The Mummy Case - Elizabeth Peters [8]
“Some other speech defect, then,” I replied. “He does it deliberately. He knows how it annoys me.”
Leaning against his father’s knee, Ramses stuffed an entire watercress sandwich into his mouth and regarded me enigmatically. I would have continued the lecture but for the arrival of Walter, breathless and perspiring. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw the boy.
“So there you are, you young rascal. How could you wander off when you knew your mama and papa would be here?”
“I t’ought…” Ramses glanced at me. Slowly and deliberately he repeated, “I t’ought de train would be later dan was de case. You must swear out a warrant against Will Baker, Uncle Walter. He is setting traps again. It was necessary for me to free de unfortunate captives dis afternoon.”
“Indeed? I will see to it at once,” said Walter.
“Good Gad,” I exclaimed loudly. Walter had once spanked Ramses (for tearing pages out of his dictionary), and now he too had succumbed to the imperious dictates of the miniature tyrant.
“Language, Amelia, language,” Emerson exclaimed. “Remember that young, innocent, impressionable ears are listening.”
At my suggestion Ramses retired to bathe and change. When he returned after a short interval he was accompanied by his cousins. It would have been difficult to deduce the relationship. Ramses’ cheeks of tan and mop of curly black hair resembled the coloring of residents of the eastern Mediterranean regions, while his cousins had inherited their mother’s fair hair and the sweet regularity of countenance of both parents. They are handsome children, especially Emerson’s namesake, young Radcliffe. Raddie, as we called him, was then nine years of age, but looked older. (A few months of Ramses’ companionship has that effect on sensitive individuals.) The twins, Johnny and Willy, appeared to have suffered less, perhaps because there were two of them to share the tempestuous effect of Ramses’ personality. They greeted us with identical gaptoothed smiles and shook hands like little gentlemen. Then Ramses came forward with the fourth and (as yet) youngest of Evelyn’s children—a dear little cherub of four, with golden curls and wide blue eyes. The curls were somewhat disheveled and the eyes were bulging, since Ramses had her firmly about the neck. Thrusting her at me, he announced, “Here is Melia, Mama.”
I freed the unoffending infant from his stranglehold. “I know my namesake well, Ramses. Give Aunt Amelia, a kiss, my dear.”
The child obeyed with the grace all Evelyn’s offspring possess, but when I suggested she sit beside me she shook her head shyly. “T’ank you, Auntie, but if I may I will sit wit’ Ramses.”
I sighed as I beheld the look she turned on my son. I have seen the same expression on the face of a mouse about to be devoured by a cobra.
Evelyn fussed over the children, stuffing them with cakes and encouraging them to chatter about their activities; but I joined in the discussion between the men, which had to do with our plans for the autumn campaign.
“You won’t be returning to Thebes, then?” Walter asked.
This was news to me, and I was about to say so when Emerson exclaimed in exasperation, “Curse you, Walter, it was to be a surprise for Amelia.”
“I don’t like surprises,” I replied. “Not in matters concerning our work, at any rate.”
“You will like this one, my dear Peabody. Guess where we are to excavate this winter.”
The beloved name halted the reproof hovering on my lips. Its use goes back to the early days of our acquaintance, when Emerson used my surname in an attempt to annoy me. Now hallowed by tender memories, it is a symbol of our uniquely satisfying relationship. Emerson prefers me to use his last name for the same touching reason.
So I said, humoring him, “I cannot possibly guess, my dear Emerson. There are dozens of sites in Egypt I am dying to dig up.”
“But what do you yearn for most? What is your Egyptological passion, hitherto unsatisfied?