John Breezy, who had lost all suggestion of his French ancestry and
spoke English with the ripest Bayswater, removed his apron. He liked, it
is true, to remember his Huguenot grandfather and from time to time
indulged in Latin gestures, but when he ventured into a few words of
French his accent was atrocious. “Mong Doo,” he said, therefore, and
shrugged his fat shoulders almost up to his ears. He had no sympathy
with the Irish. He considered that they were screaming fanatics,
handicapped by a form of diseased egotism and colossal ignorance which
could not be dealt with in any reasonable manner. He belonged to the
school of thought, led by the _Morning Post_, which would dearly like to
put an enormous charge of T. N. T. under the whole island and blow it
sky high. “Of course you buck a good deal about your Fallaray,” he said
to his sister, “that’s natural. You take his money and you live on his
food. But I think he’s a weakling. He’s only making things more
difficult. I wish to God I was in the House of Commons. I’d show ’em
what to do to Ireland.”
There was a burst of laughter from Lola who jumped off the table and
threw her arms around her father’s neck. “How wonderful you are, Daddy,”
she said. “A regular old John Bull!”
Returning before anything further could be said, Mrs. Breezy shut the
parlor door and made herself extremely comfortable to hear the latest
from behind the scenes. It was very wonderful to possess a sister-in-law
who regularly, once a week, came into that dull backwater with the sort
of thing that never got into the papers and who was able to bandy great
names about without turning a hair. “Now, then, Hannah, let’s have it
all from the beginning and please, John, don’t interrupt.” She would
have liked to have added, “Please, Lola,” too, but knew better.
Then it was that Miss Breezy settled henwise among the cushions on the
sofa and let herself go. It was a good thing for her that her family was
unacquainted with any of those unscrupulous illiterates who wrote the
chit-chat in the _Daily Mirror_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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