Humorous stories; London (England) -- Fiction; Wealth -- Fiction
"I _know_ we can't afford any more for housekeeping," she whispered,
sniffing damply. "And I'm ashamed I can't manage, and I knew I should
make you unhappy. What with idle and greedy working-men, and all these
profiteers...! It's a shame!"
"Yes," said Mr. Prohack. "It's what our Charlie fought for, and got
wounded twice for, and won the M.C. for. That's what it is. But you see
we're the famous salaried middle-class that you read so much about in
the papers, and we're going through the famous process of being crushed
between the famous upper and nether millstones. Those millstones have
been approaching each other--and us--for some time. Now they've begun to
nip. That funny feeling in your inside that's causing you still to
baptise me, in spite of my protest--that's the first real nip."
She caught her breath.
"Arthur," she said. "If you go on like that I shall scream."
"Do," Mr. Prohack encouraged her. "But of course not too loud. At the
same time don't forget that I'm a humourist. Humourists make jokes when
they're happy, and when they're unhappy they make jokes."
"But it's horribly serious."
"Horribly."
Mrs. Prohack slipped off the arm of the chair. Her body seemed to
vibrate within the Chinese gown, and she effervesced into an ascending
and descending series of sustained laughs.
"That's hysteria," said Mr. Prohack. "And if you don't stop I shall be
reluctantly compelled to throw the coffee over you. Water would be
better, but there is none."
Then Eve ceased suddenly.
"To think," she remarked with calmness, "that you're called the Terror
of the Departments, and you're a great authority on finance, and you've
been in the Government service for nearly twenty-five years, and always
done your duty--"
"Child," Mr. Prohack interrupted her. "Don't tell me what I know. And
try not to be surprised at any earthly phenomena. There are people who
are always being astonished by the most familiar things. They live on
earth as if they'd just dropped from Mars on to a poor foreign planet.
It's not a sign of commonsense. You've lived on earth now for--shall we
say?--some twenty-nine or thirty years, and if you don't know the place
you ought to. I assure you that there is nothing at all unusual in our
case. We are perfectly innocent; we are even praiseworthy; and yet--we
shall have to suffer. It's quite a common case. You've read of thousands
and millions of such cases; you've heard of lots personally; and you've
actually met a few. Well, now, you yourself _are_ a case. That's all."
Mrs. Prohack said impatiently:
"I consider the Government's treated you shamefully. Why, we're much
worse off than we were before the war."
"The Government has treated me shamefully. But then it's treated
hundreds of thousands of men shamefully. All Governments do."
"But we have a position to keep up!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account