Of Human Bondage W. Somerset Maugham (epub e reader txt) 📖

he rolled himself a cigarette and discoursed to Philip of art and literature. In the afternoon it grew very hot. Work did not proceed so actively and conversation halted. The incessant chatter of the morning dwindled now to desultory remarks. Tiny beads of sweat stood on Sally’s upper lip, and as she worked her lips were slightly parted. She was like a rosebud bursting into flower.

Calling-off time depended on the state of the oast-house. Sometimes it was filled early, and as many hops had been picked by three or four as could be dried during the night. Then work was stopped. But generally the last measuring of the day began at five. As each company had its bin measured it 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 up and prepare the supper, while a good many of the men strolled down the road to the public-house. A glass of beer was very pleasant after the day’s work.

The Athelnys’ bin was the last to be dealt with. When the measurer came Mrs. Athelny, with a sigh of relief, stood up and stretched her arms: she had 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 day must 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 and a half for supper.”

She gave him the money, copper by copper. The bar-parlour was already well filled. It had a sanded floor, benches round it, and yellow pictures of Victorian prizefighters on the walls. The licencee knew all his customers by name, and he leaned over his bar smiling benignly at two young men who were throwing rings on a stick that stood up from the floor: their failure was 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 between an old labourer in corduroys, with string tied under his knees, and a shiny-faced lad of seventeen with a love-lock neatly plastered on his red forehead. Athelny insisted on trying his hand at the throwing of rings. He backed himself for half a pint and won it. As he drank the loser’s health he 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 him very queer; but his spirits were so high, his enthusiasm so contagious, that it was impossible not to like him. Conversation went easily. A certain number of pleasantries were exchanged in the broad, slow accent of the Isle of Thanet, and there was uproarious laughter at the sallies of the local wag. A pleasant gathering! It would have been a hardhearted person who did not feel a glow of satisfaction in his fellows. Philip’s eyes wandered out of the window where it was bright and sunny still; there were little white curtains in it tied up with red ribbon like those of a cottage window, and on the sill were pots of geraniums. In due course one by one the idlers got up and sauntered back to the meadow where supper was cooking.

“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 all day.”

“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 wall of the hut on a chair without a back, he smoked his pipe and looked at the night. Sally was busy. She passed in and out of the hut, and he lazily watched her methodical actions. Her walk attracted his notice; it was not particularly graceful, but it was easy and assured; she swung her legs from the hips, and her feet seemed to tread the earth with decision. Athelny had gone off to gossip with one of the neighbours, and presently Philip 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’s and get some.” A pause, and then her voice was raised: “Sally, just run down to Mrs. Black’s and get me half a pound of tea, will you? I’ve run quite out of it.”

“All right, mother.”

Mrs. Black had a cottage about half a mile along the road, and she combined the office of postmistress with that of universal provider. Sally came 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 just thinking I’d like to stretch my legs.”

Sally did not answer, and they set out together. The road was white and silent. There was not a sound in the summer night. They did not speak much.

“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 walk side by side and felt no need of words. Suddenly at a stile in the hedgerow they heard a low murmur of voices, and in the darkness they saw the outline of two people. They were sitting very close to one another and did 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 went into the little shop. The glare dazzled them for a moment.

“You are late,” said Mrs. Black. “I was just going to shut up.” She looked at the clock.