THE COLLECTED WORKS OF RUDYARD KIPLING (Illustrated Edition). Rudyard Kipling

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СКАЧАТЬ stared directly in front of her and did not reply. The wind of a keen clear winter morning had put colour into her cheeks. Overhead, the creamy-yellow smoke-clouds were thinning away one by one against a pale-blue sky, and the improvident sparrows broke off from water-spout committees and cab-rank cabals to clamour of the coming of spring.

      "It will be lovely weather in the country," said Dick.

      "But where are we going?"

      "Wait and see."

      The stopped at Victoria, and Dick sought tickets. For less than half the fraction of an instant it occurred to Maisie, comfortably settled by the waiting-room fire, that it was much more pleasant to send a man to the booking-office than to elbow one's own way through the crowd. Dick put her into a Pullman,—solely on account of the warmth there; and she regarded the extravagance with grave scandalised eyes as the train moved out into the country.

      "I wish I knew where we are going," she repeated for the twentieth time.

      The name of a well-remembered station flashed by, towards the end of the run, and Maisie was delighted.

      "Oh, Dick, you villain!"

      "Well, I thought you might like to see the place again. You haven't been here since the old times, have you?"

      "No. I never cared to see Mrs. Jennett again; and she was all that was ever there."

      "Not quite. Look out a minute. There's the windmill above the potato-fields; they haven't built villas there yet; d'you remember when I shut you up in it?"

      "Yes. How she beat you for it! I never told it was you."

      "She guessed. I jammed a stick under the door and told you that I was burying Amomma alive in the potatoes, and you believed me. You had a trusting nature in those days."

      They laughed and leaned to look out, identifying ancient landmarks with many reminiscences. Dick fixed his weather eye on the curve of Maisie's cheek, very near his own, and watched the blood rise under the clear skin. He congratulated himself upon his cunning, and looked that the evening would bring him a great reward.

      When the train stopped they went out to look at an old town with new eyes. First, but from a distance, they regarded the house of Mrs. Jennett.

      "Suppose she should come out now, what would you do?" said Dick, with mock terror.

      "I should make a face."

      "Show, then," said Dick, dropping into the speech of childhood.

      Maisie made that face in the direction of the mean little villa, and Dick laughed.

      "'This is disgraceful,'" said Maisie, mimicking Mrs. Jennett's tone. "'Maisie, you run in at once, and learn the collect, gospel, and epistle for the next three Sundays. After all I've taught you, too, and three helps every Sunday at dinner! Dick's always leading you into mischief. If you aren't a gentleman, Dick, you might at least...'"

      The sentence ended abruptly. Maisie remembered when it had last been used.

      "'Try to behave like one,'" said Dick, promptly. "Quite right. Now we'll get some lunch and go on to Fort Keeling,—unless you'd rather drive there?"

      "We must walk, out of respect to the place. How little changed it all is!"

      They turned in the direction of the sea through unaltered streets, and the influence of old things lay upon them. Presently they passed a confectioner's shop much considered in the days when their joint pocket-money amounted to a shilling a week.

      "Dick, have you any pennies?" said Maisie, half to herself.

      "Only three; and if you think you're going to have two of 'em to buy peppermints with, you're wrong. She says peppermints aren't ladylike."

      Again they laughed, and again the colour came into Maisie's cheeks as the blood boiled through Dick's heart. After a large lunch they went down to the beach and to Fort Keeling across the waste, wind-bitten land that no builder had thought it worth his while to defile. The winter breeze came in from the sea and sang about their ears.

      "Maisie," said Dick, "your nose is getting a crude Prussian blue at the tip. I'll race you as far as you please for as much as you please."

      She looked round cautiously, and with a laugh set off, swiftly as the ulster allowed, till she was out of breath.

      "We used to run miles," she panted. "It's absurd that we can't run now."

      "Old age, dear. This it is to get fat and sleek in town. When I wished to pull your hair you generally ran for three miles, shrieking at the top of your voice. I ought to know, because those shrieks of yours were meant to call up Mrs. Jennett with a cane and——"

      "Dick, I never got you a beating on purpose in my life."

      "No, of course you never did. Good heavens! look at the sea."

      "Why, it's the same as ever!" said Maisie.

      Torpenhow had gathered from Mr. Beeton that Dick, properly dressed and shaved, had left the house at half-past eight in the morning with a travelling-rug over his arm. The Nilghai rolled in at mid-day for chess and polite conversation.

      "It's worse than anything I imagined," said Torpenhow.

      "Oh, the everlasting Dick, I suppose! You fuss over him like a hen with one chick. Let him run riot if he thinks it'll amuse him. You can whip a young pup off feather, but you can't whip a young man."

      "It isn't a woman. It's one woman; and it's a girl."

      "Where's your proof?"

      "He got up and went out at eight this morning,—got up in the middle of the night, by Jove! a thing he never does except when he's on service. Even then, remember, we had to kick him out of his blankets before the fight began at El-Maghrib. It's disgusting."

      "It looks odd; but maybe he's decided to buy a horse at last. He might get up for that, mightn't he?"

      "Buy a blazing wheelbarrow! He'd have told us if there was a horse in the wind. It's a girl."

      "Don't be certain. Perhaps it's only a married woman."

      "Dick has some sense of humour, if you haven't. Who gets up in the gray dawn to call on another man's wife? It's a girl."

      "Let it be a girl, then. She may teach him that there's somebody else in the world besides himself."

      "She'll spoil his hand. She'll waste his time, and she'll marry him, and ruin his work for ever. He'll be a respectable married man before we can stop him, and—he'll ever go on the long trail again."

      "All quite possible, but the earth won't spin the other way when that happens.... No! ho! I'd give something to see Dick 'go wooing with the boys.' Don't worry about it. These things be with Allah, and we can only look on. Get the chessmen."

      The red-haired girl was lying down in her own room, staring at the ceiling. The footsteps of people on the pavement sounded, as they grew indistinct in the distance, like a many-times-repeated kiss that was all one long kiss. Her СКАЧАТЬ