british and ztmericon

Sñort Stories

Level 5

Retold by G. C. Thor nlev

Series Editors: Andy Hopkins and Jocelyn Potter
 Pearson Education Limited Contents
Edinbtirt,)i I.are', H,arlou.;
Essex I?M2Il *E, Enylan‹l
page

Ii itr‹ deictic ii v

Silas The Good H.F. DaIc5 1

t M ilacl 11. .S‹›iii‹'rsct h f‹iii¿liam

11
18
35
40
11
49

70

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 Introduction

fl h is collection of she rt storics brings together the work of a

nu miner of ix ell-known I3ritish and Anne rican writers. Some of
those iiiclii ded liere, such as l9. H. Lawrence and Mark Twain, are
I ettcr known for their full-length works, while others, like O.
Henry an d H. H. Munro, are remembered mainly for their short
storics. The range of subjects in the collection is wide, but many
are leased on ordinary people living everyday lives.What could be
more ordinary than a man’s ernbar rassnient at trying to open a
la.ink ac count for the first time, as in Stephen Leacock's ‘My Bank
Ac c ount’? Some are light—hearted and humorous, others are
Harker and more serious, while ‘The Rocking-Horse Winner’
,inrJ The Upper her th tcaucla on mystery and riiagic. Most end
1ia{apv ly; nearly have an unexpected twist at the elad. All the stories
catch the reader's attcntion front the start.
the writers con e froiii very different bye kgrounds and their
di there nt exp cr iences and [ao ints of view are clear from their
x rite rug. Herbert Ernest Bates (190S—74) worked as a lawyer's
clerk Peto re becoming a writer. He wrote more than 30 books,
including the well-known The Da fling Budd of May (1958), as
well as plavs and some wonderful collections of short stories.
Many of his stories take people and places in the English
countryside as their subject matter. ‘Silas The Good’ is typical of
the best of his stories; it paints a gentle, humorous picture of a
c o untry character.
The write r William Somerset Maughams (1874—1965) was
born in Paris to an Irish family. His mother died when he was
eight. After his father's death two years later, fee w'as sent to
England to live with an uncle. Ma iigham studied medicine in
Germany and England before deciding to become a writer.
During the First World War he served as an intelligence o&cer

V
 an ci cievel op eel a love of travc Hi rig that staye d
with him for th
the arrrry and was killed in action. He wrote books and plays, but is
c
meet km wit for li is clever an d an musing short stories.
Samuel Langlior ne Cleinens (1535-191 O) wrote under the
marks of a true short—story wr it er — the mamc of Mark Twain, and was one of America's best-known
at›ility to attract th e
readier's 'ittcntion cl t'ie k ly aiice *<9 it t‹ th c cii‹L sto ryt cllers. the g re v ii p n car the M ississipp i, and for sortie years
W11l18ni Saroyg n (19O$—81) was born in worked as a stearnb oat pilot on the river before becoming a
California to an
Ar meriiari family. Many of lits stories, Including ‘The Darl›e ’, writer. His most famous works are The Adventures of Tone Saurfer
r
Cth1t.I in A rn ie nian cli ara cters ai i rt cfc.sc‘ribc th cir j‹ ( I S76›) and 77ie Añveiitii tee of Hiicklel›err y Dim (IS84).
y
lFl SQ1 tC Of their difficulties. San ya n wrote a large n Francis Marion Crawford (1854-1909) is best known for his
for uinber of
short storiCS, lNany of ivli ich 1p{›earecl first in ii ia,qa zincs Ghost stories, of which The Upper Berth’, a rnyster) set on board
anal th en
,i s I i i[›, is a Scott era i l i[› Ie. i4e was bor ii in I tal y tr› Ai H c ricaii
{›,i re i its, is'as educatect in the Um iteci Statcs an d Eli rope, and
» o rke‹1 f‹a r sort i c ti ii ie to r a n cii”spa per i ii I iidia, v)i ere ii many
of
h is stcv‘ics arc set.
g“" position to see at first haunt the E ughsh class divisions
that Stephen Dutler Leacoc k (1S6›9—1944) ii as an English-born
are Oftt°r1 presented in 14 ls wr iti in. Anr›ther of
Lauren cc’s
VIVO Al11tC
Cari adian econoii met and xx'ritei-. He studied in Toronto and
between ii t“hicapo, and ta u gli t in the l9epo rttnent of Economics and
Lrt 6 (192a)) arc perliape hiS lJCst wr›rks. L:iivren ce alSO 1'o1itical Science at M cG ill Uni versiry: Although lie wrote about
wrote
these subjects as well as p rodricing as-o boo As on the lives of
fa NN us fi,erires, he is best know n for his collections of humorous
short stories. He also u rote an account of his oxx n like in die Boy
I Fch Bcliiu ñ hIc (194 I›) .

full of I rope for the future.

wrote mutter the pen nance of Saki. HC llvccl for s‹ n ie time in

Durriia, l€ussia aricJ France before settling in London. At th e
beginning of the First Wr›rld War, :it the age of forty-four, he joined
 Silas The Good H.E. BRtCS

I H o life of 95 years. n ry Uncle Silas found ti rue to try most

tlii rids, and there was a time when he becarrie a gravedigger.
d“h e clitirclayu rc4 ut Solbroc›k stands a long way outside the
village on a little hill .ibr›x’e the river valley. And there, dressed in a
1st u c elm irt a net ‹ lxl 1 roxvri trousers, my U me Ie Silas fiscal to
dig
{›c i I i.ips o n e ,qrax c a i rjc›i itli .
I ie w'c rkeci all ciu; th ere at the blti e-thrown clay, with no one
li i i ‹ ‹›i n{n.iriv’ c xcept la i r‹ls p ie k i rip th c Ivor his ‹a tit ‹i I th c th
rowri— ti c ,i rtli . Sii will u H d u NJ y, lie lookccf like o stoiie- figure
that had
‹lro{apcci off the roof of the little church, someone who had lived
t‹ ‹ loii,p anal in igh t to on living arid cligginp the graves of others
for ever.
He was digging a grave there once on the south side of the
ch u re liyard on a Sweet, hot day in May, the g rass already long and
Alec p, with golden flowers rising eve vhere among the
‹u raveston es.
1 i ri i i rl‹l.iy li c xv,is f.i irly we11 crow n with th c grave, and had
fixcc1 his boards to the sidles. The spring had been very dry and
colcl, taut noxv. in the shelter of the grave, in the strong sun, it
seem reel I i ke iiiidsunrrNcr. I t w'as so good that Silas sat in the
bottom of the qrave a nd had his dinner, eating his bread and
incat, u nd vvasliin,e it down with the cold tea he always carried in
a freer laottle. After eating, he began to feel sleepy, and finally he
event to sleep there, at the bottom of the grave, with his wet, ugly
mouth falling opcn and the beer bottle in one hand resting on
his knee.
He had been asleep for I o or 2() minutes when he woke up
an ci saw soiiiconc standing at the top of the grave, looking down
at h i i i i. At first he tho ti Eht it was a wont a n. Th ccii he saw
his
 mistake. It was a female. He wa.s tOO
surprised to say anything, and
the female stood looking down at
making holes in the grass with a hirn, very angry at something,
large umbrella. She was
and thin, with a round, very pale
unattractive fiace. She seemed to have a
bOots on below her thick, bl3Ck skirt.
'=" 'l'*''' ti.' ti.»,z i». i«›ne..,
She shook 1 OF head from sieve to sible Mild stairlped one of her
N \t’ at the best of tiilies it
was diffiCtllt for irry U ricle Silas,
was co IL4 tea. It ix as true that the
tal k
" '" "'" *’* i ri invites, then lie
r:iise‹l li is li:it f°r anal
Silas liCJcJ tip the beer bottle. ‘Mad,n i,’ lig
iVoiil‹ln’t harm a 0y. It wouldn’t harm you.’ 53IU, ‘what's in here
‘I t iS rasp onsible for the ruin
of tlious »dS Of honit2s all over
England!’ she said.
to her. "Try it, madam. Try it if you don't believe nie.’
‘Thank you. Not out of that bottle.’
‘All right. I've got a cup,’ Silas said. He looked in his dinner
basket and found a metal cup. He filled it with tea and held it up
t‹i lie r. ‘Try it, rna‹Jarn. Try it. I t won’t h urt you.’
Well!’ she said, ancl she reached clown for the cup. She took it
a i HI t‹›u r lic‹) it witl i h cr thiii lips. ‘Well, it's ccrt9in ly emne sort of
‘Just or‹linary tea, iii.islam,’ Silas said. ‘Made this morning.
Your’re not ‹Jrinkiii‹y it. 3.akc a good drink.’
S)ic tot›k a real clr iii k tl ter i , ix'ash in,p it roti ncl tier niotith.
‘C*oocJ, isii ’t it?’ Silas saint.
Yes.’ she sai‹J, ‘it's very nice.’
Idrink it tiga,’ lie said. ‘1-Iave a little tiiore. I suppose you've
ix’‹ilkecl a long ivav?’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I’iii atraici I have. All the way from I3edford.
IN.ither further than I thought. I'm not as young as I used to be.’
‘You.sense,’ Silas .s.a tel. ‘Young? You look twenty.’ He took his
en:it :in‹l spreatl it on the new earth above the ,grave. ‘Sit down
,ui‹l i c st yc›ursc1f, i n:ill.iii i. Sit clown .and look at the flowers.’
lt:ither to his surprise, she s,t down. She took another drink
of‘ tl i c tc‹i ‹i i i ‹1 sa1 cl. ‘ 1 th i ii k I ’11 u ii{›1 ii my hat.’ S lice took off her hat
:ui‹l liclil it oii her knees.
You rig?’ S il:is saicL M achain, you’re just a chicken. Wait until
you're as old as I am, and then you can begin to talk. I can
FC• n i ei iit›er th e C r i nie an War!’*
Ideally?’ she said. ‘Yt›ii must have had a full arid interesting
life.’
‘Yes, iiiadani.’
She em iled weekly, for the first time. ‘ I ant sorry I spoke as I
si tits anal ’lii rk cy,
3
 did. It tlQsct rrle to think of an}'oiie dri
nk ing UJ tlliS place.’
sir i iimcr tea with can ly a l ittle alcolsol in it, and I hid a wint cr tea
said. ‘ I h eve ii’t toii c h e‹J a drop
xx i th iiea rly 3 tup ful in it. Th c weatl icr ha cJ l›ccii r‘c›lcl u[a to
of that d:iv, a net I hadn’t ch a nged froi n win ter to emit ir cr tea.’
Cc›hol for years. I used
‹I Silas reached up to her with the laottl c anal
Said, ‘Have Fhc} sat there for about a not her halI an hc›tir, drinking the
r ‹›I rl t e:i, ‹i ri cJ cltir i ii t 1 in t tiiHo th c re was no th i i it slie tJml not
hear at not it nry’ U nclc S il his’s lifc: not o my lioxv l4 c hack left tlie
beer ancl x ,is tr} ii i p tc give u[a thc laacJ language, but how lie ha cl
given up t)i c lii‹lies ancl the h orscs a ncl t)ie doubtful stories ancJ
the lying a net cvervt hing else that a wian can give up.
As he fina llv clinched u{a out of the grave to sha ke l4 ands with
her a net say good after noo n, she mist has c belie veal that he was a
of !a is head, as if he
toe ttcr n ia n now.’ x c r\ pu re a ncJ reli gious ma ii.
F x c'c'pt that licr fa c'e w'as ver\' reel, shc w'al kcc4 nway as [Pro
iicity is slic I ia rl r'o i He. TI iat xv.is th c l ast hc eve r saw o 1.1 ir r.
Uh t that
,i tter noon, on the 2. 4S tra in ca iit o I Solbroo k, thc re was a woman
xv it h a large firm relic in one hand ancl a bunch of golJen Oowers
in the other. In the warns, crowded tra in thcrc was a smell of
'“ been ‹ittir'.u all that tiiiie, ‘I was horn
soiiiething stronge r than cold tea. The woman appeared to be a
UC \vater were bad. little excited, and to everyone's embarrassme nt she talked a great
bdd beer, rnadani. dc.il.
I've bcen fighting Her subjec t was someone she had met that after noon.
‘A good man,’ she told them. ‘A good man.’

*S. 111adane,’ said iiiy Uncle Silas, xx mo had dru ii

k more in 8O

Th8ll US. ‘I x•e laeateii it.’ He held colcl wa.You’11 have some more
4 5
 7’lic secretary of the club laughed.
‘lion’t be a fool, George.You’ve been married for eight years.’
After we had talked a little, George, looking at his watch, said
lie must go and change his clothes for dinner and left us. The
there
ldV, E t t\Vo days before I gOt there, I took the steamship secrets ry watched hint disappear into the night with a smile that
Malida U i hCn the 1 oat w
up for the night ** d riverside as tied was not unkind.
on shore. the q$taj„ told me tO QO
that there way We all talk to him as much as we can, now that he's alone,’ he
where 1 c field go and a pJeasant littlC cl ub tolet Inc. ‘He's so terri(›1y unhappy since his wife went honje.’
qu itc used to ‘I t iriust be very pleasant for her to know that her husband
low es her :is munch as that.’
Ylabcl is aii uiuisual kind of woman.’
O$ tlJC carts that I lc ‹‘affect the lac»y :ind orderccl rn(›re dri i iks. These generous
Jac oJ›le cliff not ask ycui if you w'oiild have *urrtl4 init; they simply
orclc rc‹l you one. "then lie settled liiiiisclf in his chair, lit a
"' " prssil i lits th,it I ri ii ¿h t ‹ i ,i i c tte :i url t‹L›lc) ii thc- story of I *eorgt a not M:i1ac 1.
not
of drink at .ill. t.eorgc asked her to rnnrry him w'lieia lie was on holiday in
England, anet eli e accepted him; and when he returned to Burma,
it was o rraiiged that she should join hint in six months. But one
cJiflictilty car tic after another — Mabel's father diecJ, the war came,
IN lj’ fr icn cl (yUOI’ll
€›et›r¿c xx as sent to an area ti r)su itable for a win ite woman — so
that iii the end it xi as sex cii years before she was alalc t‹ start. He
n wale all the arrangeiaicnts for the marriage, which would take
›l.i c‘e on the clay of lic•r ar rival, and event d‹ w'n to lfiangoon to
i iic t t lic'r. f)i i thc rrn›r n i i i,p ‹us w liic li th e s)a ip ix'as sir pps sed to
.iri ii'c lic loo rroxvccl a i ii‹›tc›r car aiicl clrc›vc :ilc›n ui t‹› iiicct it.
Then, sudden ly, x ithout Exar ning, he w.is afraid. He had not
I ’i]] glad SU e’S ha ing Crys e,
but
seem Mabel for sever i years. He had forgotten win at SHt Was like.
Hard on ilJe.’ He turned to it's SU c was a total stranger. He felt a terrible sinking in his storrlach,
ever been separatecl me. ‘You see, th is 1s the first
time I've air ct his knees began to shake. He coulcln't do it. He must tell
front iTly *I /t /Cl I’1l1 Ii ke a
lost dog
GVI thOtit he r." Mallet that he was very sorry, but he couldn't, he really couldn't
Quarry her. Dut how could a man tell a girl a think like that when
she had becu expecting to marry hint for seve n years and had
Ct3llJt (3, $)(J lJJiles t‹ dO iI? He coiildn't do that either. George
7
 ght on by hopelessness.There was
tel cgrarn was irnrriediately handed to him. It contained only two
‹4 TOat th cre j net aho ut to sta rI tier
Siiiga{ ore; he wrote a h ti rried
letter to Mabel and, withon t ony luggage w'ords: LOVE. MADE L. Th ey were en otigh to i ma ke h inn sha ke with
t all, j ust in the clothes
he stood tip in, he j limped on board. fear.
Th C lctter th at Mabel received was ‘When is the next boat for Hong Kong?’ he asked.
someth ing like th is:
Now his escape grew serious. He sailed to Hong Kong but
dared not stay there; he event to Manila, btit Manila seemed to
tiii ‹ aten li i ri i; he event on to Shanghai. Sultan hai made him
.i i i x i ‹› us: c v c r) t ii i i c li c we i it oti t o f tJ ie 1 not c I h c c x[a c c test tea
rim i str.i i flit i ri tea It.it c1’s n i ins— no, Sha wiha i di cJ n c t sti it hi rn
at all. I li c ‹vi ly t1i i i it ›i as t r pr› to Yca ko h am a. A t th t (J ran‹1
Hotel at Y‹› k o li a i i i:i a tel cii ,i i n ›x:is is’:iitirig for li i i i i.

