THE UNCLE. Now, Tommy, you remember what became of Katherine of Aragon,
I'm sure? No, no--tut--tut--_she_ wasn't executed! I'm afraid you're
getting rather rusty with these long holidays. Remind me to speak to
your mother about setting you a chapter or so of history to read every
day when we get home, will you?
TOMMY (_to himself_). It _is_ hard lines on a chap having a Sneak for an
Uncle! Catch me swotting to please _him_!
'ARRY. There's old 'Enery the Eighth, you see--that's 'im right enough;
him as 'ad all those wives, and cut every one of their 'eds off!
'ARRIET (_admiringly_). Ah, I knew we shouldn't want a Catalogue.
THE INT. P. Wonderfully Holbein's caught the character of the
man--the--er--curious compound of obstinacy, violence, good-humour,
sensuality, and--and so on. No mistaking a Holbein--you can tell him at
once by the extraordinary finish of all the accessories. Now look at
that girdle--isn't that Holbein all over?
FLIPPANT P. Not quite all over, old fellow. Catalogue says it's painted
by Paris Bordone.
THE INT. P. Possibly--but it's Holbein's _manner_, and, looking at these
portraits, you see at once how right Froude's estimate was of the King.
F. P. Does Froude say how he got that nasty one on the side of his nose?
A VISITOR. Looks overfed, don't he?
SECOND V. (_sympathetically_). Oh, he fed himself very well; you can see
that.
THE AUNT. Wait a bit, John--don't read so fast. I haven't made out the
middle background yet. And where's the figure of St. Michael rising
above the gilt tent, lined with _fleurs-de-lis_ on a blue ground? Would
this be Guisnes, or Ardres, now? Oh, Ardres on the right--so _that's_
Ardres--yes, yes; and now tell me what it says about the two gold
fountains, and that dragon up in the sky.
[JOHN _calculates that, at this rate, he has a very poor chance of
getting away before the Gallery closes_.
THE PATRONISING PERSONS. 'Um! Holbein again, you see--very curious their
ideas of painting in those days. Ah, well, Art has made great progress
since then--like everything else!
MISS FISHER. So _that's_ the beautiful Queen Mary! I wonder if it is
really _true_ that people have got better-looking since those days?
[_Glances appealingly at_ PHLEGMATIC FIANCE.
HER PHLEGMATIC FIANCE. I wonder.
MISS F. You hardly ever see such small hands now, do you? With those
lovely long fingers, too!
THE PHL. F. No, never.
MISS F. Perhaps people in some other century will wonder how anybody
ever saw anything to admire in _us_?
THE PHL. F. Shouldn't be surprised.
[MISS F. _does wish secretly that_ CHARLES _had more conversation_.
THE AUNT. John, just find out who No. 222 is.
JOHN (_sulkily_). Sir George Penruddocke, Knight.
HIS AUNT (_with enthusiasm_). Of course--_how_ interesting this is,
isn't it?--seeing all these celebrated persons exactly as they were in
life! Now read who he _was_, John, please.