'I am glad to see you moving about in the garden, Dering, with
everything just as usual.'
There is a cautious slyness about this, as if the Colonel was fishing
for information; but it is too clever for Dering, who is going with a
'Thank you, sir.'
'No, don't go.' The old man lowers his voice and makes a confession
reluctantly, 'I am--a little troubled, Dering.'
Dering knows that his master has a wandering mind, and he answers
nicely, 'Everything be all right, sir.'
'I'm glad of that,' the Colonel says with relief. 'It is pleasant to see
that you have come back, Dering. Why did you go away for such a long
time?'
'Me, sir?' Dering is a little aggrieved. 'I haven't had a day off since
Christmas.'
'Haven't you? I thought--'
The Colonel tries to speak casually, but there is a trembling eagerness
in his voice. 'Is everything just as usual, Dering?'
'Yes, sir. There never were a place less changed than this.'
'That's true.' The Colonel is appeased. 'Thank you, Dering, for saying
that.' But next moment he has lowered his voice again. 'Dering, there is
nothing wrong, is there? Is anything happening that I am not being told
about?'
'Not that I know of, sir.'
'That is what they all say, but--I don't know.' He stares at his old
sword which is hanging on the wall. 'Dering, I feel as if I was needed
somewhere. I don't know where it is. No one will tell me. Where is every
one?'
'They're all about, sir. There's a cricket match on at the village
green.'
'Is there?'
'If the wind had a bit of south in it you could hear their voices. You
were a bit of a nailer at cricket yourself, sir.'
The Colonel sees himself standing up to fast ones. He is gleeful over
his reminiscences.
'Ninety-nine against Mallowfield, and then bowled off my pads. Biggest
score I ever made. Mallowfield wanted to add one to make it the hundred,
but I wouldn't let them. I was pretty good at steering them through the
slips, Dering! Do you remember my late cut? It didn't matter where point
stood, I got past him. You used to stand at point, Dering.'
'That was my grandfather, sir. If he was to be believed, he used to snap
you regular at point.'
The Colonel is crestfallen, but he has a disarming smile. 'Did he? I
daresay he did. I can't play now, but I like to watch it still.' He
becomes troubled again. 'Dering, there is no cricket on the green
to-day. I have been down to look. I don't understand it, Dering. When I
got there the green was all dotted with them--it's the prettiest sight
and sound in England. But as I watched them they began to go away, one
and two at a time; they weren't given out, you know, they went as if
they had been called away. Some of the little shavers stayed on--and
then they went off, as if they had been called away too. The stumps were
left lying about. Why is it?'
'It's just fancy, sir,' Dering says soothingly, 'I saw Master Will
oiling his bat yesterday.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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