The Head of the Family Page #2

"The Head of the Family" by W. W. Jacobs is a humorous and engaging short story that explores the dynamics of family life and the intricacies of domestic relationships. The narrative centers around a man who takes pride in his role as the head of the family, only to find himself tangled in a series of comic misadventures that highlight the absurdities of authority, the challenges of parenting, and the unexpected situations that arise within a household. Jacobs' wit and keen observations of human nature make the story both entertaining and insightful, showcasing his talent for blending humor with relatable themes of family life.

• Humour
• Short story

								

coming to a standstill, nodded at a van that stood half-way up the road.

“There it is,” she exclaimed.

“What?” demanded Mr. Letts.

“The furniture I told you about,” said Mrs. Green. “The furniture that
your poor father thought such a lot of, because it used to belong to his
grandfather. He's selling it to Simpson, though I begged and prayed him
not to.”

Mr. Letts encouraged himself with a deep cough. “My furniture?” he
demanded.

Mrs. Green took courage. “Yes,” she said, hopefully; “your father left
it to you.”

Mr. Letts, carrying his head very erect, took a firmer grip of their
arms and gazed steadily at a disagreeable-looking man who was eying them
in some astonishment from the doorway. With arms still linked they
found the narrow gateway somewhat difficult, but they negotiated it by
a turning movement, and, standing in the front garden, waited while Mrs.
Green tried to find her voice.

'A Disagreeable-looking Man Was Eying Them in Some Astonishment from the
Doorway.'

“Jack,” she said at last, “this is your stepfather.”

Mr. Letts, in some difficulty as to the etiquette on such occasions,
released his right arm and extended his hand.

“Good-evening, stepfather,” he said, cheerfully.

Mr. Green drew back a little and regarded him unfavorably.

“We—we thought you was drowned,” he said at last.

“I was nearly,” said Mr. Letts.

“We all thought so,” pursued Mr. Green, grudgingly. “Everybody thought
so.”

He stood aside, as a short, hot-faced man, with a small bureau clasped
in his arms and supported on his knees, emerged from the house and
staggered towards the gate. Mr. Letts reflected.

“Halloa!” he said, suddenly. “Why, are you moving, mother?”

Mrs. Green sniffed sadly and shook her head. “Well,” said Mr. Letts,
with an admirable stare, “what's that chap doing with my furniture?”

“Eh?” spluttered Mr. Green. “What?”

“I say, what's he doing with my furniture?” repeated Mr. Letts, sternly.

Mr. Green waved his arm. “That's all right,” he said, conclusively;
“he's bought it. Your mother knows.”

“But it ain't all right,” said Mr. Letts. “Here! bring that back, and
those chairs too.”

The dealer, who had just placed the bureau on the tail-board of the van,
came back wiping his brow with his sleeve.

“Wots the little game?” he demanded.

Mr. Letts left the answer to Mr. Green, and going to the van took up the
bureau and walked back to the house with it. Mr. Green and the dealer
parted a little at his approach, and after widening the parting with the
bureau he placed it in the front room while he went back for the chairs.
He came back with three of them, and was, not without reason, called a
porcupine by the indignant dealer.

He was relieved to find, after Mr. Simpson had taken his departure, that
Mr. Green was in no mood for catechising him, and had evidently accepted
the story of his escape and return as a particularly disagreeable fact.
So disagreeable that the less he heard of it the better.

“I hope you've not come home after all these years to make things
unpleasant?” he remarked presently, as they sat at tea.

“I couldn't be unpleasant if I tried,” said Mr. Letts.

“We've been very happy and comfortable here—me and your mother and
sister,” continued Mr. Green. “Haven't we, Emily?”

“Yes,” said his wife, with nervous quickness.

“And I hope you'll be the same,” said Mr. Green. “It's my wish that you
should make yourself quite comfortable here—till you go to sea again.”

“Thankee,” said Mr. Letts; “but I don't think I shall go to sea any
more. Ship's carpenter is my trade, and I've been told more than once
that I should do better ashore. Besides, I don't want to lose mother and
Betty again.”

He placed his arm round the girl's waist, and, drawing her head on to
his shoulder, met with a blank stare the troubled gaze of Mrs. Green.

“I'm told there's wonderful openings for carpenters in Australia,” said
Mr. Green, trying to speak in level tones. “Wonderful! A good carpenter
can make a fortune there in ten years, so I'm told.”

Mr. Letts, with a slight wink at Mrs. Green and a reassuring squeeze
with his left arm, turned an attentive ear.

“O' course, there's a difficulty,” he said, slowly, as Mr. Green
finished a vivid picture of the joys of carpentering in Australia.

“Difficulty?” said the other.

“Money to start with,” explained Mr. Letts. “It's no good starting
without money. I wonder how much this house and furniture would fetch?
Is it all mine, mother?”

“M-m-most of it,” stammered Mrs. Green, gazing in a fascinated fashion
at the contorted visage of her husband.

“All except a chair in the kitchen and three stair-rods,” said Betty.

“Speak when you're spoke to, miss!” snarled her stepfather. “When we
married we mixed our furniture up together—mixed it up so that it would
be impossible to tell which is which. Nobody could.”

“For the matter o' that, you could have all the kitchen chairs and all
the stair-rods,” said Mr. Letts, generously. “However, I don't want
to do anything in a hurry, and I shouldn't dream of going to Australia
without Betty. It rests with her.”

“She's going to be married,” said Mr. Green, hastily; “and if she wasn't
she wouldn't turn her poor, ailing mother out of house and home, that
I'm certain of. She's not that sort. We've had a word or two at times—me
and her—but I know a good daughter when I see one.”

“Married?” echoed Mr. Letts, as his left arm relaxed its pressure. “Who
to?”

“Young fellow o' the name of Henry Widden,” replied Mr. Green, “a very
steady young fellow; a great friend of mine.”

“Oh!” said Mr. Letts, blankly.

“I'd got an idea, which I've been keeping as a little surprise,”
continued Mr. Green, speaking very rapidly, “of them living here with
us, and saving house-rent and furniture.”

Mr. Letts surveyed him with a dejected eye.

“It would be a fine start for them,” continued the benevolent Mr. Green.

Mr. Letts, by a strong effort, regained his composure.

“I must have a look at him first,” he said, briskly. “He mightn't meet
with my approval.”

“Eh?” said Mr. Green, starting. “Why, if Betty——”

“I must think it over,” interrupted Mr. Letts, with a wave of his hand.
“Betty is only nineteen, and, as head of the family, I don't think
she can marry without my consent. I'm not sure, but I don't think so.
Anyway, if she does, I won't have her husband here sitting in my chairs,
eating off my tables, sleeping in my beds, wearing out my stair-rods,
helping himself——”

“Stow it,” said Miss Foster, calmly.

Mr. Letts started, and lost the thread of his discourse. “I must have
a look at him,” he concluded, lamely; “he may be all right, but then,
again, he mightn't.”

He finished his tea almost in silence, and, the meal over, emphasized
his position as head of the family by taking the easy-chair, a piece
of furniture sacred to Mr. Green, and subjecting that injured man to

								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes