Parents and Children by Ivy Compton-Burnett Page A

querulous mother. So my good children will leave us. I am afraid Grandpa will be getting tired of us all.’
    â€˜Door for the girls,’ muttered Graham, without moving his eyes.
    â€˜What a little gentleman James grows!’ said Regan, as this warning took effect.
    â€˜He is really a dear, well-behaved little boy,’ said Eleanor, as if evidence had been accepted for another conclusion.
    â€˜A nice, mannerly lad,’ said Sir Jesse.
    James lingered at the door, prolonging his only moment of enjoyment, and free from any sense that he was not responsible for his own success.
    â€˜If James could purr, he would,’ said Daniel, and sent his brother from the room.
    â€˜You are up very soon,’ said Miss Mitford, raising her eyes from her book.
    Her pupils dispersed about the room without replying.
    â€˜A good dessert?’ said Miss Mitford.
    â€˜For Venice and me,’ said Isabel. ‘That thing that James does not like.’
    â€˜And what did James have?’
    â€˜Oh, nothing,’ said Venice, turning her back before she answered.
    â€˜I ended up in favour anyhow,’ said James, throwing himself on the sofa and taking up his book.
    â€˜It is no good to settle down,’ said Miss Mitford, speaking as though she must reduce him to hopelessness. ‘We have to go for our walk.’
    â€˜It is a completely fine day,’ said Isabel, in the same tone.
    James did not move his eyes, for the reason that he was not yet obliged to.
    Eleanor appeared at the door.
    â€˜Isabel, don’t you remember anything about this afternoon?’
    â€˜No, Mother.’
    â€˜Surely you will, if you think.’
    â€˜You were going out with your father,’ said Miss Mitford, turning away her head.
    â€˜Oh, I was going out with Father!’ said Isabel, in glad recollection. ‘Of course I was. He promised to take me for a walk. I will go and get ready.’
    â€˜It was a strange thing to forget, when he has to leave us so soon.’
    â€˜Oh, I had not really forgotten,’ said Isabel, on her way to the door, affording her mother satisfaction on her mental process, though no impression of it. ‘I will be ready in a few minutes.’
    â€˜Would Venice like to go too?’ said Eleanor, speaking as if this would be almost too much at her daughter’s stage.
    â€˜It would be nice for us both to go,’ said Venice, as though this would be the normal arrangement.
    â€˜Oh, would it?’ said Eleanor, in half-reproving sympathy, as her daughter left the room.
    James remained upon the sofa, hesitating to draw attention to his recumbent position by relinquishing it.
    â€˜And James? What about him?’ said Eleanor, using an almost arch manner, as she made this unparalleled suggestion.
    â€˜Yes,’ said James, sitting up straight, and using the movement to hide his book under the cushion. ‘All three of us.’
    â€˜Well, run away then. Don’t keep Father waiting. What is that book?’
    James took it up and surveyed it as if for the first time; and indeed it presented a different aspect to him, seen under his mother’s eyes.
    â€˜Is it a book to be about in a schoolroom?’ said Eleanor, in a rapid, even tone to Miss Mitford, handing the book to her without seeming to look at it.
    â€˜I can keep it in my own room,’ said Miss Mitford, in her ordinary manner. ‘If there is any harm in it, you will not mind it for me.’
    â€˜Either schoolroom stories or instructive books are best. But you weren’t reading it, were you, James?’
    â€˜Oh, no,’ said James, with so much lightness that he hardly seemed to grasp the idea.
    â€˜You were reading it, my boy,’ said Eleanor, in a deeper tone, taking a step towards him. ‘There is your penknife in it, keeping the place.’
    James took up the knife, propped it against the book, and moved a piece of cardboard up and down against the blade, as