Sleep in Peace by Phyllis Bentley

pursued presently.
    â€œLudo,” said Gwen with conviction, “is a
gentleman’s
son.”
    This striking expression lodged itself firmly in Laura’s mind, and was often used as the climax of the stories she told herself as she skipped solemnly round the Blackshaw garden wielding her new skipping-rope. It seemed to be springtime; Ludo all of a sudden had a great many beautiful marbles, some of glass with coloured twirls within, some of mottled marble, some (the cheapest, these) of white stone with thin coloured stripes. Papa had bought Laura the skipping-rope, and shortened it to the right length for her with his own hands. The rope was very white at first, with bright red striped handles, and Laura loved its new and glossy air. But skipping one day in the garden after a shower, she did not realise the effect of puddles upon the rope until it was too late, when she perceived with anguish that its whiteness was all muddied, all besmirched. But she was fonder of the rope than ever, she decided quickly, so that the rope’s feelings might not be hurt; one was always fond of things and people which had done good service. “Why are you so fond of that old rope,” said someone in her daydream with a sneer. The little girl who played Laura’s part—a lovely creature with fine grey eyes like Gwen and black curly hair like Papa—replied haughtily: “I am the daughterof a gentleman.” It was the same with Buller. Gwen wanted to change his name to Roberts, who it seemed was fighting the Boers more successfully than Buller. But Ludo would not agree, and Laura approved his decision. One did not throw one’s old friends overboard like that—not if one were a gentleman’s son.
    On Sundays one was not allowed to skip, which was a pity. Indeed Sundays were often rather a pity; it was surprising how many things there were to go wrong on Sundays. They began well. One wore one’s best dress of blue corduroy velvet with the lace collar, and that was fun. Ludo was usually punctual for breakfast, breakfast being later; Papa was in a lively laughing mood, and breakfast was in the dining-room, which on Sundays seemed usually to be sunny, with Buller basking on the window-sill. Papa cut a piece of buttered toast into long thin strips, and offered one strip to his youngest daughter, who stood at his side to receive the dainty.
    â€œCan’t Ludo have a piece, Papa?” suggested Laura.
    â€œOnly the youngest has it,” said Gwen.
    At this there passed over Ludo’s face the dark sad look which made Laura more unhappy than anything on earth. She longed to say: If Ludo can’t have it I don’t want it—but if she said that, then Papa’s feelings might be hurt. It was very perplexing. She stood holding the beautiful thin strip of crisp toast, so thickly buttered, quite unable to decide whether to put it in her mouth or no.
    â€œOnly people whose heads don’t come above the table-top can have the master’s toast,” suggested Ada, who had come in with fresh hot water.
    â€œAnd when my head comes above, can’t I have it?” enquired Laura.
    She brightened as Papa, laughing, shook his head; for this was justice, and Ludo’s face had cleared.
    After breakfast on Sunday one put on one’s blue corduroy coat, trimmed with fur, and the tight blue corduroy bonnet with a fur tail round the front. Ludo wore a coat with an astrakhan collar,an astrakhan cap and a white silk scarf. Dressed like that he looked very handsome, whatever Gwen might say. Of course he did not equal Papa in his glossy top hat; but then who could equal Papa? Gwen had a blue coat with gilt buttons and a great many capes, and all these capes lay very flat and had raw edges. Considering how fussy Gwen was about having neat hems on all the clothes one made for one’s dolls, it was odd that she should consent to have raw edges on her Sunday coat. Laura for some reason enjoyed