Short Fiction M. R. James (good book recommendations TXT) đ
- Author: M. R. James
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Clearly Collins had not been put in possession of his mistressâs intentions with regard to this plot of ground: and when he learnt them from Mr. Anstruther he displayed no enthusiasm.
âOf course I could clear them seats away soon enough,â he said. âThey arenât no ornament to the place, Mr. Anstruther, and rotten too. Look âere, sirââ âand he broke off a large pieceâ âârotten right through. Yes, clear them away, to be sure we can do that.â
âAnd the post,â said Mr. Anstruther, âthatâs got to go too.â
Collins advanced, and shook the post with both hands: then he rubbed his chin.
âThatâs firm in the ground, that post is,â he said. âThatâs been there a number of years, Mr. Anstruther. I doubt I shanât get that up not quite so soon as what I can do with them seats.â
âBut your mistress specially wishes it to be got out of the way in an hourâs time,â said Mr. Anstruther.
Collins smiled and shook his head slowly. âYouâll excuse me, sir, but you feel of it for yourself. No, sir, no one canât do whatâs impossible to âem, can they, sir? I could git that post up by after teatime, sir, but thatâll want a lot of digging. What you require, you see, sir, if youâll excuse me naming of it, you want the soil loosening round this post âere, and me and the boy we shall take a little time doing of that. But now, these âere seats,â said Collins, appearing to appropriate this portion of the scheme as due to his own resourcefulness, âwhy, I can get the barrer round and âave them cleared away in, why less than an hourâs time from now, if youâll permit of it. Onlyâ ââ
âOnly what, Collins?â
âWell now, it ainât for me to go against orders no more than what it is for you yourselfâ âor anyone elseâ (this was added somewhat hurriedly), âbut if youâll pardon me, sir, this ainât the place I should have picked out for no rose garden myself. Why look at them box and laurestinus, âow they regâlar preclude the light fromâ ââ
âAh yes, but weâve got to get rid of some of them, of course.â
âOh, indeed, get rid of them! Yes, to be sure, butâ âI beg your pardon, Mr. Anstrutherâ ââ
âIâm sorry, Collins, but I must be getting on now. I hear the car at the door. Your mistress will explain exactly what she wishes. Iâll tell her, then, that you can see your way to clearing away the seats at once, and the post this afternoon. Good morning.â
Collins was left rubbing his chin. Mrs. Anstruther received the report with some discontent, but did not insist upon any change of plan.
By four oâclock that afternoon she had dismissed her husband to his golf, had dealt faithfully with Collins and with the other duties of the day, and, having sent a campstool and umbrella to the proper spot, had just settled down to her sketch of the church as seen from the shrubbery, when a maid came hurrying down the path to report that Miss Wilkins had called.
Miss Wilkins was one of the few remaining members of the family from whom the Anstruthers had bought the Westfield estate some few years back. She had been staying in the neighbourhood, and this was probably a farewell visit. âPerhaps you could ask Miss Wilkins to join me here,â said Mrs. Anstruther, and soon Miss Wilkins, a person of mature years, approached.
âYes, Iâm leaving the Ashes tomorrow, and I shall be able to tell my brother how tremendously you have improved the place. Of course he canât help regretting the old house just a littleâ âas I do myselfâ âbut the garden is really delightful now.â
âI am so glad you can say so. But you mustnât think weâve finished our improvements. Let me show you where I mean to put a rose garden. Itâs close by here.â
The details of the project were laid before Miss Wilkins at some length; but her thoughts were evidently elsewhere.
âYes, delightful,â she said at last rather absently. âBut do you know, Mrs. Anstruther, Iâm afraid I was thinking of old times. Iâm very glad to have seen just this spot again before you altered it. Frank and I had quite a romance about this place.â
âYes?â said Mrs. Anstruther smilingly; âdo tell me what it was. Something quaint and charming, Iâm sure.â
âNot so very charming, but it has always seemed to me curious. Neither of us would ever be here alone when we were children, and Iâm not sure that I should care about it now in certain moods. It is one of those things that can hardly be put into wordsâ âby me at leastâ âand that sound rather foolish if they are not properly expressed. I can tell you after a fashion what it was that gave usâ âwell, almost a horror of the place when we were alone. It was towards the evening of one very hot autumn day, when Frank had disappeared mysteriously about the grounds, and I was looking for him to fetch him to tea, and going down this path I suddenly saw him, not hiding in the bushes, as I rather expected, but sitting on the bench in the old summerhouseâ âthere was a wooden summerhouse here, you knowâ âup in the corner, asleep, but with such a
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