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may easily appear to be one of the ugliest； most deserted stations
in the whole of Europe； having nothing on either side of it save
barren grey fields that never grow grass but only stones and
bottles； with its single decorationa heavy iron bridge that
crosses the rails and leads up to the higher road and the town of
Liskane。 Ugly enough； but to Jeremy； on this summer afternoon； the
gate to a sure and certain Paradise。
Although his family were fussing around him； Barbara crying； Mr。
Cole saying： 〃Four； Five； Six。 。 。 But where's the black box？ Your
black box； Amy。 。 。 Six； Seven。 。 。 But there should be Eight。 。 。
Seven 。 。 。〃 and Mrs。 Cole saying： 〃And there's my brown bag。 The
little one with the black handle；〃 and Helen saying。 〃OO； was it
adidums； then Nandy…Pandy； Nandy…Pandy。 。 。〃 and Miss Jones： 〃Now；
Mary！ Now； Jeremy！ Now； Helen！〃； although this was going on just as
it always had gone on； his eyes were searching for the wagonette。
Ah； there it was！ He could just see the top of it beyond the iron
bridge； and Jim； the man from the Farm； would be coming down to help
with the boxes； yes； there he was crossing the bridge now； with his
red face and broad shoulders； and the cap on the side of his head；
just as he always wore it。 Jeremy recognised him with a strange；
little choking sensation。 It was 〃coming home〃 to him； all this was…
…the great event of his life； and as he looked at the others he
realised； young as he was； that none of them felt it as he did； and
the realisation gave him a strange feeling； half of gratification；
half of loneliness。 He stood there； a little apart from the rest of
them； clutching his box； and holding on to Hamlet's lead； feeling so
deeply excited that his heart was like a hard； cold stone jumping up
and down； bump； bump； behind his waistcoat。
〃That's Jim！ That's Jim！〃 he whispered in a hoarse gasp to Miss
Jones。
〃Now mind； dear；〃 she answered in her kindly； groping voice。 〃You'll
be falling on to the rail if you aren't careful。〃
It strangely annoyed him that his father should greet Jim just as
though he were some quite ordinary man in Polchester。 He himself
waited in a strange agitation until Jim should notice him。 The man
turned at last； bending down to pick up a box； saw him； touched his
cap； smiling a long； crooked smile； and Jeremy blushed with
happiness。 It was the first recognition that he had had from the
farm； and it pleased him。
They all moved up to the higher road。 Uncle Samuel； coming on at the
last； in a dreamy； moody way； stopping on the bridge to look down at
the railway…line； and then suddenly saying aloud：
〃Their minds are full of the number of boxes； and whether they'll
get tea； and who's to pay what； and 'How badly I want a wash！' and
already to…morrow they'll be wondering whether they oughn't to be
getting home to Polchester。 All sham！ All sham！〃
He wasn't speaking to Jeremy； but to himself。 However； Jeremy said：
〃Did you see Jim； Uncle ？〃
〃No； I did not。〃
〃He's fatter and redder than last year。〃
〃I shouldn't wonder。〃
〃Are you going to paint； Uncle？〃
〃I am。〃
〃What？〃
〃Oh； just lines and circles。〃
Jeremy paused； standing for a moment； and looked puzzled。 Then he
said：
〃Do you like babies； Uncle Samuel？〃
〃No； I do not。〃
〃Not even Barbara ？〃
〃Nocertainly not。〃
〃I don't； too。 。 。 Why don't you paint cows and houses like other
people； Uncle Samuel？ I heard Father say once that he never knew
what your pictures meant。〃
〃That's why I paint them。〃
〃Why？〃
〃So that your father shan't know what they mean。〃
Although he did not understand this any more than he understood his
uncle； Jeremy was pleased with this conversation。 It had been；
somehow； in tone with the place and the hour； it had conveyed to him
in some strange fashion that his uncle cared for all of this rather
as he himself cared。 Oh！ he liked Uncle Samuel！
He had hoped that he might have sat on the box next to Jim； but that
place was now piled up with luggage； so he was squeezed in between
his mother and Mrs。 Patcham； with Hamlet； very uncomfortable；
between his knees。 They drove off down the high road； the hot smell
of the grass came to his nostrils； the sun blazed down upon them；
turning the path before them into gleaming steel； and the high
Glebeshire hedges； covered with thin powder； rose on both sides
above them； breaking once and again to show the folding valleys； and
the faint blue hills； and the heavy； dark trees with their thick；
black shadows staining the grass。
The cows were clustered sleeping wherever they could find shadow；
faintly sheep…bells tinkled in the distance； and now and then a
stream； like broken glass； floated； cried； and was gone。 They drove
into a dark wood； and the sun scattered through the trees in pieces
of gold and shadowy streams of arrowed light。 The birds were
singing； and whenever the hoofs of the horses and the wheels turned
onto soft moss or lines of grass； in the sudden silence the air was
filled with birds' voices。 That proved that it must now be turning
to the evening of the day； the sun was not very high above the wood；
and the sea of blue was invaded by a high galleon of cloud that
hovered with spreading sail； catching gold into its heart as it
moved。 They left the wood； crossed the River Garth； and came out on
to moorland。 Here； for the first time； Jeremy smelt the sea； the
lanes had been hot； but here the wind blew across the moor； with the
smell of sea…pinks and sea… gulls in it。 The grass was short and
rough； the soil was sand。 On the horizon was the grey； melancholy
tower of a deserted mine。 Some bird flew with swiftly driving wings；
crying as it went。 The smell of the moor was as fresh as though the
foot of man had never crossed itdeserted； but not alone； bare； but
not empty； uninhabited； but peopled； silent； but full of voices。
Jeremy's excitement grew。 He knew now how every line of the road
would be。 They left the moor and were on the road leading to
Rafield。 These were the days before they built the road from Liskane
wide enough for motor… cars and other horrible inventions。 Thirty
years ago the way was so narrow that the briars and ferns brushed
your face as you passed； and you could reach out your hand and pluck
snap…dragons and dandelions and fox…gloves。 Many roads twisted in
and out upon one another； the corners were so sharp that sometimes
the wagonette seemed to hang upon one wheel as it turned。 Still no
sight of the sea； but the smell of it now was everywhere； and
sometimes at a sudden bend there would come a faint beat； beat upon
the ear with something rhyming and measured in it； like the murmur
of a sleeping giant。
They came to the bend where the hill suddenly dips at a fearful
angle down into Rafield。 Here they turned to the right； deep between
edges again； then through a little copse； and then； as though with a
whisk of the finger； right on to Cow Farm itself。
It was an old square house； deep red brick； with crooked chimneys；
and s stone court in front of it。 To either side of the court there
were barns。 Behind the house thick trees； clouded with green；
showed。 In the middle of the court was a p