Variable Winds at Jalna. Mazo de la Roche
Alayne, “to return to one’s people.”
“Animals don’t. You can’t imagine a tiger seeking out his parents. He’d know they’d criticize him.”
“Domestic animals return to their homes, Archer.” Alayne scanned his face, searching for warmth.
“Yes,” he agreed. “I read of a cat that was presented with a medal for returning sixty-eight miles to its home. But what use was the medal to the cat? The only consequence was to make the cat’s owner conceited, as though he had done something.”
“You’ll find,” said Finch, sipping the cool drink, “that you’ll long for home when you’ve left it.”
“The only thing I long for,” said Archer. “is to understand. Uncle Nicholas says you only understand when it’s too late.”
“Uncle Nicholas has had a very good life,” said Alayne.
“What is a good life?”
“He has enjoyed himself and given little pain to others.”
“But that is not like helping others, is it?”
At this moment Adeline came in. Finch embraced her with affection. “Lovely as ever, Adeline,” he said, “and happy. I can see that in your eyes.”
Archer examined his sister’s eyes. “I don’t see any expression in them,” he said. “I think eyes are overrated. It’s the mouth that shows whether you are happy. Adeline is grinning, so we know she is happy.”
Alayne said to Finch, “He goes on like this at every opportunity. He has such an analytical mind.” She spoke half in pride, half in despair of her son.
“When is the wedding to be?” asked Finch. “I want to be here for it, if possible. So does Maurice.”
“Is he coming over?” Adeline exclaimed.
“He is here. He came with me.”
“How splendid! And Uncle Wake will be here, I hope. We plan to be married in September.”
“I’ll give a party for you,” said Finch, “in my new house.”
Archer asked, “Are Auntie Meg and Patience and Roma going to live with you?”
Finch looked embarrassed. “I think not,” he muttered.
Adeline, not able to detach her mind from her own affairs, said, “Mait’s sister Sylvia is coming from New York to visit us and stay for the wedding. You remember her?”
“One could never forget her,” said Finch. His mind flew back to that brief meeting. Again he pictured the lovely, wan face, heard the pleasant cadence of her voice. “Is she quite recovered? She’d been ill, hadn’t she?”
“Yes. She’d had a shock in the war — seen her husband killed in an air raid. Her nerves were awfully bad, but she’s much better. She’s hoping to get a job in New York.”
“A strange place to choose for nerves,” said Finch. “Yet — perhaps a good place — for forgetting.”
Archer remembered that Alayne had met her first husband when she was working in a New York publishing house. That afternoon he had the opportunity to speak to Adeline alone and he remarked:
“I wonder which husband Mother was happier with — Uncle Eden or Dad.”
Adeline gave him a look of disgust. “You do say the most uncomfortable things,” she exclaimed.
“Life has to be thought about,” he said.
“There’s no need for you to think about Uncle Eden, who died before you were born.”
“But how closely connected to me! I once heard Dad say that sometimes offspring resemble a former mate. I may resemble Uncle Eden.”
“You’re disgusting, Archer. Besides, Daddy was talking of animals — not intelligent human beings.”
“I don’t see anything intelligent in having all your children resemble their sire.”
She said, “You certainly don’t resemble yours — more’s the pity.”
“Do you honestly wish I had red hair and dark eyes?”
“Not with your kind of mind.”
“Do you consider Dad’s mind superior to mine?”
“I do.”
“Because it’s instinctive rather than analytical?”
Adeline could endure him no longer. Forcibly she tried to eject him from the house into the outdoor heat. This roused the dogs, who set up a loud barking, and during the uproar Renny and Fitzturgis returned from the sale. Renny was in great good humour, having been able to acquire the mare he had set his heart on at what seemed to him a reasonable price, though he had warned Fizturgis not to mention the amount to the family, with the exception of Adeline, who could be trusted to keep it to herself.
Fitzturgis was pale from the excessive heat. He and Finch shook hands with moderate friendliness, but Renny put his arm about his brother and hugged him. He was delighted to hear that Maurice had come with him.
“As soon as we have had some tea, Finch, we shall go to inspect your house and then on to see Maurice. It will be cooler by that time. Will you come with us, Alayne?”
But Alayne begged off. It was much too hot for her, she said, and she suggested that Fitzturgis also might prefer the coolness of the house. Adeline, however, showed her eagerness to go with Renny and Finch.
“It’s not really hot now,” she said. “And the new house is in deep shade.”
“You’ll have to cut down some trees, Finch,” said Renny. “But don’t do it till I can be with you. I know just which ones to choose.” He looked at his watch. “By the time we return the mare will be here. I shall ask Rags to hurry the tea along.” he strode to the hall and to the top of the stairs which led to the basement kitchen.
Alayne muttered under her breath, “There is a bell.” But he wanted to tell Wragge of his purchase. He shouted his name down the stairway. Wragge, in shirtsleeves, appeared at the bottom.
“Rags, d’you think your missus could hurry along the tea a bit? We want to go over to the new house.”
“It’ll be up directly, sir. We’re ’aving it iced today, if that will be all right, sir.”
“Fine. And, Rags.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I bought the mare I’ve wanted! A regular beauty. Wonderful brood mare — short muscular back — well-let-down hocks — deep through the heart! You’ll fall in love with her at sight.”
“I bet I shall, sir. I am glad for you.” He was already pulling on his jacket. His wife said, as he turned back into the kitchen:
“Another horse, eh? And a fancy price, I make my guess.” Her tone expressed complete disapproval.
“A lovely brood mare! Ah, ’e knaows wot ’e’s about,” exclaimed Wragge. “’E ’as vision and knowledge.”
Noah Binns, an old man, now past eighty, a frequent visitor to Mrs. Wragge’s kitchen and a great consumer of her good cakes, took a deep drink of tea and remarked, “All he lacks is common sense. That he ain’t never had.”
“I’d like to know what you mean?” said Rags truculently.
“It’s not common sense to break your bones and spend your money on horses. If there’s one animal I despise it’s a horse.”
“They had their uses once,” said the cook, “in pioneer days.”
“Them days is over.” Noah sank his gums into a piece of rich chocolate cake. “This is a machine age and