meant
more to Chapman than it did to him. Chapman, for all
his style, had no freehold land.
He passed the narrow way that led down to the
village of Kirkwhelpington, then a little further
on he left the road and mounted the grassy bank
and, bringing his horse to a stop for a moment, he glanced at his watch. He had left it late, he must
hurry.
When he drove his heels into the horse's side
it set off at a gallop and he kept it at its
pace for the next three miles until the sweat was
running out of the beast. Then when he came to the top of the rise from where, over a rough copse, he could see his
farm and its outbuildings lying as if in the palm of a
hand, he let the animal drop into a canter before
taking the path that ran down through the copse and to the burn.
His intention was not to cross the burn but to remain in the shadow of the trees and watch the Benton chit going to her breaking, if all her mother said was true, and,
in his imagination, relish his son's pleasure.
Charlie did not stay long at Brooklands
Farm. Mrs Chapman and her husband welcomed him
most warmly and said how disappointed Victoria and
Nellie would be to have missed him, but Josh
Pringle had ridden over from Bellingham way that
morning and they had gone back to his place to see a
new foal. Mrs Chapman asked after his dear mother,
his father, and his sister Betty; then when she received the invitation she said they'd all be delighted to come over on Saturday evening, wouldn't they, Hal?
Hal Chapman endorsed his wife's sentiments;
then, his hand on Charlie's shoulder, he once again
took him on a tour of his farm, and it was as if he
were showing him everything for the first time as he pointed out the value of this horse and that cow, and the fine breed of pigs, and the sheep dotting the hillsides far away.
And so it was with relief that Charlie said his
good-byes and made his way hurriedly back home
for there were two things he had made up his mind to do.
First, he was going to tell his father that he had no
bodily needs that couldn't wait to be satisfied.
When just before setting out for Brooklands his father had told him whom he had chosen to initiate him
into manhood, he was so amazed as to be unable
to voice any protest. The indecency of it shocked
him. That his father could use big Polly and calmly
arrange for him to do the same with young Polly was
utterly abhorrent to him. In some way, it even
sullied the feelings he bore Polly, it
ripped from them the secret sweetness of his first love and left it smirched, brought down to the level of "the other thing" enacted in the hay.
The second thing he must do was to find Polly and
ease her mind. How he would go about this he didn't
know.
The farm seemed devoid of life; there was no one
about the yard except young Peter Benton who, as
Charlie unsaddled the horse in the stable, took the
saddle from him and with surprising strength and agility for one so young threw it over the saddle stand, then said,
"I can see to him, Mister Charlie," in reply to which Charlie, smiling at him, said, "You'll have to stand on something then, Peter."
"Aye well, I've done it afore an' I like
rubbing him down."
"Where's everybody?"
"Oh, about." The answer and attitude was that of a man, and for a moment Charlie forgot the weight on his
mind and laughed down on the youngster. He was a funny
little fellow was young Peter, he'd be a card when he
grew up.
Then as if belying this impression, the boy turned
a serious face up to Charlie and said, "What's
wrong, Mister Charlie? Is our Arthur in
for it? What's he done?"
"Arthur? Done? Nothing that I know of. What
makes you ask?"
"He's been goin' around in a tear all day,
wouldn't open his mouth. That's not like our Arthur, he's always goin' for me. He was in a while back for a
rope and 1 said what did he want it for, was he
thinking of hangin' hissel, an' he clipped rne
lug, knocked me flyin' he did. Is he in for
it,