I promised him I would bend my steps toward Dipwell to be there on my twenty-first birthday, and he pledged himself to be there in spirit at least, bodily if possible.  We sealed the subject with some tears.  He often talked of commissioning a poet to compose verses about that wonderful coming day at Dipwell.  The thought of the day in store for us sent me strutting as though I had been in the presence of my drill-master.  Mrs. Waddy, however, grew extremely melancholy at the mention of it.

‘Lord only knows where we shall all be by that time!’ she sighed.

‘She is a dewy woman,’ said my father, disdainfully They appeared always to be at variance, notwithstanding her absolute devotion to him.  My father threatened to have her married to somebody immediately if she afflicted him with what he called her Waddyism.  She had got the habit of exclaiming at the end of her remarks, ’No matter; our clock strikes soon!’ in a way that communicated to me an obscure idea of a door going to open unexpectedly in one of the walls, and conduct us, by subterranean passages, into a new country.  My father’s method of rebuking her anxious nature was to summon his cook, the funniest of Frenchmen, Monsieur Alphonse, and issue orders for a succession of six dinner-parties.  ’And now, ma’am, you have occupation for your mind,’ he would say.

To judge by the instantaneous composure of her whole appearance, he did produce a temporary abatement of her malady.  The good soul bustled out of the room in attendance upon M. Alphonse, and never complained while the dinners lasted, but it was whispered that she had fits in the upper part of the house.  No sooner did my father hear the rumour than he accused her to her face of this enormity, telling her that he was determined to effect a permanent cure, even though she should drive him to unlimited expense.  We had a Ball party and an Aladdin supper, and for a fortnight my father hired postillions; we flashed through London.  My father backed a horse to run in the races on Epsom Downs named Prince Royal, only for the reason that his name was Prince Royal, and the horse won, which was, he said, a proof to me that in our country it was common prudence to stick to Royalty; and he bade me note that if he went in a carriage and two, he was comparatively unnoticed, whereas when he was beheld in a carriage and four, with postillions, at a glance from him the country people tugged their forelocks, and would like, if he would let them, to kiss his hand.  ’We will try the scarlet livery on one of our drives, Richie,’ said he.  Mrs. Waddy heard him.  ‘It is unlawful, sir,’ she said.  ‘For whom, ma’am?’ asked my father.  ‘None but Royal . . .’ she was explaining, but stopped, for he showed her an awful frown, and she cried so that my heart ached for her.  My father went out to order the livery on the spot.  He was very excited.  Then it was that Mrs. Waddy, embracing me, said, ’My dear, my own Master Richmond, my little Harry, prepare your poor child’s heart for evil days.’  I construed her unintelligible speech as an attack upon my father, and abused her violently.