CHAPTER V
All that day, Martha held herself in readiness to answer at headquartersfor what she had done.
"He'll shoor tell his mother, the young villyan," said Eliza. "An' thenit'll be Mrs. Slawson for the grand bounce."
But Mrs. Slawson did not worry. She went about her work as usual, andwhen, in the course of her travels, she met Radcliffe, she greeted himas if nothing had happened.
"Say, did you know that Sammy has a dog?"
No answer.
"It's a funny kind o' dog. If you begged your head off, I'd never tellyou where he come from."
"Where did he come from?"
"Didn't you hear me say I'd never tell you? I do' know. He just pickedSammy's father up on the street, an' follered him home, for all theworld the same's he'd been a Christian."
"What kind of dog is he?"
"Cur-dog."
"What kind's that?"
"Well, a full-blooded cur-dog is somethin' rare in these parts. Youwouldn't find him at an ordinary dog-show, like your mother goes to.Now, Sammy's dog is full-blooded--leastways, he will be, when he's fedup."
"My mother's dog is a _pedigree-dog_. Is Sammy's that kind?"
"I ain't ast him, but I shouldn't wonder."
"My mother's got a paper tells all about where Fifi came from. It's in aframe."
"Fifi is?"
"No, the paper is. The paper says Fifi is out of a deller, sired byStar. I heard her read it off to a lady that came to see her one day.Say, Martha, what's a _deller?_"
"I do' know."
"Fifi has awful long ears. What kind of ears has Sammy's dog got?"
"I didn't notice partic'lar, I must say. But he's got two of 'em, an'they can stand up, an' lay down, real natural-like, accordin' totaste--the dog's taste, which wouldn't be noways remarkable, if it washis tongue, but is what _I_ call extraordinary, seein' it's his _ears_.An' his tail's the same, exceptin' it has even more education still. Itcan wag, besides standin' up an' layin' down. Ain't that pretty smartfor a pup, that prob'ly didn't have no raisin' to speak of, 'less youcount raisin' on the toe of somebody's boot?"
"D'you mean anybody kicked him?"
"Well, he ain't said so, in so many words, but I draw my ownconclusions. He's an honorable, gentlemanlike dog. He keeps his owncounsel. If it so happened that he'd needed to be punished at any time,he'd bear it like a little man, an' hold his tongue. You don't catch areel thorerbred whinin'."
"I wish I could see Sammy's dog."
"Well, p'raps you can. But I'll tell you confidential, I wouldn't likeFlicker to 'sociate with none but the best class o' boys. I'm goin' tosee he has a fine line of friends from this time on, an' if Sammy ain'twhat he'd oughter be, why, he just can't mix with Flicker, that's allthere is _to_ it!"
"Who gave him that name?"
"'His sponsers in baptism--' Ho! Hear me! Recitin' the Catechism! I'msuch a good 'Piscopalian I just can't help it! A little lady-friend ofmine gave him that name, 'cause he flickers round so--so like a littleyeller flame. Did I mention his color was yeller? That alone would showhe's a true-breed cur-dog."
"Say, I forgot--my mother she--she sent me down to tell you she wants tosee you right away up in her sittin'-room. I guess you better go quick."
Mrs. Slawson ceased plying her polishing-cloth upon the hardwood floor,sat back upon her heels, and calmly gathered her utensils together.
"Say, my mother she said tell you she wanted to see you right off, forsomething particular. Ain't you goin' to hurry?"
"Shoor I am. Certaintly."
"You don't look as if you was hurrying."
"When you get to be a big boy, and have a teacher to learn youknowledge, you'll find that large bodies moves slowly. I didn't have asmuch schoolin' as I'd like, but what I learned I remember, an' I put itinto practice. That's where the use of books comes in--to be put inpractice. Now, I'm a large body, an' if I tried to move fast I'd begoin' against what's printed in the books, which would be wrong. Still,if a lady sends for me post-haste, why, of course, I makes an exceptionan' answers in the same spirit. So long! See you later!"
