Read Online Encounters: stories by Elizabeth Bowen, Robarts - University of Toronto - Free Book Online
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to listen. And the snowdrops are coming out all along the kitchen garden border. Oh, Herbert—"
"I shouldn't have thought that a house-move was exactly the most leisurely time to listen to thrushes. But of course!"
"But I had been working."
His injured dignity was impenetrable, like a barrier of steel. She turned aside from it with a shrug.
"Come in and see what I have done.
The library Janet!"she called down a
dark archway."Janet, tea! The master's in."
Down the far end of the long room was
an open fireplace. His chair was pushed up to the fire and an impromptu tea-table covered with newspaper had been set beside it. His books were stacked in piles against the walls, and their mustiness contested with the clean smell of scrubbed and naked boards.
"A nice room,"said Herbert."On Sunday I shall have a good long day at the picture-hanging. I can't have these windows. Cicely; they're quite indecent. Haven't you even got a dust sheet to pin up across them? Any tramp"
"I'll see. There won't be much light, though, anyhow. The man was in to-day about the fittings, and he says they won't be able to turn the gas on at the main till to-morrow afternoon. We shall have to do our best by candle-light. I've got some ready."
She folded paper into a spill and lighted a long row of candles, ranged in motley candlesticks along the chimney-piece.
"Tut-tut,"said Herbert."We shall find it very difficult to work. How tiresome these people are."
"Yes,"said Cicely.
He resented her tone of detachment. She had blown out her spill and stood twisting the charred ends of paper between her fingers. Long streaks of hair had loosened themselves and hung across her forehead, her cheeks were smeared with dust, her tall thin figure drooped with weariness, but her eyes were shining in the firelight with a strange excitement.
She became conscious of his irritated scrutiny.
"I must be looking simply awful"
"Yes,"said Herbert.
"I'd better try and tidy before tea."
"Yes. If we are going to have tea. If it doesn't come at once I really can't be bothered. There's a great deal for me to do, and I can't afford to waste any time."
He was a hungry man and peevish, having snatched a hasty and insufficient lunch. He thought that he detected a smile of indub gence as she raised her voice and shouted:
"Janet— hurry!"
They heard Janet stumbling up the three steps from the kitchen. She entered with
the squat brown tea-pot, one hand splayed against her heart.
"Such a house!"she gasped."It's that unexpected, really it is!"
They ate in silence. All Herbert's old irritation with his sister surged up within him. She was such a vague, uncertain, feckless creature; the air of startled spirituality that had become her as a girl now sat grotesquely on her middle-aged uncomeliness. He contrasted her with the buxom Emily. Emily would have known how to make her brother comfortable. But, of course, Emily had married.
She spoke.
"I suppose I might take mother's furniture. It really is mine, isn't it? Just that little work-table, and the book-shelf, and the escritoire."
"I don't see what you mean by ' take it.' It'll all be in the same rooms, in the same house as the rest. Of course, poor mother gave them to you. But I don't see how that makes any difference. I was thinking we might put that little escritoire in the drawing-room. It will look very well there."
Cicely was silent.
Herbert brushed the crumbs out of the creases in his waistcoat.
"Poor mother,"he unctuously remarked.
"Come and see the house,"said Cicely— she was aware that her quick speech shattered what should have been a little silence sacred to the memory of the dead—"come and see what you'd like to begin on, and what Janet and I had better do to-morrow. We got the bedrooms tidy, but your basin and jug are odd, I'm afraid. The cases of crockery haven't arrived yet
"I haven't got a basin and jug at all,"she said defensively.
Every step of Herbert's through the disordered house was a
"I shouldn't have thought that a house-move was exactly the most leisurely time to listen to thrushes. But of course!"
"But I had been working."
His injured dignity was impenetrable, like a barrier of steel. She turned aside from it with a shrug.
"Come in and see what I have done.
The library Janet!"she called down a
dark archway."Janet, tea! The master's in."
Down the far end of the long room was
an open fireplace. His chair was pushed up to the fire and an impromptu tea-table covered with newspaper had been set beside it. His books were stacked in piles against the walls, and their mustiness contested with the clean smell of scrubbed and naked boards.
"A nice room,"said Herbert."On Sunday I shall have a good long day at the picture-hanging. I can't have these windows. Cicely; they're quite indecent. Haven't you even got a dust sheet to pin up across them? Any tramp"
"I'll see. There won't be much light, though, anyhow. The man was in to-day about the fittings, and he says they won't be able to turn the gas on at the main till to-morrow afternoon. We shall have to do our best by candle-light. I've got some ready."
She folded paper into a spill and lighted a long row of candles, ranged in motley candlesticks along the chimney-piece.
"Tut-tut,"said Herbert."We shall find it very difficult to work. How tiresome these people are."
"Yes,"said Cicely.
He resented her tone of detachment. She had blown out her spill and stood twisting the charred ends of paper between her fingers. Long streaks of hair had loosened themselves and hung across her forehead, her cheeks were smeared with dust, her tall thin figure drooped with weariness, but her eyes were shining in the firelight with a strange excitement.
She became conscious of his irritated scrutiny.
"I must be looking simply awful"
"Yes,"said Herbert.
"I'd better try and tidy before tea."
"Yes. If we are going to have tea. If it doesn't come at once I really can't be bothered. There's a great deal for me to do, and I can't afford to waste any time."
He was a hungry man and peevish, having snatched a hasty and insufficient lunch. He thought that he detected a smile of indub gence as she raised her voice and shouted:
"Janet— hurry!"
They heard Janet stumbling up the three steps from the kitchen. She entered with
the squat brown tea-pot, one hand splayed against her heart.
"Such a house!"she gasped."It's that unexpected, really it is!"
They ate in silence. All Herbert's old irritation with his sister surged up within him. She was such a vague, uncertain, feckless creature; the air of startled spirituality that had become her as a girl now sat grotesquely on her middle-aged uncomeliness. He contrasted her with the buxom Emily. Emily would have known how to make her brother comfortable. But, of course, Emily had married.
She spoke.
"I suppose I might take mother's furniture. It really is mine, isn't it? Just that little work-table, and the book-shelf, and the escritoire."
"I don't see what you mean by ' take it.' It'll all be in the same rooms, in the same house as the rest. Of course, poor mother gave them to you. But I don't see how that makes any difference. I was thinking we might put that little escritoire in the drawing-room. It will look very well there."
Cicely was silent.
Herbert brushed the crumbs out of the creases in his waistcoat.
"Poor mother,"he unctuously remarked.
"Come and see the house,"said Cicely— she was aware that her quick speech shattered what should have been a little silence sacred to the memory of the dead—"come and see what you'd like to begin on, and what Janet and I had better do to-morrow. We got the bedrooms tidy, but your basin and jug are odd, I'm afraid. The cases of crockery haven't arrived yet
"I haven't got a basin and jug at all,"she said defensively.
Every step of Herbert's through the disordered house was a
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