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"That's the worst of living so far out," bawled Mr. White, with sudden
and unlooked-for violence; "of all the beastly, slushy, out-of-the-way
places to live in, this is the worst.  Pathway's a bog, and the road's a
torrent.  I don't know what people are thinking about.  I suppose because
only two houses in the road are let, they think it doesn't matter."

"Never mind, dear," said his wife, soothingly; "perhaps you'll win the
next one."

Mr. White looked up sharply, just in time to intercept a knowing glance
between mother and son.  The words died away on his lips, and he hid a
guilty grin in his thin grey beard.

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The sergeant-major shook hands, and taking the proffered seat by the
fire, watched contentedly while his host got out whiskey and tumblers and
stood a small copper kettle on the fire.

At the third glass his eyes got brighter, and he began to talk, the
little family circle regarding with eager interest this visitor from
distant parts, as he squared his broad shoulders in the chair and spoke
of wild scenes and doughty deeds; of wars and plagues and strange
peoples.

"Twenty-one years of it," said Mr. White, nodding at his wife and son.
"When he went away he was a slip of a youth in the warehouse.  Now look
at him."

"He don't look to have taken much harm," said Mrs. White, politely.

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"Monkey's paw?"  said Mrs. White, curiously.

"Well, it's just a bit of what you might call magic, perhaps," said the
sergeant-major, offhandedly.

His three listeners leaned forward eagerly.  The visitor absent-mindedly
put his empty glass to his lips and then set it down again.  His host
filled it for him.

"To look at," said the sergeant-major, fumbling in his pocket, "it's just
an ordinary little paw, dried to a mummy."

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"Well, why don't you have three, sir?"  said Herbert White, cleverly.

The soldier regarded him in the way that middle age is wont to regard
presumptuous youth.  "I have," he said, quietly, and his blotchy face
whitened.

"And did you really have the three wishes granted?"  asked Mrs. White.

"I did," said the sergeant-major, and his glass tapped against his strong
teeth.

"And has anybody else wished?"  persisted the old lady.

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The soldier shook his head.  "Fancy, I suppose," he said, slowly.  "I did
have some idea of selling it, but I don't think I will.  It has caused
enough mischief already.  Besides, people won't buy.  They think it's a
fairy tale; some of them, and those who do think anything of it want to
try it first and pay me afterward."

"If you could have another three wishes," said the old man, eyeing him
keenly, "would you have them?"

"I don't know," said the other.  "I don't know."

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The other shook his head and examined his new possession closely.  "How
do you do it?"  he inquired.

"Hold it up in your right hand and wish aloud," said the sergeant-major,
"but I warn you of the consequences."

"Sounds like the Arabian Nights," said Mrs. White, as she rose and began
to set the supper.  "Don't you think you might wish for four pairs of
hands for me?"

Her husband drew the talisman from pocket, and then all three burst into
laughter as the sergeant-major, with a look of alarm on his face, caught
him by the arm.

"If you must wish," he said, gruffly, "wish for something sensible."

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"A trifle," said he, colouring slightly.  "He didn't want it, but I made
him take it.  And he pressed me again to throw it away."

"Likely," said Herbert, with pretended horror.  "Why, we're going to be
rich, and famous and happy.  Wish to be an emperor, father, to begin
with; then you can't be henpecked."

He darted round the table, pursued by the maligned Mrs. White armed with
an antimacassar.

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A fine crash from the piano greeted the words, interrupted by a
shuddering cry from the old man.  His wife and son ran toward him.

"It moved," he cried, with a glance of disgust at the object as it lay on
the floor.

"As I wished, it twisted in my hand like a snake."

"Well, I don't see the money," said his son as he picked it up and placed
it on the table, "and I bet I never shall."

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"I expect you'll find the cash tied up in a big bag in the middle of your
bed," said Herbert, as he bade them good-night, "and something horrible
squatting up on top of the wardrobe watching you as you pocket your
ill-gotten gains."

He sat alone in the darkness, gazing at the dying fire, and seeing faces
in it.  The last face was so horrible and so simian that he gazed at it
in amazement.'  It got so vivid that, with a little uneasy laugh, he felt
on the table for a glass containing a little water to throw over it.  His
hand grasped the monkey's paw, and with a little shiver he wiped his hand
on his coat and went up to bed.

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"Morris said the things happened so naturally," said' his father, "that
you might if you so wished attribute it to coincidence."

"Well, don't break into the money before I come back," said Herbert as he
rose from the table.  "I'm afraid it'll turn you into a mean, avaricious
man, and we shall have to disown you."

His mother laughed, and following him to the door, watched him down the
road; and returning to the breakfast table, was very happy at the expense
of her husband's credulity.  All of which did not prevent her from
scurrying to the door at the postman's knock, nor prevent her from
referring somewhat shortly to retired sergeant-majors of bibulous habits
when she found that the post brought a tailor's bill.

