WILLIAM TOOK UP THE BRUSH, THICKLY SMEARED WITH BLACKING, AND PUSHED BACK MR. BIGGS’S FACE WITH IT.
“Any good?” he said.
“He doesn’t seem to have impressed Biggs very favourably,” she said, “but they never do.”
“The human boy,” said the guest, “is given us as a discipline. I possess one. Though he is my own son, I find it difficult to describe the atmosphere of peace and relief that pervades the house when he is out of it.”
“I’d like to meet your son,” said the host.
“You probably will, sooner or later,” said the guest gloomily. “Everyone in the neighbourhood meets him sooner or later. He does not hide his light under a bushel. Personally, I prefer people who haven’t met him. They can’t judge me by him.”
At this moment the butler came in with a note.
“No answer,” he said, and departed with his slow dignity.
“Excuse me,” said the lady as she opened it, “it’s from my sister. ‘I hope,’ she read, ‘that you aren’t inconvenienced much by the non-arrival of the Boots I engaged for you. He’s got “flu.”’ But he’s come,” she said wonderingly.