He examined the shipping news feverishly. Where was she

now He went back to Shanghai. This tirn e he went straight to
the club and asked for a telegram. It was handed to him.
Fear made hi rn think quickly.
€)ood lâ 0.1\’eris, I belicvc she’s follow iiip inc,’ he
said.
He ‹›t
enough,
No. no, he w as not so easy to catch as that. He had already
trade his plans. The Yangtse is a long river and the Yangtse was
falling. He could just catch the last ship that could get him up to
C hungkiiig and then no one could travel until the following
xs ould ha\’C ri o difficulty in hndin,g on t th ‹i t I ie |ja‹j Lori e
t‹ sharing except in a sirialler boat. A journey like that in a smaller
I3aia gko k a n d it » ust dS Si11 Ale for h er ** ta kc tl i c tra i i i as bc›at was ii npossible for a woman alone. He event to Hankow and
load been for h i m. Fortunately there xx it morn Hankoxv to felt a rig, he changed boats here ari d from Ichang
as a Frencli ship sailing
next day for Saigon. He took it. At Saigo It went to Chungking. But he was not going to take any risks now:
he would be safe; she
would never imagine that he had done
there; and If she did, there was a place called Cheng-tu, the capital of Szecliuan, and it
surely by now she would have mm derstoo was four hundred rriiles away. It could only be reached by road,
d.
I t is five da\
j Otirney from Eangko k to SaiJOn ‹lrld the boat and the road was full of robbers. A man would be safe there.
dirty, crowned and uncomfortable. He Vv glad to
as arrive, and he George collected chair—bearers and servants and set out. It was
dry ve tO fJI flute1. He signed h is name in the
› i‹itors’ boar and , with great relief that he saw at last the walls of the lonely Chinese
 The Barber's Uncle William Y**

rnot her said I needed a

Miss G,miiia said 1 needed a haircut, wry
the whole
big for the
black lia ir, the world said.

O/

lan d. and llad OVC8 mtilt on

em all head, without h.i ir, blQJât on top of hint \s here everybody
c otlld see it. He ti$( tO lâ80 8
railroad men from out of town
There's California for you,’ he
xx alk a long way to see my head. ‘
‘There's good weather and health.
uscd to str o ut in the street.

my hea‹L
said one d,1\,‘but unless a
‘ I’in not nicntion}"g °"\' " '"'’
‹Inc of these days
p1jcc thin this.’
she did s as look at me.
She didn't liiention any hath S All
Krikor said.
What's the big ideas' wly brother ne day a small
I s glad the world was an try \Vt th »e, but o
in to a
bird tried to build a next my hair, so I hurr ied up town
[ a rb er.

If you arc the cowsul, you can mar ry iis. I’rn ready tL› inarr y
a bird
li i in as soon as I’ve liad a bath .’ under the tree in our yard when
my hair.
1.1 t) S) I C t $1 t) .
started lira kin p its i ay tri to
world svas sleepier g. I t was very
in •, «rn winter day and the
car
odv was rush ing round in a
still evcrjwV ogre in the world. NOb
1.1

Koi i w›s lie re. I t was
New York. Low ‹JO it, I'ñ ris, De rli n, Vi en na, C?o nstaii
tinO[al e, horne,
Wil4 tlO\ve cvcryxvl4 ere. An d the tra i us at ili All t, ancl thc eta
ips at sea.
I dry aiiiucl a ‹lreanâ one day: I c3rcm ii e‹l the livii it lived for
had lievcr befr re i n my li fe lie a rcJ th e cry of a Hi rd so c learly, arid
WU at I hearer sou nded very ries›; an d a t t)ie earn e tiiia e very
sudCle li ly I load heard the bircl.
Then I realized the t such a thing was not proper. It was
not
J›ropcr Y‹ r a small third to be in anyl›ocl ’s I iair.
SO l jti rnped up and li urried to town, nd the bird, properly
frighten ccl, b cv as far away as it ‹ oulc$ in one breath.
T he wo rld was r igh t. Miss C)airniia was r idle t. My brother
14 r i k or was right. Th e tlai n p to do w'a.s to get .a lia i re iit, so
birds ss o ul‹ln ‘t try to bti ild nests in your hai r.
T h ere was o n Ari ncnian bor1›er on Mar i posa Street named
Arawn svh o was really a Iar me r, or perhaps a teacher. I didn't
kn oiv. I only knew’ he had a little shop on Mariposa Street and
s[a en t iiiost of his ti ir e reading Ar me n ian papers.
rolling c i;¿:ire ttes, siiiokiii,e them, and watching the people to by. I
never ciici see fern giving and I ody a haircut, although l suppose
one or tii'o people xx ent into his shop by mistake.
I went to Ararn’s shop on Mariposa Street and woke hint up.
I-t‹ » ,› ›itti rip at the little table with an Ariiienian book open iri
i1‹ it of 14 in i, s I ee pin p.
lii Armour an I saic4, W ill you cut my hair? I li ave tw'enty-five
ce nts.’
‘Ali,’ he said, I am glad to see you. What is your na rue? Sit
docx n. I will make coffee first. Ah, that is a fine head of hair you
li axle.’
‘Everybody wan ts inc to get a h aircut,’ I sairl.
‘That is the w‘a} sx itli the world,’ he said. ‘Always telling yo u
xx fiat to do. What’s wrong xx ith a little hair? Why do they do it?
En rn money, the ' sa}. l3uy a farm. This. That. Ah. they are against
lcttii s rnan ln. e a quiet life.’
‘Can you do it?’ I said. ‘Can you cut it all away so they will not
talk about it agai ri for a Ion g ti rue?’
Cottee,’ said the l›arber. ‘Let us drink a little coffee first.’
He I roiight me a cup of coffee, o nd I wondered how it was I
hall never before visited him, perhaps the most interesting man in
the whole city. I knew he was an unusual man from the way he
evoke when I entered the store, from the way he talked and
xvalkc d. He was about fifty and I was eleven. He wcs no taller
than I was and no heavier, but his ice was t'he face of a man who
has found out the truth, who knows, who is wise, but who loves
1S
 such a bad
birds and rock arid fire and vvate r ancl ex erything seen and at i iie. M y brother Krikor said he had never seen
unseen.” And the Arab said, “Brother, can y‹›ii love even a tiger, a hairs ut before.
wild tiger?” And my U nclc M isak said, “J3rotlier, my love for the hut it was all right.
anirrlal is without lineit.” Ah, my Uma le M isak was an un hap{ y All 1 coulcJ think af›out for weeks was the barber’‹ poor Uncle
I looked
wean. Mrs.k, whose head was bitten Of b)’ the tiger, and
so I could
‘The Arab was very glad to hear about nw uncle’s love for wild t)WVflrd to the day xvhCli 1 would need a haircut addin,
lost and
aniiiials, for he too was a very brave man.“l)rot1ier,” lie said to irry go to A rant’s shop and listen to his story of man on earth,
r Uncle
¥13 i I’ C . ‘ ‘ C t711 t$ Yt3 II O \'U 3 t 1 QC r C I O Al $1 t I {3 .I t‘ C )’(3 I I r $4 t’ fi t$ I t I t O I t S

opeti i iiotit1i?”’
‘ 1'na ten t 14 iiii , (r t›tl,’ I [a r‹ry c ‹1.
An ‹1,“ s,i i‹l A r.u n thc 1 arbc r, ‘wry U i ie’ Ie Al is,i k s.i ill, “lirotlic r,
1 co u lxl.” Ai tel t he Arab sa i‹J, “W ill }"‹au jam n our sh csv? Yosterc)a '
the tiger ‹’arclcsslv t1osecl its rrNa utl i arou n‹1 t lie ) tea cl of poor St
mo n leerivory), a net iio›v eve have ii‹ 1 oc)y with s ti ‹:h pgrcat Ic›s c
for the creatures of God. ’ M poor Uncle M isak was tired of the
world, and lie said, “B rotlier, 1 will join the show .ind place my
head into the open rrlouth of God's holy tiger ten ti rites a day” “That
is not necessar y,” said the Arab. “Tw ice a day will be enough.” So
my poor Uncle Misak joined the French travelling show in C
hiHa and be,uan placing his head iiito th c open rrn.Auth of the
tiger.
‘"the Shot ;’ S.nd the barber, ‘tram ellecl morn €?hin a to India,
frr› in 1 i icha to A I lia ii ista n, fr‹in i A Lilia n ista ii to ['c rst a. .i nil
thcrc, 1 i i l'ersi a, in It.i}apci iccl. the tiger a nil i i rr [»or Uiic‘le M
Sak l›ccarne very gon r4 f£ICld € S. In behera H, in th at o)d city, the
tiger perexv wilcl a tain. 1 t was a very hot day. Th e tiger felt ver y
angry and raw arc›un‹l .ill day. My poor Uncle Misa k plac'ed his
head into the open mo with of the tiger in Tc hcran, that ugly city
of I"ersia, awet he was about to take his head out of the tiger's mouth
whcn the tiger, full of the ugliness of things living on the earth,
closed its jaws.’
I got out of the chair and saw a stra rage person in the mirror —
myself‘. 1 is as Mr ightened and all my hair was pione. 1 paid A ram,
thc hari er, to cntv—five cents and event home. Evcryboriv laughed

17
 anything successful. The failure brought deep lines to her face.
Her children were growing up, they would have to go to school.
The Rocking-Horse Winner D.H. Lan reuse There must be more money, there must be more money. The
father, who was always very good—looking and expensive in his
tae t es, seen ie‹1 as i f tic i u. ver ir‹›iifr/ be a Idle to mo a i i ytl i i np wor
th Plc i i i,p. Ariel the i i tether, who li ac4 a great lacli ct in herself, slid
not stir c cccl a i iy bcttcr, a Hal li cr tastes were jnet as cxpciisive.
A i ill s‹ a xv1iis{acr mega n to 1111 the lioiisc, tho myth it was never

chilclren coulcl hear it all the time, though nobocly said it out
louc4. They hea rel it in their own room, xv hic‘h was full of
cx[ cnsive and wonderful toys. Be hind the slii ning rnodcrn
neck ing horse a voice xx hispered: ‘There truest be more money!
There must 6e mo re two ney!’ And the children stopped playing,
to listen for a iiioiiient. They looked into each other's eyes, to see
if th ey had all heard. And each one saw in the eyes of the other
two that th ey too hari he.ird. ‘There inc.‹t be more i money!’
I t tame wliisperii ig frc rn the spr ings of the rocking horse —
a ii‹1 ex en th e horse, 1 en di rip its w'oodcn h cad, li eJ rel it. The other
tf 4}’S I CO rd 1.1, 0.11 tJ C‘\’C IN I) l C TO O IS I l tt) C CMOS ) OO DC CJ Ill O DC TO OJ 1SJ4

hc ‹ ,i use lir h c a rel th c sc r re t xvhis[›e r .i11 ox'cr th c li r› ti sc: ‘There

11.1 ( 1S t (9 t I LIO DC 114.0.11 CJ !’

lJtlt i i obod y eve r s,i tel it out 1ond. Tl ie sv li ispe r

was c i c ry\vhcrc, anal there forc no one spoke it. Just as no orie
ever says: ‘We are breathing!’ although breath is couting and going
all the tinge.
Mother,’ saicl the boy haul one day, ‘why don't eve keep a car
of our own? Why do we always use Un cle's, or a taxi?’
‘J3ecause we're the poor iiiembers of the fai i iily,’ said the
iTN tl icr.
l3u t why nrc we, Mother?’
‘ Well 1 su ppose,’ eli c sniff slciw I y and bitte rl y, ‘it's bcc:iusc your
la tl ier has nr lvi ck.’

