Chapter 15

by Frank Norris

　　Then the grind began. It would have been easier for theMcTeagues to have faced their misfortunes had they befallenthem immediately after their marriage, when their love foreach other was fresh and fine, and when they could havefound a certain happiness in helping each other and sharingeach other's privations. Trina, no doubt, loved her husbandmore than ever, in the sense that she felt she belonged tohim. But McTeague's affection for his wife was dwindling alittle every day--had been dwindling for a long time, infact. He had become used to her by now. She was part ofthe order of the things with which he found himselfsurrounded. He saw nothing extraordinary about her; it wasno longer a pleasure for him to kiss her and take her in hisarms; she was merely his wife. He did not dislike her; hedid not love her. She was his wife, that was all. But hesadly missed and regretted all those little animal comfortswhich in the old prosperous life Trina had managed to findfor him. He missed the cabbage soups and steaming chocolatethat Trina had taught him to like; he missed his goodtobacco that Trina had educated him to prefer; he missed theSunday afternoon walks that she had caused him to substitutein place of his nap in the operating chair; and hemissed the bottled beer that she had induced him todrink in place of the steam beer from Frenna's. In the endhe grew morose and sulky, and sometimes neglected to answerhis wife when she spoke to him. Besides this, Trina'savarice was a perpetual annoyance to him. Oftentimes when aconsiderable alleviation of this unhappiness could have beenobtained at the expense of a nickel or a dime, Trina refusedthe money with a pettishness that was exasperating."No, no," she would exclaim. "To ride to the park Sundayafternoon, that means ten cents, and I can't afford it.""Let's walk there, then.""I've got to work.""But you've worked morning and afternoon every day thisweek.""I don't care, I've got to work."There had been a time when Trina had hated the idea ofMcTeague drinking steam beer as common and vulgar."Say, let's have a bottle of beer to-night. We haven't hada drop of beer in three weeks.""We can't afford it. It's fifteen cents a bottle.""But I haven't had a swallow of beer in three weeks.""Drink steam beer, then. You've got a nickel. I gaveyou a quarter day before yesterday.""But I don't like steam beer now."It was so with everything. Unfortunately, Trina hadcultivated tastes in McTeague which now could not begratified. He had come to be very proud of his silk hat and"Prince Albert" coat, and liked to wear them on Sundays.Trina had made him sell both. He preferred "Yale mixture"in his pipe; Trina had made him come down to "Mastiff," afive-cent tobacco with which he was once contented, but nowabhorred. He liked to wear clean cuffs; Trina allowed him afresh pair on Sundays only. At first these deprivationsangered McTeague. Then, all of a sudden, he slipped backinto the old habits (that had been his before he knew Trina)with an ease that was surprising. Sundays he dined at thecar conductors' coffee-joint once more, and spent theafternoon lying full length upon the bed, crop-full,stupid, warm, smoking his huge pipe, drinking his steambeer, and playing his six mournful tunes upon hisconcertina, dozing off to sleep towards four o'clock.The sale of their furniture had, after paying the rent andoutstanding bills, netted about a hundred and thirtydollars. Trina believed that the auctioneer from the second-hand store had swindled and cheated them and had made agreat outcry to no effect. But she had arranged the affairwith the auctioneer herself, and offset her disappointmentin the matter of the sale by deceiving her husband as to thereal amount of the returns. It was easy to lie to McTeague,who took everything for granted; and since the occasion ofher trickery with the money that was to have been sent toher mother, Trina had found falsehood easier than ever."Seventy dollars is all the auctioneer gave me," she toldher husband; "and after paying the balance due on the rent,and the grocer's bill, there's only fifty left.""Only fifty?" murmured McTeague, wagging his head, "onlyfifty? Think of that.""Only fifty," declared Trina. Afterwards she said toherself with a certain admiration for her cleverness:"Couldn't save