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And the Man were welly glad, cause he hadn't got but one Shoe, and he were hopping to get the other."
Here I ventured on a question. "Do you mean 'hopping,' or 'hoping'?"
"Bofe," said Bruno. "And the Man took the Goat out of the Sack." ("We haven't heard of the sack before," I
said. "Nor you won't hear of it again," said Bruno). "And he said to the Goat, 'Oo will walk about here till I
comes back.' And he went and he tumbled into a deep hole. And the Goat walked round and round. And it
walked under the Tree. And it wug its tail. And it looked up in the Tree. And it sang a sad little Song. Oo
CHAPTER 24. 117
never heard such a sad little Song!"
"Can you sing it, Bruno?" I asked.
"Iss, I can," Bruno readily replied. "And I sa'n't. It would make Sylvie cry--"
"It wouldn't!', Sylvie interrupted in great indignation. "And I don't believe the Goat sang it at all!"
"It did, though!" said Bruno. "It singed it right froo. I sawed it singing with its long beard--"
"It couldn't sing with its beard," I said, hoping to puzzle the little fellow: "a beard isn't a voice."
"Well then, oo couldn't walk with Sylvie!" Bruno cried triumphantly. "Sylvie isn't a foot!"
I thought I had better follow Sylvie's example, and be silent for a while. Bruno was too sharp for us.
"And when it had singed all the Song, it ran away--for to get along to look for the Man, oo know. And the
Crocodile got along after it--for to bite it, oo know. And the Mouse got along after the Crocodile."
"Wasn't the Crocodile running?" Sylvie enquired. She appealed to me. "Crocodiles do run, don't they?"
I suggested "crawling" as the proper word.
"He wasn't running," said Bruno, "and he wasn't crawling. He went struggling along like a portmanteau. And
he held his chin ever so high in the air--"
"What did he do that for?" said Sylvie.
"'cause he hadn't got a toofache!" said Bruno. "Ca'n't oo make out nuffin wizout I 'splain it? Why, if he'd had a
toofache, a course he'd have held his head down--like this--and he'd have put a lot of warm blankets round it!"
"If he'd had any blankets," Sylvie argued.
"Course he had blankets!" retorted her brother. "Doos oo think Crocodiles goes walks wizout blankets? And
he frowned with his eyebrows. And the Goat was welly flightened at his eyebrows!"
"I'd never be afraid of eyebrows?" exclaimed Sylvie.
"I should think oo would, though, if they'd got a Crocodile fastened to them, like these had! And so the Man
jamp, and he jamp, and at last he got right out of the hole."
Sylvie gave another little gasp: this rapid dodging about among the characters of the Story had taken away her
breath.
"And he runned away for to look for the Goat, oo know. And he heard the Lion grunting---"
"Lions don't grunt," said Sylvie.
"This one did," said Bruno. "And its mouth were like a large cupboard. And it had plenty of room in its
mouth. And the Lion runned after the Man for to eat him, oo know. And the Mouse runned after the Lion."
"But the Mouse was running after the Crocodile," I said: "he couldn't run after both!"
CHAPTER 25. 118
Bruno sighed over the density of his audience, but explained very patiently. "He did runned after bofe: 'cause
they went the same way! And first he caught the Crocodile, and then he didn't catch the Lion. And when he'd
caught the Crocodile, what doos oo think he did--'cause he'd got pincers in his pocket?"
"I ca'n't guess," said Sylvie.
[Image...'He wrenched out that crocodile's toof!']
"Nobody couldn't guess it!" Bruno cried in high glee. "Why, he wrenched out that Crocodile's toof!"
"Which tooth?" I ventured to ask.
But Bruno was not to be puzzled. "The toof he were going to bite the Goat with, a course!"
"He couldn't be sure about that," I argued,
"unless he wrenched out all its teeth."
Bruno laughed merrily, and half sang, as he swung himself backwards and forwards, "He
did--wrenched--out--all its teef!"
"Why did the Crocodile wait to have them wrenched out?" said Sylvie.
"It had to wait," said Bruno.
I ventured on another question. "But what became of the Man who said 'You may wait here till I come back'?"
"He didn't say 'Oo may,'" Bruno explained. "He said, 'Oo will.' Just like Sylvie says to me 'Oo will do oor
lessons till twelve o'clock.' Oh, I wiss," he added with a little sigh, "I wiss Sylvie would say 'Oo may do oor
lessons'!"
This was a dangerous subject for discussion, Sylvie seemed to think. She returned to the Story. "But what
became of the Man?"
