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diff --git a/old/51228-h/51228-h.htm b/old/51228-h/51228-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 69fcd30..0000000 --- a/old/51228-h/51228-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11400 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Flower-Patch Among the Hills, by Flora Klickmann. - </title> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - - h3{ - text-align: left; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - .faux { - font-size: 0.5em; /*this font size could be anything */ - visibility: hidden;} - -p { - margin-top: .75em; - text-align: justify; - text-indent: 1.25em; - margin-bottom: .75em; -} - - - .maintitle {font-size: 200%; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} - .copyright {text-align: center; font-size: 70%; text-indent: 0;} - .author {font-size: 120%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} - .authorof {font-size: 70%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 0;} - div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} - .sig {margin-right: 10%; text-align: right;} - - - img {border: 0;} - .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; - padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; text-indent: 0;} - - .unindent {margin-top: .75em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .75em; - text-indent: 0;} -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%} -hr.full {width: 95%;} - - -/* Poetry */ -.poetry-container -{ - text-align: center; -} - -.poetry -{ - display: inline-block; - text-align: left; -} - -.poetry .stanza -{ - margin: 1em auto; -} - -.poetry .verse -{ - text-indent: -3em; - padding-left: 3em; -} - - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; - text-indent: 0;} /* page numbers */ - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - -.center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} - -.right {text-align: right; text-indent: 0;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -@media handheld -{ - .chapter - { - page-break-before: always; - } - - h2.no-break - { - page-break-before: avoid; - padding-top: 0; - } - - .poetry - { - display: block; - margin-left: 1.5em; - } - .drop-cap:first-letter - { - float: none; - margin: 0; - font-size: 100%; - } -} - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -Project Gutenberg's The Flower-Patch Among the Hills, by Flora Klickmann - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Flower-Patch Among the Hills - -Author: Flora Klickmann - -Release Date: February 16, 2016 [EBook #51228] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLOWER-PATCH AMONG THE HILLS *** - - - - -Produced by Emmy, MFR and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<h1 class="faux">The Flower-Patch Among the Hills</h1> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 510px;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="510" height="800" alt="Cover" /> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - - -<div class="maintitle"> -The Flower-Patch<br /> -Among the Hills<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a><br /><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> - - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 358px;"> -<img src="images/i-004.jpg" width="358" height="515" alt="Flora Klickmann" /> -</div> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="maintitle">The Flower-Patch<br /> -Among the Hills</div> - -<div class="center"><b><br /><br /><br /> -By<br /> -<span class="author">FLORA KLICKMANN</span><br /> -<span class="authorof">Editor of<br /> -“The Girl’s Own Paper and Woman’s Magazine”</span><br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<small>NEW YORK</small><br /> -Frederick A. Stokes Company<br /> -Publishers</b><br /></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="copyright"> -<small>PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY</small><br /> -<span class="smcap">William Clowes and Sons, Limited</span>,<br /> -<small>STAMFORD STREET, LONDON, S.E.</small><br /> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="center"> -<b>Dedicated to<br /> -My Husband</b><br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">There twice a day the Severn fills;</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">The salt sea-water passes by,</span></div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">And hushes half the babbling Wye,</span></div> -<div class="verse">And makes a silence in the hills.</div> -<div class="sig"><i>In Memoriam.</i></div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>I<br /> - -<small>Just to Explain</small></h2> - - -<h3>I. Who Everybody is</h3> - -<p>Virginia and her sister Ursula are my most -intimate friends. Virginia—really quite a harmless -girl—imagines she has a scientific bias. -Ursula—domesticated to the backbone—led a -strenuous life in the pursuit of experimental -psychology, till she switched off to wash hospital -saucepans.</p> - -<p>It will be so obvious that I scarcely need -add: What little common sense the trio possesses -is centred in ME.</p> - -<p>Abigail is my housemaid; her title to fame -is the fact that she is the only servant I have -ever been able to induce to remain more than -a fortnight at one stretch in the country. The -others, including those who are orphans, always -have a parent who suddenly breaks its leg—after -they have been about ten days away—and wires -for them to come home at once.</p> - -<p>The cook has discovered a number of cousins -in the Naval Division at the Crystal Palace -(detachments of which pass my London house -hourly, while many units partake of my cake -and lemonade), and, of course, you can’t neglect -your relatives in war time.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You never know whether that’ll be the last -time you’ll see them,” she says, waving a tearful -tea-towel at all and sundry who march past. -Naturally, <i>she</i> doesn’t care to be away from -town for many days at a time.</p> - -<p>The parlourmaid was interested in a member -of the L.C.C. Fire Brigade, when he enlisted, -and incidentally married someone else—unfortunately -the very week she was away with me. -This has given her a marked distaste for the -simple pleasures of rural life.</p> - -<p>Abigail is unengaged. “What I ask is: -What better off are you if you are?” she -inquires of space. “Take my sister, now, with -eight children, and——” But as I am not -taking anyone with eight children just now, -the sister’s biography is neither here nor there.</p> - -<p>Abigail is a willing, kindhearted girl. Also -she has a mania for trying to arrange every -single household ornament in pairs. She would -be invaluable to anyone outfitting a Noah’s -Ark.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>As for the other people who walk through -these pages, they do not appertain exclusively to -one district. I have had two cottages, one -beyond Godalming, in Surrey, the other high -up among the hills that border the river Wye. -Some of the country folk live in the one village, -some in the other; but the scenery, the little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> -wild things, and the garden are all related to the -cottage that overlooks Tintern Abbey.</p> - - -<h3>II. Why the Cottage is</h3> - -<p>I took a cottage in the country on a day when -I had got to the fag-end of the very last straw, -and felt I could not endure for another minute -the screech of the trains, the honking of motors, -the clanging of bells, the clatter of milk-carts, -the grind-and-screel of electric cars, the ever-ringing -telephone, the rattle and roar of the -general traffic, the all-pervading odour of petrol, -and the many other horrors that make both -day and night hideous in our great city, and -reduce the workers to nervous wreckage.</p> - -<p>The cottage has been so arranged that not -one solitary thing within its walls shall bear -any relation to the city left far behind; and -nothing is allowed to remind the occupants of -the business rush, the social scramble, and the -electric-light-type of existence that have become -integral parts of modern life in towns.</p> - -<p>Here, to keep my idle hands from mischief, -I made me a Flower-patch.</p> - - -<h3>III. Why this Book is</h3> - -<p>I was viciously prodding up bindweed out of -the cottage garden, with the steel kitchen poker, -when the telegraph boy opened the gate.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p> - -<p>Unhinging my back, and inducing it into -the upright with painful care, I read a message -from my office to the effect that there was some -hitch in regard to the American copyright of a -certain article I had passed for press before -leaving; this would necessitate it being thrown -out of the magazine that month. Would I -wire back what should go in its place, as the -machines were at a standstill?</p> - -<p>Under ordinary circumstances I should merely -have waved a hand, and instantly a suitable -substitute would have been on the machines -with scarcely a perceptible pause—that is, if I -had been in London. But such is the witchery -of the Flower-patch, that no sooner do I get -inside the gate than I forget every mortal thing -connected with my office. And try how I would, -I couldn’t recall what possible articles I had -already in hand that would make exactly six -pages and a quarter—the length of the one held -over.</p> - -<p>And because I could think of nothing else -on the spur of the moment, I threw down the -poker (it was red-rust, alas, when I chanced -upon it a week later) and went indoors and -wrote about the cottage and the hills.</p> - -<p>When it was published in the magazine, -readers very kindly wrote by the bagful begging -for a continuation. It has been continuing—with -perennial requests for more—for some time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -now. This only shows how generously tolerant -of editors are the readers of periodical literature.</p> - -<p>Virginia merely sniffs, “What won’t people -buy!”</p> - -<p>I don’t think she need have put it so baldly -as that.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>If by some miraculous chance there should -be any profits from the sale of this book, I -intend to devote them to the purchase of a cow -(or hen, if it doesn’t run to a cow), to aid the -national larder. I shall call it “the Memorial -Cow,” in memory of those who have been good -enough to assist in its purchase.</p> - -<p>Should any reader wish to have the cow (or -hen) named specially after him—or her—self -this could doubtless be arranged. Particulars -on application to the publisher.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>II<br /> - -<small>About Getting There</small></h2> - - -<p class="unindent"><span class="smcap">We</span> always consider that emancipation takes -place at one exact spot on the Great Western -Railway; the only difficulty is that Virginia and -I never agree as to which is the exact spot.</p> - -<p>Virginia insists that the air suddenly changes -just beyond Chepstow Station, where we change -from the London and South Wales main line -to the local train that, two or three times a day -(week-days only), runs through our particular -Valley, like a small boy’s toy affair.</p> - -<p>This train, which makes up in black smoke -for what it lacks of other dignity, steams out of -the main line junction with an important snort -and rumble; over the bridge it goes, and the -stranger would imagine it was well under way. -But no; it then comes to a standstill at the -point where the main line and the Valley line -meet, in order that the gentleman who lives—we -presume—in the signal-box (but who is -always standing on the railway line when we -see him) may hand to our engine-driver a metal -staff—some sort of a key, they tell me, which is -said to unlock the single railway line. I don’t -pretend to understand the process myself. I -only know that our engine-driver looks lovingly -at it as though it were the apple of his eye (I’ve<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -craned my head out of the window, that’s how -I know), and clasps it to his chest, until he gets -to the first station on the Valley line, where he -hands it over to the station-master, who, in turn, -gives him another one, to which he clings just -as pathetically.</p> - -<p>In this leisurely way we proceed up the -Valley.</p> - -<p>It wouldn’t have any deep significance, but -for the fact that Virginia maintains it is the first -key that unlocks the imprisoned Ego within her, -and sets her soul free from the trammels and -shackles and cobwebs and chains, hampering, -warping, and enmeshing her, that have been -riveted by the blighting tendencies of London -(and a lot more to the same effect). She says -she feels the fetters burst directly that key is -handed over, for she knows then that the train -is beyond the possibility of making a mistake, -and getting back on to the London main line -again instead of the single pair of Valley rails.</p> - -<p>Then it is that the air becomes fresher than -ever. The primroses that grow all up the rocks, -just beyond the signal-box, are very much finer -than those on the junction side; the Sweet -Betsey (alias red valerian) starts to drape the -ledges with rosy-crimson as soon as the signalman -walks back up the wooden steps to his -cabin. And Virginia herself becomes a different -being, though opinions are painfully divided as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -to whether the change is for the better or for -the worse.</p> - -<p>She says she feels just like the Lord Mayor, -or the Speaker in the House of Commons, with -a myrmidon going on ahead of her bearing the -mace.</p> - -<p>We just let her talk on when she gets lightheaded -like this. After all, this Rod of Office -which the engine-driver cherishes is what Virginia -waits for through four hours of express train—six -if you go by a slow one. And the spot -where he receives it on the line is where she -develops a beatific smile of wondrous amiability.</p> - -<p>For me, the chains snap a little further on.</p> - -<p>After the driver has received his Key of -Office the train meanders peacefully through -west country orchards, placid meadows, and -tawny-gold cornfields; past grey-brown haystacks; -past little cottages, each with its pig-sty -and scratting hens, and a clothes-line displaying -pinafores and sundry other garments only -mentioned <i>sotto voce</i> in the paper pattern section -of ladies’ papers. Small, hatless, yellow-haired -children, gathering daisies or cowslips in adjoining -fields, wave at us as we go by.</p> - -<p>Then the engine braces itself for a mighty -effort, and gives a business-like shriek on its -whistle (this is the great exploit of the whole -journey) as it plunges into a very long, dark, -clattering tunnel, cut through solid rock. Here<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -we sit in the breathless darkness for several -minutes, to emerge finally upon scenery so -unlike that we left behind at the entrance to -the tunnel as to suggest that we had entered -another country.</p> - -<p>Gone are the cornfields, the gentle undulations, -gone the farms and cottages, the hayricks -and barns. Almost in sheer precipices the rocks -rise up from the rushing winding river in the -valley below, clothed from summit to base with -forest trees. The train, now an insignificant -atom on the face of Nature, puffs vigorously -along a ledge cut half-way up the face of these -giant hills.</p> - -<p>From the windows on one side of the train -you look down upon a world of rocks, trees and -water, to the Horse Shoe bend, where the river -turns and twists and doubles back on itself again. -Not a house is in sight.</p> - -<p>The windows on the other side show more -grey rocks rising up out of sight, with trees -growing where you would scarcely think they -could find root-hold, much less food to live and -thrive on. And where it is bare stone, and there -are no trees, the scarred and jagged surface of -the rocks—due to far-away earth-rends and more -modern rock-slides—is lovingly swathed and -festooned with trails of Travellers’ Joy and ivy -and bryony; while ferns and foxgloves, wild -strawberries and Mother of Millions flourish on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -the narrow ledges, and sprout out from sheltered -crannies—such a mist of delicate loveliness -veiling all that is grim and cold and hard.</p> - -<p>Even the wooden posts, from which wire is -stretched to fence off the railway company’s land -from the adjoining woods, are entirely covered -with a living mosaic of small-leaved ivy, patterned, -with no two scrolls alike, in a way that human -hand could never copy.</p> - -<p>Below there is always the river, that swirls -and rushes noisily at low tide over its weirs. A -heron stands motionless on a grey-green moss-covered -boulder near the bank. He looks up at -the little train; but it is too far away to worry -him. He, and a kite circling high overhead, are -the only signs of life to be seen as one passes -along. Yet the whole earth is teeming with -small folk, furred and feathered; the rarest of -butterflies are glinting over the rocks; the otter -is hiding down in the river-pools; and from time -to time a salmon leaps into the air, a flash, a -streak of silver, and a series of eddying ripples—that -is all.</p> - -<p>This is the spot where, for me, a new life -begins; where unconsciously I draw my breath -with a deep intake, and suddenly feel the past -slipping from me; the noise and din, the sordidness -and care of the city fade into the background -and become nothing more substantial than some -remote nightmare.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> - -<p>Here in this Valley of Peace and Quietness -my dreams become realities. And best of all, -here God seems to lay His Hand on tired heart -and tired brain; and I find myself saying, “This -is the rest wherewith ye may cause the weary to -rest, and this is the refreshing.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>We had just witnessed the presentation of -the first key. As usual, Virginia and I had -been arguing—no, that isn’t the right word; I -never argue; I merely discuss things intelligently. -At any rate, we had been exchanging views -(that differed) as to the exact place where we -noticed the great change come over ourselves in -particular, and things in general. As we didn’t -get any nearer a final settlement we appealed to -Ursula, who was sitting silent, with a far-away -look in her eyes, as of one engaged in bridging -space and measuring the stars.</p> - -<p>She came back to earth, however, at our -question, and said she was absolutely sure the -moment of <i>her</i> great transformation was when -she got hold of a cup of proper domestic tea, as -distinct from the indigestive railway variety. -Indeed, for the past few minutes she had been -entirely absorbed in the mental contemplation of -the meal she hoped Abigail would soon be -preparing. Even then she could smell the -sizzling ham and the frying eggs and the buttered -toast we should have on arrival.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> - -<p>We were in the sulphurous depths of the -tunnel at the moment. Naturally I was hurt. -As I said to her, I knew my board was frugal, -and my viands simple, modest, unaffected and -unassuming, but at least they didn’t smell like -<i>that!</i></p> - -<p>Fortunately she hadn’t much time to explain -what she did and what she didn’t mean, for we -came out of the tunnel into the panorama of -hills and silence; no one ever talks much just -here, save the braying type of tourist.</p> - -<p>Besides, there is the “Abbey” to watch for. -No matter how many times you may see that, -you always wait expectantly for the moment -when you catch the first glimpse of the wonderful -grey ruin.</p> - -<p>The abbey-makers of the olden days not -only knew how to build, but they also knew -how to “place” their beautiful structures. And -the setting of our Abbey is as nearly perfect as -anything can be in this world.</p> - -<p>The steep hills recede a little bit just at one -bend of the river, leaving room for a broad green -meadow between the water and the uprising -steeps. Here the Abbey was placed: a babbling -river in the foreground, dark larch-covered hills -in the background. Surely it is no fanciful -exaggeration to think that the beauty all around -them must have influenced the men who raised -that wonderful poem in stone!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> - -<p>I would like to take you into the Abbey and -show you the beautiful views that can be seen -from every ruined window, each one a framed -picture in itself; the spray of oak-leaves carved -on one piece of stone, the live snapdragons -growing out of buttresses, the graceful spring of -each slender arch, the perfect proportions of -the whole building, for, despite the cruel wreckage -it suffered in the past, it is still the most lovely -Gothic ruin in England.</p> - -<p>But to-day we can’t stay.</p> - -<p>The train hurries on, through another short -tunnel, over a bridge spanning the river and a -talkative weir, and then into our station.</p> - -<p>In the summer there is a good deal of bustle -in this station, which is the haunt of many -tourists. I am told that five out of every ten -visitors are from the United States. No American -thinks of “doing” England without seeing our -valley, which is famous for its scenery and its -ruins. Thus you always find a number of -women in trim “shirt-waists,” and wearing large -chiffon veils on the top of their hats at angles -quite unknown to the English woman, sitting -on the platform about train time, writing the -usual budget of picture postcards.</p> - -<p>But we aren’t “foreigners” (as the natives -style everyone who doesn’t belong to their -village). That is one of the many charms of -arriving at this station. Here no one regards us<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -merely as passengers who can’t find their luggage; -or, passengers who have changed where they -had no business to; or, passengers who expect -the local porter to know by heart all the railway -connections and times of return trains throughout -the British Isles. Neither are we among the -people who look suspiciously at every wagonette -driver, certain that he is going to overcharge, -and uncertain as to which is likely to overcharge -the least. We have no anxieties concerning the -truth of the advertised merits of the various -hotels, and apartments to let, in the village.</p> - -<p>We “belong.”</p> - -<p>There is a sense of home-coming in our -arrival. The porters actually rush forward to -help with our luggage, and the station-master -raises his cap.</p> - -<p>Old Bob—who occupies the doubly proud -position of being the only one among the fly -proprietors who displays a pair of steeds attached -to his vehicle, while he is also the one who -usually drives what he describes as “the -e-light-y”—is waiting with his wagonette (and -pair, don’t forget) and a cart for the luggage.</p> - -<p>It really is comforting to be claimed by -someone at the end of a journey, if it be but the -wagonette driver. I feel so solitary, such an -orphan, when I chance to arrive alone at some -strange place in quest of a holiday, possibly unknown -to a single person but the landlady-to-be.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -Don’t you know the sinking feeling that comes -over you as you look round upon the crowds of -people, some scrambling in, and some scrambling -out of the train; every face a blank so far as -you are concerned? No one to trouble whether -you ever get any further, or whether you remain -in that jostling turmoil for ever.</p> - -<p>You almost wish you could get into the train -and go back to town again; you reflect that -there at least the butcher knows you, and the -people next door, and the crossing-sweeper at -the corner.</p> - -<p>You revive after having some tea, but it is -possible to spend a very doleful, homesick quarter -of an hour between the time you get out of the -train and the time you sit down to a meal in -some strange room, whose painful unlikeness to -the ones you live in accentuates your loneliness.</p> - -<p>But that never happens to us in our Valley. -Before we have got out of our compartment, -Abigail is already on the platform and holding a -levee consisting of two porters, the signalman, -the assistant engine-driver from a goods train in -the siding, and old Bob’s nephew, who drives -the cart. All lend a hand as she proceeds to -marshal the luggage, and with a peremptory -wave of her umbrella, directs its disposal.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Of course there really isn’t much luggage. -That is one of the advantages of retreating to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -your own secluded cottage; being off the beaten -track as we are, there is no necessity to take -many “toilettes”—either demi or semi—or a -large variety of lounge robes, or matinées, or -boudoir negligées, or rest frocks, or tea-gowns, -or cocoa-coats, or evening wraps built of chiffon, -and really necessary, handy things of that sort. -All we take with us is just a few clothes to -wear.</p> - -<p>On one occasion Virginia did bring down a -long “article” (I don’t know what else to call it) -composed of about ten yards of white net, -embroidered here and there with large beads, an -artificial rose sewn on to one corner of the -curtain-like thing, a gilt-metal fringe suggestive -of shoelace tags all around the edges. She -couldn’t quite understand how she came by it, -she said. She remembered an energetic ultra-elegant -shop-assistant, somewhere, displaying it -before her, with the information that it was a -“slumber swirl,” and assuring her, condescendingly, -that it was the very latest, and absolutely -sweet, and just the thing for outdoors in the -summer. Virginia said she agreed with her, she -was sure; knowing her own sweet and plastic -disposition, she would certainly have agreed with -her; she was thankful to say she wasn’t one of -those people who perpetually disagree with other -people. But—she had no recollection of having -attached her name and address to the wisp, much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -less of having paid for it! Still, the energetic -damsel had sent it home—and here it was!</p> - -<p>Ursula, after one glance at the confection, -hastily turned her eyes away and announced -that, for her part, she didn’t consider it—well, -quite adequate!</p> - -<p>Her sister explained that it wasn’t supposed -to be worn <i>that</i> way; and she arranged herself -with closed eyes on the sofa to show us how it -would look when draped over her—head and all—as -she rested in the hammock. It took a lot -of adjusting so as to avoid getting some knobbly -bead motif just under her ear, and to prevent the -shoe-lace tags attacking the under-side of the face. -And when she had at last found a spot of unembellished -net on which to lay her rose-leaf cheek, -she was afraid to move for fear of splitting the -frail net.</p> - -<p>Ursula merely snorted.</p> - -<p>When next I saw the “slumber swirl,” part -of it had been converted into a meat-safe of -irreproachable moral character, Ursula having -utilised the frame of our getting-worn-out one -for the purpose.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>No; our luggage is only trifling, and only -consists of just what we need. Abigail takes -mine and her own to Paddington in a bus, which -also picks up the luggage of the other two girls -<i>en route</i>. Individually, the details do not seem<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -much, but I confess, when I see it dumped all -together on the platform, the aggregate looks -somewhat nondescript.</p> - -<p>There will be four large hat-boxes (or five if -Abigail brings more than one); anything from -three to seven trunks; Abigail’s collapsible straw -basket; a bundle of umbrellas and sunshades; -the dog, in his travelling basket; a chip basket -containing pots of mysterious seedlings Virginia -has been specially raising in town (which usually -get upset once or twice on the way, and have -been known to turn out docks). There is sure -to be a cardboard box for one of Abigail’s best -Jap silk Sunday frocks that she doesn’t want to -get crushed; a string bag containing Abigail’s -novels and snippety weeklies, her crochet, a few -oranges, two bananas, some chocolate, and whatever -other refreshment she will need on the -journey; a brown-paper parcel holding a few -articles of wearing apparel, also belonging to -Abigail, that she only remembered at the last -minute, and cook did up for her.</p> - -<p>Then Ursula is sure to bring some contribution -to the larder—perhaps tomatoes and a cake. -Naturally, there is our lunch basket; and I, -personally, never feel complete unless I have my -leather dispatch-box beside me. I also take a -suit-case containing my mackintosh—in case it -rains when I arrive—books and papers which I -never read, knitting, and similar necessities for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -the journey; it is also useful as a final receptacle -for oddments I omitted to pack elsewhere. -Virginia and Ursula bring similar suit-cases, for -similar reasons.</p> - -<p>Sometimes Abigail springs surprises on us at -the last minute. “Whatever have you there?” -I asked one day, as she joined us on the Paddington -platform, a jangling parcel in one hand that -sounded like a badly cracked bell, and a large -protrusion—silent, fortunately—embraced in the -other arm.</p> - -<p>“Oh, this is just a new zinc pail” (shaking -the musical packet), “we need an extra one; and -I’ve put in a little iron shovel, as I want one for -my kitchen scuttle: and there’s a nutmeg grater -too; the one down there is getting rusty. And -<i>this</i>” (nodding towards her chest) “is an enamel -washing-up bowl. Our big one down there -leaks.”</p> - -<p>And she proceeded serenely on her way to -the accompaniment of iron shovel clink-clanging -against zinc pail, with the nutmeg-grater tintinnabulating -cheerfully in a higher key—and -evidently pleased at the public interest she was -arousing.</p> - -<p>Not that her surprises are always so useful. -On one occasion I noticed she had brought two -collapsible straw baskets, but concluded she had -some very special new frocks for the flower show. -The porter disposed of the luggage—while<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -Abigail was looking the bookstall over. When -she returned and found both baskets missing, she -rushed to the guard’s van. Soon things were -being dragged out again, Abigail excitedly urging -haste. The guard helped, Abigail assisting with -much conversation.</p> - -<p>Eventually she lugged one basket up to her -own compartment, scorning the help of the -penitent porter. As she passed my compartment, -a heartrending “mee-au” came from the basket.</p> - -<p>“What in the world—!!—!!!” I began.</p> - -<p>“It’s only Angelina,” Abigail explained. -“She hasn’t seemed well lately. I thought a -change of air might do her good. Only it gave -me a bit of a fright when I found they’d put her -in the van, thinking she was luggage!”</p> - -<p>(Incidentally, Angelina is <i>my</i> cat.)</p> - -<p>Being my own place and not someone else’s -we are going to, it occasionally happens that -there are items of furnishing that need to go -down, a mirror, for instance, that is too large to -pack in a trunk. Strictly speaking, the railway -company might be within their rights if they -argued that such things could not legitimately -be called passenger’s luggage; but Virginia said, -with regard to the mirror—4 feet × 2—that if -they objected to take it, she should tell them -every woman is entitled to carry a mirror among -her personal luggage.</p> - -<p>Fortunately no one so far has objected to any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -of the details of our <i>impedimenta</i>, so long as the -excess charges are promptly paid. We usually -go down with the same guard. I tell him what -the contraband is. He carries the parcel off -majestically, assuring me that his one eye won’t -leave it all the way down, no matter where the -other may be focused; and he begs me to have -no anxiety as to its safety. I haven’t. I know -from long experience that the guards and officials -on the G.W.R. have elevated politeness and -courtesy from a mere duty to a fine art.</p> - -<p>Sometimes I almost wish they wouldn’t take -quite such care of our things! There was the -brown pitcher, for instance. I had been wanting -a very large one for fetching the water from the -spring outside the cottage gate. Of course, I -know you can get big enamel jugs (painted -duck-egg blue, or anything else in the art line -that you fancy); but the latter seems so strident, -so townified, so newly-rich, so over-dressed, when -you see them beside our moss-grown wooden -spout, where the mountain spring splashes down -into a stony hollow, among ferns and long mosses. -The sturdy but humble brown pitcher tones in -better with the pale yellow sand in the bottom of -the hollow, the browns and greys and greens of -the stones and growing things all round. The -very water falls into it with a mellow musical -sound, instead of the hollow tinny ring that the -enamelled creature gives forth.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> - -<p>But I couldn’t see one in the village shop as -big as I required. Ursula, however, ran against -the very thing unexpectedly in town. The only -difficulty was the packing, so she decided to -carry it just as it was. Virginia expressed a -sincere hope that she would at least tie a pale -blue bow on the handle.</p> - -<p>She got it safely as far as Paddington, but -here an iron pillar suddenly ran alongside and -torpedoed the pitcher—so she said—knocking a -small but very business-like hole clean through -its bulging side. Then the question arose: What -was she to do with the remnants? The train -was due to start in two minutes, so she hadn’t -time to inquire for the station dust-bin.</p> - -<p>Virginia suggested that she should try to -induce the bookstall boy to accept it as payment -for a packet of milk chocolate; failing that, she -had better put an advertisement in the paper -offering a wonderful specimen of antique Roman -pottery in exchange for a sable motoring coat, or -a cartload of white mice.</p> - -<p>What she did do was to leave it tidily on the -nearest seat, with the intention of bestowing -sixpence on the first porter she could waylay if -he would make himself responsible for its after -career. But apparently every employee at -Paddington Station had enlisted.</p> - -<p>The whistle was blown, and the train started -to move slowly, just as the vigilant eye of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> -guard fell upon the disabled crock. His face -lighted up. He seized it, rushed to the moving -compartment containing Ursula. “Madam,” he -gasped, “you have forgotten this,” and he thrust -it into her arms.</p> - -<p>She didn’t dare try to leave it behind any -more!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Then there was the fish. It was on an -occasion when Virginia was coming down by -herself, and thus lacked the restraining, and -more practical, hand of Ursula. Now, as I have -already hinted, Virginia is an intelligent girl. -She can tell you exactly how many million tons -of certain chemicals could be excavated from -the very bottom of Vesuvius (if only they could -manage to put the fire out, of course), and how, -if these million tons were applied to the land in -Mars, as artificial manure, the wheat crop they -would produce in one year—if only you could -raise their temperature a few hundred degrees, -and this could easily be done if you transfer—by -wireless—the heat that isn’t needed in Vesuvius -to Mars (or is it the moon?), where they do -want it—why, then—(where was I?)—Oh, yes, -the wheat crop they would harvest per annum -would be sufficient to feed the whole of the -inhabitants of this planet of ours, and several -others thrown in, for—I forgot how many dozen -years.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> - -<p>Yes, she is a very bright girl, just as well -informed on any other subject you like to -mention—excepting fish! There she draws a -woeful blank: she has no more notion how to -tell fresh fish at sight than a baby!</p> - -<p>Still, she is generous in her intentions, and as -no one ever thinks of journeying to the cottage -without taking something in the eatable line—it -is only right to take a little present when you go -to stay with friends, isn’t it?—Virginia cast about -as to what she could bring. Game has no -attraction—we have plenty of that. Fish, on -the contrary, is a rarity. Although our river is -full, we seldom see fish at the cottage, excepting -a very over-due variety that a man peddles round -occasionally.</p> - -<p>So she decided on fish—alas! And hastened -into the first fishmonger’s she saw and ordered a -dozen pairs of soles. She maintains that wasn’t -what she meant to ask for. It was oysters she -wanted to bestow on me, and she went in with -the definite intention of purchasing a dozen -oysters. At that moment, however, her mind -was somewhat pre-occupied with a scientific invention -she was thinking out, whereby no woman -need ever again handle a broom or carpet-sweeper -or anything of that kind.</p> - -<p>It was a simple device, consisting of a vacuum -between the layers of leather on the bottom of -the shoe, and some sort of a suction arrangement<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -whereby you drew up the dust from the carpet -(or wherever you walked) just by stepping on it. -You would clear as you go, and instead of a -person trailing dirt up and down the stairs by -walking straight in from the garden and up to -the top attic, they would really be giving the -stair carpet what would be equal to a good -brushing.</p> - -<p>Moreover, not only would spring cleaning -be banished for ever—when her invention was -perfected—but your shoes would never more -need mending. The dust collected in the shoe, -being subject to so many cubic inches of pressure -due to the person standing on top of the shoe, -would become so compressed and self-adhesive -as to offer a direct resistance to the friction set -up between boot and alien matter trodden upon, -equal to the inverse ratio of—I haven’t the -faintest notion what! But I dare say you can -follow her line of argument. She herself says -she is always lucid and concise.</p> - -<p>At any rate, I remember she said that it was -terribly hard to be the mother of a huge family -of boys, who not only trailed dust and dirt into -the house at all times and seasons, but also wore -out innumerable pairs of boots into the bargain. -Whereupon I reminded her that neither of us -need worry personally about that just yet!</p> - -<p>She agreed, but said that did not alter her -desire to benefit her day and generation, and to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -rid the world of “the Burden of the Broom.” -And she was meditating on this, and thinking of -all the leather we had wasted by letting it wear -off the bottoms of our boots, when she saw -the fish shop, and though she <i>thought</i> a dozen -“oysters,” what she <i>said</i> was a dozen “pairs of -soles”—and, of course, I would recognise that -the mistake wasn’t her fault; it was entirely due -to the psychological action of the subconscious -something that connected soles with boots, etc.</p> - -<p>Anyhow, the result was that she paid cheerfully -for such a collection of fish as I hope I may -never see again. And how happy that fishmonger -must have been, when the transaction was completed, -only those who got a whiff of the fish can -estimate.</p> - -<p>Virginia admitted that she thought the price -seemed a lot for a dozen oysters (soles were two -shillings a pound at the time), and the bag seemed -heavy. Also, she confessed that it was a trifle -more than she had intended to spend on a present -for me at that moment, though she, being a real -lady, would have been the last to mention it if I -hadn’t. No, she hadn’t thought to look at what -he put in; she merely told him to pack them up -very securely, as she was going on a long railway -journey. She didn’t know they were soles till -she glanced at the bill in the train. She consoled -me with the information that fish has the most -wonderful phosphorescent properties, invaluable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -in the case of brain-fag; and she should see that -I ate it all!</p> - -<p>After a few miles of the journey the soles -grew a little noisy in the rack. You don’t want -to look a gift-horse in the mouth—truth to tell, -I didn’t want to look at that particular gift at all. -But I had to open both windows.</p> - -<p>At our first stop, Reading, when the guard -came to the door and politely inquired, “Are -you ladies all right? Can I get you anything?” -I asked him if he would be so good as to take -charge of the big rush bag. I suggested that he -could tie it on to the back buffer at the very end -of the train. I assured him it was nothing that -would hurt. But he only smiled, and said he had -plenty of room in his own compartment; the -basket would be quite safe there, no one would -touch it. I could quite believe it!</p> - -<p>When he came down the platform at Swindon -he looked very pale and out of sorts, I thought. -Conscience-stricken, I pressed a shilling into his -hand, and begged him to get himself a good cup -of tea. He said he would, and certainly seemed -to have revived when next he passed.</p> - -<p>We got it home, eventually, without Abigail -detecting it—I wanted to save Virginia’s face -before the handmaiden—as we took the basket, -wrapped up in my mackintosh, in the wagonette -with us, Abigail following behind in the luggage-cart. -She did say later, however, that she wished<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -that pedlar and his awful kippers and bloaters -could be suppressed by law. He had evidently -just been round, she said, and she could smell -his wretched fish all the way as she drove up. -We didn’t tell her what we had hidden in the -old barn.</p> - -<p>We buried them darkly at dead of night. -The only soft spot we could find, that admitted -of a good-sized trench being dug without much -trouble, was the moist earth beside the brook in -the lower orchard.</p> - -<p>Next morning, at breakfast-time, when the -small dog ran in to greet us, his nose and paws -showed signs of active service as he joyfully -dabbed brown mud on the front of our fresh -print frocks, and waggled his tail with the air of -a dog who is conscious of heroic achievements. -Abigail followed him with the bacon-dish, which, -in her excitement, she tried to balance on the top -of the coffee-pot.</p> - -<p>“You’d never believe what a high tide -there has been in the brook!” she began. “A -spring tide, I should think. It’s washed up -hundreds and hundreds and <i>hundreds</i> of large -fish on to the bank. Never saw such a thing in -my life before. First I knew of it was slipping -on one on the kitchen hearthrug. Dandie had -brought one in—wanted me to grill it for his -breakfast, I suppose! Then I found he’d carried -one up to the mat outside your bedroom door,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -and just dropped a few others here and there -about the house. So I went out to see where -he got ’em from. Judging by the smell, they -must have lain there for weeks. Wish I’d been -here with a net at the time. I’ve never caught -a live fish in my life, though I’ve often tried to -fish in the pond on Peckham Rye.”</p> - -<p>Naturally we expressed great interest, and -suggested immediate cremation in the kitchener.</p> - -<p>Later on, the handy man was decidedly -sceptical. His grandfeyther had once caught a -trout in that brook (only he gave long biographical, -geographical and historical details, -which proved that it wasn’t that brook at all); -but he hadn’t a-seed any hisself a-coming down.</p> - -<p>Abigail scornfully pointed out that high tides -came <i>up</i>, and these fish had been washed <i>up</i> -from the river, which is 700 feet below; and she -flapped one as evidence before his astonished -eyes.</p> - -<p>Seeing is believing in our village!</p> - -<p>To this day Abigail’s tales, to cook and co. -and her friends at home, of how she goes out -and catches soles as large as plaice in our own -brook, and boils them for supper, equal any fish -stories ever told!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>But to return to the luggage and ourselves, -which I left waiting at our little station.</p> - -<p>While the luggage is being stowed into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -vehicles, we take stock of the platform, that -seems to fancy itself the pivot of the universe! -Everybody that is going away scrambles into -the train with precipitate haste, as though they -were trying to catch a train on the Tube, or a -sprinting motor-bus in the Strand! although -they know quite well that the peaceful old -engine—already twenty-five minutes behind -time—won’t think of stirring again until it has -had a ten minutes’ nap!</p> - -<p>Those who have just arrived seem equally in -a hurry to get somewhere else, and they try to -squeeze three thick out of the small station -gate—only to plant themselves in the path just -outside for a long gossip with the first person -they see.</p> - -<p>There are women with empty baskets returning -from market, and women seeing off friends, -each carrying a huge “bookey” of flowers, built -up in the approved style, from the back: first -a big background rhubarb leaf, or something -equally green and spacious, then some striped -variegated grass—gardeners’ garters, we call it; -also some southernwood—better known as Old -Man’s Beard; tall flowers like foxgloves, phlox, -Japanese anemones, early dahlias and sunflowers -follow; the shorter stems of pinks, calceolarias, -sweet williams and roses are the next in succession; -finishing off with some gorgeous pansies -and a very fat cabbage rose with a short stem<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -(that persists in tumbling out), a piece of sweetbriar, -and a few silver and gold everlasting -flowers down low in the front. If you have a -geranium in your window, etiquette demands -that you add the best spray—as a special -offering—to the bunch, telling your friend all -about the way you got that geranium cutting, -and the trouble you had to rear it.</p> - -<p>You know the sort of complacent well-packed -bunches that are the result of this combination. -Not artistic, of course, according to town -standards, but, all the same, they are dears; and -I always feel I want every one I see.</p> - -<p>The station itself is a flower garden. And -even in the space outside, where the motor-cars -await the rich, and the wagonettes and carts -await the nearly-poor, primroses and violets and -cowslips and bluebells grow thick on the banks.</p> - -<p>Naturally the arrival of the train is a matter -of local importance, and if you happen to be -near the station about train-time you go in and -sit on the platform just to see who comes or -goes.</p> - -<p>And how well everybody looks, and sturdy, -and brown, after the pale anæmic faces we have -left in town! You think how happy they must -all be here in the fresh air and the sunshine. So -they ought to be, and so most of them could be, -if only they kept a look-out for happiness, and -seized all that came their way. But human<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -nature the world over seems to love to contemplate -the tragic, or at least to pity itself! -The result is that every other person you meet -in our village will tell you a tale of woe as highly-coloured -as anything you hear in town.</p> - -<p>“How do you do?” I inquired, last time I -arrived, of a comfortable healthy-looking woman, -who had just been seeing her daughter off by -train. Her husband is a steady man, in regular -work. She owns the cottage she lives in, and a -pig, and has no difficulty in supplying the wants -of her family, which are few.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m not up to much, m’m,” she began. -“Things is so hard nowadays, and no one gives -<i>we</i> a bit o’ help. There’s that Jane Price, <i>she</i> -got a pound of tea, and a hundudweight of coal, -and a red flannel petticut, from the lady of the -manor at Christmas, and <i>she</i> be a widder with -on’y her children. But <i>I</i> on’y got some tea and -a petticut (not a nice colour red neither), no coal -nor nothing, and thur I’ve got <i>he</i> to keep as well -as the children, and in course I need it wuss’n -her do!”</p> - -<p>Further along the platform I spoke to the -wife of a small farmer, a healthy soul, with -nothing much to worry her. But she didn’t -intend to be behindhand with trouble! Other -people found plenty to moan about; she wasn’t -to be outdone.</p> - -<p>“You’ve heard of the awful time I’m having<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -with my husband? Fell down in the wood and -broke his leg in four places! Suffers terrible, he -does.”</p> - -<p>I expressed sympathy, and asked how long -he had been in bed.</p> - -<p>“Oh, he isn’t in bed; can’t spare the time to -lay up, with the haymaking just on. He’s -cutting the five-acre field to-day. He gets -about, but he has an abundation of pain at -nights. Yes, you’re right. Very active he is, -there’s no keeping him still. He’ll walk to his -own funeral, <i>he</i> will.”</p> - -<p>Actually the man had a touch of rheumatism!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Finally we are settled in the fly, piled up -with the lighter luggage, while Abigail and old -Bob’s nephew follow in the cart.</p> - -<p>To the stranger who has never been in our -Valley before, the drive to the Cottage is a thing -of wonder; to those of us who do the journey -many times in the course of the year new -beauties are always revealing themselves, and -the whole scene seems more lovely each time we -look upon it, if that be possible.</p> - -<p>The station is on the river level, down in the -green depths of the Valley. But you cannot go -many yards on level ground, as the hills on -either side of the river are steep, with nothing -but the narrowest footpath in places, between -their precipitous sides and the fast-rushing water.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -In many cases the cottage-gardens on the hill-side -have to be kept up with walls of stone—as -one sees the vineyards built up on steep hill-sides -in vine-growing districts—otherwise the rains -and swollen brooks would wash the earth down, -in the winter, into the river below.</p> - -<p>The horses start the ascent as soon as they -leave the station, and pass through the small -village, which shows a curious medley in the -way of architecture. In the wall of an old -cow-house there is a Gothic window, built -probably with stones taken from the ruined -Abbey; all the windows of one cottage bear an -ecclesiastical stamp. Before the beautiful ruin -was carefully guarded as it is now, people must -have gone and helped themselves as they pleased -to carved stonework and any fragment that -they could make use of; and thus you may find -an exquisite bit of carved stone in a most -ordinary three-roomed dwelling. Some of the -cottages and barns may have been part of the -Abbey property; at any rate one comes on -architectural surprises in the most unexpected -places.</p> - -<p>But even though in this district man’s handiwork -has achieved wondrous things, it is the -work of Nature that claims the attention.</p> - -<p>The Abbey seems a huge pile when you -stand under its roofless walls; but once you start -to ascend the hills, everything takes on new<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -proportions. No longer are you shut in by two -high green hill-walls, the higher you go the -smaller become the hills that are nearest to you, -as they reveal far greater giants behind them. -The blue Welsh mountains rise up, still further -beyond again.</p> - -<p>Below, the river winds and loses itself, -seeming to come to an abrupt end against a -barrier of dark green slopes; but it evidently -finds a way out, for it is seen further on in the -far distance, a silver, gleaming band, still winding, -and still guarded by mountains that now are -tinged with the purply-blue tone that Nature -uses for her distant effects.</p> - -<p>The lanes through which we pass are miracles -of loveliness, with their ferns and flowers and -birds and butterflies. But I think one’s overwhelming -thought is of the grandeur of the -distances. One is always looking away to the -far-off, to the farms and small homesteads dotted -at rare intervals on far heights and among the -forests; to the peaks beyond peaks; to the light -playing on miles of birch and oak; to the -shadowy coombes where hills drop down into -other valleys.</p> - -<p>I have always noticed, when I am bringing -anyone for the first time from the station to my -house, that, though I point out the roadside -springs and waterfalls, the glory of the hedges, -the rose-coloured honeysuckle that grows over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -one cottage, smothering roof, chimneys and all, -the visitors do not expend so much admiration -on any of this, it is always the inexplicable -mystery of the hills that holds them. Every -five minutes takes one higher, and reveals a -further panorama. Beautiful as are the lesser -things, lovely as is the old ruined Abbey, the -human and the near seem to slip away from you -as you look across the deep chasm where the -river lies below, to the vastness on the other side. -There is a power, a force born of great heights -and great spaces, that cannot be explained, but is -surely felt by all who have not mortgaged their -soul to mammon. There was a depth of mystic -meaning in the words of the shepherd poet, even -in the world’s young days, when he wrote: “I -will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence -cometh my help.”</p> - -<p>It takes you about an hour to drive up to -the cottage, and by this time the lane has grown -so narrow—and so bumpy!—that you marvel the -horses have ever got you there at all. But -when you have reached the little white gate you -stand and look in silence. A new touch is added -to the landscape. You are now high enough to -look over the tops of some of the intervening -hills, and there away beyond, between a dip in -the hills, you see a gleaming band of silver, the -waters of the Channel.