Christmas Holiday

Christmas Holiday Read Free Page B

Book: Christmas Holiday Read Free
Author: W. Somerset Maugham
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it would be wise to put one’s foot down too decidedly,” said Venetia. “Opposition might only make him obstinate.”
    “The situation’s delicate. I don’t deny that for a moment.”
    What made it more awkward was that Charley had brought back several canvases from Tours and when he had shown them they had expressed themselves in terms which it was difficult now to withdraw. They had praised as fond parents rather than as connoisseurs.
    “You might take Charley up to the box-room one morning and let him have a look at your father’s pictures. Don’t make a point of it, you know, but let it seem accidental; and then when I get an opportunity I’ll have a talk with him.”
    The opportunity came. Leslie was in the sitting-room they had arranged for the children so that they might have a place of their own. The reproductions of Gauguin and Van Gogh that had been in their nursery adorned the walls. Charley was painting a bunch of mixed flowers in a green vase.
    “I think we’d better have those pictures you brought back from France framed and put up instead of these reproductions. Let’s have another look at them.”
    There was one of three apples on a blue-and-white plate.
    “I think it’s damned good,” said Leslie. “I’ve seen hundreds of pictures of three apples on a blue-and-white plate and it’s well up to the average.” He chuckled. “Poor old Cézanne, I wonder what he’d say if he knew how many thousands of times people had painted that picture of his.”
    There was another still life which represented a bottle of red wine, a packet of French tobacco in a blue wrapper, a pair of white gloves, a folded newspaper and a violin. These objects were resting on a table covered with a cloth in green and white squares.
    “Very good. Very promising.”
    “D’you really think so, daddy?”
    “I do indeed. It’s not very original, you know, it’s the sort of picture that every dealer has a dozen of in his store-room, but you’ve never had a lesson in your life and it’s a very creditable piece of work. You’ve evidently inherited some of your grandfather’s talent. You have seen his pictures, haven’t you?”
    “I hadn’t for years. Mummy wanted to find something in the box-room and she showed them to me. They’re awful.”
    “I suppose they are. But they weren’t thought so in his own day. They were highly praised and they were bought. Remember that a lot of stuff that we admire now will be thought just as awful in fifty years’ time. That’s the worst of art; there’s no room for the second-rate.”
    “One can’t tell what one’ll be till one tries.”
    “Of course not, and if you want to take up painting professionally your mother and I are the last peoplewho’d stand in your way. You know how much art means to us.”
    “There’s nothing I want to do in the world more than paint.”
    “With the share of the Mason Estate that’ll come to you eventually you’ll always have enough to live on in a modest way, and there’ve been several amateurs who’ve made quite a nice little reputation for themselves.”
    “Oh, but I don’t want to be an amateur.”
    “It’s not so easy to be anything else with a thousand to fifteen hundred a year behind you. I don’t mind telling you it’ll be a bit of a disappointment to me. I was keeping this job as secretary to the Estate warm for you, but I daresay some of the cousins will jump at it. I should have thought myself it was better to be a competent business man than a mediocre painter, but that’s neither here nor there. The great thing is that you should be happy and we can only hope that you’ll turn out a better artist than your grandfather.”
    There was a pause. Leslie looked at his son with kindly eyes.
    “There’s only one thing I’m going to ask you to do. My grandfather started life as a gardener and his wife was a cook. I only just remember him, but I have a notion that he was a pretty rough diamond. They say it takes three

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