Authors: Mazo de la Roche
Tags: #FIC045000 – FICTION / Sagas
“Well,” he said, “I’m fired.”
“Naow!” exclaimed Rags, unbelievingly.
“what’ll she be up to next!” cried Mrs. Wragge.
“Firing
us
, I’ll bet,” said Rags. “Thinks she can run the ’ole blooming plice alone.”
“She’s got a superiority complex, if ever anyone had,” added his wife. “Now she come down here yesterday and tried to tell me —”
Wright interrupted, “If she thinks she can fire me she’s mistaken. I won’t go.”
“Waon’t gao!” echoed Rags. “Ow can you ’elp yourself?”
“The boss engaged me and he can fire me — if he wants to — when he comes home. She ain’t got the authority.” Colour was returning to his ruddy face. “why, this here place would be sunk if I was to leave.”
He remained in the kitchen expatiating on this subject till the ringing of the front doorbell announced the arrival of the doctor.
Stout, white-haired Dr. Drummond took a serious view of Adeline’s knee. If the hospital were not so over-crowded, he said, he would recommend that she should be taken there. Alayne declared herself capable of doing everything necessary. She would telephone Pheasant to come to her aid.
Hot compresses were to be applied all night to the knee.
When she and Adeline were alone together the child said ruefully, “Oh, Mummy, it’s a shame that you should have to stay up all the night with me, when you have to take Archer to the hospital tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry about me.” With an effort Alayne kept her voice calm. “But let this be a lesson to you. In future try to remember that sometimes I know what is best for you.”
“I will.” Adeline gave a little moan and turned her face to the wall.
It would have been logical for Alayne to ask Meg to come to her aid but they never had got on well together. She disliked the thought of asking a favour of Meg so she telephoned to Pheasant who gladly undertook to share the nursing. Adeline became more and more restless. By midnight she was delirious. Alayne again sent for the doctor. The little girl was in acute pain and only a strong sedative relieved her.
It was a haggard Alayne who set off the next morning with Archer, dressed in his Sunday suit, a look of mingled self-importance and apprehension in his eyes. Wright was there with the car to drive them to the hospital. He avoided Alayne’s eyes as he held open the door of the car. It was a wet morning with the first chill of autumn in the air. If only, thought Alayne, Renny were there to take some of the load of responsibility from her shoulders. It was too much for her. She felt weighed down by it.
At the entrance to the hospital Wright asked, half- sullenly: “How is the young lady this morning, ma’am?”
“Very ill indeed,” returned Alayne icily. “I had to send for the doctor again, in the night. He is very anxious about her.”
Wright made no reply. “The brute!” thought Alayne. “To think that he had nothing to say. I’m glad I discharged him. I’m glad.”
She had been able to get a private room for Archer. He was pleased by this and stood docile while the nurse prepared him for bed. Alayne could see that the nurse admired him.
“He’s an old-fashioned little boy,” said the nurse.
“He is being very good,” said Alayne.
“I promised I would, didn’t I? I always keep my promises. I’m not like some people.”
“Listen to him!” exclaimed the nurse.
How tiny he looked, standing there in his pyjamas! How helpless when the orderlies came with a cot on wheels and the nurse, with a jolly air, lifted him on to it. Alayne went to the door with him, holding his hand. When he was gone she came back to a chintz-covered chair and flung herself into it, almost too tired to think.
She felt numb. A long while passed. Then she sprang up as the door opened and the sickening smell of the anaesthetic reached her. The cot appeared and Archer was put into the bed. “It is over,” thought Alayne. “Thank God, it is over.”
“Is he all right?” she breathed.
“He’s fine.”
But a miserable time followed when he came out of the anaesthetic and painfully vomited up large gobbets of blood. His first remark was to make sure that the tonsils had been saved for him in a bottle.
Alayne had intended to return to Jalna in the afternoon but Archer so clung to her that it was evening before she could bring herself to leave him. She alighted from the car and went into the house without a glance at Wright.
Finch met her in the hall.
“How is Adeline?” she asked.
