The pale
sunshine
of winter flickered
on his path.
on his path.
Yeats
Yes, he would ask her
what to do. Then again he thought--no, he would decide for himself. The
beetle began to move. 'If it goes off the paper by the top I will ask
her--if by the bottom I will not. '
The beetle went off by the top. He got up with an air of decision and
went into the tool-house and began sorting seeds and picking out the
light ones, sometimes stopping to watch a spider; for he knew he must
wait till the afternoon to see Mary Carton. The tool-house was a
favourite place with him. He often read there and watched the spiders
in the corners.
At dinner he was preoccupied.
'Mother,' he said, 'would you much mind if we went away from this? '
'I have often told you,' she answered, 'I do not like one place better
than another. I like them all equally little. '
After dinner he went again into the tool-house. This time he did not
sort seeds--only watched the spiders.
III
Towards evening he went out.
The pale sunshine of winter flickered
on his path. The wind blew the straws about. He grew more and more
melancholy. A dog of his acquaintance was chasing rabbits in a field.
He had never been known to catch one, and since his youth had never
seen one, for he was almost wholly blind. They were his form of the
eternal chimera. The dog left the field and followed with a friendly
sniff.
They came together to the rectory. Mary Carton was not in. There was a
children's practice in the school-house. They went thither.
A child of four or five with a swelling on its face was sitting
under a wall opposite the school door, waiting to make faces at the
Protestant children as they came out. Catching sight of the dog she
seemed to debate in her mind whether to throw a stone at it or call
it to her. She threw the stone and made it run. In after times he
remembered all these things as though they were of importance.
He opened the latched green door and went in.
what to do. Then again he thought--no, he would decide for himself. The
beetle began to move. 'If it goes off the paper by the top I will ask
her--if by the bottom I will not. '
The beetle went off by the top. He got up with an air of decision and
went into the tool-house and began sorting seeds and picking out the
light ones, sometimes stopping to watch a spider; for he knew he must
wait till the afternoon to see Mary Carton. The tool-house was a
favourite place with him. He often read there and watched the spiders
in the corners.
At dinner he was preoccupied.
'Mother,' he said, 'would you much mind if we went away from this? '
'I have often told you,' she answered, 'I do not like one place better
than another. I like them all equally little. '
After dinner he went again into the tool-house. This time he did not
sort seeds--only watched the spiders.
III
Towards evening he went out.
The pale sunshine of winter flickered
on his path. The wind blew the straws about. He grew more and more
melancholy. A dog of his acquaintance was chasing rabbits in a field.
He had never been known to catch one, and since his youth had never
seen one, for he was almost wholly blind. They were his form of the
eternal chimera. The dog left the field and followed with a friendly
sniff.
They came together to the rectory. Mary Carton was not in. There was a
children's practice in the school-house. They went thither.
A child of four or five with a swelling on its face was sitting
under a wall opposite the school door, waiting to make faces at the
Protestant children as they came out. Catching sight of the dog she
seemed to debate in her mind whether to throw a stone at it or call
it to her. She threw the stone and made it run. In after times he
remembered all these things as though they were of importance.
He opened the latched green door and went in.