</p> - -<p>Some people consider no scenery perfect<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> -unless there is a railway in the foreground to -take them back to town as soon as possible. -Some artists always want a touch of scarlet to -complete any picture. Myself, I always think a -glimpse of water is needed to make a beautiful -view absolutely satisfying. At my cottage I am -doubly blessed! I can see the river in the -Valley below, and beyond there is the Channel, -towards which that river is ever hurrying.</p> - -<p>During the drive up, the small white dog -with brown ears, sits on the box seat, dividing -his time between shrieking Billingsgate insults -to every local dog (I blush for his manners. -And he looks so refined too!) and licking old -Bob’s face. Not that he has any particular -affection for our driver, but he gets quite -hysterical when he sees the countryside and -scents the rabbits; and old Bob is the handiest -recipient for his overwhelming gratitude. A -few dogs trail after us through the village, telling -him—and one another—what they will do when -they get hold of him; but they fall back when -it comes to the hill; and our own treasure looks -triumphantly ahead for new dogs to revile; -deluding himself with the idea that he has slain -all behind him, and left their corpses in the -road! Occasionally he ceases to be a bullying -war-dog, and becomes almost human; then he -suddenly looks round at us, wags his tail all he -knows how, and gives a little whimper that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -plainly says, “Isn’t it good to be here again!” -And we all agree.</p> - -<p>It <i>is</i> good to see the hills, and the valleys, -the sturdy trees, and the tender little ferns -growing out of the walls. Best of all, it is good -to see the small white gate, and the red-tiled -roof, and the blue smoke curling up, oh, so -peacefully, from the cottage chimney. It is -good to see the flowers smothering the walls -and the garden beds; and very good to greet -one’s own furniture again, one’s own rooms, -one’s own familiar things—no matter how humble -they may be.</p> - -<p>For months we have clean forgotten that the -living-room window requires two thumps if it is -to be got open; yet without a moment’s hesitation -Ursula pulls off her gloves the moment -we enter the door, makes straight for the -window, and gives it the requisite couple of -vigorous bangs, so as to let in the evening scent -of the honeysuckle that is thick about the porch. -For months, it may be, we have forgotten -entirely that the lid of the biggest brown teapot -has a knack of tumbling off into the teacup, -unless it is held on while one pours. And yet, -the moment I take up that teapot again, instinctively -my hand grips the lid.</p> - -<p>There is an indefinable spirit of welcome in -all these little familiar things—so commonplace -and feeble and stupid they would seem to outsiders;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -yet to us they imply that “we belong.” -It is part of the all-pervading rest that we find -among these hills, that we go on from just -where we left off last time. We don’t have to -start afresh, or get acquainted with the place, or -learn anything new. There is a great charm in -returning to familiar scenes that is missed by -those who are always rushing off on some new -quest. True, they may find interest in another -direction; but I think with most of us—excepting -when we are very young and very inexperienced—the -homing instinct is strong.</p> - -<p>I have laid my battered brain on pillows in -some of the largest hotels in the world; but I -have never known in any of them the peaceful -rest that is to be found in the cottage bedroom, -despite its sloping roof. I’m not saying that -there is nothing whatever to disturb one there—all -too often Mr. and Mrs. Starling (several of -them) persist in building under the tiles just -above my head, and the various families demand -breakfast at 3.30. Yet I even get to sleep -through this.</p> - -<p>There is one thing, however, that always -wakes me and calls me in a most peremptory -manner to get up, and that is the return of the -swallows one morning in April or May, when the -sites are being chosen for the new nests under -the eaves. It is such a sweet little chatter, such -a bubbling over of comment and advice and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -reminiscence, as they get their first beakful of -mud, and start to lay the foundation-stone of -the nest.</p> - -<p>What do they say? I often wonder. They -seem to talk the whole time, and explain to each -other the excellent residential qualities of their -various positions. One thing I am sure they say—and -they twitter it over and over again—I -know they mean it, though I don’t understand -their language; for the homing instinct is strong -in them, as it is in all of Nature’s children; and -as I listen to them in the early morning, I can -almost hear their words, “Isn’t it good to be -here again?”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>III<br /> - -<small>At the Sign of the -Rosemary Bush</small></h2> - - -<p class="unindent"><span class="smcap">When</span> the cottage was originally built—about -one hundred and thirty years ago—it was probably -just two rooms upstairs, one going out of the -other, and a kitchen and scullery downstairs. In -the intervening years, however, one owner has -added on a couple of rooms on one side, and -another has put on two more and a pantry round -the corner, and so on, till it is difficult to say -exactly what type of dwelling it really is.</p> - -<p>There is a proper front door somewhere -about the place, only no one ever seems to find -it; the path leading to it from the main gate -unobtrusively hides itself among the fir-trees, -wandering round at the rear of the house, and -under some low apple-trees—of course, no one -who wasn’t familiar with the geography of the -estate would think of exploring such an out-of-the-way, -narrow, grass-grown trail. No, they -would naturally follow along the irregularly-flagged -broad path that is kept by the handy man -fairly free from weeds (except some little ferns -that will peep up at the edge, no matter what -he does to them, and a saucy white violet that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -has planted itself right in the very middle of the -walk and blooms vigorously).</p> - -<p>Along this path most people go, whether -they carry their best sunshade, a bead bag and -a silver card-case, or are merely delivering two -half-pounds of butter done up in dock leaves, and -a cream-coloured duck wrapped up in a coarse -white tea-cloth with his liver tucked under his -wing, a big bunch of fresh sage stuck in his -mouth—“and, please, mother’s put in a couple -o’ onions in case you didn’t happen to have -none.”</p> - -<p>This broad path leads to a corner in the architectural -conglomeration where there are two -doors at right angles—one moderately respectable -and one smaller and shabbier. If you carry a -silver card-case, you knock at the respectable-looking -door—which promptly admits you into -the scullery: if you are merely someone anxious -to dispose of a few eggs or wanting to borrow -a little flour, you knock more humbly at the -shabby door—to find you are battering at the -coal-house.</p> - -<p>Abigail deals with callers according to their -status: the silver card-cases are invited, in dulcet -tones, to retrace their steps along the broad path -and take the narrow one to the front door. -Sometimes they do exactly as they are told; but -more often, alas! they espy yet another door, -which they promptly make for, and this one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -precipitates them right into the living-room -and on top of me, no matter what I may be -doing.</p> - -<p>Inside the cottage it is a similar jumble. -You think you have found the living-room all -right, when you come in from the garden, only -to pull up in a large pantry, like a small room, -with shelves full of delicious mysteries in glass -jars and jampots and pickle bottles.</p> - -<p>You open a door in the living-room, thinking -it is the one leading out into the back hall, to -find yourself confronted with a very steep and -narrow stone staircase, which is one way of -getting upstairs! Of course you get used to it -all in a few days, and eventually cease to tumble -down over the odd step that is obligingly placed -here and there in dark spots, wherever the floor -level changes in the halls or landings. But to -those who are not native-born it is a wee bit -confusing at first.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The living-room was originally the kitchen. -It has a large fireplace with an oven, and wide -hobs whereon you can stand a kettle or anything -else you want to keep hot. It has a crane, too—only -we daren’t cook our dinner in a pot -suspended from it, because I don’t want Abigail -to give notice. We have therefore to content -ourselves with giving the crane an occasional -swing.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> - -<p>The mantelpiece—of oak that is black with -age—has two shelves, the upper one projecting -beyond the lower, which has a frill of chintz -beneath. Higher up still there is an ancient rack -for holding a couple of guns, and there are cupboards -on each side, also of black oak, that must -have been put there when the house was built.</p> - -<p>But I think the thing that delights my heart -above everything else in this room is the huge -dresser.</p> - -<p>When you start with a room like this—I -forgot to mention that there are oak rafters, -with hooks for home-fed hams—it is easy to -make it cosy. The big wooden settle keeps off -draughts, some chairs that belonged to my great-grandparents -are far more comfortable than anything -I could buy nowadays, with the wood -worn to that smooth polish that can only be -attained by generations of handling.</p> - -<p>The oak dower chest is heavily carved, though -its iron hinges and locks suggest a prison door -for solidity and size; still it is a handy receptacle -for the miscellaneous collection of MSS. and -papers that haunts me wherever I go!</p> - -<p>I do not expect everybody to admire this -style of room. There was one caller (who came -out of sheer curiosity) who, after gazing around -the living-room, with manifest disapproval, at -last said, “You really could make this into quite -a nice little drawing-room if you had those old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -rafters and beams done away with, and a proper -ceiling put. Then you could easily have a nice -tiled modern stove in place of that dreadfully -old-fashioned fireplace, with those great hobs. -And if you moved the dresser into the kitchen, -and——” So she went on, winding up with the -encouraging assurance, “And you would hardly -know the place when you had got it all done.”</p> - -<p>With one voice we said we could quite -believe it.</p> - -<p>People so often fail to realise that both a -country cottage decked out in imitation of a -town villa, and a town villa decked out in -imitation of a country cottage, are equally -unsatisfying. In each case the fake and insincerity -of the schemes jar.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>If it isn’t bothering you too much, I should -like you to look at the ornaments—these, as -much as anything else, give the room its “unlikeness” -to anything you see in the city. Here is -a lovely fat fish in a glass case among reeds and -grasses. On the walls are antlers of the fallow -deer. Then there is a framed sampler, and likewise -some wonderful needlework of a bygone age -when needlework was an art.</p> - -<p>On the mantelpiece shelves are china cottages -and castles, an old china mill with a wonderful -mill stream, on which are china ducks, each the -size of the mill-wheel! Then Red Riding Hood,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -in a little sprigged pinafore, carrying a dear little -basket, and patting affectionately a most engaging, -friendly-looking wolf, is always admired. -Timothy’s grandmother (a dignified-looking -matron), teaching little Timothy out of the -Bible, is a relic from the days when Scriptural -subjects were among the ornaments found in -most households. “Going to Market” and -“Returning from Market” are a choice pair of -china subjects, showing the lady riding behind -her husband on a prancing steed that would do -credit to Rotten Row.</p> - -<p>Mary and her little Lamb is one of the -prettiest in the collection, only she lost one of -her arms over fifty years ago! There are various -cows and sheep (some with blue ribbons round -the neck), and other quaint china oddities.</p> - -<p>Then there is a beautiful hen sitting on a -most symmetrically woven (china) straw nest -packed full of eggs (each one, in proportion to -the hen, is the size of an ostrich egg). The hen -(eggs and all) can be lifted up, using her head, -poor thing, as the handle, and then you find she -is the cover to an oval dish. I always intend—should -any members of our Royal Family get -stranded on these hills, and drop in unexpectedly -to tea—to serve them with a poached egg in this -identical dish.</p> - -<p>And you must not overlook the shining brass -candlesticks, some tall and stately, some squat,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -with square trays and extinguishers, that have -been winking and glinting in the light for a -century now—and are still shining; nor the -brass and horn lantern hanging from a beam. -A lantern is an absolute necessity on these -rugged hills when there is no moon.</p> - -<p>How friendly the old brass things are! Just -look at the warming-pan with its bright sun-face. -I have no doubt modern radiators and -hot-water pipes are a boon to those who do not -mind headaches and dried-up air—but do they -<i>look</i> as warm and comforting as the gleaming -warming-pan?</p> - -<p>That reminds me of the first time Abigail -came down from London. She looked at the -warming-pan with interest, as she had never seen -one before. The weather was cold, and hot-water -bottles were the order of the night in -town.</p> - -<p>When I returned from an evening stroll with -some guests, she met me with an anxious face. -“If you please, miss, will you kindly show me -how you keep the water inside that warming-pan? -I can’t get it to stay inside nohow when -I start to lift it!”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I wonder if you have ever seen a dresser like -this one? The oak shelves forming the upper -part are built into a deep recess in the wall, one -above the other, up to the rafters, and all set<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -back in the thickness of the wall—and you can -see how thick these walls are from the window-ledge, -which is fifteen inches deep. But they -need to be solid, for the winter storms that -thrash across these hills show scant consideration -for present-day building methods; and a modern -“bijou bungalow” would probably be found -scattered about the next parish, if it ever lived -long enough to get its roof on!</p> - -<p>The dresser is closely hung with jugs and -mugs and cups, willow-pattern plates and dishes -make a good deal of white and blue against the -walls, which are a full buttercup yellow, while -a collection of ancient china teapots, with some -square willow-pattern vegetable dishes and a tall -Stilton cheese dish with two big sunflowers on -it, occupy the wider ledge at the bottom.</p> - -<p>Here are some uncommon specimens of -lustre jugs. This is a rare lustre mug, brown -with green bars outside, and a purple band -inside. A lustre pepper-box stands on one of -the dresser ledges, and salt-cellars of glass, so -heavy as to suggest paper-weights.</p> - -<p>Do you know the fascination of old English -mugs? On this dresser they range from a tiny -mug in Rockingham ware, only an inch and -a half high, to noble things that suggest long -draughts of home-made herb beer! There are -mugs with bunches of flowers on them, others -with conventional bands or designs, some with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -landscapes, some with butterflies, some with -words of wisdom to be imbibed by the youthful -along with the milk.</p> - -<p>Jugs, again, are most alluring, once you get -a mania for them! One of my jugs is of brown -earthenware, smothered with a raised design -showing a trailing grape-vine, with big bunches -of grapes here and there. Two other jugs that -belonged to a bygone ancestress are apparently -made of a white stone wall, with the most -natural-looking ivy creeping up it and displaying -bunches of berries. Jug-makers of the past gave -so much interest to their goods by reason of this -raised work, instead of being content to transfer -a flat design as they do now. One white jug has -off-standing deer around it, grazing among trees. -Another has a hunt in full progress, horses and -riders, dogs and all—though it always hurts me -to see the running hare.</p> - -<p>A real, proper dresser is a useful bit of furniture, -provided it has plenty of hooks. It holds -such a quantity of things. I have all sorts of -odd cups and saucers on mine, relics of past -treasures that have somehow survived the hand -of the hired washer-up; little bits that remind -me of all sorts of pleasant things, such as tea-services -my mother had when I was little, some -that have belonged to other relatives.</p> - -<p>In passing, I may say that a dresser of this -sort is a great incentive to good works. Many a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -relation, on looking at it, has said, “<i>I</i> have an -old jug that belonged to your great, no, your -great-great-aunt; I shall give it to you, as you -like things of that sort.”</p> - -<p>Or another time it will be: “<i>What</i> a collection -of odd cups! Good gracious, if a little thing -like <i>that</i> amuses you, I’ll turn out a lot I have -stored away somewhere, glad to get rid of them; -it only annoys me to look at them, as it reminds -me how all the rest of the set got smashed. You -can have them and welcome.”</p> - -<p>There has been a good deal of this sort of -“give and take” about the furnishing of this -cottage. And it is so much more interesting to -me as the owner to know the history of the -various items, than if I had merely bought -antiques by the houseful, as I have known some -people do. In the latter case, a room is so apt -to look like nothing but an old curiosity shop; -as it is, the things all seem to “belong,” just as -much as we do.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>But I mustn’t weary you with a catalogue -of household furnishings, though I know, if you -could actually <i>see</i> the china and the little bedrooms, -with white, washable handwork everywhere, -and wonderful old patchwork and -knitted quilts, you would love it all. The Bird -room is the general favourite, with its unique -crochet; there are swallows flying across the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> -curtain-tops, swans sailing among bulrushes on -the washstand splash, wild geese flying above the -tree-tops at another window, ducks swimming -sedately along towel-ends, more swallows (in -cross-stitch this time) on a table-cover, parrots -(in darned filet) on the dressing-table cloth, while -seagulls float along a frieze, a glass case of rare -birds is over the mantelpiece, and a large wool-work -pheasant, balancing itself ingeniously on the -top of a small basket of grapes, and endeavouring -to look as though it were quite its natural habitat, -is framed, and hangs on the wall. I don’t think -the far-back relative who worked it had much of -an eye for proportion, however!</p> - -<p>On the mantelpiece stands a sedate row of -china fowls, a marble fountain basin in the -centre, with white pigeons basking around the -edge.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Just one other room you must look into—the -sitting-room, because I want you to see my dolls’ -things. Yes, I know it sounds imbecile, but I -never had a dolls’ house. When I was young, the -rest of us were brothers, and it wasn’t considered -economical, therefore, to present a toy that would -only be serviceable to one out of the bunch. -Besides which, in those days children didn’t -immediately get what they stamped for. So I -had to go without the thing I yearned for -above all others. But you may be sure I took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -care of what dolls’ things did chance to come -my way.</p> - -<p>Dolls themselves were very scarce, but I had -several sets of dolls’ tea-things, given by discerning -aunts, and here they are, in a funny old -glass cupboard in the corner of the sitting-room. -One is a very small set, with teeny pink rosebuds -on it; another is a larger set, that my small -friends drank tea out of (and occasionally smashed -a cup for me). There are two dinner services, -one in plain white—a round soup tureen, a gravy -boat, a square vegetable dish, with some remaining -plates and dishes; the other a gorgeous affair, -with Dickens scenes on each plate—one dozen -meat and six soup plates, with dishes and tureens -galore, and oh! such lovely china soup and sauce -ladles, all <i>en suite</i>.</p> - -<p>These dolls’ things seem to affect people in -different ways. Some look at them with eyes that -go back to their own childhood, and memories that -recall similar treasures that they wanted when -they, too, were little, and did—or did not—get. -Such people know exactly why I value these -things. They handle them lovingly, but don’t -say much.</p> - -<p>But there are others who gaze at the dolls’ -china (and the little wooden animals, and the -glass slipper I was certain Cinderella wore, and -the china grand piano, and the dolls’ brass fender, -and all the other oddments), and then look at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> -me in blank astonishment. It is evidently -incomprehensible to them that any sane woman, -in these days of strenuous intellectuality, can -hoard such childish rubbish. And I am powerless -to explain my reasons.</p> - -<p>Occasionally, however, light breaks across one -of these amazed countenances, and a woman will -suddenly exclaim: “<i>I</i> have part of a dolls’ dinner -service somewhere in the attic at home, I believe. -I shall get it out, and put it in <i>my</i> china cabinet. -It looks quite smart, doesn’t it?”</p> - -<p>To which I reply: “Yes; and I hear they -are going to be <i>much</i> worn this season.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>All the decorations in the house are on the -most homely lines, one room has each deep -window-ledge filled with seashells and coral. If -you want silver boxes and cut-glass scent-bottles -in the bedroom, you must bring them yourself. -<i>We</i> think the wooden dressing-table looks all that -can be desired, clothed in a blue-glazed lining -petticoat, with white dotted muslin on top. And -who could want a silver-backed hand-glass, when -they have the chance of using one that has its -back encrusted with small seashells!</p> - -<p>There are plenty of pictures all over the -house, many of them without frames. Haulage -is an expensive matter on these hills, and we -always take this into consideration. Several of -the rooms have friezes made of brown paper, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -which have been affixed a series of coloured -plates. The charm of this arrangement is that -you can take down the old frieze and put up a -new one—or stick a fresh picture over some old -one—as often as you please.</p> - -<p>All pictures, however, show beautiful views -of outdoor scenery: heather-clad hills, flowering -gardens, snow-covered peaks, and rolling waves. -Whether they are original paintings that famous -artists have given me, or plates from art magazines, -they are all views of large spaces, and -induce big, restful thoughts.</p> - -<p>Some cards that hang on the bedroom walls -have been singled out again and again by my -friends for special commendation. I happened -to see them one day when I was going round the -Book Saloon of the R.T.S. in St. Paul’s Churchyard. -One special favourite has these lines on -it (possibly you know them?):—</p> - - - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> -<div class="center">GOOD NIGHT.</div> -<div class="verse">Sleep sweet within this quiet room,</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh thou! whoe’er thou art,</span></div> -<div class="verse">And let no mournful yesterday</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Disturb thy peaceful heart;</span></div> -<div class="verse">Nor let to-morrow scare thy rest</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">With dreams of coming ill;</span></div> -<div class="verse">Thy Maker is thy changeless friend,</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">His love surrounds thee still.</span></div> -<div class="verse">Forget thyself and all the world,</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Put out each feverish light;</span></div> -<div class="verse">The stars are watching overhead,</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sleep sweet, Good Night, Good Night.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> - -<p>Another, bought the same day, is entitled:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> -<div class="center">A QUIET RESTING PLACE.</div> -<div class="verse">And so I find it well to come</div> -<div class="verse">For deeper rest to this still room;</div> -<div class="verse">For here the habit of the soul</div> -<div class="verse">Feels less the outer world’s control,</div> -<div class="verse">And from the silence multiplied</div> -<div class="verse">By these still forms on every side,</div> -<div class="verse">The world that time and sense has known</div> -<div class="verse">Falls off and leaves us God alone.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>For the Flower room, Canon Langbridge’s -delightful book, <i>Restful Thoughts for Dusty -Ways</i>, supplied me with a verse:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> -<div class="center">HEAVEN COVERS ALL.</div> -<div class="verse">When the world’s weight is on thy mind,</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all its black-winged fears affright,</span></div> -<div class="verse">Think how the daisy draws her blind,</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sleeps without a light.</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>And for the Bird room, I have on the wall -W. C. Bryant’s beautiful poem, “Lines to a -Waterfowl.” You will remember these verses:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 4em;">There is a Power whose care</span></div> -<div class="verse">Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,</div> -<div class="verse">The desert and illimitable air—</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Lone wandering, but not lost.</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 4em;">He who, from zone to zone,</span></div> -<div class="verse">Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,</div> -<div class="verse">In the long way that I must tread alone</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Will lead my steps aright.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> - -<p>On more than one occasion visitors have -thanked me for having left them these goodnight -thoughts.</p> - -<p>Of course, being a cottage in the midst of a -flower-patch, we never run short of flowers, and -you find plenty indoors. When they are in -bloom, however, I always like to put a bunch of -white moss rose-buds (one of my favourite flowers) -in a blue mug on a visitor’s dressing-table.</p> - -<p>But whatever the flowers, it is our custom to -welcome all guests with rosemary, for I have -discovered that the scent of it (even the sight of -it) is a certain cure for the divers maladies caused -by overdoses of unsatisfactory dressmakers, cooks -who give notice every month, much boredom in -crowded unventilated drawing-rooms, and all the -many varieties of restlessness that have been -invented to help women to kill time. It has -also been known to prove efficacious in cases of -people prone to overwork.</p> - -<p>At any rate, if you come to visit me you will -find a vase with sprigs of rosemary on the deep -window-ledge in your room; and few of my -friends go away without taking a slip from the -gnarled bush by the door to plant in less congenial -surroundings.</p> - -<p>I believe Shakespeare said that rosemary -typifies remembrance; Virginia unblushingly -improves on Shakespeare by insisting that it -means the remembrance of peace.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>IV<br /> - -<small>Miss Quirker—Incidentally</small></h2> - - -<p class="unindent"><span class="smcap">Every</span> visit to the cottage seems prefaced -with a scramble. Either the work at the office -suddenly does itself up in a tangle, or the -domestic arrangements show signs of incipient -paralysis, which it takes all my available energy -to avert, or else it is people who inflict themselves -upon me when I’m at my final gasp -without a moment, or a single company smile, -to spare for anybody. And of all the three -forms of irritation, the uninvited people are the -worst; for they always seem to absorb the last -bit of vitality left me, which I had hoped would -just carry me over the journey.</p> - -<p>There is Miss Quirker, for instance. You -don’t know Miss Quirker? How I envy you!</p> - -<p>I can best describe her as a lady well over -forty (or more), who apparently hasn’t anything -at all to do, and who does it thoroughly well. -She has a couple of very decided and conspicuous -gifts—one is the ability to waste the time and -dissipate the amiable qualities of every individual -whose path she crosses; and the other is a -positive genius for saying the wrong thing.</p> - -<p>I was near the window writing for all I was -worth, when she knocked at the door and inquired<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -for me, adding, “I see she is busy writing, but if -you tell her who it is, I know she’ll see <i>me</i>.” Of -course I had to see her.</p> - -<p>She entered the room with a kittenish little -rush and scuffle, that is by no means the happiest -form of affectation for a tall, largely-built woman, -well over forty (or more).</p> - -<p>“Ah! I’ve found you in at last” (with a -roguish wag of a stiff finger in a size too small -glove). “I was determined to see you, dear, -though Abigail always looks so forbidding at -the door. I met Miss Virginia shopping just -now, and I asked if you were at home. She -said you were <i>frightfully</i> busy, nearly off your -head with work, as you were leaving town the -first thing in the morning. So I said at once: -Then of course I must go round and call on -her this very afternoon.</p> - -<p>“She said she wasn’t sure that you’d be in if -I did, but I said I should chance it—it’s such -an age since we’ve met—why, not since your -engagement was announced! Now, just give -me an account of yourself, and tell me all about -everything.</p> - -<p>“I would have asked Miss Virginia, but I -never think she is at all cordial, or perhaps -I should say—sympathetic. Indeed, I don’t think -she really knew me at first. I was right in her -path, yet she seemed to look through me! But -I took a seat next to her at the lace counter,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> -and spoke to her. By the way, is she deaf? It -was so strange that she didn’t seem to hear a -quarter of the questions I asked her about you, -so I really got next to <i>no</i> information from her. -It was so funny sometimes that I almost laughed—I’ve -<i>such</i> a sense of humour, you know. For -instance, when I asked her what she thought of -your <i>fiancé</i> (you know you’ve never introduced -me to him yet!) and was it her idea of a suitable -match, and was he tall or short, she replied: -‘I think it wonderful value considering, and it -should wear well; the size is five yards round, -so I had better have six yards to allow for -corners.’ And, do you know, I was some minutes -before I realised that she wasn’t talking about -his waist measure, but an afternoon tea-cloth for -which she was buying the lace. She evidently -hadn’t heard a word I had said. And so I raised -my voice and asked her what part he had come -from, as I knew he didn’t go to <i>our</i> church. She -just looked at me and replied: ‘Cluny; I always -think Cluny lace washes so well, don’t you?’</p> - -<p>“You see, I got absolutely <i>nothing</i> out of her. -In fact, I wondered, dear, whether—of course, I -know you don’t mind me speaking quite frankly—whether -there had been any little rift—er—you -understand; of course I know you’ve a -wonderful fund of patience, only those two girls -always seem to be with you, and though I’m -sure you wouldn’t tell them so, yet anyone with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -the very <i>slightest</i> tact might see that they aren’t -wanted. And of course. . . .</p> - -<p>“Oh, well, I’m glad to hear you <i>do</i> think as -much of them as ever. I shouldn’t have thought -it; but you needn’t mind telling <i>me</i> if there <i>had</i> -been a little coolness. I’m fairly sharp at seeing -through a stone wall. And I always have said -that—personally, mind you—I never knew two -girls less. . . .</p> - -<p>“Of course, we won’t discuss them if you’d -rather not. As you know, I am the very last -one to want to introduce a disagreeable topic. -We’ll talk about you. Turn round to the light, -and let me see how you are looking. My <i>dear!</i> -but you do look ill!! I don’t know <i>when</i> I’ve -seen you look so utterly washed out and -anæmic. . . .</p> - -<p>“You never felt better in your life? Well, -I’m glad to hear it, I’m sure. Oh, I see what it -is, it’s that blue dress you are wearing that gives -you that aged and sallow look—a very trying -colour, isn’t it? I don’t think anyone ought to -wear that colour, but those with very clear -young-looking complexions, and then it looks -charming. It always suited me. By the way, -did Madame Delphine make that dress? . . . I -thought so, I knew it the minute I saw you. -It’s a queer thing, but I have never yet seen -anyone look even passable in a dress that she -has made. You can’t exactly say that it doesn’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -fit, can you? It’s a something—I don’t know -how to express it—about her gowns that always -strikes me as—well, you know what I mean, -don’t you? And that dress you’ve got on looks -just like that! I know you won’t mind <i>me</i> -speaking quite plainly; you see, I’ve known you -for so long, and I’m not one to flatter, I never -was. What we need in this world is absolute -sincerity; don’t you agree with me? And I -always think it’s the kindest thing when you see -a friend in anything that makes her look plainer -than ever, to tell her so at once, then she knows -just exactly what she looks like. And, after all, -other people are the best judges as to what suits -us. We can’t see ourselves. Mrs. Ridley was -saying at the Guild ‘At Home’ at the Archdeacon’s -the other day, she thought you were -so wise to stick to that way you do your hair; -she said she thought it suited you, considering -that. . . .”</p> - -<p>Here I did manage to interpolate a sarcastic -regret that they couldn’t find a more interesting -topic of conversation!</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, we <i>had</i> other more interesting -things to talk about, dear, but Mrs. Archdeacon -had your photo on the table, and the Archdeacon -said something about you, I forget what—nothing -of any importance—and that was the only reason -we mentioned you. I said I thought perhaps -you did it that way because it was a little thin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -just there. . . . Oh, I know you used to have a -lot of hair, dear; but some people’s hair <i>does</i> -come out, and a pad doesn’t look so well anywhere -else. . . .</p> - -<p>“It’s all your own hair? You don’t wear—— Well, -I <i>am</i> surprised! I should <i>never</i> have -thought it!! I don’t mean that it looks much -in any case, but I always concluded that you -wore——</p> - -<p>“Oh, how delightful! I’ll confess I was -longing for a cup of tea. . . . Yes, three lumps -and plenty of milk. I always say it makes up -for any deficiencies in the tea, if one has lots of -milk. . . . China tea, is it? I thought so. I -dare say it’s all right for those who like it. And, -of course, if you tell people what it is, they -understand why it <i>looks</i> so poor. . . .</p> - -<p>“On <i>no</i> account; don’t <i>think</i> of having some -Indian tea made specially for me. I can quite -well make this do, because I’m going straight -home after I leave you, and tea will be waiting -for me, and I shall have a <i>good</i> cup first -thing. . . .</p> - -<p>“Yes, I think I will have another sandwich, -even though it is the third time of asking. These -make me think of the Guild ‘At Home’ last -week. You ought to have been there. The -Archdeacon makes such a delightful host <i>and</i> -the sandwiches!—well, I can’t <i>tell</i> you what they -were like; literally hundreds and hundreds of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -them, and such delicious filling; all cut in their -own kitchen, too. You really should get Mrs. -Archdeacon to tell you what her cook put in -them; you’d never touch one of these ordinary -ones again, once you had tasted hers.</p> - -<p>“But what I <i>would</i> like to know is, what -does she do with all the crusts? Mrs. Ridley -thought that perhaps they made them up into -savoury puddings; only, as I said to her: How -about those with fish in them? She said that -perhaps they kept them separate when cutting; -but I know the shuffling ways of cooks better than -that! I never kept one, and I never will. . . .</p> - -<p>“I must certainly try the cake if you made -it yourself. I seldom get time to do any cooking -myself, though I’m a very good hand at cakes. -But you’ve secretaries to take everything off -your hands; you must have lots of spare time.”</p> - -<p>(A moment’s pause while she tries the cake.)</p> - -<p>“Have you ever used the Busy Bee Flour -Sifter? No? Then I should strongly advise -you to get one. I should think <i>that</i> might help -you to make a lighter cake; or do you think -you put in enough baking powder? But there, -some people have a light hand with cakes, and -some haven’t. I don’t think anything makes -any difference if you haven’t. It’s just like -plants, isn’t it—they always grow well for those -who love them. <i>Your</i> ferns aren’t looking very -bright, are they? . . .</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t you like the ends of the fronds -rubbed? . . . I see, they were given you by -your <i>fiancé</i>, and naturally they are the apple of -your eye. That reminds me, you haven’t shown -me his portrait yet. I’m longing to see it. . . .</p> - -<p>“Is <i>that</i> the gentleman! Well! he’s the very -last man in the world I should have chosen for -you! Not a bit like what I pictured. . . .</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t mean that there’s anything -<i>wrong</i> with him, only—er—he doesn’t look a -scrap like the man <i>you</i> would become engaged -to. . . .</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t know that I can exactly -describe the type of man I expected. I thought -he would be tall and——</p> - -<p>“He is? Over six feet? Well, he doesn’t -look it from his photo, does he? . . .</p> - -<p>“That’s true; a vignetted head doesn’t show -the full height. But apart from that, I expected -an artistic sort of man. . . .</p> - -<p>“He is? Really! And then I should have -pictured him rather—er—well, Napoleonic, and -with that far-away poetic fire in his eyes that -carries you off your feet to untold heights. . . .</p> - -<p>“No, of course I don’t mean an aviator! I -mean a—but it isn’t easy to put it into words; -only you can’t think how disap—how surprised -I am to see a little man. . . .</p> - -<p>“Of course, I remember you did say he was -tall and well made. But there, handsome is as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -handsome does; and, after all, I’ve heard that it -is often the plainest and most uninteresting-looking -men that turn out the best in the end. -I can only hope that it will be so in your——</p> - -<p>“Why, I declare! Here’s Miss Virginia! -How d’y’do? We’ve been talking about you -all the afternoon. Well, I really <i>must</i> be going, -and I simply won’t listen to any of your persuasions -to stay longer. I’ve brightened her up -nicely, Miss Virginia; she was looking ever so -gloomy when I called. Good-bye, dear. <i>Good</i>-bye, -Miss Virginia.”</p> - -<p class="right"> -<i>Exit Miss Quirker.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>What we said after she had gone had better -not be recorded! My own remarks may not -have been <i>quite</i> cordial; but I know that Virginia’s -were even worse—if that were possible.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>But though visitations such as these, when -bestowed upon me at the eleventh hour, always -reduce me mentally to a sort of bran-mash (and -Virginia says she can’t see why anybody need -bother a government to <i>import</i> pulp nowadays, -considering the state of her brain, to say nothing -of those of other people who shall be nameless), -the sight of the garden makes me human once -more, and by sunset the silence of the hills -has so restored my soul, that the sun seldom, -if ever, goes down upon my wrath.</p> - -<p>After tea, there will probably be two hours<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -of daylight for watering the garden. Even -though the sun has dropped behind the opposite -hills, it is light up here on the hill-top long after -the valley has gone to sleep; and when the sun -has really set, there is a long and lovely twilight.</p> - -<p>Indoors and out there is absolute peace. -The grandfather’s clock ticks with that slow -deliberation that is so soothing; even the -preliminary rumble it gives before striking is -never irritating—you feel it is a concession due -to advanced age.</p> - -<p>Through the open window float in the scents -of thousands of flowers that are feeling unspeakably -grateful for the liberal watering the girls -have been giving them; you cannot distinguish -any one in particular; one moment you think -it is the sweet briar, then you are sure it is the -white lilies, then the breeze brings the breath -of the honeysuckles that are climbing trees and -hedges, till the whole air is laden with perfume.</p> - -<p>Up the garden white dresses are seen among -the borders.</p> - -<p>“There, I believe we’ve done everything but -that upper bed of hollyhocks, and they won’t -hurt for to-night.” Virginia sounds as though -she had been working hard.</p> - -<p>“Now the tent,” calls out Ursula. And we -all make a stampede to the bottom of the lower -orchard, and with a few dexterous turns the -tent is down and folded up; for though the trees<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -may be motionless now, the wind springs up at -any moment on these hills, and once you hear it -soughing in the tops of the big fir-trees in the -garden you will realise the advantage of having -the tent indoors!</p> - -<p>As you saunter up the garden, back to the -house, crushing the sweet-odoured black peppermint -in the grass underfoot, the stars seem very -near. The cottage looks like a toy, with the -light shining from each little window. And as -you cross the threshold into the living-room, the -log fire flashes and gleams (a fire is acceptable -up here after sundown, even in the summer), -and everything smiles with such a cosy welcome, -till brass candlesticks and cups and jugs and the -homely willow patterns on the dresser, all seem -to say, “We are so glad you’ve come.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>V<br /> - -<small>The Geography of -the Flower-Patch</small></h2> - - -<p class="unindent"><span class="smcap">The</span> first night at this cottage you may lie -awake, if you are a stranger to these hills, almost -awed by the silence. Gradually you realise that -the silence is not actual absence of sound. In -May and early June the nightingales trill in the -trees around; or you will hear the owls calling -to one another in the woods—a trifle weird if -you do not know what it is. At another time -it is the corn-crake; or the wind brings you the -bleating of lambs down in the valley. As you -listen longer, you hear the tinkle, tinkle of the -little spring that tumbles out of a small spout -into a ferny well outside the garden gate.</p> - -<p>You take a final look out of the window to -where, miles away in the distance, a lighthouse -flashes at fixed intervals. It seems strangely -companionable, even though it is so far off. -And then you close your eyes—unconscious that -you have fallen asleep—only to open them again -in a minute, as you think. Someone is speaking.</p> - -<p>You detect Ursula’s voice in a stage whisper -through the keyhole.</p> - -<p>“I say—aren’t you ever going to get up?”</p> - -<p>You rub your eyes. It certainly is morning! -And you such a poor sleeper, possibly one of -those who “never had a wink of sleep all night,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -and such horrid dreams.” The plaintive voice -continues at the keyhole:</p> - -<p>“I planted out nine hundred and thirty-seven -wallflower seedlings yesterday, and I want to -cover them up with fern before the sun gets -too strong. If you’ll get up you can gather -the bracken, while I creep around on all fours -covering them up. See? Virginia is busy -thinning out the turnips. And SHE is never -any good at getting up early, you know!”</p> - -<p>I regret to say this last scornful reference is -to me!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>And now when you look out of the little -bedroom window again, to the accompaniment -of an early cup of tea, what a change has taken -place since yesterday! Last night the ranges of -opposite hills, with the sun setting behind them, -looked vague and mysterious with shadows. -This morning the sun is full on them, but now -there is another mystery—or so it seems to those -who see it for the first time.</p> - -<p>Instead of looking down into the green tree-clad -valley to where the river winds along at the -base of the steep hills, you now look down on to -a bank of solid white—the mist that rises up -at night and fills the lower part of the valley, -reminding one of the mist that went up from -the earth in the first Garden, “and watered the -whole face of the ground.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> - -<p>With the sun on it, the mist gives back a -dazzling light. And then slowly, slowly, the -whole white bank in the valley lifts silently and -wonderfully; up and up it goes in a solid mass, -and as the higher parts of the hills, which were -previously in sunshine, are temporarily hidden -by the uprising mass, so the lower part of the -valley gradually becomes visible, first only a strip -at the very bottom, then more and more as the -white curtain is raised. Finally the white mass -disappears and joins its fellows in the sky above, -a fragment of cloud lingering sometimes a little -below the summit of the highest hill. If the -day is going to be fine, this last trail of silvery -cloud disappears, and then the sun lights up the -woods and the upland meadows, showing you -distant cottages and far-off farmhouses where -you saw nothing but tremulous shadows the -night before.</p> - -<p>However often one looks upon this sight, the -marvel never lessens, and the “simple scientific -explanation,” which every learned person who -visits this cottage pours over the breakfast-table, -is quite unnecessary. Scientific explanations are -admirable for cities, but when we set foot on -these hills, it is just sufficient for us that Nature -“is.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>One drawback about this cottage is the fact -that one’s poetic thoughts and soulful dreams<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -are constantly being interrupted by things -material, more especially those appertaining to -food! And even as you are gazing out of the -window at the glorious scenery all around you, -there arises the odour of frizzling ham (that -originally ran about, uncooked, in a field lower -down), fried potatoes (the good old-fashioned -sort done in the frying-pan), coffee, and other -hungry things; and you find to your surprise -that a substantial breakfast is on the table by -eight o’clock, though (and this is where guests -bless their hostess) no one need get up to breakfast, -if they prefer to have it in bed, for very -tired people come here sometimes.</p> - -<p>But it does not matter what nervous wrecks -Virginia and Ursula may have landed at the -door overnight, the first morning sees them up -with the lark and out gardening; and one of the -earliest sounds you hear is the clink of the brown -pitcher on the stones, as Virginia sets it down -after filling it at the little spring outside the -garden gate. This is a thirsty garden; it is -everywhere on the slope, remember, and is composed -of the lightest soil imaginable with rock -everywhere beneath. As fast as you put water -on it, it runs away downhill; hence, a moment’s -leisure, morning or evening, always means some -pitchers of water for the garden.</p> - -<p>All the cottages on the hillside seem to have -been built in the same way. Someone evidently<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -hunted about for a few feet of land where it was -slightly less sloping than the rest, and within -reach of a spring of water, and this plot he -levelled a bit by excavating the big boulders and -smaller stones which make up our substratum, -and often the top-stratum too. Then if the piece -of land wasn’t quite large enough, he cut away -part of the hill behind, banking it up with some -of the biggest of the boulders, to keep it from -tumbling down on to the piece he had cleared.</p> - -<p>Next he excavated more rocky pieces from -the up-and-down land around his clearing; this -gave him a bit of clean ground for a garden, and -also provided him with enough stone to build his -habitation. Any stone he might have over he -made into a wall around his plot, by the simple -process of piling one piece on top of another. -That, apparently, is all man does to the place. -Then Nature sets to work; and, oh, what festoons -of loveliness she flings over all!</p> - -<p>As several different owners have had a hand -at my particular cottage, the garden has been -extended in various directions, but always requiring -stone walls to prop it up. Hence you -get a moderately level patch, with a drop of -four or six feet over the edge of the garden-bed.</p> - -<p>A few rough stone steps take you down to -the next level, where there is another bit of -garden, the steps themselves sprouting in every -chink, with wild strawberry, primroses, ferns,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -columbines, and a stray Canterbury bell. In -this way the cottage is surrounded with steps -going up or going down, with a flower-bed -running along here, and some more a few feet -lower down; another terrace of flowers and -some more steps (nearly smothered with big -periwinkle, these are) take you down to an -absurd lawn, that some enterprising person -levelled up so delightfully on the tilt that -neither chair nor table will remain where you -place it! If they roll far enough, they go over -the edge of the lawn, a drop of about twenty -feet, into the lower orchard! Nevertheless, this -lawn is popular, because it is edged at one side -with white and pink moss rose-trees.</p> - -<p>Thus perhaps you can picture it—big beds -and little beds, some running one way, some -spreading out in another direction; sometimes -large patches where flowers grow by the quarter-acre; -sometimes little scraps and corners no -bigger than a hearth-rug, where we managed to -dig out some more stones, and make a further -bit of clearing. But everywhere you go there -are the big plateaux or little terraces supported -by massive grey stone walls, which vary from -two to twenty feet in height, according to the -amount of hillside they are required to prop -up.</p> - -<p>And how these walls bloom! Ivy and moss -and ferns seem to love them, for all the local walls<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -sprout ferns without any apparent provocation, -and the walls about this garden are no exception.</p> - -<p>But, in addition, white arabis hangs over in -cascades, in the spring, and you see then why -the country people call it “Snow-on-the-Mountains”; -and mingling with the white is the -exquisite mauve variety; wallflowers of lovely -colouring, rose pink, deep purple, pale primrose, -bright orange, as well as the richly-streaked -brown-and-yellow flowers, bloom gaily on the -rocky ledges; snapdragons flower later, with -nasturtiums, and even some blue-eyed forget-me-nots -have sown themselves up there, and bloom -with the rest. Honesty plants have established -themselves in the crevices; masses of wild Herb -Robert have been allowed to remain; and -carpeting everything are all manner of sedums, -and Alpine and ice plants, some with grey-green -foliage and ruby-coloured stems, some with -white flowers, some with crimson; and in the -hottest places there are clumps of houseleeks -looking sturdy and homely.</p> - -<p>Certain weeks in the year the tops of some of -the walls are a golden mass when the yellow -stonecrop is in bloom; but whatever the season, -there is always something to look at—something -holding up a brave head and preaching as loudly -as ever a plant can preach of the advantages of -making the best of your surroundings.</p> - -<p>Does the wall face a sunless north? Very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -well; out come the ferns and up creeps the ivy; -the Rock Stonecrop, with its blue-green stems -and leaves (looking almost like a huge moss) fills -every shady spot it can find, seemingly appearing -from nowhere.</p> - -<p>Is the wall sunny? All right; the wallflowers -laugh at you, pinks climb over the top edge, just -to see what is going on down below; one baking -spot supports a mass of sage about a yard and a -half in diameter, a smother of blue flowers in the -summer; no one planted it, it just came! A -red ribis has hooked itself in at one spot; what -it lives on I don’t know; while white, mauve and -purple Honesty seeds itself everywhere, making -a brave show of colour in the spring. In fact, -white and mauve are the prevailing colours on -the walls in April.