1%
 The boy was silent for some time.
Is luck money, Mot he r?’ he as keel, rather anxiously.
‘ *, I'atil . N ot ‹lu ite. It's xs hat c a iiscs yc›u tra have mon ey. I f
ou ‘re I tic k y, you have money. "1“laat's xvh} it's better to be I›one
luc ky than rich. I f you’re rim h, you iiiay lose your iaaoney. 1) bit if
}’t0 t1’DC IU V. yO II \V I ) 0 \\’d}’S U t 14.1 t3 DC 111 t3 I jt*V.’
‘Cllr! Will you? A ml is Fathc'r not l ucky?’
‘Ver} ui ilucky, I think,’ she said I ittcr1\’.
t O}' \\'3tC 4 C tJ )J PF 4\’I U3 UU C U EU Ill (?VC S.
W h; he asked.
1 dean’t know’. Noboclv ex c r kiio»’s xvli} one [›e rson is lucky
and ni mother trnlu ckg:’
‘ TO 11‘t t 1C} FOR O tJ}’ il t 0 I) ' OtS 1.1 tl('I° r/)' k1 j O\¥’ ’
‘l'crhaps (›o d. 1) ut He ii cv er tc11s.’
Al c on Ah t to, ther i . 13 ut a rei i "t yo ri l uc k ci th e r, M oth er?’
angr}•: he wanted to fore c her to listen.
He even t off by hiiiisclf, in a childish way, in search of the
sc c‘rr t Of luc k. IN c was busy w it h h is th o uglits, ta k i ii i i o nca tice
of other {aeop ie. He wantccl his k, he wanted it, tae wanted it.
While th o txx'r› gi rls were playi n with th cir t‹oys, lie s,i t on
la is big i ‹›i k i ii,( hor sc, r i‹J i rip i ntO s[›ac c with a i i i a cl i ic'ss tl rat i i
ia cJ c th c little gii Is loo k at It ii ii art x rely. W ilcJly the lior se
flew, the wavy rla i k hair of the Not' xx'.is t lâ rowi i up into the a ir,
his eves load a stran,ye look iii client. The little girls dared not
speak to him.
W ht•ii lie h acJ ri dc4cn to the end of his inac4 little journey, he
c li inf ccl cJoxx’n a nd straod in front of his roc kind horse, h is eyes
fixcc4 c› n its loxvcrec4 F.i ce. 1 ts red rn out h was S mph tl› open, its
big
C\ c‘ \\’0 S \\’1 U 3 HCP r1 4 t 1 kt OSS .

l ca ii t be, if“ I iiiar ricd an min l uckv li usr›:ii N‹»x !’ he Silently conunanded the horse. ‘ Now, take rite to
UL’ ‘l3ut by \ our self, aren't you?’ ii h c re th crc is li i ck! N r›w ta kc rue!’
l u serf to th ink 1 was, before I rrlarri ec4. how I thin k 1 and very A ml lie .stru c k the horse on the neck w it h the littl c whip he
tin luck;:" liacl asked Uncle Oscar for. He men the h orse could take him to
‘Wh} ?’ ii here the re was Hi ck, if only he forced it. So he got on again, and
startec4 on his wild rifle. hop ing finally to get there. He knew he
could gct there.
You’ll break your horse, I'aril!’ said the nurse.
NJ c's alvrav‹ r idirip li kc that! 1 wish he'd stop!’ said his older
sister Joan.
hut he only looked down at them in angry silence. The nurse
did not know what to do with him. I n any case, he was growing
too r›ld for her to control.
time day his rn other an d his Uncle Oscar came in when he
Pwrs on one of his wild rides. He did not speak to their.
Hello!’ said his uncle. ‘Riding a winner?’
A rem’t you growing too big for a rocking la‹arsc? Your’re not a
little I oy any lc›riger, you know,' said his inother.
Dut I'aul only gave her a angry blue look. He never spoke to
ai iyl›ody when he was riding like th is. His mother watched him

21
 with an anxious expression on her face.
At last he suddenly stoppe‹J forcing his horse backwards and ‘S›aj; Paul, do you ever put rrioney on a horse?’ the uncle asked.
forwards, and slid down. T'lie boy xvatc leed the good-lookiiig rnari c loscly.
‘Well, I got there,’ he said, his blue eyes still angry and his long ‘Why? I)o yoti thin k I ou3htn’t to?’ tae .iskcrl.
legs apart. Nr›t at all! I thought perhaps you coul‹l te!l rue which horse
‘Where slid you get to?’ asked his rrrotlâ cr. ix oulcl win the Lincoln.’
"the car spell on into the country, going to Uncle George's
‘Whec re antcd to go,’ he cried angri ly. pliicc in Hampshire.
I
That's r ight!’ sa id Uncle Oscar. ‘D or i ’t stop un til yc›ri get
Hoiiestl\?’ said the boy.
there. I-I onestl y!’ sa id Um uncle.
Whflt's the horse’s nance*
Wel1. th cn, 10 a ffo‹iil w ill win th at race.’
l la Hobli I! I ‹toubt it, 1':url. W flat allout M irz:i?’
‘ I t›iily know the winri cr,’ said the boy. ‘Th at's l0,if1i ctrl.’
‘J daffodil!’
1 here w'as a pause. I).ifToclil was not a well-kn oxx ii horse.
‘Untie!’

Y‹ u Avon t tell a iix'oii e else, will you? I proi i risecl Bassett.’

‘Wlry D•issett?’
‘ We’re [Parti icrs. We'd e been J›:irti iers front the beginning.
Ui i ‹. ie, he Ien t i we ni\‘ fi rst five sit ill in is, xx'liic‘li I h›st. I
promised li i ni th at o is I› hc a n rl I Evo nod kn t›u'. J3ut you ,p:ix c i
iie t fiat ten- shift i n,g n otc I star tecJ cvii i n in,q ix ith, s‹ I thougla t }'o
hint.
ti xv c re lucky.

I he I oy lciokc tl straight at his iiiir Ic froiii liis la i‹l, liot, blue

eve s.’I he iincfc I.th heck anxiously.
iirafters.
‘A 11 i‘ig1i t. I'.i ul. I'll keep I )afFotlil's ria n ie a scsi c t. 1 I ‹›xx’ i inich
‘AUTO t$OtS UC C\’t•r risk iiloiiey on a lic›rse he likes?’
;irc you risking on li in i?"
Well — I c4on t want tO tCll. WOUld you iiiind asking
him ‘All except twenty pounds,’ said the boy. ‘I keep that safe.’
HC takes a pleasure in it, and perhaps he wouldn't
like The unclc thought it a good joke.
me to talk of it, sir, if you don’t mind.’ D.issett wks is
serious as a ‘You keep twenty pounds back, do you, young man? How
rhurch.
nut cli are you betting, th en?’
The HUC)C Went I ack to the boy and took li in)
ff for a ride in I‘m fretting three hun dred,’ said the boy scri ously. ‘D ut you
)1l.S (",ll.
i niis tn’t tell a nyoi ie, In me Oscar.’

22
 Listen,’ he said. ‘You ’re not se r ion s about Bassett and that
fifteen hundred pounds, are you?’
‘Yes, 1 ai ii. Dr it you must n’t tell anyone, Uncle.’
‘Very 4 ell. But I must talk to Bassett.’
‘lt’ ›'ou’d like to be a partner, Uncle, wit h Bassett and me, we
c‹›iild all be partne re. On ly you'd have to pi-oiriise, on your
|j ‹› no u r, 1 j t3t t O t •| | 1 \ O14 C C IS C. fl SSC tt fl UCl I ‹i rc• II C kV,, 0.12d yo
u ii i i is t 1› c I ii c‘kx, 1›‹ ‹ a ii‹c it was › ‹a ii r tci i sh il li ii s I star ted
ix i ii i i i ii sx i t li
U ii c le C)scar t t, [ otlj Dassc tt ,jii c] 1°.i til in tr IN i c li rN on rl Park
Y‹›r an ati c r H r oii, a ii‹i th crc th ey tal kt c4.
It's like th is, } ou sec, sir,’ )3asSctt Lai d. ‘Master haul made me
tal k about racing ex'ents, telling stories, you know, sir. And he
al»'avs wanted to know if I'd won or lost. It’s a bout a year ago
now that I put five shillings on Blush of Damn for him; and we
lost. Then the Inc k turned, with that ten shillings he had from
von. We put that money on Singhalese. And since that time, it's
tween fairly steady. What do you say, Master Pa ul?’
‘We're all right when xx e're sure.’ said Paul. ‘It's when we're not
njll ite sir re that Ave loss
t) l but x 'e're r’:ârctii1 the i i ,’ said Bassett.
‘nu t » lien r o i ter?’ smiled Uncle Osc ar.
It's M astc r }›j tt| sit,’ sa ill Bassett, in a secretive, rcli gious voice.
I t ‹ c wc to ‹ once front heaven to hint. Like I9affociil, now, for the
l9atJo‹lil ca iris in first. Lancelot sec ouch, Mr rza thircL The child, ri oln. That v i quite sure.’
with reel face and c es flaming, was strangely cairn. His uncle Hid you bet on Daffodil?' asked Oscar C reswell.
brorigh t hint the four five-pound notes xvh ie h lie had won. ‘Yes, sir. I made my bit.’
‘What shall I do with these?’ tee cried, saving them in front of ‘And the boy?’
the boy's eyes. Bassett said nothin g. He looked at Paul.
I suppose we’11 talk to Bassett,’ said the boy. ‘1 expect I have ‘1 made twelve hundred, didn't I, Bassett? I told Uncle 1 was
ifteen hu ndred pounds now, th e twenty I keep back and this putting three hundred on Daffodil.’
‘That's right,’ said Bassett.
IN iit ›vliere’s th e mon cy?’ asked th c iincl e.

24 25
 I keep it safely locked up, sir. Master Paul can have it
rni nute he likes to ask for it.' any
Even Oscar Creswell had made two thousand.
‘What, fifteen hundred pou nds?’ ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘this sort of thing makes me nervous.’
‘And twenty! And %rfy, in fact, It needn't, Uncle. Perhaps I shan't be sure again for a long
with the twenty pounds he
won at the race iiieeting.’ time.’
‘I can hardly believe it!’ sa id the uncle. ‘But what are you going to do with your money?’ asked the
‘I f Master Isa ul wants yo u to join us, sir, I th in k un cle.
' >'< you; i I’you’11 c xcuSL » t,’ s. ill 1i. s‹ tt. ‘C9f c c› u rse,’ sa i d th c boy, I st:irtfi-d it for M oth er. Sli t sa id
C)scar she h:id in› In ck because F:it her is lii iluc ky, so I thought if I was
The lucky, it in ight stop ivhispe ring.
‘ W la a t rn i flit stoma svli ispc r ing?’
JOt1 S ce, it's .i11 r igh t, Un Lle, ivhen I ni . iir‹ !
‘C9 ti r ho use. 1 /iu/‹' oti r h o use for ivh ispc r i rig.’

don't w'e, J3a.ssett?’ The n we bet 2 Ot, What does it xvhispe r?’
‘We do that, Master haul.’ ‘Well — the boy paused — I don't know. But it's always
without enough money, you know, Uncle.’
are you sure?’ sa id the u ncle, laurgh ing. I know it. I know it.’
sorrletime›, I ’lâ4 tt›iitplrt‹ I/ sure, as I was about
‘You know that people send Mother bills, and orders to pay,
do n't you, U ricle?’
‘I’n i afraid I do,’ said Uncle Oscar.
A n ‹i th en th e hon sc w’li is per s, like people 1:m ghinp at yo
u 1 eh i ri ci }'our back. It's terrible! I though t if I eras Hi cky
You rnigh t stop it,’ added the uncle.
The laoy we tc‘lied h inn with big blue eves thot had a strange
c cold fire in the rn, ari d he sa id no th i ng.
Well, then,’ said the u ncle. ‘What shall we do?'
I xvouldn’t li ke Mother to know I was lucky,’ said the boy.
‘ W h} not, Pa ul?’
‘She’d stop rue.’
I don’t think she would.’
QOtllads on th e liorse, 11assett p tit five hundred,
a nd Oh!’ — and the boy moved uncomfortably — I do n't want her
C)scar C resxvel l two hundred. Lively Spa rk ca rue
in first, and to know, Uncle.’
'All right! We'll manage it without her knowing.’
s'i icJ, ‘ I '*°' coni pletel\' en re of 1 i i i ii.’ ’I li c y i ii.i naped it very casil y. l°a til, at the oth cr's str pgestion,
the ‘ "" '""'’ '’' give five th ousanct poti rids to his uncle, who gave it to the funnily

27
 lawyer, who was then to inform Paul's mother that a relation debt.
hid
put flee thousand pounds into his hands. Th is sum would be
paid

next five vea re.

‘So s lie’II have bir tIi eta}’ present c'f a th r›iisan cl pc›u Ucts for five

Lick, l°,1 ul could not hear it. He \’as i cry anxioUs to see
the effcr t

des ion fu re ancl dress neater ials, so sli e \vorked secret

ly wit Ii a

fricn d

recognize‹l the I after’s I ettei . As h i r1 iOt her read it, h er

cleterrnine d look caiiie on her mouth . Slid b1t4 the I

face ettc r

undcr

EUI in the afternoon Unc ie Oscar appeared. He

said Paul's
mother had been with the la er a ton g time, skins
it” the whole
five th ousand con I d not be sen t immediately, as
she was in
 ‘What do you thin k, Uncle?’ said the boy.
‘You run st r4eci de.’
‘C)li, let her have it, then. We can get sonic more,’ said the boy.
‘1Jon’t I e too sure,’ said Unc Ie Oscar. ‘A third in the hand is
i or th two in th e I us h.’
‘l3iit I’m sure to ñi/‹›ti for the other races: for the Grand
National; or the Lincolnshire; or the derby. I'm s tire to know for
cuc of the m,’ said haul.
So Uncle Oscar signed the agreement, and Patil's mother
received the xx hole five thousand. Then something very strange
hap[ erred. The vol c es in the house suddenly went mad: there
ivtre thousands of them. There was new furniture, and Paul had a
tcac her. He was rra//) going to Eton, his father's school, in the
mellow i rig autumn. There were Oowers in the winter. And still
the x ‹rices in the house, behind the Ooxvers and under the beds,
cried: there run lie more iiioney! Oh, there mu i be more
money. Ah, now, more than ever, there aiii.‹i be more money!’
I t fri ghtened haul terribly. He studied his Latin and Greek, but
h is rn ost i nip or tant hours were spent iv ith Bassett. The Grand
IN atioi i at had gone by: lie had not known’, and had lost a
hu ndred pounds. Suiiimc r was near. He was terribly anxious
about the Lin coln. Dut even for the Lincoln he didn't ‘know’,
and he lost fi fty pounds. He became wild-ered and strange, as if
sr› rneth ing were going to explode in hint.
‘Leave it alone,’ said Uncle O5car.‘Don't trouble yourself about
it!’ hut it seemed as if the boy couldn’t really hear xvli at his uncle
\V0S S 0}’l t2 @.

