Catherine herself

By JAMES HILTON
T. FISHER UNWIN LTD LONDON: ADELPHI TERRACE
First published in 1920
( All rights reserved )
CATHERINE thought: Day is white, Night is black, but sometimes it is half-white and half-black.... There were five knobs on the brass rail of the bed: one of them would come off.... The baker came to the door every night and said: “And how is Cathie?” ...
It was cold, and blue flames flickered on top of the coals in the fire-grate. They said: “Lappappappap....” The Man tore off his collar from the stud—“plock”—then he screwed off his boots—“Hr-rooch—flop ... Hr-rooch—flop.” ... The mother said: “Cathie’s asleep: don’t make such a noise.” ...
Then her mother carried her past the brown banisters up to bed.... It was nearly black. The pumping-engine at the water-works went: “Chug-chug ... chug-chug ... chug-chug-chug....”
There were five knobs on the brass rail of the bed....
The Man was Father.
Every morning mother called upstairs: “John: come on! Past eight”... and father said: “Just about to.” The sun fell in a slant over the table and climbed up the wall. Father ate porridge and milk: he went “Ooflip-oorooflip.”
The sunlight slid off the table on to the floor. There was nothing to do except listen to the clock. It went “tick-tock—tick-tock”—then it went “ticky-ticky.” ... The milkman said: “Mornin’, m’m. Lavly mornin’. Thenk you, m’m. Mornin’, m’m.” ...
The sunlight ran away....