"You seem to forget that the cook has neuralgia," said Eshley; "she may
be just dozing off into a merciful sleep and your outcry will waken her.
Consideration for others should be the guiding principle of people in our
station of life."
"The man is mad!" exclaimed Adela tragically. A moment later it was
Adela herself who appeared to go mad. The ox had finished the
vase-flowers and the cover of "Israel Kalisch," and appeared to be
thinking of leaving its rather restricted quarters. Eshley noticed its
restlessness and promptly flung it some bunches of Virginia creeper
leaves as an inducement to continue the sitting.
"I forget how the proverb runs," he observed; "of something about 'better
a dinner of herbs than a stalled ox where hate is.' We seem to have all
the ingredients for the proverb ready to hand."
"I shall go to the Public Library and get them to telephone for the
police," announced Adela, and, raging audibly, she departed.
Some minutes later the ox, awakening probably to the suspicion that oil
cake and chopped mangold was waiting for it in some appointed byre,
stepped with much precaution out of the morning-room, stared with grave
inquiry at the no longer obtrusive and pea-stick-throwing human, and then
lumbered heavily but swiftly out of the garden. Eshley packed up his
tools and followed the animal's example and "Larkdene" was left to
neuralgia and the cook.
The episode was the turning-point in Eshley's artistic career.
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