cousin braithwaite and the children

miss quail waited until tea was almost finished before making her announcement to the two children. i have invited cousin braithwaite to dinner tomorrow, she informed them. oh no, cried darius. oh no , echoed persephone. what is your objection to cousin braithwaite? miss quail asked. he is the most boring person who ever lived, said darius. darius was an outspoken and literal-minded child, not at all given to making allowances for other persons’ fantasies and frailties. persephone was also an outspoken and literal-minded child, and much given to random acts of spite and malice. if you invite cousin braithwaite, persephone announced , i promise we will make it uncomfortable for him. nonsense, miss quail replied. you will do nothing of the sort. and what, exactly, do you so object to in poor cousin brsaithwaite? he is a bore, darius repeated. well, miss quail expostulated patiently, everybody can not be fascinating, can they? if everybody in the world was fascinating, fascination itself might lose its luster, don’t you think? and besides, is not a person only as boring or as fascinating as you wish them to be? is not boredom in the ear of the listener? no, persephone replied firmly, that is not the case at all. cousin braithwaite is a bore, plain and simple. it seems to me, added darius, that bores are a supreme example of the pitiless irreducibility of reality, and its imperviousness to opinion. if a person bores his fellow humans, then he is, by definition, a bore. what possible recourse does he have, and to whom or what, to reverse the decision? that is all very well, said miss quail, but it is settled that cousin braithwaite is coming to dinner tomorrow. let us move on. how are coming along, darius, with your translation of suetonius? * cousin braithwaite duly arrived on the following evening, and the children immediately began quizzing hm unmercifully. tell us, cousin, persephone began, has anything exciting happened to you lately? exciting? why no, i don’t suppose so. the funds have been up a little , down a little , in their usual way, you know, life goes on, all that sort of thing. that’s very deep, cousin, darius interjected. tell us, how have you been getting on with the ladies? met any charming creatures lately? ladies, ladies, yes i believe i have. of course. after all they are everywhere you go, aren’t they? ladies and gentlemen. fifty percent of the human race are ladies, are they not? isn’t that so? then you have the servants of course. have you saved the world lately, cousin, persephone asked. or slain any dragons? ha, ha, slain any dragons? yes indeed, i may have. ha ha, that’s jolly, quite droll. quite droll indeed. cousin braithwaite continued with an incoherent narrative of slaying a dragon in front of the nelson monument, thinking the children were finding it amusing, and never suspecting the depth of their contempt… the evening passed, and from miss quail’s perspective passed successfully enough. at least persephone refrained from playing any of her typical pranks, such as putting a spider or a scorpion into braithwaite’s glass of eggnog. * how, if at all, do you think this narrative should proceed? a) cousin braithwaite suddenly inherits a fortune, and marries miss quail. they invite darius and persephone to dinner once a year, on or about st swithin’s day. b) cousin braithwaite suddenly inherits a fortune, darius and persephone successfully ingratiate themselves with him, he makes them his heirs, and they murder him. c) darius and persephone become anarchists, and blow themselves up making a bomb. cousin braithwaite remembers them fondly, and writes a book defending their memory, and presenting them as tragically idealistic youth. d) in time darius becomes prime minister, or at least home secretary. one day he encounters cousin braithwite in the street, old, destitute, and incoherent. darius takes braithwaite to his club, where he treats him to a good dinner, brandy, and cigars, and they sit by the fire until dawn, talking about old times. e) other ( specify )