The afternoon sunlight still lay broad on the meadow. The place was
unchanged save for a lengthening of its oak-tree shadows. But the
persons of my Vision--naked gods and navvies--had vanished. Only the
cattle stood, knee-deep in the pool, lazily swishing their tails in
protest against the flies; and the cattle could tell me nothing.
Just a fortnight later, as I spent at St. Blazey junction the forty
odd minutes of repentance ever thoughtfully provided by our railway
company for those who, living in Troy, are foolish enough to travel,
I spied at some distance below the station a gang of men engaged in
unloading rubble to construct a new siding for the clay-traffic, and
at their head my friend Mr. Joby Tucker. The railway company was
consuming so much of my time that I felt no qualms in returning some
part of the compliment, and strolled down the line to wish Mr. Tucker
good day. "And, by the bye," I added, "you owe me an explanation.
What on earth were you doing in Treba meadow two Wednesdays ago--you
and your naked friends?"
Joby leaned on his measuring rod and grinned from ear to ear.
"You see'd us?" he asked, and, letting his eyes travel along the
line, he chuckled to himself softly and at length.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25