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All we can do now is wait.'She again turned and looked from one to the other and asked of them both,

'You . . . you think he'll come back on his own?' -

621Her father nodded at her while Bridget said, 'Yes, I'm sure he will, dear. But just give him a few days, a week, or two at the most. You'll see. You'll see.'

It could not possibly be just eight days since he had come into this house; it could have been eight weeks, eight months, eight years, for the Lodge, Meadow House, and that other life seemed to be receding further and further away from him each day.When he had said to Mr Bright that he could start work on the morrow, he hadn't realized that that day was a Sunday. But he had turned up at half-past seven on that morning, and from the moment he entered the house and left it at fifteen minutes past six to return to the welcoming warmth of Mrs Hanratty, he seemed never to stop running from one end of the house to the other. His route was mostly the same, from the old man's bedroom to the kitchen, back and forth, back and forth, carrying slops down,

623bringing clean water up, sometimes hot, a large brass-lidded can in each hand: then there were the trays, back and forth, back and forth; and that he had the blessings of the two leg-weary maids did nothing to soothe his feelings or his aching limbs.But the heaviest part of his duties was the lifting of the almost inert body, the heaving of him up the bed, for the old man's legs were helpless now, and turning him on his side to help clean him up ... Oh, he had found that a nauseating, disgusting job. And what he felt he would never get used to was the body odour and the smell that pervaded the room. No matter how much lavender water was sprinkled around it or dried mint and other herbs burnt on a shovel and wafted around the room, there still remained that smell. It was so thick at times it seemed to coat the roof of his mouth, and he found he had to hurry through the dressing-room and into the toiletry and there rinse out his mouth with clean water.There was another thing, the toiletry, socalled, where the jugs of clean water were outmatched by the buckets of effluent. How many times during these first days had heI 624been about to walk out? Perhaps it was only Katie's and Minnie's concern for their old master that made him change his mind. Once they had come upon him standing outside the kitchen door gulping at the fresh air. It had been following his handing over the pails of slops to Ron Yarrow to take to the cesspool. 'He's old. He can't hold it. God help him!' Minnie had said. 'It's awful to be old.'Those words had set him thinking and determining, with the arrogance of youth, that he would never reach that stage; he would finish it before he would become so dependent on others. He had never thought of the body as disgusting until he had looked on the old man's legs, one so swollen that it was no longer distinguishable as a leg or a foot, while in comparison the other was skin and bone and lifeless.Mrs Hanratty, too, had said, 'It's a thing you get used to, lad. Except that, for a time after they are gone, the stink stays with you and you can even taste it in your food. Oh, I know, I know. I've had some.'She was such a comfort, was Mrs Han-625ratty; yet at times it was questionable, as when she made such statements.On the third day, the sun was shining, and the windows were open a little. The old man seemed to like the sun for he didn't bawl or shout so much when the sun was shining. And for the first time he spoke quietly to Joseph: 'Let me have a look at you. Stand away from the bed,' he said.Joseph stood away from the bed, and the old man leaned on his elbow, half turned, as much as he found possible, on to his side and scrutinized him; then he lay back, shook his head and said, 'Where are you from?' And he told him again, 'Beyond Gateshead.''Have you always lived there?''Yes.'And so the questions went on until the old man, still looking at him in a quizzical kind of way, said, 'Did your father work here at one time?'Joseph startled not only the old man but also Bright, who was at the other end of the room arranging the medicine bottles on a side table, when he replied in no small voice, 'No, he didn't work here, and as far as I know, not at any place else.'

And it wasn't

626an afterthought that made him add, 'Sir,' but the look on Bright's face.Then this poorly-paid major-domo almost thrust him into the dressing-room and there, in a hoarse whisper, he said, 'Don't let me hear you speak to the master in that tone again, or, as badly as I need your assistance, I will show you the door.'On his fifth day here he was again being hauled over the coals by Bright. He was in the corridor on his way to the far end and the old man's room, out of which Bright had just appeared, when the mistress emerged from her bedroom. On seeing him, she stopped and stared at him. She stared at him so hard that he became embarrassed, and when she didn't speak he felt forced to say something, and what he said was, 'How do you do, ma'am?'And to this, after a moment's hesitation, she answered, 'I am quite well, thank you;' then turned and, passing Bright, she went towards her father-in-law's room.Bright almost hauled him back into the dressing-room, and there he closed the cornmunicating door to the bedroom and in a low growl said, 'Don't you know anything?

