11

After  a  moment,  in  which  quick  perceptions  of  these
likings  and  distastes  made  themselves  felt  in  his  question-
ing mind,  he  turned  to  his  girl-cousin,  whom  her  father
called  Doll.
"I  don't  see  why  you  should  be  so  angry  with  me,"  he
said  directly.  "I  haven't  hurt  you  .  .  ."  It  was  a  cry
of  impatience  at  misunderstanding  of  his  nature.
"What  I  was  going  to  say,"  continued  William,  press-
ing down  the  rising  head  of  discontent,  "was  that  Mum's
got  gentry  on  the  brain.  She's  morbid  about  them.  Her
father  kept  a  village  shop ;  and  she  was  taught  to  curtesy
before  she  could  walk.  And  she'll  simply  make  a  fool  of
herself  if  your  mother  comes  to  buy  a  pound  of  lard.
She'd  better  keep  away.  But  if  your  mother  is  a  real
lady,  as  I  should  think  she  was,  by  the  look  of  you,  Mum
here's  as  good  a  lady  as  ever  wore  furs.  You  can  see
her  any  Sunday.  She's  Church  of  England.  You'll  see
us  sitting  under  the  Parson  every  Sunday  morning;  and


OVER  THE  SHOP  99

you'd  never  be  able  to  tell  she'd  ever  done  a  stroke  of
work  in  her  life.  As  for  me  ...  in  ten  years'  time,  now
my  Holloway  shop's  established,  as  you  may  say,  there's
no  reason  why  I  shouldn't  be  half  a  gentleman  myself.
I  mean,  smoking  cigars  and  jingling  coppers  in  my  pocket.
The  pity  is,  the  kids  are  growing  up  fidgety.  Things
aren't  good  enough  for  them.  They're  touchy.  They  don't
like  to  see  me  in  an  apron,  so  they  shout  the  odds  against
the  people  who  never  wore  aprons  .  .  ."

"We  don't !"  cried  both  the  delinquents.
