The Present and the Past (3 page)

‘Everyone thought of it,' said Megan, ‘but Toby wanted to watch the hens.'

‘Did he leave directions that you were all to abide by his choice?'

Megan laughed, and her mother kissed her and turned to the boys.

‘How are all my sons this morning? No one in trouble, I hope?' she said, her eyes going to Henry and Guy, who were disposed to this state.

‘Some minds tend to it,' said Henry, raising his eyes to her face.

‘Guy is pale this morning, Miss Ridley. He does not seem as strong as the others.'

‘He is not, Mrs Clare. Indeed he is one by himself in many ways.'

‘And Fabian's clothes look different. The brothers should be alike.'

‘He is reaching the stage of choice. And likeness to younger brothers is not always part of it.'

‘Well, if he knows his own mind, he has a right to follow it.'

‘You are an indulgent mother, Mrs Clare.'

‘I never see why children should not please themselves, as long as they do nothing wrong.'

‘Would it be wrong not to learn anything?' said Henry.

‘It would be wrong of me to let you be unprepared for life.'

‘Toby is unprepared, and people seem to like him.'

‘Dear little boy! I should hope he is at three years old.'

‘I ought not to be so very prepared at eight.'

‘Well, I do not suppose you are, my little son.'

‘I am more prepared than you know. I am ready for things to happen. Is Megan more prepared than I am?'

‘I should not wonder. Little girls sometimes are.'

‘They are all of the independent type,' said Miss Ridley. ‘Guy is again the exception.'

‘Fabian and Megan remind me of each other. They are a true brother and sister.'

‘They are really only half one,' said Henry.

‘You surely do not feel that?'

‘No, I just know it,' said Henry, as he followed the others.

Flavia Clare looked after the group of children. She was a tall, thin woman of forty, with a wide, full head, a firm, curved mouth, honest hazel eyes that seemed to know their own honesty, and
hair and clothes as unadorned and unadorning as custom permitted. An air about her of being a personality suggested that she was aware of this, and was careful to give it no thought.

‘It is hard to be impartial to them all, Miss Ridley. I wonder how far I succeed.'

‘I should say to an unusual degree, Mrs Clare. I always feel inclined to congratulate you.'

‘And I gave you the opportunity. What do you think, Miss Bennet? I am giving it to you as well.'

‘Yes. Oh yes,' said Bennet, recalling her eyes and her thoughts. ‘People say they might all be your own children.'

‘And you would not say it? I have tried to make them so.'

‘You could not do any more,' said Bennet, in a tone of honest sympathy.

‘And there is so much more to be done. I did not know how much it would be, how easy it would be to fail. But I suppose some failure must be accounted human success. We must be content with our human place.'

A bell rang in the house, and Miss Ridley turned and went towards it with a running gait, that seemed to incommode her without adding to her speed. Bennet followed without sign of haste, and they reached the house together. The children went severally to the nursery and the schoolroom, in accordance with the convention that allotted the most stairs to the shortest legs, or to those that had to be spared them.

Bennet sat at the head of her table, with Henry and Megan at the sides. Eliza's place was at the bottom, with Toby's high chair at her hand, so that she could divide her attention between her own meals and his. As she carried him from his bed to the chair, he exhibited signs of revulsion and turned his face over her shoulder.

‘Oh, your own nice chair!'

‘No,' said Toby.

‘We don't want anyone else to sit in it.'

Toby cast eyes of suspicion on Henry and Megan, and Eliza took advantage of the moment to insert him into the chair. He bowed to fate to the extent of merely uttering fretting sounds.

‘Now look at the nice dinner,' said Eliza.

Toby gave it a glance of careless appraisement and settled to a game with his bib and mug, that involved a crooning song. When a spoon approached his lips he shut them tight.

‘Now what about feeding yourself?' said Eliza, in a zestful manner.

Toby took the spoon, misled by the tone, but was repelled by the routine and cast the spoon on the ground. Eliza took another without a change of expression and proceeded to feed him, and he presently leaned over the chair.

‘Poor spoon!' he said.

