The Extra Day Read online

  CHAPTER III

  DEATH OF A MERE FACT

  There was a man named Jinks. In him was neither fancy, imagination, nora sign of wonder, and so he--died.

  But, though he appears in this chapter, he disappears again so quicklythat his being mentioned in a sentence all by himself should not leadany one astray. Jinks made a false entry, as it were. The childrencrossed him out at once. He became illegible. For the trio had theirlikes and dislikes; they resented liberties being taken with them.Also, when there was no one to tell them stories, they were quite ableto amuse themselves. It was the inactive yet omnipotent Maria whobrought about indirectly the obliteration of Mr. Jinks.

  And it came about as follows:

  Maria was a podgy child of marked individuality. It was said that shewas seven years old, but _she_ declared that eight was the figure,because some uncle or other had explained, "you're in your eighthyear." Wandering uncles are troublesome in this kind of way. Every timeher age was mentioned she corrected the informant. She had a trick ofmoving her eyes without moving her head, as though the round face wasdifficult to turn; but her big blue eyes slipped round without theleast trouble, as though oiled. The performance gave her the sly andknowing aspect of a goblin, but she had no objection to that, for itsaved her trouble, and to save herself trouble--according to nurses,Authorities, and the like--was her sole object in existence.

  Yet this seemed a mistaken view of the child. It was not so much thatshe did not move unnecessarily as that it was not necessary for her tomove at all, since she invariably found herself in the middle ofwhatever was going on. While life bustled anxiously about her, hurryingto accomplish various ends, she remained calm and contented at thecentre, completely satisfied, mistress of it all. And her face wassymbolic of her entire being; whereas so many faces seem unfinished,hers was complete--globular like the heavenly bodies, circular like thesun, arms and legs unnecessary. The best of everything came to her_because_ she did not run after it. There was no hurry. Time did notworry her. Circular and self-sustaining, she already seemed to dwell inEternity.

  "And this little person," one of these inquisitive, interferingvisitors would ask, smiling fatuously; "how old is she, I wonder?"

  "Seven," was the answer of the Authority in charge.

  Maria's eyes rolled sideways, and a little upwards. She looked at thefoolish questioner; the Authority who had answered was not worth aglance.

  "No," she said flatly, with sublime defiance, "I'm more. I'm in myeighth year, you see."

  And the visitor, smiling that pleasant smile that makes childrendistrust, even dislike them, and probably venturing to pinch her cheekor pat her on the shoulder into the bargain, accepted the situationwith another type of smile--the Smile-that-children-expect. As a matterof fact, children hate it. They see through its artificial humbugeasily. They prefer a solemn and unsmiling face invariably. It's thelatter that produces chocolates and sudden presents; it's thestern-faced sort that play hide-and-seek or stand on their heads. TheSmilers are bored at heart. They mean to escape at the firstopportunity. And the children never catch their sleeves or coattails toprevent them going.

  "So you're in your eighth year, are you?" this Smiler chuckled with afoolish grin. He patted her cheek kindly. "Why, you're almost agrown-up person. You'll be going to dinner-parties soon." And he smiledagain. Maria stood motionless and patient. Her eyes gazed straightbefore her. Her podgy face remained expressionless as dough.

  "Answer the kind gentleman," said the Authority reprovingly.

  Maria did not budge. A finger and thumb, both dirty, rolled a portionof her pinafore into a pointed thing like a string, distinctly black.She waited for the visitor to withdraw. But this particular visitor didnot withdraw.

  "_I_ knew a little girl--" he began, with a condescending grin thatmeant that her rejection of his advances had offended him, "a littlegirl of about your age, who--"

  But the remainder of the rebuke-concealed-in-a-story was heard only bythe Authority. For Maria, relentless and unhumbugged, merely walkedaway. In the hall she discovered Tim, discreetly hiding. "What's _he_come for?" the brother inquired promptly, jerking his thumb towards thehall.

  Maria's eyes just looked at him.

  "To see Mother, I suppose," he answered himself, accustomed to hissister's goblin manners, "and talk about missions and subshkiptions,and all that. Did he give you anything?"

  "No, nothing."

  "Did he call us bonny little ones?" His face mentioned that he couldkill if necessary, or if his sister's honour required it.

  "He didn't _say_ it."

  "Lucky for him," exclaimed Tim gallantly, rubbing his nose with thepalm of his hand and snorting loudly. "What _did_ he say, then--the oldSmiler?"

  "He said," replied Maria, moving her head as well as her eyes, "that Iwasn't really old, and that he knew another little girl who was nicerthan me, and always told the truth, and--"

  "Oh, come on," cried Tim, impatiently interrupting. "My trains aregoing in the schoolroom, and I want a driver for an accident. We'll putthe Smiler in the luggage van, and he'll get smashed in the collision,and _all_ the wheels will go over his head. Then he'll find out how oldyou really are. We'll fairly smash him."

