Chapter 12: Twelfth Chapter
On the cornice of the wardrobe, the hand of an amateur had
painted this inscription: "Mistrust all enterprises that require
"I know. Isn't it jolly? I like that. I'm certain that's the old
"How very odd of him!"
"Surely you agree?"
But Freddy was his mother's son and felt that one ought not to go
on spoiling the furniture.
"Pictures!" the clergyman continued, scrambling about the room.
"Giotto--they got that at Florence, I'll be bound."
"The same as Lucy's got."
"Oh, by-the-by, did Miss Honeychurch enjoy London?"
"She came back yesterday."
"I suppose she had a good time?"
"Yes, very," said Freddy, taking up a book. "She and Cecil are
thicker than ever."
"That's good hearing."
"I wish I wasn't such a fool, Mr. Beebe."
Mr. Beebe ignored the remark.
"Lucy used to be nearly as stupid as I am, but it'll be very
different now, mother thinks. She will read all kinds of books."
"So will you."
"Only medical books. Not books that you can talk about
afterwards. Cecil is teaching Lucy Italian, and he says her
playing is wonderful. There are all kinds of things in it that we
have never noticed. Cecil says--"
"What on earth are those people doing upstairs? Emerson--we think
we'll come another time."