'
This morning at the abbey, Cadurcis was irresistible, and the more
excited his mother became with the difficulties which beset her, the
more gay and fluent were his quips and cranks. Puffing, panting,
and perspiring, now directing her waiting-woman, now scolding her
man-servant, and now ineffectually attempting to box her son's ears,
Mrs. Cadurcis indeed offered a most ridiculous spectacle.
'John!' screamed Mrs. Cadurcis, in a voice of bewildered passion, and
stamping with rage, 'is that the place for my cap-box? You do it on
purpose, that you do!'
'John,' mimicked Lord Cadurcis, 'how dare you do it on purpose?'
'Take that, you brat,' shrieked the mother, and she struck her own
hand against the doorway. 'Oh! I'll give it you, I'll give it you,'
she bellowed under the united influence of rage and pain, and she
pursued her agile child, who dodged her on the other side of the
postchaise, which he persisted in calling the family carriage.
'Oh! ma'am, my lady,' exclaimed the waiting-woman, sallying forth from
the abbey, 'what is to be done with the parrot when we are away? Mrs.
Brown says she won't see to it, that she won't; 'taynt her place.'
This rebellion of Mrs. Brown was a diversion in favour of Plantagenet.
Mrs. Cadurcis waddled down the cloisters with precipitation, rushed
into the kitchen, seized the surprised Mrs.
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