The Small House at Allington, Anthony Trollope [best ebook reader for chromebook .txt] 📗

him not to drink port-wine after dinner. “By the by, Mortimer, you’d better have some claret up,” she remarked. “Adolphus shouldn’t take anything that is heating.”

“Thank you,” said Crosbie. “I’ll have some brandy-and-water, if Gazebee will give it me.”

“Brandy-and-water!” said Lady Amelia. Crosbie in truth was not given to the drinking of brandy-and-water; but he was prepared to call for raw gin, if he were driven much further by Lady Amelia’s solicitude.

At these Sunday dinners the mistress of the house never went away into the drawing-room, and the tea was always brought into them at the table on which they had dined. It was another little step towards keeping holy the first day of the week. When Lady Rosina was there, she was indulged with the sight of six or seven solid good books which were laid upon the mahogany as soon as the bottles were taken off it. At her first prolonged visit she had obtained for herself the privilege of reading a sermon; but as on such occasions both Lady Amelia and Mr. Gazebee would go to sleep⁠—and as the footman had also once shown a tendency that way⁠—the sermon had been abandoned. But the master of the house, on these evenings, when his sister-in-law was present, was doomed to sit in idleness, or else to find solace in one of the solid good books. But Lady Rosina just now was in the country, and therefore the table was left unfurnished.

“And what am I to say to my mother?” said Lady Amelia, when they were alone.

“Give her my kindest regards,” said Crosbie. It was quite clear, both to the husband and to the wife, that he was preparing himself for rebellion against authority.

For some ten minutes there was nothing said. Crosbie amused himself by playing with the boy whom he called Dicksey, by way of a nickname for De Courcy.

“Mamma, he calls me Dicksey. Am I Dicksey? I’ll call ’oo old Cross, and then aunt Dina ’on’t like ’oo.”

“I wish you would not call the child nicknames, Adolphus. It seems as though you would wish to cast a slur upon the one which he bears.”

“I should hardly think that he would feel disposed to do that,” said Mr. Gazebee.

“Hardly, indeed,” said Crosbie.

“It has never yet been disgraced in the annals of our country by being made into a nickname,” said the proud daughter of the house. She was probably unaware that among many of his associates her father had been called Lord De Curse’ye, from the occasional energy of his language. “And any such attempt is painful in my ears. I think something of my family, I can assure you, Adolphus, and so does my husband.”

“A very great deal,” said Mr. Gazebee.

“So do I of mine,” said Crosbie. “That’s natural to all of us. One of my ancestors came over with William the Conqueror. I think he was one of the assistant cooks in the king’s tent.”

“A cook!” said young De Courcy.

“Yes, my boy, a cook. That was the way most of our old families were made noble. They were cooks, or butlers to the kings⁠—or sometimes something worse.”

“But your family isn’t noble?”

“No⁠—I’ll tell you how that was. The king wanted this cook to poison half-a-dozen of his officers who wished to have a way of their own; but the cook said, ‘No, my Lord King; I am a cook, not an executioner.’ So they sent him into the scullery, and when they called all the other servants barons and lords, they only called him Cookey. They’ve changed the name to Crosbie since that, by degrees.”

Mr. Gazebee was awestruck, and the face of the Lady Amelia became very dark. Was it not evident that this snake, when taken into their innermost bosoms that they might there warm him, was becoming an adder, and preparing to sting them? There was very little more conversation that evening, and soon after the story of the cook, Crosbie got up and went away to his own home.

XXXVI “See, the Conquering Hero Comes.”

John Eames had reached his office precisely at twelve o’clock, but when he did so he hardly knew whether he was standing on his heels or his head. The whole morning had been to him one of intense excitement, and latterly, to a certain extent, one of triumph. But he did not at all know what might be the results. Would he be taken before a magistrate and locked up? Would there be a row at the office? Would Crosbie call him out, and, if so, would it be incumbent on him to fight a duel with pistols? What would Lord De Guest say⁠—Lord De Guest, who had specially warned him not to take upon himself the duty of avenging Lily’s wrongs? What would all the Dale family say of his conduct? And, above all, what would Lily say and think? Nevertheless, the feeling of triumph was predominant; and now, at this interval of time, he was beginning to remember with pleasure the sensation of his fist as it went into Crosbie’s eye.

During his first day at the office he heard nothing about the affair, nor did he say a word of it to anyone. It was known in his room that he had gone down to spend his Christmas holiday with Lord De Guest, and he was treated with some increased consideration accordingly. And, moreover, I must explain, in order that I may give Johnny Eames his due, he was gradually acquiring for himself a good footing among the Income-tax officials. He knew his work, and did it with some manly confidence in his own powers, and also with some manly indifference to the occasional frowns of the mighty men of the department. He was, moreover, popular⁠—being somewhat of a radical in his official demeanour, and holding by his own rights, even though mighty men should frown. In truth, he was emerging from his hobbledehoyhood and entering upon his young manhood, having probably to go through much folly