Read Online Mr. Tasker's Gods by T. F. Powys - Free Book Online Page A

public road. A man may do what he likes in his own yard. I know this kind of thing makes one feel a little queer. Some rather odd things happenin my parish. I often notice things. But it is wiser to forget them if you want to get on. It is better to pay no regard to the common people. They have their manners: we have ours.’
    By this time they had reached Mr. Tasker’s. This good man came out to meet them. His family, as was their custom, had reported the approach of visitors. Mr. Tasker had just been eating his tea, and as he came out of the door he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his coat. He stepped out of the little front garden, and, shutting the gate carefully with a click, welcomed his guests, shaking the curate heartily by the hand and saying how pleased he was to see him amongst them again. And John replied that he was very glad to see Mr. Tasker looking so well, and that he very much wished to see the pigs. Mr. Tasker at once strode across to the sties at the back of the cow-yard.
    To the unenlightened eye of the casual visitor, old farm buildings—and old dairy buildings are much the same—have a comfortable and homely look. The low thatched cow-sheds, the big barn, the rickyard wall, all denote rustic peace and security and gentle labours in Arcadia. They lie pleasantly amid the green fields and peaceful hills, the abode, no doubt, of the pretty dairy-maid and the quiet cow. The visitor, if he be wise, will keep, however pleasant the outlook, at a little distance from these abodes of joyful labour, because most pictures of man’s makingare best admired a little way off. The old barn might speak, the rough local stones of which the cow-sheds were built might tell tales. And even the oak posts with their heavy feet rotting in the dung have a way of whispering of fair things sullied and deflowered by the two in one, beast and man.
    Mr. Tasker led the brothers past the great cow-yard. It had recently been cleaned out, that is to say, the six feet of mingled dung and straw removed and placed in a heap in the fields. The great yard now appeared like a pond that had been dried up. About the bottom were bones, and the skull of a cow lay in the middle. Mr. Tasker led the way to the pigs.
    In the first sties lay the largest of the gods, the sows; and farther on were the fat pigs, creatures that were destined shortly to receive by the hand of man a not too deep cut in the throat. At first the brothers were introduced to the contented sows, some of which lay on their sides while little pigs, politely named ‘suckers,’ pulled at the many founts of milk most eagerly. Every little pig looked as though it was afraid of being robbed of its share by the others. Life, happy life, was to them a sow’s teats, and they struggled for their joys manfully, like their masters. Some of the sows were expecting a litter. One of the largest was lying in the straw at the farther end of the sty, and although its lord and master tapped the trough with his ash stick, pointed atthe end, she would not come forth. She knew, her musical ear told her, that ‘wash’ and ‘stick’ strike a different note.
    All at once, without any warning, Mr. Tasker held out his head like a barn-cock and shouted, ‘Bring … thick … pail … t’auld … pig!’ This shout was so sudden and came with such volume out of Mr. Tasker, that both John and Henry stood back a little. They had been used to hear Mr. Tasker speak to them or to their father after church, but they had never before heard him speak to his own family. All the hatred and malice in the world, all the hatred of the man-master to the woman-slave, fought for the best place in that sound. It was uttered not by Mr. Tasker but by something that was joined to Mr. Tasker by mighty bonds. John, who was always a gentleman in his sounds, was startled and looked another way. Henry watched Mr. Tasker.
    A small girl, with a very dirty face,