On Forsyte ‘Change

They went round the corner, followed by June’s tail.

There was no sign of any children.

“We’ll go and tell the teacher.”

“Nao.”

“Why not?”

“They’ll larrup me proper, if we do.”

“Why don’t they like you, Susie? Is it because you’re ugly?” Susie wailed again. “Don’t cry! It’s not your fault that you’re ugly.”

Susie wailed the louder.

Two small boys and a girl had suddenly appeared and stood pointing in a somewhat vulgar ma

The children nudged each other.

“Ill-bred little children!” said June, quoting from her governess.

One of the boys emitted a piercing whistle.

“Did you pinch little Susie Betters?”

The children laughed in a still more vulgar ma

“You’re dirty little morkins,” cried June; “and I’m going to larrup you.”

The children gave before the onslaught, skipping sideways with uncouth noises; one of the boys shoved June so that she tripped over her tail, and sprawled, a small blue figure, on the ground. The children, then, pinching Susie warmly, yelled in unison, and vanished.

June rose, her habit dirty, her whip gone, her cheeks crimson. Susie was wailing as she had not yet wailed.

“Don’t! It’s babyish to cry.”

“They pinched me again.”

“Where?”

“On my ba-ase.”

“Come with me, and show my Gran,” said June. “He’ll soon astonish their weak nerves. You shall have my pudding, too. Come on!” And she dragged the reluctant Susie to the mansion of old Jolyon.

“François,” said June to the Swiss servant, “this is Susie Betters; she’s been pinched, and she’s to have my pudding. She isn’t brave, so she’s not to be frightened. I want my Gran to see her pinches. Come on, Susie!”

Still tugging Susie, she passed into the dining-room.

Old Jolyon, who never went to the City on Saturdays, was in his armchair by the fire, reading The Times and waiting for lunch to be a

“Well, my ducky, what have you got there?”

“Susie Betters, Gran; she’s been pinched behind. I wanted you to see.”

She pulled Susie round to the chair, whence old Jolyon looked shrewdly at his coachman’s daughter.

“H’m!” he said: “you’re a thin little toad.”

“Yes; she’s going to have my pudding. She’s too thin altogether, and she’s too pale. Her face is dirty, too, but it isn’t her fault.”

“What’s come to your habit?” said old Jolyon. “Did you fall off?”

“Oh! no; I just sat down in the street while I was larruping those morkins and they took my whip and ran away.”

“H’m! Pretty pair of shoes altogether!”

He stretched out and rang the bell.

“Take this little girl downstairs, François, and have her face washed, and give her a good di

The two children went out. In the hall June said:

“I want to see her face washed, François.”

“Veree well, Mees June.”

During lunch June fidgeted, with difficulty prevented by old Jolyon’s eyes from telling her story.

When her mother and governess had withdrawn, she approached her grandfather, who had lighted his after-lunch cigar, and stood between his knees.

“I’m going to be Susie Betters’ friend, Gran.”

“Oh!” said old Jolyon. “Mite like you—picking up lame ducks.”

“Is Susie a lame duck?”

Old Jolyon nodded. “Shouldn’t be surprised if they pinched her more than ever now. She looks to me a poor thing.”

“Well, I’m going to protect her.”

“How?” said old Jolyon, twinkling.

“I shall dare them to pinch her.”

“First catch your hare—”

“I know,” said June, suddenly. “She can do lessons with ME, Gran, instead of going to school.”

Old Jolyon shook his head.

“That cock won’t fight. Coming to the Zoo?”

June clapped her hands, then said at once:

“No. I must look after Susie.”

Old Jolyon stared. It was his first introduction to the real nature of his little grand-daughter.

“She’s a poor timid little stick,” he said; “and you’ll never make anything of her.”

When June had gone, he sat contemplating the ash of his cigar. Children! What things they thought of! She would learn some day that you couldn’t go ‘protecting’ everything you came across. Sooner the better, perhaps! Generous little thing—though; giving up the Zoo. Lessons! “What would her mother say to that? She was such a good woman—that you never knew.” And old Jolyon sighed. If his son hadn’t married such a good woman, it might all have turned out very different; and Jo—Well, well! A nap! Just forty winks. And, crushing out his cigar, he leaned back with eyes fixed on ‘Dutch Fishing Boats at Sunset’; and his thin hand with pointed nails depending over the arm of his old chair. A warmhearted little thing! Lame ducks!…

In spite of the misgivings of the good woman afraid of the effect on her accent, and the opposition of her governess, too deep for words, June had her way. Susie Betters, almost u

“You oughtn’t to make Susie cry, Miss Pearson, just because she speaks commonly. She doesn’t know any better. You can’t help being common, can you, Susie?”

This protection, indeed, produced as much water as any educational exhortations. Out of school hours she taught Susie every game she knew and some she didn’t; instructed her in dressing and undressing dolls; delivered her from the Italian greyhound; helped her to burn her cheeks cooking cocoanut ice and toffee; and prick her fingers sewing at dolls’ nightgowns. When Susie was put in the corner, June had invariably to be put in the opposite corner—so loyal was she to her ‘lame duck.’ The ‘good woman’ watched the experiment with equanimity—it would help June not to be selfish. Old Jolyon, with i

The end came stealthily with every ounce of weight that Susie Betters put on from the di

Susie had a doll, given her by June, which, following the law of compensation—advocated by the then fashionable philosopher Mr. Emerson—she treated in the ma

One Saturday morning when the doll had been whipped and put first in one corner and then in another, her feelings became too much for her.

“You oughtn’t to treat poor Amy like that, Susie, it’s a shame!”

Susie answered:

“Why not? She’s my doll!”

“Well, you shan’t!” said June. “So there!”

“I will,” said Susie, and promptly turned up the doll’s petticoats.

June’s eyes grew very blue, her hair seemed to shine.

“If you whip her,” she said, “I’ll whip you.”

“Will you?” said Susie. “I’m bigger than you.”

She laid the doll over her knee.