Mr Orgreave hesitated: “You’d better ask your mother.”
“Really, Charlie—” Mrs Orgreave began.
“Oh yes!” Charlie cut her short. “Right you are, Martha!”
The servant, who had stood waiting for a definite command during this brief conflict of wills, glanced interrogatively at Mrs Orgreave and, perceiving no clear in her face, departed with a smile to get the wine. She was a servant of sound prestige, and had the inexpressible privilege of smiling on duty. In her time she had fought lively battles of with all the children from Charlie . Janet humoured Martha, and Martha humoured Mrs Orgreave.
The whole family (save absent Marian) was now gathered in the dining-room, another apartment on whose physiognomy were written in the annals of the tribe. Here the curtains were , and all the interest of the room centred on the large white gleaming table, about which the members stood or sat under the downward radiance of a chandelier. Beyond the circle by the shaded chandelier could be discerned dim forms of furniture and of pictures, with a glint of high light here and there burning on the corner of some gold frame. Mr and Mrs Orgreave sat at either end of the table. Alicia stood by her father, with one arm half round his neck. Tom sat near his mother. Janet and Hilda sat together, flanked by Jimmie and Johnnie, who stood, having pushed chairs away. Charlie and Edwin stood opposite. The table seemed to Edwin to be heaped with food: cold and yet rich of bird and beast; a large fruit pie, opened; another intact; some puddings; cheese; sandwiches; raw fruit; at Janet’s elbow were cups and saucers and a pot of coffee; a large glass of lemonade shone near by; plates, glasses, and cutlery were strewn about irregularly. The effect upon Edwin was one of immense and careless ; it him; it made him feel that a grand was the finest thing in life. In his own home the supper consisted of cheese, bread, and water, save on Sundays, when cold sausages were generally added, to make a feast. But the idea of the price of living as the Orgreaves lived seriously startled the in him. Imagine that expense always persisting, day after day, night after night! There were certainly at least four in the family who bought clothes at Shillitoe’s, and everybody looked elaborately , except Hilda Lessways, who did not flatter the eye. But equally, they all seemed quite unconscious of their .
“Now, Charlie darling, you must look after Mr Edwin,” said Mrs Orgreave.
“She never calls us darling,” said Johnnie, affecting disgust.
“She will, as soon as you’ve left home,” said Janet, ironically .
“I do, I often do!” Mrs Orgreave asserted. “Much oftener than you deserve.”
“Sit down, Teddy,” Charlie .
“Oh! I’m all right, thanks,” said Edwin.
“Sit down!” Charlie insisted, using force.
“Do you talk to your poor patients in that tone?” Alicia inquired, from the shelter of her father.
“Here I come down to see them,” Charlie aloud, as he twisted the corkscrew into the of the bottle, unceremoniously handed to him by Martha, “and not only they don’t offer to pay my fares, but they me a drop of claret! Plupp!” He as the cork came out. “And my last night, too! Hilda, this is better than coffee, as Saint Paul remarked on a famous occasion. Pass your glass.”
“Charlie!” his mother protested. “I’ll thank you to leave Saint Paul out.”
“Charlie! Your mother will be boxing your ears if you don’t mind,” his father warned him.
“I’ll not have it!” said his mother, shaking her head in a fashion that she imagined to be harsh and forbidding.
Two.
Towards the close of the meal, Mr Orgreave said—
“Well, Edwin, what does your father say about Bradlaugh?”
“He doesn’t say much,” Edwin replied.
“Let me see, does he call himself a Liberal?”
“He calls himself a Liberal,” said Edwin, shifting on his chair. “Yes, he calls himself a Liberal. But I’m afraid he’s a regular old Tory.”
Edwin blushed, laughing, as half the family gave way to more or less violent mirth.
“Father’s a regular old Tory too,” Charlie grinned.
“Oh! I’m sorry,” said Edwin.
“Yes, father’s a regular old Tory,” agreed Mr Orgreave. “Don’t apologise! Don’t apologise! I’m used to these attacks. I’ve been nearly kicked out of my own house once. But some one has to keep the flag flying.”
It was plain that Mr Orgreave enjoyed the unloosing of the hurricane which he had brought about. Mrs Orgreave used to say that he employed that particular tone from a naughty love of . In a moment all the boys were upon him, except Jimmie, who, out of sheer intellectual , as the rest , supported his father.
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