sixty dollars much easier than that," and shehad added the hundred and thirty to the little hoard in thechamois-skin bag and brass match-box in the bottom of hertrunk.In these first months of their misfortunes the routine ofthe McTeagues was as follows: They rose at seven andbreakfasted in their room, Trina cooking the very meagremeal on an oil stove. Immediately after breakfast Trina satdown to her work of whittling the Noah's ark animals, andMcTeague took himself off to walk down town. He had by thegreatest good luck secured a position with a manufacturer ofsurgical instruments, where his manual dexterity in themaking of excavators, pluggers, and other dentalcontrivances stood him in fairly good stead. He lunched ata sailor's boarding-house near the water front, and in theafternoon worked till six. He was home at six-thirty, andhe and Trina had supper together in the "ladies' diningparlor," an adjunct of the car conductors' coffee-joint. Trina, meanwhile, had worked at her whittling allday long, with but half an hour's interval for lunch, whichshe herself prepared upon the oil stove. In the eveningthey were both so tired that they were in no mood forconversation, and went to bed early, worn out, harried,nervous, and cross.Trina was not quite so scrupulously tidy now as in the olddays. At one time while whittling the Noah's ark animalsshe had worn gloves. She never wore them now. She stilltook pride in neatly combing and coiling her wonderful blackhair, but as the days passed she found it more and morecomfortable to work in her blue flannel wrapper. Whittlingsand chips accumulated under the window where she did herwork, and she was at no great pains to clear the air of theroom vitiated by the fumes of the oil stove and heavy withthe smell of cooking. It was not gay, that life. The roomitself was not gay. The huge double bed sprawled overnearly a fourth of the available space; the angles ofTrina's trunk and the washstand projected into the room fromthe walls, and barked shins and scraped elbows. Streaks andspots of the "non-poisonous" paint that Trina used were uponthe walls and wood-work. However, in one corner of theroom, next the window, monstrous, distorted, brilliant,shining with a light of its own, stood the dentist's sign,the enormous golden tooth, the tooth of a Brobdingnag.One afternoon in September, about four months after theMcTeagues had left their suite, Trina was at her work by thewindow. She had whittled some half-dozen sets of animals,and was now busy painting them and making the arks. Littlepots of "non-poisonous" paint stood at her elbow on thetable, together with a box of labels that read, "Made inFrance." Her huge clasp-knife was stuck into the under sideof the table. She was now occupied solely with the brushesand the glue pot. She turned the little figures in herfingers with a wonderful lightness and deftness, paintingthe chickens Naples yellow, the elephants blue gray, thehorses Vandyke brown, adding a dot of Chinese white for theeyes and sticking in the ears and tail with a drop of glue.The animals once done, she put together and painted thearks, some dozen of them, all windows and no doors, each oneopening only by a lid which was half the roof. She had allthe work she could handle these days, for, from this timetill a week before Christmas, Uncle Oelbermann could take asmany "Noah's ark sets" as she could make.Suddenly Trina paused in her work, looking expectantlytoward the door. McTeague came in."Why, Mac," exclaimed Trina. "It's only three o'clock. Whatare you home so early for? Have they discharged you?""They've fired me," said McTeague, sitting down on the bed."Fired you! What for?""I don' know. Said the times were getting hard an' they hadto let me go."Trina let her paint-stained hands fall into her lap."Oh!" she cried. "If we don't have the hardest luckof any two people I ever heard of. What can you do now? Isthere another place like that where they make surgicalinstruments?""Huh? No, I don' know. There's three more.""Well, you must try them right away. Go down there rightnow.""Huh? Right now? No, I'm tired. I'll go down in themorning.""Mac," cried Trina, in alarm, "what are you thinking of?You talk as though we were millionaires. You must go downthis minute. You're losing money every second you sitthere." She goaded the huge fellow