watched the arrival of the carrier’s cart. Dr. George saluted the lane side with prods of his stick. He was looking for herbs that, he explained to his brothers, were used for medicine.
John, the eldest, was likewise the tallest, and he could gaze over the hedge. Over the hedge there was a pleasant meadow and a girl helping her uncle, the small farmer of the village, load up some late hay upon a wagon. The girl, whose name was Annie Brent, had come from the town to help her uncle with the hay. She was upon the top of the load and her uncle below. The girl was employing her youthful strength to trample down the hay; after taking it in her arms from the top of the fork, she in turn placed it in the middle or the corners of the wagon. Her uncle, whose movements were very slow owing to his having a deformed foot, gave her plenty of time to place the hay and to jump on it, after which she lay down and waited untilher uncle could persuade his foot to bring him to the wagon with some more. All this pressing of the warm hay brother John watched from the road. The pearl buttons that held the girl’s cotton frock behind had become undone, partly by reason of her jumping and partly because she was just over sixteen years of age.
The Rev. John Turnbull had a practical mind. He had found a rare girl—‘a dear girl,’ he called her—the proper prize of his hunting, and he decided that the time had come for him to turn another part of his attention to common girls. He did this whenever he had the chance, turning his eyes and his desires and his will-to-power in whatever direction the girl happened to be.
The other two brothers wandered on, leaving John looking over the hedge. They thought, no doubt, that he was watching a very rare bird, perhaps a green fly-catcher or a large black-footed shrike. George and Henry loitered along talking very seriously.
‘I hope you do what you can to help Father,’ George was remarking. ‘Poor Mother can never understand his feelings, they are really very deep,’—which was true; ‘her thoughts are of a lighter kind. I hope you always help them whenever you can and try to save them expense.’
It was one of the doctor’s plans to keep the family property intact. He kept on looking round the family property to see if there was any leakage, as if the stocks and shares were a largepond. He feared that his younger brother, being half-witted, might forget to apply his heart to money or his understanding to its value, and thus he gave him a little advice. Dr. George had counted up all the gains he was likely to make himself, and all the capital his father ought to leave him as his share. He expected his father to live until he was eighty; he hoped his mother would, in the proper order of nature, die first, as she was six years the elder. After these two events, Dr. George expected to inherit about One Thousand Eight Hundred and Fifty-six Pounds, and his own savings he expected by that time would be about twice that amount. He feared that Henry might prove himself an expense by suddenly doing something ‘queer.’ And that is why he was always giving him good advice.
Henry was pleased to listen. His early travels had made him pleased with any quiet talk, and besides, had not the Church Fathers taught him to forget himself? He received his brother’s warnings very gratefully.
‘You are very kind to me,’ said Henry. ‘I have been spending the last three weeks in picking strawberries, raspberries, gooseberries, and black currants. I am the only one who can do this work. The gardener is always very busy, and he says that picking fruit makes him nervous. Alice began to help me, but she was always putting the currants into her mouth instead ofthe basket, so that I sent her in, and now Mother has nearly all the pantry filled with jam.’
‘It saves the expense of buying,’ remarked Dr. George.
This pleasant walk, the genial employment of an English afternoon, came to an end as walks and
John, the eldest, was likewise the tallest, and he could gaze over the hedge. Over the hedge there was a pleasant meadow and a girl helping her uncle, the small farmer of the village, load up some late hay upon a wagon. The girl, whose name was Annie Brent, had come from the town to help her uncle with the hay. She was upon the top of the load and her uncle below. The girl was employing her youthful strength to trample down the hay; after taking it in her arms from the top of the fork, she in turn placed it in the middle or the corners of the wagon. Her uncle, whose movements were very slow owing to his having a deformed foot, gave her plenty of time to place the hay and to jump on it, after which she lay down and waited untilher uncle could persuade his foot to bring him to the wagon with some more. All this pressing of the warm hay brother John watched from the road. The pearl buttons that held the girl’s cotton frock behind had become undone, partly by reason of her jumping and partly because she was just over sixteen years of age.
The Rev. John Turnbull had a practical mind. He had found a rare girl—‘a dear girl,’ he called her—the proper prize of his hunting, and he decided that the time had come for him to turn another part of his attention to common girls. He did this whenever he had the chance, turning his eyes and his desires and his will-to-power in whatever direction the girl happened to be.
The other two brothers wandered on, leaving John looking over the hedge. They thought, no doubt, that he was watching a very rare bird, perhaps a green fly-catcher or a large black-footed shrike. George and Henry loitered along talking very seriously.
‘I hope you do what you can to help Father,’ George was remarking. ‘Poor Mother can never understand his feelings, they are really very deep,’—which was true; ‘her thoughts are of a lighter kind. I hope you always help them whenever you can and try to save them expense.’
It was one of the doctor’s plans to keep the family property intact. He kept on looking round the family property to see if there was any leakage, as if the stocks and shares were a largepond. He feared that his younger brother, being half-witted, might forget to apply his heart to money or his understanding to its value, and thus he gave him a little advice. Dr. George had counted up all the gains he was likely to make himself, and all the capital his father ought to leave him as his share. He expected his father to live until he was eighty; he hoped his mother would, in the proper order of nature, die first, as she was six years the elder. After these two events, Dr. George expected to inherit about One Thousand Eight Hundred and Fifty-six Pounds, and his own savings he expected by that time would be about twice that amount. He feared that Henry might prove himself an expense by suddenly doing something ‘queer.’ And that is why he was always giving him good advice.
Henry was pleased to listen. His early travels had made him pleased with any quiet talk, and besides, had not the Church Fathers taught him to forget himself? He received his brother’s warnings very gratefully.
‘You are very kind to me,’ said Henry. ‘I have been spending the last three weeks in picking strawberries, raspberries, gooseberries, and black currants. I am the only one who can do this work. The gardener is always very busy, and he says that picking fruit makes him nervous. Alice began to help me, but she was always putting the currants into her mouth instead ofthe basket, so that I sent her in, and now Mother has nearly all the pantry filled with jam.’
‘It saves the expense of buying,’ remarked Dr. George.
This pleasant walk, the genial employment of an English afternoon, came to an end as walks and
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