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Updated: May 13, 2025
Uncle William, who bore the whole burden of maintaining the family, mourned for Uncle Matthew as if he had lost his support; and Mrs. MacDermott began to talk, when she talked at all, of the things that Matt had liked. Matt liked this and Matt liked that ... and yet she had seemed not merely to disregard Uncle Matthew when he was alive, but actually to dislike him.
He succeeded in making the spirit burn, and for a little while she and he stood by the table while the cold blue flames curled out of the saucer, wavering and spurting, until the spirit was consumed and the flame flickered and expired. "That's what a drunkard's inside is like," said Mrs. MacDermott, picking up the saucer and carrying it downstairs to the scullery to be washed.
MacDermott wrote that she was recovering rapidly from her illness and that the baby was a fine, healthy child. "A MacDermott to the backbone," she wrote. "It's queer work that keeps a man out of his bed half the night and won't let him go to his wife when she's having a child!
But they didn't rob me.... It could be that this good old lady was in the plot herself, no less, for all she speaks so civil. But who is to prove that, I ask you? It's queer and strange...." Thus pondering, Fergus Macdermott took a cab and drove to the hotel where he was to dine with Garth, the representative of the Morning Post.
John said at tea that evening. "She's not near herself yet," Uncle William exclaimed. "No, indeed she's not. You'd best leave her here another month," Mrs. MacDermott added. "You're forgetting, aren't you that she's been here more than three months already." "Och, what's three months when you're young," Uncle William replied. "A great deal," said John. "Will you be ready, do you think, Eleanor?"
"You'll have a lot to say to each other, and I'm tired," he explained, as he went off to bed. "I like that man," said Mrs. MacDermott when he had gone. "And now tell me about this girl you've got. Are you in earnest?" "Yes, ma!" John answered, using the word "ma," now that he was alone with his mother. "Will she have you?" "I hope so. She hasn't said definitely yet, but I think she will!"
Eleanor arrived at the bookstall almost simultaneously with themselves. The old woman and the girl regarded each other for a moment, and then Mrs. MacDermott had taken Eleanor's outstretched hand and had drawn her to her and had kissed her; and John's dubiety disappeared from his mind. They had dined together in Soho that night, but Mrs. MacDermott had not enjoyed the meal.
Henry perceived that the correspondent of the Morning Post was actuated, in the matter of Bolshevists, Germans, trade-unions, and gold, rather by a deliberate and considered pre-judgment than by the hasty and makeshift impressions of the moment, or, anyhow, that the two had in his mind concurred. He asked after Macdermott. "Oh, Macdermott found Sinn Fein plots all over the place.
"We had our suspicions of that house ever since," Macdermott went on; "so we went exploring this evening, and by the luck of God they'd gone out and left the door on the latch, so we slipped in and searched around, and found a trap-door in a cupboard where they'd have shoved me down if they hadn't given up the idea half-way.
Haverstock led John to a girl who was sitting at the back of the room, and introduced him to her. Miss Bushe was the daughter of the editor of the Daily Groan, and Mrs. Haverstock desired that John would take her into supper. "Mr. MacDermott is Irish he has only just arrived from Ireland," Mrs.
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