Part 20 (1/2)

You do not dress them in the latest fas.h.i.+on, I observe.”

”They _are_ shabby,” Mrs. Caldwell acknowledged with a sigh, apologetically.

Beth shovelled some spoonfuls of pudding into her mouth very quickly.

”That's the money bother again,” she said, and then she sang out at the top of her voice--

”Bryan O'Lynn had no breeches to wear, He bought a sheepskin for to make him a pair, With the skinny side out, and the woolly side in, 'They're warm in the winter,' said Bryan O'Lynn.”

”I suppose it would be quite impossible to suppress this child?” Uncle James lisped with deceptive mildness. ”I observe that she joins in the conversation always, with great intelligence and her mouth full. It might be better, perhaps, if she emptied her mouth. However, I suppose it would be impossible to teach her.”

”Not at all,” Beth answered for herself, cheerfully. ”I'm not too stupid to empty my mouth! Only just you tell me what it is you want.

Don't bottle things up. I expect I've been speaking with my mouth full ever since I came, and you've been hating me for it; but you never told me.”

”May I ask,” said Uncle James politely, ”by whom you were informed that I 'bottled things up'?”

”Ah, that would be telling,” said Beth, and recommenced gobbling her pudding, to the intense relief of some of the party.

Great-Aunt Victoria Bench, sitting upright opposite, looked across the table at the child, and a faint smile flickered over her wrinkled rose-leaf cheek.

Beth finished her pudding, dropped her spoon on her plate with a clatter, leant back in her chair, and sighed with satisfaction. She possessed a horrid fascination for Uncle James. Almost everything she did was an offence to him, yet he could not keep his eyes off her or let her alone.

”Pudding seems to be a weakness of hers,” he now observed. ”I hope her voracity is satisfied. I should say that it resembles the voracity of the caterpillar.”

”What's voracity, Aunt Victoria?” Beth asked.

”Greediness,” Aunt Victoria rejoined sententiously.

”He means I'm greedy for pudding? I just _am_! I'd like to be a caterpillar for pudding. Caterpillars eat all day. But then G.o.d's good to them. He puts them on a tree with lots of leaves. I wish He'd put me in a pantry with lots of puddings! My vora.s.s--vor--what is it? Any way, it's satisfied now, Uncle James, and if you'll let me go, I'll wash myself, and get ready for Lady Benyon.”

Rather than let her go when she wanted to, however, Uncle James sat some time longer at table than he had intended. It was he who always gave the signal to rise; before he did so on this occasion, he formally requested his sister to request Beth to be silent during Lady Benyon's visit.

Lady Benyon was a shrewd, active little old woman, with four dark curls laid horizontally on either side of her forehead. She had bright black sparkling eyes that glanced about quickly and seemed to see everything. Before she arrived, Uncle James a.s.sembled his family in the drawing-room, and set the scene, as it were, for her reception.

”Sit here, facing the window, Caroline,” he said. ”It will interest Lady Benyon to see how you have aged. And, Aunt Victoria, this Chippendale chair, so stiff and straight, is just like you, I think; so oblige me by sitting on it. Grace Mary, take this easy lounge; it suits your yielding nature. Elizabeth”--Beth, who was perched on the piano-stool, looked up calmly at the clouds through the window opposite. ”Elizabeth,” he repeated sharply. Beth made no sign.

”Beth, answer your uncle directly,” Mrs. Caldwell exclaimed.

”He has not yet addressed me,” Beth rejoined, in the manner of Uncle James.

”Don't call your uncle 'he,' you naughty girl. You know your name is Elizabeth.”

”Yes, and I know I said I wouldn't answer to it, and I'm not going to break me oath.”

”Me oath!” Uncle James e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

Beth looked disconcerted. It irked her horribly to be jeered at for making a mistake in speaking, and Uncle James, seeing she was hurt, rested satisfied for the moment, and arranged Mildred and Bernadine together in a group, leaving Beth huddled up on the piano-stool, frowning.

When Lady Benyon's carriage stopped at the door, Uncle James stood bareheaded on the steps, ready to receive her.

”So glad to see you, mamma,” he lisped, as he handed her out. ”_Do_ take my arm.”