Wuthering Heights

confusion. “Well, have you reared him on snails and sour
milk,” 19 he said.
“Oh, damn, my soul,” he went on, “but that’s worse than I expected and the
devil knows I was not sanguine.” 20 No one knew what he was talking about. Adopting
the lotus position on a chair he asked the boy to come hither. The boy hid his
face on my shoulder, he then hid it by my elbow, then behind my knee, then
under my foot. Heathcliff pulled him forward. “Do you know who I am ?” he said.
    ‘Linton turned to me and
said, “Nelly, this man doesn’t know who he is.”
    ‘ “Hur Hur Hur,” went Hareton.
    ‘ “Hareton,” said
Heathcliff, “you infernal calf, begone to your work — such stunning wit is too
much.”
    ‘So with his infernal calf,
Hareton limped away. Meantime, Joseph had brought the boy a bowl of porridge;
the boy stirred around the mess. Just his look affirmed he could not eat it.
“Can’t you see my look? I affirm I cannot eat it,” he said.
    ‘ “Cannot eat it?” said
Joseph.
    ‘ “Take it away,” said the
boy.
    ‘ “How far would you like
it to go?” interjected Heathcliff.
    ‘The boy hesitated, then
said, “Somalia”.
    ‘ “You heard the boy,
Joseph,” said Heathcliff. “Take the porridge to Somalia.”
    ‘Dutifully Joseph put his
hat on and took the porridge to Somalia. Heathcliff stood up and stretched. It
was then I saw that terrible swelling in his trousers. I thought, poor little
Linton had come through that and lived!
    ‘Having no excuse for
lingering longer, Linton was timidly rebuffing the amorous advances of a sheep
dog on his leg. So I slipped out. As I closed the door I heard a cry and a
frantic repetition of the words, “Don’t leave me with this dog screwing my leg,
for Christ’s sake, don’t leave me this way etc, etc.”
    ‘Too late — I had ridden
off. Even a mile away I could still hear his pitiful etcs.’

Chapter
XXI
    ---------
     
     
     
    HAD SAD work with Cathy next day.
She rose in high glee, eager to see her cousin. Unfortunately the high glee
didn’t last as he wasn’t there.
    “Where is my cousin?” she
cried and cried in that order. Edgar himself tried to soothe and calm Cathy: he
put hot bread poultice on her chest, back and forehead, he massaged her legs
with warm oil, a hot-water bottle at her feet, ice packs on her head and
leeches on her arms. It took her three days to recover... during this time her
father lay in a happy drunken stupor with four star Martell, a bargain at
eighteen shillings. “Linton will schoon come back, and so will I,” he
predicted.
    ‘I chanced to encounter the
housekeeper of Wuthering. She told me Linton was very sickly, always getting
coughs, colds, aches and pains as the dog screwed on his leg. I asked how they
treated him. She said they put hot bread poultices on his chest and back and
forehead. “Did they massage his legs with hot oil?” I asked, “and a hot-water
bottle at his feet and leeches on his arms?”
    ‘ “Yes,” she said.
    ‘ “It will take him three
days to recover,” I said.
    ‘ “Did your master get
struck twice by lightning?” she asked.
    ‘One day Cathy wished to
walk on the moors with the wind and the rain in her hair. “I wish to see if the
moor-game have made their nest,” she informed me. I put on my bonnet and
sallied out; once out, I kept on sallying. She went on ahead, I followed on
foot. She bounded before me, like a greyhound. I found plenty to entertain me,
listening to the larks singing to the crows cawing, the cuckoos cuckooing, the
starlings chattering, the doves cooing, the sparrows chirping and in the far distance Joseph on his way to Somalia.
    ‘ “Only a little further,”
said Catherine. “By the time you reach the other side, I shall have raised the
bird.” 21 I had no
idea birds have to be raised, I thought they were happy where they were. “It’s
only a little farther,” said Cathy.
    ‘ “You already have a
little father,” I reminded her.
    ‘Suddenly Heathcliff
appeared. “What are you doing on my land?” he said.
    ‘ “We’re standing on it,”
said Cathy. “Can’t you see?”
    ‘He took us into Wuthering
Heights. “You aren’t Edgar Linton’s daughter, are you?” he asked.
    ‘ “Aren’t I?” said Cathy.
“Then I wonder who I am,” she giggled.
    ‘ “She’s only joking,” I
explained. “She’s Cathy Linton.”
    ‘ “Ah! your father kills
ninety-nine per cent of all known jokes,” he said.
    ‘Young Linton stood by