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Chapter XVIII · A Drop in Infinity

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  Chapter eighteen of A Drop in Infinity. This is a LibriVox recording. All
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  LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, ought to volunteer,
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  please visit LibriVox dot org. A Drop in Infinity by Jerald Grogan,
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  chapter eighteen. So, after all the fuss and worry, I was safely
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  home again, with Marjorie on deck to see that things were done properly.
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  Indeed, the hand of authority fell grievously upon us, and I sometimes wondered
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  quelch didn't desert. I had brought back with me slips of apple, pear,
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  cherry, and plum, all filched from cornish orchards. Added to this,
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  we already had wild raspberries, strawberries, crab apple, wild cherry,
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  and sloes in the forest, and the blackberries were more than plentiful. Wheat
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  I had brought, and oats and barley. Our first crop indeed was not
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  likely to yield more than enough for next year's sewing. But we had the
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  rye already planted to go on with, and I had a whole pound of
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  peas besides other vegetables, which with the potatoes, I figured would allow us
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  to sample our first ears crop and yet have enough over for resowing. Barring
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  severe droughts, which I did not anticipate, we were sure of liberal supply
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  of all cereals and a good many other things beside within the next few years.
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  The rest of the things I had brought were more in the nature of
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  luxuries like the silk or temporary conveniences a small saw blade, knives, two
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  pairs of scissors, my raisors, and so forth. But most important of
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  all was my short had monograph on how to do Everything, cribbed from the
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  reference books in the Hubble Bubbles Library from the information contained in this notable treatise.
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  As I have said before, most of the arts and crafts practiced in
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  marjorie Land take their origin. Of course, we had to work, like
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  few or four of us to get the fencing completed. We could not afford
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  to risk letting the deer trifle with our first crop. On several occasions I
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  was hardly able to crawl up the ravine to the house when the failing daylight
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  made further work impossible, and quelch well. I am sorry to say that
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  Marjorie reduced the worthy Michael to a temporary condition of slavery. It was absolutely
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  indefensible morally, and a brutal setting at nought of Quelch's political views, for
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  he was an extreme socialist in his former life, so he claimed. But
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  Marjorie maintained that her necessity knew no law, and so Quelch, she said,
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  the first time he showed symptoms of shirking. If I catch you at
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  that again, I will make mister Thorpe take you back where he found you
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  and leave you there as he found you. Do you understand, Quelch,
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  poor devil understood? Besides the field work, I also built a cattle and
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  forge about this time, and I made some really superior eye and some rather
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  indifferent steel, which I found great difficulty in tempering at first. So great
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  is the chasm between the described process in the accomplished act, and we completed
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  the Quelchin domicile. Also, before I had to drive Marjorie off the heavier
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  tasks, she had no sense in some important matters. It was only by
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  reminding her of what had happened when she wanted to go and hunt wolves that
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  I was able to make her see my point. What happened when she wanted
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  to hunt wolves? Well, that is another of our secrets. One way
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  and another. I began to fear that each recurring summer was to mean more
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  arduous toil than its predecessor, until in the end I should perish miserably from
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  overwork. But in the meantime, although I felt sure I was dying from
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  sheer fatigue, I only seemed to wax stronger embody, and Marjorie complained that
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  my meals were a revelation in human piggishness. It was the day that Quelch
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  and I slew the old sow in the forest and adopted her family that the
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  matter of Adela Watkins first came up. I mention it because it caused me
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  no little uneasiness at the time, and I sometimes doubted whether Marjorie had acted
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  quite rightly in the matter. At first, I now see her wisdom was
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  far greater than mine. But then it looked a bit ir regular. Is
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  a blimmy wonder to me. Comrade Thorpe, he was prone to ax familiar
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  as work lightened, You ever came back came back from where mister Quelch,
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  I asked, you know, said Quelch, slightly abashed at my gentle snub.
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  Good Evans, do you suppose if I ever saw London again? I'd
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  be silly enough to put myself in the hands of that ubble bubble devil.
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  Why didn't you hand him over to the police because I wanted to get back
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  here? Of course. Now come off, said mister Qulch, facetiously.
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  How was it he got old of you the second time? He is a
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  devil, that man, but I didn't think him as smart as all that.
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  I felt irritated. I did not like being chaffed by Welch, and
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  I could not quite see the drift of his alleged humor. I suppose he
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  meant that I would have preferred to run away in London with some other girl.
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  Sort of thing he would do, no doubt, I'm afraid, I
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  answered rather sharply. I said, you, dirty little pop, I've saved
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  your life once, and for two pins, i'd take it away again.
