He was never violent or aggressive; he was a drunkard of the sentimental, open-pursed, self-pitying kind. He would be brought home, dribbling into his beard, by cabmen whose insistence on being paid would wake the children; the next morning he would lament at maudlin length his inability to support those he loved so tenderly. One year Arthur was sent away to lodgings rather than witness a new stage of his father's decline; but he saw enough to endorse his crescent understanding of what a man could or should be. In his mother's tales of chivalry and romance there were few parts for drunken illustrators.
Arthur's father painted in watercolour, and always intended to supplement his income by selling his work. But his generous nature constantly intervened; he gave his pictures away to all-comers, or at best accepted a few pence for them. His subjects could be wild and fearsome, and often gave evidence of his natural humour. But what he liked to paint best, and was most remembered for painting, was fairies.
George
George is sent to the village school. He wears a deep starched collar with a loose bow tie to hide the stud, a waistcoat which buttons up to just below the tie, and a jacket with high, almost horizontal lapels. Other boys are not so neat: some wear rough, home-knitted jerseys or ill-fitting jackets passed on from elder brothers. A few have starched collars, but only Harry Charlesworth wears a tie as George does.
His mother has taught him his letters, his father simple sums. For the first week he finds himself seated at the rear of the classroom. On Friday they will be tested and rearranged by intelligence: clever boys will sit at the front, stupid boys at the back; the reward for progress being to find yourself closer to the master, to the seat of instruction, to knowledge, to truth. This is Mr Bostock, who wears a tweed jacket, a woollen waistcoat, and a shirt-collar whose points are pulled in behind his tie by a gold pin. Mr Bostock carries a brown felt hat at all times and places it on the desk during class, as if he does not trust it out of his sight.