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You'd better get Mus' Sperrit to take the law o' Lotten an' 'is fish-pond. 'No, thanks. I've trouble enough without that. 'Hev ye? Mr. Sidney grinned. 'How did ye make out with those two women o' mine last night? I lay they fought. 'You infernal old scoundrel! Midmore laughed. 'I be an' then again I bain't, was the placid answer. 'But, Rhoda, she wouldn't ha' left me last night.
It's good gravel, Mister Fisher's, and it binds beautiful on the drive. We 'ave to draw it, o' course, from the pit, but Midmore looked at her helplessly. 'Rhoda, said he, 'what am I supposed to do? 'Oh, let 'em come through, she replied. 'You never know. You may want to 'unt yourself some day. That evening it rained and his misery returned on him, the worse for having been diverted.
'Rhoda, said he, 'did you ever hear about a character called James Pigg and Batsey? 'Why, o' course, said she. 'The Colonel used to come into the kitchen in 'is dressin'-gown an' read us all those Jorrockses. 'Oh, Lord! said Midmore, and went to bed with a book called Handley Cross under his arm, and a lonelier Columbus into a stranger world the wet-ringed moon never looked upon.
But the house itself is rather old-fashioned hardly the type purchasers demand nowadays. There's no park, of course, and the bulk of the land is let to a life-tenant, a Mr. Sidney. As long as he pays his rent, he can't be turned out, and even if he didn't' Mr. Sperrit's face relaxed a shade 'you might have a difficulty. 'The property brings four hundred a year, I understand, said Midmore.
Midmore raced into dry kit, and raced uphill to be rewarded by the sight of the lantern just turning into the Sperrits' gate. He came back by way of Sidney's farm, where he saw the light twinkling across three acres of shining water, for the rain had ceased and the clouds were stripping overhead, though the brook was noisier than ever.
Others took up the parable and proved to him if he only held true to the gospels of the Immoderate Left the earth would soon be covered with 'jolly little' pig-sties, built in the intervals of morris-dancing by 'the peasant' himself. Midmore felt grateful when the door opened again and Mr. Sidney invited them all to retire to the road which, he pointed out, was public.
She re-stated, rather than pleaded, the gospel of the Immoderate Left as her justification, and ended in an impassioned demand for her right to express herself in and on her own life, through which, she pointed out, she could pass but once. She added that if, later, she should discover Midmore was 'essentially complementary to her needs, she would tell him so.
He found himself reviling the old man in speech and with a joy quite new in all his experience. He wound up it was a plagiarism from a plumber by telling Mr. Sidney that he looked like a turkey-cock, had the morals of a parish bull, and need never hope for a new pig-pound as long as he or Midmore lived. 'Very good, said the giant.
Later, when his friend, the scribe, talked to him alluringly of 'secret gardens' and those so-laces to which every man who follows the Wider Morality is entitled, Midmore lent him a five-pound note which he had got back on the price of a ninety-guinea bay gelding.
Midmore's house, said the unsympathetic maiden. 'O Gawd! O Gawd! I wish our 'eavenly Father 'ud forgive me my sins an' call me 'ome, the woman sobbed. 'But I won't go to 'is 'ouse! I won't. 'All right, then. Stay here. Now, if we run, Miss Sperrit whispered to Midmore, 'she'll follow us. Not too fast!
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