The Son of His Father; vol. 1/3Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
The Son of His Father; vol. 1/3
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Fathers and sons -- Fiction
They were all seated one evening in the parlour round the fire. The
house of the Sandfords was like many other old-fashioned middle-class
houses. The dining-room was the principal room in it. They would have
thought it very pretentious and as if they were setting up for a
gentility to which they laid no claim had they called their other
sitting-room a drawing-room. The rector might do so who belonged
distinctly to the county; but the Sandfords called their sitting-room
the parlour, without even knowing what a pretty old-fashioned word that
is, and how it is coming into fashion again. Old Mr. Sandford’s armchair
stood on one side of the fire, and his wife’s on the other. He had a
stand for the candle near him, and she had a little table. Otherwise
the room was furnished according to its epoch, with a round table in the
centre, and chairs set round the walls. On grandmamma’s little table was
her knitting, a basket with some needle-work, and a book. She read all
through a book in a conscientious yet leisurely way, doing a bit of
needle-work, when the light was good, and knitting when her eyes were
tired. In this way she was always occupied and yet never fatigued by
being busy too long at one thing. The knitting was done with large pins
and thick wool. It was easy work. It resulted in comforters, mufflers,
and other little things that were useful at Christmas, and made the
school-children and the old people in the village happy--or as nearly
happy as anyone is ever made by presents of warm woollen things to keep
out the cold.
John sat at the table between the old people. He had the advantage of
the lamp and warmest place. They liked to have him there, and he had
learned to do all his work in that warm family centre, with their silent
society, surrounded by their love. The old people did not talk very much
at any time, and, when they thought it was for the advantage of John
and his work, were capable of sitting all the evening in a silent
blessedness making little signs to each other across him, but never
speaking lest they should disturb him. They said at other times, with
secret delight, that their John never wanted to retire into any study,
but did his work, bless him, in the parlour, and never found them in his
way.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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