Actions and Reactions | Page 9

"I'm only glad I happened to be there," she answered, and from the
bottom of her heart she meant it.
"We heard he spoke a lot o' you--one time an' another since you came.
We thank you kindly," the man added.

"Are you the son that was in America?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am. On my uncle's farm, in Connecticut. He was what they
call rood-master there."
"Whereabouts in Connecticut?" asked George over her shoulder.
"Veering Holler was the name. I was there six year with my uncle."
"How small the world is!" Sophie cried. "Why, all my mother's people
come from Veering Hollow. There must be some there still--the
Lashmars. Did you ever hear of them?"
"I remember hearing that name, seems to me," he answered, but his
face was blank as the back of a spade.
A little before dusk a woman in grey, striding like a foot-soldier, and
bearing on her arm a long pole, crashed through the orchard calling for
food. George, upon whom the unannounced English worked
mysteriously, fled to the parlour; but Mrs. Cloke came forward
beaming. Sophie could not escape.
"We've only just heard of it;" said the stranger, turning on her. "I've
been out with the otter-hounds all day. It was a splendidly sportin' thing
"
"Did you--er--kill?" said Sophie. She knew from books she could not
go far wrong here.
"Yes, a dry bitch--seventeen pounds," was the answer. "A splendidly
sportin' thing of you to do. Poor old Iggulden--"
"Oh--that!" said Sophie, enlightened.
"If there had been any people at Pardons it would never have happened.
He'd have been looked after. But what can you expect from a parcel of
London solicitors?"
Mrs. Cloke murmured something.
"No. I'm soaked from the knees down. If I hang about I shall get chilled.
A cup of tea, Mrs. Cloke, and I can eat one of your sandwiches as I go."
She wiped her weather-worn face with a green and yellow silk
handkerchief.
"Yes, my lady!" Mrs. Cloke ran and returned swiftly.
"Our land marches with Pardons for a mile on the south," she explained,
waving the full cup, "but one has quite enough to do with one's own
people without poachin'. Still, if I'd known, I'd have sent Dora, of
course. Have you seen her this afternoon, Mrs. Cloke? No? I wonder
whether that girl did sprain her ankle. Thank you." It was a formidable

hunk of bread and bacon that Mrs. Cloke presented. "As I was sayin',
Pardons is a scandal! Lettin' people die like dogs. There ought to be
people there who do their duty. You've done yours, though there wasn't
the faintest call upon you. Good night. Tell Dora, if she comes, I've
gone on."
She strode away, munching her crust, and Sophie reeled breathless into
the parlour, to shake the shaking George.
"Why did you keep catching my eye behind the blind? Why didn't you
come out and do your duty?"
"Because I should have burst. Did you see the mud on its cheek?" he
said.
"Once. I daren't look again. Who is she?"
"God--a local deity then. Anyway, she's another of the things you're
expected to know by instinct."
Mrs. Cloke, shocked at their levity, told them that it was Lady Conant,
wife of Sir Walter Conant, Baronet, a large landholder in the
neighbourhood; and if not God; at least His visible Providence. George
made her talk of that family for an hour.
"Laughter," said Sophie afterward in their own room, "is the mark of
the savage. Why couldn't you control your emotions? It's all real to
her."
"It's all real to me. That's my trouble," he answered in an altered tone.
"Anyway, it's real enough to mark time with. Don't you think so?"
"What d'you mean?" she asked quickly, though she knew his voice.
"That I'm better. I'm well enough to kick."
"What at?"
"This!" He waved his hand round the one room. "I must have
something to play with till I'm fit for work again."
"Ah!" She sat on the bed and leaned forward, her hands clasped. "I
wonder if it's good for you."
"We've been better here than anywhere," he went on slowly. "One
could always sell it again."
She nodded gravely, but her eyes sparkled.
"The only thing that worries me is what happened this morning. I want
to know how you feel about it. If it's on your nerves in the least we can
have the old farm at the back of the house pulled down, or perhaps it
has spoiled the notion for you?"

"Pull it down?" she cried. "You've no business faculty. Why, that's
where we could live while we're putting the big house in order. It's
almost under the same roof. No! What happened this morning seemed
to be more of a--of a leading