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Updated: June 21, 2025
His relative put his feet on a chair, lighted and smoked a cutty, and presently unbosomed himself, jerkily, and with some reluctance. His wife Milly and whenever he mentioned her name the melancholy in his brown eyes deepened had been dead some twelve years now. They had had no children.
What a dear man this Cutty was, to have thought of her in this fashion! Her father's friend, her mother's, and now hers; she had inherited him. This thought caused her to smile, but there were tears in her eyes. A garden some day to play in, this mad city far away, a home of her own; would it ever happen? The bell rang.
"Aye," Mary said, "but how do ye know she isn't jist around here somewhere, anyway?" "Aye," the old man said as he nodded his head, "deed that's thrue for you, Mary, she may!" He took his black cutty pipe out of his mouth and gazed at me for a moment. "What d'ye mind best about her?" "I mind a saying she had that has gone through life with me." "'Ivery day makes its own throuble?"
And now I'm going to tell you something. It wasn't going to be a farce. I intended to become your true wife, Cutty, make you as happy as I could." Cutty patted her hand and got up. Lord, how bruised and sore his old body was!... His true wife! She might have been his if he had not missed that train. But for this hour, hot with life, she might never have discovered that she loved Hawksley.
Then and there Cutty knew that when he died he would carry into the Beyond, of all his earthly possessions a chuckle. Human beings! The yarn that reporter had missed by a hair front page, eight-column head! But he had missed it, and that was the main thing. The poor devil!
The lappets of his rabbit-skin cap were down over his ears; his huge nose was a flaming red. He raised his head; his eyes, which were watering, seemed wholly white, without pupils, each set in a ring of fire and tears. He was stuffing into the bowl of his cutty a few scraps of canteen tobacco, mixed with bread-crumbs, which did not fill half the bowl of his little pipe.
'If ye dinna eat instantly and put some saul in ye, by the bread and the salt, I'll put it down your throat wi' the cutty spoon, scaulding as it is, and whether ye will or no. Gape, sinner, and swallow!
"And Gregor and this poor young man are in some way mixed up with internationalism!" "Victims, probably." "What is the other thing you wish to tell me?" "Because your eyes are slate blue like your mother's. I loved your mother, Kitty," said Cutty, blinking into his pipe. "And the singular fact is, your father knew but your mother never did.
And these little notebooks were the repository of suppressed facts ranging over twenty-odd years. Gerald Stanley Lee would have recognized them instantly as coming under the head of what he calls Sh! An hour later Cutty returned the notebooks to their abiding place, his memory refreshed. The poor devil!
All day theatrical folks had been in and out of this little ten-by-twelve cubby-hole; and now there would be quiet. But no. The door opened and an iron-gray head intruded. "Will I be in the way?" "Lord, no!" cried Burlingame, throwing down his proofs. "Come along in, Cutty." The great war correspondent came in and sat down, sighing gratefully.
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