Hugh Walpole

“ Not for ten years would he return to her. To be a mother you must have infinite patience.
Secretly she rebelled against her husband’s policy; outwardly she submitted to it.
During all the week following Christmas the Coles were a miserable family, and in the middle of them Jeremy moved, a figure of stone. They wished him to be an outcast; very well then, he would be an outcast. They thought him a criminal and not fit for their society; very well then, he would be apart and of himself. The presents were there, at the bottom of his play-box. ”

“ The children would amuse themselves—who could doubt it—but at the same time there were so many things that they must not do that as the days passed they were more and more restricted and confined.
“Mary, what are you reading? ... Oh, I wouldn’t read that quite yet, dear. A little later, perhaps.” Or, “Helen, you’re sitting in the sun. Go and get your hat.” Or, “Not on the carpet, dear. It will make your clothes so dusty. Why don’t you sit down and read a little?”
Before his departure schoolwards Jeremy had been accustomed to those inhibitions, and had taken them for granted as inevitable. ”

“ He sighed as of a man who has accomplished a great and serious task. Many times a day he did this. He had himself unpacked his play-box on his return from school. No one in the house save only he had beheld those strange parcels. ”

“ When you get older you’ll find people often don’t see things the way you do, won’t like the work you’re proudest of, simply won’t understand it. There are as many different opinions as can be in this old world, and you’ve simply got to face it. ”

“ Misunderstood! Why, bless my soul, you’ll be misunderstood a million times before you’re done. If you’ve got work you like, a friend you can trust and a strong stomach you’ll have enough to be thankful for. ”

“ A white-backed hair brush, a coral necklace, a little brooch of silver-gilt, a pair of woollen gloves, a baby’s coral, a story book, a dog collar, two handkerchiefs, a work-box, a cheap copy in a cheap frame of “Dignity and Impudence,” a tea caddy. Obviously all the servants had been included in this—no one had been forgotten. Had not Mr. Cole been so wholly and so truly shocked by his son’s wickedness he must have been touched by the thought that had plainly gone to the buying of each gift. But imagination was not Mr. ”

“ Not many things here. The little case with some books, the pictures of “Napoleon on the Bellerophon” and “The Charge of the Light Brigade,” the white bed and wash-hand-stand, the chest of drawers. ... Then his eye fell on the play-box. He went to it and opened it.
Jeremy gave a long, convulsive sigh. Then, between his sobs: “Father—please. I’ll get the money. I will really. I didn’t know it was wrong. Those are mine—they break, two of them. I’ll get the money. I will really. Please, father.”
A word here is needed in defence of Mr. Cole. A word is not in truth necessary. ”

“ You’ve just got to be ready for anything—not to get angry and kick. Don’t let yourself be too sensitive. You’ll go up and you’ll go down, and when you’re up people will say you ought to be down, and when you’re down there’ll be a few kind souls will help you up again. ”

“ No more sulking, dear; but be the bright little boy we all know you can be.”
She left Jeremy puzzled and confused. Was it true that he was sulky? He did love his father and mother, but deeply distrusted scenes of sentiment. Nevertheless, Christmas was approaching, and he felt warm towards all the world—even Aunt Amy. Often and often he went up to his bedroom, closed the door behind him, looked under his bed to make quite sure that no one was in the room, then very cautiously opened the lid of his play-box and peered inside. At the bottom of the box were a number of odd-shaped parcels ”