When Martin had gone to bed John Berrisford pointed out to his wife that she had taken the wrong line. "Martin is just old enough and wise enough to be thoroughly self-conscious," he said. "He resents questions about school because he thinks you're regarding him as a schoolboy and playing down to him. Talk to him about Botticelli or Free Trade or Beerbohm Tree."
"What nonsense," said Mrs Berrisford. "He's only fourteen. It's just shyness."
But on the following morning she took her husband's advice and found that, as usual, he was right.
There was a good collection of books in the house and Martin was allowed to pick and choose. John Berrisford suffered some anxiety from the problem of free choice: he was not concerned about the boy's morality; because he knew that no power in the world can alter human nature. So when he noticed that Martin took down Tom Jones and read only a portion of it, and later on paid great heed to The Sentimental Journey, he had the good sense to say nothing at all. What worried him was the fear that Martin would read many really good things before he was able to appreciate them and might thus be prevented or prejudiced from reading them in after life. For instance, when Martin struggled with Robert Louis Stevenson and called him dull, his uncle knew well enough what was wrong. On the other hand, he dreaded dictating a course of reading or advising the boy in any way, for he knew the value of spontaneous selection and remembered the vivid loathing which he himself had felt for 'advised' books and the infinite lure of the forbidden fruit. So he discreetly held his peace, hoping that Martin would be able to return to Stevenson without prejudice.
A few days before the end of the holidays the whole family went up to town to see the theatres. Martin was old enough to appreciate the pantomime and would have sat there till three in the morning readily. He was bored by the interminable ballet and the garish medley of flashing lights and countless colours which most of the audience liked so much, but the comedians and the more humorous scenic effects he found perfect. Besides, as a Public School boy and grown-up person, he had to admire Robinson Crusoe when, in gleaming fur-trimmed tights, he, or rather she, so irresistibly sang:
"Somebody wants me surely,
Some heart bleeds for mine."
No less fascinating was the comedienne with her: 'Cupid got a Bull that Time,' and the comic man's triumph: 'There are Lots of Funny Things about a Clothes-Line.'
At last the end came and Martin went to meet the special to Elfrey. He was afraid that his uncle and aunt were making a great mistake in proposing to see him off. He wondered whether it was done, whether you could possibly appear on the platform surrounded by relations. As usual his fears were not justified and he found the station full of mothers and sisters. Everything went well, and as they walked through the crowd Martin noticed a group of bloods with Leopard in their midst. Spots saw him and greeted him quite effusively. It was a tremendous moment, and afforded Martin a fine thrill of pride.
"Who was that?" asked his aunt.
"Oh, that was Leopard. He's a pre at Berney's. An awful blood, and ripping too."