The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists [42]
wife clearing away the tea things and rearranging the drying clothing by the fire, Owen for the first time noticed that she looked unusually ill.
`You don't look well tonight, Nora,' he said, crossing over to her and putting his arm around her.
`I don't feel well,' she replied, resting her head wearily against his shoulder. `I've been very bad all day and I had to lie down nearly all the afternoon. I don't know how I should have managed to get the tea ready if it had not been for Frankie.'
`I set the table for you, didn't I, Mum?' said Frankie with pride; `and tidied up the room as well.'
`Yes, darling, you helped me a lot,' she answered, and Frankie went over to her and kissed her hand.
`Well, you'd better go to bed at once,' said Owen. `I can put Frankie to bed presently and do whatever else is necessary.'
`But there are so many things to attend to. I want to see that your clothes are properly dry and to put something ready for you to take in the morning before you go out, and then there's your breakfast to pack up -'
`I can manage all that.'
`I didn't want to give way to it like this,' the woman said, `because I know you must be tired out yourself, but I really do feel quite done up now.'
`Oh, I'm all right,' replied Owen, who was really so fatigued that he was scarcely able to stand. `I'll go and draw the blinds down and light the other lamp; so say good night to Frankie and come at once.'
`I won't say good night properly, now, Mum,' remarked the boy, `because Dad can carry me into your room before he puts me into bed.'
A little later, as Owen was undressing Frankie, the latter remarked as he looked affectionately at the kitten, which was sitting on the hearthrug watching the child's every movement under the impression that it was part of some game:
`What name do you think we ought to call it, Dad?'
`You may give him any name you like,' replied Owen, absently.
`I know a dog that lives down the road,' said the boy, `his name is Major. How would that do? Or we might call him Sergeant.'
The kitten, observing that he was the subject of their conversation, purred loudly and winked as if to intimate that he did not care what rank was conferred upon him so long as the commisariat department was properly attended to.
`I don't know, though,' continued Frankie, thoughtfully. `They're all right names for dogs, but I think they're too big for a kitten, don't you, Dad?'
`Yes, p'raps they are,' said Owen.
`Most cats are called Tom or Kitty, but I don't want a COMMON name for him.'
`Well, can't you call him after someone you know?'
`I know; I'll call him after a little girl that comes to our school; a fine name, Maud! That'll be a good one, won't it Dad?'
`Yes,' said Owen.
`I say, Dad,' said Frankie, suddenly realizing the awful fact that he was being put to bed. `You're forgetting all about my story, and you promised that you'd have a game of trains with me tonight.'
`I hadn't forgotten, but I was hoping that you had, because I'm very tired and it's very late, long past your usual bedtime, you know. You can take the kitten to bed with you tonight and I'll tell you two stories tomorrow, because it's Saturday.'
`All right, then,' said the boy, contentedly; `and I'll get the railway station built and I'll have the lines chalked on the floor, and the signals put up before you come home, so that there'll be no time wasted. And I'll put one chair at one end of the room and another chair at the other end, and tie some string across for telegraph wires. That'll be a very good idea, won't it, Dad?' and Owen agreed.
`But of course I'll come to meet you just the same as other Saturdays, because I'm going to buy a ha'porth of milk for the kitten out of my penny.'
After the child was in bed, Owen sat alone by the table in the draughty sitting-room, thinking. Although there was a bright fire, the room was very cold, being so close to the roof. The wind roared loudly round the gables, shaking the house in a way that threatened every moment to hurl it to
`You don't look well tonight, Nora,' he said, crossing over to her and putting his arm around her.
`I don't feel well,' she replied, resting her head wearily against his shoulder. `I've been very bad all day and I had to lie down nearly all the afternoon. I don't know how I should have managed to get the tea ready if it had not been for Frankie.'
`I set the table for you, didn't I, Mum?' said Frankie with pride; `and tidied up the room as well.'
`Yes, darling, you helped me a lot,' she answered, and Frankie went over to her and kissed her hand.
`Well, you'd better go to bed at once,' said Owen. `I can put Frankie to bed presently and do whatever else is necessary.'
`But there are so many things to attend to. I want to see that your clothes are properly dry and to put something ready for you to take in the morning before you go out, and then there's your breakfast to pack up -'
`I can manage all that.'
`I didn't want to give way to it like this,' the woman said, `because I know you must be tired out yourself, but I really do feel quite done up now.'
`Oh, I'm all right,' replied Owen, who was really so fatigued that he was scarcely able to stand. `I'll go and draw the blinds down and light the other lamp; so say good night to Frankie and come at once.'
`I won't say good night properly, now, Mum,' remarked the boy, `because Dad can carry me into your room before he puts me into bed.'
A little later, as Owen was undressing Frankie, the latter remarked as he looked affectionately at the kitten, which was sitting on the hearthrug watching the child's every movement under the impression that it was part of some game:
`What name do you think we ought to call it, Dad?'
`You may give him any name you like,' replied Owen, absently.
`I know a dog that lives down the road,' said the boy, `his name is Major. How would that do? Or we might call him Sergeant.'
The kitten, observing that he was the subject of their conversation, purred loudly and winked as if to intimate that he did not care what rank was conferred upon him so long as the commisariat department was properly attended to.
`I don't know, though,' continued Frankie, thoughtfully. `They're all right names for dogs, but I think they're too big for a kitten, don't you, Dad?'
`Yes, p'raps they are,' said Owen.
`Most cats are called Tom or Kitty, but I don't want a COMMON name for him.'
`Well, can't you call him after someone you know?'
`I know; I'll call him after a little girl that comes to our school; a fine name, Maud! That'll be a good one, won't it Dad?'
`Yes,' said Owen.
`I say, Dad,' said Frankie, suddenly realizing the awful fact that he was being put to bed. `You're forgetting all about my story, and you promised that you'd have a game of trains with me tonight.'
`I hadn't forgotten, but I was hoping that you had, because I'm very tired and it's very late, long past your usual bedtime, you know. You can take the kitten to bed with you tonight and I'll tell you two stories tomorrow, because it's Saturday.'
`All right, then,' said the boy, contentedly; `and I'll get the railway station built and I'll have the lines chalked on the floor, and the signals put up before you come home, so that there'll be no time wasted. And I'll put one chair at one end of the room and another chair at the other end, and tie some string across for telegraph wires. That'll be a very good idea, won't it, Dad?' and Owen agreed.
`But of course I'll come to meet you just the same as other Saturdays, because I'm going to buy a ha'porth of milk for the kitten out of my penny.'
After the child was in bed, Owen sat alone by the table in the draughty sitting-room, thinking. Although there was a bright fire, the room was very cold, being so close to the roof. The wind roared loudly round the gables, shaking the house in a way that threatened every moment to hurl it to