Striding Folly by Dorothy L. Sayers

Author:Dorothy L. Sayers [Sayers, Dorothy L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-1-4532-5898-9
Publisher: Open Road
Published: 2012-07-05T23:00:00+00:00

TALBOYS

A Lord Peter Wimsey Story

‘FATHER!’

‘Yes, my son.’

‘You know those peaches of Mr Puffett’s, the whacking great big ones you said I wasn’t to take?’

‘Well?’

‘Well, I’ve tooken them.’

Lord Peter Wimsey rolled over on his back and stared at his offspring in consternation. His wife laid down her sewing.

‘Oh, Bredon, how naughty! Poor Mr Puffett was going to exhibit them at the Flower-Show.’

‘Well, Mummy, I didn’t mean to. It was a dare.’

Having offered this explanation for what it was worth, Master Bredon Wimsey again turned candid eyes upon his father, who groaned and sat up.

‘And must you come and tell me about it? I hope, Bredon, you are not developing into a prig.’

‘Well, Father, Mr Puffett saw me. An’ he’s coming up to have a word with you when he’s put on a clean collar.’

‘Oh, I see,’ said his lordship, relieved. ‘And you thought you’d better come and get it over before my temper became further inflamed by hearing his version of the matter?’

‘Yes, please, sir.’

‘That is rational, at any rate. Very well, Bredon. Go up into my bedroom and prepare for execution. You will find the cane behind the dressing-table.’

‘Yes, Father. You won’t be long, will you, sir?’

‘I shall allow precisely the right time for apprehension and remorse. Off with you!’

The culprit vanished hastily in the direction of the house; the executioner heaved himself to his feet and followed at a leisurely pace, rolling up his sleeves as he went with a certain grimness.

‘My dear!’ exclaimed Miss Quirk. She gazed in horror through her spectacles at Harriet, who had placidly returned to her patchwork. ‘Surely, surely you don’t allow him to cane that mite of a child.’

‘Allow?’ said Harriet, amused. ‘That’s hardly the right word, is it?’

‘But Harriet, dear, he oughtn’t to do it. You don’t realise how dangerous it is. He may ruin the boy’s character for life. One must reason with these little people, not break their spirits by brutality. When you inflict pain and humiliation on a child like that, you make him feel helpless and inferior, and all that suppressed resentment will break out later in the most extraordinary and shocking ways.’

‘Oh, I don’t think he resents it,’ said Harriet. ‘He’s devoted to his father.’

‘Well, if he is,’ retorted Miss Quirk, ‘it must be a sort of masochism, and it ought to be stopped – I mean, it ought to be led gently into some other direction. It’s unnatural. How could any one feel a healthy devotion for a person who beats him?’

‘I can’t think; but it often seems to happen. Peter’s mother used to lay into him with a slipper, and they’ve always been the best of friends.’

‘If I had a child belonging to me,’ said Miss Quirk, ‘I would never permit anybody to lay a hand on him. All my little nephews and nieces have been brought up on enlightened modern lines. They never even hear the word, Don’t. Now, you see what happens. Just because your boy was told not to pick the peaches, he picked them.

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