The Eldest Son eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 64 pages of information about The Eldest Son.

The Eldest Son eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 64 pages of information about The Eldest Son.
He goes out into the drawing-room; and Freda stands restlessly tapping her foot against the bottom stair.  With a flutter of skirts Christine Keith comes rapidly down.  She is a nice-looking, fresh-coloured young woman in a low-necked dress.

Christine.  Hullo, Freda!  How are you?

Freda.  Quite well, thank you, Miss Christine—­Mrs. Keith, I mean. 
My lady told me to give you these.

Christine. [Taking the roses] Oh!  Thanks!  How sweet of mother!

Freda. [In a quick, toneless voice] The others are for Miss Lanfarne. 
My lady thought white would suit her better.

Christine.  They suit you in that black dress.

     [Freda lowers the roses quickly.]

What do you think of Joan’s engagement?

Freda.  It’s very nice for her.

Christine.  I say, Freda, have they been going hard at rehearsals?

Freda.  Every day.  Miss Dot gets very cross, stage-managing.

Christine.  I do hate learning a part.  Thanks awfully for unpacking. 
Any news?

Freda. [In the same quick, dull voice] The under-keeper, Dunning, won’t marry Rose Taylor, after all.

Christine.  What a shame!  But I say that’s serious.  I thought there was—­she was—­I mean——­

Freda.  He’s taken up with another girl, they say.

Christine.  Too bad! [Pinning the roses] D’you know if Mr. Bill’s come?

Freda. [With a swift upward look] Yes, by the six-forty.

     Ronald Keith comes slowly down, a weathered firm-lipped man, in
     evening dress, with eyelids half drawn over his keen eyes, and
     the air of a horseman.

Keith.  Hallo!  Roses in December.  I say, Freda, your father missed a wigging this morning when they drew blank at Warnham’s spinney.  Where’s that litter of little foxes?

Freda. [Smiling faintly] I expect father knows, Captain Keith.

Keith.  You bet he does.  Emigration?  Or thin air?  What?

Christine.  Studdenham’d never shoot a fox, Ronny.  He’s been here since the flood.

Keith.  There’s more ways of killing a cat—­eh, Freda?

Christine. [Moving with her husband towards the drawing-room] Young
Dunning won’t marry that girl, Ronny.

Keith.  Phew!  Wouldn’t be in his shoes, then!  Sir William’ll never keep a servant who’s made a scandal in the village, old girl.  Bill come?

As they disappear from the hall, John latter in a clergyman’s evening dress, comes sedately downstairs, a tall, rather pale young man, with something in him, as it were, both of heaven, and a drawing-room.  He passes Freda with a formal little nod.  Harold, a fresh-cheeked, cheery-looking youth, comes down, three steps at a time.

Harold.  Hallo, Freda!  Patience on the monument.  Let’s have a sniff!  For Miss Lanfarne?  Bill come down yet?

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
The Eldest Son from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.