</p> - -<p>Later on you may expect—and will find—anything; -for annuals and bi-annuals seed themselves, -continually dropping the seed to a lower -level; hence there is always a self-planted garden -bed at the base of each wall, reminiscent of what -was growing above the season before.</p> - -<p>On the shady side of one wall, we have made -a moss garden—it was Virginia’s idea, and she -takes a very special pride in it, adding new sorts -whenever she finds them. Hence you will sometimes -find her coming home from a ramble, -carrying a huge stone with her, or lugging along -a veritable boulder. In this way she brings the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -moss home, local habitation and all, annexing -any stone she sees (a wild stone, of course, not -a tame one from someone’s garden wall) that -bears a promising crop of some new variety.</p> - -<p>As a result, she fairly bulges with pride whenever -she exhibits the moss garden, and explains -how much of it is her own particular handiwork.</p> - -<p>We have not yet settled whether she ought -to pay me rent for my wall that she uses for her -moss garden, or I ought to pay her wages for -moss-gardening my wall.</p> - -<p>One characteristic of this garden is an ever-changing -show of colour. It varies according to -the season, but whatever the time of year there -are usually gorgeous splashes of colour that -make you stand and wonder.</p> - -<p>Do not forget that this is only a cottage -garden, even though it is a roomy one. I hope -you are not picturing to yourself an orthodox -country-house garden, with expanses of well-kept -lawns, with proper-looking beds of geraniums, -and lordly pampas grass at intervals, and well-groomed -rose-bushes in tidy beds, and correct -herbaceous borders, and beds of begonias and -heliotropes planted out from the greenhouses, -and all the other nice-mannered, polite flowers -that every well-paid, certificated gardener conscientiously -insists on planting in exactly the -same way all the country over.</p> - -<p>This garden grows a little of everything, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -a great deal of some things, and when you look -at it you might easily imagine that everything -had planted itself just where it pleased. The -garden is not tidy, for the things are constantly -growing over each other, and then out across -the paths. Moreover, it lacks someone there all -the time to keep it tidy; the ministrations of -the handy man are decidedly erratic. But at -least it is bright, always bright, and you can -pick as many flowers as you please—handfuls, -armfuls, apronfuls—with no fear of an autocratic -gardener glaring at you; and the flowers will -never be missed.</p> - -<p>In the spring wallflowers predominate, every -colour that the modern varieties produce. -Ursula’s remark that she had planted over nine -hundred seedlings was well within the mark. A -thousand or two of wallflower seedlings do not -go very far in this garden, because at one time -of the year the place appears to be a waving -mass of wallflowers from end to end.</p> - -<p>And have you any idea what the scent is -like when you have thousands of wallflowers -smiling on a sunny spring morning?</p> - -<p>But there are all sorts of oddments, some -things you do not expect and some things you -do. The cowslip bed is very pretty. Here are -yellow, orange, copper-coloured and mahogany -brown cowslips; pale-coloured oxlips, and polyanthuses -in as many shades as the wallflowers,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -from rosy red to dark purple-brown with every -petal edged with bright yellow as though they -had been buttonholed round.</p> - -<p>There is no need to cultivate primroses in -the garden beds, for the two orchards are thick -with them; where there are also large patches of -wild snowdrops with crowds of wild daffodils, -and dancing wind-flowers—or wood anemones; -while tall spikes of the pale mauve spotted orchises -grow in the grass around the edge near the walls.</p> - -<p>Before the wallflowers have finished flowering -the tulips are out, the old-fashioned “cottage -tulips,” many of them, tall and with large cup-like -flowers—pink and crimson, brown and -yellow, showy “parrots,” and delicate mauve -feathered with white, purple-black, deep maroon; -such a brilliant army those tulips make, with -hundreds of them in bloom at once.</p> - -<p>Before the tulip petals have fallen, the peonies -have opened out great heavy heads of flowers -that can’t keep upright. The scarlet oriental -poppies with their blue-black centres make masses -of colour that have to be kept very much to -themselves or they kill every other flower within -reach; these are therefore planted near the -clumps of white irises, and the deep blue and -pure white perennial lupins, that make a -beautiful show all down one border.</p> - -<p>Speaking of lupins reminds me of the tree-lupins. -Virginia brought some harmless-looking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> -little plants with her one year, remembering my -love for lupins.</p> - -<p>“These are tree-lupins,” she said. “I’m sure -I don’t know what they will grow into, but the -man said they were just like lupins, only much -more so; therefore I bought them. Don’t blame -<i>me</i> if they die.”</p> - -<p>She planted them comfortably and cosily in -a bed along with white foxgloves and pink pentstemons, -all the members of this happy family -looking about the same size.</p> - -<p>The following year when Virginia visited the -cottage she asked, “Where are my tree-lupins?” -She was shown great bushes each the size of a -round dining-table, and each holding aloft hundreds -of yellow spikes, and filling the air with -the scent of a bean-field. There were the tree-lupins -all right! But where were the foxgloves -and pentstemons?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Perhaps you think there must be large, dull -spaces when the wallflowers cease blooming, -but in between the wallflower plants are others -coming on, and by the time the wallflowers have -finished—and are ready to be pulled up—these -beds are filling with sweet williams and snapdragons. -The young plants were there, and -they come into bloom as the wallflowers finish. -And then, where only a short time before there -were beds all purples and yellows and browns,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -you have now reds and pinks and every shade -of rosy tint that the bright eyes of the sweet -williams can produce.</p> - -<p>The snapdragons once played a joke on the -garden. I was ordering some seeds from Sutton’s, -and said, “I want some very hardy snapdragons, -that will stand being planted in the windiest part -of the garden where nothing of any height will -grow.” The seeds were guaranteed to grow in -the most uprooting of hurricanes.</p> - -<p>In due time the seedlings appeared above -ground, and Ursula devoted several back-aching -evenings to planting them out into the windswept -beds. By the middle of the following -summer those jaunty snapdragons had each -grown six feet high, and there, waving in that -exposed place, where any well-conducted plant -would have sternly refused to grow more than -a foot high, was a plantation of great flowers, -each tied to a stout stake like hollyhocks, and -the blooms seemed to have outgrown their -normal size just as the rest of the plants had -done.</p> - -<p>Of course, people came from ever so far to -gaze at these snapdragons; and unbelievers -surreptitiously pulled out tape-measures and -two-foot rules, and one and all, after meditating -seriously on the subject, and looking at it from -all points of view, would finally shake their heads -and say, “Well, I’ll just tell you what it is—the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -place evidently suits them.” We never got any -further than that!</p> - -<p>By every law and reason known to properly-trained -gardeners and horticulturists, this garden -ought to be able to produce nothing but low-growing -flowers and shrubs. Every local resident -kindly volunteered this information directly he -or she set eyes on the cottage; they said it was -too high up, too bleak in winter, too exposed, too -dry, too rocky, or too glaringly sunny—for anything -above six inches high to have a chance -in it.</p> - -<p>And yet Nature goes on laughing at the -pessimists, and so do those who tend this flower-patch. -And the columbines, yellow, pink, pale -blue, purple, and white, send up tall heads of -flower. The coreopsis plants grow so big and -bushy they have to be staked. The cornflowers, -a streak of blue at the end of the cabbage bed, -are taller than the broad beans adjoining. Then -there are the hollyhocks and the larkspurs—these -hold their heads as high as anyone could desire, -and the tall red salvias are not far behind. The -foxgloves are also a brave sight (though I do not -include in this category those that are buried -under the tree-lupins!).</p> - -<p>Of course, there are low-growing things in the -garden as well as the more lofty-minded. There -is one bed that is a ramping mass of giant -mimulus of various colours. Convolvulus minor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> -spreads about the ground in one of the white lily -beds; and eschscholtzias cover the earth for -another row of lilies. Pansies rove about at their -own sweet will in this garden, and the old-fashioned -white pinks and the pink variety spread -themselves out over the big stones that edge the -borders.</p> - -<p>The mignonette bed has a row of lavenders -at the side, and mounds of nasturtiums grow -where the earth is too rocky and barren to -support anything else.</p> - -<p>Naturally, there are hedges of sweet peas; -sometimes they are heavy with flowers, sometimes -the slugs or birds settle the matter at the -beginning of the season. One hedge runs along -at the back of the herb garden, and the herbs -have so spread themselves out that the sweet -peas were getting swamped. Virginia has been -cutting them back.</p> - -<p>Do you know what the scent of cut herbs is -like on a hot summer day, with sweet peas in the -background? In this herb garden there is sage, -with its lovely blue flowers, lemon thyme, silver -thyme, savory, hyssop, lavender, rosemary, rue, -balm, marjoram, black peppermint, spearmint -and parsley.</p> - -<p>In this bed also grows the old-time bergamot, -with its heavily-scented leaves and lovely tufts of -crimson flowers.</p> - -<p>But though one part of the garden is set<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> -apart for herbs and another for vegetables, you -must not imagine that they are only to be found -there. Fine clumps of parsley have planted -themselves in among the annual larkspurs; mint -persists in running riot among the pink and -white mallows (but the mint family never remains -quietly at home); a sturdy scarlet runner -comes up, year after year, beside a great bush of -gum cistus, which makes me think it might be -treated as a perennial; it seems impossible to -get the artichokes to part company with the -Michaelmas daisies, while raspberry canes shoot -up among the old-fashioned red fuchsia bushes; -radishes are flourishing like the green bay-tree -underneath the sweetbriar; a regiment of -pickling onions is living on most neighbourly -terms with a row of cup-and-saucer Canterbury -bells; and as for rhubarb—well, what can you -expect when one man, whom I employed for a -brief spell, remarked:</p> - -<p>“You’ll see where I’ve put in that thur special -rubbub, miss, because I’ve planted a traveller’s -joy a-top of he to mark the spot.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Cupid’s Border is another section of this -garden that may interest you. Here you naturally -find Love-in-a-mist and Love-lies-bleeding. -The flowers which the country folks call Love-lockets -dangle pink and white from their graceful -curving stems; (alas, in catalogues and places<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -where they know, this plant is merely regarded -as dielytra). In this border you of course find -forget-me-nots “that grow for happy lovers”; -bachelor’s buttons, too, hold up their heads in a -very sprightly manner, and please notice that -they are getting nearer and nearer to the clump -of Sweet Betsy. But the bachelor’s buttons -have a rival, for the other side of Sweet Betsy -stands lad’s love—and though not so showy as -the bachelor’s buttons, lad’s love claims to be -of more solid worth. I leave them to settle the -matter between themselves, however; I’m not -one to interfere in such affairs.</p> - -<p>At the other side of the border stands a -maiden’s blush rose, and gallantly waving beside -it is a clump of Prince’s Feather (sometimes referred -to in common parlance as “they laylock -bushes”). At the edge of the border you -naturally find heartsease, not the stiff, over-developed -article of modern flower-shows, but -the old-fashioned sort, all streaks and splashes of -rich purple and yellow.</p> - -<p>There is no time now to go round the vegetable -garden—not that this can be regarded as -an entirely separate part of the estate, for the -vegetables have got mixed up in a terribly haphazard -way with the rest of things, as I hinted -just now. The potato-plot, for instance, has a -border of golden wallflowers all round and -double daisies at the edge, with a row of giant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> -sunflowers, hollyhocks, and clumps of honesty at -the back.</p> - -<p>This mixture is partly in the nature of a -compromise. The gentleman who wields the -spade has to be taken into account. No matter -who he is, no matter how often he discharges -me and I have to beg yet someone else to -“oblige” me, it is always the same, the tiller -of the soil regards space given over to flowers -as a grievous waste, not to say an indication of -feeble-mindedness! Therefore he inserts a row -of vegetables or seeds whenever I happen to -have cleared out some flowering plants and left -a morsel of space <i>pro tem.</i> It seems a prevailing -idea among the non-qualified working classes, in -rural districts, that the cultivation of flowers -ranks about on a level with doing the washing—work -derogatory to a man and only fit for -women!</p> - -<p>To the credit of the handy man I must say -that on one occasion he did kindly present me -with a load of pig manure. He put it on the -flower garden the day before we arrived, as a -pleasant surprise, which it certainly was! Next -day we all had relatives with broken legs, who -needed our immediate return to town.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Nevertheless the vegetables play their part, -and assume no small importance, in due course; -for it is another unwritten law of this cottage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -that visitors shall go out and select the day’s -vegetables, and cut them with the dew on; of -course, if they are superlatively lazy, they can -meanly get some early riser to do it for them; -also they can confer together, or each can gather -her own choice.</p> - -<p>Hence you will see Virginia or Ursula in a -large hat that is all brim, with basket on arm, -and wearing an apron (not a lacy, frilly muslin -thing, but a good-sized, well-made, old-fashioned -lilac print apron), going up the garden and -gathering broad beans, cutting young cauliflowers, -or “curly greens,” or turnip tops, or -a marrow, forking up potatoes, pulling carrots, -collecting lettuces, spring onions, cress and other -salading—all according to the season.</p> - -<p>And if it should chance that you have never -yourself put on a big apron, and cut your own -vegetables before the dew is off them, then -Virginia will be truly sorry for you.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>There is plenty of time to be lazy, however; -and a hot summer day means long leisure in this -garden; for when the sun is high the brown -pitcher rests (though the brown teapot does not) -until the fir-trees throw shadows from the west.</p> - -<p>All day you can sit in the shade at the -bottom of the garden, looking up the hill at -the wonderful mass of colour before you. Along -the ridge of the cottage roof perches a row of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -swallows, chirping and chattering in their usual -way. The starlings, who have built under the -tiles, are ordering their respective families to -cease clamouring for more, explaining that -hunting caterpillars is hot work. Most other -birds are quiet when the sun is fiercest, but over -all the garden there is the hum, hum of thousands -of industrious bees, while literally hundreds of -white butterflies keep up a perpetual flutter over -the tall blue spikes of bloom on the lavender -bushes.</p> - -<p>Even the small white dog with the brown -ears ceases to tear about the garden, and bark -at nothing in a consequential way; he just lies -down on the edge of somebody’s dress, and hangs -out a little pink tongue for air.</p> - -<p>This is the time when the flower-patch among -the hills spells <span class="smcap">Rest</span>.</p> - -<p>An old woman passing up the lane a few nights -ago paused at the gate. “How them pinnies -do blow, miss!” she said, gazing admiringly -at a clump of peonies. Then she added—</p> - -<p>“Ain’t it strange, now, that it do take a -woman to make a flower garden? A man ain’t -no good at that; he simply can’t help hisself -a-running to veg’tables!”</p> - -<p>But after thinking this over, and despite all -that strong-minded womankind tells me to the -contrary, I cannot really believe that there is -such total depravity in the other sex!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>VI<br /> - -<small>That Jane Price!</small></h2> - - -<p class="unindent"><span class="smcap">When</span> Abigail announced, “Mrs. Price says -can you spare a minute to see her, please, -ma’am,” you would have known by the toss of -her nose that the lady-caller was not very <i>nearly</i> -related to the aristocracy.</p> - -<p>As a matter of fact, Mrs. Price, or “that -Jane Price,” as she is more usually styled, is -held in no great esteem in our village. Yet -everything is said to fulfil some useful purpose, -and if Mrs. Price does nothing else, at least she -and her family serve as conspicuous moral -warnings and give us something to throw up -our hands about at intervals, when we exclaim:</p> - -<p>“<i>Did</i> you <small>EVER</small>!!”</p> - -<p>She is a widow of ample and well-fed proportions, -owning her cottage, some bees and a -pig, and apparently getting a fairly good living -out of doing remarkably little sewing. If, under -a mistaken sense of duty, you strive to encourage -local industry, and seek to engage her services, -she has to consider before she consents to undertake -the bit of sewing you offer her to do, at -three times the amount you would have to pay -for having it done in town. And as often as -not she replies that she “really <i>can’t</i> oblige you” -this time, as she’s got a “spell” on cruel bad,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -that has gone all down her back to her knees, -making her head feel nohow.</p> - -<p>You turn away not even worried about her -condition, since she seems as cheerful as a daisy -and as comfortably complacent as a cow. And -you also know, even though you may have been -acquainted with the lady only a few months, -that however cruel the spell may be, and -however long it may last and prevent her -working, her children will be some of the most -elaborately dressed in the Sunday school, and -from the cottage door there will radiate the -most appetising of odours as regularly as the -mealtimes come round.</p> - -<p>How it is that she manages to do so well -with so little visible means of subsistence, only a -stranger would stop to inquire. The residents -know only too well that her pockets are large; -that the shawl she invariably wears on weekdays -has voluminous folds; that her carrying and -stowing-away capacity is almost worthy of a -professional conjurer. Kleptomania (to give it -as refined a name as we can) is her besetting sin. -Unfortunately her family follow in her footsteps.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Price seems to have a positive gift for -turning everything to profitable account; and -her methods of raising money are as ingenious -as they are varied.</p> - -<p>Knowing her idiosyncrasies, I asked Abigail -where she was at the moment.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> - -<p>“In the kitchen, sitting in my wicker easy-chair,” -Abigail replied, still with elevated nose. -“She just walked right in and plumped herself -down.”</p> - -<p>Whereupon I indicated, by dumb pantomime, -that she was on no account to be left there without -personal oversight; and Abigail intimated, -by means of nods and becks and wreathèd -scowls, that she was keeping her left eye on the -visitor, over her shoulder, even while she was -talking to me. We both knew that all was fish -that came to Mrs. Price’s net, and she would -negotiate with absolute impartiality a piece of -soap, a duster, or a half-crown, should they lie -in her way.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Not long before, Miss Bretherton, the -Rector’s niece, a middle-aged lady who keeps -house for him, had tried to give one of the -Price girls—Esmeralda by name—a good start -in life, taking her into the rectory kitchen. But -things disappeared with such alarming rapidity -during the first month she was in residence, that -she had to be sent back home again.</p> - -<p>She left on a Saturday after middle-day -dinner. In the afternoon the house was observing -the all-pervading quiet that was customary on -Saturdays while the Rector was in his study -preparing for Sunday.</p> - -<p>Miss Bretherton, requiring something in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -dining-room that adjoined the study, went in on -tiptoe so as not to disturb him, when, to her -amazement, she came upon the discharged -Esmeralda sitting on the floor beside an open -sideboard cupboard where some jars of pickles -were stored, ladling out pickled walnuts as fast -as she could into one of the maternal pudding -basins. Seeing Miss Bretherton, she just picked -up her basin, walnuts and all, and hastily retired -the same way that she had come, through the -French window.</p> - -<p>Now, obviously her ex-mistress—over fifty -years of age and liable to rheumatism—couldn’t -chase after her in house-slippers and minus a -bonnet, seeing it was raining; so the bereft lady -just closed the sideboard door and communed -with her own feelings, womanfully stifling her -desire to burst into the study and tell the Rector -about it, even though it was his Saturday silence -time.</p> - -<p>Next morning, Sunday, just as she was -buttoning her gloves, preparatory to crossing -the rectory lawn by the short cut to the church, -the cook came to her with the agitated inquiry: -Had the mistress done anything with the leg of -mutton left by the butcher yesterday morning?</p> - -<p>No, of course not! Why should she? etc.</p> - -<p>Well, they hunted high and they hunted -low, and the church bell gave its final peremptory -clang when they were still hunting, but no leg<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -of mutton was found either in the master’s boot -cupboard, or under the bed in the spare room, -or in the bookcase in the library, or in the woodshed, -or in any other of the equally likely places -which they searched. Indeed, no one had ever -expected that it would be found once its absence -was discovered; they just looked darkly at each -other and murmured, “That Esmeralda, of -course.” Cook declares that her mistress added -“the good-for-nothing baggage” under her -breath; but I can’t credit that of Miss Bretherton, -who always manages to maintain a wonderful -calm and self-restraint under the most trying -circumstances.</p> - -<p>At any rate, she told cook they must have -fried ham and eggs for dinner—if you ever heard -of such a thing on a Sunday at the rectory! -and the Archdeacon of Saskatchewan preaching -in the morning on behalf of the C.M.S. too!</p> - -<p>Moreover, Miss Bretherton was ten minutes -late for church, a thing never known before in -the memory of the oldest inhabitant; and then, -still more remarkable, instead of waiting to speak -to people after church, she set off at a terrific -pace for Mrs. Price’s cottage, and walked in to -find the kitchen full of a delightful aroma, and a -fine leg of mutton just being taken from the -roasting-jack by Esmeralda and placed on the -table, which was already adorned with a saucer -containing pickled walnuts.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> - -<p>Miss Bretherton knew better than to say, -“That’s my leg of mutton.” Our village understands -all about “having the law on ’un,” if -anyone upsets their feelings in any way. Therefore, -swallowing hard, and determining for the -hundredth time not to lose her temper, she said, -“Where did you get that leg of mutton from, -Mrs. Price?”</p> - -<p>Had the woman replied, “From the butcher,” -that would have been fairly incriminating, -because, of course, we don’t require more than -one sheep a week for home consumption in the -village, and, as everybody knows, each sheep has -only two legs, and it wouldn’t require a Sherlock -Holmes to track those two legs any week in the -year. As it happened, this week’s other leg had -gone to my house. Had Mrs. Price claimed it -as her own, she would have been undone.</p> - -<p>But she was too shrewd for that; she -promptly replied, with a look of surprised -innocence at such a strange question being -asked by Miss Bretherton at such a time—</p> - -<p>“That leg of mutton, do you mean, miss?” -(as though there was a meat market to choose -from!) “Yes; ain’t it a fine one; it weighs -seven pound, if it weighs an ounce.” (Miss B. -knew that; she had studied the butcher’s ticket -only that morning.) “I couldn’t get it into the -oven, so we had to roast it afore the fire. I -expect you find the kitchen a bit ’ot. But as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> -I was saying” (Miss B. had to press her lips -together very hard), “it ain’t often as I get a -windfall like this, but my brother-in-law come -up to see us yesterday from Penglyn, and he -brought it me for a birthday present; that’s why -I had to send ’Sm’ralder round to the rectory -in the afternoon to fetch my pudding basin as -she’d left behind—the one she brought round -that day with some new-laid eggs in, what I -give her for a present for cook’s mother who -were bad.”</p> - -<p>Miss Bretherton pressed her lips still tighter, -and walked out. She knew the brother-in-law -wouldn’t speak to “that Jane” if he met her in -the same lane—such was the love between the -two families—much less bring her a leg of -mutton; besides, he had none too many joints -for his own family. She also knew that cook’s -mother had not been ill, and if she had, it -wouldn’t have been Mrs. Price who would have -supplied the new-laid eggs.</p> - -<p>But she also knew the futility of attempting -to circumvent a woman of this type, and she -hated to have her stand there and tell still more -untruths, the children hovering round.</p> - -<p>So she returned silently, and served the ham -and eggs, and listened while the Archdeacon -explained the difference between Plain Cree and -Swampy Cree (which, he was surprised to find, -she had hitherto confused in her mind, or at best<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -regarded as one and the same language) with all -the Christian grace and forbearance she could -muster.</p> - -<p>Only once did this nearly give out, and that -was when, after she had apologised to their guest -for such frugal fare and had briefly outlined the -reason for the same, the Rector looked with his -usual absent-minded benignity through his -glasses at his plate, and said—</p> - -<p>“Well, my dear, I hadn’t noticed any difference: -I thought this was what we usually have -for dinner on Sundays.”</p> - -<p>Just think of it! And for the Archdeacon -to go home and tell his wife! So like a man!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>This much as a general survey of Mrs. -Price’s characteristics. She doesn’t make an -idyllic picture, I admit, nor seem likely to be in -the running for a stained glass window in the -Parish Room. But then villages no less than -towns are made up of varied assortments of -human nature—and don’t forget we are none -of us perfect.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, making all allowances for -human frailty, you don’t wonder that I wasn’t -anxious for Mrs. Price to have the free run of -my kitchen, and Abigail, remembering that -she had left her purse on the dresser, hurried -back.</p> - -<p>I finished the letter I was writing, and then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -went out to see her. As I approached, I could -hear her:</p> - -<p>“‘Sally,’ he says, ‘don’t let the kids fergit -me,’ and then ’e was gone. It’s this new disease -they’ve got from America—the ‘germs,’ they -calls it—and they do say as ’e makes a beautiful -corpse, though I shouldn’t never have thought it -of ’e, the Prices being none of them pertickerlelly -well favoured, even if he was me own -pore husband’s brother. But thur, thur, I -say speak nothing but good of them what’s -gone.”</p> - -<p>She rose when I appeared, and, with a good -deal of side-tracking on to irrelevant matters, -chiefly connected with the excellence of her own -children, she explained that her late husband’s -brother had just died “over to Penglyn,” a little -town fifteen miles away across the hills, and in a -most un-get-at-able corner of the county.</p> - -<p>The funeral was to-morrow, and neither she -nor the family of the deceased had a scrap of -black, “leastways, exceptin’ this bonnet, which -don’t look really respeckful to ’im as is gone, -being me own husband’s own brother.” I admit -the item that had been placed upon her head—whether -for use or adornment it was hard to -decide—resembled a jaded hen’s nest more than -anything else! The rest of her attire consisted -of a green skirt, a crimson blouse, and a very -light fawn coat (portions of costumes that had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -started life in considerably higher social circles in -the village), and a purple crochet scarf.</p> - -<p>Dimly it occurred to me that I had not seen -Mrs. Price in bright colours before, for although -she never wore the conventional widow’s weeds, -she was usually in something black or dark; the -matrons in our village haven’t gone in for skittish -skirts or glaring colour-combinations as yet! I -concluded, however, that her black clothes were -too shabby. She was saying—</p> - -<p>“And I didn’t know where to turn, m’m. -Everybody saying they hadn’t none when I -called, and there didn’t seem to be a soul left to -go to, and that pore dear sister-in-law of mine—leastways -same as, being me poor husband’s -brother’s wife—with not a scrap to put on ’cept -his best overcoat what she’s cuttin’ down for one -of the boys.</p> - -<p>“And then I bethought me of you, it come to -me all of a suddint. I put down the pan of -’taters I was peeling and come straight up. -’Sm’ralder says to me, ‘But, mother, you can’t -wear that ole bonnet up to <i>that</i> house!’ But I -says to her, ‘It’s certain I can’t wear what I -haven’t got, and the Queen haven’t sent me one -of her done-with crowns yet.’ So I just come -as best I could.”</p> - -<p>I was a little surprised to hear that she had -been refused at every door, for, irrespective of -personal reputation, the better-off residents are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -always very good to any of the villagers who may -be in want or in trouble; indeed, we have only -one mean woman among us, she who once -remarked to a paid lady-companion, newly-arrived -from a freezingly cold journey, and badly -in need of a cup of tea to eke out her skimpy -cold-mutton-bone lunch: “I’m sure you will -enjoy a glass of water. We have really <i>beautiful</i> -water here. Pray help yourself when<i>ever</i> you -like.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Still, it was possible no one had had any -black.</p> - -<p>I meditated a moment on my own wardrobe -and Mrs. Price’s capacious waist-measure! -Virginia’s things would be still less use, as she is -the size of a sylph.</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid I haven’t anything that would fit -you in the way of a skirt,” I began, “but I’ve a -large winter jacket if you don’t think it will be -too warm for June.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, thank you, m’m. It’s only the first -week in June. I’m a <i>very</i> chilly person” (no one -looking at her buxom proportions would have -thought so!), “and a thick jacket is just what -I’m needin’ terrible bad. And if you had a skirt, -it ’ud be jest the size for my pore dear sister-in-law. -Ah, I can feel for her, being a widow -myself, and left with them children. She said to -me on’y yesterday, ‘Jane, do try to get me a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -black skirt from anywhere, if on’y you can.’ She -says——”</p> - -<p>“But you told me just now that you hadn’t -seen her since before her husband died,” blurted -in Abigail, forgetful of her usual good manners, -and begrudging to see the family wardrobe being -disbursed in this way, as she rather regarded my -coats and skirts as her perquisites.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Price turned full upon Abigail that -look of surprised innocence that stood her in such -good stead. “She said it in a letter she writ me -yesterday,” she replied with dignified composure.</p> - -<p>Finally I told her I would look her out something -if she sent Esmeralda up for it in the -evening. Mrs. Price lingered to recite further -tales of woe to Abigail, till she, kind girl, in spite -of her private estimate of the lady, bestowed on -her a pair of black lisle thread gloves, as she -spoke so pathetically about having to go to the -funeral with bare hands and not being able to -afford any gloves.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>When Virginia came in from “sticking” -sweet peas in the garden, I told her about Mrs. -Price.</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t consider her a worthy object -for charity as a rule,” she remarked. “But at -the same time, if Fate kindly supplies me with -an opportunity to get rid of that big black hat of -mine that I’ve never liked and never intend to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -wear again, I’m not the one to disregard it, -especially as it will save my carrying that huge -hat-box back to town. But whether she or the -‘sister-in-law-same-as’ wears it, either will find it -good weight for the money.”</p> - -<p>So we left the winter jacket, and the hat, and -a black blouse Ursula added to the parcel, and -my black cloth skirt for the sister-in-law, against -Esmeralda should come for them. And then we -started out to make some calls.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Passing Miss Primkins’ house, we just stopped -to leave a book I had promised to lend her. -Miss Primkins is a pleasant middle-aged lady, -of very small independent means, who lives in a -cottage by herself. The door stood open as -usual. She looked over the stairs when I -knocked, then explained that she would be down -in a moment if we would go in.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been turning out things in the box-room—in -order to find a little black for that Mrs. -Price. Her husband’s brother has just died, and -the funeral is to be to-morrow, and she says no -one in the place has any black in hand. So she -came and asked me if I would mind <i>lending</i> her -a black mantle!—<i>lending</i> it to her indeed!</p> - -<p>“I asked her what she had done with that black -dolman I gave her not three months ago—you -remember that dolman trimmed with black lace -that I was rather fond of? I bought it—oh, it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -must be at least ten years ago—for my uncle’s -funeral. It was trimmed with two bands of -crêpe, one about four inches deep, and the other -three inches, or perhaps two-and-three-quarters; -very stylish it looked, too. Then I had the crêpe -taken off and some black silk put on it—very -good ottoman silk it was—that had originally -been part of a black silk dress belonging to my -sister. Next I had it covered with fancy net -with velvet appliqué for a change—not that I -liked it, or would have thought of having it done -had I known what it was going to cost. But -they do take you in so at those town shops; why, -I could have got a new dolman for what it cost -to cover that one! And then it lasted no time, -used to catch in everything, so I had next to no -wear out of that.</p> - -<p>“I had it taken off, and the dolman <i>thoroughly</i> -turned—every bit; and the dressmaker put on -some fringe, a sort of wavy fringe; but I had to -have it taken off, because that Gladys Price, -when she came home for a holiday, had on a silk -coat trimmed with fringe exactly like it, so there -again I got taken in, as you might say.</p> - -<p>“After that, I put my brown fur trimming on -it, but for the winter only; and then for the -summer I put on some deep black lace. I -hadn’t had that lace on more than six months -when I gave her the dolman. (I remember quite -well sitting up late that night to pick the lace<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -all off it.) Altogether, you can’t say I had so -much wear out of any of it, and it was a constant -expense. And yet, would you <i>credit</i> it, when I -asked her what she had done with it, she said it -had ‘wored out’! Why, <i>I</i> could have had it -another ten years in good use, without its being -‘wored out.’ She’s a thriftless woman, that’s -what she is. Still, I suppose it isn’t for us to -judge her.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>We had to hurry on. I wanted to call on -Miss Bretherton, who had sprained her ankle -and needed commiseration. We found her in -that state of suppressed and bottled-up-in-a-Christian-manner -irritation that is common to -very active women who are suddenly tied to a -chair with some of their machinery out of gear; -and, like most other women under similar conditions, -she was trying to do ten times as much -as she ought to have done, in order to prove to -everybody that there was nothing the matter -with her.</p> - -<p>“You’ll just have to come into the midst of -all this muddle,” she sighed, “for I can’t move -myself into another room.”</p> - -<p>“Sorting things for a jumble sale?” I -inquired, looking at sundry piles of garments -strewn about her.</p> - -<p>“It almost amounts to that; though I really -started out to get a few things together for a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -woman in the village who seems to be rather -needy at the moment, that Jane Price. Her -brother-in-law has just died—you remember -Zebadiah Price, who lived at Briar Bush Cottage -before they took a little place at Penglyn? We -lost sight of them after they left here—it’s such -a cross-country place they’ve gone to. I’m rather -surprised they haven’t asked the Rector to bury -him, he thought a good deal of Zebadiah; but -all the same I’m glad they haven’t, for it takes -you the best part of a day to cover that fifteen -miles, and he has a slight cold. It seems she’s -going to the funeral to-morrow.</p> - -<p>“I admit there are several women in the -parish I should feel a greater pleasure in helping—she -does try my patience at times—but I felt I -ought to do what I can in this particular case, -as she doesn’t seem able to get any black from -anyone else. Everybody says they gave theirs -to the last jumble sale, she tells me, though <i>I</i> -didn’t see any of it!</p> - -<p>“She is wanting some for Zebadiah’s family -too; they are left in bad straits, she says. I was -only too glad to find that she and her sister-in-law -have buried the hatchet at last; they’ve been -at loggerheads for years; she really spoke very -nicely about it. She said the older she got the -more she felt life was too short to spend it in -quarrelling, and at a time like this she thought -bygones should be bygones. I don’t like to misjudge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -the woman,” Miss Bretherton continued -with a sigh. “Sometimes she seems so anxious -to do right. Her bringing up was against her. -And yet——” And then the Rectoress closed -her lips firmly determined to say no uncharitable -thing, even about “that Jane Price.”</p> - -<p>I’m afraid I didn’t think too highly of -Mrs. Price at that moment. I remembered the -parcels of black garments waiting at my house -and again at Miss Primkins’. Moreover, Mrs. -Price’s occasional lapses into fervent piety -annoyed me very much, because I suspected -they were developed for my benefit. She always -gave me a long recital of woes and financial -difficulties whenever she saw me, and invariably -finished up with, “But thur, thur, I don’t let it -worry me, for I always say, ‘The Lord will -provide.’” I much objected to her taking the -Name in vain in this manner, more especially as -it generally happened that she gave Providence -every assistance in the matter by helping herself -to anything that lay within reach of her hand!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>We did not stay long at the rectory, as I -wanted to call on the lady of the manor. She -kept us waiting a few minutes before she -appeared; but explained, as she apologised for -the delay, “I’ve just turned out five trunks, -two cupboards, and four chests of drawers—and -goodness knows how many more I should have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -set upon if you hadn’t come! It’s a pastime -that seems to grow upon one like taking to -drink or gambling—the more you have the more -you want!</p> - -<p>“I only meant to look through one chest for -a black bonnet I thought I had put there—I’m -trying to find some funeral wear for that -Mrs. Price. Her husband’s brother has died, -Zebadiah Price; they live over the hills at -Penglyn. While he was alive, she hadn’t a good -word to say for his wife; but now he’s gone, -her conscience seems to worry her, and she says -she feels the very least she can do is ‘to show -respeck to the remains,’ and she wants to help -his family. So I’ve been going over a good deal -of ancient history in my search for garments -calculated to show a sufficiency of respect. She -said she was afraid that what she had on might -give a wrong impression.”</p> - -<p>“If she wore the same set of glad rags that -she had on when she came to see us, likewise -asking for mourning,” Virginia interpolated, -“she’d give the impression of a ragged rainbow -gone wrong and turned inside out, rather than a -funeral.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, she’s been to you, has she? She told -me she couldn’t think of making so bold as to -intrude her troubles on other people, and only -came to me because she knew I had been so -kind to Zebadiah years ago when he was ill;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -and added that my clothes always suited her so -well!”</p> - -<p>When we got outside, Virginia suggested -with a twinkle that we should call on a few -more people. We did, and at every house we -were met with the sad intelligence of Zebadiah -Price’s death and his sister-in-law’s quest for -suitably respectful apparel.</p> - -<p>Surely Royalty could not have been more -universally mourned—in our village, at any rate!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Next Sunday we were rather puzzled on -entering the church to see an ample lady clad -in the most resplendent of widow’s weeds, sitting -in solitary state in the very front row—a seat -usually patronised only by the halt and maimed.</p> - -<p>Her dress and mantle were of dull black silk -trimmed with crêpe about a quarter of a yard in -depth. True, it was not quite new, but its -cut and style were unmistakable; anyone who -possessed such a dress could afford to wear it -even after its first newness had worn off; it -stamped the wearer as a lady of means. A long -weeper, black kid gloves, and a black-bordered -handkerchief completed all we could see of the -lady. We could only conclude that the distinguished -stranger must be very deaf indeed, to -take the front seat.</p> - -<p>By this time all the congregation as it came -in was interested. Such a stylish stranger would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -naturally attract attention. She kept her head -devoutly bent, and used the handkerchief frequently; -we couldn’t see her face. She might -have been a peeress-in-waiting, judging by the -dignity and decorum of her bearing.</p> - -<p>It was just as the Rector was repeating the -opening sentences that the resplendent one turned -round to see the effect she was making on the -congregation, and behold—that Mrs. Price!</p> - -<p>I am afraid I only just saved myself from -making the time-honoured remark, “<i>Did</i> you -<small>EVER</small>!”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“But what I want to know is this,” said Miss -Primkins (as several of us walked together along -the high road after church, leaving Mrs. Price -giving details of the funeral, and the innumerable -wreaths, to her friends). “Where did she get -those weeds from? There isn’t a widow among -us, nor a relative of a widow, so far as I know. -Now who gave them to her?”</p> - -<p>But we none of us knew. It certainly looked -suspiciously as though Mrs. Price had used the -poor late Zebadiah as an excuse for dragging the -whole county!</p> - -<p>I wasn’t surprised that she herself had donned -fresh weeds, for as we are remarkably healthy -upon these hills, we are apt to make the most -of a funeral when it chances our way, and the -opportunity to wear mourning, carrying with it,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> -as it does, a certain personal distinction, is not to -be passed over lightly.</p> - -<p>On one occasion I remember meeting a -farmer’s wife on Sunday morning in deep black -(that had done duty for several previous family -bereavements), weeping into her handkerchief as -she went along the road to church. We stopped -to inquire about her trouble.</p> - -<p>“My poor old mother’s gone at last,” she -sobbed. We were truly sorry for her grief, and -asked when she had died.</p> - -<p>“Well, I ’spect it would be about three or -four this morning; that’s the time they usually -go. I had a letter last night saying as how they -didn’t reckon she’d live the night. So she’ll be -gone by now. My poor mother! I’ll never see -her again!” and she wept afresh.</p> - -<p>I’m glad to say the mother is still alive, and -very flourishing.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was about a fortnight later that Virginia -gave me the wildly-exciting information, culled -from the local paper, that some Roman remains -had just been excavated. I murmured “Oh!” -in that absent-minded way people will do when -their thoughts are called off the subject of What -shall we have for the midday meal? to higher -things.</p> - -<p>I was thinking like this: “I did intend to -have steak and kidney pudding, but as the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> -butcher is late, there won’t be time to cook it; -there isn’t enough cold tongue—at least, that -knobbly end part is no use—we have plenty of -eggs in the house, so we must just make out with -that soup left over from yesterday and omelettes; -or we might easily have——”</p> - -<p>“Either a viaduct or an amphitheatre or a -villa; they aren’t sure as yet which it is,” went -on Virginia. “You read about it yourself; it’s -awfully interesting. There; in that column—see? -‘Roman Remains at Penglyn.’”</p> - -<p>“At Penglyn? It can’t be Zebadiah,” I -commented; “he wasn’t as old as <i>that!</i>”</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, we aren’t particular to a few -hundred years in our village. For I remember -last year an old woman telling me, “Have you -heard, m’m, of the great news in the village? -The Black Prince is staying at the Inn! Yes, -to be sure! And he seems to understand our -language beautiful, he do; though they say he -does speak the foreign to a gentleman what’s -staying there with him. The only thing I was -surprised about was to see how young he do -look, considering of his age. Why, I remember -hearing tell about him when I was at school!” -Later on I found the historic potentate was a -harmless Indian law-student.</p> - -<p>Virginia kept on about the Roman excavations, -and announced her intention of going to -see them. I protested that I wasn’t going to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -hauled across a stony mountainous region in a -wagonette, and then change twice by slow train, -an hour or so to wait at each change, and ditto -to get back, all to see a few brick walls, when -the garden so badly needed weeding.</p> - -<p>She was indignant, said she should prefer to -go alone to having unsympathetic and uninformed -society; reminded me of the histories of nations -that had been found embedded in brick walls, -waxed eloquent on the subject of the Egyptian -hieroglyphics and the Rosetta Stone, skipped -lightly from the pointed apex of the Pyramids -to the significance of the flat roofs of Thibet, -examined the walls of the buried cities in central -Asia, and before I had fully realised that I was -really travelling in the East, I found that she -was examining the designs on the Aztec pottery -of ancient Mexico.</p> - -<p>Fearing that we should have this sort of thing -straight on end for a week, I said we would go -next day, weather permitting, if only she would -help me decide whether to have the omelette -plain, or a cheese omelette, or would they prefer -macaroni cheese? I have found in the past that -the crystallisation of thought necessary to follow -Virginia, when she is in an informing mood, -creates a vacuum, and then I get a cold in my -head.</p> - -<p>I also inquired whether she would prefer to -drive all the way, or go by train.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p> - -<p>She replied, still with her eyes glued to the -interesting newspaper treatise on antiquarian -relics, that she would rather I settled these minor -details, adding that she always liked to leave the -arrangement of everything to me, as it gave -her such opportunities to point out to me the -feebleness of my methods and ideas.</p> - -<p>I decided to go with her, simply because I -knew that unless she had some firm, restraining -force beside her, she would go and buy that -Roman viaduct, amphitheatre, or villa, and order -it to be sent home; and, for all I knew, she -might give <i>my</i> address in a fit of wandering-mindedness, -and what should <i>I</i> do with it when -it arrived? You can’t pack an amphitheatre -away in the empty pigsty, and all the other -space was occupied with seedlings and things!</p> - -<p>Besides, she has no bump of locality (neither -have I, for the matter of that); but I thought -it would look better if two of us were arrested -for wandering about without any visible means -of subsistence; at least, I could say I was her -keeper.</p> - -<p>Next morning we inquired of the barometer -as to the weather prospects. By the way, that -barometer is a unique treasure. V. and U. gave -it to me one birthday; I had long been craving -one that was a genuine antique. There was no -doubt about this one—its antiquity, I mean; for -the rest, until you get on speaking terms<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> -with it, I admit that it does seem a trifle -ambiguous.</p> - -<p>But I’m not one to look a gift horse in the -mouth, so I’ll say no more on this point, save -that we tapped it vigorously; whereupon the -long hand flew wildly round and round one way, -while the short hand did a whirligig, equally -excitedly, in the opposite direction.</p> - -<p>We waited till they both got tired of spinning -round, and then, as the long hand pointed to -“Much Rain,” with leanings towards “Stormy,” -we knew we could rely on a very fine day.</p> - -<p>But we tapped it once again, just to make -sure it knew its own mind. After it had wiggled -giddily round as before, the long hand stopped -midway between “Set Fair” and “Very Dry.” -Of course that confirmed our former calculations, -and we got out our new summer hats, and left -our umbrellas at home. Virginia had worn <i>her</i> -new hat indoors most of the previous day, in -order to get her money’s worth out of it, because -she said she never got her money’s worth -out of any of her garments, save her raincoat -and her umbrella. [N.B.—Is an umbrella a -garment?]</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was market day when we got there, and -all the town was of course wending its way -either to or from the market-place. One of the -very first people we ran against was Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -Zebadiah Price; but, to our surprise, she was -wearing neither my black cloth skirt nor Ursula’s -black blouse. On the contrary, she was in quite -gay attire—a brown coat and skirt, a blue blouse, -a lace collar, a string of pearls as large as -marbles, and a tuscan straw hat trimmed with -roses and purple geraniums. I had known her -in the past, when she lived in the village; so I -stopped and spoke to her.</p> - -<p>“I was so very sorry to hear of your sad -trouble,” I began. Yet the subdued tones I -used and felt necessary to the occasion seemed -curiously out of place beside all that market-day -finery.</p> - -<p>“Yes, thank you, m’m; it did upset me -awful,” she said, looking very woe-begone.</p> - -<p>“I’m sure it did,” I said feelingly.</p> - -<p>“You wouldn’t believe how I fretted over -’un. Seems kind o’ foolish I s’pose when I’ve -got the children. But I got that attached -to ’un.”</p> - -<p>“I can <i>quite</i> understand it,” I murmured -sympathetically. “After all, children can’t take -the place of the one that is gone.”</p> - -<p>“No, m’m; that’s what I say.”</p> - -<p>“And it was very sudden, wasn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes’m; taken bad and gone in a few hours,” -she continued. “And that was the second I -lost in two months. I don’t have no luck -somehow.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> - -<p>“The second in two months!” I repeated in -surprise.</p> - -<p>“Yes’m, and I feel that downhearted about -it, I don’t think I’ll go in for another. I said so -only last night to my husband.”</p> - -<p>“Your husband?” I echoed again. It was -beginning to sound like bigamy!</p> - -<p>“He said at the time he thought the £15 I -give was a swindle for the brindled cow.”