Part 21

“No; I don’t think she did,” answered Andreas shortly. “To tell you the truth, I’m not satisfied that she hasn’t a nurse.”

“Oh, your mother’s worth a dozen nurses,” cried the doctor, with immense gusto. “To tell you the truth, I’m not keen on nurses—too raw—raw as rump-steak. They wrestle for a baby as though they were wrestling with Death for the body of Patroclus.... Ever seen that picture by an English artist. Leighton? Wonderful thing—full of sinew!”

“There he goes again,” thought Andreas, “airing off his knowledge to make a fool of me.”

“Now your mother—she’s firm—she’s capable. Does what she’s told with a fund of sympathy. Look at these shops we’re passing—they’re festering sores. How on earth this government can tolerate—”

“They’re not so bad—sound enough—only want a coat of paint.”

The doctor whistled a little tune and flicked the mare again.

“Well, I hope the young shaver won’t give his mother too much trouble,” he said. “Here we are.”

A skinny little boy, who had been sliding up and down the back seat of the gig, sprang out and held the horse’s head. Andreas went straight into the dining-room and left the servant girl to take the doctor upstairs. He sat down, poured out some coffee, and bit through half a roll before helping himself to fish. Then he noticed there was no hot plate for the fish—the whole house was at sixes and sevens. He rang the bell, but the servant girl came in with a tray holding a bowl of soup and a hot plate.

“I’ve been keeping them on the stove,” she simpered.

“Ah, thanks, that’s very kind of you.” As he swallowed the soup his heart warmed to this fool of a girl.

“Oh, it’s a good thing Doctor Erb has come,” volunteered the servant girl, who was bursting for want of sympathy.

“H’m, h’m,” said Andreas.

She waited a moment, expectantly, rolling her eyes, then in full loathing of menkind went back to the kitchen and vowed herself to sterility.

Andreas cleared the soup bowl, and cleared the fish. As he ate, the room slowly darkened. A faint wind sprang up and beat the tree branches against the window. The dining-room looked over the breakwater of the harbour, and the sea swung heavily in rolling waves. Wind crept round the house, moaning drearily.

“We’re in for a storm. That means I’m boxed up here all day. Well, there’s one blessing; it’ll clear the air.” He heard the servant girl rushing importantly round the house, slamming windows. Then he caught a glimpse of her in the garden, unpegging tea towels from the line across the lawn. She was a worker, there was no doubt about that. He took up a book, and wheeled his arm-chair over to the window. But it was useless. Too dark to read; he didn’t believe in straining his eyes, and gas at ten o’clock in the morning seemed absurd. So he slipped down in the chair, leaned his elbows on the padded arms and gave himself up, for once, to idle dreaming. “A boy? Yes, it was bound to be a boy this time....” “What’s your family, Binzer?” “Oh, I’ve two girls and a boy!” A very nice little number. Of course he was the last man to have a favourite child, but a man needed a son. “I’m working up the business for my son! Binzer & Son! It would mean living very tight for the next ten years, cutting expenses as fine as possible; and then—”

A tremendous gust of wind sprang upon the house, seized it, shook it, dropped, only to grip the more tightly. The waves swelled up along the breakwater and were whipped with broken foam. Over the white sky flew tattered streamers of grey cloud.

Andreas felt quite relieved to hear Doctor Erb coming down the stairs; he got up and lit the gas.

“Mind if I smoke in here?” asked Doctor Erb, lighting a cigarette before Andreas had time to answer. “You don’t smoke, do you? No time to indulge in pernicious little habits!”

“How is she now?” asked Andreas, loathing the man.

“Oh, well as can be expected, poor little soul. She begged me to come down and have a look at you. Said she knew you were worrying.” With laughing eyes the doctor looked at the breakfast-table. “Managed to peck a bit, I see, eh?”

“Hoo-wih!” shouted the wind, shaking the window-sashes.

“Pity—this weather,” said Doctor Erb.

“Yes, it gets on Anna’s nerves, and it’s just nerve she wants.”

“Eh, what’s that?” retorted the doctor. “Nerve! Man alive! She’s got twice the nerve of you and me rolled into one. Nerve! she’s nothing but nerve. A woman who works as she does about the house and has three children in four years thrown in with the dusting, so to speak!”

He pitched his half-smoked cigarette into the fireplace and frowned at the window.

“Now he’s accusing me,” thought Andreas. “That’s the second time this morning—first mother and now this man taking advantage of my sensitiveness.” He could not trust himself to speak, and rang the bell for the servant girl.

“Clear away the breakfast things,” he ordered. “I can’t have them messing about on the table till dinner!”

“Don’t be hard on the girl,” coaxed Doctor Erb. “She’s got twice the work to do to-day.”