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Updated: June 9, 2025
And they saw little 'Lias once more, for the last time. Mr. Pond's buggy drove rapidly past their slow-moving hay-wagon, Mr. Pond holding the reins masterfully in one hand. Beside him, very close, sat 'Lias with his lap full of toys, oh, FULL like Christmas!
The reflection of clouds in the silvery glisten of the pond's surface was broken by clumps of grasses and bits of floating weeds. They lay on their backs for some time before they started taking their clothes off, looking up at the sky, that seemed vast and free, like the ocean, vaster and freer than the ocean. "Sarge says a delousin' machine's comin' through this way soon." "We need it, Chris."
And Beecher's great welling heart touched a side of Pond's nature that few knew existed at all a side that he masked with harshness; for, in spite of his perversity, Pond had his virtues he was simple as a child, and so ingenuous that deception with him was impossible. He could not tell a lie so you would not know it. He served Beecher with a doglike loyalty, and an honesty beyond suspicion.
Two hours later they all stood in Mrs. Pond's room. "The essential part of this matter," said Nick, "was this door which appeared to open and close of itself. "I saw that at a glance, and made a secret investigation. It is done by electricity.
"Put the bottle right down, Zaidee," ordered Eunice, laughing. "If you drink the Pond's Extract, what will you do when you fall down and hurt yourself, next time?" Zaidee took a last hasty swallow. Strange to say, she did like it, very much. "I suppose it goes all down inside my legs," she said, with calm conviction, "and if I bump my legs it will do them lots more good inside than outside.
Perhaps, just as a starter, she would let him make out a sort of preliminary check-list to-night, out of catalogues, out of some bully advertisements in the backs of Pond's works.... "Oh, you are nice!" exclaimed Cally. "You can't guess what it means to be encouraged!... I do so want to go into it seriously."
Lizzie's eyes were full upon him, and it seemed to them that each could see and taste the essence of the other's thought. "What have you been doing ever since? You have told me nothing about yourself." "Well, after trying vainly to find you having searched, as I thought, all Speirs and Pond's establishments in London, I tried to resign myself to my fate.
On still evenings this pond would be at rest, and not a rustle would disturb the trees which grew on its banks and overhung the motionless expanse of water. How fresh it used to seem, yet how cold! The dew would be falling upon the turf, lights would be beginning to shine forth from the huts on the pond's margin, and the cattle would be wending their way home.
Eight o'clock now, by the little clock on the mantel: eight hours and a half to Mr. Pond's meeting for workers at the old Dabney House. One needn't be an astronomer to calculate that. And Cally Heth lay wide-eyed in her great bed, and thought how strange, how wonderful is life....
Everywhere, the gaudy boarder in flannels and ecru shoes looms upon the green lawn or the brown dirt road, or scales the mountain one day and stays in bed the following week, rubbing James B. Pond's Extract on his swollen joints. I scaled Mount Utsa-yantha in company with others.
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