‘I've got to know for the derby! I've got to know for the
Dan y!’ the child said again and again, his big blue eyes flaming
with a sort of madness.
His mother noticed how upset he was.
You'd better go to the seaside. Wouldn't you like to go now
to the seaside, instead of waiting? I think you'd better,’ she said,

29
 look in g dtawn at la i iii an xi ‹a usly, I ie r lâ cart strangely
heavy
because of hint.
But the c hild lifted his strange blue eyes.
I can’t possibly go before the I 9crlay, Mot he r!’ lie eaten. ‘I can’t
possibly!’
‘Why not?’ she said, her voice Dec outing heavy xvh en he did
not agree. ‘Why not? You can still go fr‹air1 the seaside to see the
I9erby with your Uncle Oscar, if that’s what you wish. There’s no
need for you to wait here. Besides, I thin k you care too much
abo ut th ese rac’eS. It's a bad S in . Al \ ffl n i it y has lace ii a bettiii
p
$'.I IN 11 \’, ‹4 11 tJ )’t9 II \\’t4 IN ’t k 11 t1\\’ 1111 t I) )’t4 II 'p It J\fi 11}4 l t3\\' 111.11 C 1

TO1110 t‘ I t ) 1 il S CJ O I I C . () tl 1 1 I h ‹1 S £) O 1.1 C £J ‹i 114 ‹1'JC . S .1 )I 0 \’C‘ I O S t IN Cl

I) assctt :ivi ay, a u ct ask LJ n cfc t0sc.i r ii o t t‹a talk ala out raci i ip to
you, Finl css you prom ise to be reasonable abo u t it. Go away' to the
seaside and for,aet it.You’re all nerves!’
I'll mo sv hat you like. Moths r, if you ‹loi i’t sr•nc1 rue away until
after the Iderby,‘ the I oy saic4.
‘Sencl you away froi n whe re? Just fro ii i t his ho use°’
‘Yes.’ he sa id, looking at her.
‘W1a\, von strai pue cli lc4, w hat ii akcs } thu care th out th is house
so i iiric It , sticlrle lil \'? l i icvc r kit cxv y o u I ox’e‹l it
He looked .it her without spea kiri3. I c mall a Sec ret within a
sec rct, S c› ii i c t li i H y lie had H ‹ t to lri, cs‘ciâ tr› 1asSe tt o r tr li iS NJ nc
Ie Use:i r.
) t1 I JJ IS I I O 1.1 U r, 0 It C r S IN lJ C) 111 111.1 t) C C1 £) C£) EU r S O lJ 1C' 12.1 O 114 C14 £S ,

saic3: Very well, th en! L9on’t to to the seaside Until after the
I derby, if you don’t ›i isIt it. Dart pi-oiiiise rue you won’t let your
i ter ve s Ac› to [a ic‹‘cs. 1'roii use yo u Evo H t t I i i i i k so ii iti ch a loo tit
horse racin p and eren/s, as you call therri!’
‘Oh, no,’ Said the boy carelessly. ‘I won’t think much abou t
them, Motlie r. You needn't worry. I woulcln’t worry, Mother, if I
were you.’
II I yo ri ss ere i we, and I were vo u ,’ sa red li is mother, ‘I won
nder
›vliat we t oiiJJ do!’
‘But you know you needn't worry, Mother, don't you?’ the
laoy re¿a cated.
I slao wild be very glad to know it,’ she said in a tired voice.
‘Oh, well, you run. I mean you ou,qlit to know you needn't
ivor ry,’ he said.
‘On ght I? Then I'll think about it,’ she said.
l*au1’s secret of secrets was his wooden horse, that which
had no ri ance. Since the nurse had gone, he had had his rocking
horse t,iken to his ‹own bec4roorn at the top of the house.
‘S url 1 y }’ou’rc too led for a re cking horse!’ his n rot her had
sai‹L
' Well, ;'ou see, Mother, until I can have a real horse, I like to
have s‹ame sort of animal,’ his strange answer had been.
loo you feel he's good company for you?’ she laughed.
‘Oh, yes! He's very to od, and he’s always good company when
I rn th ere.’
The I9erby was coming nearer, and the boy grew more
and n iore a nxio us. He harclly h card ix hat was spoken to hint,
he was ve'i-\ etch c a tc, an d la is eyes were really sti”a ri,pe. l3 is ir
other was x or r i cc4 at o tit li i in. Son i eti n ies, for half an ho u r, she
felt a s ridde n anxl c tv a loo rit la in i th,it ›s as almost pal n. Sli e
Eva n ted to rush str.i iflit to hi ir , an d k i row he was safe.
T» o nights before the her by she was at a big party in
town, wl u i ‹ n e of’ her Fecliii is of anxiety about her boy filled li
er heart until she could li ardly speak. She fought with the
feeling with all li c r strcn ptli, but it was too stro rig. She had to
leave the dance and to c1owi1.stairs to telephone her horne iii
the con ntry. Miss Wilmot, who took care of the children, was
terribly surprised at lieing ru rig up in thc night.
‘Are the children all right, Miss Wilmot?’
th, yes, they are quite all right.’
‘M.is ter Pa til? Is he all rich t?’

3
.
1

xX’as w'heri lie went to bed. Sh q]} I rlin ii p and look at
IiOise, but rushing anc4 powerful. Something very large, moving
x iole ntlv. W flat was it? She c›ugh t to knoxx: She felt that she
knew'
riding the roe king horse. The bright light sriddenlv lit him up
and Phone ‹nn her as she stood in the doomi'ay.
‘Paill!’ she cried. ‘Whatever are you doing?’
‘It’S Mfilobar!’ he Shouted, in o strange, powerful voice. ‘It’s
Ma1ab.r!’
His eyes burned at her for one senseless second as h e stopped
dr ivinp the won den horse on. Then he fell with a crash to the
grorii4Ci 3 nd she, a mo the r's pain flooding os'er leer, rushed to pick
h i II I t1/ in tier a rms .
But he was unconscious, and unconscious he remained, with
some kind of brain few er. He talked and moved restlessly, and his
mother sat like a stone by his side.
‘Malabar! It's Molobo r! Bassett, J3assett, 1 hnoH•! lt's Malabar!’
So the child cried, tr yini to get up and go to the rocking
lJ‹ rsc that give hits his idcas.
What c4oes lie mean by Malabar?' asked the heart-frozen
unit) ter.
‘I don't know,’ said the father coldly.
Wit t dr›cs he menu by Malabar?’ she asked her brother
I âsr ,ir.
‘1t’s one of the horses running for the Derby,’ was the answer.
Aust, in spite of himself, Oscar Creswell spoke to Bassett, and bet
a thousa nd pounds on Malabar at fourteen to one.
The thirci day of the illness was very dangerous: they were
Eva it ing for a change. The boy, with his rather long, curly hair, was
moving abo iit all the time in bed. He neither slept nor became
conscious aha in, and h is eyes were like blue stones. His in other
s,it, fcelms her heart had gone, actually turned into a stone.
1 n th e ci en ing Osc,i r C resivell did not come, but Bassett sent a
i ii ass:igc sa›'ii it corilci lie con a e tip for on e m‹a n ten t, j net
one i ion lent? Ha ml’s n mother was very angr at first, but on second
thoughts she agreed. The boy was the same as before. Perhaps
1)assett ir ight brin,p hin i to consc iousness.
The gardener, a short man with sharp little brown eyes, came
softl}' into the room and went to the bedside, looking at the
restless, dying child.
‘Master Paul!’ he svhispe red. ‘Master Paul! Malabar came in
first all right, a good win. I did as you told rrie. You've made over
seventy thous3nd pounds; you've got over eiphry thousand.
Malabar came first all right, Master Paul.’
‘Malabar! Malabar! Did f say Malabar, Mother? Did 1 say
M alabar? Do you thin k I'm In cky, Mother? 1 knew Malabar,
33
 didn't I? Over eighty thousand pounds! I call that
luCky, don't
you, Mother? Over Mighty thousand pounds! I knew! fvlalabar
came in all right. If I ride my horse until I'm sure, then Springtime on the Menu O. Ilenrf
I tell you,
Bassett, you can bet as much aS you like. I)i you
d bet a lot,
I t was a day in March.
I never toIll yo ri, Mother, that if
" then ‘'* * oh, completely
I can riclc yyyy horse, N ever, ncve r ldc km a story th is way when yini write one. No
ancl pc/ ‹opening con lcJ possibly be worse. There is no imagination in it. It
.str re; Mother, did I ever tell s flat and dry. But we can allow it here, because the following
you° I » 1iic'ky!’
‘to, you never cmd,’ saicJ the idiot her. paragraph, which should have started the story, is too wild and
Birt the boy died in the night. ii=r ssible to be thrown in the face of the reader without
And as he lay dead, his mother heard her preparation.
to her: ‘Hester, you've got
brother's voice saying Sarah was crying over the menu.
eighty thousand, and your son's dead.
But, poor boy, poor boy, it’S bCst for him to To explain this you may guess that oysters were not listed, or
leave a life where he that she had ordered onions, or that she had just come from the
rides his rocking horse to find a winner.’
cinema. But all your guesses are wrong, and you will please let
the story continue.
The gentleriian who said that the world was an oyster which
he would open with his sword became more famous than he
clescrved. I t is not difficult to open an oyster with a sword. But
ciic4 you ever notice anyone try to open it with a typewriter?
S.male had managed to open the world a little with her
tj [aeivritcr. ) hat was h er work — typing. She dick copy-ryping and
worked alone, not in an office.
The greatest succ ess of Sarah’s battle with the world was the
arrangement that she made with Schulenberg's Home
Restaurant. The restaurant was next door to the old redbrick
building in which she had a room. One evening, after dining at
Sc liulenberg's, Sarah took the menu away with her. It was written
in almost unreadable handwriting, neither English nor German,
a net was so difficult to understand that if you were not careful
you I egan with the sweet and ended with the soup and the day
of the week.
The next day Sarah showed Schulenberg a beautifully

34
typewritten menu with the food listed in the right and proper
places front the beginning to the words at the bottoms: 'not
responsible for coats and umbrellas.’
Schulcnberg was very pleased. Deforc Sarah left liii n, lie had
iiiade an agreement with her. She would provide typewritten
menus for the 2 tables in the restaurant — a new one for each
day's din n cr. and n cw ones for breakfast a n ‹I lute cli as o ftcn as
there were changes in the food or as neatness made necessary.
I n return for this Schulenberg would send three incals a day to
Sarah's room, and send her also eat h after rioon a list its pencil of
the foods that were planned for Sclullcnbcr ’s customers on the
next day.
lJotli were satis fled svitl i th c ag rec ni en t. Th ose svli o .ite at
Sch ulcnber ’s now knew what th c for ct th ey were c atitig was
ca11e‹l, even if its nature sometimes c onfusc‹J them. Arid Sarah had
food du ring a c old, winter, which was the Hi:iiii thing for her.
When the spring months arrix ed, it was not spring. Spring
comes when it comes. The frozen snows of January still lay hard
outside. Men in the streets with their musical instruments still
played “In the Good Old Surnrnertilrle”, with the expression and
determination with which they had played it in December. The
city was still iti the power of winter.
One after noon Sarah was shak ing with cold in her bedroom.
She had no work to do except Schulenberg's menus. Sarah sat in
her rocking chair and looked out of the window. The month was
a spring month and kept crying to her: ‘Springtime is here, Sarah
— springtime is here, 1 tell you.You’ve got a neat figure, Sarah — a
nice, spr ingti in e fi gu re — why dr› yr›u lr›ok ‹but ‹i I the wi ri doxv so
sadly?’
Sarah's rr›oin was at the back of the house. Looking out of the
witicl‹iiv, s lie ‹’Oh ld sec the winch wloss lar ie k wall of th c box
factory in the next street. i3ut she thought of grassy walks and
trees and bushes and roses.
lii the summer of last year Sarah had gone into the country
and fallen in love with a farmer.
(In writing a story, never go backwards like this. It is bad aFt
ated ‹destroys interest. Let it go forwards.)
Sarah stayed two wee ks at Sutinybrook Far tit. There she
learned to love old Farmer Franklin's son, Walter. Mariners have
tween loved anal iiiar ricd in less timr. But young W.iltcr Franklin
was a riioder n farmer. He even had a telephone its the building
where he mllked the cows.
together
It was on a grassy walk that Walter had won her. And
He had
they had Sat and lie had put dandelions in her hair.
praised the effect of the yellow flowers against her brown hair;
anal she li,‹l left the flowers there, and walked back to the house
swinging tier hat in her hands.
3 hey planned to marry in the spring — at the first signs of
spring, Walter said. A nil Sarah caiiie back to the city to
hit the
typewriter keys.
A knock at the door drove away Sarah's dreams of that happy
Home
day. A waiter had brought the rough pencil list of the
s pointed
lLcstarirant's next day's food written in old Schulenberg'
handwriting.
beneath
Sarah sat down at her typewriter and slipped a card
hour and a
the rollers. She was a qHick worker. Generally in an
half the 21 cards were typed and ready.
Today there were more changes on the menu than usual. The
soups were lighter; there were changes in the meat dishes. The
spirit of spring filled the whole list.
Sarah’s fingers danced over the typewriter like little flies above
worked, giving
a summer stream. Down through the courses she
to its len h
the name of each dish its proper position according
with a watchful eye.
Just above the sweets came the list of vegetables. Arid then—
depths Of
Sarah was crying over the menu. Tears from the
S7
 hopelessness rose in her heart and filled
her eves. Down event her
head on the little typewriter stan ci. And then a strong voice was heard in the hall below, and Sarah
For She had received no letter from W.i1ter in ju iii[ae‹4 for her door, leaving the book on the floor.
two weeks, anti
the next thirlg on the menu was dandelions You have guessed it. She reached the top of the stairs just as
— dandelions with
Come kind of egg — but never mind the c her farmer came rushing up, and held her tightly iii his arms.
J,R! — dandc ions with
‘Why haven’t you written — oh, why?’ cried Sarah.
'Vh *e g de n flowers Walter had decorated the hair of his queen New York is a rather large town,’ said Walter Franklin. ‘I came
of love and future wife — dandelions, the itiesseiigers of spr ing in, a week ago, to your old address. 1 found that you had gone
reminder of her happiest days. — away on a Thursday. The police and I have hunted for you ever
lq t \Vhat a iliagical thing spring is! Into
the great cold city of since!’
stome ari ‹1 i n ii .i i I icesa ge hall
‘1 wrotc to yo u,’ sa iH Sar:i h, with feeling.
it cxcept the little iiiessen
‘ N ever got it!’
coat, the clande lion — this lion S tOOt h, 3s the French call him. ‘T1i‹•ii how did you find me?’
When he is in flower, he will help with lovein
a king, twisted in The you nd farmer smiled a springtime srn ile.
‘1 wen t into th c H or i ie R estaiiraiit next cl oor th is evening,’
saitl 1 . ‘I flow’t care svli o k i rows it; I li kc a dish of son ie kin d of
Irl a short time Sarah forced back her tears.
The cards must be fret us at th is time of the year. I ra n my eye dow n that nice
typed. But still in fl faint, golden light from
her dandelion dream, tvJ›cxvritten menu looking for something like that. When I got to
ShC fingered the typewriter keys absentl for a little while, her the vc-getablos, I knocked my chair over and shouted for the
FlJlnd and heart on the country walk with
her young farnder. But ow iicr. He tolet rue where you lived.’
soon she came beck to the stone streets
‘\\/|,y3’
typew'ritcr began to jump. ‘ I’d knoxv th.it cap ital W above the lin e that your typewriter
At six o'clock the wa iter Proii Ah t her clii i ner a nc4
car r ied n i:i kcs any sv1i c re in th c world,’ said Fran klin.
away 1 he y‹›in it man pulled a menu from his pc›c ket, an‹4 pointed
tt1 O IU S1US . I I S t ‹lS thrill t Oosvor had boom ‹ hai iged into a dark, to a lin c.
tlIt iiiiporta r1 t vegetable, so her sir rl jIiier hopes Sarah recognized the first card she had typed that afternoon.
had died.
At scve n thirty the two people in the iiext room
i l›cgan to Tlicre was still a mark in the upper right-hand corner where a
quarrel; the 5aS I igh t went a little Iower; someone started
to tear had fallen. But over the spot where one should have read the
u nload coal; cats co uld be heard on UC
ba ck fences. l)y these n.in ie ‹ f a cert:iin pl.ni t, the memory of their g‹ late ii flowers had
signs Sara)i k new t hat it Was time for leer to react. She got caused her fingers to strike strange keys.
out her
look, settlect her feet on her rrun k, and be,qa ii. I3enveen two ve,qetab1es listed on the menu was the
dcscr iption:
Sarah sto[›pcci reading

I Jc.irest alter, xv itli Iiar‹4—bo ilcd egg.

