"Go and tell your mother to come in and shake hands with Mr. Carey before he sits down."
"Mother says she'll come in after dinner.
She hasn't washed herself yet."
"Then we'll go in and see her ourselves.
He mustn't eat the Yorkshire pudding till he's shaken the hand that made it."
Philip followed his host into the kitchen.
It was small and much overcrowded. There had been a lot of noise, but it stopped as soon as the stranger entered.
There was a large table in the middle and round it, eager for dinner, were seated Athelny's children.
A woman was standing at the oven, taking out baked potatoes one by one.
"Here's Mr. Carey, Betty," said Athelny.
"Fancy bringing him in here.
What will he think?"
She wore a dirty apron, and the sleeves of her cotton dress were turned up above her elbows; she had curling pins in her hair.
Mrs. Athelny was a large woman, a good three inches taller than her husband, fair, with blue eyes and a kindly expression; she had been a handsome creature, but advancing years and the bearing of many children had made her fat and blousy; her blue eyes had become pale, her skin was coarse and red, the colour had gone out of her hair.
She straightened herself, wiped her hand on her apron, and held it out.
"You're welcome, sir," she said, in a slow voice, with an accent that seemed oddly familiar to Philip. "Athelny said you was very kind to him in the 'orspital."
"Now you must be introduced to the live stock," said Athelny. "That is Thorpe," he pointed to a chubby boy with curly hair, "he is my eldest son, heir to the title, estates, and responsibilities of the family.
There is Athelstan, Harold, Edward."
He pointed with his forefinger to three smaller boys, all rosy, healthy, and smiling, though when they felt Philip's smiling eyes upon them they looked shyly down at their plates.
"Now the girls in order: Maria del Sol…"
"Pudding-Face," said one of the small boys.
"Your sense of humour is rudimentary, my son.
Maria de los Mercedes, Maria del Pilar, Maria de la Concepcion, Maria del Rosario."
"I call them Sally, Molly, Connie, Rosie, and Jane," said Mrs. Athelny. "Now, Athelny, you go into your own room and I'll send you your dinner.
I'll let the children come in afterwards for a bit when I've washed them."
"My dear, if I'd had the naming of you I should have called you Maria of the Soapsuds.
You're always torturing these wretched brats with soap."
"You go first, Mr. Carey, or I shall never get him to sit down and eat his dinner."
Athelny and Philip installed themselves in the great monkish chairs, and Sally brought them in two plates of beef, Yorkshire pudding, baked potatoes, and cabbage.
Athelny took sixpence out of his pocket and sent her for a jug of beer.
"I hope you didn't have the table laid here on my account," said Philip. "I should have been quite happy to eat with the children."
"Oh no, I always have my meals by myself.
I like these antique customs.
I don't think that women ought to sit down at table with men. It ruins conversation and I'm sure it's very bad for them.
It puts ideas in their heads, and women are never at ease with themselves when they have ideas."
Both host and guest ate with a hearty appetite.
"Did you ever taste such Yorkshire pudding? No one can make it like my wife.
That's the advantage of not marrying a lady.
You noticed she wasn't a lady, didn't you?"
It was an awkward question, and Philip did not know how to answer it.
"I never thought about it," he said lamely.
Athelny laughed.
He had a peculiarly joyous laugh.
"No, she's not a lady, nor anything like it.
Her father was a farmer, and she's never bothered about aitches in her life.
We've had twelve children and nine of them are alive.
I tell her it's about time she stopped, but she's an obstinate woman, she's got into the habit of it now, and I don't believe she'll be satisfied till she's had twenty."
At that moment Sally came in with the beer, and, having poured out a glass for Philip, went to the other side of the table to pour some out for her father.
He put his hand round her waist.
"Did you ever see such a handsome, strapping girl?