By the way I'm leaving Grimshawe at Hetton next week tell Mrs. Massop.
It's a bore and expense boarding her out in London.
In fact I think I might do without her altogether what do you think? except she's useful for sewing.
Longing to see John again.
All going back Sunday evening.
Keep sober, darling.
Try.
xxxxxx B.
Tony found very little to occupy his time on Friday.
His letters were all finished by ten o'clock.
He went down to the farm but they had no business for him there.
The duties which before had seemed so multifarious, now took up a very small part of his day; he had not realized how many hours he used to waste with Brenda.
He watched John riding in the paddock.
The boy clearly bore him ill will for their quarrel on Wednesday; when he applauded a jump, John said,
“She usually does better than this.”
Later, “When's mummy coming down?”
“Not till tomorrow.”
“Oh.”
“I've got to go over to Little Bayton this afternoon.
Would you like to come too and perhaps we could see the kennels?”
John had for weeks past been praying for this expedition.
“No, thank you,” he said.
“I want to finish a picture I am painting.”
“You can do that any time.”
“I want to do it this afternoon.”
When Tony had left them Ben said,
“Whatever made you speak to your dad like that for?
You've been going on about seeing the kennels since Christmas.”
“Not with him,” said John.
“You ungrateful little bastard, that's a lousy way to speak of your dad.”
“And you ought not to say bastard or lousy in front of me, nanny says not.”
So Tony went over alone to Little Bayton where he had some business to discuss with Colonel Brink.
He hoped they would asked him to stay on, but the Colonel and his wife were themselves going out to tea, so he drove back in the dusk to Hetton.
A thin mist lay breast high over the park; the turrets and battlements of the abbey stood grey and flat; the boiler man was hauling down the flag on the main tower.
“My poor Brenda, it's an appalling room,” said Mrs. Beaver.”
“Its not one we use a great deal,” said Tony very coldly.
“I should think not,” said the one they called Veronica.
“I can't see much wrong with it,” said Polly, “except it's a bit mouldy.”
“You see,” Brenda explained, not looking at Tony. “What I thought was that I must have one habitable room downstairs.
At present there's only the smoking room and the library.
The drawing room is vast and quite out of the question.
I thought what I needed was a small sitting room more or less to myself.
Don't you think it has possibilities?”
“But, my angel, the shape's all wrong,” said Daisy. “And that chimney piece — what is it made of, pink granite, and all the plaster work and the dado.
Everything's horrible.
It's so dark.”
“I know exactly what Brenda wants,” said Mrs. Beaver more moderately. “I don't think it will be impossible.
I must think about it.
As Veronica says, the structure does rather limit one … you know I think the only thing to do would be to disregard it altogether and find some treatment so definite that it carried the room if you see what I mean … supposing we covered the walls with white chromium plating and had natural sheepskin carpet … I wonder if that would be running you in for more than you meant to spend.”
“I'd blow the whole thing sky-high,” said Veronica.