The Complete Works of Katherine Mansfield. Katherine Mansfield

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СКАЧАТЬ Whereas Cyril in London wore them from year's end to year's end. And it would be so nice for her and Constantia, when he came to tea, to know it was there. "I see you've got on grandfather's watch, Cyril." It would be somehow so satisfactory.

      Dear boy! What a blow his sweet, sympathetic little note had been! Of course they quite understood; but it was most unfortunate.

      "It would have been such a point, having him," said Josephine.

      "And he would have enjoyed it so," said Constantia, not thinking what she was saying.

      However, as soon as he got back he was coming to tea with his aunties. Cyril to tea was one of their rare treats.

      "Now, Cyril, you mustn't be frightened of our cakes. Your Auntie Con and I bought them at Buszard's this morning. We know what a man's appetite is. So don't be ashamed of making a good tea."

      Josephine cut recklessly into the rich dark cake that stood for her winter gloves or the soling and heeling of Constantia's only respectable shoes. But Cyril was most unmanlike in appetite.

      "I say, Aunt Josephine, I simply can't. I've only just had lunch, you know."

      "Oh, Cyril, that can't be true! It's after four," cried Josephine. Constantia sat with her knife poised over the chocolate-roll.

      "It is, all the same," said Cyril. "I had to meet a man at Victoria, and he kept me hanging about till... there was only time to get lunch and to come on here. And he gave me—phew"—Cyril put his hand to his forehead—"a terrific blow-out," he said.

      It was disappointing—to-day of all days. But still he couldn't be expected to know.

      "But you'll have a meringue, won't you, Cyril?" said Aunt Josephine. "These meringues were bought specially for you. Your dear father was so fond of them. We were sure you are, too."

      "I am, Aunt Josephine," cried Cyril ardently. "Do you mind if I take half to begin with?"

      "Not at all, dear boy; but we mustn't let you off with that."

      "Is your dear father still so fond of meringues?" asked Auntie Con gently. She winced faintly as she broke through the shell of hers.

      "Well, I don't quite know, Auntie Con," said Cyril breezily.

      At that they both looked up.

      "Don't know?" almost snapped Josephine. "Don't know a thing like that about your own father, Cyril?"

      "Surely," said Auntie Con softly.

      Cyril tried to laugh it off. "Oh, well," he said, "it's such a long time since—" He faltered. He stopped. Their faces were too much for him.

      "Even so," said Josephine.

      And Auntie Con looked.

      Cyril put down his teacup. "Wait a bit," he cried. "Wait a bit, Aunt Josephine. What am I thinking of?"

      He looked up. They were beginning to brighten. Cyril slapped his knee.

      "Of course," he said, "it was meringues. How could I have forgotten? Yes, Aunt Josephine, you're perfectly right. Father's most frightfully keen on meringues."

      They didn't only beam. Aunt Josephine went scarlet with pleasure; Auntie Con gave a deep, deep sigh.

      "And now, Cyril, you must come and see father," said Josephine. "He knows you were coming to-day."

      "Right," said Cyril, very firmly and heartily. He got up from his chair; suddenly he glanced at the clock.

      "I say, Auntie Con, isn't your clock a bit slow? I've got to meet a man at—at Paddington just after five. I'm afraid I shan't be able to stay very long with grandfather."

      "Oh, he won't expect you to stay very long!" said Aunt Josephine.

      Constantia was still gazing at the clock. She couldn't make up her mind if it was fast or slow. It was one or the other, she felt almost certain of that. At any rate, it had been.

      Cyril still lingered. "Aren't you coming along, Auntie Con?"

      "Of course," said Josephine, "we shall all go. Come on, Con."

CHAPTER IX.

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      THEY knocked at the door, and Cyril followed his aunts into grandfather's hot, sweetish room.

      "Come on," said Grandfather Pinner. "Don't hang about. What is it? What've you been up to?"

      He was sitting in front of a roaring fire, clasping his stick. He had a thick rug over his knees. On his lap there lay a beautiful pale yellow silk handkerchief.

      "It's Cyril, father," said Josephine shyly. And she took Cyril's hand and led him forward.

      "Good afternoon, grandfather," said Cyril, trying to take his hand out of Aunt Josephine's. Grandfather Pinner shot his eyes at Cyril in the way he was famous for. Where was Auntie Con? She stood on the other side of Aunt Josephine; her long arms hung down in front of her; her hands were clasped. She never took her eyes off grandfather.

      "Well," said Grandfather Pinner, beginning to thump, "what have you got to tell me?"

      What had he, what had he got to tell him? Cyril felt himself smiling like a perfect imbecile. The room was stifling, too.

      But Aunt Josephine came to his rescue. She cried brightly, "Cyril says his father is still very fond of meringues, father dear."

      "Eh?" said Grandfather Pinner, curving his hand like a purple meringue-shell over one ear.

      Josephine repeated, "Cyril says his father is still very fond of meringues."

      "Can't hear," said old Colonel Pinner. And he waved Josephine away with his stick, then pointed with his stick to Cyril. "Tell me what she's trying to say," he said.

      (My God!) "Must I?" said Cyril, blushing and staring at Aunt Josephine.

      "Do, dear," she smiled. "It will please him so much."

      "Come on, out with it!" cried Colonel Pinner testily, beginning to thump again.

      And Cyril leaned forward and yelled, "Father's still very fond of meringues."

      At that Grandfather Pinner jumped as though he had been shot.

      "Don't shout!" he cried. "What's the matter with the boy? Meringues! What about 'em?"

      "Oh, Aunt Josephine, must we go on?" groaned Cyril desperately.

      "It's quite all right, dear boy," said Aunt Josephine, as though he and she were at the dentist's together. "He'll understand in a minute." And she whispered to Cyril, "He's getting a bit deaf, you know." Then she leaned forward and really bawled at Grandfather Pinner, "Cyril only wanted to tell you, father dear, that his father is still very fond of meringues."

      Colonel Pinner heard that time, heard and brooded, СКАЧАТЬ