The Essential W. Somerset Maugham Collection. W. Somerset Maugham

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      "Can you wash and iron?" said Gertie while she was kneading her dough.

      "Of course I can iron and I can wash lace."

      "People round here wear more flannel shirts than lace. I suppose you never washed any flannels?"

      "No, never."

      "Have you ever done any scrubbing?"

      "Of course not." Nora was beginning to find this catechism a little trying.

      "Not work for a lady, I suppose. Just what does a companion do?"

      "It depends. She does whatever her employer requires; reads aloud, acts as secretary, goes riding and shopping with the lady she lives with, arranges the flowers, everything of that sort."

      "Oh. But nothing really useful."

      Nora gave an angry laugh. "It's clear that some people consider a companion's work useful, since they employ them."

      "You take pay for it; after all, it's much the same as being a servant."

      "It's not at all the same."

      "Ed tells me that sometimes when Miss Wickers, Wickham--whatever her name was----"

      "Miss Wickham."

      "That when Miss Wickham had company for dinner, you had to have your dinner alone."

      "That is true."

      "Then she considered you sort of a servant," said Gertie triumphantly. Nora was silent. Gertie having cut her dough into small round pieces with a tin cutter and put them into her pans, went toward the oven.

      "And yet you object to eating at the same table with the hired men."

      Having satisfied herself that the oven was at the proper heat, she shut the door with a bang.

      "I've said nothing about it."

      "You didn't need to."

      "But I most certainly do object to it and I can't for the life of me see the necessity of it."

      "I was what you call a servant for years; I suppose you object to eating at the table with me."

      "What perfect nonsense! It's not at all the same thing. You're my brother's wife and the mistress of his house."

      "Yes, I'm the mistress of the house all right," said Gertie grimly.

      "Frank Taylor's an uncommonly handsome man, isn't he?"

      "I really haven't noticed."

      "What perfect nonsense!" mimicked Gertie. "Of course you've noticed. Any woman would notice him."

      "Then I must be different from other women."

      "Oh, no, you're not; you only think you are. At bottom women are all alike, take it from me, and I've known a few."

      "If I can be of no help to you here, I think I'll go and unpack my box," said Nora. She felt as if she had borne all she possibly could.

      "As you like."

      Once in her own room, Nora found it hard to keep back her angry tears. Only the thought that her reddened eyes would betray her to Gertie at dinner kept her from having a good cry.

      CHAPTER VII

      That one morning was a fair sample of all the other days. Each suspected the other, neither would make allowances or concessions. As a consequence, day by day the breach widened. Even Eddie, who was more unobserving than most men, felt vaguely uncomfortable in the surcharged atmosphere. From the first Nora realized that it was an unequal contest; Gertie was too strongly intrenched in her position. But it was not in her nature to refrain from administering those little thrusts, which women know so well how to deal one another, from any motive of policy. The question of what she should do once her brother's house became intolerable she never permitted herself to ask.

      In the needle-pricking mode of warfare she was, of course, far more expert than her rival. But if Gertie's hand was clumsy it was also heavy. And always in the back of her mind was the consciousness that she, so to speak, had at least one piece of heavy artillery which she could bring up once the enemy's fire became unendurable.

      During the day, the men being out of the house except at meal time, there was to a certain degree, a cessation of hostilities. Nora gradually acquired some knowledge of housework. She learned to cook fairly well and always helped with the washing, rarely complaining of her aching arms and back. The only indication she had that she was making progress was that Gertie complained less. Praise, of course, was not to be expected.

      At dinner the men were usually too anxious to get back to work--always with the exception of Hornby, who according to his own highly colored account, had been assigned the herculean task of splitting all the wood required by the Province of Manitoba for the ensuing winter--to linger longer than the time required for smoking a hurried pipe, so that it was only during the long evenings that hostilities were resumed. And then, more or less under cover.

      There was one person upon whom Nora could openly vent her nervous irritation after a long day in Gertie's society, and that was Frank Taylor. They quarreled constantly, to the great amusement of the others. But with him, too, she felt hopelessly at a disadvantage. He was maddeningly sure of himself, and while he sometimes gave back thrust for thrust, he never lost his temper. Seemingly, nothing could penetrate his armor of good nature, nor make him comprehend that she really meant her bitter words. Slow of movement and speech, his mind was alert enough, and Nora had to admit to herself, although she always openly denied it, that he had humor. To lose one's own temper in a wordy passage at arms and find one's opponent still smiling and serene is not a soothing experience.

      Often, in the darkness of the night after she had gone to bed, she could feel her cheek burn at the recollection that this 'ignorant clod,' as she contemptuously called him to herself, had the power to make her feel a weak, undisciplined child by merely never losing his self-control.

      There would have been consolation in the thought that in his stupidity he did not understand how she despised him, how infinitely beneath her she considered him, had it not been darkened by the suspicion that he understood perfectly well _and didn't care_.

      How dared he, how dared he!

      She had complained of his familiar manner to her brother a day or two after her arrival. But he had given her neither support nor consolation.

      "My dear Nora," he said, "we are not back in England. The sooner you forget all the old notions of class and class distinctions, the happier you'll be. They won't go here. As long as a man's straight, honest and a worker--and Frank's all three--it doesn't make any odds whether he's working for himself or for someone else. We're all on the same footing. It is only due to the fact that I've had two good years in succession that I'm not somebody's 'hired man' myself."

      "Don't, СКАЧАТЬ