And though Swithin was somewhat upset at being stopped like this on the point of saying something important, he soon recovered his affability. He was rather fond of Frances⁠—Francie, as she was called in the family. She was so smart, and they told him she made a pretty little pot of pin-money by her songs; he called it very clever of her.

He rather prided himself indeed on a liberal attitude towards women, not seeing any reason why they shouldn’t paint pictures, or write tunes, or books even, for the matter of that, especially if they could turn a useful penny by it; not at all⁠—kept them out of mischief. It was not as if they were men!

“Little Francie,” as she was usually called with good-natured contempt, was an important personage, if only as a standing illustration of the attitude of Forsytes towards the Arts. She was not really “little,” but rather tall, with dark hair for a Forsyte, which, together with a grey eye, gave her what was called “a Celtic appearance.” She wrote songs with titles like “Breathing Sighs,” or “Kiss Me, Mother, Ere I Die,” with a refrain like an anthem:

“Kiss me, Mother, ere I die;

Kiss me⁠—kiss me, Mother, ah!

Kiss, ah! kiss me e⁠—ere I⁠—

Kiss me, Mother, ere I d⁠—d⁠—die!”

“Kiss me, Mother, ere I die; Kiss me⁠—kiss me, Mother, ah! Kiss, ah! kiss me e⁠—ere I⁠— Kiss me, Mother, ere I d⁠—d⁠—die!”

She wrote the words to them herself, and other poems. In lighter moments she wrote waltzes, one of which, the “Kensington Coil,” was almost national to Kensington, having a sweet dip in it. Thus: