Free Magruder's Curiosity Cabinet by H. P. Wood Page B

entire pointless life.”
    â€œAs far as he knew.”
    â€œYes, as far as he knew.”
    â€œYou’re angry because you only stole one hundred dollars? That’s a great deal of money!”
    â€œAren’t we Miss Morality all of a sudden? You’re welcome to send back the fish, you know, if you’re troubled by this terrible stealing.”
    Kitty grins and takes another bite. “Fair enough.”
    Archie removes his napkin from his lap and tosses it on the table. Leaning back in his chair, he removes the pipe from his jacket and lights it. “So, now that we’ve dined, tell me about Seamus. Why is he so important?”
    Kitty glances at Archie; he’s got that look again—that weighing, measuring look. She puts down her fork. “I don’t expect you’ll believe it.”
    â€œTry me.”
    Rather than answer, she looks around the courtyard. A few tables over, two young parents struggle to get a few bites of hot dog into their rambunctious, ketchup-smeared children. Next to them, an older man sits alone, coughing violently into his handkerchief—nearby diners give the old man the stink eye, but he ignores them and keeps on coughing. Immediately to Kitty’s right, a pair of young lovers make eyes at each other over their beers, while to her left, an elderly couple consumes bratwurst in stony silence. Not a soul on Feltman’s three acres has the slightest interest in Kitty’s problems. Except Archie.
    All right , she thinks. Nothing to lose. “I arrived in New York three days ago, on a steamer from Cape Town.”
    â€œSouth Africa? That’s exotic. Why ever were you there?”
    â€œMy mother and I sailed there to see my brother. He served in the conflict with the Boers and—”
    â€œOh, he’s joining the Boer War show, of course! That’s what brought you here. I might have guessed.”
    Kitty frowns. “I don’t understand.”
    â€œOut at New Brighton Beach! There are a thousand veterans involved. They reenact the war every afternoon—ten cents a person, not a bad seat in the house. Thrill to the exploits of General Cronjé, Buffalo Bill of the Transvaal! Yes?” Kitty’s appalled expression tells Archie he’s turned down a blind conversational alley. “Boer War show…very popular…no?”
    â€œI’m afraid not,” she says coolly. “I must confess, I find the notion of a Boer War show to be in poor taste.”
    â€œWelcome to New York, kid. All right, carry on with your yarn.”
    She takes a deep breath and another bite of trout to collect herself. “His service had ended, and we went to fetch him. Nate was determined we move to America, you see. Father died years ago, so it was just the three of us. I wanted to start university, but the fees were atrocious. Nate didn’t get the placement he wanted at an architecture firm, and… Anyway, it’s not important. The point is, things all started to fall apart. As they do.”
    Archie sings, “ Ol-i-gar-chy ain’t what she used to be, ain’t what she used to be… ”
    Kitty grimaces. “In any case, Nate resolved we should make a go of it in America. What a lovely new life we would start, the streets paved with gold and so forth. But you see…” She pauses to peel off the trout’s cheek with her fork—the most flavorful part of the fish, Kitty had been saving the cheek for last, for when she really needed it. “There are these Boer men—bitter-enders, they’re called—who wouldn’t accept that they’d lost the war. They disappeared into the…I don’t know, the veldt , I suppose. Periodically, they’d blow something up or shoot someone. And…a few days before my mother and I arrived, the bitter-enders staged an attack.”
    â€œUh-oh.”
    â€œWe arrived from England only to learn that Nate… They attacked in