Ivy Compton-Burnett: Mother and Son

“I suppose one has to be that. It is a condition of being needed. No one wants a person who is necessary to someone else.”

“Which is deep,” said Bates. “Well, I hope we shall meet again. We share the dignity of earning bread.”

“If dignity is what it is. I should prefer other kinds of it.”

“I will give you the ladies’ address, miss. It is some stations along the line. You could mention that I sent you. The houses do not visit, but my name will speak.”

Bates accompanied Miss Burke to the door, but found she was anticipated. Rosebery stood ready to open it, and having done so, took his hat from the stand and stepped after the stranger out of the house.

“You would not ask me to countenance your walking alone in the dusk? It would indeed be much to expect.”

“It is very kind of you, Mr. Hume.”

“Rather is it a matter of course and a privilege. It may happen that the two things coincide.”

“The days are shortening, but I am not a nervous person.”

“It is an eerie road,” said Rosebery, glancing behind him in a manner that precluded his making a similar claim. “I do not lose that impression, familiar though I am with it.”

“I am not troubled by eeriness. I am concerned with more definite things.”

“But for ladies the vaguer ones have their menace.”

“Well, men may be inclined to think so.”

“And may be right,” said Rosebery, who went further than this and enjoyed the thought. “It is easy to imagine footsteps behind one, when they are echoes of one’s own.”

He proved his words when he turned homewards, and hastened his steps until he had escaped from the pursuing echoes into the house.

“Where have you been?” said Miranda.

“Along the road as far as the village, Mother.”

“With Miss Burke?”

“With whom else? Who but her was in a similar plight?”

“You looked disturbed when you came in,” said Francis.

“And I was disturbed, Francis, or had been so. By the idea of a woman walking alone along a deserted road at dusk. I accompanied her as far as the houses, where the lights begin.”

“And had to come back by yourself,” said Julius.

“Well, naturally, Father. I could hardly expect her to perform the same office for me. It would have been a case of our going to and fro ‘ad infinitum.’”

“One of the boys could have gone with her,” said Miranda.

“But one of the boys did not offer to, Mother. So the privilege fell to me. And I can claim that I found it such.”

“You have a lofty character,” said Francis.

“Well, I hope an ordinary manly one.”

“There seems little difference,” said Alice.

“Perhaps there should not be too much,” said her cousin.

“Bates, what did Miss Burke say to you?” said Miranda, who changed the talk at will.

“There were casual words, ma’am.”

“Did she speak about me?”

“Well, ma’am, she alluded to the outcome.”

“What else did you talk about?”

“Topics arose, ma’am.”

“Where was she going after this?”

“There is a position, ma’am, in the vicinity.”

“You mean she is going to apply for it?”

“Well, to appraise it, ma’am.”

“Was she upset by my refusing her?”

“Well, ma’am, it was in the course of things.”

“Did she have a good tea?”

“I trust she was refreshed, ma’am.”

“That is not what I asked you.”

“There was the cake and bread-and-butter, ma’am.”

“Well, was not that enough?”

“We cannot know to what she is accustomed, ma’am.”

“I know exactly; but I should know more than you; it would be strange if I did not. Now surely you children should go to your books? Mr. Pettigrew comes this afternoon. We do not go to the expense of a tutor, to have you fritter away your time.”

“We do not do much for him,” said Francis. “We allow his progress to be slow. He has made a good deal since he came to us.”

“Is he an expensive tutor?” said Adrian.

“Expensive enough for a penniless boy,” said his aunt.

“He is the only tutor in the neighbourhood,” said Julius. “It is a very cheap way of having you taught.”

“I am glad of that,” said Francis. “It is as it ought to be.”

“I am sometimes troubled about it. But it means I have you at home.”

“I have sometimes thought of returning to the pupillary status myself,” said Rosebery, “and refreshing my early memories. One is never too old to learn.”

“That is untrue,” said Francis. “People are soon too old. That is how pupils catch up their teachers.”

“You implied that your teacher was engaged in catching up you,” said Miranda.

“You must admit, Francis,” said Rosebery, “that my mother is the logician on this occasion, far though it is from being the reputation of her sex.”

“Well, go and catch up Mr. Pettigrew as quickly as you can,” said Miranda. “We have had enough of you down here.”

“Are you really catching him up?” said Adrian to his brother and sister on the stairs, not entertaining the idea of himself.

“We do not consider so low an ambition,” said Francis.

“He is waiting for us,” said Alice. “I saw his hat in the hall. It is a good thing Aunt Miranda did not.”

“I wonder she did not feel it was there. I think there were signs that she almost did.”

“It would be nicer, Miss Alice,” said Mr. Pettigrew, “if you did not make faces when my back is turned.”

This statement, though there seemed no reason to dispute it, caused an outbreak of mirth from the hearers.

“It would indeed have been nicer, if it had happened like that,” said Francis under his breath.

“Now I have observed before,” said Mr. Pettigrew, “that there is no point in meaningless hilarity. When a gentleman is constrained to make a criticism, it is only polite to accept it. Now can you tell me what you are laughing at now?”

His pupils could not tell him that it was his manner of alluding to himself.

“Well, I shall not ask you,” he said, perhaps warned by experience. “It would lead to frivolity and waste of time. Will you begin to construe, Miss Alice?”

The latter did so, with less than average success.

“Have you prepared this?”

“No,” said Alice, unsteadily.

“How did you spend the time assigned to your work?”

Alice made no reply.

“Do I assume that you wasted it in idle talk?”

“I don’t know if you do.”

“How old are you now, if I may ask?”

“Thirteen and a half.”

“Then your brothers are fifteen and twelve. You are too old for this flightiness and irresponsibility. It is not fair to your parents or to me.”

“We have no parents,” said Alice.

“To those who stand to you in their stead. To your aunt and uncle, who afford you every advantage. Now there can be no reasonable cause for amusement there.” Mr. Pettigrew flushed, as he realised the actual cause. “We will proceed to our work, and I hope there will be less frivolity; no more indeed than if your aunt were present.”

The next outbreak was induced by the latter’s entrance, as it resulted in the boys’ rising to their feet and Mr. Pettigrew’s failing to do so. Miranda looked as if she understood it, and did not wholly disapprove.

“Well, how are they getting on, Mr. Pettigrew?”

“I think the progress is satisfactory, Mrs. Hume, in spite of occasional unsteadiness. I should say that the standard is up to their ages and maintained at that level. And I make a point of adding to my own knowledge, as we advance.”

There was mirth at this admission, as the pupils’ view of the tutor did not prevent their regarding omniscience as due from him.