"Certainly. Why don't you look at it in a practical way, as your father
says? I never had any money. I probably never will. I hate the stuff.
It's the curse of the age."
"I know all that."
"You will be wanting food and clothes no doubt, and you will expect me
to provide them."
"Oh, never! You don't think I would take such an advantage of you,
Jarvis, as to marry you when you were in a work fit and then expect you
to support me?"
The Professor shook his head in despair, and arose.
"It's beyond me, all this modern madness. I wash my hands of the whole
affair."
"That's right, Professor Parkhurst. I married him, you know; you
didn't."
"Well, keep him out of my study," he warned.
Then he gathered up his scattered belongings, and turned his absent gaze
on Bambi.
"What is it I want? Oh, yes. Call Ardelia."
Bambi rang, and Ardelia answered the summons.
"Ardelia, did I ask you to remind me of anything this morning?"
She scratched her head in deep thought.
"No, sah, not's as I recolleck. It was yistiddy you tol' me to remin'
you, and I done forgot what it was."
"Ardelia, you are not entirely reliable," he remarked, as he passed her.
"No, sah. I ain't jes' what you call----" she muttered, following him out.
Bambi brought up the rear, chuckling over this daily controversy, which
never failed to amuse her.
When the front door slammed, she came back to where Jarvis sat, his
untouched luncheon before him. He watched her closely as she flashed
into the room, like some swift, vivid bird perching opposite him.
"I spoiled your luncheon," she laughed.
"Bambi, why did you do this thing?"
"Good heavens, I don't know. I did it because I'm I, I suppose."
"You wanted to marry me?" he persisted.
"I thought I ought to. Somebody had to look after you, and I am used to
looking after father. I like helpless men."
"So you were sorry for me? It was pity----"
"Rubbish. I believe in you. If you have a chance to work out your
salvation you will be a big man. If you are hectored to death, you will
kill yourself, or compromise, and that will be the end of you."
"You see that--you understand----"
He pushed back his chair and came to her.
"You think that little you can stand between me and these things that I
must compromise with?"
She nodded at him, brightly. He leaned over, took her two small hands,
and leaned his face against them.
"Thank you," he said, simply; "but I won't have it."
"Why not?"
"Because I am not worth it. You saw me in a work fit. I'm a devil. I'm
like one possessed. I swear and rave if I am interrupted. I can't eat
nor sleep till I get the madness out of me. I am not human. I am not
normal. I am not fit to live with."
"Very well, we will build a cage at the top of the house, and when you
feel a fit coming on you can go up there. I'll slip you food through a
wire door so you can't bite me, and I'll exhibit you for a fee as the
wildest genius in captivity."
"Bambi, be serious. This is no joke. This is awful!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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