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  So don't let's have any more of your damned impudence. I'd remind you that
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  this is not England, and I laid an arrow across my bow. Quelch
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  looked dreadfully scared. No offense, mister Thorpe, Sir, he said,
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  I I didn't know that. I that is to say, I had an
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  idea. The fact of the matter is, sir, he blurted out,
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  desperately, Miss Watkins, she'd give me to understand. Silly of her,
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  that is to say, Oh, for the Lord's sake, Quelch, out
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  with it? What are you trying to shuffle off on? Adela Watkins now
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  strove, sir? She said something that give me a silly idea, that
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  Miss Marjorie, that Miss Marjorie the go on, I snarled, the Miss
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  Marjorie, that miss Marjorie, that miss Marjorie, very intelligent remarked for Miss
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  Watkins to make was that all she hinted, sir, that you weren't exactly
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  in fact, sir, that you weren't married when you came here. And
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  as there's no laws et cetera that I can see, registers and such like,
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  well, I did not let Quelch get any further. Having at last
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  discovered his horrible error, we sat down under a tree, and before we
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  rose again, Quelch had the laws of Marjorie land off by heart. Indeed,
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  Qulch wept. But how about me, he moaned, I haven't got
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  a marriage certificate. I'll write you one in a jiffy. Miss Marjorie.
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  Adela's title for her had stuck had some very effective ink, which she recently
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  discovered whilst experimenting in beverages. I drank some by mistake. Oh there's no
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  difficulty about that, Quelch. But I don't want to marry nobody, wailed
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  the terrified Quelch. Well don't, then nobody's forcing you. I thought you
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  two considered yourselves spliced, Not me, cried Quelch in a relieved voice.
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  He seemed quite happy until I suggested he would find it rather lonely living by
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  himself in the house we would have to build for him. I had already
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  made the new lock house over to Adela with four rights. He began to
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  splutter. The scandalous scoundrel had evidently imagined until now that Marjorie would permit him
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  to go and live in the same house with a young, detractive woman like
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  Adela Watkins, without legal ties between them. The problem of settling this misunderstanding
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  without killing Quelch appeared too deep for me, so I waited until we got
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  home and submitted it at once to the Supreme Court of the Queen's bear Skin.
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  Marjorie was sitting in front of our house with Adela sewing. At least
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  Adela was sewing and Marjorie was neglecting to sew work, which she held in
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  her hand, as an excuse for bullying Adela. That is what Adela got
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  for being fond of Marjorie. I noticed that the latter had adopted a long
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  buckskin cloak, and I thought it suited her, not without a certain amount
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  of diffidence, for I was not yet properly acclimatized mentally, and early training
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  is a powerful thing. I explained the difficulties of Michael Quelch. There is
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  no difficulty, said Marjorie, dreamily. Adele is an ass. The lady
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  in question looked sheepish. It's not as if there was anybody else, miss
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  Marjorie, she observed. Besides, you see Michael, and may have been
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  through a good deal. And I don't envy you your choice, interrupted Marjorie.
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  But I suppose you know your own mind. Michael Quelch, do you
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  take this woman? No, shouted Quelch. I don't, and I ain't
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  going to be bullied into it neither, poor Quelch, said Marjorie in a
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  gentle tone. I'm sorry if you're tired, Jack, but it must be
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  done. Please take him back to the tree and turn him loose. Don't
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  forget to bring his clothes back unless he made them himself. But he mustn't
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  be violent. And on hearing this charitable proposition, Quelch grew very pale,
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  but bravely contrived to act as if he thought it a joke. It was
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  not until I laid my hand on his shoulder that he suggested terms, I'll
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  live in the new house by myself. He said, I'm a man that's
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  fond of solitude like and I'd just as soon be alone. I thought of
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  how Adela Watkins had let him star chasing through the mountainous words of Southern Europe
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  as we know it, and I laughed. So did Marjorie. If you're
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  so fond of solitude, she said callously, I don't see why you are
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  hanging about here. Get out of my country. Quelch turned to me in
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  desperation. Here, he cried, mister Thorpe, Sir, you're the boss
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  here. No I'm not, I answered cheerily, I've hardly more brains than
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  yourself, Quelch. Only fortunately in my case, I'm aware of the fact.
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  But what right have they got none? Whatever? All men are born
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  free and equal. Miss Marjorie has already explained to you that you can clear
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  out of our land and run your own show elsewhere. You've got the whole
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  world. You know, we're even willing to trade with you. If you
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  have anything worth the deal. You might try sheep for instance, which you
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  seemed to have encountered in your travels. And miss Watkins stays here, stays
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  here, said miss Watkins firmly. I'm free an Ekle too. You go
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  by yourself and haunt sheep. Qulch bleeded, in a way that surely would
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  have lured an entire herd with his toils. You can say what you like,
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  he whined. But I ain't fair. I'll I'll have the law on
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  us, I suggested, I will if I ever get out o this threatened
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  Quotch. Oh, for goodness sake, Adela cried, Marjorie, what do
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  you see in this man? Adela appeared flustered, but did not answer.
