"All right, mother." Bill bent down, petting her. "Keep yer hair on, mother."
She went off in screaming hysterics.
II
In due time Mr. Fright was bandaged and put in the feather bed upstairs, Mr. James Fright, still unconscious, hoisted on board his barge and dropped down the cabin hatch, then Bill and his mother joined the family and their guests in the kitchen, where there was Sunday dinner. It was a very proper dinner, of beef roast on the spit, pudding served in the gravy, potatoes and cabbage in heaps, and beer by gallons. Afterwards, while the slavey washed up, and the diners slept it off, Bill took his mother in the wherry and pulled across the Thames to the Southwark shore. It was but a mile walk to Bedlam, and maybe another mile beyond to open country, but Bill, who had eaten heartily and wore thigh boots, found it heavy going, while the woman seemed only refreshed by the slight exercise. The golden autumn sunshine, blue pools of shadow under elm trees, the cattle standing drowsy in the shade, the buzz and murmur of the flies—here was there peace. The mother took her seat against an oak tree, the son lay at her feet, and while the lad was sleeping the woman watched.
III
By most urgent critics I am warned not to be a bigger fool than nature made me, not to be abrupt where the story changes rhythm, and by no means to take it for granted that the average reader is a psychologist.
I promise faithfully, then, that I will not preach, use long words, or be dull as one who takes himself too seriously. I only want to make quite sure that every reader shares with me the tremendous excitement, wonder, and glory of a theme splendid beyond example.
So please be kind, and glance at a few main facts.
A properly grown man has three bodies: the natural body, the soul (or body of desires), and the spirit (or body of pure thought). These have been likened to the vessel, the oil, and the flame of a lamp.
What, then, is life? That is the ray of Consciousness.