627You should never address your betters in that way? . . . How do you do? That is for them to say.'

Then he had taken a step back from him and with narrowed eyes he had looked him up and down before adding, Tm worried about you. I don't think you are what you appear to be. Have you been up to some mischief? I mean, have you taken this position to hide away from . . . from the police or . . . ?''No, I have not. And why shouldn't I say, how do you do? to the mistress of the house? Being polite isn't an offence, yet it seems to be in this establishment.''Now, young man'-the finger was wagging at him-'that, too, is the wrong attitude to take with me or any of the staff; you're just starting in this business, and if you want to go on, you must adjust to our ways.''I may not want to go on. In fact I don't want to go on ... I've no wish to . . .' His voice trailed away, and Bright, who stared at him in silence, seemingly nonplussed, said more quietly, 'Well, that, to me, is a pity.'A bellow from the next room made Bright turn swiftly to open the door and to go into

628the bedroom, leaving Joseph standing with his teeth grinding audibly. Then he turned to listen when he heard the old man's voice saying, 'Don't you worry, my dear; just keep him out of her way. Can't you keep her in her room today?'The answer came, 'Yes; I could for one day but not for any length of time.

She would just get out of the window and climb down. She has done it before.''What makes you think he is going to stay home now?''He's been here two days and he has taken to riding again in the morning.''Has he left you your allowance?'There was no immediate response: when it came, the voice was very low, saying, 'He left some, not what I am due, and no explanation. But then I didn't expect any.''Can you manage?''Just, as regard the eatables. But the fare may have to be plainer than usual.''Damn and blast him! . . . Bright! hand me my purse.'It astounded Joseph to realize that Bright was still in the room and while an intimate conversation was going on. The next he 629heard was the mistress's voice, saying, 'But where did you get this from?''Never you mind, my dear.

Oh, well, I'm a very devious fellow; I kept a bit back from the last sale of land.''But that was last year.''Yes, I know it was last year, but, my dear, money doesn't melt, does it? Now, be a good woman and go and rest on your bed and I'll tell you what to do with Etta. When she's not out in the garden send her in here. We'll see to her, or she'll see to us, won't she, Bright?''Yes, indeed, sir, she will, especially when you're playing cribbage with her.'There was another pause before the mistress's voice said, 'You are very kind, Fatherin-law, and you, too, Bright. Thank you.'The rustle of the housegown came to him as she passed the dressing-room door; then he knew she had left the room when he heard the old man say, 'When did that lot come?''Last week, sir.''Odd, you know, Bright: I ask for my purse thinking there was only half a sovereign in it. Did I show any surprise?'i

630'No, sir, none at all.''Odd woman that, can't fathom her. How much did she send you last time?*'Twenty pounds, sir.''Twenty pounds? My! My! It seems like a fortune now, Bright, and at one time I would bet it on a fly crawling up the window . . . Oh, dear. Damn and blast it! I think I need attention again, Bright.'It was at this Bright shouted, 'Carter!' And as Joseph entered the room the old man barked at him, 'Do you play cribbage?''No, sir.''What do you play?''Whist and mahjong.*'Mahjong?

