Evening star., 1939-10-08

IL OlO not IldlleI. IL WdS IiOl nhcly
that she would look at him again after
all this. But he remembered her and
the happy days in the bluebell wood,
and his throat hurt him.
There was nobody on the platform
to meet him. 1t was late spring. Rain
and little sleet blew in his face.
His father and mother were stand
ing together on the study hearthrug,
as he had seen them last. Like people
drawn together for siege, as if they
had remained like that ever since he
went away. He knew at once how it
was. Their eyes we're hard and resent
full. their mouths grim line. In spite
of that four-year old threat about the
grave, it was obvious the old boy was
still going strong.
The sOftness that had filled Miles
heart froze over His good intentions
faded and he grinned at them. Jaunty,
defiant
From the start they had misunder-
stood one another. They had thought
him brazen, whereas he was afraid.
What did they want him to do? Come
crawling in on his belly?
Even then he still had hopes of his
mother. He had once been her boy. He
knelt beside her late that night and
told her everything. clumsily. stum-
bling, keeping nothing back. His short
sighted brown eyes were touchingly
honest and guileless, but behind his
thick glasses she did not see them.
Lying about it now only makes it
worse" she said. Hardened, that's
what you are"
And his fathers voice, pompous.
incredulous: "Are you actually asking
us to believe you we're unjustly con-
demned?"
He sat on the edge of his bed, his
head in his hands He did not know
what to do. Morning found him still
sitting there.
He looked out of his window. The
churchyard lay under silver counter
pane of dew. He went out into the
chilly sunshine and stood with his
hands in his pockets, staring at the
familiar inscriptions. They'd be hap
pier if l were dead" he thought He
made up his mind suddenly, his young
face gray.
He skirted the Hall garden. He
climbed the wall to the bluebell wood
where once he used to meet Pamela.
His face twitChed. as he tried to forget
all that. The bluebells would come out
and ring another chime. but he
would not be there The cuckoo's voice
would awake the woods - but him it
would not wake.
Beyond the bluebell wood ran the
river The current got swift when you
came to the sluice gates - it would
soon be over He sat down and began
to take off his shoes.
From nowhere came a little man
with protruding eyes and short
beard. An odd little man who seemed
to be trying to warn him that if he
padded he would take cold. But
between them the barrier of language
reared itself, insurmountable.
do go away" said Miles peevishly,
aware he was disastrously near to
tears. He wasn't even allowed to
drown in peace.
The little man stood over him,
emitting strange sounds. Like an
escape of gas, thought Miles. What
lunatic asylum. he wondered. had he
come from?
Wearily he put his shoes on again.
Presently the little man would 60
home and he could continue, un-
molested, with his suicide. He was
about to remove his shoes once more,
when he saw the little man peeping at
him curiously from behind the trees.
Damn" said Miles. Obviously the
fellow smelt rat Miles stood, hands
in his pockets. gloomily surveying his