Cambridge (England) -- Fiction; College teachers -- Fiction; English fiction -- 20th century; Marriage -- Fiction
"Well, that's an honest way of spending time!" he said. "My word, how I
dangle about here; it isn't good for my health. But, by George, I wish
I could shoot like you, Mr. Kennedy, Sir."
"Why this sudden obsequiousness?" said Howard.
"Oh, because I never know what to call you," said Jack. "I can't call
you by your Christian name, and Mr. Kennedy seems absurd. What do you
like?"
"Whatever comes naturally," said Howard.
"Well, I'll call you Howard when we are together," said Jack. "But
mind, not at Beaufort! If I call you anything, it will have to be Mr.
Kennedy. I hate men fraternising with the Dons. The Dons rather
encourage it, because it makes them feel youthful and bucks them up.
The men are just as bad about Christian names. Gratters on getting your
Christian name, you know! It's like a girls' school. I wonder why
Cambridge is more like a girls' school than a public school is? I
suppose they are more sentimental. I do loathe that."
When they got back they found Maud at tea; she had been there all the
afternoon; she greeted Howard very pleasantly, but there was a touch of
embarrassment created by the presence of Jack, who regarded her
severely and called her "Miss."
"He's got some grudge against me," said Maud to Howard. "He always has
when he calls me Miss."
"What else should I call you?" said Jack; "Mr. Kennedy has been telling
me that one should call people by whatever name seems natural. You are
a Miss to-day, and no mistake. You are at some game or other!"
"Now, Jack, be quiet!" said Mrs. Graves; "that is how the British
paterfamilias gets made. You must not begin to make your womankind
uncomfortable in public. You must not think aloud. You must keep up the
mysteries of chivalry!"
"I don't care for mysteries," said Jack, "but I'll behave. My father
says one mustn't seethe the kid in its mother's milk. I will leave Miss
to her conscience."
"Did you enjoy yourself?" said Mrs. Graves to Howard.
"Yes, I'm afraid I did," said Howard, "very much indeed."
"Some book I read the other day," said Mrs. Graves, "stated that men
ought to do primeval things, eat under-done beef, sleep in their
clothes, drink too much, kill things. It sounds disgusting; but I
suppose you felt primeval?"
"I don't know what it was," said Howard. "I felt very well content."
"My word, he can shoot!" said Jack to Mrs. Graves; "I'm a perfect
duffer beside him; he shot four-fifths of the bag, and there's a
perfect mountain of rabbits to come in."
"Horrible, horrible!" said Mrs. Graves, "but are there enough to go
round the village?"
"Two apiece," said Jack, "to every man a damsel or two! Now, Maud, come
on--ten o'clock, to-morrow, Sir--and perhaps a little fishing later?"
"You had better stay to lunch, whenever you come and work in the
morning, Jack," said Mrs. Graves; "and I'll turn you inside out before
very long."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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