born of their living together. Vera was elevated in her own esteem when, in speaking to strangers, Haldar referredto his wife as Mrs. Gunnarsen (“Mrs. Gunnarsen and I are going up to the lake.” Can this be I?); and she in her turn referred to her husband as Mr. Gunnarsen (“Mr. Gunnarsen can’t bear sprouts so I never buy them”). This seemed to establish them soundly. Mrs. Gunnarsen became pregnant. When her boy was born, she thought proudly that he resembled his father, and was glad. A continuing feeling of personal inferiority made her conscious of some social and physical lack and, of course, she was watchful and correct in this. Fortunately for her, Surl and Mrs. Mordy had dropped quite out of her life. She could not have endured their intrusion into the life of Mr. and Mrs. Gunnarsen.
THIRTEEN
E arly on the day that Maggie Lloyd started up the Fraser Canyon the weather was lowering; then the great black clouds withdrew and revealed blue sky between the mountains. Maggie stood for a few minutes on the brink of the Fraser River. This formidable river rushed past the village of Hope at great speed, boiling as it rushed on. This boiling was strangely maintained in a flat yellow opaque surface. A sinister thing about this river at this place and season, Maggie thought, was that for all its force, it was silent. There was no discernible sound. The dangerous silent Fraser: the dancing Similkameen River. Maggie turned away and took her place in the bus.
The woman who sat down beside her said “It’s certny a wonderful day.”
Maggie turned to respond. The woman beside her had wide unblinking china-blue eyes. “My,” she said, “I’m prett’ near dead! My mother and her sister-in-law’s cousin had to come up from Vancouver last night of all times and me getting off to Boston Bar this morning And it isn’t as if I even know her cousin She comes from Buffalo and I wasn’t ever in Buffaloin all my life So I said to my husband Well I had this all planned before they so much as thought of coming and Gerty’s expecting me and he said Well I must say the least they could of done was give a bit of warning and I said Well they gave warning all right if you can call telephoning in the morning warning I don’t and I said to my husband what I can do I can leave stuff in the house and tomorrow they’ll just
haff
to do things for themselves and my husband said Well that’s okay by me because his people had been up the week before Seems if you live in a place like Hope people seem to think you have nothing to do but have visitors up from in town and I said to my husband Well I’ll be back by supper tomorrow so I just came away and I must say I never did such a thing before You live in Vancouver?” All this was said without a break and Maggie felt sure that there was plenty more.
“No,” said Maggie after a moment’s hesitation.
“Going up country?” said the woman.
“Yes,” said Maggie (what do you suppose? she thought).
“That a fishing pole?”
“Yes.”
“You fish? Yourself, I mean?”
“Yes, I love it,” said Maggie.
“Well say! I guess your husband fishes?”
Maggie hesitated. “Yes,” she said. Dear Tom, casting, perhaps, with a crystal fly for a quick jade fish in some sweet stream of heaven.
“Well,” said the woman, “that’s one thing I can’t take – fishing. If you want to have your home look nice you can’t have men clumping in and out with dirty boots on One time my husband brought fish home and I said Well if you want me to cook those fish you can clean them yourself and he did and by the time he finished there was fish all over the housethere was scales in the new broadloom and I do declare there was scales in the drapes How he did it I don’t know So if he goes fishing now he just cleans his fish in the woodshed and takes and brings them in cleaned in his stocking feet …”
Maggie amiably paid her debt to society. “Yes,” she said, and “No?” and “Oh!” The
THIRTEEN
E arly on the day that Maggie Lloyd started up the Fraser Canyon the weather was lowering; then the great black clouds withdrew and revealed blue sky between the mountains. Maggie stood for a few minutes on the brink of the Fraser River. This formidable river rushed past the village of Hope at great speed, boiling as it rushed on. This boiling was strangely maintained in a flat yellow opaque surface. A sinister thing about this river at this place and season, Maggie thought, was that for all its force, it was silent. There was no discernible sound. The dangerous silent Fraser: the dancing Similkameen River. Maggie turned away and took her place in the bus.
The woman who sat down beside her said “It’s certny a wonderful day.”
Maggie turned to respond. The woman beside her had wide unblinking china-blue eyes. “My,” she said, “I’m prett’ near dead! My mother and her sister-in-law’s cousin had to come up from Vancouver last night of all times and me getting off to Boston Bar this morning And it isn’t as if I even know her cousin She comes from Buffalo and I wasn’t ever in Buffaloin all my life So I said to my husband Well I had this all planned before they so much as thought of coming and Gerty’s expecting me and he said Well I must say the least they could of done was give a bit of warning and I said Well they gave warning all right if you can call telephoning in the morning warning I don’t and I said to my husband what I can do I can leave stuff in the house and tomorrow they’ll just
haff
to do things for themselves and my husband said Well that’s okay by me because his people had been up the week before Seems if you live in a place like Hope people seem to think you have nothing to do but have visitors up from in town and I said to my husband Well I’ll be back by supper tomorrow so I just came away and I must say I never did such a thing before You live in Vancouver?” All this was said without a break and Maggie felt sure that there was plenty more.
“No,” said Maggie after a moment’s hesitation.
“Going up country?” said the woman.
“Yes,” said Maggie (what do you suppose? she thought).
“That a fishing pole?”
“Yes.”
“You fish? Yourself, I mean?”
“Yes, I love it,” said Maggie.
“Well say! I guess your husband fishes?”
Maggie hesitated. “Yes,” she said. Dear Tom, casting, perhaps, with a crystal fly for a quick jade fish in some sweet stream of heaven.
“Well,” said the woman, “that’s one thing I can’t take – fishing. If you want to have your home look nice you can’t have men clumping in and out with dirty boots on One time my husband brought fish home and I said Well if you want me to cook those fish you can clean them yourself and he did and by the time he finished there was fish all over the housethere was scales in the new broadloom and I do declare there was scales in the drapes How he did it I don’t know So if he goes fishing now he just cleans his fish in the woodshed and takes and brings them in cleaned in his stocking feet …”
Maggie amiably paid her debt to society. “Yes,” she said, and “No?” and “Oh!” The
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