Page:Restless Earth.djvu/10
breakfast-room a combined bridge-marker and ash-tray lay broken upon the hearth-rug. The clock on the mantel had stopped. Not much damage there. The floor of the kitchenette was sprinkled with salt and the remains of a number of cups and saucers and a plate or two. A peculiar smell filled the tiny room, and Harley remembered that he had not turned out the gas under the kettle at breakfast time. He hastened to turn it out now.
Two soiled cups were perched upon the very edge of the sink-board. He moved them to a safer position. He eyed the pile of dishes in the sink and on the board. They seemed intact. He pushed back a small pile of plates which had slithered forward on a shelf above the sink. The movement caused a jelly jar to topple. It fell upon his scalp and then into the sink, breaking a small jug and a plate.
Harley returned to the small drawing-room, and much of his cheerfulness had departed. Nevertheless he sat down and dashed off a postscript:
“P.S. A slight earthquake has just occurred, and you will have no difficulty in picturing my dignified scramble for the wide-open spaces. Hope you didn’t feel it in Napier, knowing how you feel about shakes. That horrible bridge-scorer of yours is now deceased, as, also, are numerous platters which were piled on the sink-board (so many less for me to wash). Ginger has taken to the bush again, and one of your jelly jars almost brained me. I hopped over Clarge’s fence and woke the energetic Henry, who talked very bravely about the shakes he had met. He doesn’t lie so well as he sleeps. I wonder Clarge keeps him on. . . .
The incongruity of such a postscript struck him and he ceased writing. It read as though Grace were merely taking a holiday instead of—of what was happening actually.
The last glow of his new-born cheerfulness faded.