Little did he know how great, as far as he was concerned,
were the issues that depended upon his behaviour. If he had known,
he would perhaps have played his part less successfully.
His aunt drew from him more details of his home and school life than
his papa and mamma would have approved of, but he had no idea that
he was being pumped. She got out of him all about the happy Sunday
evenings, and how he and Joey and Charlotte quarrelled sometimes,
but she took no side and treated everything as though it were a matter
of course. Like all the boys, he could mimic Dr. Skinner, and when
warmed with dinner, and two glasses of sherry which made him nearly
tipsy, he favoured his aunt with samples of the Doctor's manner and
spoke of him familiarly as "Sam."
"Sam," he said, "is an awful old humbug." It was the sherry that
brought out this piece of swagger, for whatever else he was Dr.
Skinner was a reality to Master Ernest, before which, indeed, he
sank into his boots in no time. Alethea smiled and said, "I must not
say anything to that, must I?" Ernest said, "I suppose not," and was
checked. By-and-by he vented a number of small secondhand
priggishnesses which he had caught up believing them to be the correct
thing, and made it plain that even at that early age Ernest believed
in Ernest with a belief which was amusing from its absurdity.
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