Charles had just been scolding his Dolly. She deserved the
scolding, and had bent before it, but her head, though
bloody, was unsubdued, and her chirrupings began to mingle
with his retreating thunder.
"You've woken the baby. I knew you would. (Rum-ti-foo,
Rackety-tackety Tompkin!) I'm not responsible for what Uncle
Percy does, nor for anybody else or anything, so there!"
"Who asked him while I was away? Who asked my sister
down to meet him? Who sent them out in the motor day after day?"
"Charles, that reminds me of some poem."
"Does it indeed? We shall all be dancing to a very
different music presently. Miss Schlegel has fairly got us
on toast."
"I could simply scratch that woman's eyes out, and to
say it's my fault is most unfair."
"It's your fault, and five months ago you admitted it."
"I didn't."
"You did."
"Tootle, tootle, playing on the pootle!" exclaimed
Dolly, suddenly devoting herself to the child.
"It's all very well to turn the conversation, but Father
would never have dreamt of marrying as long as Evie was
there to make him comfortable. But you must needs start
match-making. Besides, Cahill's too old."
"Of course, if you're going to be rude to Uncle Percy--"
"Miss Schlegel always meant to get hold of Howards End,
and, thanks to you, she's got it."
"I call the way you twist things round and make them
hang together most unfair. You couldn't have been nastier
if you'd caught me flirting. Could he, diddums?"
"We're in a bad hole, and must make the best of it. I
shall answer the pater's letter civilly. He's evidently
anxious to do the decent thing. But I do not intend to
forget these Schlegels in a hurry. As long as they're on
their best behaviour--Dolly, are you listening? --we'll
behave, too. But if I find them giving themselves airs, or
monopolizing my father, or at all ill-treating him, or
worrying him with their artistic beastliness, I intend to
put my foot down, yes, firmly. Taking my mother's place!
Heaven knows what poor old Paul will say when the news
reaches him."
The interlude closes. It has taken place in Charles's
garden at Hilton. He and Dolly are sitting in deck-chairs,
and their motor is regarding them placidly from its garage
across the lawn. A short-frocked edition of Charles also
regards them placidly; a perambulator edition is squeaking;
a third edition is expected shortly. Nature is turning out
Wilcoxes in this peaceful abode, so that they may inherit
the earth.
