Country life -- England -- Fiction; Pastoral fiction; Villages -- England -- Fiction
When I had finished the recitation of this exquisite passage, the sky,
which had been all the afternoon dull and heavy, began to look more
and more threatening; darker clouds, like wreaths of black smoke, flew
across the dead leaden tint; a cooler, damper air blew over the meadows,
and a few large heavy drops splashed in the water. 'We shall have a
storm. Lizzy! May! where are ye? Quick, quick, my Lizzy! run, run!
faster, faster!'
And off we ran; Lizzy not at all displeased at the thoughts of a
wetting, to which indeed she is almost as familiar as a duck; May, on
the other hand, peering up at the weather, and shaking her pretty ears
with manifest dismay. Of all animals, next to a cat, a greyhound dreads
rain. She might have escaped it; her light feet would have borne her
home long before the shower; but May is too faithful for that, too true
a comrade, understands too well the laws of good-fellowship; so she
waited for us. She did, to be sure, gallop on before, and then stop and
look back, and beckon, as it were, with some scorn in her black eyes at
the slowness of our progress. We in the meanwhile got on as fast as we
could, encouraging and reproaching each other. 'Faster, my Lizzy! Oh,
what a bad runner!'--'Faster, faster! Oh, what a bad runner!' echoed my
saucebox. 'You are so fat, Lizzy, you make no way!'--'Ah! who else is
fat?' retorted the darling. Certainly her mother is right; I do spoil
that child.
By this time we were thoroughly soaked, all three. It was a pelting
shower, that drove through our thin summer clothing and poor May's short
glossy coat in a moment. And then, when we were wet to the skin, the sun
came out, actually the sun, as if to laugh at our plight; and then, more
provoking still, when the sun was shining, and the shower over, came a
maid and a boy to look after us, loaded with cloaks and umbrellas enough
to fence us against a whole day's rain. Never mind! on we go, faster
and faster; Lizzy obliged to be most ignobly carried, having had the
misfortune to lose a shoe in the mud, which we left the boy to look
after.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account