And then, forthwith, he began to prove it to her.
I went out to get myself a cigar in the dining-room, and while there, cutting off the end of it and smiling gently to myself as I did so, I heard the voice of Cruikshank raised in the passion of despair.
“My God! my dear child,” I heard him say. “I proved those two were equal because they both came from the centre of this circle—B.F.G. to the circumference. You don’t remember anything.”
I lit my cigar with a trembling hand. Then I walked to the window of the dining-room and looked out into the garden. There were the tom-tits pecking away at the cocoa-nut shell which Bellwattle had hung up with such infinite trouble; there were the kittens, lapping from a saucer of milk as Bellwattle and their mother had taught them; there were the sweet peas in great walls of colour with the old pieces of red flannel still clinging to the pea-sticks, those same pieces of flannel which Bellwattle had tied to keep off the birds when the shoots were young and green; there was the little robin which Bellwattle fed every afternoon at tea-time; there, in fact, were all the signs of Bellwattle’s beautiful and wonderful and practical utility.
I came back into the other room at the sound of Cruikshank’s voice as he called me.
“She sees it!” he exclaimed in an ecstasy. “She understands it all right. I made it clear, didn’t I, Bellwattle?”
“Oh, quite,” said she. “I understand it now right enough. But I never knew Euclid made instruments for bands.”
Cruikshank tore up his piece of paper and flung it in the grate.
So you see, if she really knew, I’ve no doubt she’d return to question Euclid’s sanity once more. I feel inclined to question it myself, but then that is because I know he did not make instruments for bands. He only expressed himself—that was all.
I never knew how really splendid a possession was this of the vote until the last election. It is no wonder to me now that women throw dignity to the four winds of heaven, leaving it to chance and the grace of God whether it ever blows back to them again. It is no wonder to me that, for the moment, they can forget their glorious heritage in order to obtain this mysterious joy of recording their vote on a little slip of paper in the secrecy of the ballot-box.