The Last and the First by Ivy Compton-Burnett Page A

school has a good past. Is there any hope for the future?”
    â€œIt depends on the present. And how much hope lies there? Things can’t go on as they are. They don’t remain at a standstill. Did you notice the standard of the concert? Or pay no attention to it? I hope you closed your ears.”
    â€œI will admit I was alive to it,” said Hamilton, with a smile. “Ungracious though the admission may sound in someone made welcome to it. I am deriving pleasure from it on other grounds.”
    â€œI am deriving it on only one ground. That my familyis not here. It was a struggle to achieve my escape. You would hardly know how great. And a good deal was done for me against the family will. Failure asks more of me than I thought to face.”
    â€œAnd of your honesty and your courage. But I feel neither will fail. We know that both have been tried.”
    Miss Murdoch approached with hand upraised, indicating return to their seats.
    â€œThe high water mark of a concert may be the interval,” murmured Hamilton, as they took them. “If it encroached on the time, the gain outweighed the loss.”
    After the concert tea was handed by the girls to the guests, who were uncertain whether it was a grave or a festive occasion, and were not helped to a decision. Amy chose an unobtrusive part as members of both her worlds were present, and although possessed of two personalities, she had the use of none. Hamilton provided his mother with a seat, and moved about among the guests.
    â€œWho is the man who is with you, Amy?” said a girl.
    â€œOh, he is some sort of relation who lives with us,” said Amy, not prepared to go nearer to the truth.
    â€œWhy does he live with you?”
    â€œTo get rich more quickly,” said Amy, in a confidential manner, dropping her voice. “It saves the expense of a home. Or I believe that is what it is.”
    â€œWhat kind of work does he do?”
    â€œNone. He has never done any.”
    â€œWe heard you call him ‘Uncle’.”
    â€œOh, well, we do. He is so much older than we are.”
    â€œAnd he called your grandmother ‘Mamma’.”
    â€œOh, he does sometimes. He often does odd things.”
    â€œI wonder what the reason is.”
    â€œOh, I suppose it satisfies some kind of want in him,” said Amy, lifting her shoulders.
    â€œPerhaps he is illegitimate?”
    â€œNo, of course he is not.”
    â€œBut how can you tell? You would not be told about it.”
    â€œOh, I have heard what he is, but I forget,” said Amy, feeling she had better not have done so, and foreseeing problems in the future. “There is no mystery about him, and I daresay he might be worse. I will go and get them some more tea.”
    â€œDo you want us to come and help you?”
    â€œNo, my grandmother would like me to do it myself,” said Amy, fearing filial behaviour in Hamilton, and knowing she must always fear it.
    â€œHere is an arresting sight,” he said to his mother, “and I should hazard not a common one. The two headmistresses standing together in conference.”
    â€œThis is my little grand-daughter,” said Jocasta, ushering Amy forward, with a feeling that an introduction might be effected, as one seemed to be needed. “I daresay you will find you really know her.”
    â€œNo, I shall not. I find I do not,” said Miss Murdoch, smiling at Amy. “Knowledge comes with—what shall I say?—with knowledge. When she reaches my form it will come to us, the knowledge of each other. Meanwhile I will not pretend to it. It is not our custom to pretend.”
    Jocasta did not disagree.
    â€œI know her by sight. I see her when I go through the classes,” said Hermia, also smiling at Amy. “I can go so far without pretence.”
    â€œAnd she has seen you,” said Hamilton. “And given us an impression of you as far as her powers