Part 59 (1/2)

”Och ... busy!” he had explained.

She had called to John, sitting with his mother in the stern, and demanded an explanation of the causes which prevented Uncle William from taking holidays like other people.

”Sure, he likes work!” said John.

”n.o.body likes work to that extent,” Eleanor replied, and then Mrs.

MacDermott gave the explanation. ”There's no one else but him to do it,” she said. ”Uncle Matthew had his head full of romantic dreams and John fancied himself in other ways, so Uncle William had to do it all by himself!”

John flushed, and was angry with his mother for speaking in this way before Eleanor. He felt that she was stating the case unfairly. Had he not once offered to quit from his monitorial work to help in the shop and had not his offer been firmly refused?...

”There'll be no need for Uncle William to work hard when my play is produced,” he said.

”Ah, quit blethering about hard work,” Uncle William exclaimed, bending to the oars. ”Sure, I'd be demented mad if I hadn't my work to do. What would an old fellow like me do gallivanting up and down the sh.o.r.e in my bare feet, paddling like a child in the water! Have sense, do, all of you. Eleanor, I'm surprised at you trying to make a loafer out of me!”

She leant forward and pulled him suddenly backwards and he fell into the bottom of the boat. ”We'll all be drowned,” he shouted. ”I'll cowp the boat if you a.s.sault me again!...”

”What does 'cowp' mean?” she demanded.

”In G.o.d's name, girl, where were you brought up not to know what 'cowp'

means! Upset!” said he.

”Well, why don't you say upset, you horrible old Orangeman,” she retorted.

”I'm no Orangeman,” he giggled at her. ”I wouldn't own the name!”

”You are. You are. You say your prayers every night to King William and Carson!...”

”Ah, you're the tormenting wee tory, so you are! Here, take a hold of these oars and do something for your living!”

She had changed places with Uncle William, and John felt very proud of her as he observed the skilful way in which she handled the oars. Her strokes were clean and strong and deliberate. She did not thrust the oars too deeply into the water nor did she pull them, impotently along the surface nor did she lean too heavily on one oar so that the boat was drawn too much to one side or sent ungainly to this side and to that in an exhausting effort to keep a straight course. He lay back against his mother and regarded Eleanor out of half-shut eyes. She mystified him. Her timidity when he had first spoken to her had seemed to him then to be her chief characteristic and it had caused him to feel tenderly for her: he would be her protector. But she was not always timid. He had discovered courage in her and something uncommonly like obstinacy of mind. She uttered opinions which startled him, less because of the flimsy grounds on which they were built, than because of the queer chivalry that made her utter them. She defended the weak because they were weak, whereas he would have had her defend the truth because it was the truth. The attacked had her sympathy, whether they were in the right or in the wrong, and John demanded that sympathy should be given only to those who were in the right even if they happened also to be the stronger of the contestants. He had seen her behaving with extraordinary calmness at a time when he had been certain that she would show signs of hysteria, and while he was marvelling at her imperturbability, he had heard her screaming with fright at the sight of an ear-wig. He had rushed to her help, imagining that she was in terrible danger, and had found her trembling and shuddering because this pitiful insect had crawled on to her dressing-gown.... He had been very frightened when he heard her screaming to him for help, and he suffered so strange a reaction when he discovered that her trouble was trivial that he lost his temper. ”Don't be such a fool,” he said, putting his foot on the ear-wig. ”You couldn't have made more noise if someone had been murdering you!”

”I hate ear-wigs!” she replied, still shuddering. ”I hate all crawly things. Oh-h-h!”

And here was another aspect of her: her skill in doing things that required effort and thought. She handled a boat better than he could handle it. He was more astonished at this feat than he had been when he discovered that she had great skill in managing a house and in cooking food, for he a.s.sumed that all women were inspired by Almighty G.o.d with a genius for housekeeping and that only a deliberately sinful nature prevented a woman from serving her husband with an excellently-prepared dinner. In a vague way, he had imagined that Eleanor would need instruction in housekeeping, but that she would ”soon pick it up.” Any woman could ”soon pick it up.” His mother, he decided, would give tips to Eleanor while they were at Ballyards, and thereafter things would go very smoothly. He had determined that the flat at Hampstead which they had rented should be furnished according to his taste so that there should be no mistake about it; but when they began to choose furniture, he found that Eleanor had better judgment than he had, and he wisely deferred to her opinion. He was inclined, he discovered, to accept things which he disliked or did not want rather than take the trouble to get only the things he desired and appreciated; but Eleanor had no compunction in making a disinterested shop-a.s.sistant run about and fetch and carry until she had either obtained the thing for which she wished or was satisfied that it was not in the shop. John always had a sense of shame at leaving a shop without making a purchase when the a.s.sistant had been given much bother in their behalf; but Eleanor said that this was silliness. ”That's what he's there for,” she said of the shop-a.s.sistant. ”I'm not going to buy things I don't want just because you're afraid of hurting his feelings!”

He began to feel, while they were furnis.h.i.+ng their flat, that she knew her own mind at least as well as he knew his, and a fear haunted his thoughts that perhaps this adequacy of knowledge might bring trouble to them. Gradually he found himself consulting her as an equal, even accepting her advice, and seldom instructing her as one instructs a beloved pupil. When she required advice, she asked for it. At Ballyards, he had seen his mother quickening into zestful life because of Eleanor's desire to be informed of things. One evening he had come home from a visit to Mr. Cairnduff to find Eleanor seated on the high stool in the ”Counting House” of the shop while Uncle William explained the working of the business to her.

”She's a great wee girl, that!” Uncle William said afterwards to John.

”The great wee girl! You've done well for yourself marrying her, my son. She's a well-brought-up girl ... a girl with a family ... and that's more nor you could say for some of the women you might 'a'

married. That Logan girl, now!...”

”I'd never have married her,” John interrupted.

”No, I suppose you wouldn't. They're no family at all, the Logans ...

just a dragged-up, thrown-together lot. They've no pride in themselves.

They'd marry anybody, that family would. Willie's away to the bad altogether ... drinking and gambling and worse ... and Aggie got married on a traveller from Belfast, and two hours after she married the man, he was dead drunk. He's been drunk ever since, they say. Aw, she's a poor mouth, that woman, and not fit to hold a candle to Eleanor. I'm thankful glad you've married a sensible woman with her head on the right way, and not one of these flyaway pieces you see knocking around these times. I'd die of despair to see you married to a woman with no more gumption than an old hen!...”

II