And so Dirty is accepted.
But, when she calls, she has first to undergo a short quarantine, while
the mother of my little boy washes her and combs her hair thoroughly.
Dirty does not like this, but the boy does. He looks on with
extraordinary interest and at once complains if there is a place that
has escaped the sponge. I can't make out what goes on within him on
these occasions. There is a good deal of cruelty in love; and he himself
hates to be washed. Perhaps he is rapt in fancies and wants to see his
sweetheart rise daily from the waves, like Venus Anadyomene. Perhaps it
is merely his sense of duty: last Friday, in cold blood, he allowed
Dirty to wait outside, on the step, for half an hour, until his mother
came home.
Another of his joys is to see Dirty eat.
I can quite understand that. Here, as at her toilet, there is something
worth looking at. The mother of my little boy and I would be glad too to
watch her, if there were any chance of giving Dirty her fill. But there
is none. At least, not with my income.
When I see all that food disappear, without as much as a shade of
satisfaction coming into her eyes, I tremble for the young couple's
future. But he is cheerful and unconcerned.
Of course, there are also clouds in their sky.
A few days ago, they were sitting quietly together in the dining-room
and talking of their wedding. My little boy described what the house
would be like and the garden and the horses. Dirty made no remarks and
she had no grounds for doing so, for everything was particularly nice.
But, after that, things went wrong:
"We shall have fourteen children," said the boy.
"No," said Dirty. "We shall only have two: a boy and a girl."
"I want to have fourteen."
"I won't have more than two."
"Fourteen."
"Two."
There was no coming to an agreement. My little boy was speechless at
Dirty's meanness. And Dirty pinched her lips together and nodded her
head defiantly. Then he burst into tears.
I could have explained to him that Dirty, who sits down every day as the
seventh at the children's table at home, cannot look upon children with
his eyes, as things forming an essential part of every well-regulated
family, but must regard them rather as bandits who eat up other people's
food. But I did not feel entitled to discuss the young lady's domestic
circumstances unasked.
One good thing about Dirty is that she is not dependent upon her family
nor they upon her. It has not yet happened that any inquiries have been
made after her, however long she remained with us. We know just where
she lives and what her father's name is. Nothing more.
However, we notice in another way that our daughter-in-law is not
without relations.
Whenever, for instance, we give her a pair of stockings or some other
article of clothing, it is always gone the next day; and so on until all
the six brothers and sisters have been supplied. Not till then do we
have the pleasure of seeing Dirty look neat. She has been so long
accustomed to going shares that she does so in every conceivable
circumstance.
And I console the mother of my little boy by saying that, should he fall
out with Dirty, he can take one of the sisters and that, in this way,
nothing would be lost.
X
My little boy confides to me that he would like a pear.
Now pears fall within his mother's province and I am sure that he has
had as many as he is entitled to. And so we are at once agreed that what
he wants is a wholly irrelevant, uncalled-for, delightful extra pear.
Unfortunately, it also appears that the request has already been laid
before Mamma and met with a positive refusal.
The situation is serious, but not hopeless. For I am a man who knows how
mean is the supply of pears to us poor wretched children of men and how
wonderful an extra pear tastes.
And I am glad that my little boy did not give up all hope of the pear at
the first obstacle. I can see by the longing in his green eyes how big
the pear is and I reflect with lawful paternal pride that he will win
his girl and his position in life when their time comes.
We now discuss the matter carefully.
First comes the prospect of stomach-ache:
"Never mind about that," says he.