“Yes; do come down,” he said.
The clucking became inarticulate.
“We ought to be going, Silvia,” said her mother.
Peter took this up.
“Oh, you must give Miss Silvia five minutes, Mrs. Wardour,” he said. “It’s only fair that she should know the sort of thing that father’s going to make of her.”
Mr. Mainwaring gave a great shout of laughter.
“The impertinence of youth!” he cried. “Peter, I disown you. I would cut you off with a shilling if I had one!”
The two went down the stairs in silence. In silence also they came into the studio. The huge cartoon filled up one end of it; on the other three sides was the stacked débris from the attics; landscapes and portraits and sketches littered the tables.
“That’s rather jolly,” said Peter, pointing to one at random. “And, O Lord, my father has brought out a thing he did of me last year. Rather like a hair-dresser.”