39
 th at en pgcsted a nian’s prescn cc.
Lter great sorrow came j ust three years ago,’ said the child.
‘H er sorrow?’ asked Frarn ton. Soniehow, in this re st fu1 con ntry
{ tace, sorrows seenied out of place.
‘M} cunt i›’ill come down very soon, Mr Nuttel,’
said a c alrn and You cmay ondcr why we keep that window wic4e open on
cor1fident you up lady o I fiSteers years o
f tc. ‘ Fdr not von must an O c toher afterrioo ri.’ sa id the girl, pointing to a large French
i› in ‹to» * tl ia t o penext onto the grass outside.
I t is c} iii tc war in for th c tinic of th c year,’ saicl F nin itoii; ‘but
has th.i t wincJosv got any th ink to do with your aunt's sorrow?’
lllltlt*t?SS;11}' 4111ltJ\'d1;t't ttJ t|1C' j ;|; t|1,lt \\.;;q St|ll ttJ ñtJ1]lt*. it',
‘(0ut th ro tigl i th:it xx in cJ ow, cx.a ctly th ree years ago, her
s upposCcJ to be attC naptin/ a cu re for la iS iierves, but he
d‹ u bted Imet a nct anc4 her two young brothers wen t off for their day's
sho otiii g. They never came back. While they were chalking across
help muc|i
to the sfooting ground, they were all three swallowed up in a
bog. It had been that terrible wet summer, you know, and places
prepar ing to move out into the country. ‘Yo ii will bur y
you rsel I that were safe in other years became suddenly dangerous. Their
down there and not speak to a living soul, and your
nerves will bocdies ere never found. That was the worst part of it.’ Here the
be ix orse th,in ever through loneliness. I Shall just give
you letters chilli's voice lost its confidence and became unsteadil}' human.
of introt1u‹ tion to all th e peOplc I LnO\V there. Sonic
of thetii, as ‘moor aunt always thinks that they will come back some day, they
far as I can reiiieniber, is'ere qiiit e nice.’
and the little brown dog that was lost with them, and walk in
through that xi indow j iist as th ey used to do. That is why the
xx inc4 c›sv is kept open every evenin g until it is quite dork. Poor
‹tea r ,i ii nt, sh c has o ft cn told me how t hey went out, her husband
i› itli iiis u li ite coat over liis arm, and lLonHi e, her youngest
far‹ ther. singing a sons, as he always did to annoy her because she
you sa ml it iipsc t hcr. l9c you kn oiv, sour etiiiies on still, quiet even ings
O/ likc this. I almost get a strange feeling that they will all walk in
through that window .
She stopped and trembled. It was a relief to Franiton when the
‘Then you knoxV aliiiost not h ing about iHv aunt?’ aun t came busily into the room and said how sorry she was for
continueci
the confident you ng lady. her late appearance.
Only her nance and address,’ Franatoii adrnittecl. He was ‘I hope Vera )ias been amusing you?’ she said.
wondering whether Mrs Sappleton xs as still married, or
whether
lâ cr h fish:incl ha‹J It‘s. Dtit there was son Beth i UJ abotit
the
room
 ‘She has been very interesting,’ said Framton.
shoulders. A tired brown dog kept close to their heels. Noiselessly
I hope you don't mind the window open,’ said Mrs Sappleton they neared the house, and then a young voice started to sing in
brightly. ‘My husband and brothers will be home soon from the darknesx.
shooting, and they always come in this way. They've been
Framton seized his hat and stick; he ran out through the hall
shooting birds today near the bog, so they'1’ iiiake my poor floors door, up the drive and through the front gate. He alrrlost ran into
dirty. So ty{›ical of you risen, isn't it?’ a in.iii on a bicycle.
She talked on cheerfully about the shootin y a rid the lack of 1-1 cre we arc, my dear,’ said the bearer of the white
hircls, a i i rl th r li o{ c of show tiHy ‹In ‹‘k iii tl ie xvii itcr."I O f*ra n iton
coat, cor i iii qi iii th rough the xv in flow; ‘la irly nuidcly, but most of
it was all quite terrible. He made a great c ffort, which was only
it's c4ry. W lie was that who rati out as we catiie up?’
partly su cc essful, to tu rn the talk to a more p I easarit s ri bject. He
‘A very strange man, a Mr Nuttel,’ said Mrs Sappleton. ‘He
was const i‹›iis that lâ is hostess was pivi rig h iiii only a part of her
corilc4 eerily talk about his illnesses, arid ran off without a word of
attention, and tier eyes were frequently looking past him to the
excuse or goodbye when you arrived. I t was as if he had seen a
open window and the grass beyond. It was certainly unfortunate ghost.’
that he should have paid his visit on this sad day: I expect it was the dog,’ said the girl calmly; ‘he told me he
‘The doctors agree in ordering me complete rest, two mental had a terrible fear of dogs. He was once hunted into a graveyard
excitement and no violent physical exercise,’ an nounced somcxx here in India by a pack of wild dogs, and had to spend the
firarn t‹ n, ivh ‹ lia c4 th e usual ii i rsta ke ii i‹lca th.i t to tal strai inc re
n idh t i n a newly dug grave w ith the creat wires standii ig over him.
want to know every detail of one’s illnesses, their cause and cure. Enough to make anyone lose their nerve.’
‘On the shatter of food, they are not so iiuir‘li in a,urceiiient,’ he She was very quick and clever with her imagination.
r cm ti nu ed.
N o?’ sat c4 M rs Sappl cton, soiinciing tirecl arid) even perhaps a
little borecl. Then she suddenly bripliteticd into attention — but
not to what Frarnton was saying.
‘Here they are at last!’ she cried. ‘Just in tii iie for tea, and don't
they look as if they were muddy up to the eyes!’
Frainton trembled slightly and turned towards the girl with a
look intended to show sympathetic understanding.Thc child was
looking out through the open window with fear in her eyes.
With a shock Franiton turned round in h is scot and looked in thc
same dire‹:tion.
I n the deepening darkness three figures were walking across
th c Crass towards the li ousc; they all carri ccl gtiits rim der the ir
ar me, anal on e of the ni also hall a white coat li and ink over his

The Income-Tax Man ifurfi "firaiii
The first no tic e that was taken of me when I ‘settlccl down
recently, was by a gentleman who said lie was an assessor, a word
that I did not understand very well. I said I had never heard of his
branch of business before, but I was very glad to see h ini in spite
of that — would he sit down? He sat down. I did not have
anything particular to say, but I felt tin t people who have arrived
at the important position of keeping a house must be
conversational, must be easy and friendly in society. So, as I could
think of nothing else to say, I asked hint if lie was opening his
sh op in our neighbourhood.
He said )ie was. (I did not wish to appeo r to know nothing, but
I lind hoped he would mention what lie had for sale.)
‘(4oxv is trade?’ I asked h iiii. A nd lie sa id, ‘Fair.’
I then said we would visit his s hop, a nd if we likccl it as well as
any other, we would give hint our business.
He said he though t we would like his place of btlsl IN CSS well
enough to use no other — he said he had never met anybody who
would go off and hunt up a not lie r man in th e same kind of
business after trading with hint once.
That sounded rather too confident; but the man looked
honest enough.
I ‹to not know how it happened exactly, but gradually we
appeared to becotiie tiiore frienctly in our conversation i, and their
everything went along very coiiifortably.
We talked ated tal ked and talked — at least I did; and we
laughed and laughed and laughed — at least he did. But all the
time my mind was working hard. I was deterlTñned to find out all
about his business in spite of his mystcrious answers — and I was
determined that f would get it out of h ini svitho ut him knowing
44
what I was doing. I intended to trap him with a deep, deep trick.
I wotild tell mini all ab‹»it my own business, and he would
naturally pr‹ w to like i nc so rhurch that lie woul d forget to be
careful, rind he would tell me all about his affairs before he
realized what I was trying to do.
I thought of saying to hint, ‘Sir, you little know sx hat a clever
person you are dealing with.’ But I said:
‘how you would never guess how much money I made
giving talks to people this winter and last spring.’
to — I don't believe I could, to save my life. Let rite see — let
rite see. About two thousand dollars, perhaps? But no; no, sir, I
know you couldn't h ave made so much as that. Say seventeen
hu ndrccl?’
Ha! lia! I knew yoti couldn't guess. I received for my talks last
spring ,nd this winter fourteen thousand seven li tinclrcd and fifty
dollars. What do you thin k of that?’
Well, it's very stirpr ising — that's a very large ainou nt of
iiioncy. I will ii in ke a note of it. And you say even this wasn't all?’
‘All! My dear sir, there was my income front the newspaper —
the Dnily Warwhoop — for four months — about — about — well,
what would you say to about eight thousand dollars, for
example?’
‘Say! Well, I should say I should like to see myself rotting in just
such an ocean of money. Eight thousand! I'll make a note of it.
Well, man! And in addition to all this, am I to understand that you
li ad still iiio re income?’
Ha! ha! lia! You're only at the beginning of it. I wrote a book
— The limoccnts Abroad — price three and a half to five dollars,
according to the cover. Listen to me. Look me in the eye. During
the last four months and a half, not to mention sales before that,
but just simply during the four months and a half, we've sold
ninety-five thousand copies of that book. Ninety-five thousand!
Thin k of it. Average four dollars a copy, perhaps. It's nearly four
45
 r u1
f rmed wlth Such wo de
lili ndrecJ thousand dollars, wry dear sir. I yet half.’ all pr itit — q uestion‹, "
o
C OIU t8’t
oldest and wiscst th e
S wo rld
dn iTl
Good heavens! I'll write that clog n. Fourteen-seven skill fi»t the tOO, that
eafling of rT)OSt Othem — questions,his
eight — two hundred. Total, about — well, I can hardly believe it — ' INndersta d the abou t four timt s actual
pan report Qty out of my
the total is about two h rindrecJ arid th irteen or fourte en thousand
d bo• •
cJollars! fs that possible?’ telling a lie. 1 looke iber 1
‘Possible! If the re’s any mistake, it's the other way. It's more. y. lnqu try Ll F l
btlt there did
t
troubles,
II
appear tO be aTl
and completely:
Two lirin‹4red and fourteen t housaricl is my income for this year, Vcred Hey case geFleroilsl

if I know hose to add up. j jjy trade,

dtli j g the pdst CA8› r.
f
Then the gentleman got up to go. 1 thought w ith discomfort t ar ricCl OU
th.it pc i h.i|›s I I i: I t‹›1‹l all th ‹ sc' sr L re tS It›r i i ‹›t) i i i i , I›‹ S i ‹Ice f›c
in [›e re u.idle ‹1 to i i rake tl ter ii a I ot p rcate r
la‹ r ,i use o I the strait be r's ski rp r isc‘d r’r res. E ut i
Whet her
io; at tl i c last n i r›n ic ii t th c gei it lc ii i an hande‹4 me a 1.a roe cHvcl Yl the open road, or
had be en a robb e

ope, and sa its t h at it con t.i inc ct c x-eryth i i i,p 1 ii right

like to know about his business; and that he w'oiild be happy to
have irry business — would in fact be proud to have the business of Ll had any
ytliing, or property

a man with such a large i ncorne; and that he used to think there received a y Inquiry Number 1.
iakC a fool of
were a mini ber of rich men in the city, btit sx lie n the; cause to
hat the Stranger had let nic iipersuaded me
t the stranger had
trade with hint, lie discovered that they hardly had e nough to live in was very clear
tjqy priate,
on; and th at, in truth, it had been such a long, long tin ie since he encouraging en thOtlSALl
hundred and fourte
had seen a rich rnan face to face, an‹4 talked with him, and to aclrllit tO
ared that by lixv o Fle
P
oCc;1n. At the le@0l
touched li tin wit h his hands, that he c outer hardly stop himself the
froiH th row i n p li is a r iris roar nd rn c — i n fn c't, he xs o ules be very y oVer to the C, oVer nut CAl t IU taX
Ceii t, 1.14 d to pl
grateful if I sx ould l‹ f hint th roxx’ his a rims refund i ne. and fifty dollars!
of ten thousand Fix hu ridred
This so [Plc.ised rue t flat I click not try t‹ stop h ink, but allowed this st*fi°, th.it ' did not do
tl i is st n i pt c- liea rtcd st ran pc r to th row his ar me aroii net n ie. Ari
d th en I ie ss cn t r n his way. ‹in w ho has no
As so‹›ii as he 1i,ici p‹ n c, I o[›encd h is c nv'c1opc. I sttidiecl the
(U t I S C 0 DC It I y EU F It) II £ IU 11111 t £‘S . I t l C lJ I‘.1 C r) t t t t3 t3 , ‹I11 $P 1t$: iilco u ie, ' I liavc oftcll
paid by bther ci tizcns. ALld tO h '
up hls
Hold rue while 1 faint.’ H» ' ok my papers, neatest
Ah, what an evil man he was! His eus clr›pe containecJ nothing —I
iii the xsorlcl except a form on whic‘la to rcct›rc) rriy i ncoiiie for y by C|ever1y arran giiig
the pur pose of iiicoiâ ie tax — a longs list of irnpc›litc questions
about my‘ pr irate a hairs, fill(ng the test part of four long pages of
 my “losses by flood, fi re and S city taxes” as so much;
sales of
on” IU UCJ4} 1) ’ “losses on
t

uS
property”, and “animal Sold”,
on ‘ }'!84011tS Apr rent of
horne”, on “repairs and illlprov The Upper Berth F. Mnrion Crau
enients as so much. lie
down wrote
salary, already iaxed, as u n
officer of thy United State
arI ny or other service as so niuch. He wrote down other We had talked for a long time, and the conversation was
things. begi nut rig to far 1; the tobacco em oke had got into the heavy
c urto ins, th c wine had ,pot into our bra ins, and it was a trendy

th» j ear ' ›’ i' * Profit i›«d s.<›. C11 d, a ncl xx e, tl ie guests, Evould go hout e to bed an c4 iii‹ st
c'crtaii i lx to sl ecp. to one 1 iact saic4 anythi n g very in tercsti n,p; it
n rat la e t fiat n‹a o ne lia cl any tl i in very in te res timph to saw.
I t ii'as their that Drisbonc spoke, :ind we o11 looked at liim. He
tab !8 tht t\VO li undrecl at ic4 kfty dollars.’ was a man of about third -five, and had those gifts which chiefly
(While he attract t he attention of men. He was a strong man. There was
t\VO—dolla r rlObC OU I Of his pocket lifted a notliing It nusual about his appearance, though his size ii as above
and
feel that if}’ stranger event dis tO
pp e,,e with it, and I
quite sure ill see that little boy ill c Orn e.) the ai'erage. He was almost 2 metres in height; he did not appear
d
to be fat, but on the other hand he was certainly not thin. His
sinall I each was supported by a strong neck, and he had powerful
Iran cJs aink .in uniisuall} thick chest. He was one of those men
‘ “""’ " 4tl TSC’. f I i c” ‹ii‹4 n ‘I liave th ix I i o I ‹›oL cx tre in c I v’ stroii u nd are really mri ch stronger than

