"Mother, I do think it offensive to spend much on what goes into or onto one's body. Why not have fewer things, and give the rest to the poor?" "But I do give the rest to the poor; I'm always doing it. And there's quite enough for us and for the poor too." "Give them more, then. Why," fumed Tussie, "can't we live decently? Hasn't it struck you that we're very vulgar?" "No, dearest, I can't say that it has." "Well, we are. Everything we have that is beyond bare necessaries makes us vulgar. And surely, mother, you do see that that's not a nice thing to be." "It's a horrid thing to be," said his mother, arranging his tie with an immense and lingering tenderness. "It's a difficult thing not to be," said Tussie, "if one is rich. Hasn't it struck you that this ridiculous big house, and the masses of things in it, and the whole place and all the money will inevitably end by crushing us both out of heaven?" "No, I can't say it has. I expect you've been thinking of things like the eyes of needles and camels having to go through them," said his mother, still patting and stroking his tie. "Well, that's terrifically true," mused Tussie, reflecting ruefully on the size and weight of the money-bags that were dragging him down into darkness. Then he added suddenly, "Will you have a small bed--a little iron one--put in my bedroom?" "A small bed? But there's a bed there already, dear." "That big thing's only fit for a sick woman. I won't wallow in it any longer." "But dearest, all your forefathers wallowed, as you call it, in it. Doesn't it seem rather--a pity not to carry on traditions?" "Well mother be kind and dear, and let me depart in peace from them. A camp bed,--that's what I'd like. Shall I order it, or will you? And did I tell you I've given Bryce the sack?" "Bryce? Why, what has he done?" "Oh he hasn't done anything that I know of, except make a sort of doll or baby of me. Why should I be put into my clothes and taken out of them again as though I hadn't been weaned yet?" Now all this was very bad, but the greatest blow for Lady Shuttleworth fell when Tussie declared that he would not come of age. The cheerful face with which his mother had managed to listen to his other defiances went very blank at that; do what she would she could not prevent its falling. "Not come of age?" she repeated stupidly. "But my darling, you can't help yourself--you must come of age." "Oh I know I can't help being twenty-one and coming into all this"--and he waved contemptuous arms--"but I won't do it blatantly." "I--I don't understand," faltered Lady Shuttleworth. "There mustn't be any fuss, mother." "Do you mean no one is to come?" "No one at all, except the tenants and people. Of course they are to have their fun--I'll see that they have a jolly good time. But I won't have our own set and the relations." "Tussie, they've all accepted." "Send round circulars." "Tussie, you are putting me in a most painful position."