Chalk, with his mind full of the story he had just heard, walked
homewards like a man in a dream. The air was fragrant with spring and
the scent of lilac revived memories almost forgotten. It took him back
forty years, and showed him a small boy treading the same road, passing
the same houses. Nothing had changed so much as the small boy himself;
nothing had been so unlike the life he had pictured as the life he had
led. Even the blamelessness of the latter yielded no comfort; it
savoured of a lack of spirit.
[Illustration: "A small boy treading the same road."]
His mind was still busy with the past when he reached home. Mrs. Chalk,
a woman of imposing appearance, who was sitting by the window at
needlework, looked up sharply at his entrance. Before she spoke he had a
dim idea that she was excited about something.
"I've got her," she said, triumphantly.
"Oh!" said Mr. Chalk.
"She didn't want to come at first," said Mrs. Chalk; "she'd half promised
to go to Mrs. Morris. Mrs. Morris had heard of her through Harris, the
grocer, and he only knew she was out of a place by accident. He--"
Her words fell on deaf ears. Mr. Chalk, gazing through the window, heard
without comprehending a long account of the capture of a new housemaid,
which, slightly altered as to name and place, would have passed muster as
an exciting contest between a skilful angler and a particularly sulky
salmon.
Pages:
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40