MacKenzie, Compton, 1883-1972 / 2008-06-28 00:00:00
Lidderdale did not
give way to her husband. She was determined that he should not have a
Cockney accent, and without irritating her husband any more than was
inevitable she was determined that he should not gobble down his
religion as a solid indigestible whole. On this point she even went so
far as directly to contradict the boy's father and argue that an
intelligent boy like Mark was likely to vomit up such an indigestible
whole later on, although she did not make use of such a coarse
expression.
"All mothers think their sons are the cleverest in the world."
"But, James, he _is_ an exceptionally clever little boy. Most observant,
with a splendid memory and plenty of imagination."
"Too much imagination. His nights are one long circus."
"But, James, you yourself have insisted so often on the personal Devil;
you can't expect a little boy of Mark's sensitiveness not to be
impressed by your picture."
"He has nothing to fear from the Devil, if he behaves himself. Haven't I
made that clear?"
Mrs. Lidderdale sighed.
"But, James dear, a child's mind is so literal, and though I know you
insist just as much on the reality of the Saints and Angels, a child's
mind is always most impressed by the things that have power to frighten
it.
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