› r›se

' 'ii*'','› '*s i .'•''ld b•.•„,. " del4ar every ear iii
th re c'r met rite terr i1 ie
I t is ,i x cr y stra i inc th in p,’ sa id Br isbone.
E crx’1 od stoppc d talkin,q. 13 rixbane's voice was not loud, but
it ha c4 a eta arp c ualitv x› 1 ii ch could cut thro righ gen eral
rich iii of the city — the conversation like a knife. Everybod listened. Brisbane noticed
standards, tjf great that he had attractsd the ir attention.
social
‘ It is a x‘cry strange thing,’ he continued, ‘about ghosts. I°eople
eyes are ales ays asking xs heth cr anybody has seen a ghost. I leave.’
StOOd tip and swore to lie afte r lie, trick
was Coated ›•i t ‘Nonsense! What, you? You don't mean to say so, I3risbane!’
Or ei'c r. 0 th lCk layer of lies and
Cries from all sides greeted Brisbane's surprising statement.
T he situation was saved. Br isbane was going to tell a story.
 I arts an odel Lai Job, said B risba
ne, anal aS I have to CrosS
fairly often, there are ships that I particularly the Atlantic
like. I have a habit of men, and so I gave him a few coins there and then.
¥Val tlng for certa in shi]3S when it is
necessary for inc to flil. T have I'll try and make you as comfortable as I can,' he said as he put
Iie t'x c’e]a ti‹,i i. the coins in his pocket. But in his voice there was a note of doubt
" warn i ii ioriiiiiu in Junc. I did
which surprised rue. I'erlaaps the money I had given him was not
enc›ugli, arim he was not satisficc4; I thought that he w as probably
slight I\' cl rtiti k. D tit I was wroii g, a nd nrift ir to the iiiaii.

Nothing really worth mentioning happened clurin,p that clay. We

left on t irnc a ml it was x’er\' pleIsant to tae on our way. bec arise
fillet I run iciljbere‹). the weather was warm and the iiioveiiient of the ship brough t us
some .iir. Exert body knows u hat the first day at sea is like. People
ix-alk abc›ut and look at each other, and sometimes meet friends
si hour t lacy cmd not knot› were on hoard. There is the usual
u' ”“"""^ ‹='k ••» i..» •.›.‹ ». uncertainty as to whether tile food will be good or bacl until the
first txs c› meals have put the iaiatter beyond doubt. There is the
FlCit, Ill /,n t. tii rn pale: but from his
usual uncertainty about the weather. The tables are crowded at
fi rst; Init the n pale-facccl people jump up front th eir scats and
rush tc»vards the ‹toor, and each old sailor breathes more freely as
lits seasic k neighbour runs aw-ay and leaves mirn with more room
a rim n i‹ire foocl.
t lii c t rcassi nd oI’ tl ic Atlantic is very rntic‘ll like ‹iii‹ither, a nd we
wire› I’r‹iss it o ft cii two not iiiake the jour ncy fler its interest. To
c3riiik, but J sa ic1 ri most of tis the most pleasant rrlornent of the day is when we have
rather taken ‹our last oval k in the open air, hax•e had our last srnt›ke and,
the ro‹›iii The lower berth, max iii,g sri cceedecl in tiring ourselves, feel free to po to bed
tiiiasliarned.
C) n that first night I f‘elt particularly lazy, and I event to bed in
I()3 rather earlier than I usually do. As I arrix•ed, I was surprised
t‹i see that I was going to have a companion. A bag, very like my
i›ixu i, 1.ij' in th c opposite t'ori1cr, arid there was a stick on the upper
more ct›ins. I i is .thy I crtli. I had helped to be alorie, and I was disappointed; but I
woriclercc4 who my companion was.

51
 in pain,
I) efo re I had been in bed low g, It c ei it crCcl. lH e xwis, 3S far as retur ncd while I was asIce p. C)nce I thought lie cried out
partic rtlarly
I co uld see, a very tall rat an, very thin, very [n,il c, with san fly ha ancl I tolet myself that he was seasick. That is
daylight.
ir and grey eves. He was the sort of rn an you rn i gh t see in unpleasant when one is below. But I slept until early
Wall |jp s|i i p was rolling liiiavily, inuch more th:i n on the evening
$ trcct ra r ‹i t th e Calc Air g,l‹i is, sx It r alxx'ayS scc i us to be al on c; you
to
114.1J$ 1 b 11.1 C C t $1 t 11.1 fi t F$1C EU L t’S , $3 Al t $1 C \V€J II $C) 14 c’VC r 0.3 C ñ F t O $3 window changed in colour with every movement according
C

don ig aii}'th ing th cre eit her. A littl c overdrcssccl — a little strange. cl my head
verv c olcl — cspecially for the month of June. I tu rue
that lt LVES
anet loo kcd at the windocx, and saw to my sur prise
‘Th cm arc th re e o r f o ri r of li is kin tl or i c ver‘} oc ea ii sl i i[a. I
iiiadc up my mi ncl th at I did not svai i t to know hi H i, a net 1 we gry. Then I
the r pper berth.
gon rn , ‹i shut it. As I turned back, I lookecl at
nt to sleep sa; ing to iiiyself that I would stud h is habits iii
The c urtai us arouncl it were pulled close to
order to gether; iTlv
‹I VO1() )I1144 . ) C TO S C CA r y, l Vv’O II) r I S ti J‹I UI‘; I UC \\ C IN t tO P

I.i te, I xx ould to to bed early. I th ‹1 ink t xx isli to kn oxs lii H i. I'oor
eel me in the
114.0.14 ! 1 14 €‘C 1.1 O t I.J\ 0 td DC lJ U4 0 trO t1(3 C t€J 11.10 DC S O 1IU 1J\ s»; I com‹l not srriell the dam[ ness which load annoy
‹ie Us i or is .i l›r› It t I i i i i i . s i ii c’e I i i‹ v r r sany I i i i i i ,i Sa i n a It c r th fli
i npanion w’aS St ill asleep — an excellent opportunity
ght. Nly
and went outside.
at fi rst i i1 flit in 1( J?o. for avoiclin g hini — so I dressed imrnediately
war rn and cloudy, with an oily s well on the water.
I was Sleep ink c4 cc[aly w'he n 1 was suc4dci i l v xvokei i by a 1 The da; Pwrs
onet
noise. To jiirlge from the son nd, wry companion iiiust have
jumped down front the upper be rtli to the fioor in a single
lTloveiiient. I heard h rna trying to open the door; it opened, and
niuc h i zte than I had
then 1 la earcl lms footsteps as lie ra n at mill speed d osv n the It » s scven o’ cloCk as I came out —
I

of
do c tor. \\’lio was ta kin,9 h iS flrst breath
[massage, 1eax'in the door opeii melt i nd li i m. 3’li c sh ip is'as rollitiq9
a little, a net 1 cxpcc ted to hear hi iii fall, taut lie r,in as tliou,uh
he sxcre r urni in p lOr li iS li fe. The tloor c ‹a iitiii ri erd to Ssvi n g
al ready rather fat; he had
r›{aen and SU bit x'it1i th e move rn cut of th c ship, and the son nd ai large iiH n, xx ith Fla ck lia ir ancl 1 ue eyes,
i noyed rue. I got ri p and closed it, and found my’ way lane k to irry
berth in the c4arki i css. 1 ix ci i t to st cc [a aga in: Inti t I h a ’e n‹a i ‹ie 5i nc lr of nirim,’ I S.h cl, by way o I in trod uction.
a h ‹axv long 1 st c pt. caranc e of frie ndly
Well," 1 e said. looking at rue with an app
I don't
)4 C tl I it\\’O kC 1 t \\’0S S t1 0 Fk , Al t l€) t Bill [3) C ‹1 S 0.11 L y t’O tc› sleep
,
0 Bill, IHHH HU US CC71l1[4)ii1 f4tS ttJ )3C 1ll‹l€)C UI C‘ HC X t €J‹ly, UIF
a nd it sc c'i ii c ‹1 to nic th a t thcrc v.is :i eta i u[^ ri css i n t Jr c a i r.
choose in the niost powerful w ords in the language. I could hear
You knoxv tl i e st ra n ge s rn cl1 o I a pla cc th a t has lace n floodc cl
nay c oHi pair ioii th r n over in the u pper hcrth . H e had probably
with sea water. I cc›verccl rrryse If ri[a as well as I co oil d .iml wen t
 oked around, I TOHU CI It J t the window
t noticed it when I went to bed. And my

Damp!‘ said he. ‘Where is it?’

‘ ic hundred and five.’

5
3
 To my surprise the doctor reacted by giving me a quick,
strange look.
‘Wllat is the matter?’ I asked.
‘Oh — nothing,’ he answe red; ‘b lt ever} body has complained
of that rotiin for the last three trips.’
*' ° terril›lc iii.iii, who Doc* out in th rn i‹l‹ll‹ of the night,
and leaves the cloor open.’
A,Q3itâ Uic doctor looked at tire closely. hut IU looked serious.
‘C3icJ he c‘oiri e Mac k?’ h c askeel.
‘Yes. I Was asleep, but I woke up, aritJ hearth miiri rnt›x ing. Then
isten. saint the ‹lc°ctc°r quietly'. ‘1 cloi i’t unit li like this ship, but
I was x'crv rnuc h .srirpr isect at the s u gCStlOtl. I could not
‘You arc very good, l9octor,’ 1 saint ‘hut really I believe even
‘We d‹i not believe in urinlturol events iii our profession, sir,’
he sa ref, ‘btit * *<* i wakes pcopie dci that. I don ’t w, nt tO
frighten you, bUt if you will tqkc my ad •i‹ , .ou › ill no
here. I would rather see you in the sea than know that you or any
other man were sleeping in 1.05.’
‘Good heavens! Why?’ I asked.
‘dust because on the last three trips all the people who have
slept there actually hard gone into the sea,’ he answered.
The iie›vs was siirpr ising and extremely unpleasant, I adniit. 1
looked hard at the doctor to see whether he was joking, but he
seenred perfectly serious. I thanked him warmly for his offer. but
I tolcl mim that I xxas qqoing to be the one man who slept in that
partL-ml or rooi n and dir4 not fall into the sea. He dic4 not say
i i iiic‘h, lvii t lookecJ as seri oris os ever, and he xeerned to think that
be fibre eve reacliec4 the r›t)acr side of th c Atlantic I w’c›rilcJ cli•inge
nil' rni nd.
We went to breakfast, but riot mony passengers were there. I
i iotit eel that or ie r›r tive c›fli‹-crx w Ito brc:i k listed wit)i iis looked
x•ery serious. After the iiieal I went to my roori i to get ii book.
The curtains of the tipper berth were still tightly closed. Not a
›i’orct was to be heard. My corripanion was probably still a5leep.
As I came out, I iiict the steward whose business it was to look
alter me. He whispere‹1 that the captain Eva ntcd to see rite, and
then lie ran off doxx'n the passagc as if he was very anxious to
ax c› irl ,iH›' questions. I found the captu in Eva iting for inc.
‘Sir." lie saicJ, 1 want to :isk if you xx'orild do something for rue.’
I :u iss›'crccJ the t I xx c›ulil Pitt 9rrytlirng lie xx islie‹l.
‘The man who slept in your room,’ he said, has disappeared.
He is kHow'n to have gone to bed early last night. Dic4 you notice
a rryt h i mph stra nle in his iiia n ncr?’
The question, coming after the doctor's words half an hour
earlier, shocked me greatly.
‘You clt›n’t mean to say that he has falleti into the sea?’ I asked.
I leer he has,’ answered the captain.
‘This is most strange ...’ I began.
i,
‘Why?’ he asked.
55
 ‘He is the fourth,’ I explained. In answer to another question companion was ill when he came on board, and perhaps he
front the captain I saic4, without mentioning the doctor, that I had became feverish after he went to bed. He might even now be
hearc4 the story concerning 105. He seemed very much annoyed lai ding somewhere on board, and might be found later. The room
at hearing that I knew of it. I told him what had ha[apened in the oup;ht to be cleaned, and the lock on the window ought to be
night. mended. I askec4 the captain's permission to have these things
What you say,’ he replicd, is almost exactly the sauce as what c4one.
‘(){’ t t tjr$t• yi tl ave a rinit t to stay w14crc y‹i i i are i f you
h
w.is t‹›1c) i i i c by the c‹n i ipan in its ‹af two I› i th c otli c r tl me e. T
Hey j u i run out of 1 ccl ai ic4 rtiti dow n th c {mass.its. 3fi'‹a of th em pl‹ ,i ‹c,’ li re.p1ie‹l; tout 1 wish yotl YVOtIltj ljjOvc S‹›i iicwlicrc else,
were seen to fall into the sea; we stoppers an cl lowcrecl boats, but and let me lock the place up.’
they were n o t foti nil. l)tit nobody saw o r heard th e n ian xv lio was 1 coulc4 not agree, ,net 1 went away after prorrhsin,g to tic silent
during
I ost last nigh t — if lie really is lost. The stewarc4, who perhaps concerning the man's disappearance. He was not missed
doctor again,
expcctec4 something to go wrong. went to hook for mini this th c course of the day. Towards evening I met the
I told him I
morning and founts his berth eiiipty. His clothes were lying about, and lie asked me whether I had changed my mind.
just as he had left the iii. The steward xxas the only man on had not.
board who knew him by sight, and he has been looking everywhere ‘You soon will,’ he ‹n id, very seriously.
for him. He has disappeared! Now, sir, I want to beg you not to
cards in the cveii ing, and I went to bed late. 1 will
mention
this to ally of the passengers; I don’t want the ship to get a bad
name. You can choose any one of the officers’ rooirrs you like, We played
brin lit now that I hall an unpleasant feeling whcn I
ink ludinp riiy oxvi i, for the rest o I t li c ]c› u rn cv. 1s t hat lair?' entered my
seen the
I had
r‹ioiii. I COiil‹4 not help thinking of the tall man
‘Very,’ said I; ‘ai id I thank you very rrruc li. Hut now 1 have that
dead. His face appeared
ro‹»u to irryse lf and ant alone there; so I w oulcl rather not move. night before, who ›vaS how drosvnec4 and
( t) IC S tC\V0 F€J W’ l $) t COC O II t UJ it Al HMU F t Bill EU Hi.11 ‘S t JJ 11.1 , loc kcd the door. Suddenly
c iearly in front of rue as I undressed. I and
that the wint4ow was open, hooked back. ThlS was
woul d like to stay where 1 am. I will not say anyt hing about the I n‹›t ‹ cd
matter, and I think I can prom ise you that I will not follow my my
Robert,hint
» re than 1 cotilc4 bear. I went out in search of I
found
comJ›anion.’
stew.ird. I w,s ppy angry, I remember, anc4 when I
The captain argtiec4 with rue; but I preferred to be alonc in my pushed hint towards
c4rapged him roughly to the doOr of 105, and
room. I f I rncved, I would have to share a room with an officer. I the open window.
do not know whether I acted foolishly, but if I had taken his ‘What do you mean by leaving that window open every
at4vice, I would have nothing more to tell.
night? lOon’t you know that it's against the rules? Don't you
But that was not the end of the matter. I made tip my mind began to come in, ten
know that if the ship rolled and the water
that I wo ti I d not be upset by stic h stori cs. I tot ‹1 tl ie capta in th at ion could not shut it? I will report you to the captain for placing
there was son ictli ing wrong with the room i. It was rather dairip. my th c sh ip in ii us
The w inc4ow h act lace n left open last i right. I°erhaps changer!’ extrciiicl
y ali try. The man
tremble‹J and th rnec4 pale,

