May 26, Sunday.—We went to Sutton after dinner to have meat-tea with Mr. and Mrs. James. I had no appetite, having dined well at two, and the entire evening was spoiled by little Percy—their only son—who seems to me to be an utterly spoiled child.
Two or three times he came up to me and deliberately kicked my shins. He hurt me once so much that the tears came into my eyes. I gently remonstrated with him, and Mrs. James said: "Please don't scold him; I do not believe in being too severe with young children. You spoil their character."
Little Percy set up a deafening yell here, and when Carrie tried to pacify him, he slapped her face.
I was so annoyed, I said: "That is not my idea of bringing up children, Mrs. James."
Mrs. James said: "People have different ideas of bringing up children even your son Lupin is not the standard of perfection."
A Mr. Mezzini (an Italian, I fancy) here took Percy in his lap. The child wriggled and kicked and broke away from Mr. Mezzini, saying: "I don't like you you've got a dirty face."
A very nice gentleman, Mr. Birks Spooner, took the child by the wrist and said: "Come here, dear, and listen to this."
He detached his chronometer from the chain and made his watch strike six.
To our horror, the child snatched it from his hand and bounced it down upon the ground like one would a ball.
Mr. Birks Spooner was most amiable, and said he could easily get a new glass put in, and did not suppose the works were damaged.
To show you how people's opinions differ, Carrie said the child was bad-tempered, but it made up for that defect by its looks, for it was—in her mind—an unquestionably beautiful child.
I may be wrong, but I do not think I have seen a much uglier child myself. That is my opinion.
Fictie!
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