to his feet again,thrust his hat into his hands, and pushed him out of thedoor, he obeying the while, docile and obedient as a bigcart horse. He was on the stairs when she came runningafter him."Mac, they paid you off, didn't they, when they dischargedyou?""Yes.""Then you must have some money. Give it to me."The dentist heaved a shoulder uneasily."No, I don' want to.""I've got to have that money. There's no more oil forthe stove, and I must buy some more meal tickets to-night.""Always after me about money," muttered the dentist; but heemptied his pockets for her, nevertheless."I--you've taken it all," he grumbled. "Better leave mesomething for car fare. It's going to rain.""Pshaw! You can walk just as well as not. A big fellowlike you 'fraid of a little walk; and it ain't going torain."Trina had lied again both as to the want of oil for thestove and the commutation ticket for the restaurant. Butshe knew by instinct that McTeague had money about him, andshe did not intend to let it go out of the house. Shelistened intently until she was sure McTeague was gone.Then she hurriedly opened her trunk and hid the money in thechamois bag at the bottom.The dentist presented himself at every one of the makers ofsurgical instruments that afternoon and was promptly turnedaway in each case. Then it came on to rain, a fine, colddrizzle, that chilled him and wet him to the bone. He hadno umbrella, and Trina had not left him even five cents forcar fare. He started to walk home through the rain. It wasa long way to Polk Street, as the last manufactory he hadvisited was beyond even Folsom Street, and not far from thecity front.By the time McTeague reached Polk Street his teeth werechattering with the cold. He was wet from head to foot. Ashe was passing Heise's harness shop a sudden deluge of rainovertook him and he was obliged to dodge into the vestibulefor shelter. He, who loved to be warm, to sleep and to bewell fed, was icy cold, was exhausted and footsore fromtramping the city. He could look forward to nothing betterthan a badly-cooked supper at the coffee-joint--hot meat ona cold plate, half done suet pudding, muddy coffee, and badbread, and he was cold, miserably cold, and wet to the bone.All at once a sudden rage against Trina took possession ofhim. It was her fault. She knew it was going to rain, andshe had not let him have a nickel for car fare--she who hadfive thousand dollars. She let him walk the streets in thecold and in the rain. "Miser," he growled behind hismustache. "Miser, nasty little old miser. You're worsethan old Zerkow, always nagging about money, money, and yougot five thousand dollars. You got more, an' you live inthat stinking hole of a room, and you won't drink any decentbeer. I ain't going to stand it much longer. She knew itwas going to rain. She knew it. Didn't I tell her?And she drives me out of my own home in the rain, for me toget money for her; more money, and she takes it. She tookthat money from me that I earned. 'Twasn't hers; it wasmine, I earned it--and not a nickel for car fare. She don'tcare if I get wet and get a cold and die. No, shedon't, as long as she's warm and's got her money." Hebecame more and more indignant at the picture he made ofhimself. "I ain't going to stand it much longer," herepeated."Why, hello, Doc. Is that you?" exclaimed Heise, openingthe door of the harness shop behind him. "Come in out ofthe wet. Why, you're soaked through," he added as he andMcTeague came back into the shop, that reeked of oiledleather. "Didn't you have any umbrella? Ought to havetaken a car.""I guess so--I guess so," murmured the dentist, confused.His teeth were chattering."You're going to catch your death-a-cold," exclaimedHeise. "Tell you what," he said, reaching for his hat, "comein next door to Frenna's and have something to warm you up.I'll get the old lady to mind the shop." He called Mrs.Heise down from the floor above and took McTeague into JoeFrenna's saloon, which was two doors above his harness shop."Whiskey and gum twice, Joe," said he to the barkeeper as heand the dentist approached the bar."Huh? What?" said McTeague. "Whiskey? No, I can't drinkwhiskey. It kind of disagrees with me.""Oh, the hell!" returned Heise, easily. "Take it asmedicine. You'll get your death-a-cold if you stand roundsoaked like that. Two whiskey and