She went to meet him at the station in the aged limousine. His greeting was scarcely designed to flatter her. “Oh, Mother, this is too ghastly!” he exclaimed. hurrying towards her on the platform. “Can’t you do anything!”
It was not in her nature to return a baldly unpalatable answer, so a good deal of time was spent in a discussion founded on eventualities which might, but almost certainly would not, occur. “If only Cliff would have the courage to tell your father he doesn’t want you as a pupil!” Faith said. “If only I had some relations with money! If only I could get your father to see that you’d be wasted in Cliff’s office!”
“I do think you ought to have some influence over Father!” Clay said.
In this unprofitable fashion the drive to Trevellin was accomplished, mother and son arriving at the old grey house below the Moor in a state of considerable nervous agitation, Faith having developed a nagging, headache, and Clay experiencing the familiar sinking at the pit of his stomach which always attacked him at the prospect of having to confront Penhallow.
In appearance, he was not strikingly like either parent. His colouring was nondescript, inclined to fair, but although his eyes had something of Faith’s expression they were not blue, but grey. He had the aquiline cast of features of all the Penhallows, but his mother’s soft mouth and indeterminate chin. He was rather above the average height, but had yet to fill out, being at present very thin and immature. He had several nervous tricks, such as smoothing his hair, and fidgeting with the knot of his tie; from having been the butt of his brothers he had acquired a defensive manner, and was often self-conscious in company, assuming an ease of manner which it was plain he did not possess. He was apt to take offence too readily and was far too prone to adopt a belligerent tone with his half-brothers; and no amount of mockery could break him of unwise attempts to impress them by recounting unconvincing tales of his strong handling of such persons as form-masters, Deans, and Proctors.
The first person he encountered on entering the house was Bart, who hailed him good-naturedly enough, saying: “Hello, kid! I forgot you were descending on us today. Skinny as ever, I see.” He turned his head, as Eugene came out of the library, and called: “Hi, Eugene! The budding lawyer’s blown in!”
Clay bristled at once, and replied in rather too high-pitched a voice: “You don’t suppose I’m going to go into Cliff’s office, do you? I can assure you that I shall have something to say to Father about that!”
Bart grinned. “I’ll bet you will! I can hear you: Yes, Father. No, Father! Just as you wish, Father.”
Faith at once rushed to the defence of her young: “Can’t you let the poor boy set foot inside the house without starting to tease him? I should have thought that after not having seen him for three months you might have found something pleasant to say to him!”
“Kiss your little brother, Bart!” said Eugene reprovingly. “Well, Benjamin? Will you receive our address of welcome now, or later?”