“Oh, I know it’s beastly bad form,” said Grace; “but then, you see, Tommy, one has to play pretty low down to gain the appreciation of one’s family.”
Had Grace’s cause only been a just one, the manner in which she maintained it against all comers must have evoked unqualified admiration. The cabal was powerless in the face of her despotic attitude. They said hard things, and they said rude things, as brothers will, even if they have a sister who is a first-class angel of an unimpeachable appearance. But although Grace stood alone, discredited, out of favour, a fallen idol, and a mark for some very cutting observations, mostly the Harrow captain’s, who saw his moment, and, boylike, was exulting in it—despite all this, Grace continued to consume toast and marmalade as valiantly as ever. Now and then she diversified this proceeding by looking daggers at Toddles, when that irrepressible little clergyman made faces at her. Now and then she introduced a brief remark on her own account, that on examination proved to be as flinty and hard-edged as a chip of granite. It was plain that the exercise of a considerable force of character had been the secret of Grace’s ascendancy and pre-eminence in regard to these great men. And having obtained her power, she did not hesitate to abuse it, as they say her sex generally do.
“In my opinion,” said Archie, “there’s been a mistake in Grace’s destiny. Her arrogance and sweet unreasonableness makes her look a bit out of drawing, I think. Strikes me that Nature planned her for a Gladstone or a Mailyphist, and then made her a girl for fun. But I believe she simply doesn’t care what we think of her.”
“Oh, yes, I do, you know, Archie,” said Grace; “I’m as cut up as can be. I’m quite put off my game. You had better let us have some more toast, Jane. Toddles, pass the marmalade—and the butter. Yes, I think I’ll have the butter, too.”
However, in my eyes Grace’s splendid isolation had such a nobility, such a dignity, such a pathos of its own, that it struck me with some suddenness that a little magnanimity might not be altogether out of place. It was patent, however, that her brothers had such firm convictions on the point at issue that they were not likely to exercise it. Therefore, I had a try myself.
“My dear Grace,” said I, “don’t let’s worry about Biffin any more. I’m perfectly willing for him to stand, you know.”
“What!” cried the whole table with one voice.
Yet I ask you what could a fellow do under the circumstances? Splendid isolation is magnificent, of course, but not being one of Grace’s brothers, how could I help pitying the isolated?
The storm of contumely that my unconditional surrender provoked was woeful. Even the gallant Optimist reviled me. Their unanimity was crushing. It was not the question at issue that mattered so much; it was the general principle. It always is the general principle. They considered themselves betrayed. They had pledged themselves and their interests entirely in my cause, and then I calmly go over to the other side and merge that cause in the enemy’s. In fact, in the impassioned language of Toddles, the more they examined the fine points of my conduct, the deeper the iron entered into their souls.
“Jolly good o’ the iron,” said Grace; “improve ’em no end. Been wanting a tonic a long time.”