somebody of Lady Beddoes’s position ‘very easy to get on with’. ‘You see, Anthea is really nobody on her mother’s side,’ she went on, ‘and even the Clevelands can hardly compare with the Beddoeses.’
‘But Anthea is such a sweet girl,’ protested Miss Morrow. ‘Anyone would like her. And Lady Beddoes’ father was only an English professor teaching in Warsaw. She told Anthea.’
‘Miss Morrow, I don’t think you understand these things,’ said Miss Doggett.
‘No, I don’t think I do,’ said Miss Morrow humbly.
‘It will be a splendid thing for Anthea, really splendid ,’ purred Miss Doggett. ‘I wouldn’t have thought she had so much sense.’
But sense is just what a girl in love doesn’t have, thought Miss Morrow, who didn’t understand these things.
‘I feel the sun is doing us so much good,’ she ventured.
‘Yes, it is very beneficial if taken in small doses,’ agreed Miss Doggett, ‘but we mustn’t sit still too long, or we shall catch cold.’
They moved slowly away, Miss Morrow adjusting her usually brisk step to suit Miss Doggett’s more majestic one. They walked in silence, enjoying the sunshine and their surroundings.
Miss Morrow loved the Parks, especially in fine weather when they were full of people. In the spring there was a faintly ridiculous air about them, like Mendelssohn’s Spring Song , but, as in the song, there was also a prim and proper Victorian element which chastened the fantasy and made it into something quaint and formal, like a ballet. Dons striding along with walking sticks, wives in Fair Isle jumpers coming low over their hips, nurses with prams, and governesses with intelligent children asking ceaseless questions in their clear, fluty voices. And then there were the clergymen, solitary bearded ones reading books, young earnest ones, like chickens just out of the egg, discussing problems which had nothing to do with the sunshine or the yellow-green leaves uncurling on the trees. There were undergraduates too, and young women with Sweet’s Anglo-Saxon Reader or lecture notebooks under their arms, and lovers, clasping each other’s fingers and trying to find secluded paths where they might kiss. But for Miss Morrow the lovers were only a minor element; the North Oxford and clerical elements were stronger and gave more character to the ballet. She felt that even she and Miss Doggett could be principals in it, together with all the other old ladies who were being walked or wheeled about by their companions to get the fresh air. As they passed such couples, they could hear snatches of their conversation.
‘Do you know Archdeacon Liversidge?’
‘What?’ This in a querulous tone.
‘I said, do you know Archdeacon LIVERSIDGE?’ Very loudly and clearly.
And then they would pass out of hearing, and Archdeacon Liversidge would remain forever an unknown quantity.
Miss Morrow listened with delight to all she could hear and was glad that Miss Doggett did not want to start a conversation of their own. They had been walking in silence for about ten minutes, when two young men ran up to them.
‘Oh, Miss Doggett, what a delight !’
‘It only needed a meeting with our dear Miss Doggett to make the day quite perfect.’
‘Why, Michael and Gabriel,’ she said, ‘what are you doing here? You quite startled me, leaping about like that.’
‘We feel we must express ourselves in movement,’ said one of them. ‘We’ve been playing Stravinsky’s Sacre du Printemps all day, and we’re simply shattered by it.’
‘Michael wants to leap into that pool with one glorious leap,’ said Gabriel.
‘Wouldn’t you frighten the ducks?’ said Miss Morrow prosaically.
‘Oh, no, we are quite at one with all the wild creatures today,’ said Michael, i really think it’s wicked that one should have to work. I’ve got a tutorial with Mr. Cleveland after tea.’
That reminds me,’ said Gabriel suddenly, in a mysterious voice. ‘Do you think we ought
‘But Anthea is such a sweet girl,’ protested Miss Morrow. ‘Anyone would like her. And Lady Beddoes’ father was only an English professor teaching in Warsaw. She told Anthea.’
‘Miss Morrow, I don’t think you understand these things,’ said Miss Doggett.
‘No, I don’t think I do,’ said Miss Morrow humbly.
‘It will be a splendid thing for Anthea, really splendid ,’ purred Miss Doggett. ‘I wouldn’t have thought she had so much sense.’
But sense is just what a girl in love doesn’t have, thought Miss Morrow, who didn’t understand these things.
‘I feel the sun is doing us so much good,’ she ventured.
‘Yes, it is very beneficial if taken in small doses,’ agreed Miss Doggett, ‘but we mustn’t sit still too long, or we shall catch cold.’
They moved slowly away, Miss Morrow adjusting her usually brisk step to suit Miss Doggett’s more majestic one. They walked in silence, enjoying the sunshine and their surroundings.
Miss Morrow loved the Parks, especially in fine weather when they were full of people. In the spring there was a faintly ridiculous air about them, like Mendelssohn’s Spring Song , but, as in the song, there was also a prim and proper Victorian element which chastened the fantasy and made it into something quaint and formal, like a ballet. Dons striding along with walking sticks, wives in Fair Isle jumpers coming low over their hips, nurses with prams, and governesses with intelligent children asking ceaseless questions in their clear, fluty voices. And then there were the clergymen, solitary bearded ones reading books, young earnest ones, like chickens just out of the egg, discussing problems which had nothing to do with the sunshine or the yellow-green leaves uncurling on the trees. There were undergraduates too, and young women with Sweet’s Anglo-Saxon Reader or lecture notebooks under their arms, and lovers, clasping each other’s fingers and trying to find secluded paths where they might kiss. But for Miss Morrow the lovers were only a minor element; the North Oxford and clerical elements were stronger and gave more character to the ballet. She felt that even she and Miss Doggett could be principals in it, together with all the other old ladies who were being walked or wheeled about by their companions to get the fresh air. As they passed such couples, they could hear snatches of their conversation.
‘Do you know Archdeacon Liversidge?’
‘What?’ This in a querulous tone.
‘I said, do you know Archdeacon LIVERSIDGE?’ Very loudly and clearly.
And then they would pass out of hearing, and Archdeacon Liversidge would remain forever an unknown quantity.
Miss Morrow listened with delight to all she could hear and was glad that Miss Doggett did not want to start a conversation of their own. They had been walking in silence for about ten minutes, when two young men ran up to them.
‘Oh, Miss Doggett, what a delight !’
‘It only needed a meeting with our dear Miss Doggett to make the day quite perfect.’
‘Why, Michael and Gabriel,’ she said, ‘what are you doing here? You quite startled me, leaping about like that.’
‘We feel we must express ourselves in movement,’ said one of them. ‘We’ve been playing Stravinsky’s Sacre du Printemps all day, and we’re simply shattered by it.’
‘Michael wants to leap into that pool with one glorious leap,’ said Gabriel.
‘Wouldn’t you frighten the ducks?’ said Miss Morrow prosaically.
‘Oh, no, we are quite at one with all the wild creatures today,’ said Michael, i really think it’s wicked that one should have to work. I’ve got a tutorial with Mr. Cleveland after tea.’
That reminds me,’ said Gabriel suddenly, in a mysterious voice. ‘Do you think we ought
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