Bildungsromans; Country life -- Fiction; England -- Fiction; Pastoral fiction; Siblings -- Fiction
The curate’s undaunted demeanour, as reported by Aunt Maria, was
generally supposed to have terrified the burglars into flight, and
much kudos accrued to him thereby. Some days later, however, when he
had dropped in to afternoon tea, and was making a mild curatorial
joke about the moral courage required for taking the last piece of
bread-and-butter, I felt constrained to remark dreamily, and as it were
to the universe at large: ‘Mr. Hodgitts! you are brave! for my sake, do
not be rash!’
Fortunately for me, the vicar also was a caller on that day; and it was
always a comparatively easy matter to dodge my long-coated friend in
the open.
A HARVESTING
THE year was in its yellowing time, and the face of Nature a study
in old gold. ‘A field _or_, _semée_ with garbs of the same:’ it may
be false Heraldry—Nature’s generally is—but it correctly blazons the
display that Edward and I considered from the rickyard gate. Harold
was not on in this scene, being stretched upon the couch of pain: the
special disorder stomachic, as usual. The evening before, Edward, in
a fit of unwonted amiability, had deigned to carve me out a turnip
lantern, an art-and-craft he was peculiarly deft in; and Harold, as
the interior of the turnip flew out in scented fragments under the
hollowing knife, had eaten largely thereof: regarding all such jetsam
as his special perquisite. Now he was dreeing his weird, with such
assistance as the chemist could afford. But Edward and I, knowing that
this particular field was to be carried to-day, were revelling in the
privilege of riding in the empty waggons from the rickyard back to the
sheaves, whence we returned toilfully on foot, to career it again over
the billowy acres in these great galleys of a stubble sea. It was the
nearest approach to sailing that we inland urchins might compass: and
hence it ensued, that such stirring scenes as Sir Richard Grenville on
the _Revenge_, the smoke-wreathed Battle of the Nile, and the Death of
Nelson, had all been enacted in turn on these dusty quarter-decks, as
they swayed and bumped afield.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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