"His mother took three firsts at Birmingham, and he was second in the
cockerel class last year at Gloucester. He'll probably roost on the rail
at the bottom of your bed. I wonder if he'd feel more at home if some of
his wives were up here with him? The hens are all in the pantry, and I
think I could pick out Hartlepool Helen; she's his favourite."
Latimer showed a belated firmness on the subject of Hartlepool Helen, and
Vera withdrew without pressing the point, having first settled the
gamecock on his extemporised perch and taken an affectionate farewell of
the pigling. Latimer undressed and got into bed with all due speed,
judging that the pig would abate its inquisitorial restlessness once the
light was turned out. As a substitute for a cosy, straw-bedded sty the
room offered, at first inspection, few attractions, but the disconsolate
animal suddenly discovered an appliance in which the most luxuriously
contrived piggeries were notably deficient. The sharp edge of the
underneath part of the bed was pitched at exactly the right elevation to
permit the pigling to scrape himself ecstatically backwards and forwards,
with an artistic humping of the back at the crucial moment and an
accompanying gurgle of long-drawn delight. The gamecock, who may have
fancied that he was being rocked in the branches of a pine-tree, bore the
motion with greater fortitude than Latimer was able to command. A series
of slaps directed at the pig's body were accepted more as an additional
and pleasing irritant than as a criticism of conduct or a hint to desist;
evidently something more than a man's firm hand was needed to deal with
the case.
Pages:
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70