Michael

Ashbridge valued the sturdy independence of character whichhe himself enjoyed displaying, he appreciated it rather less highly whenit was manifested by people who were not sensible enough to agreewith him. He looked forward to Michael's arrival that evening with thefeeling that there was a rebellious standard hoisted against the calmblue of the evening sky, and remembering the advent of his sister hewondered whether she would not join the insurgent. Barbara Jerome, ashas been remarked, often annoyed her brother; she also genially laughedat him; but Lord Ashbridge, partly from affection, partly from aloyal family sense of clanship, always expected his sister to spenda fortnight with him in August, and would have been much hurt had sherefused to do so. Her husband, however, so far from spending a fortnightwith his brother-in-law, never spent a minute in his presence if itcould possibly be avoided, an arrangement which everybody concernedconsidered to be wise, and in the interests of cordiality.

  "And Barbara comes this evening as well as Michael, does she not?" hesaid. "I hope she will not take Michael's part in his absurd scheme."

  "I have given Barbara the blue room," said Lady Ashbridge, after alittle thought. "I am afraid she may bring her great dog with her. Ihope he will not quarrel with Petsy. Petsy does not like other dogs."

  The day had been very hot, and Lord Ashbridge, not having taken anyexercise, went off to have a round of golf with the professional of thelinks that lay not half a mile from the house. He considered exercisean essential part of the true Englishman's daily curriculum, and asnecessary a contribution to the traditional mode of life which made themall what they were--or should be--as a bath in the morning or attendanceat church on Sunday. He did not care so much about playing golf witha casual friend, because the casual friend, as a rule, casually beathim--thus putting him in an un-English position--and preferred a gamewith this first-class professional whose duty it was--in completeviolation of his capacities--to play just badly enough to be beatentowards the end of the round after an exciting match. It required agood deal of cleverness and self-control to accomplish this, for LordAshbridge was a notably puerile performer, but he generally managed itwith tact and success, by dint of missing absurdly easy putts, and (herehis skill came in) by pulling and slicing his ball into far-distantbunkers. Throughout the game it was his business to keep up a runningfire of admiring ejaculations such as "Well driven, my lord," or "Afine putt, my lord. Ah! dear me, I wish I could putt like that," thoughoccasionally his chorus of praise betrayed him into error, and fromhabit he found himself saying: "Good shot, my lord," when my lord hadjust made an egregious mess of things. But on the whole he devised sopleasantly sycophantic an atmosphere as to procure a substantial tip forhimself, and to make Lord Ashbridge conscious of being a very superiorperformer. Whether at the bottom of his heart he knew he could not playat all, he probably did not inquire; the result of his matches and hisopponent's skilfully-showered praise was sufficient for him. So now heleft the discouraging companionship of his wife and Petsy and walkedswingingly across the garden and the park to the links, there to seekin Macpherson's applause the self-confidence that would enable him toencounter his republican sister and his musical son with an unyieldingfront.

  His spirits mounted rapidly as he went. It pleased him to go jauntilyacross the lawn and reflect that all this smooth turf was his, to lookat the wealth of well-tended flowers in his garden and know that allthis polychromatic loveliness was bred in Lord Ashbridge's borders (andwas graciously thrown open to the gaze of the admiring public on Sundayafternoon, when they were begged to keep off the grass), and that LordAshbridge was himself. He liked reminding himself that the towering elmsdrew their leafy verdure from Lord Ashbridge's soil; that the rows ofhen-coops in the park, populous and cheeping with infant pheasants,belonged to the same fortunate gentleman who in November would sounerringly shoot them down as they rocketted swiftly over the highestof his tree-tops; that to him also appertained the long-fronted Jacobeanhouse which stood so commandingly upon the hill-top, and glowed withall the mellowness of its three-hundred-years-old bricks. And hissatisfaction was not wholly fatuous nor entirely personal; all thesespacious dignities were insignia (temporarily conferred on him, likesome order, and permanently conferred on his family) of the splendidpolitical constitution under which England had made herself mistressof an empire and the seas that guarded it. Probably he would have beenproud of belonging to that even if he had not been "one of us"; as itwas, the high position which he occupied in it caused that pride to beslightly mixed with the pride that was concerned with the notion of theEmpire belonging to him and his peers.

