CHRISTINA STEAD
67
only that there aren't gods; but man is a god. Ah, kids, you missed me
as a boy. When I went to work, a boy there named Nunneally, I was
thirteen, he was seventeen, used to stroke my arms and say 'Like satin,
Morg, like white satin, like a duchess!' "
Beatrix giggled and then seeing her brother's astonished eye on
her, she said apologetically, "Yes, Morg, you were a handsome boy
and with such a dreamy look as if you were too good for this world."
"And so I was," he assented, "I was too good for the world, I
didn't know there were evil men; I thought,
if
I was good, people
would be good tome. But you see, kids, what happens? The Nats," he
said lugubriously, "the Nats do not see me as I am. Can I blame them?
Theyare naturalists but also men, and men have failings. Well, let me
tell you, these dinners are an ordeal for a sensitive man, but next year
Ratty Atty will have to vacate the seat and you will see the Padrone
Morgan, the Patroon, at the head of the banquet table."
"Morgan," cried Beatrix breathlessly, "do you know what I
dreamed last night? I dreamed I was at the dentist's and he put out his
tongue-',
"When I am going to have trouble, I dream of a yellow-bellied
sea eagle; he comes to warn me." said Morgan.
"Mowed down by a bird of ill-omen," said Beatrix rushing to get
in, "and the funny thing is that though I knew it was Nell, I kept
calling her Mrs. File-"
"The sausages are burning, Trix," called Aunt Mildred sourly.
"Yes, Millie dear," said Trixie eagerly, "and I woke up and it
came to me out of a blue sky-"
"-in the middle of the night," contributed Gilbert.
"The sausages are burned to a cinder," said Aunt Mildred
glaring.
"Trixie's cooking is a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by
night," said Uncle Morgan.
"And the dentist scratched my stocking and the funny thing is
there is a run in my stocking."
"Those are my stockings," said Aunt Mildred.
"Mill' s
sto~kings
are on Trix' s last legs," said Uncle Morgan.
Trixie brought in the sausages.
It
was Sunday. The children did
not have to get ready for school.
"I adore Sunday," said Trixie, and sang.
The kitchen became full of her sprightly chatter, the clash of
dishes, and her gay soprano. Uncle Morgan had retired to the cane
lounge where he lay at full length, "expatiating," as he said.
