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Updated: June 3, 2025
There flashed into Taffy's brain the vision of the whole earth lauding and adoring sun-worshippers and Christians, priests and small children; nation after nation prostrating itself and arising to join the chant "the differing world's agreeing sacrifice."
Silence and then with a shout the tunable bells broke forth, rocking the tower. Someone seized Taffy's college cap and sent it spinning over the battlements. Caps? For a second or two they darkened the sky like a flock of birds. A few gowns followed, expanding as they dropped, like clumsy parachutes.
He lay there in the morning sunshine as though asleep, with an arm flung above his head and on his face the easy smile for which men and women had liked him throughout his careless life. The inquest was held next day, in the library at Carwithiel. Sir Harry insisted on being present, and sat beside the coroner. During Taffy's examination his lips were pursed up as though whistling a silent tune.
The street curved uphill around the base of this open ground, and came level with it just in front of the Mayoralty, a tall stuccoed building where the public balls were given, and the judges had their lodgings in assize time, and the Colonel his quarters during the militia training. Fine shows passed under Taffy's window.
So for a year everybody was happy, and at the end of that time a son was born." "You're making it up," said Honoria. Taffy's own stories always puzzled her, with hints and echoes from other stories she half-remembered, but could seldom trace home. He had too cunning a gift. George said, "Do be quiet! Of course he's making it up, but who wants to know that?"
Raymond stared at the embers of wreck-wood on the hearth. From that night Oxford became the main scene of Taffy's imaginings; a wholly fictitious Oxford, pieced together of odds and ends from picture-books, and peopled with all the old heroes. And so, with contests on the models of the Fifth Aeneid, the story went forward gallantly for many months.
Joey came hobbling out, and put his right hand in Taffy's with the fist doubled. "What's that in your hand?" Joey looked up shyly. "You won't tell?" "Not if it's a secret." The child opened his palm and disclosed a bright half-crown piece. "Where on earth did you get that?" "The soldier gave it to me." "The soldier? nonsense! What tale are you making up?"
He whispered to Joey, and plunged into it straight, turning as the water swept him off his legs, and giving his back to it, his hands slipped under the child's armpits, his feet thrusting against the tide in slow, rhythmical strokes. The child after the first gasp lay still, his head obediently thrown back on Taffy's breast. The mare had ceased to scream.
Can you manage, or shall I come down? I'll come if you're hurt." "I've twisted my foot. It's all right, now you're come," said the little man bravely; and slid the rope round himself in the most business-like way. "The grass was slipper " he began, as soon as his feet touched firm earth: and with that he broke down and fell to sobbing in Taffy's arms.
The light died down as his feet touched the flat slippery stones; died down, and was renewed again and showed up horse and rider scarce twenty yards ahead, labouring forward, the mare sinking fetlock deep at every plunge. At his fourth stride Taffy's feet, too, began to sink, but at every stride he gained something. The riding may be superb, but thirteen stone is thirteen stone.
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