Bird of Paradise Part 16

"Oh no, mother; I shouldn't care for him to come here."

"Why not, dear?"

"Oh, I can't explain exactly; it isn't the sort of place for him."

Lady Kellynch was positively frightened to ask why, for fear her boy should show contempt for his own home, so she didn't go into the matter, but remarked:

"I should think a beautiful house in Onslow Square, with a garden like this, was just the thing for a boy to like."

He shook his head with a humorous expression of contempt.

"Pickering wouldn't go into a _Square_ garden, mother!"

She waited a moment, wondering what shaped garden was suited to him, what form of pleasaunce was worthy of the presence of this exceptional boy, and then said, trying to ascertain the point of view:

"Would you take him to see Percy?"

He brightened up directly.

"Percy! Oh yes, rather. I'd like him to see Bertha. I shall ask her to let me take him one day."

Lady Kellynch felt vaguely pained, and envious and jealous, but on reflection realised to herself that probably the wonderful Pickering would be a very great nuisance, and make a noise, and create general untidiness and confusion, in which Bertha was quite capable of taking part; so she said:

"Do so, if you like, dear. You're going to see Bertha soon, aren't you?"

"Yes. I'm going to see her to-day." He quickly put _The English Review_ under the cushion, sitting on it as he saw his mother look up from her work.

"Bertha's all right; she's pretty too."

"She's very good and kind to you, I must say," said Lady Kellynch. "As they have asked you so often, I think I should like you to pay her a nice little attention to-day, dear. Take her a pretty basket of flowers."

Clifford's handsome dark face became overclouded with boredom.

"Oh, good Lord, mother! can't you telephone to a florist and have it sent to her, if she's _got_ to have vegetables?"

"But surely, dear, it would be nicer for you to take it."

"Oh, mother, it would be awful rot, carting about floral tribs in a taxi all over London."

"Floral tribs? What are floral tribs? Oh, tributes! I see! In a taxi!

No. I never dreamt of your doing such a thing. Ridiculous extravagance!

Go from Kensington to Sloane Street in a taxi!"

"How did you suppose I'd take it, then?"

"I supposed you'd walk," said Lady Kellynch, in a frightened voice.

"Walk! Great Scott! Walk with a basket of flowers! What next! I didn't know you were bringing me up as a messenger-boy. No, mother, I'm too old to be a boy scout, or anything of that sort. What have you got Warden for? Why don't you send the footman? But far the most sensible way is to ring up the place itself, and give the order."

"No, dear," said Lady Kellynch, rather crushed. She had pictured his entrance with some beautiful flowers to please his sister-in-law. "Never mind; it doesn't matter."

"Mind you," said the spoilt boy, standing up, and looking at himself in the gla.s.s. "Mind you I should be awfully glad to give Bertha anything she likes. I don't mind. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll call in at that place in Bond Street, and get her some chocolates."

"Charbonnel and Walker's, I suppose you mean," said his mother.

He smiled.

"They'll do. Pickering says his brother, who's an artist, is going to do a historical picture for next year's Academy on the subject of 'The First Meeting between Charbonnel and Walker.'"

She looked bewildered.

"Just as you like, my dear. Take her some bonbons if you prefer it.

Wait! One moment, Clifford. Bertha hates sweets. She never touches them."

"It doesn't matter," he answered. "I do."

CHAPTER XI

A DISCOVERY

"Come in, old boy!"

Bertha was lying on the sofa reading a large book. She didn't put down either her little feet or the book when her young brother-in-law came in.

He also had a book in his pocket, which he took out. Then he produced a box in silver paper.

"For you," he remarked, and then immediately cut the blue ribbon with a penknife and proceeded to begin the demolition of the chocolates.

"A present for me?" said Bertha.

"Yes," he said, taking a second one rather quickly and glancing at the second row.

"I'm so glad you've got me the kind you like. I hope you've got those with the burnt almonds that you're so particularly fond of?"

"Oh yes, rather!"

"Thanks. That was nice and thoughtful of you; I know they're your favourite sort."

"Yes, they are."

"And what I always think is so nice about you, Clifford," Bertha went on, "is that you're so truly thoughtful. I mean, you never forget your own tastes. You really take trouble to get yourself any little thing you like. You put yourself out."

"Oh--I----"

"Oh no, I'm not flattering you; I really mean it. You're such a nice thoughtful boy. I've seen you take a lot of trouble, rather than deprive yourself of anything you cared for."