The girl did not move a muscle.
'If I was her, I should go in for training for a nurse,' said Malcolm, the youngest of them all. He was the baby of the family, a young man of twenty-
two, with a fresh, jaunty museau.3
But Mabel did not take any notice of him. They had talked at her and round
her for so many years, that she hardly heard them at all.
1. Cold blood (French, literal trans.); here calm 2. Servant girl, detachment. 3. Muzzle (French); here face.
.
226 0 / D. H. LAWRENCE
The marble clock on the mantelpiece softly chimed the half-hour, the dog rose uneasily from the hearth-rug and looked at the party at the breakfast- table. But still they sat in an ineffectual conclave.
'Oh, all right,' said Joe suddenly, apropos of nothing. 'I'll get a move on.'
He pushed back his chair, straddled his knees with a downward jerk, to get them free, in horsey fashion, and went to the fire. Still he did not go out of the room; he was curious to know what the others would do or say. He began to charge his pipe, looking down at the dog and saying in a high, affected voice:
'Going wi' me? Going wi' me are ter? Tha'rt goin' further than tha counts on just now, dost hear?'
The dog faintly wagged his tail, the man stuck out his jaw and covered his pipe with his hands, and puffed intently, losing himself in the tobacco, looking down all the while at the dog with an absent brown eye. The dog looked up at him in mournful distrust. Joe stood with his knees stuck out, in real horsey fashion.
'Have you had a letter from Lucy?' Fred Henry asked of his sister.
'Last week,' came the neutral reply.
'And what does she say?'
There was no answer.
'Does she ask you to go and stop there?' persisted Fred Henry.
'She says I can if I like.'
'Well, then, you'd better. Tell her you'll come on Monday.'
This was received in silence.
'That's what you'll do then, is it?' said Fred Henry, in some exasperation.
But she made no answer. There was a silence of futility and irritation in the room. Malcolm grinned fatuously. 'You'll have to make up your mind between now and next Wednesday,' said Joe loudly, 'or else find yourself lodgings on the kerbstone.'
The face of the young woman darkened, but she sat on immutable.
'Here's Jack Ferguson!' exclaimed Malcolm, who was looking aimlessly out of the window. 'Where?' exclaimed Joe loudly. 'Just gone past.' 'Coming in?' Malcolm craned his neck to see the gate. 'Yes,' he said. There was a silence. Mabel sat on like one condemned, at the head of the
table. Then a whistle was heard from the kitchen. The dog got up and barked sharply. Joe opened the door and shouted:
'Come on.'
After a moment a young man entered. He was muffled up in overcoat and a purple woollen scarf, and his tweed cap, which he did not remove, was pulled down on his head. He was of medium height, his face was rather long and pale, his eyes looked tired.
'Hello, Jack! Well, Jack!' exclaimed Malcolm and Joe. Fred Henry merely
said: 'Jack.'
'What's doing?' asked the newcomer, evidently addressing Fred Henry.
'Same. We've got to be out by Wednesday. Got a cold?'
'I have?got it bad, too.'
'Why don't you stop in?'
.
THE HORSE DEALER'S DAUGHTER / 2261
'Me stop in? When I can't stand on my legs, perhaps I shall have a chance.' The young man spoke huskily. He had a slight Scotch accent.
'It's a knock-out, isn't it,' said Joe, boisterously, 'if a doctor goes round croaking with a cold. Looks bad for the patients, doesn't it?'
The young doctor looked at him slowly.
'Anything the matter with you, then?' he asked sarcastically.
'Not as I know of. Damn your eyes, I hope not. Why?'
'I thought you were very concerned about the patients, wondered if you might be one yourself.' 'Damn it, no,
