Fantasy fiction; Great Britain -- History -- Fiction; Space and time -- Fiction
'I went back into England,' said Hal, slowly. 'I'd had my lesson
against pride. But they tell me I left St Barnabas' a jewel--just
about a jewel! Wel-a-well! 'Twas done for and among my own people,
and--Father Roger was right--I never knew such trouble or such triumph
since. That's the nature o' things. A dear--dear land.' He dropped
his chin on his chest.
'There's your Father at the Forge. What's he talking to old Hobden
about?' said Puck, opening his hand with three leaves in it.
Dan looked towards the cottage.
'Oh, I know. It's that old oak lying across the brook. Pater always
wants it grubbed.'
In the still valley they could hear old Hobden's deep tones.
'Have it as you've a mind to,' he was saying. 'But the vivers of her
roots they hold the bank together. If you grub her out, the bank
she'll all come tearin' down, an' next floods the brook'll swarve up.
But have it as you've a mind. The Mistuss she sets a heap by the ferns
on her trunk.
'Oh! I'll think it over,' said the Pater.
Una laughed a little bubbling chuckle.
'What Devil's in that belfry?' said Hal, with a lazy laugh. 'That
should be a Hobden by his voice.'
'Why, the oak is the regular bridge for all the rabbits between the
Three Acre and our meadow. The best place for wires on the farm,
Hobden says. He's got two there now,' Una answered. 'He won't ever
let it be grubbed!'
'Ah, Sussex! Seely Sussex for everlastin',' murmured Hal; and the next
moment their Father's voice calling across to Little Lindens broke the
spell as little St Barnabas' clock struck five.
A Smugglers' Song
If You wake at midnight, and hear a horse's feet,
Don't go drawing back the blind, or looking in the street,
Them that asks no questions isn't told a lie.
Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!
Five-and-twenty ponies,
Trotting through the dark--
Brandy for the Parson,
'Baccy for the Clerk;
Laces for a lady; letters for a spy,
And watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!
Running round the woodlump if you chance to find
Little barrels, roped and tarred, all full of brandy-wine;
Don't you shout to come and look, nor take 'em for your play;
Put the brushwood back again,--and they'll be gone next day!
If you see the stable-door setting open wide;
If you see a tired horse lying down inside;
If your mother mends a coat cut about and tore;
If the lining's wet and warm--don't you ask no more!
If you meet King George's men, dressed in blue and red,
You be careful what you say, and mindful what is said.
If they call you 'pretty maid,' and chuck you 'neath the chin,
Don't you tell where no one is, nor yet where no one's been!
Knocks and footsteps round the house--whistles after dark--
You've no call for running out till the house-dogs bark.
Trusty's here, and Pincher's here, and see how dumb they lie--
They don't fret to follow when the Gentlemen go by!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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