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150
Literary Lapses
·
Stephen Leacock
139
PART
II
Six
months
had
passed.
It
was
now
mid-winter.
And
still
the
girl
lived.
Her
vitality
appeared
inexhaustible.
She
got
up
earlier
and
earlier.
She
now
rose
yesterday
afternoon.
At
intervals
she
seemed
almost
sane,
and
spoke
in
a
most
pathetic
manner
of
her
grave
and
the
probability
of
the
sun
shining
on
it
early
in
the
morning,
and
her
mother
walking
on
it
later
in
the
day.
At
other
times
her
malady
would
seize
her,
and
she
would
snatch
the
brick
off
the
string
and
throw
it
fiercely
at
Tennyson.
Once,
in
an
uncontrollable
fit
of
madness,
she
gave
her
sister
Effie
a
half-share
in
her
garden
tools
and
an
interest
in
a
box
of
mignonette.
The
poet
stayed
doggedly
on.
In
the
chill
of
the
morning
twilight
he
broke
the
ice
in
his
water-basin
and
cursed
the
girl.
But
he
felt
that
he
had
broken
the
ice
and
he
stayed.
On
the
whole,
life
at
the
cottage,
though
rugged,
was
not
cheerless.
In
the
long
winter
evenings
they
would
gather
around
a
smoking
fire
of
peat,
while
Tennyson
read
aloud
the
Idylls
of
the
King
to
the
rude
old
cottager.
Not
to
show
his
rudeness,
the
old
man
kept
awake
by
sitting
on
a
tin-tack.
This
also
kept
his
mind
on
the
right
tack.
The
two
found
that
they
had
much
in
common,
especially
the
old
cottager.
They
called
each
other
"Alfred"
and
"Hezekiah"
now.
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