“It’s a grand sight!” said Big James, with simple enthusiasm. “A grand sight! Real old English! And I wish her well!” He meant the Queen and Empress. Then suddenly, in a different tone, sniffing the air, “I doubt it’s turned! I’ll step across and ask Mr Doy.”
He stepped across, and came back with the news that the greater portion of the ox, despite every precaution, had in fact very annoyingly ‘turned,’ and that the remainder of the carcass was in serious danger.
“What’ll the old people say?” he demanded sadly. “But it’s a grand sight, turned or not!”
Edwin stared and stared, in a sort of sinister fascination. He thought that he might stare for ever. At length, after ages of ennui, he loosed himself from the spell with an effort and glanced at Big James.
“And what are you going to do with yourself to-day, James?”
Big James smiled. “I’m going to take my walks abroad, sir. It’s seldom as I get about in the town nowadays.”
“Well, I must be off!”
“I’d like you to give my respects to the old gentleman, sir.”
Edwin nodded and departed, very slowly and idly, towards Trafalgar Road and Bleakridge. He pulled his straw hat over his forehead to avoid the sun, and then he pushed it backwards to his neck to avoid the sun. The odour of the shrivelling ox remained with him; it was in his nostrils for several days. His heart grew blacker with intense gloom; and the contentment of Big James at the prospect of just strolling about the damnable dead town for the rest of the day surpassed his comprehension. He abandoned himself to misery voluptuously. The afternoon and evening stretched before him, an arid and appalling Sahara. The Benbows, and their babes, and Auntie Hamps were coming for dinner and tea, to cheer up grandfather. He pictured the repasts with savage gloating detestation—burnt ox, and more burnt ox, and the false odious brightness of a family determined to be mutually helpful and inspiring. Since his refusal to abet the project of a loan to Albert, Clara had been secretly hostile under her superficial sisterliness, and Auntie Hamps had often assured him, in a manner extraordinarily exasperating, that she was convinced he had acted conscientiously for the best. Strange thought, that after eight hours of these people and of his father, he would be still alive!