“I should think a beautiful house in Onslow Square, with a garden like this, was just the thing for a boy to like.”
He shook his head with a humorous expression of contempt.
“Pickering wouldn’t go into a Square garden, mother!”
She waited a moment, wondering what shaped garden was suited to him, what form of pleasaunce was worthy of the presence of this exceptional boy, and then said, trying to ascertain the point of view:
“Would you take him to see Percy?”
He brightened up directly.
“Percy! Oh yes, rather. I’d like him to see Bertha. I shall ask her to let me take him one day.”
Lady Kellynch felt vaguely pained, and envious and jealous, but on reflection realised to herself that probably the wonderful Pickering would be a very great nuisance, and make a noise, and create general untidiness and confusion, in which Bertha was quite capable of taking part; so she said:
“Do so, if you like, dear. You’re going to see Bertha soon, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I’m going to see her to-day.” He quickly put The English Review under the cushion, sitting on it as he saw his mother look up from her work.