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Of Human Bondage by W. Somerset Maugham
IT was a week later. Philip was sitting
on the floor in the drawing-room at Miss Watkin's house in Onslow gardens. He
was an only child and used to amusing himself. The room was filled with massive
furniture, and on each of the sofas were three big cushions. There was a cushion
too in each arm-chair. All these he had taken and, with the help of the gilt
rout chairs, light and easy to move, had made an elaborate cave in which he
could hide himself from the Red Indians who were lurking behind the curtains. He
put his ear to the floor and listened to the herd of buffaloes that raced across
the prairie. Presently, hearing the door open, he held his breath so that he
might not be discovered; but a violent hand piled away a chair and the cushions
"You naughty boy, Miss Watkin WILL
be cross with you."
"Hulloa, Emma!" he said.
The nurse bent down and kissed him,
then began to shake out the cushions, and put them back in their places.
"Am I to come home?" he
"Yes, I've come to fetch
"You've got a new dress on."
It was in eighteen-eighty-five, and she
wore a bustle. Her gown was of black velvet, with tight sleeves and sloping
shoulders, and the skirt had three large flounces. She wore a black bonnet with
velvet strings. She hesitated. The question she had expected did not come, and
so she could not give the answer she had prepared.
"Aren't you going to ask how your
mamma is?" she said at length.
"Oh, I forgot. How is mamma?"
Now she was ready.
"Your mamma is quite well and
"Oh, I am glad."
"Your mamma's gone away. You won't
ever see her any more." Philip did not know what she meant.
"Your mamma's in heaven."
She began to cry, and Philip, though he
did not quite understand, cried too. Emma was a tall, big-boned woman, with fair
hair and large features. She came from Devonshire and, notwithstanding her many
years of service in London, had never lost the breadth of her accent. Her tears
increased her emotion, and she pressed the little boy to her heart. She felt
vaguely the pity of that child deprived of the only love in the world that is
quite unselfish. It seemed dreadful that he must be handed over to strangers.
But in a little while she pulled herself together.
"Your Uncle William is waiting in
to see you," she said. "Go and say good-bye to Miss Watkin, and we'll
"I don't want to say
good-bye," he answered, instinctively anxious to hide his tears.
"Very well, run upstairs and get
He fetched it, and when he came down
Emma was waiting for him in the hall. He heard the sound of voices in the study
behind the dining-room. He paused. He knew that Miss Watkin and her sister were
talking to friends, and it seemed to him--he was nine years old--that if he went
in they would be sorry for him.
"I think I'll go and say good-bye
to Miss Watkin."
"I think you'd better," said
"Go in and tell them I'm
coming," he said.
He wished to make the most of his
opportunity. Emma knocked at the door and walked in. He heard her speak.
"Master Philip wants to say
good-bye to you, miss."
There was a sudden hush of the
conversation, and Philip limped in. Henrietta Watkin was a stout woman, with a
red face and dyed hair. In those days to dye the hair excited comment, and
Philip had heard much gossip at home when his godmother's changed colour. She
lived with an elder sister, who had resigned herself contentedly to old age. Two
ladies, whom Philip did not know, were calling, and they looked at him
"My poor child," said Miss
Watkin, opening her arms.
She began to cry. Philip understood now
why she had not been in to luncheon and why she wore a black dress. She could
"I've got to go home," said
Philip, at last.
He disengaged himself from Miss
Watkin's arms, and she kissed him again. Then he went to her sister and bade her
good-bye too. One of the strange ladies asked if she might kiss him, and he
gravely gave her permission. Though crying, he keenly enjoyed the sensation he
was causing; he would have been glad to stay a little longer to be made much of,
but felt they expected him to go, so he said that Emma was waiting for him. He
went out of the room. Emma had gone downstairs to speak with a friend in the
basement, and he waited for her on the landing. He heard Henrietta Watkin's
"His mother was my greatest
friend. I can't bear to think that she's dead."
"You oughtn't to have gone to the
funeral, Henrietta," said her sister. "I knew it would upset
Then one of the strangers spoke.
"Poor little boy, it's dreadful to
think of him quite alone in the world. I see he limps."
"Yes, he's got a club-foot. It was
such a grief to his mother."
Then Emma came back. They called a
hansom, and she told the driver where to go.