gum, Joe."McTeague emptied the pony glass at a single enormous gulp."That's the way," said Heise, approvingly. "Do you good."He drank his off slowly."I'd--I'd ask you to have a drink with me, Heise," saidthe dentist, who had an indistinct idea of the amenities ofthe barroom, "only," he added shamefacedly, "only--you see,I don't believe I got any change." His anger against Trina,heated by the whiskey he had drank, flamed up afresh. Whata humiliating position for Trina to place him in, not toleave him the price of a drink with a friend, she who hadfive thousand dollars!"Sha! That's all right, Doc," returned Heise, nibbling on agrain of coffee. "Want another? Hey? This my treat. Twomore of the same, Joe."McTeague hesitated. It was lamentably true that whiskey didnot agree with him; he knew it well enough. However, bythis time he felt very comfortably warm at the pit of hisstomach. The blood was beginning to circulate in hischilled finger-tips and in his soggy, wet feet. He had hada hard day of it; in fact, the last week, the last month,the last three or four months, had been hard. He deserved alittle consolation. Nor could Trina object to this. Itwasn't costing a cent. He drank again with Heise."Get up here to the stove and warm yourself," urged Heise,drawing up a couple of chairs and cocking his feet upon theguard. The two fell to talking while McTeague's draggledcoat and trousers smoked."What a dirty turn that was that Marcus Schouler did you!"said Heise, wagging his head. "You ought to have foughtthat, Doc, sure. You'd been practising too long." Theydiscussed this question some ten or fifteen minutes and thenHeise rose."Well, this ain't earning any money. I got to get back tothe shop." McTeague got up as well, and the pair startedfor the door. Just as they were going out Ryer met them."Hello, hello," he cried. "Lord, what a wet day! You twoare going the wrong way. You're going to have a drink withme. Three whiskey punches, Joe.""No, no," answered McTeague, shaking his head. "I'm goingback home. I've had two glasses of whiskey already.""Sha!" cried Heise, catching his arm. "A strapping big chaplike you ain't afraid of a little whiskey.""Well, I--I--I got to go right afterwards," protestedMcTeague.About half an hour after the dentist had left to go downtown, Maria Macapa had come in to see Trina. OccasionallyMaria dropped in on Trina in this fashion and spent an houror so chatting with her while she worked. At first Trinahad been inclined to resent these intrusions of the Mexicanwoman, but of late she had begun to tolerate them. Her daywas long and cheerless at the best, and there was no one totalk to. Trina even fancied that old Miss Baker had come tobe less cordial since their misfortune. Maria retailed toher all the gossip of the flat and the neighborhood, and,which was much more interesting, told her of her troubleswith Zerkow.Trina said to herself that Maria was common and vulgar, butone had to have some diversion, and Trina could talk andlisten without interrupting her work. On this particularoccasion Maria was much excited over Zerkow's demeanor oflate."He's gettun worse an' worse," she informed Trina as she saton the edge of the bed, her chin in her hand. "He says heknows I got the dishes and am hidun them from him. Theother day I thought he'd gone off with his wagon, and I wasdoin' a bit of ir'ning, an' by an' by all of a sudden I sawhim peeping at me through the crack of the door. I neverlet on that I saw him, and, honest, he stayed there over twohours, watchun everything I did. I could just feel his eyeson the back of my neck all the time. Last Sunday he tookdown part of the wall, 'cause he said he'd seen me makingfigures on it. Well, I was, but it was just the wash list.All the time he says he'll kill me if I don't tell.""Why, what do you stay with him for?" exclaimed Trina. "I'dbe deathly 'fraid of a man like that; and he did take aknife to you once.""Hoh! He won't kill me, never fear. If he'd kill mehe'd never know where the dishes were; that's what hethinks.""But I can't understand, Maria; you told him about thosegold dishes yourself.""Never, never! I never saw such a lot of crazy folks asyou are.""But you say he hits you sometimes.""Ah!" said Maria, tossing her head scornfully, "I ain'tafraid of him. He takes his horsewhip to me now and then,but I