He often meets a fellow that knew us when we had the hotel, and
he gets a beer or two out of him."
"Oh, I am sorry, Mrs. King," began Marcella, but Mrs. King laughed a
little harshly.
"I don't mind so much now, kid--got past it. So long as my back don't
trouble me too much. The boys are very good to me--they put him to bed
if he's dead drunk. If he isn't dead drunk I won't sleep with him,
because he's always forward and vulgar when he's only half there. Then
he haves to sleep on the sofa in the dining-room. Next day he gets up
and cleans the grates and scrubs for me. If he didn't he wouldn't get
any money out of me--and well he knows it."
"But do you give him money for drink?"
"Yes. But not till he's done his scrubbing. You see, being in the hotel
business all his life, he can't get started of a morning till he's had a
dog's hair. So he'll scrub all three storeys down for thruppence. When
he's had one drink, and is safe inside a hotel, he's got sauce enough to
raise drinks out of anyone. But you know, whenever there's a new chum
about that he can get thruppence out of, it's poor Ma for the scrubbing.
And my back's just as bad as bad can be!"
The fire was not very bright. Marcella wished Louis's chops would cook
more quickly. She wanted to get upstairs.
"It's dreadful being married to a man like that," said Marcella.
Pages:
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340