Christmas Pudding and Pigeon Pie by Nancy Mitford Page A

you and I together were to arrange a kind of daily programme for Roderick to carry out during the time that you are with us. I am a great believer in strict routine for young people, especially now that they have these ridiculously long holidays, and Roderick badly needs discipline, as you will very soon find out.’
    Here she paused, looked at her watch, then out of the window, and finally at Paul, as though expecting him to make some comment.
    ‘I think you are right. He evidently does need discipline. It seems to me that he is the sort of boy who should spend a great deal of time out in the open,’ said Paul, remembering Bobby’s little plan for bridge parties at Mulberrie Farm. ‘Plenty of exercise and fresh air would do him a world of good, both mentally and physically; nothing like it for building character, you know.In fact,’ he went on, warming to his subject, ‘in all the years that I have had boys in my charge I have adhered to the motto,
Mens sana in corpore sano
. I have never found a better.’
    ‘There is no better,’ said Lady Bobbin approvingly. The tutor was making an excellent impression. ‘If more young people would realize that we could do away with a great deal that is bad nowadays, and especially this unhealthy modern art, I feel certain.’
    ‘I think we could, too.’
    ‘Some of these artists, you know (if you could call them artists, which, personally, I don’t) would be different beings after a day’s hunting, do them all the good in the world, take their minds off those hideous atrocities that they pretend to like. Diseased minds, that’s what they’ve got, diseased minds in unhealthy bodies.’
    ‘Poor wretches,’ said Paul, in tones of withering contempt.
    ‘However, that’s beside the point,’ said Lady Bobbin, again looking at her watch. ‘Now I had very much hoped that Roderick would be getting four or five days a week with hounds these Christmas holidays, but of course the wretched foot and mouth has stopped all that for the present (although between ourselves I have an idea that, if there are no fresh outbreaks before the new year, we shall be able to carry on just as usual in January). Luckily, however, we are not prevented from hacking on the estate, so you and he will be able to help keep the hunt horses fit. Then I shall be arranging one or two shoots for him, nothing much, you know, as we have given up rearing since my husband’s death, but just rough days. Besides that there is quite a nice little golf course outside Woodford, and Major Stanworth, who is farming near here, has a squash court, so as you see there will be no lack of sport for you. Now would you be so good as to cast your eye over this piece of paper on which I have written out a daily programme for Roderick, subject, of course, to your approval, Mr. Fisher.’
    ‘Let me see, let me see,’ said Paul, fixing on to his nose a pair of pince-nez through which, in fact, he could hardly see anythingat all, but which he felt to be in keeping with his new character as tutor. (Amabelle had with great difficulty restrained him from making his appearance at Compton Bobbin arrayed in a platinum blonde wig, moustache and eyebrows.)
    ‘Ah! Hum! Hem! Yes! “Breakfast at eight-thirty, work from nine to eleven, ride from eleven to one.” That won’t do, you know, Lady Bobbin, won’t do at all, I fear. Let me see now, “luncheon at one o’clock, ride or play golf from two till four” – that’s all right – “from five till seven-thirty more work or a game of squash rackets”. Yes, a very excellent programme, if I may say so, but there is one thing about it which I shall be obliged to alter. We
must
have the whole morning for work.’
    ‘Has Mr. Pringle given Roderick so much to do?’
    ‘Yes, indeed. A very great deal. I am afraid from what Mr. Pringle tells me that Roderick is an idle, a backward boy.’
    ‘I know he is.’
    ‘Mr. Pringle doubts whether Roderick will pass into Sandhurst at all