`Oh, cowards and bullies!' they repeated, mincingly mocking her speech.
`Not such a clown shall anger me,he quoted against her, shouting with laughter.
A boor is answered silently,'
She went indoors. Paul went with the boys into the orchard, where they had rigged up a parallel bar. They did feats of strength. He was more agile than strong, but it served. He fingered a piece of apple- blossom that hung low on a swinging bough.
`I wouldn't get the apple-blossom,' said Edgar, the eldest brother. `There'll be no apples next year.'
`I wasn't going to get it,' replied Paul, going away.
The boys felt hostile to him; they were more interested in their own pursuits. He wandered back to the house to look for his mother. As he went round the back, he saw Miriam kneeling in front of the hen- coop, some maize in her hand, biting her lip, and crouching in an intense attitude. The hen was eyeing her wickedly. Very gingerly she put forward her hand. The hen bobbed for her. She drew back quickly with a cry, half of fear, half of chagrin.
`It won't hurt you,' said Paul.
She flushed crimson and started up.
`I only wanted to try,' she said in a low voice.
`See, it doesn't hurt,' he said, and, putting only two corns in his palm, he let the hen peck, peck, peck at his bare hand.
`It only makes you laugh,' he said.
She put her hand forward, and dragged it away, tried again, and started back with a cry. He frowned.
`Why, I'd let her take corn from my face,' said Paul, `only she bumps a bit. She's ever so neat. If she wasn't, look how much ground she'd peck up every day.'
He waited grimly, and watched. At last Miriam let the bird peck from her hand. She gave a little cry-- fear, and pain because of fear--rather pathetic. But she had done it, and she did it again.
`These, you see,' said the boy. `It doesn't hurt, does it?'
She looked at him with dilated dark eyes.
`No,' she laughed, trembling.
Then she rose and went indoors. She seemed to be in some way resentful of the boy.
`He thinks I'm only a common girl,' she thought, and she wanted to prove she was a grand person like the `Lady of the Lake'.
Paul found his mother ready to go home. She smiled on her son. He took the great bunch of flowers. Mr and Mrs Leivers walked down the fields with them. The hills were golden with evening; deep in the wood showed the darkening purple of bluebells. It was everywhere perfectly still, save for the rustling of leaves and birds.
`But it is a beautiful place,' said Mrs Morel.
`Yes,' answered Mr Leivers; `it's a nice little place, if only it weren't for the rabbits. The pasture's bitten down to nothing. I dunno if ever I s'll get the rent off it.'