John left his Uncle in the shop and went into the kitchen to tell his
mother of his decision. He felt certain that she would oppose him, and
he braced himself to resist her appeals that he should change his mind.
But she took his announcement very quietly.
"I've made up my mind to go to London, ma!" he said to her.
She did not look up immediately. Then she turned towards him, and said,
"Oh, yes, John!"
He paused, nonplussed by her manner, as if he were waiting for her to
proceed, but finding that she did not say any more, he continued. "I
daresay it'll upset you," he said.
"I'm used to being upset," she replied, "and I expected it. When will
you be going?"
"I don't know yet. In a wee while. I'll have to speak to Mr. Cairnduff
first about quitting the school, and then I'll stay at home for a bit,
writing 'til I'm the master of it. After that I'll go to London ... or
mebbe to America!"
She sat quite still in the armchair beneath the window that overlooked
the yard. He felt that he ought to say more to her, that she ought to
say more to him, but he could not think of anything to say to her,
because she had said so little to him.
"I hope you're not upset about it," he said.
"Upset!" she exclaimed, with a sound of bitterness in her tone.
"Yes. I know you never approved of the idea!"
"It doesn't make any difference whether I approve or not, does it?..."
"That's not a fair way to put it, ma!"
"But it amounts to that all the same," she retorted. "No, John, I'm
not upset. What would be the good? I had other hopes for you, but
they weren't your hopes, and I daresay you're right. I daresay you
are. After all, we ... we have to ... to do the best we can for
ourselves ... haven't we?"
"Yes, ma!"
"And if you think you can do better in London ... or America nor you
can in Ballyards ... well, you're right to ... to go, aren't you?"
"That's what I think, ma!" John answered.
She did not say any more, and he sat at the table, tapping on it with a
pencil. There was no sound in the kitchen but the ticking of the clock
and the noise of the water boiling in the kettle and the little tap,
tap ... tap, tap ... tap, tap, tap ... of his pencil on the table. Mrs.
MacDermott had been hemming a handkerchief when John entered the
kitchen, and as he glanced at her now, he saw that her head was bent
over it again. He looked at her for a long while, it seemed to him, but
she did not raise her head to return his look. If she would only rebuke
him for wishing to go ... but this awful silence!...
He looked about the kitchen, as if he were assuring himself that the
old, familiar things were still in their places. He would be glad, of
course, to go away from home, because he wished to adventure into
bigger things ... but he would be sorry to go, too. There was something
very dear and friendly about the house. He had experienced much love
and care in it, and had had much happiness here. Nevertheless, he would
be glad to go. He needed a change, he wished to have things happening
to him. He remembered very vividly something that his Uncle Matthew had
said to him in this very room. "Sure, what does it matter whether
you're happy and contented or not, so long as things are happening to
you!"
That was the right spirit. Uncle Matthew had known all the time what
was the right life for a man to lead, even although he had never gone
out into the world himself. What if Maggie Carmichael _had_
treated him badly? _If love be rough with you, be rough with
love!_ Who was Maggie Carmichael anyway? One woman in a world full
of women! She was only Maggie Carmichael ... or Maggie whatever the
policeman's name was! _If love be rough with you, be rough with
love!_ ... Oh, he would, he would! There were finer women in the
world than Maggie Carmichael, and what was to prevent him from getting
the finest woman amongst them if he wanted her. Had it not been said of
his father that he could have taken a queen from a king's bed, lifted
her clean out of a palace in face of the whole court and taken her to
his home, a happy and contented woman?... Well, then, what one
MacDermott could do, another MacDermott could do....
His mother got up from her chair and, putting down her hemmed
handkerchief, said, "It's time I wet the tea!"