An Act in a BackwaterBenson, E. F. (Edward Frederic)
General
An Act in a Backwater
Benson, E. F. (Edward Frederic)
City and town life -- Fiction; Courtship -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Siblings -- Fiction
“Kiss him for me then, and pray for us. Oh, let me tell you about it
all. It will do me good, and I am too heart-sick to talk it over with
the others. If I tell Aunt Em about my cases it is a double burden for
her, and if she tells me about hers it is double for me. Arthur behaves
splendidly. He goes his rounds all day, like a milkman, he says, with
cans of disinfectants.”
“Ah, he helps too, does he?” said Jack. “He never mentioned that in his
letter.”
“No? That is so like the dear boy. He has found lots of cases which they
were trying to keep dark, for they hate going to hospital, and he alone
of us all remains perfectly cheerful. But it is terrible at the
hospital. I have about a dozen cases almost entirely under me. One died
two days ago; another, I am afraid, will die to-day. It is so awful to
work and work and work, and with what result? Oh, I am a stupid,
ungrateful little fool! Is it not enough to find that little silver line
on the thermometer a little lower than it was at the same time
yesterday, and perhaps a degree lower than it was the day before? But
one feels so helpless. And it is all on account of a little invisible
demon which the carelessness of dirty people allowed to get into the
water-supply. People talk of the horror of war. The horror of
water-companies seems to me the more frightful.”
Jeannie paused a moment.
“But I would not have gone through it, and I would not be now going
through it for the kingdoms of the world,” she said. “The mischief has
been done, and it is an inestimable privilege to be allowed to help in
minimizing the results. It is giving me a new view of life, Jack. Here
in this sheltered, peaceful town I was in danger, I think, of becoming a
sort of ruminating animal, sleek, and living in the meadows like a sort
of cow.”
“I didn’t gather you were in danger of that,” remarked Jack. “You did
happen to hold some classes in your meadow, did you not?”
“Yes, classes of other cows. We were all cows together--at least I was.
But out of all this suffering there comes, I know not what--certainly
despondency; but I do not believe that that is the permanent net
result. One learns what a little thing is life, and how great. Also it
seems as if I was learning to be egoistic.”
She got up out of her chair.
“Oh, you have done me good!” she cried. “Look, what was that?”
Jack had seen it, too; it was as if the sky had winked. They waited in
silence, and in a few minutes came the growl of answering thunder.
Jeannie stretched out her arms with a great sigh.
“Thunder!” she cried. “Perhaps there will be rain. How I have prayed for
that. You don’t know what it may mean to us. Well, what is it, Pool?”
“Mrs. Raymond is here, Miss,” said he, “and would like to speak to you.”
“Very well, I will come in. Wait here, Mr. Collingwood; I will see what
she wants.”
Jeannie went indoors with a new briskness of step and found Mrs. Raymond
standing helplessly in the middle of the drawing-room.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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