Chapter XIV

Little Dot— A Catastrophe

THE household atmosphere was thick and uncomfortable during many days. Pattie heard nothing of that late Sunday evening talk, for Cragg would not complain to her of his wife, and Mrs. Cragg felt that she would gain little by repeating what had passed; but there was a general sense of strain. Cragg had become grave and silent; Mrs. Cragg was much out of temper; and Pattie found skill needed to steer straight. But for little Dot's devotion to herself, she would have felt the condition of things unbearable.

Nearly a week later Cragg, meeting her on the stairs, stopped to say:

"If you are still bent on leaving us, Pattie, I shall not hinder you."

Pattie again thought that the tone meant annoyance. She looked up with moist eyes.

"I don't think you understand."

"Yes, I do. I understand—better than I did last Sunday evening. I'm not surprised that you wish to go. And I have no right to prevent it—if I could. I will help you all I can. Not that I like you to go; but I can say nothing."

Pattie knew then that, in one way or another, the truth had reached him. She was glad and sorry; glad that Mrs. Cragg should have told him, if indeed she had done so; and sorry that he should be distressed.

"But I do not mean that I am in a great hurry," she said. "I do not want to go directly. Perhaps I shall not hear of anything to do for a long while. It is only that in time I ought,—I cannot go on being dependent. And you know this is not a new thought. Ever since I came I have said that it was only for a time."

"Yes, I know. But now—it's natural you should wish it more."

What could Pattie say? She could not deny the truth of his words.

Cragg sighed and passed on. To an upright man, it is a terrible feeling that he cannot trust his own wife, that she has not even so far the sense of honesty as to be ashamed of her own meanness when she has acted meanly.

He went to the room where he carried on his correspondence. He managed to get three business letters done, and then he lost himself in thought. A boy came in, bringing letters just arrived. Several were unimportant, containing orders or inquiries connected with his stock of furniture. But one brought an exclamation to his lips. It was a bill!—and one that he did not at all expect. A long bill, too, weighty in its sum-total. Cragg glanced at the name heading the first sheet. He knew it as that of a large linen-draper in a neighbouring town. His wife often went there for her shopping. Being aware of her extravagant tendencies, he had always insisted that she should pay ready money for what she bought, except in the case of two or three specified Putworth shops, from which quarterly accounts came in.

More than once in the past Mrs. Cragg had broken this rule. She had not done so lately, to his knowledge. He had had to complain of the extent of her Putworth bills; but he thought they comprised the whole of her expenses. Now he knew his mistake. Here were two long pages of items, ranging through twelve months past. The sum-total was startling. Troubles were already crowding upon him, and he could hardly see how to meet his liabilities. He put the paper down, and groaned aloud. Then he examined it afresh. Evidently it had been sent to Mrs. Cragg, and sent in vain. The draper, despairing of getting payment for his goods from her, had decided on an appeal to her husband.

Cragg knew that he would have to pay it.

He could not let his wife remain in debt. Yet—how to spare the money?

A feeling of indignation swept over him. The manner in which she had behaved to Pattie made it harder for him to meet this patiently. The wife who should have been his help and stay was becoming a clog and a burden; something to be endured, instead of some one to be loved. And it was her own fault. Cragg wished to be a good husband. He had borne much patiently. Things now were getting beyond bearing.

He stood up, sheet in hand, and walked to the sitting-room, where Mrs. Cragg was generally to be found. She was there, and so was Dot.

"Dadda!" shrieked Dot in rapture.

Cragg took her up, kissed her, and said: "Run away, my pet."

"What's she to run away for?"

"I want a few words with you."

"If you're going to grumble, I'd rather not. Dot can stay."

"I must have a few words with you," repeated Cragg, his manner unusually stern. "Run away, Dot darling."

"All wite, dadda." Dot trotted off.

"I want you to explain this bill to me." Cragg did not say "my dear." He was surprised and alarmed at his own resentment-a resentment piled up by one thing upon another. It was half for Pattie, half for himself, and it was increased by the sense of his wife's falsity.

Mrs. Cragg looked at the sheet which he laid before her, and, as usual, hardened herself.

"They'd no business to send that to you."

"Where did you expect them to send it? How do you suppose you are going to pay it?"

Mrs. Cragg tossed her head.

"I shall pay it in time—of course."

"There is no 'of course' in the matter. The money that I allow you is never enough for immediate wants."

"Then you'd better allow me more."

"I cannot afford it. I am on the high-road to beggary."

"You're uncommon fond of talking nonsense, Mr. Cragg."

"I am speaking sober truth. At this rate I shall soon be bankrupt."

Mrs. Cragg declined to believe what he said. She took up the bill and glanced it through.

"Those people are cheats. I don't believe it ought to be a quarter as much."

"You mean that you have not had the things?"

"I had some, of course. Not all that list."

"Find something in the bill that you have not had, and I will make complaint."

"Really, Mr. Cragg, I didn't marry you to be kept in as close as this, and lectured as if I was a school-girl. And I don't mean to bear it. You've been worse than ever since Pattie came—and that's the truth."

"I shall have to be worse," Cragg answered coldly. "I cannot afford this sort of thing, and that's the long and short of the matter. If you run into debt, you must manage for yourself. But it's no use speaking to you. You don't choose to understand." And he left the room as Pattie came in.

"Has anything happened?" she asked. "Mr. Cragg looks—"

"He's in a temper," said Mrs. Cragg.

Pattie's lips formed a mute protest. If Mrs. Cragg had said, "I am in a temper," nobody would have questioned it.

"I came to find Dot," remarked Pattie, knowing it was useless to carry on any discussion with Mrs. Cragg. "Do you know where she is?"

"How should I know? Mr. Cragg sent her away."

A shrill cry was followed by a dull thud; and then scream after scream filled the air.