That's a Chinese game. Where did you learn that?''From a friend, sir.''Was he Chinese?''No, sir.'During this interchange Bright had turned the bedclothes back and Joseph, as he had been instructed to do, put his hands on the old man's shoulder and gently brought him onto his side, and Bright did what was necessary in the way of cleaning the wasted limbs. Then, as always, Bright called, 'Hold 631steady!' and whipped up another draw sheet I from a pile standing on a low chest of drawers. It was already rolled up, and he pushed |it against his master's legs and hips.During this part of the proceedings, the I old man's face was within a couple of feet of Joseph's, and always at this point the pale blue eyes seemed to pierce him from the1 sunken sockets, and it was as much as Joseph could do to keep his gaze steady and not to turn his head away, not only from the j wrinkled and deep-jowled face, but in what I he knew to be a hopeless effort to evade the ! stench that age and decrepitude were emitting from the body, and the thought saddened him; while at the same time he was amazed that the old man's mind could still remain keen and that therefore he must be aware of the indignity to which he was being subjected.Now Bright had his hands on his master's shoulders drawing him towards him, and Joseph, as he had been instructed, eased the remainder of the rolled sheet under the body and over the waterproofed sheeting that covered the mattress.This part completed, Bright on one side 632and Joseph on the other hoisted the old man up onto his pillows the while he protested in no small voice: That's it! bang my head against the wall.'Smiling wryly, Bright said, *As I've told you countless times, sir, your head is more than a foot away from the bed head, let alone the wall . . . Now are you comfortable?''Yes, Bright, yes. Thank you.'The numerous times the old man changed his tone during the day had ceased to surprise Joseph. One minute he could be cursing Bright up to the skies, the next speaking to him in a tone that suggested he was a friend. Altogether, it was an odd situation.He looked at the figure in the bed. The eyes were closed now, the breathing was coming in short gasps, but they were still deep enough to billow the bedclothes.As if he knew he was being stared at, the eyelids sprang back, and now he was staring at Joseph, saying, 'Carter, you go and find Miss Henrietta. Tell her I want to play a game of cards.'At this, Bright put in, 'It will tire you, sir, so early in the day. She'll be all right. The 633weather is fine and she'll be working away in the garden.''She doesn't always work away in the garden, Bright. She wanders around. She can't spend her entire life with a shovel and fork in her hand, and she knows that. You found her in the gallery, didn't you, the other day, looking ... to use her own words, gazing at the portraits? Now, what's going to happen if they should meet up, eh? You know what took place last time and what he threatened. And after all, no matter what we say'-he stopped now, his breath catching in his throat with agitation-'he's . . . he's got first charge on her. And old Leadman is on his side. It takes two doctors to certify, but Leadman, the sozzled old swine, could get one of his cronies to side with him.1 'He wouldn't do that, sir. He couldn't.' 'Couldn't he, Bright? You weren't in this room the day she let him have it right in his big fat belly. He's never forgiven her. And I'm sure he would have done something before now if it wasn't for that young Doctor Curry, because it is he who has confirmed what I've said all along: that child, or that young woman, as she is now, is no more mad 634than I am. It is as he said, she was deaf all right, but the other jangling bit was what was left over from the scarlet fever when she was a child. What did he call it again?''Chorea, sir, I think.''Chorea, yes, that's it, chorea. Never heard of it before, but that's what causes the jangling of her nerves. But it didn't affect her mind, that I know. So, go on, young fellow, you fetch her in.'Joseph went swiftly from the room, down the broad corridor, across the gallery and down the stairs. And it was as he went out of the front door that he got his first glimpse of the man who was the reason for his being in this house at all, the man he wanted to see. It was only a side profile of him, yet he recognized him. He was mounted on a horse and riding it across the drive towards the stable yard, and he was looking towards his daughter.Joseph could see her standing on the low balcony to the left of him; her body looked stretched, her head was straining upwards; and then he witnessed something that sent a chill down his spine: the man on the horse, a whip in his hand, now brought it down in a 635slashing movement, not on the horse but to the side of it as if he were striking out vijciously at something, or someone, and at this jthe girl's body became distorted. The arms i waved widely in the air, the head wagged, | she swayed from the waist and her feet left ! the ground as if she were going into a dance. I And what was more she was emitting sounds : like someone yelling in a foreign language.The horse had disappeared round the cor;ner and into the yard by the time Joseph ''• reached her. Catching hold of her arms, he I gripped them tightly; and he began to mouth I words, his head bobbing all the time,

'It's. . it's all ... right. Don't worry . . . your grandfather . . . wishes ... to ... see ... you.''Ip . . .

ip,''What?'The jangling was easing off. He felt her body becoming limp under his hands. But she was repeating that word, 'Ip . . . ip.''What? Come . . . along, your grandfather wants ... to see ... you.''Ate . . .

ad.'He couldn't make out what she meant but he again said, 'Come along.' And with this 636he kept one hand on her arm and led her towards the front door, while she continued every few steps to turn and look back in the direction her father had disappeared . . .Once in the bedroom, Joseph was amazed at the volubility of the sounds she was making; and when she demonstrated with her hand up and down it was the same action as her father had used with the whip in his hand.The old man now pulled her gently down on to the side of the bed, saying, 'No, my dear, never. He'd never dare use that whip on you/She began to talk rapidly again, and definitely her grandfather could understand what she was saying, because now he replied, 'All right, all right, you hate him. I know, I know you do, but enough, enough.'