The House of All Sorts

Cold Sweat

HIS HAND trembled--so did his voice.

"You will leave the door of your flat unlocked tonight? So that I could reach the 'phone?"

The telephone did not ring. In the morning he looked worse.

No sooner was he in the tub than the message came.

I was just turning in when he came again.

I was down again in a moment. "A boy--both doing well." Dead stillness.

He went to the door, stood there, clinging to the knob as if he must hold on to something.

He came up and sat by the 'phone, scowling at the instrument as if it were to blame. At last he found courage to ring the hospital. After a terse sentence or two he slammed the receiver down and sat staring.

By and by I went down. He was skimming the cream off the milk jug into the cat's dish. The hair stuck damp on his forehead, his cheeks were wet.

Bump, bump, bump, and a curse. I ran out and looked over the rail. He was rubbing his shins.

"You have had word? I am so glad--"

"You are wanted on the 'phone." I shouted through two doors.

"Yes!" He rushed down the stair, and returned immediately with the black, smoking pot in his hand.

"The cat, I mean," he said, glowering at me. "She was not hurt when I trod on her--shan't sleep tonight--not one wink, but if I should not hear your 'phone--would you call me?--leave your window open so I shall hear the ring?"

"That your porridge burning?"

"That pesky cat--I trod on her--" he cursed again. He loved that cat. I heard him for half an hour calling among the wet bushes. "Puss, Puss, poor Puss." Maybe that mother cat knew his mind needed to be kept busy and was hiding.

"Thanks, awfully."

"Take it." He sounded as if he were drowning.

"Splendid idea. But--the 'phone?"

"She's all right."

"If it were not Sunday I'd go to the office--hang! I'll go anyhow."

"I'll be here."

"Certainly."

"Better stay near the 'phone. Why not a hot bath?"

"Beautiful night," he said and all the while he was turning up his coat collar because of the storming rain outside. He went into the night. I closed the door; the knob was wet with the sweat of his hand.

"All right, I'll call you; I am sure to hear if you don't."

"Thank God I was in the tub! I could not have stood it--I should never have thought of asking how she--they --were." Realization of the plural clicked a switch that lit up his whole being.