Vera entered with the two children. All three immediately, as if they
found themselves confronted by something threatening, stood arrested.
Vera tackled the situation.
'Is the table ready to be cleared yet?' she asked in an unpleasant tone.
Her father's cup was half emptied. He had come to tea late, after the
others had left the table. Evidently he had not finished, but he made no
reply, neither did Beatrice. Vera glanced disgustedly at her father.
Gwen sidled up to her mother, and tried to break the tension.
'Mam, there was a lady had a dog, and it ran into a shop, and it licked
a sheep, Mam, what was hanging up.' Beatrice sat fixed, and paid not the slightest attention. The child
looked up at her, waited, then continued softly.
'Mam, there was a lady had a dog--' 'Don't bother!' snapped Vera sharply.
The child looked, wondering and resentful, at her sister. Vera was
taking the things from the table, snatching them, and thrusting them on
the tray. Gwen's eyes rested a moment or two on the bent head of her
father; then deliberately she turned again to her mother, and repeated
in her softest and most persuasive tones: 'Mam, I saw a dog, and it ran in a butcher's shop and licked a piece of
meat. Mam, Mam!' There was no answer. Gwen went forward and put her hand on her mother's
knee.
'Mam!' she pleaded timidly.
No response.
'Mam!' she whispered.
She was desperate. She stood on tiptoe, and pulled with little hands at
her mother's breast.
'Mam!' she whispered shrilly.
Her mother, with an effort of self-denial, put off her investment of
tragedy, and, laying her arm round the child's shoulders, drew her
close. Gwen was somewhat reassured, but not satisfied. With an earnest
face upturned to the impassive countenance of her mother, she began to
whisper, sibilant, coaxing, pleading.
'Mam, there was a lady, she had a dog--' Vera turned sharply to stop this whispering, which was too much for her
nerves, but the mother forestalled her. Taking the child in her arms,
she averted her face, put her cheek against the baby cheek, and let the
tears run freely. Gwen was too much distressed to cry. The tears
gathered very slowly in her eyes, and fell without her having moved a
muscle in her face. Vera remained in the scullery, weeping tears of
rage, and pity, and shame into the towel. The only sound in the room was
the occasional sharp breathing of Beatrice. Siegmund sat without the
trace of a movement, almost without breathing. His head was ducked low;
he dared never lift it, he dared give no sign of his presence.