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I remember, as if the scene of carousing of the old
roysterers had been a sort of sanctuary.
My father, less impressed, saw nothing but a house in bad repair, and
turning to my husband, who had been obviously ill at ease, he said:
"Go on like this much longer, son-in-law, and you'll be charging
two-pence a head to look at your ruins. Guess I must send my architect
over to see what he can do for you."
Then taking me aside he made his loud voice as low as he could and said:
"What's this your Aunt Bridget tells me? Nine months married and no
sign yet? Tut, tut! That won't do, gel, that won't do."
I tried to tell him not to spend money on the Castle if he intended to
do so in expectation of an heir, but my heart was in my mouth and what I
really said I do not know. I only know that my father looked at me for a
moment as if perplexed, and then burst into laughter.
"I see! I see!" he said. "It's a doctor you want. I must send Conrad to
put a sight on you. It'll be all right, gel, it'll be all right! Your
mother was like that when you were coming.


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