59 Mrs. Leaf, a dear old lady in a black silk dress, with a photograph
of the late Mr. Leaf framed in a large gold brooch at her neck, and
old-fashioned thread mittens on her wrinkled hands, bustled into the
room.
"Well, Master Dorian," she said, "what can I do for you? I beg your
pardon, sir,"--here came a courtsey,--"I shouldn't call you Master
Dorian, any more. But, Lord bless you, sir, I have known you since you
were a baby, and many's the tricks you've played on poor old Leaf. Not
that you were not always a good boy, sir; but boys will be boys, Master
Dorian, and jam is a temptation to the young, isn't it, sir?"
He laughed. "You must always call me Master Dorian, Leaf. I will be very
angry with you if you don't. And I assure you I am quite as fond of jam
now as I used to be. Only when I am asked out to tea I am never offered
any. I want you to give me the key of the room at the top of the house."
(175)
59 He winced at the mention of his dead uncle's name.... "That does not
matter, Leaf," he replied, "All I want is the key."(176)
59 "No, Leaf, I don't. I merely want to see the place, and perhaps store
something in it,--that is all. Thank you, Leaf. I hope your rheumatism
is better; and mind you send me up jam for breakfast."
Mrs. Leaf shook her head. "Them foreigners doesn't understand jam,
Master Dorian. They call's it 'compot'. But I'll bring it to you myself
some morning, if you lets me."
"That will be very kind of you, Leaf, he answered, looking at the key;
and, having made him an elaborate courtsey, the old lady left the room,
her face wreathed in smiles. She had a strong objection to the French
valet. It was a poor thing, she felt, for any one to be born a
foreigner.
As the door closed, etc. (176)
60 Mr. Ashton, himself, the celebrated frame-maker. (179)
61 "A terrible load to carry," murmured Dorian, (180).
61 built by the last Lord Sherard for the use of the little nephew whom,
being himself childless, and perhaps for other reasons, etc. (181)
64 the French school of _Décadents_. (186).
64 "Ah, if you have discovered that, you have discovered a great deal,"
murmured Lord Henry, with his curious smile. "Come, let us go in to
dinner. It is dreadfully late, and I am afraid the champagne will be too
much iced." (188).