The White Peacock. Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс

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СКАЧАТЬ stately, mumbling old thing, and used to say that it was full of music for those that liked to ask for it. Lettie laughed, and said that so few folks ever tried it, that her honour was not great.

      “What do you think of our George’s singing?” asked the father proudly, but with a deprecating laugh at the end.

      “I tell him, when he’s in love he’ll sing quite well,” she said.

      “When he’s in love!” echoed the father, laughing aloud, very pleased.

      “Yes,” she said, “when he finds out something he wants and can’t have.”

      George thought about it, and he laughed also.

      Emily, who was laying the table said, “There is hardly any water in the pippin, George.”

      “Oh, dash!” he exclaimed, “I’ve taken my boots off.”

      “It’s not a very big job to put them on again,” said his sister.

      “Why couldn’t Annie fetch it—what’s she here for?” he said angrily.

      Emily looked at us, tossed her head, and turned her back on him.

      “I’ll go, I’ll go, after supper,” said the father in a comforting tone.

      “After supper!” laughed Emily.

      George got up and shuffled out. He had to go into the spinney near the house to a well, and being warm disliked turning out.

      We had just sat down to supper when Trip rushed ​barking to the door. “Be quiet,” ordered the father, thinking of those in bed, and he followed the dog.

      It was Leslie. He wanted Lettie to go home with him at once. This she refused to do, so he came indoors, and was persuaded to sit down at table. He swallowed a morsel of bread and cheese, and a cup of coffee, talking to Lettie of a garden party which was going to be arranged at Highclose for the following week.

      “What is it for then?” interrupted Mr. Saxton.

      “For?” echoed Leslie.

      “Is it for the missionaries, or the unemployed, or something?” explained Mr. Saxton.

      “It’s a garden-party, not a bazaar,” said Leslie.

      “Oh—a private affair. I thought it would be some church matter of your mother’s. She’s very big at the church, isn’t she?”

      “She is interested in the church—yes!” said Leslie, then proceeding to explain to Lettie that he was arranging a tennis tournament in which she was to take part. At this point he became aware that he was monopolising the conversation, and turned to George, just as the latter was taking a piece of cheese from his knife with his teeth, asking:

      “Do you play tennis, Mr. Saxton?—I know Miss Saxton does not.”

      “No,” said George, working the piece of cheese into his cheek. “I never learned any ladies’ accomplishments.”

      Leslie turned to Emily, who had nervously been pushing two plates over a stain in the cloth, and who was very startled when she found herself addressed.

      ​“My mother would be so glad if you would come to the party, Miss Saxton.”

      “I cannot. I shall be at school. Thanks very much.”

      “Ah—it’s very good of you,” said the father, beaming. But George smiled contemptuously.

      When supper was over Leslie looked at Lettie to inform her that he was ready to go. She, however, refused to see his look, but talked brightly to Mr. Saxton, who was delighted. George, flattered, joined in the talk with gusto. Then Leslie’s angry silence began to tell on us all. After a dull lapse, George lifted his head and said to his father:

      “Oh, I shouldn’t be surprised if that little red heifer calved to-night.”

      Lettie’s eyes flashed with a sparkle of amusement at this thrust.

      “No,” assented the father, “I thought so myself.”

      After a moment’s silence, George continued deliberately, “I felt her gristles——”

      “George!” said Emily sharply.

      “We will go,” said Leslie.

      George looked up sideways at Lettie and his black eyes were full of sardonic mischief.

      “Lend me a shawl, will you, Emily?” said Lettie. “I brought nothing, and I think the wind is cold.”

      Emily, however, regretted that she had no shawl, and so Lettie must needs wear a black coat over her summer dress. It fitted so absurdly that we all laughed, but Leslie was very angry that she should appear ludicrous before them. He showed her all ​the polite attentions possible, fastened the neck of her coat with his pearl scarf-pin, refusing the pin Emily discovered, after some search. Then we sallied forth.

      When we were outside, he offered Lettie his arm with an air of injured dignity. She refused it and he began to remonstrate.

      “I consider you ought to have been home as you promised.”

      “Pardon me,” she replied, “but I did not promise.”

      “But you knew I was coming,” said he.

      “Well—you found me,” she retorted.

      “Yes,” he assented. “I did find you; flirting with a common fellow,” he sneered.

      “Well,” she returned. “He did—it is true—call a heifer, a heifer.”

      “And I should think you liked it,” he said.

      “I didn’t mind,” she said, with galling negligence.

      “I thought your taste was more refined,” he replied, sarcastically. “But I suppose you thought it romantic.”

      “Very! Ruddy, dark, and really thrilling eyes,” said she.

      “I hate to hear a girl talk rot,” said Leslie. He himself had crisp hair of the “ginger” class.

      “But I mean it,” she insisted, aggravating his anger.

      Leslie was angry. “I’m glad he amuses you!”

      “Of course, I’m not hard to please,” she said pointedly. He was stung to the quick.

      “Then there’s some comfort in knowing I don’t please you,” he said coldly.

      “Oh! but you do! You amuse me also,” she said.

      ​After that he would not speak, preferring, I suppose, not to amuse her.

      Lettie took my arm, and with her СКАЧАТЬ