"Pickering wouldn't go into a _Square_ garden, mother!" She waited a moment, wondering what shaped garden was suited to him, what form of pleasaunce was worthy of the presence of this exceptional boy, and then said, trying to ascertain the point of view: "Would you take him to see Percy?" He brightened up directly. "Percy! Oh yes, rather. I'd like him to see Bertha. I shall ask her to let me take him one day." Lady Kellynch felt vaguely pained, and envious and jealous, but on reflection realised to herself that probably the wonderful Pickering would be a very great nuisance, and make a noise, and create general untidiness and confusion, in which Bertha was quite capable of taking part; so she said: "Do so, if you like, dear. You're going to see Bertha soon, aren't you?" "Yes. I'm going to see her to-day." He quickly put _The English Review_ under the cushion, sitting on it as he saw his mother look up from her work. "Bertha's all right; she's pretty too." "She's very good and kind to you, I must say," said Lady Kellynch. "As they have asked you so often, I think I should like you to pay her a nice little attention to-day, dear. Take her a pretty basket of flowers." Clifford's handsome dark face became overclouded with boredom. "Oh, good Lord, mother! can't you telephone to a florist and have it sent to her, if she's _got_ to have vegetables?" "But surely, dear, it would be nicer for you to take it." "Oh, mother, it would be awful rot, carting about floral tribs in a taxi all over London." "Floral tribs? What are floral tribs? Oh, tributes! I see! In a taxi! No. I never dreamt of your doing such a thing. Ridiculous extravagance! Go from Kensington to Sloane Street in a taxi!" "How did you suppose I'd take it, then?" "I supposed you'd walk," said Lady Kellynch, in a frightened voice. "Walk! Great Scott! Walk with a basket of flowers! What next! I didn't know you were bringing me up as a messenger-boy. No, mother, I'm too old to be a boy scout, or anything of that sort. What have you got Warden for? Why don't you send the footman? But far the most sensible way is to ring up the place itself, and give the order." "No, dear," said Lady Kellynch, rather crushed. She had pictured his entrance with some beautiful flowers to please his sister-in-law. "Never mind; it doesn't matter." "Mind you," said the spoilt boy, standing up, and looking at himself in the glass. "Mind you I should be awfully glad to give Bertha anything she likes. I don't mind. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll call in at that place in Bond Street, and get her some chocolates." "Charbonnel and Walker's, I suppose you mean," said his mother. He smiled. "They'll do. Pickering says his brother, who's an artist, is going to do a historical picture for next year's Academy on the subject of 'The First Meeting between Charbonnel and Walker.'" She looked bewildered.