“Now, Sophia.”
“Father and mother were having a conversation, and suddenly father beat his fist on the table so that the whole room shook.”
“Yes, he had that energetic, effective way of expressing himself,” said the Canon. “He was a man of really forceful character. That is a point upon which I mean to lay great stress.”
“He beat his fist on the table and he roared out at the top of his voice: ‘Your father’s a damned fool, Maria; and your mother’s a damned fool, Maria; but, by gad, you’re a bigger damned fool than both of them put together.’ ”
The Canon sprang up and throwing back his head with a gesture habitual to him, drew to his full, imposing height.
“You shock and surprise me, Sophia. If these are your recollections, I advise you to forget them as quickly as you possibly can.”
Nor had he better success with his brother.
“I wonder whether you can give me no anecdotes, no interesting side-lights on our father’s character? I am determined to make my biography as complete as possible.”
“I’ll give you an anecdote by all means,” said Lord Spratte. “You remember that the old ’un very much objected to potatoes baked in their skins.”
“A very pardonable and interesting idiosyncrasy of genius,” interposed the biographer.