Page 124 - sons-and-lovers

They were very poor that autumn. William had just gone
away to London, and his mother missed his money. He sent
ten shillings once or twice, but he had many things to pay
for at first. His letters came regularly once a week. He wrote
a good deal to his mother, telling her all his life, how he
made friends, and was exchanging lessons with a French-
man, how he enjoyed London. His mother felt again he was
remaining to her just as when he was at home. She wrote
to him every week her direct, rather witty letters. All day
long, as she cleaned the house, she thought of him. He was
in London: he would do well. Almost, he was like her knight
who wore HER favour in the battle.
He was coming at Christmas for five days. There had
never been such preparations. Paul and Arthur scoured the
land for holly and evergreens. Annie made the pretty paper
hoops in the old-fashioned way. And there was unheard-
of extravagance in the larder. Mrs. Morel made a big and
magnificent cake. Then, feeling queenly, she showed Paul
how to blanch almonds. He skinned the long nuts rever-
ently, counting them all, to see not one was lost. It was said
that eggs whisked better in a cold place. So the boy stood in
the scullery, where the temperature was nearly at freezing-
point, and whisked and whisked, and flew in excitement
to his mother as the white of egg grew stiffer and more
snowy.
‘Just look, mother! Isn’t it lovely?’
And he balanced a bit on his nose, then blew it in the
air.
‘Now, don’t waste it,’ said the mother.

1