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Page 19

"Dancing for rain! What old goose?" asked Austin, astonished.

"The geese always dance when they want rain," replied Lubin, "and what
the goose asks for God sends. Did you never hear that before? It's a
sure fact, that is. It'll rain within four-and-twenty hours, you mark
my words."

"I hope it won't," said Austin. "And so your mother keeps geese?"

"Ay, that she does, and breeds 'em, and fattens 'em up against
Michaelmas. And we've a fine noise o' ducks on the pond, too. They
pays their way too, I reckon."

"A noise o' ducks? What, do they quack so loud?"

"Lor' bless you, Master Austin, where was you brought up? Everybody
hereabouts know what a noise o' ducks is. Same as a flock o' geese,
only one quacks and the other cackles. Well, now I'm off home, for its
peckish work mowing on an empty belly, and the mother'll be looking
out for me. Geese for me, ghosts for you, and in the end we'll see
which pans out the best."

So Lubin trudged away to his breakfast and left Austin to his
reflections. The predicted rain held off in spite of the terpsichorean
importunity of Lubin's geese, and Austin passed a lovely morning on
the moors; but next day it came down with a vengeance, and for six
hours there was a regular deluge. However, Austin didn't mind. When it
was fine he spent his days in the fields and woods; if it rained, he
sat at a window where he could watch the grey mists, and the driving
clouds, and the straight arrows of water falling wonderfully through
the air. His books, too, were a resource that never failed, and if he
was unable personally to participate in beautiful scenes, he could
always read about them, which was the next best thing after all.

The weather continued unsettled for some days, and then it cleared up
gloriously, so that Austin was able to lead what he called his Daphnis
life once more. The rains had had rather a depressing effect upon his
general health, and once or twice he had fancied that something was
troubling him in his stump; but with the return of the sun all such
symptoms disappeared as though by magic, and he felt younger and
lighter than ever as he stepped forth again into the glittering air.
More than a week had elapsed since his day at the Court, and he began
to think that now he really might venture to go and call. So off he
set one sunny afternoon, and with rather a beating heart presented
himself at the park gates.

Here, however, a disappointment awaited him. The lodge-keeper shook
his head, and announced that Mr St Aubyn was away and wouldn't be back
till night. Austin could do nothing but leave a card, and hope that he
might be lucky enough to meet him by accident before long.

So he turned back and made for the meadow by the river side, feeling
sure that he would be safe from rabid dogs that time at any rate. And
certainly no mysterious influences intervened to prevent him sitting
on the stile for a rest, and indulging in pleasant thoughts. Then he
pulled out his pocket-volume of the beloved Eclogues, and read the
musical contest between Menalcas and Dam�tas with great enjoyment.
Why, he wondered, were there no delightful shepherd-boys now-a-days,
who spent their time in lying under trees and singing one against the
other? Lubin was much nicer than most country lads, but even Lubin was
not equal to improvising songs about Phyllis, and Delia, and the
Muses. Then he looked up, and saw a stranger approaching him across
the field.

He was a big, stoutish man, with a fat face, a frock-coat tightly
buttoned up, a large umbrella, and a rather shabby hat of the shape
called chimney-pot. A somewhat incongruous object, amid that rural
scene, and not a very prepossessing one; but apparently a gentleman,
though scarcely of the stamp of St Aubyn. At last he came quite near,
and Austin moved as though to let him pass.

"Don't trouble yourself, young gentleman," said the newcomer, in a
good-humoured, offhand way. "Can you tell me whether I'm anywhere near
a place called Moorcombe Court?"

"Yes--it's not far off," replied Austin, immediately interested. "I've
just come from there myself."

"Really, now!" was the gentleman's rejoinder. "And how's me friend St
Aubyn?"

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Sat 20th Dec 2025, 2:23

Austin and His Friends by Frederic H. Balfour