  But though he was the most profound of Tories, he would truthfully haveprofessed (as indeed he practised in the management of his estates) themost Liberal opinions as to schemes for the amelioration of the lowerclasses. Only, just as the music he was good enough to listen to had tobe played for him, so the tenants and farmers had to be his dependents.He looked after them very well indeed, conceiving this to be theprime duty of a great landlord, but his interest in them was reallyproprietary. It was of his bounty, and of his complete knowledge ofwhat his duties as "one of us" were, that he did so, and any legislationwhich compelled him to part with one pennyworth of his property for thesake of others less fortunate he resisted to the best of his ability asa theft of what was his. The country, in fact, if it went to the dogs(and certain recent legislation distinctly seemed to point kennelwards),would go to the dogs because ignorant politicians, who were mostemphatically not "of us," forced him and others like him to recognisethe rights of dependents instead of trusting to their instinctivefitness to dispense benefits not as rights but as acts of grace. IfEngland trusted to her aristocracy (to put the matter in a nutshell) allwould be well with her in the future even as it had been in the past,but any attempt to curtail their splendours must inevitably detractfrom the prestige and magnificence of the Empire. . . . And he respondedsuitably to the obsequious salute of the professional, and rememberedthat the entire golf links were his property, and that the Club paid amerely nominal rental to him, just the tribute money of a penny whichwas due to Caesar.

  For the next hour or two after her husband had left her, Lady Ashbridgeoccupied herself in the thoroughly lady-like pursuit of doing nothingwhatever; she just existed in her comfortable chair, since Barbaramight come any moment, and she would have to entertain her, which shefrequently did unawares. But as Barbara continued not to come, she tookup her perennial piece of needlework, feeling rather busy and pressed,and had hardly done so when her sister-in-law arrived.

  She was preceded by an enormous stag-hound, who, having been shut up inher motor all the way from London, bounded delightedly, with the senseof young limbs released, on to the terrace, and made wild leaps ina circle round the horrified Petsy, who had just received a secondsaucerful of cream. Once he dashed in close, and with a single lick ofhis tongue swept the saucer dry of nutriment, and with hoarse barkingsproceeded again to dance corybantically about, while Lady Ashbridgewith faint cries of dismay waved her embroidery at him. Then, seeinghis mistress coming out of the French window from the drawing-room, hebounded calf-like towards her, and Petsy, nearly sick with cream andhorror, was gathered to Lady Ashbridge's bosom.

  "My dear Barbara," she said, "how upsetting your dog is! Poor Petsy'sheart is beating terribly; she does not like dogs. But I am very pleasedto see you, and I have given you the blue room."

  It was clearly suitable that Barbara Jerome should have a large dog,for both in mind and body she was on the large scale herself. She had apleasant, high-coloured face, was very tall, enormously stout, and movedwith great briskness and vigour. She had something to say on any subjectthat came on the board; and, what was less usual in these days ofuniversal knowledge, there was invariably some point in what she said.She had, in the ordinary sense of the word, no manners at all,but essentially made up for this lack by her sincere and humourouskindliness. She saw with acute vividness the ludicrous side ofeverybody, herself included, and to her mind the arch-humourist ofall was her brother, whom
she was quite unable to take seriously. Shedressed as if she had looted a milliner's shop and had put on in a greathurry anything that came to hand. She towered over her sister-in-law asshe kissed her, and Petsy, safe in her citadel, barked shrilly.

  "My dear, which is the blue room?" she said. "I hope it is big enoughfor Og and me. Yes, that is Og, which is short for dog. He takes twomutton-chops for dinner, and a little something during the night if hefeels disposed, because he is still growing. Tony drove down with me,and is in the car now. He would not come in for fear of seeing Robert,so I ventured to tell them to take him a cup of tea there, which he willdrink with the blinds down, and then drive back to town again. He hasbeen made American ambassador, by the way, and will go in to dinnerbefore Robert. My dear, I can think of few things