He told her, in the usual style, it
was only his mother's way, that she didn't really mean anything, and so
on; but Alice kept away for a long time, and rather hinted, I think,
that it might come to having to choose between her and his mother. And
so affairs went on all through the spring and summer, and then, just
before the August Bank Holiday, George spoke to Alice again about it,
and told her how sorry the thought of any unpleasantness made him, and
how he wanted his mother and her to get on with each other, and how she
was only a bit old-fashioned and queer in her ways, and had spoken very
nicely to him about her when there was nobody by. So the long and the
short of it was that Alice said she might come with them on the Monday,
when they had settled to go to Hampton Court--the girl was always
talking about Hampton Court, and wanting to see it. You remember what a
beautiful day it was, don't you?' 'Let me see,' said Darnell dreamily. 'Oh yes, of course--I sat out under
the mulberry tree all day, and we had our meals there: it was quite a
picnic. The caterpillars were a nuisance, but I enjoyed the day very
much.' His ears were charmed, ravished with the grave, supernal melody,
as of antique song, rather of the first made world in which all speech
was descant, and all words were sacraments of might, speaking not to the
mind but to the soul. He lay back in his chair, and said--

'Well, what happened to them?' 'My dear, would you believe it; but that wretched old woman behaved
worse than ever. They met as had been arranged, at Kew Bridge, and got
places, with a good deal of difficulty, in one of those char-à-banc
things, and Alice thought she was going to enjoy herself tremendously. Nothing of the kind. They had hardly said "Good morning," when old Mrs.
Murry began to talk about Kew Gardens, and how beautiful it must be
there, and how much more convenient it was than Hampton, and no expense
at all; just the trouble of walking over the bridge. Then she went on
to say, as they were waiting for the char-à-banc, that she had always
heard there was nothing to see at Hampton, except a lot of nasty, grimy
old pictures, and some of them not fit for any decent woman, let alone
girl, to look at, and she wondered why the Queen allowed such things to
be shown, putting all kinds of notions into girls' heads that were light
enough already; and as she said that she looked at Alice so
nastily--horrid old thing--that, as she told me afterwards, Alice would
have slapped her face if she hadn't been an elderly woman, and George's
mother. Then she talked about Kew again, saying how wonderful the
hot-houses were, with palms and all sorts of wonderful things, and a
lily as big as a parlour table, and the view over the river. George was
very good, Alice told me. He was quite taken aback at first, as the old
woman had promised faithfully to be as nice as ever she could be; but
then he said, gently but firmly, "Well, mother, we must go to Kew some
other day, as Alice has set her heart on Hampton for to-day, and I want
to see it myself!" All Mrs. Murry did was to snort, and look at the girl
like vinegar, and just then the char-à-banc came up, and they had to
scramble for their seats. Mrs. Murry grumbled to herself in an
indistinct sort of voice all the way to Hampton Court. Alice couldn't
very well make out what she said, but now and then she seemed to hear
bits of sentences, like: _Pity to grow old, if sons grow bold_; and
_Honour thy father and mother_; and _Lie on the shelf, said the
housewife to the old shoe, and the wicked son to his mother_; and _I
gave you milk and you give me the go-by_. Alice thought they must be
proverbs (except the Commandment, of course), as George was always
saying how old-fashioned his mother is; but she says there were so many
of them, and all pointed at her and George, that she thinks now Mrs.
Murry must have made them up as they drove along. She says it would be
just like her to do it, being old-fashioned, and ill-natured too, and
fuller of talk than a butcher on Saturday night. Well, they got to
Hampton at last, and Alice thought the place would please her, perhaps,
and they might have some enjoyment. But she did nothing but grumble, and
out loud too, so that people looked at them, and a woman said, so that
they could hear, "Ah well, they'll be old themselves some day," which
made Alice very angry, for, as she said, they weren't doing anything. When they showed her the chestnut avenue in Bushey Park, she said it was
so long and straight that it made her quite dull to look at it, and she
thought the deer (you know how pretty they are, really) looked thin and
miserable, as if they would be all the better for a good feed of
hog-wash, with plenty of meal in it. She said she knew they weren't
happy by the look in their eyes, which seemed to tell her that their
keepers beat them. It was the same with everything; she said she
remembered market-gardens in Hammersmith and Gunnersbury that had a
better show of flowers, and when they took her to the place where the
water is, under the trees, she burst out with its being rather hard to
tramp her off her legs to show her a common canal, with not so much as a
barge on it to liven it up a bit. She went on like that the whole day,
and Alice told me she was only too thankful to get home and get rid of
her. Wasn't it wretched for the girl?' 'It must have been, indeed. But what happened last Sunday?' 'That's the most extraordinary thing of all. I noticed that Alice was
rather queer in her manner this morning; she was a longer time washing
up the breakfast things, and she answered me quite sharply when I called
to her to ask when she would be ready to help me with the wash; and when
I went into the kitchen to see about something, I noticed that she was
going about her work in a sulky sort of way. So I asked her what was the
matter, and then it all came out. I could scarcely believe my own ears
when she mumbled out something about Mrs. Murry thinking she could do
very much better for herself; but I asked her one question after another
till I had it all out of her. It just shows one how foolish and
empty-headed these girls are. I told her she was no better than a
weather-cock. If you will believe me, that horrid old woman was quite
another person when Alice went to see her the other night. Why, I can't
think, but so she was. She told the girl how pretty she was; what a neat
figure she had; how well she walked; and how she'd known many a girl not
half so clever or well-looking earning her twenty-five or thirty pounds
a year, and with good families.