slept either, it appeared; but in his face was much relief.
“So,” he said. “You made your mind up?”
“Almost,” I replied. “There’s something I want to do first.” Then I added quickly, for his old eyes clouded: “But I’m all right, Max. I’ll know in a little while.”
He nodded. “That’s so; I see that. Well, well …” As if to calm himself he began explaining that the herd would remain in the pound until dinnertime, as he had work to do in the Livestock Branch of the Library, just across the Road. He was currently engaged with several notions in the field of applied cyclology, his own invention; perhaps I too would findthem interesting; at any rate he would be pleased to set them forth to me that evening—assuming, of course …
But the assumption was left unmade, for there hove into sight just then a bicycle, and Lady Creamhair. My heart drew up: I had not expected her until evening. Had she then come to some resolve of her own, that she drove up full in Max’s view? But I was reckoning without her nearsightedness: she peered and craned all the way along the fence; not until she was abreast of the pound did she seem to catch sight of us together, whereupon she ducked her head and pedaled on towards the grove of hemlocks.
Max thrust five fingers into his beard. “By George, now …”
I declared uncomfortably that I had no idea why the woman had come out so early, but I guessed she had the right to drive past whenever she pleased.
“Na, bah,” Max said, “I didn’t mean that. Thunder and lightning, though, if something doesn’t wonder me …” He touched my shoulder, frowning and blinking. “She’s waiting now for you, eh?”
“She can wait,” I said. On a surly impulse I invited, or rather challenged him to come along and meet my friend, whose early appearance, however surprising, had inflamed my resolve. But he declined, quite distracted still.
“
Ach
, Billy, I don’t know what to tell you. Almost I think—hah! No matter anyhow, either way! So. So.” He thumped my shoulder. “What difference? If you are, you are; if you’re not—no matter! But I’ll see you again, you promise? You’ll wait and tell me what’s what, eh? And then maybe—we’ll see!”
We parted, each in agitation, Max to his researches (still nodding and clucking), I across the pasture towards the hemlock grove. The noisy rooks and thrashers had done their first feeding; the sun was well up, hot on my wrapper. I broke into a trot. My puzzlement slipped away; through my spirit pulsed the verse I’d overheard:
Ne’er saw I, never felt, a surge so deep!
A surge, irresistible and sure, that would be neither hurried nor gainsaid; Tower Clock, it moved at its sweet will, fetching to ripeness every thing which was.
At sight of Lady Creamhair waving in the grove I came to a heavy walk. She was dressed in the color of her hair. In one hand she held her picnic-basket; with the other she alternately waved and shaded her eyes to see me. I stalked up without response, but jarred by the strikings of my heart. She began to talk and laugh.
“I’m a foolish old woman, you don’t have to tell me—with Dr. Spielmanstanding right there the whole time! I never even expected to see you, really, I’ve been so anxious, but I couldn’t keep my mind on anything. I know just what you’re going to say: I tell you to think things through and then don’t give you a minute to yourself! I won’t stay, I promise—I should be in the office right now—but I had to ride by; I don’t know how I’ll wait till this evening!”
I came through the fluster of her talk and rose high on my haunches. She hastened to let me kiss her, begging me to pardon a poor silly woman for being so rattled. Readily enough she responded to my hug, though I was by no means scrubbed and perfumed as I’d been the day before. But she turned a scented dry cheek to my second kiss.
“Bless my soul! And here I thought you’d be peeved at
“So,” he said. “You made your mind up?”
“Almost,” I replied. “There’s something I want to do first.” Then I added quickly, for his old eyes clouded: “But I’m all right, Max. I’ll know in a little while.”
He nodded. “That’s so; I see that. Well, well …” As if to calm himself he began explaining that the herd would remain in the pound until dinnertime, as he had work to do in the Livestock Branch of the Library, just across the Road. He was currently engaged with several notions in the field of applied cyclology, his own invention; perhaps I too would findthem interesting; at any rate he would be pleased to set them forth to me that evening—assuming, of course …
But the assumption was left unmade, for there hove into sight just then a bicycle, and Lady Creamhair. My heart drew up: I had not expected her until evening. Had she then come to some resolve of her own, that she drove up full in Max’s view? But I was reckoning without her nearsightedness: she peered and craned all the way along the fence; not until she was abreast of the pound did she seem to catch sight of us together, whereupon she ducked her head and pedaled on towards the grove of hemlocks.
Max thrust five fingers into his beard. “By George, now …”
I declared uncomfortably that I had no idea why the woman had come out so early, but I guessed she had the right to drive past whenever she pleased.
“Na, bah,” Max said, “I didn’t mean that. Thunder and lightning, though, if something doesn’t wonder me …” He touched my shoulder, frowning and blinking. “She’s waiting now for you, eh?”
“She can wait,” I said. On a surly impulse I invited, or rather challenged him to come along and meet my friend, whose early appearance, however surprising, had inflamed my resolve. But he declined, quite distracted still.
“
Ach
, Billy, I don’t know what to tell you. Almost I think—hah! No matter anyhow, either way! So. So.” He thumped my shoulder. “What difference? If you are, you are; if you’re not—no matter! But I’ll see you again, you promise? You’ll wait and tell me what’s what, eh? And then maybe—we’ll see!”
We parted, each in agitation, Max to his researches (still nodding and clucking), I across the pasture towards the hemlock grove. The noisy rooks and thrashers had done their first feeding; the sun was well up, hot on my wrapper. I broke into a trot. My puzzlement slipped away; through my spirit pulsed the verse I’d overheard:
Ne’er saw I, never felt, a surge so deep!
A surge, irresistible and sure, that would be neither hurried nor gainsaid; Tower Clock, it moved at its sweet will, fetching to ripeness every thing which was.
At sight of Lady Creamhair waving in the grove I came to a heavy walk. She was dressed in the color of her hair. In one hand she held her picnic-basket; with the other she alternately waved and shaded her eyes to see me. I stalked up without response, but jarred by the strikings of my heart. She began to talk and laugh.
“I’m a foolish old woman, you don’t have to tell me—with Dr. Spielmanstanding right there the whole time! I never even expected to see you, really, I’ve been so anxious, but I couldn’t keep my mind on anything. I know just what you’re going to say: I tell you to think things through and then don’t give you a minute to yourself! I won’t stay, I promise—I should be in the office right now—but I had to ride by; I don’t know how I’ll wait till this evening!”
I came through the fluster of her talk and rose high on my haunches. She hastened to let me kiss her, begging me to pardon a poor silly woman for being so rattled. Readily enough she responded to my hug, though I was by no means scrubbed and perfumed as I’d been the day before. But she turned a scented dry cheek to my second kiss.
“Bless my soul! And here I thought you’d be peeved at
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