Architects -- Fiction; World War, 1914-1918 -- England -- Fiction
They deposited her on the bed. She sighed; then smiled. A slight flush
showed on her cheek under the light of the candle which Mr. Prince was
holding aloft. Mysterious creature, with the mysterious forces of life
flowing and ebbing incomprehensibly within her! To George she was
marvellous, she was beautiful, as she lay defenceless and silently
appealing.
"Thank you, Mr. Cannon. Thank you very much," said Mr. Haim, turning to
the strong man.
It was a dismissal. George modestly departed from the bedroom, which was
no place for him. After a few minutes Mr. Prince also descended. They
stood together at the foot of the stairs in the draught from the open
window of George's room.
"Hadn't I better go for a doctor?" George suggested.
"That's what I said," replied Mr. Prince. "But she won't have one."
"But----"
"Well, she won't."
The accommodating, acquiescent dame, with scarcely strength to speak,
was defeating all three of them on that one point.
"What is it?" asked George confidentially.
"Oh! I don't suppose it's anything, really."
II
That George should collect the tea-things together on the tray, and
brush and fold the cloth, and carry the loaded tray downstairs into the
scullery, was sufficiently strange. But it was very much more strange
that he should have actually had the idea of washing-up the tea-things
himself. In his time, in the domestic crises of Bursley, he had boyishly
helped ladies to wash-up, and he reckoned that he knew all about the
operation. There he stood, between the kitchen and the scullery,
elegantly attired, with an inquiring eye upon the kettle of warm water
on the stove, debating whether he should make the decisive gesture of
emptying the kettle into the large tin receptacle that lay on the
slop-stone. Such was the miraculous effect on him of Mrs. Haim's
simplicity, her weakness, and her predicament. Mrs. Haim was a different
woman for him now that he had carried her upstairs and laid her all limp
and girlish on the solemn conjugal bed! He felt quite sure that old Haim
was incapable of washing-up. He assuredly did not want to be caught in
the act of washing-up, but he did want to be able to say in his
elaborately nonchalant manner, answering a question about the
disappearance of the tea-things: "I thought I might as well wash-up
while I was about it." And he did want Mrs. Haim to be put in a flutter
by the news that Mr. George Cannon had washed-up for her. The affair
would positively cause a sensation.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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