"HOW YOU HAVE GROWED, LADS; HOW YOU HAVE GROWED!"
It seems a long time to look forward to, but when it has gone how
everyone finds out what a scrap of our lives three years appear to be.
I am going to jump over three years now, and come to an exciting time
when we lads were leaving school at midsummer for good.
Those were exciting times, and we all were as much infected as the rest
of English folk, for we were at war with France, and there was drumming,
and fifing, and enlisting, and men marching off to join their regiments,
and we boys were fully determined to arrange with our respected fathers
as soon as we got home to get us all commissions in cavalry regiments,
and failing commissions, we meant to petition for leave to enlist to
fight for our country.
Bob Chowne and I of course knew better, but in spite of this knowledge
we were constantly feeling that there was something wrong with our
companion Bigley.
He was just the same easy-going fellow as of old; ready to submit to any
amount of bullying and impertinence from us, except in times of
emergency, when he would quietly step to the front in the place Bob and
I shirked, and do what there was to be done, and as soon as it was over
go back patiently into the second rank, leaving us in the front.
But as I say, though we knew better, it always seemed to us as if
something particular had taken place in Bigley, he who used to tower
above us, a big fellow with whiskers, a deep voice, and broad shoulders,
had now shrunk, so that he was no longer like a man and we both like
small boys, for he seemed to have come down so that he was only a trifle
taller than we were, and very little broader across the chest. It was
the whiskers and the thick down upon his chin which made nearly all the
difference.
We used to laugh about it together, and Bigley would say that it was
rum, and only because he had started two years sooner than we did--that
was all.
Of course the fact was that Bigley had not shrunk in the least. He had
not come down, but Bob Chowne and I had levelled matters by growing up,
so that at seventeen we were as big as Devon lads of that age know how
to be.
While we had changed, old Teggley Grey had not. He always seemed to
have been the same ever since we could remember, and his horse too, but
he shook his head at us.
"Mortal hard work for a horse to carry such big chaps as you. How you
have growed, lads; how you have growed!"
I looked at him as he spoke, and it seemed to me that it was he who had
changed. But it did not matter; we were full of plans for the future.
Big as we were, we could take plenty of interest in fishing and such
other sport as came in our way, and we were talking eagerly about what
was to be done first, and how we were to contrive it without having some
mishap, when old Teggley summoned us to get down and walk.
"Wouldn't be acting like a Christian to ask a horse to drag you three
big lads up a hill like this. I did think," he grumbled, "that with all
this talk about making good roads, something would have been done to
level ourn. Mortal bad they be for a horse sewer_ly_."
"Why, what could you do to the roads?" I said, as I stood on the step
looking at the quaint old fellow. "Do, lad? Why, there's plenty of
stuff ar'n't there? Cutoff all the tops of the hills, and lay in the
bottoms, and there you are, level road all the way."
We seemed to have only been away a few days, as, after parting from
Bigley, Bob and I reached the cottage, where, just as of old, were my
father and the doctor.
I remember thinking that they both looked a little older and greyer, but
that was all. But that was soon forgotten in the interest and
excitement of what was going on around me, for I had, I found, gradually
been growing older, and ready to take an interest in matters more
important than hunting prawns and groping for crabs down on the rocky
shore.