CLAYHANGER. Arnold Bennett

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СКАЧАТЬ hear a word about the toast being a little hard, and when Maggie in her curious quiet way ‘stuck her out’ that the toast was in fact hard, she said that that precise degree of hardness was the degree which she, for herself, preferred. Then she talked of jams, and mentioned gooseberry-jam, whereupon Clara privately put her tongue out, with the quickness of a snake, to signal to Maggie.

      “Ours isn’t good this year,” said Maggie.

      “I told auntie we weren’t so set up with it, a fortnight ago,” said Clara simply, like a little angel.

      “Did you, dear?” Mrs Hamps exclaimed, with great surprise, almost with shocked surprise. “I’m sure it’s beautiful. I was quite looking forward to tasting it; quite! I know what your gooseberry-jam is.”

      “Would you like to try it now?” Maggie suggested. “But we’ve warned you.”

      “Oh, I don’t want to trouble you now. We’re all so cosy here. Any time—”

      “No trouble, auntie,” said Clara, with her most captivating and innocent smile.

      “Well, if you talk about ‘warning’ me, of course I must insist on having some,” said Auntie Clara.

      Clara jumped up, passed behind Mrs Hamps, making a contemptuous face at those curls as she did so, and ran gracefully down to the kitchen.

      “Here,” she said crossly to Mrs Nixon. “A pot of that gooseberry, please. A small one will do. She knows it’s short of sugar, and so she’s determined to try it, just out of spite; and nothing will stop her.”

      Clara returned smiling to the tea-table, and Maggie neatly unsealed the jam; and Auntie Clara, with a face beaming with pleasurable anticipation, helped herself circumspectly to a spoonful.

      “Beautiful!” she murmured.

      “Don’t you think it’s a bit tart?” Maggie asked.

      “Oh no!” protestingly.

      “Don’t you?” asked Clara, with an air of delighted deferential astonishment.

      “Oh no!” Mrs Hamps repeated. “It’s beautiful!” She did not smack her lips over it, because she would have considered it unladylike to smack her lips, but by less offensive gestures she sought to convey her unbounded pleasure in the jam. “How much sugar did you put in?” she inquired after a while. “Half and half?”

      “Yes,” said Maggie.

      “They do say gooseberries were a tiny bit sour this year, owing to the weather,” said Mrs Hamps reflectively.

      Clara kicked Edwin under the table, as it were viciously, but her delightful innocent smile, directed vaguely upon Mrs Hamps, did not relax. Such duplicity passed Edwin’s comprehension; it seemed to him purposeless. Yet he could not quite deny that there might be a certain sting, a certain insinuation, in his auntie’s last remark.

      Three.

      Then Mr Clayhanger entered, blowing forth a long breath as if trying to repulse the oppressive heat of the July afternoon. He came straight to the table, with a slightly preoccupied air, quickly, his arms motionless at his sides, and slanting a little outwards. Mr Clayhanger always walked like this, with motionless arms so that in spite of a rather clumsy and heavy step, the upper part of him appeared to glide along. He shook hands genially with Auntie Clara, greeting her almost as grandiosely as she greeted him, putting on for a moment the grand manner, not without dignity. Each admired the other. Each often said that the other was ‘wonderful.’ Each undoubtedly flattered the other, made a fuss of the other. Mr Clayhanger’s admiration was the greater. The bitterest thing that Edwin had ever heard Maggie say was: “It’s something to be thankful for that she’s his deceased wife’s sister!” And she had said the bitter thing with such quiet bitterness! Edwin had not instantly perceived the point of it.

      Darius Clayhanger then sat down, with a thud, snatched at the cup of tea which Maggie had placed before him, and drank half of it with a considerable indrawing noise. No one asked where or why he had been detained; it was not etiquette to do so. If father had been ‘called away,’ or had ‘had to go away,’ or was ‘kept somewhere,’ the details were out of deference allowed to remain in mystery, respected by curiosity ... ‘Father-business.’ ... All business was sacred. He himself had inculcated this attitude.

      In a short silence the sound of the bell that the carman rang before the tram started for Hanbridge floated in through the open window.

      “There’s the tram!” observed Auntie Clara, apparently with warm and special interest in the phenomena of the tram. Then another little silence.

      “Auntie,” said Clara, writhing about youthfully on her chair.

      “Can’t ye sit still a bit?” the father asked, interrupting her roughly, but with good humour. “Ye’ll be falling off th’ chair in a minute.”

      Clara blushed swiftly, and stopped.

      “Yes, love?” Auntie Clara encouraged her. It was as if Auntie Clara had said: “Your dear father is of course quite right, more than right, to insist on your sitting properly at table. However, do not take the correction too much to heart. I sympathise with all your difficulties.”

      “I was only going to ask you,” Clara went on, in a weaker, stammering voice, “if you knew that Edwin’s left school today.” Her archness had deserted her.

      “Mischievous little thing!” thought Edwin. “Why must she deliberately go and draw attention to that?” And he too blushed, feeling as if he owed an apology to the company for having left school.

      “Oh yes!” said Auntie Clara with eager benevolence. “I’ve got something to say about that to my nephew.”

      Mr Clayhanger searched in a pocket of his alpaca, and drew forth an open envelope.

      “Here’s the lad’s report, auntie,” said he. “Happen ye’d like to look at it.”

      “I should indeed!” she replied fervently. “I’m sure it’s a very good one.”

      Four.

      She took the paper, and assumed her spectacles.

      “Conduct—Excellent,” she read, poring with enthusiasm over the document. And she read again: “Conduct—Excellent.” Then she went down the list of subjects, declaiming the number of marks for each; and at the end she read: “Position in class next term: Third. Splendid, Eddy!” she exclaimed.

      “I thought you were second,” said Clara, in her sharp manner.

      Edwin blushed again, and hesitated.

      “Eh? What’s that? What’s that?” his father demanded. “I didn’t notice that. Third?”

      “Charlie Orgreave beat me in the examination,” Edwin muttered.

      “Well, that’s a pretty how d’ye do!” said his father. “Going down one! Ye ought to ha’ been first instead o’ third. And would ha’ been, happen, if ye’d СКАЧАТЬ