The Stars Look Down Read Online Free PDF Page A

of her life. Her horror was that she might be found using the bathroom when Richard required it. Occasionally this gave her nightmare, from which she awoke pale and sweating, convinced that Richard had
seen
her in the bath.
    Barras surveyed the table. No one was eating.
    “Will you take a biscuit, Arthur?” he inquired firmly, with his hand on the silver lid of the squat glass barrel.
    “No, thank you, father.” Arthur swallowed tremulously.
    Richard filled his glass with water, held it for a moment with a steady hand. The water seemed more clear, more cold because he held it. He drank slowly.
    Silence. Richard rose and went out of the room.
    Arthur almost burst into tears. Why, why was his father not taking him to Tynecastle, on to-day of all days, when he wanted to be near him? Why was he not taking him to Todd’s? His father obviously had business with Adam Todd, who was a mining engineer, his father’s oldest friend; but that didn’t matter, he could have taken him surely, and let him play with Hetty. With a swelling heart he hung about the hall, which Aunt Carrie always referred to as the vestibule, staring at the pattern of black and white tiles, staring at his father’s lovely pictures on the walls, hoping against hope. Hilda had gone straight upstairs, marching to her room with a book. But it didn’t matter. There was never much feeling between Hilda and himself. She was too abrupt, severe, unreasonably passionate; she appeared always to be struggling within herself, struggling against something unseen. Though she was only seventeen, three months ago, just before the strike began, she had put her hair up. That removedher further than ever. He felt that Hilda was not lovable. She was not good-looking either. She was harsh, with an air of despising everything. She had an olive skin. She did not smell nice.
    While he stood in the hall, Grace came down from the schoolroom with an apple in her hand.
    “Let’s go and see Boxer,” she begged. “Do let’s go, Arthur.”
    He gazed down at Grace. She was eleven years of age, a year younger, a foot shorter than himself. He envied Grace her happiness. Grace had the happiest disposition. She was a sweet, lovely, dreadfully untidy child. The crock-comb pushed lop-sidedly through her soft fair hair gave her little face a comic look of wonder. Her big blue eyes radiated an artless innocence. Even Hilda loved Grace. He had seen her, after the most violent display of temper, catch hold of Grace and hug her passionately.
    Arthur considered: should he go with Grace, or should he not? He wanted to go, yet didn’t want to go. He could not make up his mind, it was always painful for him to make up his mind. He wavered. At last he shook his head.
    “You go,” he said sombrely. “I’m worried about the strike.”
    “Are you, Arthur?” she asked wonderingly.
    He nodded; and the feeling that he was denying himself the pleasure of seeing the pony munch the apple made him even sadder than before.
    When Grace had gone he stood listening. At last his father came downstairs. He carried a flat black leather case under his arm, but he took no notice of Arthur whatever, he went straight into the waiting dog-cart and was driven away.
    Arthur was humiliated, broken-hearted, crushed. It was not that he minded missing Tynecastle, nor yet that he minded missing Todd’s. Hetty was nice, of course; he liked her long silky plaits, her bright smile, the warm feeling of her when, as she sometimes did, she flung her arms round him and asked him to buy her chocolate cream with his Saturday sixpence. Oh yes, he liked Hetty, he would marry her, no doubt, when he grew up. He liked her brother, too, Alan Todd; and he liked old man Todd—as Alan called his father—with his ragged, tobacco-stained moustache, the little yellow spots on his eyes and his funny scent of cloves and something else. But it did not in the least upset him not to see them. What upset him, ravaged him, tortured andkilled him