The Revolution in Tanner's LaneWhite, William Hale
General
The Revolution in Tanner's Lane
White, William Hale
England -- Fiction; Religious fiction
When they came indoors, and Mrs. Zachariah heard on the stairs the tramp
of other feet besides those of her husband, she prepared herself to be
put out of temper. Not that she could ever be really surprised. She was
not one of those persons who keep a house orderly for the sake of
appearances. She would have been just the same if she had been living
alone, shipwrecked on a solitary island in the Pacific. She was the born
natural enemy of dirt, dust, untidiness, and of every kind of
irregularity, as the cat is the born natural enemy of the mouse. The
sight of dirt, in fact, gave her a quiet kind of delight, because she
foresaw the pleasure of annihilating it. Irregularity was just as
hateful to her. She could not sit still if one ornament on the
mantelpiece looked one way and the other another way, and she would have
risen from her deathbed, if she could have done so, to put a chair
straight. She was not, therefore, aggrieved in expectancy because she
was not fit to be seen. It was rather because she resented any
interruption of domestic order of which she had not been previously
forewarned. As it happened, however the Major came first, and striding
into the room, he shook her hand with considerable fervour and kissed it
gallantly. Her gathering ill-temper disappeared with the promptitude of
a flash. It was a muddy night; the Major had not carefully wiped his
boots, and the footmarks were all over the floor. She saw them, but they
were nothing.
“My dear Mrs. Coleman, how are you? What a blessing to be here again in
your comfortable quarters.”
“Really, Major Maitland, it is very good of you to say so. I am very
glad to see you again. Where have you been? I thought we had lost you
for ever.”
Caillaud and his daughter had followed. They bowed to her formally, and
she begged them to be seated.
“Then, my dear madam,” continued the Major, laughing, “you must have
thought me dead. You might have known that if I had not been dead I must
have come back.”
She coloured just a trifle, but made no reply further than to invite all
the company to have supper.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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