III.
Aunt Charlotte came in first with a tight, dancing run. You knew her by the long black curls on her shoulders. She was smiling as she smiled in the album. She bent her head as she bent it in the album, and her eyes looked up close under her black eyebrows and pointed at you. Pretty—pretty blue eyes, and something frightening that made you look at them. And something queer about her narrow jaw. It thrust itself forward, jerking up her smile.
No black lace shawl and no crinoline. Aunt Charlotte wore a blue and black striped satin dress, bunched up behind, and a little hat perched on the top of her chignon and tied underneath it with blue ribbons.
She had got in and was kissing everybody while Aunt Lavvy and Uncle
Victor were fumbling with the hat stand in the hall.
Aunt Lavvy came next. A long grey face. Black bands of hair parted on her broad forehead. Black eyebrows; blue eyes that stuck out wide, that didn't point at you. A grey bonnet, a grey dress, a little white shawl with a narrow fringe, drooping.
She walked slowly—slowly, as if she were still thinking of something that was not in the room, as if she came into a quiet, empty room.
You thought at first she was never going to kiss you, she was so tall and her face and eyes held themselves so still.
Uncle Victor. Dark and white; smaller than Papa, smaller than Aunt Lavvy; thin in his loose frock-coat. His forehead and black eyebrows were twisted above his blue, beautiful eyes. He had a small dark brown moustache and a small dark brown beard, trimmed close and shaped prettily to a point. He looked like something, like somebody; like Dank when he was mournful, like Dank's dog, Tibby, when he hid from Papa. He said, "Well, Caroline. Well, Emilius."
Aunt Charlotte gave out sharp cries of "Dear!" and "Darling!" and smothered them against your face in a sort of moan.
When she came to Roddy she put up her hands.
"Roddy—yellow hair. No. No. What have you done with the blue eyes and black hair, Emilius? That comes of letting your beard grow so long."
Then they all went into the dining-room.
It was like a birthday. There was to be real blancmange, and preserved ginger, and you drank raspberry vinegar out of the silver christening cups the aunts and uncles gave you when you were born. Uncle Victor had given Mary hers. She held it up and read her own name on it.
MARY VICTORIA OLIVIER
1863.
They were all telling their names. Mary took them up and chanted them:
"Mark Emilius Olivier; Daniel Olivier; Rodney Olivier; Victor Justus
Olivier; Lavinia Mary Olivier; Charlotte Louisa Olivier." She liked the
sound of them.
She sat between Uncle Victor and Aunt Lavvy. Roddy was squeezed into the corner between Mamma and Mark. Aunt Charlotte sat opposite her between Mark and Daniel. She had to look at Aunt Charlotte's face. There were faint grey smears on it as if somebody had scribbled all over it with pencil.
A remarkable conversation.
"Aunt Lavvy! Aunt Lavvy! Have you brought your Opinions?"
"No, my dear, they were not invited. So I left them at home."
"I'm glad to hear it," Papa said.
"Will you bring them next time?"
"No. Not next time, nor any other time," Aunt Lavvy said, looking straight at Papa.
"Did you shut them up in the stair cupboard?"
"No, but I may have to some day."
"Then," Mary said, "if there are any little ones, may I have one?"
"May she, Emilius?"
"Certainly not," Papa said. "She's got too many little opinions of her own."
"What do you know about opinions?" Uncle Victor said.
Mary was excited and happy. She had never been allowed to talk so much. She tried to eat her roast chicken in a business-like, grown-up manner, while she talked.
"I've read about them," she said. "They are dear little animals with long furry tails, much bigger than Sarah's tail, and they climb up trees."
"Oh, they climb up trees, do they?" Uncle Victor was very polite and attentive.
"Yes. There's their picture in Bank's Natural History Book. Next to the Ornythrincus or Duck-billed Plat-i-pus. If they came into the house Mamma would be frightened. But I would not be frightened. I should stroke them."
"Do you think," Uncle Victor said, still politely, "you quite know what you mean?"
"I know," Daniel said, "she means opossums."
"Yes," Mary said. "Opossums."
"What are opinions?"
"Opinions," Papa said, "are things that people put in other people's heads. Nasty, dangerous things, opinions."
She thought: "That was why Mamma and Papa were frightened."
"You won't put them into Mamma's head, will you, Aunt Lavvy?"
Mamma said, "Get on with your dinner. Papa's only teasing."
