The Spread Eagle and Other StoriesMorris, Gouverneur
General
The Spread Eagle and Other Stories
Morris, Gouverneur
Fiction; Short stories
Billoo turned his back on me very rudely. I looked across the table to
Sally. She smiled feebly. She had drawn back her chair so that Tombs and
Randall could fight it out across her plate without hitting her in the
nose. They were frantically shaking their fists at each other, and they
kept saying very loud, and both at once:
"I tell _you!_" and they made that beginning over and over, and never
got any further.
At two o'clock the next morning Mrs. Giddings turned to Sally and said:
"And now, my dear, I can't wait another moment. You must show me all
over your lovely new house. I can think of nothing else."
"Can't you?" said Sally. "I can. It's two o'clock. But I'll show you to
your own lovely room, if you like."
In the morning I sent for Blenheim, and told him to take all the Sunday
papers as soon as they arrived and throw them overboard. All I meant to
be was tactful. But it wouldn't do. The first thing the men asked for
was the papers; and the second thing. And finally they made such a fuss
and threw out so many hints that I had to send the motor-boat over to
the main-land. This made me rather sore at the moment, and I wished that
the motor-boat was at the bottom of the Sound; but it wasn't, and had
to be sent.
Later in the day I was struck with an idea. It was one of the few that
ever struck me without outside help, and I will keep it dark for the
present. But when I got Sally alone I said to her:
"Now, Sally, answer prettily: do you or do you not know what plausible
weather is?"
"I do not," she said promptly.
"Of course, you do not," I said, "you miserable little ignoramus. It has
to do with an idea."
"No, Sam!" cried Sally.
"One of mine," I said.
"Oh, Sam!" she said. "Can I help?"
"You can."
"How?"
"You can pray for it."
"For the idea?" she asked.
"No, you silly little goat," I said. "For the plausible weather."
"Must I?" she asked.
"You must," I said. "If you have marrow-bones, prepare to use them now."
Sally looked really shocked.
"Knees," I explained. "They're the same thing. But now that I think of
it, you needn't use yours. If anybody were looking, it would be
different, of course. But nobody is, and you may use mine."
So Sally used my knees for the moment, and I explained the idea to her
briefly, and some other things at greater length; and then we both
laughed and prayed aloud for plausible weather.
But it was months coming.
II
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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