"I say," Val grumbled, taking off his overcoat, "I'm not at school any
more, you know."
Warmson, not without a sense of humour, opened the door beyond the
stag's-horn coat stand, with the words:
"Mr. Valerus, ma'am."
"Confound him!" thought Val, entering.
A warm embrace, a "Well, Val!" from Emily, and a rather quavery "So
there you are at last!" from James, restored his sense of dignity.
"Why didn't you let us know? There's only saddle of mutton. Champagne,
Warmson," said Emily. And they went in.
At the great dining-table, shortened to its utmost, under which so many
fashionable legs had rested, James sat at one end, Emily at the other,
Val half-way between them; and something of the loneliness of his
grandparents, now that all their four children were flown, reached the
boy's spirit. 'I hope I shall kick the bucket long before I'm as old as
grandfather,' he thought. 'Poor old chap, he's as thin as a rail!' And
lowering his voice while his grandfather and Warmson were in discussion
about sugar in the soup, he said to Emily:
"It's pretty brutal at home, Granny. I suppose you know."
"Yes, dear boy."
"Uncle Soames was there when I left. I say, isn't there anything to be
done to prevent a divorce? Why is he so beastly keen on it?"
"Hush, my dear!" murmured Emily; "we're keeping it from your
grandfather."
James' voice sounded from the other end.
"What's that? What are you talking about?"
"About Val's college," returned Emily. "Young Pariser was there, James;
you remember--he nearly broke the Bank at Monte Carlo afterwards."
James muttered that he did not know--Val must look after himself up
there, or he'd get into bad ways. And he looked at his grandson with
gloom, out of which affection distrustfully glimmered.
"What I'm afraid of," said Val to his plate, "is of being hard up, you
know."
By instinct he knew that the weak spot in that old man was fear of
insecurity for his grandchildren.
"Well," said James, and the soup in his spoon dribbled over, "you'll
have a good allowance; but you must keep within it."
"Of course," murmured Val; "if it is good. How much will it be,
Grandfather?"
"Three hundred and fifty; it's too much. I had next to nothing at your
age."
Val sighed. He had hoped for four, and been afraid of three. "I don't
know what your young cousin has," said James; "he's up there. His
father's a rich man."
"Aren't you?" asked Val hardily.
"I?" replied James, flustered. "I've got so many expenses. Your
father...." and he was silent.
"Cousin Jolyon's got an awfully jolly place. I went down there with
Uncle Soames--ripping stables."