Free Tennyson's Gift by Lynne Truss Page B

and Lionel located him, he was seated on a rock (conveniently low) telling the story of the Gryphon and the Mock Turtle to a group of six children, all so enthralled by the underwater curriculum that they werecurrently practising reeling, writhing, drawling, stretching and (best of all) fainting in coils. Daisy made sure that when she fainted in coils, she made contact with Mr Dodgson’s boots, which made him extremely uncomfortable.
    Ellen’s heart leapt when she saw him more closely; for this (as she had hoped) was her very own dear Mr Dodgson, who had adored her once! But she was afraid to disturb the story, so she waited beside a barnacled breakwater with Lionel, just listening to his words, and catching the sun on her face. Waves lapped and seagulls flew; maids giggled behind bathing machines. Ellen watched the bright faces of Dodgson’s eight-year-old admirers. They were entranced.
    â€˜How many hours a day did you do lessons?’ said Alice.
    â€˜Ten hours the first day, nine the next, and so on,’ said the Mock Turtle.
‘What a curious plan!’
    â€˜That’s the reason they’re called lessons,’ the Gryphon remarked.
‘Because they lessen from day to day.’
    The children groaned, and Lionel laughed before he could stop himself.
    â€˜It’s very funny, this,’ Ellen said, suddenly performing a little pirouette. ‘Don’t you think he might write it down? It would make a splendid entertainment for Dimbola Lodge. I would play little Alice, of course. In fact, that would be rather fitting, because my first name is Alice, did you know that?’
    Lionel clearly wasn’t interested.
    â€˜Isn’t it fun eavesdropping?’ she said, ‘Like something out of Shakespeare. Do you know those children?’
    â€˜I know
of
them,’ conceded Lionel. ‘I wouldn’t count them as friends.’
    Without much grace, he pointed them out. They included Daisy and her cousin Annie (both enraptured); and on the endof the line, sitting up straight, and trying not to look interested in the story except from a scientific point of view, was Jessie Fowler.
    â€˜Oh, I ought to have told you!’ said Lionel, prompted by the sight of Jessie. ‘Tonight the great Lorenzo Fowler gives a demonstration of phrenology in the parish hall. The carter told me. It was arranged terribly quickly. Father says we children can’t attend, of course; but Mrs Cameron’s Mary Ann will be going, and Mary Ryan too, and our gardener, and the coachman. I’ve asked them to tell me all about it. I wish I could go. Will you be allowed to go, Mrs Watts?’
    â€˜I don’t suppose so.’
    It was alarming to realize that even though he called her Mrs Watts, he lumped her in with the children.
    â€˜Is he famous, this Lorenzo Fowler?’
    â€˜Jessie says he’s the most famous phrenologist that ever lived. That’s Jessie with the orange hair. She’s a phrenologist, too. She’s very stuck up, and disapproves of everything, including ham-and-egg pies and narrow waists. She’s awful. I hate women who talk too much about what they know. What do you think?’
    Ellen perused the child.
    â€˜Well, she shouldn’t wear yellow.’
    â€˜But on the other hand,’ added Lionel. ‘She seems to like me, so she can’t be all bad. She told me this morning that she helps in her father’s demonstrations, but I don’t believe her. She just wants me to find her fascinating because I’m so fantastically good-looking.’
    Jessie, who had been all this time pretending not to be eight, suddenly gave way to a childish impulse. At the sight of the truly gorgeous Lionel behind Dodgson’s back, she smiled and waved, flapping her hand furiously, as if it was something stuck to her, and she wanted to shake it off.
    â€˜Lionel!’ she yelled.
    At which, of course, Dodgson looked round. And seeing both Lionel and