Chapter CXIX

by William Somerset Maugham

　　Philip had not a basket of his own, but sat with Sally. Jane thought itmonstrous that he should help her elder sister rather than herself, and hehad to promise to pick for her when Sally's basket was full. Sally wasalmost as quick as her mother."Won't it hurt your hands for sewing?" asked Philip."Oh, no, it wants soft hands. That's why women pick better than men. Ifyour hands are hard and your fingers all stiff with a lot of rough workyou can't pick near so well."He liked to see her deft movements, and she watched him too now and thenwith that maternal spirit of hers which was so amusing and yet socharming. He was clumsy at first, and she laughed at him. When she bentover and showed him how best to deal with a whole line their hands met. Hewas surprised to see her blush. He could not persuade himself that she wasa woman; because he had known her as a flapper, he could not help lookingupon her as a child still; yet the number of her admirers showed that shewas a child no longer; and though they had only been down a few days oneof Sally's cousins was already so attentive that she had to endure a lotof chaffing. His name was Peter Gann, and he was the son of Mrs. Athelny'ssister, who had married a farmer near Ferne. Everyone knew why he found itnecessary to walk through the hop-field every day.A call-off by the sounding of a horn was made for breakfast at eight, andthough Mrs. Athelny told them they had not deserved it, they ate it veryheartily. They set to work again and worked till twelve, when the hornsounded once more for dinner. At intervals the measurer went his roundfrom bin to bin, accompanied by the booker, who entered first in his ownbook and then in the hopper's the number of bushels picked. As each binwas filled it was measured out in bushel baskets into a huge bag called apoke; and this the measurer and the pole-puller carried off between themand put on the waggon. Athelny came back now and then with stories of howmuch Mrs. Heath or Mrs. Jones had picked, and he conjured his family tobeat her: he was always wanting to make records, and sometimes in hisenthusiasm picked steadily for an hour. His chief amusement in it,however, was that it showed the beauty of his graceful hands, of which hewas excessively proud. He spent much time manicuring them. He told Philip,as he stretched out his tapering fingers, that the Spanish grandees hadalways slept in oiled gloves to preserve their whiteness. The hand thatwrung the throat of Europe, he remarked dramatically, was as shapely andexquisite as a woman's; and he looked at his own, as he delicately pickedthe hops, and sighed with self-satisfaction. When he grew tired of this herolled himself a cigarette and discoursed to Philip of art and literature.In the afternoon it grew very hot. Work did not proceed so actively andconversation halted. The incessant chatter of the morning dwindled now todesultory remarks. Tiny beads of sweat stood on Sally's upper lip, and asshe worked her lips were slightly parted. She was like a rosebud burstinginto flower.Calling-off time depended on the state of the oast-house. Sometimes it wasfilled early, and as many hops had been picked by three or four as couldbe dried during the night. Then work was stopped. But generally the lastmeasuring of the day began at five. As each company had its bin measuredit gathered up its things and, chatting again now that work was over,sauntered out of the garden. The women went back to the huts to clean upand prepare the supper, while a good many of the men strolled down theroad to the public-house. A glass of beer was very pleasant after theday's work.The Athelnys' bin was the last to be dealt with. When the measurer cameMrs. Athelny, with a sigh of relief, stood up and stretched her arms: shehad been sitting in the same position for many hours and was stiff."Now, let's go to The Jolly Sailor," said Athelny. "The rites of the daymust be duly performed, and there is none more sacred than that.""Take a jug with you, Athelny," said his wife, "and bring back a pint anda half for supper."She gave him the money, copper by copper. The bar-parlour was already wellfilled. It had a sanded floor, benches round it, and yellow pictures ofVictorian prize-fighters on the walls. The licencee knew all his customersby name, and he leaned over his bar smiling benignly at two young men whowere throwing rings on a stick that stood up from the floor: their failurewas greeted with a good deal of hearty chaff from the rest of the company.Room was made for the new arrivals. Philip found himself sitting betweenan old labourer in corduroys, with string tied under his knees, and ashiny-faced lad of seventeen with a love-lock neatly plastered on his redforehead. Athelny insisted on trying his hand at the throwing of rings. Hebacked himself for half a pint and won it. As he drank the loser's healthhe said:"I would sooner have won this than won the Derby, my boy."He was an outlandish figure, with his wide-brimmed hat and pointed beard,among those country folk, and it was easy to see that they thought himvery queer; but his spirits were so high, his enthusiasm so contagious,that it was impossible not to like him. Conversation went easily. Acertain number of pleasantries were exchanged in the broad, slow accent ofthe Isle of Thanet, and there was uproarious laughter at the sallies ofthe local wag. A pleasant gathering! It would