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Eliza’s Mother
by
When I returned from the city I found that Eliza had purchased a small white vase for one-and-ten. The man in the shop had told her that it was alabaster. I had my doubts about that, but it was quite in my own taste–rather severe and classical. I complimented Eliza on her choice.
Three days before Christmas I got a letter from Eliza’s mother. She said that she had been afraid that I was worrying about my debt to her of L4 13 s. 9 d. She took advantage of the Christmas season to return my I.O.U.’s, and begged me to consider the debt as paid.
It was not at all what I had expected.
* * * * *
“No,” I said to Eliza at breakfast, “I am not in the least like a bear with a sore head, and I will thank you not to use the expression. As for your mother’s kindness, I am glad you think it kindness. I wouldn’t have it otherwise. If you weren’t a born idiot you wouldn’t think so. My debt to your mother would have been discharged by–discharged in due course. By reminding me that I owed her money, she has practically dunned me for it, and forced me to pay her at a most inconvenient time. She comes badgering me for her dirty money at Christmas, and you call it ‘kindness!’ Kindness! Hah! Oh, hah, hah!”
“Don’t make those silly noises, and get on with your breakfast!” said Eliza.
Afterward she asked me if I still meant to send her mother that little vase.
“Oh, yes!” I said. “We can afford it; it’s nothing to us.”
Eliza, entirely misunderstanding the word that I next used, got up and said that she would not stop in the room to hear her poor mother sworn at.
“The word I used,” I said, calmly, “was alabaster, and not what you suppose.”
“You pronounced it just like the other thing.”
“I pronounced it in an exclamatory manner,” I replied, “from contempt! You seem to me very ready to think evil. This is not the first time!”
Eliza apologized. As a matter of fact, I really did say alabaster. But I said it emphatically, and I own that it relieved my feelings.
We keep the silver salt-cellars in the drawer of Eliza’s wardrobe as a general rule. I should prefer to use them every day, or at any rate every Sunday. But Eliza says that they make work.
“Mother has written to me,” she said on the following day, “to say that she will dine with us on Christmas Day. I had better get the silver salt-cellars down.”
“You’d better put them up,” I said, meaningly. I know that sounds rather bitter, but I confess that I have always had a weakness for the wit that stings.
Well, it did not actually come to that. They allowed me to draw a couple of pounds in advance at the office. I suppose they know that when they have got a good man it is worth while to stretch a point to keep him. Not that I was at all dictatorial–apparently I asked it as a favour. But I fancy our manager saw that I was not a man to be played with.
Eliza’s mother dined with us, and brought a couple of ducks. Conscience, I should say.
At the moment of writing my financial position is absolutely sound, and even if Eliza’s mother forced me to use her present to me to pay my debt to her (L7 19 s. 5 d. ), though I might think it dishonourable on her part, I should not be seriously inconvenienced. However, Eliza is going early in December to suggest sauce-boats (plated). That is to say, she may possibly mention them if any occasion arises.