The Forsyte Saga - Volume 1

To young Jolyon the first sight of his father was undoubtedly a

shock--he looked so worn and old. But in the cab he seemed hardly to

have changed, still having the calm look so well remembered, still being

upright and keen-eyed.

"You look well, Dad."

"Middling," old Jolyon answered.

He was the prey of an anxiety that he found he must put into words.

Having got his son back like this, he felt he must know what was his

financial position.

"Jo," he said, "I should like to hear what sort of water you're in. I

suppose you're in debt?"

He put it this way that his son might find it easier to confess.

Young Jolyon answered in his ironical voice:

"No! I'm not in debt!"

Old Jolyon saw that he was angry, and touched his hand. He had run a

risk. It was worth it, however, and Jo had never been sulky with him.

They drove on, without speaking again, to Stanhope Gate. Old Jolyon

invited him in, but young Jolyon shook his head.

"June's not here," said his father hastily: "went of to-day on a visit.

I suppose you know that she's engaged to be married?"

"Already?" murmured young Jolyon'.

Old Jolyon stepped out, and, in paying the cab fare, for the first time

in his life gave the driver a sovereign in mistake for a shilling.

Placing the coin in his mouth, the cabman whipped his horse secretly on

the underneath and hurried away.

Old Jolyon turned the key softly in the lock, pushed open the door,

and beckoned. His son saw him gravely hanging up his coat, with an

expression on his face like that of a boy who intends to steal cherries.

The door of the dining-room was open, the gas turned low; a spirit-urn

hissed on a tea-tray, and close to it a cynical looking cat had fallen

asleep on the dining-table. Old Jolyon 'shoo'd' her off at once. The

incident was a relief to his feelings; he rattled his opera hat behind

the animal.

"She's got fleas," he said, following her out of the room. Through the

door in the hall leading to the basement he called "Hssst!" several

times, as though assisting the cat's departure, till by some strange

coincidence the butler appeared below.

"You can go to bed, Parfitt," said old Jolyon. "I will lock up and put

out."

When he again entered the dining-room the cat unfortunately preceded

him, with her tail in the air, proclaiming that she had seen through

this manouevre for suppressing the butler from the first....

A fatality had dogged old Jolyon's domestic stratagems all his life.