A God and His Gifts by Ivy Compton-Burnett

Author:Ivy Compton-Burnett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2013-12-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter IX

“Does Henry love Father?” said Hereward.

“No,” said his adopted son.

“Oh, Henry loves good, kind Father,” said Hereward, suggesting grounds for the feeling.

“No, Father love Henry,” said the son, using the name that had come about through his own rendering of Hereward.

“Oh, why must we only love you?”

“Because,” said Henry, looking at him with grave eyes.

“Don’t you love anyone else?”

“Father and Nurse,” said Henry, sitting up on Hereward’s knee. “Always very much.”

“Father does more for you than Nurse does.”

“No,” said Henry, surprised.

“When you are big, you will know it.”

“Big now; very big boy.”

“Yes, very big. You have lived nearly three years.”

“Five,” said Henry, erroneously. “Seven, five, eight.”

“You will be more than that one day.”

“A hundred,” said Henry, with force.

“Even Father is not as much as that.”

“Oh, no,” said Henry, compassionately.

“How old do you think Father is?”

Henry raised his eyes in silence, unequal to the demand.

“It was Father who brought you a toy to-day.”

“Broken,” said Henry. “Poor horse!”

“Oh, how did that happen?”

“Break it,” said Henry, illustrating the movement with his hands.

“Oh, that was not very wise.”

“Very good boy,” said Henry, in a precautionary tone.

“Let me see if I can do anything. Why, the horse is without a head.”

“No,” said Henry, putting the head and body together to remedy the position.

“You would not like your head to be apart from you.”

Henry broke into mirth at the idea, and took his head in his hands as if to safeguard it.

“So you did not like the horse?”

“Love it,” said Henry, stroking the head.

“You are not very kind to your toys.”

“Not put them away,” said Henry, in agreement.

“Not when Nurse tells you to?”

“She could spare herself the trouble,” said Henry, reproducing more than the words.

“She does not make you do it?”

“No good when they are young. A waste of breath.”

“Why, here is Mother coming. Show her how pleased you are to see her.”

“Always see Father.”

“Oh, you have the child, Hereward,” said Ada. “What a difference he makes to you!”

“Do you?” said Hereward, putting his face against the boy’s. “Ah, you make a difference.”

“One, two, three,” said Henry, as his grandparents and aunt appeared. “Poor Grandpa has a stick.”

“Yes, poor Grandpa,” said Sir Michael. “You would not like to walk with one.”

“Yes,” said Henry, holding out his hands.

“No, it is Grandpa’s stick.”

“No, Henry’s,” said Henry, getting off Hereward’s knee and advancing to the stick with open purpose.

Sir Michael gave it up, and Henry walked about the room, imitating his use of it, and appearing to find it an employment that could not pall. When he caught his foot and fell, he waited to be picked up and resumed it

“Give the stick to your big brother,” said Salomon.

“Not big,” said Henry, looking at him.

“Yes, we are bigger than you are.”

“Men,” said Henry, in a somehow baffled manner.

“You are right. We are not big for men.”

“No,” said Henry, smiling at the expression of his thought.

“What do you call your horse?” said Reuben, as Sir Michael retrieved the stick.

“Horse,” said Henry, surprised.

“But hasn’t it a name of its own?”

“Horse,” said Henry, after a pause.

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