“Quieter. I’ve helped Pheasant with her. At this minute they both are asleep. Meg’s been here and wonders why she wasn’t sent for. She’s coming back to spend the night. So you can have a good rest. Rags has coffee waiting for you.” He tucked his arm under hers and led her comfortingly into the hall. All three dogs were there, the sheepdog’s coat wet, every disreputable hair of him beaded with mud. At sight of Alayne he rose and descended majestically into the basement.
CHASTISEMENT AND A TEA PARTY
M
AURIRICE HAD SETTLED
down quite comfortably into the life of home, with his mother and his two small brothers. Now he seldom had the lost feeling that had made heavy the first days of his return. But, when it did come upon him, he was submerged by it, drawn down by a painful longing for the ordered life of Glengorman, the love of old Dermot Court, the intellectual companionship of his middle-aged tutor, the congenial friendship of Patrick Crawshay. He liked his great-uncles but either they talked of their past in the social life of London, discussed the complications at Jalna, or worried about their nephews who were taking part in the War. After the first few visits to them, Maurice found them rather boring. His cousin Patience was a nice girl but she was interested only in outdoor things and in preparations for the removal from Vaughanlands to the small house. She and her mother were always busy. Intellectually Patience was years younger than he, yet she was rather superior in her attitude toward him and had a way of making fun of him that was very amusing to her and her mother but was disconcerting to Maurice.
The problem of his education loomed large in his thoughts. A perusal of the University curriculum and the examinations necessary, made it clear that in the classics, in the study of English and French and in ancient history, he was far in advance of what was required but, in mathematics and science, far behind. It would be necessary for him to be crammed but the thought of entering a cramming school was repugnant to him. He would have to find a capable tutor but where to find him he did not know. They seemed either to be at the war or already engaged in teaching. However, Maurice was willing to drift for a time. The fact that he would have independent means contributed to his natural indolence. He had a generous allowance and so was able to do pleasant things for his mother, for which Pheasant was touchingly grateful. He would bribe his brothers to be obedient and otherwise behave themselves.
On this Saturday morning when she was at Jalna helping to nurse Adeline, Maurice was examining a large packet of books for which he had sent to the town. He had promised each of the small boys twenty-five cents for washing the dishes and making the beds. But they seemed to be possessed by the idea of doing everything with as much confusion and noise as possible. Maurice shut himself in the living room with his books but nothing could shut out their noise, their giggling and scuffling. He went out to them.
“Do you boys,” he demanded, “want me to give you those quarters or don’t you?”
“We do,” they yelled in unison.
“Then stop this row and get on with your work.” He returned to the living room.
There was a short interval of quiet, then noise and laughter broke out again. Maurice laid down his book and marched back to the kitchen. Nooky was washing the cutlery, Philip drying it and as he dried each knife, fork, or spoon, he flung it across the room onto a table. Nooky was in a state of helpless laughter, spilling more water on the floor than he expended on the cutlery.
“Stop it!” shouted Maurice. He caught Philip by the collar and gave him a shake. Philip flung the silver tablespoon he was drying at Nooky and hit him on the head, sending him into hysterical squeals of mirth.
“Here comes the Irishman!” shouted Philip. “He’s a holy terror, bedad and he is!”
Nooky leant against the edge of the dishpan, overturning the water on his own legs and the floor. Philip tore himself from Maurice’s grip and ran through the open door into the yard. Here were scattered half the contents of a tool chest which Pheasant had forbidden him to touch. He ran over these and into the tool house and tried to slam the door behind him. But Maurice had caught him. As he held his young brother in his grasp, Maurice felt only cold anger but when he got a sharp kick on the shin it changed to primitive rage.
“Bend over!” he ordered.
“I won’t!” yelled Philip, kicking him again. “I won’t — I won’t!
Mother!
”
But mother was far away. Maurice heaved him across a work table and, picking up a short piece of lath, belaboured him where the trousers were drawn tight across his seat. Philip’s howls were such that a young man who at that moment was turning in at the gate, hastened to the tool house in alarm. He stopped when he saw what was going on.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, backing away, “I thought something was wrong.”
Maurice laid down the stick. Philip stopped screaming and rolled over. Maurice, his cheeks flushed, came forward.
“Just a little necessary discipline,” he explained, and he looked enquiringly at the visitor.
