come in.”
Delia was capable of revenge.
“Oh, what does it matter whether he comes in or not?” said Mr. Bentley, his eyes dilating. “That is not the sort of thing to give our thought to now. It is not a time for thinking about nothing.”
Delia turned to the door.
“John,” called Mr. Bentley, “come into the room, and hear what there is to be heard about Harry. It is not right that you should not hear of your own brother. I will have no concealments and associations on false pretences in my family. Ah! That is what makes family breaches. That is what leads to them.”
“Did you call me, Father? I had gone upstairs. I was not quite sure.”
“You heard me call, I suppose?”
“Yes, Father. That is why I came down.”
“Then I imagine you were sure. Really, John, you talk as if you were not in your right mind. I suppose, after all, you are too stupid, and childish for your age to be told anything, even what it is not right that you should not know. Go away, then. Go away to your own concerns. I will not tell you, then.”
At this point the maid brought in a note of concern from Emily.
“Do you see much of Mr. Herrick and Miss Herrick?” said Mr. Bentley, when he had read it.
“No, Father.”
“How much do you see of them? You know what I mean.”
“Not—not much, not at all, Father.”
“Do you see anything of anyone, may I ask? Does anyone have anything to do with you? Teach you, for instance?”
“Mr. Merry, and Mr. Burgess, and Miss Basden; and Mrs. Merry, sometimes.”
“I think Miss Herrick is very charming,” said Delia.
“Oh, don’t be so obvious, Delia. Don’t be too obvious. We all know that. That is what made me ask about it. That is what it is, of course. Well, I shall have a very fair idea of what to say when we go to that prize-giving.”
As he returned from the prize-giving Mr. Bentley spoke.
“This wind makes exceedingly trying walking. We never seem to be without it now.”
“We do have it very often. I hope the boys will think to put on their coats to come home.”
“Oh, from that school? I expect that Merry will wrap them up, and watch them out of sight, to see they do not step in the puddles. That is the sort of thing they are accustomed to there, I think.”
Delia was silent.
“I wish I could find a school for them more like the one I was sent to as a boy.”
“I do not think Mr. Merry is as easygoing with them as he seems. I think that is just his little way.”
“I was not speaking of his being easygoing, or about his little way. I was thinking of his being such an unmitigated nincompoop. Such talk as his no sane man would credit, if he did not hear it with his ears. It is enough to ruin a boy to listen to it.”
“Mrs. Merry is a nice woman,” said Delia.
“What difference does it make, whether she is a nice woman or not? That does not teach the boys, or help them to earn their living. And I do not know if Miss Herrick is a nice woman. I should think not. But I do know that she does not do either.”
They entered the house in silence.
“Whatever on earth are those boys doing? Palavering about, handing cups to people they have never seen! They are fonder of waiting on strangers than on their father.”
“They have to do it, Father. They do not enjoy it.”
“Do not enjoy it! It is the only sort of thing that John does enjoy. I wish I had sons more like myself.”
The boys came in.
“Oh, we have had the prize-giving! Harry has got his prize. We had to hand round the tea.”
“You spent a very long time in handing round tea. I spoke to Mr. Merry about you both. He had not much to say for you.”
“And you seem to have a great many friends
