The Man in the Wooden Hat Read Online Free PDF Page B

evening,” said Elisabeth. “Do you usually eat underneath tables?”
    “Sometimes they let me in ahead of time. I get hungry at my father’s parties, too.”
    “Oh, I’m always hungry,” she said. “But I’ll stay in the open tonight. Who are you? I’m Betty Macintosh.”
    “Like a raincoat?” He licked each finger thoroughly before holding out his hand. “I’m Harry Veneering. I’m an only child. My father is a very famous barrister. He works out here a lot of the time but I’m at school in England. I’m flying back to school tonight.”
    “Is the lobster then altogether wise? Do you think?”
    “Oh, yes, thanks. I’m never sick. I can eat anything. I’m like my father. My mother eats just about nothing, ever.”
    “Where are you at school in England?”
    “Near London. It’s a prep school. For Eton, of course. My father being who he is.”
    “Is he the one in the shorts?”
    “Yes. He says if you are anybody you can wear what you like anywhere. Some lord or duke told him. Or maybe it was a prime minister. He’s a terrible, terrible inside-out snob, my dad, and he’s very, very funny.”
    “Ought you to discuss your father with a stranger?”
    “Oh, yes. He’s fun. He’s just a joke. And very, very brilliant.”
    “I’ve seen him. Yellow hair?”
    “Yes. It’s gross. But it’s not dyed. I’ve got my mother’s hair. She’s the one with the long earrings.”
    “You have your father’s eyes.”
    “Yes.” He looked at her from across the small table where he was now attacking the crabmeat. “He’s a hypnotist. That’s why he wins absolutely every one of his Cases.”
    “ Oh , no,” she said, “ Oh , no. I am about to be married to another barrister and he wins Cases too and some of them against your father. And he never boasts. And he wasn’t at Eton. And he’s not a snob of any kind, ever. How old are you and why are you arguing about matters beyond your understanding?”
    “I’m nine. I’m small, but I expect to grow. My dad says boys grow to their feet and my feet—look at them—they’re vast. I suppose you’re going to marry Mr. Feathers. Did you know he’s called Old Filth? It’s because he’s so clean and so clever. Well, of course he is fairly clever.”
    “You don’t need to tell me about my future husband. It’s pert. Now then, come over here and bring that big table napkin with you. I’ll clean you up. And remember you are talking to the new Mrs. Edward Feathers.”
    “‘Mrs. Feathers’ sounds like a hen.” And the child came over and shut his eyes, presenting his silky Chinese face to her as she dipped the dinner napkin in cold water and mopped up the mayonnaise from round his mouth. He opened his blue eyes and said, “I know, I absolutely know I’ve seen you before. I didn’t mean to be rude. I love hens.”
    “No,” she said. “I don’t believe we’ve met before.”
    “If you’re ever back in England,” he said, “would you like to come to my school sports days? I’m very good. I win everything and there’s never anybody to see me because my parents are always somewhere else. Such as out here.”
    “I should have to ask their permission.”
    “Oh, it’ll be all right. The school won’t mind. I could say you’re my nanny.”
    She looked at him.
    “What’s the matter? You’d look exactly right. My mother’s supposed to be the most beautiful woman in Hong Kong, you know.”
    “That must be very difficult for her,” said Elisabeth.
     
    The languid Chinese woman of the chaise longue was all at once standing behind them, holding a champagne glass round its rim in the tips of her fingers. The fingers of her other hand balanced her against the wall.
    People were now crowding in for the buffet and the waiters were coming to life. Behind Elsie Veneering stood Veneering. Veneering was looking at Elisabeth’s unlined face, his wife at Elisabeth’s unpainted sandy toenails.
    “Harry,” said Elsie. “It’s time to go. Introduce