Part 45 (1/2)

”Louis, you're to leave this to me. On the _Oriana_ you said you would.

I'm your doctor and I'm prescribing treatment. I may be wrong, but give me a trial, anyway. I don't want to boss you. I want you to be free. But you can't till you've learnt how to walk yourself.”

And she would say no more, but going to several agencies in Pitt Street put down their names. She told them she came from a farm in Scotland, and they seemed very pleased to see her. But when she added that she was married to an Englishman who had a public-school education they became sceptical.

”What can he do?” they asked. She hesitated.

”Rouseabout?” asked the clerk. When they explained that this meant being Jack-of-all-trades on an up-country station, Marcella, in a spirit of sheer mischief, said that would suit Louis well. She liked the busy sound of the word, too. But though she called at the agencies day after day, no one seemed to want her. At last a clerk, an elderly, pleasant woman explained.

”They're afraid to engage newly married couples on up-country stations where there are not too many hands for fear they go having children--you see, that puts a woman out of action for a while and throws all the work out of gear. If you were forty-five or thereabouts, now.”

This seemed an astonis.h.i.+ng state of things to Marcella.

The days pa.s.sed. Louis got up at Christmas time in the blazing heat of midsummer, looking a shadow of himself. He began to take a greedy interest in doing things; he made a cupboard for the crockery lent them by Mrs. King; he made it very well, very carefully, hampered by lack of tools. He read hungrily all the books Dr. Angus sent to Marcella, especially lectures and scientific books. He seemed to disagree on principle with whatever she said, and they had many pleasantly heated arguments. His mother sent him papers--the ”Referee,” ”Punch,” the ”Mirror.” He cut out many of the ”Punch” pictures and tacked them up beside the Landseer print, side by side with Will Dyson's cartoons from the ”Bulletin” that Marcella liked. When there was nothing to read or do he told Marcella yarns of his past, until she grew to know his people very well. Whenever he felt tempted to lie to her he pulled himself up pathetically, and she saw that he was really trying to keep his tongue under control. When everything else palled they played Noughts and Crosses, or Parson's Cat, or Consequences. Mrs. King had asked them repeatedly to play cards with her ”young chaps” in the kitchen, but Louis was too frightened to face them. He was too shy to go downstairs to carry up water or coal for Marcella, and she had to do it herself; in the undermined state of his nerves it was torture to him to face people, and he became petulant if asked to do what he called ”menial tasks.”

Marcella understood him: Mrs. King had no hesitation in saying he was abominably lazy.

Money became more and more scarce, but this worried her not at all. She was coming to a.s.sociate the possession of money with Louis's restlessness, for always on English mail days he was restless and bad tempered until she had paid away practically all their money, when he became calm again. She began to think that if she could devise a way of living by barter, without money at all, they might conceivably eliminate these fits of restlessness and petulance. And all the time, as there seemed no chance of getting work, she was racking her brains for some way of getting out of the city before his next intermittent outburst came along.

English mail day usually happened on Monday; on the Sat.u.r.day before the last remittance would arrive Marcella discovered that she had no money at all. She told Louis with a little, perplexed laugh.

”Lord, and I've no cigarettes,” he cried in dismay.

”Well, it's only one day,” she began. He got nearly frantic.

”You know perfectly well I can't do without cigarettes,” he cried. ”If I do I'll get all raked up. You know what it means if I get all raked up--”

”Oh, don't always be threatening me with that,” she cried hotly. ”You know I'm doing my best, Louis. But I tell you I wouldn't be a slave to anything like cigarettes. I do believe St. Paul when he says, 'If thy right hand offend thee cut it off.' _I_ would--if my right hand dared to boss me.”

”Probably you would,” he sneered. ”We all know how d.a.m.ned superior you always are, and as for an emasculated old a.s.s like St. Paul--blasted, white-livered pa.s.sive resister--”

She stared at him and laughed. Her laugh maddened him.

”I wonder why it is,” she said quietly, ”that if anyone conquers his particular vice, people sneer at him and call him names? You seem to think that curing a cancer in one's mind is rather an effeminate thing to do, Louis--rather a priggish thing. I suppose if you get cured of drinking you'll say you never did it for fear of being called a prig?”

”Oh, for G.o.d's sake stop theorizing and face facts!” he cried. ”Just like a woman, to run away from things. Where am I to get cigarettes from for to-morrow? Marcella, I can't be without them! What on earth you do with the money I can't imagine! Girlie--do get them for me,” and he burst into tears. She stared at him in astonishment. The next moment her arms were round his neck, his head on her shoulder.

”You poor little boy,” she whispered. ”Don't worry. I'll get them for you.”

”I'm sorry I'm such a kid, dearie. But you know my nerves are in rags yet. And I can't be without cigarettes. I tell you I can't be without cigarettes! Borrow some money from Mrs. King--”

”Don't you worry. I'll manage it,” she said soothingly. ”We've got bread and jam and tea. We'll pretend it's a picnic and we've forgotten the rest of the things.”

”Naturally, you'd take good care to get in a good stock of the things you like,” he began. ”Jam! Oh Lord, I do wish I hadn't a tongue. I say unkind things and wish I hadn't the next minute.”

”It rather gives away what you think, though,” she said quietly, as she went out of the room.

She pa.s.sed three times through the kitchen before she could summon sufficient courage to borrow sixpence from Mrs. King to buy cigarettes.

But after a while she came back with twenty cigarettes and gave them to Louis.

He stared at them.