The Scent of Water by Elizabeth Goudge

Author:Elizabeth Goudge
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Classics, Adult, Historical
ISBN: 9780698103276
Publisher: Hodder and Stoughton
Published: 1963-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter IX

1

THE small gilt clock on the mantelpiece struck the half-hour. “Half-past twelve, Edith,” said Mary, and closed her book.

“That clock’s fast,” said Edith.

“There’s the church clock striking now,” said Mary, smiling. “There’s no gainsaying that. Pack up now, Edith. You’ve worked well this morning.”

“It wasn’t work,” said Edith. “Not Shakespeare. Math is work but not Shakespeare or history. I like words and people from right back in the past. I like old things, like the tree in Nightingale Wood, the one by the ruins of Fox Barton, where the well is.”

Mary was delighted. One of the joys of being with children was that in their company one recaptured the sense of the strange and the flavor of the unknown. “The tree in the Nightingale Wood . . . the ruins of Fox Barton, where the well is.” The place was far removed in green shade, moss-scented and cool. “Is Nightingale Wood the one beyond the Dog and Duck?” she asked.

“Yes, but Fox Barton is at the other end of it. The way to Fox Barton is down Ash Lane. You know Ash Lane because the door in your vegetable garden leads into it.” It was the door through which Mrs. Baker came and went but Mary had been so busy that she had actually never explored beyond it. “Let’s not do indoor lessons this afternoon. Let’s go to Fox Barton and do nature study.”

“My car’s in dock today,” said Mary.

“But we don’t need to drive there!” said Edith with a touch of scorn. “We can walk.”

Mary’s heart quailed, for she was no walker. She was urban-minded and car-legged. But Edith’s face, flushed with joy and already so changed, could not be refused. “Very well,” she said. “But it must be a real lesson walk. I’ve got a botany book and we’ll take that. And we’ll take our tea.”

Edith slipped off her chair. “I’ll be back at two. We’d better start early, for it’s quite a long walk to Fox Barton.”

She climbed over the windowsill into the conservatory and vanished, for she journeyed to and from her lessons by way of the garden and the mulberry tree rather than the road. Mary pressed her fingers to her temples. She was suffering nowadays from a habitual slight headache. It had been an effort to start teaching again and the young, both human and feline, had such boundless energy. She glanced at Tiger where he lay sleeping in a patch of sunlight on the floor, but she dared do no more than glance, for contemplation of his slumbers sometimes ended them. Even with the brief glance one eye opened with a blue glint and the orange tip of his tail twitched ominously. Mary beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen. Just a boiled egg, she thought, while she packed the picnic tea, and several cups of black coffee. Then she’d have time to put her feet up before they started.

Edith was back at ten to two, wearing her blue jeans and her blue sweater, and armed with a rucksack.

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