  They disappeared. Judy, who was reading a book on the Apocalypse, in acorner of the room, looked up a moment as they entered.

  "What's up?" she asked, her mind a little dazed by the change of focusfrom stars, scarlet women, white horses, and mysterious "Voices," todull practical details of everyday existence. "What's on?" she repeated.

  "Trains," replied Tim. "We're going to have an accident and kill a mandead."

  "What's he done?" she inquired.

  "Humbugged Maria with a lot of stuff--and gave her nothing--and didn'tbelieve a single word she told him."

  Judy glanced without much interest at the railway laid out upon thefloor, murmured "Oh, I see," and resumed her reading of the wonderfulbook she had purloined from the top shelf of a neglected bookcaseoutside the gun-room. It absorbed her. She loved the tremendous words,the atmosphere of marvel and disaster, and especially the constantsuggestion that the end of the world was near. Antichrist she simplyadored. No other hero in any book she knew came near him.

  "Come and help," urged Tim, picking up an engine that lay upon itsside. "Come on."

  "No, thanks. I've got an Apocalypse. It's simply frightfully exciting."

  "Shall we break _both_ legs?" asked Maria blandly, "or just his neck?"

  "Neck," said Tim briefly. "Only they must find the heart beneath therubbish of the luggage van."

  Judy looked up in spite of herself. "Who is it?" she inquired, with anair of weighing conflicting interests.

  "Mr. Jinks." It was Maria who supplied the information.

  "But he's Daddy's offiss-partner man," Judy objected, though withoutmuch vim or heat.

  Maria did not answer. Her eyes were glued upon the other engine.

  "All black and burnt and--full of the very horridest diseases," put inTim, referring to the heart of the destroyed Mr. Jinks beneath theengine.

  He glanced up enticingly at his elder sister, whom he longed to drawinto the vindictive holocaust.

  "He said things to Maria," he explained persuasively, "and it's not thefirst time either. Last Sunday he called me 'his little man,' and he'snever given me a single thing since ever I can remember, years andyears ago."

  Then Judy remembered that he invariably kissed her on both cheeks asthough she was a silly little child.

  "Oh, _that_ man!" she exclaimed, realising fully now the enormities hehad committed. She appeared to hesitate a moment. Then she flung downher Apocalypse suddenly. "Put him on a scarlet horse," she cried,"pretend he's the Beast, and I'll come."

  Maria's blue eyes wheeled half a circle towards Tim. She did not moveher head. It signified agreement. Tim knew. Only her consent, as theinsulted party, was necessary before he could approve.

  "All right," he cried to Judy. "We'll put him in a special carriagewith his horse, an
d I'll make out a label for the window, so that everyone will know." He went over to the table and wrote "BEAST" in capitalletters on a half-sheet of paper. The cumbersome quill pen made twospongy blots.

  "It's the end of the world _really_ at the same time," decided Judy, toa chorus of general approval, "not only the end of Mr. Jinks." Sheliked her horrors on a proper scale.

  And the railway line was quickly laid across the room from the windowto the wall. The lamps of oil on both engines were lit. The trainsfaced one another. Mr. Jinks and his scarlet horse thought themselvesquite safe in their special carriage, unaware that it was labelled"Beast" with a label that overlapped the roof and hid all view of thelandscape through the windows on one side. Apparently they slept inopposite corners, with full consciousness of complete security. Mr.Jinks was tucked up with woolly rugs, and a newspaper lay across hisknee. The scarlet horse had its head in a bag of oats, and its bridlewas fastened to the luggage rack above. Both were supplied with ironfoot-warmers. There was a _fearful_ fog; and the train was going at a_TREMENDOUS_ pace.

  So was the other train. They approached, they banged, they smashed toatoms. It was the most appalling collision that had ever been heard of,and the Guard and Engine-Driver, as well as the Ticket-Collectors andDirectors of the Company, were all executed by the Government the verynext day from gallows that an angry London built in half an hour on thetop of St. Paul's Cathedral dome.

  It took place between the footstool and the fireplace in the thickestfog that England had ever known. And the horrid black heart of Mr.Jinks was discovered beneath the wreckage of a special carriage next tothe luggage van. It was simply black as coal and very nasty indeed. Thelittle boy who found it was a porter's son, whose mother was so poorthat she took in washing for members of Parliament, who paid theirbills irregularly because they were very busy governing Ireland. Heknew it was a cinder, but did not discover it was a heart until heshowed it to his mother, and his mother said it was far too black towash.

  The accident to Mr. Jinks, therefore, was a complete success. Thebutler helped with the mending of the engine, and Maria informed atleast one Authority, "We do not know Mr. Jinks. We have other friends."

  "But, remember," said Judy, "we mustn't mention it to Daddy, becauseMr. Jinks is his partner-in-the-offiss."

  "_Was_," said Tim. The remains they decided to send to what they calledthe "Hospital for Parilysed Ineebrits with Incurable Afflictions of theHeart."