from the dark interior into the sunlight. A little girl with a solid round face was sitting on the shaft nursing a rabbit. When she saw Matt she jumped up and ran towards him, dangling the rabbit by its ears.
‘Father’s in the yard,’ she squealed before she was asked. Matt nodded quickly. He walked into the yard, which was festering with muck, calling out, ‘Davis!’
The farmer appeared, his hands black and greasy, dressed in an old army service coat, and a very dirty pair of flannel trousers. Beside him Matt appeared to advantage in breeches and a tweed coat. Davis too had a rather ridiculous figure, short and rotund, while Matt’s legs were so long that people, seeing them and his sharpfeatures, were surprised that he should possess such wide shoulders.
Davis was smiling cheerfully.
‘More trouble,’ he announced, indicating a chaff cutter, which he had pulled to pieces just inside the barn. His wife was sitting on a ladder, a thin sharp-faced woman, whose black hair grew horribly low on her neck. She waved her hand casually.
‘Did yer leave yer ’orse outside, Matt?’
‘Yes.’
‘Margie’ll stable it for yer. Bill’s just off to Chepsford. Yer’ll go along?’
‘Why, yes, I will.’
‘That’s right,’ she said heartily, as she got up and shook the bits of straw from her dress. She was a queer woman who liked her husband to carouse and bring others home to share the fun. Davis was proud of her. He had told Matt as much. Matt studied her. He came to the conclusion that she was kind-hearted, but rather repulsive. Dorothy was better, though more stupid. He had never regretted his marriage, but to think of it was like blowing on dead embers: only dust arose.
‘I was wondering when you’d be round agen,’ Mrs Davis said, leaving the barn without any farther farewell.
Davis looked at his watch. He wiped his hands and face on some rags, took a coat off the chaff-cutter wheel and put it on, instead of the khaki garment he was wearing. He was then ready to go to Chepsford.
They walked the mile to Brelshope station, fully aware of their common intention to get drunk. Neither mentioned it. Davis walked, turning his head from side toside, his inquisitive gaze taking in everything. Matt’s eyes were downcast, and he seemed disposed to silence. As they drew near the station Davis began on a subject curiously near Matt’s thoughts.
‘’Ave you found a new man, yet?’ he inquired, as he scrambled along with quick steps which took him over the ground wonderfully fast.
‘Eh… what do you mean?’
‘You’re getting rid of Easter Probert, aren’t you?’
‘B—!’ ejaculated Matt in sudden hot exasperation at his groom’s intrusive name. Davis opened his eyes.
‘I tell you I’ve had enough of that fellow,’ Matt continued sulkily.
‘Shouldn’t ’ave thought you’d mind him.’
‘Mind? I don’t think about him; why should I?’
‘Well, if you’ve given him the sack…’
‘I haven’t. I’m not going to.’
Without being aware of it he had fallen deep into thought again, and slackened his pace to a saunter.
‘Come on! We’ll miss that train,’ shouted Davis, sprinting on ahead. Matt roused himself. Now it was Easter who occupied his brain.
‘Why should you think I was going to sack him?’ he demanded, catching Davis up.
‘Heard it somewhere. Thought you must’ve turned moralist. Mind, he’s a queer chap.’
‘Yes… perhaps.’
‘No doubt of it. Saw him last night.’
‘Where?’
‘Walking with a woman.’
‘His wife?’
‘Shouldn’t be surprised. Red haired, and not bad-looking .’
‘Yes, she has red hair.’
‘Well, they didn’t know I was there. I watched them, and once I was on the point of jumping out at him and letting him have it. Depend upon it that bloke’s a brute. I don’t care for him,’ said Davis emphatically.
They concentrated all their energy on speed. They did not speak again until they were in the train. Then Matt asked
‘Father’s in the yard,’ she squealed before she was asked. Matt nodded quickly. He walked into the yard, which was festering with muck, calling out, ‘Davis!’
The farmer appeared, his hands black and greasy, dressed in an old army service coat, and a very dirty pair of flannel trousers. Beside him Matt appeared to advantage in breeches and a tweed coat. Davis too had a rather ridiculous figure, short and rotund, while Matt’s legs were so long that people, seeing them and his sharpfeatures, were surprised that he should possess such wide shoulders.
Davis was smiling cheerfully.
‘More trouble,’ he announced, indicating a chaff cutter, which he had pulled to pieces just inside the barn. His wife was sitting on a ladder, a thin sharp-faced woman, whose black hair grew horribly low on her neck. She waved her hand casually.
‘Did yer leave yer ’orse outside, Matt?’
‘Yes.’
‘Margie’ll stable it for yer. Bill’s just off to Chepsford. Yer’ll go along?’
‘Why, yes, I will.’
‘That’s right,’ she said heartily, as she got up and shook the bits of straw from her dress. She was a queer woman who liked her husband to carouse and bring others home to share the fun. Davis was proud of her. He had told Matt as much. Matt studied her. He came to the conclusion that she was kind-hearted, but rather repulsive. Dorothy was better, though more stupid. He had never regretted his marriage, but to think of it was like blowing on dead embers: only dust arose.
‘I was wondering when you’d be round agen,’ Mrs Davis said, leaving the barn without any farther farewell.
Davis looked at his watch. He wiped his hands and face on some rags, took a coat off the chaff-cutter wheel and put it on, instead of the khaki garment he was wearing. He was then ready to go to Chepsford.
They walked the mile to Brelshope station, fully aware of their common intention to get drunk. Neither mentioned it. Davis walked, turning his head from side toside, his inquisitive gaze taking in everything. Matt’s eyes were downcast, and he seemed disposed to silence. As they drew near the station Davis began on a subject curiously near Matt’s thoughts.
‘’Ave you found a new man, yet?’ he inquired, as he scrambled along with quick steps which took him over the ground wonderfully fast.
‘Eh… what do you mean?’
‘You’re getting rid of Easter Probert, aren’t you?’
‘B—!’ ejaculated Matt in sudden hot exasperation at his groom’s intrusive name. Davis opened his eyes.
‘I tell you I’ve had enough of that fellow,’ Matt continued sulkily.
‘Shouldn’t ’ave thought you’d mind him.’
‘Mind? I don’t think about him; why should I?’
‘Well, if you’ve given him the sack…’
‘I haven’t. I’m not going to.’
Without being aware of it he had fallen deep into thought again, and slackened his pace to a saunter.
‘Come on! We’ll miss that train,’ shouted Davis, sprinting on ahead. Matt roused himself. Now it was Easter who occupied his brain.
‘Why should you think I was going to sack him?’ he demanded, catching Davis up.
‘Heard it somewhere. Thought you must’ve turned moralist. Mind, he’s a queer chap.’
‘Yes… perhaps.’
‘No doubt of it. Saw him last night.’
‘Where?’
‘Walking with a woman.’
‘His wife?’
‘Shouldn’t be surprised. Red haired, and not bad-looking .’
‘Yes, she has red hair.’
‘Well, they didn’t know I was there. I watched them, and once I was on the point of jumping out at him and letting him have it. Depend upon it that bloke’s a brute. I don’t care for him,’ said Davis emphatically.
They concentrated all their energy on speed. They did not speak again until they were in the train. Then Matt asked
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