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

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СКАЧАТЬ Eddie, don't; you don't realize how you hurt me."

      "My dear girl, I'm sorry; but I'm in dead earnest."

      "You, a hired man? Oh, I can't believe it."

      "It's true, nevertheless. Plenty of better fellows than I have had to do it. When you're starting in, unless you have a good deal bigger capital than I had, you only need to be hailed out, frosted out, or weeded out a couple of years in succession to use up your little stake, and then where are you?"

      "What do you mean by 'weeded out'?"

      He was just about to explain when a halloo from the stables cut him short. "There's Frank now. I ought to be out helping him this minute; we've got a good stiff drive ahead of us. You ask Gertie about it, she'll explain it to you."

      But Gertie had been deeply preoccupied with some domestic problem and Nora had forborne to question her. She had intended returning to the subject that evening, but Eddie and Gertie were deep in one of their conferences until nearly bedtime. It would never have suggested itself to her to seek any information from the objectionable Frank, so under cover of a heated discussion between him and Trotter, she appealed to Reggie.

      "What does it mean to be weeded out?"

      "Oh, Lord, I don't know! Kicked out, I suppose. Isn't there something in the Bible about tares and wheat?"

      "Nonsense; it doesn't mean that. I'd forgotten, by the way, how strong you were on Biblical references. Do you remember your discussion about Sarah and Benjamin with Agnes Pringle?"

      "Of course I do. And I completely stumped her; don't you recollect?"

      "Goose! She only wanted to make you look it up for yourself. But being 'weeded out' is something disastrous that happens to the farmers here, like having the crops frozen."

      "Well, it hasn't happened since I've been here, anyway. But I'll bet you a bob it means kicked out. I tell you, I'll ask Gertie if she doesn't think that I ought to be weeded out."

      "You'd better not," laughed Nora.

      The first open quarrel had taken place one day at dinner.

      The night before Nora had proposed making her first attempt at baking bread. Gertie had given a grudging consent. Everything had gone well until the bread, once in the oven, Nora had gone to her room to add some pages to a long letter which she had begun, some evenings before to Agnes Pringle.

      Gertie had been out in one of the barns most of the morning engaged in some mysterious task which she had been reserving until the weather became milder--there had been a decided thaw, setting in the day before--and Nora intended to be gone only a short time.

      Filled with a warm feeling of gratitude to Miss Pringle for her generous loan of the ten-pound note, she was writing her a long letter in the form of a diary describing her voyage across the Atlantic and the trip across the Continent, both of which she was sure would greatly interest her friend and furnish her with topics for her tte--tte dinners with the excellent Mrs. Hubbard for some days to come.

      Of the difficulties and disappointments in her new life she was resolved to say nothing. Nora hated to confess that she had failed in anything. And, so far, she could hardly say that she had made a success. Later on, she might have to acknowledge that her move had been a mistake. But for the moment she would confine herself to describing all that struck her as novel and strange while the impression was still fresh, while she still had the 'seeing eye.'

      "When I came to the end of my last page (and I remember that I was getting extremely sleepy at that point)," she wrote, "I had just finished describing the exterior of my brother's house to you. I am sure I can never do justice to the interior! You can never have seen, much less imagined, anything in the least like it. I have decided, upon reflection, that it is the most un-English thing I have seen yet: and I have not forgotten those strange railway carriages either.

      "Try to imagine a large room, longer than it is deep, at once living-room, dining-room and kitchen; with nothing but rough brown boards for walls, on which--some framed, some unframed--are the colored supplements of the Christmas illustrated papers, both English and American. Over one of the doors is a magnificent trophy--at least that is what we would call it at home--I think it is a moose. I am not at all sure, although I have been told more than once. Over another door is a large clock, such a one as one finds in a broker's office with us. The floor is covered with what is called oilcloth--I wonder why: it certainly is not the least like cloth--very new and excessively shiny. It has a conventional pattern in black and white, and when the sun shines on it, it quite dazzles one's eyes.

      "There are two windows, one to the south, the other looking west. The western view is magnificent. I feel as if I could see straight away to the setting sun! In the summer, when the prairie is one great waving green sea, it must be superb. Two days ago it was covered with snow. As I write, I can see great patches of brown every here and there, for we have had a sudden thaw. The window sills are filled with geraniums planted, my dear, in tins which once contained syrup, of which everyone here, including my brother, seems extravagantly fond. The syrup jug appears regularly at every meal and is almost the first thing put on the table. I have yet to acquire a taste for it--which they all think extremely queer.

      "The furniture consists of two American rockers and a number of kitchen chairs; an unvarnished deal dresser covered with earthenware;--I don't think there are any two pieces that match!--two tables, one a dining table; a bookcase containing a few paper-backed novels and some magazines, none so recent, however, as those I saw before I left England; and last and most important, an enormous American cooking stove.

      "Our principal meal, called dinner, is----"

      Great heavens, her bread!

      Nora dashed from her room. Gertie was standing at one of the windows in the unwonted indulgence of a moment's leisure. Nora threw open the oven door. It was empty.

      "Oh, did you look after my loaf, Gertie? I'm so sorry; I quite forgot it."

      "Yes, I took it out a few moments ago."

      She still had her face turned toward the window, so Nora did not see the smile that curled her lip. She turned after a moment, and the two women began to set the table for dinner.

      Presently the men were heard laughing outside as they cleaned their muddy boots on the scraper. Reggie had apparently achieved something new. His ignorance of everything pertaining to farming furnished the material for most of the amusement that was going. Fortunately, he was always good-natured. Gertie, with unusual good spirits, entered into the joke of the thing at once and even bantered Reggie playfully upon his latest discovery.

      Nora did not even hear what it was all about. She was searching for the bread plate which always stood on the dresser.

      "Why, Gertie, I----"

      "It's all right," said Gertie, without looking up from pouring the tea. "I took it. I'll get it in a minute. Come, sit down."

      Nora obeyed.

      Hornby was just about to begin his explanation for whatever it was he had done, when Eddie interrupted him:

      "Hold on a minute, Reg. I want some bread. СКАЧАТЬ