"Yes, Jolyon," she said, "we were just saying that you haven't been here for a long time; but we mustn't be surprised. You're busy, of course? James was just saying what a busy time of year...."
"Was he?" said old Jolyon, looking hard at James. "It wouldn't be half so busy if everybody minded their own business."
James, brooding in a small chair from which his knees ran uphill, shifted his feet uneasily, and put one of them down on the cat, which had unwisely taken refuge from old Jolyon beside him.
"Here, you've got a cat here," he said in an injured voice, withdrawing his foot nervously as he felt it squeezing into the soft, furry body.
"Several," said old Jolyon, looking at one face and another; "I trod on one just now."
A silence followed.
Then Mrs. Small, twisting her fingers and gazing round with 'pathetic calm, asked: "And how is dear June?"
A twinkle of humour shot through the sternness of old Jolyon's eyes. Extraordinary old woman, Juley! No one quite like her for saying the wrong thing!
"Bad!" he said; "London don't agree with her--too many people about, too much clatter and chatter by half." He laid emphasis on the words, and again looked James in the face.
Nobody spoke.
A feeling of its being too dangerous to take a step in any direction, or hazard any remark, had fallen on them all.
Something of the sense of the impending, that comes over the spectator of a Greek tragedy, had entered that upholstered room, filled with those white-haired, frockcoated old men, and fashionably attired women, who were all of the same blood, between all of whom existed an unseizable resemblance.
Not that they were conscious of it--the visits of such fateful, bitter spirits are only felt.
Then Swithin rose. He would not sit there, feeling like that--he was not to be put down by anyone! And, manoeuvring round the room with added pomp, he shook hands with each separately.
"You tell Timothy from me," he said, "that he coddles himself too much!" Then, turning to Francie, whom he considered 'smart,' he added: "You come with me for a drive one of these days." But this conjured up the vision of that other eventful drive which had been so much talked about, and he stood quite still for a second, with glassy eyes, as though waiting to catch up with the significance of what he himself had said; then, suddenly recollecting that he didn't care a damn, he turned to old Jolyon:
"Well, good-bye, Jolyon! You shouldn't go about without an overcoat; you'll be getting sciatica or something!" And, kicking the cat slightly with the pointed tip of his patent leather boot, he took his huge form away.
When he had gone everyone looked secretly at the others, to see how they had taken the mention of the word 'drive'--the word which had become famous, and acquired an overwhelming importance, as the only official--so to speak--news in connection with the vague and sinister rumour clinging to the family tongue.
Euphemia, yielding to an impulse, said with a short laugh: "I'm glad Uncle Swithin doesn't ask me to go for drives."
Mrs. Small, to reassure her and smooth over any little awkwardness the subject might have, replied: "My dear, he likes to take somebody well dressed, who will do him a little credit.
I shall never forget the drive he took me. It was an experience!" And her chubby round old face was spread for a moment with a strange contentment; then broke into pouts, and tears came into her eyes. She was thinking of that long ago driving tour she had once taken with Septimus Small.
James, who had relapsed into his nervous brooding in the little chair, suddenly roused himself: "He's a funny fellow, Swithin," he said, but in a half-hearted way.
