THE CHINA MAIL THURSDAY SUPPLEMENT, APRIL 15, 1937.
Faith, Hope And Charity
HE man stood in the doorway.
He scuffed one foot against Concerning a worm that did not
the other, the movement swaying him toward the jamb. Ellie's shrewd glance went downward to his shoes. The shoes decided her.
It was good to have a man in the house once more.
In the morning she heard him moving about while she lay still The unaccustomed sounds had wakened her from sleep and
turn, but pursued its course bed.
They were split in the uppers and in
run down, warped by many wea- thers but scrupulously shined. The heavy lines of Ellie's face softer.
grew
"You keep 'em clean," she said. That's some- "I mean your shoes. thing."
The man's eyes avoided her. His shoulders sagged. It was not logical for her to feel a sugges- tion of furtive defiance in his at- titude. But she did. It was the defiance of a cowed animal licking its wounds and pitting all the strength of its will against a mas- ter. The woman felt a little an- ticipatory thrill pass through her.
He mumbled indistinctly: “* got pride," was all she heard. "I got my pride."
"I might find a job for you,” Ellie said, "Do you think
could make a seed bed?"
you
The man inclined his head mute- ly. "Speak up," she said sharply. "Guess I 'could"—stammering-
ly.
-
[
She led him through the house to the tool shed at the bottom of the garden.
“You'll find what you need in here," the woman said as she un- locked the door of the shed. "If you're thinking of running off with any--"
His face lifted to her in mild apprehension. "Yes, missus ?**
"I'll be watching you from the window.”
and He picked out a spade turned away. She felt without. understanding it his fastidious avoidance of conflict Some urge impelled her to touch him and she called him back. He came sub- missively. She was holding out a paper sack of powdered ferti- lizer.
"Here, scatter this in while you're digging. Don't waste any." As he took the bag from her his fumbling fingers brushed her own. He had a hard, dry skin and his hands an unmoist warmth. She went back to the house without speaking again.
During what was left of the afternoon she -went often
to window or door to watch him. He worked slowly, with care, turn- ing over the soil with slanting, even drives of the spade, pausing regularly to sprinkle the ferti- lizer over the broken earth and knead it in with the rake. About his feet on the border of the plot he accumulated a rubble of stones from the bed in ordered heaps. She thought stolidly: "I'll make him a good meal. Men like 8 good meal. He don't look strong. He'll be tired and hungry. wonder how old he is. Fifty, maybe."
I
un-
With a glow of planning a meal for a man she forgot the complaining ache of her loneliness since, her husband had died three years before. She was forty years old. Her husband, a good pro- vider, had left her comfortably. endowed. She owned the house she lived in and a small cottage on one of the nearby streets. The district was a suburb, an adjunct of the town split into factory sites never developed. The pro perty was not valuable but she had no worries. She had an in- come sufficient fór her wants and
a rather oblique fashion
fashion startled, she raised her head in
with. few needs, few friends, inertia had obscured whatever im-
It pulses she may have once felt. was queer that the man had stir- red her interest. It had never happened before.
She made a meal quickly, com-
unhurried petently, her
hands peeling, mixing, in the routines of cooking. Her preparations over, she turned to the mirror be- side the clock on the shelf over the sink and examined herself closely. She pushed the hair back from her temples, parted her lips and looked at her teeth. A step outside made her turn quickly.
The man was waiting for her
I'm tired, missus.”
er.
Perversely she felt the desire to hold him with her a little long- Company for her was a rarity. She wanted more time to enjoy the feeling of power it gave her to have him dependent on her fancy. She felt, too,
hig
silent opposition; timid lest she turn him out; obstinate in resisting impress of her will.
"You don't talk much. A wo- man likes. to hear a man' talk sometimes. I want to know more about you." Deliberately her. voice grew chill with accusation. "How do I know you won't get up in the night to rob me?”
By Jameson Field
to open the door. "I'm finished now, missus.” He did not notice how red her face was. "I put the thing's away."
"You hungry?" she asked. Her voice was kinder now. He nodded. "You can wash here.
Take your coat off if you want,” she added as he hesitated. She seemed to understand his shyness. Her hus- band had been a shy man.
the
The measured ticking of clock paced the meal. The woman piled his plate with food creamy scalloped potatoes, butter- ed beans and pink slices of sugar- cured ham, gave him bread of her own baking, fruit conserve and cored apples preserved in cinnamon syrup. The man ate as
quietly as he had worked, pushed back his chair and looked at her. "Smoke if you want," she said, "I don't mind."
"Have you got a place to stay?” "Nowheres, missus." His voice steadied, divined her offer. "You'll find me grateful, missus.” "There's a couch down in the cellar you
could sleep on. It's dry and you'll be warm enough. What's your name?"
"Dan. Could I go down now?
:
**You could lock the missus."
door,
pipe
The hand holding his trembled as he removed it to speak. She was sorry once the allegation was made.
She had not experienced the least fear at the prospect of being alone in the house with the man. She knew already he was afraid of her. Her sole motive had been to pro- voke him to reply. Somehow her silence, an appreciable lessening
of
the tension between them, gave him permission to go. She heard him creak down the stairs after shutting the door firmly, and shuffle across the cellar to the couch.
"He didn't thank me," she said. aloud. "He didn't even say good- night."
The door was still unlocked after she washed the dishes, laid out some sewing for the next day and went up to bed. She paused in her undressing to remember the touch of his hand on hers, From the window she tried to see down to the garden where he had worked. A restless wind pressed the drapes against her. She felt no cold.
alarm. Then, remembering, she smiled grimly. On coming down she found him preparing the breakfast.
"Get out of this," she said abruptly, "and set on the stoop like a man ought to before his meal."
It was the first occasion on which she had to tell him his place, and the last, for he never intruded himself again. He slip- ped into a series of odd jobs about her home that occupied his days fully. In the beginning shé gave him definite orders each day.
"The hedgerows should be trimmed and I've got some bulbs you can plant. A board in the fence is loose. Fix it."
"Yes, missus. I noticed it.”
Later, she found he had al- ready pruned and thinned the tangled shrubbery and that not only was the board loose but the fence joists had rotted. Dan found some lumber, and repaired it. He practically had to rebuild the fence. If the woman had not seen him working on it she would never have known.... He never spoke of what he was doing one day to an- other but after that she rarely gave him instructions.
His relationship to her person- ally was of receiving whatever she wished to bestow; and she osity, showed at once. gave freely. Her natural gener- She was genuinely shocked by his cloth- ing. Every article he wore was a cast-off, nothing matched or fit- ted, and yet she was conscious of his integrant neatness. His patches were clumsy efforts to hold them together.
He had been painting the house one day when she got back from -town. She stood at the foot of his
ladder holding a parcel.
"I've got some clothes for you,” she told him. "A suit... suit for you.”
new
He stopped painting and wiped his brush on a cloth. He looked down at her.
“Do you want me to come down now ???
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