Ivy Compton-Burnett - Two Worlds and Their Ways

“My dear sir, I hardly ever see him. And relations are known to miss what is clear to other people.”

“Oliver, remember you are not at home,” said Juliet. “What an honest phrase that is!”

“I am glad he steered a straight course with me,” said Mr. Dalziel. “I never leave my boys to work without supervision.”

“You mean you steered his course for him,” said Mr. Spode. “And naturally you steered it straight.”

“I do not believe in treating boys as natural deceivers,” said Mr. Bigwell. “If you trust people, they become worthy of trust.”

“So they do. Sefton destroyed his keys,” said Juliet.

“I know it is the Catholic view that boys should be watched from morning till night. But there is something repellent to a Protestant in such mistrustfulness.”

“If I may say so, you know nothing about the Catholic view,” said Mr. Dalziel.

“May he say so, Mr. Bigwell?” said Juliet.

“Well, suspicion is the keynote of the system.”

“You know nothing about the system, as you call it.”

“Well, what would you call it?”

“Giving something a name does not put it in its place.”

“It is because it is in its place, that it has the name.”

“I can’t help being glad that Sefton only cheated two of you,” said Juliet. “Or would it have been better if he had done the same to you all? It was nice of him not to cheat you, Oliver. People are generally worst to their own families.”

“He does not learn music. My stepmother likes him to be different from me.”

“Is your family musical, Mr. Spode?” said Juliet, with no suggestion of a change of subject.

“My mother is one of those people who do not know one note from another. That means that they do not concern themselves with notes. I do not know about my father. He died when I was born.”

“What?” said more than one voice.

“It appears to have been the case. There is a primitive people, whose men take to their beds when their wives have children. It seems that my father followed that course, and never rose again.”

“So your mother is a widow?” said Mr. Bigwell.

“That is one of the consequences.”

“We must remember that Mrs. Cassidy is present.”

“I did remember it. I was trying to cause her some amusement.”

“Thank you so much,” said Juliet. “You have quite taken my thoughts off our disgrace.”

“Oh, the little boy’s lapse hardly comes up to that, Mrs. Cassidy,” said Mr. Bigwell.

“If lapse is the word,” said Lucius. “It lasted for a term.”

“It was a sustained one,” said Oliver.

“It has been kind of you to let us come and discuss it,” said Juliet. “And it was clever to find it out, when it had gone on for so long. It seems it might have gone on for ever. And it was nice not to have discovered it before. It shows so much undestroyed faith in boys. And Sefton must have had a lot of undeserved praise, and that is known to be the hardest thing to bear. And that must have been so salutary.”

“It is always part of the gentlest method to find the hardest thing,” said Mr. Spode.

“The praise was not that in this case,” said Mr. Bigwell. “I am afraid we have found it, but what are we to do?”

“Convention is too strong for you,” said Juliet. “It always is. If it were not, it would be no good. It is unfair to blame us for being the slaves of it. What else can we be?”

“The boy had given up cheating of his own accord,” said Lucius. “That can be said for him.”

“And for ourselves as well,” said his wife. “It does show the influence of the school.”

“I should not talk to the boy of the matter, Oliver. Leave it to his parents. They cannot be spared.”

“I never talk to children of their failings. It implies that I have none myself, and they know the truth. Children and animals are never wrong.”

“Neither are the working classes,” said Juliet; “they always know. And women cannot be wrong, with their penetration. And doctor’s and clergymen’s testimony is always accepted. I wonder who is wrong. Perhaps it is only schoolmasters.”

“Well,” said Lucius, holding out his hand without any indication who was to grasp it, in his usual avoidance of preferential dealing, “we shall reassemble at the beginning of next term.”

“And now we shall find ourselves outside the door,” said Juliet. “And that will be so useful. It is such an awkward thing to have to happen so often.”

“Will you and my nephew come with me for a moment, Spode?” said Lucius, in a tone so incidental as to sound like a rejoinder.

“Two handshakes wasted!” said his wife. “And worse. You will have to shake hands twice as much with some people as with others.”

“The friendship between you — perhaps it is rather too evident,” said Lucius, with his eyes on the ground.

There was a moment’s silence.

“Is this a thing to talk about in the passage?” said Juliet. “Or couldn’t it be talked about anywhere else?”

“It is not what I looked for,” said Oliver. “I thought I might meet the sort of thing at school, even hoped to do so; but I never thought I should have to bring it with me.”

“We should know better than to betray it,” said Mr. Spode. “We are congenial to each other. We have much in common. It is a good thing in our lives, and we are lovely and pleasant in them.”

“I was not suggesting anything else,” said Lucius, faltering as he found himself committed so far.

“And we have the same Christian name,” said Oliver.

“Have you?” said Juliet. “Oliver?”

“Yes. It had to be that, to be the same.”

“Well, that is a coincidence of a kind,” said Lucius.

“You should not speak contemptuously of anything,” said Juliet. “And I am sure it is quite a good coincidence. Do they call each other by the name?”

“No doubt they can tell you?”

“Perhaps they modify it in one case. But there are no names like Oliver, but Olivia. And that would not do. You need not look at me, Lucius. I said it would not do.”

“Am I to have no interest in life but what I produce myself?” said Oliver.

“That note is not in place,” said Lucius. “I am merely suggesting that you should veil your intimacy. You do not misunderstand me.”

“I wonder if they do,” said Juliet. “I am not sure if I do or not.”

“Well, that is all,” said Lucius, still looking at the ground. “We have said goodbye.”

“That may be fortunate,” said Juliet, as they moved away. “It was better to shake hands before they refused to do so.”

“It escaped me that you were here.”

“It escaped me, too. But Mr. Bigwell was not here to remind us.”

“Well, I have met the problems of school,” said Oliver. “Cheating and this. And it has all been provided by my own family. It was not necessary to leave home at all.”

“If Cassidy meant no more than he said, he would hardly have said it,” said Mr. Spode. “It is a poor return for three terms’ faithful service. We will revenge ourselves by having a lifelong friendship. He will not like us to have what he does not have himself.”

“I believe he says just what he means. That is probably why he does not have the friendships.”

The other masters were waiting in suspense, as the boys had done at another moment.

“Yes, we may turn our eyes to the holidays,” said Mr. Bigwell, as though continuing the talk. “For me, four weeks of home, with a family who see me as a worldly success. And a few days of visiting, of course.”

“Four weeks of visiting. I have no home,” said Mr. Dalziel.

“Sad,” said Mr. Spode.

“Four weeks at home with a family who see me as no success at all,” said Oliver. “And when my uncle comes to stay, some of the school as well.”