‘Yes, poor spoon! You have thrown it on the floor. It is all by itself down there.'

‘Oh, yes. All by itself. Toby not throw it. Eliza did.'

‘No, no, you know quite well you threw it yourself. Now eat your dinner or you won't be a good boy,' said Eliza, accepting Toby's moral range.

A look of consternation came into the latter's eyes, and he ate industriously.

‘Very good boy,' he said, appealing to Bennet.

‘Yes, if you eat your dinner.'

Toby returned to his plate, but misliking the scraps left upon it, took it in both hands and threw it after the spoon. It broke and he fell into mirth.

‘Dear, dear, what a naughty thing to do!' said Eliza.

Toby was lost in his emotion.

Henry and Megan picked up the pieces and broke them, to divert him further. The method succeeded too well, and he showed signs of hysteria and exhaustion.

‘No, no, go back to your seats,' said Bennet. ‘He will be upset.'

Henry threw down the last fragment, and Toby's mirth brought a look of perplexity to his own face as to its pleasurable nature.

‘Now look at the plate all in pieces,' said Eliza. ‘It was unkind of Toby.'

‘It likes it,' said the latter after a moment's inspection. ‘Only one plate. Now three, five, sixteen.'

‘No, it does not like it. How would Toby like to be broken?'

‘Toby little boy.'

‘Will he eat that pudding?' said Bennet. ‘It will be safer not to try.'

‘After all that,' said Eliza.

Toby looked up in a frowning manner, and after a minute of watching the pudding disappear, made signs of peremptory demand. He was given a portion and ate it without help, scraping his plate and setting down his spoon with precision. Then he gave a reminiscent giggle.

‘Another plate.'

‘You have one in front of you,' said Henry.

‘Oh, no,' said Toby.

‘You are a good boy not to throw it,' said Eliza.

‘Not throw it. Oh, no. Poor plate.'

‘You are too big to be so naughty,' said Bennet to Henry. ‘Toby sets you an example.'

‘You always tell us to amuse him,' said Megan, ‘and nothing has ever amused him so much.'

‘Amuse him,' said Toby. ‘Toby laugh, didn't he?'

‘Why did he think it was so funny?' said Megan.

Toby looked up as if interested in the response.

‘He has a sense of humour like a savage,' said Henry.

‘No,' said his brother.

‘Savages laugh when the others' heads are blown off, even when their own are just going to be. Their minds are like Toby's.'

‘Or like yours, when you told him about the plate,' said Eliza, with simply disparaging intent.

‘Henry,' said Toby, in agreement with this criticism. ‘Dear Toby!'

‘Now, you must be ready to go downstairs,' said Bennet, rising and laying hands on Megan.

‘Can't we send down word that I am not very well?'

Bennet continued her ministrations without reply.

‘Dear Toby!' said the latter, leaning towards Bennet in insistence on this point of view.

‘Yes, yes, dear Toby!'

Toby relapsed into his own pursuits, and wrapping his bib round his mug, rocked it to and fro.

‘The mug would break, if you threw it down,' said Henry. Toby raised a warning finger and hushed the mug in his arms.

‘Another meal!' said Cassius Clare, coming to the luncheon table. ‘The same faces, the same voices, the same things said. I daresay the same food.'

‘You should provide another voice and face,' said his father. ‘You set the example of always bringing your own.'

‘I wonder if we could dispense with meals,' said Cassius, using a sincere tone.

‘And what is your conclusion?'

‘We might perhaps dispense with luncheon. The children have it upstairs, and older people do not need so much to eat.'

‘Any arrangement you wish could be made in your case.'

‘Perhaps you are too old to go so long without food.'

‘I could have a tray in my room. That would be in accordance with my age.'

‘And then there would only be your own face,' said Flavia, ‘and I suppose no voice.'

‘And Flavia might say she wanted something to eat in the middle of the day,' said Cassius.

‘It is true that I might,' said his wife.

‘So it only leaves me to dispense with the meal. And that would not make much difference.'