have been a hard-heartedperson who did not feel a glow of satisfaction in his fellows. Philip'seyes wandered out of the window where it was bright and sunny still; therewere little white curtains in it tied up with red ribbon like those of acottage window, and on the sill were pots of geraniums. In due course oneby one the idlers got up and sauntered back to the meadow where supper wascooking."I expect you'll be ready for your bed," said Mrs. Athelny to Philip."You're not used to getting up at five and staying in the open air allday.""You're coming to bathe with us, Uncle Phil, aren't you?" the boys cried."Rather."He was tired and happy. After supper, balancing himself against the wallof the hut on a chair without a back, he smoked his pipe and looked at thenight. Sally was busy. She passed in and out of the hut, and he lazilywatched her methodical actions. Her walk attracted his notice; it was notparticularly graceful, but it was easy and assured; she swung her legsfrom the hips, and her feet seemed to tread the earth with decision.Athelny had gone off to gossip with one of the neighbours, and presentlyPhilip heard his wife address the world in general."There now, I'm out of tea and I wanted Athelny to go down to Mrs. Black'sand get some." A pause, and then her voice was raised: "Sally, just rundown to Mrs. Black's and get me half a pound of tea, will you? I've runquite out of it.""All right, mother."Mrs. Black had a cottage about half a mile along the road, and shecombined the office of postmistress with that of universal provider. Sallycame out of the hut, turning down her sleeves."Shall I come with you, Sally?" asked Philip."Don't you trouble. I'm not afraid to go alone.""I didn't think you were; but it's getting near my bedtime, and I was justthinking I'd like to stretch my legs."Sally did not answer, and they set out together. The road was white andsilent. There was not a sound in the summer night. They did not speakmuch."It's quite hot even now, isn't it?" said Philip."I think it's wonderful for the time of year."But their silence did not seem awkward. They found it was pleasant to walkside by side and felt no need of words. Suddenly at a stile in thehedgerow they heard a low murmur of voices, and in the darkness they sawthe outline of two people. They were sitting very close to one another anddid not move as Philip and Sally passed."I wonder who that was," said Sally."They looked happy enough, didn't they?""I expect they took us for lovers too."They saw the light of the cottage in front of them, and in a minute wentinto the little shop. The glare dazzled them for a moment."You are late," said Mrs. Black. "I was just going to shut up." She lookedat the clock. "Getting on for nine."Sally asked for her half pound of tea (Mrs. Athelny could never bringherself to buy more than half a pound at a time), and they set off up theroad again. Now and then some beast of the night made a short, sharpsound, but it seemed only to make the silence more marked."I believe if you stood still you could hear the sea," said Sally.They strained their ears, and their fancy presented them with a faintsound of little waves lapping up against the shingle. When they passed thestile again the lovers were still there, but now they were not speaking;they were in one another's arms, and the man's lips were pressed againstthe girl's."They seem busy," said Sally.They turned a corner, and a breath of warm wind beat for a moment againsttheir faces. The earth gave forth its freshness. There was somethingstrange in the tremulous night, and something, you knew not what, seemedto be waiting; the silence was on a sudden pregnant with meaning. Philiphad a queer feeling in his heart, it seemed very full, it seemed to melt(the hackneyed phrases expressed precisely the curious sensation), he felthappy and anxious and expectant. To his memory came back those lines inwhich Jessica and Lorenzo murmur melodious words to one another, cappingeach other's utterance; but passion shines bright and clear through theconceits that amuse them. He did not know what there was in the air thatmade his senses so strangely alert; it seemed to him that he was pure soulto enjoy the scents and the sounds and the savours of the earth. He hadnever felt such an exquisite capacity for beauty. He was afraid that Sallyby speaking would break the spell, but she said never a word, and hewanted to hear the sound of her voice. Its low richness was the voice ofthe country night itself.They arrived at the field through which she had to walk to get back to thehuts. Philip went in to hold the gate open for her."Well, here I think I'll say good-night.""Thank you for coming all that way with me."She gave him her hand, and as he took it, he said:"If you were very nice you'd kiss me good-night like the rest of thefamily.""I don't mind," she said.Philip had spoken in jest. He merely wanted to kiss her, because he washappy and he liked her and the night was so lovely."Good-night then," he said, with a little laugh, drawing her towards him.She gave him her lips; they were warm and full and soft; he lingered alittle, they were like a flower; then, he knew not how, without meaningit, he flung his arms round her. She yielded quite silently. Her body wasfirm and strong. He felt her heart beat against his. Then he lost hishead. His senses overwhelmed him like a flood of rushing waters. He drewher into the darker shadow of the hedge.