</p> - -<p>“The brindled cow?” I said feebly. I really -didn’t know what else to say. Virginia need not -have laughed!</p> - -<p>Then I rallied my senses. “But I thought -you had trouble about a fortnight ago—your -husband, Zebadiah Price—I heard——”</p> - -<p>“My Zeb? About a fortnight ago? Let’s -see?”—thoughtfully turning her left eye in -the direction of the church spire, and thereby -tilting her hat askew. “Ah, I expect you mean -about last February; to be sure, he did have a -touch of this ’ere influenza; and he were a bit -queer for a couple of days, he were: but that -was nothing to my losing my calf!”</p> - -<p>“I’m glad it was no worse,” I said heartily. -“Why, Mrs. Jane Price told me she was coming -to the funeral.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Jane!</i>” ejaculated Mrs. Zebadiah. “Jane -Price said she was coming to <i>his</i> funeral? Not -if I know’d it, and it had been me very own -even, she wouldn’t; the <i>hussy</i>—begging your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -pardon, m’m, for using sech a word. She knows -better than to try to put so much as a shoenail -of her foot inside our door. She never aren’t and -she never shan’t. Though for brazenness there -ain’t their beat in the county. Why, p’raps -you’ve heard how that there Gladys Price has -started an ole clothes shop in the town here, -right under our very nose, and my husband as respected -as he is. There it is for everybody to read -over the door—‘<span class="smcap">G. Price</span>. Ladies and Gents’ -Hemporium’—whatever that may be! Coming -to his funeral, indeed! It makes me <i>broil!</i>” And -Mrs. Z. went off fairly sizzling with indignation.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>When we had duly found (after long search) -and surveyed the Roman remains (which consisted -of three upright stones, something like -those used for kerbstones in the streets, and -stood in the middle of a very boggy field), and -had failed to decide whether they were the -viaduct, the amphitheatre, or the villa, I -suggested a speedy return to the station, as -it was now coming down a steady drizzle, -with indications of still more to follow. But -Virginia said—</p> - -<p>“I’d like, while we’re here, just to have a -look into the hemporium window, to see what -she has marked that hat of mine.”</p> - -<p>When we reached it, behold, it was like -taking a regretful look back into the past, for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -most of the garments there displayed we had -formerly known when they walked our village -street in decorous Sunday glory. And they -included: a grey cloth coat of mine that had -disappeared most mysteriously; a long silk scarf -of Ursula’s that, so far, she had never missed; -and a bead-bag I had often admired when -carried by the lady of the manor, and which, we -felt sure, she had never given away.</p> - -<p>“Talk about excavating Roman remains!” I -exclaimed; but Virginia’s conversational powers -were only equal to “<i>Did</i> you <small>EVER</small>!”</p> - -<p>And we damply faded away in the direction -of the station.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>VII<br /> - -<small>Just Being Neighbourly</small></h2> - - -<p class="unindent"><span class="smcap">Those</span> superior Londoners who know nothing -at first hand about Nature “unimproved,” the -type who find complete satisfaction for soul, -body and mind at some loud and crowded seaside -resort, sometimes say to me: “I can’t think -how you can endure the terrible isolation of the -country—with absolutely nothing to look at, no -one to say a word, nobody to take the slightest -interest in you, dead or alive. Well, <i>I</i> should -go out of my mind in such solitariness! But -then, I am <i>so</i> human; I do like a little life,” etc.</p> - -<p>I don’t attempt to convert such people. -After all, they are just as much entitled to their -views as I am to mine. Besides, I am only too -thankful that they keep away from our hills, and -disport themselves in an environment more in -keeping with their personal tastes. We don’t -want the blatant woman, or the overdressed -(which nowadays means underdressed) woman, -or the artificial woman, or the woman who “likes -a little life”; our hills would never suit them -as a background, either mentally or otherwise. -Why, we have neither a music-hall nor a picture -palace for I don’t know <i>how</i> many miles round! -A benighted spot, isn’t it!</p> - -<p>But when they reproach us with having no -one to say a word, and nobody to take the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -slightest interest in our doings—well, I <i>could</i> -say many things! But I merely assure them -that we are nothing if not neighbourly!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I took my sewing and went down to the -bottom of the lower orchard. It was a warm -day, but not too hot to sit out of doors at eleven -in the morning, provided one found a shelter -from the sun overhead. As I have explained -before, my cottage is on a steep hillside, the -whole earth runs either up or down. In only a -few favoured spots can you place a chair—and -sit on it—with any degree of certainty; and even -then you probably have to level up the back, or -the front, by putting some flat stones under two -of the legs. The slope of the hill faces south; -hence we get all the sun there is.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The bottom of the lower orchard was just the -place for such a day. A wall with overhanging -tangles of honeysuckle and ivy, and an oak-tree -that spread big arms well over the wall, gave -just the shade one needed from the blazing sun. -I put the wicker chair with its back to the wall—and -such a comfort a wall is anywhere out of -doors when you want to sit down.</p> - -<p>The view from this spot is very restful on a -summer’s day: the hot south is behind; one -faces the cooler, glareless northern sky above -the hill that rises before one.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> - -<p>This orchard is but sparsely populated with -fruit-trees, and most of these are very old. There -are some huge pear-trees that rise tall and fairly -straight, suggestive of rather well-fed poplars. -There are some twisted, rugged apple-trees, -every branch and twig presenting a wonderful -study in silver and grey and green filigree, where -the lichens have spread and revelled unmolested -for many a year. The lichens are so marvellously -beautiful, it always takes me quite a time to get -down to the lower wall; there is so much to -look at on the way. The delicate fronds, that -seem closely related in their appearance to the -hoarfrost designs on the winter windows, show -such a variety of different cluster-schemes. They -decorate the odd corners, and throw beauty over -the hard knots and gnarls, till I sometimes think -they are among the most exquisite things Nature -has ever produced—only while I am thinking -this, I come upon something else equally -beautiful.</p> - -<p>Even on a hot day, when most of the mosses -and lichens have faded in the glare and drought, -we still find the silvery-grey tracery flourishing on -the shady side of the apple-trees, and on the pieces -of branches that were snapped off and blown down -into the long grass by the equinoctial gales. I -usually gather up an armful of these branches, -with their delicate pencil studies on a darker -background, and carry them down to the bottom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -of the orchard with me—only to wonder why I -didn’t leave them where they were till I returned, -as I have to carry them back up the hill again -presently!</p> - -<p>It may seem weakly sentimental to those -who do not understand, but I confess that, -much as I love the smell of burning applewood, -it always gives me a real pain to put -on the fire twigs that are ornamented with moss -or lichen. It seems heartless to destroy such -beauty, even though there is “plenty more -where that came from,” as people sometimes -tell me.</p> - -<p>In the summer I put the pieces of the grey-green -branches, that I gather up about the -orchard, in the empty hearths and grates.</p> - -<p>Many of the old trees originally planted in -the lower orchard have died or been blown down; -the wind takes a heavy toll from these heights; -we can’t have pergolas and rose arches up here, -as they can lower down in the valley, unless we -fasten them to very firm foundations.</p> - -<p>As no previous owner in this happy-go-lucky -district thought it worth whiles to put new stock -in the place of the fruit-trees that have come -down, there are plenty of open spaces, and comparatively -little to obstruct the view as you sit -against the bottom wall and look up the hillside. -I am afraid this orchard is more ornamental than -useful, for the pears are the hard bitter sort used<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -for making perry, a drink that is very popular -locally; and the apples are the equally uninteresting-to-the-taste -cider variety. Yet they are -so exceptionally beautiful, as the fruit turns -crimson and yellow and golden brown, that the -trees become a glory of colour in fruit-gathering -time.</p> - -<p>After all there is excuse for ornament without -specific use, if a thing be very, <i>very</i> ornamental—and -the orchard certainly is that.</p> - -<p>The sun reaches well under the trees, where -the wild flowers and grasses make a softly waving -sea of colour. Of course, I know the grass ought -to be kept cut, so as to prevent undue nourishment -being taken from the earth for the support -of “mere weeds.” But we pretend that it is -properly cropped by “Hussy;” she is the mild-eyed -dusky Jersey, belonging to the farmeress -who supplies our milk, and is so-called, because -she has a playful habit of kicking over the pail.</p> - -<p>Occasionally she is turned in and roams about -at meditative leisure, to the indignation of the -small dog, who regards her as a hated rival. But -once the fruit appears, she has to be removed; -either she chokes herself with pears, or else they -don’t agree with the butter; or various other -things. Even a cow seems a complicated problem -when you own a real one; and though I have -only had cow-anxieties secondhand, so to speak, -my acquaintance with “Hussy” has led me to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> -wonder whether, on the whole, a tin of milk is a -more sure and certain investment for sixpence-halfpenny.</p> - -<p>But even when the orchard has a tenant, it is -surprising how little damage she seems to do to -the wild flowers. This is all the more remarkable -if you have ever seen what devastation one -simple-minded cow is capable of, if it indulges -in but a ten minutes’ revel in your flower-garden! -“Hussy” seems to eat carefully round -the flowers, leaving the whole plant intact, which -is more than a mowing machine will do, despite -its much vaunted up-to-dateness. Civilisation -has still a lot to learn.</p> - -<p>Every season has its special flower show in -this orchard. I only wish I could get the same -never-failing succession of flowers in my garden -that Nature does in hers.</p> - -<p>On this particular July day the large field -scabious was perhaps the most noticeable flower; -its mauve-blue blossoms high above all the rest; -its long stalks always determining to out-top -everything else that grows in the delightful -medley.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“Please, ma’am, I’ve brought you some -flowers,” said a little pinafored girl to me one -day, when I had just arrived. She is an especial -favourite of mine, and lives in a cottage along -my lane. This is her way of just being neighbourly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> -In her hand was a large bunch of -scabious and grasses.</p> - -<p>“These are very pretty,” I said. “What do -you call them?”</p> - -<p>“Please, ma’am, I call them ‘Queen Mary’s -Pincushions,’” she said shyly.</p> - -<p>The country names for the flowers are often -so much more interesting than the ones you find -attached to them in books. After all, “Queen -Mary’s Pincushion” has something real and -understandable about it for just ordinary people -like myself; whereas <i>Scabiosa arvensis</i> (its proper -name) doesn’t stir my heart the least little bit. -It was easy to see the process by which the child -had got the name—the flowers are wonderfully -like plump round pincushions, with the stamens -for the pins: but anything so delicately beautiful -would not be suitable for aught save a royal -lady’s dressing-table; hence Queen Mary was, of -course, the one to whom they were dedicated.</p> - -<p>And isn’t the name “Lady’s Laces” most -suggestive? That is what we call the white -filmy flowers of the hedge-parsley. I seldom -see a fine white lace evening gown without -thinking of the soft mist of white over green -that surprises us in June, and smothers the -orchard when the Lady’s Laces suddenly burst -into billows of bloom.</p> - -<p>Some of the local names are more material -and prosaic than idealistic, however. There is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> -another flower that grows all about the orchard, -in close company with the scabious; it has -bunches of bright yellow flowers of the daisy -family, growing in compact heads at the top of a -tall stem. I am very fond of this flower; it gleams -sunshine all over the place; but I don’t care to -call it <i>Senecio Jacobœa</i>, which is its proper name; -it’s so mortifying when people look at you puzzled -and inquiring, and then ask, with a patient sigh, -if you would mind <i>spelling</i> it! I never could spell.</p> - -<p>Neither do I care for its other slightly less -official name, “Common Ragwort.” So one day -when an old man was passing, who is fairly well-up -in flowers, I asked him if he could tell me -the name of this Sunshine plant. To which he -replied—</p> - -<p>“Wealluscallsemards’m.”</p> - -<p>I didn’t ask him to spell it, because I don’t -fancy he can spell any better than I can. I -merely said, “I don’t think I <i>quite</i> caught the -name?”</p> - -<p>“I said ‘’<small>ARDS</small>,’ Mum; (<i>crescendo</i>) ‘<b>’ARDS</b>.’ -We allus calls ’em that ’cos they’re so ’ard to -pull up.”</p> - -<p>I thanked him, and still, in secret, call them -the Sunshine flowers—though I admit that -Virginia, having recently set out gaily to rectify -my shocking laxity in the matter of the proper -cultivation of an orchard, at last decided herself -to call them “’Ards.” She found that the act<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> -of sitting down violently and unexpectedly so -many times in the course of trying to pull up a -few innocent-looking plants, wore her out more -than it did the ’ards; so she gave it up at length, -and there they remain until this day!</p> - -<p>Intermingling with Queen Mary’s Pincushions -and the Sunshine flowers is a rosy purple flower -that blends delightfully with the other two; -Knapweed is one of its names; it looks something -like a thistle bloom at a distance, but it is -really a relation of the Sweet Sultan that grows -in the garden beds, I believe.</p> - -<p>Then there are Harebells dancing in the -wind on the top of little grassy mounds; so frail -they look—yet “Hussy” never seems to walk -on them! Ragged Robins flutter pink petals -beside a little brook that runs down at the side -of the orchard; and here are also big blue forget-me-nots, -with bright yellow centres.</p> - -<p>But there is one thing about this orchard -that very few people have discovered, and that -is the host of sweet-smelling things that you -walk on or rub against, as you carry the wicker-chair -down to the bottom wall.</p> - -<p>Do you know what it is like to walk on -Pennyroyal and Sweet Basil? Have you ever -stood still suddenly and said, “What <i>is</i> it?” as -a delicious aromatic scent added itself to all the -other lovely scents floating around?</p> - -<p>I discovered a whole world of beautiful scents<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -in among the orchard grass. The Pennyroyal -was most unsuspicious-looking, till I stepped on -it. (I didn’t mean to step on it; but then one -must walk <i>somewhere!</i>) Next I found out the -Sweet Basil, with its unobtrusive pink flowers.</p> - -<p>Still I hadn’t found it all; a little later I came -upon some wild mint beside the brook. The -tansy I had long been friendly with; the scent -of it seems to fit in so exactly with a hot summer -day; and the wild thyme that grows on a sunny -bank at one side of the orchard you couldn’t -possibly miss, the bees have so much to say -about it. Bushes of balm, that have possibly -strayed away from the garden, are always at -hand, to rub a leaf when desired.</p> - -<p>But I think of all my favourites, the black -peppermint has first place. I shall never -forget the day I first discovered its dark shoots -pushing up undaunted among the grass; not -but what I had a long-standing friendship with -peppermint—in my first childhood, as bull’s-eyes; -in my second childhood, as peppermint creams.</p> - -<p>But I hadn’t the slightest notion what it was -like in its natural state. When once I found it, -I soon realised that it stood alone among all the -scented wonders. I put some of it at various -corners about the garden, because I found it -has remarkable healing powers. No matter how -dispirited you may be or out of joint with the -world, it is only necessary to take a leaf, rub it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> -and sniff it, whereupon the world smiles again, -and you realise that, in spite of all, it is good to -be alive. You will understand, therefore, how -essential it is to have it in handy places, so that -weary people, even if they do not know of its -unique qualities, may rub against it in passing, -and unconsciously come under its spell.</p> - -<p>It dies down in the winter, but when spring -comes we always look eagerly for the first purple-black -shoots pushing up cheerily from the soil.</p> - -<p>It has only one fault; it suffers from zeal -without discretion. It will not keep within -proper bounds. At the present moment I am -wondering whether it is better to dig up the -bergamot or rout out the peppermint; they are -having a hand-to-hand fight for supremacy in -one particular flower corner.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I am afraid my needlework was a mere -matter of form that morning. Who could glue -their eyes to a piece of hemstitching with the -whole earth fairly dancing with colour and light -around them? I faintly (but not very earnestly) -wished that I had brought knitting instead of -sewing, because that doesn’t need to be looked -at, and you can keep up a semblance of respectable -industry while you are watching all the -wild things.</p> - -<p>I had been feeling rather aggravated with a -woman who had written commiserating with my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -odd predilection for being “buried” in a spot -where there was “positively nothing to be seen.” -She was really pitying me! Well, I pitied her -back, and pitied her hard; had she only known -it, she would have been aggravated too. So at -least we were quits. She had said that, for her -part, she should simply die in such an unsociable -place. I took care to be just as sorry for her as -she was for me: it was a slight satisfaction to -me! It was at this moment that I heard voices -of two women talking in the lane, hidden from -view by the orchard wall.</p> - -<p>“How’s yourself, Mrs. Blake?”</p> - -<p>“Only middling.” (We always start our -conversations with lugubriousness; it seems -indecorous to parade health and happiness before -our neighbours!) “I’m in a tearing hurry. I’ve -just been to the doctor’s to see if he can’t give -me something for my poor Jim’s tooth. It do -pester him something cruel. I promised him I’d -run all the way there and back; he’ll be raving -till I get back.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, he won’t get no peace till he has it -out, I reckon.”</p> - -<p>“The doctor says why don’t he have ’em -out and get some new ’uns? But I call it -waste. Look at my sister’s husband: cost him -a guinea his did! Of course, he got a complete -set top and bottom for that, fifty-three teeth -altogether I believe he told me, and as natural<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> -as you please, I’ll own. But seeing as of course -he’s got to take ’em out to eat, I call it spending -just for show, even if they do give you a good -mouthful for your money.”</p> - -<p>“By the way, speaking of teeth reminds me—only -I can’t stop to tell you all about it now, -as the children’ll be in from school at half-past -twelve, and I haven’t started the dinner yet—but -I’ve just heard that poor Mrs. Jeggins over -to Brownbrook’s gone.”</p> - -<p>“Pore thing! Is she though?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, your mentioning Jim’s tooth made me -think of it. They fancy it started with a tooth -in her case too; for she had faceache turrible bad -about six months ago, her husband told me. -And then it just went all over her like. The -doctor simply couldn’t do nothing with it. He -tried every mortal bottle he had in his surgery, -and gave her some out of every single one, and -<i>yet</i> she died! But there, I s’pose it had to be!”</p> - -<p>“I heeard tell from her sist’r-’n-law as she -drank somethin’ awful; but, mind you, if it’s a -lie, ’taint my lie; it’s her lie as told me. And I -don’t at all hold with repeating a thing like that. -But in any case, I shouldn’t think it was her -tooth! I expect she et something that didn’t -agree with her.”</p> - -<p>“Well, maybe; as I always say, you can’t be -too careful what you eat nowadays. The dinner -they’ve got up there smells tasty, don’t it?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Yes; it’s roast duck.”</p> - -<p>“Duck, is it? I didn’t know they’d had a -duck <i>this</i> week. Who did they get it from?”</p> - -<p>“Sarah Ann Perkins—that old brown one of -hers.”</p> - -<p>“The <i>brown</i> one! How much did she ask -for it?”</p> - -<p>“Four-and-six.” (An audible chuckle.) -“Yes, <i>four-and-six</i>, if you believe me! Fancy -her having the face to ask it for that <i>brown</i> -duck! But there, those that can afford to pay -may just as well do so for those who can’t.”</p> - -<p>“Just as well. But—<i>four-and-six!</i> And she -won’t finish it up neither; doesn’t care for cold -poultry, I’m told; she’ll have a fair slice from -the breast, but that’s all; never allows it to be -seen in the dining-room a second time. And -there’s only the two of them there now. Still, -that Abigail’s a hearty eater! My husband was -up there a-fixing a tile that had got loosish on -the roof, and he told me what she et that day. -A gammon rasher and an egg and four slices of -bread and butter and a piece of fried bread out -of the frying-pan and two cups of coffee—half -milk—and some jam for breakfast. He was just -a-going up the ladder past the kitchen window -at the time; and when he come down, finding -as he needed a bit of cement, she was having -lunch of bread and cheese and a cup o’ tea out -of her lady’s teapot—she always has a cup of tea<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -between ’leven and twelve—and he’d smoked his -pipe right out afore she’d finished. And when he -come down again at dinner-time she was having -a dinner fit for a growed man just come home -from the cattle market—made him hungry to see -her, it did; he hung about a bit looking for his -jack-knife, as he wanted something to measure -with. And at tea-time he went in for a drop o’ -water to mix the cement, and she was having -potted meat and toast—butter, too, not dripping -toast, if you ever did. But, of course, she -relishes the good vittles she gets in a country -place like ourn. So different to the stuff you get -in a town.”</p> - -<p>“You’re right there; but they do have a -sight o’ things down from London. There was -a box with ‘Army and Navy Stores’ writ on -it that was so heavy, it was all old Bob could -do to get it on his shoulder, with our Tom -to give him a hand. Old Bob said he’d been -reading in the papers what awful waste there is -in some o’ the army camps and how the food -gets throw’d away or sold by the cartload, to -get rid of it, but he didn’t know it was going -on in the navy too—wicked, I call it. They -thought it must be tinned things, it were such a -weight, but they couldn’t make out for sure, -though they rattled it ever so hard to see; it was -packed up awful tight.”</p> - -<p>“Taters weigh heavy, but it wouldn’t be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> -they; she’s got plenty, what with new ones -coming on soon, and a large box left still of the -old ones; I saw them in the scullery last time I -was there. I’m going to ask if I can have ’em, -I’m so short for the pig. It might have been -soap and soda and hearthstone, though; they all -weighs heavy.”</p> - -<p>“That’s true. Still, I know for certain she has -a heap of queer things sent down, because when -I was in Jane Price’s the other day, she had a pot -of something called ‘tunny fish,’ whatever that -may be, on the dresser. I asked her what it was. -She told me she was passing here one day and -thought she heard someone calling her name; so -she stepped inside and looked around. No one -was there, but she chanced to pass the back door, -and there on the top of the dustbin she saw this -pot. She brought it away with her just to ask -our Tom if he knew what it was; but he says -they don’t catch it about here; never heeard tell -on it. Still, those sort of things aren’t like a -nice piece of fat bacon to my taste, to say -nothing of duck; though I like a bit more picking -on mine than they’ll be on that <i>brown</i> one, I -reckon.”</p> - -<p>“D’you know, I expect they’re cooking it -now to have it cold for the company’s supper to-night, -because in any case they don’t <i>need</i> it -to-day. They had two chops and a shoulder of -lamb and some gravy beef on Saturday. I met the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> -boy taking it up, and asked him what he had. -They’d have the chops that day, and the lamb -roast on Sunday, and cold Monday; and it’s only -Tuesday now, and they can’t have finished it up—it -was a fair-sized one; and there’s the gravy -beef soup. You may depend it’s for the -visitors.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I didn’t know she was expecting company? -It won’t be Miss Virginia and her sister, -because they’re abroad. She asked my husband -to call for her afternoon letters as he was passing -the post-office yesterday, and he brought ’em up, -and there was a postcard with a picture on it of -some foreign place, and it said, ‘This is our hotel; -enjoying ourselves immensely; expect to be here -a fortnight.’ And there was something written -at the bottom that I couldn’t make out, but it -might have been a ‘V,’ or a ‘U,’ only it was -smudged so’s you couldn’t see <i>what</i> it was. So -it was sure to be from them.”</p> - -<p>“No, it wasn’t they two; ’twasn’t their trunks.”</p> - -<p>“More than one trunk, is there? Then -they’re going to stay a little while. My Buff -Orpingtons have started to lay again; that’s -lucky. How many do you say were coming?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know for certain, but I fancy it must -be three, because there were two blankets, one -single-bed and one double, hanging in the sun -when I came past yesterday, and Abigail was -polishing the downstairs winders, and she’d got<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -clean cutt’ns to the little room over the kitchen, -as well as in the sittin’-room. Not that there -was any need to put up clean cutt’ns, that I can -see; those in the sittin’-room had only been up -two months, and the upstairs ones were new last -time she was down here; you could tell they -were new, the muslin hung so stiff. I take it a -cutt’n isn’t properly washed if it don’t last six -months at least. But she’s very pertickler about -cutt’ns. Abigail told my Mabel, that in London -they don’t never dream of keeping a cutt’n up -more than a month, and often th’whole lot is -changed in a fortnight; and just think, the -winders is done <i>every week!</i> Send me crazy, it -would! I don’t think it’s healthy to be as finnicky -clean as that; why, you’re always opening -winders and letting in draughts. And now this -morning I see she’s got the cutt’ns down in the -Flower room——”</p> - -<p>“The Flower room? Which be that?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s the name they’ve give the one on -the right at the top o’ the stairs. It’s got a new -laylock paper on the wall, and she’s got a new -bedspread, white, with bunches of laylock all -about it, and a bit o’ eeliertrope sateen hangs -down behind the head of the bed to keep the -draught off, though it ’ud be far more sense to -shut the winder, <i>I</i> say, for that sateen’s faded -dretful in the folds already. I was only noticing -it th’other day, when my cousin was up from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -Woolv’ampton, and I took her over the house. . . . -Oh, yes, Mrs. Widow’ll lend me the key -any time” (Mrs. Widow is my caretaker), “and -it do make a bit of a change to take anyone to. -My cousin said at the time she’d never buy a -bedspread like that; the colour’s so fleeting. -Besides, she wouldn’t have a white ground in -any case, it’s always in the wash. She’s made -herself a <i>lovely</i> spread, she was telling me, out of -a pair of old long curtains, just cutting out the -bad places and then dyeing it a deep coffee -colour with a little cold tea; makes it last like -anything. I say the same; them white spreads -never pay for themselves. Though I rather like -the one she’s got with roses on—Hannah -Craddock was a-washing of it one day when I -dropped in” (Hannah is the village laundress), -“that was the last time Miss Ursula was down, -because Hannah was doing of her blouses that -week, and my Mabel was very taken with one -that had bits of crochet let in all about, and -points of it up the sleeves just here, and my -Mabel tried to copy it, only Hannah had promised -it home that very afternoon, so we’re waiting for -it to come again, as Mabel can’t get the yoke -quite right. I’m sorry it isn’t them who’s -coming. She wants to get it finished afore -she goes to London next month.”</p> - -<p>“Did you see the name on the trunks? -Now you mention it, I saw the boy taking a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -telegraft up to the house yesterday—no, the day -before.”</p> - -<p>“It was my husband told me about it, when -he looked in home just now, and his sight being -so poor, he couldn’t see the name” (in spite of -the Educational Authorities many of the men in -our village cannot read, but by courtesy it is -always referred to as poor sight!), “so he asked -the station-master if he should drop ’em anywhere, -as he had got her ladyship’s cart there. -He is helping at the Manor House to-day. He’d -just taken some hay to the station, and it seemed -a real waste o’ good time to do nothing with it -coming back. But the station-master said they -was for up here, and old Bob was taking ’em up -as the ladies wouldn’t have the fly; said they’d -<i>pefer</i> to walk. And, would you believe it, he -never so much as thought to ask how many -there were. Still, I’ll soon find out and let you -know. I’ll go up and ask Abigail if she can -oblige me with the loan of a little salt. I’ve a -couple of ducks myself as I’d be glad to get four-and-six -apiece for if——”</p> - -<p>At this moment Abigail appeared at the -cottage door, and the gong reverberated and -echoed as she gave it a vigorous hammering, -calculated to wake me up wherever I might be.</p> - -<p>“Good gracious, that’s for her one o’clock -dinner!” exclaimed both the women in one -breath, and fled in opposite directions, presumably<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> -to minister to the raving and the -ravenous!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>As the conversation had implied, the duck -was tough and inadequate; but it was a certain -satisfaction to me—as I sought about in vain for -a fairly good slice from the breast of the skinny -carcase—to reflect that I hadn’t paid for it as -yet. I was out when the youthful Perkins had -delivered it.</p> - -<p>For the rest, I didn’t attach any value to the -women’s gossip. Once you have any real footing -in a rural district, and have become part and -parcel of the country-side, you soon learn that -one impossibility is “terrible isolation.” From -rosy morn till dewy eve one or another woman -is engaged in lengthy gossip with any other she -meets, and in nearly every case the topic of -exhaustive conversation will be the doings of -somebody else; moreover, the less that is actually -known about the third and absent party the -more two and two will add up to nineteen.</p> - -<p>In the main, I have seldom found such -gossips either spiteful or slanderous. They -consider it being neighbourly to keep count -of your sayings and doings.</p> - -<p>There were two items in the women’s chatter -that were enlightening, however. I had always -suspected that Mrs. Price knew where certain -items from my store cupboard had gone one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> -winter’s night when the cottage was uninhabited -and the kitchen window forced. I doubt if there -was another person in the place who would have -done it. Still I was glad to have the mystery -cleared up.</p> - -<p>I was not surprised to hear that all and sundry -had the run of my house when I wasn’t there. -The Englishwoman who occupies any house of -more than six rooms, we will say (which she can -keep clean her unaided self), knows that she never -can call any room her own, excepting the one she -chances to be in at the moment—and not even -that one if the British workman happens to be in -the ascendant! It is one of the compensations -of life that the smaller our habitation, the more -we ourselves get out of it personally—a kind of -“intensive” interest. Whereas the larger our -domains, the more imposing our houses, the -more numerous our rooms, the more they are -monopolised by other people—paid assistants for -the most part—to the exclusion of ourselves.</p> - -<p>In my own very humble way I soon realised -that even my country cottage and its contents -were only my own so long as I could sit on -them, so to speak. I early discovered that my -sheets and pillow-cases, my towels and tablecloths, -were not allowed to lead a life of idle, -selfish exclusiveness in my absences. Mrs. -Widow’s enterprising married daughter quickly -furnished a room at her own cottage over an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -outhouse which had hitherto been used as a -lumber garret; this she could always let in the -summer, when the big houses in the neighbourhood -were full up with visitors and extra rooms -were needed.</p> - -<p>Of course, at times I proved exceedingly tiresome, -and turned up at inconvenient moments. -But in such an emergency neighbours would -assist her with the loan of a sheet here and -there and a towel or two, if mine had to be -returned hastily. I have always found the poor -most ready to help each other—especially when -it was a case of “doing” someone who was a -little better off.</p> - -<p>No, I was not surprised that Mrs. Widow -graciously bestowed my door-key on her friends -in search of an afternoon’s recreation; but I <i>was</i> -just a trifle curious to know how they had got -hold of the lilac bedspread, seeing that it was put -away in a cupboard that possessed—so I prided -myself—a unique lock; and it had never been -used yet—at least, not by me!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>After dinner I wrestled womanfully with the -overpowering desire to go down the orchard -again and do nothing; but a shower seemed -threatening, and I decided to answer letters and -correct proofs indoors. I told myself I would -put in a full afternoon at really solid work, and -would even carry it right on into the night, if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -need be, without a moment’s cessation save for -the conventional nourishment—this, in order to -clear up some of my arrears, and to enable me -to garden the whole of next day with a perky -conscience.</p> - -<p>“How <i>do</i> you kill time on a wet day in the -country?” people sometimes ask me. It’s simple -enough. Here is the recipe:</p> - -<p>* Draw up a chair to the table; get out ink -and pens from one of the aged oak cupboards -beside the fireplace. Open the dresser drawers -and haul out stacks of unanswered queries from -magazine readers, the office staff, printers, block-makers, -artists, authors, and from people of -whom I know nothing (friends and relatives -gave me up long ago!).</p> - -<p>Next, take the heavy lid right off the oak -chest (hinges were broken fifty years ago, so it -won’t lift up properly), dive in for armfuls of -MSS., proofs, photographs, diagrams, sketches; -place same on table; proceed to hunt among -same for some one particular thing I feel I ought -to deal with at that particular moment (though it -may have lain unhonoured and unsung for weeks); -can’t find it anywhere. Go through everything -again, this time classifying matter slightly by -putting it in piles around me on the floor; still -can’t find it, but unearth much else that ought -to have been attended to long ago but wasn’t.</p> - -<p>Decide to search upstairs; turn out trunks,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -turn out cupboards, turn out drawers (incidentally -discover and meditate upon various things needing -mending); forget what I <i>was</i> looking for; -go on searching for it; remember presently, and -eventually run it to earth in my blotting-book -downstairs, where, if I had had any sense, I -should have looked in the first instance. Breathe -freely, sit down—rather exhausted—to serious -work.</p> - -<p>A tap at the door; “May I come in?” -Enter visitor No. 1. And then they follow in -quick succession.</p> - -<p>Finally, Abigail kindly undertakes to tidy up -my papers “without disturbing a single thing!”*</p> - -<p>Next day (if still wet) you repeat from * to *, -as they tell us in the crochet patterns.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I had just got settled to work on the missing-and-now-discovered -letter, when Abigail tapped -and entered.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry to trouble you, ma’am, but could -you spare me one of those Missionary books?” -pointing to a shelf containing a selection of the -annual reports of religious and philanthropic -societies.</p> - -<p>Now for some time past I had been trying to -interest Abigail—who is a church member—in -foreign missions. I rather prided myself that I -had done it tactfully, not forcing it upon her, -but just arousing her interest by taking her to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> -attractive meetings. I found that she had even -gone to one on her own account. Hence I was -naturally pleased to find that she was anxious to -follow up the subject; but as I did not consider -an ordinary official report, with its small print, -and balance-sheets and monotonous lists of subscribers, -the type of literature best calculated -to enthuse the novice, I reached down a small -volume of bright stories of girl-life in India, well -illustrated and prettily got-up.</p> - -<p>“Here is just the very thing,” I said. But she -took it reluctantly, dubiously, turning it about -and looking it over in a dissatisfied manner.</p> - -<p>“No,” she said, “it’s one like that I want,” -pointing to a solid tome issued by one of the -most revered of our missionary societies. “Can -I have that one?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly,” I acquiesced, though it was an -out-of-date report, and I knew the other book -would have suited her better.</p> - -<p>“Yes, that’s just right,” she said cheerfully, -as I handed it to her. “That other’d be too -thin; it’s to go under the back leg of the side -table in the kitchen, where the stone floor’s -broken. I’ve used one like this regular since last -summer, but it’s getting shabby. I thought a -new one would smarten us up a bit.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I remember on one occasion being at a -missionary meeting for young people, at which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> -there was a remarkably fine speaker from the -foreign mission field. He said that if any felt -they had a call to take part in the work in any -way, he would be pleased to see them at the -close. When the meeting was over, a small boy -approached the platform. “Please can I speak -to you, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly, my lad,” said the speaker, shaking -him warmly by the hand. “Now, what is it? -You can talk quite frankly to me.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I wondered if—er——”</p> - -<p>“Have no hesitation, my boy, in asking me -anything you like.”</p> - -<p>“Well, do you happen to have any foreign -postage stamps?”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Just as I had settled down again, somewhat -chastened, to my much neglected work, there -was a knock at the door, and the lady of the -manor was shown in.</p> - -<p>“I see you’re busy,” she began; “but I won’t -keep you a moment. I only want to ask you if -you’re expecting Miss Virginia and her sister this -afternoon? No? Oh, I <i>am</i> sorry! I did hope -they were coming. But, anyhow, whoever it is, -do you think they would help to-morrow at the -Sale of Work? Two visitors I was expecting -have failed me, and I’ve no one possible for the -picture post-cards or the pinafores. They needn’t -know anything about it, you know; it only wants<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -someone who can reckon up that seven penny -cards comes to sevenpence, and that’s one and -ninepence change out of half-a-crown, and that -sort of thing. Now, do you think your friends -would help?”</p> - -<p>“But I’ve no friends coming,” I said.</p> - -<p>“<i>Haven’t</i> you? Why, I quite understood—— I -was calling on Miss Primkins just now (she’s -jam and jelly, you know), and I asked her if she -couldn’t put it on the pinafores—it would look -quite decorative, and in this way I should save -a stall; even then we shall be very crowded. -Mrs. Blake had just been in to say she couldn’t -spare Miss Primkins the duck she had ordered, -because you had visitors arriving to-day and -would want a pair for Sunday.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!! Well, I’m not having visitors, neither -am I having the ducks. But I’ll come down -myself to-morrow, if that’s any help, and keep -one eye on the pinafores and one on the picture -postcards. And I think my mental arithmetic -will be just right for the change you give.”</p> - -<p>“But, don’t you remember, you’ve already -promised to look after the bookstall? You sent -us that big box of books months ago, with some -of your own books in—which I want you to -autograph, by the way. So I was going to ask -you if at the same time you’d manage the jumble -corner—the two things would go very well -together.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> - -<p>I agreed with her heartily.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you <i>know</i> I don’t mean anything like -<i>that!</i>” she added hastily. “I only meant that -you could more easily turn from selling lovely -books, to dispose of one of your own done-with-but-still-charming -coats and skirts, for instance, -than if you had to cut up for the refreshment -stall, and return with buttery fingers to respond -to the rush there will be for your autograph.”</p> - -<p>“Add the postcards to the books,” I said, -trying to be equally amiable, “and Abigail will -gladly run the jumble corner; she will be smarter -at it than you or I.”</p> - -<p>Abigail appeared as soon as her ladyship had -gone. The farmeress who supplied us with milk -was waiting in the kitchen to know if I wanted -extra milk morning and evening in future, on -account of company; as, if so, she would save it -specially. She was experiencing a shortage of -milk, “Hussy” having run dry, and “Clover,” -for some unknown reason that I hadn’t time to -listen to, not doing her lactic duty as befitted -her station in life.</p> - -<p>Emphatically I said that I should not want -any extra milk—and a few other things.</p> - -<p>I resumed my work.</p> - -<p>Ten minutes later there was yet another -interruption. This time it was the owner of the -Buff Orpingtons, who had arrived at the back -door to inquire if I was wanting any eggs—she’d<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> -brought eight with her, and expected another -one to-night, which she’d send up—her hens had -just started laying again, etc.</p> - -<p>I fairly blessed the individual who had first -set going the fable that I was expecting visitors.</p> - -<p>I told Abigail that it was a matter of perfect -indifference to me whether all the fowls in the -district did, or did not, accommodatingly lay -nine, or even ten, eggs for my especial benefit; -but what did matter to me was whether I could, -or could not, get nine or even ten minutes of -uninterrupted peace, in order to finish my letters -before the postman arrived. (He always calls -obligingly at five o’clock for my afternoon mail.) -And I requested that she would kindly take in -any and everything that came during the next -hour (so long as it didn’t need paying for!); -only, for pity’s sake, would she cease opening -that door and seeking advice on the subject.</p> - -<p>After that I was left severely alone. From -time to time I heard voices in the rear; there -was one very loud series of bumps and bangs—I -concluded it was the missionary report being -introduced to the table. But I worked on, and -had just sealed up my last budget of proofs, and -addressed it to the printers, when the postman -appeared. I heaved a sigh at the amount of -stuff he carried away. The shower had passed -over without even damping the blossoms. I -would have some tea, and then start watering.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> - -<p>The postman was speaking to someone at the -gate. No, it wasn’t Abigail. I heard him say, -“Yes; this is Rosemary Cottage.” I was -gathering up my papers as footsteps dragged -themselves along the path—“dragged” is the -only word for it—and before I had time to step -outside to see who was there, two female forms, -one ample and one spare, made for the door -opening into the living-room, precipitated themselves -into the room, and sank into the nearest -chairs, in the last stages of panting exhaustion; -while the ample one, in a coat and skirt of a -large black and white plaid, buttoned and piped -with cerise, exclaimed—</p> - -<p>“At last! Well, of all the out-of-the-way -forsaken places! We’ve been tramping nearly -all day, trying to get here from that wretched -station! We must have walked miles—<i>miles</i>—up -and down hill, only it was <i>all</i> uphill; we -found ourselves in woods with no possibility of -ever getting out again; we got into lanes that -ended nowhere, and when we got there it was -the wrong place; we tried to take a short cut -across some fields, and got stuck in a bog; we -met a flock of wild cows, and the top of that -hedge positively ran into me like needles. When -we did chance to find a house, hoping it was -yours, it never was; the people always told us -to go on and ask further directions at the next -house we came to, but each time there wasn’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -another house. Why ever didn’t we take that -fly at the station! But there, he could never -have driven us over all the huge stone walls -we’ve had to climb! We’ve been walking for -hours on end—<i>hours</i>—haven’t we, dear?”</p> - -<p>“Dear” nodded feebly. She was leaning -back in the easy-chair with closed eyes. Her -hat—of a remarkable shape—was trimmed with -what looked like a kitchen flue-brush standing -straight upright at the back; at least, it would -have been upright if her hat hadn’t shifted -askew; at the moment the flue-brush was -inclining towards her left ear. Her costume -was mustard colour, with spasms of black. She -must have been <i>very</i> pleased with it when she -bought it, otherwise she could never have induced -herself to get inside it!</p> - -<p>I soon found that the ample one did not -require any reply other than the feeble nod, as -it would have impeded her eloquence. She -went on—</p> - -<p>“I think, if you don’t mind, we won’t go -upstairs till we’ve had some tea. We are -absolutely prostrate, aren’t we, dear?” The -flue-brush dipped slightly. “Could we have -some tea at once?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly,” I said with alacrity. I had -already decided that tea was the only possible -way to relieve the strain of the situation, and I -rang the bell.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> - -<p>Abigail, after one comprehensive glance at -the callers, fetched my very best afternoon tea-cloth, -which she displayed on the table to the -utmost advantage, that not an Irish inlet or a -bit of lace border should be lost on the visitors. -When she does not approve of any callers, or -does not consider them quite in keeping with -the family traditions, she invariably makes a -terrific splash in front of them, getting out the -special silver and the finest china, and serving -with an air of withering superiority, as though -she said, “Behold! this is how <i>we</i> live every -day; very different from what <i>you’ve</i> been accustomed -to!”</p> - -<p>The tiresomeness of it is that when intimate -friends call, who really matter, the handmaiden -treats the tea-table most casually; they evidently -don’t count if they are known to be above -reproach!</p> - -<p>From the look she gave the strangers, I knew -we should have it all, and we did! She was -wonderfully quick in getting both the tea and -her smartest cap and apron. She put as much -silver as she could squeeze on the table; she got -out some egg-shell china plates for the bread and -butter, and the old cut-glass for the preserves. -She opened new jars of plum, black-currant, -strawberry and raspberry jam; she turned out -preserved ginger into a blue Chinese bowl; she -put lemon-curd into a quaint brown dish, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> -honey in a lustre saucer. She hunted out all -the cake we possessed, and opened a tin of -apricots; she mashed up sardines with Worcester -sauce, and heaped it on pale lettuce leaves, and -she garnished some thin slices of ham most -artistically with lemon and cucumber and -flowering sprigs of rosemary. All this while -the ample one was explaining to me how -marvellously things were managed in London, -the miles you could ride in a motor-bus for -twopence, the cleanliness and speed and safety -of the Tube, the ever-recurring convenience of -a halfpenny in a tramcar, and the luxury of a -taxi; and then more moans to think of the miles -they had covered without meeting either motor-bus, -Tube, tramcar or taxi.</p> - -<p>When the table seemed on the very verge of -breaking down with its abundance, and they had -just drawn up their chairs, Abigail asked in -clear tones that the visitors were bound to hear, -“Would you wish me to bring in the cold duck, -madam?” (“Madam” indicates company; -“ma’am” is ordinary every-day.) I wasn’t -exactly anxious to bestow my to-morrow’s dinner -on the strangers, for I had reckoned to make the -duck do for twice; but, of course, under the -circumstances, I was bound to ask sweetly, “Oh, -would you care for a little roast duck? It’s -<i>cold</i>,” I added, by way of disqualifying the joint -a little in their eyes. Fortunately they preferred<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -ham, but it was satisfactory that at least they -knew we had roast duck in the larder.</p> - -<p>After sitting up and taking a little nourishment, -the wilted ones revived perceptibly, and -even began to be gracious. I am afraid I am not -very fond of the graciousness of that type of -woman; she does get it so mixed up with -patronage. But I buoyed myself up with the -thought that perchance I was entertaining angels -unawares—though they didn’t look like it!</p> - -<p>The ample one continued to be voluble. I -did not interrupt her with questions, because I -find it is usually as well to let a situation explain -itself; it usually does in time. Besides, I didn’t -quite know what to say. I couldn’t exactly ask, -“Who are you? where have you come from? -and why have you singled me out for this -particular visitation?” Yet the longer I waited, -the more awkward it became to open inquiries.</p> - -<p>“You have a very well-trained maid, I see,” -the large plaid continued, “that is to say, for -the country”—with emphasis, to show me that -there were obvious deficiencies, only she was -willing to make allowances for them. “It’s the -first thing I always notice in a house. We are -used to such excellent service—<i>most excellent</i> -service, aren’t we, dear?”</p> - -<p>Dear agreed, but not very heartily; she -seemed to ponder for a moment before she said -her customary “Yes.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> - -<p>“That is one reason why I always hesitate -about leaving home.” (How I wished she’d -hesitated a little longer! The sun was getting -behind the fir-trees, and I did so want to start -watering!) “You have some garden, I see, but -it wants planning, doesn’t it? I wish you could -see ours at home; it would give you some ideas. -We have a man in occasionally; but we always -superintend him ourselves. I’ll tell you how we -have it arranged. In the centre is a square -lawn, and in the middle of this we have a round -bed with scarlet geraniums in the centre, and a -ring of calceolarias round them, and then outside -that, at the edge of the bed, you understand, all -round, you know, we have lobelias, little blue -flowers, you know. You’ve no idea how bright -and effective it is. And then in the border -all round the garden by the fences, we have -standard roses about a couple of yards apart, -and a row of scarlet geraniums. It’s so bright, -and doesn’t cost so much when you buy them by -the dozen.</p> - -<p>“Your ceiling is very low, isn’t it?—still, -for a cottage, it isn’t a bad-sized room; and I -see you’ve made the best of it with your little -bits of things put about.” I do wish you could -have heard the charming, indulgent condescension -with which she said “your little bits of -things”! “Though I don’t think I’ve ever seen -yellow walls before—very <i>quaint</i>, of course, but—er—rather<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> -peculiar. Don’t you think so, -dear?”</p> - -<p>Dear said she did. But I don’t know why, -seeing that she was carrying about more yellow -on her mustard person than I had in the whole -of the house!</p> - -<p>“I <i>wish</i> you could see our <i>lovely</i> dining-room -at home,” the plaid continued. I murmured -inarticulations, as there was a pause where I -was evidently intended to say something. “It -has a dark red paper on the wall. We have just -furnished it with fumed oak. I think fumed -oak is <i>so</i> artistic. We have a most <i>handsome</i> -sideboard that will only just stand across one -end of the room. I don’t mind telling you that -it cost fifty pounds originally, but as the people -to whom it belonged were a little unfortunate, -we got it—well, we didn’t give quite that much -for it; but you’d never know. It was just as -good as new. And we have aspidistras and a -<i>beautiful</i> palm in copper flower-pots—really -exquisite works of art they are; and they go so -well with the fumed oak, don’t they, dear?”</p> - -<p>By the time I had been taken over their -<i>beautiful</i> drawing-room, we had finished tea—happily, -for I already saw a <i>beautiful</i> best bedroom -suite looming ahead.</p> - -<p>Having made a most excellent, not to say -solid, meal, the voluble one shoved her chair -back and said—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I feel all the better for that cup of tea. -Now, I think, if you’ll show us the way, we’ll go -upstairs and have a good wash, and make ourselves -presentable—not that you dress much for -dinner, I suppose?”</p> - -<p>I conclude I, too, was all the better for my -cup of tea, for I felt myself warming to the -work—and I led the way washstandwards most -cordially. I didn’t take them out into the hall -to the more modern staircase, I opened the door -in the corner of the room, and revealed the steep -stone stairs; and you should have heard their -gurgles and squeals.</p> - -<p>“Oh, dearest, <i>do</i> look. <i>Isn’t</i> it primitive? -And do you go up and down this every day?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no,” I couldn’t help replying. “We -only use this when visitors are here. On -ordinary occasions we get in and out of the bedroom -windows, and hop down the honeysuckle.”</p> - -<p>She drew herself up reprimandingly; she -evidently wished me to understand that, though -she was willing to treat me as an equal so long -as I behaved myself, she couldn’t allow any -undue familiarity on my part.</p> - -<p>“I don’t suppose <i>you</i> would see anything -unusual in such an approach to the upper storeys, -having been used to it all your life,” she said -distantly; “but accustomed as <i>we</i> are to our -magnificent staircase at home—wide enough to -drive up a carriage and pair, isn’t it, dear?”—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Er—nearly——” (Dear was the more -truthful of the two, I fancy.)</p> - -<p>“—And our beautiful pile carpet, in rich reds -and blues, and the thickest of stair-pads underneath, -till you would think you were walking -on real Turkey carpet, this naturally strikes -us as—how shall I put it so as not to hurt your -feelings?—as—as very humorous, you know!”</p> - -<p>“I quite understand,” I said, as we entered -my bedroom.</p> - -<p>She walked straight over to the window and -looked out.</p> - -<p>“Not a house to be seen anywhere,” she -exclaimed dismally, “whichever way you look; -nothing in sight but those everlasting tree-covered -hills.”</p> - -<p>As she seemed inclined for a lengthy soliloquy, -I poured out some water and indicated the soap-dish, -as politely as I knew how, to Dear, who -had taken off her hat and coat, and seemed -almost grateful for my attentions. I noticed -that Abigail had been up and had adorned the -towel-horse with my finest damask towels with -embroidered ends, and had got out a rare and -treasured bedspread made entirely of lace, that -had just been sent me as a present from Venice, -and had put it over the bed in place of the old-world -patchwork quilt that I infinitely prefer in -the cottage; it was so much more in keeping -with the surroundings.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p> - -<p>The ample one turned with a sigh from the -depressing outlook that was so deficient in motor-buses -and halfpenny car rides and taxis and -houses, and said, evidently striving to make the -best of a bad job, “At any rate you’ve tried to -make it look as nice as you can inside. Do you -know, I rather like that bedspread”—as though -conveying a real favour on the article in question. -“It reminds me of an <i>exquisite</i> bedspread we -have at home something like it, only ours is -linen, with shamrocks on it in solid embroidery.” -And she flung down her coat and other <i>impedimenta</i> -on the top of the lace in a way that made -me tremble for its safety. “It’s <i>something</i> like -ours—don’t you think so, dear?”</p> - -<p>Dear had her face in the soft delicious lather -of the rainwater, and didn’t reply.</p> - -<p>“But”—at this point transformation came -over the black and white plaid—“I’ve only just -noticed it! This is a <i>double</i> bed! Look, dear, -it’s a <small>DOUBLE</small> bed! And I most distinctly said -in my letter it was imperative that we have two -single beds; the same room would do, I said—no -need to go to the expense of two rooms—but -on no account a double bed. As I can’t possibly -rest unless I have the bed to myself—I’m a <i>very</i> -light sleeper, whereas my friend sleeps rather -heavily, not to say—er—sonorously, don’t you, -dear?—I must simply insist that you have this -bed taken down and two single ones put up in its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> -place. Had I <i>seen</i> the rooms before I engaged -them I shouldn’t have taken a place with such a -desolate outlook; but as we’ve had the expense -of coming here, I don’t mind staying if you -undertake to have the beds changed; and they -must both be feather beds, too. Now, can you -do this?”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid I can’t!” I said. “But if——”</p> - -<p>“There can be no ifs; I put everything -quite clearly in my letter. I’ve got a copy of it -here. I wrote——”</p> - -<p>“My dear lady, if you will sit down in that -easy-chair, we’ll make everything still clearer.” -She was beginning to prance around the room.</p> - -<p>Dear, unmoved, was having a very thorough -wash. So the light sleeper sank into the chair -and rummaged in her hand-bag, presumably for -the copy of the letter in question.</p> - -<p>I tried to speak as lightly and soothingly as -possible, for she was fairly bursting with indignation! -“Now, please understand that I am -delighted to give a meal to any wayfarer who, -like yourself, arrives hungry and tired at my -door. I’m glad for them to come in and have a -rest, and even a wash and brush up, if they want -it. But, when an absolute stranger, of whom I -know nothing, demands my own bed, and my -feather bed into the bargain, then I must protest! -That feather bed is one of my most cherished -possessions!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> - -<p>“But you expected me?”—sitting bolt -upright.</p> - -<p>“I certainly did not!”</p> - -<p>“Didn’t I write and tell you we would arrive -to-day?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve neither heard of you, nor from you, in -my life before!”</p> - -<p>“But this is Rosemary Cottage?”</p> - -<p>“It is.”</p> - -<p>“Then you <i>must</i> be Miss Flabbers!”—with -an air of finality.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry, but I’m <i>not!</i>”</p> - -<p>At this, Dear dropped the soap with a sudden -splosh into the water and looked round in frozen -astonishment. (The merest wraith of it remained -two hours later when Abigail emptied the water. -It was a new cake, too!)</p> - -<p>At the name of Flabbers, light came. -Miss Flabbers is a gentlewoman in somewhat -reduced circumstances, who lives in a cottage a -good mile and a half away. Presumably she -was going to add to her income by taking in -boarders.</p> - -<p>“If it’s Miss Flabbers whom you are wanting,” -I continued, filling up a painful silence, “her -house is called Rose May Cottage. I expect -you got the names confused in your mind.”</p> - -<p>“There! It’s all <i>your</i> fault,” said the ample -one, turning irritably to her companion; “you -said it was Rose May Cottage when you read<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -the first letter: but I said that was an absurd -name, and it must be Rosemary it was intended -for—country people <i>do</i> write so badly. I do -<i>wish</i>, dear, you would be careful to be more -accurate; if only you had said the right name I -might have been saved all this trouble—and -expense, because of course I shall <i>insist</i> on -paying for our tea——” (she didn’t though!) -“and think how many miles I’ve walked, and -now I suppose I’ve to do it all again. How I -wish I’d listened to that old man at the station -and gone with——”</p> - -<p>She paused suddenly and threw up her hands; -and then there arose that cry common to all -womankind the world over, when they are weary -with their pilgrimage, footsore and travel-stained; -the cry that must have rent the air in the olden -days when Sarai trailed after Abram across the -plains of Mamre, even as it sounds to-day from -Yokohama to Land’s End:</p> - -<p>“<i>Where’s our luggage?</i>”</p> - -<p>There was a perceptible gasp—and then, -“Yes; <i>where’s our luggage?</i>” faintly echoed -Dear, as she nervously clutched her gloves with -feverish haste and pinned them on her head, -and then wildly tried to get her arms into her -hat.</p> - -<p>“I expect it’s reposing peacefully in Miss -Flabbers’ best bedroom,” I said assuringly. “At -any rate it isn’t <i>here!</i>” as I saw signs that they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -were going to crawl under the bed in search of -it. “The man would be sure to deliver it there, -and——”</p> - -<p>Abigail knocked at the door and asked if she -could speak to me for a minute.</p> - -<p>When I got outside she said, “There’s a -person downstairs wants to see you <i>particular</i>, -ma’am, or I wouldn’t have disturbed you.” -Abigail divides all her sex into two classes, -“persons” and “ladies,” and no one is more -careful than she to see that “persons” don’t -think more highly of themselves than their social -status warrants.</p> - -<p>I found a pleasant-faced woman who lives in -a cottage near Miss Flabbers. “Please, ma’am, -Miss Flabbers has lost two ladies rather suddint, -and I wondered if you’d chanced to set eyes on -’em? Miss Flabbers is <i>that</i> worrit as never was; -expected ’em by the eleven train, and I misdoubt -me if the cutlets won’t be a bit heavy by now, -though she’s had ’em over a saucepan of hot -water ever since. She’s so upset she don’t know -what to do, yet she can’t go out to look for ’em -in case they turns up meanwhile. I thought it -’ud be just neighbourly if I went out for her and -hunted around. I know they come by that -train, for I see’d ’em myself at the station, -puffeck ladies you’d have took ’em for, only they -wouldn’t have a fly. They’re not friends, no, -nor boarders, no, she wouldn’t think of having<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -boarders, so reserved as she is; they’re what’s -called paying guests. I know, because my son’s -got a friend in the <i>Hargus</i> office, and he told -him about an adver-<i>tise</i>ment she put in, only -you wouldn’t have known it was her, being only -X Y Z on it, but the people at the <i>Hargus</i> knew -as the X Y Z meant her, though <i>how</i> they -should know puzzles me, and they send on the -letters to her. But she’s kep’ it very private; -no one knew they was coming, so I wouldn’t -dream of mentioning X Y Z to a soul. I’ve -tracked ’em up here. Everybody all over the -Common and even up to the Crag Farm has -a-seed them, they’ve scoured the county for -miles round. You’d be sure to rekernize them -once you’d saw them——”</p> - -<p>I should think so! E’en the slight harebell -raised its head and stared after them -whenever they passed it that afternoon, I’m -certain.</p> - -<p>By dint of shouting above her talking I -managed to get her to hear that I had them safe -and sound; and should be everlastingly grateful -if she would take them off my hands and place -them in the safe keeping of Miss Flabbers.</p> - -<p>Then I fetched them down and introduced -the neighbourly soul, who, you could see, felt -elated at the distinction of being the one to take -such costumes in tow.</p> - -<p>“Better go out of the back door,” I said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> -“and up the garden to the top gate; it will save -you a few steps.”</p> - -<p>And then the ample one turned and said icily, -“I suppose we must thank you for what you -have done; but I <i>do</i> think you should have told -us <i>sooner</i> who you were.” Yet I hadn’t told -them even then!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was as they were going out of the back -door that Dear amazed us by falling unexpectedly -to her knees and affectionately clasping a dark -object that I had not seen in the dim recess of -the lobby.</p> - -<p>“<i>Here’s</i> our trunks!” she shrieked hysterically.</p> - -<p>And then both those women glared things -unspeakable at me. They knew now, what they -had only suspected before, that I was a deeply-dyed -villainess with designs on them and their -property.</p> - -<p>“What’s this? Why wasn’t I told about -it?” I inquired of Abigail, who, naturally, was -not missing a word.</p> - -<p>“Old Bob brought them while you were -busy. He said they were for here, so of course -I took them in, madam, as you said you were -not to be disturbed,” with an injured sniff, “and -I’ve had no opportunity to tell you since.”</p> - -<p>The two, true to the instincts of their sex, had -promptly seated themselves on the trunks, and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> -feared they had no intention of budging unless -the trunks went with them. But the neighbourly -person was anxious to be on the move; -she wanted the <i>kudos</i> of walking through the -village with them in the broad daylight, so she -said—</p> - -<p>“They’ll be all right; my ’usband’ll come -round for them soon as we get back. Now -don’t you worrit the least little bit.”</p> - -<p>Thus they were got off at last.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“Puffeck ladies,” I said to myself as I seized -the brown pitcher and the water-can, and went -out to the spring.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>VIII<br /> - -<small>Merely to be Prepared</small></h2> - - -<p class="unindent"><span class="smcap">I couldn’t</span> have been asleep many minutes -(though, when I come to think of it, no one -ever is, in London), because I had waited up -till eleven for Abigail.</p> - -<p>It was like this: the day before, cook had -asked me if she might stay out till eleven that -night, as she wanted to go and see an old lady -in whose employ she had once been. The old -lady was seriously ill; she couldn’t get her off -her mind; and she felt she ought to give her -what little pleasure she could, as she wouldn’t -be likely to get over it.</p> - -<p>I begged her to take the whole afternoon; -such affection was really touching. I saw myself -in a few years’ time, decrepit, aged, and infirm, -being visited by a crowd of devoted retainers, -who murmured one to another:</p> - -<p>“She had her faults, goodness knows, but -at least we will scatter seeds of kindness!”</p> - -<p>In any case, I was pleased for cook to take -some extra time, as she is invariably home early—the -Naval Division at the Crystal Palace have -to be under glass by nine o’clock.</p> - -<p>She thanked me, but declined the afternoon, -as she thought half-past nine or ten in the evening -would suit the old lady best; she was in a -West End nursing home. It seemed late to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> -visit one who was so aged and so ill, but, of -course, I gave the extended leave.</p> - -<p>She returned at 10.55, looking very bright, a -bunch of roses in her coat-belt, a box of chocolates -dangling from her finger, and a programme -in her hand.</p> - -<p>Yes, thank you; she had had a lovely time. -The old lady?—er—oh, yes! she was getting on -nicely, thank you.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Next day, Abigail came to me, also asking -for an eleven o’clock leave. It transpired that -she was expecting a little orphan cousin to arrive -that night from Blackpool; <i>such</i> a sad affair—child -left without a father when it was only four -years old—she was eight now. No, she hadn’t -ever seen the little cousin, but she felt it was -such a distressing case that it was her duty to -do what she could.</p> - -<p>I hinted that eleven o’clock at night seemed -rather late for one who was so young and so -orphaned to be up and about, and likewise -offered her the afternoon. But she said the -train didn’t arrive sooner, and the trains were -often late. So I gave her till 11.0 p.m. to -welcome the pitiful orphan.</p> - -<p>She also arrived in at night looking radiant. -Under her mackintosh she was wearing a pink -chiffon dress, edged with swansdown; a bandeau -of sparkles was on her hair, a horseshoe of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -same make adorning the back of her head; she -carried a fan, and some flowers that had evidently -been worn on the dress.</p> - -<p>I am glad to say that she, too, had enjoyed -herself immensely, and the desolate relative had -been most pleased to make her acquaintance.</p> - -<p>After that I retired.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>And then I conclude it was the bang that did -it; at any rate, the whole household woke with -a start, and with one accord the feminine portion -precipitated itself downstairs and on to the front -door mat, and peered out into the dark road in -the hope of seeing <i>something!</i></p> - -<p>The masculine element, being gifted with a -faculty for keeping cool, calm and collected in -any emergency, stayed to gather up a few wraps -and rugs and overcoats and anything else he -could lay his hands on in the dark (including his -disreputable old gardening jacket), which he -brought down and distributed among us, as we -had not stopped for much in the way of clothing.</p> - -<p>At that moment Virginia and Ursula rushed -along the road from their own house and joined -us. Virginia was clad in a nightdress, with a -mackintosh over it and a sumptuous pale blue -kimono (covered with brown and black flying -herons) on the top of the mac. Ursula was -wearing her heliotrope dressing-gown, an ostrich -feather boa, and an eiderdown quilt.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> - -<p>They both apologised for calling so late -(it was past midnight), but said they felt they -should just like to talk things over.</p> - -<p>While I was bidding them welcome, Miss -Quirker (from round the corner) appeared; likewise -Miss Thresher (a secondary-school mistress) -and her friend Mrs. Brash, who share a flat near -by; and in the rear came Mrs. Ridley, the -doctor’s widow from across the road.</p> - -<p>They all said they had come because they -could see “it” better from my house, which -stands on a high point, overlooking London one -way, and Kent from the other side.</p> - -<p>Each caller was grateful for the loan of a -blanket.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, in far less time than it takes to -write all this, fire-engines and ambulances, and -policemen and motor-cars and pedestrians -appeared as by magic from nowhere and went -tearing along the road. Yet, crane our necks as -we would, not a glimpse could we catch of “it.”</p> - -<p>Miss Quirker—who always seems to have -special and exclusive information about everything—said -the creature was exactly over her -bedroom chimney when the bomb was dropped; -she heard a strange whirring noise (described -most graphically), and turned on the electric -light for company; then there was a <i>brilliant</i> -flash in the sky (yes, she could see it above the -electric light), and the bomb fell—she was sure<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> -it was in her back garden. She looked very -pleased with herself and superior, to think that -she had been singled out by Fate for this special -and distinctive visitation.</p> - -<p>The man of the house, after bidding us stay -just where we were as he wouldn’t be gone a -minute, hied him buoyantly down the road in -company with neighbouring masculines—to find -the bomb, I suppose. He soon returned, however, -with the exceedingly flat information that -a gas explosion had occurred in a house further -along, though they couldn’t tell whether it was -due to the geyser or the cooking-range, as they -couldn’t find either.</p> - -<p>[Later on, the remains of a geyser and part -of a porcelain bath were picked up about six -miles off, in the Walworth Road; and I understand -that the police at Sevenoaks found the -remnants of an alien gas-stove wandering about -in a suspicious manner, and promptly interned -it. But this is by the way.]</p> - -<p>“Only a gas explosion!” exclaimed everybody -in doleful disappointment. Mrs. Brash certainly -looked relieved; but then she is a very nervous -little woman with a weak heart.</p> - -<p>“Well, I call it <i>too</i> bad!” said Virginia. -“Every solitary relative, friend, and acquaintance -I possess, even to the third and fourth generation, -has had a Zepp cross ‘right over their very road’; -and every person I’ve met during the last twelve<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -months boasts and brags of the way they’ve had -them ‘exactly above their heads.’ And yet, do -what I will, I can’t get a sight of even the tail -of one.”</p> - -<p>“Just my case,” said everybody else in chorus; -“I seem to be the only one in London who -hasn’t seen one.”</p> - -<p>But Miss Thresher cut short our bemoanings -over the hardness of our lot, by saying in her -head-mistress voice—</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid an excess of untutored imagination -is one of the weaknesses of this age. We, -however, can console ourselves with the knowledge -that at least we are <i>truthful;</i> and truth, -after all, is the greater asset”—looking witheringly -at Miss Quirker.</p> - -<p>I replied, “How about some hot coffee?” -It was the most appropriate remark that I could -think of on the spur of the moment.</p> - -<p>Cook promptly offered to get it, while I went -after tea-gowns and dressing-gowns and similar -symbols of propriety for our shivering guests, -who looked a trifle nondescript now that the -lights were on. The man of the house had -returned to assist at the explosion.</p> - -<p>If Miss Thresher hoped that her last remark -would quelch Miss Quirker, she was mistaken -nothing can suppress that lady, and nothing is -sacred to her. She will stalk up to your secret -cupboard, no matter how boldly you may have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> -labelled it “strictly private,” and drag out into -broad daylight the most disreputable skeleton -you keep in it, the one you packed away at the -very back of the top shelf—and then be pained -at your ingratitude!</p> - -<p>As I entered the room with an armful of -apparel I heard her saying to Miss Thresher, -“Why don’t you put a flounce on the bottom? -Those cheap flannelettes always shrink in the -wash. . . . Oh, flannel is it? . . . Really! no -one would ever think you gave that much for it, -would they? At any rate I couldn’t sleep if I -didn’t have them right down around my feet.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>To change the subject I asked Virginia why -she had put her mac. on under her kimono, when -obviously the correct order would have been to -wear it outside.</p> - -<p>She said she concluded it was sheer genius -and originality made her do it, for she had never -worn such a combination in her life before; and -the same must have applied to Ursula, for, looking -back on a varied and chequered career, she -could never remember seeing her sister, even -once, promenading the highway in an eiderdown -before.</p> - -<p>At the same time, she inquired why it was -that <i>I</i> had stood for a quarter of an hour on that -doormat, clasping feverishly to my chest a pair -of satin slippers and a bath towel, and clinging<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> -pathetically to a bedroom candlestick; when -obviously any candle would have blown out had -I attempted to light it, and the bedroom slippers -would have been more usefully employed on my -shoeless feet; while as for the bath towel. . . !</p> - -<p>The coffee came at that moment. I remembered -that some time ago the kitchen had -been very interested in an article in one of the -dailies, giving various directions as to what -should be done in the case of bombs overhead. -I forget a good deal of it, but I remember you -had to lay mattresses all over the top floors before -you came downstairs, and you had to dip a cloth -in hyposulphate of something, and hold it to -your nose as you came down to seek a place of -safety.</p> - -<p>The servants were rather taken with the -mattress idea, said how simple it was, and that, -as they had five mattresses between them, they -would cover a good deal of floor space. I even -generously offered them the two off my own bed, -if they would come down and fetch them as soon -as the Zepps were heard, so long as they undertook -to place them carefully above <i>my</i> head.</p> - -<p>When Abigail brought in the trays, I asked -how many mattresses she had laid down.</p> - -<p>“I never gave ’em a thought,” she owned up; -“my two legs seemed all that mattered, for I was -sure I saw the Zeppelin-thing looking straight -in at my bedroom window—such sauce!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Untutored imagination again!” murmured -Ursula in my ear.</p> - -<p>Nervous little Mrs. Brash said that was just -the difficulty; when it actually came to the point -you could think of nothing that you ought to -remember. Wouldn’t it be well to talk the -subject over and decide a few things—merely -to be prepared—now that there was a group of -us together.</p> - -<p>Miss Thresher, who loves the importance of -being in any sort of office, enthused over the -idea; said we had better have a committee -meeting there and then; to be forewarned was -to be forearmed, she told us, with an impressive -air of wisdom. She said she would be Minute -Secretary, and we must draw up schedules -stating definitely and clearly what a woman -ought to do, first by way of preparation -beforehand, and secondly when the crisis actually -arrived.</p> - -<p>Miss Quirker endorsed this, and remarked in -an aggrieved tone (in my direction) that she -should have thought the women’s papers would -have dealt comprehensively with so important a -subject long ago. She added, however, that she -thought “crisis” was far too respectable a name -to give them; had she not been a staunch Churchwoman, -she would have called them something -far more vividly appropriate. I didn’t hear the -end of this, because I slipped away to find the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -man of the house, as I had heard him return -indoors.</p> - -<p>Opening the study door, my eyes fell on such -an upheaval that for the moment I felt certain -a gas explosion must have been at work there. -But no! He explained (turning out yet another -drawer) that he was only looking for some -insurance policies, as he wasn’t quite certain -what was the attitude of the companies towards -geysers. I pointed out that it didn’t matter as -we hadn’t one; but he went on looking, and his -face wore that tense expression seen on most -men when hunting for the family screwdriver, -or the pair of black gloves kept for funerals. -Having found the policies at last (in the drawer -where they had always been kept, by the way), -I left him in peace, to peruse them at his leisure.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Ladies’ Committee was well under way -when I returned to the dining-room, and as is -the correct thing at such gatherings, everybody -was talking at once and on the most diverse -topics. I consider myself rather great on ladies’ -committees; I’ve even occupied the proud -position of being in the chair, on occasion. And -the more I see of them the more I am lost in -admiration of the courage, versatility, and insuppressibility -of my sex.</p> - -<p>Why, there’s no man living who could trail -as many totally irrelevant topics across the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> -agenda, and in defiance of a politely pleading -chairwoman too, as can the littlest and frailest -woman at any ladies’ committee you like to -name.</p> - -<p>As it was, the only one who seemed within a -hundred miles of Zeppelins was poor Mrs. Brash, -who was explaining to Mrs. Ridley—</p> - -<p>“It isn’t that I mind dying: we all have to -die <i>some</i> day: but I do prefer to die <i>whole</i>.”</p> - -<p>Of course the doctor’s widow pooh-poohed -this as nonsense, and asked severely what would -become of surgeons if everybody felt like <i>that!</i></p> - -<p>Miss Thresher couldn’t find a suitable heading -for her schedule, till Ursula suggested “Antizeptics.” -Mrs. Ridley thought the medical -profession might not approve of the unprofessional -use of the word; but it was accepted by the -majority, and then we all settled down wholeheartedly -to attack the problem from every -point of view—which included, among other -things, borax as a preventive for moth, Queen -Mary’s graciousness, a comparison of the respective -merits of local butchers, economising on -corsets, and the War Loan.</p> - -<p>Perhaps you can’t see how these came in, -but it was simple enough. Miss Quicker said -that, after all, explosions that you thought were -Zeppelins weren’t so bad if they enabled you to -get such good coffee as mine; and might she -have a third lump of sugar, please? it was such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -a treat to get a really sweet cup of coffee; she -had given up sugar at home as she was economising -on it.</p> - -<p>Being the hostess, I couldn’t exactly tell her -that I, too, was trying to economise on mine.</p> - -<p>From the high price of sugar we naturally -floated on to the ruinous tendencies of butcher’s -meat, and Mrs. Brash explained the trouble she -had with her butcher because he wouldn’t send -home all the bones.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Ridley had similar harrowments to -relate about her butcher, but his vice took the -form of sticking to the trimmings from the joints, -which she was sure he sold at a good price for -soap-making, now that fat was so scarce and -soap likely to be dear. She knew it because—as -she reminded us—she was the treasurer of the -“Women’s League for Encouraging the Troops -to Wash,” and it came very hard on their funds. -What it would cost them for the cakes of soap -they were going to send out no one would -believe! (No, they hadn’t sent any yet; but of -course they were going to, when they got enough -members, and, by the way, would <i>I</i> join?)</p> - -<p>She didn’t mind a fair charge, of course (we -all murmured agreement). War was war, and -we must expect to pay something extra to help -the King keep going; he had his family to -provide for like any other man. Neither did she -grudge one solitary penny that went to Lord<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> -Kitchener (hearty applause). No, indeed! But -what made her blood boil was to feel that she -was actually washing her hands with her own -ribs—and at one-and-threepence-halfpenny a -pound, too!</p> - -<p>Virginia suggested she should try a rather -less heating soap; but she was drowned by -Miss Thresher, who said firmly, “Borax; that’s -what you ought to send to the troops. Not -only would it soften the water for them, poor -things—and no one knows better than I do -what awfully hard stuff that German water is; -nearly scraped my skin off when I went up the -Rhine two years ago—but they would find it so -useful to put in with their woollen things that -we’ve been knitting them, to keep out the -moth.”</p> - -<p>My reminder that our troops were not as -yet, alas! drawing their water from German -cisterns was unnoticed; for the mere mention of -moth produced extraordinary animation. Was -borax good? Weren’t they a perfect nuisance? -and so on. I said I always put it in with my -furs, and never had a moth near them.</p> - -<p>“I wonder if that’s what they put with -Queen Mary’s furs,” said Mrs. Brash. “I never -saw more lovely sables than those she had on -when she came to the hospital yesterday.”</p> - -<p>Miss Thresher verified this last statement, -absolutely superb they were, and Miss Thresher<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -had a right to speak, for the Queen had bowed -straight at her, as she stood on the kerb, “as -near to her as I am to you.”</p> - -<p>Miss Quirker said that for her part she didn’t -think there was another woman in the world so -gracious as Queen Mary—except of course -Queen Alexandra. She would bow to anyone -she saw, no matter <i>how</i> shabby they were.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Brash hurriedly said what she so -much admired in Queen Alexandra was her -figure.</p> - -<p>Miss Quirker continued, “Yes, and speaking -of corsets I want to tell you of another economy -besides doing without sugar to help the nation. -You should buy your corsets several sizes larger -than usual, and then when they are getting -worn, you can turn them upside down and wear -them the other way up. It’s so saving.”</p> - -<p>Ursula said she quite believed it, because she -knew, if she turned her long corsets upside down, -they would reach high enough up to support the -military collar at the back of her neck, and thus -save boning.</p> - -<p>I felt it was high time we got back to -“Antizeptics,” and suggested that we should -put something in the first column of the -schedule, which was headed: “Things to place -in readiness beforehand.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Brash announced that she wasn’t ever -going to take her clothes off any more till the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> -war was over, if this was the sort of goings-on -we were to expect.</p> - -<p>General opinion, however, was decidedly in -favour of, at any rate, removing the outside -frock, simply because we none of us saw any -prospect of ever being able to afford to buy a -new one.</p> - -<p>Then we all said what we thought ought to -go into that column. Woollen undies, a fur-lined -coat, a thick dressing-gown, a raincoat, a -travelling rug, and all sorts of other things, were -to be placed <i>close to the bedside</i>. This was insisted -upon as a matter of the greatest importance; -otherwise, in the dark, we should never find -anything, and of course it wouldn’t be safe to -have a light.</p> - -<p>Miss Thresher and Miss Quirker had a small -sub-committee on the subject of stockings—should -they be worn all night in bed? Miss -Thresher said obviously it was the only sensible -course. Miss Quirker objected that she should -kick hers off in her sleep in any case, hers was -such a delicate skin (as a child people had always -remarked on it), though probably women less -sensitive than herself might be able to endure -them. But if she lost hers among the bedclothes -she would never find them in the dark.</p> - -<p>Eventually they compromised by agreeing to -safety-pin a pair to the front of the nightdress -(as they fasten your handkerchief to you in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> -hospital), so that at least they would know where -to find them in case of precipitate flight.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the question, “Should hats be -worn?” necessitated Ursula and Mrs. Brash -going into another sub-committee on the lounge. -Mrs. Brash favoured a shawl—preferably white—being -draped over the head; it was more suited -to the <i>négligé</i> condition of the hair. This led her -to consult Ursula about the winter’s hat she was -evolving. She had had an <i>exceedingly</i> good white -and black crinoline hat the summer before last, -and the winter before last she had had a <i>very</i> -lovely violet velvet toque—the rich deep colour -favoured by Queen Alexandra.</p> - -<p>Last winter she had taken the violet velvet -from the hat of the winter before, and put it -over the crinoline hat of the summer before (you -can follow this, I hope?), and everybody had -admired it. Now she proposed to return the -violet velvet to its original toque, only this time -she would smother it with some violets she had -by her, and she had a really beautiful little sable -skin which she proposed to put round the brim. -Did Miss Ursula think the violets and the fur -would combine well?</p> - -<p>Ursula said she herself didn’t care for fur -and flowers in combination, because she always -associated sables with snowy northern regions, -whereas violets suggested soft spring days and -awakening woods and gardens.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> - -<p>Mrs. Brash, who had never thought of putting -things together in that way before, said how very -poetic it was. Then would Miss Ursula think -that quills would look better? After all, birds -and flowers went together.</p> - -<p>Ursula agreed, and added that she had even -found the neighbours’ fowls scratting up the -white violets one day. Mrs. Brash seemed to -feel that was conclusive proof of the desirability -of the combination. And in that case, should -the quills tilt outwards or inwards? No, she -didn’t mean inside the hat, of course, but across -the top or off the head? . . . Yes, perhaps it -would be the best to tilt them backwards, and -she should fasten them with a large cameo that -had belonged to the late Mr. Brash’s mother -(prolific details as to the grasping character of -Mrs. Brash, senior, who had never given her a -thing except this cameo).</p> - -<p>Finally, she aired her only anxiety—would -the shape of the winter-before-last toque still be -worn this winter? Ursula assured her that the -shapes of the winter-before-last will be worn till -the war is over, and by that time we shall have -become so attached to them that we shall refuse -to part with them.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>After we had collected a fairly comprehensive -pile of clothes—including most we possessed—and -placed it all close beside the bed, jewellery<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> -came under discussion. Naturally no one wanted -to lose even the smallest tiara, and we were all -quite sure the Government wouldn’t include -jewellery in the insurance. So we collected our -trinkets and placed them on top of the garments. -It was astonishing how much we each seemed to -possess, and how careful we were to enumerate -it all. Mrs. Brash enlarged tearfully and at -great length on the diamond necklace her -late husband had given her.</p> - -<p>This opened up a wider question. How -about silver plate? Yes, how about the silver? -each one echoed. Was it likely we were going -to hand over our teapots, shoelifts, candlesticks, -pin-boxes, spoons and forks, hair-brushes, entrée-dishes, -and photo-frames to the enemy? No, -indeed not! So we all lugged our plate-chests -to the bedside; though Miss Thresher said she -should put hers all into a laundry bag and hang -it on the bedpost; it would be easier to carry -that way.</p> - -<p>Then a number of side issues cropped up. -Virginia had just invested in the War Loan; -there was her scrip. Mrs. Brash couldn’t think -of leaving behind the portrait of her great-grand-uncle, -the admiral (always thus referred -to, as though no other had ever existed), whereupon -we all remembered we had ancestral -portraits calling for preservation—after all, it -doesn’t look well if you haven’t!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> - -<p>Miss Quirker decided she would take the -bedspread she had crocheted for their forthcoming -Red Cross bazaar (but didn’t intend to -give it to them now it was finished; it was far -too pretty. Besides, the secretary had only put -her name in small type among “other ladies -helping” below the stallholders, and just think -how she had slaved over that bazaar!).</p> - -<p>Mrs. Ridley said that whatever else went, -she meant at all costs to save the presentation -clock given to her late husband by a very -celebrated patient, whose name she was not at -liberty to state. I’m inclined to think this was -mentioned as a set-off against Mrs. Brash’s -diamond necklace; the late Mr. Brash, though -an admirable husband, did not seem to have -generated anything remarkable in the way of -public esteem, whereas the late Dr. Ridley was -known to be anything but generous.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Ridley had no diamonds; but the clock -was of solid granite, made on the model of a -pyramid. It was surmounted by a coy-looking -sphinx, representing about a quarter of a hundredweight -of bronze metal. Accompanying the -pyramid—one at each end of the mantelpiece—was -a pair of heavy granite obelisks (like -Cleopatra’s Needle, but just a size smaller). It -took both the servants to lift the clock every -time the mantelpiece was dusted, Mrs. Ridley -explained with pride. Besides, the obelisks were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -very useful to hang her knitting bag on, and so -appropriate too, with our brave lads out there -rallying round and defending the poor sphinx -from the Turks. (Virginia whispered in my ear, -it was no wonder the bronze lady looked so -cheerful.)</p> - -<p>So of course these weighty items joined the -jewellery at the bedside.</p> - -<p>Other valuables rapidly suggested themselves; -also more sordid things, such as matches and -candles, a tin of biscuits, and a small stove and -kettle, for use if we had to sit out in the road all -night gazing at a ruined home.</p> - -<p>And of course we placed pails of sand and -buckets of water close at hand, to use if it should -be an incendiary bomb. (I hoped I shouldn’t -hop out of bed straight into the water!)</p> - -<p>Here Ursula reminded me that the pile of sand -placed on the platform of our London station -several months (or was it years?) ago, for Anti-zeptic -treatment, was now sprouting luscious -grass; obviously the lawn-mower and garden-roller -must be added to the bedside museum.</p> - -<p>But I told her afterwards, she had better -keep quiet if she lacks the ability to grasp the -strenuosity of any situation where a group of -conscientious women are conversing on the -subject of “doing something.” As it was, her -remark only incited Miss Quirker to spend a -tedious five minutes in explaining to her how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> -impossible it would be for a single woman, with -only one maid, to get the garden-roller upstairs, -and another ten in giving her recipes for exterminating -grass; while Mrs. Ridley went off at -a tangent on the shortage of gardeners, and the -advantages of paraffin over fish-oil as a lubricant -for mowing-machines.</p> - -<p>I only succeeded in getting her back to the -agenda, by begging her to advise us, as she was -such an authority on paraffin, whether to take -an oil-stove or a spirit-lamp for the outdoor -encampment.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>At length, when any ordinary bedroom must -have been packed quite full, and suggestive of a -furniture depository, Virginia’s voice rose above -the babel—</p> - -<p>“But what I want to know is, how am I ever -going to get into bed?”</p> - -<p>“You may well ask!” said her sister. -“Look at the time! Just you come along home -with me. I’ll show you. Where’s my eiderdown?”</p> - -<p>Miss Thresher besought them to stay a few -minutes longer, merely to decide what to do -when the Zeppelins actually arrived. But Ursula -said they had got all their work cut out to get -through the preparatory stages of the schedule.</p> - -<p>So the Committee adjourned.</p> - -<p>As they went out, a figure came out of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> -kitchen side entrance and made for the coach-house, -carrying a big cardboard box.</p> - -<p>“Is anything the matter, Abigail?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“No’m! I’m only hiding all our best hats in -the stable; I expect they’ll be less likely to find -them there.”</p> - -<p>“But the Zepps aren’t exactly like burglars!” -I said.</p> - -<p>“No, I suppose they’re not,” she replied, -“but when a creature like that Kaiser gets -nosing about among <i>the stars</i>, as well as trying -to rampage all over the earth, there’s no telling -<i>what</i> he’ll be up to next. It’s as well to be -prepared.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>IX<br /> - -<small>Where the Road Led -Over the Hills</small></h2> - - -<p class="unindent"><span class="smcap">Next</span> morning I was a wreck. Virginia and her -sister were the same.</p> - -<p>For a week past I had realised that I was in -the last stage of mental and physical disrepair. -The midnight committee was the final straw.</p> - -<p>As a rule, I stick at work in town till nerves -and brain refuse to hold out another day; then, -flinging my tools down, and leaving both my -office desk and my study table in a hopeless and -bewildering state of piled-up letters, MSS. and -proofs, I just fly—a goodly bale of arrears -following me by next post.</p> - -<p>I had had practically no holiday owing to the -war, and had reached that forlorn and useless -frame of mind when I declared I was far too -busy to take one—a very mistaken notion for -anyone to have, by the way; it is surprising how -well most of us can be done without when we -do at last take a little time off duty!</p> - -<p>However, I had just one faint glimmer of -common sense left me, and that told me to take -the first train going west next morning, which I -did, leaving Paddington (in company with -Virginia and Ursula, who had a holiday due to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> -her from the hospital) in a warm close fog that -might imply a thunderstorm, or an early autumn, -or merely the ordinary airless carbonic-acid gloom -that is a distinguishing feature of London. Some -eminent authority has said that the air in London -hasn’t been changed for over a hundred years, -and I can quite believe it!</p> - -<p>We found the cottage bathed in the glow of -the soft sunshine that is still summer, but that -brings with it the first touch of regret for the -good-bye that is near at hand. There had been -some soaking rains after a dry spell, and everything -in the garden was holding up bright, -refreshed leaves, and glowing flowers, one and all -assuring me that though they had a gasping time -a few weeks before, and had wondered from day -to day if they could manage to hold on till the -evening, things had now taken a glorious turn -for the better; and they were glad they hadn’t -given up, since I was so pleased to see them.</p> - -<p>Several apologised for ragged washed-out -blossoms lower down their stem, but explained -that it was due to the rain, and that they were -sending up new ones to take the place of the -shabby ones as quickly as ever they could.</p> - -<p>The dear things seemed to look at me with -such understanding sympathy; the pansies held -up their bright little faces just like a bevy of -inquiring children; the hollyhocks, I am sure, -turned round to look in my direction; the last<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> -of the sweet peas threw out tender little fingers -to touch my arm as I passed beside their hedge; -the golden rod stretched its neck and tiptoed -lest I should miss it at the back of the border.</p> - -<p>Haven’t you noticed that most flowers seem -to have faces? I don’t mean that you can trace -a direct resemblance to human features in them -as you can in the moon; but there is something -in the flowers that looks at you—something that -looks at you shyly, as the wild rose; or stares -at you boldly, like the marigold; or twinkles at -you gaily, like the cornflower and coreopsis; or -appears slightly inclined to frivolity, like the -larkspur and the ragged robin; or takes life with -solid seriousness, like the Canterbury bell; or -gives you the innocent look of a baby, like the -primrose; or beams at you with large-hearted -maternal kindness, like a big gloire de Dijon.</p> - -<p>Most flowers, you will find, give you a look -with some definite characteristic—at least, so it -seems to me. Probably that is one reason why -they are so comforting and companionable.</p> - -<p>And I was wanting something comforting -and companionable that day. I had overworked -and generally neglected the rules of common -sense, till I had got to that dismal pitch that -simply asks of blank space, “What’s the good -of anything?”</p> - -<p>Then more questions began to worry me.</p> - -<p>What had Christianity accomplished, seeing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> -the way the Sermon on the Mount was being -trampled under foot by the instigators of this -war? After all, wasn’t might going to win, in -spite of all one believed of the supremacy of -right? Wasn’t the devil having things all his -own way now? What were Christians doing? -Had religion lost its power? What were the -churches doing? Was <i>anybody</i> doing <i>anything</i> -worth whiles?</p> - -<p>Those who have let themselves run down -physically, and have neglected to take proper -meals, and have turned night into day, and have -tried systematically to cram a fortnight’s work -into every week, know exactly where one finds -oneself at the end of a few months.</p> - -<p>And it is only the very exceptional people -who do not find their spiritual condition about -as jaded as their nerves after a course of this sort -of thing. We get to feel that we are ploughing -a very lone furrow, and it is only a step further -to the state of mind that says it isn’t worth -ploughing at all.</p> - -<p>Personal experience has taught me that there -is only one cure for me when I get to this state -of nervous wreckage; and that is to get away -to the solitudes; to listen among the great -silences of the hills for the still small Voice -that has never failed those who wait for its -Message.</p> - -<p>God’s methods of restoring weary humanity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> -are many and various. Sometimes He sees that -first and foremost, like Elijah, His tired children -need rest and food. And just as one of the -greatest terrors that can befall the worn-out -worker in a city is insomnia, so one of the -greatest boons that Nature in her quietudes -bestows is the ability to drop off into peaceful, -brain-mending oblivion.</p> - -<p>So He giveth His beloved sleep.</p> - -<p>Or it may be that He sees His children need -to be drawn away from the world for a while, in -order to talk face to face with Him. Sometimes -we have to be brought to a state of great weakness -before we will listen to His plea: “Come ye -yourselves apart and rest awhile.” We do not -always heed it when we are well and strong. -In the enforced quiet we can find time to turn -to Him.</p> - -<p>And a sojourn with our Lord in the desert -has meant for many the feeding of five thousand -on the morrow.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>When I am badly in the depths, I know of -no surer way to restore my mind than a long -walk across the hills. Some people need human -companionship; but, personally, I can do very -well by myself under such circumstances (always -provided that I don’t meet a cow likewise on a -walking tour). I can pull myself together more -quickly if I don’t have to spend time and energy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> -striving to be amiable and politely attentive to -someone.</p> - -<p>I have often started out on a Sunday morning, -and walked on till I came upon some unknown -church that served as a useful end to my -pilgrimage. On one occasion I remember discovering -a small chapel hidden away among a -few homesteads in a pretty valley I unexpectedly -tumbled into. They were starting the first hymn -as I entered. There were nine of us all told, -including the preacher, the two ladies who raised -two different tunes simultaneously, and the -rugged-faced deacon or elder, who brought me a -hymnbook and, later, took the collection.</p> - -<p>The singing was not a marked success at first, -owing partly to the divided opinion of the congregation -as to which tune they were really -singing; moreover, my entrance had momentarily -diverted attention and seemed to make all concerned -a trifle nervous. But at length the -preacher himself started a third tune that we -all knew and were able to join in; and a very -sincere and devout service followed.</p> - -<p>I gathered from information impressed upon -us in the course of the sermon (probably for -my special benefit, as the handful of cottagers -assembled would assuredly know) that there was -to be a special collection that day on behalf of -some chapel fund.</p> - -<p>When I told this to Ursula, who didn’t then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -know so much about our hill-people as she does -now, she said, “Ah! I suppose that was why -only nine came!”</p> - -<p>But, in reality, nine was not at all a poor -congregation for a tiny hamlet like this on a -Sunday morning. The mothers are mostly at -home getting dinner; the fathers are seeing to -the stock, and don’t reckon to get themselves -“cleaned up” till the afternoon. But in the -evening—then the little building would be -packed to the door.</p> - -<p>In his final prayer the minister prayed so -earnestly that we might all be induced to give -with the greatest liberality, that I felt exceedingly -sorry I had only put a half-crown into my -glove when I started out, leaving my purse at -home.</p> - -<p>The rugged elder looked studiously in the -opposite direction while I slipped the coin on to -the plate; somehow I hoped he wouldn’t be -too disappointed when he discovered that the -respectable-looking stranger had not given more -handsomely after the pleading of the preacher. -But it was all I had.</p> - -<p>After the service I lingered a moment to read -a quaint old tombstone in the church precincts. -The rest of the worshippers likewise lingered—respectful -but curious—in the road outside the -gate. The preacher had shaken hands with me -at the door; my rugged friend had been immersed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> -in the duties of his office as steward, treasurer, -and church secretary combined. But now he -came out of the door, looked anxiously about, -and seeing me still there, made straight for me. -I concluded that he, too, was going to shake -hands, and possibly inquire if I was staying in -the neighbourhood. But what he actually said -was this—</p> - -<p>“Excuse me, ma’am, but do you happen to -know what you put into the plate?”</p> - -<p>“A half-crown,” I faltered, wondering whether -by any remote chance it was a bad one.</p> - -<p>He nodded his head, and, opening his work-hardened -hand, displayed the morning’s collection—seven -pennies, three halfpennies, and my half-crown -on top.</p> - -<p>“That’s right,” he nodded. And then, -lowering his voice, presumably to save my -feelings, he added, “But if ’twas a mistake, and -you didn’t mean to put in all that, <i>you can have -it back</i>.”</p> - -<p>Do you know, it made a lump come in my -throat.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I told Ursula about it at dinner, remarking -that it looked as though they hadn’t much faith -even though they had specially prayed for -generous giving.</p> - -<p>Ursula said that in <i>her</i> opinion it looked as -though it was high time I presented to the ragbag<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> -the hat I had worn that morning, since it -had been for months past a dejected object of -pity, though with her usual delicacy of feeling -she had, up to the present, refrained from telling -me so in plain English. But now, in all kindness -such as only a dear friend can show, she had -no hesitation in saying that she wasn’t at all -surprised that they mistook me for an old age -pensioner on the verge of bankruptcy.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>But I’ve been wandering again. To return -to that September day when I reached the -cottage as weary of life and as downhearted -about everything as any mortal could well be. -The whole world seemed out of joint. Yet in -my innermost soul I knew that religion was really -all right, and that it was I who had gone wrong. -But I refused to look at that aspect of it.</p> - -<p>Next day I determined to give it all up, and -just meditated on my own funeral. I tried to -reckon up how many people I could really rely on -to send wreaths; it didn’t make me feel any the -less pessimistic when I decided there were only -four who could be counted upon as certainties, -and they included Virginia and Ursula!</p> - -<p>And even one of these failed me; for when -I mentioned the matter to the girls, they -said: Surely I didn’t imagine they were going to -be so wasteful as to send <i>two</i> wreaths, when one -would do quite as well if both their names<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> -appeared on the card attached? But they did -offer to make it a wreath of painted-white-tin -flowers, under a glass shade (regardless of -expense), if I preferred, suggesting that I might -get longer pleasure out of a wreath of this kind.</p> - -<p>Getting no more consolation from them than -this, I said I would go for a walk. Virginia and -Ursula anticipated my wishes and declined to -accompany me. They had urgent work on hand -that was far too important to postpone for a -mere walk. It was the planting of onion seed.</p> - -<p>The week before we had read in the papers -how imperative it was that everybody should -plant food crops in any available scrap of ground -they might possess, to help keep starvation at -bay.</p> - -<p>We read the article eagerly.</p> - -<p>I had several acres of land doing nothing in -particular at the moment, that I was only too -glad to use for a special crop of eatables against -the time of national famine. Without finishing -the article, we had started to discuss what would -be best to lay down, taking into account the -idiosyncrasies of our digestions.</p> - -<p>“Green peas in the small field adjoining the -orchard,” Ursula had decided for me; and then -she proceeded: “Broad beans in half of the -upper garden; scarlet runners at the back of the -strawberry beds and along by the south wall; -the potato garden can now have carrots, parsnips,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> -turnips and beets; the west garden must have -pickled cabbage (I mean the cabbage before it is -pickled), shallots, spring onions and pickling -onions, chives——”</p> - -<p>“What <i>are</i> ‘chives’?” interrupted Virginia.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know, but I’ve read the name somewhere. -Don’t interrupt me.”</p> - -<p>“And fennel—that will come in handy for -fish—and leeks. In that piece of waste ground -beyond the barn I think we ought to plant -asparagus, because, after all, there is no need to -dispense with luxuries if you can grow them for -nothing, is there?</p> - -<p>“And how would it be to plant maize all down -that bed where you had the Shirley poppies? -I should think the same aspect would suit the -two, and some green corn would be very nice. -I suppose, if you plant it now, it will be about -right in January or February, wouldn’t it? Or -you could sell it. It’s twopence halfpenny or -threepence a cob at the Stores. So if you had, -say, fifty plants, and if each produced—how -many <i>do</i> they produce on a plant? . . . Oh, well, -if you don’t know, let’s be on the safe side and -say one each—that would be a clear profit of—well, -at threepence each—let’s see, fifty pence is -four and twopence, and three times would be—twelve -and sixpence—say twelve shillings, allowing -sixpence for seed. So that would be well -worth trying, in case the moratorium never ends.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> -Then there would have to be cabbages and -suchlike. How about digging up the orchard, -and——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” said Virginia scornfully (she had -picked up the paper and read to the end of the -aforementioned article, which had proved very -enlightening). “And I suppose you expect it -all to grow under a couple of feet of snow. Let -me tell you that it is now too late to plant -anything but onions! He, she, or it, who wrote -this article, says so.”</p> - -<p>I myself had been going to tell her, when I -could get a word in, that it was too late for most -of the things she had named.</p> - -<p>But Ursula, who had never done any vegetable -gardening, was still sceptical. That was why I -suggested that we should consult the obliging -manager at Carter’s, in Queen Victoria Street, -as we often did over our gardening woes.</p> - -<p>Just ahead of us in the shop, when we got -there, was an elderly gentleman who wanted -some grass seed; he asked if they would tell him -how to start a lawn next spring.</p> - -<p>It was in the middle of the day—a very busy -time for a shop of this kind, when city men are -on their way to or from lunch, and seize a few -extra minutes to buy their seeds. The shop was -full—it looked as though every scrap of land -within the twelve-mile radius was going to be -put under cultivation—and the assistants had all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> -their work to serve everyone as quickly as they -wanted to be served.</p> - -<p>The Elderly Gentleman was apparently the -only one who was not in a hurry; so he asked -the most minute questions, and the manager -gave him copious directions, from preparing the -ground at the start, right up to marking it off -for tennis, when it was in its prime (though, -judging by the small packet of seed the E. G. -had bought, the lawn would never support a -tennis-net).</p> - -<p>Then by the time the shop was quite packed, -and when everything that was possible appeared -to have been said about planting and maintaining -a lawn—including keeping it free from moss, the -best way to trim the edges, the law with regard -to trespassing fowls, and the careful tying of -black cotton over the newly-planted seeds to -keep off the birds—the E. G. asked what -he should do when daisies came up? The -manager said patiently that his firm’s grass seeds -didn’t produce daisies; but as the E. G. seemed -to worry about daisies, he was told how to get -rid of daisies.</p> - -<p>At last he really went, reluctantly, I admit; -but the other customers—who had all become so -engrossed in his lawn that they couldn’t remember -what they had come in to buy for themselves—heaved -a sigh of relief.</p> - -<p>Slowly he made his way to the middle of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> -wide crossing just in front of the shop. You -knew by his hesitating walk that there was -another question he had meant to ask, but he -couldn’t recall it for the moment.</p> - -<p>Yes! He suddenly turned round briskly (and -nearly ended the lawn under a taxi), the shop-door -opened again, and an anxious voice inquired, -“What ought I to do if the birds get at the -seeds in spite of the black cotton and the bits of -white rag tied to them?”</p> - -<p>The manager passed his hand across what -looked like an aching brow, and further braced -himself to do his duty; but a gentleman customer -came to the rescue by replying, “It is usual, in -such a case, sir, to buy another packet of grass -seed, and start all over again on exactly the same -lines as before, only you plant an extra reel of -black cotton this time.”</p> - -<p>After this we were able to inquire of the -manager what crops he would advise us to plant -as our contribution to the nation’s larder, to say -nothing of our own.</p> - -<p>“Onions,” he said, so promptly that one -would have thought others had asked the same -question. And then added—“Giant Rocca.”</p> - -<p>I am not sure how many pounds of seed -Ursula immediately ordered; she proposed to -make it a present to me, and naturally wished to -be generous. Virginia says she believes she -heard her say a half-a-hundredweight. Anyhow,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> -the obliging manager asked, with a slight cough, -how large a portion of ground we were intending -to cultivate, as half an ounce would be sufficient -for—I forget how many acres! So she reduced -her order to half a pound. She said she didn’t -want us to run short. (I don’t fancy we shall, -either!) Besides, she rather liked the name -“Giant Rocca.” It suggested something large -and strengthening wherewith to combat the foe.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>We hadn’t a moment’s rest after we arrived -at the cottage until the onion seed was well -underground. Ursula decided that it would be -really a blessing if I <i>would</i> go out—she could -then plant in peace.</p> - -<p>The handy man being unable to “oblige” me -by doing a little work just then, she had decided -to plant the seeds herself.</p> - -<p>At first she had made long troughs in which -to place the seed, sprinkling it very finely with -thumb and finger; but after half an hour of this -spine-breaking work she straightened her back -with difficulty, and decided that to “sow broadcast” -was more in accordance with Nature herself, -to say nothing of Biblical teaching. Hence we -had it broadcast.</p> - -<p>Here I may say that we eventually had -Giant Roccas sown the length and breadth of -the vegetable garden, in between the rows of -spring greens, as well as in open spaces; also<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> -they are sending up their spears between rows of -snapdragons; round standard rose-trees; in the -beds usually devoted to Darwin tulips; down -the narrow bed that has Persian irises in the -centre and double daisies at the edge; in the -rough bed of foxgloves at the back of the pigsty, -along the edge of the borders where sweet -alyssum bloomed in the summer; under the -damson tree where the ground is bare; along by -the south wall, where the sweet pea remains -were pulled up to make room for them; among -the raspberry canes; all over the potato-patch; -along with the carnation cuttings in the cold -frame; in little dibbles among the strawberry -plants; and I even found a few pots, each with -a bit of glass over the top, placed in the sunny -scullery window, which also proved to be “Giant -Roccas,” in case we should run short indoors.</p> - -<p>When all these Roccas have attained to their -gigantic proportions, I fancy we shall be able to -scent that garden a mile or two away!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Still, the onions were only being planted the -day I set out for a walk, wandering just where -the road might chance to lead me. But you -have to take yourself with you, if you go for a -walk, and it is some time before you can get -away from yourself—if you can make out what -I mean by this.</p> - -<p>I merely walked on and on, looking at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> -blackbirds gobbling down the red mountain ash -berries, till one gasped at their stowing-away -capacity; at the swallows practising their long -sweeping flights preparatory to leaving us; at -the ferns growing out of the shady side of the -walls; at a great patch of rich purple in the -corner of a field—that turned out to be a widespread -tangle of flowering vetch; at the beautiful -colour effect of massed heliotrope Michaelmas -daisies against the grey-green background of a -mossy fern-decked old stone wall; at the harebells -swinging in the wind; at the late foxgloves, -still poking beautiful spikes of colour through -the hedges; at the blackberries trailing over -everything; at the butterflies still flitting about, -or resting motionless with outspread wings where -they found a warm sunny stone, or gorging themselves -to repletion on some over-ripe pears that -had fallen by the roadside. There were several -lovely creatures with blue-black wings marked -with red, white and a little blue, who, like the -wasps, were actually intoxicated with pear juice!</p> - -<p>A fox slunk across the road right in front -of me, and plunged into a wood; probably having -the time of his life just now, with most of -the hunt somewhere in France.</p> - -<p>The springs were coming to life again, after -the heavy rain, and water burbled along at the -side of the lane, or tumbled out from the rocks -at the roadside in tiny waterfalls.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> - -<p>The orchard trees were flecked all over with -gold, or pale yellow, or bright crimson—surely -we never had a more abundant apple year than -this one.</p> - -<p>It was such a wonderful afternoon: I was -bound to go on wandering.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>At last I came to the end of the lanes and -found myself on an open hilltop. As the fresh -bracing air met me full in the face, I began to -feel hungry. I looked at my watch: it was five -o’clock. I looked at the landscape, and realised -that, though I didn’t know where I was, I was -certainly miles away from any tea.</p> - -<p>I paused and considered: Should I carefully -retrace my steps? That always seems a poor-spirited -way of getting home again, even though -you are lost! On all sides stretched an expanse -of hilly country, grey lichen-covered boulders, -yellow-flowered gorse, wiry mauve and purple -heather, and a wealth of green, and bronze, and -golden tinted bracken, with occasional woods -and larch plantations. There was a general hum -of bees and insects in the air, and a pheasant -rose from the ground close to me and flew with -a <i>whirr</i> into a little coppice near by.</p> - -<p>A sign-board was lying on the ground by the -gate leading into the coppice. It was the worse -for wind and weather, but one could still read -the alarming warning, “Trespassers will be prosecuted!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> -Who would trespass, and who would -prosecute, on that wild bit of moorland, I wonder? -The only being in sight was a rabbit, sitting -motionless close beside the prostrate notice and -studying me silently with the air of a special -constable! Yet even he went off and left me -quite alone.</p> - -<p>At that moment I caught sight of a chimney -over the spur of the hill. I felt convinced it -must be attached to a fireplace, and surely there -would be a kettle on that fire. I made a bee-line -for the place.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>To the eye of the town-dweller, hill and -moorland distances are apt to be deceptive; the -house proved to be much farther off than I had -at first imagined. But this gave added zest to -expedition; I determined to reach it though I -only arrived in time to put up there for the night. -A nearer view showed the cottage to be the -fag-end of a small hamlet lying snugly in the -protecting hollow of the hills.</p> - -<p>When I actually entered the village, there -were so many pretty dwellings, and they all -looked equally inviting, that I was undecided -where to open an attack. However, I settled -on one that had a couple of hollyhocks, some late -pinks, and a black-currant bush growing out of -the top of the garden wall, while a free-and-easy -grape-vine, a tall monthly rose, and some clematis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> -waved arms of welcome to me from the front of -the cottage.</p> - -<p>Just as I approached the gate, a pleasant-faced -woman came out of the door and walked down -the garden path between the French marigolds -that edged the flower-beds. She was the only -sign of life in the place (apart from a few belated -hens, who, being averse to early rising, I suppose, -had determined to take time by the forelock, and -were catching the historic early worm overnight).</p> - -<p>I felt that the good lady’s appearance was a -distinct indication that Fate had decided I must -have my tea there. Nevertheless, there were -signs that she was bound on some important -errand; instead of the ordinary sun-bonnet or -battered hat that is the usual weekday headgear -among our hills, she had donned a carefully-brushed -though somewhat rusty black bonnet, -and a black beaded mantle of unquestionable -antiquity, both worn with the air of her Sunday -best.</p> - -<p>“Good evening,” I began. “I’m sorry to -trouble you, but I wonder if you can tell me -where——”</p> - -<p>“Th’ chapel?” replied the woman before I -could finish my sentence. “Why, of course you -can’t find ’un. But you jes’ come ’long wi’ me. -I’m going there meself, an’ though we’m a bit late, -it don’t matter; my man’ll be keeping a seat -fur me, and ther’ll be room, sure ’nough, for ’ee<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> -to squeeze in too. I do al’ays tell ’un our chapel -didn’t oughter belong where ’tis. No place o’ -worship was ever more hid out o’ road than ourn. -Yet my man do say ’tis clear ’nough to see ’un if -you’m comin’ ’long the <i>lower</i> road; for there ’tis -all to once. But as I say to him, the folk don’t -all a-come down ’long the lower road; an’ if you -come <i>up</i> ’long, why, there’s no chapel to be seen, -and then where’m you to? What I do say is, -the way o’ salvation oughter be so plain that th’ -wayfarin’ man, though a <i>fool</i>, can’t lose un. An’ -now here be you to prove me very words!”</p> - -<p>The good soul was all this time trotting -energetically along what I concluded could not -be the lower road, since no chapel was in view. -I just followed, wondering what would happen -next! Meanwhile my companion talked, with -scarcely comma-pause for breath.</p> - -<p>“But I’m glad I happen to be late, or you -might ha’ been wanderin’ around till you’re all -mizzy-mazed. Soon as I saw you comin’ up -’long, I said to father—I was jes’ settlin’ ’im -comfor’ble for th’ night—‘Father,’ I said, ‘here’s -a lady a-lookin’ fur the chapel, sure ’nough. I -shuden wonder a bit but what she’s come to -speak at th’ meeting. Like as not she’s a friend -of the minister, an’ ’pears she’s lost.’ I suppose -you belong to London, ma’am?” This with a -glance all over me to make sure there was no -local hall-mark.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p> - -<p>“My home is in London,” I replied, “but -just at present I’m staying at Woodacres.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve walked all the way from Woodacres?” -she exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“Yes; and I’m terribly hungry,” I said, -hurriedly seizing my chance.</p> - -<p>At this the kind hospitable soul was most -concerned, and insisted on our turning into a -relative’s house which we were passing at the -moment. The door stood open, though the -place seemed to be deserted.</p> - -<p>“Myra,” she called out. A girl came downstairs -with some pocket-handkerchiefs in her -hand which she appeared to be marking in red. -There was a hurried whisper in a back room, -and quickly she brought in a glass of milk and -some bread and butter—for which I was truly -thankful.</p> - -<p>“The lady do look wisht,” my companion -explained to the girl. “She’s walked from -Woodacres to hear the minister from London. -She lost her way, and so didn’t get in time for -the tea-meeting.”</p> - -<p>I was interested in this item of information -about myself, but decided to let the unexpected -situation develop as it pleased.</p> - -<p>We were soon walking along the road again, -my companion talking the whole time. Myra -was her niece, going to Bristol next week to -start in a draper’s shop. “She says ’tisn’t stylish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> -nowadays to let folks think as you does your -washing yourself, so she’s making sort o’ red -oughts and crosses in the corner, that the other -girls ’ll think as the washin’ was put out. <i>Put -out</i>, indeed!”—with utter scorn of voice—“‘Isn’t -it all <i>put out?</i>’ I asks her. How could they dry -’un else? I’ve no patience with such fangels—<i>that</i> -I haven’t! And isn’t this war dreadful? -I see in the paper I was a-readin’ to father -that that Kayser do call it a righteous war. <i>A -righteous war</i>—when he don’t even leave off -a-fighting of a Sunday!”</p> - -<p>Just then we turned a corner, and the -maligned chapel certainly burst into view “all -to once.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The first thing to attract attention, as we -neared the modest building, was a large board -above the front entrance, displaying the words -“Revival Meetings” in bold white letters pasted -on a red turkey twill background.</p> - -<p>A hymn was progressing when we entered; -a seat had been reserved for the cottager by her -husband, and had been left in charge of his hat -(turned upside down and holding a red pocket-handkerchief -covered with large white spots), -while he himself distributed hymn books with -backs all suffering from spinal complaint in a -more or less acute form.</p> - -<p>By dint of energetic compression on the part<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> -of the good-natured occupants of the pew, room -was made for me as well as for my companion, -the owner of the hat electing to stand in the -aisle, as became a pillar of the church; the conspicuous -crease adorning each trouser-leg and -the back of his black coat proclaimed them his -best clothes, and gave additional evidence that -the meeting was of more than ordinary weekday -importance.</p> - -<p>The place was packed to its utmost capacity. -I decided that I had never in my whole life heard -a harmonium more asthmatically out of tune -and at the same time I wished that the lamps -(which were economically turned down, daylight -being still visible) could only be raised, since the -odour of paraffin was not a refreshing ingredient -to add to the air of the already close room. -For on our hills, as in other places where fresh -air is most abundant, ventilation is the least -among the virtues practised by the natives.</p> - -<p>The congregation took some slight adjustment -before all managed to wedge themselves -into the seats after the hymn. The general -shuffle and scuffle having subsided, a man on the -platform addressed the assembly.</p> - -<p>“I am sorry to say our brother has not yet -arrived.”</p> - -<p>The glow of expectancy on the faces of the -people suddenly vanished.</p> - -<p>“We think he has made a mistake over the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -time of commencement; possibly he imagines it -is seven instead of six o’clock; but he is certainly -coming, or he would have telegraphed——”</p> - -<p>The disappointed ones looked hopeful again.</p> - -<p>“Two friends have driven off to meet him”—many -heads craned round in the direction of -the door, though the honoured pair were now a -couple of miles away—“and they will doubtless -bring him along as quickly as possible. I think -we may safely rely on him being here in about -half an hour.” All eyes now scanned the face -of the clock. “In the meanwhile, we will hold -a short Testimony meeting; and perhaps Brother -Wilson will first of all lead us in prayer.”</p> - -<p>The man with the hymn-books, standing in -the aisle, responded. Without a moment’s halt -or hesitation he poured forth a torrent of mingled -appeal, confession, praise and request. He -touched on their week of services, on themselves -as a church, on the village and (according to his -view) its state of spiritual darkness; then he -went further afield and dealt with the whole of -England, the sailors on our warships, and the -soldiers on the battlefields. This thought led -him to mention the Colonies, the missionaries -labouring in foreign lands; and then he prayed -for the heathen who lived so far away that no -missionary had yet reached them. He concluded -with a plea for all backsliders and a pæan of -gratitude for those who were saved.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> - -<p>The congregation followed the long prayer -intently, punctuating every remark with “Amen,” -and many other expressions of assent, uttered -devoutly though fervently.</p> - -<p>Then the one who presided asked all who -had received a blessing that week to testify to -the others of the great things that had befallen -them. He sat down. After a pause of but half -a minute, a woman rose, saying in a quiet voice—</p> - -<p>“I feel I ought to take the earliest opportunity -of telling how good God has been to me. I came -to these meetings as hopeless as any human -being could very well be; but God has lifted the -load from my soul; and now, although I cannot -see any light ahead, He has shown me He is -near, and I am content to walk by faith. And -I know the light will come soon.”</p> - -<p>She sat down, and the only sound that broke -the stillness was the voice of the chairman—</p> - -<p>“Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also -in Him; and He shall bring it to pass.”</p> - -<p>A decrepit old man next hobbled to his feet. -His voice was feeble; but the peaceful look on -his wrinkled face, and the light that shone in his -eyes, carried wonderful conviction with them. -He was somewhat diffuse, but dwelt on all the -goodness that had fallen to his lot through life, -and his eager anticipation of the call that should -summon him Home.</p> - -<p>When once the ice was broken, the people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> -followed one another as fast as they could. An -elderly woman sitting next to me rose to her -feet, steadying herself by holding on to the pew -in front with her work-worn hands, for she was -trembling. She spoke in a hesitating manner; -yet what she said had infinite pathos in it. -Would they remember in their prayers the lads -who were fighting so far away, some out of -reach of any services like these, that they might -not forget the God of their father and mother, -and that they might be brought back safely to -the old home again.</p> - -<p>And the poor woman, who was evidently -much overwrought, just sat down and hid her -face in her handkerchief. I couldn’t help putting -my hand over hers in sympathy.</p> - -<p>There were many other bowed heads in the -meeting by then—old, careworn women as well -as younger ones, old men in plenty, but so few -young fellows.</p> - -<p>“Let us pray,” said the chairman. All eyes -were closed. There was a slight pause, and then -another voice full of wonderful restfulness sent -up a prayer to the Great Comforter on behalf of -all the mothers and fathers present, who night -and day were longing for their sons’ return, and -for the wives who with aching hearts were -hungering for news of the absent loved ones. -The prayer was very simple and unconventional, -just the asking of a boon from a Friend. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> -the speaker understood the heartbreaks that were -in those suppressed sobs, and his words brought -comfort to many a lonely one that night.</p> - -<p>When he ceased, the lamps were all raised, -and there on the rostrum was one of the greatest—if -not <i>the</i> greatest—of the preachers of our -times.</p> - -<p>“The minister from London” had arrived.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I was amazed when I saw him there—a man -who preached every Sunday to congregations -numbering several thousands; whose name was -the most powerful attraction that could be found -for a May meeting poster or a Convention programme; -a theologian whose lectures and -writings were followed with the closest attention -by hundreds of students.</p> - -<p>As he stood up in that small village chapel, -the first thought that came into my mind was -something like this: What a waste to have such -a big man at a small meeting like this when he -could easily fill Albert Hall; and in any case he -will probably be right above their heads; he is -far too scholarly for these simple-minded uneducated -people. He will be quite lost on them.</p> - -<p>What I forgot was the fact that after all it is -the Message that counts in such a case.</p> - -<p>The famous preacher had a Message for -humanity; and he was great enough to be able -to deliver it in a way that would be understood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> -by anyone, rich or poor, educated or illiterate. -And he was wise enough to know that he might -be doing a big work in speaking to that handful -of people in that remote corner of England, -seeing that a chance visit had brought him into -the vicinity; therefore, when they had asked him -if he would speak at the revival meetings they -were holding, he had consented at once; and I -was not the only one who had reason to be -grateful to God for the preacher’s words that -night; mine was not the only heavy heart that -had come into the little chapel badly in need of -an uplift; I was not the only one who felt -almost alone in a losing cause, with all the old-time -beliefs tottering.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He read from Revelation vii. in the Revised -Version:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>After these things I saw, and behold, a great multitude, -which no man could number, out of every nation, and of all -tribes and peoples and tongues, standing before the throne -and before the Lamb, arrayed in white robes, and palms in -their hands; and they cry with a great voice, saying, -Salvation unto our God which sitteth on the throne, and -unto the Lamb. . . .</p> - -<p>And one of the elders answered, saying unto me, These -which are arrayed in the white robes, who are they, and -whence came they? And I say unto him, My lord, thou -knowest. And he said to me, These are they which come -out of the great tribulation, and they washed their robes, and -made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore are -they before the throne of God; and they serve Him day and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> -night in His temple: and He that sitteth on the throne shall -spread His tabernacle over them. They shall hunger no -more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun strike -upon them, nor any heat: for the Lamb which is in the -midst of the throne shall be their Shepherd, and shall guide -them unto fountains of waters of life: and God shall wipe -away every tear from their eyes.</p></div> - -<p>There was a moment’s silence as he closed -his Bible. And then he began to talk to the -little crowd before him—not about the war, but -about much that the war is bringing, trouble, -sorrow, suffering, anxiety—great tribulation -indeed.</p> - -<p>I am not going to make any attempt to give -you his sermon: merely to take isolated sentences -from a man’s address, and set them down -in cold print, deprived of the added strength and -meaning that voice and tone and emphasis and -context convey, is usually most unsatisfactory.</p> - -<p>But I wish you could have been there and -seen the tense eager look on every face, as he -took us quickly and concisely over the great -crises that have befallen humanity in bygone -ages, when it has seemed again and again as -though Christianity has been dealt a staggering -blow—and yet in every case the result has been -the ultimate triumph of God, and the building -up of His people.</p> - -<p>He reminded us how the darkest day in -the world’s history, when our Lord’s death<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> -seemed to end all hope, all promise of His -Kingdom, was in reality the day of the greatest -victory.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>But I cannot give even a summary of his -address; I can only tell you of the effect it had -upon me, and I think there were many others -to whom Light came in a strangely vivid manner -that evening.</p> - -<p>It seemed as though I was suddenly taken -right out of my own small petty troubles, and -shown a bigger view of the world than I had -ever seen in my widest imaginings before. -Things that had been perplexing, bewildering -before, seemed to fit in quite naturally into a -huge plan that was making for the ultimate -good of humanity. But more than all this, there -suddenly came that enheartening sense of being -no longer a unit, no longer one of a small company -fighting against overwhelming odds; I was -now one of a huge army that had been marching -on through all time, an army that will still be -adding and adding to its numbers, so long as the -world shall last.</p> - -<p>I seemed to hear the trampling of the feet, the -great surge of the voices as they sang the old yet -ever new anthem—</p> - -<p>“Salvation unto our God which sitteth on -the throne, and unto the Lamb. Blessing, and -glory, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, and honour,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> -and power, and might, be unto our God for ever -and ever.”</p> - -<p>Here was no room for doubt; no question as -to ultimate results; no misgivings; no apprehensions. -The final victory did not rest with -me; but I was privileged to take part in it if I -was willing to endure any hardships or tribulation -that might happen by the way. And even these -seemed so slight, not to be mentioned beside the -joy of the great triumph that was surely ahead.</p> - -<p>The Vision comes to us all differently, at -different times, in a different manner; but -assuredly I had a glimpse then of the things that -are outside our everyday ken. I knew for an -absolute certainty that I was one of the greatest -army that can ever be mustered; I knew for an -absolute certainty that God is leading this army, -and that with Him there is no possibility of -failure, and that finally He will permit evil to be -banished and Good will prevail. I realised that -any afflictions we are called upon to bear here are -but for a moment. Nothing can hinder the -progress of the great multitude that no man can -number—Christ’s followers through all the ages. -In spite of all the tribulation—<i>because</i> of the -tribulation—they reach His throne at last, and -worship Him, while He wipes away the tears -that may have gathered by the way.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>My thoughts had journeyed far away from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> -the little chapel and its earnest worshippers. I -was recalled by the preacher’s voice reciting his -closing sentence—</p> - -<p>“And I saw, and I heard a voice of many -angels round the throne . . . and the number -of them was ten thousand times ten thousand, -and thousands of thousands; saying, with a -great voice, Worthy is the Lamb that hath -been slain to receive power, and riches, and -wisdom, and might, and honour, and glory, and -blessing.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>We stood up to sing the concluding hymn—one -that has for long been a great favourite of -mine—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Coming, coming, yes, they are,</div> -<div class="verse">Coming, coming, from afar;</div> -<div class="verse">From the wild and scorching desert,</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Afric’s sons of colour deep;</span></div> -<div class="verse">Jesu’s love has drawn and won them,</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">At the cross they bow and weep.</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Coming, coming, yes, they are,</div> -<div class="verse">Coming, coming, from afar;</div> -<div class="verse">From the Indies and the Ganges</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Steady flows the living stream</span></div> -<div class="verse">To love’s ocean, to His bosom,</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Calvary their wond’ring theme.</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Coming, coming, yes, they are,</div> -<div class="verse">Coming, coming, from afar;</div> -<div class="verse">From the Steppes of Russia dreary,</div> -<div class="verse"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">From Slavonia’s scatter’d lands,</span></div> -<div class="verse">They are yielding soul and spirit</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Into Jesu’s loving hands.</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Coming, coming, yes, they are,</div> -<div class="verse">Coming, coming, from afar;</div> -<div class="verse">From the frozen realms of midnight,</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Over many a weary mile,</span></div> -<div class="verse">To exchange their soul’s long winter</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">For the summer of His smile.</span></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Coming, coming, yes, they are,</div> -<div class="verse">Coming, coming, from afar:</div> -<div class="verse">All to meet in plains of glory,</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">All to sing His praises sweet:</span></div> -<div class="verse">What a chorus, what a meeting,</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">With the family complete!</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>And how that hymn was sung! It all seemed -part of the music of the Great Army. No longer -we thought primarily of the troops rallying to -the call of the Mother Country and coming from -the far ends of the world to fight in earthly -warfare; our souls saw farther than this—a -multitude out of every nation of all tribes and -peoples and tongues, ten thousand times ten -thousand, and thousands of thousands, all marching -under the banner of the Lord Jehovah.</p> - -<p>I had received the answer to the questions I -had been asking earlier in the day: “What had -Christianity accomplished?” It had accomplished -<i>this:</i> It had enlisted this mighty stream -of humanity. We in that humble little chapel -were merely a small handful, but we belonged to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> -that Great Army; we had only to march on, -trusting and worshipping God.</p> - -<p>Was it possible that I had been picturing -myself one of a small force struggling for Right -that was in danger of being overmastered by -Might! Now, I saw ten thousand times ten -thousand, and thousands of thousands, on ahead -of me, and could even hear the tramp and the -singing of the tens of thousands that would -follow on after me.</p> - -<p>Oh, it was wonderful to feel oneself in such a -mighty company!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>At the close, while I was exchanging greetings -with the preacher, my friend who had -brought me to the chapel busied herself in -finding someone who would be driving home in -my direction—the meeting had been attended -by people from many miles round. She discovered -that a farmer and his wife were driving -within a quarter of a mile of my cottage, and I -was placed in their trap, carefully wrapped up in -a warm Paisley shawl that had been produced -from somewhere, the night being described as -“a bit freshish, after all the dryth we’ve had.”</p> - -<p>We didn’t talk much on the homeward -journey. My companions were thinking some -deep thoughts, I was certain, from the few -remarks they let drop. But we English do not -easily betray our hearts in public. Hence the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> -farthest the farmer’s wife got was the remark, -“I’d dearly like to hear he again.” To which -her husband replied, “Ay! for sure.”</p> - -<p>They told me the meetings had been much -blessed, but this one was the best of all. Oh, -yes, quite different from the others. No, the -usual congregation was not as large as this, only -about forty; the village was small. But people -had come from all over the hills this week; -to-day twenty had walked in from Brownbrook—that -was seven miles each way.</p> - -<p>They went on without any connecting link -to say they felt sure the English would win. -There was no doubt in their minds about this, -one could see; and then the reason was clear. -“Our Tom’s there,” the woman explained to me, -as though I of course knew “Our Tom,” and his -presence at the front settled the matter.</p> - -<p>And I thought of the many fathers and -mothers who were looking away across the -Straits, with just that pride and faith because -“Our Tom” is helping his country.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>At last we came to the little lane that turned -off from the turnpike-road, and led to my cottage, -and I said good-bye to my companions. The -small white dog with the brown ears had heard -my footsteps and had run out joyfully to meet -me; he had begun to be seriously concerned as -to whether he would ever get a proper meal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> -again! The night was certainly a bit freshish, -but a glorious moon was out, and the hills were all -high lights and deep shadows. I stopped a -moment at my own gate, to look down at the -old grey Abbey lying in the valley seven -hundred feet below. Everything was still and -peaceful. Only an owl called to another one in -the steep woods across the river, and a couple of -baby owls answered. An apple fell with a dull -thud whenever the wind drifted across the -orchard. It was so quiet, so restful; it was -difficult to think there was lurid war-fog away -beyond those hills.</p> - -<p>Then suddenly, as I watched, I saw in the -distance a procession of swinging, twinkling -lights moving along a footpath that cut through -a wood and crossed a low spur of the hills.</p> - -<p>For the moment I wondered what it was, -but in an instant I knew; it was the party from -Brownbrook on their homeward tramp, and -their lanterns were lighting them down the -rugged precipitous footpath that was lying in -deep shadow.</p> - -<p>When they reached the level road they -started singing, their voices in beautiful harmony, -rising up and echoing again and again against -the steep hillsides.</p> - -<p>Was I thinking of battlefields with a -saddened heart again? No, the cloud had lifted -from my soul; I could look for something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> -better, something more world-wide in its effects -than even this terrible war. And as I stood -thinking all this, the words came up to me that -they were singing, as they tramped along the -silent moonlit road, at the foot of the forest-clad -hills:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Coming, coming, yes, they are,</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Coming, coming, from afar;</span></div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">All to meet in plains of glory,</span></div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">All to sing His praises sweet:</span></div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">What a chorus, what a meeting,</span></div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">With the family complete!”</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>X<br /> - -<small>The Little People of -the Streams</small></h2> - - -<p class="unindent"><span class="smcap">Have</span> you ever heard the Little People of the -Streams singing in the night? I wonder!</p> - -<p>Once you have heard their music you will -never forget it!</p> - -<p>The first time I heard it was one February—shortly -after I had taken the cottage—the -season above all others when the brooks and -falls and mountain springs are over-full of water, -that hurries along at a great pace, tumbling over -rocks, dropping down into green wells and -grottos below, always galloping down hill till -finally it reaches the ever-rushing river in the -valley.</p> - -<p>By day, each brook seems merely to be chatting -sociably to the banks and the long harts-tongue -ferns as it passes down, and you only hear one at -a time. But after dark, when most other sounds -have ceased, the voices of the streams seem to -grow marvellously in volume.</p> - -<p>I was lying awake one night with the windows -open, listening literally to the sound of many -waters, and trying to disentangle them.</p> - -<p>First I heard the spring outside my garden -gate as it scrambled down from the hillside above,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> -splashing the overhanging greenery with light -spray, and finally pouring out of a little trough—dark -brown wood, closely enamelled with green -mosses—into a rocky pool, where it ceases its -swirl for half a minute, just while it gets its -breath, before rushing on down the hill, finding -its own way around, or over, all sorts of obstacles, -and resenting any interference of man.</p> - -<p>Soon I could distinguish a second brook, that -serves a cottage a quarter of a mile further along -the lane, before it winds about and enters my -lower orchard. This had overflowed in the -orchard, and was having quite a gay time, running -skittishly out of the orchard gate and into -another lane, instead of pursuing its proper -course.</p> - -<p>Next I was able to detach the conversation -of the small waterfall that drops about a hundred -feet from an overhanging ledge of rock into a -green cave under the hill, where mosses of -wonderful size abound, and yellow flags stand -guard at the entrance, with creeping jenny and -forget-me-nots just outside.</p> - -<p>The sound always seems to increase as you -listen, and soon I detected the noise of the river as -it tears over successive weirs. If the tide is low -it is often a roar when you stand on the river -bank beside a weir; but up here on the heights -the noise is softened to a purling sound, that runs -like a never-ceasing ground-bass or pedal note<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> -amid the fluctuating tones of the nearer -streams.</p> - -<p>Other and more distant murmurings floated -in at the window; but one could never allocate -them all, for, excepting in the hottest weather, -this is in truth “a good land, a land of brooks of -water, of fountains and depths that spring out of -valleys and hills.”</p> - -<p>I was thinking of this, when suddenly the -babbling of the water was drowned in the sound -of wonderful bells that rose upon the night air. -It was not from our village church; that -possesses only one bell, whose sound, unfortunately, -resembles nothing so much as a cracked -iron shovel struck with a pair of tongs: and -there is no other bell for miles around.</p> - -<p>And yet there was no mistaking it. I could -distinctly hear the joyous clashing and clanging -of bells in a tall steeple.</p> - -<p>It was no brazen banging; rather, some fairy -music, like the carillon at Malines (which I am -proud to remember I once played, though, alas! -I shall never play it again).</p> - -<p>I listened in amazement; soon was added -the sound of voices, like subdued distant singing -in some vast cathedral, while the bells still clashed -outside. Yet it was never close at hand; it -always seemed to float to me from a distance.</p> - -<p>I was sure I was not asleep, for I knew where -I was, and decided to get up and go to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> -window, when—the dog barked—(probably he -could hear a fox prowling around outside). -Instantly the spell was broken. I opened my -eyes; there was no sound but the murmuring -and burbling of the brooks.</p> - -<p>Like a sensible person, I of course decided -that I had been dreaming.</p> - -<p>Yet again and again have I heard the clanging -bells, with often the sound of an organ and -singing wafted through the open window. It -always comes when the streams are most impetuous -and when I am in that lotus-flowering -land that lies between awakeness and sleep.</p> - -<p>The music is always enthrallingly happy, and -my only regret is that the bells and the singers -do not come a trifle nearer, so that I could -catch every note and jot it all down for future -reference.</p> - -<p>I related my experiences to one or two -people; but this was all the information they -seemed able to give me:</p> - -<p>“If I were you, I should run down to Margate -for a week or so, and leave all work behind. -Go to a nice bright boarding-house, where there -are lots of people, and enjoy yourself; and forget -about that wretched cottage. You’ve been overdoing -it lately. I had another friend just like -you—got a little peculiar, you know, and then—well, -I won’t tell you any more; don’t want -to make you nervous, of course, but—her mother<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> -never got over it, and <i>so</i> well-connected, too—kept -three motors. You take my advice. I’ll -send you the name of a charming boarding-house -I know,” etc.</p> - -<p>Then I kept my own counsel, and decided -that there were Little People living in the -streams, just as I had always liked to picture -them living in the flowers and under the mushrooms. -And the music I heard was the Little -People singing, and ringing all the harebells and -foxglove bells that grow along the banks of the -brooks.</p> - -<p>I concluded that no one had ever heard them -but myself. But, to my surprise, one day I -found that others did know about these Little -People!</p> - -<p>I was reading “The Forest,” by Stewart E. -White, where he describes his impressions and -experiences as he lay awake at night in a tent -on the banks of a Canadian river, when I came -upon the following, that in many points coincides -with my own sensations:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“In such circumstances you will hear what the boatmen -call the voices of the rapids. Many people never hear them -at all. They speak very soft and low, and distinct, beneath -the steady roar and dashing, beneath even the lesser tinklings -and gurglings whose quality superimposes them over the -louder sounds. In the stillness of your hazy half-consciousness -they speak; when you bend your attention to -listen, they are gone, and only the tumults and the tinklings -remain.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p> - -<p>“But in the moments of their audibility they are very -distinct. Just as often an odour will awake all a vanished -memory, so these voices, by the force of a large impressionism, -suggest whole scenes. Far off are the cling-clang-cling of -chimes and the swell-and-fall murmur of a multitude <i>en fête</i>, -so that subtly you feel the gray old town, with its walls, the -crowded market-place, the decent peasant crowd, the booths, -the mellow church building with its bells, the warm, dust-moted -sun. Or, in the pauses between the swish-dash-dashings -of the waters, sound faint and clear voices singing -intermittently, calls, distant notes of laughter, as though -many canoes were working against the current; only the -flotilla never gets any nearer, nor the voices louder. The -boatmen call these mist people the Huntsmen, and look -frightened. . . . Curiously enough, by all reports, they suggest -always peacefulness—a harvest field, a street fair, a Sunday -morning in a cathedral town, careless travellers—never the -turmoils and struggles. Perhaps this is the great Mother’s -compensation in a harsh mode of life.</p> - -<p>“Nothing is more fantastically unreal to tell about, -nothing more concretely real to experience, than this undernote -of the quick water. And when you do lie awake at -night, it is always making its unobtrusive appeal. Gradually -its hypnotic spell works. The distant chimes ring louder -and nearer as you cross the borderland of sleep. And then -outside the tent some little woods noise snaps the thread. -An owl hoots, a whippoorwill cries, a twig cracks beneath -the cautious prowl of some night creature—at once the -yellow sunlit French windows puff away—you are staring at -the blurred image of the moon spraying through the texture -of your tent.”</p></div> - -<p>Since reading this, I have spoken of the -matter to others with more courage; and -although the majority do not seem to have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> -come across them, I have discovered several -people who have heard the Little People singing.</p> - -<p>Some, indeed, have been kind enough to -attempt to give me a lucid explanation of what -they are pleased to call a very simple natural -phenomenon, and they prattle of enharmonics and -sound vibrations, of nodes and super-tones, in a -very impressive manner. One tells me the whole -thing is merely a psychological emotion vibrating -in sympathy with the acoustical environment.</p> - -<p>I dare say.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Personally, I would just as soon leave it -unelucidated. There are certain moods in which -I do not want such things as nature, and love, -and beauty, and self-sacrifice explained. It is -enough for me that they are, and that I have -been permitted to enjoy them.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>And although I know that the Little People -are not necessarily wearing gauze wings and -white frocks and stars in their hair, as I pictured -them in my first childhood, I still like to think -that even in the brooks something is singing, -something rejoicing, something giving thanks for -the gift of life.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>XI<br /> - -<small>The Funeral of the Hero</small></h2> - - -<p class="unindent"><span class="smcap">It</span> was three months after the funeral of the -Village Hero. Now I come to think of it, I -haven’t mentioned the funeral before.