Free Letty Fox by Christina Stead Page B

Dr. Goodsir had her baby, a girl, upstairs, in the women’s part of the house (he called it the Gynoecium), Templeton, then eleven or so, was given the lean-to as his bedroom. There was only an open doorway to his bedroom, and these other two doors led outside. Templeton’s friends could open these doors and walk in at any time. Uncle Perce thought this an excellent idea. Later he thought not, and closed up these doorways, putting a door in Templeton’s bedroom instead. Sometimes he put in and took doors out of the breakfast room. He took up the floors and put down new floors. He built partitions and pierced walls. While this was being done (this kind of job took more than one day), the women had to look after the clothes, clean the house and cook, hobbling over rubble and rafters. Stonedust, sawdust, and the fine gray dust of cement settled over everything in the house, over the curtains and the books; flecks of paint appeared in unexpected places, and even all over the bodies of the family; all their old clothes were stiffened and stained with it. Very often the table conversation was the mixing of paints, putty and cement, and types of finish, or was about the composition of paints and veneers; and was sprinkled with expressions such as plumb rule, cold chisel, stipple, second coat, mortise and tenon, three-ply, which even Mrs. Dr. Goodsir understood. At another time it would be “What makes an automobile go?” “Why does water run downhill?” Mrs. Dr. Goodsir argued and became angry; when he got to the flight of the universe through space, she wept and mentioned God.
    It was interesting enough in their house, but we longed for the fun of the city. Uncle Perce believed that the movies and the theater prevented youthful minds from approaching science. It got about that Uncle Perce was godless: that was the cause of the Cecily scandal.
    The rich farmer, the one with the black bull, called The Wreck “the house with disappearing doors,” because of Uncle’s restlessness about doors. Uncle never forgave it. The old farmer, with the old wife and the young black-haired niece, warned his niece away from The Wreck because Uncle Perce, in his opinion, was a Mormon and an anarchist. Uncle Perce attacked him venomously whenever he could.
    Uncle Perce gave no presents at Christmas, because presentgiving to “public or community servants encouraged begging”; in return, these “public and community servants” were disagreeable to Uncle Perce and he was never done complaining. Uncle Perce opposed indemnities for accidents, workmen’s compensation, sick benefit, or anything in which the government, the community, or the employer had anything to do. “It pampered,” he said. It was true, as people said, that these opinions suited Aunt Angela’s wealthy family very well, but Uncle Perce’s notion was that such props weakened the people. He was only in favor of self-help and compensations paid out by workers’ mutual associations.
    One day one of the old farmers thereabouts fell into a hole on the public road and broke his leg. He received indemnity for this and still hobbled about the farm with his old wife trying to keep a few rows of peas going and some corn. Uncle Perce took a petition round the community protesting against this pap-feeding of citizens. “If citizens were not paid for breaking their legs, they would not break their legs,” said he, “and if they did break their legs, they would know better next time.” All the old men came to hate Uncle Perce. The middle-aged prosperous ones did not know what to think. Some secretly agreed with him but were afraid to say so, on account of their women.
    He was full of apparent irreconcilables. For instance, he thought all land should belong to the community, there should be no private landlords, and that rent, if any, should be paid “to the people”; yet he behaved with the acreage