Mrs. Septimus, Mrs. Septimus, with the
little Nicholases, the little Nicholases with who-knows-whom, and so on.
That great class to which they had risen, and now belonged, demanded a
certain candour, a still more certain reticence. This combination
guaranteed their membership.

Many of the younger Forsytes felt, very naturally, and would openly
declare, that they did not want their affairs pried into; but so powerful
was the invisible, magnetic current of family gossip, that for the life
of them they could not help knowing all about everything. It was felt to
be hopeless.

One of them (young Roger) had made an heroic attempt to free the rising
generation, by speaking of Timothy as an 'old cat.' The effort had justly
recoiled upon himself; the words, coming round in the most delicate way
to Aunt Juley's ears, were repeated by her in a shocked voice to Mrs.
Roger, whence they returned again to young Roger.

And, after all, it was only the wrong-doers who suffered; as, for
instance, George, when he lost all that money playing billiards; or young
Roger himself, when he was so dreadfully near to marrying the girl to
whom, it was whispered, he was already married by the laws of Nature; or
again Irene, who was thought, rather than said, to be in danger.

All this was not only pleasant but salutary. And it made so many hours
go lightly at Timothy's in the Bayswater Road; so many hours that must
otherwise have been sterile and heavy to those three who lived there; and
Timothy's was but one of hundreds of such homes in this City of
London--the homes of neutral persons of the secure classes, who are out
of the battle themselves, and must find their reason for existing, in the
battles of others.

But for the sweetness of family gossip, it must indeed have been lonely
there. Rumours and tales, reports, surmises--were they not the children
of the house, as dear and precious as the prattling babes the brother and
sisters had missed in their own journey? To talk about them was as near
as they could get to the possession of all those children and
grandchildren, after whom their soft hearts yearned. For though it is
doubtful whether Timothy's heart yearned, it is indubitable that at the
arrival of each fresh Forsyte child he was quite upset.

Useless for young Roger to say, "Old cat!" for Euphemia to hold up her
hands and cry: "Oh! those three!" and break into her silent laugh with
the squeak at the end. Useless, and not too