Mrs. Ames by E. F. Benson Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: E. F. Benson
drinking, does it?â he said. âWell, itâll get it from me. Delicious! Gooâ dry wine.â
Major Ames turned to Millie Evans again.
âBeg your pardon, Mrs Evans,â he said, âbut General Fortescue likes to know whatâs before him. Yes, downright wicked of you! Iâm sure I wish Amy had asked Dr Evans tonight, but there - you know what Amy is. Sheâs got anotion that it will make a pleasanter dinner table not to ask husband and wife always together. She says itâs done a great deal in London now. But they canât put on to their tables in London such sweet peas as I grow here in my bit of a garden. Look at those in front of you. Black Michaels, they are. Look at the size of them. Did you ever see such sweet peas? I wonder what Amy is going to give us for dinner tonight. Bit of lamb next, is it? And a quail to follow. Hope youâll go Nap, Mrs Evans; I must say Amy has a famous cook. And what do you think of us all down at Riseborough, now youâve had time to settle down and look about you? I daresay you and your husband say some sharp things about us, hey? Find us very stick-in-the-mud after London?â
She gave him one of those shy little deprecating glances that made him involuntarily feel that he was a most agreeable companion.
âAh, you are being wicked now!â she said. âEveryone is delightful. So kind, so hospitable. Now, Major Ames, do tell me more about your flowers. Black Michaels, you said those were. I must go in for gardening, and will you begin to teach me a little? Why is it that your flowers are so much more beautiful than anybodyâs? At least, I neednât ask: it must be because you understand them better than anybody.â
Major Ames felt that this was an uncommonly agreeable woman, and for half a second contrasted her pleasant eagerness to hear about his garden with his wifeâs complete indifference to it. She liked flowers on the table, but she scarcely knew a hollyhock from a geranium.
âWell, well,â he said, âI donât say that my flowers, which you are so polite as to praise, donât owe something to my care. Rain or fine, I donât suppose I spend less than an average of four hours a day among them, year in, year out.And thatâs better, isnât it, than sitting at the club, listening to all the gossip and tittle-tattle of the place?â
âAh, you are like me,â she said. âI hate gossip. It is so dull. Gardening is so much more interesting.â
He laughed again.
âWell, as I tell Amy,â he said, âif our friends come here expecting to hear all the tittle-tattle of the place, they will be in for a disappointment. Amy and I like to give our friends a hearty welcome and a good dinner, and pleasant conversation about really interesting things. I know little about the gossip of the town; you would find me strangely ignorant if you wanted to talk about it. But politics now -one of those beastly Radical members of Parliament lunched with us only the week before last, and I assure you that Amy asked him some questions he found it hard to answer. In fact, he didnât answer them: he begged the question, begged the question. There was one, I remember, which just bowled him out. She said, âWhat is to happen to the parks of the landed gentry, if you take them away from the owners?â Well, that bowled him out, as they say in cricket. Look at Sir Jamesâs place, for instance, your cousinâs place, Amyâs cousinâs place. Will they plant a row of villas along the garden terrace? And who is to live in them if they do? Grant that Lloyd George - she said that - grant that Lloyd George wants a villa there, that will be one villa. But the terrace there will hold a dozen villas. Who will take the rest of them? She asked him that. They take away all our property, and then expect us to build houses on other peopleâs! Donât talk to
Major Ames turned to Millie Evans again.
âBeg your pardon, Mrs Evans,â he said, âbut General Fortescue likes to know whatâs before him. Yes, downright wicked of you! Iâm sure I wish Amy had asked Dr Evans tonight, but there - you know what Amy is. Sheâs got anotion that it will make a pleasanter dinner table not to ask husband and wife always together. She says itâs done a great deal in London now. But they canât put on to their tables in London such sweet peas as I grow here in my bit of a garden. Look at those in front of you. Black Michaels, they are. Look at the size of them. Did you ever see such sweet peas? I wonder what Amy is going to give us for dinner tonight. Bit of lamb next, is it? And a quail to follow. Hope youâll go Nap, Mrs Evans; I must say Amy has a famous cook. And what do you think of us all down at Riseborough, now youâve had time to settle down and look about you? I daresay you and your husband say some sharp things about us, hey? Find us very stick-in-the-mud after London?â
She gave him one of those shy little deprecating glances that made him involuntarily feel that he was a most agreeable companion.
âAh, you are being wicked now!â she said. âEveryone is delightful. So kind, so hospitable. Now, Major Ames, do tell me more about your flowers. Black Michaels, you said those were. I must go in for gardening, and will you begin to teach me a little? Why is it that your flowers are so much more beautiful than anybodyâs? At least, I neednât ask: it must be because you understand them better than anybody.â
Major Ames felt that this was an uncommonly agreeable woman, and for half a second contrasted her pleasant eagerness to hear about his garden with his wifeâs complete indifference to it. She liked flowers on the table, but she scarcely knew a hollyhock from a geranium.
âWell, well,â he said, âI donât say that my flowers, which you are so polite as to praise, donât owe something to my care. Rain or fine, I donât suppose I spend less than an average of four hours a day among them, year in, year out.And thatâs better, isnât it, than sitting at the club, listening to all the gossip and tittle-tattle of the place?â
âAh, you are like me,â she said. âI hate gossip. It is so dull. Gardening is so much more interesting.â
He laughed again.
âWell, as I tell Amy,â he said, âif our friends come here expecting to hear all the tittle-tattle of the place, they will be in for a disappointment. Amy and I like to give our friends a hearty welcome and a good dinner, and pleasant conversation about really interesting things. I know little about the gossip of the town; you would find me strangely ignorant if you wanted to talk about it. But politics now -one of those beastly Radical members of Parliament lunched with us only the week before last, and I assure you that Amy asked him some questions he found it hard to answer. In fact, he didnât answer them: he begged the question, begged the question. There was one, I remember, which just bowled him out. She said, âWhat is to happen to the parks of the landed gentry, if you take them away from the owners?â Well, that bowled him out, as they say in cricket. Look at Sir Jamesâs place, for instance, your cousinâs place, Amyâs cousinâs place. Will they plant a row of villas along the garden terrace? And who is to live in them if they do? Grant that Lloyd George - she said that - grant that Lloyd George wants a villa there, that will be one villa. But the terrace there will hold a dozen villas. Who will take the rest of them? She asked him that. They take away all our property, and then expect us to build houses on other peopleâs! Donât talk to