can always manage. I say, 'If you touch me with that,then I'll never tell you.' Just pretending, you know,and he drops it as though it was red hot. Say, Mrs.McTeague, have you got any tea? Let's make a cup of teaover the stove.""No, no," cried Trina, with niggardly apprehension; "no, Ihaven't got a bit of tea." Trina's stinginess had increasedto such an extent that it had gone beyond the mere hoardingof money. She grudged even the food that she and McTeagueate, and even brought away half loaves of bread, lumps ofsugar, and fruit from the car conductors' coffee-joint. Shehid these pilferings away on the shelf by the window, andoften managed to make a very creditable lunch from them,enjoying the meal with the greater relish because it costher nothing."No, Maria, I haven't got a bit of tea," she said, shakingher head decisively. "Hark, ain't that Mac?" she added, herchin in the air. "That's his step, sure.""Well, I'm going to skip," said Maria. She left hurriedly,passing the dentist in the hall just outside the door."Well?" said Trina interrogatively as her husband entered.McTeague did not answer. He hung his hat on the hook behindthe door and dropped heavily into a chair."Well," asked Trina, anxiously, "how did you make out, Mac?"Still the dentist pretended not to hear, scowling fiercelyat his muddy boots."Tell me, Mac, I want to know. Did you get a place? Didyou get caught in the rain?""Did I? Did I?" cried the dentist, sharply, an alacrity inhis manner and voice that Trina had never observed before."Look at me. Look at me," he went on, speaking with anunwonted rapidity, his wits sharp, his ideas succeedingeach other quickly. "Look at me, drenched through,shivering cold. I've walked the city over. Caught in therain! Yes, I guess I did get caught in the rain, and itain't your fault I didn't catch my death-a-cold; wouldn'teven let me have a nickel for car fare.""But, Mac," protested Trina, "I didn't know it was going torain."The dentist put back his head and laughed scornfully. Hisface was very red, and his small eyes twinkled. "Hoh! no,you didn't know it was going to rain. Didn't I tell youit was?" he exclaimed, suddenly angry again. "Oh, you're adaisy, you are. Think I'm going to put up with yourfoolishness all the time? Who's the boss, you or I?""Why, Mac, I never saw you this way before. You talk like adifferent man.""Well, I am a different man," retorted the dentist,savagely. "You can't make small of me always.""Well, never mind that. You know I'm not trying to makesmall of you. But never mind that. Did you get a place?""Give me my money," exclaimed McTeague, jumping up briskly.There was an activity, a positive nimbleness about the hugeblond giant that had never been his before; also hisstupidity, the sluggishness of his brain, seemed to beunusually stimulated."Give me my money, the money I gave you as I was goingaway.""I can't," exclaimed Trina. "I paid the grocer's bill withit while you were gone.""Don't believe you.""Truly, truly, Mac. Do you think I'd lie to you? Do youthink I'd lower myself to do that?""Well, the next time I earn any money I'll keep it myself.""But tell me, Mac, did you get a place?"McTeague turned his back on her."Tell me, Mac, please, did you?"The dentist jumped up and thrust his face close tohers, his heavy jaw protruding, his little eyes twinklingmeanly."No," he shouted. "No, no, no. Do you hear? No."Trina cowered before him. Then suddenly she began to sobaloud, weeping partly at his strange brutality, partly atthe disappointment of his failure to find employment.McTeague cast a contemptuous glance about him, a glance thatembraced the dingy, cheerless room, the rain streaming downthe panes of the one window, and the figure of his weepingwife."Oh, ain't this all fine?" he exclaimed. "Ain't itlovely?""It's not my fault," sobbed Trina."It is too," vociferated McTeague. "It is too. We couldlive like Christians and decent people if you wanted to.You got more'n five thousand dollars, and you're so damnedstingy that you'd rather live in a rat hole--and make melive there too--before you'd part with a nickel of it. Itell you I'm sick and tired of the whole business."An allusion to her lottery money never failed to rouseTrina."And I'll tell you this much too," she cried, winking backthe tears. "Now that you're out of a job, we can't affordeven