Thomasina. Paul Gallico

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СКАЧАТЬ the flutterings of the birds quieted down. Geordie saw the white cotton tail of a rabbit down by the burn.

      Thereupon, Geordie McNabb did something instinctively right and quite brave. He crept out from beneath his cover and advanced as far as the bell suspended from the Coven Tree and the rope hanging therefrom. At the foot of it he deposited his box with the frog in it and gave the rope a gentle tug until the bell, shivering and vibrating, rent the forest with its silvery echoes, stilling the voice and the thumping from within the house. As fast as his stumpy legs could carry him, Geordie fled across the clearing and dived once more into the safety of the cover of thick green fern.

      The peal of the bell died away, but the quiet was immediately shattered by the hysterical barking of a dog. A Scotch terrier came racing around from the barn behind the house. A hundred birds rose into the air, making a soughing and whirring with their wings as they flew wildly about the chimneys. Two cats came walking formally and with purpose around the corner of the house, their tails straight up in the air, a black and a tiger-striped grey. They sat down quietly some distance away and waited. As Geordie watched, a young roe buck suddenly appeared out of the underbrush, head up and alert, the sun shining from its moist black nose and liquid eyes. It moved warily, tossing its fine head, its eyes fixed upon the house where the front door was slowly opening and with infinite caution.

      Geordie McNabb’s heart beat furiously and he came close to giving way to panic and running for all he was worth. But his curiosity to see the Red Witch of Glen Ardrath, now that he had come this far and dared so much, and his need to find out what was to become of his frog, kept him there.

      The door opened wide, but no Red Witch appeared, almost to Geordie McNabb’s disappointment, only a young woman, hardly more than a girl, it seemed to Geordie, a plain girl, a country girl, such as you could see anywhere on the farms surrounding Inveranoch, in simple skirt and smock with thick stockings and shoes, and a shawl around her shoulders.

      She could not have been a witch, for she was neither beautiful nor hideous, and yet little Geordie found that he could not seem to take his eyes from her countenance. What was it that drew and held his gaze? He could not tell. Her nose was long and wise, and the space between it and her upper lip seemed wide and humorous so that somehow it made you want to smile looking at it. The mouth was both tender and rueful, and in the grey-green eyes there was a far-away look. Her hair, which hung loose to her shoulders in the fashion of country girls, was not bound and was the cherry colour of a glowing blacksmith’s bar before he begins to cool it.

      She looked out of the door, brushing away a lock of the dark red hair from her forehead and the gesture too was of one who is also clearing away cobwebs from the mind. Geordie lay there on his belly, hidden by the ferns, loving her suddenly with all his heart and he did not know why nor did he think of any spell cast upon him but only that she was there and he loved her.

      The girl looked about her for a moment and then to Geordie’s surprise gave a high, clear call on two notes. For a moment, Geordie thought that the silver bell was still ringing, so clear and piercing was the call, but the sides of the metal had long ceased vibrating and it was only her throat that produced the marvellous sound.

      It acted upon the buck, who came stepping nimbly out of the woods and walked slowly across half the clearing as she stood contemplating the animal out of her far-away eyes, with a rueful smile at her lips. The deer stopped and lowered its head and stood there gazing up at her mischievously and playfully so that she burst into laughter and cried – “Was it you then, at the bell again? For that you’ll be waiting for your supper –”

      But the buck, as though suddenly alarmed, or sensing the presence of another, turned and bounded away into the forest. The cats came sedately forward, walking almost in tandem, and began to weave in and out of her feet. But the Scottie dog ran to the box containing the frog and began to sniff it, thus calling her attention to its presence.

      She crossed the threshold then and Geordie watched her run to the box with quick, lithe steps that had in them something of the movements of the deer. She knelt, her hands folded in her lap for an instant and peered down into the box. Then she reached in and removed the wearing, injured, palpitating little creature.

      She held it gently in her hand and the broken leg spilled from the side of it and hung limp. Carefully she probed it with a finger and looked into its beady yellow-green eyes and the odd space between her nose and upper lip twitched most movingly as she lifted the frog and held it to her cheek for an instant while she said: “Was it the angels or the Little Folk who brought you here to me? Poor wee frog. I’ll be doing what I can for you.” Then she arose and disappeared into the house, shutting the door after her.

      The cottage slept again, its eyes tightly shut. The two cats and the dog retired whence they had come. The whirring birds quieted down. Only the squirrel in the tree who knew where Geordie was continued to scold. Geordie felt as though the greatest load he had ever known in his life had been lifted from him and he was free at last. The frog was safe and in good hands. His heart filled now almost to bursting with a new and strange kind of joy and singing, he left the shelter of the bracken, and as fast as his legs would carry him hop-skipped and jumped along the path alongside the foaming burn, downhill towards Inveranoch and home.

      The same summer’s morning, Mr MacDhui, finishing with his waiting list of clients, motioned with his head to his friend Mr Peddie, who had waited until the last, to go inside with his groaning animal. He followed him remarking: “Come in, Angus. I am sorry you have had to wait for so long. These fools with their useless pets seem to take up all of my time. Well, what is the trouble? Have you been overfeeding the beast on sweets again? I warned you, did I not?” He seemed hardly aware he had included his friend in the category.

      Mr Peddie, who really did not have the proper physical aspect for it, contrived to look both guilty and sheepish. He replied: “Of course you are right, Andrew, but what am I to do? He sits up and begs so prettily. He is mortally fond of sweets.” He looked fondly upon the pug dog who lay belly flat upon the enamelled examining table with an occasional belch disturbing his normal wheezing. He rolled his creamy eyes pleadingly in the direction of Mr MacDhui, who, memory and experience told him, possessed the formula to pardon over-indulgence.

      The vet leaned down to smell the dog, wrinkling his nose in distaste; he probed his belly and took his temperature. “Hmph!” he grunted. “The same complaint – only aggravated …” He stuck his chin out and bristled his beard at the divine and mocked: “A man of God, you are, speaking for the Creator, and himself having no more self-control than to stuff this wretched animal with sweets to his own detriment.”

      “Oh,” replied Peddie, squirming uneasily, his usually joyous moon face exhibiting the sadness of the scolded child: “Not really a man of God, though I do try. No more than an employee of His in the division of humans who must make up in love what they lack in brains and grace.” He made a deprecating gesture – “So many men, good men, go into the army, or politics, or law, He is often compelled to take what He can get.”

      MacDhui grinned appreciatively and looked at his friend with affection. “Do you think He really enjoys all this sycophancy, flattery, bribery and cajoling that you chaps seem to think necessary to keep Him good-tempered and tractable?”

      Mr Peddie answered immediately and with equal good humour: “If ever God inveigled Himself into error it was when He let man imagine Him in his own image, but I rather think this was man’s rather than God’s idea since it has been more flattering to the former.”

      MacDhui barked like a fox, flashing his strong white teeth through the red line of his full lips. He loved the running battle with Peddie which had been going on between them ever since he had moved from Glasgow to Inveranoch at his behest, and which they carried on almost whenever and wherever they encountered one another. “Oh, no,” he said. “Then you СКАЧАТЬ