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civility　to　oppose　to　this　she　wound　up　with：　　〃But　we're　all　good；

you　know！〃



〃He's　a　genius　…　you'll　love　him！〃　were　words　that　recurred　to　our

aspirant　before　the　Friday；　suggesting　among　many　things　that

geniuses　were　not　invariably　loveable。　　However；　it　was　all　the

better　if　there　was　an　element　that　would　make　tutorship　absorbing：

he　had　perhaps　taken　too　much　for　granted　it　would　only　disgust

him。　　As　he　left　the　villa　after　his　interview　he　looked　up　at　the

balcony　and　saw　the　child　leaning　over　it。　　〃We　shall　have　great

larks！〃　he　called　up。



Morgan　hung　fire　a　moment　and　then　gaily　returned：　　〃By　the　time

you　come　back　I　shall　have　thought　of　something　witty！〃



This　made　Pemberton　say　to　himself　〃After　all　he's　rather　nice。〃







CHAPTER　II







On　the　Friday　he　saw　them　all；　as　Mrs。　Moreen　had　promised；　for　her

husband　had　come　back　and　the　girls　and　the　other　son　were　at　home。

Mr。　Moreen　had　a　white　moustache；　a　confiding　manner　and；　in　his

buttonhole；　the　ribbon　of　a　foreign　order　…　bestowed；　as　Pemberton

eventually　learned；　for　services。　　For　what　services　he　never

clearly　ascertained：　　this　was　a　point　…　one　of　a　large　number　…

that　Mr。　Moreen's　manner　never　confided。　　What　it　emphatically　did

confide　was　that　he　was　even　more　a　man　of　the　world　than　you　might

first　make　out。　　Ulick；　the　firstborn；　was　in　visible　training　for

the　same　profession　…　under　the　disadvantage　as　yet；　however；　of　a

buttonhole　but　feebly　floral　and　a　moustache　with　no　pretensions　to

type。　　The　girls　had　hair　and　figures　and　manners　and　small　fat

feet；　but　had　never　been　out　alone。　　As　for　Mrs。　Moreen　Pemberton

saw　on　a　nearer　view　that　her　elegance　was　intermittent　and　her

parts　didn't　always　match。　　Her　husband；　as　she　had　promised；　met

with　enthusiasm　Pemberton's　ideas　in　regard　to　a　salary。　　The　young

man　had　endeavoured　to　keep　these　stammerings　modest；　and　Mr。

Moreen　made　it　no　secret　that　HE　found　them　wanting　in　〃style。〃　　He

further　mentioned　that　he　aspired　to　be　intimate　with　his　children；

to　be　their　best　friend；　and　that　he　was　always　looking　out　for

them。　　That　was　what　he　went　off　for；　to　London　and　other　places　…

to　look　out；　and　this　vigilance　was　the　theory　of　life；　as　well　as

the　real　occupation；　of　the　whole　family。　　They　all　looked　out；　for

they　were　very　frank　on　the　subject　of　its　being　necessary。　　They

desired　it　to　be　understood　that　they　were　earnest　people；　and　also

that　their　fortune；　though　quite　adequate　for　earnest　people；

required　the　most　careful　administration。　　Mr。　Moreen；　as　the

parent　bird；　sought　sustenance　for　the　nest。　　Ulick　invoked　support

mainly　at　the　club；　where　Pemberton　guessed　that　it　was　usually

served　on　green　cloth。　　The　girls　used　to　do　up　their　hair　and

their　frocks　themselves；　and　our　young　man　felt　appealed　to　to　be

glad；　in　regard　to　Morgan's　education；　that；　though　it　must

naturally　be　of　the　best；　it　didn't　cost　too　much。　　After　a　little

he　WAS　glad；　forgetting　at　times　his　own　needs　in　the　interest

inspired　by　the　child's　character　and　culture　and　the　pleasure　of

making　easy　terms　for　him。



During　the　first　weeks　of　their　acquaintance　Morgan　had　been　as

puzzling　as　a　page　in　an　unknown　language　…　altogether　different

from　the　obvious　little　Anglo…Saxons　who　had　misrepresented

childhood　to　Pemberton。　　Indeed　the　whole　mystic　volume　in　which

the　boy　had　been　amateurishly　bound　demanded　some　practice　in

translation。　　To…day；　after　a　considerable　interval；　there　is

something　phantasmagoria；　like　a　prismatic　reflexion　or　a　serial

novel；　in　Pemberton's　memory　of　the　queerness　of　the　Moreens。　　If

it　were　not　for　a　few　tangible　tokens　…　a　lock　of　Morgan's　hair　cut

by　his　own　hand；　and　the　half…dozen　letters　received　from　him　when

they　were　disjoined　…　the　whole　episode　and　the　figures　peopling　it

would　seem　too　inconsequent　for　anything　but　dreamland。　　Their

supreme　quaintness　was　their　success　…　as　it　appeared　to　him　for　a

