Mother
Carey replied to her impatient champion that while waiting for Allen
was her time for writing letters and reading amusing books, and that
the day was only too long for him already, poor fellow, without
urging him to make it longer.
"More shame for him," muttered pitiless sixteen.
After breakfast Allen generally strolled out to see the papers or to
bestow his time somewhere—-in the picture galleries or in the British
Museum, where he had a reading order; but it was always uncertain
whether he would disappear for the whole day, shut himself up in his
own room, or hang about the drawing-room, very much injured if his
mother could not devote herself to him. Indeed she always did so,
except when she was bound to take Barbara to some of her classes
(including cookery), or when she had promised herself to Dr. and Mrs.
Lucas, who were now both very infirm, and knew not how to be thankful
enough for the return of one who became like a daughter to them;
while Jock, their godson, at once made himself like the best of
grandsons, and never failed to give them a brightening, cheering hour
every Sunday.
The science of cookery was by no means a needless task, for the cook
was very plain, and Allen's appetite was dainty, and comfort at
dinner could only be hoped for by much thought and contrivance.
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