LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

sometimes, the father would seem to feel the contemptuous hatred of his children.

      “There's not a man tries harder for his family!” he would shout. “He does his best for them, and then gets treated like a dog. But I'm not going to stand it, I tell you!”

      But for the threat and the fact that he did not try so hard as he imagined, they would have felt sorry. As it was, the battle now went on nearly all between father and children, he persisting in his dirty and disgusting ways, just to assert his independence. They loathed him.

      Arthur was so inflamed and irritable at last, that when he won a scholarship for the Grammar School in Nottingham, his mother decided to let him live in town, with one of her sisters, and only come home at week-ends.

      Annie was still a junior teacher in the Board-school, earning about four shillings a week. But soon she would have fifteen shillings, since she had passed her examination, and there would be financial peace in the house.

      Mrs. Morel clung now to Paul. He was quiet and not brilliant. But still he stuck to his painting, and still he stuck to his mother. Everything he did was for her. She waited for his coming home in the evening, and then she unburdened herself of all she had pondered, or of all that had occurred to her during the day. He sat and listened with his earnestness. The two shared lives.

      William was engaged now to his brunette, and had bought her an engagement ring that cost eight guineas. The children gasped at such a fabulous price.

      “Eight guineas!” said Morel. “More fool him! If he'd gen me some on't, it 'ud ha' looked better on 'im.”

      “Given YOU some of it!” cried Mrs. Morel. “Why give YOU some of it!”

      She remembered HE had bought no engagement ring at all, and she preferred William, who was not mean, if he were foolish. But now the young man talked only of the dances to which he went with his betrothed, and the different resplendent clothes she wore; or he told his mother with glee how they went to the theatre like great swells.

      He wanted to bring the girl home. Mrs. Morel said she should come at the Christmas. This time William arrived with a lady, but with no presents. Mrs. Morel had prepared supper. Hearing footsteps, she rose and went to the door. William entered.

      “Hello, mother!” He kissed her hastily, then stood aside to present a tall, handsome girl, who was wearing a costume of fine black-and-white check, and furs.

      “Here's Gyp!”

      Miss Western held out her hand and showed her teeth in a small smile.

      “Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Morel!” she exclaimed.

      “I am afraid you will be hungry,” said Mrs. Morel.

      “Oh no, we had dinner in the train. Have you got my gloves, Chubby?”

      William Morel, big and raw-boned, looked at her quickly.

      “How should I?” he said.

      “Then I've lost them. Don't be cross with me.”

      A frown went over his face, but he said nothing. She glanced round the kitchen. It was small and curious to her, with its glittering kissing-bunch, its evergreens behind the pictures, its wooden chairs and little deal table. At that moment Morel came in.

      “Hello, dad!”

      “Hello, my son! Tha's let on me!”

      The two shook hands, and William presented the lady. She gave the same smile that showed her teeth.

      “How do you do, Mr. Morel?”

      Morel bowed obsequiously.

      “I'm very well, and I hope so are you. You must make yourself very welcome.”

      “Oh, thank you,” she replied, rather amused.

      “You will like to go upstairs,” said Mrs. Morel.

      “If you don't mind; but not if it is any trouble to you.”

      “It is no trouble. Annie will take you. Walter, carry up this box.”

      “And don't be an hour dressing yourself up,” said William to his betrothed.

      Annie took a brass candlestick, and, too shy almost to speak, preceded the young lady to the front bedroom, which Mr. and Mrs. Morel had vacated for her. It, too, was small and cold by candlelight. The colliers' wives only lit fires in bedrooms in case of extreme illness.

      “Shall I unstrap the box?” asked Annie.

      “Oh, thank you very much!”

      Annie played the part of maid, then went downstairs for hot water.

      “I think she's rather tired, mother,” said William. “It's a beastly journey, and we had such a rush.”

      “Is there anything I can give her?” asked Mrs. Morel.

      “Oh no, she'll be all right.”

      But there was a chill in the atmosphere. After half an hour Miss Western came down, having put on a purplish-coloured dress, very fine for the collier's kitchen.

      “I told you you'd no need to change,” said William to her.

      “Oh, Chubby!” Then she turned with that sweetish smile to Mrs. Morel. “Don't you think he's always grumbling, Mrs. Morel?”

      “Is he?” said Mrs. Morel. “That's not very nice of him.”

      “It isn't, really!”

      “You are cold,” said the mother. “Won't you come near the fire?”

      Morel jumped out of his armchair.

      “Come and sit you here!” he cried. “Come and sit you here!”

      “No, dad, keep your own chair. Sit on the sofa, Gyp,” said William.

      “No, no!” cried Morel. “This cheer's warmest. Come and sit here, Miss Wesson.”

      “Thank you so much,” said the girl, seating herself in the collier's armchair, the place of honour. She shivered, feeling the warmth of the kitchen penetrate her.

      “Fetch me a hanky, Chubby dear!” she said, putting up her mouth to him, and using the same intimate tone as if they were alone; which made the rest of the family feel as if they ought not to be present. The young lady evidently did not realise them as people: they were creatures to her for the present. William winced.

      In such a household, in Streatham, Miss Western would have been a lady condescending to her inferiors. These people were to her, certainly clownish—in short, the working classes. How was she to adjust herself?

      “I'll go,” said Annie.

      Miss Western took no notice, as if a servant had spoken. But when the girl came downstairs again with the handkerchief, she said: “Oh, thank you!” in a gracious way.

      She sat and talked about the dinner on the train, which had been so poor; about London, about dances. She was really very nervous, and chattered from fear. Morel sat all the time smoking his thick twist tobacco, watching her, and listening to her glib London speech, as he puffed. Mrs. Morel, dressed up in her best black silk blouse, answered quietly and rather briefly. The three children sat round in silence and admiration. Miss Western was the princess. Everything of the best was got out for her: the best cups, the best spoons, the best table cloth, the best coffee-jug. The children thought she must find it quite grand. She felt strange, not able to realise the people, not knowing how to treat them. William joked, and was slightly uncomfortable.

      At about ten o'clock he said to her:

      “Aren't you tired, Gyp?”

      “Rather, Chubby,” she answered, at once in the intimate tones and putting her head slightly on one side.

      “I'll light her the candle, mother,” he said.

      “Very

Скачать книгу