"How unforgiving you are, Ned," said Nora, "don't you ever do wrong things yourself?"
"I never do mean things. And it's no use talking; I shall always despise him."
She said no more, thinking, "I will leave it to time. They will be so much together that they will have to like each other to be comfortable. If only Oscar doesn't lose his temper and take to tormenting him again!"
Happily Oscar kept his temper. He had a great notion of fairness and, once convinced that he had done wrong, he took his punishment unflinchingly, angry for the moment, sometimes, but bearing no malice.
By this time the voyage had ended and they were in Warwickshire, visiting an English friend of Mrs. Morris. It was while there that they went one afternoon to drink tea with Lady Margaret Vincent. Lady Margaret was a Scotchwoman. She had married an Englishman (long since dead), and for many years had lived in England, but she travelled far and often, having even been to America, which is considered a prodigious journey in England.
Edmund was charmed with Lady Margaret's home. He could not look enough at the quaint old garden with its formal flower-beds and primly cut yew-trees, or the wonderful old house, the front of which had not been changed since Henry and Elizabeth. As they went through the hall, he gazed in an awe-stricken way at the great carved staircase and the walls where armor was hanging and strangely fashioned weapons. He felt as though he were stepping into the Middle Ages.
Meanwhile, Oscar, oblivious of the Middle Ages and every other improving subject, was getting acquainted with the page. Oscar had seen pages, for the first time, in New York. He pitied them; they couldn't like it, rigged out in those ridiculous clothes and never able to laugh or play. Always willing to talk, he did his best to amuse them. Now he was busy questioning James: Did his high collar hurt him? Did he have to rub up his buttons to keep them bright? Did—here his aunt saw him and jerked him away.
From the hall they passed into a room as odd as delightful. All the woodwork was of oak, age-darkened to a brown-black, and most curiously carved. The mantelpiece had high pillars decorated with ribbons and scrolls and shields and griffin's heads cut out of the wood; and deep shelves on which were arranged queerly shaped and colored china vases, teapots and teacups. Oscar thought them ugly, wondering at the ladies' admiration. Before the doors and windows hung tapestry curtains in which pictures of hunting scenes were woven. The stuff was darned in so many places that Oscar quite pitied Lady Margaret who must have such old curtains; but Mrs. Morris gave a little scream of delight and cried "Oh!" and "How priceless!" and something that sounded like "Goblins!" But though Oscar looked hard at the curtains to find the goblins, he saw none. Then his eyes strayed over the polished floor and the dull-hued rugs, over ebony and ivory cabinets and stiff-backed chairs, to be fixed, finally, by a huge Wardian case.
There were rocks in the case, coated with moss; ferns and strange sea-weeds grew on the edge of the water; crabs clung below; lizards crept above; innumerable slimy things swam about, midway. The case stood on a long table. Near it, on another box, half a dozen snakes lay coiled into one indistinguishable mass. Under the table three monkey-like little creatures were dancing and chattering. A wee Scotch terrier ran about, sniffing at the guests' clothing. Before the fire of coals—for the day was chilly for June—was stretched a great white stag-hound. The room and all the animals made Oscar think of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.
Lady Margaret was standing close to the staghound. Her tall, large figure was clad in black satin; her fair old face was framed by abundant white hair which had a gloss like silver; and her dark eyes were bright as her diamonds. She greeted them cordially, at once taking a fancy to Edmund because of his evident delight in animals. Perhaps she might have thought better of Oscar, had she not caught him in the act of winking at the page. Very soon she began to speak of the creatures about her. "Marmosets, my dears," clutching one of the little chatterers under the table; "they make a deal of noise, but like most noisy people's talk it doesn't mean much. This is my aquarium; the sea-horses are most odd, don't you think? And here," coolly pushing back her sleeve and plunging a plump, white arm into the water, "this, you know—just a frog! See how tame! And people call them ugly! That's all they know about it. Look at his beautiful skin and his honest eye! Isn't he handsome, now? Here are some lizards, but they are not so interesting; quite pleasant, you know, but not fascinating, like frogs and snakes. Yes, my lad, I dare say you will be wanting to see the snakes. Here they are. They are as tame as they are beautiful."