HURRY) HURRY
39
Of her nose there was nothing left but a bloody splinter of bone, and
herchin, which had been rather underhung, now stuck out in sharp
diagonal,forcing her mouth into an enormous grin. Yet in spite of
thisit seemed as if she were trying to smile, perhaps out of pride in
havingsalvaged as much as she' had. She kept pointing at the ma-
hoganyruin on her back, nodding continually and working her man-
gledfeatures in an effort at communication. "I can't bear it," Cedric \
laid, "they oughtn't to allow such things," and he turned yellow and
vomitedin a patch of lilies. Everyone else was shouting at Myrtle-
"Don't throw it!" "Wrap it in a blanket!" "Let it down here!"-but
shehad suddenly let go her load. Even from the ground one could
seethe wild look that came into her eyes, a brilliant hatred aimed
downat the crowd. Yet perhaps there was some confusion in it too,
for before the wall crashed her face changed again-for a moment
she resembled a small wounded animal crying for its life-and she
fellwith her torn-off wrists lifted up in prayer.
The rest of what happened was so sudden that I have no clear
recollectionof it. I remember that shortly after Myrtle's death the
ladiesset to gathering flowers again and made a kind of tiny monu-
mentof them on the grass, with POOR MYRTLE written in English
daisiesacross the top. The school-teacher scoffed at this, saying there
mighthave been some sense to it if she had done what she was sent
for, but the general opinion was that the ladies had been very kind
to think of such a thing. "She was very bitter," the minister said, "but
a good soul too," and he took the carnation from his buttonhole and
to5sedit on the mound.
I think it was at about that time that the French poodle suddenly
clawedits way up to the window of my mother's bedroom, the only
part of the house that was still standing. Yapping and rolling his eyes
he perched on the swaying sill, his bandaged paw held up and a
largedrop of yellow liquid rolling down his aristocratic nose. "Moppy!
Moppy!" my mother cried, running up under the wall. "Did you think
yourmummy had forgotten you? Oh Moppy you did, you're crying!
he'scrying," she repeated, almost crying herself. "He thought I was
goingto leave him there all by himself. Come to me, my darling, come
to your mummy, jump!" I remember the two of them that way: the
dogafraid to jump, tossing his ruff and his long silken ears, and my
mother in a new flowered print and a picture hat, holding up her
arms,with an expression of love, almost-I thought at that moment
but I am not sure now-almost
a leok of fulfillment in her face, which
at times made one think of a madonna though the profile was too
sharp. And then the last of the house fell and buried them.
