`I don't feel well,' she replied, resting her head wearily against his shoulder.`I've been very bad all day and I had to lie down nearly all the afternoon.I don't know how I should have managed to get the tea ready if it had not been for Frankie.'
`I set the table for you, didn't I, Mum?' said Frankie with pride;`and tidied up the room as well.'
`Yes, darling, you helped me a lot,' she answered, and Frankie went over to her and kissed her hand.
`Well, you'd better go to bed at once,' said Owen.`I can put Frankie to bed presently and do whatever else is necessary.'
`But there are so many things to attend to.I want to see that your clothes are properly dry and to put something ready for you to take in the morning before you go out, and then there's your breakfast to pack up -'
`I can manage all that.'
`I didn't want to give way to it like this,' the woman said, `because I know you must be tired out yourself, but I really do feel quite done up now.'
`Oh, I'm all right,' replied Owen, who was really so fatigued that he was scarcely able to stand.`I'll go and draw the blinds down and light the other lamp; so say good night to Frankie and come at once.'
`I won't say good night properly, now, Mum,' remarked the boy, `because Dad can carry me into your room before he puts me into bed.'
A little later, as Owen was undressing Frankie, the latter remarked as he looked affectionately at the kitten, which was sitting on the hearthrug watching the child's every movement under the impression that it was part of some game:
`What name do you think we ought to call it, Dad?'
`You may give him any name you like,' replied Owen, absently.
`I know a dog that lives down the road,' said the boy, `his name is Major.How would that do? Or we might call him Sergeant.'
The kitten, observing that he was the subject of their conversation, purred loudly and winked as if to intimate that he did not care what rank was conferred upon him so long as the commisariat department was properly attended to.
`I don't know, though,' continued Frankie, thoughtfully.`They're all right names for dogs, but I think they're too big for a kitten, don't you, Dad?'
`Yes, p'raps they are,' said Owen.
`Most cats are called Tom or Kitty, but I don't want a COMMON name for him.'
`Well, can't you call him after someone you know?'
`I know; I'll call him after a little girl that comes to our school; a fine name, Maud! That'll be a good one, won't it Dad?'
`Yes,' said Owen.
`I say, Dad,' said Frankie, suddenly realizing the awful fact that he was being put to bed.`You're forgetting all about my story, and you promised that you'd have a game of trains with me tonight.'
`I hadn't forgotten, but I was hoping that you had, because I'm very tired and it's very late, long past your usual bedtime, you know.You can take the kitten to bed with you tonight and I'll tell you two stories tomorrow, because it's Saturday.'
`All right, then,' said the boy, contentedly; `and I'll get the railway station built and I'll have the lines chalked on the floor, and the signals put up before you come home, so that there'll be no time wasted.And I'll put one chair at one end of the room and another chair at the other end, and tie some string across for telegraph wires.That'll be a very good idea, won't it, Dad?' and Owen agreed.
`But of course I'll come to meet you just the same as other Saturdays, because I'm going to buy a ha'porth of milk for the kitten out of my penny.'
After the child was in bed, Owen sat alone by the table in the draughty sitting-room, thinking.Although there was a bright fire, the room was very cold, being so close to the roof.The wind roared loudly round the gables, shaking the house in a way that threatened every moment to hurl it to the ground.The lamp on the table had a green glass reservoir which was half full of oil.Owen watched this with unconscious fascination.Every time a gust of wind struck the house the oil in the lamp was agitated and rippled against the glass like the waves of a miniature sea.Staring abstractedly at the lamp, he thought of the future.
A few years ago the future had seemed a region of wonderful and mysterious possibilities of good, but tonight the thought brought no such illusions, for he knew that the story of the future was to be much the same as the story of the past.
The story of the past would continue to repeat itself for a few years longer.He would continue to work and they would all three continue to do without most of the necessaries of life.When there was no work they would starve.
For himself he did not care much because he knew that at the best - or worst - it would only be a very few years.Even if he were to have proper food and clothing and be able to take reasonable care of himself, he could not live much longer; but when that time came, what was to become of THEM?
There would be some hope for the boy if he were more robust and if his character were less gentle and more selfish.Under the present system it was impossible for anyone to succeed in life without injuring other people and treating them and making use of them as one would not like to be treated and made use of oneself.
In order to succeed in the world it was necessary to be brutal, selfish and unfeeling: to push others aside and to take advantage of their misfortunes: to undersell and crush out one's competitors by fair means or foul: to consider one's own interests first in every case, absolutely regardless of the wellbeing of others.
That was the ideal character.Owen knew that Frankie's character did not come up to this lofty ideal.Then there was Nora, how would she fare?