to live in your rat hole, as you call it. We've got tofind a cheaper place than this even.""What!" exclaimed the dentist, purple with rage. "What, getinto a worse hole in the wall than this? Well, we'llsee if we will. We'll just see about that. You're goingto do just as I tell you after this, Trina McTeague," andonce more he thrust his face close to hers."I know what's the matter," cried Trina, with a halfsob; "I know, I can smell it on your breath. You've beendrinking whiskey.""Yes, I've been drinking whiskey," retorted her husband."I've been drinking whiskey. Have you got anything to sayabout it? Ah, yes, you're right, I've been drinkingwhiskey. What have you got to say about my drinkingwhiskey? Let's hear it.""Oh! Oh! Oh!" sobbed Trina, covering her face with herhands. McTeague caught her wrists in one palm andpulled them down. Trina's pale face was streaming withtears; her long, narrow blue eyes were swimming; heradorable little chin upraised and quivering."Let's hear what you got to say," exclaimed McTeague."Nothing, nothing," said Trina, between her sobs."Then stop that noise. Stop it, do you hear me? Stop it."He threw up his open hand threateningly. "Stop!" heexclaimed.Trina looked at him fearfully, half blinded with weeping.Her husband's thick mane of yellow hair was disordered andrumpled upon his great square-cut head; his big red earswere redder than ever; his face was purple; the thickeyebrows were knotted over the small, twinkling eyes; theheavy yellow mustache, that smelt of alcohol, drooped overthe massive, protruding chin, salient, like that of thecarnivora; the veins were swollen and throbbing on his thickred neck; while over her head Trina saw his upraised palm,callused, enormous."Stop!" he exclaimed. And Trina, watching fearfully, sawthe palm suddenly contract into a fist, a fist that was hardas a wooden mallet, the fist of the old-time car-boy. Andthen her ancient terror of him, the intuitive fear of themale, leaped to life again. She was afraid of him. Everynerve of her quailed and shrank from him. She choked backher sobs, catching her breath."There," growled the dentist, releasing her, "that's morelike. Now," he went on, fixing her with his little eyes,"now listen to me. I'm beat out. I've walked the cityover--ten miles, I guess--an' I'm going to bed, an' I don'twant to be bothered. You understand? I want to be letalone." Trina was silent."Do you hear?" he snarled."Yes, Mac."The dentist took off his coat, his collar and necktie,unbuttoned his vest, and slipped his heavy-soled boots fromhis big feet. Then he stretched himself upon the bed androlled over towards the wall. In a few minutes the sound ofhis snoring filled the room.Trina craned her neck and looked at her husband over thefootboard of the bed. She saw his red, congested face;the huge mouth wide open; his unclean shirt, with its frayedwristbands; and his huge feet encased in thick woollensocks. Then her grief and the sense of her unhappinessreturned more poignant than ever. She stretched her armsout in front of her on her work-table, and, burying her facein them, cried and sobbed as though her heart would break.The rain continued. The panes of the single window ran withsheets of water; the eaves dripped incessantly. It grewdarker. The tiny, grimy room, full of the smells of cookingand of "non-poisonous" paint, took on an aspect ofdesolation and cheerlessness lamentable beyond words. Thecanary in its little gilt prison chittered feebly from timeto time. Sprawled at full length upon the bed, the dentistsnored and snored, stupefied, inert, his legs wide apart,his hands lying palm upward at his sides.At last Trina raised her head, with a long, tremblingbreath. She rose, and going over to the washstand, pouredsome water from the pitcher into the basin, and washed herface and swollen eyelids, and rearranged her hair.Suddenly, as she was about to return to her work, she wasstruck with an idea."I wonder," she said to herself, "I wonder where he got themoney to buy his whiskey." She searched the pockets of hiscoat, which he had flung into a corner of the room, and evencame up to him as he lay upon the bed and went through thepockets of his vest and trousers. She found nothing."I wonder," she murmured, "I wonder if he's got anymoney he don't tell me about. I'll have to look out forthat."