The Sunny Side Read Online Free

Myra.
    â€œBut I think we made a mistake to bring them,” I said severely. “No one is fonder of our—one, two, three…I make it eleven—our eleven children than I am, but there are times when Father and Mother want to be alone.”
    â€œI’m sorry, dear. I thought you’d be so proud to have them all with you.”
    â€œI am proud of them. To reflect that all the—one, two…I make it thirteen—all these thirteen are ours, is very inspiring. But I don’t like people to think that we cannot afford our youngest, our little Philomene, shoes and stockings. And Giuseppe should have washed his face since last Friday. These are small matters, but they are very trying to a father.”
    â€œHave you any coppers?” asked Myra suddenly. “You forget their pocket-money last week.”
    â€œOne, two, three—I cannot possibly afford—one, two, three, four—Myra, I do wish you’d count them definitely and tell me how many we have. One likes to know. I cannot afford pocket-money for more than a dozen.”
    â€œTen.” She took a franc from me and gave itto the biggest girl. (Anne-Marie, our first, and getting on so nicely with her French.) Rapidly she explained what was to be done with it, Anne-Marie’s look of intense rapture slowly straightening itself to one of ordinary gratitude as the financial standing of the other nine in the business became clear. Then we waved farewell to our family and went on.
    High above the village, a thousand feet above the sea, we rested, and looked down upon the silvery olives stretching into the blue…and more particularly upon one red roof which stood up amid the grey-green trees.
    â€œThat’s the Cardews’ villa,” I said.
    Myra was silent.
    When Myra married me she promised to love, honour and write all my thank-you-very-much letters for me, for we agreed before the ceremony that the word “obey” should mean nothing more than that. There are two sorts of T.Y.V.M. letters—the “Thank you very much for asking us, we shall be delighted to come,” and the “Thank you very much for having us, we enjoyed it immensely.” With these off my mind I could really concentrate on my work, or my short mashie shots, or whateverwas of importance. But there was now a new kind of letter to write, and one rather outside the terms of our original understanding. A friend of mine had told his friends the Cardews that we were going out to the Riviera and would let them know when we arrived…and we had arrived a week ago.
    â€œIt isn’t at all an easy letter to write,” said Myra. “It’s practically asking a stranger for hospitality.”
    â€œLet us say ‘indicating our readiness to accept it.’ It sounds better.”
    Myra smiled slowly to herself.
    â€œâ€˜Dear Mrs. Cardew,’” she said, “‘we are ready for lunch when you are. Yours sincerely.’”
    â€œWell, that’s the idea.”
    â€œAnd then what about the others? If the Cardews are going to be nice we don’t want to leave Dahlia and all of them out of it.”
    I thought it over carefully for a little.
    â€œWhat you want to do,” I said at last, “is to write a really long letter to Mrs. Cardew, acquainting her with all the facts. Keep nothing back from her. I should begin by dwelling on the personnel of our little company. ‘My husband and I,’ you should say, ‘are not alone. We have also with us Mr. and Mrs. Archibald Mannering, a delightfulcouple. Mr. A. Mannering is something in the Territorials when he is not looking after his estate. His wife is a great favourite in the county. Next I have to introduce to you Mr. Thomas Todd, an agreeable young bachelor. Mr. Thomas Todd is in the Sucking-a-ruler-and-looking-out-of-the-window Department of the Admiralty, by whose exertions, so long as we preserve the 2 Todds to 1 formula—or,