Her dislike of things that creep and
crawl was, it is true, inborn, and persisted; but nowadays if one of the
many "triantelopes" that infested the roof showed its hairy legs, she
had only to call Hempel, and out the latter would pop with a broomstick,
to do away with the creature. If a scorpion or a centipede wriggled from
under a log, the cry of "Tom!" would bring the idle lad next door
double-quick over the fence. Polly had learnt not to summon her husband
on these occasions; for Richard held to the maxim: "Live and let live."
If at night a tarantula appeared on the bedroom-wall, he caught it in a
covered glass and carried it outside: "Just to come in again," was her
rueful reflection. But indeed Polly was surrounded by willing helpers.
And small wonder, thought Mahony. Her young nerves were so sound that
Hempel's dry cough never grated them: she doctored him and fussed over
him, and was worried that she could not cure him. She met Long Jim's
grumbles with a sunny face, and listened patiently to his forebodings
that he would never see "home" or his old woman again. She even brought
out a clumsy good-will in the young varmint Tom; nor did his old
father's want of refinement repel her.
"But, Richard, he's such a kind old man," she met her husband's
admission of this stumbling-block. "And it isn't his fault that he
wasn't properly educated. He has had to work for his living ever since
he was twelve years old."
And Mr.
Pages:
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180