Aunt Lavvy's face flushed slowly, and she held her mouth tight, as if she were trying not to cry. Papa was teasing Aunt Lavvy.
"How do you like that Ilford house, Charlotte?" Mamma asked suddenly.
"It's the nicest little house you ever saw," Aunt Charlotte said. "But it's too far away. I'd rather have any ugly, poky old den that was next door. I want to see all I can of you and Emilius and Dan and little darling Mary. Before I go away."
"You aren't thinking of going away when you've only just come?"
"That's what Victor and Lavinia say. But you don't suppose I'm going to stay an old maid all my life to please Victor and Lavinia."
"I haven't thought about it at all," Mamma said.
"They have. I know what they're thinking. But it's all settled. I'm going to Marshall and Snelgrove's for my things. There's a silver-grey poplin in their window. If I decide on it, Caroline, you shall have my grey watered silk."
"You needn't waggle your big beard at me, Emilius," Aunt Charlotte said.
Papa pretended that he hadn't heard her and began to talk to Uncle
Victor.
"Did you read John Bright's speech in Parliament last night?"
Uncle Victor said, "I did."
"What did you think of it?"
Uncle Victor raised his shoulders and his eyebrows and spread out his thin, small hands.
"A man with a face like that," Aunt Charlotte said, "oughtn't to be in
Parliament."
"He's the man who saved England," said Papa.
"What's the good of that if he can't save himself? Where does he expect to go to with the hats he wears?"
"Where does Emilius expect to go to," Uncle Victor said, "when his John
Bright and his Gladstone get their way?"
Suddenly Aunt Charlotte left off smiling.
"Emilius," she said, "do you uphold Gladstone?"
"Of course I uphold Gladstone. There's nobody in this country fit to black his boots."
"I know nothing about his boots. But he's an infidel. He wants to pull down the Church. I thought you were a Churchman?"
"So I am," Papa said. "I've too good an opinion of the Church to imagine that it can't stand alone."
"You're a nice one to talk about opinions."
"At any rate I know what I'm talking about."
"I'm not so sure of that," said Aunt Charlotte.
Aunt Lavvy smiled gently at the pattern of the tablecloth.
"Do you agree with him, Lavvy?" Mamma had found something to say.
"I agree with him better than he agrees with himself."
A long conversation about things that interested Papa. Blanc-mange going round the table, quivering and shaking and squelching under the spoon.
"There's a silver-grey poplin," said Aunt Charlotte, "at Marshall and
Snelgrove's."
The blanc-mange was still going round. Mamma watched it as it went. She was fascinated by the shivering, white blanc-mange.
"If there was only one man in the world," Aunt Charlotte said in a loud voice, "and he had a flowing beard, I wouldn't marry him."
Papa drew himself up. He looked at Mark and Daniel and Roddy as if he were saying, "Whoever takes notice leaves the room."
Roddy laughed first. He was sent out of the room.
Papa looked at Mark. Mark clenched his teeth, holding his laugh down tight. He seemed to think that as long as it didn't come out of his mouth he was safe. It came out through his nose like a loud, tearing sneeze. Mark was sent out of the room.
Daniel threw down his spoon and fork.
"If he goes, I go," Daniel said, and followed him.
Papa looked at Mary.
"What are you grinning at, you young monkey?"
"Emilius," said Aunt Charlotte, "if you send another child out of the room, I go too."
Mary squealed, "Tee-he-he-he-he-hee! Te-hee!" and was sent out of the room.
She and Aunt Charlotte sat on the stairs outside the dining-room door. Aunt Charlotte's arm was round her; every now and then it gave her a sudden, loving squeeze.
"Darling Mary. Little darling Mary. Love Aunt Charlotte," she said.
Mark and Dank and Roddy watched them over the banisters.
Aunt Charlotte put her hand deep down in her pocket and brought out a little parcel wrapped in white paper. She whispered:
"If I give you something to keep, will you promise not to show it to anybody and not to tell?"
Mary promised.
Inside the paper wrapper there was a match-box, and inside the match-box there was a china doll no bigger than your finger. It had blue eyes and black hair and no clothes on. Aunt Charlotte held it in her hand and smiled at it.
"That's Aunt Charlotte's little baby," she said. "I'm going to be married and I shan't want it any more.
"There—take it, and cover it up, quick!"
Mamma had come out of the dining-room. She shut the door behind her.
"What have you given to Mary?" she said.
"Butter-Scotch," said Aunt Charlotte.