57
 and then laegan to shut the round iFldOW wit li t he heavy metal
screw. and I should certainly have been woken by the fall if I had been
‘Why don't you answer me?’ f demanded. asleep. There were marks on my body on the following morning
‘If you please, sir,’ said Robert, ‘there's nobody to prove that I had fallen. The window was wide open and
on board that hoc ked back: a thing so difficult to explain that I remember very
can keep th is window sh ut at n ight. Yoti
try it yori rself, st r. ix cll feeling shock rather than fear when I discovered it. I
can I O11pt•r, sir. Ibut if I i i i i i i ie ‹li:itc ly c losccl it aha i n a n tl t ur n cd the sc re w with all
my
\\’itl4 the do etc r,
strew it li . I t win very clark in the rooi n.
sir. LoOk, sir. Is that l1t1 I Sa fely, ‹l‹a y‹ u th in k. sir? Try it, sir, a nc4
I cl ccic)e d to svat cla th c wi ndow tti sec Lvl i ctli cr it ivti rilcJ open
see if it will n ir» c .
. .i i i i. Th c in etal sc rew was very heavy a n c) n ct at .i11 c:isy to tu rn;
l c:‹aulci not l›cliex e that it had been turned by the shaking of the
‘Well, sir,’ continued Robert, i*1 h8II ai1 li tour it will tae opeii slii{a’s engines. I stood there looking out at thc sea: I must have
that’S t}i e tcrri fal e th i1jd — hooked rc•i n. i ri ed t h ere fear a quarter of an liou r.
Siidde nly, as I stood, I heard something mowing behind me in
I exarninec4 the yreat screw.
one r›f the berths, and a moment afterwards I heard a faint cry of
If I find it open in the night, Robert, I ›x’‹II give ou a pound.
pain. I ran across the rooms and pul)ed the curtains of the upper
It is not possible.You may go.’
be rth a part, pushing my lia rids in to discover if there was anyone
A JO tllltJ, lit) t'm ti say, s i r ? , Vue ory ocl, sir.
Th, ii k you , sir. t lie re. Th cre was someone.
Good I re inc n ibcr that the feeling as I put my hands forward was as
ikobert liurFjt d axvav, glad to gp tl i owl Eli I we re push ii i g th em i nto damp air; a nd troi ii bch ind
r <''' 1 St‘ I di6 not believe the c u rt:i i us ca ii ie a cvi i i c4 th at sniellecJ strongly of seawater. I got
hIITI. The resiilt was that he go t 14 Is n iOi i c;: ,I11 t1 I S t 14.1 fl hold or son ietli ink that had the shape of a rn an’s ar rn, but was
st ran ge lv
smooth,
:in‹l w‹ I, a nd ir v colcL Ii ut sudden ly, as I pullc‹l, the creature
i i i o c‹l viol ci itl y ttirw'ard against n ie, li cavy :i nd wet, but
door. I lav
urlnqturall y strong. I tell back; and iH a moment the door opened
found that in1[ ossible. I was no longer sleepy, and I la
y aWake for an ct the thing rushed out. I had not had time to be frigh tened,
o me time, son eti nlCs Ioo king at the cvi nc4osx; I could just a net I ran through the door and followed at top speed. Dut I was
sx'hich
see fro rri where I lay. I beheve I iriusi haVy la i ii the
re for an hour; too late. line metres in front of me I could see — I ana sure I saw
and, as I reuse rnber, I was j ust going of into sleep when I ca› it — a dark shadow moving along the badly lightc d passage. Dut in
woken by a cti rrcnt of cold air. I also
ftlt SOilie drops of salt water a rn or ment it had disappeared. I shook from head to toe. 1 am not
blown ccii i ii ldCc. I jumped up; bri t
of the ship
UI}' kn ees.
:is hai i i ed of it ut all: I was badly
frightened.
St ill I doul ted my senses:
perhaps it was a bad dream caused
I› You rattling I had eaten. I event
back to the roon i and entered it ix it
li a ii effort. The xvli ole place
sincllccJ of sea water, as it had

5
9
 the window was open
which I h fl/ never felt aga in, a nd a tcrr idle fear came over me if the rest had bccn a dream. I had closed it twice iii the night.
‘Y‹iu seem to think I may doubt the story,’ said the doctor,

the before nor wish to feel ap. ir1.I exa

rninecl
up[oer berth and expected to find it d.i snarling at the detailed account of the state of the winclow. ‘I do
»p \Vi IU Seawater.
tlt I fi as disappointed. The bCd had be en not doul t it in the least. I invite you again. J3ri tip yc ur luggage
slept in, and the here and share nay room with inc.’
smell of the sea was strong; but the bedclotli es were as dry as a Come anet share mine for oiie night,’ I said. ‘ Hcl[ rue to solve
bone. I thought perhaps that R/ 9Crt had l4Ot lJfld the
make the bed after the accident the night before — it courage to this mystery.’
liaci all just
been a very bad dream. I p ulled th e c tirtains I ac k as far as IN you stay there, you'll end up in the sea,’ s:rid he.
I could
ance examined the place carefully. It i› as perfectly I9o you really believe it is a ghost?’ I inquired w ith a laugh.
dry. But the But as I spoke, I remembered very well the feelings that load filled
ivinclo›v xi his open shain. In a state of confuS
lOiJ , I closed it and
me in the night. The doctor turned sharply on me.
screive d it ‹town: I used a hears' stlCk to
tu rn the screw and ‘LIave you any reasonable explanation of these things to other?’
* rcssed with all rug' stre n9th £lnti l thC thick i
net:i1 befan to bend
he asked. ‘No, you leave not. Well, you say you will find an
thert .Ill 1Ji,oht, unable to fl t all. l)u t the window it ii ou Jet iiow op cH aya i ri
explanation. I say that you won't, sir, simply because there is
none.’
l)ut, my dear sir,’ I replied, ‘do you, as a man of science, mean
to tell me that .such thing cannot be explained?’
I cJo,’ he answcrecJ. ‘And if they could, I would not be
clax, a n c4 intc rested in the cx[alanatio n.’
i cut Outside. .Fla cl to get iiito th c card y, purc I did not wish to s[ end another night alone in that place, but 1
' su usliine. d Ilc) to sii ielf the a ir froi ri th c 61iet \\ .I tCF, .so
cliffere nt was deterrnineci to fincl the cause of the strange even ts. I do not
I clieve the re are many men who would have slept there alone,
" °''ti› "'';°'i g th" "''j'' t «. '. ñ e d,› 6‹iore
after passing two such nights. But I decided to try it if I could not
get :inyoiie to share with me. The doctor did not want to join
me, and he informed rue thot there was no one on board who
would be likely to join ri ie.
A little later I met the captain and told him nay story.
‘ Listen,’ he said. ‘I will tell you what I will do. I will share your
No, than ks.’ I cried. ‘But I \\ ould like to tell von whit
watch myself, and we will see what happens. It is my belief that
hap[ enerL’
we can solve this mystery together. There may be someone

place, and I added that I had been frigh ten ed never hiding on board, who travels free by frigh tening the passengers.’
in my like I was very pleased by the captain’s other to spend the night
before. I rnentionerl the min cloxv par ticiila rly; th at was
a fact, DVD lj ix ith rrle. He sent for a w cork man and ordered him to do anything
 I wanted. We event below imniecliatelv. I hack all the bedclothes
Sc we wen t below' ated entered the room. Robert watched us
as \\ €' WC n t ii I as tl io ti Al i h c were cer tai ii tl iat som i ctl ii ti g tc rr
thoroughly to see if there was a board loose atiyxvhere, or part of
ible ‘.1.$ . Lit to leap pe n. The captain close d th c d‹aor be liind us
the wall o hich could be opened or pushed apart. We cxanii ited
and
the floor and took the lower berth to pieces. Iia fact there was mo
lockers it.
part of the ro‹ in which was not searched anal tests c3. Ei crything
Lr t us put your bag in front of the door,’ lie su{igested. ‘One
mas its pcrfe‹ t orc3er an d we put evcryth ing b.tel in its {›lo ce. As
r›t us cu ii sit on it. both ing ca n ,get out then. Is the window
Ave is ere fin ish i rig o iir ix‘OFk. INolaert ‹-an ie to the floor a nd
sr‘rc'xx’ccl closv i i?’
looked in.
1 f‹ uii cl it as l had left it in the niorning. Iii I:ic t, without usr ng
‘ C’ ) . II' 111 tJ ;i i iy t h i n , $ j p ’ ] b• t t{
sc› i i ie kin cl o f metal luar or hnavy str ck, as I had doi ie, no one
‘Y‹ui ›i era rill i t ,i loo u t th ‹’ ii i iiclear›, jI ‹,Inc rt ’ 1 sa ill. a i ill J
c'o t i I cl li,i› c ma c iic cl it. l [full ccl tea ‹ L tl ie t ti rta i ns c› f thc u
¿t hiiH the pre ni isecl iiioney. T hen the 4 ork rn an spoke.
pper loci t I i so If i at I c c› ti l‹t sec we11 iii tc it. The c.ipt.i in s.it or i
It's my laelief. sir,’ he said. ‘that you’d l›ette r move, anti let inc
the flag, an cl .i skccJ nic tc› searcIi the n› one t horotigl i I y. I his
lock the roorn up by putting sonic long screws throii,(h the door.
was soon c4oi ie.
Four lives have been lost out of here, and in four trips. Better give
‘ 1 t is ink possibal e for any h urnan being to get iii,’ I sa i‹J, ‘or for
it up, sir — better give it u p!’
a nv human being to open the window.’
‘I w'ill tr it for one more ia ight,’ I said.
‘Very good,’ said the captain calmly. ‘If we see anything now, it
iiinet be either ina agination or sonaeth ing inh uma n and
My spirits had risen at tl ie thougli t pp lia i.iii g t| p¿$¿q, ', ri ii ii.it iini1.’
ie
coiiipaliy, a nd I iilacJe ri p my nii n c3 not to be prevcnted front tornorro›x an c3 the next day. Are } o ii ready ?’
.0etti ng tO thG b ottoiii oI t lie Stra i i be [ tiei Hc ss.

A t •ib‹›ut ten o’‹’lock t hat evening, as I » as lij iii j |,ist en ioke,

)l I‘ ca ii ie U tO lllC fi11 C] tOOk jq j p tO o ne $j ¿
ThiS is . serio us rilatter, M r (i risCan e,’ h c saill. ‘We s ha11 either
tae disappoin tec3, or have a rough tiir e. I c a nnot la tigh at th e
aft a ir, arich I will ask you to sign you r na liie to a state ruen t o
f
whatever hap[›e us. If nothing happe ns ton tilt t, i\’e w'ill try again
 I sat cloii n on the edge of the lower berth.
Tl i c flrat tin ie it h:ip|acn ctl,’ sa ifl th c casa ta in,
was iii M arch. d 1 i c' {›,iSSL ii,per iv la c SI c[i r hc re , in the
tippc r bc rtli . th r i i c d out to Inc a rna ‹Jr ii.i ii . I Ie rIt sl
iccl o u t in the iii icJcll c o f tl ic ii Uh t and
t I i rt » I i i i i isc1.1 i i ito tl ie sc a ldc Lt› re a iiyc nc c c› tiled sts{› I i
i i i i ,’
‘ I sti[ [rose t li.it of ten li a{› pen s,’ I so ir4.
M o t often — no. Mever be lore in wry cxpcriciice,
tho ugh I h.we Ii care) of it happci i ing o n board other
slur ps. C)n the very i i c xt trip— WU at arc you Ioo k iiig
at?’ he askeel si«lcleHl y.
I believe I have no answer. My eyes were fixed on the
window.
I t seemed to me that the iiietal screw was begin nin g to
turn very slowly — so slowly th at I was not sure it
moved at all. Seeing where I was looking, the captain
looked too.
It's naov ing!’ he win ispered. ‘No, it isn't,’ he a
ddcd after a
n iii itite.
 I rose ancl tried it. I t was certainly
loosenecJ; \x ith an ef ort I in rrry hands. It was like the body of a man long drowned, but it
Could iTlO e It U0th my hands.
moved and had the strength of ten living men. 1 held it with all
‘The stran be t hitsg,’ said the captain, is that the seCon d man my force — the slippery, wet, terrible thing. The dead white eyes
who W3S lOSt iS supposed to have got out th rough t seeiced to look at me otit Of the darkness; the smell of seawater
hat same
window. I t was in the middle of the night, and
the even ther was was .all around it, and the shiny hair hung in wet curls over its
v'ery heavy. I t S S3id that on e o I the xvincioivs wfis Open a nd
the cieoci face. I fought with the thing; it forced me back and nearly
sea was
and the br‹ake ii rr ariris. I t threw its ar rue arou nd my neck. Fin ally I fell.
It Uh wiped across me and seemed to throw itself on the captain.
Wit cii I last saw hii n on his feet, his face was white and his lips
ressc‹l tigli tly together. It see need to me that he struck the thing
violently, and then he, too, fell forward on his face with a cry.
T he thing paused for a moment; but I could not cry out,
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘The place lrlust be damp; but when we
exa mined because I had no voice left. The thing disappeared suddenly and
it this morning, everything was perfects v clr : I t
is Il4Ost .strange. it se eiued to me that it went out through the open window; but
how th at was possible, through such a small opening, is more
The
than anyone can te11. I lay on the Ooor for a long time, and the
lamp in the passage outside. The ship rolled heartily,
and the curtain captain lay besible me. At last I moved, and I knew immediately
th at irw left arm was broken.
I «r t tc ii iv feet, and) ii ith wry re rnaining hand I tr ied to raise
the captain. At last he moved; he was not hurt, but he seemed
li.ii‘dl; r‘onscioris
t rirn a
up the
ring and
Well, cl o you w'an t to hear any rn ore? There is nothing whore.
broke S ticldeti 1\’ and I fell down . W It en I rose a y aw
II , the \s i Fldow
That is the end of rriy story. Long screws we re put through the
door of I t)?o; an cJ if ever you want to travel in that room, you will
against the door, pale to the hps.
be told that it is not free.
‘There is sorneth ing in that berth!’ he cried
in a strange voice, I finished the trip in the doctor's room. He took care of my
his eyes a hnost ju niki rig out of his he,d. the door while I broken arrii and told tire not to play with ghosts again. The
‘Hold
lOOk — it w-ill not escape us, xx hated er it is!’ captain was very silent, and never sailed in that ship again, though
she is still ru nning. An d I will not sail in her either. lt was a very
unp lcasan t cxperie me. arid I was xe ry badly fri,9htenec4. That is
a1.1 . T hat is hoxx’ I sash :i dliost — iF it was a g most.

