‘I am not a man,’ said Lord Cadurcis, very quietly; ‘I wish I were.’

‘Plantagenet!’ said the mother, ’have not I always told you that you are never to answer me?  It is not proper for children to answer!  O Lady Annabel, if you knew what it cost me to educate my son.  He never does anything I wish, and it is so provoking, because I know that he can behave as properly as possible if he likes.  He does it to provoke me.  You know you do it to provoke me, you little brat; now, sit properly, sir; I do desire you to sit properly.  How vexatious that you should call at Cherbury for the first time, and behave in this manner!  Plantagenet, do you hear me?’ exclaimed Mrs. Cadurcis, with a face reddening to scarlet, and almost menacing a move from her seat.

‘Yes, everybody hears you, Mrs. Cadurcis,’ said the little lord.

‘Don’t call me Mrs. Cadurcis,’ exclaimed the mother, in a dreadful rage.  ’That is not the way to speak to your mother; I will not be called Mrs. Cadurcis by you.  Don’t answer me, sir; I desire you not to answer me.  I have half a mind to get up and give you a good shake, that I have.  O Lady Annabel,’ sighed Mrs. Cadurcis, while a tear trickled down her cheek, ’if you only knew the life I lead, and what trouble it costs me to educate that child!’

‘My dear madam,’ said Lady Annabel, ’I am sure that Lord Cadurcis has no other wish but to please you.  Indeed you have misunderstood him.’

‘Yes! she always misunderstands me,’ said Lord Cadurcis, in a softer tone, but with pouting lips and suffused eyes.

‘Now he is going on,’ said his mother, beginning herself to cry dreadfully.  ’He knows my weak heart; he knows nobody in the world loves him like his mother; and this is the way he treats me.’

‘My dear Mrs. Cadurcis,’ said Lady Annabel, ’pray take luncheon after your long drive; and Lord Cadurcis, I am sure you must be fatigued.’

‘Thank you, I never eat, my dear lady,’ said Mrs. Cadurcis, ’except at my meals.  But one glass of Mountain, if you please, I would just take the liberty of tasting, for the weather is so dreadfully hot, and Plantagenet has so aggravated me, I really do not feel myself.’

Lady Annabel sounded her silver hand-bell, and the butler brought some cakes and the Mountain.  Mrs. Cadurcis revived by virtue of her single glass, and the providential co-operation of a subsequent one or two.  Even the cakes and the Mountain, however, would not tempt her son to open his mouth; and this, in spite of her returning composure, drove her to desperation.  A conviction that the Mountain and the cakes were delicious, an amiable desire that the palate of her spoiled child should be gratified, some reasonable maternal anxiety that after so long and fatiguing a drive he in fact needed some refreshment, and the agonising consciousness that all her own physical pleasure at the moment was destroyed by the mental sufferings she endured at having quarrelled with her