The sun was lazing in a blue-and-white sky bathed in his own gold steam;
but the men and the girl stepped briskly, and as for the pig and the
hen, they gambolled on the road. It happened, however, that Sir John's
eagerness carried him a few steps in advance of his companions, who thus
had all the talk to themselves. Presently, they came to Chiltington, the
prettiest village in England, as, in fact, every second village in the
West of Sussex is. But for all its prettiness it was like a fiddle
without its strings, for not a living soul was to be seen there, indoors
or out.
“A strange place,” said Sir John, pausing. “Time, children, is like a
lamplighter who comes at night to kindle his lamps, and comes by day to
put them out again. Once this dumb blind village was full of life.”
“And not long since, sir,” said Dick, “for there's a spud and a rake in
that garden, and a packet of dwarf beans spilled where somebody has
dropped 'em to be off in a hurry.”
“A hundred years ago, perhaps,” said Sir John dreamily, “and his hurry
is ended.”
“The earth's fresh turned, sir,” said Dick. As he spoke the silence was
broken by a small weeping and whimpering at the back of the cottage.
“Someone is unhappy,” said Audrey.
“I'll just go and see,” said Dick.
So, followed by the others, he went round to the back, and found a very
Old Man chopping down a bed of mustard-and-cress with an axe. The
mustard-and-cress was planted in the name of