Radcliffe had no mind to remain behind. Something subtly fascinating inMartha seemed to draw him after her, and he followed on upstairs,swinging himself athletically along, hand over hand, upon thebaluster-rail, almost at her heels.
"Say, don't you wonder what it is my mother's goin' to say to you?" hedemanded disingenuously.
Mrs. Slawson shook her head. "Wonderin' is a habit I broke myself offof, when I wasn't knee-high to a grasshopper," she replied. "I takethings as they come, not to mention as they go. Either way suits me,an' annyhow I don't wonder about 'em. If it's somethin' good, why, it'llkeep. An' if it's somethin' bad, wonderin' won't make it any better. Sowhat's the use?"
"Guess I'll go on up, an' see my grandmother in her room," observedRadcliffe casually, as they reached Mrs. Sherman's door. "I won't go inhere with you."
"Dear me, how sorry I am!" Martha returned with feeling. "I'd kindercounted on you for--for what they calls moral support, that bein' thekind the male gender is mainly good for, these days. But, of course, ifyou ain't been invited, it wouldn't be genteel for you to pressyourself. I can understand your feelin's. They does credit to your headan' to your heart. As I said before--so long! See you later."
The door having closed her in, Radcliffe lingered aimlessly about,outside. Without, of course, being able to analyze it, he felt as ifsome rare source of entertainment had been withdrawn from him, leavinglife flat and tasteless. He felt like being, what his mother called,"fractious," but--he remembered, as in a flash, "you never catch athorerbred whinin'," and he snapped his jaws together with manlydetermination.
At Martha's entrance, Mrs. Sherman glanced up languidly from the bookshe was reading, and inquired with pointed irony, "You didn't find itconvenient to come to me directly I sent for you, did you, Martha?"
Mrs. Slawson closed the door behind her gently, then stood planted likesome massive caryatid supporting the frame. Something monumental in theeffect of her presence made the question just flung at her seem petty,impudent, and Mrs. Sherman hastened to add more considerately, "But Isent Radcliffe with my message. No doubt he delayed."
"No'm," admitted Martha, "he told me all right enough, but I was in themiddle o' polishin'. It took me a minute or two to get my thingscollected, an' then it took me a couple more to get _me_ collected,but--better late than never, as the sayin' goes, which, by the sametoken, I don't believe it's always true."
There was not the faintest trace of apology or extenuation in her toneor manner. If she had any misgivings as to the possibility ofRadcliffe's having complained, she gave no evidence of it.
"What I want to say is this," announced Mrs. Sherman autocratically,making straight for the point. "I absolutely forbid any one in myhousehold to touch--"
Martha settled herself more firmly on her feet and crossed her arms withunconscious dignity upon her bosom, bracing herself against the comingblow.
"I absolutely forbid any one in my household to touch the new marbleslabs and nickel fittings in my dressing-rooms with cleaning stuffscontaining acids, after this. I have gone to great expense to have thehouse remodeled this summer, and the bathrooms have all been tiled andfitted up afresh, from beginning to end. I know that, in the past, youhave used acid, gritty soaps on the basins and tubs, Martha, and myplumber tells me you mustn't do it. He says it's ruinous. He recommendskerosene oil for the bath-tubs and marble slabs. He says it will takeany stain out, and is much safer than the soaps. So please use keroseneto remove the stains--"
Mrs. Slawson relaxed. Without the slightest hint of incivility sheinterrupted cheerfully, "An' does your plumber mention what'll removethe stink--I _should_ say, _odor_, of the karrysene?"
Mrs. Sherman laughed. "Dear me, no. I'm afraid that's _up to_ you, asRadcliffe says."
"O, I ain't no doubt it can be done, an' even if it can't, the smell o'karrysene is healthy, an' you wouldn't mind a faint whifft of it now an'then, cli
ngin' to you, comin' outer your bath, would you? Or if you did,you might set over against the oil-smell one o' them strong bath-powdersthat's like the perfumery-counter in a department-store broke loose,an' let 'em fight it out between 'em. To my way o' thinkin', it'd be a_tie_, an' no thanks to your nose."
