The Slowcoach Part 31

"Is the curate at home?" Mary asked.

The girl said that he was.

"Will you ask him if he will speak to us for a moment?" said Mary.

"What about?" asked the girl. "He has a friend with him."

"I don't think you'd understand if we told you," said Mary.

"I must know what it's about," said the girl. "He doesn't like to be disturbed on Sunday afternoons."

"Has he got a lot of books--poetry books?" Gregory asked.

"Yes," said the girl, "heaps."

"Then it's about Milton," said Mary.

"Milton the baker!" exclaimed the girl. "He's not dead, is he?"

"Milton the poet," said Mary.

"I'm all in a maze," said the girl. "I don't know what you're talking about. But I suppose I'd better tell him."

The girl left them on the mat and knocked at a door just inside.

"Come in," said a man's voice.

"Please, sir," said the girl, "there are two children asking about someone named Milton."

The owner of the voice laughed. "Are they?" he said. "Well, they've come to the right shop." And then the door opened wider and a tall and handsome young man came out, dressed in a cricket blazer over a clergyman's waistcoat and collar, and smoking a large pipe.

"What's all this about Milton?" he said cheerily. "What Milton? Not the poet?"

"Yes," said Mary.

"Oh, I say, this is too good," said the young clergyman. "Vernon," he called out, "come here and see a deputation from Milton."

Another young man joined him, equally pleasant looking, and they all shook hands.

"Come inside," said the young clergyman.

"There are four others waiting in the road," said Gregory. "Then fetch them in too," said the young clergyman. And Janet and Robert and Jack and Horace were brought in.

"Now," said the young clergyman, "have some tea." And he rang the bell and ordered enough tea for eight.

When the girl had gone, he asked for full particulars, and then gave his verdict.

"'Fresh woods and pastures new.'"

"Oh, rubbish!" said Vernon. "I've always learned 'fresh fields and pastures new.'"

"That's what I say," said Mary.

"And so do I," said Robert and Horace.

"I think YOU'RE right," said Janet to the young clergyman.

"Well," he said, "I'll look it up." And he began to hunt for Milton on his shelves.

"Oh, not yet!" said Vernon. "Let's have some fun first. Let's see who are the 'fielders' and who are the 'wooders.' All 'fielders' this way."

Mary, Robert, and Horace ranged themselves beside him, leaving Janet and Jack with the young clergyman, whom Vernon called Rod.

Gregory looked at both sides, and did not move.

"Haven't you any views about it?" asked Vernon.

"No," said Gregory; "I never heard the thing before. What does it matter?"

"Very well, then," said Rod; "here's the tea. You pour it out for us. I like three lumps of sugar in mine. Now," he continued, "the rout of the 'fielders' is about to begin. Of course it's 'woods.' Why, I can see the word now in Milton's own handwriting, as I used to see it in the Library at Trinity."

"I'm so sure it's 'fields,'" said Vernon, "that I declare myself willing to go without cake for tea if it isn't."

"Will you put half a crown in the plate next Sunday if it's 'woods'?"

said Rod.

"Oh, I say, that's a bit stiff," said Vernon. "Half a crown?"

"Very well, then," said Rod, "two bob. Will you put two bob in the plate next Sunday if it's 'woods'?"

"Yes, I will," said Vernon. "But if it's 'fields,' what will you do?

You mayn't take a shilling out?"

"No," said Rod; "if it's 'fields' I'll eat my best hat."

"I hope it's fields,'" said Gregory.

"Horrid little boy!" said Rod. "But now we'll see."

He opened Milton slowly, and turned over the pages of "Lycidas." "Ha!

ha!" he said; "no cake for Charles Vernon, Esquire, and two bob for Mother Church. And my best hat saved. Listen:

"'At last he rose and twitch'd his mantle blue: To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.'"

"No cake!" groaned Vernon. "Repulsive children!" he continued tragically. "Why did you knock at this unhappy door and ask your foolish question here? Are there no other houses in Cirencester? No cake! No cake!"

They screamed with laughter.