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  She seemed absolutely set on marrying him, exclaimed my wife, it'll be a
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  splendid thing for Michael, but I can't imagine how she can do it.
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  This is your last chance, she added, turning to the quailing quelch A.
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  You going to do as I suggest? Where are you going? He
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  did not answer, and feeling rather awkward in the roll of jailor, I
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  caught his arm and moved him gently toward the path which leads to the ravine.
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  Quelch stared round wildly. I imagine that it seemed impossible to him that
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  he should suffer such oppression. For my own part, had I intended to
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  pitch him bodily over the cliff, as I could have done without let or
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  hindrance. For I was a bit of a wrestler, I could hardly have
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  experienced stronger emotions. With a queer twinge. I realized that I was the
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  strongest man in the world, and I could, in a sense make all
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  my fellow creatures subservient to my will. In a sense, I say,
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  if mere strength and cunning, or even cleverness were everything. Quelch walked as
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  far as the ledge halted and turned all right, he said, sulkily,
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  whereat We married Adela Watkins to Michael Quelch, and recorded the fact with home
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  maid ink upon the second of the five pound notes, whose rough imitations imparchment
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  are utilized for the same purpose at the present day. That is the way
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  in which a custom becomes established. I used the first five pound note because
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  I had nothing else. Now. An old friend of mine, I said
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  to a young friend of mine the other day, used to talk perpetually about
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  marrying money. If you do not understand what that means, Julius, it
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  means he spoke like you about marrying a fair lady whose father had more tools
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  and a bigger farm than the next man. Ultimately he married one with a
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  five pound note to her name. And that, said, my young friend,
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  shows that your friend must have been a very wicked man, and she
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  must have been a fool. I don't think you should tell me about these
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  things. Henry mc tavish says, that is a thing called immorality, that
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  it shouldn't be talked about, or else it may come in here, from
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  which it will be seen that he did not quite grasp my meaning. However,
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  Quelch and Adela, we are now man and wife, and the real
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  reasons for this strange union were locked in the taciturn mind of Adela herself.
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  Having taken, or having been kicked into taking the plunge, Quelch seemed to
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  find it not quite so dreadful as he had anticipated. Adela Watkins seemed quite
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  pleased at having a home and a husband of her own, and she ruled
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  the latter with a rod of iron literally on one occasion, developing an unexpected
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  amount of spirit in the process. As for Quelch, the only symptom of
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  dissatisfaction I ever observed was a habit he developed of sitting for hours at a
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  time under the cliff. He used to fill his pockets with gold before taking
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  his seat, and I have known him to spend a whole Sunday over this
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  pastime, moving with unquenched hope from place to place. There were no further
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  exhibitions of backlash. However, despite the late sewing, I reaped a good
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  harvest. We had quite a little heard of growing calves, a well stocked
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  pig stye, and so much honey, some of it from her own hives,
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  that I postponed it experiments on beech sugar out of pure laziness. We
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  also had some half tamed ducks and geese whose wings it was my painful duty
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  to clip. On September eighteenth too, a youth called William Thorpe joined himself
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  in the community and had greater success than Michael Quelch in defying the authority of
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  Marjorie. By rights, he should have died from living in a drafty hut,
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  and from the lack of many things deemed necessary for people of his age.
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  But the more hardship he suffered, the greater he waxed in strength and
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  in devilry. At the age of nine months, he crawled forth and was
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  discovered playing with the cumbrous Tommy. Shortly afterwards, he did it again,
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  and might have toppled over the cliff had not that uncanny Ursine, who perhaps
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  remembered the fate of his little brother, retrieved him in the nick of time.
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  Tommy could crackle the stoutest deer bone to flinders, but Tommy's iron jaws
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  never left a scratch on Bill's infantile hide. Tommy was a lady bear.
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  Marjorie had the naming of him or her. We thorpes are inclined to be
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  sentimental, although my son Bill as a man of more than middle age fifty
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  five he should be at the time of writing. He is the only adult
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  male member of the tribe who has never killed a bear. He is death
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  on wolves, but his veneration of the largest of our local carnivora almost transgresses
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  the limits of paganism. A bear played havoc with his garden two years ago,
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  come next July, and the stupid fellow risked his life driving it away
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  with an ash plant, and in a perfect passion, he cut the bowstring
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  and threatened to cut the throat, likewise of young Julius Quelch, who had
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  come to his assistance with more proper weapons. End of chapter two, read
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  by Timrow in London, twenty twenty three.