"What did you think of it?"
Uncle Victor raised his shoulders and his eyebrows and spread out his
thin, small hands.
"A man with a face like that," Aunt Charlotte said, "oughtn't to _be_ in
Parliament."
"He's the man who saved England," said Papa.
"What's the good of that if he can't save himself? Where does he expect
to go to with the hats he wears?"
"Where does Emilius expect to go to," Uncle Victor said, "when his John
Bright and his Gladstone get their way?"
Suddenly Aunt Charlotte left off smiling.
"Emilius," she said, "do you uphold Gladstone?"
"Of course I uphold Gladstone. There's nobody in this country fit to
black his boots."
"I know nothing about his boots. But he's an infidel. He wants to pull
down the Church. I thought you were a Churchman?"
"So I am," Papa said. "I've too good an opinion of the Church to imagine
that it can't stand alone."
"You're a nice one to talk about opinions."
"At any rate I know what I'm talking about."
"I'm not so sure of that," said Aunt Charlotte.
Aunt Lavvy smiled gently at the pattern of the tablecloth.
"Do you agree with him, Lavvy?" Mamma had found something to say.
"I agree with him better than he agrees with himself."
A long conversation about things that interested Papa. Blanc-mange going
round the table, quivering and shaking and squelching under the spoon.
"There's a silver-grey poplin," said Aunt Charlotte, "at Marshall and
Snelgrove's."
The blanc-mange was still going round. Mamma watched it as it went. She
was fascinated by the shivering, white blanc-mange.
"If there was only one man in the world," Aunt Charlotte said in a loud
voice, "and he had a flowing beard, I wouldn't marry him."
Papa drew himself up. He looked at Mark and Daniel and Roddy as if he
were saying, "Whoever takes notice leaves the room."
Roddy laughed first. He was sent out of the room.
Papa looked at Mark. Mark clenched his teeth, holding his laugh down
tight. He seemed to think that as long as it didn't come out of his mouth
he was safe. It came out through his nose like a loud, tearing sneeze.
Mark was sent out of the room.
Daniel threw down his spoon and fork.
"If he goes, I go," Daniel said, and followed him.
Papa looked at Mary.
"What are _you_ grinning at, you young monkey?"
"Emilius," said Aunt Charlotte, "if you send another child out of the
room, I go too."
Mary squealed, "Tee-he-he-he-he-_hee_! Te-_hee_!" and was sent out of the
room.
She and Aunt Charlotte sat on the stairs outside the dining-room door.
Aunt Charlotte's arm was round her; every now and then it gave her a
sudden, loving squeeze.
"Darling Mary. Little darling Mary. Love Aunt Charlotte," she said.
Mark and Dank and Roddy watched them over the banisters.
Aunt Charlotte put her hand deep down in her pocket and brought out a
little parcel wrapped in white paper. She whispered:
"If I give you something to keep, will you promise not to show it to
anybody and not to tell?"
Mary promised.
Inside the paper wrapper there was a match-box, and inside the match-box
there was a china doll no bigger than your finger. It had blue eyes and
black hair and no clothes on. Aunt Charlotte held it in her hand and
smiled at it.
"That's Aunt Charlotte's little baby," she said. "I'm going to be married
and I shan't want it any more.
"There--take it, and cover it up, quick!"
Mamma had come out of the dining-room. She shut the door behind her.
"What have you given to Mary?" she said.
"Butter-Scotch," said Aunt Charlotte.