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Literary Lapses
·
Stephen Leacock
15
After
breakfast
next
day,
papa
went
off
to
his
work
in
the
City,
and
left
Jones
playing
with
the
baby,
broken-hearted.
His
nerve
was
utterly
gone.
He
was
meaning
to
leave
all
day,
but
the
thing
had
got
on
his
mind
and
he
simply
couldn't.
When
papa
came
home
in
the
evening
he
was
surprised
and
chagrined
to
find
Jones
still
there.
He
thought
to
jockey
him
out
with
a
jest,
and
said
he
thought
he'd
have
to
charge
him
for
his
board,
he!
he!
The
unhappy
young
man
stared
wildly
for
a
moment,
then
wrung
papa's
hand,
paid
him
a
month's
board
in
advance,
and
broke
down
and
sobbed
like
a
child.
In
the
days
that
followed
he
was
moody
and
unapproachable.
He
lived,
of
course,
entirely
in
the
drawing-room,
and
the
lack
of
air
and
exercise
began
to
tell
sadly
on
his
health.
He
passed
his
time
in
drinking
tea
and
looking
at
the
photographs.
He
would
stand
for
hours
gazing
at
the
photographs
of
papa's
uncle's
friend
in
his
Bengal
uniform--talking
to
it,
sometimes
swearing
bitterly
at
it.
His
mind
was
visibly
failing.
At
length
the
crash
came.
They
carried
him
upstairs
in
a
raging
delirium
of
fever.
The
illness
that
followed
was
terrible.
He
recognized
no
one,
not
even
papa's
uncle's
friend
in
his
Bengal
uniform.
At
times
he
would
start
up
from
his
bed
and
shriek,
"Well,
I
think
I...."
and
then
fall
back
upon
the
pillow
with
a
horrible
laugh.
Then,
again,
he
would
leap
up
and
cry,
"Another
cup
of
tea
and
more
photographs!
More
photographs!
Har!
Har!"
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