Sir Thomas abruptly emitted a sound which appeared to imply that his grandson had no business to possess anything but a body.
“If he were a hunchback, you wouldn’t send him to school. Why should a mental deformity receive less consideration than a physical one?”
“What’s the use of talking like that, Rose?” said her mother-in-law. “(Fifty—fifty-one—fifty-two) Cecil isn’t a hunchback, or anything in the least like it, thank Heaven!”
Ford Aviolet smiled again.
“Tell them what I mean!” Rose hurled at him, with an intensity that made the girl Diana shrink back, looking bewildered.
Ford’s eyeglasses swung gently to and fro. His eyebrows were raised.
“Plead your own cause, my dear Rose,” he said easily. “You know I don’t see with you. In my humble opinion, school is exactly what Cecil requires.”
“All boys go to school,” Sir Thomas again reiterated. “It’s the greatest disadvantage in the world to a boy to be brought up in any other way. I used to know an unfortunate Roman Catholic fellow who’d been brought up by monks—put him at the greatest disadvantage with other fellows all his life. Of course, a delicate lad may have to be educated at home, but it’s a great disadvantage. I couldn’t allow it for my grandson.”
“You heard Dr. Lucian say Cecil wasn’t delicate, Rose,” said Lady Aviolet.
They were imperturbable in their lack of comprehension.