Lady of the Barge | Page 7

glass, and sighing softly, shook it again.
"I should like to see those old temples and fakirs and jugglers," said the
old man. "What was that you started telling me the other day about a

monkey's paw or something, Morris?"
"Nothing," said the soldier, hastily. "Leastways nothing worth hearing."
"Monkey's paw?" said Mrs. White, curiously.
"Well, it's just a bit of what you might call magic, perhaps," said the
sergeant-major, offhandedly.
His three listeners leaned forward eagerly. The visitor absent-mindedly
put his empty glass to his lips and then set it down again. His host filled
it for him.
"To look at," said the sergeant-major, fumbling in his pocket, "it's just
an ordinary little paw, dried to a mummy."
He took something out of his pocket and proffered it. Mrs. White drew
back with a grimace, but her son, taking it, examined it curiously.
"And what is there special about it?" inquired Mr. White as he took it
from his son, and having examined it, placed it upon the table.
"It had a spell put on it by an old fakir," said the sergeant-major, "a
very holy man. He wanted to show that fate ruled people's lives, and
that those who interfered with it did so to their sorrow. He put a spell
on it so that three separate men could each have three wishes from it."
His manner was so impressive that his hearers were conscious that their
light laughter jarred somewhat.
"Well, why don't you have three, sir?" said Herbert White, cleverly.
The soldier regarded him in the way that middle age is wont to regard
presumptuous youth. "I have," he said, quietly, and his blotchy face
whitened.
"And did you really have the three wishes granted?" asked Mrs. White.
"I did," said the sergeant-major, and his glass tapped against his strong

teeth.
"And has anybody else wished?" persisted the old lady.
"The first man had his three wishes. Yes," was the reply; "I don't know
what the first two were, but the third was for death. That's how I got the
paw."
His tones were so grave that a hush fell upon the group.
"If you've had your three wishes, it's no good to you now, then,
Morris," said the old man at last. "What do you keep it for?"
The soldier shook his head. "Fancy, I suppose," he said, slowly. "I did
have some idea of selling it, but I don't think I will. It has caused
enough mischief already. Besides, people won't buy. They think it's a
fairy tale; some of them, and those who do think anything of it want to
try it first and pay me afterward."
"If you could have another three wishes," said the old man, eyeing him
keenly, "would you have them?"
"I don't know," said the other. "I don't know."
He took the paw, and dangling it between his forefinger and thumb,
suddenly threw it upon the fire. White, with a slight cry, stooped down
and snatched it off.
"Better let it burn," said the soldier, solemnly.
"If you don't want it, Morris," said the other, "give it to me."
"I won't," said his friend, doggedly. "I threw it on the fire. If you keep it,
don't blame me for what happens. Pitch it on the fire again like a
sensible man."
The other shook his head and examined his new possession closely.
"How do you do it?" he inquired.

"Hold it up in your right hand and wish aloud," said the sergeant-major,
"but I warn you of the consequences."
"Sounds like the Arabian Nights," said Mrs. White, as she rose and
began to set the supper. "Don't you think you might wish for four pairs
of hands for me?"
Her husband drew the talisman from pocket, and then all three burst
into laughter as the sergeant-major, with a look of alarm on his face,
caught him by the arm.
"If you must wish," he said, gruffly, "wish for something sensible."
Mr. White dropped it back in his pocket, and placing chairs, motioned
his friend to the table. In the business of supper the talisman was partly
forgotten, and afterward the three sat listening in an enthralled fashion
to a second instalment of the soldier's adventures in India.
"If the tale about the monkey's paw is not more truthful than those he
has been telling us," said Herbert, as the door closed behind their guest,
just in time for him to catch the last train, "we sha'nt make much out of
it."
"Did you give him anything for it, father?" inquired Mrs. White,
regarding her husband closely.
"A trifle," said he, colouring slightly. "He didn't want it, but I made him
take it. And he pressed me again to throw it away."
"Likely," said Herbert, with pretended horror. "Why, we're going to