He spoke sharply to the children, and told them to go in to their tea.
Greatly surprised, for they had never heard their father speak sharply
before, they went off, hand in hand, little Holly looking back over her
shoulder.
Young Jolyon poured out the tea.
"My wife's not the thing today," he said, but he knew well enough that
his father had penetrated the cause of that sudden withdrawal, and
almost hated the old man for sitting there so calmly.
"You've got a nice little house here," said old Jolyon with a shrewd
look; "I suppose you've taken a lease of it!"
Young Jolyon nodded.
"I don't like the neighbourhood," said old Jolyon; "a ramshackle lot."
Young Jolyon replied: "Yes, we're a ramshackle lot."'
The silence was now only broken by the sound of the dog Balthasar's
scratching.
Old Jolyon said simply: "I suppose I oughtn't to have come here, Jo; but
I get so lonely!"
At these words young Jolyon got up and put his hand on his father's
shoulder.
In the next house someone was playing over and over again: 'La Donna
mobile' on an untuned piano; and the little garden had fallen into
shade, the sun now only reached the wall at the end, whereon basked
a crouching cat, her yellow eyes turned sleepily down on the dog
Balthasar.
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