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137
The Solitary Summer
·
Elizabeth Von Arnim
51
His
wife,
of
course,
was
ailing,
but
already
his
eldest
child,
a
girl
of
ten,
took
a
great
deal
of
the
work
off
her
mother's
shoulders,
poor
baby.
He
was
perfectly
natural,
and
said
in
the
simplest
way
that
if
the
choice
were
to
fall
on
him
it
would
relieve
him
of
many
grinding
anxieties;
whereupon
I
privately
determined
that
if
the
choice
did
not
fall
on
him
the
Man
of
Wrath
and
I
would
be
strangers
from
that
hour.
"Have
you
been
worrying
him
with
questions
about
his
principles?"
I
asked,
buttonholing
the
Man
of
Wrath
as
he
came
out
from
a
private
conference
with
him.
"Principles?
My
dear
Elizabeth,
how
can
he
have
any
on
that
income?"
"If
he
is
not
a
Conservative
will
you
let
that
stand
in
his
way,
and
doom
that
little
child
to
go
on
taking
work
off
other
people's
shoulders?"
"My
dear
Elizabeth,"
he
protested,
"what
has
my
decision
for
or
against
him
to
do
with
dooming
little
children
to
go
on
doing
anything?
I
really
cannot
be
governed
by
sentiment."
"If
you
don't
give
it
to
him--"
and
I
held
up
an
awful
finger
of
warning
as
he
retreated,
at
which
he
only
laughed.
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