“He's an odd fellow!”
For some moments Mr. Pendyce made reflections on this breach of manners. He had a nice standard of conduct in all social affairs.
“I'm having trouble with that man Peacock again. He's the most pig-headed—— What are you in such a hurry for, Margery?”
“George is here!”
“George? Well, I suppose he can wait till dinner. I have a lot of things I want to tell you about. We had a case of arson to-day. Old Quarryman was away, and I was in the chair. It was that fellow Woodford that we convicted for poaching—a very gross case. And this is what he does when he comes out. They tried to prove insanity. It's the rankest case of revenge that ever came before me. We committed him, of course. He'll get a swinging sentence. Of all dreadful crimes, arson is the most——”
Mr. Pendyce could find no word to characterise his opinion of this offence, and drawing his breath between his teeth, passed into his dressing-room. Mrs. Pendyce hastened quietly out, and went to her son's room. She found George in his shirtsleeves, inserting the links of his cuffs.
“Let me do that for you, my dear boy! How dreadfully they starch your cuffs! It is so nice to do something for you sometimes!”
George answered her:
“Well, Mother, and how have you been?”
Over Mrs. Pendyce's face came a look half sorrowful, half arch, but wholly pathetic. 'What! is it beginning already? Oh, don't put me away from you!' she seemed to say.