presence of Clifford as an outrage in any
room but this particularly practical and saddle-bag old apartment, where
there was still a corner with a little low chair in it, and boxes full
of toys and other things, which were not only far outgrown by Clifford,
but which were absolutely never seen nowadays at all, and would be
considered far behindhand as amusements for a child of four.

This extra, additional child, born eighteen years after his brother, and
just before the death of his father, was still looked upon by Lady
Kellynch as a curious mixture of an unexpected blessing, an unnecessary
nuisance, and a pleasant surprise. She was always delighted to see him
when he first came home from school, but he was very soon allowed to go
and stay with Bertha and Percy. Bertha adored him and delighted in him
in reality; Lady Kellynch worshipped him in theory, but though she
hardly knew it herself, his presence absolutely interfered with all her
plans about nothing, spoilt her little arrangements for order, and
jarred on the clockwork regularity of her life, especially in her
moments of sentiment.

He was a very good-looking boy, with smooth black hair and regular
features like his brother, Percy. Perhaps because he was, according to
his mother's view, very much advanced for his age, he regarded her
rather as a backward child, to whom it would be highly desirable, but
unfortunately practically impossible, to explain life as it is now
lived.

Lady Kellynch was doing a peculiar little piece of bead embroidery. She
did it every day for ten minutes after lunch with a look at Clifford
every now and then, occasionally counting her beads, as if she was not
altogether quite sure whether or not he ate them when she wasn't
looking. This was the moment that she always chose to have conversation
with him, so as to learn to know his character. A couple of suitable
books, "The Jungle Book," and "Eric, or Little by Little," were placed
on a low table by Clifford's side; but, as a matter of fact, he was
reading _The English Review_.

"Clifford darling!"

He put the magazine down, shoving a newspaper over it.

"Well, mother?"

"Tell me something about your life at school, darling."

He glanced at the ceiling, then looked down for inspiration.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, haven't you any nice little friends at school, Clifford--any
favourites?"

He smiled.

"Oh, good Lord, mother, of course I haven't! People don't have little
fr