Vol.15 No.9 1948 - page 988

PARTISAN REVIEW
of them, down the slightly veering hall where ghostly pictures hung
and on the way the man said, like a guide, "As you see, we live very
simply, Mother and
I.
The room to your right is the parlor which
we seldom use in winter. Perhaps you observed the portrait on the
far wall of that room? An illustrious ancestor. Upstairs there are four
bedrooms besides yours truly's. Linen closet, of course, and ample attic
space." They paused at a door and he said, secretly as
if
the parrot
were eavesdropping, "I have seen you in the library, you know.
Rose." He said her name in a way that the greenest schoolgirl could
not have misconstrued and she trembled from head to foot and had
to grasp the plant tightly or it would have fallen. His breathing was
a little heavy and the parrot, eyeing Rose in the twilight of the hall,
gave forth a glottal giggle full of wisdom.
All the low furniture in the invalid woman's room was painted
white except for the narrow bed which was blackish-brown and looked
like a catafalque. The bones of the flagging body on it jutted up under
a royal purple counterpane. At first only the head and shoulders of
the ancient woman showed, but when the small red eyes, witlessly
mean with age, saw the parrot, she drew forth a huge piebald hand
and her tongue labored on her lip as she said, "Him me."
"Quite like a child," said her son tolerantly as he handed over
the parrot which settled down on her wrist. "The young lady here,
Miss Rose, has brought you a plant, Mother. She says it's from the
school."
The old woman's fingernails were painted a morbid red and
one of the fingers stroked the parrot's stout yellow talons. Although
the woman did not look at her, she said, "Roses. Gratitude."
"No, Mother, not roses.
I
said this young lady's name was
Miss Rose. She has brought a bleeding-heart." He added in an
exasperated aside, "Not that it matters a hoot in hell what kind of
any old thing it is."
The invalid covered Rose with an ambiguous glance and said,
"I
her."
"I her," repeated her son. "I don't knr.w what she means." He
began to take the paper off the plant and growled, "I surely hope
she likes it. She surely should. Very thoughtful of the school to my
way of thinking."
"I her," repeated the old woman in a louder voice and the man
988
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