But these were only moments in her life; moments, indeed, of which Tom knew nothing; and to say that to any appreciable degree they coloured the every-day existence of the mother and son would be extravagant. As a fact they lived together harmoniously and pleasantly, having entire confidence one in the other.
And so, on this strange evening, when the General had gone and supper was over, Tom, who was naturally burning to understand his new position, expected that his mother would sit down in her usual pleasant, gossipy way and talk it over with him. No such thing. She annoyed him by bustling about. There was a letter she had forgotten to answer. Wouldn't it do to-morrow? Certainly not (severely); to-morrow had its own duties. Then an account to be dotted up. Wouldn't Tom help her? she said feebly. She had a poor head for figures. While he was looking over it she slipped away, and half an hour later, when he went in search of her, he found her in the kitchen overlooking Sarah's performances. She was so worn out that he simply carried her away with him by sheer force of will, and laid her down on the conch in the drawing-room, where she remained with her eyes closed for some minutes.
Unfortunately for herself she was too active and restless to keep up any longer the feint of repose. She got up for her work, and her son, seizing his advantage, pursued her with questions. Not one of those questions would Mrs. Gregory answer directly. When he urged her, saying he would rather she should answer them than anyone else, she pleaded that she was as bewildered as he was. He could understand that, he said, but she must know more. For instance, she had met the rajah—he had heard her say so to General Elton. What was he like?
'Did I say so?' said Mrs. Gregory.
'Mother dear,' cried the boy, 'do you object to being questioned?'
'Oh no. Why should I?' she said, the colour mounting to her face. 'But it is so many, many years ago.'
'That you met the rajah?'
'Yes.'
'Still, you remember him.'
'As he was then?'