Open Writing

My brother Frank, who is 21 comes next. His real name is Warren Francis. He left school when he was sixteen, in 1904, much to his joy, and came to take his place at the office, where he speedily found his feet. It is of extraordinary interest to us who knew how much he disliked school work to watch him grow step by step. He is becoming one of the ablest young solicitors in the city. He hated school when he was at Warwick Grammar, and only just made the basic grades to finish. But once he was working for a qualification he very much wanted he settled down and became a fully fledged solicitor.

I got to know him much better over this last year, because for a few weeks before his examination took place, he went up to London to be coached, and it was my happy lot to spend some of that time with him. We lived at a boarding house kept by Miss Green, who made us exceedingly comfortable. As usual, Frank speedily enslaved her as well as the old housemaid, Annie, who used to make every excuse (and sometimes none at all) for coddling him.

As we were both hard at work we did not do much in the way of gaiety, but in a quiet way we both enjoyed the time there. I look back with pleasure to the happy evenings we spent in front of my bedroom fire, where after dinner we used to retire with our books and take our place one on each side of the fire, and diligently apply ourselves to work, he, of course, with the inevitable pipe in his mouth. We were some times joined by another boarder with whom we had chummed up, Miss Baldry, who had traveled a good deal, and was then studying hygiene. She soon fell a captive to Frank's charms (in spite of the difference in their ages), and when our work was done for the night we used to have great ‘pow wows’ before retiring to rest, sipping hot cocoa the while, and discussing questions of burning interest.

I was reading a certain amount of economics and social history at the time, and Frank would sometimes leave his law and turn his attention to these subjects. He cares little for theatres - he always prefers outdoor exercise to stuffy places of entertainment, and he nearly always spends his Saturdays and Sundays in taking long walks somewhere in the country. In London, he struck up a friendship with an exceedingly interesting man, Mr. Warner, a member of the Society of Friends, who was then a lecturer at University College, and he and Frank used to go off for the day together, on which occasions Frank thoroughly enjoyed himself.

Frank evidently inherited a talent for the Law, and came into his own as soon as the dread examinations, which he always abominated, were over. So diligently did he apply himself to the work which had to be done before he could hope to be of assistance to father, that at the age of twenty-one, last year, he became a full-fledged solicitor, having passed his final examination as young as it was possible for him to do so. It was an immense relief to him when he passed, though he had enjoyed his five years of articles.

My next brother, Charlie, 20, is at Cambridge, reading classics. He hopes to become a teacher, and I know he will make a good one. He is very shy and hates large groups, so he will need to teach in a public school where the numbers in the classes are restricted, and everyone becomes a part of a big family.

Charlie went to the local school, Tredennyke (which we call Toddies) until the age of 11. Then he was sent to a prep school in Brighton and from there got a scholarship for Charterhouse. After leaving there he proceeded to Pembroke College, Cambridge, where he gained a scholarship, and has remained there three and a half years. He works hard on the whole, and, as at school, he takes a keen interest in games, and only just missed his Blue for hockey. He on several occasions has played for the County.

Talking of Charlie reminds me of a time when there was a play being performed by amateurs somewhere in the town so we lent a few articles of furniture which had to be conveyed to the hall, among other things a large armchair. In Sidbury I met the dray slowly proceeding towards the hall, and in the arm-chair was Charlie calmly reading, quite oblivious of his surroundings.

Of Frank's absent-mindedness I can tell another amusing anecdote. When in his teens, he sent down to town to buy some half-dozen herrings for the family dinner. The herrings were purchased, wrapped up in paper, and securely tucked under Frank's arm. On his arrival at home he produced the parcel, which by then looked suspiciously small, and on opening it, it was discovered, much to his and the cook's consternation, that but one herring remained. One by one the elusive fish had slipped out of the unguarded paper, leaving a veritable trail of herrings all up the road, much to the gastric enjoyment, no doubt, of neighbouring cats!

Charlie is a voracious reader, but his taste for literature takes a different turn from Frank's. He reads, of course, the classics largely, but novels, especially of the Jacobs type, amuse him very much. I well remember when he was about nine or ten his wading through a vast tome of about 1,200 pages, and whenever asked how the book progressed he always told one that he had reached page 260 or 553 or whatever it might be.