The Aloe by Katherine Mansfield Page B

the little board seemed all to be part of one united in some mysterious movement. Stanley himself resting at ease big and solid in his loose fitting dark suit, had a look of health and wellbeing about him – and there was Beryl in the white and black muslin dress with her bright head bent under the lamp light. Round her throat she wore a black velvet ribbon – It changed her – altered the shape of her face and throat somehow – but it was very charming – Linda decided. The room smelled of lilies – there were two big jars of white arums in the fireplace – “Fifteen two – fifteen four and a pair is six and a run of three is nine,” said Stanley so deliberately he might have been counting sheep. “I’ve nothing but two pairs” said Beryl, exaggerating her woefulness, because she knew how he loved winning. The cribbage pegs were like two little people going up the road together, turning round the sharp corner coming down the road again. They were pursuing each other. They did not so much want to get ahead as to keep near enough to talk – to keep near – perhaps that was all. But no, there was one always who was impatient and hopped away as the other came up and wouldn’t listen perhaps one was frightened of the other or perhaps the white one was cruel and did not want to hear and would not even give him a chance to speak. In the bosom of her dress Beryl wore a bunch of black pansies, and once just as the little pegs were close side by side – as she bent over – the pansies dropped out and covered them – “What a shame to stop them,” said she – as she picked up the pansies, “just when they had a moment to fly into each other’s arms!” “Goodbye my girl,” laughed Stanley and away the red peg hopped – The drawing room was long and narrow with two windows and a glass door that gave on to the verandah. It had a cream paper with a pattern of gilt roses, and above the white marble mantelpiece was the big mirror in a gilt frame wherein Beryl had seen her drowned reflection. A white polar bear skin lay in front of the fireplace and the furniture which had belonged to old Mrs Fairfield was dark and plain – A little piano stood against the wall with yellow pleated silk let into the carved back. Above it there hung an oil painting by Beryl of a large cluster of surprised looking clematis – for each flower was the size of a small saucer with a centre like an astonished eye fringed in black. But the room was not “finished” yet – Stanley meant to buy a Chesterfield and two decent chairs and – goodness only knows – Linda liked it best as it was. Two big moths flew in through the window and round and round the circle of lamplight. “Fly away sillies before it is too late. Fly out again” but no – round and round they flew. And they seemed to bring the silence of the moonlight in with them on their tiny wings . . .
    “I’ve two Kings” said Stanley “any good?” “Quite good” said Beryl. Linda stopped rocking and got up. Stanley looked across. “Anything the matter, darling?” He felt her restlessness. “No nothing I’m going to find Mother.” She went out of the room and standing at the foot of the stairs she called “Mother –” But Mrs Fairfield’s voice came across the hall from the verandah.
    The moon that Lottie and Kezia had seen from the storeman’s wagon was nearly full – and the house, the garden, old Mrs Fairfield and Linda – all were bathed in a dazzling light – “I have been looking at the aloe” said Mrs Fairfield. “I believe it is going to flower – this year. Wouldn’t that be wonderfully lucky! Look at the top there! All those buds – or is it only an effect of light.” As they stood on the steps the high grassy bank on which the aloe rested – rose up like a wave and the aloe seemed to ride upon it like a ship with the oars lifted – bright moonlight hung upon those lifted oars like water and on the green wave glittered the dew – “Do