Chapter 26
chapter twenty six of bizarre by lawton mccall this librivox recording is in the public domain recording by nick the night of the fleece wimley was the mildest man living consequently when molly said in her most decisive tone nonsense i won't hear of your going back to-night before you've even seen our new tennis court he realized that he would have to stay over the week-end not that he didn't want to in one way for he liked molly and admired the way she bossed the servants and ran the house for her mother then too the weather which seemed to be growing hotter every minute would be far more endurable out here in avondale manor than in the city what troubled him was the fact that he had not brought a hand-bag i'll lend you some of father's things she went on it will be no bother at all when the evening drew to a close and bedward migration began he was shown to the guest-room
i hope you will find everything all right said his hostess as she bid him good-night he replied that he was sure he would then he opened the door the heat met him like a solid wall throwing off his coat he went to the two windows to see if they could really be open yes they were but the thick fly-screening kept out any air that might have desired to enter he glanced at the bed there was something blue and white lying folded on it as he drew nearer he could see that this something was fuzzy picking it up he discovered it to be a pair of woollen pyjamas horrors not even in the bitterest winter could his skin endure the feel of wool he wondered if molly's father ever really wore such things perhaps his wife had given them to him and perhaps that was why the old gentleman was staying so long in south america midnight found wimley still looking the pyjamas squarely in the fuzz an awful thought was in his mind what would molly and her mother think of him if they found them unrumpled and therefore unused
he slid one leg into the proper section the flannel drew like a mild mustard plaster then he pulled on the other he was engulfed a hippopotamus would have felt comfortable in them at the north pole he drew the fuzzy cord several feet before he tied it then put on the ulster it had a huge pocket capable of containing a tablecloth that hung over the spot where his appendix would have been if he had been internally left-handed noting that his feet had disappeared he turned up the bottoms of the trousers four times so that each ankle was neatly encircled with a doughnut shaped buffer then after throwing back all the covers he snapped out the light and got into bed it had one of those patent soft mattresses that sinking in hold the body in bas-relief he rolled and floundered on the thing but at every flounder he sank deeper it was a quicksand of a bed he recalled victor hugo's account of the unfortunate traveler who perished in just such a way how first his feet disappeared then his knees then his waist till at last there was nothing but a waving hand
and then that went he was just preparing to wave when his attention was distracted by the realization that his whole body was tingling with the heat he seized the jacket by the middle button and pumped it in and out trying to pump in some cool air there was none to pump gasping for breath he crawled to a window still no air he decided to remove the fly-screening there was a little groove in the side of the frame where you were supposed to put in your fingers and pull he put in his fingers and pulled nothing happened then he did so again considerably harder and the screen went sailing out of the window he leaned out just in time to see it crash upon a row of potted plants his heart stood still had anyone heard the noise he listened for several minutes in agonizing suspense here at the window it was a little cooler than in the bed why not emulate the japanese and sleep on the floor splendid no more squashy clinging mattress for him fetching a pillow he stretched out in true oriental style quite right the floor did not sink or yield in any manner
it even gave prominence to certain bony places which the bed had kindly overlooked resisting the thick woollen anklets it complicated the disposal of his lower limbs finally however a gentle sleep slid into his soul but about an hour later the slippery thing slid out again at the mere announcement by a rooster that dawn had arrived other roosters wishing to remove all doubts on the subject repeated with emphasis that joyous day was at hand then a large fly buzzed in through the window to say good morning it perched sociably on his left temple and began rubbing its front legs together in a jovial manner but whimley was in no mood for holding a levy he brushed the fly away it executed a boomerang trajectory lit again on the same spot and began rubbing its legs as before he brushed it away again it perched again in exactly the same spot he was indignant was he to be at the mercy of a miserable little fly it seemed he was he got up and paced the floor
happening to catch a glimpse of his face in the mirror he beheld a flourishing crop of black bristles his whiskers stood ready to be harvested and his faithful razor was fifty miles away panic seized him he thought of the window-screen catastrophe of the quicksand bed of the hard floor his heart sank but when he thought of a day in those whiskers another night in those pyjamas and then tomorrow's whiskers he felt that instant flight was the only thing possible hastily he pulled on his clothes which felt sticky and mouldy and spoke eloquently of yesterday's dust and heat then he opened the door and peered out into the hall no one was in sight but other doors were open and out of one of these came a rumbling snore could it be molly's this ominous sound was more than he could bear he retreated back in the room once more he tiptoed over to the screenless window to see what his chances would be in that quarter ah there close by was a vine-covered trellis that reached down to the ground with palpitating heart he swung himself over to it
it oscillated slightly as it received his weight the thorny crimson rambler was decidedly cloying he no sooner succeeded in detaching himself from one twig than two more just like it whipped out and hooked him he reached down with his right foot down down where the devil was that next cross-piece at last he found it together with about a dozen new thorns but when he started to bring down his left foot the twigs from above insisted on escorting him to the lower perch so that he was now in the clutches of the thorns of both levels his coat-tails had soared to the middle of his back and his side pockets were nestling under his armpits the air was full of perfume and profanity all at once there was a crack and a tear and something gave way the next instant he and the vine were descended rapidly in each other's embrace a clump of lofty hollyhocks suffered a martyrdom in breaking his fall they gave their sap to save him and complete the ruin of his clothes
disentangling himself from the wreckage he dashed off down the nearest path under arbors and pergolas around sundials and summer-houses past marble seats with mottoes that spoke of rest till just as he thought he had reached the end of the labyrinth he found himself at the end of a blind alley in front of him was a dribbling fountain a vapid-faced female clad in dew and idiotically pouring water out of a parlour ornament on the pedestal was carved a garden is a lovesome spot god what a brown measuring worm was measuring the lady for garments she needed but would never wear and the water dribbled and dribbled but wimley wasn't thirsty striding over a row of caught shells and broad jumping a plot of geraniums he made for a six-foot hedge that appeared to be the boundary of the garden a desperate spring followed by a frantic scramble brought him to the top of it he wriggled there like a bareback rider on a bucking porcupine ping sounded a tennis racket close beside him
lifting his face from the foliage he beheld molly enjoying an early morning game with her thirteen-year-old brother my advantage she called as she raised her racket to serve but catching an astonished look on the boy's face she stopped short and glanced at the hedge a tramp she exclaimed moving toward the spot the would-be fugitive struggled to tumble back on the other side his head and one shoulder disappeared from view grab him don't let him get away she cried excitedly the boy did so seizing one foot while she seized the other then from the depths of the foliage came a voice as shy and as plaintive as that of the hermit thrush murmuring it's wimli chapter twenty six
