"So I deeded it to him, land and all, and they had a great kick-up there with little boys in lace night-gowns, and incense and what not. And, by George, the girls did sing for me, too, with Sister Somebody-or-other bowing and blushing behind 'em—all in white they were, with blue sashes, and voices like larks ... I never had a daughter...."
He half rose, heavily, leaning on his elbows. "Mind you, there's something there!" he said slowly.
"There's a Pit below—you have to count on it. Perhaps we're shovelling it in, all the time, shovelling it in...
"And the more you whistle, the better you'll work, of course. Very well, then, whistle! But don't mistake—it's there ... it's there."
They drew long breaths and pushed away from the table; the rain had stopped.
And still in silence they walked out together into the fresh, damp evening.
THE ORACLES
You'll wonder, no doubt, at me having the daring to make what you might call a sort of romance out of her life—now all's over. And, of course, it's not in my way at all. Not but what I've read enough of romance-books—many's the many! My mother was always at me to lay them by and take up some bit of work that 'ud bring me in more in the end—and yet, there's no doubt it was my readings and dreamings and such-like that brought me about Miss Lisbet's friendship, at the first, and that friendship was the making of me, one way and another, as mother never denied.
It was Dr. Stanchon that set me about it. He came into my cottage, a matter of a month or so back, looking fair grizzled and white—the heat, he said. And if I knew better, I never said so. He never minded the heat till this summer. And on his vacation at home, too! But he showed his age, fair.