Through the Postern Gate: A Romance in Seven DaysBarclay, Florence L. (Florence Louisa)
General
Through the Postern Gate: A Romance in Seven Days
Barclay, Florence L. (Florence Louisa)
England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Love stories
She walked slowly up the lawn. She must write a few letters before
post time; then dress for her solitary dinner.
She felt a little flat; quite without cause. What could have been more
satisfactory, in every way, than the Boy's visit; in spite of his
absurd castles in the air? These must be tactfully demolished
to-morrow. To-day, it was wisest just to let him talk.
Poor Little Boy Blue! Instead of the walls of Jericho falling, his own
castles in the air would come tumbling about his ears. Poor Little Boy
Blue!
She felt she had been completely mistress of the situation to-day,
holding it exactly as she wished it to be. There was no need to fear
the remaining days.
And when the seven days were over--what then? ... She certainly felt
very flat this evening. How suddenly the Boy had gone! There was
still so much she wanted to say to him.... And to-morrow was the
Professor's afternoon. Mercifully, he never stayed later than four
o'clock. It was to be hoped the Boy would not turn up early! But
there was never any knowing what the Boy would do.
She smiled as she mounted the flight of stone steps, and passed into
the house.
* * * * *
And, outside the postern gate, the Boy threw up his cap, and caught it;
then started off and sprinted a hundred yards; then, turning aside,
leapt a five-barred gate, and made off across the fields. When he
pulled up at last, in his own bedroom, he had just time to tub, shave,
and wrestle with his evening clothes. He communed with himself in the
few moments of enforced stillness, while he mastered his tie.
"That was all right," he said. "I jolly well worked _that_ all right!
There was nothing to frighten her to-day--not a thing. Dear lips!
They never trembled once; and no more turning faint. And, my Goody,
how she lectured me! I wonder who's been telling her what. I know why
she did it too. She wanted to feel quite sure she was bossing the
show. And so she was, bless her! But I marched round! Yes, I jolly
well marched round.... Oh, I say! Can't you stop where I put you?"
This, to his tie.
Then, with _her_ golden rose in his button-hole, fastened by _the_ pin
from his flannel coat, off went the Boy to dine with the Master of his
college.
* * * * *
"_And the evening and the morning were the second day._"
* * * * *
THE THIRD DAY
THE BOY INVADES THE KITCHEN
The Boy sat on a corner of the kitchen table, swinging a loose leg, and
watching Martha make hot buttered-toast.
He had arrived early, and, finding no one in the garden, had entered
the house by the garden-door, to pursue investigations upstairs.
On the mat in the hall he saw a pair of goloshes; in the
umbrella-stand, a very large, badly-rolled umbrella; hanging on a peg
near by, a professor's cap and gown.
The Boy stood stock still in the middle of the little hall, and looked
at the goloshes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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