But the Wealthy Relative, on being informed of his good fortune, had bluntly replied that he intended to leave his little all to the founding of Night-Schools for illiterate Members of Parliament, Travelling-Scholarships for uneducated Cabinet Ministers, and Deportment Classes for New Radical Peers. He was a Funny Man as well as a Wealthy Relative.
And, thereafter, Haddon Berners’ parents had, as Cook put it, “up and died” and “Grandfather” had sent for, and adopted, the orphan Haddock.
Though known to Dam and Lucille as “The Haddock” he was in reality an utter Rabbit and esteemed as such. A Rabbit he was born, a Rabbit he lived, and a Rabbit he died. Respectable ever. Seen in the Right Place, in the Right Clothes, doing the Right Thing with the Right People at the Right Time.
Lucille was the daughter of Sylvester Bethune Gavestone, the late and lamented Bishop of Minsterbury (once a cavalry subaltern), a school, Sandhurst, and life-long friend of “Grandfather,” and husband of “Grandfather’s” cousin, Geraldine Seymour Stukeley.
Poor “Grandfather,” known to the children as “Grumper,” the ferocious old tyrant who loved all mankind and hated all men, with him adoption was a habit, and the inviting of other children to stay as long as they liked with the adopted children, a craze.
And yet he rarely saw the children, never played with them, and hated to be disturbed.
He had out-lived his soldier-contemporaries, his children, his power to ride to hounds, his pretty taste in wine, his fencing, dancing, flirting, and all that had made life bearable—everything, as he said, but his gout and his liver (and, it may be added, except his ferocious, brutal temper).
“Yes…. Let us circumvent, decoy, and utterly destroy the common Haddock,” agreed Dam.
The entry into the nursery was an effective night-attack by Blackfeet (not to mention hands) but was spoilt by the presence of Miss Smellie who was sitting there knitting relentlessly.
“Never burst into rooms, children,” she said coldly. “One expects little of a boy, but a _girl_ should try to appear a Young Lady. Come and sit by me, Lucille. What did you come in for—or rather for what did you burst in?”
“We came to play with the Haddock,” volunteered Dam.