Bildungsromans; Country life -- Fiction; England -- Fiction; Pastoral fiction; Siblings -- Fiction
Had Harold been in his right and unclouded senses, he would have
vanished through the hedge some seconds earlier, rather than pain
the farmer by any unpleasant reminiscences which his appearance
might recall; but, as things were, he could only stand and blubber
hopelessly, caring, indeed, little now what further misery might befall
him. The farmer, for his part, surveyed the desolate figure with some
astonishment, calling out in no unfriendly accents, ‘Why, Master
Harold! whatever be the matter? Baint runnin’ away, be ee?’
Then Harold, with the unnatural courage born of desperation, flung
himself on the step, and, climbing into the cart, fell in the straw
at the bottom of it, sobbing out that he wanted to go back, go back!
The situation had a vagueness; but the farmer, a man of action rather
than of words, swung his horse round smartly, and they were in the
town again by the time Harold had recovered himself sufficiently to
furnish details. As they drove up to the shop, the woman was waiting at
the door with the parcel; and hardly a minute seemed to have elapsed
since the black crisis, ere they were bowling along swiftly home, the
precious parcel hugged in a close embrace.
And now the farmer came out in quite a new and unexpected light.
Never a word did he say of broken fences and hurdles, of trampled
crops and harried flocks and herds. One would have thought the man
had never possessed a head of live stock in his life. Instead, he was
deeply interested in the whole dolorous quest of the tea-things, and
sympathised with Harold on the disputed point in mathematics as if he
had been himself at the same stage of education. As they neared home,
Harold found himself, to his surprise, sitting up and chatting to his
new friend like man to man; and before he was set down at a convenient
gap in the garden hedge, he had promised that when Selina gave her
first public tea-party, little Miss Larkin should be invited to come
and bring her whole sawdust family along with her; and the farmer
appeared as pleased and proud as if he had won a gold medal at the
Agricultural Show, and really, when I heard the story, it began to dawn
upon me that those Olympians must have certain good points, far down in
them, and that I should have to leave off abusing them some day.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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