while　at　the　time；　since　he　had　never　seen　a　family　so　brilliantly

equipped　for　failure。　　Wasn't　it　success　to　have　kept　him　so

hatefully　long？　　Wasn't　it　success　to　have　drawn　him　in　that　first

morning　at　dejeuner；　the　Friday　he　came　…　it　was　enough　to　MAKE　one

superstitious　…　so　that　he　utterly　committed　himself；　and　this　not

by　calculation　or　on　a　signal；　but　from　a　happy　instinct　which　made

them；　like　a　band　of　gipsies；　work　so　neatly　together？　　They　amused

him　as　much　as　if　they　had　really　been　a　band　of　gipsies。　　He　was

still　young　and　had　not　seen　much　of　the　world　…　his　English　years

had　been　properly　arid；　therefore　the　reversed　conventions　of　the

Moreens　…　for　they　had　THEIR　desperate　proprieties　…　struck　him　as

topsy…turvy。　　He　had　encountered　nothing　like　them　at　Oxford；　still

less　had　any　such　note　been　struck　to　his　younger　American　ear

during　the　four　years　at　Yale　in　which　he　had　richly　supposed

himself　to　be　reacting　against　a　Puritan　strain。　　The　reaction　of

the　Moreens；　at　any　rate；　went　ever　so　much　further。　　He　had

thought　himself　very　sharp　that　first　day　in　hitting　them　all　off

in　his　mind　with　the　〃cosmopolite〃　label。　　Later　it　seemed　feeble


and　colourless　…　confessedly　helplessly　provisional。



He　yet　when　he　first　applied　it　felt　a　glow　of　joy　…　for　an

instructor　he　was　still　empirical　…　rise　from　the　apprehension　that

living　with　them　would　really　he　to　see　life。　　Their　sociable

strangeness　was　an　intimation　of　that　…　their　chatter　of　tongues；

their　gaiety　and　good　humour；　their　infinite　dawdling　（they　were

always　getting　themselves　up；　but　it　took　forever；　and　Pemberton

had　once　found　Mr。　Moreen　shaving　in　the　drawing…room）；　their

French；　their　Italian　and；　cropping　up　in　the　foreign　fluencies；

their　cold　tough　slices　of　American。　　They　lived　on　macaroni　and

coffee　…　they　had　these　articles　prepared　in　perfection　…　but　they

knew　recipes　for　a　hundred　other　dishes。　　They　overflowed　with

music　and　song；　were　always　humming　and　catching　each　other　up；　and

had　a　sort　of　professional　acquaintance　with　Continental　cities。

They　talked　of　〃good　places〃　as　if　they　had　been　pickpockets　or

strolling　players。　　They　had　at　Nice　a　villa；　a　carriage；　a　piano

and　a　banjo；　and　they　went　to　official　parties。　　They　were　a

perfect　calendar　of　the　〃days〃　of　their　friends；　which　Pemberton

knew　them；　when　they　were　indisposed；　to　get　out　of　bed　to　go　to；

and　which　made　the　week　larger　than　life　when　Mrs。　Moreen　talked　of

them　with　Paula　and　Amy。　　Their　initiations　gave　their　new　inmate

at　first　an　almost　dazzling　sense　of　culture。　　Mrs。　Moreen　had

translated　something　at　some　former　period　…　an　author　whom　it　made

Pemberton　feel　borne　never　to　have　heard　of。　　They　could　imitate

Venetian　and　sing　Neapolitan；　and　when　they　wanted　to　say　something

very　particular　communicated　with　each　other　in　an　ingenious

dialect　of　their　own；　an　elastic　spoken　cipher　which　Pemberton　at

first　took　for　some　patois　of　one　of　their　countries；　but　which　he

〃caught　on　to〃　as　he　would　not　have　grasped　provincial　development

of　Spanish　or　German。



〃It's　the　family　language　…　Ultramoreen；〃　Morgan　explained　to　him

drolly　enough；　but　the　boy　rarely　condescended　to　use　it　himself；

though　he　dealt　in　colloquial　Latin　as　if　he　had　been　a　little

prelate。



Among　all　the　〃days〃　with　which　Mrs。　Moreen's　memory　was　taxed　she

managed　to　squeeze　in　one　of　her　own；　which　her　friends　sometimes

forgot。　　But　the　house　drew　a　frequented　air　from　the　number　of

fine　people　who　were　freely　named　there　and　from　several　mysterious

men　with　foreign　titles　and　English　clothes　whom　Morgan　called　the

princes　and　who；　on　sofas　with　the　girls；　talked　French　very　loud　…

though　sometimes　with　some　oddity　of　accent　…　as　if　to　show　they

were　saying　nothing　improper。　　Pemberton　wondered　how　the　princes

could　ever　propose　in　that　tone　and　so　publicly：　　he　took　for

granted　cynically　that　this　was　what　was　desired　of　them。　　Then