Novel Notes [37]
One of his duties was to water the flowers on the roof. Fortunately--for the flowers--Nature, that summer, stood drinks with a lavishness sufficient to satisfy the most confirmed vegetable toper: otherwise every plant on our boat would have died from drought. Never one drop of water did they receive from him. He was for ever taking them water, but he never arrived there with it. As a rule he upset the pail before he got it on to the boat at all, and this was the best thing that could happen, because then the water simply went back into the river, and did no harm to any one. Sometimes, however, he would succeed in landing it, and then the chances were he would spill it over the deck or into the passage. Now and again, he would get halfway up the ladder before the accident occurred. Twice he nearly reached the top; and once he actually did gain the roof. What happened there on that memorable occasion will never be known. The boy himself, when picked up, could explain nothing. It is supposed that he lost his head with the pride of the achievement, and essayed feats that neither his previous training nor his natural abilities justified him in attempting. However that may be, the fact remains that the main body of the water came down the kitchen chimney; and that the boy and the empty pail arrived together on deck before they knew they had started.
When he could find nothing else to damage, he would go out of his way to upset himself. He could not be sure of stepping from his own punt on to the boat with safety. As often as not, he would catch his foot in the chain or the punt-pole, and arrive on his chest.
Amenda used to condole with him. "Your mother ought to be ashamed of herself," I heard her telling him one morning; "she could never have taught you to walk. What you want is a go-cart."
He was a willing lad, but his stupidity was super-natural. A comet appeared in the sky that year, and everybody was talking about it. One day he said to me:-
"There's a comet coming, ain't there, sir?" He talked about it as though it were a circus.
"Coming!" I answered, "it's come. Haven't you seen it?"
"No, sir."
"Oh, well, you have a look for it to-night. It's worth seeing."
"Yees, sir, I should like to see it. It's got a tail, ain't it, sir?"
"Yes, a very fine tail."
"Yees, sir, they said it 'ad a tail. Where do you go to see it, sir?"
"Go! You don't want to go anywhere. You'll see it in your own garden at ten o'clock."
He thanked me, and, tumbling over a sack of potatoes, plunged head foremost into his punt and departed.
Next morning, I asked him if he had seen the comet.
"No, sir, I couldn't see it anywhere."
"Did you look?"
"Yees, sir. I looked a long time."
"How on earth did you manage to miss it then?" I exclaimed. "It was a clear enough night. Where did you look?"
"In our garden, sir. Where you told me."
"Whereabouts in the garden?" chimed in Amenda, who happened to be standing by; "under the gooseberry bushes?"
"Yees--everywhere."
That is what he had done: he had taken the stable lantern and searched the garden for it.
But the day when he broke even his own record for foolishness happened about three weeks later. MacShaughnassy was staying with us at the time, and on the Friday evening he mixed us a salad, according to a recipe given him by his aunt. On the Saturday morning, everybody was, of course, very ill. Everybody always is very ill after partaking of any dish prepared by MacShaughnassy. Some people attempt to explain this fact by talking glibly of "cause and effect." MacShaughnassy maintains that it is simply coincidence.
"How do you know," he says, "that you wouldn't have been ill if you hadn't eaten any? You're queer enough now, any one can see, and I'm very sorry for you; but, for all that you can tell, if you hadn't eaten any of that stuff you might have been very much worse--perhaps dead. In all probability, it has saved your life." And for the rest of the day, he assumes towards you the attitude of a man who has
When he could find nothing else to damage, he would go out of his way to upset himself. He could not be sure of stepping from his own punt on to the boat with safety. As often as not, he would catch his foot in the chain or the punt-pole, and arrive on his chest.
Amenda used to condole with him. "Your mother ought to be ashamed of herself," I heard her telling him one morning; "she could never have taught you to walk. What you want is a go-cart."
He was a willing lad, but his stupidity was super-natural. A comet appeared in the sky that year, and everybody was talking about it. One day he said to me:-
"There's a comet coming, ain't there, sir?" He talked about it as though it were a circus.
"Coming!" I answered, "it's come. Haven't you seen it?"
"No, sir."
"Oh, well, you have a look for it to-night. It's worth seeing."
"Yees, sir, I should like to see it. It's got a tail, ain't it, sir?"
"Yes, a very fine tail."
"Yees, sir, they said it 'ad a tail. Where do you go to see it, sir?"
"Go! You don't want to go anywhere. You'll see it in your own garden at ten o'clock."
He thanked me, and, tumbling over a sack of potatoes, plunged head foremost into his punt and departed.
Next morning, I asked him if he had seen the comet.
"No, sir, I couldn't see it anywhere."
"Did you look?"
"Yees, sir. I looked a long time."
"How on earth did you manage to miss it then?" I exclaimed. "It was a clear enough night. Where did you look?"
"In our garden, sir. Where you told me."
"Whereabouts in the garden?" chimed in Amenda, who happened to be standing by; "under the gooseberry bushes?"
"Yees--everywhere."
That is what he had done: he had taken the stable lantern and searched the garden for it.
But the day when he broke even his own record for foolishness happened about three weeks later. MacShaughnassy was staying with us at the time, and on the Friday evening he mixed us a salad, according to a recipe given him by his aunt. On the Saturday morning, everybody was, of course, very ill. Everybody always is very ill after partaking of any dish prepared by MacShaughnassy. Some people attempt to explain this fact by talking glibly of "cause and effect." MacShaughnassy maintains that it is simply coincidence.
"How do you know," he says, "that you wouldn't have been ill if you hadn't eaten any? You're queer enough now, any one can see, and I'm very sorry for you; but, for all that you can tell, if you hadn't eaten any of that stuff you might have been very much worse--perhaps dead. In all probability, it has saved your life." And for the rest of the day, he assumes towards you the attitude of a man who has