A Christmas Story | Page 6

a pen and dipping it in red ink, 'wait one moment, Susan,' and went on lining and interlining. This was not reading, studying, nor writing; it was what she very well knew I could do any time. So it told on her. Each moment her valor oozed out, and as soon as I felt that the cup of bitterness was pretty well drained, I proceeded to offer up this victim as a sacrifice to peace.
'Susan, how is your sister's child?'
I looked straight into her. There was no sternness or smartness in my expression, but the gaze was mathematical. I was measuring her candor, and analyzing her mind.
She colored up and said, 'he's no better, sir; and they've given him up: but the doctor says good nursing will do wonders.'
'I think so, too. Go back to your sister and stay till he is better; I will supply your place.'
This puzzled her, but she could say nothing. I meant 'go' and she went.--There was no delay--I saw her walk by the window almost at once, and overheard the whisper, 'who next?'
I now rang the bell, and Dinah came to the door, saying, before she knocked, the waiter is out, sir, so I answered your ring.
'Do you know where Thomas lives?'
'Yes sir.'
'Then tell him I want him now--'
'Yes sir,' she disappeared.
Oh the benefit of that slam.
In half an hour in walked Thomas.
'Never do you enter my room without knocking. It is a piece of impertinence I will not put up with.'
'I did not mean anything by it, sir.'
'Well, don't do it again, and always take your hat off when you come before a gentleman or lady. Such ignorance might lose you a good place.'
His wages were high I knew. It was also winter, and he gave in. He stood still with his hat in hand and waited.
'Thomas I want you to bring the close carriage to the door with the two bays.'
'Yes sir; but the off horse cast his hind shoe yesterday and I am afraid.'
'You need not be, the ground is covered with snow. I shall want the carriage in fifteen minutes.'
'Yes sir, but--'
'But what?'
'I left the carriage this morning at the blacksmiths to have a new tire put on it, sir.'
'Who told you to?'
'Nobody, sir.'
'Then never do anything of that kind again without first reporting it to me.'
'Yes sir,' moving slightly towards the door as though it was all settled now.
'What other vehicle have you got in the stable?'
'The Ph?ton, sir; the open box wagon and the carryall.'
'Very well then, bring the nigh horse round in the carryall.'
'He never went in single harness since I drove Mrs. ----'
'Well, then, put the other one in.'
'Nor him neither, sir.'
'Humph!' it looked a little black.
'Well, where is the other horse, the gray, that your mistress always drives when alone?'
'He is at the veterinary surgeons, sir.--I took him there last Monday and he is to be blistered for two weeks off and on, sir.'
'Well, Thomas, as the coachman of the family, I ask you what can be done.
'I must go out to-night. Can you suggest anything?'
'Nothing but to hire a hack, sir.'
'That's a very good idea, how far is the livery stable from here?'
'Just next to where I live, sir. I can get one in a minute, sir.'
Oh! so cheerfully.
'Very well, Thomas, just harness the two bays and ride down there and put them to one. Tell the livery stable keeper that I wish it, and will pay for the use of it.'
'But, sir, it is----'
'Thomas, I would advise you not to be long. You ought to be ashamed to call yourself a coachman, and have what is under your charge in such a condition. The idea of a horse two days without a shoe.'
'It isn't my----'
'Not a word--go and do your duty in future. I shall expect you here in half an hour.'
He backed out of the room, longing to say something (what it was I don't care) but completely at sea. As he passed under my window, (though I have not sworn for many years,) I am pretty sure I heard several full sized oaths. At the appointed time the bell rang and I went out and got into the carriage. The horses looked very warm, and, though the night was cold, one was covered with foam. I said nothing, but told him to drive to Susan's sister's.
On arriving at the door, I heard sounds of very lively music for a dying child, and saw the house all lighted up.
'Oh, I understand, it is one of those Hibernian wakes. Poor thing!' and I began to pardon Susan, feel sorry for the coachman, and made up my mind to give $10 towards the sepulchral expenses. As I entered the house, surcharged with benevolence and overcome by a repentant feeling, I caught sight of Susan