“Of course, a tropical child’s first visit to England is always liable to cause a few alarms,” he said tentatively.
“Oh, I’m not nervous. His mother has some idea of his not being fit for school, but as Sir Thomas says, that’s all nonsense. Anyway there’s more than a year before we need think about that.”
“He seems intelligent, but I suppose he’s not had the usual chances of education, if he’s always been in the East.”
“He can’t read or write, but perhaps one couldn’t expect it. But he never seems to have played any games, poor little chap, which is a much more serious disadvantage. As Sir Thomas says, boys can never begin games too young.”
The doctor was not sufficiently in sympathy with Sir Thomas’s dictum to make any reply.
“I am afraid,” said Lady Aviolet in a hesitating way, rather as though the words were forced from her under the compulsion of some unusually strong feeling. “I am afraid that the little boy is going to be a disappointment to Sir Thomas. He is so utterly unlike the Aviolets.”
Dr. Lucian wondered whether she did not rather mean he was so exactly like his mother. The few moments that he had spent in the night nursery had served strongly to confirm the popular verdict that the Aviolets were not pleased with their newly seen daughter-in-law.
“You remember poor Jim, of course. Cecil isn’t in the least like him.”
The doctor inwardly congratulated Cecil on so desirable an escape.
“You were so very kind at the time of all our trouble with poor Jim that I really do want your opinion about the boy. Of course, one hopes that Ford may marry, but meanwhile, this little boy is the only Aviolet of the younger generation, and it does seem so very unfortunate that he should have had the dreadful disadvantage of being brought up abroad.”