</p> - -<p>The hero, a porter at the little railway station, -enlisted very early in the campaign. Our village—in -the main—did nobly in the way of early -enlistment.</p> - -<p>A quiet, retiring young fellow, he had never -singled himself out for any sort of notoriety, -though I, personally, had always remarked on -his unvarying courtesy and his willingness to do -everything he could to assist passengers.</p> - -<p>The news of his death was the first thing to -bring the War actually home to our isolated -corner of the world.</p> - -<p>People had known he was ill, because his -wife had been summoned to a military hospital -some weeks before, when his condition was -pronounced critical. But no one had really -anticipated the worst—till it came. And then -the word passed quickly from cottage to cottage: -“Poor Aleck’s gone!”</p> - -<p>“Ay! You don’t say so! Ain’t it just like -they Huns to go and kill off the best of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> -bunch,” said one woman who never had a good -word for the lad during his lifetime.</p> - -<p>One and all agreed forthwith that proper -respect must be shown to “the remains”; and -those who didn’t intend to inconvenience themselves -by fighting, felt they were serving their -country nobly by seeing that poor Aleck had a -handsome funeral.</p> - -<p>The news of his death reached the village on -Friday. On Saturday the older members of the -family selected the spot for his grave in the little -churchyard, as, of course, he must be buried near -his home.</p> - -<p>By Sunday all the relatives to the remotest -generation wore deep mourning to church—thanks -to the superhuman efforts of the village -dressmaker, and numerous ready-mades purchased -in the nearest town.</p> - -<p>The Rector was in a nursing-home in London -at the time, but the curate, though only newly -arrived, preached a moving sermon, extolling -the courage of the young man who had died -“with his face to the foe, braving the falling -shells and raining bullets in order to defend his -country.”</p> - -<p>The sentiment was right—Aleck was willing -to do all that; but in reality he never got beyond -a training camp on the east coast, where, the air -proving too bleak for him after the mildness of -the west, he had gone down with pneumonia.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> -The new curate didn’t know that, however, -and everybody said it was a beautiful sermon, -and went and told the poor mother about it, -as she had been too grief-stricken to go to -church.</p> - -<p>So far the widow had not written herself; -but that wasn’t surprising; she would be too -broken down with trouble. Willing heads and -hands did all they could, however, to anticipate -her wishes.</p> - -<p>They telegraphed to the former curate (now -the vicar of a crowded Lancashire parish) and -asked if he would conduct the funeral; he had -known the deceased from boyhood. He wired -back: “Yes; send day and hour.”</p> - -<p>They sent to uncles and aunts and cousins -throughout Great Britain: all who could arrived -post haste on Monday. And what a gathering it -was of outstanding members of the clan! Those -who hadn’t recognised each other’s existence for -years now forgot their ancient feuds, while one -and all discovered such good qualities in the poor -lad, and were so anxious to insist on the nearness -of their relationship, that his death did not seem -altogether in vain.</p> - -<p>I myself wrote a note to the widow, only -waiting to post it till I could get her address.</p> - -<p>Miss Bretherton, the Rector’s niece, hurried -home from London to do what she could to -comfort the parents, who were aloof from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> -general excitement and knew only the sorrow of -the occasion.</p> - -<p>While waiting for further details to arrive, -people made wreaths, and discussed how best the -engine could be draped in black.</p> - -<p>As there was no letter by Tuesday morning, -and the vicar in Lancashire had again asked for -particulars, the self-constituted committee of -management decided to send a wire to the -widow. After composing—and then discarding—twenty-six -different messages, till the post-office -was threatened with a famine in telegram forms, -the post-mistress came to their assistance, and -suggested that the wording should be as brief -and as straightforward as possible, to save misunderstanding—and -expense. Eventually they -were all persuaded to agree to the following:</p> - -<p>“What train will the coffin come by? -Reply paid.”</p> - -<p>In about an hour the widow answered:</p> - -<p>“Whose coffin? Don’t know what you -mean. Aleck nearly well.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The whole village has had three points under -discussion ever since.</p> - -<p>I. Who was it said he <i>was</i> dead?</p> - -<p>II. Can a man be made to pay for his own -grave being dug when he refuses to occupy it?</p> - -<p>III. And what is to become of the mourning -anyhow?</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>XII<br /> - -<small>Just a Little Piece of -Griskin</small></h2> - - -<p class="unindent"><span class="smcap">I was</span> reminded of the funeral when I arrived at -the valley station one spring morning, by the -fact that it was “the remains” who opened the -carriage door for me and helped us out with -our things.</p> - -<p>He was home for a few days’ leave, looking -very smart and upright in his uniform; and he -saluted (even though he permitted himself to -smile) when I gave him a half-crown, telling -him to buy himself a wreath.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The white-painted garden gate had been -placed wide open by way of welcome. We had -left behind us, in town, weather that called itself -the end of March, but in reality ought to have -been January; we arrived at the little cottage -to find that the calendar had taken a leap -forward, for here it was like the end of April. -On the grey stone walls beside the gate clumps -of wallflowers were in bloom—masses of pale -primrose flowers mixed with those of a rich rose-purple -variety; only these two sorts had been -planted in the chinks of this particular wall. I -am sure the dear things nodded at us as we -entered.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span></p> - -<p>All over the garden were more wallflowers -bursting by the thousand into bloom. Some -beds were a mixture of clear bright yellow -flowers, combined with the sort that are a deep -mahogany, looking as though they were made -of velvet; other beds had a pretty rose-pink -variety; while on the top of more walls, and in -corners and patches about the garden, were the -old-fashioned “streaky” kinds, all aglow with -brown and yellow.</p> - -<p>The long bed in front of the porch, given -over to cowslips, oxlips, polyanthus, auriculas, -and suchlike homely flowers, was very gay. -The polyanthus were a delightful medley of -claret colour, pink, brown, crimson, orange, -yellow, most of them looking as though the -edges of the petals had been buttonholed around -with silk of a contrasting colour. It seemed as -though the flowers in this bed fairly tip-toed as -we came along the path, and stretched their -necks as high as ever they could, from out of -their crinkled leaves, to show how remarkably -fine they were.</p> - -<p>In the narrow beds under the cottage -windows double daffodils made plenty of colour, -and at the edge were clumps of primroses—various -shades of pink and crimson. These had -seeded over into the path, with the result that -baby primrose-plants were coming up cheerily -between the rough flagstones. The ordinary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> -yellow primrose was starring the grass all about -the orchard, where wild daffodils were swaying -by the hundred. The white flowers of the blackthorn -were like snowdrifts on the hedges.</p> - -<p>It was so wonderful, after the bleak, cheerless -aspect of town, to come upon this world of -smiling growing things. The soft air, sweeping -over the hills, brought the scent of ploughed -fields and newly-turned earth, of bursting buds -and opening blossoms, with the ozone of the sea, -and the salt of the weed that lies on the rocks -around the lighthouse in the far-away distance.</p> - -<p>There seemed to be an all-pervading peace -that laid hold of one’s very soul; and yet you -could not say it was really quiet, for birds were -giving rival concerts in every tree, and quite a -number were devoting their energies to saying -insulting things to the newcomers and the small -dog who had taken the liberty of encroaching on -their ancient heritage. They are not sufficiently -grateful for the fact that I leave my woods uncut, -and undisturbed, as bird sanctuaries.</p> - -<p>Lambs were bleating in the valley meadows; -the spring gurgled cheerfully outside the gate as -it tumbled out of the spout into the pool below.</p> - -<p>We stood in the garden for a moment to -take a good breath, and drink in as much of the -beauty as we could, when Virginia just touched -my arm and looked towards a long belt of trees—mostly -oak and fir—that runs down one side<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> -of the garden and orchards, linking the larch -woods up above us with the birch and hazel -coppice down below—the coppice where the -nightingales sing, and the tiny wrens and the -tomtits build, and where the little dormouse -lives, who comes out from among the undergrowth, -with no apparent fear, when I stand in -the wood-path and softly whistle.</p> - -<p>This barricade of trees was originally left -standing when the rest of the ground was cleared, -to screen the house from the winter gales. But -we have named it the Squirrels’ Highway.</p> - -<p>Sure enough, as we stood there silent and -motionless, down came one little bushy tail from -the upper woods, followed by another, probably -his wife. They leapt from branch to branch, and -from tree to tree, nibbling a young oak shoot -here, sniffing delicately at a few leaves somewhere -else.</p> - -<p>Little bright eyes looked down and saw the -strangers; but they had seen them before, and -no harm ever resulted—only lovely feasts of nuts -laid out on the tops of walls—so they just ran -on down their own highway, seeming as light as -feathers, and leaping and springing with indescribable -grace.</p> - -<p>At last they got to the high wall that divides -the lower orchard from the birch and hazel -coppice, and they played along that wall, bright -spots of reddy-brown against the dark green of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> -the ivy and the purple tone of the swelling birch -buds. All seemed gaiety and happiness, till a -third little bushy tail popped up over the wall -from the coppice—and then there were fireworks -indeed! I expect they were relations who -were not on cordial terms! We left them having -a whole-hearted hand-to-hand fight—which, I -must say, seems a much more satisfactory way -of settling a difference than either Zepp or -submarine methods.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Indoors the table had been laid for tea, preparatory -to our arrival, by Mrs. Widow, who, as -already mentioned, is the custodian of the house -in my absence. She gives an old-world curtsy -that is very disarming, and says, “I’m main glad -to see you back again, miss, and I hope you’ll -find everything to your liking.”</p> - -<p>That, however, is as it may be.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, there is something about the -way that table is always laid that rejoices my -heart, even though I might not wish to have my -meals set in that pattern every day. The large -white cloth may not present the glass-like surface -of the town-laundered tablecloth, but at least it -is white, and—like the cottage sheets and towels -and pillow-cases—it holds the scents of the hillside -garden where it was hung out to dry; and -though the creases are somewhat ridgy and -insistent, and the cloth has been ironed a trifle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> -askew, I know several people who would rather -have tea off this tablecloth than the most -elaborate dinner and the finest napery that -London hotels can produce.</p> - -<p>Knives and forks are placed with great precision -around the table at intervals, a cup and -saucer and plate beside each, the crockery never -by any chance matching! In the mathematical -centre a loaf of farmhouse bread stands on a -kitchen plate, flanked on one side—to the East, -as it were—by a large white jug holding a quart -of milk, and to the West, by the sugar basin. -The big brown teapot stands at the South Pole; -and a pudding-basin of new-laid eggs, laid by the -widow’s own fowls, are waiting, at the North -Pole, to be cooked. A small plate bearing a -dinner knife and half a pound of butter (which is -never put into the proper butter dish) is placed -at the South-West; this is balanced at the -South-East by a pot of home-made jam and a -tablespoon. Watercress and lettuce may grace -the table, though this will be according to the -season; but summer or winter, one feature is -never omitted, and that is a large kitchen jug full -of flowers, gathered by Mrs. Widow from her -own garden.</p> - -<p>On the day I am writing about, the jug had -a brave handful of daffodils, a few sprays of red -ribis, dark-brown wallflowers, some small ivy, -with some short-stemmed polyanthus suffocating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> -in the centre of the big bunch. And it is -wonderful how much you can get crammed into -one jug when you try!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Abigail, having none of my weak-minded -leanings towards “the primitive,” scornfully -whisked the whole lot off the table, as soon as -Mrs. Widow had gone back to her own cottage, -and re-laid it on modern lines.</p> - -<p>We did not hurry over the meal. Virginia -got on a lengthy dissertation as to the crying -need for fish forks with magnetised prongs that -would just draw the bones out of the fish, without -any preliminary search and scrutiny. I suggested -a radium tip to the prongs—I could think of -nothing that seemed more suitable—but she said -<i>that</i> might demolish fish and all, in which case -one would get no more personal satisfaction -out of the creature than one does when having -to eat it with its full complement of bones -intact.</p> - -<p>I then ventured a suggestion that forks made -like an ordinary magnet would do, if the fish -were given steel drops in regular doses for a few -weeks before being caught, so as to get its bones -susceptible to the magnet. But Virginia was -very lofty, as she always is, about my scientific -explanations. I never heard her solution of the -problem, because the telegram boy arrived at the -moment, with a wire for Abigail, saying that her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> -mother had broken her arm (a genuine case -this time!).</p> - -<p>So she left by the next train, bewailing the -fact that her mother could not get compensation -from anyone, as she had given up a post of -housekeeper but three months before; if she -had only been in the situation still she could have -claimed £300 a year for life, Abigail thought—provided -the arm could only be induced to -remain broken.</p> - -<p>Some people, especially her relatives, were -always unfortunate, she said, while others were -just the reverse. There was a cousin of a friend -of hers; he had been out of work for a year or -so before he got a job, and then the very first -day he met with an accident at the works and -had to have his leg amputated; and there he is -now, a gentleman for life, comfortably settled on -his compensation. Her people never had luck -like that. It did seem hard!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“Are you awake?” Virginia’s voice lilted up -the stairs next morning.</p> - -<p>Awake! why, sleep had been impossible in -that cottage for hours past!</p> - -<p>For sheer undiluted racket, commend me to -two earnest-souled girls, who get up early, and -go about with a stealthy tread that creaks every -old board in the place, and commune with each -other in stage whispers that penetrate through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> -every crack in the floor, all on the pretext of -making the fire!</p> - -<p>We had decided that we could manage very -well ourselves, without sending for anyone to -take Abigail’s place; and in order to forestall -me, the others had got up about cockcrow, and -then began such a whirligig below, that I just -lay still and endeavoured to allocate every fresh -noise.</p> - -<p>They raked and shovelled at the grate, and -appeared to be scattering cinders all over the -place. They broke up applewood twigs with -resounding snaps, and argued as to the amount -required to set the fire going. Ursula said you -ought to put in handfuls till you got a good -crackling blaze; Virginia said that was a -childish, brainless way of doing it, to say -nothing of the chance of waste; by rights the -quantity of twigs employed ought to be strictly -in inverse ratio to the quantity of inflammable -gas contained in the coal. I dare say I should -have heard a good deal more as to the way to -assess the ignitable quality of coal, but fortunately -the fire burnt up quickly, and they gave -their attention to other domestic details.</p> - -<p>They dashed about the brass fender; they -whacked the blacklead brush against the oven-door -at every turn; they set down the zinc pail -with a ringing thud, and then scoured the hearth -with zeal enough to take off half an inch of stone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> -surface; they polished the brass fire-irons with -some concoction of bath-brick and salt which -they invented on the spot, as they couldn’t find -any metal polish; they banged the hearthrug -out of doors till the surrounding hills reverberated -with the echoes; they rinked the carpet-sweeper -up and down till it made me dizzy to -listen; and as this was not thorough enough -for Ursula, she also got a short stiff brush and -apparently pommelled out any dust that might -be under the settle and in other obscure -corners; they dusted with equal energy, and -then went off into the kitchen to consult about -the breakfast menu, while the kettle chose the -opportunity to boil all over the fire, thereby -raising clouds of white ash that settled on -everything, and they said, “Oh, dear! Just -<i>look</i> at it.”</p> - -<p>Finally, I heard the white cloth being flapped -over the table; cups and saucers and plates were -chinked and rattled off the dresser; knives and -forks and spoons jingled on to the table, and I -knew that breakfast was well under way. It -was just then that Virginia put her head through -the staircase-door to ask—in moderated tones -calculated not to disturb me should I still be -slumbering!—was I awake?</p> - -<p>Hastily hopping out on to the rug, I replied -that I was “nearly dressed, and would be down -in a minute.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span></p> - -<p>“No hurry,” she replied artlessly, “we’ve -only just come down ourselves, and are going to -see to breakfast. But what I want to know is: -Where do you keep your frying-pan?”</p> - -<p>“Hanging on its proper nail in the kitchen,” -I replied.</p> - -<p>“Well, it isn’t there. . . . No, it isn’t on the -saucepan shelf, either—we’ve hunted <i>everywhere</i>. . . . -But Abigail didn’t use it yesterday—don’t -you remember? We had boiled eggs, and -some of that cold ham we brought with us. . . . -All right, we can just as well have eggs -again. . . . That’s true, we shan’t want bacon, -with that pork coming for dinner; but be quick, -as the kettle’s boiling now. . . . Oh, it’s not a bit -of trouble.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Whether it was due to the sunshine, or to -the tonic of the air, or to the virtuous feeling -that always overtakes those who get up early in -the morning and disturb everyone else, I cannot -say; but at any rate Ursula announced that she -intended to start right in, immediately after -breakfast, and give the whole cottage a thorough -spring cleaning.</p> - -<p>The domesticities of the morning seemed to -have whetted her appetite for such matters, and -she said she felt she must give the place a -“Dutch” turn-out, and have every shelf and -stool and all the pots and pans scrubbed and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> -scoured and tilted out of doors to dry, as they -do in Holland.</p> - -<p>Virginia said that she, too, felt a strong force—it -might be her sub-conscious self, or she might -have a dual personality, she couldn’t say which—within -her, impelling her to turn the house inside -out.</p> - -<p>So I told them to go ahead; I’m the last one -to discourage anyone from doing my work for -me. I suggested, however, that for the first day -they should confine their attentions to the living-rooms -downstairs.</p> - -<p>Of course, the reader of average intellect will -wonder what necessity there could be for any -such upheaval, seeing that the place would -obviously have been overhauled before we -arrived; but this brings me back to Mrs. -Widow. “A worthy body and an honest soul,” -the Rector said, when he originally recommended -her to me, all of which was quite true; but, alas, -thoroughness in regard to house-cleaning is not -her strong point.</p> - -<p>When I first sought her out and broached -the subject of the caretaker I was requiring, she -listened in a non-committal way. I stated how -much a year I was willing to pay—naming an -exceptionally good sum—and explained that for -this money the house must be looked after in my -absence, and be got quite ready for me whenever -I should come down, while anything she might<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> -do while I was “in residence” would be paid for -as an extra.</p> - -<p>She showed no indecorous haste to secure the -appointment. She merely said she would talk -it over with her married daughter, and if she -thought any more of it she would let me know. -A few hours later she came to me, and said -casually that on second thoughts she didn’t mind -obliging me. (No one ever “works” for you in -our village, they merely “oblige.”) In the -interval, however, the whole village had gone -into committee on the subject, and everyone’s -advice had been sought, and very freely given.</p> - -<p>Once more I went through the terms of the -agreement, and she said she quite understood. -Nevertheless, subsequent events led me to believe -that she regarded the annual wage in the light -of a retaining fee only, since most of the work -is always left to be done after I arrive, when -it will have to be paid for as a separate transaction -if it is more than Abigail can wrestle -with.</p> - -<p>At the same time I can truly endorse the -Rector’s tribute to her honesty. If I were to -strew the floor with sovereigns or diamond -rings, I know I should find them on the mantelpiece -when next I returned, and she never -annexes anything permanently.</p> - -<p>But the fact that one has a village-wide -reputation for honesty need not detract from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> -one’s worldly prosperity—so long as one can -borrow with light-hearted frequency, and borrow -for indefinite periods, too! Mrs. Widow has -reduced borrowing to a fine art, but her honesty -is demonstrated by the fact that I have never -known her decline to return any of my possessions; -indeed, so scrupulous is she that she will -bring back the tin of metal polish, when it is -empty, explaining that she was quite sure I -wanted it to be used rather than wasted!</p> - -<p>Abigail invariably spends the first couple of -days at the cottage in skirmishing and reclaiming -missing articles. Knowing all this, I was not -surprised when I heard the frying-pan was -minus; I also knew that time would reveal -other vacancies.</p> - -<p>Had it been July or August, the preserving-pan—a -family treasure—would have been gone, -too. Mrs. Widow is always very solicitous for -its welfare about fruit-gathering time; she says -damp would easily hurt a really good preserving-pan, -so she takes it home with her to keep it dry. -Yet the poor thing will be left to face the -winter in my kitchen with never a thought -bestowed on its delicate constitution.</p> - -<p>And it is just at jam-making time, too, -that my kitchen scales and weights require the -ameliorated atmosphere of Mrs. Widow’s cottage; -my own kitchen, with the midsummer sun upon -it all day, being obviously far too cold and damp<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> -for such highly-strung <i>bric-à-brac</i> as one pound -and half-pound weights.</p> - -<p>A town acquaintance once said to Virginia: -“I suppose Miss Klickmann goes down to her -cottage for poetic and literary inspiration?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear, no!” was the reply. “She simply -goes down, as a mere matter of feminine curiosity, -to see what is left.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“Where do you keep your tea-towels?” -Ursula began, as she prepared to wash up the -breakfast things.</p> - -<p>“There ought to be a pile in one of the -drawers of the kitchen table,” I said. “They -are not there? Oh, well, they’ll come back -presently!”</p> - -<p>While we were speaking, a small girl appeared -at the side door, holding in one hand a basket -containing a nice chunk of pork (wrapped in one -of my tea-towels), and in the other hand my -mincing-machine. This was Mrs. Widow’s -grandchild.</p> - -<p>“If you please, ma’am, father’s killed the pig, -and mother thought you might like just a little -piece of griskin, and mother’s been taking care -of the mincer so’s it shan’t get rusty.”</p> - -<p>An exchange of courtesies having been -effected by means of a bottle of pear-drops, the -small maid departed with her empty basket; the -mincer was restored to its proper niche in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> -pantry, and we were at least one tea-towel to -the good.</p> - -<p>I might mention that Mrs. Widow’s married -daughter had recently acquired considerable -local fame by making “faggots,” which were in -great demand. You know the dish?—a combination -of liver, pork, sage and onions, etc., -baked in squares. Other people in the district -made faggots, too, but none could rival hers, -and orders came to her from many of the big -houses.</p> - -<p>“No one ever manages to get them chopped -so beautifully fine as she does,” said Miss -Bretherton when recommending them to my -notice. “I advise you to try them.”</p> - -<p>Still, whatever obligation there may have -been was offset, surely, by the piece of pork. -The griskin is the lean portion of some part of -the quadruped’s anatomy after the fat has been -cut off for curing. This joint—which we never -see in London—is always popular with us in the -country; so popular, that I had ordered a piece -only the day before from the butcher. It was -just the season when people were killing their -pigs, and the butcher had suggested griskin. -Still, it was easy to put the extra piece in salt, -and the flavour would only be improved thereby; -my one regret was that the butcher had sent a -very large joint, when I had particularly mentioned -that I only wanted a little piece.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p> - -<p>I had originally intended to devote the day -to gardening, not to house-cleaning.</p> - -<p>“Of course you keep a permanent gardener?” -people inquire of me. “I see; a general handy -man; it comes to the same thing; he will save -you all trouble.”</p> - -<p>Those of my acquaintances who have never -had a place out of town to look after, always -conclude that country districts fairly bristle with -capable, willing men, and poor-but-honest, hard-working -women, all of them anxious to do my -work—and at a merely nominal wage too; -whereas one has the utmost trouble to get -either man or woman to do a day’s work at any -price. I pay the handy man the same wage per -day as I pay my thoroughly experienced London -gardener; and he can only manage to spare me -a small amount of his time at that price.</p> - -<p>He knows very little about flowers, but he -weeds in an enlightened manner, and he understands -the elementary principles underlying -vegetable growing on a small scale. For the -most part the villagers bother very little about -their gardens, only cultivating just sufficient -ground for their immediate needs.</p> - -<p>The unenlightened local method of dealing -with weeds is this. He-who-is-paid-to-garden -leaves them to grow to a fair height—especially -if no one is likely to be there for some weeks to -see them. Then, when they have absorbed a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> -generous amount of nourishment from the -ground, and generally suffocated everything -small within their reach, he merely turns the -soil over, with the weeds on the underneath side, -draws a rake over the surface, and presto! you -have a nice tidy bed.</p> - -<p>This method is known as “digging in.”</p> - -<p>Of course, in twenty-four hours the good-natured -things start to poke cheerful noses -through the soil again. But that doesn’t matter. -Life is long, and the gardener is paid to clear -them away again.</p> - -<p>There is an optional method, referred to as -“cleaning up the beds.” In that case, he leaves -the weeds to grow higher, more especially in -beds that are full of promising seedlings; in fact, -he doesn’t worry about them at all until there is -sudden and urgent reason why the garden should -present a kempt, well-cared-for appearance.</p> - -<p>Then, the weeds being so healthy and luxuriant -that they would raise the face of creation a -couple of inches if he attempted to dig them in, -he simplifies matters by removing the surface of -the earth, weeds and seedlings and all; this he -wheels away in a barrow, perchance to lay it -down on some rough and rubbly bit of lane that -the road-menders have ignored.</p> - -<p>When she-who-pays arrives, all expectation, -and inquires for the missing seedlings, the tiller -of the soil shakes his head lugubriously, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> -refers to the recent plague of slugs (or thunderstorms, -or frost, or east winds, or whatever other -natural phenomena seem most convincing), and -says he had a hard job to save what is left in the -garden—this last in a martyr-like tone of voice, -indicating that though all his self-sacrificing -labour is passed over unrecognised, he himself -has the virtuous consciousness of having at least -done his simple duty, and what man can do more!</p> - -<p>Now I come to think of it, there are many -different ways of gardening; that must be why -it is always interesting to go round the garden -with the gardener. When I say different -ways, I don’t mean such trifling divergencies -of method as landscape gardens versus intensive -culture, or tomatoes under glass versus gloxinias. -These primarily concern the pocket; the differences -that interest me are temperamental.</p> - -<p>There is Miss Bretherton, for instance, a -most diligent and vigilant gardener. And yet -she never seems to me to get much genuine, -unalloyed pleasure out of her garden; she never -basks in its beauty—though for the matter of -that Miss Bretherton never basks anywhere! A -middle-aged woman who does her duty by a -scattered parish, conscientiously and thoroughly -and unremittingly, never has time for that sort -of dissipation! Miss Bretherton deals with her -garden much as she deals with the parish. At -best it is a case of striving to lead reluctant feet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> -in the paths of virtue, while by far the greater -part of her efforts is an unflagging wrestle with -original sin.</p> - -<p>A walk round the rectory garden is usually -like this. Miss Bretherton always picks up a pair -of gardening scissors and a basket mechanically -as she steps out.</p> - -<p>“What a wonderful glow of colour!” I -exclaim, as I bury my nose in a magnificent -Gloire de Dijon.</p> - -<p>“But it is such a wretched thing for sending -up suckers,” Miss Bretherton replies. “I’m -always digging them up. Why, I declare there -is one a foot high,” giving it a drastic prod with -the scissors. “I thought I’d cut them all away -yesterday”; more prods till the sucker is finally -unearthed.</p> - -<p>“And aren’t those hollyhocks tall!”</p> - -<p>“Not nearly so fine as they would have been -if that red-spotty blight hadn’t attacked them. -Just look at these leaves!”</p> - -<p>Snip, snip, snip! Off came a dozen or so.</p> - -<p>I stop to admire the fairy flowers in the -Virginia stock, rosy carmine, lemon and mauve, -just opening in the sun.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think there is anything sweeter for -a border,” I remark.</p> - -<p>“The trouble with Virginia stock is that it -so soon looks untidy,” Miss Bretherton says -dispiritedly. “Do what I will, I can’t keep the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> -edges tidy once that goes off bloom. I pull it -all out at last, and then that leaves a bare rough-dried -looking space with nothing in it.”</p> - -<p>I praise the white lilies—such a stately row -of spotless beauty.</p> - -<p>“I wish I could do something to hide that -raggedness at the bottom of the stems. They do -look so shabby. Excuse me, I see that Canterbury -bell has withered off—that’s the worst of -them. They all go at once so suddenly, and look -such a withered mass. I must cut off those dead -blooms, it may send up a second crop. But -there, if it does, they will only be small bells!”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I’m not sure whether the handy man’s method -is temperamental, but I know it is very conversational, -if you can call it a conversation when -he insists on doing the whole of it himself. He -is an elderly bachelor; and Mrs. Widow once -explained the situation to me:</p> - -<p>“You see, he ain’t never had no wife to talk -his head off for him, so he talks it off for hisself.”</p> - -<p>I give him copious instructions whenever I -leave, which he promises to carry out; but no -matter what I may have asked him to do—whether -it was to nail up the yellow roses over -the front door, or to set lavender cuttings—it -all works out to the same thing in the end: -it is only the vegetables that are deemed worthy -of mention. The flowers are just tolerated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> -because—well, because I keep on putting them -in the ground, and you can’t expect practical -common-sense from a woman anyhow! But -after all, it isn’t reasonable to expect an untrained -cottager to make a garden different from -those he sees around.</p> - -<p>You can understand, however, that we are -usually kept pretty busy from the moment we -arrive till the hour we go away.</p> - -<p>But this particular morning gardening was -out of the question. The two girls started with -the spring-cleaning on most vigorous lines. -Virginia said the hygienic way was to place -everything that was movable out-of-doors, so -that, scientifically speaking, the sun’s rays could -penetrate every fibre and tissue, and neutralise -the harmful germs that would assuredly be -lurking by the million in every stick and shred -in a house as neglected as that one had been.</p> - -<p>I objected to my cherished possessions being -referred to as sticks and shreds, and I said so, -with emphasis.</p> - -<p>Ursula said if we were going to argue at that -length it would be the August Bank Holiday -before we got things back in their place again. -For her part, she regarded all that germ-business -as a harmless fairy-tale that was very suitable -and safe reading for a mild intellect like Virginia’s. -All the same, she quite agreed that everything -ought to be put outside, so as to give more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> -elbow-room indoors; moreover, things that were -washed and scrubbed would, of course, dry -quicker in the sun.</p> - -<p>So out they all came!</p> - -<p>Then we saw how badly the boards around -the carpet needed re-staining, and we dispatched -Virginia to the village to see what she could get -in the way of oak or walnut floor-stain.</p> - -<p>She returned with a large bottle of rheumatic -lotion. Miss Jarvis, who keeps the village shop, -hadn’t a bottle of stain left, but Virginia turned -over everything she had and decided on the -lotion, as it was thickish and a nice rich brown. -She bore it off, Miss Jarvis beseeching her to -remember it was for outward application only.</p> - -<p>It wasn’t bad, only it flavoured the air rather -strongly for days.</p> - -<p>Ursula’s labours were bearing much fruit. -To look at the scene outside the cottage, you -might have thought a distraint had been made -on the contents for rent. Chairs, tables, meat-safes, -crockery, saucepans, oak chests, pictures, -books, the warming-pan, brass candlesticks, -coal-scuttles, fenders, were all basking unblushingly, -and in the direst confusion, in the -sunshine.</p> - -<p>What pained me most was to notice how the -furniture that had looked delightfully appropriate -in the subdued lights of indoors, became appallingly -shabby when subjected to the glare of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> -day. I remarked that if I had confronted the -things on a London burglar’s barrow, I should -neither have recognised them nor have desired -to claim them.</p> - -<p>Ursula tried to reassure me by reminding -me that the things were mostly very old, and -antique things are invariably shabby as well as -very valuable. Virginia contributed the consoling -information that she had noticed, whenever -people moved, they always left their good -furniture behind in the empty house, for they -only removed shabby-looking things.</p> - -<p>I tried to feel duly proud of my possessions -once more; but all the same I suggested that -we should hurry on as fast as we could; I had a -strong conviction that if any of my county -neighbours called, they would probably be -more impressed with the disreputable appearance -of my belongings than with their priceless -antiquity.</p> - -<p>Of course, people came while we were still in -chaos, as I knew they would. The first to arrive -was Miss Primkins, who apologised for calling -at such an hour, but she wanted to consult me -on a private matter, she was so very worried. -Was I busy? (with an inquiring glance at the -all-pervading marine-store). Naturally I said -I wasn’t.</p> - -<p>The difficulty was to find a seat indoors to -accommodate us while we talked; it wasn’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> -warm enough, as yet, to sit in the open. I -found two chairs in the china pantry—a fair-sized -apartment with a big window, even -though it is called a pantry—and here we -established ourselves, Miss Primkins reiterating -how kind she thought it of me to receive her -in this homely way, treating her just like one of -the family. I tried to make her understand, -however, that, as a general rule, it was not the -family custom to foregather in the crockery -cupboard!</p> - -<p>She was a long while getting to the cause of -her worry. I wonder why it is that so many -women, when they start out to say anything, -wander about and deviate into innumerable side -channels and backwaters before they get to the -point?—but there, I do myself, so we won’t -follow up that line of thought.</p> - -<p>Eventually, it transpired that when war was -declared, and the attendant moratorium, Miss -Primkins had hidden away what little gold she -had in the bottom of a coffee canister, with the -coffee put in again artlessly on top. Since then -she had added to her store of gold, till at last she -had £12 in all.</p> - -<p>On hearing this I scented the trouble, and -began to commiserate: “You don’t mean to -say someone has stolen it! Who could it have -been?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no; it hasn’t been stolen—though<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> -sometimes I almost wish—but there, I oughtn’t -to say that! No, the difficulty is that now I -don’t know how to get rid of it! I never -thought there was any harm in putting a little -by, in case anything happened, till I saw in the -papers that someone said” (lowering her voice) -“that those who hoard gold are traitors to -their country, and” (in a still more shocked -tone) “actually helping Germany! I’d never -had any such idea! Why, it’s the very last -thing I should wish to do!</p> - -<p>“So I started unhoarding at once and took a -sovereign when next I went out to pay my little -grocery bill. Miss Jarvis wasn’t in the shop -herself—she wouldn’t have been so rude!—but -her assistant said, ‘Well, I never! Doesn’t it -seem odd to see a sovereign again! I can’t tell -you when I saw one last. I didn’t know there -was a solitary one left in the village! Wherever -did you get it from, Miss Primkins?’</p> - -<p>“Do you know, I went hot and cold all over; -didn’t know what to do with myself, for fear she -should guess I’d been hoarding and helping the -country to be a traitor—no, I mean helping -Germany to be—well—you understand. I just -said quietly, with all the composure I could -muster, ‘I chanced to have it in my purse,’ -because, after all, it wasn’t her business, -was it?”</p> - -<p>I agreed that it wasn’t.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Then I thought I would change half a -sovereign—that would be smaller and look less -hoardingish—at the station, as I was going into -Chepstow to get some more wool for those socks -for Queen Mary. Would you believe it?—the -station-master said—you know his jocular -way—‘Why, Miss Primkins, what bank have -you been robbing? I haven’t had my hand -crossed with gold, I don’t know when! I’d -like to keep it myself, for luck, only the Prime -Minister would be down on me for hoarding, I -suppose.’</p> - -<p>“My knees shook so I could hardly get into -the train. I decided I wouldn’t let anyone see -another bit of it; yet actually, when I was in -Mrs. Davis’s shop and getting out the money to -pay for the wool, if I didn’t take out another -half-sovereign in mistake for a sixpence!—I was -so unnerved, I suppose—and she said, ‘Just -fancy seeing a half-sovereign again! I thought -they were all called in. Wherever did you -light on that, Miss Primkins?’</p> - -<p>“Now you can understand I’m at my wits’ -end to know what to do with that money. I -can’t spend it without everyone knowing. If I -put it in my savings bank book, and so get it -back to the Government that way, I have to -hand it over the counter at the post office. You -know so much about business, can you suggest -anything?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p> - -<p>I immediately offered to give the nervous, -worried lady Treasury notes in exchange.</p> - -<p>“Oh, but I couldn’t let you incriminate -yourself like that,” she protested, “kind as it -is of you. There’s your reputation as well as -mine to be thought of.”</p> - -<p>I explained, however, that it was easier to -dispose of an accusing golden sovereign in -London without arousing the suspicions of the -populace than it was in the country, and I said -I was sure my bank manager would oblige me -by receiving the gold for the good of the -country, knowing me to be an honest and -respectable Englishwoman.</p> - -<p>“I never thought to be so thankful to see -the last of a sovereign,” she said, as she tucked -the paper notes into her handbag. “I’ve -scarcely slept all this week. Why, Germany -is the very last thing I would help!”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Widow came in at the gate as Miss -Primkins went out; and, seeing the house all -turned out of windows, looked her surprise at -such goings on! She carried a frying-pan, -a long-handled broom, a double milk-boiler, an -egg-beater, and a lemon-squeezer, and explained -that they had kept beautifully dry in her kitchen, -whereas they would have been ruined if left to -get damp in an empty house. Parenthetically, -she hoped I would excuse her having used half -a dozen lemons I had left in the pantry last<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> -time; she was afraid they would not keep; also -some sugar in a tin, that she dare say might have -melted away—and it seemed cruel to waste it -considering the price of sugar.</p> - -<p>Of course I said she was quite welcome.</p> - -<p>And, by the way, was I wanting a jar of -lemon curd? Her daughter had made some -that was really lovely, and she would not mind -obliging me by selling me a jar.</p> - -<p>While she was describing the distinctive -merits of the lemon curd, and relating what -the lady of the manor had said in praise of -the jar she had purchased, a man-servant arrived -from the Manor House with a note and a basket, -which he handed to me (with a very superior air -that gave me to understand he was not in the -habit of carrying baskets, and was only doing -so now as a patriotic act in war time) across -the kitchen table that stood in the path and -blocked his further progress. While I read the -note, he fixed his eyes upon his boots, and -apparently looked neither to the right hand nor -to the left; yet I know that he catalogued -every item of those wretched domestic oddments -that were decorating the lawn and garden -path.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Widow, possessed of a natural curiosity -that it is hard to circumvent, was loath to leave -without a glimpse of the contents of the basket. -But Virginia got her off by escorting her to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> -gate, and telling her that I had not been very -well in town.</p> - -<p>“Ah! anybody could see that, miss,” said -Mrs. Widow feelingly, glancing in my direction. -“Don’t she just look ’aggard!” And then, -seeing a look of surprise on the face of Virginia—who -distinctly resented my being described as -haggard—she added hurriedly, “Leastways, I -mean ’andsome ’aggard, of course, miss.”</p> - -<p>The lady of the manor had written to say -that a cold was keeping her indoors for a day or -two; but in the meanwhile, as they were busy -curing bacon at the home farm, she had had -them cut just a little piece of griskin, which she -was sure I should like, and was having it sent up -at once, etc.</p> - -<p>The superior person left, carrying in one -hand an envelope addressed to his mistress, -which contained all the thanks I could muster, -and in the other a note to be left at the village -shop, asking Miss Jarvis to send me up a large -block of salt.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“What shall you do with all the pork?” -Ursula inquired.</p> - -<p>“I haven’t the faintest idea!” I said. “I -can’t bestow any of it on the poor because, no -matter which piece I gave away, Mrs. Widow’s -married daughter would be sure it was <i>her</i> gift I -had spurned, and would feel duly slighted.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span></p> - -<p>Virginia broke in upon us breathlessly, her -arms full of pasteboard, soup tureen, hearthrug, -hassock, and fire-irons, which she had hastily -gathered up from the path. “The Rector’s -outside in the lane talking to some children.”</p> - -<p>“And has <i>he</i> any basket in his hand?” asked -Ursula.</p> - -<p>“No, he only appears to be carrying his -umbrella.”</p> - -<p>“Thank goodness!” said Ursula fervently, as -she put the third flank of griskin in the coldest -larder.</p> - -<p>By this time the next caller was coming up -the path, and though I could invite him to take -a seat in one of the armchairs that were now -inside, anything like order had not yet been -evolved from the chaos.</p> - -<p>The Rector is loved by rich and poor alike, -by reason of his unselfishness, his absolute -sincerity and “other-worldliness.” He is now -well on in years, but neither distance nor weather -keeps him from visiting regularly all in his -wide-scattered parish. His calls are always -welcomed, though I admit I should have preferred -to see him any day other than the one in -question.</p> - -<p>“I have come with a message from my niece,” -he began. “She told me to say that she is -sending up a small trifle—a little housewifely -notion of hers—for your kind acceptance. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> -thought you might find it add a little variety to -the cottage menu. As a matter of fact, the -rectory pig has gone the way of most pigs! And -we said, the moment we heard you had arrived, -that we must get you to sample the home-grown -article, so she is sending you up just a little piece -of—— Ah, here it is, I expect”—as the -Rector’s handy man came in at the gate, carrying -the inevitable basket; and though the -contents were wrapped up in a spotless white -cloth, there was no need for one to be told what -he was bringing.</p> - -<p>I tried to be as truly grateful as ever I could; -I told myself I must not think about the gift -itself, but must keep my mind focused on the -kind thought that had prompted the gift. Nevertheless, -the basket seemed very heavy as I carried -it into the larder, and added one more joint to -the goodly collection already assembled. And -as I went back into the living-room, I heard -Virginia warbling outdoors:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Not more than others I deserve,</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">But Heaven has given me more.”</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>There is something singularly exasperating -about other people’s joyousness, when it is -purchased at one’s own expense!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>We were restoring the last jug to its proper -hook on the dresser, when once more we saw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> -Miss Primkins toiling up the steep garden -path.</p> - -<p>She really felt terribly ashamed to be intruding -on me again; but she had just read in -the paper that the Prime Minister now said -everyone must save, and no one who was a true -patriot would spend more than was absolutely -necessary. Now what was the difference between -hoarding and saving? She did so want -to do the right thing; it was so little she could -do to help her country. Yet, for the life of her, -she couldn’t make out whether she ought to save -that £12 or spend it.</p> - -<p>Would I mind explaining it to her? She -never could understand anything Prime -Ministers, or people like that, said nowadays; -so different from what it was in her young days. -When there was only Lord Salisbury and Mr. -Gladstone everything was so sensible and -straightforward. Her father used to say: -“Always believe Lord Salisbury; never believe -Mr. Gladstone”—or else it was the other way -round, she wasn’t sure which. Whereas now, -what with radicals, and coalitions, and territorials, -and boards of this, that, and the other, -her brain almost gave way trying to find out -who anybody was.</p> - -<p>“And when at last I think I’ve got it -straightened out, I find there’s a lot of ‘antis,’ -and it’s just the opposite thing they say you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> -ought or ought not to do; or else you have to -begin at the other end and work backwards. -What a lot those Germans have to answer for!”</p> - -<p>I offered my own simple political creed for -her guidance: “When the King or Lord -Kitchener says anything, then I know it’s all -right. When they hold their tongues, I know -it’s equally all right; and the rest I don’t worry -about!”</p> - -<p>She said I had expressed her own views -entirely, only she never thought to put it so -concisely as that. What a wonderful thing it -was to have a brain like mine that grasped -things so clearly! She should just go on being -economical as her mother had always taught her -to be, until the King—or, possibly, Queen Mary—said -anything definite on the subject, then -people would know where they were.</p> - -<p>“At least, you aren’t the only one bothered -about the question of hoarding,” I said. “I’m -also wrestling with the problem. Look here,” -and I led the way to the larder and gave details. -“I’ve been wondering whether, as I relieved -you of your hoard, you could assist me out with -mine! Will you accept a piece of griskin, -merely to get it off my premises?”</p> - -<p>Miss Primkins was almost tearful in her -thanks. “It’s so strange you should have -thought to offer this,” she said in a sort of -broken hesitation, “because I’m going to Cardiff<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> -by the first train to-morrow to see my sisters. -I always like to take them a little something, -you understand. They have big families, and -business is bad now; and, of course, coming -from the country—— Only eggs are so dear, -and fowls such a price; and just now—well, you -know—dividends aren’t coming in as they did, -and I’ve my three houses standing empty, and -such a big bill for repairs, and—— Only, of -course,” rallying herself, “I’m heaps better off -than those poor Belgians; but oh, I can’t tell -you how grateful I am to you for your kindness. -You see, I was keeping that £12 by me in case -I should be ill—we never know, do we?—or to -meet the rent if I should run short. Please -pardon my speaking of these things, only—you -understand,” and the poor lady blushed to think -she should have let herself refer to finances.</p> - -<p>Yes, I understood. Rumour had already -reached me that Miss Primkins had only used -three hundredweight of coal through the whole -of the winter (of course, in our village everybody -knows how much everybody else buys of -everything), and she had been seen out in the -woods gathering sticks. She had cut her milk -down to a half-pint a day, and that was consumed -by Rehoboam (the cat). She seldom had -any meat, and practised all sorts of pitiful little -economies, living chiefly on the vegetables she -had grown in her garden. But she never let<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> -anything interfere with a coin going into the -Sunday offertory, or her knitting for the troops; -and she gave a donation to the Red Cross Fund -as gladly as anyone.</p> - -<p>It makes one’s heart ache to think how many -poor elderly ladies there are up and down the -land, who have lost what at best was but a very -modest meed of comfort, in the present financial -upheaval; and these have additional anxiety in -the fact that it would be torture to them were -their poverty paraded before the world. They -have not the physical strength to engage in -national work, though their spirits are valiant -enough for any self-sacrifice. So, since it is all -they can do for their country, they shoulder -their burdens uncomplainingly, keeping a frail -body alive on sugarless tea and sparsely-buttered -bread, while they knit long, long thoughts into -socks and comforters, if by any means they can -raise the money to purchase the wool.