And he dropped off into a brown study too! Mother went and mended Ben’s blazer.
Mr. Aix isn’t staying with us, we have no room in our house; he has a room over the coast-guard’s wife, but he comes in to us for his meals. I don’t believe George realizes this, or he would tell him he is throwing himself away, and losing a good chance of advertising his books. Mr. Aix’s books seem to go without advertising, more than George’s do—I suppose it is because they are so improper.
At any rate, he prefers to throw in his lot with us. One day we were all having a picnic-tea at Cock Mill. The party consisted of Mother, me and Ariadne, Aunt Gerty and Mr. Aix, and an actor friend of hers and his wife, who was acting for a week at the Saloon Theatre. Mr. Bowser, whom Aunt Gerty wants either to marry or get a theatre out of, was with us too. They call him the King of Whitby, because he owns so many plots in it, and is going to stand for it in the brewing interest next election. We had secured the nicest table, the one nearest the stream, and had just tucked our legs neatly under it, when a carriage drove up. Aunt Gerty and the King of Whitby were at that moment in the old woman’s cottage who gives us the hot water, toasting tea-cakes.
The Fylingdales’ party got out of that carriage, and George got slowly down off the box. They trooped into the enclosure, and Mr. Sidney Robinson, trying to be funny, asked the old woman if she could see her way to giving them some tea.
“Here o’ puppose, Sir!” said she, as of course she is. She pointed out the table that was left and that led them past us.
If Aunt Gerty had been there with Mr. Bowser she would certainly have claimed George as a relation and said something awkward, but she was luckily toasting tea-cakes, and had perhaps not even seen them. I saw George just look at Mother, and I saw her smile a very little, and make him a sign that he was to go right past us, and not speak or seem to know us before. Of course Mr. Aix never spoils any one’s game, not even George’s. So he went on talking hard to the actor’s wife, though I saw his lip curl. I, of course, never need be given a cue twice, so I kicked Mother hard under the table for sympathy, but preserved a calm superior.
Aunt Gerty and Mr. Bowser came out with plates full of tea-cakes they had cooked, and I didn’t know if it was the fire or Mr. Bowser had made Aunt Gerty’s cheeks so red—I hoped the latter for her sake. They had no idea of what had happened while they had been toasting and flirting, it appeared from their manners, which were bad. Aunt Gerty always puts an extra polish on hers when George is present, and even Mr. Bowser would have added a frill or so to suit the aristocracy.
Our party was very gay. Actors all can make you laugh if they can do nothing else, and our shrieks of laughter must have made the other party quite envious, for they were as quiet as a mouse and as dull as the stream all overshadowed with nut-bushes and alders that grew over it just there.
Suddenly George got up, and left them, and came over to us, and Aunt Gerty swallowed her tea the wrong way round, and had to have her shoulder thumped.
George took no notice of her, but put his hand on Mr. Aix’s shoulder and said something to him in a low voice.