“Gwan back in the bath-tub, Charley.”
“Say, d’ yuh think you can run me? Get out of this, or I’ll throw you out. Got house way I want it.”
Bill Wrenn, the cattleman, rushed at him, smacked him with the broom, drove him back into the tub, and waited. He laughed. It was all a good joke; his friend Charley and he were playing a little game. Charley also laughed and splashed some more. Then he wept and said that the water was cold, and that he was now deserted by his only friend.
“Oh, shut up,” remarked Bill Wrenn, and swept the bathroom floor.
Charley stopped swashing about to sneer:
“Li’l ministering angel, ain’t you? You think you’re awful good, don’t you? Come up here and bother me. When I ain’t well. Salvation Army. You——. Aw, lemme ’lone, will you?” Bill Wrenn kept on sweeping. “Get out, you——.”
There was enough energy in Charley’s voice to indicate that he was getting sober. Bill Wrenn soused him under once more, so thoroughly that his own cuffs were reduced to a state of flabbiness. He dragged Charley out, helped him dry himself, and drove him to bed.
He went out and bought dish-towels, soap, washing-powder, and collars of Charley’s size, which was an inch larger than his own. He finished sweeping and dusting and washing the dishes—all of them. He—who had learned to comfort Istra—he really enjoyed it. His sense of order made it a pleasure to see a plate yellow with dried egg glisten iridescently and flash into shining whiteness; or a room corner filled with dust and tobacco flakes become again a “nice square clean corner with the baseboard shining, gee! just like it was new.”
An irate grocer called with a bill for fifteen dollars. Mr. Wrenn blandly heard his threats all through, pretending to himself that this was his home, whose honor was his honor. He paid the man eight dollars on account and loftily dismissed him. He sat down to wait for Charley, reading a newspaper most of the time, but rising to pursue stray flies furiously, stumbling over chairs, and making murderous flappings with a folded newspaper.
When Charley awoke, after three hours, clear of mind but not at all clear as regards the roof of his mouth, Mr. Wrenn gave him a very little whisky, with considerable coffee, toast, and bacon. The toast was not bad.