As the navy blue sedan pulled up to a place all too familiar to Matthew and to Tom, the three youngsters in the back seat felt restless and their chatter became very loud.
'We're there, aren't we, Da? Aren't we, Uncle Matthew?' Sybbie asked, her voice the clearest above that of her cousins Marigold and George.
'Indeed we are,' smiled Matthew as he looked back at the children from the front seat./p
Tom stopped the car with the tender loving care its precious little passengers deserved, parking it just beyond the front door of Merriman's Flower Shop.
'Yes, here we are, wee bairns. I even think Mr. Merriman knows that we were coming,' he said, winking at his brother-in-law.
Matthew nodded; he had stopped in on the way home from Harvell and Carter the day before, to tell Sam Merriman that the children would be paying a visit in order to buy some flowers for Mothering Sunday. The proprietor had been quite pleased, chortling, 'oh, how delightful, Mr. Crawley!' when he heard that they would be spending their allowance on their mothers.
'Hurrah!' George piped up as his father opened the back door of the sedan.
The little boy hurled himself out to land on his feet on the sidewalk in front of Matthew, and truly looked like a smaller, more excited version of the kind, handsome country solicitor who was such a familiar sight in Ripon by now. Indeed George rared to run on ahead of his father, but Matthew reminded him firmly,
'Now, remember to be a gentleman and help your cousin Marigold out of the car, son.
'Yes, Daddy,' George replied, his obedience reining his exuberance in for now.
George turned around and saw his pretty, curly-haired cousin at the edge of the seat. He took a step forward and offered his little arm, shadowed by his father (who would actually end up doing the job as the boy was still small)
'Here we are, Cousin Marigold,' he said as she reached out for the help that Matthew would eventually offer.
Meanwhile, Tom was seeing to his own charming lass, and Sybbie came out all smiles, taking her father's hand. As soon as everyone had come to the sidewalk, the little group came to Mr. Merriman's door and Matthew opened it for the happy procession into the shop.
'Good afternoon, Mr. Crawley, Mr. Branson! Are these my new customers?' asked a cheery man with twinkling eyes and a bright smile topped off with a nicely-managed moustache.
George, Sybbie and Marigold had walked into the equivalent of an enchanted place full of colour and scent. Their eyes widened at the sight of hothouse daffodils, cultivated roses, and brightly-hued carnations; blossoms everywhere, everywhere.
'Oooh! Look at all these!' Marigold declared, her stance and tone sweetly amusing to all the grownups there.
She walked up to some sweet-smelling carnations with an appealing creamy pink shade and lifted up her face as if to smell them. Mr. Merriman made a mental note of this in case the little girl might choose some of those for her mother. Meanwhile Sybbie asked Tom,
'Da, what's Mama's favourite flower?'
Tom took his daughter's arm and they strolled along, browsing amongst them (mostly on the little girl's part as this was her first visit to the place ever.)
'Oh… your Mama loves all kinds of flowers,' Tom smiled, as much to himself as to Sybbie. 'Perhaps we/ might surprise her with a bouquet of many kinds!'
And George was still quite a small boy, so Matthew swept him up onto his shoulder and carried him. His precious boy looked like that little Russian prince in his crisp sailor suit, while he, Matthew Crawley, had all the elegance of a grown-up Tsarevich but much more humility.
'So thankful to bring the children here, Mr. Merriman,' Matthew said amiably as he brought his son up to the proprietor's counter. 'This is my son, George.'
Sam Merriman beamed at the boy and waited for the right moment to offer his hand to him in case of shyness or alarm. But the essential Matthew Crawley showed himself a master of gentle reasoning as always:
'George, this is Mr. Merriman, who owns this flower shop. Would you like to say hallo?'
One pair of blue eyes shone calmly into another. One smile gave courage to the wellspring of the smile that came in return.
'Yes, Daddy. Hallo, Mistew Mewwiman,' George said, reaching his little hand towards that of the nice shop owner.
'Hallo, Master George! Pleased to meet you! Your Daddy tells me you would like to buy some flowers for your Mama today. Would you like to see some and learn their names?'
'Yes, Mistew Mewwiman, pwease.'
Matthew was training his little boy well. And surely, thought Sam, they would include Marigold in this little tour of the shop, lest all she would know were the carnations.
This turned out to be quite the successful outing, as Sybbie helped choose all the flowers in a glorious bouquet of lilacs, daisies and roses, Marigold picked the sweet carnations her heart had been set on, and George insisted in the end upon getting the kind of flowers his father always got his mother 'because I love Mama, too!' While pocket money was spent, most of the tab was quietly picked up by Messrs Crawley and Branson, with a generous tip. The three children also got to pick out a lollipop each from behind the counter, as they had all been so well behaved. (All three of these were cherry red.)