Big Game | Page 8

in, unless Jack gets something to do very soon, and I am
such a stupid, useless thing that I can do nothing to help."

"Except to give up your house, and your servants, and turn yourself into
nurse, and seamstress, and tailor, and dressmaker, rolled into one; and
live in an uproar all day long, and be a perfect angel of sympathy every
night--that's all!--and try to do it on bread and cheese into the bargain!
There must be something inherently mean in women, to skimp
themselves as they do. You'd never find a man who would grudge
tenpence for a chop, however hard up he might be, but a woman spends
twopence on lunch, and a sovereign on tonics! Darling, will it comfort
you most if I sympathise, or encourage? I know there are moods when
it's pure aggravation to be cheerful!"
Edith sighed and smiled at one and the same moment.
"I don't know! I'd like to hear a little of both, I think, just to see what
sort of a case you could make out."
"Very well, then, so you shall, but first I'll make you comfy. Which is
the least lumpy chair which this beautiful room possesses? Sit down
then, and put up your feet while I enjoy my lunch. I do love damson
jam! I shall finish the pot before I'm satisfied... Well, to take the worst
things first, I do sympathise with you about the table linen! One clean
cloth a week, I suppose? It must be quite a chronicle of the boys'
exploits! I should live on cold meat, so that they couldn't spill he gravy.
And the spoons. They feel gritty, don't they? What is it exactly that
they are made of? Poor old, dainty Edie! I know you hate it, and the
idea that aliens are usurping your own treasures. Stupid people like
Agnes would say that these are only pin-pricks, which we should not
deign to notice, but sensible people like you and me know that constant
little pricks take more out of one than the big stabs. If the wall-paper
had not been so hideous, your anxieties would have seemed lighter, but
it's difficult to bear things cheerfully against a background of drab roses.
Here's an idea now! If all else fails, start a cheerful lodging-house.
You'd make a fortune, and be a philanthropist to boot... This is good
jam! I shall have to hide the stones, for the sake of decency.--I know
you think fifty times more of Jack than of yourself. It's hard luck to feel
that all his hard work ends in this, and men hate failure. They have the
responsibility, poor things, and it must be tragic to feel that through

their mistakes, or rashness, or incapacity, as the case may be, they have
brought hard times upon their wives. I expect Jack feels the table cloth
even more than you do! You smart, but you don't feel, `This is my
fault!'"
"It isn't Jack's fault," interrupted Jack's wife quickly. "He never
speculated, nor shirked work, nor did anything but his best. It was that
hateful war, and the upset of the market, and--"
"Call it misfortune, then; in any case the fact remains that he is the
bread-winner, and has failed to provide--cake! We are not satisfied with
dry bread nowadays. You are always sure of that from father, if from
no one else."
"But I loathe taking it! And I would sooner live in one room than go
home again, as some people do. When one marries one loses one's
place in the old home, and it is never given back. Father loves me, but
he would feel it a humiliation to have me back on his hands. Agnes
would resent my presence, and so would you. Yes, you would! Not
consciously, perhaps, but in a hundred side-issues. We should take up
your spare rooms, and prevent visitors, and upset the maids. If you ran
into debt, father would pay your debts as a matter of course, but he
grudges paying mine, because they are partly Jack's."
"Yes, I understand. It must be hateful for you, dear. I suppose no man
wishes to pay out more money than he need, especially when he has
worked hard to make it, as the pater has done; but if you take him the
right way he is a marvel of goodness.--This year--next
year--sometime-- never;--I'm going to be married next year! Just what I
had decided myself... I must begin to pick up bargains at the sales."
Margot rose from her seat, flicking the crumbs off her lap with a fine
disregard of the flower-wreathed carpet, and came over to a seat beside
her sister.
"Now, shall I change briefs, and expatiate on the other side of the
question?