"Well, I only follow the plumber's directions. He guarantees his workand materials, but he says acids will roughen the surface ofanything--enamel or marble or whatever it may be. I'm sure you'll becareful in the future, now I have spoken, and--er--how are you gettingon these days? How are you and your husband and the children?"
"Tolerable, thank you. Sammy, my husband, he ain't been earnin' as muchas usual lately, but I says to him, when he's downhearted-like becausehe can't hand out the price o' the rent, 'Say, you ain't fished up muchof anythin' certaintly, but count your blessin's. You ain't fell in theriver either.' An' be this an' be that, we make out to get along. Wenever died a winter yet."
"Dear me, I should think a great, strapping man ought to be able tosupport his family without having to depend on his wife to go out by theday."
"My husband does his best," said Martha with simple dignity. "He doeshis best, but things goes contrairy with some, no doubt o' that."
"O, the thought of the day would not bear you out there, I assure you!"Mrs. Sherman took her up quickly. "Science teaches us that ourcondition in life reflects our character. We get the results of what weare in our environment. You understand? In other words, each receiveshis desert. I hope I am clear? I mean, what he deserves."
Martha smiled, a slow, calm, tolerant smile. "You are perfeckly clear,"she said reassuringly. "Only I ain't been educated up to seein' thingsthat way. Seems to me, if everybody got their dessert, as you calls it,some o' them that's feedin' so expensive now at the grand hotelswouldn't have a square meal. It's the ones that ain't _earned_ 'em,_havin'_ the square meal _and_ the dessert, that puts a good man, likemy Sammy, out o' a job. But that's neither here nor there. It's allbound to come right some day--only meanwhiles, I wish livin' wasn't sohigh. What with good steak twenty-eight cents a pound, an' its bein' asmuch as your life is worth to even ast the price o' fresh vegetables, ittakes some contrivin' to get along. Not to speak o' potatas twenty-fivecents the half-peck, an' every last one o' my fam'ly as fond of 'em asif they was fresh from Ireland, instead o' skippin' a generation on bothsides."
"But, my good woman!" exclaimed Mrs. Sherman, shocked, "what _do_ youmean by talking of porterhouse steak and fresh vegetables this time ofyear? Oughtn't you to economize? Isn't it extravagant for you to usesuch expensive cuts of meat? I'm sure there are others that arecheaper--more suited to your--your income."
"Certaintly there is. Chuck steak is cheap. Chuck steak's so cheap thatabout all it costs you is a few cents to the butcher, an' the price ofthe store teeth you need, after you've broke your own tryin' to chew it.But, you see, my notion is, to try to give my fam'ly the sort o' stuffthat's nourishin'. Not just somethin' to _eat_, but _food_. I don'tbelieve their stummicks realize they belong to poor folks. I'm notenvyin' the rich, mind you. Dear no! I wouldn't be hired to clutter upmy insides with the messes I see goin' up to the tables of some I workfor. Cocktails, an' entrys, an' foody-de-gra-gra, an' suchlike. No! Ibelieve in reel, straight nourishment. The things that builds up yourbones, an' gives you red blood, an' good muscle, so's you can hold downyour job, an' hold up your head. I believe in payin' for that kind o'food, if I _do_ have to work for it."
Mrs. Sherman took up the book she had dropped at Martha's entrance.
"You certainly are a character," she observed.
"Thank you, 'm," said Martha.
"O, and by the way, before you go--I want you to see that Mr. Ronald'srooms are put in perfect order to-day. I don't care to trust it to thegirls, but you can have one of them to help you, if you like, providedyou are sure to oversee her. You know how particular I am about mybrother Frank's rooms. Be sure nothing is neglected."
"Yes'm," said Martha.
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