</p> - -<p>No Fund is large enough to embrace such as -these; no charity could ever meet their case. -All the same they are part of the bulwark -strength of England, these dear, faithful women, -who in old age and feeble health hide their own -privations beneath a brave exterior, willing to -make any personal sacrifice rather than Might -should triumph over Right.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“Miss Primkins!” I exclaimed, when I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> -heard of the Cardiff visit, “I believe you’re the -good fairy who, I used to think, lived at the -entrance to the waterfall cave under the hill; -and I’m certain you’ve been sent up here for the -explicit purpose of relieving me of that meat! -If you’re going to Cardiff, it’s your clear duty to -take a griskin to each of your sisters—hearty-eating -boys, did you say? Good! That will -rid me of two! Well, you’ll find them at the -station in the morning waiting for the 9 o’clock -train—we’ll do them up to look like hothouse -grapes and pineapples.”</p> - -<p>Of course she protested, but I remained -firm; as I told her, I wasn’t going to let slip -such a heaven-sent opportunity to get those -joints transported for life.</p> - -<p>When Virginia and Ursula put them in the -railway carriage next morning, she asked if they -would mind, as they passed her house on their -way home, seeing if they could find Rehoboam; -he hadn’t come back for his milk, and she -couldn’t wait for him. They would find the -door-key under the fourth flower-pot on the right -hand window-sill; and if he was waiting on the -step (his usual custom about half-past nine) -would they be so kind as to give him the milk -that was in the larder? Then she need not -worry any more about him.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>They found Rehoboam as per schedule, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> -gave him the milk. They couldn’t help seeing -that there was only a small piece of cold suet -pudding, a little blackberry jam, and one thin -slice of bacon in the larder.</p> - -<p>When they got back we set to work on a -cooking crusade; and isn’t there a delightful -sense of freedom when you can do what you like -in your own kitchen, with no Abigail oversighting -your operations! We cooked some -griskin, and made pastry and cakes, and put -some eggs into pickle. (Do you know these? -hard-boiled eggs shelled when cold and put into -pickle vinegar; ready in a couple of days.)</p> - -<p>Then when it got to within an hour of train -time, the girls went down and lit Miss Primkins’ -fire, taking down a scuttle of coals for the -purpose; her outside coal-cellar being locked -fortunately gave us an excuse for not using up -hers. They also took some milk, three of my -finest potatoes, and other things.</p> - -<p>By the time the train arrived, and Miss -Primkins was on a tired homeward walk, the -kettle was singing on the hob; three floury -potatoes—strained, but keeping hot in the saucepan—stood -beside the kettle; the supper table -was laid with cold griskin, a jam tart, and a -small spice cake, while in the larder stood two -sausage-rolls, a seed cake, and a jar containing -three eggs in course of pickling.</p> - -<p>Of course the girls couldn’t resist ticketing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> -the things “Virginia made this, so be cautious! -(Signed) Ursula,” and similar nonsense, hoping -thereby to divert Miss Primkins from the bald -truth, viz., that we were trying to smuggle -something into a bare cupboard!</p> - -<p>Then, after rounding up Rehoboam, and -placing him on the hearthrug to give an air of -social welcome, they locked the door, putting -the key under the fourth flower-pot, and skipped -up the hill again by the woodland path, as Miss -Primkins turned into her little garden gate.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>XIII<br /> - -<small>When the Surgeon -Crossed the Hills</small></h2> - - -<p class="unindent"><span class="smcap">Of</span> course, it seemed ridiculous for a sane and -moderately well brought-up individual to dress -herself to go out—and in a new hat, too—and, -then, simply because her dog happened to tumble -out of the window, to collapse on the hearthrug -like an anæmic concertina, while she draped her -head gracefully over the fender, with the plumes -of the said new hat resting resignedly on the -fire-irons.</p> - -<p>It didn’t seem quite reasonable to want to -go to sleep like that. Still, as I showed signs -of doing it once more, after they had propped -me upright again, they decided to put me to -bed.</p> - -<p>When I woke up, they told me I was ill. -That seemed ridiculous, too, and I said so; and -added that now I had had a little rest I intended -to get up and go to town—important appointment; -couldn’t possibly be spared, etc.</p> - -<p>And they all said lots of things—you know -the kind of arguments your friends always bring -to bear on you if you chance to be just a little -out of sorts. I tried to make them understand -that I was indispensable to the well-being of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> -London; that, though <i>they</i> might be in the -habit of shirking work under the slightest -pretext of a headache, <i>I</i> wasn’t that sort of a -person. I owed it to my conscience, as well as -to the world at large, to be at work in my office -within half an hour, penning words of wisdom -that should keep the universe on its proper -balance.</p> - -<p>Ursula merely asked if I liked the milk with -the beaten egg <i>quite</i> cold or a trifle warm?</p> - -<p>In the end I had to give in. They insisted -I was ill; and I admit I was feeling unusually -tired.</p> - -<p>But as the weeks went by I did not get as -strong as I had hoped to do. I seldom got -farther than an easy-chair, and not always as far -as that. So at last I determined to try the cure -that hitherto had never failed me. Trunks were -packed, and they got me down by easy stages to -the cottage among the hills. I felt that if only -I could see the flowers and breathe the air that -blows way over from where the lighthouse blinks -in the channel, I should certainly pick up both -my strength and my courage.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>When I reached the cottage the autumn sun -was setting on hills that were a gorgeous blaze -of brilliant crimson, yellow, bright rust, gold, -pale lemon, chestnut brown, with the dark green -of yew-trees at intervals. I have never seen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> -colours like our autumn hillsides anywhere in the -world, though, of course, they can be matched -in places where the woods are made up of a wide -variety of different trees. After the murk of -London in October the glory of it all fairly -dazzled me.</p> - -<p>The garden was lovely too, but in a wistful -sort of way. Snapdragons and zinnias and -eschscholtzias were blooming lustily; there were -still blossoms on the monthly rose bushes; -nasturtiums flaunted in odd corners, and made -splashes of brightness; the purple clematis over -the porch was in full flower; fuchsias, geraniums, -belated larkspurs, hollyhocks, and sweet alyssum -talked of summer not yet over; while peeping -out from crevices among the stones and nestling -at the roots of trees were primroses already in -flower; violets were blooming in the big bed by -the kitchen door, and the yellow jasmine was -smothered in bloom—such a curious mixture of -summer and spring overlapping, with no hint of -autumn and winter in between.</p> - -<p>The fruit had not all been gathered in, and -the trees in the orchard were bowed down with -masses of crimson and pale green and golden -yellow and russet brown, with spots of colour -dotted about among the lush grass. It seemed -impossible that one could remain ill in such an -earthly paradise!</p> - -<p>I was too tired with the journey to go round<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> -the garden that day; I put it off till to-morrow. -Next day I was not equal to going out at all, -and the third day I did not get up.</p> - -<p>The colours gradually faded from the hillsides; -the woods grew a purply-brown; the -white mists were later and later in rising from -the river in the valley below me. All day long -I lay in bed watching the sun move from east to -west across the mountains, while near at hand -tomtits and finches, jays and magpies, cheeky -robins and green and crimson woodpeckers -flitted about in the bare trees just outside my -windows.</p> - -<p>One little wren used regularly to pay me a -morning call on the window-ledge; often she -flew right into the room. I liked to think she -came to ask how I was. Once I opened my -eyes to find a robin perched on the rail at the -bottom of the bed, eyeing me inquiringly. The -little wild things on these hills seem so friendly.</p> - -<p>As soon as twilight fell the owls woke up the -adjoining wood, and called to other owls across -the ravine.</p> - -<p>These were the only sounds to break the -silence.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It is when you are ill, more than at any other -time, that you realise the human difference -between town and country. You can live all -your life, and then be ill and die, in London, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> -the people next door—even those in the same -building—may know nothing about it.</p> - -<p>I knew of a girl living in a block of small -flats occupied by women workers, and trying to -make a living by journalism, who lay dead in -her room for a week, and then was only -discovered by the caretaker because her rent was -overdue. No one had missed her, though there -were women going up and down stairs and in -and out of the rooms, all around her. The -isolation of the solitary woman in a crowded city -can be something awful.</p> - -<p>It isn’t that town dwellers at heart are more -selfish than country folks; it is their mode of life -that is to blame.</p> - -<p>London claims so much of one’s time and -energy for the doing of “most important” work, -and the pursuit of machine-made pleasure, till -next to nothing is left for the greatest of all -work and the greatest of all pleasure—merely -being kind.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Once it was known that I wasn’t getting better -and the local doctor had been summoned (he -lives in another village nearly four miles off), -kindnesses came from all directions, everybody -offering the best they had. If extra people -had been required to take turns sitting up at -night, any number were ready to come on duty. -One woman, who is exceedingly capable, though<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> -an amateur masseuse, came to inquire if it -was a case where rubbing would be beneficial. -She brought a bottle of Elliman’s with her, in -case she could be of use, and offered to come -daily.</p> - -<p>Did the Buff Orpingtons lay that priceless -treasure, an unexpected mid-winter egg? It -was promptly sent up by a small child, with a -kind hope from mother that the lady would be -able to take it.</p> - -<p>I believe Sarah Ann Perkins would have -slain every duck she possessed (and have scorned -to take payment), if only there had been the -slightest chance of my once more eating that -fair slice from the breast!</p> - -<p>A calf’s foot was needed for jelly. The -butcher hadn’t one, didn’t know who had; but -one arrived next day, though he had had to -scour the county for it.</p> - -<p>Was anything required hurriedly from the -village shop? Everybody was willing to go and -fetch it, or Miss Jarvis would toil up with it -herself, after the shop was closed, rather than I -should be kept waiting, bringing up a bunch of -early violets from her garden at the same time.</p> - -<p>One farmer’s wife trailed up the rough, wet -paths, with a little pigeon all ready for roasting, -in the hope that it might tempt me.</p> - -<p>The handy man went out and shot an owl -because he was sure I must find all they hooters<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> -a turr’ble noosance. Of course he didn’t know -how I love the owls, nor how companionable it -seemed to hear them calling to one another -through the long, long night. But probably the -kind thought behind his gun was of greater -worth than the bird he shot.</p> - -<p>Yes, everybody was anxious to do something, -only there was so little they could do—till one -day Angelina lost herself! She had followed -Abigail in the afternoon to the village, where a -dog suddenly scared and chased her, and she -flew off into the woods.</p> - -<p>Abigail hunted for her till the winter dusk -settled in, but no cat responded to her calls. So -she had to content herself with mentioning the -matter at each cottage in the vicinity, everyone -willingly undertaking to keep a look-out for the -missing cat. By the next afternoon every -youngster in the village was out scouting for -her, and saucers of milk were placed enticingly -outside doors.</p> - -<p>But poor Angy was never seen again.</p> - -<p>I missed her very much. She was only a -very ordinary tabby, but she was a large, comfortable, -homely sort of a cat; and she had -made it part of her daily programme to come -upstairs and jump softly on my bed with a -pleased little mew, and then settle herself down -beside me, where I could reach out my hand to -stroke her, while she purred soothingly the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> -whole time. The little dog was too boisterously -demonstrative, in his joy at seeing me, to be -allowed in the room; but the more sedate and -gentle Angelina helped me to pass many a -weary hour.</p> - -<p>When all search for her proved fruitless, the -kindly village people didn’t dismiss the matter -as done with. Forthwith there started a procession -from the village to my house, and about -every hour someone arrived with an offering. I -could hear their voices at the door below, -through the open bedroom window.</p> - -<p>First it was a labouring man with a big -hamper: “My missus is so worrit about the -poor young lady losing her cat, so I’ve brought -up our Tom, if she’d care to accept him. He’s -a fust-class ratter—killed a big ’un in our barn -yesterday,” etc.</p> - -<p>Then it was the piping voice of a small girl, -accompanied by two smaller: “Please, we’re so -sorry about the lady not having a pussy when -she’s poorly, and we’ve brought her our two -little kitties, an’ one has six toes!”</p> - -<p>Next a bigger girl: “Gran says would miss -like one of our kittens? They’ll be able to leave -their mother next week, and I’ll bring the lot up -for her to choose from, if she’d like one.”</p> - -<p>A boy arrived with a basket containing a fine -black cat. “Mother’s sent this for the lady. -Just you see how he’ll jump over my hand and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> -stand on his hind legs!”—(a wild scramble -followed). “Here, Peter! here—come <i>back</i>—Pe-ter! -Puss, puss, puss! There now, I’ve -done it! Mother said as I wasn’t to open the -basket till I was inside the house! I ’spect he’s -back home again by now! But I’ll bring him -up again presently. The lady’ll love to have -him, he’s so knowing.”</p> - -<p>Later, I heard a woman’s voice: “Poor <i>dear</i> -soul, it <i>do</i> seem hard; and the on’y cat she’ve got, -too! Well, we’ve six to our house, and she can -have all of ourn and welcome.”</p> - -<p>As Virginia said, it was not quite so embarrassing -as griskins, because, at least, each had -four legs with which to get itself off home again.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>But it is weary work lying still day after day -till the weeks actually lengthen into months. I -kept on telling myself I was making headway, -but it was a poor pretence. I gave up thinking -about it at last, and wondered how I could best -endure the pain that no one seemed able to -relieve.</p> - -<p>The autumn had now changed to winter, and -one morning I woke to see snow bearing down -the fir-trees and lying on the hills. The snow is -very beautiful when one is well and strong, and -able to go out in the crisp cold air and enjoy it; -but to me, penned in among the hills, miles away -from town and the advantages of up-to-date<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> -civilisation, it gave a sudden sense of desolation. -It shut me off most effectually from the big -world I wanted so badly to see again. As I -looked out upon that snow, it seemed as though -I were buried already.</p> - -<p>One desire swamped all others, and that was -the longing to get back to London where friends -would be around me, and specialists within easy -reach. And yet that appeared to be an utter -impossibility. It has always been a matter of -pride with me that my cottage is situated in one -of the most inaccessible spots in the British Isles; -I used to feel so happy in the thought that it -was only with the utmost difficulty that a vehicle -could be got near the garden gate. It gave me -such a sense of seclusion and delightful “far-away-ness” -after the crush and hustle of town -life.</p> - -<p>But for once I wished I had been a wee bit -more accessible. I realised that there might be -certain advantages in having a good county road -close by whereon a helpless invalid could be -driven to the station without having every bone -in her body jolted to pieces! But it was too -late to do anything now.</p> - -<p>Altogether it was two months before I let -anyone in town know how ill I really was; most -people thought I was merely taking a long rest. -Naturally it was at once suggested a specialist -should be sent for; but I said no. I was such a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> -weak creature by this time, I felt I couldn’t bear -to hear the worst—I was almost sure there would -be a “worst” to hear—and that a specialist -wouldn’t diagnose my illness as merely overwork. -I insisted that I would rather be left to die -quietly. I know it sounds very cowardly, and -I <i>was</i> a coward at the time. But I think many -women will understand this condition of mind; -we do try so often to push back, with both our -hands, trouble of this sort, when we dimly see -it ahead.</p> - -<p>The hale and hearty person will naturally -exclaim: “How perfectly ridiculous! How -much more sensible to have proper advice, and -then set to work to get strong again!” I know! -I have myself said this sort of thing to ill people -many a time in the past! But I learnt a lot of -things during that breakdown; among them, -that it is very easy to lay down the law as to -what should be done, and to act in a common-sense -manner, when one is well; but it is quite -another thing to follow one’s own good advice, -or, in fact, do anything one ought to do, when -one is too weak even to think!</p> - -<p>Yet how often it happens that, in our direst -extremity, help comes when least expected! So -soon as it became known in town that I was -really seriously ill, there appeared among my -morning letters a note from one of London’s -most famous surgeons saying that he was coming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> -down on a friendly visit in a couple of days -“just to see if I can help you at all.”</p> - -<p>I read the letter a second time, and then all -my fears vanished. Someone coming “to help” -me seemed so different from a formal consultation. -That phrase was better than reams of -ordinary sympathy, or kind inquiries, or professional -expressions. And then I felt so glad -that the matter had been taken out of my hands. -It seemed as though a weight was lifted from -my brain, and being a feeble as well as a foolish -creature, at first I put my head under the eiderdown -and had a weep—for sheer gratitude; but -a few minutes later I rubbed my eyes and felt I -was heaps better already!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Yet the way was not entirely clear, even -though this busy, over-worked specialist was -offering to spend more than a day in journeying -right across England to the far-off cottage; -there was the snow to be reckoned with, and, -when it likes, the snow on our hills can -frustrate anybody’s best-laid plans. The sky -was very grey; I did hope no more would -fall, otherwise the roads would probably be -impassable.</p> - -<p>Owing to the scarcity of trains in our valley, -the local doctor was to tap the main line some -miles away, and meet the great surgeon; and a -rich resident was kindly loaning a cherished new<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> -car, as the doctor did not consider either of his -own motors worthy of the occasion.</p> - -<p>But even he was dubious as he looked at the -heavy skies. He said he could manage to get the -car through eighteen inches of snow; but if it -were deeper than that——! I remembered -that only a couple of years before I had been -snowed up in the cottage with drifts six-foot -deep. The outlook wasn’t exactly encouraging.</p> - -<p>Such heaps of tragedies seemed possible -within the next twenty-four hours. Suppose, -for instance, royalty should suddenly develop -some malady necessitating arms or legs being -amputated without delay——! I simply dared -not think about such a calamity; and even though -the specialist escaped a royal command, and -actually set off to catch the train that was to -bring him to our hill-country, there might be an -accident; London streets are beset with terrors; -I never realised till that moment how many -dangers a man must face between Wimpole -Street and Paddington Station! But I tried to -have faith that all would be well.</p> - -<p>I heard a soft step in the room—every step -that came near me was softened nowadays. I -opened my eyes and saw Abigail beside my bed.</p> - -<p>“Please, m’m, do you happen to know if the -specialist-doctor takes pepper?” she asked in the -half-whisper that she had adopted as her bedroom -voice.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I haven’t the remotest idea,” I said; “but -why do you want to know?”</p> - -<p>“Because we’ve just smashed the glass -pepper-box, and we haven’t another down here. -And I can’t exactly put it on the table in a -mustard-pot!”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I watched for the snow, the eighteen inches -I was dreading; but the wind changed and it -didn’t fall. Instead, next morning found us -enveloped in a solid fog—the only fog we had -had this season. Hills and valleys were blotted -out as completely as though they had never -existed. The cottage seemed to stand in mid-air, -with nothing but grey unoccupied space -around it. And it was such a raw, penetrating -fog.</p> - -<p>I just lay and watched the grey, blind world -outside the windows, and counted the half-hours -as the morning wore by. And isn’t it amazing -how long the very minutes can be when one is -right-down ill, and waiting for a doctor?</p> - -<p>In a small isolated community like ours, one -excitement is made to do duty for a long while. -The impending visit of the surgeon from London -was soon the topic of general conversation. And -little white curtains were pulled aside from -cottage windows as the car, with the doctor and -a stranger, was seen coming down one hill and -over the bridge into the village in the valley,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> -switchbacking again up the opposite hill to reach -the particular crag on which my cottage is -perched.</p> - -<p>Owing to previous heavy rains, the lanes -were almost impassable in places; overflowing -brooks made rivers and swamps in most unexpected -spots. Thus it was that the car could -not come within half-a-mile of the cottage; it -had to be “beached” high and dry in somebody’s -farmyard, and the rest of the journey made on -foot. The walk is a positive fairyland dream in -summer; but on the bleak December day the -ferns and flowers were gone, and the withered -grass stalks rustled with a disconsolate wheeze, -while the pine-trees creaked and moaned in the -wind. It seemed an unkind, inhospitable sort of -a day to bring a busy, valuable man such a long, -cold distance.</p> - -<p>At last I heard brisk footsteps coming down -the path to the door, scrunching the cones that -had fallen from the larches. Then a cheerful -voice was speaking, while great-coats were being -taken off down below. I shut my eyes, and felt -I need not worry any more.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>After all, we women are curious creatures! -We consult a specialist when we have some -weakness that won’t give way to ordinary treatment, -and then, when, out of his exceptional -knowledge and wide experience, he tells us what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> -will probably cure us, many of us immediately -beseech him to make it something else.</p> - -<p>When the surgeon told me what course it -would be necessary to take if I was to be got on -to my feet again, I immediately began to state a -hundred reasons why I wished he would prescribe -something entirely different. He said he was -going to have me brought to London at once -and taken to a hospital. I knew that was the -very last thing I could endure. I have always -had an absolute terror lest I should ever have to -go into a hospital; and here I was confronted -with it face to face. I said I could <i>not</i> go into -one; whatever treatment was necessary must be -done in my own home. I didn’t want to be -among strangers and with nurses whom I had -never seen before; I wanted to be nursed by -people I knew. And as for chloroform, well, I -would gladly die first! such was the horror I -had of it. And I continued on these lines.</p> - -<p>The surgeon listened very patiently and let -me have my say out. (Where in the world does -a man like this get his marvellous stock of -patience from!) He even agreed with most of -my arguments. Anæsthetics were disagreeable; -it certainly would be pleasanter to be in my own -home; and it might be nicer if I had only friends -around me, etc.</p> - -<p>But, all the same, it was borne in upon me -that I might as well try to get the Sphinx to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> -turn its head and nod over to a pyramid, as to -attempt to make the man who was talking to -me budge an eighth of an inch. And he wound -up by saying, “I am afraid, however, that it -will have to be a hospital—I’m so sorry—but I -want you to go into a private ward in Mildmay. -You shall have the best man in London to -administer the anæsthetic; and as for nurses—well, -if you don’t say they are some of the finest -women you have ever met, I shall be much -surprised.”</p> - -<p>By this time I had my head under the eiderdown -again, and was howling away (quietly). I -was so truly sorry for myself!</p> - -<p>The great man waited for a minute, and then, -as the sniffles didn’t stop, he said—</p> - -<p>“Now just listen to me. You are in the -habit of writing heaps of good advice to people -when they are in trouble—telling them to have -faith when adversity comes, and to bear their -burdens bravely. Don’t you think you are a -most inconsistent person? Here you are, confronted -with something that is going to be a -trifle trying, and you immediately turn your face -to the wall, and say you prefer to die, without -so much as giving a solitary kick! Why, -Hezekiah isn’t in it, beside you! What is your -faith worth at this rate!”</p> - -<p>Then for a good half-hour he sat and talked, -reminding me of our duty as professing Christians;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> -of the wrong we do when we try to shuffle -away from our work; of God’s care for His -children individually, and of our foolishness in -doubting Him in times of trouble.</p> - -<p>I had got to a very low ebb spiritually as -well as physically. Being cut off from the world -and so much alone, with only a pain to think -about, my outlook on life had become altogether -distorted. My soul was certainly in need of a -bracing up just then—and it got it.</p> - -<p>One thing impressed me very much at this -time, viz., the marvellous power that lies in the -hands of those who can bring healing to the soul -as well as healing to the body. The most -devoted of God’s ministers have seldom such -power as this. They can bring messages of hope -and consolation, but they do not know how much -a sick person is able, physically, to stand in the -way of a strong spiritual tonic, and they seldom -dare administer one, even though they may think -it necessary.</p> - -<p>But the doctor knows how much the patient -is equal to. And the man who has consecrated -to God’s service a life that is spent in mending -the poor broken bodies of humanity is surely -doing work that angels might envy; undoubtedly -God gives him power and opportunity that falls -to the lot of few other men.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The December afternoon closed in early, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> -the surgeon had once more to take a long, dreary -journey to get back to the urgent work waiting -for him in town. But he left behind him a far -more sane and sensible person than he had found -on his arrival.</p> - -<p>When he had gone, after having made the -most comprehensive and detailed plans for my -removal, Abigail tiptoed into my room, her face -all aglow with excitement.</p> - -<p>“I thought you’d like to know I heard the -specialist-doctor say, when I was bringing in the -sweets at lunch, that he didn’t know when he -had eaten roast chicken he had enjoyed so much. -I shall rub it into cook when we go home. -And I’d better let Sarah Ann Perkins know, as -we got it from her.”</p> - -<p>“Take whatever is left, and keep it for a -souvenir,” I said. “And if you like to have the -carcase framed, I’ll pay for it.”</p> - -<p>“You look better already,” she replied.</p> - -<p>Thus the great man scattered cheeriness in -various directions; and Sarah Ann, a year later, -pridefully showed me the chicken’s wings a-top -her best Sunday bonnet.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In just as much time as it took my London -doctor to come west to assume charge of me, -they got me under way.</p> - -<p>“But how am I ever going to reach the -main road!” I wailed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Perfectly easy,” said Ursula. “You are -going to be carried, and every masculine in the -place is willing to lend a hand.”</p> - -<p>And so they did. One young man made -himself entirely responsible for my luggage, -going off with it by train, that there should be -no chance of any delay. A stalwart fisherman -and a sturdy young farmer carried me, in a chair, -straight up hill for half a mile to where a motor -was waiting on the county road.</p> - -<p>Everybody was so gentle and quiet, and yet -very businesslike. They stood silently, with -their hats off, while I was put into the car. I -looked round on the hills, convinced that I was -looking at them for the last time, and felt -exactly as though I were present at my own -funeral!</p> - -<p>Even the people in the village kept sympathetically -in the background, with the same -sort of respect one observes when a funeral -procession passes; though at the last house in -the village one dear kindly soul pulled her little -white curtains aside, waving her hand and -smiling encouragingly to me as we went by.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>XIV<br /> - -<small>In Mildmay Hospital—An -Interlude</small></h2> - - -<p class="unindent"><span class="smcap">I don’t</span> think there is anything worse than the -sense of utter desolation that envelops you -when the hospital door finally closes on everybody -you know, and you are alone with total -strangers and unknown terrors ahead. The -dreariest moment of my whole life was when I -found myself alone in a private ward at Mildmay, -with no one whom I knew within call.</p> - -<p>Yet was it mere chance, I wonder, that the -nurses at their prayers that day sang Matheson’s -beautiful hymn—“O Love, that wilt not let me -go”?</p> - -<p>It came to me along the corridor, as I lay -staring at the ceiling. I tried, in my heart, to -sing it with them; but I gave it up when they -got to the verse—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“O Joy, that seekest me through pain,</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">I cannot close my heart to Thee;</span></div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">I trace the rainbow through the rain,</span></div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And feel the promise is not vain,</span></div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">That morn shall tearless be.”</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="unindent">I couldn’t see the rainbow just then.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, I got to love that room as one -of the happiest spots on earth, for the sake of -the people whom I found there; and during the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> -ten weeks I remained in it, I proved beyond all -chance of further doubt that when God seems to -be taking from us, He is in reality giving us -something better than all we could ever ask or -think. At the moment of the taking, perhaps, -our eyes are too dimmed to see this, but in the -fulfilment of time, when He wipes away our -tears, may it not be that, in addition to banishing -our sorrows, He will clear our vision, that we -may see how marvellously He made all things -work together for good?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Next day I remarked, irritably, that I didn’t -like the green walls, and I thought the green -bedspread positively bilious.</p> - -<p>The matron, looking at me with a twinkle -in her eyes, said, “Dear lady, you shall have -another bedspread this instant; and as soon as -you are well enough to be moved, we will -re-paint the walls whatever colour meets with -your approval;—we can’t do it while you are -in bed, can we? Meanwhile, I shall call you -‘Delicate Fuss’!”</p> - -<p>(And “Delicate Fuss” I have remained ever -since.)</p> - -<p>But there was such an amount of misery -bottled up inside me, some of it was obliged to -spill over, and I once more reiterated my desire -to die.</p> - -<p>“That’s all right,” said the matron cheerfully;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> -“but how about your tombstone? You -would like a really artistic one, wouldn’t you? -And being literary, surely you would wish to -edit what is to go on it. Now let us see what -we can scheme out.”</p> - -<p>So we all settled to a discussion of shapes and -styles and suitable words. The nurses warmed -to the work, the ward sister came in to give her -views, and for the first time for weeks I found -myself smiling. Finally, it was unanimously -decided that the most appropriate and truthful -description would be these simple words—</p> - -<p class="center"> -<small>“SHE WAS PLAIN BUT OCCASIONALLY PLEASANT.”</small><br /> -</p> - -<p>But the time came when I was beyond even -discussing tombstones; when I could not bear a -sound in the room and even quiet footsteps -jarred me. Then it was that I found out more -especially what the spirit of Mildmay stands for. -It was no mere perfunctory service that was -rendered the invalid. Doctors, matron, nurses -said nothing of the extra hours of work they put in -on my account; of the watching and the tending -when they were really supposed to be off duty. -It seemed wonderful that I, who had looked -forward to the inevitable with a terrible dread -of being lonely and among strangers, should -actually find myself, when the time came, surrounded -by friendly faces, and cared for by -people who had grown very dear to me.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span></p> - -<p>And fancy a hospital where they went to the -trouble of bandaging up the door-handles to -prevent noisy bangs; where they laid down -matting to deaden the sounds in the corridor; -where they fixed peremptory notices to the -doors, enjoining all and sundry to close them -quietly; where even the ward-maid constituted -herself dragoness-in-chief, for the time being, -watching and waiting, and then pouncing on any -unthinking person who might let a latch slip -through her fingers, or a house-porter who might -clatter a coal-scuttle.</p> - -<p>Yet this—and a great deal more—is what -they did at Mildmay, just because one patient -was going through a bad time.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Thanks to all the care I received, I was at -last able to leave the hospital. Of course I was -glad to go out into the big world again—who -wouldn’t be, after lying all that time with no -other “view” visible from where I lay but three -chimney-pots? I was glad to think I was going -to be able to walk again, and take up my work -once more. But I felt genuine regret at having -to say good-bye to the people I had really grown -to love during my stay with them.</p> - -<p>I shall never forget the morning that I was -taken away by a couple of nurses to the seaside. -The others came, in ones and twos, to say good-bye. -And in the midst of it, the great surgeon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> -walked in—just to see what the patient was like -before she started.</p> - -<p>“Now confess,” he said, “a hospital isn’t such -a bad place after all, is it?”</p> - -<p>I agreed with him; but I couldn’t put into -words what a wonderfully good place I had -found it.</p> - -<p>I could only think what a contrast was presented -between the poor, forlorn thing who -arrived those months before, and the still-very-wobbly, -but cheerfully-smiling, person who was -now driving away, while the nurses leaned out -of the upper windows and showered rice all over -the vehicle.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>XV<br /> - -<small>The Return to the -Flower-Patch</small></h2> - - -<p class="unindent"><span class="smcap">And</span> because it is the correct thing to introduce -a wedding into the last chapter, I had better -mention the one I know most about.</p> - -<p>I always did say that, whenever I married, -my wedding should be characterised by everything -appertaining to common sense; while all -the feebleness and foolishness and weakmindedness -I had noticed at other people’s weddings -would be entirely lacking. I have often remarked -how strange it is that otherwise sensible -people seem to lose all idea of proportion when -it comes to arranging a wedding; how they let -themselves be obsessed with clothes and furniture -and wedding presents that they don’t require; or -if they do require them, they might have been -dealt with on orderly systematic lines.</p> - -<p>“Why need there be a chaos of garments in -the spare room and every wardrobe and chest of -drawers in the house just because one person is -going to be married?” I have said many a time. -Well, I’m not going to say it again. In fact, -the older I get the more I find life resolves itself -into one continual discovery that I needn’t have -said half the things that I did say in my first -youth.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span></p> - -<p>But with regard to the wedding, I think I -started all right; it was as matters proceeded -that I was overtaken by the inevitable. I really -was too busy with arrears of work that accumulated -during my long illness to see to the -trousseau details <i>in extenso</i>, so I asked an intimate -friend if she would take this in hand for me—which -she kindly agreed to do. She had had -lots of experience, and her taste was exquisite; -so I knew matters were safe with her. She asked -me what frocks I already had. I replied, “Not -a rag fit to wear!”</p> - -<p>“Then I’ll make a good selection, and have -them sent home for you to choose from,” she -replied, her face suffused with that joy-radiance -that invariably overtakes a woman who starts -out shopping with a blank cheque in her handbag.</p> - -<p>She certainly did make a good selection; I -almost wished it hadn’t been quite so good, then -at least I should have known what to send back. -But as it was, every fresh box I opened, I exclaimed, -“Isn’t that lovely! I <i>must</i> have <i>that!</i>” -till presently the room was a billowy sea of -tissue paper and beautiful garments that looked -as though hands had never touched them. I -thought I was quite hardened and proof against -lures of this kind; but the snare of it simply -enmeshes you before you know where you are. -As my bedroom was soon full to overflowing, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> -said the rest of the things had better go into a -spare room. Very soon the spare rooms were -full too. And so we went on like that!</p> - -<p>Why didn’t I put the things away in drawers -and wardrobes? Simply because every such -receptacle I possessed was full to distraction -before the trousseau things started to arrive! -Did you ever know a woman who possessed a -drawer or a wardrobe peg that wasn’t already -over full, and she pining for more space? So -for weeks we had to hop over piles of cardboard -boxes no matter what room we entered, and -scrabble up more bales of tissue paper and -things to make room on the sofa for the -friend who called to bring her good wishes in -person.</p> - -<p>Still, I have always thought that a strong -argument in favour of a woman getting married -is the fact that she, presumably, comes in for -additional drawers and wardrobes. Hence I -looked forward to getting into my new home -with considerable satisfaction in view of the -purchase of extra furniture.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know it’s a bit crowded just now,” I -agreed, when Virginia suggested I should set up -a shop with “Modes et Robes” over the door, -because she had estimated that I shouldn’t need -to buy any tissue paper for eleven years and five -months. “But I shall have <i>heaps</i> of spare room -when I get into the new house; I really shan’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> -know what to do with so many chests of -drawers!”</p> - -<p>But alas! in spite of the additional furniture, -I am still squeezing things into drawers that -would be so much more useful if made of elastic -india-rubber instead of wood. And I am still -flattening garments into wardrobes that are so -bulgingly full that I wonder sometimes whether -the looking-glass will stand the inside pressure. -And still I don’t seem to have a rag fit to -wear.</p> - -<p>But the moving process was even worse than -the trousseau. The very thought of it was -turning my brain to stone.</p> - -<p>When I mentioned my quakings about the -moving to the Head of Affairs, he said airily, -“Don’t you give a solitary thought to <i>that</i>. -Just go away for a couple of days’ holiday, and -when you come back you will find everything as -right as can be in the new house. You don’t -need to touch a thing or pack an atom. The -men do <i>everything</i>. Now, why bother your head -with unnecessary worrying?” etc.</p> - -<p>I seemed to think I had heard the same remark -made in the dim past when we removed -from one house to another in my early days. I -also remember that the brother of Virginia and -Ursula said the very same thing to them when -they moved, and they, acting on masculine -advice, had the greatest difficulty, ultimately, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> -ever finding any solitary thing they possessed -(including themselves) among the ruins. So I -decided to postpone the couple of days’ holiday -and face the worst.</p> - -<p>There is no need to go into details about -that move. Those who have been through it -know exactly how many months it takes to find -such things as the corkscrew, the buttonhook, -the oil-can belonging to the sewing-machine, -the one hammer that has its head fixed on -firmly.</p> - -<p>They know the joy with which you fall on -the missing sofa cushions when they are eventually -discovered done up with spare bedding in the -attic—that everyone has been too tired to undo; -and the affectionate greetings bestowed on the -hall clothes-brush when it is at length found—in -company with the dog’s whip—in a drawer one -has forgotten in a small table. Of course, it’s -very satisfactory when the perspiring gentleman -who has packed—and then unpacked again—all -the china comes to announce, “Not a single -piece is cracked or chipped, madam;” but when -you survey the piles of crockery and glass on -the kitchen dresser and table and window-ledge -and mantelpiece, that haven’t yet found an -abiding-place, and see the pantries full to overflowing, -a lurking thought comes that perhaps it -might have been an advantage if he <i>had</i> smashed -a few dozens of the multitudinous array of cups<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> -and saucers and plates and dishes that seem -woefully superfluous at the moment!</p> - -<p>As there seemed a good bit still to do, I said -I would dispense with the conventional “tour,” -proper to the occasion, and spend the time trying -to dispose of the twenty-seven British workmen, -supposed to be house-decorating, who were cheerfully -in possession (and apparently regarding their -posts as life appointments) when our goods arrived -at the door, despite our having let them live in -the house rent free for two months previously.</p> - -<p>It was a little difficult to follow their twenty-seven -lines of argument as to why they should -remain with us permanently, with Abigail continually -at my elbow presenting a tradesman’s -card and explaining—</p> - -<p>“Please, ma’am, this man says he served the -people who were here before; but I’ve told him -he’s the ninth fishmonger who has said that -to-day.”</p> - -<p>Or else it would be, “There’s a man at the -door says he served the last people with groceries. -Can I tell him to run back and get some soap? -I can’t find where the men put our packets, and -it will be quicker than sending to the Stores. I -suppose you don’t happen to have seen it, m’m? -Cook and I have looked everywhere. But we’ve -found the anchovy sauce, and the carpet beater. -Where <i>do</i> you think they had packed them——” -and so on.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span></p> - -<p>But I determined to do my wifely duty in -making a happy home for the man who had had -the courage to marry me.</p> - -<p>I was politely attentive when interviewed by -a near-by magnate who was anxious to propose -the Head of Affairs for the Conservative Club. -I accepted particulars supplied me by the -secretary of the Golf Club, who felt we were the -very people the club needed. I tried to understand -when the gardener explained the peculiarities -of the greenhouse heating apparatus, and -the danger that would threaten if anyone but -himself entered the greenhouse.</p> - -<p>I endured the postman knocking at the door -a dozen times a day to inquire if we lived there, -only to point out to us that we didn’t when we -had assured him that we did. I informed the -sweep that everything was quite satisfactory -thank you, and I should hope to have the -pleasure of meeting him again.</p> - -<p>I accepted the coal man’s many reasons for -not having delivered the coal sooner; and I -thanked cook for the information that the policeman -said he or his mate would always be on -point duty at the corner whenever we wanted -him.</p> - -<p>I filed half a bushel of tradesmen’s price lists -and laundry data.</p> - -<p>I put the whole household on a milk-pudding -diet, rather than waste the numerous samples of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> -milk left, by rival and mutually abusive dairymen, -in a row of cans at the side door.</p> - -<p>And when a sumptuously apparelled resident -called to say that the previous occupant had -always contributed liberally to the local working -men’s brass band, I tried to look gratified to hear -of such generosity—though I had the presence of -mind to say I should not be at home on Saturday -evening when they proposed to serenade me in -the front garden.</p> - -<p>Yes, it was a pleasant and peaceful couple of -days, and I dare say I should have been all the -better for the complete rest, had not the telephone -men and the gas stove men called -simultaneously with the electrical engineers (who -had been summoned to see why the electric light -sulked), and, with a unanimity of purpose that -was truly beautiful in a world so full of variance, -they all set to work to take up floor-boards, -in rooms and halls where the carpets and -lino had been laid—the twenty-seven standing -around and assisting with reminiscence and -anecdote.</p> - -<p>Then it was that the Head of Affairs put -down a firm foot and insisted on the Flower-Patch.</p> - -<p>At first Abigail was reluctant to leave such -bright scenes in the kitchen as she hadn’t known -for several years; but, remembering that a halo -of distinction surrounds the bearer of exclusive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> -information, no matter how unimportant, she set -off cheerfully next morning, and we followed a -day later.</p> - -<p>She prided herself on the tactful way she -broke her news to the village.</p> - -<p>“Hasn’t Miss Klickmann come down ’long -with ’ee?” inquired Mrs. Widow and the handy -man in unison.</p> - -<p>“You’ll never see Miss Klickmann again,” -Abigail replied in funereal tones.</p> - -<p>“Oh! You don’t tell me so! Poor <i>dear</i> -thing! though I knowed she wasn’t long for this -world,” and kind-hearted Mrs. Widow started -to mop her eyes with her apron. “Was it very -suddint at the last?”</p> - -<p>“Very!” said the handmaiden. “Couldn’t -make up her mind till the very day before the -wedding.”</p> - -<p>When they had grasped the true state of -affairs, and imbibed enough particulars to have -filled three newspaper columns, Mrs. Widow -hurried off home, and then on to the village, -likewise conscious of the halo of distinction. But -the handy man paused—</p> - -<p>“I wish I’d er knowed a bit sooner,” he said, -“then I’d er made an arch with ‘Welcome’ on -it as large as you please. Yes, I’d er like to -have had an arch. But thur,”—after a moment’s -thought—“perhaps I’d better do a bit o’ weedin’ -and cut the grass.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span></p> - -<p>Thus it happened that I was once again going -along the road, over which they had carried me -only seven months before. It was cold and -cheerless then; now it was all flowers and -sunshine.</p> - -<p>The kindly, motherly soul who lives in the -end house was at her gate now, watching for our -coming.</p> - -<p>“Well there! Well there!” as the wagonette -stopped for me to speak to her. “I thought I -should never see you again”—and she grasped -my hand in her own, having first polished it on -her apron, which is always fresh and spotless. -“And now here you are. My dear, I’m <i>that</i> glad -to see you back, and I do hope you’ll be happy.”</p> - -<p>The stalwart fisherman, standing on the river -bank, raised his cap—I hadn’t forgotten the -good work he had done for me. Miss Jarvis at -the village shop came to the door and waved her -hand—I remembered the box of violets and -moss and little ferns she had posted to the -hospital.</p> - -<p>In the cottage itself kind hands had been -hard at work; it was simply a bower of wild -flowers. The walls inside were nearly smothered -with trophies of moon daisies, grasses and ferns, -and the same scheme of flowers was carried all -up the stairs. On the window ledge on the -landing were bowls of Sweet Betsy and cow -parsley—and such a pretty mixture the crimson<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> -and the white flowers made. Upstairs the rooms -were gay with bowls of forget-me-nots and -buttercups. Downstairs it was wild roses and -honeysuckle, with mugs of red clover on the -mantelpieces. Being summer, the fire-grates -were at liberty, and these were filled with -branches of bracken, ivy, silvery honesty seeds, -and foxglove. Everything had such a delightfully -“misty” effect, by reason of the seeding -grasses that had been added lavishly to the -flowers.</p> - -<p>The only garden flowers in the house were -some roses, in the centre of the dinner-table, -sent by Miss Jarvis (with some pale green young -lettuces) from her garden.</p> - -<p>Outside the swallows were twittering, and, -like all the other birds, were fussing about their -small families. The distant hills were glowing -crimson by the acre where the timber had been -cut, I knew it was myriads and myriads of foxgloves. -Near at hand the Flower-Patch was a -mass of nodding blossoms, coupled, with a -choice variety of weeds. I wondered where I -had better begin, and how I should cope with -the bindweed, flaunting itself everywhere that -it had no business to be. Had I better start -the handy man on it at once, or would it be -better to set him to cut the hedges?</p> - -<p>But even as I was planning out a good week’s -work for him, I saw him coming up the path, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> -picturesque figure in a blue jersey, a large, shady, -rush hat, and carrying, as signs of office, a pitch-fork, -a scythe, and a rake; and I heard his voice -in the garden speaking to the Head of Affairs: -“Good-day to ’ee, sir. I’m main glad to see ’ee, -for I calkerlate as how in future I takes my -orders from the master.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span></p> - - -<p class="copyright"> -<span class="smcap">printed in great britain by<br /> -William Clowes and Sons, Limited,<br /> -stamford street, london, s.e.</span><br /> -</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class='tnote'><div class='center'><b>Transcriber’s Notes:</b></div> - -<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired. Varied -hyphenation was retained as printed.</p> - -<p>Page 32, “it” changed to “in” and word “on” added to text -(put in; she merely told him to pack them up -very securely, as she was going on a long railway)</p> - -<p>Page 35, “georgeous” changed to “gorgeous” (with some gorgeous pansies)</p> - -<p>Page 112, “crepe” changed to “crêpe” (trimmed with crêpe)</p> - -<p>Page 173, “welome” changed to “welcome” (bidding them welcome)</p> - -<p>Page 200, “is” changed to “in” (hesitation in saying that)</p></div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Flower-Patch Among the Hills, by -Flora Klickmann - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLOWER-PATCH AMONG THE HILLS *** - -***** This file should be named 51228-h.htm or 51228-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/2/2/51228/ - -Produced by Emmy, MFR and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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