My Bank Account .Steplicn mrnrh
1ti11 €3 i 11 t O i1 8 tJ k C t If 1 $J t C t4 C . 4 C‘ C C r S /f 1
the cJcsks Mr igh ten rue; th e hgh t of th c iH oiiey frilh tens me;
ever y t hii ig Sri bhte us na c.Th e momen t I pass th rou dli the decors
of a ban k a rrel attcii ipt t‹ d‹ bum n ess t li crc, I be con ie an
irresponsible fool.
I ki ten' this bcfore, but n iy salary had been raisec4 to fifty
dollars a month and I felt that the ba nk was tlic only pla ce for it.
So I walked unsteaclily in and looked round at the clerks with
fear. I had an idea thot a person who was about to open an
account run st wee essar ily speak to the manager.
I went up to a desk marked “Accountant”. The accountant
wax a tall, coHfi dent devil. T he very sigh t of lii m fri,elite net
rite. My voice sounded as if it canoe from the giravc.
‘Can I sc c the iii‹i na er?’ I sa i ‹1, a ncl ad‹lc ‹1, ‘Al on c.’ I do n't
know w liy I Lai c4 ‘.i lone’.
‘(?crt,i i n ly,’ s,i i‹I t he a cc‹th rite tit, :u tel 1 r‹›ti‹ylit li i ii i.
)I C 11.1.111.1 C‘ r \VflS .1 C 0 IH , S ti I i O tls 111.0 t I . (
TO fl US , YCS S C’ C) t t) Qtr t h C r 1 Al ‹1 fl ) , IU IN y }3 t3C t‘ t .
‘Arc \’oti the n Manager?’ I sa id. Goc4 kii‹ixvs, I di‹Jn’t ‹ltiu bt it.
‘Yes,’ he sJ id.
‘Can I see you,’ I asked, ‘alone?’ I diclia’t want to say ‘alone’
again, but without th is word the question seemed senseless.
The rnana,eer looked at me with sorue an x iety. He felt that I
hacl a tcrr ible secret to tell.
‘C‹iii ie iii here,’ li c sai c4, ari cl ie cl th c sva\' t‹› a )›r ivatc mon i. He
termed the key in the lock.
‘We arc safe front inte rrupti on li cre,’ lie sa id. ‘Sit clown.’
We both sat down and looked at ea ch other. I was speechless.
I did not k now w hat to say next.
‘You are one of Pinkerton's* detectives, I suppose,’ he said.
My mysterious manner had made him think that I was a
detective. I knew what he was thinking, and it made me worse.
No, not from Pin ke rton's,’ I said, seeruing to meon that I was a
4 t C IN 111 C ; ‹) c tt c tive ln ut was n r t fr‹a i H I°ii i ker ton ‘s.
‘To tcll the truth,’ I w cHt on, as if soiiieonc hac4 urged me to
tell licks shout it, I :ini not a detective at all. I have coil ie to open
a i i ac coii ii t. I i ntcnt to kccp all rrry money in th is flank.’
The manager looked relieved but still serious; he felt sure now
that I w'as a very r ic h man, perhaps a member of the Rothschild
fa rn ill:
‘A large account, I suppose,’ he said.
Fa irly large,’ I whispered. ‘I intend to place in this bank the
sum of fifty-six dollars now and fifty dollars a month regularly.’
He got up, opened the door and called to the accountant.
‘ Mr Montgorne ry,' he said, in an unkindly loud voice, ‘this
gc ntlernan is openin p on account. He will place fifty-six dollars
iH it. Cood rnor ning.’
I sts od tip.
A dig i ro 1 i floor st‹a otl o|a en at th c sill c ca I the re ‹a i ii .
4 C) t) 141y EU’- S i X (›o od rn or nin g,’ I sa id, a ii d w al kec4 into th c safe.
‘( ca rn c o tit,’ sa i‹4 th e i n ate a per c oleh y, a n t1 [a oin tcc4 rn e in the
clirecti‹ n of a sec ond door.
1 went up to the accountant's desk and pushed the ball of
iiioHc› at him with a quick, sudden movement as if I were
performing a sort of trick. My face was terribly pale.
Here,’ I said, ‘put it in my account.’ The sound of my voice
scented to mean, ‘Let us do this painful thing while we still feel
th at ss'c wa H t to do it.’
He took the money ated gave it to atiother clerk.
f4 c iii a de me write the sum on o p iece of paper a n CI sign my
*]' i i i kc rtrin's: a \v-cl 1- k no\x'n A 1 ii r•r i can fi rtri of detectiv'es.
67
name in a book. I no longer knew what I was doing. The bank
Anet the six?’ he asked coldly.
seemed to swim before try eyes.
In six-dollar notes,’ I saicl.
‘Is it in the account?’ I asked its a hollow, sli, kite g voice.
He gave me six clollars ancl I rushed out.
It is,’ said the accountant.
As the big door sprung behind rite I heard the sound of
lan Ah ter r ising to the cerm iJp Of the ba ii k. Si nce theri I i o
Then I wan t to writc a clicqu c.’
My idea w'as to take out six dollars of it for my present use. longer use a bank. I keep my iiioney in my trouser pocket
Someone gave rue a chequebook and someone else began telling and my
roe how to write it out. The people in the ban k treated rue like a savings in silver dollars in a sock.
man who owned millions of dollars, but was unwell. I wrote
sotiiething on the cheque and pushed it towards the clerk. He
looked at it.
‘W h at! Are you taking it all out again?’ lie asked in surprise.
Then I realized that I had written fifty-six dollars instead of six. I
was too up.set to explain my mistake. All the clerks had stopped
writing to look at rue.
I had to make a decision.
‘Yes, the whole thing.’
‘Yo u xv ish to ta ke you r mon cy out ‹af th c ba n k?’
Eve ry c cut o I it.’
‘Are you not going to put any more in tlit account?’ sairl the
clerk, stir pr isc d.
‘Never.’
A for fish hope came to me that they lrllglat think something
had offended me xs‘hile I was writing the cheque and that I had
changed my' rninrl. I made a useless atternyit to look like a man
with ai i extremely quick tern per.
The clerk prepared to pay the money.
‘How will you have it?’ he said.
‘What?’
‘How will you have it?’
‘Oh — I unde rstood his meaning and ai iswered without even
thinking about it — ‘in fifty-dollar notes.’
He gave are a fifty-dollar note.
 ACTIVITIES Mabel

Belore you read

Silas The Good meet again and
5 In this story, a man and his girlfriend are about to
marry after a seven-year period of separation. How do you think
Before you read
1 The main character, Silas, is a 7t)
gravedigger. a Where do you think he
works?
b How does he spend the day when he is working?
c Whaf are the advantages and disadvantages of the job?
2 Check the meaning of the word to/y in your dictionary. What kind
of things would you describe as hold.

After you read

3 Complete the text with information from the story.
One day Silas is ............ a grave in the................After eating his
" ............ and drinking from a ° ............ he falls ” ...... at the
bottom of the grave. He................up when a strange woman
7
............ him for drinking alcohol on..................ground. Silas tells
her that he is drinking cold.................and offers her some. After
’0 .......... . drinks, the woman leaves and catches a "...............She
smells of '*..............and her behaviour shows that she is

4 Tell the story from the point of view of the woman, as she gives an
account of her visit to the churchyard to a friend the next day.
 they are feeling? Why?
6 Find these words in your dictionary:
cart consul reliel telegram
Which word means:
a a form of transport? b an emotion?
c a government employee? d a type of message?
7 Complete each sentence with one of the new words from
Exercise 6.
a The old woman read the..............and then fainted.
b The boys threw the corn into the ............ and
drove to
the market.
c The..............explained how to get a visa for France.
d The students felt a great ..... ...... when they
passed their
final test.

Aher you read.'

8 Explain:
a why George does not meet Mabel
from the ship. b Mabel's reaction to
GEorge's first letter.
c what George then tries to do.
d Mabel's reaction to what George is trying to do.
e how the story told by the secretary of the club ends.
9 Act out a conversation between George and Mabel in
Cheng-tu, in
which they try to explain their behaviour and their
feelings.

7
1
The Barber's Uncle
The Rocking-Horse Winner
Before you read
Before you read
Find the word barber in your dictionary. How would you translate in your dictionary:
13 Check the meanings of these words
10

barber into your language?

rocking-horse shilling
Answer these questions about barbers in yo‹Jr country. Which word would you find in:
shop?
a What is the main part of a barber's job? a a bank? b a children's toy
b Are all darDers men? Match the words to these verbs:
c Are all their customers boys or men? c ride d spend
d What other services do Barbers offer?
e What products do they sell? After you read
14 Explain:
After you read a why Paul's mother is so
dissatisfied.
b how Paul first learns about
horse racing.
11 Answer the questions.
c how he finds the secret
of luck.
a Where are the main characters in the story from?
d the effects Of his betting.
b What makes the boy go to a barber at last?
e his mother's reaction to the
news that she will receive regular
c What were the only two jobs Uncle Misak had during his life?
d How and where did he die? sums of money.
seaside.
e Does the boy enjoy his visit to the barber's? Why? f why P tul does not want to go to the
12 The writer says of Uncle Misak's story that it is: ‘The sad story of g how his mother's view of life changes.
every man alive.’ Discuss what you think he might mean by this. child? Could his death
1s Why do you think Paul is such a strange
Do you agree? have been prevented?

7? 73
Springtime on the Menu The Open Window
Before you read Before you read
16 Read this sentence from the story: get rid of an unwelcome
20 What would OU do if you wanted to
‘Sarah was crying over the menu.' you:
visitor? List ways of dealing with people that
a Where do you think Sarah is at the time? a know well.
b What explanation might there be for her tears? b do not know well.
Think of three adjectives that
21 Find the word bog in your dictionary.
17 Find these words in your dictionary. They are both things that you we can use to describe a bog.
can eat.
Aher you read
dandelion oyster What is, or is said to be:
22
Write O for oyster or D for dandelion beside each piece n r ?
a the reason for Framton's move to the cou
of information. b Mrs Sappleton's great
a Lives in the sea d Has leaves sorrow? c typical male
b Grows in a garden e Can produce a small behaviour?
c Can be used to white stone
d the cause of Framton's flight from the house?
make a type of tea f Has a shell
e the reason for Framton's fear of
After you read dogs? Which of these are probably
18 How are these events important to the development of the true?
describe:
story? a Sarah stays on a farm. 23 Discuss adjectives that might be used to
b Sarah moves house. a Framton Nuttel.
b Vera.
c Sarah shows a typewritten menu to a restaurant
manager. d Spring arrives.
e A dandelion dish appears on the restaurant menu.
19 Act out the conversation between Walter and Mr Schulenberg
after Walter has drawn the manager's attention to the strange
dish on the menu.
75
 The Income-Tax Man
The Upper Berth
Before you read
24 What taxes are paid in your country? Before you read
What questions are people
asked before they pay tax on their incom ? 28 Find the words in italics in your dictionary. Answer the questions
25 e
Find the word assessor in about these definitions.
your dictionary. It's in the story, An a A berth is a bed on a ship or a train.
assessor is a person whose jOb
iS to check someone's earnings
tax purposes. How do people usually feel around assessors? Have you ever slept in a berth on a ship or a
for train? Describe a berth if you have seen one.
After you read b Damp means slightly wet.
26
Whal is: When is grass damp? When is your hair damp? When does
a the Daily Warwhoop? your house feel damp?
b The Innocents Abroad? c A steward is a person who serves passengers on a ship, plane,
c a tax allowance? train, etc. What would you expect a steward to do for
d the main character's income for the passengers?
year? e the writer's final tax bill?
27
Imagine an informal conversation about the payment of After you read

between theInassessor and the taxes 29 Who or what is Brisbane talking about? Explain his remarks.
no income. wealthy man who appears to have a ‘I cannot think ot anything in the world which would make me

viewpoint. pairs, play one of the characters and argue

your travel on her again.’
b ‘But I was wrong, and unfair to the man.’
c ‘. . I never saw him again after that first night
d ‘The metal screw was very heavy and not at all easy to turn ...’
e ‘Everything was in perfect order .
f ‘It was like the body of a man long drowned
30 Tell Brisbane's story from the point of view of the doctor.
My Bank Account
Writing
Before you read 35 Choose one of the stories and explain why you did or did not
31 Describe how bank accounts are opened in your country. How do enjoy it.
you then put money in or take it out? 36 Compare George and Mabel's relationship with Sarah and
32 Find the word accountant in your dictionary. Walter's.
a If you want to be an accountant, what subjects 37 Give an account of the experiences of the main characters in ‘The
should you study at school? Income-Tax Man’ and ‘My Bank Account’. How much sympathy do
b What does an accountant's job involve? you feel for them?
38 What effects do the lies of Silas and young Vera have on their
After you read
listeners? What would have happened in each case if they had not
33 Explain why:
lied?
a the customer has come to the bank.
39 Describe the personality of either Paul in ‘The Rocking-Horse
b the bank manager takes his customer into a private
Winner’ or Brisbane in ‘The Upper Berth’.
room. c the bank manager soon shows him out of the room
40 Retell the Story of Uncle Misak, the barber's uncle, in your own
again. d the customer writes a cheque.
words. Do you agree with the storyteller that it is ‘the sad story of
e his account is closed again.
every man alive’?
34 Discuss why the customer might have found his visit to the bank
so frightening. Do you share or understand his feelings?

78