I comprehended the situation intuitively. The kitchen-cleaning, for
which the Fiend had been “set,” had reached a point that demanded the
broom, and that subtle, attractive affinity, which my friend’s genius
had known how to produce, but had not learned to regulate, impelled the
unerring automaton towards the only broom in the house, which was now
in the hands of its fellow-automaton, and a struggle was inevitable.
What I could not understand--Johnnie having kept his own counsel--was
this uncontrollable sweeping impulse that possessed the Juliana.
However, this was no time for investigating the exact cause of the
terrific row now going on in our front hall. The Beneficent Geniuses
had each a firm grip of the broom-handle, and they might have performed
the sweeping very amicably together, could they but have agreed as
to the field of labor, but their conflicting tendencies on this point
brought about a rotary motion that sent them spinning around the hall,
and kept them alternately cracking each other’s head with a violence
that ought to have drawn blood. Considering their life-likeness, we
should hardly have thought it strange if blood _had_ flowed, and it
would have been a relief had the combatants but called each other
names, so much did their dumbness intensify the horror of a struggle,
in the midst of which the waterproof hoods fell off, revealing their
startlingly human countenances, not distorted by angry passions, but
resolute, inexorable, calm, as though each was sustained in the contest
by a lofty sense of duty.
“They’re alive! Kill ’em! Kill ’em, quick!” shrieked my wife, as the
gyrating couple moved towards the stair-case.
“Let ’em alone,” said Johnnie--his sporting blood, which he inherits
from his father, thoroughly roused--dancing about the automatic
pugilists in delight, and alternately encouraging the one or the other
to increased efforts.
Thus the fight went on with appalling energy and reckless courage
on both sides, my wife wringing her hands upon the stair-case, our
infants wailing in terror upon the landing above, and I wavering
between an honest desire to see fair play and an apprehensive dread of
consequences which was not unjustified.
In one of their frantic gyrations the figures struck the hat-rack and
promptly converted it into a mass of splinters. In a minute more they
became involved with a rubber plant--the pride of my wife’s heart--and
distributed it impartially all over the premises. From this they
caromed against the front door, wrecking both its stained-glass panes,
and then down the length of the hall they sped again, fighting fiercely
and dealing one another’s imperturbable countenances ringing blows with
the disputed broom.
We became aware through Johnnie’s excited comments, that Juliana had
lost an ear in the fray, and presently it was discernible that a
fractured nose had somewhat modified the set geniality of expression
that had distinguished Bridget’s face in its prime.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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