He was a young man of about twenty-eight, fair-complexioned, prepossessing and self-assured. He said, “I wonder if you are Maurice Whiteoak?”
Maurice nodded gravely. “I am,” he agreed.
“My name is Sidney Swift. I’m Mr. Clapperton’s secretary. I was talking to your sister, Mrs. Vaughan, yesterday and she told me you are wanting a tutor. Now I believe I could fill the bill. I joined the RAF but I had a crash while training. I was discharged and came back to Canada. I’ve been secretary to Mr. Clapperton for two years. I have a good deal of spare time and he is quite willing to let me take on some part-time job, so that I can add to my income. I’m afraid I’ve appeared at rather an inauspicious time.”
“Come into the house,” said Maurice, “and we’ll talk about it.” He led the way into the living room and offered his visitor a cigarette from his case that once had been Dermot Court’s.
When they were seated Maurice remarked, “I’ve never spanked anyone before and I must say it’s a delicious sensation.”
“The next time you do it I hope you’ll invite me to be present. I’ve never witnessed a more spirited domestic scene. What had he been up to?”
“Making an infernal row doing the dishes. There’s another one of them in the kitchen. Will you excuse me while I speak to him?”
Maurice found Nook meekly collecting the cutlery. He said, with severity, “That’s right. And clean up the floor when you’ve finished the dishes. Then make your bed and mine. When you’ve done I’ll give you your quarter. If I have any nonsense from you, you’ll get just what I gave Philip.”
Nook hung his head and applied himself to his task.
Seated again beside Sidney Swift, Maurice told him of his difficulties in preparing himself for the University.
“I’m sure I can help you,” said Swift, and he briefly outlined the work they would take up.
“I suppose you’re very glad to be back in Canada,” he went on. “Life in Ireland must have been pretty tame for you.”
“It suited me very well. Still, of course, I am glad to be with my mother again.”
“Well, for my part,” said Swift, “I’ve no use for the Old World, except as a curiosity. This is the country for opportunity for the young man. Mr. Clapperton was deploring the destruction of all those ancient buildings and works of art but I said, ‘Let them be destroyed. We don’t need them in this modern world. They’re out of date and they may as well go.’ Don’t you agree?”
Maurice laughed. “I expect,” he said, “that each one of us will drift to the place that suits him best.”
The telephone rang. It was Pheasant speaking.
“Are you boys getting on all right?” she asked.
“We’re getting on splendidly.”
“No trouble with Philip?”
“None to speak of. How is Adeline?”
“Poor child, she had a very bad night but she’s quieter this morning. However, I must stay on. Alayne is completely exhausted”
“How is Archer?”
“He’s getting on well. But Alayne has worried herself ill over the pair of them.”
“what a pity. Look here, Mummy. Mr. Swift is here and he and I have talked things over. He’s Mr. Clapperton’s secretary and he’d be willing to coach me. He’s a Rhodes scholar and very nice. Are you agreeable to it?”
“why — yes. But first find out what he asks. Don’t consent to just anything — as though we were millionaires.”
“Oh, no ... Anything I can do to help?”
“No, thank you, dear, except to carry on at home. Tell the children to be good.”
“Yes, I will.”
Maurice returned to his guest. Soon they had made their arrangements. Maurice agreed to the remuneration asked by Swift. It was not in him to haggle. When Pheasant returned home and learned what the fee was she thought it excessive. Still, it would be paid by Maurice’s solicitors, so she need not worry.
It was fortunate that the fall work was over before the illness of the children. Archer was brought home in a few days but remained in bed for another week and after that he was ailing and irritable for a fortnight. Three weeks of suffering passed before Adeline was able to be up. Then she had become thin and her pallor was such that her hair and eyes were shown in striking contrast. But, where Archer had been difficult to nurse, she was amenable and deeply conscious that she had, by her own fault, brought all this weariness upon her mother. She would ask for her needs in a small sweet voice; she would catch Alayne’s hand in hers and press it to her lips. She would catch Alayne’s skirt and say, “Little Mother,” in a cajoling voice. It was almost as though Renny were holding her by the skirt and saying, “Little Wife.” They’re a pair, thought Alayne. There is nothing of me in the child.