Rnieic of Hevi.-i.s. l/lflOJ. 



617 



IN THE DAYS OF THE COMET. 



BY H. G. "WELLS. 



BOOK THE FIRST— THE COMET. 



CHAPTER THE FOUETH--WAE— <C(m(»nu«i). 



Synopsis : Tlie uiurator. William Loadfortl, is telling of events in his youth before the Great Change. Througlj his 

 friend Pai'load he ha? heoonie a Socialist, and is also interested m a great comet whose path is approacliing the eartli's orbit. 

 Tliis fact is more important to him than the spread of socialism, for what viill happen if the comet strikes tlie earth ? 

 31eanwhile, times are bad in England, owing to strikes, lock-outs, overproduction, and the intrusion of American x^roducts in 

 tlie market. And. besides, war has just liroken out between England and Germanj-. Leadford has been engaged to marry 

 Nettie Stuart, but she lias broken u-ith him on accoimt of his beliefs. The young man still loves the gii'l and continues to 

 \n.<it her. On one of these visits he learns that she has eloped with Edward Verrall, the son of her father's employer. 

 Tlie couple have gone to a resort on the east coast. Obeying some vague impulse, Leadford has recently bought a 

 revolver. The idea of following his sweetheart now comes to his mind, but to do this he will have to pawn some of 

 his belongings. 



III. 



Alter our midilay dinner — it was a potato pie, 

 mostly potato with some scraps of cabbage and 

 bacon — I put on m\' o\-ercoat and got it out of the 

 house while mv nidther was in the scullery at the 

 back, 



A scullerv in the old world was, in the case of 

 such houses as ours, a dani]), unsavoury, mainly 

 subterranean region behind tlic dark living-room 

 kitchen. It was rendered more than typically dirty 

 in our case liy the fact that into it the coal cellar, 

 .1 yawning pit of black undeanness, 0|iened. and 

 difiused small, crunchable particles about the un- 

 even brick floor. It was the region of "washing- 

 up." that greasy, damp function that followed every 

 meal. Its atmosphere had ever a cooling steami- 

 ness ; and the memory of boiled cabbage, and the 

 sooty, black stains where saucepan or kettle had 

 been put down for a minute, scraps of potato peel 

 caught by the strainer of an escape-pipe, and rags 

 of a quite indescribable horribleness of acquisition. 



called ' di^hclouts," rise in my memory at the 

 riajne. The altar of this place was the " sink,'' a 

 tank of stone, revolting to a refined touch, grease 

 filmed and unpleasant to see. Above this w-as a tai) 

 for cold water, so arranged that when the water 

 descended it splashed and wetted whoever had 

 tu''ned it on. This tap was our water supply. And 

 in such a place you must fancy a little old woman, 

 rather incompetent and very gentle, a soul of un- 

 selfishness and sacrifice, in dirty clothes, all come 

 from their original colours to a common dusty dark 

 gray, in worn, ill-fitting boots, with hands distorted 

 by ill use, and untidy greying hair — my mother. 

 In the winter her hpnds would be "chapped," and 

 she would have a cough. And while she washes u|i 

 I go out, to sell my overcoat and watch in ordtr 

 that I may desert her. 



I forget how much money I got. but I remember 

 that it was rather less than the sum I had made 

 out to be the single fare to Shaphambury. 



I got back home about five minutes to three, re- 



L 



