The Brown Study | Page 4

a soapy hand, and
answered heartily:
"To be shure ye may, Misther Brown. I says to mesilf an hour ago, I
says, 'Happen he'll come for Nory to-night, it bein' Saturday night, an'
him bein' apt to come of a Saturday night.' So I give her her bath early,
to get her out o' the way before the bhoys come home. So it's clane she
is, if she ain't got into no mischief the half hour."
She dashed into the next room and returned triumphant, her youngest
daughter on her arm. Five minutes later Brown bore little Norah Kelcey
into his bachelor domain, wrapped in her mother's old plaid shawl, her
blue eyes looking expectantly from its folds. It was not the first time
she had paid a visit to the place--she remembered what there was in
store for her there. She was just two years old, was Norah, a mere slip
of an Irish baby, with a tangled mop of dark curls above eyes of deep
blue set in bewildering lashes, and with a mouth like a freshly budded
rose.
Brown withdrew the shawl and knelt on the floor before her. Bim, who
had welcomed the two with eagerness, sat down beside them.
"You see, Bim," explained his master, "I had to have something human
to love for an hour or two. You're pretty nearly human, I know, but not
quite. Norah is human--she's flesh-and-blood. A fellow gets starved for
the touch of flesh-and-blood sometimes, Bim."
He bent over the child. Then he lifted her again and bore her into his
bedroom. Clean and wholesome she was without question, but he
disliked the faint odour of laundry soap which hung about her. Smiling
at her, playing with her, making a game of it, he gently bathed the little
face and neck, the plump arms and hands, using a clear toilet soap with
a most delicate suggestion of fragrance. When he brought her back to
his fireside she was a small honey-pot for sweetness and daintiness, and
fit for the caresses she was sure to get.
Brown sat down with her upon his knee. He had given her a tiny doll to

snuggle in her arms, and she was quiet as a kitten.
"Norah," said he, speaking softly, "you are adorable. Your eyes are the
colour of deep-sea water and they make havoc with my heart. That
heart, by the way, is soft as melting snow to-night, Norah. It's longing
for all the old things, longing so hard it aches like a bruise. It's done its
best to be stoical about this exile, but there are times when stoicism is a
failure. This is one of those times. Norah baby, would you mind very
much if I kiss the back of your little neck?"
Norah did not mind in the least.
"All right, little human creature," said Brown, placing her upon the
hearth-rug to play with Bim's silky brown ears, "you've given me as
much comfort as one of us is likely to give another, in a world where
everybody starves for something he can't have, and only God knows
what the fight for self-denial costs. Shall we have supper now, Norah
and Bim? Milk for Norah, bones for Bim, meat for Donald Brown--and
a prayer for pluck and patience for us all!"

IV
BROWN'S SISTER SUE
It was a rainy, windy, November night. Brown and Bim were alone
together--temporarily. Suddenly, above the howling of the wind
sounded sharply the clap of the old knocker on the door. Brown laid
down his book--reluctantly, for he was human. A woman's figure, clad
from head to foot in furs, sprang from the car at the curb, ran across the
sidewalk, and in at the open door.
"Go back to the hotel and come for me at twelve, Simpson," she said to
her chauffeur as she passed him, and the next moment she was inside
the house and had flung the door heavily shut behind her.
"O Don!" she cried, and assailed the tall figure before her with a furry
embrace, which was returned with a right good will.
"Well, well, Sue girl! Have you driven seventy miles to see me?" was
Brown's response. Bim, circling madly around the pair, barked his
emotion.
"Is this--" began Brown's visitor, glancing rapidly about her as she
released herself. "Is this--" she began again, and stopped helplessly.
Then, "O Don!" she said once more, and again, "O Don!"--and laughed.
"Yes, I know," said Brown, smiling. "Here, let me take off your furs.

It's pretty warm here, I imagine. Bim and I are apt to keep a lot of wood
on the fire."
"Bim?"
"At your feet--and your service."
The lady looked at the dog, who stood watching her.
"Your only companion, Don?" she asked.
"My best chum.