“Of course,” agreed mother. “It must be very trying to have poor relations, I am sure.”
Here Georgie interrupted. “You said I should visit with Bobsie, mamma,” he cried. “I want to go up now, and tell him about my new rocking-horse. It’s stupid down here.”
“Elizabeth will take you, love,” answered his mother, apparently without the least thought of “subordination.” So I took Georgie by the hand and led him up to the nursery.
When I returned to the library the conversation had been switched:
“Positively, he grows worse and worse,” Aunt Adelaide was saying as I entered the room. “Yesterday he was openly impertinent to me, and flatly refused to accompany Meta to dancing-school. I do not wish to bring the affair to his father, who is rather severe at times, but I declare there is no managing the boy. He won’t study, he has no manners, and he resents interference in any direction.”
It was Geoffrey, of course—and I felt sorry. So did mother. The mocking note had quite died from her voice, as she answered simply and kindly,—
“I think you are a little unjust, Adelaide. Geoffrey requires tactful handling, I know. He is apt to be sullen at times; he is not bookish; but in his own way, along the mechanical line, it seems to me that he is really clever.”
Aunt Adelaide sighed. “Heaven forbid his being an inventor! One is misfortune enough for any family.”
Mother merely smiled that little quiet smile of hers, and asked how Meta was progressing with her music. She will never discuss father with either Aunt Adelaide or Uncle George;—but the attack was not to be so easily repelled, and Aunt Adelaide returned to it a moment later by asking bluntly if there had been any further news of Mr. Perry, and whether we had given up all hope of finding the contract.
“George says the whole affair is entirely typical of poor Dudley,” she declared. “He has not an ounce of patience with it.”