"Well, the Lion springed at him. But it came so slow, it were three weeks in the air--"
"Did the Man wait for it all that time?" I said.
"Course he didn't!" Bruno replied, gliding head-first down the stem of the fox-glove, for the Story was
evidently close to its end. "He sold his house, and he packed up his things, while the Lion were coming. And
he went and he lived in another town. So the Lion ate the wrong man."
This was evidently the Moral: so Sylvie made her final proclamation to the Frogs. "The Story's finished! And
whatever is to be learned from it," she added, aside to me, "I'm sure I don't know!"
I did not feel quite clear about it myself, so made no suggestion: but the Frogs seemed quite content, Moral or
no Moral, and merely raised a husky chorus of "Off! Off!" as they hopped away.
CHAPTER 25.
LOOKING EASTWARD.
CHAPTER 25. 119
"It's just a week," I said, three days later, to Arthur, "since we heard of Lady Muriel's engagement. I think I
ought to call, at any rate, and offer my congratulations. Won't you come with me?"
A pained expression passed over his face.
"When must you leave us?" he asked.
"By the first train on Monday."
"Well--yes, I will come with you. It would seem strange and unfriendly if I didn't. But this is only Friday.
Give me till Sunday afternoon. I shall be stronger then."
Shading his eyes with one hand, as if half-ashamed of the tears that were coursing down his cheeks, he held
the other out to me. It trembled as I clasped it.
I tried to frame some words of sympathy; but they seemed poor and cold, and I left them unspoken. "Good
night!" was all I said.
"Good night, dear friend!" he replied. There was a manly vigour in his tone that convinced me he was
wrestling with, and triumphing over, the great sorrow that had so nearly wrecked his life--and that, on the
stepping-stone of his dead self, he would surely rise to higher things!
There was no chance, I was glad to think, as we set out on Sunday afternoon, of meeting Eric at the Hall, as he
had returned to town the day after his engagement was announced. His presence might have disturbed the
calm--the almost unnatural calm--with which Arthur met the woman who had won his heart, and murmured
the few graceful words of sympathy that the occasion demanded.
Lady Muriel was perfectly radiant with happiness: sadness could not live in the light of such a smile: and even [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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And the Man were welly glad, cause he hadn't got but one Shoe, and he were hopping to get the other."
Here I ventured on a question. "Do you mean 'hopping,' or 'hoping'?"
"Bofe," said Bruno. "And the Man took the Goat out of the Sack." ("We haven't heard of the sack before," I
said. "Nor you won't hear of it again," said Bruno). "And he said to the Goat, 'Oo will walk about here till I
comes back.' And he went and he tumbled into a deep hole. And the Goat walked round and round. And it
walked under the Tree. And it wug its tail. And it looked up in the Tree. And it sang a sad little Song. Oo
CHAPTER 24. 117
never heard such a sad little Song!"
"Can you sing it, Bruno?" I asked.
"Iss, I can," Bruno readily replied. "And I sa'n't. It would make Sylvie cry--"
"It wouldn't!', Sylvie interrupted in great indignation. "And I don't believe the Goat sang it at all!"
"It did, though!" said Bruno. "It singed it right froo. I sawed it singing with its long beard--"
"It couldn't sing with its beard," I said, hoping to puzzle the little fellow: "a beard isn't a voice."
"Well then, oo couldn't walk with Sylvie!" Bruno cried triumphantly. "Sylvie isn't a foot!"
I thought I had better follow Sylvie's example, and be silent for a while. Bruno was too sharp for us.
"And when it had singed all the Song, it ran away--for to get along to look for the Man, oo know. And the
Crocodile got along after it--for to bite it, oo know. And the Mouse got along after the Crocodile."
"Wasn't the Crocodile running?" Sylvie enquired. She appealed to me. "Crocodiles do run, don't they?"
I suggested "crawling" as the proper word.
"He wasn't running," said Bruno, "and he wasn't crawling. He went struggling along like a portmanteau. And
he held his chin ever so high in the air--"
"What did he do that for?" said Sylvie.
"'cause he hadn't got a toofache!" said Bruno. "Ca'n't oo make out nuffin wizout I 'splain it? Why, if he'd had a
toofache, a course he'd have held his head down--like this--and he'd have put a lot of warm blankets round it!"
"If he'd had any blankets," Sylvie argued.
