August 5, Sunday.—We have not seen Willie since last Christmas,
and are pleased to notice what a fine young man he has grown.
One would scarcely believe he was Carrie’s son. He looks
more like a younger brother. I rather disapprove of his wearing
a check suit on a Sunday, and I think he ought to have gone to church
this morning; but he said he was tired after yesterday’s journey,
so I refrained from any remark on the subject. We had a bottle
of port for dinner, and drank dear Willie’s health.
He said: “Oh, by-the-by, did I tell you I’ve cut my first
name, ‘William,’ and taken the second name ‘Lupin’?
In fact, I’m only known at Oldham as ‘Lupin Pooter.’
If you were to ‘Willie’ me there, they wouldn’t know
what you meant.”
Of course, Lupin being a purely family name, Carrie was delighted,
and began by giving a long history of the Lupins. I ventured to
say that I thought William a nice simple name, and reminded him he was
christened after his Uncle William, who was much respected in the City.
Willie, in a manner which I did not much care for, said sneeringly:
“Oh, I know all about that—Good old Bill!” and helped
himself to a third glass of port.
Carrie objected strongly to my saying “Good old,” but
she made no remark when Willie used the double adjective. I said
nothing, but looked at her, which meant more. I said: “My
dear Willie, I hope you are happy with your colleagues at the Bank.”
He replied: “Lupin, if you please; and with respect to the Bank,
there’s not a clerk who is a gentleman, and the ‘boss’
is a cad.” I felt so shocked, I could say nothing, and my
instinct told me there was something wrong.