“Well, I don’t see the money,” said
his son as he picked it up and placed it on the table,
“and I bet I never shall.”
“It must have been your fancy, father,”
said his wife, regarding him anxiously.
He shook his head. “Never mind, though;
there’s no harm done, but it gave me a shock
all the same.”
They sat down by the fire again while the two men
finished their pipes. Outside, the wind was higher
than ever, and the old man started nervously at the
sound of a door banging upstairs. A silence unusual
and depressing settled upon all three, which lasted
until the old couple rose to retire for the night.
“I expect you’ll find the cash tied up
in a big bag in the middle of your bed,” said
Herbert, as he bade them good-night, “and something
horrible squatting up on top of the wardrobe watching
you as you pocket your ill-gotten gains.”
He sat alone in the darkness, gazing at the dying
fire, and seeing faces in it. The last face
was so horrible and so simian that he gazed at it
in amazement.’ It got so vivid that, with
a little uneasy laugh, he felt on the table for a
glass containing a little water to throw over it.
His hand grasped the monkey’s paw, and with
a little shiver he wiped his hand on his coat and
went up to bed.
In the brightness of the wintry sun next morning as
it streamed over the breakfast table he laughed at
his fears. There was an air of prosaic wholesomeness
about the room which it had lacked on the previous
night, and the dirty, shrivelled little paw was pitched
on the sideboard with a carelessness which betokened
no great belief in its virtues.
“I suppose all old soldiers are the same,”
said Mrs. White. “The idea of our listening
to such nonsense! How could wishes be granted
in these days? And if they could, how could
two hundred pounds hurt you, father?”
“Might drop on his head from the sky,”
said the frivolous Herbert.
“Morris said the things happened so naturally,”
said’ his father, “that you might if you
so wished attribute it to coincidence.”
“Well, don’t break into the money before
I come back,” said Herbert as he rose from the
table. “I’m afraid it’ll turn
you into a mean, avaricious man, and we shall have
to disown you.”
His mother laughed, and following him to the door,
watched him down the road; and returning to the breakfast
table, was very happy at the expense of her husband’s
credulity. All of which did not prevent her from
scurrying to the door at the postman’s knock,
nor prevent her from referring somewhat shortly to
retired sergeant-majors of bibulous habits when she
found that the post brought a tailor’s bill.
“Herbert will have some more of his funny remarks,
I expect, when he comes home,” she said, as
they sat at dinner.
“I dare say,” said Mr. White, pouring
himself out some beer; “but for all that, the
thing moved in my hand; that I’ll swear to.”
