IX

Tussie,"thatwithoutitI'dhavedrownedmyselflongago.Andasforthepoets—" Hestopped.Nooneknewwhatpoetryhadbeentohiminhissicklyexistence—theonesupremeinterest,theonethinghereallycaredtolivefor. Fritzingnowlovedhimwithallhisheart."AchGott,ja,"heejaculated,clappinghimontheshoulder,"thepoets—ja,ja—'Blessingsbewiththemandeternalpraise,'what?Youngman,"headdedenthusiastically,"Icouldwishthatyouhadbeenmyson.Icouldindeed."AndashesaiditRobinMorrisoncomingdownthestreetandseeingthetwotogetherandtheexpressiononTussie'sfaceinstantlyknewthatTussiehadmettheniece. "Hullo,Tuss,"hecalledacross,hurryingpast,foritwouldratherupsethisumbrellaplantobestoppedandhavetotalktothemanNeumannthusprematurely.ButTussieneithersawnorheardhim,and"ByJove,hasn'thejustseentheniecethough,"saidRobintohimself,hiseyesdancingashestrodenimblyalongonlongandbird-likelegs.TheconvictionseizedhimthatwhenheandhisumbrellashoulddescenduponBaker'sthatafternoonTussiewouldeitherbetherealreadyorwouldcomeinimmediatelyafterwards."WhowouldhavethoughtoldFusswouldbesoenterprising?"hewondered,thinkingoftheextremecordialityofFritzing'sface."He'sgiventhemthosecottages,I'llswear." SoFritzingwenttoMinehead.Iwillnotfollowhispainfulfootstepsastheyrangedaboutthatdrearyplace,norwillIdwelluponhispurchases,whichresolvedthemselvesatlast,afteraninfiniteandsoul-killingamountofwalkingandbewilderment,intoasofa,arevolvingbookstand,andtwobeds.HeforgotabedforAnnalisebecauseheforgotAnnaliseandhedidn'tbuythingslikesheetsbecauseheforgotthatbedswantthem.Ontheotherhandhespentquitetwohoursinadelightfulsecond-handbookshoponhiswaytotheplacewhereyoubuycrockery,andthenforgotthecrockery.Hedid,remindedanddirectedbyMr.Vickerton,thepostmistress'sson,gettoapaperhanger'sandorderhimandhismentocomeoutinshoalstoSymfordthenextmorningatdaybreak,makingthepaperhangervow,whohadneverseenthem,thatthecottagesshouldbedonebynightfall.Then,happeningtocometotheseashore,hestoodforamomentrefreshinghisnostrilswithsaltness,forhewasdesperatelywornout,andwhathedidafterthatheavenknows.AnyhowyoungVickertonfoundhimhoursafterwardswalkingupanddowntheshingleinthedark,wavinghisarmsaboutandcrying— "O,quimegelidisconvallibusHaemi Sistatetingentiramorumprotegatumbra!" "TalkingGermanoutloudtohimself,"saidyoungVickertontohismotherthatnightanditispossiblethathehadbeendoingitallthetime. AndwhilehewasdoingthesethingsPriscillawashavingcallspaidher.Nothingcouldexceedherastonishmentwhenaboutfouro'clock,asshewassittingdeepinthoughtandboredonthearmofahorsehairchair,Mrs.PearceopenedthedoorandwithouttheleastwarningletinMrs.Morrison.PriscillahadpromisedFritzingforthatonedaytostayquietlyatthefarm,andforthelasttwohours,findingthefarmofanintolerabledulness,shehadbeenengagedinreflectionsofanextremelycomplexnatureonsubjectssuchasDuty,Will,andPersonality.HermorningintheBakerfieldsandbythebanksofthatpartoftheSymthatmeandersthroughthemhadtunedhermindtomeditation.Thefoodatoneo'clockandthemannerofitsbringinginbyAnnalise—PriscillahadrelievedMrs.Pearceofthatoffice—tuneditstillmore.TheblendedslipperinessandpricklinessofallthethingsshetriedtositonhelpedsurprisinglyandifIknewhowfaritisallowabletowriteoflinenIcouldexplainmuchofherstateofmindbyadescriptionofthegarmentsinwhichshewasclothedthatday.TheywerenewgarmentstakenstraightfromtheGersteinbox.Theywerenotevenlinen,—howcouldtheybeforFritzing'sthreehundredmarks?Andtheirnewnesshadnotyetbeenexposedtothesofteninginfluenceofanywash-tub.Straightdidtheycome,inalltheircracklingstiffness,outoftheshopandontothePrincess.Annalisehadbeensupposedtowashthemorcausethemtobewashedthedaybefore,butAnnalisehadbeenfartoobusycryingtodoanythingofthesortandbyfouro'clockPriscillawasgoadedbythemintoaconditionofmindsounworthythatshewasthinkingquitehardabouttheKunitzfinelinenandotherflesh-potsandactuallyfindingtherecollectionsweet.Itwasaplace,Priscillamused,whereherbodyhadbeenexquisitelycaredfor.Thosedelicatemeals,servedinspotlessness,surelytheyhadbeenratherofthenatureofpoems?Thoseweb-likegarments,softasakiss,howbeautifultheyhadbeentotouchandwear.Truehersoulhadstarvedyes,ithadcruellystarved.Butwasitthen—shestartedatherownthought—wasitthenbeingfedatBaker's? Andintothemiddleofthisquestion,atremendousonetobeaskedontheverythresholdofthenewlife,walkedMrs.Morrison. "Howd'ydo,"saidMrs.Morrison."Thevicaraskedmetocomeandseeyou.IhopethePearcesmakeyoucomfortable." "WellInever,"thoughtMrs.Pearce,lingeringaswashercustomonthedoor-mat,andshakingherheadinsorrowratherthaninanger. Priscillasatforamomentstaringathervisitor. "YouareMissSchultz,areyounot?"askedMrs.Morrisonrathernervously. Priscillasaidshewas,—hername,thatis,wasNeumann-Schultz—andgotup.ShehadthevaguestnotionastohowMissSchultzwouldbehaveunderthesetryingcircumstances,butimaginedshewouldbeginbygettingup.Soshegotup,andthesofabeingalowoneandhermovementsleisurely,Mrs.Morrisontoldherhusbandafterwardsthereseemedtobenoendtothegirl.Thegirlcertainlywaslong,andwhenatlastunfoldedandquitestraightenedoutshetoweredov