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282 THE ADVENTURES OF PHILIP
The General turned out to be General Baynes; the pale lady was
Mrs. General B.; the tall young lady was Miss Charlotte Baynes,
the General's eldest child ; and the other six, forming nine, or "noof,"
in all, as Mrs. General B. said, were the other members of the
Baynes family. And here I may as well say why the General
looked alarmed on seeing Philip, and why the General's lady
frowned at him. In action one of the bravest of men, in common
life General Baynes was timorous and weak. Specially he was
afraid of Mrs. General Baynes, who ruled him with a vigorous
authority. As Philip's trustee he had allowed Philip's father to
make away with the boy's money. He learned with a ghastly terror
that he was answerable for his own remissness and want of care.
For a long while he did not dare to tell his commander-in-chief of
this dreadful penalty which was hanging over him. When at last
he ventured upon this confession, I do not envy him the scene which
must have ensued between him and his commanding officer. The
morning after the fatal confession, when the children assembled for
breakfast and prayers, Mrs. Baynes gave their young ones their
porridge : she and Charlotte poured out the tea and coffee for the
elders, and then, addressing her eldest son Ochterlony, she said,
"Ocky, my boy, the General has announced a charming piece of
news this morning."
" Bought that pony, sir ?" says Ocky.
" Oh, what jolly fun !" says Moira, the second son.
" Dear dear papa ! What's the matter, and why do you look
so ?" cries Charlotte, looking behind her father's paper.
That guilty man would fain have made a shroud of his Morning
Herald. He would have flung the sheet over his whole body, and
lain hidden there from all eyes.
" The fun, my dears, is that your father is ruined : that's the
fun. Eat your porridge now, little ones. Charlotte, pop a bit of
butter in Carrick's porridge ; for you mayn't have any to-morrow."
" Oh, gammon," cries Moira.
" You'll soon see whether it is gammon or not, sir, when you'll
be starving, sir. Your father has ruined us—and a very pleasant
morning's work, I am sure."
And she calmly rubs the nose of her youngest child who is near
her, and too young, and innocent, and careless, perhaps, of the
world's censure as yet to keep in a strict cleanliness her own dear
little snub nose and dappled cheeks.
" We are only ruined, and shall be starving soon, my dears, and
if the General has bought a pony—as I daresay he has ; he is quite
capable of buying a pony when we are starving—the best thing wo
can do is to eat the pony. M'Grigor, don't laugh. Starvation is