A Diversity of Creatures Part 53

'It's a record, though,' said she, and hummed to herself:

'That flood strewed wrecks upon the gra.s.s, That ebb swept out the flocks to sea.'

'You're always singing that, aren't you?' Midmore said suddenly as she pa.s.sed into the parlour where slimy chairs had been stranded at all angles.

'Am I? Now I come to think of it I believe I do. They say I always hum when I ride. Have you noticed it?'

'Of course I have. I notice every--'

'Oh,' she went on hurriedly. 'We had it for the village cantata last winter--"The Brides of Enderby."'

'No! "High Tide on the Coast of Lincolns.h.i.+re."' For some reason Midmore spoke sharply.

'Just like that.' She pointed to the befouled walls. 'I say.... Let's get this furniture a little straight.... You know it too?'

'Every word, since you sang it of course.'

'When?'

'The first night I ever came down. You rode past the drawing-room window in the dark singing it--"And sweeter woman--"'

'I thought the house was empty then. Your aunt always let us use that short cut. Ha-hadn't we better get this out into the pa.s.sage? It'll all have to come out anyhow. You take the other side.' They began to lift a heavyish table. Their words came jerkily between gasps and their faces were as white as--a newly washed and very hungry pig.

'Look out!' Midmore shouted. His legs were whirled from under him, as the table, grunting madly, careened and knocked the girl out of sight.

The wild boar of Asia could not have cut down a couple more scientifically, but this little pig lacked his ancestor's nerve and fled shrieking over their bodies.

'Are you hurt, darling?' was Midmore's first word, and 'No--I'm only winded--dear,' was Miss Sperrit's, as he lifted her out of her corner, her hat over one eye and her right cheek a smear of mud.

They fed him a little later on some chicken-feed that they found in Sidney's quiet barn, a pail of b.u.t.termilk out of the dairy, and a quant.i.ty of onions from a shelf in the back-kitchen.

'Seed-onions, most likely,' said Connie. 'You'll hear about this.'

'What does it matter? They ought to have been gilded. We must buy him.'

'And keep him as long as he lives,' she agreed. 'But I think I ought to go home now. You see, when I came out I didn't expect ... Did you?'

'No! Yes.... It had to come.... But if any one had told me an hour ago!... Sidney's unspeakable parlour--and the mud on the carpet.'

'Oh, I say! Is my cheek clean now?'

'Not quite. Lend me your hanky again a minute, darling.... What a purler you came!'

'You can't talk. 'Remember when your chin hit that table and you said "blast"! I was just going to laugh.'

'You didn't laugh when I picked you up. You were going "oo-oo-oo" like a little owl.'

'My dear child--'

'Say that again!'

'My dear child. (Do you really like it? I keep it for my best friends.) My _dee-ar_ child, I thought I was going to be sick there and then. He knocked every ounce of wind out of me--the angel! But I must really go.'

They set off together, very careful not to join hands or take arms.

'Not across the fields,' said Midmore at the stile. 'Come round by--by your own place.'

She flushed indignantly.

'It will be yours in a little time,' he went on, shaken with his own audacity.

'Not so much of your little times, if you please!' She s.h.i.+ed like a colt across the road; then instantly, like a colt, her eyes lit with new curiosity as she came in sight of the drive-gates.

'And not quite so much of your airs and graces, Madam,' Midmore returned, 'or I won't let you use our drive as a short cut any more.'

'Oh, I'll be good. I'll be good.' Her voice changed suddenly. 'I swear I'll try to be good, dear. I'm not much of a thing at the best. What made _you_....'

'I'm worse--worse! Miles and oceans worse. But what does it matter now?'

They halted beside the gate-pillars.

'I see!' she said, looking up the sodden carriage sweep to the front door porch where Rhoda was slapping a wet mat to and fro. '_I_ see....

Now, I really must go home. No! Don't you come. I must speak to Mother first all by myself.'

He watched her up the hill till she was out of sight.

THE FLOODS

The rain it rains without a stay In the hills above us, in the hills; And presently the floods break way Whose strength is in the hills.

The trees they suck from every cloud, The valley brooks they roar aloud-- Bank-high for the lowlands, lowlands, Lowlands under the hills!

The first wood down is sere and small, From the hills, the bris.h.i.+ngs off the hills; And then come by the bats and all We cut last year in the hills; And then the roots we tried to cleave But found too tough and had to leave-- Polting through the lowlands, lowlands, Lowlands under the hills!

The eye shall look, the ear shall hark To the hills, the doings in the hills, And rivers mating in the dark With tokens from the hills.

Now what is weak will surely go, And what is strong must prove it so.

Stand fast in the lowlands, lowlands, Lowlands under the hills!

The floods they shall not be afraid-- Nor the hills above 'em, nor the hills-- Of any fence which man has made Betwixt him and the hills.

The waters shall not reckon twice For any work of man's device, But bid it down to the lowlands, lowlands, Lowlands under the hills!

The floods shall sweep corruption clean-- By the hills, the blessing of the hills-- That more the meadows may be green New-amended from the hills.

The crops and cattle shall increase, Nor little children shall not cease-- Go--plough the lowlands, lowlands, Lowlands under the hills!