‘It would to yourself,' said old Mr Clare. ‘Have you thought of the difference it would make?'

‘It may not be worth while to make the change for one person.'

‘It is for you to decide,' said Flavia. ‘It involves no one else.'

‘So you have upset your scheme, my boy,' said Mr Clare. Cassius began to carve the meat, breathing rather deeply.

‘Will you have any of this?' he said to his wife.

‘I will have what I usually do.'

‘A good deal, isn't it?' said Cassius, seeming to operate with some effort.

‘I should think an average amount.'

‘This is not a meal we were to dispense with,' said Mr Clare.

‘I think most women eat less,' said Cassius, looking at the plate as it left him.

‘Well, this is what I will eat,' said his wife.

‘I wonder what we are quarrelling about.'

‘You can hardly do that, my boy, as you have arranged it,' said Mr Clare.

‘Do you think that bookcase would look better further to the left?' said Cassius, with his head to one side.

‘Not to me, when I have seen it where it is for so long. It would look in the wrong place. And I should think it would to you, as you have seen it there for even longer.'

Cassius regarded it in independent consideration.

‘Did you say you had seen the children this morning?' he said to his wife, as though realizing no more than this about her utterance.

‘I did not say so, as you know. But I have seen them or seen four of them,' said Flavia, her voice changing as she spoke. ‘And a picture they made, alike and different, and individual and the same. Toby was still asleep.'

‘Did Miss Ridley add to the picture?'

‘She looked herself, as she does. Yes, she added something of her own. I hope the post is what she needs.'

‘I hope she is the person to fill it. That should be our concern.'

‘It was naturally our chief one. It should not exclude the other. I am afraid it tends to do so.'

‘I am sure of it,' said Mr Clare. ‘I would not say I was afraid.'

Cassius looked at his companions' plates, and took a shred of meat himself, as if to fill the time. In a moment he gave a sigh and fully supplied his plate, as though conformity were unavoidable. As he did so, he happened to meet his wife's eyes.

‘Having my luncheon after all!' he said, as if quoting her thought.

‘A good many people are doing that.'

‘But they did not say they would not have any,' said Cassius, still in the quoting tone.

‘I daresay they did. It is a thing people do.'

‘So I am just like anyone else?'

‘No, you need not be afraid of it, my boy,' said Mr Clare.

‘Like a good many people in that,' said Flavia.

‘And you are different?' said Cassius.

‘I may be in the minority. The matter is a small one.'

‘How many of us think that about ourselves?'

‘All of us,' said his father. ‘And not only on that ground.'

‘On more important ones?'

‘Yes, yes, on those, my boy.'

‘I hardly think we are all so much alike,' said Flavia.

‘Neither do I,' said Cassius. ‘I often wonder if I belong to the same species as other people.'

‘And what conclusion do you come to?' said Mr Clare.

‘To my own conclusion. I daresay you often wonder it about yourself.'

‘No, I know I belong to the same. I have had long enough to learn it.'

‘Do we mean the same thing, or not?'

‘The same,' said Flavia, smiling. ‘Everyone always means it.'

‘Now there is something I have been- wanting to say,' said Cassius, replenishing his plate, as if his thoughts were elsewhere. ‘Fabian is getting too old to be with women and children.'

‘He will go to a public school in a year. A home life is best for boys in childhood. It is what I shall do for Henry, and so what I do for his brothers.'

‘I suppose Guy is your favourite of your stepchildren?'

‘I have no stepchildren. I have four sons and a daughter. I can see it in no other way.'

‘I wonder if they can,' said Cassius.

‘If so, the blame is mine.'

‘Their opinion of you would hardly be the same as your opinion of yourself.'

‘Then perhaps the blame is theirs,' said Mr Clare. ‘Children are not always blameless.'

‘I wonder if they ought to see their own mother,' said Cassius,
keeping his tone even. ‘Yοu know she has returned to the place?'

‘Yes, I know,' said his wife.

‘I am not a man who cannot change his mind.'

‘It seems that you are not.'

‘The best way to deal with a mistake is to rectify it.'