"Course he had blankets!" retorted her brother. "Doos oo think Crocodiles goes walks wizout blankets? And
he frowned with his eyebrows. And the Goat was welly flightened at his eyebrows!"
"I'd never be afraid of eyebrows?" exclaimed Sylvie.
"I should think oo would, though, if they'd got a Crocodile fastened to them, like these had! And so the Man
jamp, and he jamp, and at last he got right out of the hole."
Sylvie gave another little gasp: this rapid dodging about among the characters of the Story had taken away her
breath.
"And he runned away for to look for the Goat, oo know. And he heard the Lion grunting---"
"Lions don't grunt," said Sylvie.
"This one did," said Bruno. "And its mouth were like a large cupboard. And it had plenty of room in its
mouth. And the Lion runned after the Man for to eat him, oo know. And the Mouse runned after the Lion."
"But the Mouse was running after the Crocodile," I said: "he couldn't run after both!"
CHAPTER 25. 118
Bruno sighed over the density of his audience, but explained very patiently. "He did runned after bofe: 'cause
they went the same way! And first he caught the Crocodile, and then he didn't catch the Lion. And when he'd
caught the Crocodile, what doos oo think he did--'cause he'd got pincers in his pocket?"
"I ca'n't guess," said Sylvie.
[Image...'He wrenched out that crocodile's toof!']
"Nobody couldn't guess it!" Bruno cried in high glee. "Why, he wrenched out that Crocodile's toof!"
"Which tooth?" I ventured to ask.
But Bruno was not to be puzzled. "The toof he were going to bite the Goat with, a course!"
"He couldn't be sure about that," I argued,
"unless he wrenched out all its teeth."
Bruno laughed merrily, and half sang, as he swung himself backwards and forwards, "He
did--wrenched--out--all its teef!"
"Why did the Crocodile wait to have them wrenched out?" said Sylvie.
"It had to wait," said Bruno.
I ventured on another question. "But what became of the Man who said 'You may wait here till I come back'?"
"He didn't say 'Oo may,'" Bruno explained. "He said, 'Oo will.' Just like Sylvie says to me 'Oo will do oor
lessons till twelve o'clock.' Oh, I wiss," he added with a little sigh, "I wiss Sylvie would say 'Oo may do oor
lessons'!"
This was a dangerous subject for discussion, Sylvie seemed to think. She returned to the Story. "But what
became of the Man?"
"Well, the Lion springed at him. But it came so slow, it were three weeks in the air--"
"Did the Man wait for it all that time?" I said.
"Course he didn't!" Bruno replied, gliding head-first down the stem of the fox-glove, for the Story was
evidently close to its end. "He sold his house, and he packed up his things, while the Lion were coming. And
he went and he lived in another town. So the Lion ate the wrong man."
This was evidently the Moral: so Sylvie made her final proclamation to the Frogs. "The Story's finished! And
whatever is to be learned from it," she added, aside to me, "I'm sure I don't know!"
I did not feel quite clear about it myself, so made no suggestion: but the Frogs seemed quite content, Moral or
no Moral, and merely raised a husky chorus of "Off! Off!" as they hopped away.
CHAPTER 25.
LOOKING EASTWARD.
CHAPTER 25. 119
"It's just a week," I said, three days later, to Arthur, "since we heard of Lady Muriel's engagement. I think I
ought to call, at any rate, and offer my congratulations. Won't you come with me?"
A pained expression passed over his face.
"When must you leave us?" he asked.
"By the first train on Monday."
"Well--yes, I will come with you. It would seem strange and unfriendly if I didn't. But this is only Friday.
Give me till Sunday afternoon. I shall be stronger then."
Shading his eyes with one hand, as if half-ashamed of the tears that were coursing down his cheeks, he held
the other out to me. It trembled as I clasped it.
I tried to frame some words of sympathy; but they seemed poor and cold, and I left them unspoken. "Good
night!" was all I said.
"Good night, dear friend!" he replied. There was a manly vigour in his tone that convinced me he was
wrestling with, and triumphing over, the great sorrow that had so nearly wrecked his life--and that, on the
stepping-stone of his dead self, he would surely rise to higher things!
There was no chance, I was glad to think, as we set out on Sunday afternoon, of meeting Eric at the Hall, as he
had returned to town the day after his engagement was announced. His presence might have disturbed the
calm--the almost unnatural calm--with which Arthur met the woman who had won his heart, and murmured
the few graceful words of sympathy that the occasion demanded.
Lady Muriel was perfectly radiant with happiness: sadness could not live in the light of such a smile: and even [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]