VII. Tick, tack, tick, tack, and smilingly she eyed me (Dreadful the low cunning of these creechars, don't you think?) "That's all right! The weather's bright. Them bushes there 'ull hide me. Don't the gorse smell nice?" I felt my derned old eyelids blink! Supper? I've a crust of bread, a big one, and a bottle," (Just as I expected! Ah, these creechars always drink!) "Sugar and water and half a pinch of tea to rinse my throttle, Then I'll curl up cosy !"-"If you're cotched it means the clink!" "Yus, but don't you think If a star should see me, God 'ull tell that star to wink?" VIII. "Now, look here," I says, "I don't know what your blooming age is!" "Three-score years and five," she says, "that's five more years to go Tick, tack, tick, tack, before I gets my wages!" "Wages all be damned," I says, "there's one thing that I know Gals that stay out late o' nights are sure to meet wi' sorrow. Speaking as a toff," I says, "it isn't comme il faut ! Tell me why you want to get to Piddinghoe to-morrow.""That was where my son worked, twenty years ago!""Twenty years ago? Never wrote? May still be there? Remember you? . . . Just so!" IX. Yus, it was a drama; but she weren't my long-lost parent! 66 Here's a shilling, mother, for to-day I've made my pile!" X. Yus, a dozen coppers, all my capital, it fled, sir, That same day, at sun-rise, when the sky was like a peach: Nose-gays, and a speech, All about the bright blue eyes they matched on Brighton beach. XI. Still, you've only got to hear the bankers on the budget, Then you'll know the giving game is hardly "high finance” Which no more it wasn't for that poor old dame to trudge it, Tick, tack, tick, tack, on such a devil's dance: Crumbs, it took me quite aback to see her stop so humble, Casting up into my face a sort of shiny glance, Bless you, bless you, that was what I thought I heard her mumble, Lord, a prayer for poor old Bill, a rummy sort of chance! Crumbs, that shiny glance Kinder made me king of all the sky from here to France XII. Tick, tack, tick, tack, but now she toddled faster: Soon she'd reach the little twisted by-way through the wheat. "Look 'ee here," I says, "young woman, don't you court disaster! Peepin' through yon poppies there's a cottage trim and neat, White as chalk and sweet as turf: wot price a bed for sorrow, Sprigs of lavender between the pillow and the sheet?" "No," she says, "I've got to get to Piddinghoe to-morrow! P'raps they'd tell the work'us! And I've lashings here to eat: Don't the gorse smell sweet?" Well, I turned and left her plodding on beside the wheat. XIII. Every cent I'd given her like a hero in a story; Yet, alone with leagues of wheat I seemed to grow aware Solomon himself, arrayed in all his golden glory, Couldn't vie with Me, the corn-flower king, the millionaire ! How to cash those bright blue cheques that night? My trouser pockets Jingled sudden! Six more pennies, crept from James knew where ! Crumbs! I hurried back with eyes just bulging from their sockets, Pushed 'em in the old dame's fist and listened for the prayer, Shamming not to care, Bill-the blarsted chicken-thief, the corn-flower millionaire. XIV. Tick, tack, tick, tack, and faster yet she clattered! Ay, she'd almost gained a yard! I left her once again. Feeling very warm inside and sort of 'ighly flattered, On I plodded, all alone, with hay-stacks in my brain. Suddenly, with chink-chink-chink, the old sweet jingle Startled me! "TWAS THRUPPENCE MORE! three coppers round and plain! Lord, temptation struck me and I felt my gullet tingle. Then I hurried back beside them seas of golden grain : No, I can't explain; There I thrust 'em in her fist, and left her once again. XV. Tinkle-chink! THREE HA'PENCE! If the vulgar fractions followed, Big fleas have little fleas! It flashed upon me there,Like the snakes of Pharaoh which the snakes of Moses swallowed All the world was playing at the tortoise and the hare: Half the smallest atom is-my soul was getting tipsyHeaven is one big circle and the centre's everywhere, Yus, and that old woman was an angel and a gipsy, Yus, and Bill, the chicken-thief, the corn-flower millionaire, Shamming not to care, What was he? A seraph on the misty rainbow-stair! VOL. CLXXXVI.—NO. MCXXVIII. 20 XVI. Don't you make no doubt of it! The deeper that you look, sir, Mud and slime that growed into the pomp of Ninevey? One great Power beneath it all, one God in you and me? XVII. Anyway, it seemed to me I'd struck the world's pump-handle! "Back with that three ha'pence, Bill," I mutters, "or you're lost." Back I hurries thro' the dusk where, shining like a candle, Pale before the sunset stood that fairy finger-post. Sir, she wasn't there! I'd struck the place where all roads crost, All the roads in all the world. Even to the Swish! She couldn't yet have trotted Hist! a stealthy step behind? A ghost? A flying noose had caught me round the neck! Garotted! Back I staggered, clutching at the moonbeams, yus, almost Throttled! Sir, I boast Bill is tough, but . . . when it comes to throttling by a ghost! XVIII. Winged like a butterfly, tall and slender Ef you're a sperrit, get hence, vamoose!" XIX. Straight at the word from the ferns and blossoms Peeped, and the colours came twinkling round me, XX. All around me, gliding and gleaming, Cast them about me and dreamily drifted XXI. Round and round me they dizzily floated, Crumbs, my pals would have grinned and gloated XXII. Big as a cloud, though his hat still crowned him, Well, despite of his old black hat, sir, Bill was becoming-a chrysalist. |