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His wife made no reply.  She was watching the mysterious movements of a
man outside, who, peering in an undecided fashion at the house, appeared
to be trying to make up his mind to enter.  In mental connection with the
two hundred pounds, she noticed that the stranger was well dressed, and
wore a silk hat of glossy newness.  Three times he paused at the gate,
and then walked on again.  The fourth time he stood with his hand upon
it, and then with sudden resolution flung it open and walked up the path.
Mrs. White at the same moment placed her hands behind her, and hurriedly
unfastening the strings of her apron, put that useful article of apparel
beneath the cushion of her chair.

She brought the stranger, who seemed ill at ease, into the room.  He
gazed at her furtively, and listened in a preoccupied fashion as the old
lady apologized for the appearance of the room, and her husband's coat, a
garment which he usually reserved for the garden.  She then waited as
patiently as her sex would permit, for him to broach his business, but he
was at first strangely silent.

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"I'm sorry--" began the visitor.

"Is he hurt?"  demanded the mother, wildly.

The visitor bowed in assent.  "Badly hurt," he said, quietly, "but he is
not in any pain."

"Oh, thank God!" said the old woman, clasping her hands.  "Thank God for
that!  Thank--"

She broke off suddenly as the sinister meaning of the assurance dawned
upon her and she saw the awful confirmation of her fears in the other's
perverted face.  She caught her breath, and turning to her slower-witted
husband, laid her trembling old hand upon his.  There was a long silence.

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The other coughed, and rising, walked slowly to the window.  "The firm
wished me to convey their sincere sympathy with you in your great loss,"
he said, without looking round.  "I beg that you will understand I am
only their servant and merely obeying orders."

There was no reply; the old woman's face was white, her eyes staring, and
her breath inaudible; on the husband's face was a look such as his friend
the sergeant might have carried into his first action.

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III.

In the huge new cemetery, some two miles distant, the old people buried
their dead, and came back to a house steeped in shadow and silence.  It
was all over so quickly that at first they could hardly realize it, and
remained in a state of expectation as though of something else to happen
--something else which was to lighten this load, too heavy for old hearts
to bear.

But the days passed, and expectation gave place to resignation--the
hopeless resignation of the old, sometimes miscalled, apathy.  Sometimes
they hardly exchanged a word, for now they had nothing to talk about, and
their days were long to weariness.

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The sound of her sobs died away on his ears.  The bed was warm, and his
eyes heavy with sleep.  He dozed fitfully, and then slept until a sudden
wild cry from his wife awoke him with a start.

"The paw!"  she cried wildly.  "The monkey's paw!"

He started up in alarm.  "Where?  Where is it?  What's the matter?"

She came stumbling across the room toward him.  "I want it," she said,
quietly.  "You've not destroyed it?"

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"We've only had one."

"Was not that enough?"  he demanded, fiercely.

"No," she cried, triumphantly; "we'll have one more.  Go down and get it
quickly, and wish our boy alive again."

The man sat up in bed and flung the bedclothes from his quaking limbs.
"Good God, you are mad!"  he cried, aghast.

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The old man turned and regarded her, and his voice shook.  "He has been
dead ten days, and besides he--I would not tell you else, but--I could
only recognize him by his clothing.  If he was too terrible for you to
see then, how now?"

"Bring him back," cried the old woman, and dragged him toward the door.
"Do you think I fear the child I have nursed?"

He went down in the darkness, and felt his way to the parlour, and then
to the mantelpiece.  The talisman was in its place, and a horrible fear
that the unspoken wish might bring his mutilated son before him ere he
could escape from the room seized upon him, and he caught his breath as
he found that he had lost the direction of the door.  His brow cold with
sweat, he felt his way round the table, and groped along the wall until
he found himself in the small passage with the unwholesome thing in his
hand.

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The talisman fell to the floor, and he regarded it fearfully.  Then he
sank trembling into a chair as the old woman, with burning eyes, walked
to the window and raised the blind.

He sat until he was chilled with the cold, glancing occasionally at the
figure of the old woman peering through the window.  The candle-end,
which had burned below the rim of the china candlestick, was throwing
pulsating shadows on the ceiling and walls, until, with a flicker larger
than the rest, it expired.  The old man, with an unspeakable sense of
relief at the failure of the talisman, crept back to his bed, and a
minute or two afterward the old woman came silently and apathetically
beside him.

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The matches fell from his hand and spilled in the passage.  He stood
motionless, his breath suspended until the knock was repeated.  Then he
turned and fled swiftly back to his room, and closed the door behind him.
A third knock sounded through the house.

"What's that?"  cried the old woman, starting up.

"A rat," said the old man in shaking tones--"a rat.  It passed me on the
stairs."

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"It's my boy; it's Herbert!"  she cried, struggling mechanically.
"I forgot it was two miles away.  What are you holding me for?  Let go.
I must open the door.

"For God's sake don't let it in," cried the old man, trembling.

"You're afraid of your own son," she cried, struggling.  "Let me go.  I'm
coming, Herbert; I'm coming."

There was another knock, and another.  The old woman with a sudden wrench
broke free and ran from the room.  Her husband followed to the landing,
and called after her appealingly as she hurried downstairs.  He heard the
chain rattle back and the bottom bolt drawn slowly and stiffly from the
socket.  Then the old woman's voice, strained and panting.

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